can you do one where they are in the seventh book, in the cabin (? dont know the name of it english is not my first language)
they are both in terrible places and everything is horrible. they are not boyfriend-girlfriend but everybody knows they love each other. they know it too, and act like it. they only find comfort when together.
hope this sounds ok
harry james potter angst oneshot
ׂ╰┈➤ WARNINGS: sfw, kissing, angst/comfort, mentions of trauma and death
౨ৎ hogwarts / during the war :: bestfriend!harry x reader
༄ second person POV :: you/yours , y/n
⭑ word count: 1.9k+
a/n: I took your ‘cabin’ setting as the Shell Cottage—Bill and Fleurs home—and tried to apply your prompt as much as I could. This was an interesting write, thank you for the request! C:
enjoy <3
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“ avoidance ”
It had been two days since Harry buried the frozen body of the house elf, Dobby.
He wasn’t the type of person to linger on memories or reminisce about deaths, but he liked to keep all his guilt trapped inside of his complex mind.
You wanted to help him. You really did.
But Harry stayed quiet.
Silent around Hermione and Ron. He hung his head down, avoided eye contact, and didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Except for his best friend.
You.
Harry simply enjoyed your presence. He didn’t have to explain himself to you all the time. You wouldn't push him to talk about his feelings. He liked that.
Every comforting hug you gave him, he melted into. A bit of weight lifted from his shoulders when he was with you, and it did so from even seeing your face.
So when he told you he was having trouble sleeping, you slept with him. You would lie on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair.
Harry would sometimes shake in his sleep, his breathing coming in unhinged patterns. You would calm him by tightly holding his hand.
He would do the same for you—in the fifth year, he held your hair back as you threw up in the toilet. When you were injured, he would bandage your wound flawlessly. Every time you were insecure about something, he would immediately make you feel better about yourself.
It wasn’t all fueled from attraction.
It was bonding. An understanding. A way to cope.
Just two friends finding comfort in each other.
You truly loved him. You would never deny it.
Ron would whistle teasingly every time Harry’s hands lingered on your waist longer than expected after a hug. Hermione would wink at you when you fixed Harry’s messy hair.
But it wasn’t the time for girly confessions or love letters.
A war was going on. People were dying, systems collapsing , and the Ministry growing corrupt.
You and Harry had Voldemort to worry about first.
—
The waves crashed upon the rocks ferociously, loud enough for your eyes to snap open.
Dobby’s lifeless body flashed through your mind as you blinked off the fragments of your violent dreams. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you glanced to your left.
The spot next to you was cold.
You swung your legs over the hard mattress and stepped on the creaky floorboards. The cottage was still, acting as if it were anxious with every gust of wind.
Walking down the stairs, the temperature dropped, causing you to shiver. The living room was also empty, wind chimes softly bumping into each other.
In the kitchen, windows were plastered everywhere, moonlight illuminating the area. Pots and pans hung on hooks above the stove and spice racks lined the walls next to the cutting boards.
It was a comfortable, safe space that left a tinge of light in your heart.
Out of the big window perched above the sink, you squinted, making out a figure sitting outside in the sand, watching the mediocre waves dribble onto the shore.
It was your bestfriend, Harry. Alone.
You opened the door and were greeted with a freezing draft. Speckles of sea water hit your body as you walked closer to the brown-haired boy.
Without a word, you took a seat next to him and feebly crossed your scarred arms, preserving as much warmth as you could.
The silence spoke louder than any words could—not a single scream or cry could fill the hollow space between you both.
As you looked over at him, his face was dimmed by the murky grey sky. His eyebrows were furrowed, a concentrated expression plastered on his face. You observed every inch of his drained face—his eyebags, the cuts on his cheek, and his busted lip.
Memorizing it like it was the last time you would.
“You need to sleep.” You mumbled after a second, pulling your knees to your chest. Harry pushed his wobbly glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“I can’t.”
“My presence isn’t helping anymore?”
Harry shook his head, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “No, it’s not that. I just need to…think.”
Your eyes found their way back to the subtle sea, memorizing its pattern—like breathing: the waves curl, building up slowly, then crash down. “That’s all you’ve been doing lately. You should rest.”
“You need to as well,” Harry responded. “Are you cold?”
Before you could even reply, he shrugged off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders. The warmness embraced you fully.
“Thanks.” You smiled, looking into his adoring green eyes.
“You're welcome.”
You leaned your head slowly on his shoulder, looking straight out to the sea.
“How are you feeling?” Harry asked after a brief moment,
“Horrible.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
You closed your eyes, listening to the ecstatic sounds of the wind.
