wizardinggirl

[wizardinggirl]

𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹

About Me

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢 ⟡ 𝟗𝟎’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 ⟡ 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐉 ⟡ 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰

Masterlist

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 Prologue (1/2) || Prologue (2/2) || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Epilogue

[sunder-soul]

Mimicry

☾∘•⋅• Part 1 •⋅∙∘☽

★ Part 1 ★ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7 ☆ Part 8 ☆ Part 9 ☆ Part 10 ☆ Part 11 ☆ Part 12 ☆ Part 13 ☆ Part 14 ☆ FINAL ☆

Summary: “You’re going to destroy me,” he breathes, and his hand is at your throat, feather-light unlike the iron grip of his long fingers around your wrist. “You’re going to like it,” you whisper back, right against his lips. (Enemies to Lovers, Potions class rivals, jealous!Tom, all the good stuff…) Wordcount: 3.4k Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  

PROMPT 1: hello! i was wondering if i can request an enemies to lovers with tom? maybe where him and the reader are like rivals and try to win slughorn’s attention in potions? end it with sexual tension if yk what i mean lol (ps. i am in LOVE with your writing, amazing)

PROMPT 2: I was wondering if you could create a fic where Tom gets super jealous/worried about the reader. Firstly, that’s just so fluffy and makes me feel a certain way 😳. But secondly I would be really interested in seeing how his character developes as he’s exposed to love. For so long he’s been misunderstood and defined by his “heartlessness” becuase of the one dimensional way that JK Rowling wrote him. I would like to see how he would change when given the chance to love and if he didn’t create a horcrux.

PROMPT 3: Y/n and Tom have an argument but you both get turned on. Tom picks you up and pushed you against the wall, kissing, passionate and rough sex, all around the house (or dorm?) literally my fantasy😂

Now I know that’s a lot, but I have an idea and there’s a method to my madness 😉 Not sure how many parts this’ll be yet!!

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“I hate him,” you grumble, dejectedly tearing a bite from your bread roll.

“Don’t be petty,” Darcey says busily, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not being petty, I’m being dramatic,” you mutter, shooting Riddle a glare where he’s calmly sitting with his odious friends at the far end of the Slytherin table. “Pettiness would involve making up lies about him, personal insults, and at least some degree of sabotage.”

“You’ve thought about that too much,” Thomas drawls, not looking up from the meticulous origami dragon he’s folding out of his Herbology assignment.

“Come one,” you say emphatically, swivelling around to face them both, “Slughorn’s inviting Vindictus Viridian to his end-of-term party, after all.”

“Who?” Darcey asks distractedly, carefully smoothing out an old dog-ear on the library book she’s reading.

“Vindictus Viridian!” you repeat incredulously. “The Vindictus Viridian! Ex-Hogwarts headmaster, famous curse-breaker, and most importantly, the best Potioneer to graduate Hogwarts in the past three hundred years?”

“Oh,” Darcey glances at you absently, “and this involves Tom Riddle how?”

You give a beleaguered sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Viridian’s looking to take on an intern,” you say pointedly, returning your attention to glaring at Riddle. “And Slughorn’s bound to recommend someone to him at that party…”

“So you want him to recommend you, and not Riddle,” Darcey frowns.

“Exactly.”

“But Riddle’s got Slughorn wrapped around his little finger,” Thomas snickers, setting his paper dragon on the gleaming golden plate before him.

“Exactly,” you scowl.

“If you’re trying to pry Slughorn’s attention off his perfect little prefect protégé, you’re a bloody idiot,” Thomas declares, pointing his wand at the dragon. “Fotia Canite.”

The dragon gives a miniscule roar and a spark of flame erupts from its little mouth, immediately catching itself on fire and going up in a blaze. Thomas shouts in panic but within a single second the thing is gone into a puff of smoke and ash.

“If I’m an idiot, things are looking mighty grim for you, mate,” you deadpan.

Keep reading

[wizardinggirl]

It’s really unfortunate how much AI is in the fanfiction community. And even more so how few readers can tell (I’ll be reading something that is very obviously AI and the comments are all praising the author and I’m like hmmmmm I don’t think they wrote this.) I just wanna read something good that wasn’t written by a robot. If you’re bad at writing, do what the rest of us did and struggle through the awkward. Practice makes progress and you can’t progress if someone else is doing the work for you. Please, for the love of fanfiction, STOP USING AI!

One of the biggest examples of AI heavy writing is this (and mostly when they’re very repetitive with it) things in 3… for example: Not *this*, but *this*. Like *this*. (Again, it’s fine to use this, but when you see it over and over and over again, it’s probably AI)

Another would be if you feel like you’re reading A LOT but feel like the story is going no where…to the point where you start just reading the dialogue to get through the story👀 (sound familiar???)

For my own research purposes, I ran one of my own fics through ChatGPT (I know, the horror. The sacrifices I make for you), so I could see what it changed and how I could better spot it in other works. It was so repetitive with the 3’s or ‘there it is’ or making up some weird part of the plot that I was like…whaaaaat? So sometimes when a fic feels like it’s not making much sense and you’re like, maybe the author is just doing something different- no! It’s ai my guy.

Anyway, that’s the end of my rant. Thank you, love you, bye. <3

[maria021015]

Verituserum

Fred Weasley x FemReader

Fred, George, and Lee have been avoiding you all day and you’ve had enough. When you blackmail your way into the Gryffindor common room to confront them, you don’t expect Fred to start bombarding you with strange compliments. You definitely don’t expect what comes next.

———————————————————————

It started at breakfast. You were late because you’d overslept after a long night studying, your robes slightly askew, one sock not matching the other. Your hair was still damp from a rushed spell, but you didn’t care, because you spotted them instantly. Fred, George, and Lee. They had been your best friends since First year.

They were clustered near the middle of the Gryffindor table, heads bowed together in hushed laughter over something probably dangerous and definitely not approved by any adult with a brain. It was your favorite thing about them, really. The way chaos seemed to orbit around them like they were made of gravity that specifically attracted trouble. It made life interesting.

Your feet were already moving toward them before you realised. Fred looked up just as you reached the bench, mid-laugh, his eyes bright. Something about that made your stomach flutter in that embarrassing way it always did when he looked at you like that. You’d harboured a very secret crush on the boy since Fourth year when he’d sent you a Dwarf-Valentine.

You’d been upset that no one had been interested in giving you one, so to cheer you up he’d gotten you one telling you what a great friend and excellent witch you were. The thoughtfulness and unexpected sweetness of the gesture had you falling head over heels in no time. You’d been a goner since then.

You smiled and slid onto the bench. “What’d I miss?”

Fred blinked, mouth opening like he had something to say, then he glanced to George. George’s eyebrows twitched once, a silent message passed between the brothers in a blink.

“Actually,” George said, shooting upright and clapping his hands together, “we’ve got to go.”

“Go?” you echoed, laughing lightly. “Where?”

“Greenhouse,” Lee added, already pushing back from the bench.

“Heard something’s exploding,” George said quickly, grabbing a cold slice of toast. “Don’t want to miss it!”

Before you could blink, they were out the doors, laughing again as they vanished. You sat there, alone on the bench, staring at their empty seats.

Weird.

You stabbed your spoon into your porridge with a little more force than necessary, but it wasn’t enough to set off alarm bells just yet. After all, the boys were always hurrying off to execute elaborate pranks.

Later that day, after double potions, was when you started to notice something might be amiss.

Snape had been especially vicious that day, stalking around the room like a bloodhound with something to prove. Fred had dropped a beaker, causing it to explode. Snape’s robes were still faintly steaming when Fred had the gall to tell Snape his hair was looking particularly greasy today, which earned him a detention and a deduction of 10 points from Gryffindor.

Still, the class had ended. And you’d hoped - expected - you’d walk to Care of Magical Creatures with the boys like always. You’d been paired with a Hufflepuff this time in class, but you packed up fast and trotted after the trio as they left the dungeon.

You caught them in the hallway just beyond the staircase. “Oi! Wait up!” you called.

Lee turned, smile flickering across his face. “Hey! That was brutal, yeah?”

“Snape nearly swallowed his tongue when your beaker shattered,” you teased, nudging Fred.

The Weasley boy laughed, but it was tight sounding and shorter than usual. His hand scrubbed through his hair like he didn’t know what to do with his limbs.

“Actually,” George said suddenly, “we need to check on something.”

“In the greenhouse,” Lee said smoothly, already pulling Fred’s arm.

You frowned. “Didn’t you just go there? At breakfast?”

George nodded, too quickly. “Y-yeah, but, different thing. Something with the…mandrakes.”

“Mandrakes?” you echoed sceptically. “What could you possibly need with those? They scream bloody murder when you touch them.”

“Right,” George said. “So we have to touch them very carefully.”

Fred gave you a quick, apologetic look. His eyes darted down, his cheeks flushing a little before he let himself be pulled away again. You watched them disappear around the corner, your chest tightening and your breath catching on a question you couldn’t quite ask.

———————————————————————

You didn’t plan to stalk them. You just happened to overhear Fred telling Angelina that he’d be in the library during free period doing ‘research’.

Fred Weasley? Research? As if. It was obviously a lie. Or a cover up. But part of you still clung to the hope that maybe it was all in your head and they weren’t avoiding you.

You brought a few books to make it look casual. You waited outside the doors, leaning against the wall, your ear tilted toward the hushed shuffle of pages and whispers inside. You stared at the flickering torchlight against the stone and reminded yourself not to be weird. Not to be clingy. They’d come out and you’d walk together, like always.

Then, there was movement. You spotted them sneaking out a side entrance. All three of them - Fred, George, and Lee - hunched over like they were avoiding Filch, looking side to side before scuttling toward the Charms corridor.

Your heart sank. They hadn’t seen you, and you didn’t bother calling out to them. You just stared as their silhouettes faded into the shadows, a cold feeling settling in your throat. It was obvious they were up to something, which was not the usual part. The usual part was that the four of you were always up to something together. So why had hey left you out?

Your fingers clenched around your books so tightly the parchment covers creased.

Later that afternoon in Transfiguration was the worst one yet. That was when you finally admitted to yourself that they were actively avoiding you. You were sat at your usual desk, which you normally shared with Fred. You were pretending to study while the classroom filled up, but you couldn’t focus on any of the words your eyes skimmed over.

You felt…off. Like you were waiting for something you couldn’t admit to wanting. Not without sounding clingy or crazy. You heard the door swing open again and your head snapped up quickly.

Fred stepped in, his scarf askew, hair wind-blown, and cheeks flushed pink from the cold. His eyes landed on you - or more accurately on the empty seat beside you waiting expectantly for him to occupy it - and he froze. The hope that had bubbled up in your chest fizzled out instantly.

