did you know the 'harry just harry' line is not in the book

the-queen-sees-all  asked:

I was wondering, what if Harry and Hermione had met before Hogwarts?

The first time Harry Potter met Hermione Granger, she was standing with her chin up and her hands on her hips a few paces from the old olive tree in the schoolyard, glaring into the far distance. The wind was trying to twist and buffet her hair into her face, but mostly it was just tangling cheerfully with itself.

Dudley and Piers were busy kicking all the other kids off the play structure, so Harry had retreated out into the grass. He stood a safe distance from the weird girl who was pretending to be a statue and thought wistfully of lunch.

“There’s a fallen bird’s nest,” the girl said in a rapid and certain tumble of syllables. “The boys knocked it out of the tree, but I chased them off and I’m hoping the mama bird comes back. I’m Hermione Granger. We just moved here.”

“Harry,” he said.

“How’d you get that scar?” she said.

“Car accident.”

“That’s a weird scar for a car accident.”

Harry shrugged. “It killed my parents.”

She blinked quickly at him and even at that distance he wished vaguely that she wore glasses, too, because her gaze was something that really felt like it should have some built-in bluntedness. “Mine are dentists. Mum’s taking me to the library after school, want to come?”

-

Before they went into Diagon Alley, Harry asked Hagrid if they could find a payphone. Hermione picked up on the first ring.

“Harry! Where have you been? I’ve been trying and trying to call–”

“Sorry, yeah. Um, so, I’m not coming back to school next year, I…” Harry drifted off, staring at Hagrid’s massive moleskin shoulders. The giant man saw him looking and gave him a tentatively cheerful little wave. “It’s been weird, Herm.” He pressed his forehead into the phone stand, but not too hard. “I think you’re the only thing I’m really going to miss.”

“Harry,” Hermione said and Harry started to frown, because that wasn’t her stern and startled voice. That was the voice that meant she was off down a charging war path of other thought and might not have heard him at all. “I’ve been reading.”

“Of course you’ve been reading,” he said. “I’ve been being forcibly hidden from a swarm of post office owls–”

“You’re in books,” she said in breathless delight, squeaking over the telephone line. “First thing we did, of course, after the professor explained, was get her to escort us to a bookstore– a whole bibliography, Harry, a whole world’s bibliography I haven’t even touched– how am I ever going to–” She took in a little calming breath, and murmured, “Different infinities, it’s okay, Hermione, okay.” A sharp exhale and then she tumbled right back into her rushing rivelet of a sentence. “And I picked up a good dozen, besides the school books, of course, and Harry, you’re in books, in Dark Wizardwork of This Century and A Modern Wizards’ History and October’s End: A Biography–”

“Hermione,” said Harry with slow enunciation. “Are you a wizard, too?”

“A witch, I think,” she said. “But I’m still reading up on the sociology of it all.”

-

Hagrid wouldn’t say Voldemort’s name, but Hermione would. She came over with a stack of books up to her chin, gave the Dursleys her normal pointed little stare that said she’d like to set them a little on fire, and curled up in his cupboard with him.

He supposed she probably could learn how to set them on fire, now, if she really wanted to.

She gave him passages and excerpts with his name in them, with his parents’ names, a home he hadn’t known. There were pictures of a ruined house with the smoke drifting in little curls of ink. There was his mother, smiling and waving in black and white. There was his mother, laid out on the floor, with a sober little caption below it. That picture was still, except for curtains fluttering in the window.

Hermione finally dragged her face far enough up from the pages to see Harry holding his own hand very tightly, and then she closed the book and reached for one about which magical creatures you should pet and which you shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” she said.

“I wanted to know.”

“I’m still sorry.”

-

The Grangers drove Harry, Hermione, Hedwig, and their trunks to King’s Cross Station. Mrs. Granger kissed the top of Hermione’s head while Mr. Granger mussed Harry’s mop of dark hair affectionately, and then they swapped children and repeated the treatment. Hermione pushed her hair back out of her face and marched them all to Platform 9 ¾, the entrance mechanism of which she had read all about.

“Before you go,” Mrs. Granger said, “let’s buy you some sandwiches? I don’t know what sort of food they’ll have past that–”

“There’s a trolley,” Hermione said, but her parents dragged them off to a snack kiosk anyway, Harry happily in tow.

As they were on Hermione’s tight schedule, there were plenty of compartments open, and they took one all to themselves– well, to themselves, Hedwig, and Hermione’s books, which took up two seats. (Harry would wheedle Hagrid into taking him to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping that year, where he would get Hermione a carry-all bag for her small personal library.)

Hermione took a long preparatory breath while Harry unwrapped his sandwich. “Harry? What if I go and sit down under the Hat and I just sit and sit there, and then it says I’m not a witch at all?” Hermione said, the words getting more squashed together and higher-pitched as she went. “I’m not magic, it just got confused, and they send me home? Harry, I don’t want to be a dentist. Other people’s mouths are disgusting–”

“You’re not going to get kicked out,” Harry said, chewing amiably on his sandwich. It was not good, but the Dursleys hadn’t bothered with any breakfast for him and he hadn’t wanted to bother the Grangers about it either. It was a bit dry on the way down, but it settled warmly in his belly.

“But what if I do?”

“I’ll stage a protest,” said Harry. “Refuse to do my homework til they reinstate you.”

“You’re not going to do your homework anyway.”

“See how dedicated I am to you.”

She made a dismissive little noise at him, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Hermione,” he said, and she lifted her bush of hair to look at him. “You’re the most magical person I know. It’s gonna be alright.”

She gave a long slow blink but whatever she might have said was interrupted by an uneven knock at the door. “Um,” said the pudgy boy standing there. “I’ve lost my toad.”

Hermione leapt to her feet. “Where did you see him last?”

Harry followed in the wake of her forward charge, but he brought the rest of his sandwich with him.

-

(Harry did not know this and would not know this until Mrs. Granger mentioned it casually over a Christmas dinner years and years later– but she and Mr. Granger reported the Dursleys for child abuse and neglect, over and over.

The reports got lost– minds scrubbed down, papers vanished– but they kept calling in reports. They considered kidnapping. They couldn’t imagine why the wizarding world might want to keep their chosen one somewhere so toxic, why they might want to keep this underfed child and his messy hair with those people.

“My mother left me a blood protection spell,” said Harry, whose scar had not ached in years. He poked at his mashed potatoes under the focused attention of Mrs. Granger’s stern little forehead wrinkle. “I had to live with family, blood family.”

“Then they should have made them treat you right,” Mrs. Granger said, as though it was that simple.

Mr. Granger gave Harry another helping of peas.)

-

On the steps of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy thrust out his hand to the Boy Who Lived, who surveyed the open palm with amusement. “Thanks,” said Harry. “But I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself.”

The redheaded, freckly, hand-me-down clothes boy Malfoy had been bothering snorted. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the kid with the rat from the train,” Hermione said. “And the spell that didn’t work.”

“It was a cool rhyme anyway, though,” Harry said. “Hi, I’m Harry, this is Hermione.”

“Yeah, she said, then. I’m Ron– uh, Ron Weasley.”

“Yeah, he said,” Harry said, rolling his eyes Malfoy’s direction. “Come on, you wanna stand with us? Hermione will tell you about the ceiling.”

“It’s enchanted!” said Hermione.

-

When Hermione founded SPHEW, Harry was not surprised. He had spent too many schoolyard days escorting spiders to safe spaces, keeping vigil over fallen bird’s nests, and watching Hermione stand up on her desk chair in heated pitched verbal battles with teachers. She’d driven at least two teachers to tears and taught most of them at least a few new vocabulary words.

-

Over summers and holidays, Harry and Hermione took Ron to the movies, to the seashore, to Hermione’s top three favorite libraries. Hermione’s Aunt Meg taught them how to whittle under a cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to Harry’s hair until he washed it out.

In this life, there were things in the Muggle world that Harry missed, that he wanted to see again. He loved Hogwarts, and he nominally went home to the Dursleys each summer, but he knew he always had a bed at the Grangers’. He knew the weird system they used to organize the books on their shelves. He’d pass Mrs. Granger the marmalade in mornings before she had to ask. He got free dental check-ups all his life, which was good because the Dursleys rarely bothered taking him into the dentist.

The whole Granger family tore apart newspapers every morning, calling article excerpts across the table and pointing each other to their favorite journalists. Before Hermione even first stepped onto Hogwarts grounds she got a subscription to the Daily Prophet. During Harry’s fourth year, Mr. and Mrs. Granger got Arthur Weasley to buy them an owl and then began an unending campaign of furious letters to the editor that never got published.

-

In a crumbling boat shed, Severus Snape died, but first he pressed a shining bundle of memory into Harry’s hands.

The fight was still going– Neville newly broad and certain; Luna whipping out quiet, barbed little curses; Ginny charging like an army in and of herself. Hermione had her arms full of basilisk fangs. Ron was moving people like bishops and knights. But Harry had a long damp walk before him, so he had time to wade through that life not his own.

Severus had been a lot of things– one of them was in love. Harry dragged his feet through forest mulch, seeing a little redheaded girl in sunlight, hands not his own offering her transformed flowers. It had been just them for so long. For Severus, for so long, there had been no one but him and Lily.

Even in Hogwarts, Severus had drifted through the classrooms and common room and library. He had believed in magic, in the cool slide of good knives through dried roots, and in Lily– always, always in Lily– Lily in sunlight, Lily chewing on her thumbnail over Transfiguration homework, Lily flicking soapsuds at him in her kitchen at home over summer, Lily pig-tailed and seven, wide-eyed as he showed her the first magic she’d ever seen, a leaf to a flower, a bit of sunlight to a bit of fire.

He had loved, and it had been a real thing. He had fucked up, and it had been a real thing, that heartbreak, that regret.

When Harry turned the Stone in his hand and saw his mother step into pseudo-life in that forest clearing, he thought I wish I’d known you. He thought about how she was in sepia and gray, here, just like in the pictures in the pages of Hermione’s books.

But he was also thinking about Severus. He was remembering Lily in sunlight, remembering her walking away, remembering her in that same cold photographed sprawl but in color–in grief–in bruised knees and heaving gasps.

Severus had been the first to find Lily’s body and it had felt like someone had cut the sunlight out of him. Harry was living through that grief, but he was also living through the wail of the child crying unacknowledged. His tiny pudgy hands were wrapped around the guardrail of his crib.

Harry was thinking about a girl standing in a field like a statue, hands on hips. He was thinking about Hermione’s raised hand ignored in Potions, or the way Snape had sneered that he didn’t see a difference in her cursed teeth. Love had made him brave, perhaps. It had killed him, but it had not made Severus good.