“What’re we…going to do next?” You asked, the weight of the question lifting from your back.
“Find the rest of the horcruxes,” he said shortly. “Protect bystanders; not let the Death Eaters kill anyone else in the process.”
You hummed in understanding. The rocks ahead glistened under the moonlight, sparkling like they were bedazzled with diamonds.
The silence persuaded you, not preparing you for Harry’s next words.
“Y/n, you’re not…coming with us.”
You blinked, lifting your head from his shoulder. With a frown, you asked, “What?”
Harry kept staring blankly at the ocean, jaw clenched.
“The next time we leave,” he said quietly, “you’re staying here.”
“I…I can’t stay, Harry.” You trembled beneath his jacket—not from the oncoming wind, but by bubbling frustration rising in your chest.
Hesitantly, Harry’s eyes found yours. “It’s safer here. Bill and Fleur can protect you.” He sighed, softly taking your hand. His fingers intertwined with yours, then he whispered, barely audible, “I’ve already lost Dobby. I can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
A breath hitched in your throat as tears stung your eyes. Harry noticed, tightening his hold on your hand.
“You can’t keep deciding for me. I don’t want to stay.”
“I’m trying to protect you—”
“And who’s protecting you, Harry?” You huffed, a single tear falling down your cheek. “I’m sick of pretending that I’m not worried about you!”
Your emotions got the best of you. You thought you'd never say it.
But now you did.
With his other hand, he wiped the tear from your face, reluctance lacing his every movement. “I don’t want you to worry. That was never my intention.”
“Then why are you making me feel like this? Like I didn’t just get abducted with you!” You sniffed, breathing heavily.
With every passing second, Harry’s heart was crumbling.
You meant everything to him.
And now his reason to live was slowly falling apart.
“Everyone around me dies, y/n.” He mumbled.
“Then let me at least die with you.”
A pause. A tense, unsure moment.
“Don’t say that.” His voice cracked, shaking his head.
Harry pulled his hand away, standing abruptly from the sand. “Don’t talk like dying beside me is some sort of…privilege.”
“Then don’t tell me that abandoning me is ‘protecting’ me!” You stood, facing him. “I can’t-” your voice broke, tears streaming down your cheeks before you could stop them. “I can’t be alone.”
Harry’s stomach twisted in regret.
For years, you were forced to live single-handedly because of your past.
The nights you remembered, you would cry to Harry.
Both of your parents were tortured and killed by Death Eaters.
You didn’t want to relive it all again. You didn’t want to be lonely anymore, not when it reminded you of it all. You couldn’t even sleep in a dark room by yourself.
Harry only realized it now.
It showed, flickering across his face. A quiet sob from your parted lips broke his train of thought.
“You know why, Harry, you know everything. I spent years wishing I had done something—anything—to save them.” You gasped, wiping your wet face with the sleeve of Harry’s jacket. “I don’t want to watch you die while I sit here. I’m not going to live with that type of guilt!”
Your heartbeat threateningly increased as your hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging in your palms. The wind howled in your ears as if telling you to say words to fill the emptiness.
But you had nothing left to say. Your tears were louder than any sentence you could’ve constructed.
Wide-eyed, Harry slowly stepped toward your shaking body. Stopping inches away, he tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear with remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry, y/n.” He cupped the side of your face gently. “I just…didn’t know how else to keep you safe.”
You looked away, hicupping, eyes puffy. “But you know exactly what affects me, yet you still push it back into my life.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Harry whispered. He noticed your still, nervous demeanor; he wrapped his arms around your waist, embracing you. “I’d never hurt you.” With a squeeze—as if piecing you together like a broken glass figure—he said against your head, “I promise.”
You reciprocated the hug, holding him tightly and biting back another sob.
You were drained. Sick of fear, sick of feeling like you were drowning every second.
The waves began to rush more violently, as did the gusts of wind; your hair whipped delicately in the damp breeze.
After a few seconds, Harry pulled away to look at you, wiping your face from any lingering tears. “Do you…forgive me?”
The corners of your trembling lips turned upwards. “I-I think I do.”
Harry’s expression softened into something painfully relieved.
His eyes flickered to your lips—so quickly, you thought it didn’t even happen. Like a ghost, or some imaginative fantasy.
But he leaned in, slowly but surely, his breath fanning across your face.
And before either of you could overthink it, his lips brushed against yours, then he kissed you.
A soft, sweet kiss that made you smile against his lips.
