Summary: all throughout hogwarts theodore nott was your bully - a mean one at that. Unbeknownst to you, your family arranges your hand in marriage to him even after knowing what he put you through.
WARNINGS: ARRANGED MARRIAGE, PUREBLOOD READER, YEARNING, eventual SMUT, MEAN THEO, NAME CALLING, CUSS WORDS, SLYTHERIN! READER, enemies to lovers
The downside of being a pureblood was the arranged marriages that they all continued to do - and unfortunately for you, it was now your time for said subject.
Your parents decided not to tell you who exactly it was that you were to wed to just that you wouldn't mind it at all. Who wouldn't you mind?
There was many men that you did not like in your time at Hogwarts, there was only a select few that you did enjoy. First there was Lorenzo Berkshire - a very handsome boy but not quite your type. Second, there was Mattheo Riddle - he was not a pureblood though so an unlikely match once again. Third, there was Blaise Zabini - he might be the only man you were okay with marrying amongst the pureblooded previous slytherin men. That is the only reasonable solution, Blaise.
A little smile crept onto your face adding a little skip in your step as you made your way into the dining hall where you supposed husband was sat waiting for you. You stopped infront of a mirror that hung on the wall, fixing any mistakes in your appearance before blowing a kiss at yourself. "Get ready to be Mrs. Zabini~" You spoke to yourself with a giggle - only for a cough to be heard making you nearly scream as you spun to come face to face with your old bully.
"What are you doing here, Nott?"
"I was invited."
"What for?"
He only smiled a little sticking his hands inside of his pockets, "Well let us go find out, hmm Mrs. Zabini." He mocked the voice you used to call yourself that making you feel a rush of embarrassment.
God, why would your parents invite the one man who relentlessly tormented you during your time at Hogwarts? Perhaps, your engagement was to be announced in front of others pureblood families - a party and claim.
"Shove off, Nott." You stormed past him but he seemed to be right behind you - not even taking notice to how you were practically running from him. An action you did many times before. His long legs seemed to catch up to you in no time as you sent a glare his way he smirked in response.
"Don't give me that look, cara mia - you don't know what it does to people."
"You're so gross."
"Says the one who took it that way, I only meant-"
"I don't want to hear it, please. Just leave me alone, I want to never see your face here again, do you understand?"
He mimicked a fake salute. "Yes ma'am, as you wish little nymph."
That fucking nickname he called you because you loved to hide in the woods away from him. He usually found you but sometimes he didn't and that made you keep going back. With a roll of your eyes, you pushed open the doors to the massive room. One man that looked similar yet very different from Theodore sat on one side of the table across from your mother. Your father sat at the end of the table, overlooking all the area.
With only him there, your eyebrows furrowed. Where was Blaise and his family?
Theodore took notice of your disgruntled look and decided to whisper a snide remark in your ear. "Uh-oh, I guess no Mrs. Zabini for you. How tragic."
You felt your eyes tear up but you blinked a few times and glared once more at the tall man. If you can even call him a man. "I told you before to shove off, nott."
"Your wish is my command as I told you." With that he walked to the side of the table to sit beside the man who was most likely his father. Your eyes glanced to your parents - it was the biggest betrayal you had faced yet.
You chose not to speak even when Mr. Nott greeted you which earned a smack from your mother. You nodded slightly towards the older man whispering a subtle hello back, the scene made your father roll his eyes and groan before chuckling.
"Our little girl does not wish to get married but we know that you'll take good care of her Theodore."
Theodores eyes remained on you even as your father spoke to him but he responded nonetheless. "Very much I will."
Your father was such a liar. You did want to get married just not to this pathetic excuse of a man infront of you. His father hummed in response before taking in your appearance - nothing lacked from it. You had made sure of that earlier, there was nothing to nitpick at all. You wondered if Blaise and his family were here if they would treat you more kindly.
"This is the one you want, Theo?" His father asked eyeing his son who still had his gaze remained on you. It was too intense for you to stare back at him even if you wanted to - and you really didn't want to.
"Yes, no other will do." He responded making your father and mother rejoice. They were acting like you were a burden they were happy to get rid of, why they were doing such was baffling you. They had usually treated you with care, now it seemed they just wanted you gone.
It was time you picked your head up, you did so in defiance against your body. The glare you shot the blue eyed man made his all knowing smirk return, you mouthed a warning to him making him chuckle. Your parents glanced over before going back to eating in silence.
You smiled kindly at your parents and his when they did, but once they turned away you tried to kick Theodore underneath the table. He caught your foot and pulled making you fall from your chair - a loud echo of the bang made it more awkward than it should have been.
"[NAME]!" Your father shouted making you quickly shoot up from where you laid, his glare sent a shiver down your spine. "Apologize to our guests."
You caught sight of Theodore laughing behind his hand making you roll your eyes. Fucking idiot, you would kill yourself before the first year of marriage that was for sure. "I am deeply sorry for the abrupt distraction from dinner."
Mr.Nott only nodded before going back to eating, he glared to the side at his laughing son. "Eat your food, boy."
Theodore only let a lopsided smile out at his fathers words. "Yes, father right away." You saw him flick his wrist underneath the table - with that you fell once again but this time on top of Theodore and your food. You screamed in anger grabbing the leftover food from the bowl and throwing at him - he laughed and grabbed some of the food that fell on the floor and threw it back.
Both of your parents began to yell at the both of you but once he took off laughing - you followed him with some food in hand ready to strike.
When you finally cornered him, he turned around with that one look that he used multiple times. A look that says I won, what he thinks he won this time was beyond you. You had the high ground, the advantage by having loose food in your hand. You smirked at him.
"What's that look for huh? I won, not you, me!"
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Mrs. Nott."
"Don't you ever call me that -"
"Would you prefer nymph? I always liked that one too, sadly for you I will not call you Mrs. Zabini anymore. Aww, dont be so-"
You threw the food towards him, it smacked straight onto his face. He stood there stunned for a moment before laughing. He quickly strutted over towards you making your eyes widened in panic. The next step was not planned out, a bit hasty on your part.
He grabbed your wrists and held them above your head - pushing you against the wall. "Make no mistake that you will be my wife, it is the ultimate joke I wish to play on you."
"Theodore Nott, let her go." His father stood at the end of the hallway, glaring down at his son. Your parents seemed to have anger written all over their face as you stared back at them already feeling defeated. You 'accidentally' stomped on Theodores feet, making him wince as you walked to your parents. They grabbed you by the ear and tugged you along. Theodore waved towards you with a smile - a smile you hated.
Your parents were really screwing you over with this marriage - they would never receive grandchildren if that is what they were hoping for. Theodore probably would blame you for it as well, claiming some sort of fucked up reasoning.
.
.
.
"You have embarrassed us, [name]. You should be grateful that Theodore still wishes to marry you at all."
You held your head down in shame, perhaps you did let your emotions get the best of you but did you not deserve to stick up for yourself?
"I don't wish to get married to him!"
"You have no say in the matter - as long as you live under my roof you will do as I say!"
"What about when I live under their roof, hmm?"
"That is it, I have had enough of snarky little remarks. Once you leave here, you will be your husband's problem."
Your husbands problem?
A smirk took over your face as your father continued to lecture you. That was something you could definitely take advantage of, oh how theodore would regret the day he asked to marry you.
- A/N: this one is super short mostly because I just wanted to get it out nowwwwwwww sorryyyyy lmao I keep putting fanfics off
song; paper rings [taylor swift]
pairing; fred weasley x fem!rich!pureblood!reader
genre; forbidden love, s2l
word count; 4k
timeline; goblet of fire —> order of the phoenix
warnings; swearing, strict parents, fake friends, references to severe injury, slight discrimination of muggle-borns
summary; you and fred were from different worlds, and in your family's eyes never should have crossed paths— but after a surprising interaction, an off-script story unfolds
this is the penultimate piece of the lover anthology!!
masterlist
"i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings."
