#thimbleandakiss

[thimbleandakiss]

Fred Weasley but slow, deep, sloppy, and stoned

[thimbleandakiss]

You are a FANTASTIC writer! I would love to request some more Fred or George fluff 😋😋

You're SO sweet, I hope this will suffice 🫶🫶

Never Forgotten

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Christmas morning at the burrow is loud and wild and wonderful, and you're excited to be a part of another year with your boyfriend's family, but when you can't find any present for you from him under the tree, you worry he may have forgotten.

Playlist used to write

Cross-posted to Ao3

Everything with the Weasley’s involved some level of chaos, but none quite matched the hubbub of the Burrow at Christmas time. With all seven Weasley children home for the holidays, including Bill’s wife, Fleur; Ron’s fiance, Hermione; and Harry, who had just recently married Ginny, not a single corner of the towering building wasn’t filled with noise and cheerful spirit.  

You were honored to be invited, despite spending the season with them for the past four years in a row. After all, you were only Fred’s girlfriend, and no amount of Molly’s reassurances seemed to stifle the feeling that you weren’t quite part of the family yet. 

There were no such things as slow mornings at the Burrow, and Christmas Morning was no exception. 

You woke up to the sudden cold of a blanket being torn off, and the sing-song voice of Fred’s twin brother, George, gaily announcing, “Wake up, you two love-birds! The presents aren’t going to unwrap themselves!”

Fred groaned but rolled over, groping for the shirt he’d tossed aside the night before. “Still haven’t cracked that one, have we?”

George shook his head. “They never last long enough.”

You didn’t bother asking what they were jabbering on about, and groaned in complaint. As if you weren’t smiling already. 

Fred, successfully having acquired a shirt, slipped it on and tossed over a pair of pants for you. By the time you looked up, George was gone. 

“I understand not quite having the room for all of us,” You grumbled, standing up and stretching, “But if he wakes us up like that one more time, I’m going to seal that door with every spell I can think of, and he can sleep on the hallway floor.”

Fred snickered, snatching both your wands from the bedside, and extending yours to you. 

“Aww, he means well, love,” Fred cooed, “and he isn’t wrong. Gotta make sure they don’t start without us, you know.”

You both knew Molly would never allow that, but it’s still fun to pretend, to thunder down the stairs with a sense of joyful urgency no other holiday could conjure up. 

In the living room, the chairs and sofa are already almost filled. You managed to squeeze in to the end beside Ginny, who turned to exchange a smile with you, adding a bright “Good morning!” Fred settled by your feet. 

The room was full of the hum that comes with multiple conversations happening at once. Harry was deep in conversation with Charlie, who sat in a chair just beside the hearth, during which you heard snippets about dragons, and someone named Norbert. Hermione and Fleur sat cross-legged across from each other, presumably discussing wedding things.

George sat in an armchair a few feet to the side. He kept exchanging glances with his twin, and though that alone wasn’t unusual, there was… something in the way their eyes lingered, in the way George’s brow furrowed slightly, the way Fred nodded so subtly you barely noticed. Something was up with those two. A part of you dreaded it, but the other was thrilled at what kind of mischief they may have cooked up. 

Molly burst out of the kitchen carrying a massive tray of cakes and cookies. 

“Merry Christmas!” She beamed at everyone. 

“Merry Christmas!” was the unanimous, jolly reply. 

Fred snatched up three little powdered cakes, handing one back to you. Fuck, Molly’s baking is immaculate. 

“You ‘ave outdone yourself, Molly,” Fleur complimented in that lilting French accent of hers, chewing delicately on a sugar cookie.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” you mumbled around your mouthful, smiling at the slight childishness of it. 

“Well?” Molly asked, planting her hands on her hips and looking around at all of us. “What are we waiting for? Arthur! Come help me with these!” 

The ginger witch bent over and started pulling parcels from beneath the tree, handing them out to each of her children while her husband hurried to help. The first present to land in everyone’s lap she insisted we all open immediately. 

Everyone pulled out this year’s knitted sweater, all with our initials in bold letters on the front. You pulled yours on immediately, smiling and thanking the matriarch. 

What followed was an unorganized tearing of paper, gasps of delight, and thank-yous. 