He looked guilty. You knew all of his expressions like the back of your hand, so you knew it wasn’t his surprised face. Or his excited face. Not even his sheepish face. He looked guilty.

“Hey!” you said, forcing cheer into your voice but trying not to sound too eager. “I’ve been looking for—”

“He forgot something!” George shouted from beside Fred, far louder than necessary.

“What?” You frowned.

He turned to Fred, patting his arm. “Right? You forgot something important!”

Lee immediately stepped forward, grabbing the older twin’s. “Yes, very urgent.”

They turned and ran. Actually ran away. You sat there, your skin prickling with heat. Your face felt like it had been slapped. It hadn’t been a dramatic rejection, or even a cruel one. You’d just been…dismissed. Like you didn’t matter.

You stood up slowly, your vision stinging. Anger pulsed beneath the surface. This wasn’t a coincidence anymore. This had to be on purpose. Something cracked inside you, and you’d already started scheming up a little plot of your own.

It took you less than five minutes after Transfiguration to find Neville Longbottom. The last person who’d made it into the Gryffindor common room had done so through him, so it only made sense for you to start there as well.

“AHHH!” Neville thrashed against your hold like he’d just been attacked by an acromantula.

You hushed him as you dragged him into the nearest broom closet, shutting the door behind you two with a slam. “Shut up!”

Neville just kept screaming.

“Calm down, Longbottom. No one’s dying!” You soothed, though there was an edge of annoyance in your tone. “Well, maybe I am. Of frustration.”

Neville finally stopped yelling for help and blinked at you in confusion.

“I need access to the Gryffindor common room.” You explained.

“You’re not even in our house!”

“Technically no, but I’ve been in there loads of times.” You justified your intrusion.

“Then ask one of your friends to let you in,” Neville reasoned.

“No, they’re the reason I need to get in. They’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why.” You explained, but that didn’t seem to even remotely set Neville’s mind at ease.

“I’ll get in trouble—!”

You leaned in close. “Let me put it this way. If you don’t help me, I will mention to Professor Sprout that you’ve been growing screaming fungi under your bed again. Oh yes, Lee told me all about that.”

Neville paled. “You wouldn’t.”

You smiled. “Try me.”

———————————————————————

The corridors of Hogwarts were never easy to navigate, especially when one was flustered and humiliated. But you didn’t care about getting caught out after curfew anymore. Not tonight. Not when your pride had already taken enough of a beating.

Your legs carried you at an angry pace through the darkened castle, one hand gripping your wand and the other dragging poor, wide-eyed Neville Longbottom along behind you by the wrist.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you were this mean,” Neville whimpered.

“I’m not mean,” you snapped, hair wild and heart pounding. “I’m just…desperate. Which i know sounds pathetic when I say it out loud, it I promise I have a good reason.”

When you reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, you planted your feet and stared down the guardian with narrowed eyes. “Let us in.”

“She’s not a Gryffindor,” the portrait sniffed.

“She’s got more nerve than me, that’s for sure,” Neville muttered.

“Password?” she said curtly.

You looked to Neville and the boy muttered weakly, eyes cast downwards, “Treacle Tart.”

The portrait scowled, scandalised, but opened anyway with a disapproving glare. You stormed into the common room, boots thudding against the carpet, your heart hammering in your throat. There they were. Fred, George, and Lee. All three lounged on the couches by the fire, laughing about something, heads tilted back like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Until they saw you. George’s laughter died mid-cackle. Lee froze with a Bertie Bott’s bean halfway to his mouth. Fred’s eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Oh, look,” you said, voice dripping with venom. “The Three Musketeers. How cozy.”

“…Oh no,” George muttered.

You crossed the room with purpose, arms crossed tightly over your chest, eyes blazing. Fred looked like he wanted to melt into the cushions. Lee glanced sideways, calculating possible escape routes while George did that thing where he rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish and guilty and trying not to laugh at the same time.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve tried to hang out with you lot today?” you snapped, each word slicing through the thick tension like a well-aimed hex. “Every time I show up, you vanish. At breakfast? You suddenly need to tend to a greenhouse explosion. I try to sit with you at lunch? You’re nowhere to be seen. You even skipped out on Transfiguration! McGonagall was furious!”

Fred looked like he was being interrogated under magical duress. You didn’t realise how pale he’d gone until now.

“I thought maybe I was imagining it,” you went on, your breath trembling. “That I was reading too much into it. But I’m not stupid. You’ve been avoiding me, all of you. So, what is it? Did I say something? Do something? Did I get too…what? Too annoying? Too clingy?”

Fred’s jaw flexed, George winced, and Lee actually lowered his head like a puppy in trouble. None of them answered you though.

“I thought we were friends!” your voice cracked. “If I’m such a bloody problem, then just say it to my face! Be men and say it!”

Silence followed, punctured only by the crackling fire. And then Fred opened his mouth, and what came out was the last thing you expected to hear. “You look so hot when you’re angry.”

You blinked. “What?”

Fred’s eyes widened in horror. “I said you look hot. When you yell. It’s doing something weird to me. Merlin’s beard, did I say that out loud? I did, didn’t I?”

Lee groaned and covered his face and George let out a strangled “Oh, blimey.”

“I also think your hair looks like something out of an oil painting,” Fred continued, voice rising in panic. “And you’ve got this little frown line when you’re concentrating that makes me want to kiss you stupid.”

You stared, heart hammering in your chest, partially frozen in shock. “You’re joking,” you breathed. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not! I wish I was!” Fred blurted, struggling now as Lee shoved a hand over his mouth.

You took a step back, face flushing now for an entirely different reason.

George raised his hands defensively. “Okay, listen, we can explain.”

“I’d love for someone to start doing that!”

George winced. “We dared Fred to break into Snape’s private stores. You know, for fun.”

“Of course you did.”

“And…he nicked some Veritaserum.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You gave him Veritaserum?!”

“No!” Lee said, eyes wide as he struggled to keep Fred from licking his palm to escape. “Well, yes, but we all had some! It was for a game of truth or dare. We upped the anti. Thought we were only taking a micro dose. He had too much. Turns out it was like, a full dose and a half.”

You gaped. “So…he can’t lie?”

“More like he can’t stop telling the truth,” George said grimly. “It’s been hours. It’s…gotten worse.”

You could hardly believe what they were saying, because that meant everything else Fred had just blurted out was true. “Prove it.”

Lee looked at Fred, then smirked. “Oi, Fred. Remember that time you got stuck in the girls’ toilets in second year? Why were you in there?”

Lee removed his hand to allow Fred to speak, the boy confessed, “Because I wanted to find out if Angelina had a boyfriend!”

“OH MY GOD,” you muttered, horrified and delighted. You’d always suspected that he’d followed you and Angie in to eavesdrop but he’d never admitted it before.

Fred groaned, flopping backward into the couch and covering his eyes with both hands. Your thoughts spun. If everything he said - about you, your hair, wanting to kiss you - was the truth…You swallowed thickly, feeling your stomach stir with emotion. “Oh.”

George raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You turned to him. “Why were you hiding him from me, then? Specifically?”

The boys glanced at each other and Lee swiftly clamped his hand over Fred’s mouth once more. No one answered until Fred bit down on Lee’s hand. Lee yelped and it gave Fred enough wiggle room to jerk away and blurt out quickly, “Because I’m scared of what I might say to you!”

George lunged with a pillow and slammed it over Fred’s face. “Shut UP.”

Lee added a blanket for good measure. Fred’s muffled voice still came through,” You smell really good too, by the way! Like all the time. Makes me wanna—”

“OKAY THATS ENOUGH!” George attempted to talk over his brother, drowning out what Fred was trying to say

You stood there, cheeks flushed, utterly speechless. “…Right,” you muttered. You turned to Neville, who was still frozen in place like he’d witnessed a murder. “Neville. Sorry for the…attacking, and dragging, and threatening, and all.”

He nodded numbly and without another word, you turned and walked out. As you disappeared out the portrait hole, Fred sat up again, pillow askew. “I said too much, didn’t I?”

George and Lee groaned in unison.

———————————————————————

The next morning, you seriously considered skipping breakfast. You’d hardly slept a wink after last night’s ambush. Your heart still hadn’t fully recovered from the fact that Fred Weasley - the same Fred you’d been crushing on for years - had not only complimented you in front of half the Gryffindor common room, but had apparently consumed so much Veritaserum that he couldn’t stop doing it.

You kept replaying it in your head, over and over.

“You look so hot when you’re angry.”

“You’ve got this little frown line when you’re concentrating that makes me want to kiss you stupid.”

“Because I’m scared of what I might say to you!”

Was that real? That happened, right? You didn’t hallucinate it? You gripped your bag a little tighter and stepped into the Great Hall.

The scent of warm bread and roasted tomatoes hit you immediately, but your eyes went straight to the Gryffindor table. There they were. Fred, George, and Lee, almost exactly where they’d been yesterday.

Fred was talking animatedly while George and Lee sat on either side of him like guards flanking a volatile prisoner. Every time Fred opened his mouth, they both twitched. You hesitated. You could turn back, pretend you forgot something, sit with the Ravenclaws, or maybe join Angelina and Alicia further down.

But then Fred looked up and his eyes locked on yours like he’d been waiting for you and he lit up. That was the thing with Fred Weasley. When he smiled at you, it was like the whole bloody ceiling of floating candles turned a little warmer and brighter. He practically stood to wave you over. You swallowed hard and crossed the hall on slightly shaky legs, avoiding every other pair of eyes you felt watching you.

“Morning,” you said, managing a tone that was between polite and painfully awkward.

“Good morning,” Fred said, voice suspiciously sincere. “You look radiant. No, actually, radiant’s not enough. You look like if the sun and Aphrodite had a baby and raised it in a faerie grotto.”

Lee choked on his pumpkin juice. George’s head hit the table with a soft thunk. You stilled. “What?”

Fred kept going. “Honestly, I don’t know how you manage to look that good this early in the morning.”

You sat slowly, stiff as a cursed statue as George shoved a croissant in Fred’s mouth. “Eat,” he commanded.

Fred chewed obediently, eyes still on you like you’d hung the stars yourself. You stared down at your plate. “I’m guessing the Verituserum is still in effect?”

“Yeah,” Lee said flatly. “We have no idea when it’ll wear off.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Other than an irresistible inclination to spilling whatever is running through his head, it seems so,” George shrugged.

“I’m absolutely mortified actually,” Fred said through the croissant. “Also, you smell incredible. Like vanilla and warm sugar and…ow!”

George had elbowed him.

“Umm,” you said cautiously, picking up your spoon, “how long does this usually last?”

“Veritaserum usually wears off in twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” Lee muttered, flipping his sausage over like it had offended him. “Unless, of course, you chug it like a lunatic.”

“How was I supposed to know it’d turn me into a sappy git!” Fred said indignantly.