———————————————————
One of the many luxuries that your family's status and wealth could provide was coveted seats at the Quidditch World Cup when it took place in England. And, after indulging in the enthusiasm of the crowd and countless souvenirs, you made your way back to your spacious tent with your parents feeling rather giddy. You were camping— although, with the quality and amenities of your set-up, it was more like glamping— in a more expensive and less crowded section, along with other wealthy families. So, as you settled into your double bed, you were confused at the sense of unease rippling inside of you. Still, you brushed it aside as adrenaline from the match, and finally cosied into a somewhat restless sleep.
When you woke up to the sound of screams and explosions, you realised that your instincts had been spot on, and shot out of bed to find your parents. They were hurrying out of their separate rooms just as you did, and your father quickly moved to peek out the door.
His face quickly paled, "Death eaters," he said hoarsely, and your mother gasped.
While your parents would probably never allow you to marry a muggle-born, it was not to say they didn't consider them as true witches and wizards. They were completely against You-Know-Who and his disciples— they simply didn't want their centuries-old bloodline tainted. In itself, it was still questionable, but you knew that you were lucky compared to other status households.
"Y/N, grab your wand," your father ordered, "We have to leave."
Your mother interjected, "We're pure bloods, they won't—"
"It's dark outside, they won't stop and assess who each person is," your father snapped back, moving to fetch his own wand, "Besides, they're starting fires. Wands, now."
You did as your father said, and pulled your shoes on in the process, readying to leave.
"Head towards the stadium— they're coming from the campsite entrance. Stay with us, Y/N."
The three of you left the tent and began the sprint towards the woods, your parents frequently using shielding charms as stray spells were flying all over the place. Soon, you were more protected within a crowd, but it became difficult to stay close to your parents as panicked people surrounded on all sides. As you broke the threshold of the trees, you were separated from them, and in frenzied fear you found yourself getting knocked over and rolled over the ground. Some people trampled over you, until a silhouette stopped above you and held out its hand.
"Come on, quick," you heard him say, and you took his hand and let him pull you up, stumbling to begin running alongside him.
"Thank you," you gasped out, as your legs moved as quickly as they could, now aware that it was one of the Weasley twins, from the year above.
"Don't mention it," he yelled back, slowing down slightly to match your pace.
You felt bad, and hurriedly said, "You don't have to stay with me."
"No, I don't." But he did.
Whichever Weasley twin it was seemed to somehow rejoin with his siblings, pulling you along with him. Your ears were ringing so much that you didn't see when Harry Potter and his two friends, one of them being a Weasley, disappeared, instead blindly following the twins and the only Weasley girl. That was when a horrifying yet grand formation of the Dark Mark appeared in the sky above you, making you grip the arm of the twin who had saved you.
In spite of how terrifying such a symbol was, it seemed to have a positive effect, as the screaming stopped and spells were no longer being thrown around.
"They're retreating!" someone yelled, and relief washed over you.
"We should head back to the tent," the other twin said, then remembered you were there, "Where's yours?"
"Uh, in the— I'm in purple camping," you felt embarrassed to admit that you were in the wealthy campsite, especially in front of the Weasleys, who were well-known for being incredibly poor.
None of them commented, however, and the same twin continued, "Fred, you take her back there, I'll take Ginny back to ours."
Fred Weasley was the one who saved you.
***
When you arrived back at your tent, you didn't hesitate to call for your parents, "Mother? Father?" you shouted, but heard no response. Your tent was heavily fire-damaged on the outside, but perfectly fine on the inside— yet there was no sight of them. Anxiety began to rise within you again.
"I'm sure they're okay," Fred rushed to assure you, "They just haven't got back yet. I'll wait with you."
You nodded, and sat down next to him.
"What's your name, by the way?"
"Y/N," you said quietly, "Y/N L/N."
You saw his eyes widen at your last name, but he said nothing, "'M Fred— Weasley, but you probably guessed that."
A small chuckle emerged from you, "I know who you are."
"You go Hogwarts?"
"Of course."
"Yeah, I suppose we're quite famous there, me and George."
You agreed.
The minutes ticked by, and you were becoming increasingly worried.
"Look," Fred said, "My family will be getting worried about me, so I need to head back. You can come with, of course— maybe leave a note or something?"
With panicked breaths, you stood up and muttered a charm that displayed words in the air in front of your tent.
'Mother, Father— I'm safe. I am in the main campsite with the Weasleys.'
And with that, you followed Fred to where the majority of the tents were, and watched as what appeared to be his elder brothers hugged him.
"George told us where you were, but you took a long time," one of them said, as they all noticed you, "Your parents weren't there?"
You shook your head, "I left a note saying where I'd be."
He nodded, "'M Charlie, this is Bill— we're the oldest Weasleys."
"Y/N," you replied with a forced small smile.
"Any idea where the others are?" Bill asked.
Fred shook his head, "Haven't seen 'em since we were with George and Ginny."
"Shit."
Thankfully, only a few minutes later, Harry Potter and his friends returned with the Weasleys' father, who was sporting a grim expression. A discussion concerning death eaters and the Dark Mark ensued, somehow involving a house elf, but all you could do was sit there quietly. It wasn't until the conversation finished that the new arrivals noticed you.
"Who's this?"
"Y/N. Y/N L/N," Fred said, "Found her in the woods."
"Where are your parents?" Mr Weasley asked.
You shrugged, "I have no idea."
The man's eyebrows furrowed, "Rich pure bloods missing," he said slowly, "Peculiar." His suspicion of you was evident.
"They're not death eaters," you said quickly, "I've— I've seen their bare arms a countless number of times."
"She's right," Bill said, "The L/N family don't exclusively wear long-sleeves like all the families who were suspected of it."
Mr Weasley seemed to ease up at that, "Sorry, just being cautious, I'm sure they're here somewhere."
***
As it turned out, when your parents had been separated from you, they had gone back to look, and gotten severely injured in the process. They had both been admitted to St Mungo's, where they wouldn't be able to leave for a few weeks. You were grateful that they were alive and seemingly mentally sound, but your large house felt even emptier than before without them.
To pass the time, you wrote a letter to Fred, thanking him profusely for saving you from being trampled to death, and informing him of your parents' situation. You handed it to your owl after pressing your family's wax seal on the envelope, before heading to the household library.
You never told your parents what happened to you that night, mainly because they hardly gave you a chance to speak as they fussed over the fact you were alive and unharmed. It was strange, how this was a secret that you kept all to yourself, at least from the people in your social circle. Complete strangers knew where you were when the death eaters attacked, but your closest friends and family didn't. Not that anyone asked— your friends knew that you went to the quidditch game, and they would have heard about what happened, but not a single one had reached out to check on you.
***
The first bit of post you received was not from friends, but from Fred Weasley, in reply to your letter. He told you that any decent person would have done the same, and that you probably would have been fine without him. He also said that he looked forward to seeing you when school restarted, before asking how your parents were. So, for the first time since they had been hospitalised, you told someone of their injuries, and how long their recovery would be. You briefly alluded to how alone you were in your house, and how he was the first person to ask about you.
Your correspondence continued right up until you boarded the train to Hogwarts, walking down until you found your friends. As you entered the compartment of your fellow Ravenclaw girls, they gave you scornful looks.
"What?" you said instinctively, confused and hurt by their reactions.
"Go away, death eater," Janice, the girl you would have considered your best friend, spat.
You furrowed your brows, "What are you talking about?"
"Your family were at the Quidditch World Cup and haven't been seen since the attack," another of your friends stated accusingly, "It's pretty fucking obvious that they're in hiding."
"No, we're not— they're not— they're in the—"
"Save it," Janice cut you off, standing up and walking towards you, making you back up out of the compartment. "We aren't friends with death eaters."
