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If you've ever wondered the best time to read a fic set at a Christmas market, it turns out to be April. 🙃
A very-late gift exchange fic for the wonderful @kay-elle-cee. I hope you enjoy it, lovely!
James, on a break from his internship, is roped into helping run the Sleekeazy stall at the yearly magical Christmas market. Is it possible that it won't be as bad as he thinks it will be?
Read on AO3.
New One-Shot!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Harry was never happier that Ron left his phone unattended.
Modern, everyone lives, no magic, college AU.
I hope the embedded images look good and the formatting is all right. I've never posted a story like this before!
Don't forget to drop a review!
self preservation, part 5 | remus lupin x reader
"Aw baby," he teased, going for broke, "y'little hole, all sopping wet when I just finished cleaning you up. You're so inconsiderate," he teased.
"Not my fault," you protested, more incensed than he'd ever heard you. "You- you-"
"I know, baby, I know," he soothed, rubbing the back of your thigh. Your hips shifted, searching for his fingers. He stopped his circling and dipped into your slick, your sigh of relief an amorous sound he was sure to hear playing over and over in his mind the next time he missed your skin. "I wound you up."
summary you give Remus presents of all kinds for his birthday. [5k]
warnings smut, romantic tension, praise, very small degradation, oral, fem!reader, muggle anxious reader, secret wizard infatuated remus, friends with benefits who are a little in love with each other,
read part one | two | three | four here
Remus left an apologetic note on your nightstand, explaining that Sirius had picked him up to fix his sorry excuse for a car and he hadn't wanted to wake you up after your 'workout'. He’d call later, if that were permissible.
You ran your finger over where he’d signed his name.
It was very permissible, you thought to yourself in the shower, thighs aching.
Time away from him allowed you to think of the night before with a new set of eyes. You sat on the end of your bed with your hair dripping down your back and stared at the burn on your wrist with enough intensity to blister it anew. Then, foolishly, you pressed your lips to the space where his had been shyly, a brief caress. It revealed nothing of his motivations.
Remus had called you, then, saying the car was fixed, thank goodness, and would you come for a drink? You could hear someone in the background, a voice like sandstone saying something scolding. “Right,” Remus had said. “I’ll come pick you up?” he’d amended.
And so you’d met Sirius Black outside your flat in the front seat of Remus’ car. “Get in the back,” Remus said to Sirius pointedly.
“Yes, yes, alright,” Sirius said, holding his hands up in surrender. He’d stood from the car, peered down at you like he knew something you didn’t before smiling. “I’m Sirius.”
He was similar to Remus in two areas, total. The first: he was very tall. The second: he was remarkably handsome. That was where, you thought, the surface similarities ended. He was rough to Remus’ soft, sharp-edged and shark-tooth smiling like everything was a joke and you weren’t in on it. Which wasn’t to say he was unfriendly, he wasn't, but in his leather jacket and his chiselled face you saw a blithe coolness that both intimidated and enchanted you.
You realised Sirius had probably possessed this ability his whole life, to make people want to impress him. It made you very, very nervous. He was the first of Remus’ friends you were going to meet properly and you wanted — needed — to make a good impression. You were trying your best to perform like a normal person. Inside, you wanted to pitch yourself into Remus’ arms. You wanted to turn tail and run.
You introduced yourself. “Nice to meet you,” you tacked on weakly.
“I’m sure it is,” he said. Remus protested loudly from the front seat.
Sirius climbed in the back. You sat in the front gingerly. Remus squeezed your thigh and said with a meaningful look, “You alright?” which you’d certainly needed, waiting for you to say yes before starting the engine. You felt Sirius’ gaze on you and turned amicably sideways, feeling like a butterfly whose wings had been pinned.
“So you work with Remus?”
“I do,” you said, clasping your hands together. Remus looked at you out of the corner of his eye.
You suffered through a game of twenty questions. Sirius wanted to know where you’d grown up, what music you listened to, how old you were, and, by extension, your star sign. He then proceeded to tell you exactly how incompatible this made you with Remus, and, when Remus cleared his throat, how compatible it made you as well. Remus was frowning by the time you arrived.
Outside the pub, Remus sent his friend in first with as much smoothness as he could muster before turning to you sheepishly. “I was hoping you’d meet James first. He’s less… overwhelming.”
You craved his closeness, feeling as though you’d feel much better if you could just rest your forehead on his chest for a minute or two. You shook any anxiety from your face and grinned. You could tell he was unconvinced and taking pity on you.
“It’s fine, it’s nice. I'm happy to meet your friends.”
He nodded, looking pleased with you. His hands moved as though he might take yours into his. Maybe he’d changed his mind or that had never been his intention, as he let them drop and sighed dramatically, blowing the hair from his face. You laughed at his antics.
“It really wasn’t so bad.”
“No, I know, but. I wasn’t expecting to do this today.”
Neither were you. In a perfect world he would’ve stayed the day. You might’ve watched a film, properly this time with less wrist-kissing (or more, whatever would suit him) and a bowl of salty popcorn.
He stepped closer to you, inclining his head. “I feel like a bad friend.”
“What?” you asked, laughing.
“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you any of those questions before.”
“Oh, you mean the interrogation.”
He rolled his eyes. The wind blew hard and you hid away in your thin jacket, covering your hands with your sleeves.
“C‘mon, let’s go in before you freeze to death,” he said.
He held the door open for you. You thanked him, and then said quietly, “You can ask me anything you want to. And I don’t think it makes you a bad friend,” the word sounded disjointed even to yourself, “for not wanting to take a crash course on me.”
“And if I do?”
You looked to him as he searched for Sirius. The black-haired man was sitting in a booth on the left side of the restaurant, waving you both over.
“Then take one." His hand ghosted the small of your back as you weaved through chairs and tables. “I don’t know any of the answers about you, either.”
“Like what?”
“Like, when’s your birthday?”
“March 10th.”
You gasped.
“What?”
“Remus, that’s this week!"
