#harryp

[vocaloidsongtournament]

Vocaloid Song Poll Just For Fun #179

Blooming in the Mud by HarryP was Nightcord at 25:00's lowest ranking song in the September 2024 tournament, and ranked 74th overall.

Please reblog for a bigger sample size!

Which version of Blooming in the Mud below is the best?

Wolpis Carter's version

Hatsune Miku's version

Nightcord at 25:00's version

See results

Voting ended onOct 6, 2024

[voca-song-a-day]

Today's featured song is: "Blooming into the Mud" by HarryP feat. Hatsune Miku!

[beatsyncer]

Icons from STAGE OF SEKAI by HarryP

Like/rb if saved ⋆·˚ ༘ * Credit 安夏 if used

[that-peanutbutter-lady-blog]

Tomione Aesthetic

Story inspiration, collage, general vibes, visual prompt

[cassiewolfstar]

A Star so Bright part 4

https://www.tumblr.com/cassiewolfstar/706691213371359232/a-star-so-bright-part-3?source=share

Salazar's royals, was what the whole student body of Hogwarts knew their group of friends as.

Jackson Avery, their resident cheeky bastard. He was widely known for his witty comebacks and smug comments. Jackson was also a bit of a man whore. Hearts got broken left and right around him and he thrived in the chaos of crying girls and feisty cat fights. Though the female population thought he just simply enjoyed being a heartless fuck boy. But his friends knew the real reason. He was one of them, and a heir. Being the oldest and only son of a pure blooded family came with rules and responsibilities. And one of them was marrying a pure blooded witch and continuing the lineage. The second he graduates Hogwarts he will be pushed into a loveless, but powerful marriage. So knowing that falling in love would only hurt in the end and that time was running out, slowly but surely, he was only using what little time he had left to do as he desired. Pure blooded Families were old school but one thing that changed over time was loyalty. Back in the day of their grandparents, the wives were bound to their husband and only their husband for the rest of their lives. But Husbands had the luxury of adultery. Without any consequences. They could do as they pleased and it was normal and even expected of them to regularly visit witching bordellos. Nowadays, Pure blooded families didn't want the risk of having bastard children or worse half blood children. So Jackson Avery was counting his days numbering them by the girls he shagged.

Of course Ara's cousin Draco Malfoy was apart of their group. His platinum blonde hair and black suit that he always seemed to wear whenever he wasn't in his school robes. Despite being a year younger than the rest of them (Except for Parkinson) everyone knew he was one of the smartest of their group but what made him even more recognizable was his hatred for Hermione Granger. Honestly Ara thought it was almost obsessive to the point of Draco spying on her and her little troupe of golden boys. Dreaming of one day beating her in their little game of ´who did it better´ It was shameful and made his hard exterior crack every time she answered a question just a little bit faster than he did.

Everywhere Draco went a certain Pansy Parkinson wasn't far behind. The whole school knew of her possessive infatuation with Draco. Even though they weren't even in a relationship she was convinced that they belonged together. She went as far as one would dare to make sure Draco would end up with her. Once in their third year Draco kissed a girl in the year above them during a game of spinning Puffskin. The next day the girls eyebrows were gone and her lips were a disgusting green color. Madam Pomfrey was able to change it only after three days. Three days of torment and gossip from the whole school. Personally Ara thought it to be quite childish and weak. To let ones emotions direct ones actions. Though that train of thought soon changed.

Theodore Nott was the last in their inner circle. There were more that Ara considered close acquaintances, but Theo, Jackson, Draco and unfortunately Pansy, were a close knit group. And getting inside of their inner circle required more than friendship. Theodore Nott was the oldest Son of Lorelei and Atlas Nott and also the sole heir. His little sisters Annabeth and Hanelore Nott went to Beauxbatons where his mother went in her young years. His father insisted that his only son learn more than silly dances and dinner etiquette. His words. Theodore was at first glance cold, detached and quiet. Also he was what people considered to be Ara's personal bodyguard. He was the first to throw himself into danger for her safety and the first to take the blame when she got herself into trouble. The two grew up closer than Ara and her cousin. The were raised in the same Village in Nord-Ireland and being the only pure-blooded families near by, they were only ever allowed to play together. The Notts are deeply indebted to the Blacks since Arcturus Black saved Cantankerous from shame and being disowned when they were young. The Blacks also stood by the Notts after the shameful Scandal of ´26. So it only made sense after years of being pushed to follow and listen to the only Black heiress of their generation, that Theo became Ara's most trusted and most loyal friend. The Blacks were also the first name documented in the holy script of the Sacred Twenty-Eight written by Cantankerous Notts father himself.