"My parents are in—" but Janice had slammed the door shut and locked it, glaring at you through the glass as she sat down.
Tears pricked at your eyes, and as a result you made no further effort to talk to them, instead continuing down the corridor in hopes of finding the one person who you knew wouldn't turn you away. It wasn't long before you found him in a compartment with his twin brother and Lee Jordan, known for his quidditch commentary. You gently tapped on the glass, making them turn their heads.
As you waved, attempting to swallow your sobs, Fred quickly slid the door open and smiled at you.
"Y/N! Good to see you," he beamed, only to notice your quivering lip, "Are you okay?"
You nodded with a sniff, "Can I come in?"
"Of course, take a seat," he moved aside to allow you entry, resuming his sitting position.
You gently lowered yourself, playing with your hands nervously. The three boys were watching you carefully.
"What happened?" Fred asked carefully.
"My friends- uh- they accused me of being a death eater."
"What the fuck? Why?"
You met his eyes slowly, "Because my parents haven't been seen since the attack."
"But they're in hospital?" George spoke up, relaying information that Fred had evidently told him.
"I tried to tell them that."
"That's fucked up, man, they're not good friends," Lee said.
"Well, we know you're not a death eater," Fred moved to sit next to you, "You can hang out with us. Right, guys?"
His brother and friend immediately nodded.
"I mean, c'mon, you were with us that night and just as scared as we were," he continued, "Even if your parents were, that wouldn't necessarily mean you are."
"Yeah, try telling that to them," you muttered bitterly.
"I would, but I don't think it's worth it."
"Yeah, if they were your real friends, they would've given you a chance to explain," George added.
"You think?"
"One hundred percent," Lee said, "They had no solid proof, they just made assumptions."
You couldn't help but smile at their instant support of you, which was exactly when the train's whistle went off, signalling departure. The three boys quickly settled into a conversation of upcoming pranks and creations, surprising you with their incredible ideas: they were a lot smarter than they let on.
"Oh, by the way, this shit is top secret, yeah?" Fred said to you, "Don't tell a soul."
"My lips are sealed," you replied, just as the trolley lady appeared outside the compartment.
"Anything from the trolley, loves?" she asked after sliding the door open.
You nodded, "Three chocolate frogs and jelly beans, please," you requested, and turned to the others, "Do you guys want anything? On me."
"You don't have to do that," Fred replied.
Reaching in your pocket, you pulled out a few galleons, "I insist. It's no trouble."
You felt guilty when their eyes widened at the sight of the coins, but less so when they started ordering things.
"So good," George commented as he chewed on a jelly bean.
"Got lucky with the flavour, then?" Lee laughed.
He hummed, "Strawberry."
"Knowing my luck I'll get bogey," Lee sighed, but popped a jelly bean in his mouth anyway, before immediately spitting it out, "I was right," he gagged.
You all erupted in laughter.
***
Not a single soul had expected the announcement that came during the welcome ceremony: the long-banned Triwizard Tournament being re-introduced, and the impending arrival of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. Soon, you were sat with Fred and George in the courtyard as they discussed their plans to enter, despite the fact they weren't old enough.
"An ageing potion?" you raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "You truly believe something so simple will get past a barrier that Dumbledore set?"
"Have some faith in us."
You rolled your eyes, "Whatever. Don't come crying to me if it fails."
"Oh, but what if I so desperately need your comfort?" Fred teased, draping his arm over your shoulders.
"Then tough shit, Fred."
"You're mean."
You rolled your eyes, "I'm realistic."
"Just you wait."
***
"So, this is what I was waiting for?" you suppressed a laugh as George and Fred walked towards you with full beards and long hair.
They rolled their eyes in sync, but could not stop the smiles on their faces-- they had never been the type to get embarrassed, and that in itself was refreshing. Fred sat down beside you, and asked, "You have a razor, by any chance?"
Somehow, you found yourself roped into cutting their hair back to its normal length, and then using a charm to turn it back to their iconic ginger roots.
"Thank you, love," Fred muttered at the end, which created a warm feeling in your chest, but you ignored this.
"Is now a good time to say I told you so?" you chuckled, standing before both of them.
"Yeah, yeah, you were right, we were wrong, you're so smart, Y/N."
"I know," you beamed, ignoring the sarcasm.
***
It was hard to miss the scornful glances that your ex-friends threw your way, especially as you still shared a dormitory with them, but it was elating to watch them see you with the Weasleys, and, by consequence, Harry Potter. They were evidently too proud to admit that they were wrong about you, despite such blatant proof of associating with famous anti-Voldemort individuals.
"What lies do you tell them?" Janice scoffed one night as you entered the bedroom.
You chuckled to yourself.
"They'll drop you just like we did when they realise the truth."
With a hum, you replied, "Yeah, the truth that my parents have been in hospital since the Quidditch Cup."
Janice's eyes widened, making you remember that you never quite got around to telling her such a vital piece of information: you had been so busy with the Weasley twins that you hardly thought about her anymore.
Still, she doubled down, spitting, "What a convincing lie."
"Go to St Mungo's and check for yourself, Jan," you shrugged.
"Maybe I will."
"Do what you want."
***
On a fateful and agonising Wednesday after the Yule Ball had been announced, you realised that you very much wanted Fred to ask you-- in fact, you genuinely feared that you might die if he did not, and went with someone else. You felt hints of jealousy towards Angelina Johnson, who had been nothing but lovely to you, but was quite close with the twins.
As if to spite you, the universe then sent a Hufflepuff boy asking out a Slytherin girl before you, the latter saying 'yes' very eagerly. The thing was, you should not want Fred to take you to the Yule Ball-- while your parents would have no problem with you befriending someone working class, they would never allow you to date, let alone marry one. Marriage was viewed as a transaction in the pure-blood society: one married to solidify status and continue the blood line. Although, Fred was a pure-blood, so maybe your parents would allow it?
You shook your head-- you were being delusionally hopeful, besides, Fred had done very little to indicate romantic affection towards you. All of these thoughts were moot points.
It was when you were sat on the Gryffindor table with Fred and George, that such a mindset changed: the twins were bickering with their brother, Ron, when the topic of insult turned to Yule Ball dates.
"Well, where's your date then?" Ron said bitterly to Fred.
Your crush rolled his eyes before turning to you, "Y/N, you, me - Yule Ball?" He made a motion of ballroom dancing as he asked, making a situation where all you could feel inside was butterflies comedic.
"Al- Alright, then," you replied as calmly as you could.
Fred then winked at Ron, who rolled his eyes.
You felt ecstatic happiness for the next hour, until it dawned on you that Fred may have only asked you to prove a point to his brother, and you happened to be the convenient option. That was a painful perspective, that you were simply convenient-- a space-filler until he found the right person.
What did it matter anyway? Your parents would never approve.
***
Admiring the baby blue ballroom gown that had been personally crafted for you upon the notification that ballroom attire would be required at the end of Summer, you could not help but feel pretty. You had spent ages on your hair and make-up, and even taught yourself how to walk in high heels, all for this fateful night. All, shamefully, in the hope that Fred would compliment you.
So, when you emerged from the Ravenclaw tower, to find Fred waiting patiently outside for you, your nerves spiked to dangerous levels. A lump grew in your throat as you approached him, unable to even force a small smile.
He whistled, "Well, love, you are a stunner."
Only then did a smile crack through your anxious visage. "You're not so bad yourself, Weasley," you said quietly, grateful that your foundation covered your blushing.
"Shall we?" he presented his arm to you.
"We shall."
From dancing with Fred to stuffing your face with the buffet, from laughing with your arms around his neck to watching George dance with Angelina-- it was, by all definitions, a perfect night. Never had you felt more alive, more care-free, which could only explain why when Fred went to kiss you as you ran from the Great Hall with your heels in your hand, you kissed him back without reservation. Without a single thought for your parents' approval. Without a care towards what was expected of you.