"Is it?" he asked, sliding into the booth beside Sirius. You knew he'd made the choice so you didn't have to, and was beyond grateful when you sat down opposite them both. You wanted to ride him about failing to mention his birthday but didn't want to be rude, and by the time you'd had a few drinks and some food you'd forgotten to be peeved.
-
You masked how you felt very well, even forgot it, for a time — the loneliness, the worrying. You did well with your work at the supermarket. You had Remus. Some days, very few days, days all the same — it wasn’t enough to stave away the upset. You’d woken up feeling it in the depth of your chest, carried it in your fingertips like tiny needles of glass.
You went to work and smiled and did your due diligence, stocking and restocking, changing labels and sticking old merchandise with discount stickers. At one point, everything felt very loud.
Remus had been around. You’d missed him this morning, having caught the later bus. He’d stolen you for a spare minute behind a towering display of trampoline boxes. “I can pick you up, you know.”
You did know. You worried relying on him for something like that would begin to press on his nerves. “I’m too ditzy in the mornings. I’ll make you late.”
“You got up just fine on Saturday. The second time.”
You tried very hard not to stammer. “It was the weekend. Plus, can your poor car take it?"
"Sirius really liked you, you know?"
You bit back a smile and turned your face away from him.
He elbowed you before he drifted off to finish whatever he’d been doing. You asked Lucy to give you something to do and she looked at you like you’d grown a second head. You weren’t in the habit of asking for more work.
That’s how you found yourself in the shop’s small clothing section. The clothing section lived in the furthest corner of the storefront, hidden away behind a few aisles of tall racks of clothes, displays of shoes and rotating stands filled up with cubic zirconia jewellery. Your hands were shaking as you hooked pairs of small, silver earrings backed onto velveteen over a prong.
It often caught you by surprise how sad you could feel in response to your own worrying. How a mild want for relief could turn desperate and frustrated, had you swallowing a lump in your throat in your clean pressed uniform like a good worker.
It didn't feel as all encompassing when Remus rounded the corner with his thermos full of hot tea.
"For you," he said, "you look tired today, sweetheart."
-
Remus really hadn't given you much time to prepare for his birthday.
You wracked your brain for what to get him. What did you get a twenty something young guy with no interest in sports? You supposed you'd get him a book; his room was filled with novels and textbooks, half of them gibberish to you. "It's a sci-fi series, lovely," he'd said. The next time you'd gone round they'd been moved. You felt terrible for embarrassing him and never mentioned them again. Maybe you could get him a sci-fi book or two to fill the gap, and show him you really didn't care about his taste in books, though you'd never volunteer to read any of them. Fictional potion making didn't interest you.
A very small part of you wanted to hint at your affections. You recalled him wearing a silver necklace when you'd first met him that you hadn't seen recently. Maybe he'd broken it. That would make a good present for a boyfriend that wasn't your boyfriend, possibly. Or a terrible one.
Whether you'd confess or not, you bought a necklace. A simple chain with a pinky-nail sized compass charm. The jeweller assured you the lucky man would like it.
And then, wondering if two books and a necklace was overkill or under kill, wildly inappropriate or the best gifts you'd ever gotten someone, you made him a very small voucher. Hand-crafted, good for anything he wanted.
You presented him with the card first. The voucher fell into his lap. He held it between two fingers delicately and his smile slowly grew. Nailed it, you thought to yourself.
"Anything I want?" he asked.
"Anything you want," you confirmed.
"Are you sure this isn't a gift for you?" he asked.
"Not unless you want it to be."
He smiled across the table at you. You were on break, aching already with hours to go. The whole staff had sent a card around and Daniel had insisted you present it to him. He displayed both on the table with a happy smile.
"Thank you," he said fondly.
"Oh, that's not all, Lupin," you began, your voice faux excited. Internally you were worried as a mother hen who'd just caught sight of a red snout. "I got you real gifts."
"This is a real gift," he protested.
You shook your head. "That's my fail safe if you hate the real gifts." You pulled three silver parcels from your rucksack. You'd even tied a bow around the books with shining twine to hold them together.
He went for the smaller first and your hand jumped forward. "No- uh, do that one last."
"Yes mum," he said dutifully. You cringed and wrinkled your nose at him, which set him laughing as he pulled the ribbon loose. He unwrapped the presents with care, peeling sellotape rather than ripping. It echoed the care he showed in everyday things.
You realised he'd opened the sequel first and frowned. "Oh, that's the second. Sorry."
He turned it over in his hand, reading the blurb on the back. "Don't be sorry."
You pressed your lips together. He unwrapped the first and held them both in his hands. You felt your heart beating uncomfortably fast as his silence stretched.
"Thank you," he said, voice bright, meeting your eyes with all the lightness a person could hope to possess.
"I know you- you got rid of your books when I came over the first time. I didn't mean to make you, uh, embarrassed."
You wrung your hands. He laughed and set the books next to his two cards. "I didn't move them because of your judgement," he said. "I was redecorating."
"I wasn't judging them!"
"Your disgust, then."
"Remus," you pleaded.
He shook his head at you, leaning back in his seat. "It's so easy."
"Pick on someone your own size."
He tipped his head from side to side like he was considering it. "Nah, you're much more fun. I know what it does to you."
You withheld your expression and looked him dead in the eye.
"Alright! I'm sorry, lovely girl, really. Don't be embarrassed. The books are amazing, thank you. Forgive me?
"Well," you said, resting your elbows on the table, head inclined, "it is your birthday."
"That it is," he said smugly.
He reached for the last present and you stopped yourself from pulling it back. Even if he hated it, he wouldn't say. Everything would be fine.
The jewellery box made a small shushing sound as he opened it, a nice clip as he set the lid aside over the plastic tabletop. One bench over three of your coworkers sat eating pastries. Somebody ran the sink so high the sound bounced around the room at high velocity. You imagined cold water flicking the back of your neck.