On top of the sweater you got sugar quills, chocolate frogs, ink that changes color as you write, a few new notebooks, a pair of socks, and a knitted hat. 

When you reached the end of your pile of presents, you frowned. Not out of ingratitude, no. Confusion. 

Not a single present from your boyfriend sat in front of you. You looked up and glanced around, thinking maybe you just hadn’t seen it, and caught George smiling like… well, like a kid on Christmas morning, and something told you it wasn’t because of the half-eaten licorice wand in his hand. 

You frowned again, your eyes lingering for a moment. This only seems to make him smile wider. 

“Love?” You asked, “Did you forget some…”

Your voice trailed off as you finally brought your head forward to see Fred facing you. On one knee. 

The buzz in the air was gone, thick silence taking its place. 

“Didn’t forget a thing,” He replied lightly, pulling out a small velvet box. From where, you had no idea. And you suddenly decided you didn’t care. 

Your hands flew to your mouth and your eyes burned as he opened the box to reveal a delicate ring, with the center diamond cut and set into the shape of a heart, with yours and his birth stones trailing down the sides of the band. 

He started by gently saying your name. 

You choked out something between a laugh and a sob. 

“Would you do me the complete honor of being my wife?” 

You’re nodding before your mind caught up, repeating yes yes yes over and over again. 

He took the ring out of the box and reached for your hand, but you bypassed it entirely, leaping straight into his arms and knocking him to the ground.

You kissed him hard, over and over again, laughing, crying, all at once. Around you, the family was cooing, clapping, and laughing along with you. 

When you finally collected yourself, you sat up and allowed him to slip the ring on your finger. It fit perfectly. 

“‘Did you forget something’,” Fred mocked softly, kissing your cheek, “The audacity.”

You snorted and shook your head. “I never should have doubted."

A/N: I'M SORRY I DIDN'T GET THE SERPENTS AND CINNAMON CHAPTER OUT ON TIME PLEASE TAKE THIS AS A HUMBLE PEACE OFFERING 🙏🙏

[thimbleandakiss]

How about a story about cowboy Sevika x y/n. Super soft one about Sevika finding the reader in their horse stables after a long day. >:3

Sorry this is kinda short, the motivation came and went so fast 😭

Pretty Little Lady

Cowgirl!Sevika x Rancher's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Sevika finds you in the stable, brushing your horse an hour before schedule.

Content: fluff, banter, could possibly be interpreted as a suggestive ending, possibly

Cross-posted on Ao3

Playlist used to write

Much to your parents’ frustration, you’ve always loved to spend time in the stables. 

The sweet smell of hay, the musk of horses, is strangely comforting. And that’s not even beginning on the beasts themselves. 

With large, kind, intelligent eyes, silky hides, and personalities more interesting than most members of high society, horses are by far your favorite thing about the ranch. 

Well, second favorite. 

While you’ve been preoccupied with brushing down your favorite painted mare, murmuring sweetly to her, Sevika, the head ranch hand, has been leaning against the entrance to the stables, just… watching you. Enjoying the sight of you in your pristine, pastel-colored dress, stockings, and straw hat tied beneath your chin with a delicate ribbon. 

“Well, now I’ve seen everythin’,” She drawls, pushing herself off the doorframe, boots crunching on the hay strewn about the floor. 

You whirl, breath catching in your chest, you hand gripped tight on the horse brush. After a moment, you clear your throat, smoothing out your skirts, trying to grasp at that air of superiority your mother seemed so skilled in. 

She tips her hat in greeting, but there’s a mocking gleam in her eyes, dark lips pulled into a smirk. The late afternoon sun cast her outline in an almost golden glow, making the sweat of the day on her skin gleam almost ethereally. 

“What’s daddy’s little girl doin’ in the stables all by her pretty little self?” She coos, coming within arm’s reach of you. 

“I am not ‘daddy’s little girl’,” You retort, crossing your arms in a very unladylike gesture. 

You look at each other for a heartbeat longer before breaking out into wide grins, and she barely opens her arms to you before you’re in them. 

“That’s right,” Sevika hums, lifting you up for a little spin, giving you a kiss on your forehead after setting you back on your feet, “‘Cause you’re mine, aren’t ya, doll?”

You smile up at her, eyes sparkling, and nod. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, anyway?” She asks, gently readjusting your hat. “Riding lessons aren’t for another hour.” 