As he pulled away, he said, "Your parents probably wouldn't approve."
Quickly, you placed a finger over his lips, "To that, Fred, I say fuck it."
***
The Christmas holidays arrived, and your parents were still in St Mungo's, so you spent Christmas Day at the hospital with them, chatting amicably. As much as part of you wanted to keep your secret, you knew that you had to tell them-- not for their sake, but out of respect for Fred, and the fact you were not ashamed to be with him.
"Mother, Father-- how would..." you took a deep breath, "How would you feel if I married someone poor, even if he was of pure blood?"
They both went silent, your mother's lips even pursing, "We would not be... pleased."
"You know what marriage means for families like ours," your father added, "It is not a decision we make based on feelings."
You exhaled slowly, "Well, I do not think power and status is more important than happiness."
"You are young and naïve. You don't know what to think," your mother said calmly.
"I know that you both aren't happy."
"Watch your mouth," your father said harshly, "You don't even know what happiness is."
"I know it's not only seeing your spouse at the dinner table," you snapped back, surprised that you were standing up for yourself.
You observed your mother's eye twitch, "It sounds a lot to me like you are seeing an impoverished young man."
"Maybe I am."
"You will cease such relations immediately," she replied, "Our family's reputation is at stake if you are seen frolicking around with a respectless house."
Angrily, you stood up, "I see that reputation is more important to you than your own daughter." And, with that, you stormed out of the room.
***
After that Christmas, you stopped sending letters to your parents, and delved even deeper into your relationship with Fred.
"Am I really worth losing your relationship with your parents?" he asked one Summer afternoon as you lounged by the lake.
"Yes," you said without thinking.
"I just don't want to be a cause for regret for you."
"Even without you in the equation, I would still be angry about the principle," you sighed, "Their values are not in the right places."
He hummed, "I don't want to hold you back."
"Fred, everything in my life has been dictated for me-- which classes I took, what I could wear, who I could consider dating-- this is the first time I have made a decision for myself. Don't try and take that away from me like they did."
Wrapping his arm around you, Fred smiled, "You're right, I'm sorry. I just care about your wellbeing."
***
ONE YEAR LATER.
***
"Will you come with us?" Fred asked you, after explaining his and George's grand exit from Hogwarts during exam season, "It's completely up to you, of course, don't feel pressured."
"My parents will hate me even more."
"So?"
"Rowena knows I'll probably be expelled."
"You don't have to."
"Yet, for some reason, every bone in my body is screaming for me to go."
Fred smiled, "You will?"
"Fred, I would go to the end of the earth if it meant being with you."
"Is that a yes?"
You grinned from ear to ear, "Of course it is, silly."
"Okay, okay, great-- because this leads into my next question."
"Oh?"
Shock coursed through your veins as Fred kneeled down before you, delicately taking and kissing your hand, "Y/N, I know your parents disapprove, I know we're only young, I know I can't afford a ring-- and I know this is a stupid decision, but nothing makes me happier than making a stupid decision with you."
You gasped.
"Let's get married, let's elope, even."
"Oh, Fred," you said softly, "Nothing makes me happier than making stupid decisions with you, too."
"So, will you marry me?"
You laughed, leaning down to whisper into his ear, "Fuck it."
***
Dearest Mother and Father,
You will be disappointed to know that I just married an impoverished man.
Alright hear me out… Harry Potter crossover with The Pitt. Very random I know. But like maybe she’s either a black or a Potter and is very important to the wizarding world maybe even a female Harry Potter and she’s basically taking Jack or Robby or both of them back to the wizard in world. She got out after Voldemort because she didn’t want to feel trapped and now she’s going back years later and maybe she warned them about her being famous but they thought it was a joke. They’re walking through diagon Alley maybe even Hogwarts and people start whispering and pointing and all that. Maybe they even go to like a ball or something and they finally see her in her element and learn about all the stuff she’s been through
Alright I can’t lie I’ve thought about this before but like I wasn’t sure if it was too out there LOL I tried? c:
Poly Witch!Reader x Squib!Jack Abbot x Squib!Micheal Robinavitch <3
Harry Potter x The Pitt Crossover!
Sum: the 15th anniversary of the Hogwarts Battle is here and after so many years, you decide to join the anniversary ball with your two lovers.
Cw: Drabble, m/m/f, MDNI. Not proofread!, Tech Harry Potter & co would be 45 this year but that doesn’t matter here, we’re gonna say Harry Potter took place later on! 30sF!Reader, SiriusBlacks Daughter!Reader, GoldenTrio!Reader, Resident!Reader, some spicy but not full smut. Pureblood!Reader. tonks and remus live c:
“Sweetheart, this is a…bar?” Robby glances at you skeptically. The three of you stood outside of the Leaky Cauldron, looking as run down and shady as ever from the outside.
“Technically, it is a bar and the entrance to Diagon Alley! Don’t worry, just follow me and, uh, remember, maybe don’t say my full name if you can help it.” You tell them nervously.
It’s been years since you’ve last entered the Wizarding World. You felt bitter, lost, and beyond angry back then. You blamed Dumbledore for leaving everyone, especially Harry, so vulnerable and unaware of what was really happening.
You blamed him for what had happened to Draco, to your father, and how he tried to use you as a spy, despite already being seen as a blood traitor.
You wince slightly, thinking of your cousin. It’s been a while since you spoke to him or anyone else. He worshiped Dumbledore, just like the rest of the Order, and couldn’t see beyond “we won.”
They couldn’t understand why you used dark magic during the war, even if it saved Remus and Tonks. Couldn’t understand why you felt the need to leave them, the opportunities and fame that came with it.
Whisper of you being more like your family than you claimed to be rolled around as you dismissed your fame and worship as a war heroine. Bold words for people who were still afraid to say Voldemort outloud.
You left behind everything to start over in an unknown world.
---
Looking back, leaving was the best thing you could have done.
It took years, but life brought you into the world of saving lives. You’re a freaking doctor in the muggle world, and that thought alone made you smirk, knowing your Black family ancestors were rolling in their graves.
The sole Black heiress, leaving the wizarding world, becoming a doctor, and dating not one but two Squibs?? How scandalous.
As you internally struggle, Jack forces you to look up at him. His hazel eyes demanded contact from you. His hands are so warm and large against your face that you can’t help but lean into his firm grip.
“I know you said it’s going to be hard. That you…. you stopped a war at 17 kid, and left behind a load of shit. Something Robby and I can’t even imagine, but you’re not alone anymore. We got you.” He says firmly, making you tear softly.
You feel Robby wrap his arms around you, placing a kiss on top of your head as Jack continues —
“and I may or may not have a gun.”
“Jack!!”
You both whispered in shock before hysterically laughing. You might not be a part of the golden whatever anymore, but you have your own team right here.
“Alright, let’s go get robes, fellas! I need an excuse to feel you both up anyways,” you giggle out before yelping at the two matching smacks they give you on your ass.
“You’re spending too much time with Myrna.”
——
“Shit, I feel like I’m in Victorian England. King and Shen would love this.” Jack mutters out, taking in Diagon Alley. You snort before agreeing.
“This is where we’d come to shop before each school year with my aunt and Draco. Got my wand over there at Ollivanders and my first owl, Sunbeam, too!” You excitedly explained, tugging your hood down further.
“I still can’t believe you guys use owls.” Robby shakes his head, taking everything in.
As a squib, he knew about the wizarding world but never thought much of it, and he still doesn’t. No point in trying to understand a world that didn’t want you in it. It helped that you also seem to have abandoned this world like it had you after the war. He glances at Jack, knowing his fellow Squib, and he feels the same.
“There’s the shop! Let’s go!” You interrupt his thoughts. You spent the afternoon finding the best robes for your three and exploring Dialog Alley before heading back to Muggle London.
Jack not so sneakily bought a bunch of pranks from the Weasley store, and you know Robby had enough chocolate frogs to feed an army in his bag.