Harry wondered if his mother would have escorted spiders to safe places, if she would have stood guard over fallen bird’s nests, if she had worried herself to pieces that first time on the Hogwarts Express about the Hat telling her she didn’t really belong.

“I wish I’d known you,” he told the specter of Lily Potter. He held his own hands tight.

For Harry, for so long, there had been no one but him and Hermione. Even in Hogwarts, there were things only she would understand– parking meters, the cobweb ceiling of his cupboard, the silence of marmalade at breakfast. Harry believed in magic and he believed Hermione Granger was the most magical thing he knew.

“They’ll be alright,” he said. “I’ll be alright. I was alright, mum. I wish I’d known you– but I wasn’t alone.” He squeezed his hands tighter– Hermione showing him her favorite spots in her favorite libraries; Ron shyly showing them the Burrow like it was anything less than a magnificent masterpiece of warm rooms and patchwork architecture; Hermione standing in the field like a statue, bushy-haired and seven years old, jaw set. “She wasn’t alone, either,” he said. “And she’ll be alright. Ron will be alright. I have to do this, don’t I?”

“We are so proud of you,” Lily said.

“Thanks,” said Harry. “Sorry,” said Harry, and wondered if Hermione was going to be able to read the little passages and excerpts with his name in them, with those un-moving pictures and the sober captions underneath.

He dropped the Stone.

-

When Harry Potter died for the first time, crumpled in forest mulch, he didn’t go to a squeaky clean King’s Cross Station. There were no crescent moon glasses to twinkle kindly at him.

He stood under an old olive tree and a little girl looked up at him with those eyes that needed shielding, needed blunting, needed a manufacturer’s warning. “A wind’s coming,” she said. “You can just go. It will be easy.”

He stood outside Diagon Alley, a Muggle payphone tucked between his shoulder and ear. “You’re in books,” she said, with a breathlessness he’d barely heard for years. There had been too much weight on his shoulders, on hers. “You’re done,” she said. “You’ve done enough. Go on, tap three bricks up and two to the left.”

He stood in Godric’s Hollow, in the snow, holding her hand, looking at the ruined house. “You should have had this,” she said. She was seven and small, not nineteen and weary like she had been in life. The sky was overcast but there was sunlight glinting in her hair. “You can still have this. You can have everything.”

“You’re not real,” Harry said.

“But you are,” she said. “There’s a wind coming. It will be easy.”

“You’ve never done anything easy in your life,” he said.

She took both his hands– hers were so small against his grown fingers, his broad palms, and how had they done everything with hands that small? Basilisks and werewolves; shouting down teachers from atop desk chairs.

Harry was sitting in his cupboard in the light of its single bulb and he was too big for this space, his shoulders curling forward, his head bowing. She was standing there with sunlight still in her hair and her arms piled high with books. “You don’t belong here,” she said. “It will hurt. You won’t fit, if you go back. Everything can be easy. Everything can be fine. It doesn’t have to hurt, ever again.”

“Hermione,” he said and leaned forward, put his hands on her hands where they were gripping her books. “It’ll be alright.” He smiled and she was staring at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes. “We never fit, remember?”

“We tried,” she said and Harry squeezed her small hands gently.

“Send me back,” he said. “I want to go home.”

-

After the battle, as Hogwarts rang with frantic healing, crushing grief, and raging celebration, the three of them retreated to the library. Hermione hauled them down narrow aisles until she found her favorite tucked-away nook and they all collapsed on sagging sofas that seemed to not have been touched at all by the war.

“Well,” said Hermione. “What now?”

Ron let his head flop back against the seat, hair tumbling all over his pale forehead. “I’m going to nap,” he said. “For a month.”

“That’s not physiologically possible,” said Hermione. “Or if it is, then it’d be a coma.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Ron said, then: “no, wait, a hyperbole.” Hermione beamed at him. He blushed a little and elbowed her gently.

“After this, you’ll be in books, you know,” Harry told her.

“Not– I mean–” Hermione rubbed at her nose furiously. Ron laughed enough to wake up and sit up, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

While Ron came up with outlandish titles for Hermione’s eventual many biographies, Harry pulled his feet up onto the sofa. He watched the candles float quietly between the shelves.

The Boxer

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 10k

Prompt:

“You’re supposed to be in the hospital gown, it’s why we laid it out for you,” Y/N stated, pointing the pen in her hand at the white gown by his feet.

“I’m not wearing that paper shit,” Harry grumbled, “and I’m perfectly fine to leave.”

“That cut says otherwise,” Y/N says.

Harry watches as she sets down the clipboard and turns on the sink to wash her hands, she’s cute. She’s nothing like the kind Harry would go for. His usual prey would be at the bar, lonely, maybe going through a breakup, but he knew for sure that by the end of the night she would be in his bed. Y/N on the other hand looked like too pure for him, and he hated that look.

From his experience Harry had learned that girls like Y/N believed that they were too good for a guy like him. Girls like Y/N, with an innocent smile, soft skin, and soft voices, tended to only use him for one thing, to make their parents upset. Harry had seen it time and time again, it was only a matter of weeks before the girl would crush his heart and move on to someone better.

“I don’t feel anything,” Harry stated.

Harry had grown numb to just about everything. He couldn’t feel the punches thrown at him, he couldn’t feel his emotions, it all just seemed gone to him. He didn’t mind though, no emotions meant he couldn’t get hurt, and no pain meant he was unstoppable.

or

Boxer Harry Styles highers, incredibly perky Y/N as his on-call nurse.


“I hate the graveyard shift,” Y/N stated, slumping into the chair.

Keep reading

Like honestly, why is it such a big deal that Ron struggles and complains about his problems once in a while when all other times he is always does his best to be there for his friends with their problems? People who complain about him act like he’s super unsympathetic and never helps Harry when like, off the top of my head, things Ron has done:

-Would always either stay at Hogwarts so Harry wouldn’t be alone on Christmas, or would invite Harry to his family’s for Christmas. Was also super casual about it and would come up with excuses why he was doing this so Harry wouldn’t feel awkward.

-when Harry didn’t write back to him, he quickly became worried the Dursleys were doing something bad to him, told his family about it (SEVERAL TIMES, apparently)  (like as far as I can tell every single day Harry didn’t write back Ron was panicking about it to his parents and siblings and wondering what the hell was going on) and then he hatched a plan with his brothers to steal a car, break the law, fly all the way to Harry’s house, forcibly grabbed him from his screaming relatives and then took him to his house. 

-Generally acts super chill about his mum blatantly giving Harry more attention than him, because he knows Harry needs it. Like, aside from a few jokes about it, he never acted overtly resentful about that. I think the Horcrux revealed that it made him insecure about whether his mum liked Harry more deep down (I’d have to reread the seventh book it’s been a while) yet he never once mentioned this. The fact he never let that show out of empathy for Harry is pretty impressive.

-tried to call Harry on the telephone despite not knowing how to use it and was then worried that he got Harry in trouble.

-when Harry wrote that he needed food, Ron once again informed his entire family and got an entire truckload sent to him.

-He informed Harry that even if he had to kidnap him from the Dursley’s home again, he was going to get Harry to spend the summer with them his family and see the Quidditch World Cup. He worked with his family to get an invitation sent to the Dursleys, then immediately wrote Harry a personal note saying “btw if they say no we’re coming anyway I will beat them all up if i have to”)

-if anyone badmouths Harry or Hermione in front of him, even someone he likes (like Seamus), he will rabidly defend them and basically prepare to fight that person.

-this includes teachers

-if someone calls Hermione (or anyone) a slur he will have to be physically restrained from attacking that person.

-when McG wouldn’t let Harry go to Hogsmeade Ron was in deep despair over the unfairness of it all, got personally angry and called McG several curse words. He and Hermione got Harry ton of sweets while they were there and tried to downplay how fun it was.

-When Percy wrote him a letter telling him to drop Harry as a friend, Ron made a giant show of ripping the letter into pieces and throwing it dramatically into a fire (what a nerd, honestly)

-generally did his best to be patient and understanding with Harry’s depression and anger issues in fifth year, but would firmly point out to him when he was crossing a line without flipping out back at him.

(which, as previous examples demonstrate, Ron’s fuse is pretty short, so that likely required a lot of effort on his part) 

(like, he and Hermione never invalidated Harry’s feelings, but Ron would point out when he was getting angry at the wrong people in a pretty calm way.  He said something like “It’s not our fault Snape and Umbridge are like that. We think you should stop taking it out on us when we’re on your side.” He was able to set boundaries and make Harry realize his behavior wasn’t okay while also making it clear he knew he was dealing with a lot and he was here for him and supported him. Pretty good example of how to friend and a lot more mature than most 15 year olds could have managed.)

-when he found out about Umbridge’s abuse, he was visibly sickened, argued with Harry for a long time than he needed to tell an adult, was upset Harry hadn’t mentioned it and when he couldn’t convince Harry, apparently told Hermione so she could help out and give him healing stuff. 

-also just the general fact he gladly went along with all of Harry’s super dangerous adventures and literally said he would die for him and never acted resentful of nearly getting murdered on a regular basis due to association with Harry

-guys Ron even told Voldermort to shut up when he said something mean about Harry i mean. let’s just consider that. He yelled at Voldemort. I’m pretty sure he was the first one who started yelling too.

So I really don’t get why people focus on the few times Ron complained and the whole two times in their seven year friendship when he got so fucked up about his own issues that he fought with Harry and didn’t support him (and the second time probably would not have happened if it weren’t EVIL SOUL SHARD THAT AMPLIFIED NEGATIVE FEELINGS) when the entire rest of their friendship is unwavering support. It’s so weird to me. You don’t have to like Ron, but acknowledge characters can be flawed and human and don’t hold him to ridiculous standards.

Thoughts on Draco and Kids.

Draco “eternal stick up my ass i hate everyone including you” Malfoy is not the person parents want to babysit their kids. He’s rude, blunt, sarcastic and foul. He’s the man who would save a baby from a fire solely because he knows what the parents would say if he didn’t. Draco Malfoy is the man who sets infants in cribs and leaves them to cry themselves to sleep. He never had a happy childhood, so why should they?

Except he’s not.

Draco Malfoy is the man who sings lullabies to a newborn Rose Weasley and rocks her to sleep. He’s the man who gave Teddy Lupin his first broomstick and taught him to fly, but not before teaching him to read and write. He’s the man who stargazes with Hugo and brings him chocolate when he’s feeling down. He’s the man who holds life in his arms and sees it for what it is: an innocent, precious gift. He never had a happy childhood growing up, and he’s going to give them something that he, as the boy who had everything, never had: childhood memories worth remembering.