Ara Black. The name held many synonyms. Cruel, intelligent, perfect pure-blood daughter, Slytherin Princess and many more. But since the beginning of fifth year there was one name that came to context with hers the most. Fred Weasley.

Gryffindors resident jokester and Quidditch hero. His flaming red hair, hand me down robes and many siblings made him who he was. But Ara Black made him into who he always wished to be. He felt strong and brave and so fucking special. Fred would've never thought that Ara Black the girl he has dreamed about since he first saw her on their very first day at Hogwarts be in his arms. And willingly! Sure, it took about five years to get her to give him a chance. But when she finally did, it felt like magic. Fred Weasely feels like he knows what muggles mean when they say the word “magic.” They don’t mean spells or wands or cauldrons—well, okay, yes, sometimes they do. But in those moments when the word slips out of them, all quiet and reverent, like they can’t help it, that’s something different. Fred knows that, because it’s what he feels when she is looking at him with those lovely icy grey eyes. Magic.

Year after year Fred Weasely tried every trick in the book of love. Every week on Monday morning during breakfast, Fred would get his twins assistance in serenading to his one true love. Since the first break after having laid eyes on Ara for the first time and then missing her for three whole weeks during the Christmas holidays, Fred decided to make it known what he felt. Even if eleven year old Fred Weasley didn't really understand what he felt. He had to tell her. He had to tell everyone. And for years he pined for the girl who didn't want anything to do with him. His friends and family, even his twin berated him for liking a Slytherin. Especially their unreachable perfect little princess. But Fred didn't give up and in fourth year after almost failing three of his classes he asked Professor McGonagall to assign him a tutor. His Mothers idea. McGonagall, ever the matchmaker, decided Ara Black was the perfect tutor for Fred Weasley.

Only three months later and Fred Weasley got the privilege to have his dreams come true and kiss and hold the girl in his arms whenever he wanted. It was an unusual Monday morning considering that every student and teacher haven't witnessed a quiet Monday since before Fred entered Hogwarts. So it was quiet and everyone was looking around for a certain redhead or the muse of his serenades. When the Great Halls doors opened slowly to reveal a blushing Ara Black and Fred Weasley smiling so big one would think his face might break any second Hogwarts held their breath till Ara pulled Fred into a quick kiss and swiftly stepped towards her friends at the Slytherin table. The whole of Hogwarts gasped collectively before Gryffindor jumped into action and surrounded the smug looking boy and Slytherin quietly judged their pretty perfect princess. It was unheard of. A Pure blooded Slytherin and a blood traitor Gryffindor being involved. And although if her mother were to ever find out she was sure to be dead before you can say ´Mudblood´ Ara wasn't worried. Because being a Black meant she could even go out with a lowly squib and no one would even dare utter a bad word against her. Considering she held the power in her perfectly manicured hands to make or break someone in the pure-blooded Wizarding community. Still just to be safe, she made sure to send out a warning to her fellow Pure-blooded maniacs. Mainly to have a little much needed fun. Although her type of fun wearied a lot. She didn't want anyone to think that just because she blushed and kissed a boy meant she was some ordinary love struck girl.

She was Ara Black. The sole heiress to the Black empire. The direct descendant of Morgana Le Fey, otherwise known as Merlin's biggest rival and the most powerful witch to ever exist. And Ara had plans to be great. Maybe even greater than Morgana herself. She knew she was the only one that could achieve coming even close to the great Morgana Le Fey. And she would do anything to achieve her goals.

[prosekai]

Visit Original Link

STAGE OF SEKAI | HarryP ft. Hatsune Miku

[random-imagines-blog]

Shame {Harry Potter x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2328 Summary: After being tortured at Malfoy Manor, you find a little peace and quiet with Harry. Warnings: A bit of Bellatrix torture, a Mean Girls reference.

You refused to cry in front of your cousin Bellatrix, no matter how much she scared you. And she was absolutely terrifying. Girl to girl, she had said, as she pulled your friends away from you. She had you on the floor in seconds, writhing and screaming in pain but you still refused to cry. The only tears that you let go were from relief when the crucio spell had been pulled from you, and she tried to get information.  Her wand threateningly brushed against your face, and you could see her lip twitching, just wanting to cast more cruel spells. Being family meant that she was treating you rougher than she would anyone else - you were more of a disappointment. You were born with that on your shoulders just because your father was Sirius Black. Traitor to wizardkind because your father was said to have worked with Voldemort and sold out the Potters. Traitor to The Death Eaters because it was known among them that he didn’t. At least when he was proven innocent, you were able to make friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and attempt to aid them in bringing down The Dark Lord.