——
In the hotel room, you can’t help but sink happily onto the large California king bed. Jack and Robby had spared no expense for your little trip, wanting you to be comfortable from beginning to end.
Robby lays beside you, staring at his chocolate frog card intensely while Jack showered. He knew you were famous but couldn’t really comprehend how famous, as he took in the image of you on the card.
‘Y/N L/N. Order of Merlin, First Class. War Heroine.’
You're much younger, tired, angrier, and malnourished in the image. Your eyes vacant, he notices as he swallows. It’s a look he knows well, one he sees in Jack, and in the mirror, on days the Pitt is just…
“Who did you get?” You inturrupt his thoughts, and he can’t help but smile as the older, beautiful, and happier version of you lies next to him. The women he loved and shared with the man who he loved equally as much.
“Just this cutie,” he teases you as you rush to grab it.
Robby rolls you under him, grabbing your hands and holding them above your head, stopping you. Bright laughter fills the room as Jack silently enters and watches with a smile. Showering was always better now, as you spelled his prosthetic to be water and pain proof.
He’s lucky, he thinks, watching his lovers. Meeting Robby at 'Doctors without Border' was luck, but the two of them meeting you?, that was fate.
He watches Robby kiss you deeply, your hands still held above your head. Robby’s hips are grinding against you as laughter becomes moans.
Dropping his towel, he can’t help but tug on his harding cock as he walks over. You reach for him, feeling the shift on the bed as you press your lips against Jack.
His hand presses firmly against your throat as he kisses you, moaning as Robby’s hand makes his way to his fully awakened cock, stroking him firmly.
The three of you wouldn’t be leaving this bed anytime soon.
——
But before you know it, it’s was sadly time for the ball. You stare at yourself in the mirror and can’t help but feel like a kid again. Forced to attend the first ball, the dead barely cold for a year as people celebrated the downfall of Voldemort. The same people who did nothing to help.
Your black shimmery dress robes are stunning, and risky in all the right places. It highlights your curves in the best way, and you knew this to be true based on the way the boys stared after exiting the bathroom.
They both looked incredibly handsome and regal in their robes, and you couldn’t wait to get it off them later.
——
Hogwarts.
It was as majestic as you remember. The three of you ride in by carriage, pulled by Thestral, which mystified Robby.
Sure, you’ve told them about your school before, but seeing it was another ball game.
Jack can’t help but whistle at it. “How the hell did you ever make it to class on time?,” making you giggle. You could already feel the stares and whispers of those regaling beside you as you sit tall and straight, ever the regal pureblood.
“Teenage angst and Pumpkin juice fueled me like Red Bulls fuels Langdon,” you teasingly tell them. The gates are open to you as you take in a deep breath.
——
The dining hall is decorated beautifully, with warm magic filling the air. Floating candles, pumpkin pasty smells, violins playing, with the ceiling enchanted to look like the night sky.
The whispers grow louder as those attending realize who you are.
The last of the golden quartet, the sole Black heiress, is back in the wizarding world again, but you ignore them, focusing on Robby and Jack.
“Have you always been this popular?” Robby asks, noting the stares.
“Sadly,” you snort out. “I definitely ruffled a few feathers when I left, epically with my stances, Dumbledore and the Order. Didn’t help I was a Slytherin, unlike my father.”
The two of them know enough about what happened and your fight with your cousin, the boy who saved the world twice. They never pried, just accepting the information you were willing to part with over the years when they met you as an Intern at Pitt.
You note your old friends, still as close as ever swallowing. Hermione, George, Neville, Luna, Ron, Harry, Remus, Tonks, and more. Harry, who looked the same yet so different. You quickly turn your head before you made eye contact, not ready to have that fight just yet.
Suddenly, the Hall quiets down and stills as Minister Kingsley makes his way to the center of the staff tables.
“Welcome, welcome, everyone! To the 15th annual ball, as we honor those we’ve lost and love those still here. I’m glad to see old and familiar faces here again, and I hope tonight brings you another night of peace.” Kingsley can’t help but smile at you as you smile back.
You can swallow your opinions for one night as you watch him wave his wand. The Hall lights up with pretentious images of those they lost in the final battle and the familiar image of your father, Sirius Black.
“That’s my dad,” you whisper, and Jack and Robby take in the image of your father.
“Handsome fella,” Robby tells you as they wrap their arms around you.
As the show ends, you note Harry making his way over to you.
“Y/n”
“Harry”
The two of you pause before he hugs you. “I’m glad you’re here, y/n.”
“Me too,” you can’t help but whisper back, letting go.
“Harry, these are my Partner, Dr. Jack Abbot and Dr. Mitchel Robinavitch,” you introduce the two taller men next to you as they shake Harry’s hand.
“Harry Potter, the favorite cousin,” Harry cheekily tells them as you snort and laugh.
“Don’t let Draco hear that,” making him laugh.
“How long will you be here?” He asks the three of you, smiling at how the two men seem quite protective of you. He knows they’ll care for you, just from watching the three of you tonight.
“Just for the weekend before we go back to work. I’m a muggle emergency trauma doctor now.”
“One of the best,” Robby chimes in, making you blush.
The night continues as you introduce the men to all your old friends, and the men learn more about you. You’re a fighter through and through, but the stares, whispers, and photos taken of you would have driven anyone crazy.
They had so many more questions for you about your time in school, the war, and more, but that would be for another night.
“How about we sneak back to our hotel room and enjoy that rug in front of the fireplace?” Jack whispers to you and Robby, as Robby kisses his lips before kissing yours.
“Sounds like a deliciously naughty plan, Dr. Abbot.” You whisper back excitedly, ready to leave, as you feel two hands grope your ass firmly once more.
I have one post but I promise I have more planned. If you have any ideas, just let me know and I will try my best
Weasley Sweater
Bill Weasley x Flint!reader
Summary: Just another Sunday dinner at the Burrow
Tags: fluff, Bill stays the night even though not married, suggestive hints, pureblood reader, Fred and George teasing reader and Bill
Bill called me down the stairs. I went to the bathroom to freshen up before lunch. I look myself over in the mirror once more pleased with my appearance.
"Angel, if you don't hurry, we are going to be late. I know mum won't say anything to you, but I would rather not be nagged before lunch." He called exasperated. I roll my eyes.
Bill Weasley, infamous curse breaker, terrified of his mother.
Imagine how that woman would react if she found out her eldest son spent the night at my house.
"Y/n!"
I chuckle as I walk down the stairs, fixing my bracelet. "Bill, calm down." I say calmly. "I'll explain to your mother you were waiting on me." Bill stood with his back turned to me, mumbling something I couldn't hear.
"Want to repeat that Weasley?"
He turns. His jaw drops as he realizes the jumper I am wearing. The handmade navy blue jumper adorned with a golden W he had received for Christmas his final year of Hogwarts.
"Where do you think you're going wearing that?" I fake pout. "Do you not like it on me?" He growled as he stalked over to me. "You know that is not the case." There was a spark in his eyes. "Oh I know. I specifically remember how much you liked it last night." His fingers pressed into the naked skin under the jumper as if he was fighting himself. He groaned, leaning his head on top of my shoulder. "Not fair Flint."
I giggle, turning my head slightly to leave a kiss on his cheek. "C'mon William. Time to go to lunch. I promised to help Ginny with her hair today."
There used to be a time where I didn't feel welcomed at the Burrow. Coming from a pureblood family who believed in the blood supremacy bullshit, the Weasleys weren't the most welcoming towards me. It wasn't until my parents disowned me for being with Bill, did they start to warm up to me. Now I feel like part of the family. The twins ask me for advice on pranks. Percy likes to talk about his books. Even Ron decided I am good enough to play chess with. Mr Weasley loves showing me all his muggle stuff. I'm pretty sure Mrs Weasley loves me more than Bill.