“You were already a sappy git, now you’re just a sappy git with no filter!” George hissed.

You tried not to laugh, but a quiet, amused chuckle, followed by the tiniest smile you couldn’t hold back, snuck out.

Fred’s eyes widened like he’d won the Triwizard Tournament. “She smiled,” he said, almost reverently.

Lee pointed his fork at Fred. “Don’t.”

“You know how I love it when she does that,” Fred added. “It’s beautiful. Makes my insides all warm and fuzzy.”

George groaned and shoved a spoonful of scrambled eggs in his brother’s mouth.

You looked at them and the knot in your chest began to loosen. There were still questions you had. Still nerves and embarrassment swirled chaotically in your chest like a stirred cauldron. But Fred’s eyes were soft, unguarded and fixed entirely on you. There was no joke held in them. Nor teasing. He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. You nudged your toast and tried not to overthink the blush crawling up your neck.

“So,” you said, eyes flicking to Fred’s. “What else are you dying to tell me that you haven’t yet?”

Lee immediately smacked his forehead. Fred swallowed the eggs and leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “That your laugh makes me feel like I’m not about to completely combust. Which is impressive, because I’m nearly always about to combust when I’m around you.”

George tackled him. Literally tackled him sideways onto the bench. Everyone in the vicinity turned to look and you burst out laughing.

Fred was flattened under his twin and with a piece of bacon in his hair. He groaned at his own confession. “I hate this! Get me out of here!”

So Lee and George did. They hurried him out of the great hall like a fire was at their heels.

———————————————————————

You should’ve known better than to think Potions class would be anything less than a disaster today. For starters, Snape already looked murderous before anyone had entered the dungeon. His robes flared like bat wings as he prowled between the desks, eyes narrowed, mouth twisted into his usual expression of ‘I hate all of you equally’.

The only good news was that he’d paired you with Fred again. The bad news was also that you were paired with Fred again.

He was still under the effects of Veritaserum. Still unable to lie. Still completely incapable of shutting up. You’d barely opened your textbook before he leaned closer. “You look like someone who should be immortalised in stained glass.”

You choked on air. He was sitting next to you, casual as anything, chin in his palm, elbow on the desk, watching you like you were the most fascinating part of the room. Which, you were sure you weren’t.

“Fred,” you hissed, glancing around. “Not now.”

“You smile with your whole face,” he whispered. “It’s devastating.”

“Oh my god.”

Snape swept past your table, his cloak snapping dramatically at his heels. “Mr. Weasley,” he said, in the tone one might use when stepping in dung. “If you insist on breathing loudly, do it elsewhere.”

Fred snapped upright. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. You’re more intimidating than usual. Though still just as much of a git.”

The room froze and an unlucky Hufflepuff dropped their pestle, the whole room heard it clang on the flagstones.

Snape turned very slowly. “Excuse me?”

You kicked Fred under the desk before he could say anything else but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He flinched. “I wish I could say I didn’t mean that. But, well, I did.” He clamped his mouth shut, his face red.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Ten points from Gryffindor.”

“But it could be a compliment!” Fred tried. “You’re very…committed to your aesthetic? Of course it wasn’t a compliment—”

You were going to die here. Your body would be found slumped over a cauldron and people would whisper, ‘she died because Fred Weasley called Snape a git during Veritaserum detox’.

You grabbed Fred by the wrist and hissed, “Shut. Up.”

“I’m trying! But you’re right here, and it’s really hard to be normal around you when you smell like dessert and…and you keep tucking your hair behind your ear like you don’t know what that does to me. But of course, I guess you don’t know what it does to me but I can tell you it does a lot.”

You dropped your ladle and it splashed green liquid across the desk.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” Snape drawled. “Would you like to join your partner in detention?”

“No, sir,” you said through clenched teeth. “Desperately not.”

Snape stalked off, muttering under his breath. Fred turned to you, very quiet for once. You risked a glance. He was biting his lip, face flushed, clearly fighting the urge to say anything else. He picked up the ingredients list and started grinding roots with unnecessary intensity.

You stared at the way his forearms flexed as he moved. You were losing your mind at the way his veins were defined by the tense muscles running all up his arm. You were suddenly very thankful that the boys had kept you out of their after hours truth or dare game. Otherwise you were entirely sure you’d be in a worse predicament than Fred.

You forced yourself to focus on the recipe before you and collected a handful of eels eyes. The crack of someone’s cauldron exploding across the room caused you to jump, the eyes scattering from your palm and across the floor. You swiftly hurried to collect them before Snape could notice. Only, the moment you bent down Fred let out a loud, barely contained groan. “Merlin, you look good when you do that. Makes me wanna—”

Your spine instantly straighter, stomach clenching, looking up to meet Fred’s eyes. His face was screwed up in effort, teeth digging into his bottom lip to stop himself from completing his sentence. He looked like the restraint was killing him.

“Shit, shut up, shut up, shut up,” he murmured under his breath, turning his head and refusing to look at you as his fists clenched.

You forced yourself to clear your throat, ignoring him and going on with rushing the eel eyes to stop yourself from doing something impulsive. Like grabbing his tie and kissing him over a bubbling cauldron.

———————————————————————

It was late. The corridors were nearly silent, which Hogwarts only ever managed in the deep belly of evening, when most students were tucked away in their dorms. Even Peeves seemed to be sleeping, or plotting. Either way he was nowhere to be seen. You’d just left the library, arms full of books you weren’t really reading and your head still spinning from a few days of emotional whiplash and truth bombs you hadn’t asked for.

Fred had been avoiding you again after the potions fiasco, but not in the way he had before. Now it was more like he was dodging danger. Like he was terrified he’d open his mouth and say something truly nuclear. So every time you entered a room, George or Lee shoved him behind a curtain or distracted you with a stupid prank or practically dragged him into another hallway by the scruff of his neck.

It was honestly driving you insane. You were tired of the avoidance and the interruptions. So when you turned a corner and he was there alone, just walking with his hands jammed into his pockets looking like he’d been pacing, you jumped on the opportunity.

Fred looked up and instantly stopped walking. His face was pale, like he’d been holding his breath since the morning. His eyes went wide. “Oh no.”

“Hi,” you said slowly, lowering your stack of books. “What are you doing?”

“Trying not to have a breakdown.”

“Charming.”

Fred looked down at the floor, then back at you, and you saw the exact second he gave up trying to be subtle. “I can’t do this anymore.”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“This. Not telling you. Or, I guess I have told you, I guess, in a very roundabout way. But that was all by accident and now it’s wearing off, and my brain keeps screaming at me to shut up and I can’t because I’ve already said too much and not enough, and…Merlin’s balls, you’re looking at me like that and it’s making it worse.”

You stared at him, stunned. “Like what?” you managed.

“Like you might kiss me if I say the right thing.”

“Well, try it and we’ll find out.”

Fred let out a weak laugh, raking both hands through his hair until it stood on end. “You make me nervous,” he said, almost breathless. “That’s the problem. You always have. Not in the bad way. Like, the good kind of nervous. The butterflies-so-loud-I-can’t-think kind. The ‘don’t screw this up, Weasley’ kind. The kind where I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing because you’re the first person who makes me want to get it right. And I’m scared that as soon as this wears off, I won’t be able to say it anymore so I need to get it out now.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding somewhere in your throat.

He stepped closer. “I’ve had a million chances to say this when it would’ve mattered more. When it would’ve been easier. But I blew it. Because I was afraid of saying too much. And now, thanks to that bloody potion and my own bloody stupidity, I’ve already let it go too far without finishing it, and I don’t know if I ruined it or not.”

His voice cracked. “I like you. So much I don’t know what to do with it. It’s not just a crush, or a joke, or something I can charm my way through. It’s real. And terrifying. And I’d rather get hexed by Snape than spend another day pretending it’s not killing me to keep this in.”

You didn’t realize you’d moved until you were in front of him. You were so close you could see the pink flush across his cheeks and the frantic flick of his gaze between your eyes and your mouth, the tight tremble of his fists at his sides like he didn’t trust himself not to grab you.

“Say it again,” you whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“Say it again. Plainly. No verbal gymnastics.”

Fred swallowed. “I like you. Like I’ve never liked anyone before. I mean I’ve liked people before, but it’s never been like this. Like, ‘thinking about you before I fall asleep’ kind of like. Or ‘writing jokes in my head just to tell you later’ kind of like.”

You leaned in and his breath hitched.

“I like you so much it hurts,” he whispered. “You’re smart and sharp and you see through all my jokes and you call me out and you make me laugh when I don’t want to and I hate how much I love it.”

Your brain was short circuiting, and you could t hold yourself back anymore. You surged forward and kissed him. He gasped as your fingers curled into his jumper and his hands finally flew to your waist, tugging you impossibly closer. It wasn’t perfect. It was frantic and messy and desperate in a way that only years of longing could create.

When you pulled back, breathless, your forehead still resting against his, you whispered, “I like you too Fred, and I don’t need Veritaserum to admit it.”

Fred’s smile widened. “You do?”

You flushed. “I mean, you’re obnoxious and loud and constantly in detention, but yeah. I do.”

“Oh COME ON!” Came a loud yell in unison, and both you and Fred whirled to see George and Lee skidding around the corner, both panting.

“We’ve been hiding him from you for days,” George gasped. “We even hand fed him yesterday like a newborn owl!”

“And all of that was for nothing?” Lee groaned, tossing his hands in the air. “He told you anyway!”

Fred just grinned smugly. He was glowing like he’d just won the House Cup, the Quidditch Cup, and your heart all in one go. He reached down, laced his fingers through yours. “Actually,” he said, eyes never leaving yours, “I’d say it was worth every damn second.”

———————————————————————

Tag list: @ellouisa17

[giselsann]

Commission for @wizardinggirl ✨✨🪄

[dreamcubed]

she’s my collar | tom riddle x reader

song; she’s my collar [gorillaz, kali uchis] pairing; tom riddle x fem!slytherin!reader genre; angst, hurt comfort(ish), soulmates, s2l word count; 6,8k timeline; riddle’s last years at hogwarts warnings; swearing, minor character deaths, minor character murders, discrimination (muggle-borns), talk of hate crimes (muggle-borns), mentions of physical pain, injuries (involving blood), implied depression, implied manipulative relationship summary; most people were destined to never find the person who was born with a matching tattoo to theirs - you weren’t one of those people, but you were forced to endure your soulmate creating horcruxes and the effect it had on your soul

masterlist

fyi i do mix up the order that tom makes the horcruxes a bit :)

“she’s the serpentine, she’s my collar.”