Draco Malfoy is not the man people think he is, but the reasons behind his reluctance in sharing are unknown.

Harry saw him hold Teddy Lupin in his arms after his trial. They sat in a room waiting for his mother and Andromeda outside. He was awkward at first and the tears came before the smiles. Had Harry Potter not done what he’d done… a chubby hand with fingers the size of his nails non-too-gently patted his cheek after a few tears had fallen, and knowing how annoying children could be when upset, Draco smiled softly and wiped his eyes. One silly face turned into two, and that dark brown tuft of hair turned the exact shade of his white-blonde locks. He screamed, Harry laughed, Teddy cried, the hair was back to brown.

“He does that,” Harry remarked and gently bounced the child back to sleep.

Draco Malfoy went out for coffee with Harry Potter two weeks later. One cup turned into two, one meeting turned into five, one shop turned into a house. Three months later one quick babysitting date turned into one late night stay for his baby cousin. Draco Malfoy kissed Harry Potter that night with one soft infant snore in the background.

He met Victoire Weasley a few months later at the burrow for Christmas Eve Dinner. Molly Weasley’s pumpkin pudding did nothing to ease his nerves and the hard stares of George from across the table. Ginny smiled at the door, and Molly smothered him with hugs and food.

“As thin as Harry, young man… As thin as- Here, have some more potatoes!”

One plate turned into two, and by the end of the night he must’ve gained half his weight from treacle tarts alone.

Bill was strumming a guitar and not wanting to stand in the doorway besides George, Draco left for the kitchen. Three minutes later and a halfhearted argument won, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hands were scrubbing plates.

“Always do it the muggle way,” she’d said. He couldn’t remember the rest. Near the end Victoire unsteadly crawled into the room. Her hair stuck up on one side of her head and it was clear the child had been sleeping. Sleep lines on her face didnt cover the dried spit all over her chin, and Draco smiled gently as he bent to down to pick her up.

“Miss Victoire,” he’d called her that first time. Laying her horizontal in his left arm, he wiped her chin and rocked her back to sleep. He continued to help clean the room with one hand, and didn’t miss Molly Weasley’s smile.

When Rose came along, Harry was already the favorite babysitter. He and Harry had been living together for quite some time, although it was clear the resident Weasley parents saw Harry as the sole caretaker on work days. They flooed in, asking if ‘Harry could babysit?’/p>

Draco didn’t mind, he never talked much about children. He liked them, but when Harry was blowing raspberries at Teddy on the dining room table, he didn’t take Teddy for himself.

Very few people know him as who he is, Draco and not Draco Lucius Malfoy. He takes pride in his name, but takes more pride in making Dominique smile when she’s pouting and teaching Rose the wand movements for 1st year charms at just 8 years old. He takes pride in his intellect and control, but takes more pride in perfecting his Princess Victoire and Teddy the Dragon voice when reading aloud Teddy’s favorite book.

Nine years later, at Christmas Eve dinner, while Arthur opened the wine bottles, Draco dismissed himself silently and walked upstairs. In the children’s room, Harry was laughing with the kids when he saw Draco standing in the doorway with a smile on his face. He looked back to the kids and stood up. When he told them Draco would read a special story, all protests at Harry’s departure ceased.

When Fluer walked up to kiss her three children goodnight, she had to stop herself from entering the room. Two minutes later, and the rest of her family was beside and behind her, staring into the room. With a high pitched voice, Princess Victoire shouted out from Draco’s lips.

“I may be short, and I may be a princess, but I’m strong! I’ll save my baby sister from that dragon!”

“The baby princess!” Dominique interuppted, and Draco smiled and nodded before turning the page.

When the voice of Teddy the Dragon came out of his mouth, Teddy the Human let out a pitched growl. “I’m gunna eat you!” He shouted and Hugo giggled.

“Hurry Uncle Draco! Ted’s gon eat 'Toire!” Rose added.

It started to make sense, and some adults found themselves laughing along with their kids. Things began to connect, and suddenly it was clear to the Weasley’s. Why their children, and grandchildren, called him “Uncle Draco.“ Why they screamed happily and ran up to hug Harry and Draco during babysitting days. Why Teddy spent half his childhood with white-blonde hair.

Two weeks later after the Hols had ended, Draco got a fire call from Hermione Granger. Almost immediately, he stood up and brushed off his pants.

“Hermione. Hello. Harry’s, uh, upstairs; I can go get him, if you’d-”

“Oh no, it’s fine.” She cut him off, and before Draco could feel the awkwardness creep up his veins, she had already continued on. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to babysit…?”

anonymous asked:

What if Harry Potter, the chosen one, had turned out to be a squib, how do you think history would have turned out differently?

It was Mrs. Figg who suspected first.

She noticed many things, sitting on her side of her fence with her cats chasing butterflies and nuzzling her ankles, Mundungus and the other watchers dropping by for tea now and then.

Mrs. Figg noticed that Petunia was a nosy bit of work with insecurities hanging from her every harsh angle. She noticed when Dudley learned the word MINE– the whole neighborhood noticed that one. She noticed that Vernon glared at owls.

She noticed that when Petunia gave Harry a truly horrendous haircut one year, it grew back in at a normal rate. Harry was uneven and weird-looking for ages, hiding under beanies when he could.

When Mrs. Figg had Harry over for carefully miserable afternoons of babysitting, she noticed nothing moved that shouldn’t. He didn’t accidentally make flowers out of fallen leaves, or levitate anything during tantrums, or turn toys funny colors.

Mrs. Figg called up her mother, interrupting the wizarding bridge game she was winning against the nursing home staff, and asked her how she had known, decades back, that her youngest daughter was a squib.

When Albus Dumbledore received Mrs. Figg’s letter he wrote back a polite thank you and then went to talk with Minerva McGonagall, who inhaled sharply in horror when he told her the news.

Finally, McGonagall gave a gathered sigh. “I suppose we can ask one of the wizarding families to homeschool him,” she said. “We can’t have the Boy Who Lived not knowing about his own world.”  

“No, he’ll come to Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore.

“Hogwarts is not a place for–” Her voice fell. “–squibs, Albus.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry must be taught.”

“Be taught what, Albus?”

But Dumbledore just sighed and offered her a lemon drop.

Years later, the owls and the letters came to 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys ran, dragging Harry with them, and the letters and one stubborn gamekeeper followed– none of this would change with a magicless Harry.

When Hagrid asked Harry in that little cabin on that little rock in the middle of the sea if weird things always happened around him, Harry couldn’t tell him about vanishing glass and setting captive snakes free, about ending up somehow on the school roof, or growing his hair out overnight.  

“Strange things always happen around you, don’ they?”

“Um,” said Harry, racking his brain. “Well… I live in a cupboard under the stairs…”

Harry could tell him about how snakes sometimes talked back, because that had never been Harry’s magic, but when he did Hagrid just blanched and changed the subject.

Hagrid held out hope, even against Dumbledore’s quiet warning explanations, until they made it to Ollivander’s Wands. Harry marveled at Diagon Alley, got his hands shaken in the Leaky, pressed his nose up against shop windows. Hagrid watched the scant boy– looked at James’s messy hair, Lily’s eyes, Harry’s own wandering gaze– and he wondered how this boy could be anything but magical.

In the wand shop, Ollivander said, “James Potter, yes… mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. A powerful wand for Transfiguration.” He said, “And your mother, Lily…  strong in Charms work, ten and… yes, ten and a quarter, willow, swishy.”

Harry picked up stick after wooden stick. They remained just that– wood with bits of feather or scale or hair. Harry wondered if the creatures who gave these offerings were still alive– if they were given or taken. What did it do to your wand when they died? He waved a maplewood wand (unicorn hair, eleven inches) and a gust from the door opening blew some receipts off the counter.

“Well, said Ollivander. “I think that’s as close as we’re likely to get.”

He sent them out with the maplewood. Hagrid bought Harry a snowy owl and a fudge sundae and tried not make it too obvious that these were condolence gifts. The next day the Prophet’s headlines read: The Boy Who Lived– A Squib? Various magical medical experts weighed in on how it might have happened. Fingers were pointed at childhood trauma, at his upbringing, at his family lineage.

Harry still met Ron on the train– Ron was still smudge-nosed and Harry still bought enough candy to share. When Molly had helped him through the platform entrance, her voice had been a little softer, a little more pitying– but it was still better than the laughter that had been in his aunt and uncle’s voices when they dropped him here to find a platform they didn’t think existed.

Hermione Granger dropped by their compartment, looking for Neville’s toad, but got distracted when she spotted Harry. “I’ve read about you! In my books, and in the paper,” she said. “You’re the Boy Who Lived, and you’re a squib.”

Harry sank down in his seat. Ron hid Scabbers under a candy wrapper.

“Squibs have never been allowed in Hogwarts,” Hermione announced. “According to Hogwarts, A History, squibs try to sneak in now and then– the furthest anyone’s ever gotten is to the Sorting Hat before they got found out.” At eleven, Hermione still believed in expulsion being worse than death. Her voice was thrumming with sympathetic horror.

“But they already found out about me,” Harry said, alarmed.

“It’s alright, mate,” said Ron. “You’re Harry Potter. Oy, Granger,” he added. “What’s this Hat? Fred and George were trying to sell me some story about having to fight a mountain troll to get your House…”

Harry sat back and watched the countryside rush by. Yes, he was Harry Potter– his aunt’s useless sister’s useless child, the boy in the lumpy hand-me-down sweaters who named the spiders who lived in his cupboard. And here, in new world, he was apparently useless too.

When they got to Hogwarts, Harry clenched his fists and stood in line with the other first years. He barely twitched at the ghosts or Peeves, just stared ahead and thought about how far he would get before they turned him around and sent him back to Vernon and Petunia.

They opened the Great Hall doors. They called the first years one by one. Harry clenched his teeth and walked up to the Hat when they called his name.

As he turned to sit down on the stool, he really caught sight of the Hall for the first time– the hovering candles, the big wooden tables, the black robes that swallowed the light. Translucent ghosts gossiped with the students beside them. The paintings on the far walls– were they moving?

Harry’s jaw had unclenched, falling open. His fists curled open, curving around the stool’s seat as he leaned forward to stare. If this was it, if this was as far as he’d get in this world, then he wanted to drink it all in. The candles were floating, in mid-air.

The Hat dropped down over his eyes and blocked out the light.

Well, said the dry voice that had been hollering House placements all night. What do we have here?