You didn’t answer any of her questions. You weren’t crying. You weren’t giving her any of the reactions that she wanted to badly out of you, which was just irritating her more. It got to the point where she brought out her favorite knife to use on you - which actually calmed you down. Even if she were to cut you, or stab you, it would still be better than the cruciatus curse.

But it still hurt. Bloody Hell, it hurt. You were screaming in pain as she tore through your flesh, having to stop and wipe viciously to get the blood away to see where she could put the next letter. You didn’t watch. You had your head turned to the other side so you wouldn’t have to see. But your mind was putting together the letters that she was making.

T R A I T O R

“Please - stop - please,” You said as she dug in for the O. Curves were very hard to make on skin with a knife. And she was really trying to make it perfect. You were screaming now. She was going in and in, making it deeper. You were sure at this point that it was written on your very bones. No amount of healing spells would be able to erase it completely. It was carved into your soul.

She finally left you, but you were too tired and in pain to move. Your arm was splayed out, the blood drying and starting to flake off, a puddle of it beneath you. You stared blankly at the ceiling ahead of you, watching the shadows move through the corners like dementors. You wished they were dementors. You’d give anything not to feel.

--

“Y/N, come on,” You felt someone shaking at your body. Thinking that it was Bellatrix, you hid back inside of yourself. You tried to isolate your mind from everything. You couldn’t take any more pain. You just couldn’t.

It took you a couple of minutes to realize that you were no longer on a cold, hard floor but you were laying on what was a soft bed. You opened your eyes, them feeling like they were swollen shut from the crying that you had done after Bellatrix had left, and through the tears and the dried eye gunk, you faintly saw light beige walls. You blinked slowly. This had to be a trick. Some kind of mind game. Lull you into a false sense of security.

Your name was said against and this time you rolled over to see who it was, expecting it to be one of the Deatheaters, or their sons. But it wasn’t. It was Harry, and he looked more frazzled than you had ever seen him. His hair was always a mess and it seemed like his glasses were always askew, but right now, he was just a mess. He looked like he had been crying, and hasn’t slept for days. But of course he wouldn’t have been able to sleep. You all had been taken by Death Eaters and tortured.

“Harry?” You asked, wanting to make absolute sure that it was him. Polyjuice Potions were a thing after all. “What was the name of Sirius’s dog form?”

“Snuffles,” He said, without the least trace of humor. So it really was Harry. You wiped at your eyes, feeling the dried on traces of eye gunk and tried to get them off. You sat up and looked at him, sitting over your bed, like he was holding some sort of vigil over you.

“You look like you haven’t slept in ages, Harry. Where are we? How did we get out of there?”

“I haven’t,” Harry admitted, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his own eyes, then put them back on. “We’re at Shell Cottage - Bill and Fleur’s place. It’s a long story but ... Dobby saved us. And Bellatrix killed him. We buried him already.”

“I’m so sorry,” You said, reaching for him and took his hand. “Come on, lay down with me, you look like you need this bed more than I do.”

Moving triggered a pain in your arm - you had almost forgotten about what Bellatrix had carved on you but the memories came flooding back. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.  

“Thanks,” Harry said. He had a second’s look of hesitation, like he wanted to protest, but he did look like he was going to fall over from exhaustion at any second. The bed was big enough for two, and he fit in nicely against you, putting you between himself and the wall. You rolled onto your side, your good side, your hurt arm falling over him. You were wearing sleeves, which made you wonder who dressed you. Oh, you sure hoped to God it was Fleur, and that none of the boys had seen what was written on you.

“How long have we been here?” You questioned, softly. The cottage was quiet, save for the faint noise of someone moving around in the kitchen. You could hear the waves outside. It was a very soothing sound, and it made your body relax. That combined with Harry next to you, laying on his back, his chest rising and falling with his breath. You felt somewhat safe for the first time in weeks. And you chose to enjoy it by reaching over with your painful arm, and removing the glasses from Harry’s face. He allowed you to without a fuss, and you folded them up and set them on the nightstand.

“Since yesterday,” Harry explained, and told the tale of the grand escape - including how he had been the one that had scooped you up after you passed out from Bellatrix’s torturing. You inched a little closer to him as he spoke, eyes wide as you listened to how he had covered your arm with one of Bill’s sweaters before anyone else could see.

“Why?” You asked, self consciously pulling the sleeve down over your hands. The sweater was one of Mrs. Weasley’s, you realized, as you caught a better look. A big B on the front. It was cozy, and warm, and it had a big hand in making you feel safe. “Why did you hide it from everybody?”