"Y/n dear how are you?" Molly asks pulling me in for a hug. I smile. She's so different from my own mother. I knew mum loved me but she was never one for hugging. Said it was beneath us.
"I am doing good Mrs Weasley. Sorry we are late. I was trying to finish my hair." She waves it off. "Hello mum. You know your son is here too." Molly and I share a laugh. "Yes yes. Hello Bill." She says kindly pulling him to kiss on his cheek.
She turns back to me. "Can you help me in the kitchen dear?" I nod. "Of course." Bill kisses my cheek quickly as he goes to greet his father.
Ginny and Hermione were in the kitchen already. I greet both of them. They say hello before returning back to their conversation.
As we finally get the table set, everyone sat at the table. Bill at my left. Percy to my right. Fred is right in front of me. "So favorite almost sister in law." George, the other fourth-year twin, started. His twin shares a similar smirk. "Nice jumper." Bill choked on his drink as my face flushed.
"Yes, nice jumper indeed. Maybe mum will knit you one this Christmas so you don't have to steal poor William's." Fred teases, emphasizing Bill's full name.
Everyone at the table erupts in laughs. Arthur tries to calm the twins down; Molly's eyes sparkle.
You and Sirius Black have hated each other for years — or at least, that’s what everyone thinks. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, a pureblood and a blood traitor — you were supposed to hate him. And for years, you played the part perfectly. The insults, the hexes, the glares across the Great Hall — it was all easy.
But it wasn’t real.
Because before Hogwarts, before sides, you and Sirius were close. Best friends. And somewhere along the way — between late-night detentions, stolen glances, and quiet confessions beneath the Quidditch stands — things changed.
sirius black x slytherin!femreader
The corridor was dark, the only light coming from the faint flicker of the torches along the cold stone walls. The chill of the night pressed against your skin, seeping through the thin fabric of your uniform. Your footsteps were nearly soundless on the worn stone floor — years of sneaking through Hogwarts had made you an expert at moving unnoticed.
You slipped around the corner of the one-eyed witch statue, heart thudding painfully in your chest as you approached the alcove near the edge of the Gryffindor tower. The sound of your pulse roared in your ears — but beneath it, you felt it. That pull in your chest, low and familiar. Like your body knew exactly where he would be.
He was already there, of course.
Sirius Black was leaning casually against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His black hair fell carelessly over his grey eyes as he rolled a cigarette between his fingers. The soft glow of the torchlight sharpened the cut of his cheekbones and cast shadows across his jaw. He was still wearing his uniform trousers and the white button-down — tie hanging loose around his neck, shirt untucked. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the sharp cut of his forearms.
"You’re late," Sirius murmured, his mouth curling at the corner as his eyes swept lazily over you.
"You’re lucky I showed up at all," you shot back, stepping toward him. "Flint nearly caught me sneaking out."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "So what you’re saying is… you’d risk getting caught for me?"
You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t let it go to your head."
His eyes darkened as you stopped in front of him. He reached out, his hand curling around your wrist. His thumb brushed over your pulse point — and he smiled faintly when he felt the way your heartbeat spiked beneath his touch.
"You always say that," Sirius murmured, his voice low and edged with quiet amusement. His hand slid up your arm, his touch feather-light. "And yet…"
Your heart hammered in your chest as he leaned in. His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The scent of him — smoke and soap and something dark — curled through your senses. You hated how easily it made you shiver.
"Sirius," you warned.
"What?" He smiled — that lazy, dangerous smile that made your stomach twist painfully. His hand slid down your side, fingertips brushing beneath the hem of your sweater. "Afraid someone might see?"
Yes. Of course you were.
You and Sirius had hated each other for years — or at least, that’s what everyone thought. You were a Slytherin, a pureblood from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Your family had expected you to stick close to your own kind. And Sirius…
Sirius had left his family behind. He had thrown away his last name and everything it stood for — and you were supposed to hate him for that. And you had. For years, you’d thrown insults back and forth, sneered at each other in the Great Hall, hexed each other in the corridors — but it had always been a front.
Because once — before Hogwarts, before houses, before sides — you had been close. Best friends. He’d been the only person who could make you laugh until you cried, and you’d been the only one who could quiet the storm behind his eyes. And maybe that connection had never really gone away — not fully.
It had been easy to pretend to hate him at first. You were supposed to. You were a Slytherin, and he was a blood traitor — a Gryffindor. But then, sixth year happened. A late-night detention, a shared moment beneath the Quidditch stands — Sirius pressing his hand against your cheek and looking at you like you were something worth breaking rules for. And you had never recovered from it.
Now it was seventh year, and sneaking out to meet Sirius after curfew had become dangerously routine.
"You shouldn’t be here," you whispered.
Sirius’s hand slid up your side, his fingers trailing beneath the hem of your sweater. His palm rested against the curve of your waist, just beneath your ribs.
"And yet…" He tilted his head, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw. "Here you are."
Your stomach flipped violently. "If someone sees—"
"Then I’ll tell them you attacked me." His lips curled against your skin. "Hexed me into submission. Forced me to kiss you."
"And if I told them you begged me?"
Sirius laughed — low and dark. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin behind your ear. You hated the way your body responded to him so easily — hated how fast your pulse was pounding beneath your skin.
"Begged?" Sirius repeated, his voice rough. "Do you want me to beg, love?"
You opened your mouth to snap back — but Sirius kissed you before you could.
It hit you like a hex to the chest.
His mouth was warm and demanding, his hand sliding beneath your sweater as he pulled you against him. His other hand threaded into your hair, tilting your head back as his lips moved over yours with quiet desperation. Sirius groaned softly when you curled your hands into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you.
You gasped when his tongue slid across your bottom lip, and Sirius took advantage of the opening. He kissed you deeper — slow and deliberate — tasting you like he’d been thinking about it all day. His hand slid beneath the hem of your skirt, his thumb brushing against your bare thigh.
Sirius smiled against your mouth when you made a quiet, breathless noise. He pressed you back against the wall, his thigh sliding between yours as his hand curled around your waist. His lips moved down the curve of your jaw, pressing slow kisses to the hollow of your throat.
You were spiraling — completely undone by the way he was touching you, by the way he was holding you like you were fragile and precious and dangerous all at once. His mouth pressed beneath your ear, and you shivered.
"This is stupid," you whispered.
"Yeah," Sirius agreed. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the edge of your skirt higher. His mouth ghosted over your pulse point. "But it feels good, doesn’t it?"
You didn’t answer — you couldn’t.
Sirius kissed you again — harder this time — his hand curling beneath your jaw. His lips parted against yours, and you let him deepen the kiss. You tasted smoke and warmth and something sharp beneath it. His hand slid up your side, beneath your sweater, fingers tracing the line of your ribs.
When you finally pulled back, you were breathless. Sirius’s eyes were dark, his lips flushed. His thumb brushed over the corner of your mouth.
"Don’t look so smug," you breathed.
"Can’t help it." Sirius grinned. "You always taste so sweet."
Your breath hitched. But before you could say anything, footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Sirius’s expression sharpened instantly. He took a step back, his hand sliding away from your waist. You hated the loss of contact — hated how easily he slipped back into that untouchable expression.
"Guess you’d better hex me now," he teased, his mouth curling at the corner. "Sell it."
You flicked your wand toward him — a harmless jinx that knocked him backward just as the prefects rounded the corner. Sirius hit the ground with a loud thump, groaning dramatically as he sprawled across the floor.
"Traitor," he mouthed.
You fought back a smile as the prefects helped him to his feet.
This was dangerous.
This was stupid.
This was Sirius Black.
Summary: A surprise engagement, and awkward lunch, and far to much white wine.