Your hands trailed to the sides of his neck, deepening the kiss. His hands rubbed the sides of your waist comfortingly, the moonlight shining brightly over both of you.
Separating from your face, he just stood there. You did too, simply admiring his face and his wide eyes. He looked dazed staring at you—as if you weren’t even real. Neither of you broke eye contact, both of your breaths coming in quick paces.
The loud sea filled their ears. It didn’t seem to bother your intrusive thoughts of disbelief, shock, and the temptation of wanting more.
Harry’s hands absentmindedly stayed planted on your waist. The close space between you was filled with uncertainty, yet…
Understanding.
Another shiver ran down your spine. It was very late, and the morning had many things planned. You blinked, reluctantly pulling away from his grasp.
“Let’s go inside?” You murmured with a slight smile.
Harry gently took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. “Yeah. Good idea.”
As you two walked quietly, engulfed by darkness, thoughts still lingered heavily in your mind.
It wasn’t our fault for being afraid, you thought, stepping carefully through the sand.
Trauma’s just a weird thing most of us can’t avoid.
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REMINDER: requests are open for any Harry Potter writes! Make sure to check out my wattpad too!!
mr and mrs snowman || harry j. potter x fem!reader
omg omg omg so first imagine or whatever that i've ever written in tumblr (*pisses on herself*) even though im fucking nervous im soooo excited to write!! english isnt my first language, so sorry in advance lmbco
tags: @dollywons
request: none :(
summary: In third year, one trip to hogsmead was on new years. Harry not being allowed to go there and y/n being the sweet person she was, they decided to go to the courtyard and make snowmans, not knowing that Fred and George stayed at school to spy on them.
warnings: none! fluff fluff fluff!!
disclaimer: very short! also, the tags aren't all for harry potter but i just want yall to be aware...
word count: 861
"You can go now," Harry insisted, fidgeting with the straps of the midnight blue hoodie that y/n gave him for christmas, while she continued to shake her head, staring at his beautiful green eyes.
"I told you, Harry, I'm not leaving you alone. As much as I think professor Lupin is a great person, I think you're kinda bored, always talking to him," Y/n replied, her beautiful h/c hair suiting very well the white beanie Harry gifted her. "And, anyways, I know you just loveee my company."
Harry rolled his eyes, but he didn't correct her- god, there wasn't anything to correct. He loved her company, he loved her humour, he loved her intelligence, he loved her compassion, he loved her generosity, he loved her smile, he loved her laugh- when will he admit that he loved her?
Never. Because they're just friends, friends that kiss their cheeks, friends that lean into eachothers shoulders, friends that hug a little longer than they should. Harry loved, absolutely adored, their friendship. If he ever accidently broke it, he'll never forgive himelf. Of course, Ron and Hermione are great, amazing even, but y/n was... she was brilliant. Yes, he loved her, he loved her since he saw her for the very first time, but he couldn't just risk the 3 years relationship there was between him and her.
"Harry? Harry? Harry James Potter? The Boy who Lived? Scarhead? Harold? Earth to- oh, there you are!"
"Huh?" Harry asked, realising he and y/n were now walking towards the courtyard, and also noticing how pretty y/n looked when she was cold and had rosy cheeks.
"You blacked out again. You really gotta stop that. Anyways, as I was asking you, do you want to make snowmans?" Y/n replied, sighing but smiling at the raven-headed boy.
"Oh, sorry, I really didn't me to." Harry excused himself, blushing slightly at his careless daydreaming. "And, uhm, yeah, of course! Lead the way."
Barely a minute after, they were in a feild of cold, soft and sticky snow.
"Perfect! Come on, whoever does the better snowman or snowwoman, wins!" Y/n giggled and started building her snowwoman, making her as big as she could.
Harry chuckled and followed y/n's movements, trying (and failing) to make an even bigger snowman. Sadly, y/n's hands were sure great, because her snowman was taller than her from far, perhaps half a head of more than Harry.
"It's unfair! I saw you using your wand at some point!" Harry groaned, even though he was not at all mad or even upset that y/n won. Actually, the bare sight of seeing her smile made his heart beat as fast as light and seemed to multiply the butterflies who were now dancing in Harry's stomach.
"Nobody said we couldn't! Isn't my fault that you thought we were going to use the good ol' muggle way to make a snowcreatures." Y/n laughed, getting rid of her scarf and dressing her snowwoman with it.
Damn that laugh.
"Okay, fineee... You know, they look like they could be mr and mrs snowman." Harry said out of the blue.
"Hm? You thinks so?" Y/n smiled, nudging his arm. "And what would we be? The two silly teenagers who're interrupting they're moment?"