——————————————

In a wizarding world with soulmates, but no guarantee that you would ever find yours, you - like many others - resorted to hopeful dreams of the perfect match. Your parents didn’t inflate your hopes, and kept you grounded, as they themselves weren’t soulmates, like so many other lifelong couples. Nonetheless, like little muggle kids dream of being royalty and heroes, wizard and witch kids dream of finding their ultimate love.

It was estimated that less than five percent of wizards and witches found their soulmate, which was a huge reason behind parents not fuelling their children’s imagination. The whole concept might as well not exist if you weren’t destined to find your partner - at least that’s what you thought frequently.

Nonetheless, some hope remained burning within you even after your infancy ended, and resided in the back of your mind as you started Hogwarts. Often at night you found yourself tracing the snake tattoo curled around your left forearm: it was significantly larger than your friends’ soulmate tattoos. Most inked marks were small, no larger than a galleon coin, and yours in comparison was massive.

Keep reading

[wandy578]

Sticky Notes and Cheap Ink

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!reader Summary: Draco Malfoy thought he was just clearing a stubborn Hufflepuff out of his favorite library seat, until the sharp-tongued badger turned a petty note war into the only interesting thing in the castle. word count: 2.2k a/n: second post on Tumblr! if there are any scenarios or story ideas you have, please don't hesitate to comment it! i'll try my best to write it out! ty for reading! here's part two ♡

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The library in November was less of a sanctuary and more of a battleground. Between the fifth-years panicking over their upcoming O.W.L.s and the Seventh-years practically living in the Restricted Section under mounds of ancient parchment, finding a quiet corner was an art form.

You, however, were a master of the craft.

Tucked away in the deepest recesses of the Arithmancy aisle, behind a row of towering, leather-bound tomes that smelled faintly of vanilla and centuries of dust, sat the perfect desk. It was a narrow, heavy oak table shoved into a small alcove by a stained-glass window. When the afternoon sun hit it just right, it cast fractured pools of amber and emerald light across the scratched wood. Better yet, the radiator hidden beneath the sill clanked softly, emitting a steady, blissful heat that kept the damp Scottish chill at bay.

It was your haven. For three weeks, you had claimed it. You’d left your favorite self-inking quill in the drawer, established a precise arrangement for your heavy reference books, and enjoyed the absolute peace of being entirely alone. Reading, writing, and completing your assignments felt blissful in your little corner.

Until Tuesday.

You walked down the narrow aisle, your Hufflepuff robes swirling around your ankles, balancing a dangerously high stack of Ancient Runes texts in your arms. Your mind was already drafting the introductory paragraph of your essay when you rounded the corner and froze.

Someone was in your seat.

Not just someone. Him.

Draco Malfoy was draped across the oak chair with a terrifying amount of entitlement. His Slytherin robes were immaculately pressed, his silver-and-green tie perfectly knotted, and his platinum hair practically caught the amber light of the window like a halo. He was leaning back, one ankle resting over his knee, carelessly flipping through a copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He didn’t even look up when your shadow fell over the table, though the slight, arrogant twitch of his jaw proved he knew exactly who was standing there.

You dropped your stack of books onto the edge of the desk. The heavy thud echoed through the quiet alcove, causing a loose piece of parchment to flutter to the floor.

Malfoy slowly lowered his book. His cold, grey eyes flicked down to the books, up to your face, and then trailed back to his page with agonizing deliberateness.

"You're in my light," he said, his voice a smooth, low drawl that oozed pure boredom. "Move."

You let out a sharp, dry laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. "And you’re in my seat. Move."

"Your seat?" One of his pale eyebrows arched, though he still didn't deign to look at you fully. "I don’t recall seeing a brass plaque with your name engraved on it. Though, considering the lack of taste, I suppose a Hufflepuff would think a public library desk belongs to them by divine right. Shouldn't the greenhouse be your style?"

The pureblood arrogance practically dripped from his tongue. Any other student might have flushed, stuttered, or backed away from the fearsome reputation of the Malfoy heir. But you had grown up attending the same tedious Ministry galas and pureblood garden parties as he had. You knew exactly what lay beneath the pristine facade: a boy who was used to getting his way simply because nobody bothered to tell him no.

"Funny," you retorted, leaning down slightly so you were in his direct line of sight, your eyes flashing with sudden heat. "I don’t recall seeing a Malfoy crest carved into the woodwork either. And considering your family basically owns half the school’s boards, I’m shocked you haven't bought yourself a private study carrel yet. Did your father finally cut your allowance, Malfoy? What a shame."

That hit a nerve. The lazy, arrogant posture vanished in an instant. Malfoy snapped his book shut with a sharp crack and sat up straight. His grey eyes narrowed, turning ice-cold as he glared up at you.

"Watch your mouth," he hissed, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register. "You have no idea who you're talking to."

"Oh, I know exactly who I’m talking to," you shot back, matching his venom with a sweet, lethal smile. "I’m talking to a thief who can't find his own study space. I’ve sat at this desk every single Tuesday and Thursday for a month. Move your inkwell before I accidentally knock it over with my very heavy, very clumsy Hufflepuff elbows."

Malfoy gripped the edges of the desk, his knuckles turning white. He looked utterly flabbergasted that a badger was actively snarling back at him. "I always sit here," he lied smoothly, though his eyes betrayed the fabrication. "The light is optimal. The ambient temperature is acceptable. I have no intention of moving for a stray third-year."

"I'm a fourth-year, you blind bat," you snapped, pulling out the chair directly opposite him—the only other seat at the small table—and scraping it loudly against the stone floor. You sat down with a dramatic flurry of your robes, dragging your Runes books toward you. "Fine. You want the desk so badly? We share. But cross the invisible center line of this table, Malfoy, and I will hex your fingers into jelly."

He stared at you as if you had just suggested he sleep in the Forbidden Forest. His jaw tightened so hard you thought a tooth might crack. For a long, breathless moment, the tension between you was palpable—a taut wire ready to snap.

"Fine," he spat, pulling his inkwell closer to his side of the table with a sharp jerk. "Keep to your side of the border. And don't breathe so loudly. It's distracting."

"Don't look so ugly," you muttered back, dipping your quill into your ink with a vicious stab. "It's distracting."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

For the next two hours, the silence between you was a weapon. The only sounds were the furious scratching of your quill, the crisp turning of his pages, and the occasional, aggressive sigh from across the table. Neither of you backed down. It was an exhausting game of chicken, played entirely through body language.

When Madam Pince finally blew out the central lamps to signal the library’s closing, you packed your bags in a flurry of motion, giving him one last, burning glare before stalking out into the corridor.

You thought that would be the end of it. You thought he’d find another place to brood.

But when you returned on Thursday, the desk was empty—and stuck squarely in the center of the wood was a bright, neon-pink sticky note. A Muggle stationary item. The sheer irony of a Malfoy using it made you blink.

He must've done his reading before you had even gotten there.

You ripped it off the wood. Written in an elegant, perfectly slanted, and viciously sharp cursive script was a single line:

Your cheap ink smells like wet dog. Buy a proper bottle or study in the greenhouse where you belong. - D.M.

A gasp of pure indignation left your throat. You crumbled the paper in your fist, your cheeks burning. Oh, it was on. He wanted a war? You would give him a siege.

You yanked a fresh square of parchment from your bag, dipped your quill in that exact "cheap" ink, and wrote back:

My ink is fine. Your face is what smells like wet dog. Move your books three inches to the left next time, your giant leather case is encroaching on my airspace.

You slapped the note right where he couldn't miss it, packed your things, and stormed off to dinner.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

What followed was a month of absolute madness.

The physical confrontations stopped—mostly because your schedules didn't always align—but the desk became a living, breathing archive of your mutual hatred. Every Tuesday and Thursday, you would arrive at the alcove to find a new note waiting for you, and you would leave one in return.

The sticky notes accumulated like colorful, venomous autumn leaves.

To the Hufflepuff who clearly lacks basic spatial awareness: Your handwriting looks like a drunk spider dipped its legs in ink and had a fit on the parchment. I spent twenty minutes trying to decipher your last pathetic insult. Literacy is a virtue. Look into it. - D.M.

You replied within five minutes of reading it:

To the Slytherin Prince of Petty: My handwriting is cursive. I know they don't teach you basic human skills in the dungeons, but try to keep up. Also, thanks for spending twenty minutes thinking about me. I’m flattered. - The Spider

The next day, his response was practically burning through the paper:

I do not think about you. That's disgusting. I think about the tragedy of the Hogwarts admissions standard. Furthermore, stop leaving your crumbs on the desk. If I find one more speck of pumpkin pasty near my Arithmancy charts, I will have Filtch banish you to the kitchens permanently. - D.M.

"Disgusting?" You muttered to yourself, reading the note. "I'll show him disgusting. You countered:

If you touch my pasties, I will tell the entire school that the fearsome Draco Malfoy uses pink Muggle stationary. Aren't you supposed to be disgusted of muggle things? That's bipolar if you ask me. I took a picture of the stack of notes in your bag with a Colin Creevey camera. Try me.

It was juvenile. It was ridiculous. It was the highlight of your entire week.

You found yourself rushing through your lunches just to get to the library earlier, your heart doing a strange, stupid little flutter against your ribs the moment you rounded the corner of the Arithmancy aisle to see if a fresh square of paper was waiting for you. You learned his habits through his complaints. You learned he hated the draft from the window, so you started leaving the latch slightly cracked just to spite him. He learned you hated the dark, so he started leaving a Lumos-enchanted crystal on the desk when he left after dark.

He claimed it was "because I don't want you tripping over your own feet and breaking my desk," but you knew better.

The edge was shifting. The venom was turning into something else. Something sharp, electric, and dangerously addictive.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

By mid-December, a brutal blizzard had trapped the castle in a shroud of white. The library was freezing, the ancient stone walls doing little to keep out the howling wind.

You walked down the familiar aisle, shivering in your heavy winter cloak, clutching a cup of hot tea you’d snitched from the Great Hall. You expected the desk to be empty, given the storm.

Instead, Malfoy was there.

He wasn't reading. He was sitting back, staring out the frosted glass window at the swirling snow. His usual pristine appearance was slightly altered; his silver-and-green scarf was wound tightly around his neck, and his cheeks were flushed a faint, rare pink from the cold.

When he heard your footsteps, he didn't tense up. He slowly turned his head, his grey eyes tracking you as you approached.

"You're late," he said. The drawl was there, but the bite was gone. It sounded almost... quiet.

"The stairs were playing tricks," you replied, setting your tea down. You looked at the desk. Stuck to the center of the wood was a fresh note. You didn't pick it up. Instead, you read it right there, out loud, your eyes locked onto his.

Move your inkwell, badger. I saved your seat. Don't be late.

You looked up from the elegant script, your breath catching in your throat. Draco was watching you, his expression unreadable, but there was a tension in his shoulders that had nothing to do with anger.