Despite the noise, your vision had tunneled in on Remus. His hair was in his eyes, always in his eyes, curling over his eyebrows and around his ears. His pretty mouth was still, lips parted a millimetre. His eyes, brown as rich soil, traced the necklace carefully. You put the tip of your index finger in your mouth and bit down to stop from spewing apologies.
He moved the sheet paper cover onto the table and popped the necklace from it's box. It dangled between you both, held aloft by a single digit, shining in the fluorescents.
He didn't look at you as he cleared his throat. "You'll put it on for me? I'm rubbish with clasps."
It hadn't been what you were expecting him to say.
You moved to the chair beside him and held your breath as you unlocked the clasp, pushing onto a knee to drape it across his chest. You carded the hair from the back of his neck gently and shut the clasp, letting it fall against his shirt.
He stared down at the necklace, an inkling of pleasure on his face followed by something else that he swiftly mastered and hid away. You tucked the necklace under his polo to make him work appropriate and he caught your hand, pressed it against his heart. You blinked. His eyes locked onto your joined hands. He squeezed your fingers, pushed the pad of his thumb into your palm.
He let your hand go and moved in to kiss you on the cheek. He didn't say thank you again and you didn't want one. He'd said enough with his touches, the area where he'd pressed his lips had a warm spot and your whole body flushed.
A small chime sounded, signalling the end of first dinner break. Your coworkers stood up to leave. You wondered if they were looking at you both and found you didn't care, not one bit.
He packed away his gifts into his rucksack. You thought maybe he'd say nothing at all for the rest of your lives as you both stored your things in the lockers, side by side, when he spoke softly.
"Anything I want?"
It took you a moment to recall what he meant. "Yeah, Remus, anything."
"I'll save it, if that's alright with you."
"That's fine."
He nodded, squeezed your shoulder familiarly and you both parted ways for the rest of your shift, head spinning.
-
And, the unspoken gift, birthday sex.
"This won't use up my voucher, will it?" he asked.
"No, you twit," you said, irritated. He already had you pressed into the wall of his bedroom with a hand down your trousers. "Why, do I need to get a hole-punch ready?"
"No, no, if you don't mind."
"You're very polite for someone with his fingers inside me," you said.
He gasped. "What's wrong with you? Where's my shy girl gone?"
"She died when you played handsy in the car."
He smirked to himself and shifted his fingers, scissoring you wide open. "It gets you so badly," he said happily, cruelly. You tightened your hand hard enough around his bicep to make him groan. "Ouch, popeye. Give it a rest."
"I'm popeye! Have you seen your arms?"
"I'm choosing to take that as an insult," he said, latching onto your neck. "You'll be duly punished," he murmured against your skin.
"Oh, goodie."
He thrusted up. "I don't like this version of you at all. And on my birthday, of all days!" He kissed your sternum numerous times to show he was kidding. Every press of his lips inched down into your bones. You were almost floating, tethered by his ministrations and nothing else.
He pulled his fingers out, dissatisfied, pressed them wet to your neck. Steadfast in his unmoving grasp, he kissed you. You doubted you'd ever tire of it.
He held onto you like he worried you'd slip away. You worried the same thing, tightening your hands around his wrists. You wanted him bad, you almost always did, and yet his kiss was so distracting. So all encompassing, he filled each of your senses in turn until the room wasn't a room, it was him, his mouth, his body and your body.
You stood in his hold and he stood in yours, breathing quick gasps of air like divers resurfacing before throwing yourselves back in, desperate to see everything, desperate to feel everything. You ran your hand down his wrist, down his arm, slipped your fingers underneath his sleeves to cup his bicep.
His fingertips brushed the edges of your hairline as he kissed you deeper, tasting of the cloying madeira cake you'd both enjoyed on the drive home.
You started giggling as best you could with your mouth full and felt his lips curve up in a smile against yours.
"What's funny?" he asked, pulling away.
You, panting, pressed your fingertips into his chest to push him away. "You're gonna suffocate me."
"My nefarious plan revealed," he said dryly, shoving you none too gently toward the bed.
You let yourself fall onto his sheets, saw in his eyes he planned on being similarly behaved.
"How'd you want me, handsome?" you asked him, tracing a line up your navel, pulling you shirt up with it to expose the edge of your bra.
He climbed up the bed, fingers quickly lifting the hem of your shirt up and over your head. Despite his hurry, his cock straining through his tight trousers, he was devout, kissing the top of your shoulder, a path down your arm. It wiped the smile off your face, had you looking at him with curiosity.
He didn't notice, busy with your trouser buttons. He popped them open, pulled your trousers off and shuffled back with them. You brought your legs up coyly, pushing your knees together.
He kneeled at the end of his bed, breathing fast. He pulled his shirt off over his back quickly, hair every which way. You held your arms out to beckon him forward and he came, letting you push the waves of his hair flat. He made quick work of his trousers and shrugged them off. It wasn't often you were both in your underwear. It felt different.
"You're very handsome," you said, aiming for lightness and missing.
"You've told me," he said.
"Let me tell you again," you said, hands cradling his face now his hair was in order.
A blush developed over his face, set his pale skin pink. His freckles stuck like pink prick stars across his cheeks. You ran your thumb over the bridge of his nose, over his cheek. His eyes shut in response.
"You shouldn't be so lovely," he said, words smooth as brushed cotton, "I'll get a complex."
You rolled your eyes and leaned in, tilting your head to slot against his, taking his pink top lip into your mouth. His hand tightened in your hair as you sucked, his dick twitched where it was pressed over your thigh.
"You liked that, huh?" you asked when you'd finished.
"Shut it," he said.
"I don't think so, I quite like teasing you."
You let your head drop on the pillows behind you and hoped he would follow. He didn't, climbing up.
"On your tummy, sweetheart," he said. You did as he commanded with trepidation honey thick in your veins, heart pounding in your ears.
On your stomach, he unclasped your bra and you slid it off. His hand pushed under your body and searched until he found your nipple, tweaking the little bead cruelly. You turned your shoulder inwards to dissuade his touches and he laughed easily, setting his attentions on your panties. You felt the bed shift as he climbed between your legs, breath stuttering as he rubbed his thumb over your cunt, fabric sliding.