Both of them bursted into laughs and giggles, which resolved Harry laughing so hard he fell on top of y/n, and accidently - even though y/n doesn't think so, or at least doesn't hope so - clumsily kissed her. Even though they should've parted away, Harry stayed a little longer and then pulled away.
"Uhm- I- Er- Uhm- I- Ugh!" Harry stuttered, visibly uncapable to say one sentence without blushing madly. Well, he was already blushing madly.
You couldn't say more of y/n. She was already red before that? Well, now she was either red as a cherry, or Harry needed new glasses.
"I... uh... I said I didn't much mind it. I should've had, i'm so stupid, i'm so, so sorry-" Y/n was now, if ever possible, redder than hagrid when he got drunk.
"-no, no, don't be sorry. I... I'm actually quite glad you didn't mind it. Very, if I may."
They just stared at each other, and Y/n slowly smiled and pecked very quickly and gently Harry's lips, and then her face started matching it's normal colour.
"What- what are..." Harry started, but couldn't finish.
"We?"
"Yeah."
"We're teenagers who are idiots in lo-..."
"-ve. You're welcome."
"You like me?"
"I would't let you kiss me if I didn't, no?"
"Then I like you too, idiot."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
They stared at each other and Y/n started giggling again, which Harry joined quickly.
"ARE YOU MARRIED YET?!?!" they heard.
Both of them quickly turned to see both Fred and George a little further away, behind a bench, spying.
"Sod off!" Harry yelled, grinning.
"They're-" started George.
"-married!" ended Fred.
"Yippee!" The twins said in usion.
"They're mad." Harry said, but Y/n started laughing again.
And both of them ended up laughing, again, like mad teenagers who definetly did not kiss.
warnings: fluff, kinda short, post-war and mentions of nightmares.
a/n: this is kinda based off of ‘the lakes' by taylor swift and the idea of moving away near a sea and just living in a small cottage by the beach.
salt air wafting through the small cracks in the wooden doors. old paint flaked off the greasy cabinets in the small kitchenette. not much space is available for the bed, which was just big enough for two people to squeeze in.
outside were footsteps in the sand. the deafening sound of waves crashing was hiding the quiet promises whispered between the two. the serene scenes were just enough for a calming year, or years. the pair wasn't sure for how long they would conceal the issues waiting for them back home, but for now, their tear stained cheeks would prove their need to stay a little longer in the spot they learned to love.
tangled in bedsheets with not much of the blanket left, was how y/n loved to wake up in the mornings. the sun was pouring down buckets of sunlight through the sheer curtain and the sound of the lonely waves was carried inside the tiny house.
some mornings were brighter than others, a smile standing its ground on her tired face, the smell of fresh brewed coffee overcoming the salt water's odor.
other times, harry would be the first to wake in the eve of a nightmare, cold sweat covering his shivering body, leaving him restless and not wanting to rise from the safety of their bed. y/n, being last to give up to the scarring imaginary from her nightmares, would not argue to a day spent in the warmth of being so close to harry.
and although there were half spoken talks about the plans they had on that day, the only thing that seemed important to them was mending wounds the past had so cruelly left.
today was one of those. y/n's name passing by harry's lips as his arms remained hugging her waist came as a sweet alarm clock to the woman. they smiled and planned to drink some tea later on, both knowing there was a slim chance of any activity, but sharing passing thoughts, that would happen today.
suddenly, after minutes turned into hours, the woman decided that a tea would be satisfactory for the state that both of them had woken in. so, with a start, she rose from the bed, making harry pout, the side of her bed left in an unfamiliar cold state he was not fond of.
'where are you off to?' he asked, now, too in a standing position, the cold of the wooden floor making way through his feet.
'to make us some tea,' she explained while maneuvering through the small space of the rather empty home, as both of them did not have many belongings to fill the space of the cottage.
y/n did not think it would be so hard to make tea, but with harry's arms wrapped around her waist, his face hidden in her neck, not making a sound, it proved difficult. although it was as hard as ever to bring the kettle to the mugs, she found it quite comforting and when they sat back on the bed, mugs in hand and silence between them, she knew that this was home. even with their shared past of sadness, grief and tragedy, no one could take this away from her anymore.
harry smiled, leaned forward, and kissed her. the kiss leaving the unspoken words of good morning, good night, thank you, and i love you. each left for her interpretation.
and with their limbs in a tangle, the now cold mugs on the side table and the steady sounds of every breath each took, they realized recovering from horrible things wasn't as hard, it could be as beautiful as they wanted it to be.