"You saved my seat?" you teased softly, taking your place opposite him. "Careful, Malfoy. Someone might think you actually like me."

"Don't flatter yourself," he muttered, though he didn't look away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, beautifully wrapped package, sliding it across the table until it crossed the invisible center line and bumped against your tea cup. "Your cheap ink was giving me a headache. Consider this a charity donation from the Malfoy foundation."

You blinked, carefully untying the green ribbon. Inside was a heavy, crystal inkwell filled with a rich, shimmering midnight-blue ink that practically glowed under the library lights. It was incredibly expensive, the kind of luxury item only sold in the upper crust of Diagon Alley.

It was beautiful.

"Draco..." you breathed, using his first name for the very first time.

He stiffened slightly at the sound of it, his eyes darkening. He cleared his throat, suddenly looking very interested in his fingernails. "It's just ink. Don't make a scene. If you cry, Pince will kick us both out."

"I'm not going to cry, I'm not an idiot," you laughed, a bright, warm sound that seemed to cut right through the freezing alcove. You dipped your quill into the new ink, watching the beautiful, shimmering color coat the nib. "It's perfect. Thank you."

Draco watched you write a single word on a scrap piece of parchment: Thank you.

He reached out, his pale fingers hovering over the paper for a fraction of a second before he pulled the scrap toward his side of the desk. He took his own quill, dipped it into his black ink, and wrote directly beneath your words:

You're welcome. Now shut up and let me study.

You smiled, leaning your chin on your hand as you watched him return to his book. For the first time in a month, the silence between you wasn't a weapon at all. It was a promise.

[maeverrrb]

Resist - George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

A/N: This one is such a sweet request and I was planning on making it longer but I kind of decided to cut it short, think it turned out cuter that way!! Anyways, thank you to this sweetheart for requesting!! Smooches <3

Warning(s): Fluff, George angst if you squint, Gryffindors being stereotypical to Slytherins, Reader is an absolute sweetheart and George is struggling.

Word count: 3.1k

Dividers by @strangergraphics!! ,

Hogwarts was filled with the usual hum of students scampering off to their morning classes—the chatter and easy breeze of the school at 9 am. George was in no hurry whatsoever, leaning against the wall outside the great hall with Fred. It was the usual easy conversation, mindlessly flowing between the twins. 

“Oh. Eugh.” Fred groaned, looking down the now emptier hall.  At first, George thought he was talking about Draco and his little posse of bullies cornering two Gryffindor first-year girls. It wasn’t surprising. Fred usually ignored it because it was never surprising. 

“Bloody prefects think they’re so perfect.” Fred continued, making George’s attention snap to the figure walking up the hallway. You. Uniform so perfect it looked like it was taken straight off a mannequin, Hair proper, prefect badge sharp and glimmering on your robes. 

Neither of the boys thought you’d do anything about the bullying. No Slytherin prefect ever did, not when it came to Draco and his little boyband. “Exhausting, isn’t it? The same people with them. Why do they even bother making Slytherin’s prefect?” George mumbled back to his brother.

But when you grabbed the back of Draco’s robes and yanked, both of them looked like they’d been electrocuted. 

“Malfoy! Merlin’s sake, really?! This again? Do I need to write to your mother about your severe lack of manners?” You hissed, glaring down at the startled boy. The rest of his group stilled, looking at eachother in pure bewilderment; no one really stopped them. Usually, they’d be disregarded by everyone because Draco was a Malfoy.

Draco gaped, “Hey– You can’t– Don’t touch me!” He hissed, cheeks flushing red in humiliation. The two Gryffindor girls stood there like deer in headlights, unsure of whether to run or stay. “Draconis Lucius Malfoy, I will go straight to Snape and write to your mother representing Slytherin House as head of the house—”

“Okay!” He huffed, completely red with humiliation now, his friends staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “What—whatever.” He sputtered, pulling away and storming off. George and Fred looked gobsmacked. No one stood up to Malfoy—barely any teachers either. It was clear the boy wasn’t used to it either, with the way he practically tripped over his own tail rushing out.

You leaned closer to the two girls, who immediately rushed over to cling to your robes and bury their faces in your belly. You smiled, heart fluttering in pure adoration, placing your hands on their hair. “You two okay? He’s all bark, I promise.” You mumbled, coaxing the girls into telling you their names.

George was practically choking on air, Fred still like he’d been turned to stone. It was a majorly confusing encounter. “It’s unnatural.” He breathed, making Fred nod quickly. “This may be a moment in Slytherin history. They’re learning compassion.” The other mumbled back, crossing his arms. “Probably some stupid ploy to get people’s guards down.”

George nodded, but his mind was slowly drifting away to the way you took each girl’s hands in your own, guiding them to their, letting them chat your ear off. It was odd—unusual for a Slytherin to be so.. nice. He didn’t really pay attention to Slytherins at all, really, but actually seeing one be nice felt like catching your brother having sex; it was seeing something he didn’t want to see cause it changed the way you thought about them.

“What’s the point of being a prefect if you don’t give me the password for the special bathroom?!” Gilderoy scoffed, scowling. He sat on the floor of your dorm as you cut his long hair into the boyish hairstyle he wanted. 

“For the last time, no. I’m not going to risk my position cause you want to take a bubblebath, Roy.” You grumbled, grabbing your wand to dispose of the scattered hair strands on your floor—gesturing for him to check out his new hairstyle. He grinned wider as he checked himself out, mumbling something about fake friends.

You sighed, getting up and nudging him on the back. “C’mon. Get dressed. I’ll go find Cedric to borrow a pair of his pants, leave your skirt on my bed.” You grumbled, slipping on your slippers. It was really early in the morning, all prefects were meant to get up early to give night round reports to the heads of their houses. 

The massive common room was cold and silent, the only sound was the distant rush of the black lake above the ceilings of the dungeons. The air got crisper upon leaving the dungeons and entering the main hallway network of the school, the newfound warmth highly welcome in the early morning. You kept walking till you hit the Hufflepuff kitchens, awkwardly standing infront of the entrance to the common room before knocking on the wooden door. “Diggory?” You called out, shoving your hands in your pockets as you waited for the guy who, barely five seconds later, swung open the door and shoved the pants in your hands. “Yeah, yeah, here–one sec. I have a situation with these two bloody fourth years–”

The door slammed in your face, you rolled your eyes.

The walk back to the dungeons was more peaceful, quieter. You took the long route; you had the time anyway. You decided to report to Snape early, moving to his office—there’s a chance he wouldn’t be there, but that just meant you could quickly jot down a written report and not have to go through the trouble of actually talking to the man.  

You passed his potions closet before stilling at a shuffle inside. You frowned. Turned. 

“Professor Snape?” You said softly, the shuffling ceased completely.

Okay. Not Snape.

You frowned, reaching for the handle. “If this is a student, I’d recommend exiting the closet before I start deducting points in the hundreds.”

An empty threat, you’d never really do that. You didn’t like getting people in trouble for small stuff like curfews or restricted areas; they were harmless offences. It wasn’t worth the trouble, put it was a good threat to whatever third or fourth year you thought snuck in there on a dare.

So when a tall, ginger bloke slipped out with the most sheepish grin on his face, wearing striped pyjamas, stood infront of you, you stilled for a second. Frowned. Tilted your head.

“George.” You said plainly, surprising him. 

“How come not Fred, hm?” He huffed, making you shrug. “Your nose. A bit crooked. Longer.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes, slipped a small jar into his pocket. “Well, go ahead. Strip me of my points.” He muttered dryly, already expecting her to remove a ridiculous amount of points from his house. All Slytherin prefects did—almost like they had a personal vendetta against the Gryffidnors. This snake is no different.

“I’ll give you a warning; if I catch you again, it’s fifty points off.” You sighed, narrowing your eyes at the boy. “Please return to Gryffindor Tower.”

George stilled, frowning down at her, before grinning. He got away scott-free?

“And give me what you just put in your pocket.”

Okay, that’s unfair.

“It’s–it’s guy stuff.”

“It’s Leech juice.”

“No it’s Fluxweed.”

“So you did take something.”

Fuck.

You grinned, hands on your hips now. “C’mon, Weasley, hand it over now. I won’t make a big deal of this.” You mused, and George deflated, his guard slowly lowering at your easy demeanour. “Yeah, whatever..”

You took the jar from him, stepping into Snape’s ingredient closet to put the Fluxweed back before stepping out. “Steal when no one will find you.” You teased, making him scoff and cross his arms. “No one was supposed to! It’s bloody five and a half in the morning, prefects aren’t to wake until six!”

“Memorizing the schedule’s dedication. There was an update. We have to wake an hour early now because they’ll be imposing morning rounds.” You said softly, smiling up at him. It was clear he didn’t expect it, frowning at you in return, squirmy. 

“Okay. I–I– Stop. Okay.” He muttered, looking away and scratching the back of his neck. You grinned wider, leaning forward. “You okay, Weasley? Your ears are going red.” He scowled, looking away before scoffing. “Oh, you wish, don’t you? Find it fun? Making me uneasy?” 

“Uneasy? I haven’t done anything.”

“You’re– You smiled!”

“My smile unsettled you? That’s just offensive, my smile’s lovely!”

“Oh, how humble, o mighty prefect.”

“Oh, nice one, are we not talking about how nice I was to not take away points even though I caught you stealing?!”

George huffed, pouted and leaned closer. “Borrowing! I’d replace it. I’m not evil, am I? Not like you and your unsettling smile.” You rolled your eyes, frowning. “Oh, is it? Is my smile unsettling? Scary? Spooky?”

You flashed him another smile purely out of spite, and he sputtered, covering his eyes. “God, it’s like staring at Medusa! You’ll turn me to stone, you gargoyle!” “Gar–Gargoyle?!” You huffed, eyes wide as you swatted his shoulder. “I am a lady!”

He stuck out his tongue, swatting you back. “Stony, lumpy gargoyle–” You gasped again, smacking him harder. “Well– Well, you’re a troll! A big, bad troll! Stupid, lousy troll!”

He gave you a light, playful push, a smile growing on his lips. “A troll, now? Not very prefect-like, is it? Insulting a student? I should report that y’know.” He mused, making you snicker softly, tilting your head up at him. “Oh, try me, ginger.”

He lazily saluted before turning away and throwing up a hand as if to bid you adieu. 

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, snakey.”

You could only giggle in response, waving despite the fact that he couldn’t see. “Bye, ginger!”

You didn’t think much about the interaction; you’re used to being nice to people, easily talking to people.

George, on the other hand, collapsed as soon as he turned the corner and practically began choking on his own spit as his face grew more and more red. It was all so unexpected. He was caught so off guard—that wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with you. He couldn’t let you make him like this, all flustered and unsteady. Slytherins were untrustworthy snakes. Sneaky, tricky, lying snakes. 