Ron had been begging for not-Slytherin. Draco from the robes shop had been scornful of Hufflepuff, desperate in his disdain. Neville had begged for Hufflepuff, sure he was not brave enough for Gryffindor.

Please, thought Harry. Don’t send me back.

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Harry Potter Remake

In all likelihood, one day, there will be a remake of the Harry Potter Series. Just thinking that sentence makes my nose wrinkle and my insides twist uncomfortably; I have mixed feelings about this, but nevertheless I’ll be right there to watch it along with all of the other then fifty and sixty somethings that grew up on Harry Potter.

Maybe it wont be movies, maybe it’ll be a tv show.

Maybe it’ll be directed by someone who grew up reading the books under their bedcovers with a cheap plastic flashlight that you could hear the batteries clacking around inside, until the light started flickering at 2am. Someone who waited on their eleventh birthday with wide eyes searching the skies for their letter 

Maybe Harry will have green eyes and messy hair, and Hermione will have brown skin, buckteeth, and a big gorgeous afro that makes her tiny eleven year old self several inches taller.

Maybe Sirius will have a leather jacket, wear classic rock t-shirts, and be played by someone who is 35 

Maybe the wizards will all wear gorgeous robes, robes that are spangled and brightly colored along with strange and somehow alien hats. I mean, Cornelius Fudge in a lime green boulder hat? Dumbledore in purple boots? Tonks with shifting rainbow hair? Purebloods in intimidating, immaculately tailored robes with high collars and billowing overcoats or capes? How much fun could a costume department have? Maybe Harry Potter season 1 will get an emmy for costume design.

ok I’m done with the costume stuff wait no - PADMA AND PARVARTI PATIL DESERVED BETTER AT THE YULE BALL THAN THOSE UGLY ASS ORANGE AND PINK THINGS. THEY COULD’VE HAD GORGEOUS SARIS. I DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT INDIAN FASHION BUT I KNOW THAT IT’S BETTER THAN THOSE FLORESCENT POLYESTER BARGAIN BIN MONSTROSITIES 

Maybe Ginny will have time to become a well rounded and developed character in the remake, often seen hanging with Luna and Neville, hexing bullies, kicking ass at Quidditch, getting much better grades in potions than any Weasley should, loving small fluffy animals (her pygmy puff was named Arnold!), being comfortable in her sexuality and refusing to be slut shamed by anyone, least of all her big brothers, burning all her old diaries after Tom, growing up at Hogwarts with the specter of 16 year old Tom Riddle hanging over her after first year, leading the DA with Neville and Luna in her sixth year, whispering “fuck you Tom” whenever she does something to defy Voldemort’s reign

Maybe it can be addressed that Neville’s family dropped him out a goddamn window and pushed him off the Blackpool pier to prove he had magic and how incredibly damaging that was maybe we can address Harry’s abuse while we’re at it

Maybe the tv show will employ a couple of classics majors to research and create new spells to supplement the relative few we see in the books

Maybe they could build languages for the magical creatures like the Game of Thrones team did. Gobbledygook, anyone? Mermish? 

And MAYBE the actor playing Dumbledore will have the chance to calmly deliver the line: 

“Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fiyah Fire?” 

Columbine Songs
Eminem
Columbine Songs

Eminem and Columbine


I am an Eminem Fan for years now and when I started to get more and more into True Crime I was surprised to find a lot of his Lyrics mentioning Columbine which I never really realised before. Of course he also mentioned other murderers or events, like Ted Bundy and the Aurora theater shooting but I wanted to start with the Columbine lyrics because there’s a lot of material. So let’s start:


The Way I Am, 2000
0:00-0:16
When a dude’s getting bullied and shoots up his school
And they blame it on Marilyn and the heroin
Where were the parents at? And look where it’s at!
Middle America, now it’s a tragedy
Now it’s so sad to see, an upper-class city
Havin’ this happening

Marshall states that he thinks that he thinks that not music is the reason for the shooting but bullying and the parents. But as we all know Marilyn Manson was partly blamed for Columbine by the media.
Em is also making fun of the fact that Columbine was the first shooting that people cared this much about although there have been a lot of shootings but now it happened at a “nice” school.

There is an alternative version of this song featuring Marilyn Manson (x)
He performed it live with Manson (x and x)
Manson also appeared in the official video (x)

Remember me, 2000
0:17-0:30
Came home and somebody musta broke in the back window
And stole two loaded machine guns and both of my trenchcoats
Sick, sick dreams of picnic scenes
Two kids, sixteen, with M-16’s and ten clips each
And them shits reach through six kids each

Em is making fun of the idea that musicians like him are a bad influence because he is not the one who gives these kids their weapons.

And as we all know, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold both wore a Trenchcoat when the attack started, that’s why „both of my Trenchcoats“ were stolen. And so he thinks that they were stolen to start another Columbine.
And when you have these „two kids“ with guns that, when you shoot them, „reach through six kids each“ you have 12 dead kids. And as we all know, during the Columbine massacre died 12 kids (and one adult).

By the way, Eminem needed two months to write his whole verse on this song while Sticky Fingaz wrote his verse in one day. 


I’m Back, 2000
0:30-0:41
I take seven [kids] from [Columbine]
Stand ‘em all in line, add an AK-47, a revolver, a 9
A MAC-11 and it oughta solve the problem of mine
And that’s a whole school of bullies shot up all at one time

This is probably the most well known Columbine reference made by Eminem.
This album came out one year after the massacre so it was still an sensitive subject. Therefore his label censored these two words (Kids and Columbine), even on the explicit version of the album.
I don’t think I have to explain what exactly this lyric means, it’s pretty clear.
In his book he states this:


“ I was getting shit about the Columbine reference on “I’m Back” and the label was telling me that I wasn’t gonna be able to say it. My whole thing was, what is the big fucking deal? That shit happens all the time. Why is that topic so touchy as opposed to, say a four-year-old kid drowning? Why isn’t that considered a huge tragedy? People die in the city all the time. People get shot, people get stabbed, raped, mugged, killed and all kinds of shit. What the fuck is the big deal with Columbine that makes it separate from any other tragedy in America?”

In 2015 a 15 year-old boy was arrested. He posted these lyrics on Instagram and added “Cause I’m just like shady and just as crazy as the world was over that whole Y2K thing”
The origiginal lyrics are “ ‘Cause (I'mmmm) Shady, they call me as crazy
As the world was over this whole Y2K thing”

When authorities searched the boy’s home they found weaponry and eventually arrested him. He denied any knowledge of the weapons and said he didn’t post this text on Instagram.


White America, 2002
0:42-0:48
White America, I could be one of your kids
White America, little Eric looks just like this

In this song it’s not only about the Lyrics but also about the music video.
With “little Eric” he mentioned Eric Harris but it was also meant as an example for a typical white kid. He is from middle america because his name is in the middle of amERICa.
The interesting part is, as I said, the video. Where you can see news of an school shooting during “I could be one of your kids”
And during “little Eric looks just like this” you can see one of those typical yearbook pictures and the house of the school shooter. The house looks a bit like the one the Harrises had.

When these lines get repeated you can see a boy full of (probably) blood stepping out of the map of america. On his shirt is written “I am Eric”.


Rap God, 2013
0:49-0:54
I’ll take seven kids from Columbine
Put ‘em all in a line, add an AK-47, a revolver and a 9

This was the first time we could hear the Columbine Line uncensored. Eminem didn’t rap all of the “I’m back” lines because he just wanted to
“See if I get away with it now that I ain’t as big as I was”
As you can hear, he got away with it.





Eminem is one of the few people who openly give their sympathy for the two shooters.
He admitted to be interested in serial killers in this statement:
“I did find myself watching a lot of documentaries on serial killers, I mean, I always had a thing for them. I’ve always been intrigued by them and I found that watching movies about killers sparked something in me.The way a serial killer’s mind works, just the psychology of them is pretty fucking crazy. I was definitely inspired by that, but most of the album’s imagery came from my own mind.”

But Marshall Mathers seems to have an very personal realationship with the whole Columbine Issue.
He himself was bullied on a daily basis during his childhood, often for his race and for always being the new kid. When he was nine years old he got beaten up so bad he was in an coma for several days. I think he is one of the people who is trying to understand what Harris and Klebold were going through.
But I think it is important to mention, that he is the living proof that even when your life is is shitty right now because of some people who have nothing in their life but to terrorize you, that you can still have a better life. And you beat them best when you keep on living.

“That Columbine shit is so fucking touchy. As much sympathy as we give the Columbine shootings, nobody ever looked at it from the fuckin’ point of view of the kids who were bullied—I mean, they took their own fucking life! And it was because they were pushed so far to the fucking edge that they were fucking so mad. I’ve been that mad.

-Marshall Mathers

Why Ron/Hermione Argue

As some people might already know about me, I’ve never been one to shy away from a good debate. That’s a trait that I share with Hermione.

There are some people who don’t particularly like arguing or disagreeing. Some people genuinely do. Hermione falls into the second category, and since I do as well, I wanted to try to explain what’s up with all of the arguing between her and Ron.

I don’t think there are that many people who would say that she isn’t an argumentative person by nature. In addition to Ron/Harry, Hermione clashes with Lavender over her rabbit, Luna over her theories, Umbridge over Ministry rules, Snape over the lesson plans for Lupin’s DADA class, Professor Trelawney over Divination, Parvati over Divination, Draco over Hagrid/Buckbeak, etc. And she argues with everyone about house-elves. Hermione is argumentative, and that’s how she prefers it.

Hermione finds it intellectually stimulating to argue, and needs someone who’s going to argue right back.

Genuine Friendship

Hermione is not the sort of person who’s afraid of being the person reading the book while everyone else is having fun. When she fights with Harry/Ron in PA, she doesn’t buddy up with Lavender/Parvati or apologize to the boys just to have someone to sit with at lunch. She sits by herself in the common room and goes it alone. In other words, Hermione is not the kind of person who chooses a bad friend over no friend at all.

If she did not enjoy spending time with Ron, she would have no problem sitting on the other side of the common room reading a book while waiting for Harry to return. And yet, we constantly see her in Ron’s company, even when Harry’s not around.

In every book after CS, she arrives the Burrow/Leaky Cauldron/Number 12 before Harry does. Harry takes it for granted that Ron and Hermione will be sitting together when he shows up in the common room, but that’s not a small thing. In PA, the two of them return from Hogsmeade “looking as though they’ve had the time of their lives.”

Despite how much they fight, it’s very clear that Hermione genuinely enjoys spending time with Ron.