“Thought you’d want to tell the others about it on your own terms,” Harry said. “At least you’re able to hide it. Not like it’s in the middle of your forehead or anything.”

That almost made you smile. The closest that you had been to it in a while. You moved closer still, placing your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat through the fabric of his own clothes - another Weasley jumper, another B. It seemed they were all that Bill and Fleur had to spare that were warm enough for the foggy weather outside. You didn’t mind at all, and apparently Harry didn’t either. It smelt of laundry detergent. Clean soap.

“Thank you,” You hummed into his sweater. “Are you alright, Harry? I can’t imagine what they must have put you -”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry said, sharply. You were used to these tones coming from him, and hardly stirred from your position. In fact, you brought your hand onto his chest as well, to try to comfort him.

“Okay. All that matters is that we’re out now. And ... and we’re safe for a little while.”

“We’re never safe,” Harry groaned. Hesitantly, he put his arms around you, resting his hands on your sweater, keeping you close.

“I know you feel like you have the world on your shoulders, but we can’t take this for granted. This is the only chance for a breather that we have. Let’s just ... enjoy it for a couple of minutes.”

You held him even closer, and turned your head to kiss his chest through the sweater. He was your savior right now, and you were so very thankful. Your angel with messy black hair and bottle green eyes. You, like many other girls, had a crush on him during school, but you were lucky enough to actually get to know him, which made it grow. You just never said anything because of the stress that he was always under. He didn’t need to know. But this was your moment to breathe, the safest you two had been in a while.

“You got your scar because of me,” Harry said, quietly.

“Stop it,” You said, lightly smacking his chest. “Don’t you dare put that on yourself. I was a traitor to her long before I even met you, Harry. It’s Bellatrix’s fault, no one elses. Why do you do that to yourself?”

“Do what?”

“Take responsibility for everything. I know what I signed up for when I joined your cause, when I became your friend. I can take the burden for what had been to me, honey. You don’t need to do that. You already keep enough on your plate.”

He rubbed at his eyes. You thought you saw some tears there, but it could have been from exhaustion. And then his arms were around you, hugging you. You felt him kiss the top of your head.

“It’s just hard not to,” He admitted to you. And you could understand that. He felt like a lot of the things that went bad were his fault - and he probably blamed himself for Dobby as well.

“I know. But when all of this is over, and it will be over because good will always win, Harry, we’re all going to take the victory together, just as we take the hurt together. And you wouldn’t dare try to take that from us, would you?”

Harry chuckled, and you could feel his chest moving beneath your head. It was a nice sound, because as long as there was a bit of laughter still in the air, there was still hope in the world. There was a moment of silence, only gulls being heard from outside now, as you two held onto each other in there. You could almost believe that there was barely a world out there beyond the beach, and that’s just what your mind needed in order to let your body fully relax against Harry. Your fingers played at the collar of the sweater, feeing how it must have been an older one since it was a little stretched out.

“Are you going to stay with me?” Harry asked, breaking the moment.

“Of course,” You answered, thinking that it should have been obvious. “Haven’t I always?”

“I could never tell if it was because you were stubborn or if you felt obliged.”

“Definitely stubborn,” You said, chuckling. “I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do, Harry. That especially extends to trying to protect the people that I care about. And save the world. The bragging rights are going to be insane.”

That even made Harry laugh a little, his arms resting on you, squeezing you just a little bit. “Is that the only reason?”

You thought for a moment, and then decided - tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. You could get grabbed by the Death Eaters again at any time. And there was the final battle that was upcoming, when you and your friends would have to kill Voldemort once and for all, once all the Horcruxes were destroyed. “Love is the main reason,” You told him, fingers clinging onto his shirt now. You were scared he was going to push you away. But he didn’t. He just held onto you a little tighter.

“That’s a good reason,” He said, and you relaxed against him. He must have been thinking of his parents, you thought. You had heard how his mother’s love had protected him from the Killing Curse in the first place.

“Best reason for anything,” You agreed. “Hey Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“After we save the world and go through all of the celebration parties and stuff - do you maybe want to have dinner with me or something? I think the Leaky Cauldron will probably remain standing, even after this war is long over.”

Harry chuckled at that, a soft and breathy sound, just enough to not disturb the air too much. “Yeah, sounds grool-”

You felt him pause at that. You licked your lips and tried to hold in your laugh, knowing that the shaking would give you away.

“I just tried to say great and cool at the same time,” He groaned.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I think it sounded pretty ... grool.”

[utau-bowl]

A cover of harryP’s “泥中に咲く/Blooming into the Mud” featuring Akesato.