He trudged his way back to his tower before dropping himself on Fred to tell him everything. His twin offered no solace, just groaned and reinforced his worst worries: snakes aren’t to be trusted, she’s playing with you, she’s evil, don’t fall for it.

George knew, he knew. But it felt too natural with you—he didn’t even realise you and him were borderline flirting till he walked away. So easy. Why was it easy? He wasn’t the suave one. Girls rushed to Fred more than they rushed to him. Of course,  everyone usually felt the twins were interchangeable, and thus, it was the reason neither of them really dated. In fear of their girlfriend having a thing for their twin brother. 

He refused to let himself get hurt, agreeing with Fred before slipping back into bed to sleep until class really started.

Willing himself not to think of you.

Today has been a busy day. You weren’t mad about it, though.

You’d put all your effort upon becoming a prefect to become a safe person for everyone, older or younger. It worked a little bit too well.

Every free minute you had was taken from you. Fifth years rushing to you after procrastinating a potions assignment, fourth years asking for help in charms, third years asking about rumours and gossip, second year boys asking you to end arguments and second year girls running to you in hysterics when they get their periods, first years running to you in tears after feeling homesick.

It was fulfilling; you took pride in it. Always helping people, always being constant.

People noticed; you shocked everyone. It was so un-Slytherin of you, to help more than what was required of you as a prefect. More than what was required of even the Head girl or boy.  

George found it absolutely devastating—because just seeing you exist and act in a way that was seemingly normal made you plague his every thought. He couldn’t get you out of his head, his thoughts, his very being. He avoided you like the plague, but he still watched you from afar. It was like torturing himself, driving himself crazy.

It didn’t help that the entirety of Gryffindor House has an immense distaste for you; all the older kids brushed you off, regarding you as some Slytherin who finally learnt how to pretend to be likeable. George could only smile and mindlessly agree to a point. Then it became word vomit. A headache. Something he didn’t agree with to the point of physical recoil.

It didn’t help when you kept finding ways to bump into him. It wasn’t even intentional; you were just always everywhere. You were bound to spot him. Sweetheart that you were, you always tried to strike up a conversation as well. Always tried to talk to him.

Meanwhile, he’d be backing away like a feral animal with its leg caught in a trap. Not because he was worried people were right—but because they might be wrong. But they won’t accept that. George is smart enough to see through these things, to see stereotypes run deeper. They won;t accept that you’re a good person, not because they have proof otherwise, but because you’re a Slytherin. To them, it’s proof enough.

He didn’t want to go through the effort of having to hopelessly defend his totally not hopeless crush on you to everyone. It didn’t seem worth it, doing that over a girl he barely even knew. It begged the question: why did you enamour him so?

Maybe it was because you knew who he was from your very first interaction. Maybe it was because you didn’t bring up his twin whenever you two spoke—you spoke to him. Treated him like he’s his own person and not just someone’s twin. It seemed odd, feeling like the add-on twin, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t malice towards his brother; it was silent insecurity he refused to acknowledge. There were subtle differences in the twins that people subconsciously accepted. Fred was the name on everyone’s tongues. George was called Fred much more than Fred was called George. 

Maybe that’s why he liked you. You didn’t mistake him for Fred, nor did you try to bring up Fred in any way. Not like you were actively avoiding it, but more so that you didn’t see the point in bringing up his brother when talking to him. It was something he hadn’t come across often. Someone who spoke to him. Not the twin part of him, but the individual part.

The way it made him feel lingered, affected him enough that your face was the first he searched for in every room. 

So now, as he watched you crouch down and embrace some first-year Hufflepuff crying about missing his poodle back at home, his heart ached. Not for the boy, though it should, but because you felt like a dream he refused to let come true. Because that complicated things. 

He lingered at the end of the hall, watched your seraphic form wipe the child’s tears and assured him his poodle could indeed read the letters he sent home, before taking him by the hand and walking him to his common room. He shuddered when you disappeared from view, slumped against the wall and dragged a hand down his face.

He was screwed, he knew it. You plagued his mind like no other, and even after relentlessly watching you for days and maybe even weeks to try and prove his housemates right, that you were evil. That this was just some mask—he couldn’t. It was simply who you were. It drew him in effortlessly.

Maybe it was the definitive understanding that everyone was wrong about you that helped him grow a backbone, or maybe the thoughts of you have finally bled from his mind to his physical actions. You were sitting at the edge of the black lake, under a sweater and the dim, moody glow of the late evening. It was Saturday, one of the only days you really got to spend on your own. You savoured it.

His feet had brought him here, mainly on their own. Of course, he knew this was your Saturday spot to hang out; he’d seen you whenever he and Lee wandered about on their own. He approached you like he would a frightened animal, slowly—hesitant. 

You heard him before you saw him, turning your head before your lips curved into an easy, warm smile. “Ginger! Hi! Didn’t think you were the type to come out here.” You said with a soft tinge in your face, making his stomach flutter. He smiled, he couldn’t help but. “Hey, snakey. Mind if I sit?”

You quickly scooched to the side on your picnic basket, letting the taller boy move to your side, knees bumping into each other. You kept looking at him with that same sunshine-y grin, it nearly made him nauseous. 

You didn’t talk, didn’t try and start a conversation. Mainly because it seemed like you were trying to let him soak in the peace around you, let him feel it, enter his bones. He let it, heard the swoosh of the wind and the rush of air around them, let it ground him. Calm his erratically racing heart.

“So,” he finally began, voice breaking embarrassingly on the word. “You—You have a boyfriend?” 

You blinked at him, not expecting that question out of everything. “Uhm, no.” You murmured, making him nod his head quickly. You studied his face, looking intently enough to see the furrow of his brows and the slight downturn of his lips. 

“Would you.. Like to go to Hogsmeade with me some time—any time.” He said hastily, but you caught it anyway. The smile that grew on your lips was immediate; you leaned forward to get a better look at his face. “Are you.. Asking me on a date, George?”

He couldn’t look at you—couldn’t respond, currently in a life-or-death staring contest with the picnic blanket. His ears were completely red, and his cheeks were flushed. His hands gripped the blanket beneath him. You found it hopelessly endearing. 

Easily, you leaned over and placed a hand over his clenched one, and gave him a smile when he shot his head up in surprise. “When can we go out on that date, then?” You said softly, eliciting a small smile from him now. He scoffed, shaking his head.

This was probably a bad idea—his housemates, his own brother, his siblings and his friends. They’d all have something to say; bitter things. Defending you’d be exhausting repetition; he’d be so judged throughout it all. 

But right now? Looking at that impossibly soft look on your face that never really seemed to quite leave? He couldn’t care less if people stared.  All he could think about is that damn date, and there’s no way he’s giving up a chance to have you for himself.

© maeverrrb— don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰

𝐴𝔢𝔰𝔬𝔭 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔭 𝔵 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

Part three/?

Arranged Marriage. Marriage of convenience. Call it whatever you want, Aesop wants no part of it.

AN: Look, it only took me months to update. A personal best.

The carriage ride back to his estates was mostly suffered in silence.

Disapparating would have been faster, would have deposited them at the very entrance of his- no, their- home in a matter of seconds. And then what? Was he to show you around the cluttered home and tell you, 'Well, wife dearest, I barely keep the coolers stocked and weeds are overgrown in the gardens. But welcome home, I've no clue how to take care of myself let alone a woman such as yourself.'

Aesop scoffs into the silence, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve another vial of wiggenweld. His leg, outstretched awkwardly in the carriage between them, was already acting up. The muscles in his calf seizing against the dark magic that clung to his flesh, radiating a pain he could mask in the face but not in the mind. He drinks half, sliding the stopper back in place as the foul but fast acting potion soothes the worst of the pain, the pressure in his jaw lessening as he unclenches his teeth and finally grows the courage to raise his eyes in your direction.

He hasn't looked at you once since he had helped you into the carriage, your hand taking his so softly that he had to promptly wipe it against the wool of his trousers once you had let go. Not that you were filthy- you smelled like sage and rain and the cooling scent of medicinal herbs that clung to healers. It was simply...jarring, to feel your hand in his and be reminded that you were now his wife. More than half his age younger. Where his hands were calloused and littered with scars healed over yours were gentle and warm.

Merlin, how his palm still itched from the contact that had barely lasted three seconds. His eyes trail stiffly from the hem of your dark dress upwards, pausing at the way your hands were folded on your lap. He takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply as, for reasons unknown to him, he has the sudden, almost perverse thought that his new wife's body was...pleasing to look at.

No. He would not humor that thought. Something sickening twisted in his gut as he reminded himself that you used to be his student. Just like that his eyes opened sharply to look you in the face, unable to look at the rest of you any longer.

You were asleep, your head pressed against the window as the carriage rolled over the dirt path, taking them away towards the busy town and deep into the woods were he had retreated after retiring from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The cottage had belonged to family he had never met, purchased for cheap from an uncle some removed. It was cold in the winter and suffocating in the summer. But he was barely there enough to care, most of his time spent on school grounds. He tucked away a reminder to pick up enchantments for the home the next time he found himself in the markets. While he might not care if his nights were freezing, he wasn't sure it would be fair to make you suffer from his self neglecting tendencies.

Aesop watches your head tilt forward against the glass before you straighten it subconsciously, only for it to snap forward against your chest with such force that you wake yourself. His eyes are already elsewhere, inspecting the rolling mountains still capped with lingering snow as if he hadn't just witnessed you embarrass yourself.

He was a decent man, at times at least.

His eyes are still on the scenery as you shift, fixing your hair as you glance at his direction- he can feel your warm eyes on him and it makes him shift his leg a bit further away, suddenly keenly aware of just how small the carriage is.

"I'm sorry," Your voice is quiet and heavy with lingering sleep, his eyes glancing at you sparingly. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's alright." His own voice sounds strangely tight. "Not much else to do in the meantime."

"It's rude." you point out.

"I find no offense in it. Sleep more, we're still quite a way." He almost wants to say please, spare me from small chatter in this confined space.

"Do you live far?" You ask and it takes everything in him to hold back his sigh as he forces himself to answer.

"Just near the edges of the Cluaran woods."

"Thats..." you trail off, trying to recall if you knew of the place, but he answered before your eyebrows could knit closer together in concentration.

"An hours ride Northeast from the town."

"I don't think I've ever heard of it."

"I'm not surprised, there's nothing there."

"Oh." You say and suddenly he turns to glance at you properly. Was that an oh of disappointment? As in, Oh, not only do I find myself forced to marry an old man that used to hand me detention slips in my youth but now I am being whisked away to the middle of nowhere to rot away in solitude with him?

He must have made a face that gave away his thoughts because you sat up straighter, warmth coloring your face. "I did not mean it in a bad way, I was just surprised."