Word Count: 2,531
Warnings: Day drinking, arranged marriage, complicated family relationships, Walburga Black and her typical bullshit, If I've forgotten something don't hesitate to let me know
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A/N: I think I'm going to try and make it so that I can edit on Thursday, or work on other stories if I have nothing to edit for Valence, and then have new chapters queued to release on Friday morning around 10. Fingers crossed it ends up working the way I hope it does.
“I’m sorry,” (Y/N) choked on the glass of white wine she had been drinking, “I’m what?” Looking at her with something almost akin to sympathy, but not quite, Anne attempted to place a comforting hand over where her daughter was gripping the table's edge, wrinkling the white tablecloth in the process. Claire, with equal amounts of shock and horror splayed across her face, perfectly matching her sister’s own internal feelings, sat silently in the seat next to her. Evidently, (Y/N) was not the only one hearing about this arrangement for the first time.
“You heard me, (Y/N)” Anne schooled her features, “You are engaged to be married.” The woman paused, sheepishly glancing at her hands folded neatly on the table in front of her and shuffling the silverware at her place setting. Without looking back at her daughter, she continued, voice softer this time and heavy with unshed tears, “You knew it would happen someday.”
‘Did I?’ thought (Y/N), ‘Did know that I would be placed in an arranged marriage someday? After nearly ten years of being left to do as I pleased?’
She said nothing.
Her sister-in-law, Serena, the first to regain her senses as usual, busied herself with shooing away the waitstaff, who were becoming more and more concerned with the fate of the crystal wine glass (Y/N) still held tightly enough to shatter in one hand.
Catching her breath, and finally having processed Anne’s words, (Y/N) muttered a single, quiet, monosyllabic question: “Why?”
The truth was, and everyone who grew up with the 28 knew this, there was no truly acceptable reason as to why. The why was tradition.
It was a way to guarantee loyalty.
It was a way to keep women in their place.
It was a way to continue the family name – their father’s name, their husband’s name.
This arrangement was not because anyone cared for the opinions and happiness of those being forced to marry. They did not care that they themselves had been in similar situations at the same age, and had hated it as much as their own children did now.
It was not because anyone cared if the men had an affair or beat their wives until even the most expertly applied charms and makeup could not hide the bruises.
It was tradition and familial duty and little else.
It was what was expected of women who cared enough to keep their families within the good graces of the 28.
It was the expectation that this would continue, with or without complaint, as the old guard saw fit.
And for (Y/N), she had failed at her one purpose in life – closing in on nearly thirty as a yet-to-be-married pureblood witch with any degree of social standing was a fatal sin in the eyes of the 28, eclipsed only by not having children once you were married, and even then, only barely so.
It was nearly enough to start having questions asked by people who had no reason to start poking around in her life, and poked around anyway.
If she were being honest with herself, (Y/N) would have, should have, realized this was coming a hell of a lot sooner than she would have thought. Walburga Black had been pestering her about who she hoped to marry since childhood, and as she had gotten older the questions had become more pointed. Less curious and more probing. If she had to hazard a guess, Walburga likely had something to do with this, too. Given (Y/N)’s close relationship with Regulus, Walburga had often taken it upon herself to attempt to guide (Y/N) in areas she felt her own mother was unable to – it was a distraction from the self-imposed loss of her older son, and her wish to have had a daughter of her own that had caused the older woman to take such a keen interest in (Y/N), an open secret no one dared to say aloud lest they find themselves on the receiving end of the woman’s atention.
Her mother’s next words solidified that nagging fear at the back of her mind – the one that had been tormenting her in some way or other since she was fourteen, and Anne had sat her down to explain her socially pre-determined role.
“Walburga has always been fond of you,” Anne paused, grasping her glass and taking a healthy sip of the lightly gold tinted liquid inside, “she’s always found you charming,” The woman paused again. She had a tendency to have difficulty discussing situations when Walburga Black was involved – apparently doubly so when it involved the impending marriage of her eldest daughter. A marriage she would have had to have agreed to for them to be having this conversation over too much wine and food that, normally something all four women looked forward to, seemed today to be made of ash.
“And,” She paused again, still unable to complete her sentence, Anne finished the wine in her glass and nodded over to the waiter standing at the side of the room to refill it for what must have been the fourth or fifth time in only three hours. At this rate she would be drunk before dessert.
That really should have been the first clue. Anne never drank so much so quickly - certainly not at a lunch that would last for hours, in public where anyone could see what was going on and could use it to feed the gossip hounds at The Prophet. Not when so much of their family’s reputation hung on the whims of those who decided that sensationalism was more important than journalistic integrity.
“Mother,” Claire interrupted, “I don’t see what this has to do with anything,” her furrowed brows spoke volumes. At seventeen, Claire had had the marriage conversation – both when (Y/N) had been given hers, something she would have been far too young to remember at the time, and when their mother had determined her to be old enough. However, as she was the younger daughter, and far more rebellious than her older sister, no special attention had been paid, and it was unlikely that there would be any need for an arranged marriage for her as she had long made it clear that any attempts at such would be met with her fiancé being left at the alter and her running off to live with their mother’s cousins in America, or their father’s sister in Brazil – the latter being a rather terrifying threat to their mother whose relationship with her sister-in-law ran the gambit from grudging respect and envy for having entirely disregarded her own pre-determined place in society to distaste at the other woman’s choice to pursue muggle archeology at a university in Brazil with no connection to the magical community in the city she lived in, and to continue to do so once she and her wife had their first child; their father, however, had laughed and asked her to send home a box of Brigadiros when she got the chance and to offer his congratulations on the new baby. He had even gone so far as to offer to help settle her in himself if it got to that point.
She continued, “Everyone knows Walburga favors (Y/N). She’s Reg’s best friend, for fuck’s sake.” Claire’s eyes cut across to where her sister was sitting, pale and nearly shaking, she was to only other person to know exactly how (Y/N) felt for Regulus – and how he felt for her.
Holding up one hand, Anne levelled a glare at her youngest so severe it could have made the devil turn tail and run. Claire huffed, crossed her arms, and scowled. She hated being scolded like a child in public.
“I know,” Anne responded, “it’s common enough knowledge. However,” she sipped her wine again. Joseph would have a field day when he was presented with the month’s bill. “What isn’t common knowledge is that she’s,” another pause, “been hoping for a match,” (Y/N) blinked slowly, processing the words coming out of her mother’s mouth, “For her eldest.” Here Anne stopped, took another sip from her glass, draining it yet again.
As a waiter stepped forward to refill her glass Anne waved him off with a frustrated flick of her wrist. Serena, eager for the lunch to be over, and without the aid of the wine her fellow diners had, asked him to bring dessert instead.
Anne, no longer occupied by her glass, pulled out an embroidered silk handkerchief, “She’s hoping,” she coughed dryly and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of the handkerchief, “that you might be able to tame Sirius’s more,” another pause as she searched for the right word, “erratic behavior.”
For maybe only the second time in her life, (Y/N) felt like she might lose her composure. She could have dealt with the inevitability of being engaged much better, had it been to just about anyone else. But no, (Y/N) Anne Grey was to be married to one Sirius Orion Black. His initials fit, if her memories from school were anything to go by. The son of a bitch and his equally dim-witted friends had made it their personal mission while she was in school to make the lives of every Slytherin whose schooling overlapped with theirs miserable – in ways which should have had them expelled several times over. A fact which (Y/N), who was rather fond of maintaining relationships in the event they might later prove useful, found to be incredibly short-sighted and very stupid. Of course, she had been incredibly close with Severus Snape, one of their favorite targets, whose general disposition improved after he was introduced to a girl the year below him when she tutored him in Astronomy (Their wedding, shortly after graduation, had been a small but lovely affair, and Lilly Potter (née Evans) who was in attendance turned out to be a lovely woman despite being married to a complete idiot – something which she seemed to agree with when (Y/N) had mentioned it during dinner as the two women sat next to each other watching James and Remus, the new Mrs. Snape’s cousin, on the floor dancing around like they were still in school.) Not to mention, (Y/N) had always been best friends with Sirius’s younger brother – had slept with his younger brother, on more than one occasion – and had loathed the man she was now set to marry from the moment she had realized exactly how truly malicious he could be when he chose to be. A trait he had doubtlessly picked up from his lovely mother.