Comfort with Conflict

Harry was raised by the Dursleys, and sees arguing and conflict as associated with strife. He also doesn’t feel comfortable expressing his emotions, so he tends to bottle things up until they explode.

Hermione frequently nags Harry, which Harry does not particularly appreciate. He basically has three strategies when being nagged by Hermione. The first is avoiding/ignoring her, the second is lying to her, and the third is exploding at her. Examples of the first and second include occulmency, sneaking into Hogsmeade, his doubts over Dumbledore’s past, the egg clue, his homework, his feelings about Ron’s absence, Voldemort’s visions in DH, his grades, etc.

When he can’t lie/avoid/ignore, Harry will explode at Hermione. At which point the balance of power tilts sharply toward Harry. When Harry explodes, Hermione crumples. She will cry, shrink back, speak “in a small voice,” etc.

Nagging is simply Hermione’s style, and while she might learn to tone it down, it’s always going to be part of who she is.

The problem is that Hermione needs feedback. Because Harry doesn’t engage with Hermione’s nagging, it’s hard for her to know when she’s entering the danger zone.

Like Hermione, Ron is pretty comfortable with the idea of conflict. He was raised in a house where such behavior was acceptable. He knew that just because his mother shouts or his brothers tease doesn’t mean that they don’t love him. He might be insecure about his worth, but he never has to worry that his family will simply stop loving him if he crosses some kind of invisible line.

Both Hermione and Ron wear their emotions on their sleeves and give each other instant feedback. If Hermione is upset with the boys, she tells them exactly why. Ron is the same way. Even when Ron fights with Harry, he chooses to immediately engage with him that night rather than giving him the cold shoulder and forcing Harry to work it out on his own.

The conflicts over each other’s romantic partners (or potential romantic partners) are a good example as well. When Ron sees something developing with Hermione/Krum, he immediately reacts and Hermione reacts right back.

When Hermione sees that Ron has a crush on Fleur, she wastes no time talking about how Fleur “really thinks a lot of herself” and “scowls” when Fleur gives Ron attention. Hermione reacts to Ron kissing Lavender not by sulking but by sending a flock of birds flying at his head. Neither of them are great at hiding how they feel.

There is a brief period in HBP where Ron decides to give Hermione the cold shoulder after finding out that she kissed Krum. Hermione is quite visibly rattled and upset by this behavior, saying she “doesn’t know what she’s supposed to have done.” Because normally when Ron is upset at Hermione, he tells her why.

A lot of the problems in the later books regarding their romantic lives stem from the same thing. They’re unable to conceal their feelings, but for the first time, they’re also unable to be 100% upfront with one another. Which creates a comedy of misunderstandings and poor decision-making.

Arguing as Conversation

There’s not really anger between Ron/Hermione’s arguments. I know that sounds odd, but to them it’s a cross between a rational discussion and intellectual exercise. Ron presents an idea, Hermione counters, Ron counters, and so on and so forth. It’s basically just a way to pass the time and exchange perspectives.

The morning after Ron/Hermione’s heated argument about Krum after the Yule Ball, Harry notes that they were being “quite friendly to each other, though oddly formal.”

In other words, they’re bending over backwards to be polite to one another and it’s making things weird. It’s totally different from their normal behavior.

There are many times in canon where they will segue from an argument to a normal conversation with no visible ill-will.

Even with Scabbers and the Firebolt, when an argument is finished, it’s finished.

PA:

Hermione flung her arms around Ron’s neck and broke down completely.

Ron, looking quite terrified, patted her very awkwardly on the top of the head.

Finally, Hermione drew away.

“Ron, I’m really, really sorry about Scabbers…” she sobbed.

“Oh — well — he was old,” said Ron, looking thoroughly relieved that she had let go of him. “And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now.”

They’re perfectly capable of stopping in their tracks in order to focus on Harry or something else that’s just happened.

For another example, look at OP:

“I think Dumbledore’s probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn’t share it with you, Ron,” snapped Hermione.

“Oh, shut up, the pair of you,” said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back.

Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended.

“Can’t you give it a rest?” said Harry. “You’re always having a go at each other, it’s driving me mad.” […] The vision of Ron and Hermione’s shocked faces afforded him a sense of deep satisfaction.

Ron/Hermione are shocked, offended, and angry at Harry’s remark, because they don’t see anything wrong with their behavior. This is just how they communicate.

Harry leaves the table and goes straight up to Divination, and Ron joins him a few minutes later:

“Hermione and me have stopped arguing,” [Ron] said, sitting down beside Harry.

“Good,” grunted Harry.

“But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us,” said Ron.

“I’m not -”

“I’m just passing on the message,” said Ron, talking over him. “But I reckon she’s right. It’s not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you.”

So in a matter of minutes, Ron and Hermione resolved their argument and discussed the best way to handle Harry. Notice that Ron doesn’t actually apologize for arguing with Hermione, he just tells Harry they’ve stopped.

An Expression of Trust

When you get to know someone, you learn that there are certain things they’re sensitive about, and you try to steer away from those topics. This is no different with Hermione/Ron. They both know what’s safe and what’s off-limits.

Hermione can call Ron tactless numerous times and nag him to do his homework, but she’s not going to take a shot at his family’s finances. Ron will tell Hermione to stop nagging and call her a know-it-all, but he would never insult her appearance.

That’s how they operate. And Hermione knows that if she accidentally strays into the danger zone, Ron will let her know. And vice versa.

Keeping Things Balanced

The movies turn Hermione into this perfect superwoman and Ron into a cowardly idiot who’s the butt of the joke, but the truth is that both characters are flawed in their own way.

One of Hermione’s more abrasive qualities is her tendency to be a bit of a know-it-all.

To be clear, being a know-it-all is not the same as being smart. Being smart is knowing the answer. Being a know-it-all is being unable to resist telling everyone else the answer. Essentially the way that Hermione and Ron negotiate a balanced relationship is by Ron engaging her when she nags him or acts like a know-it-all.

Hermione cannot help telling Ron that he’s not pronouncing a spell correctly. Plenty of people are offended by that kind of behavior, even when the other person is right. But Ron, instead of ignoring her corrections or acting as though he’s been gravely insulted, just calls her a know-it-all to keep things even. This evens the scales between them and prevents their relationship from becoming Hermione bossing Ron around.

It’s important to understand that Ron does have a huge amount of respect for Hermione’s abilities. He’s not always the best about coming out and saying it, but he takes it for granted that she’s the cleverest person in the room.

PS:

“But we’re not six hundred years old,” Ron reminded her. “Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all.”

GoF:

“But Hogwarts is hidden,” said Hermione, in surprise. “Everyone knows that… well, everyone who’s read Hogwarts, A History, anyway.”

“Just you, then,” said Ron. “So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?”

When the O.W.L.s arrive and Hermione looks slightly unhappy and says that she did “not bad,” Ron takes the paper and announces that she got 10 Outstandings and 1 Exceeds Expectations and then playfully makes fun of her for being disappointed given how impressive her scores are. When Ron and Hermione take their apparition tests, he tells Harry that Hermione was “perfect, obviously.” Even when he himself fails, he doesn’t seem to bear any ill-will toward Hermione.

Ron’s not threatened by Hermione’s intelligence, and he’s not too prideful to do exactly what Hermione’s told him to do. But his teasing and his unwillingness to automatically agree with Hermione is what creates a balanced relationship between the two.

And Hermione genuinely needs this in a partner. She needs someone who will volley right back when she argues with them. She needs someone who will understand that her tendency to be a know-it-all is an instristic part of her personality. She needs someone who finds it endearing rather than annoying.

The Incredibly Moronic Prat Who Lived

Harry frowned when he looked down at the counter and was faced with his own biography, Harry Potter, The Incredibly Heroic Boy Who Lived (Twice!). When he accepted the job at Flourish and Blotts he never considered that he might have to sell books that were written about himself. Harry’s frown turned into a grimace when he realized that the customer buying this book would probably be starstruck when they realized that the one and only Harry Potter was standing on the other side of the counter.

But when Harry looked up to see the customer, he was the one who was starstruck. Because standing in front of him was Draco Malfoy. Unbearably attractive, adorably flustered Draco Malfoy.

“Potter,” Draco said, shocked.

Harry was too busy staring at the blond, memorizing every perfect detail of his face, to respond. He hadn’t seen Draco since his trial two years ago, and the last he heard Draco was in France studying to be a Healer. France has been good for Draco, Harry thought as he admired Draco’s no longer skinny, but fit body. Draco was also silently appreciating Harry’s appearance, but the blond had been taught that it was impolite to stare, so he broke the silence by clearing his throat. Harry’s eyes immediately flew to Draco’s face.

“Malfoy,” Harry said, his voice hoarse. “How have you been?”

“Spectacular as always,” Draco answered dryly. “And you?”

“I’ve been…” Harry searched for a casual way to say completely lost. “Fine.”

Draco nodded. Both boys seemed at a loss for words and Harry looked back down at the book on the counter. The book about him. That Draco was buying, for some reason.

Keep reading

She’s Just Not That Into You » Part II (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the first part? Find it here.

Once again, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained​. I love you, B! This time around, the ever-so-lovely @chrissy22787​ helped me out, and I thank you - immensely - for that, my dear friend. 

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by cinemagraphs

Even if Nick did piss him off, Harry couldn’t help but be proud of his best friend whenever he was awarded opportunities. He worked hard, and it was nice to see that hard work pay off in the end. So, when Nick mentioned that you were having a viewing party for his appearance on The Big Fat Quiz of the Year, Harry feared that he wouldn’t be able to celebrate the milestone with him.

“Ask her,” he demanded one afternoon.

Nick laughed, his eyes widening at Harry’s insistence. After little pleading from his friend, Nick sent a text asking you if Harry could be his plus one for the dinner party. Once he’d sent it, Harry forced Nick to show him the text for proof, figuring that it was just like him to say he’d asked you when he didn’t, instead showing up to the party with Harry anyway, thinking it was funny to throw both of you for a loop. Nick’s phone dinged minutes later, your name lighting up the screen. Your response of “Sure.” had caused Harry to go into an existential crisis, the wrinkle in his brow deep as he pulled at his lips.

“She doesn’t want me there,” he grunted. “‘m not goin’.”

Keep reading

It pisses me off so much how in the books Parvati and Lavender are just pidgeon-holed as ‘fashion obsessed hair heads’ for most of the books?

I mean, they might not be, but that was the impression pre-teen!me got from reading the books?

And now I’m all … okay, okay Hermione is awesome and we all know it.