He did not say anything and so you continued. "I've lived in cities my whole life. I don't know what to expect is all."

His shoulders dropped at your explanation, sighing as he reached for the vial of Wiggenweld once more before stopping himself. Not in front of you, he did not need you to think he was an addict among everything else. Instead his hand fell to his lap as he pointedly ignored the way your eyes followed.

"Silence, mostly." He tells you. "Sometimes foxes cross into the gardens but I have not planted a single thing in months and so they often just dig and leave a mess for me to clean. The rains are heavy in the summer. In the worst days of winter the only way to travel is by floo or Disapparation, though I use the fireplace as intended since the walls don't hold much warmth. There's a freshwater lake nearby and worn paths from the foragers that sometime come seeking one plant or another, if that is something you find yourself fancying."

You listen intently- he can tell by the way you've leaned your body towards him slightly, as if his words were interesting and not his way of politely telling you there is nothing at all to do beyond the gates around his estate.

"I have never swam in a lake before." Is all that you say, the expression in your face softening in whatever gentle daydream you have concocted from his words.

Aesop is reminded of a few years past, the details rather hazy but he could almost vaguely recall a festival or event or some sort of annoying whim of Headmaster Black that had lead the students at the time towards The Great Lake.

"Weren't you a swimmer for the Great games one year?" He asks before distaste settles in his gut. Wonderful, he thinks to himself, Reminiscing about your wives schoolyear memories. Maybe he should remind you of the time you exploded a cauldron in his classroom and spent lunch scrubbing thick grey goop from his brick floor while he reminded you of the importance of paying attention.

"Not by choice so it doesn't count." You sigh, unaware of his internal dilemma, "I didn't quite like swimming back then."

"Yet now you do?" He finds himself asking.

Your shoulders lift lazily as you settle back against your seat, the cushion behind your back depressing from the weight of your head. "Not really. But I think there's something inherently romantic about swimming in a lake surrounded by nothing but dense trees and curious animals."

'Romantic?', he thinks to himself, suddenly in no mood to continue this conversation, his attention once more to the slow moving world outside the window. There is and never would be anything romantic about a body of water surrounded by thistle bushes and Merlin knows what else. Yet, with a souring sense of aggravation, he found that his annoyance had more to do with the fact that you seemed almost giddy to get to the house and explore.

He almost wanted to ask you what it was that you were expecting to find in his estates, if only to watch your face fall as he tells you there are no shrubs of fine roses or magical plants lining the walkways. Only thorns and overgrown roots he hadn't put a stop to in years. Would your eyes widen in horror when he told you that it was only this morning that he had casted a scouring charm into what would be your bedroom, clearing years of dust and spiderwebs from the walls and furniture? Another spell had fixed rotting furniture and filled sagging mattresses with life once more. He hadn't even properly gone from room to room- what if you found something rotting in the kitchen he barely stepped foot in?

once more. He hadn't even properly gone from room to room- what if you found something rotting in the kitchen he barely stepped foot in?

Aesop spent most, if not all, of his time in his study wasting away trying to find a cure for his leg. For today he could walk just fine in assistance to his cane but there were days were the pain and numbness were so great he was confined to a wheelchair or his bed, fevered from the dark magic.

He could manage very well on his own, but his bachelor days were long past now and he did not want to think about what it would be like when his wife would come to learn just how ugly his life truly was.

Aesop hoped, with a fervor he hadn't felt in a long time, that when that day came you packed what little you brought it that teakwood trunk of yours and ran far, far away from him.

The ground beneath the wheels of the carriage changed from firmly packed dirty to the uneven stumble of the old cobblestones that led to your new home. Outside the horses whinnied as they came to a slowing stop and Aesop could not hold back a bitter smile as he turned to look at you once more.

"Welcome," he says dryly, holding his hand out for you as the driver pulls open the door to the carriage. "To your new home."

Aesop spent most, if not all, of his time in his study wasting away trying to find a cure for his leg. For today he could walk just fine in assistance to his cane but there were days were the pain and numbness were so great he was confined to a wheelchair or his bed, fevered from the dark magic.

He could manage very well on his own, but his bachelor days were long past now and he did not want to think about what it would be like when his wife would come to learn just how ugly his life truly was.

Aesop hoped, with a fervor he hadn't felt in a long time, that when that day came you packed what little you brought it that teakwood trunk of yours and ran far, far away from him.

The ground beneath the wheels of the carriage changed from firmly packed dirty to the uneven stumble of the old cobblestones that led to your new home. Outside the horses whinnied as they came to a slowing stop and Aesop could not hold back a bitter smile as he turned to look at you once more.

"We have arrived," he says dryly, holding his hand out for you as the driver pulls open the door to the carriage. "Welcome home."

[aethertism]

seeing you guys do ai to make draco actually stand besides you makes me sad like what happened to our roots? WE HAD PICSARTS, LOTS OF BLURRING FILTERS, AND A DREAM.

[wizardinggirl]

I knowwww I said I was going to do a Sirius Black route from my Serverus fic, BUT I had a spark of inspiration and now you're getting a Draco Malfoy x reader, so, yeah, deal with it. love you, bye <3 (make sure to follow and lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist when I'm finished)

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead - Masterlist

Finished: March 14th, 2021

Choose Me Instead Moodboard by @hesaidimcrazy

beautiful and exactly how i wanted the story to feel like, thank you so much for making this!

Playlist for “Choose Me Instead”

a collection of songs my readers sent me that reminded them of this story

Chapter 1: Prologue Chapter 2: Reunion  Chapter 3: Honesty  Chapter 4: Potions  Chapter 5: You Chapter 6: Halloween Chapter 7: Lies Chapter 8: Slytherins Chapter 9: Hogsmeade Chapter 10: Dating Chapter 11: Desperation Chapter 12: Healing Chapter 13: Christmas Chapter 14: Reality Chapter 15: Fireworks Chapter 16: January Chapter 17: Magical Chapter 18: Revelations Chapter 19: Cursed Chapter 20: Love Chapter 21: Hypocrisy Chapter 22: Astoria Chapter 23: Promises Chapter 24: Graduation Chapter 25: Invitation Chapter 26: Cliché Chapter 27: Epilogue

[criesinliess]

━APRIL&MAY&JUNE 2026; susan's recs

sorry guys uni killed me. triple trouble coming right up.

HOGWARTS LEGACY

━━SEBASTIAN SALLOW

never not been mine @theealbatross

fight the alchemy @↑

fever (what a lovely way to burn) @shadowtriovibes

the potioneer’s apprentice; mind if i move in closer? @↑

rumor has it @↑

truth or dare @ppomumgranatum

the dance of love’s sweet potion @↑

the nose knows @legacygirlingreen

drenched in magic @↑

quidditch play @harry-potter-reader-inserts

14 days of valentines @↑

letters to juliet @barnabyjr

wildest dreams; part2; part3 @awkwardauthorwrites

violets and verbena @↑

unspoken attraction @arthenaa

never any doubt @applinsandoranges

amortentia @↑

burn after reading @↑

love letter @↑

HARRY POTTER

━━OLIVER WOOD

captain’s favorite @drowsyhope

UK YOUTUBE

━━ALFIE BUTTLE

love looks pretty on you @eveninggstar

juno @abficlibrary

worth the effort @buttlesbunnie

STRANGER THINGS

━━STEVE HARRINGTON

you just need a little love @xpeachsunsidex

bite marks @moonstoneandmoonlight

chained together @↑

can you keep a secret? @↑

i knew you @↑

it’s never over @supernovafics

PEACEMAKER

━━ADRIAN CHASE

breaking up us hard to do @residentsuperhero

GRISHAVERSE

━━KAZ BREKKER

the harbour of lies @pink-venom

blockade @dementeddiva

MARVEL

━━BENJAMIN POINDEXTER

the heart is a muscle @aquaticmercy

safest place to bleed @metal-armed-muse

blindly oblivious @yoursinfulurges

━━BUCKY BARNES

please @heldbybarnes

what if he’s mine @godmadeaterribleerror

OFF CAMPUS

━━JOHN LOGAN

twelve hours @briarafterdark

mr. dating coach @chamomileteah

we had it all @toonice113

the love advice @messylxve

comfort @athousandblunts

uptown girl @puckmegirl

i said “i love you”. you say nothing back @alierecss

as long as you want @folkloure

late night @sunnydilaurentis

seven steps, one word @fezrus

you’re losing me; now that we don’t talk @lushfruit

lacy, oh lacy; part2; part3; part4 @flwr-princ3ss

are you mine? @hteusefam

━━DEAN DI LAURENTIS

distraction @whorelaud

━━GARRETT GRAHAM

girls night @sunnydilaurentis

no promises @↑

better kiss me next time, bitch @finelinevogue

forever partner @goldsainz

he dropped my girlfriend @kooksandpearls

coffee? @↑

take it off @↑

nursing student!reader — my favorite thing to exist recently, all by @kooksandpearls

good practice

no funny business

off the clock

concussion protocol

doctor asshole

positive reinforcement

bullshit injuries

i’ve got you

wanted you

kitchen apology

DIVERGENT

━━PETER HAYES

too @zwelcii

dangerous games @heliads

OUTER BANKS

━━RAFE CAMERON

meanie @kooksandpearls

frat martial law @↑

[jiabisu]

[lilithpendragonslythers]

I am excited for HL 2, but the way the rumors keep talking about it being tied to the hbo series…I just hope they are not abandoning the storylines and characters they already gave us. I’m so attached to them even the mc, I would be so disappointed

[wizardinggirl]

The Snake & The Raven

Prologue (Part 1/2): When We Were Young

Summary: Starting out as unlikely friends in Hogwarts, you and Severus don’t realize your feelings for each other until adulthood. When the world is dark and bloody, at least you have each other.

Warnings: none I think, but buckle up, this is gonna be a long ride

Word Count: 2.5k

Parts: Prologue (1/2) || Prologue (2/2) || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 (I will link the rest as they are posted.)

“Hi, Severus.” You said quietly as you sat in the chair next to his own. He acknowledges you by taking his eyes away from his book to look at you, the chair, back to you then back to his book. You were used to this reaction from your fellow first-year. Even when you would run into each other’s families as children he had the same closed off reaction to your presence. You didn’t mind though. You took comfort in the quiet times you could spend together reading.

“Hi.” Your eyes snapped up from the cover of the book you had grabbed and looked to the boy sitting next to you. His eyes were still scanning the pages of his own book, but you knew you hadn’t imagined it. You smiled softly and leaned back in your chair to begin reading your own novel. You knew he would warm up to you eventually.