What few interactions she’d had with the man, outside of finding herself covered in mysterious muck and goo after being caught in the crosshairs of some so-called prank meant for poor Severus, had been few and far between – not few enough, if you asked her. Usually, they consisted of (Y/N) catching him staring at her and then rolling his eyes and walking off in a dramatic huff. No doubt to begin plotting his next bout of mischief.
“How, exactly, does she think I’d manage something like that?” the question, half incredulous and entirely rhetorical on (Y/N)’s part, wasn’t one she expected, or wanted, an answer to. It didn’t matter how Walburga thought she would manage it, what mattered was that she thought (Y/N) was capable of doing so. She received an answer anyway.
“Walburga seems to think,” Serena began, receiving a raised eyebrow a tight-lipped half-smirk from (Y/N) when she began to speak, “that you are the model of a perfect pure-blood bride,” Serena had the decency to blush at her next words, “and I don’t think Walburga much cares if you’ll actually be able to stop Sirius,” she paused and cleared her throat before continuing, “She probably just plans on having you be a sympathetic figure, and a way to have grandchildren she approves of.” There was another, unsaid part to the sentence, one that acknowledged that it wouldn’t be beyond belief for Walburga to arrange some sort of accident for her much-despised older son once (Y/N) had had at least one child, though more likely two. It would solve several of Walburga’s problems at once and was a plot (Y/N) wanted nothing to do with if such a thing turned out to be the case.
“You mean she plans on having my sister be the saving grace of a semi-disgraced family that no one even likes anymore?” (Y/N) could have hexed Claire for that. She probably would have too, if her wand hadn’t been left in her handbag with her coat at the coat check – as per the custom in the club the Grey family frequented.
“How old is Sirius, anyway,” (Y/N) asked, it seemed dangerous, or at least very much not welcome, to continue the previous conversation, “I know he’s older than Reg and Sev, and he can’t be too happy about the idea of marrying his kid brother’s best friend,” (Y/N) paused for a second to take a bite from her lemon tart, fork clicking softly against the delicate china plate, “in fact, I don’t see why he would even agree to something like this in the first place.” She took a sip of the coffee she had been given when the lemon tart was placed in front of her the warmth of the cup in her hands comforting in its familiarity while her entire life turned inside out, ‘Not when he hates me as much as he already does,’ (Y/N) thought, forcing herself to swallow the coffee in her mouth.
“He’s thirty-one,” Anne responded shortly, “And he didn’t agree, not really at least.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin, folded it neatly, and placed it back into her lap, “I don’t even think he was given a choice in the matter.”
Serena let out a deep breath and reached for the rapidly cooling cup of tea one of the waiters had placed in front of her with her dessert some time ago. (Y/N) noticed her sister-in-law shifting in her seat, she felt a brief twinge of guilt, and then nothing. She’d had a plan. Everything had been so beautifully clear, and bright and hopeful. And now there was this. This sham of a marriage being thrust upon her because she had tried to force something else. She hadn’t been able to find it in herself to try and make something of the cards she had been dealt, and now she was paying the price.
At least she knew he would be as miserable as she was in this situation. Maybe even more so, given that he was being forced to marry a woman who, as far as he would be concerned, was the epitome of all of the things he hated most about being raised in an all-Slytherin family, not that Sirius would ever take the time to learn how wrong that assumption was. (Y/N) might have even gone so far as to suggest Sirius would be far better matched with Claire if it weren’t for the nearly fifteen-year age difference and her rather happy relationship with a Hufflepuff boy only a year or two older with whom she shared many of her classes.
The Selwyn's are a British Pure-blood Wizarding family that has some of its roots based in early Southern France. The Selwyns grew to prominence and took over the manor house in the fifteenth century before the building fell into disrepair. They took their wealth from lands and managed to gain lordship over the lands in the late fifteenth century. Family commonly attend Hogwarts and are sorted in Slytherin and Ravenclaw. The Selwyns have multiple branches Esmeralda is part of the main branch. The secondary branches are mostly Slytherin when they are in school and then Death Eaters after graduation. But the some branches of the family are not big on murder or hating Muggles. Selwyns are prideful of their history and even with the early questionable use of their magic tend to produce witches and wizards that are more passive and open-minded. They do believe that they are superior and practice dark magic. The main branch avoids crude blood prejudice (it's gauche), but they'd never let a Muggle-born marry in. The secondary branches, they'll hiss it in the streets and Crucio anyone who objects. Their manors are pristine, draped in Black Family-level opulence, funded by centuries of landed wealth, cursed artifacts, and discreetly vanishing inconvenient Muggles. They don't experiment with Dark Magic-they curate it. Unforgivables are parlor tricks to them. They are mainly cursed artifact collectors, not Death Eaters. Taught that knowledge = power.
Summary: The reader is hurt on a field trip and Hermione’s freaking out. I don't know whether Hogwarts has school trips but here you go. Also — Y/N is pureblood here and doesn’t know much about muggle devices!
Requested by anon(s) | masterlist
[pre-established relationship]
gif from tenor
"Y/N!" Hermione scooped down to try and get you up, but you stayed on the ground, your dress covered in mud and your face red with embarrassment. You had fallen down trying to save your girlfriend. Or that’s what you figured anyway.
"What were you thinking?" She grabbed your hands and hoisted you up, but you let out a wince and almost fell to the ground again.
You leaned onto your girlfriend for support, and noticed how your left foot appeared swollen.
"Those things were going to kill you!" You protested.
Her mouth fell open, not knowing whether to be amused or baffled. She decided on anger instead.
"They were phones! Those people were just taking pictures of the building and I happened to be in front of it!"
"I think I know what a camera looks like but that thing appeared like a square gun thingy where you shoot stuff," you rolled your eyes, oblivious about technology as always.
"You're smart, but not when it comes to phones. Or toasters. Or washing machines. Or anything related to muggles really," she helped you to the bench outside the building. You pat away the dust from your dress and sat down.
Harry and Ron were walking past, and Hermione called out to them.
"Y/N is injured, do you know whether Pomfrey is on the trip with us?" She asked Ron calmly. You saw the slight crease in her forehead, the only signal that said she was internally panicking.
"Hermione, I'm fine. I just need to sit for a while-" you began but was cut off.
"You can't walk and is obviously under lots of pain, so sit still while I get Ron to be useful for once."
"Hey!" He exclaimed in disbelief.
"Get Pomfrey now!" She said sharply, and Ron ran away, muttering complaints.
Hermione glared at Harry, who was about to take a sip from his can of Pepsi.
"What did I do?" He asked, while she nodded towards you.
"Y/N is hurt." She replied.
"I can see that."
"She needs something to drink."
Harry pointed to a stall nearby. "Do you want me to go buy her something?"
Hermione kept glaring.
"Oh!" He looked at the can wistfully. "Uhm, okay, Y/N here you go."
You were too polite to take it. "It's fine, I can-"
"Drink it or I swear to god I'll force it down your throat!" Hermione said warningly.
You blinked. "Jesus, fine! I'll drink it."
"You're mean when it comes to your girlfriend, Mione," Harry observed. "You're worried like she's going to die."
"She's not going to die," she replied firmly. "And I'm not worried — now where is that idiot and Pomfrey? Merlin, he's useless, let me go get them."
While she walked away, you handed the can back to Harry without drinking and he muttered a thanks.
"Ron's going to die today, isn't he?" You asked, smirking.
"Yup," he agreed, sitting down with you. The two of you watched your girlfriend storming around the building doors and talking to all the teachers, and you couldn't help but find her concern endearing.