“I know,” You sigh, taking a step back to admire her, “I just thought I’d get a head start, I suppose…”

You trail off, a little too lost in the sight of her. Sevika’s naturally darker complexion is tanned to a medium-dark brown from long days in the field, smudges of dirt on her hands and cheeks. Her leather hat sits low on her head, shielding her face from the glare of the sun, her short, silky brown hair tied back into a small ponytail at the base of her neck. 

Her clothes are… ragged, to put it kindly. The sleeves of her shirt are torn off to reveal the bulky muscles of her arms–not that you’re complaining–but with how much your father pays her, you’d think she’d be able to buy better clothes. 

You’d asked her about it, once, on one of your long trail rides. “Rich clothes, poor clothes, I’ll rip ‘em the same,” She’d said, “no point wastin’ my money on ‘em.”

Sevika gently flicks your nose with one of her large fingers, bringing you back to the present. 

“Starin’ pretty girl?” She teases, and you huff indignantly, ducking your head to hide your grin. 

“Well,” Sevika begins with a sigh, “Since we’re both here early, why don’t I saddle us up, and you can have an extra hour, hm?”

Your entire demeanor immediately brightens, biting your lip excitedly. That’s exactly what you’d been hoping for. You had a sneaking suspicion that Sevika knew that already. 

“Yes, please!” You exclaim, polite as ever. 

Sevika scoffs and shakes her head affectionately, moving over to the saddle stand, effortlessly lifting the hunk of leather off the stand and onto your mare. You watch her as subtly as you can manage, which isn’t much better than openly drooling at the way her muscles flex. 

“I know of a real nice spot by the river,” She grunts, leather groaning as she tightens the straps, “Covered in that soft, spongy kind of moss.” 

She turns to find you already leading her own roan mare forward with a hand on the horse’s strong neck. Sevika smirks appreciatively, haltering the animal and tying her next to yours. 

“If we ride at a reasonable pace, we can spend that whole extra hour there, how’s that sound?” Sevika suggests, eyes sparkling beneath the brim of her hat when she glances at you. 

You smile, lifting onto your toes to plant a kiss on her cheek. “That sounds lovely."

[thimbleandakiss]

Christmas Colors

Malfoy!Reader x Fred Weasley

Summary: Coerced into attending the Yule Ball, you expect to have a miserable time watching your secret boyfriend dancing and having fun. Little do you know; he already has some tricks up his dress robes' sleeves.

Content: Dancing, fluff, sibling angst, secret dating, mild cursing, and suggestive ending

Cross-posted on Ao3

If you like this, I have a longfic going on Ao3 exploring this exact premise! <33

Enjoy this playlist while you read if you feel so inclined

I don't know what I'm doing here. 

How did I let Pansy talk me into this? She'd promised she'd stay with me, that we'd have fun as friends. However, just as predicted, she'd disappeared roughly five minutes into the dance and was now somewhere in this writhing mass of teenagers, probably rubbing up against Draco. 

The mental image alone was almost enough to make me gag. 

Against my better judgement, I scan the undulating sea of people, looking for a particular ginger wizard. My brow furrows. It really shouldn't be so hard to find him, the man's a giant. From my vantage point in the corner of what once was the Great Hall, I can spot his twin brother, George, dancing with his girlfriend Angelina close to the live music stage, and near the refreshments table, Ron's sulking with Harry. I scoff at the sight. He really knows how to be miserable in any situation, doesn't he? 

I can see Ginny chatting with Neville and some other Gryffindors I can't bother to remember the names of around one of the circular tables, but of all the heads of fiery red hair I found, none belong to the only one I simultaneously hope and dread to see. 

"Sulking again, Malfoy?" His deep voice sounds so close behind me, I yelp and damn near jump out of my dress. 

Whipping around, I do my best to put on the signature holier-than-thou Malfoy attitude, even as relief weakens my knees. Fred's barely containing a smirk, mischief sparkling in his eyes. My own lips twitch at the sight. 

"Better than fraternizing with mudbloods and blood traitors," I reply coolly, and I know it's not just my tight bodice pressing against my lungs with the words. 

I can see on his face he knows I don't mean what I say. His gaze rakes over me, and I suppress the urge to shiver. I should leave. We can't be seen together for too long without incurring suspicion. 