"Pretty pussy all wet for me," he said, almost to himself. "Always so wet for me, aren't you, darling?"
Darling. You buried your face in his pillow and drowned out your overwhelming pleasure with his smell.
Your underwear came down. He pulled them clean of your ankles, elastic pinging off your skin as he pulled. You didn't know what he was doing from behind, didn't realise how close he'd gotten until you felt his mouth on the back of your leg. He kissed gently, then not so gently, rounding to your inner thigh where he left little love bites up and up until his nose brushed your cunt. You seized, threw your hand back and couldn't reach him as he kissed your centre, licked a wet stripe up your heat that made you gasp.
His fingers found your entrance. He pushed in two at once, sucking and nibbling on your clit until you were panting.
"Remus, don't," you began.
He pulled away, alarmed. "What's wrong?"
"You're not supposed to-" you shook your head, your back arched as you looked over your shoulder at him. "It's your birthday. You're the one who's supposed to get oral."
His eyebrows went up. "Babe, I really don't eat you out enough if you think it's supposed to be a special occasion."
You shook your head. "Didn't mean it like that."
"Can I keep going?" His hand came down on the back of your knee. "I like doing it. Consider it a gift for me."
Your aimed your shoulders to hide your face and nodded.
He squeezed your thigh. "Yes or no, sweetheart."
"Yes, please." You shifted your hips to drive the point home.
-
Remus had forgotten how shy you'd been when you first met. But now, with his face buried in your pussy and your shoulders trembling, he remembered. Cruelly, he wanted to embarrass you worse.
He pushed two fingers into your cunt and pumped a few times for good measure, lips sealing around your sensitive clit. He sucked on it gently and then not so much, pleased as punch when you squealed into his pillow.
"You liked that, huh, baby?" he asked, using your words against you.
"Yes," you admitted sheepishly.
He searched for that sound again, wouldn't stop until he found it, curving his fingers to drag along your soft walls, wetness covering the bottom of his face. He sucked and adored your clit until your were making little weepy sounds that set his heart ablaze and his cock throbbing, pulling his fingers out momentarily to lick your pussy clean. He liked you very much, but it was his birthday. He wanted you to come with his cock deep inside you, walls clenched around him. He struggled up onto his knees and spread your legs a little further so your heat was close enough to fuck into should you allow him, drawing his fingers in light lines on the skin between your cunt and your thigh.
He pressed three fingers to your entrance, rubbing his fingertips circles. "Aww baby," he teased, going for broke, "y'little hole, all sopping wet when I just finished cleaning you up. You're so inconsiderate," he teased.
"Not my fault," you protested, more incensed than he'd ever heard you. "You- you-"
"I know, baby, I know," he soothed, rubbing the back of your thigh. Your hips shifted, searching for his fingers. He stopped his circling and dipped into your slick, your sigh of relief an amorous sound he was sure to hear playing over and over in his mind the next time he missed your skin. "I wound you up."
"Yes," you agreed, comforted by his sympathy.
He smirked to himself. "Move back on my fingers," he instructed.
You hugged his pillow to your chest and moved back obediently, though he sensed your desperation with every rock of your hips. He held his fingers very still inside you and let you ride them, your movements slow and shy.
"Go on," he said, scissoring his fingers inside you, feeling your cunt stretch. You sighed as you moved away, worse when you moved onto him and felt the drag.
"Remus, please. I want you," you said, voice muffled by fabric. He pushed you down by the small of your back, moving his boxers down to his knees. You felt the fabric on your skin and uncovered your face to watch inquisitively. He leaned over you, cock sliding over your arse, to move the messy hair from your eyes like you'd done for him.
"What do you want, baby?"
"I want you-" you hesitated, shyness making your voice small. "I want your cock."
He was so turned on by your admission he groaned, rocking his hips against your arse.
He pulled back just long enough to part your pussy and push the head of his cock into your warmth before he leaned flush against your body. You made a noise like you'd had the air knocked out of you as he rocked in, hugging the pillow to your chest tightly.
He used your hair to gently drag your head back, making it so he could kiss the side of your throat. The necklace you'd gifted him hung between you, swaying with each thrust, metal skimming over your soft skin over and over. His kisses moved to the nape of your neck, slow, open-mouthed. He could feel the little sounds you were making vibrate through your damp skin.
He hit your sweet spot and you tightened around him, a small groan escaping you. "How's that, sweetheart?" he asked you. "Feel good?"
You held your hand out for him and he took it, rocking forward again. Another little groan, throaty things that he adored. He sped up his thrusts, desperate to hear you and fully enraptured. "You feel so fucking good, tight little cunt all spread open," he rocked in to the hilt, stayed there to piston against your sweet spot. You let out a long cry, fingers tightening around his.
"Fuck," you said, "fuck," when he hammered in again, "fuck, fuck, fuck."
The feeling was mutual. His hips slowed as the pleasure built. He leaned forward to talk into your ear. "Touch yourself for me, that's a good girl," he said, hand digging into your hip regretfully as he slid forward.
You nodded, mewled, forced a hand under your weight to rub circles into your pussy. He could see your eyes slant shut as you worked and felt your hips grateful as you chased the feeling. He moved back to spread the cheeks of your arse, spread your pussy, watching your entrance stretch around the head of his aching cock as he pushed in.
He knew you were close because you'd stopped breathing properly, holding in gasps and pausing when you remembered. He set a steady pace and shoved his hand under your hip, back aching at the angle as he searched for your hand. He held his hand over yours and forced you to rub quicker circles into your clit until your mouth came open in a soundless cry, pussy clenched around him hard. He kept his hand over yours, kept the simulation going until he felt your hip twitching under his hand and your legs were kicking.
"Good girl," he praised. "So good for me."