But that doesn’t mean Lavender and Parvati are stupid just because they are geared differently from Hermione.

Fashion is hella hard and it requires a lot of memorization and attention to detail? And honestly Lavender and Parvati seem to be pretty nice people, in the little glimpses we get of them?

And all I want is Harry, following the Weasley without getting noticed (because he is used to sneaking around without disturbing people or attracting their attention, owing to the Dursley for that) and getting through the barrier and on the train.

And Lavender’s father helping him out with his baggage, jokingly asking him to keep an eye on his little girl? You seem like a good lad, my Lavender is the most beautiful girl, I need a strong gentleman to keep an eye out until she gets to Hogwarts and she starts to learn magic, so are you up to it?

Which is, of course, not true. Lavender has been going to self-defense lessons for years.

But the man noticed that this was a little kid with no parents around, looking all alone.

He thought 'hey, maybe I can stick him with my kid and they’ll make friends’

(btw, as Lavender is not, as far as I know, confirmed as pureblood in canon, I am going with half-blood or muggleborn for her, I’m thinking muggleborn for this specific AU?)

And Lavender is all “Daddy!” and apologizing to Harry for her dorky dad the moment he is out of the door.

And very nicely avoiding to comment on his clothes because she knows how it feels to be conscious of how your clothes look on you and it’s clear to her eyes that the way Harry is dressed he is probably from some orphanage or something because those are huge hand me downs.

(Because fuck you 90s, being fashion conscious doesn’t mean you are an elitist bitch).

And her parents are looking at her from the Platform and instead of asking about Harry’s life, not wanting to put him on the spot, Lavender waves to them and starts talking to Harry all “Those are my parents, they are so fascinated with the idea of magic and what I will learn at Hogwarts, I can’t wait to write to them all about the castle. My dad works in an office as an accountant and my mother has a column in –” Insert popular teen magazine for 90s UK.

And Harry is a bit overwhelmed but Lavender isn’t staring at him, she is not forcing him to talk and she looks nice.

So he kind of starts to tell her about the Dursely y'know, not like he did with Ron about how terrible they are, but about Vernon working for Grunnings (Lavender giggles and says 'Oh I am so sorry but it just sounds like a really silly name? Grunnings.’ and she tries to stretch the word a bit and Harry laughs a little and says yes, because it does sound silly the way she’s saying it, he just had never thought about it. 'I think it’s Swedish or something’ he offers and Lavenders nods sagely because yes, that makes sense) and how Petunia lives at home and reads all sort of gossipy papers, but not teen ones so sorry, he has never seen Lavender’s mom’s column.

And then the door to their compartment open and Parvati and Padma’s mother (I don’t know if they are pureblood but I’m headcanoning them as pureblood for this one) politely asks if there’s space for two more girls and when Lavender and Harry, after looking at each other, agree, Madam Patil levitates their trunks in (much to the amazement of Harry and Lavender) and settles them above and then guides her daughters in.

She introduces them, putting her hands on her shoulders, cautions her girls to not get wand-happy and wishes everyone a happy Hogwarts year and then leaves them there, going back to the Platform to join her husband and tell him how she left their daughters in the presence of Harry Potter.

“He looked dreadful. Hard up at the very least. I think you should look into his family situation. His clothes, at the very least, were terrible.” She murmurs, softly. “I am sure our girls will adopt him before the ride is over, so you should look forward to hearing about him in their letters.”

Her husband, who knows all about his beloved’s wife tendency to take people under her wing and adopt dangerous animals and fell in love with her for it (as well as for other qualities she has) because he’s very much the same, smiles fondly at her for the last bit and nods seriously at the first one.

It doesn’t matter who the boy is. Well it does, because Harry Potter of course, but it also doesn’t matter because no child should be mistreated.

Also it’s kind of strange that Harry Potter would look hard up, considering it’s common knowledge his parents left him handsomely provided for, full tuition to Hogwarts already paid.

Lavender gushes about how beautiful the Patil twins are, which immediately conquers Parvati, who gushes right back at Lavender’s sparkly accessories.

(Look, I might be wrong because this was the UK and not Italy, and if I am please let me know, but I was a child in the 90s, I bought italian teen magazines, sparkly shit taped to the cover under a plastic sleeve was the shit with fashionable people.)

Of course the moment Harry introduces himself, the Parvati twins try really hard not to goggle, though they do look at his scar, and then Parvati starts asking a storm of questions about where he grew up, whether the Harry Potter adventure books right about all he did since he was a child, if not that what did he do since beating You-Know-Who.

Harry 'Do you mean Voldemort?’ is greeted by soft gasps, right until Lavender asks 'Who?’ and then Parvati starts telling her all about the horrible Voldemort and how Harry and his parents saved them all from that monster.

Padma’s brain on the other hand is whirring and she is the one who reassures Harry that he will do just as fine as everybody else, when he says that.

Lavender and Parvati interrupt their convo because Lavender needs to assure to Harry that she’s muggleborn too, so they will have to learn together and he will be just on par with her, while Parvati explains that magical kids do get a leg up because some of them are allowed to practice at home but that really, she will make sure Harry is up to date with everything that is 'stupefy’ about the magical world.

At which point, Lavender asks what 'stupefy’ means and Padma explains that it’s the stunning spell, so don’t say it while pointing your wand at anyone and Parvati adds that it means, well, the most stunning things around.

(What? Wizarding children should have their own slang).

So by the point Hermione and Neville come by, the group as already made the first basic ties and while Neville is greeted and introduced by Padma and Parvati to the rest of the group, Hermione goes on fine right until she hears Harry’s name.

Padma and Parvati thinks it’s … whatever wizarding equivalent is there of gauche, that Hermione would throw that torrent of words at Harry and just … presume to know about him.

Lavender is just hella protective of her new friend.

Tightly knit protective of Harry formation is achieved in 0.2 seconds.

Neville, who has been around other pureblood children but has been condescended upon by most of them (not Padma and Parvati, given that Parvati will stick up for him later on, but still, it was a general tendency towards a potential squib) has found in Hermione one person who has been nice to him to the point of going out of her way to help him look for his embarrassing toad, so he gets protective of Hermione right back.

So basically, Parvati tells Hermione that she should not barrage people with informations like that, Neville replies timidly that Hermione didn’t mean anything bad, she just like quoting sources, Lavender tells Harry that he doesn’t have to worry, they’ll look up all that stuff when they get to Hogwarts, Hermione gets huffy because of course she didn’t mean anything bad, she just thought Harry would know about that stuff, Padma asks why Hermione would think that when Harry has been raised in the muggle world, Neville goggles at the news that Harry was raised in the muggle world.

It’s a mess.

And then Draco Malfoy arrives, because he’s been making the rounds of the train to look for Harry Potter (saying hi to family allies on the way).

I am not sure who says what to whom for most of the ‘chat’ but what I am sure of is that by the end of it, Neville and Hermione are going to be best friends forever and an united front against snobby purebloods, Padma has icily informed 'Mister Malfoy’ that she will be writing to her father about how low the raising standards of the Malfoy have fallen to produce Draco as a result, in response to a snipe Draco made about telling his father about the Patil twins and the rabble they are sticking with, Parvati has informed Crabbe and Goyle that she had not thought they were better than this but they definitely need to find themselves friends who don’t just treat them like dumb muscle and Lavender has vowed to herself that it doesn’t matter to her how cute Draco Malfoy is or how attractive his silver hair are she will spell his hair and robes to look like something an 80s hairband groupie would wear, just as soon as she learns the necessary spells.

To make it simple, battle lines have been drawn, metaphorical blood has been spilled on all sides and the Harry-Lavender-Parvati-Padma friendship has been set in stone.

Ron, if you are curious about him, found a compartment that had Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas in it and spent a really amazing first ride to Hogwarts.

They both made sure Dean knew how Gryffindor was the best house there ever is and then they explained Quidditch to him and became fascinated when Dean explained football (to americans: soccer) to them, especially once Dean started sketching out schemes and stuff.

There are too many players, but it looks like exactly the kind of team effort chasers have to put together only spread through eleven people and that’s just wow.

Strip

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader
Summary: You agree to help Sirius study for his OWL’s, however what you failed to realise that tutoring the marauder was like babysitting. After various failed attempts, you finally find a way to keep Sirius somewhat focused and, interested.
A/N: NSFW ! ! ! 

Originally posted by your-harry-potter-imagines

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TO DATE THE SLYTHERIN PRINCE [DRACO MALFOY]

summary: in which no matter what, you refuse to love anyone else other than draco malfoy.

a/n: this has been in my drafts for ages and only now do i finally have the guts to post it! hope you enjoy it :-)

Masterlist + Request here!

When the whole school learned that the two of you were dating, saying that they were surprised by the news was an understatement. Well, who would expect that someone like him would fall for someone like you? Him, who was practically considered as the Slytherin Prince, while you, who was a fierce yet sweet Y/H.

Yep, you were a Y/H. Not to mention that you were a half-blood too.

Honestly, some people would still look at the two of you like you were aliens. They gawked and weren’t even hiding the fact that they did — it sometimes drove you nuts. Draco, on the other hand, would smile smugly and place an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side while his eyes lingered on those boys who would look at you differently.

Some first years who had crushes on your boyfriend would either sigh or squel whenever you walked passed them with Draco beside you, his hands holding your books for you even though you already told him not to. The said students would wish that they were in your position, while some rooted for the two of you.

You see, you and Draco had a lot of differences. One of them was the obvious; having two different houses. He was considered as the bad boy, you were considered as the good girl; he came from a rich and well known family, you came from muggles who weren’t rich nor poor; he had these gray eyes, you had y/e/c; and he was mostly hated, you were mostly loved.

That’s why when the news spread, Hermione had to make you repeat your sentence over and over again just to be sure she was hearing it right.

“Wait, so you’re dating the Draco Malfoy?” she exclaimed with wide eyes.

You simply nodded and carried on eating. It wasn’t a big deal anyway, right? What was wrong about dating him? You, out of all the people, of course did know what they thought of Draco Malfoy — the rich snob, the bully, the jerk, the son of Lucius Malfoy who was once a follower of Voldemort, and the Slytherin who hated Harry Potter.

You weren’t oblivious to those facts, but the people didn’t know how loving and caring Draco was. You fell in love with him because one time when you were running late to class and accidentally knocked him down, he was the one who apologized and picked up your books. When he saw you crying one time alone at the top of the cliff, he offered his ears to you and listened as you poured your heart out. And when he saw you inside the library, studying a lesson that you couldn’t understand, Draco sat by your side, teaching you even though you didn’t ask for help.