"Emerald," He observes, taking in the deep green of the gown I wear, courtesy of my mother. The elegant satin hugs the curves of my torso, the skirt dropping off at my waist, cut by a slit that rides rather high up my right thigh. The off-the-shoulder sleeves hang just over my biceps. "Isn't that a tad... cliche?" 

"It's traditional," I correct, giving him a once-over myself. "I'm shocked you're not clad head-to-toe in crimson." 

Fred breaks out into a wide grin, his head bending forward as he lets out a chuckle, and my heart stutters. Strands of his coppery hair hang in front of his eyes, my hands twitching at my sides to brush it off his forehead. 

He reaches forward and takes ahold of my hand. The callouses of his fingers grazing against my skin sends sparks skittering through my blood. "I'm glad you came, love," He murmurs, eyes sparkling. 

I blanche and attempt to tug my hand out of his grasp. "Fred, we can't-" 

"Relax," he drawls, not allowing me to step away. "I have an idea. Come on."

I don't have much choice as he pulls me from the ballroom, expertly weaving me behind the several Christmas trees that decorate the space, allowing us to remain out of sight the entire way. We duck through a small side door, and suddenly we're alone. 

The music still permeates the corridor, but the roar of a multitude of simultaneous conversations dulls to just a hum. Fred drops my hand and walks a few paces away before spinning to face me, giving me a lopsided grin that forces a smile onto my own face. 

"You really thought I'd let my gorgeous girlfriend arrive in a simply stunning dress, her hair done immaculately, and sit in a corner scowling at everyone all bloody evening?" 

I scoff and roll at his exaggerated manner of speaking, but I'll be damned if I don't feel a flush bloom across my face. He never ceases to amaze me, the cheeky bastard. I'm a little surprised he'd even noticed my hair. The darker top half was done up in a braided half-crown, leaving the lighter remainder loose over my shoulders. 

"So... you dragged me out here to flatter me?" I question, lifting an eyebrow. 

"You wound me, love," he replies with an exaggerated pout that lasts about two seconds before he's grinning again. 

He gives a slight bow and reaches out his right hand. "May I have this dance?"

It's then that I notice the music has changed. The party music has eased into something slower paced. Something romantic. Fred has absolutely no right to have timing this good. 

I can't help the way my entire being seems to soften. I reach out and take his hand. "I would love to." 

He sweeps me up into a perfect waltz position and the entire world fades away. He's a bloody good dancer, giving me enough time to find the rhythm of the dance before gently pushing me away from him, lifting his hand, and spinning me. He pulls me back against his chest and drops my hand in favor of wrapping his arms around my waist, to which I respond by slinging my arms around his neck. 

"You're sure I can't obliviate your father into forgetting how to be a bigoted piece of shit?" Fred asks, his face leaned so close to mine that his warm breath fanned across my face. 

I snort softly, smiling and shaking my head. "I unfortunately don't think that'll work," I inform him, but I can't stop myself from imagining. 

How nice would it be if we didn't have to hide? If I didn't have to risk my inheritance, home, reputation, possibly even my life by seeing him? My smile slowly starts to fade. 

"Hey..." Fred says gently, nudging my forehead with his, "none of that. Forget your worries for a night, and let's dance, love, yeah?"

A slow smirk spreads across my face as I refocus on him. "I'll do you one better," I hum, and, using my grip around the back of his neck, pull him down for a kiss. 

He makes a slight oomph sound but it's only seconds before one of his hands is woven into the strands of my hair. He gently guides me until my back is against a wall, head tilted, bodies pressed as close as possible. It briefly crosses my mind that my dark lipstick will probably smear onto his lips. In the next instant I decide I don't care. 

His free hand brushes up my waist, thumb momentarily caressing my ribcage before trailing back down and settling against my hip. He tastes like cinnamon, smoke, and sweets. Just as I really start to lose myself in him, the sound of the heavy oak door opening and shutting, and short giggle, echo through the hall. 

Fred pulls away from me in an instant, skin flushed, running his thumb over his lips, and I whirl to see who dares to intrude upon our moment. My indignation swiftly fizzles out into dread as I recognize Pansy... and my little brother. 