By your second year, you had graduated from ‘Hi’ to small conversations. Never too long or too personal though, otherwise he would shut down and become tight-lipped. Sometimes, would even walk away from you. You learned not to push him. You were grateful for the few conversations you would have. Particularly about Potions. It was the only time you would see his eyes truly light up and talk almost enthusiastically about the subject. You were thankful that your mother had been so into Herbology. Not only did it make that class so much easier for you, but you could also nerd out with Severus on certain plant properties and the best way to mix them into your brews.

“Here, look, like this.” You watch with curious eyes as he uses the broad side of the knife to crush the Sopophorous Bean. You and Snape, had gotten permission from your professor to use the classroom before class to practice some of your potions. Now the two of your were standing shoulder to shoulder making the Draught of the Living Dead “It’s much simpler this way.”

“I must say, I’m impressed Snape.” Straight forward, very Slytherin of him. “But, isn’t this potion for the advanced class?” He lets a small smirk grace his lips as a response. You can’t help, but smile back. It’s not often that he gets so close to a smile. It’s usually if he’s talking about potions or Lily. He always smiled brighter when he spoke to her, and you couldn’t blame him. Lily was probably one of the sweetest people you had ever met and apparently, they had been friends for a long time and eventually, she would become one of your best friends.

“Really Potter?” You ask, snatching the book that was once in Severus’ hands out of the air with Accio and handing it back to your friend. He and his group had found you and Severus at your spot in the library. Your glare turns to the Gryffindor with glasses and his snickering entourage. “What are you? 5?” You’d think that being third-years would mean that they would at least mature a little bit, but alas, you don’t think they’ll ever change.

“Oh, come on lil Raven.” You didn’t like that nickname. What might’ve been endearing sounds condescending coming out of his mouth. “We’re just having a bit of fun. Right Sev?” Sirius Black steps up, a hand on Potter’s shoulder and his eyes on Severus. He simply glares back at him and starts walking away. “Where’re ya going?” They all have a laugh. You grab your book bag and secure your own book inside of it, not to have it end up flying away as well and follow after Severus.

“Ew.” Was all you said as you and some of your girl friends were sitting the fountain together. Each of them sharing what boys they thought were cute this year. “Potter? James Potter? Really Lily?”

“I don’t know, I just think he’s kind of cute.” She says shyly. You let out grunt. You really didn’t like him and even the thought of her finding him in any way attractive made you want to gag. He was far too arrogant for your tastes, the whole lot of them were.

“Well, what about you, y/n? Who do you have eyes for here?” You friend Elizabeth asks from her spot next to the fountain, her sketches strewn about on the ground as she tries to find the best way to draw a hippogriff.

“No one.” You respond stubbornly, crossing your arms in defiance. There was a certain raven-haired boy that came to mind, but you wouldn’t dare speak his name. Besides, you saw the way he looked at Lily. You wouldn’t even have a chance. You wouldn’t want to ruin the friendship you had worked so hard to cultivate over the past few years.

“Oh come on that can’t be true.” Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest and you almost fell backwards into the fountain when a familiar voice popped into your ear out of no where. The culprit laughed and took the spot next to you on the stone, too close.

“Not funny Sirius.” you deadpanned.

“It was a little funny.” Remus walked from around the fountain to stand infront of your group. That’s two of four, there’s no way the other two aren’t with them. Sure enough Potter and Pettirgew come around the other side.

“Hello, ladies.” He turns his attention to Lily. “Hi, Lily.” His voice was softer when he spoke to her and she blushed, you rolled your eyes. He sat next to her on the fountain and started his own conversation.

“Seriously though, who do you think’s cute?” Sirius asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. If you rolled your eyes any more today they were sure to roll out of your head.

“None of your business.” you started grabbing your bag to stand, careful not to step on Liz’s drawings.

“Aw come on little Raven, you can tell us. Don’t leave.” He had grabbed the sleeve of your robe to pull you back. When you stepped back from the force you stepped on the bottom of your robe and lost your balance, falling into the fountain. There was a scream from Lily and Elizabeth probably splashing both of them and laughter coming from some of the boys. You sat up and saw red and shot daggers at Black that had gone wide-eyed. It wasn’t his intention to sent you flying into the fountain. He reached out his hand with an apologetic expression, but you slapped it away. You pulled yourself back up to the ledge by yourself.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Lily asks, a hand on your shoulder.” You stand up and grab your bookbag from the ground, you had dropped it during the fall.

“I’m fine.” You tried to keep your voice from breaking. You’d be damned if you’d let those boys see you cry.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean t-” You swing around to face Sirius, standing now too, and just glared at him. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under. He’d never seen you so furious. Without another word, you turned and started heading toward the lake. No one followed.

You found a sunny spot next to a tree by the lake and unclipped your school robe and laid it across one of the low handing branches. You set your bag down on the ground and sat down next to it, hugging your knees and pulling them into your chest. Only then did you let a few silent tears fall. That’s when you heard quiet footsteps approaching you.

“Go away Sirius, I don’t want to talk to you.” A pause.

“It’s Severus.” You looked up quickly to find your friend staring down at you, confusion written all over his face. “Why are you all wet?” You couldn’t help it then, and the tears overflowed onto your cheeks. Severus looked at you like a dear in headlights. “I-I didn’t-” He wasn’t sure what to do, he had never seen you cry before and he didn’t exactly know how to comfort anyone that was. He opted to sit down next to your carefully and pulled out his wand. “Hold still.” You sniffled and nodded your head. With of the flick of his wrist you were dry. Even your tears that had been on your cheeks moments before were now gone.

“How’d you do that?” You asks astonished.

“Magic.” He replies matter-of-factly. You know he wasn’t trying to be funny, but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “What’s so funny?” He asks, putting his wand back in his robes.

“Nothing, nothing.” You wave your hand in dismissal. Then rest your arms ontop of your knees. “Thank you Severus.” He gives you a nod then stares at you for a beat.

“Why were you all wet?” He asks again. You frown and look away and back to the lake.

“Sirius pulled me into the fountain.” You could feel his body tense next to you. He’d grown to hate that group of boys, even more so this year. It seemed like Potter had a personal grudge against him and was always finding new ways to pus his buttons. “I don’t think he meant to…” You add softly and Severus snorts.

“I doubt that.” Maybe you did too. You just couldn’t get the way he was looking at you when you opened your eyes after falling. It looked like genuine remorse on his face.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am.” You smirk and turn your head back to him. He had already pulled out his book and started reading, leaned up against the tree.

“That’s very cheeky of you.”

“It’s the truth.” You let out another small laugh and he glances up at you. You hadn’t noticed the slight blush on his cheeks as he watched you laugh.

Once your fourth-year rolled around things started to shift. Lily and James started dating during the second term which meant even more face time with the boys who had taken to calling themselves the Mauraders. It was fitting for as much as they terrorized the school. Thankfully their little group had lightened up on you a bit, Sirius included. At first he avoided you like the plague after he pulled you into that fountain last year, but when Lily and James started dating, he knew he’d have to say something with as often as you were seeing each other.

“Hey, can we talk?” He found you in the library in your usual spot with Severus. You hadn’t even bothered to look up at him.

“No.” You lick your finger and turn the page of your novel. Hearing Sev let out a quiet snicker. You heard Sirius sigh softly.

“Please?” You met his eyes then. The were softer than usual, and pleading for you to hear him out. You close your eyes along with your book and stand up, placing it in your spot on the chair. You open you eyes to look at him again and he looks far more hopeful.

“Alright then.” The two of you walk out of earshot of your friend and you could feel his eyes boring into your back. That’s when Sirius apologized. It wasn’t just a sorry, but a truly heartfelt apology. You had never heard him sound so sincere. So, you forgave him and agreed to be his friend, after much pleading on his end. You just couldn’t say no to those puppy dog eyes. By the time you parted ways and turned back towards your chair, Severus was gone. Later that day, you saw him at dinner. Sitting by himself, per usual. You wondered why he had abandoned you earlier without a word. It wasn’t like him. At the very least he would give you a short nod goodbye.

“Y/n?” You felt your cheeks flush at being caught staring and turn your attention to Lily.

“Yeah?”

“James wanted to know if you wanted to come to the Gryfindor party tonight?” They had never invited you to one of those before, but that wasn’t really your scene. You appreciated the sentiment however.

“Oh, no thanks.” You took your fork and started playing with the food on your plate.

”Come on lil Raven…It’ll be funnn.” You look up to Sirius siting across from you waggling his eyebrows and then point his own fork at you. “It wouldn’t hurt to let loose you know.” You roll your eyes and focus on your food again.

”Thanks, but no thanks Black.” You hear him whine like a kicked dog before he went back to eating. You look back towards where Severus was and he was looking your way. More specifically, glaring at James wiping some frosting off of Lily’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.” You push off the table and swing your legs over the bench and make your way to your Slytherin friend. He only stops his glaring when you’re sitting down infront of him. “Keep that up and you’ll burn a hole through his skull.”

“We can only hope.” You let out a dry laugh then cross your arms over the table.

“Where’d you go earlier?” He looked in your eyes then. There was something there, but you weren’t quite sure what it was.

“I thought you wanted to spend some time with your new boyfriend.” You didn’t like his tone.

“Boyfriend?”

“You two’ve been spending more time together this year. I thought you didn’t like him, especially since what he did to you last year.”

“Its not like I have a choice Severus, he’s one of James’ best friends. Besides, He didn’t mean it. He apologized for it, he wasn’t asking me out on a date.” Not that it should matter to him.

“And if he was?”

“Was what?”

“Asking you out on a date, would you go with the mongrel?”

“That’s not very nice Severus.”

“So you would then.”

“That’s not what I said.”

”Whatever.” He went back to reading his book. You grabbed it from him and slammed it shut. He glared at you. He’d never looked at you like that before. But, you didn’t falter.

“What’s wrong with you Sev ? We’re supposed to be friends.”

“Are we?” That hurt. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a simple question, y/n. Or has your brain rotted from spending too much time with them?” That’s it.

“Fine, Severus. Push your only friend away, see where that gets you.” You stand up from the bench and shove the book back towards him so hard he lets out a grunt when it hits his chest. “And to answer your question.” You say, putting your hands on the table and leaning down. “I would say yes.” There was venom in your voice as you whispered to him that you would indeed go out with Black if he asked. He knew the dig was intentional, but it didn't hurt any less than you intended. He glared right back at you. You pushed off the table and stormed out of the Great Hall. His eyes trailed after you, ashamed of his actions. Sure, he had said some insensitive things to you before, but he had never been so attacking of your character. You’d forgive him, surely you would. You always did. He was watching the doors of the Great Hall close, but before they could he saw Sirius Black rush out of them, presumably after you. His blood boiled.

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Next: Prologue (2/2): When We Were Young

[tamayula-hl]

Ominis x MC – Chapter 5 (Previous episode is here.) (CW: brief vomiting scene)

So the next part will be Episode 5, Part 2: angry Ominis taking very good care of MC!