So when he suddenly asked you if you wanted to come with him at Hogsmeade the next weekend, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. He was more than pleased by your answer, of course, and even said that: “You won’t regret it, Y/N.”, in which you replied with a roll of your eyes.

But what entertained most of the student body about your relationship is that you are both players for your houses’ Quidditch team. Draco Malfoy was the Slytherin Seeker, while you were one of the Y/N Chasers. They found it entertaining whenever you were already on the field and Draco purposely annoys you by suddenly flying past your way in incredible speed. Sometimes you would get revenge by throwing the Quaffle in his direction when a teammate was behind him.

Your teammates were more than annoyed whenever Y/H was going up against Slytherin because of this.

“Y/L/N!” the captain of your team would yell in a high pitched voice as you crossed the three hoops. “Focus, will you? And stop messing with Malfoy!”

But you would just laugh and fly away from him, in deep pursuit for the quaffle once again.

Though just like any other relationships, you and Draco had your downfalls. The thing you two most fought about is how he always insults muggles and muggleborn students, calling them mudblood or calling the pure bloods who liked the said students blood traitors. You would always hit him in the stomach or arm whenever he sneers at Harry Potter or throw an unpleasant remark towards Hermione and Ron. Draco would just look at you then, rolling his eyes and muttering several curses under his breath that drove you to be even angrier than before.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I would have thought that you preferred to be with Potter than your boyfriend!” he once yelled in an argument, his tone full of jealousy.

With that line, you just closed your eyes and sighed.

You always knew Draco had some deep insecurities about Harry Potter, and if you say something that might sound like you do prefer him over Draco, you knew you would regret it afterwards.

So to cause no more drama, you would suddenly pull him in a tight hug, in which he would always bury his head on your shoulder, stroking his blonde hair as you both murmur a bunch of “sorry’s” to each other.

And that’s why you loved each other dearly. No matter how much of a jerk Draco Malfoy might be, if you could have any person to love over and over again, you would definitely, no doubt in your mind, pick him.

The Train

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 4201

Prompt: Y/N walks in, and Harry notices she’s wearing yellow again, this time it’s a yellow sweater with a pair of dark skinny jeans and brown ankle boots, her hair is pulled back into a pony tail with a white scrunchie with little smiling suns and he swears that he has to squint to look at her. “Oh! I know you-you’re the guy from the train,” Y/N beams, “Harry, right?” she sets down the tray of muffins.

 “I didn’t tell you my name,” Harry snaps.

 Y/N pouts, “well yeah, but I’m also not stupid,” she says. 

“Are you joining us today Harry?” the man asked, “I’m Seth, I run the group.”

“Why else would I fucking be here,” Harry grumbled.

 Y/N grabs a muffin, ignoring Harry’s sour attitude, “here, they’re made with love,” she smiled, holding out the blueberry muffin.

 “Fuck off,” Harry says. He watches as her smile fades and the glint in her eyes seems to disappear, for a split second Harry feels like a dick, but then he realizes he doesn’t care and Y/N should just shove the muffin up her ass.


Harry was annoyed.

It really hadn’t been his day at all. His morning was terrible, he woke up next to a blonde and he tried really hard to remember her name-only to fail. When he asked her to leave she insisted on making breakfast, to which Harry responded with “feel free to grab something and leave” and then he proceeded to shower. When he got out, the unknown girl stood in his kitchen making herself a smoothie and toast. Her red lips in a pout, “come on, you can’t be in that big of a rush,” Harry ended up calling security, she was crazy.

When he went into the studio he was blank, the songs he did come in with were rejected and he couldn’t find the energy or muse to write another one. He was out of inspiration, nothing amused Harry anymore. He found himself not enjoying the things he used to love, drinks seemed to be the only thing that made him feel something (and it was only for a little bit). He didn’t enjoy being surrounded by his friends and family, his love for writing was slipping through the cracks, and his energy was fading.

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WATERMELON & MINT [DRACO MALFOY]

request: “Would love a Draco x reader imagine where they’re best friends and they’re always really close and they smell each other in the amortentia? I know so original but your writing style is good so it’d be great for you to write a version of this imagine ?” — by anon

a/n: *badly impersonates professor trelawney* you have the markings of a true seer, my child! lol, but seriously, i was thinking about making an imagine like the one you requested, anon. and i am very pleased that someone asked for it bECAUSE THAT MEANS I’LL HAVE AN EXCUSE TO WRITE IT WAHAHAHA. also, i might have blushed when you said my writing style is good 💓 hope you enjoy! x

Masterlist + Request here!

“What took you so long?”

Those were the words you uttered just as your best friend, and probably the longest companion you have ever had, sat down beside you like he usually did in Potions. You noticed that his eyebrows were furrowed and he wore the scowl he had whenever he saw Potter — which you assumed was the reason why his features were all annoyed, since Harry was in the very same class right now.

Draco took out his textbook, “What took me so long? You’re the one who didn’t wait for me when I clearly told you that we’d meet at the entrance of the Great Hall before going here.”

A blush crept on your cheeks, clearly remembering that he indeed told you that before the two of you parted ways this morning after breakfast. Draco was looking at you with a disapproving look and all you managed to do was sheepishly smile at him, which made him roll his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” you whispered just as Professor Slughorn began his discussion about a potion that was called Amortentia. “I completely forgotten it because Ron had a question and —”

“Wait a minute. Why on earth are you on first name basis with that Weasel?” Draco hastily cut you off, turning his body so that he faced you while you still tried to listen to Slughorn’s boring introduction.

You glanced at him. “Because unlike you, I’m not a git, Draco.” you couldn’t help but plaster a smirk on your lips, making him scoff.

But truth be told, only you could insult Draco face to face and get away with it. You have been friends with him since you stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express, the compartment that he was occupying that time the only available place you could find to stay in. It still surprises you whenever you remember it because you were always under the impression that he was just as egotistical and snobbish as his father.

Well, he kind of still was, but whenever it came to you he wasn’t as bad as everybody claimed him to be. Draco was actually a very trust worthy friend, he was definitely someone you knew who could stay and tolerate your flaws and imperfections, and he has always been there for you in times of distress.

Of course, Draco undoubtedly felt the same, or else the friendship you had with him wouldn’t have lasted this long.

“Yes, now, well huddle up and divide yourselves into pairs.” said Slughorn with a peculiar smile on his face. “I’ll be giving each group a sample of Amortentia and you’ll have to be completely honest to your chosen partner what are the things that you smelled, alright? Okay, so, quietly fall in line …”

You shared a look with Draco and he nodded, standing up to get the mentioned sample from the professor for your own group. He was back in seconds, placing a tiny bottle on your working table containing a liquid that had steam rising in characteristic spirals. You leaned down closely to get a sniff, your nose wrinkling before turning to Draco.

“Seriously, Draco. How much cologne did you spray on yourself? I can’t smell anything besides it.” you tried sniffing again.

He pursed his lips together. “What do you mean? If there’s anyone overdoing something, it’s you. Your watermelon scented perfume is going to be stuck in my nostrils forever.” he chuckled.

Both confused by your own accusations to each other — since quite frankly, you didn’t bother to put on your perfume today and Draco had forgotten to apply his cologne — you and Draco leaned down once again to the bottle of Amortentia, determined to get a different scent other than the previous strong fragrance.

Draco glanced at you while you were still sniffing, casually moving closer so that he could familiarize himself again with the smell of your shampoo. He was still taking in the smell of watermelon from the potion, with two new additions: old books and now, your shampoo.

“What is it?” you questioned when he abruptly almost fell on his stool because of what he was beginning to discover.

“Nothing.” coughed Draco, changing the topic. “Er, what did you smell?”

You remembered the scent of fallen rain, the smell of mint, and the strangest of all, his cologne. You thought you were only catching the smell of it because of how close the two of you were sitting right next to each other. Clearly, you were mistaken and found yourself blushing at the realization that you were attracted to your best friend.

“You go first.” you insisted but Draco shook his head.

“No, no, ladies first.”

You snorted, “Please, Draco, we both know you hardly recognize me as a lady.”

“Girls first then.” he corrected himself.

“No, really, you go first.”

“Y/N, don’t be stubborn and just tell me —”

“Yes, I would, right after you tell me yours —”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Y/N — ”

“Mr Malfoy and Miss Y/L/N, do we have a problem?” Slughorn had appeared in front of your desk, a triumph smile on his face. “I can’t help but notice that your voices have increased in volume. May I know what’s the noise all about?”

“Nothing, professor.” both of you claimed.

Slughorn narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

“We were just about to exchange answers, sir.” you added.

He grinned. “Is that so? Well, tell them to the whole class then! I’m sure everyone is just as curious as I am.”

Draco’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Actually, sir, I rather not —”

“Ridiculous, Malfoy! Now, come on, tell us what you smelled.”

You have never seen Draco act so uncomfortable and embarrassed before as he stared at Slughorn, his cheeks tinted pink while he held this look as if he was silently praying that the time was up and they were now going to be dismissed for their next class.

He coughed. “I smell … old books, uh, watermelon, and … kind of like a bubblegum scent.” he murmured the last part, knowing that you were the only one that had hair smelling like bubblegum around the castle grounds.

“And how about you, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Fallen rain, mint, I think. And, well,” you caught Draco waiting for your answer, “um, some type of cologne.”

“Ah! How astonishing. I wonder who would be the lucky person to be wearing such a cologne …” trailed the professor, finally leaving his attention to the two of you and back to his own desk in front.

You and Draco were both silent on your seats, knowing in fact that you had smelled each other in Amortentia — a love potions that gave off a scent that you are most attracted to. In both of your cases, only now did the both of you realize that maybe all this time you’ve been with each other, the affection you showed weren’t precisely platonic as thought it was.

“So,” Draco was the one who had the nerves to speak after understanding, “it was my cologne, huh?” there was a hint of cockiness in his tone and when you peered at him, he had this genuine grin that only you had the chance to see.

“Excuse me, Malfoy, but two beats one. You smelled both my perfume and my shampoo.” you said a matter-of-fact.

You gazed at each other for what seemed like hours before breaking apart, your lips curled up in a smirk while the professor now discussed another potion, Felix felicis.

Suddenly, Draco placed a hand on top of yours nonchalantly, intertwining it with his as a bigger smile appeared on his mouth. He seemed to be very pleased of himself and you rolled your eyes, ignoring the heavy pace of your heart, knowing that this was going to be the beginning of something new and wonderful.