Draco glances at Fred, then slowly turns to me and we lock eyes. It's not hard to put two and two together. Pansy seems to have somehow managed to already get herself intoxicated, both clinging to, and falling onto, Draco's arm. 

I hold his gaze, my hands flexing by my sides, swallowing. I have nothing to say in my defense. Neither does Fred, though I don't fail to notice how he's subtly stepped in front of me. 

My brother's always been a little shit, throwing our wealth, blood status, and name around any chance he got to get whatever he wanted. He cried to Father at every little inconvenience. But I saw through him. I saw through his ruse of the snobby little brat, because I understood, had witnessed the pressure he was under. As the only son, he bore the sole responsibility of carrying on the Malfoy family name, and therefore ensuring the bloodline remained pure. His attitude was a mask he wore to keep from crumbling under weight of our reality. 

We look at each other for a heartbeat longer, and he gives the tiniest of nods. "Not here, darling," he says, turning the drunk girl in his arms around. "I've got a better spot." 

My feet remain rooted to the stone, long after their voices fade into the distance. 

Fred's hand gently brushes against the small of my back. "Love?"

I jolt, physically shaking myself out of it, and glance up at him. "Mm?" I hum in reply.

"If something ever... goes wrong, at home, you know you're welcome at the Burrow, right?"

I give him a tight smile. "Draco won't tell," I murmur, looking off to the side. 

Fred shook his head. "I don't trust that git for a damn second. But that's not the point. I want you to know you have somewhere to go. Somewhere safe. Just remember that, yeah?"

I don't reply, brows furrowed as I stare at the stone floors, as if they might yield a solution. He gently takes my chin in his hand and forces me to look at him.

"Yeah?" He repeats, a little firmer this time.

"...Yeah," I confirm, giving him a watery smile. 

He nods, satisfied, dropping my chin in favor of my hand. "Good. Now, come. Gryffindor tower is bound to be empty right now, and that dress looks awfully uncomfortable..." He scrunches his nose teasingly. 

I snort. Leave it to Fred to find a way to lighten the mood. 

I squeeze his hand and scrunch up my nose to mirror his.

"Lead the way, Weasley."

[thimbleandakiss]

Midnight Snack

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary: You woke your boyfriend up to come to the kitchens with you because you're hungry. No other reason. Obviously.

Content: mentions of nightmares, fluff, house elves, hogwarts kitchens

Cross posted to Ao3

Playlist used to write

“Ced!”

You shake his shoulder to no avail. Bloody hell, the man can sleep. 

“Ced!” You repeat in a whisper-shout, shaking his shoulder once more, and this time you’re rewarded with a rousing groan. 

You grin broadly down at him as he rolls in our direction, light brown hair thoroughly mussed with sleep, rubbing his eyes and squinting at you in the dim light “Sweetheart, what-”

You swiftly place a finger to his lips, hushing him. “Shh! We don’t want to wake your dormmates, now, do we?”

His brow furrows, frowning slightly in a way that tells you he’s actually trying not to mirror your smile. “Let’s start with what you’re doing in my dorm in the first place, hm?”

“I’m hungry.” Your smile never wavers. 

“You’re joking.”

“Nope!” 

“You woke me up to escort you to the kitchens two meters from the common room entrance for a midnight snack?”

“Mm-hmm!”

Cedric sighs heavily, slinging an arm briefly over his eyes. “You’re very lucky I like you. Alright.”

“Aw, don’t be silly,” you coo teasingly, handing him his jumper from where it’s slung over the bedpost, “you love me.”

“I do, indeed,” He hums, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before pulling the jumper over his head. 

It’s a matter of a few moments before you’re quietly padding down the steps to the common room, fingers interlaced, Cedric still yawning. It hadn’t taken much to convince him, because he knew the veiled reason for your sudden fixation with the kitchens. 

It was a nightmare. Another one. He can see it in the way your eyes didn’t crinkle the right way, in the dark circles under your eyes. And who is he to deny his girlfriend anything?

When Cedric covers another yawn with his hand, a twinge of guilt for dragging him out of bed flickers through your chest. 

“You could have told me no,” you murmur, pushing open the common room door. 

“Nonsense, darling,” he mumbles in reply, giving you a sleepy smile, pieces of his unkempt hair falling across his forehead. The sight has you smiling again. 