You moved your hand away and held onto his pillow like a life raft as he plowed into you, sharp firm thrusts that hit the deepest part of you until he groaned, pulling out to milk his cock, cum shooting over the globes of your arse, dripping down over your rim and pussy. He sat back on his haunches and gripped your leg for dear life as the pleasure rode over him, palming his cock until the very last of it had begun dripping down the underside of his shaft. He collected it on his fingers and pushed it inside you, laughing as you made a happy sound.
His abdomen felt tight as he leaned down to kiss your messy pussy, licking stripes over your tiny gaping hole.
He climbed off of you to find a towel, letting his boxers fall to the ground. You were right where he left you when he came back, dozing.
He wiped cum and mess off of your legs gently, warm water dripping over your swollen cunt. You stirred as he went. He wiped his hands clean before dropping the towel over the edge of the bed and settling at the top, pulling your head into his lap. You groaned tiredly.
"Sorry. You can sleep if you want to," he said gently.
You sighed and turned onto your side away from him, hiking a leg up. You looked up with a smile. "Sorry, I don't know what happened. A haze came over me," you murmured theatrically.
"You're drunk on me," he said smugly, running his fingernail under your eye to wipe away your smudged make-up.
"I don't think that's it."
He covered you both up with a blanket as best he could. You wrapped your hand around the outside of his thigh, lips against his leg. "Happy birthday. Happy birthday," you repeated. He smiled, pulling you close. Your arm came around his waist in response, face tucked into his stomach. You kissed his tummy.
He screwed his eyes shut tightly. "Thank you, lovely girl."
-
my masterlist <3
tag club! :3
marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly@siriuslystfu@thatblackravenclaw @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust @touchdeprivedwh0re@vi0letblu3s@mooncalvin @gaysnowrose @thatonecomfyjumper @set-myself-on-fire @decafcoffew
No Voldemort! AU: The Potters were delighted to discover that their neighbours - Dan and Emma Granger - were expecting a daughter only a month or two after their own baby was due. Their son Harry, was born at the end of that July and Hermione Granger was born just under 2 months later. The two grew up together, becoming closer and closer, and went to Hogwarts together. Eventually, the inevitable happened - Hermione fell for the boy next door.
@chloeparker05
Boss's son
Summary: Ginny is an auror in training, with few hours of fun in her schedule, but when one night she decides to go to a guy's house and enjoy her youth, she is surprised by the discovery that she had sex with her boss's son
prompt: "You’ve got to stop doing that" "Doing what?" "Saying things that make me wanna kiss you"
"Mum thinks I'm dating you".
Notes: I thought I couldn't finish this, really, I found myself stuck and not knowing where to go with the story, but then some things happened and I managed to finish it.
Thank you very much to Dusk who read and helped me, and thank to @clarensjoy who made this incredible event to celebrate this incredible date!
I feel that this role reversal would be good to write, and it really was, I think the idea of Ginny being an auror ... Chief's kiss :)
AO3
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Ginny Weasley
Ginny did not have many fears, she had joined the Aurors in less than three years and until now she had faced death many times to be frightened by small things that other people could easily be haunted by. Dementors no longer scared her, nor Death Eaters, or anything like that, Ginny was no longer scared like a puppy in distress. She had learned to deal with situations, Mr Potter was a great boss - she would never say otherwise - but he also scared his pupils like no one else, saying that being on the alert was the best way to be a good Auror.
'Good aurors do not shake when they see the danger, they assess the situation and try to find the solution as soon as possible. Take a minute, and you will be dead.' He said in defense classes, standing on the podium with that typical scowl on him, arms crossed, watching the students trying to knock down the mannequins around the room.
But now, Ginny was mortified.
She felt her knees tremble, and she even felt the high heel in her fingers almost falling to the most manicured marble floor she had ever seen in her life. Her eyes were wide open, an immense desire to disappear completely, or to oblivion the man in front of her.
Her boss. Oblivion her fucking boss.
Ginny almost never had time to go out with guys, she went to the bar, drank, and then came home too tired to endure a round of bad sex, with some man who would cry in her ear about how hot she was and how he couldn't take it any longer. She would rather sleep, and later use her fingers, than have to put up with these guys, and clean up the mess later.
Yesterday however, it was a different day, Mr Potter, the most serious man Ginny had ever met in her life, was happy and told her that he was celebrating twenty years of marriage. They were in a distant village, checking a call from a lady who said she saw a wizard kill another one around those parts, but even that didn't seem to be able to wipe the smile off the man's face.
'Twenty years. Can you believe it?' He sighed, looking over to where the woman said there was a body, kicking what was filthy wrapped in old newsprint. Just a dead dog. 'Twenty years...'
'You look very happy,' Ginny said. 'Congratulations, Mr Potter.'
'Thank you, Miss. Weasley, and yes, I am very happy.' The man once again assured that the place was clean before checking to see if there were any dark arts nearby, or on the animal. Nothing. 'Come on, we just wasted time here.'
She had left earlier that day, Mr Potter said he was too happy to be sitting at the office table waiting for something to happen, and since she was his pupil, and she would also have to sit around waiting for some action, she could leave earlier.
Ginny didn't know much to do with that free time, she was usually always bogged down with work, so when Luna asked her out, she accepted. It was a nice night, the bar was not so crowded, there weren't so many disgusting guys leaning against her and whispering in her ear, and she was really enjoying the night, happy, laughing, talking to her friends, drinking, until she saw him.
He was sitting a few tables away, with some Arrows players, drinking and laughing out loud, drawing the attention of all the women around. At first, Ginny thought he was doing it to get attention, messing up his hair like an idiot, throwing his head back to laugh, talking loudly and rocking in his chair. But when a blonde went to talk to him, the boy seemed surprised by the attention, and even blushed, before smiling and politely denying, saying something more to her - this time, in a low voice.
The mysterious man looked at Ginny then, catching her in the act, his eyes behind the round glasses seeming to sparkle with amusement. He bit his lip and raised his beer mug in a silent toast. She did the same, wishing she hadn't been hit hard by him.