He squeezes your hand, holding open the portrait of fruits for you like the gentleman he is. 

Most of the house elves are asleep, but a good number are still up, preparing breakfast for the students the next morning, cleaning, or stoking the fires. Several heads snap up, owlish eyes blinking at the two of you as you step into the kitchen. 

As usual, the elves are more than happy to feed us, pulling up stools by one of the roaring fireplaces, but there’s… a slight confusion to their actions. Two in the morning certainly isn’t when they expect to have random visitors. 

“I swear, the house elves are judging us,” you murmur, a warm mug of hot chocolate in one hand, a small fruit tart in the other. 

“Let them judge,” Cedric replies, biting into his own tart, “My darling wanted a midnight snack, and so a midnight snack she will get.”

You grin at him, giggling softly, and taking a bite of your tart, some crumbs and filling lingering on the corner of your mouth. He leans forward, his arm coming up to the side of your face, his palm against your cheek and the pad of his thumb brushing the mess away. 

“Is it something you want to talk about?” He asked, his brows pinched slightly in concern. 

He knows he’s guessed right by the way your gaze flickers, then drops. “Not particularly, no. I’d rather try and forget it.”

Cedric nods, brushing your lips with his thumb again in a gesture that no longer has anything to do with the tart crumbs. “That’s alright, sweetheart. As long as you know I’m here if you need me.”

You sigh appreciatively, leaning your head into his hand briefly before allowing him to withdraw it. 

“Um, Mister… Miss…” The squeaky voice catches you both off guard, and you look down to see a rather nervous-looking house elf blinking up at you. “If you’re… quite done, we feel it important to remind you that a good night’s rest is imperative for a productive day tomorrow.”

You and Cedric look up, make eye contact and snort, nodding to the little elf at the same time, eyes glimmering with mirth. 

“Told you they were judging us.”

[thimbleandakiss]

What do you do when you lose the reason you started writing, but don’t want to lose the writing?

It used to be an escape. I lived in a strict household with parents who banned me from the internet if I breathed in a way they didn’t like (not that it ever worked but the effort was still there) and lived in a very small town in the mountains far from anything of any significance.

I was isolated and writing made me feel less alone

It’s not that I can’t string words together, this post proves that. It’s not that I don’t have good ideas, I have an inbox full of requests that nag at me and having ADHD prevents the ideas from ever truly stopping.

But now I’m living with and engaged to the love of my life. I’m surrounded by friends for the first time in half a decade. I work almost full time. I’m able to pursue my other hobbies in a way I never was before.

But I haven’t touched my manuscript in months. Serpents and Cinnamon hets maybe 30 minutes of attention every month if it’s lucky.

I don’t want to stop writing. I don’t want to lose that. But every time I have time to sit down and write there are more important things that I feel like I could be doing.

Help? 😭😭

[thimbleandakiss]

Chapter 14 of Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader longfic, Serpents and Cinnamon, "Four, Fantastic" is out now!

Fic summary: The eldest Malfoy once thought that she and a particular pair of ginger wizards would be fast friends, but when her parents inform her that she shouldn't fraternize with such blood traitors, she shuts them, and almost everyone else, out, becoming the cold, calculating daughter they want her to be.

But when circumstances push them back together, can she find the strength of will to keep them out? For their sake, not her own? Or will she find herself too drawn to the freedom they exude and get herself wrapped up in a tangled web of secrets, love, and lies?

[thimbleandakiss]

Love's Good

Luna Lovegood x Any!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Luna Lovegood reassures you when you have anxiety about being the only Slytherin member of Dumbledore's Army

Content: anxiety, kisses, in-universe curses, mild angst

Cross posted to Ao3

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea…”

Is your tie too tight? It feels like something is constricting your throat. The emerald detailing and serpent emblem on your robes seem… glaring, and your palm is sweaty where it connects to Luna’s, standing before a seemingly blank wall. 

Of course, it’s more than that. Nothing at Hogwarts is ever as it seems. This wall happens to conceal the secret entrance for the Room of Requirement. Though, since that Umbridge woman took over, it’s more commonly known as the Dumbledore’s Army headquarters. 

You glance at the white-blonde witch beside you, and she looks as unbothered as ever. A gentle, almost serene smile gracing her lips, her eyes just slightly unfocused as if seeing something others cannot. 

“Don’t be silly,” she hums in that sweet, airy voice of hers, “this is a wonderful idea.”

You’ve had this conversation at least three times on the walk here; Luna’s patience with you is endless. 

“But I’m in Slytherin,” you remind her. 

She just blinks at you with her beautiful, big, sparkly eyes. 

“There are no other Slytherins in Dumbledore’s Army.” 

Still no reply. 

“And with Draco running around like Umbridge’s lapdog, along with the rest of his friends, my house isn’t exactly seen in the best of lights right now-” you break off in a sigh, your mounting anxiety choking off the rest of your verbalized thought. 

Luna blinks at you again, then turns her face away, sighing casually, “I wish I had my Spectrespecs on me.”

Your brow furrows. Luna isn’t always the most… coherent, but that seems rather random, even for her. 

Taking a deep breath, you take the bait anyway. “Why…?”

“To check your ears for wrackspurts, of course.”

She turns back to you again, a rather uncharacteristic frown on her face. “Because you appear not to be listening to me.”

She shifts her body to face you fully, taking your other hand. You swallow. Luna’s almost never this serious. 

"I like you,” she continues, beautiful blue eyes boring right into your heart, “I see no reason why they wouldn’t.”

You sigh, and a small smile pulls at your lips. She says it so confidently, like this is the only logic that makes any sense. 

Even if, realistically, there are plenty of people who wouldn’t like you, almost purely because she does. 

But you can’t bear to argue with her anymore. That, and all you’re doing standing out here is stalling the inevitable. You’d promised Luna you’d go to a DA meeting with her, and that is what you are going to do. 

One pair of hands still clasped, you allow her to lead you down the corridor three times until a door carves itself out of the stone wall. you reach for the handle. Hesitate. Look at Luna. 

Founder save you, that smile makes you entirely unable to tell her no. Steeling your nerves, you turn the knob and push the door open. 

Were it up to you, you probably would’ve hung closer to the sides. Hope to avoid the majority of the crowd, and with it, unnecessary drama. But no, Luna, with surprising strength, drags you right into the middle of everyone to say hi to Harry of all people. 

“Hello, Harry,” Luna hums, pulling you to a stop just behind the black-haired wizard. 

He whirls, mildly startled at her sudden appearance. “Oh! Er… Hi, Luna.”

He glances at you, and you feel your spine straighten subconsciously. You belong here, you remind yourself, even if you don’t believe it. 

If you act like you know what you’re doing, most likely, everyone will believe you. 

Luna gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and you swear, you could kiss the girl right here and now. 

“And you are…?” 

You tell him your name, and he nods. “Right, well, we still have a couple groups left before we can start, and I’m a little busy helping Neville, so I’ll talk to you two, later, yeah?”

He turns and starts giving instructions and advice to the struggling wizard. 

You blink. 

That’s it? No who are you? No what are you doing here? Nothing? 

“Well, that went… better than I expected,” You mumble, letting Luna lead you off again. 

“I did try to tell you,” Luna replies warmly, pressing her shoulder against yours. 

She pulls you around the space, introducing you to various other members of the Army. Nobody is particularly warm, but they aren’t hostile, and that is a win you’ll take. 

After the last of the members is confirmed to arrive, the lesson is revealed to be on casting patronuses. 

While simple in concept, Harry doesn’t hesitate to stress that this is rather advanced magic, and we’d be lucky if we even cast a formless patronus on our first try. 

“Think of a happy memory,” he says, “the happiest one you’ve got.”

A happy memory…

You try several with no luck, and huff in frustration. Happy memory… happy memory…

You think of Luna. Just… Luna in general. Her face, her hair, her smile, the way her voice always holds a sort of dreamy quality…

A wispy, grey mist emerges from your wand, and you grin in triumph. Luna, beside you, as she’d been all evening, smiles broadly at you, standing on her toes lightly to kiss your cheek. 

Your own broad grin plastered on your face, you cast the spell one last time, and a fully formed patronus erupts from your wand-tip, circles Luna, then dissipates in a cloud of grey mist. 

You no longer care that you’re surrounded by other students. You shove your wand into your pocket, spin Luna back towards you, grab her face in both hands

And kiss her.

A/N: I'M SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE the Ao3 author curse might be manifesting qwq