'Hello.' He said when Ginny went to the bar to get another round. The man didn't touch her, not even her shoulders, or whisper in her ear. He kept a good distance, smiling politely and ordering his beers.
'Hi.' Ginny smiled, leaning against the counter, feeling a little stupid for wanting the man to notice how beautiful her legs looked in those black skirts. 'Isn't the blonde your type?' She asked, a little sassy because of the alcohol, and also a little affected by how beautiful his green eyes were, stuck in her face as she spoke.
'No. I just came to drink. 'He put his hand on the counter, and Ginny didn't know if it was a way to show that there was no ring on his fingers, or just something casual. Anyway, she realized how all his fingers were free of any silver or gold. 'Is that you?'
'Too. My boss gave me an hour off. It doesn't happen every day. 'She smiled, shrugging.
'An asshole boss?' He raised his eyebrow, leaning on the counter too, now a little closer to her, but without touching her.
'Sometimes.' She joked.
Now Ginny felt mortified, standing on the stairs with her shoes in hand, her hair in a messy and badly done bun, and probably still with makeup traces on her face. Besides that bite mark on her neck. She was taking the walk of shame in front of her boss. The boss that she said was an asshole - sometimes - last night.
She had fucked with her boss's son! Merlin, how stupid she had been to overlook the similarities.
Standing now, looking at Mr. Potter, Harry was an identical copy of him, only a few years younger, and his eyes, of course, that were green. But still, she couldn't even believe it.
Ginny looked like a bitch in front of her boss.
'Good morning.' It was he who said it first, his eyes wide, seeming to try at all costs to remain in her face. Ginny suddenly felt almost naked, thinking about how that shirt was low-cut.
'Good morning, Mr Potter,' she replied, startled, holding tightly to the wooden railing, thinking about how Harry had pressed her there, almost fucking her on the stairs. Ginny swallowed.
The man just nodded, walking hurriedly into the kitchen, his cheeks flushed and avoiding looking at her as much as possible. Ginny ran out of the house as fast as she could, not even waiting to see if he was going to ask her out for breakfast. Merlin, she would see you at work in less than an hour!
Ginny apparated to her home, safe and without a boss catching her leaving his son's room, after having sex with the hottest man she had ever met. By Merlin's underpants, she was lost.
[...]
The atmosphere between the two was completely tense, Ginny and James barely met each other's eyes, or talked in general, she remained at her desk working with the papers they were carrying out, while Mr. Potter remained in his own office, calling her rarely .
Her career was ruined.
Mr. Potter would never refer her to any job again, and maybe he would trade her for the idiot Elliot. Elliot did not have sex with his son and sneaked out the next morning.
It wasn't hidden at least, she needed to work and Harry was sleeping, she left a note saying that.
'Miss. Weasley, come here please.' He called her, as he usually did, but now it seemed that all of her teachings about never letting your opponent realize that you were scared, had gone down the drain. Ginny could already taste the dismissal.
‘Yes, Mr. Potter?’ Ginny stopped at his office door, her knees trembling behind her pants, her hands sweating.
‘Please come in and close the door.’ She would be fired, or changed. Elliot the idiot was going to win the job she had worked so hard to get. She would never be a well-qualified Auror now, she would remain working only as a watchman for the rest of her life. Forget about promotions, trips to specializations, forget about even missions in the field, she would stay locked up in the office forever, visiting only the old women who always thought they had seen something.
All this because she wanted to have sex with a hot guy.
‘About today earlier-’
'I'm sorry, Mr. Potter.' Ginny interrupted him. ‘I didn’t want it to happen, if I had known-’
'I think if you want to apologize, it will have to be for my son and not for me.' James smiled, his cheeks slightly flushed. He took off his glasses to clean them, but Ginny thought it was an excuse for not having to look her in the eye. ‘About today earlier, I don’t think either of us wants to argue about or keep reminiscing about the event. Maybe we should just forget that we saw each other, and go on with life like that ... I think Harry was a little ... er ... worried about not seeing you for breakfast, but I didn't say anything to him. I would, of course, invite you to join us, but when I came back you were already gone...'
'Thank you.' Ginny sighed. ‘What happened in the morning?’
'That is why I chose you as my pupil, Miss. Weasley.' James also sighed, adjusting his glasses on his face. 'But I must tell you that Harry is coming to have lunch with me. If you want to .. I don’t know, leave early for lunch… I don’t know how your relationship with my son is… ’
'It's okay.' She tried not to remember that she had spoken badly about her boss to Harry. Harry's father. ‘Thank you, Mr. Potter, again.’
'You're welcome.'
Ginny didn't want to prove that she was a coward running away from Harry, or to make Mr. Potter think she had any reason to run away from him. So Ginny stayed, stomping her feet anxiously and trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her, arranging everything in folders and in alphabetical order, handing out some papers over the tables of the other Aurors who didn't even seem to notice her nervousness, all too busy.
When the big clock struck midday and the elevator opened on their floor, Ginny felt her blood run cold, hearing footsteps approaching and people looking more excited about whoever had entered. Her hand was shaking like a beginner's, trying to detach the sheet.
‘Ginny?’ Her voice called out to him, softly, as if he didn’t want people to look at her. She thanks. 'You work here?'
'Oh, hello Harry.' Ginny finally looked at him, dropping the scrolls and keeping her hands in her lap, watching the boy in front of her. In the daylight he looked even more handsome, messy and dark hair that she remembered to be soft and smelling, a stubble that had pinched her skin in a good way, mesmerizing green eyes, a pink mouth that had done a lot of wonders with her ... The man was a God, looking beautiful even in jeans torn at the knees, a black T-shirt and boots. The cover was open, but Ginny did not fail to notice that the fabric appeared to be of the best quality, held by a single buttercup near his neck. 'Yes.'
'Why didn't you tell me?' He continued to speak softly, but everyone was already starting to turn their necks to try to understand what the hell the chief's son was doing standing at poor Ginny's table.
Now that there was enough light and there was no alcohol running through her body, she thought it was obvious that Harry was James' son. She had been so silly.
‘I didn’t think it was important.’
'Oh, I see you guys met.' Mr Potter interrupted them, which Ginny would thank him later, his hand on his son's shoulder, looking at Ginny and then at Harry, who had a confused look on his face. 'Harry, let's have lunch and let Miss. Weasley can too, we don't want the woman to miss her time, do we?' The squeezing on his son's shoulder seemed to make the man wake up, and like his father, Harry smiled.
'Right. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Weasley. Have a nice day.'
[...]
When Ginny left work, it was as if a giant was coming off her shoulders, and she felt more tired than usual because of the tension. After lunch, the other Aurors did not seem to have swallowed the story that Harry and Ginny had first met that morning, and of course she overheard some guys saying that it was how she got the job of pupil.
Great, she thought, it was all I wanted.
Ignore the years of studying, the sleepless nights, the exhausting post-workout where she cried in the bath, the times she thought about giving up - and almost did - but was stopped by her brothers or her parents, and all those tiring missions that James seemed to do just to exhaust the Aurors and see who could still stand.
Forget all that, she got the job after swallowing the boss's son's dick.
Ginny quickened her pace, angry as never before, feeling that she needed to get home, take a shower, and do something to de-stress.
‘Hey!’ A voice called from behind her, and because of all the tension surrounding her and the training, Ginny squeezed her wand around her waist. 'Can we talk?' A slightly sweaty, pink-cheeked Harry stopped in front of her. He didn't even seem to be feeling the icy weather of March, wearing only sweatpants and a jacket, carrying a bag with him.
'What do you want to talk about?' She pressed the cloak against herself, feeling a little shiver, but maybe it was not about the cold but about the fact that the man looked even hot that way.
'Wow, you don't have to be defensive, I'm not here to fight.' He held up his hands. 'Do you want to go somewhere else? Maybe have a coffee? ’
Ginny knew inside that she shouldn't accept, not after knowing how he felt inside her, on top of her, kissing her body, sucking and licking certain parts, how he moaned her name and held her against him when he came, as if he wanted to be sure that she would feel what she did to him.
It was not a safe plan, it was a suicide mission.
'Of course, it will be better,' she said, ignoring all the warnings that it would not end well. Harry smiled, picking up the backpack he had placed on the floor and walking beside her, in silence.
His scent seemed to fill all around her, and Ginny had to work hard not to show that it was affecting her.
They didn't take long to arrive at the coffee shop, it was close by and Ginny's favorite to eat after a stressful day. All the meals were delicious, a warmth in the heart after a bad time. The decor was cheerful, in contrast to the gray London, the walls were colorful, the tables a cream color with flower pots in the middle, and it was as if winter or bad weather never arrived inside that environment. It was always summer there. The owner, Mrs. Rodrigues, was a friendly and adorable Brazilian, always smiling and talking to whoever came in.
'Hello, Miss Weasley, how are we on that gray afternoon?' The woman asked, with an accent that said she was not from there.
'Now, better than before.' Ginny smiled. ‘Just smelling your carrot cake, I’m already happy.’
'No, dear, don't say that or I will get used to it.' Mrs. Rodrigues blushed, and then smiled at Harry beside Ginny, fixing the white cap on her voluminous hair. ‘What will the two want today?’
'The carrot cake and the Pão de Queijo basket, please.' Ginny asked.
'A coffee, and ... the carrot cake too,' Harry said.
Mrs. Rodrigues wrote down and smiled at both of them, indicating an empty table further down, near the window and the various flowers that Ginny still did not know how she did to keep them alive, and the two went there, in silence, with only the Brazilian music playing in a pleasant volume filling the lack of conversation between them, the voice of some couples and teenagers was mixed by the environment.
'I didn't know you were my boss's son, I have to say that.' Ginny broke the silence first, looking at Harry in front of her, anxious hands playing with the flower pot on the table.
'If you knew...?' Harry seemed nervous for the answer, arms crossed on the table, green eyes fixed on her, waiting for Ginny to say what he should already know.
‘We wouldn’t have gone out together.’ She smiled sadly. 'You understand why, right? I mean, your dad is my boss, he wouldn’t see it in a good way, and my coworkers would think, in fact they already think, that I used this to get to be where I am.’
‘If you want to know, my dad has been trying to get me out with you since he met you.’ Harry said as if talking about the weather, shrugging and smiling, never diverting her attention. ‘I think he was just surprised that he didn’t know you were there, maybe he expected me to say that I went out with you or that someone would tell him, to see you there in the morning, it was something he didn’t expect.’
‘Did you know who I was at the bar?’
'No! No, I didn't know who you were. He was talking about his pupil, and all your qualities as an auror, and seriously, I don't think I've ever seen him speak so well of one of his young aurors.' Ginny wouldn't express, of course, but she felt a little of pride inside her, thinking of the times that Mr Potter put her into more rigid training than the others, just because "she learned faster than the others." He really believed in her potential! Take that, Elliot. ‘Mum thinks I'm dating you, after she heard you were there… She was a little upset that you ran away.’
'I didn't run away,' Ginny defended herself, laughing softly when she saw Harry laugh, imagining that she should be blushing like never before.'I needed to come to work, and I met my boss at the house of the guy I had sex with, there was no way I could stay for coffee.'
'You could.' Harry shrugged. 'Sorry I didn't warn you about my parents, it never happened before, and I was a little too busy.' He blinked, in the way that made Ginny feel like jelly, the slightly arched black eyebrow and the little smile that did it all seem a little too erotic for that afternoon. He didn't even seem to be trying to do that.
'What did not happen? You taking one of your father's Aurors to your home?' She joked, just to dissipate that heat that took over her body, and to remind her of who she was talking to. Son of your boss, son of your boss, son of your boss, Ginny repeated in her mind.
'That too, but I say about taking girls, in general, at home.' Harry licked his lips when the waiter brought their orders, smiling at both of them and apologizing for interrupting the conversation, placing the basket of Pão de Queijo in the middle of the table for the two, and the piece of cake in front of each other, in addition to Harry's coffee.
Ginny's stomach rumbled when she saw the delicious warm and fragrant Pão de Queijo, together with the delicious smell of carrot cake and brigadeiro, she even felt a little less nervous now that she had something else to pay attention to, other than the mesmerizing eyes from Harry.
None of them spoke much after they started eating, other than the moans of satisfaction they shared as soon as they ate the first pão de queijo, focused only on eating that delicious delicacy and letting the music take over their thoughts, as if it were normal for Harry and her shared a table in the afternoon, eating together and being used to the moment.
It was so simple to be with him, so familiar, that it scared Ginny a little bit, whenever she stopped to analyze.
'I feel like you're not going to accept that I ask you out, now that I know about your concern for your co-workers?' Harry asked, pulling the plate of cake closer and picking up a piece, looking focused on just looking at the slice, instead of for Ginny, and she missed his eyes on her.
'It's complicated,' she admitted, looking at her own slice. 'There are not many women in the Auror Department and they already think that I managed to be where I am, just because I did something for your father, and not because I deserved it and worked hard. You understand? It’s a little more difficult for us women to inhabit predominantly male places.’
'I understand.' Harry looked at her, and he didn't seem upset that she denied his request, he seemed upset about the reason that made her do this. 'But you know that you cannot live, listening and taking what they say about you as truth, you know? I'm not saying that for you to go out with me, it’s not that, it's just because ... Everything my father says about you, made me understand that he chose you because you were good, very good, in what you did. You know you are, and how you made it this far, is not what others will say that will change that. They don’t know anything.’
[...]
The days passed faster than Ginny expected, after the meeting with Harry, the hours were confused between studying for the test that would take place at the end of the month and working, Mr Potter did not comment on his son, and Harry did not appear for more. there too. Now that she was paying attention, Ginny noticed that there was a picture of the boy in the chief's office, Harry, a child, teenager, and adult, wearing the Arrows' uniform.
He also started to appear in the newspaper, now that he had officially joined the team, and it wasn't just a reserve, so Ginny ended up seeing him during breakfast, stamping the sports column.
She also saw him at night, before going to sleep, when they were calling to talk in the mirror, the two tired, telling about what the day had been like. She said she couldn't accept going out with him, not being a friend.
Although she thought things that friends did not think about each other, and sometimes Harry flirted with her, without much pretension, seeming to just do it naturally.
‘You’ve got to stop doing that’ He said, biting his lower lip as if he wanted to hold himself back from laughing, lying shirtless while talking to her, who was putting the books in the drawer, getting ready to go to bed.
'Doing what?' Ginny asked, taking the mirror from the dresser and going to the bed, leaving the candle light still on so he could see it.
‘Saying things that make me wanna kiss you’
'Harry ...' Ginny warned him, blushing like a tomato, only to hear him laugh and blink those beautiful green eyes towards her.
"I'm not doing anything, besides, your exams are next week, which means I'm almost close to being able to take you on a real date." They had agreed this, in fact, it was Ginny who brought it up. a week after the James incident, just because she started thinking hard about how good that night had been, and how much better it would be if there was no alcohol in her blood and she didn't have to face the boss the next morning, before she even brushed the teeth.
After she took the test, they could leave, but still, it was very public until the result came out. Ginny didn't want anyone to doubt her ability, nor did the fact that dating Harry influence James' thinking.
'But then, there is still a week to go.' She reminded him.
'How are you feeling?'
'Anxious,' she admitted, thinking again about how easy it was to open up to Harry. 'How was the training today?' He moved, the noise of the sheets making her think things inappropriate for that moment.
'Tiring, I have pain in my thighs.' Harry made a lovely face, his nose slightly wrinkled.
'Poor thing about you.' Ginny tuned her voice as if she were talking to a baby, which made the man laugh, something that always made Ginny have her ego boosted a thousand times.
Harry looked cute laughing.
'You could come here and help me, I know that Aurors know how to do very good healing spells.' He blinked, and this time it was Ginny who laughed.
'Shut up. Good night, Harry. 'Ginny felt and saw that her cheeks got even hotter, but Harry didn't seem affected, he seemed to approve of that.
'Good night, Weasley ... One week, I'm counting.' He smiled, and something inside her trembled in excitement and excitement so that the week would pass soon.
'I know you do, Potter. Bye. ’
If Life Were Simpler
Author: viridianatnight
Rating: M
Genre: no voldemort, smut, fluff, hogwarts, seventh year, headgirl!hermione
Summary: In another universe, where hate only came from academic rivals and haughty quidditch captains, our two lovers find each other. Maybe it could have been this way, if life were simpler.
—
All fluff, I promise!
READ HERE
quidditch game on a bit cloudy day 1996 / world without Voldemort
Harry tried to find the snitch for a long time with no succes. Kids argued for a moment but then decided to look for it together. They searched for 2 hours not knowing that Willow snatched it in the first 10 minutes of the game.
Harry: I've been looking for it for an hour now, Mal!
Matilda: Just admit you lose
Leo: No!
Harry: That's not the point!
Juliet: Maybe you're not as good as you claim you are 😛
Harry: 😡😤
Leo: Can't you just accio it?
Harry: I'm still not of age!
Leo: ughh
Willow would be a brilliant seeker, but he never liked playing in groups and games with his siblings annoyed him - so he usually wanders around when others play or go out on his own to chase after the snitch.
Matilda isn't a big fan of quidditch, actually preferrs doing the commentary but for her siblings' sake plays as the keeper.
Harry takes much pride in quidditch and he wasn't ever really willing to go easy on his siblings, never minded teaching them tho, they all mostly bonded with Harry because he taught them how to stay on the broom.
Leo is a quidditch freak (not really fan of the rules while playing himself), he looks up to James and Harry a lot
Juliet is a free spirit my dudes. She plays cause she can. Twins are her mentors so once she saw they play as beaters she made up her mind and plays as such. Officially on Gryffindor team once Fred and George graduated