Shakespeare (Part II)

(Banner made by the incredibly talented @tiostyles)

Harry X Reader (AU)

In which Harry is a poetic frat boy who just so happens to be the TA for your new English class.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Sorry this was a bit late!! Any and all feedback is really, really appreciated. Please let me know if you love it or hate it or have constructive criticism. Enjoy! Xo


Classes have only been in session for two weeks when you have your first paper due.

Your fingers are rubbing at a pair of tired eyes while you yawn in protest. Leave it to you to put off your assignment until the last moment. Now, it’s midnight and all you have left to do is read through and edit, but your mind keeps wandering to thoughts of fluffy pillows and cozy blankets and the squeaky mattress awaiting you in your dorm room.

The library is silent, lights blindingly bright in an effort to keep occupants awake. You’re seated next to a window that looks over the entire campus, all the glowing lampposts and vacant sidewalks and ivy-coated brick buildings. The view is spectacular, and it hasn’t helped you stay focused for the past eight hours.

You lean back in your seat with a heavy sigh, clasping your fingers over your eyes. When you open them again, a girl at the next table is glaring at you over the screen of her laptop. You’re on the second floor—the silent floor—and apparently loud breathing is not allowed.

You press against the edge of your table, sliding your chair out enough for you to stand. The library closes at one. You know for a fact that once you get back to your dorm, there will be no way to keep yourself out of bed. If you’re going to make this paper acceptable, it needs to be soon, and you’re going to need some caffeine.

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Morning Surprise (Remus x Reader)

“Hi! I might’ve already sent this in and I’m terribly sorry if I’m repeating my self but could you do one with Remus where you stay the night in his dorm and when you wake up the boys find you and they are all like shook. :,) thank you! I love your writing by the way!!” this made me laugh out loud when I read it! hope you like it!

Saturday’s were usually spent with your boyfriend in the library or by the Black Lake, curled up with a book and content with each other’s company. Today was no ordinary Saturday, it was a Quidditch Saturday, which meant that you and Remus had to postpone your usual activities and go and support James since Gryffindor was playing against Ravenclaw.

“Hurry up, lovebirds!” Sirius exclaimed, a few steps ahead of Remus and you.

You’ve been dating Remus for a year now, and you both kept the PDA to a minimum, the marauders knew that and often teased you both, but little did they know that behind closed doors, Remus and you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius, sending you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, we don’t take the dog out too often, we think he might get lost…” Remus whispered to you, and you laughed.

Soon you and the rest of the marauders were cheering James on, Gryffindor was winning by a landslide, and somehow Sirius had taken over as commentator half way through the match.

“Ms. Lillian Evans, if the handsome Chaser scores three consecutive goals, you have to go on date with him, it is the law. Dumbledore said so.” Sirius decreed into his enchanted wand, McGonagall stood from her seat and tried to pry the wand from his flailing arms.

“I’m so glad Sirius didn’t meddle with the two of us…” Remus uttered as you nodded in agreement. You witnessed as James scored three consecutive goals and how your roommate Lily was glaring at the boy, you could see that she was trying to fight off a growing smile on her face.

“Well bloody hell, Sirius does seem to have a future in matchmaking.” You said, pointing down at Lily, Remus shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

It was no surprise when Gryffindor won, due to that Sirius and James announced that there would be a celebratory party tonight, (they would’ve thrown a part either way).

“What are the chances of us sneaking out of the party without being noticed by those two?” you asked Remus as you reluctantly made your way to the party.

“Just wait until they both had enough Firewhiskey, then we can go to my dorm and relax, there’s this new muggle book my mother sent me, I think you’ll like it.”

“Sounds perfect.” You said pecking his lips as you both joined the party.

It didn’t take long for Sirius and James to finish off a bottle of Firewhiskey, you nudge Remus and he stifled a laugh as he saw how James was drunkenly orchestrating a conga line.

“And that’s our cue to leave, love.” He said, chuckling at his friend’s failed attempts.

He led you up the boy’s dormitories, everyone was having fun so they didn’t see the two of you leaving.

He opened the door to his room which he shared with the rest of the marauders, you were always in awe of the contrast between Remus’s side of the room and the rest of the boys.

“I know what you’re thinking and I agree, they’re pigs.”

“Trewlaney better watch out because you might steal her job, your seeing eye just read my mind.” You joked, he chuckled as he walked towards his drawer, pulling out a jumper and a pair of boxers, handing them to you.

“I don’t think you’ll want to go back to a room full of tipsy girls later tonight and the guys will probably pass out in the common room.” He said as he handed the clothes to you so you could change into something comfortable. You beamed at him and thanked him, and headed towards the bathroom to change. You came out feeling extremely cozy, Remus was much taller than you so you basically swam in his jumper, it came down to your thighs.

“Well that’s not fair.” Remus said as he saw you wearing his clothes. You arched an eyebrow, confused.

“Now every time I wear that jumper I’ll know I won’t look as good as you do right now.” He said grinning, a bubbly laugh left your lips as you ran towards him, tackling him down to the bed.

“You’re so cheesy.” You mumbled as you buried your face in his chest.

“But you love me.”

“That I do.”

You both spent the rest of the night reading the astronomy book that his mother had sent him. Astronomy was your favorite subject, Remus liked it as well, and he loved seeing the way your face would light up as you looked at the pictures of the stars and constellations, and read about them.

Neither one of you realized when you fell asleep or if the rest of the boys came back.

Hours later, you were both woken up by a scream.

“BLOODY HELL, REMUS HAS A GIRL IN BED WITH HIM.” Sirius screeched.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Y/N…” Peter said.

“Keep your voice down you gits, I wanna study them more in their natural habitat.” James whispered.

“I can’t believe he did it, I didn’t think he had it in him.” He continued.

“Our little boy is all grown up.” Sirius sniffled.

You were woken up by Sirius’s scream but decided it was better if you feigned sleep, hoping that they would go away soon. Remus began stirring next to you.

“No PDA my ass, guess his wolf side won last night, huh?”

“Sirius Orion Black, if you don’t stop it with the crude comments I’ll make sure that you never procreate.” Remus snarled, his eyes still closed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“My dear, dear, Remus, how do you possibly expect for us to remain calm when we found you two in such a compromised position?” Sirius quipped back, smirking.

“Oh shut up Pads, nothing happened, we just fell asleep.” You said, enunciating the word sleep.

“OH Y/N, I SURE HOPE HE TREATED YOU RIGHT!”

“SIRIUS, GET OFF HER.” Remus exclaimed when Sirius dramatically threw himself at you.

You were trying your hardest not to laugh because if you did they would continue and you were not going to encourage them, you could see Remus trying hard not to as well. Who knew that the rest of the marauders would make such a big deal about you spending the night in their room.

“Does that mean Y/N is our mummy now?”

“JAMES, FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT YOUR FATHER DURING THE SCHOOL TERM.”

After ten minutes of nonstop teasing, they finally left you and Remus alone as they went down for breakfast.

“They are way too chipper considering they probably have a raging hangover.”

“I’m pretty sure the opportunity of teasing us gave them the strength they needed.” Remus sighed.

“If I lock the door, they would just knock it down with Peter or something…how about we get dressed and head to the lake for a bit?” you asked him, sitting up.

“But I’m comfy…” Remus whined, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you back onto his chest, burrowing his head on your hair.  

“Okay, okay! You win, but just until they come back, I don’t think I have any patience left for their teasing.”

“Agreed.” Remus sealed the deal with a kiss that left you breathless.

Luckily the boys found Filch on their way back and he interrogated them for a full hour about the loud noises that were coming from the Gryffindor common room the night before. You and Remus enjoyed a full hour of peace and quiet before they came barreling in, goofy grins on their faces when they saw you and Remus intertwine, sleeping peacefully.

“I guess the shock wears off the second time around.” Sirius mumbled, James nodded from besides him.

On Writing Believable Romance

Anonymous asked: “Do you know how to make a fictional relationship realistic?”

I don’t know that there is one perfect answer to this. You can follow all the “rules” and still not pull it off. What I think is most important is that you believe that these characters are real people and you believe the bond they share is real.

Keep reading

Cursed Child rant

Alright, Witches, Wizards, Muggles, and magical creatures big and small, hold onto your broomsticks because I’m about to tell you why I do not like Harry Potter and the Cursed Child nor accept it as canon. 

Spoilers ahead. Obviously. but c’mon who hasn’t read it or been spoiled by now Also, it got super long. 


Let’s start off by saying: it’s been months since I read it. If I get some things off a little, go ahead and tell me; I’ll edit the rant and correct it. If you just don’t agree with me… that’s great for you. Okay? We good? That’s all the disclaimer you’re getting. Moving on! 


Where do I begin? Um… Let’s recap shall we? 

It starts with Albus Severus Potter (who’s name I still cannot get over) meeting and becoming friends with Scorpius Malfoy. 

Okay. Great. We’ve all wanted that for years. No problem. 

We’ve also played with the idea of Albus in Slytherin for years. I have no problem with that either. 

What I do have problems with is the way Albus is treated after he is put in Slytherin. He’s the outcast of his family. He’s the “disappointing son”. After Harry’s canon “the bravest man I knew was Slytherin” speech (don’t get me started on Snape), I expected a bit better treatment of Slytherins. But Albus is Slytherin and looked at sideways by the entire cast, except Scorpius. This could easily become a rant about Slytherin’s and stereotypes and treatment, but I give enough of those already. 

My issues are mostly with Albus’ personality. Now, I didn’t write the character. He’s not mine. I don’t have the authority to tell anyone how he should be. All I can do is have headcanons. But “canon” Albus doesn’t exactly display a lot of Slytherin traits. Sure he sneaks around, but so does Harry, Ron, and Hermione and they’re all Gryffindor. If my memory serves me correctly, Albus goes to Slytherin because he basically thinks, “Well, the Gryffindors I know suck, let’s try Slytherin.”it’s been a while since I read it okay  

Albus is jaded by the time the plot picks up. He doesn’t like flying, isn’t that good at it or Quidditch (which honestly feels like they’re just trying to make him as unlike Harry as possible which I could handle if it wasn’t so badly written), and is basically convinced his life is horrible. (I’ll get into why a little later.) This kid shows no Slytherin traits that I remember. He hardly shows any traits really. I think it was the play format, but Albus becomes a stereotypical teenager who has daddy issues and doesn’t like his life. 

Scorpius I don’t really have a big problem with, besides it going against my personal headcanons. He at least shows a bit more Slytherin traits than jaded Albus. I feel like they were trying to break Slytherin stereotypes with him- which is great and all, but it almost makes me feel like that’s all Scorpius’ personality was. As if he was made to simply disrupt our preconceived ideas of what Slytherin is. I don’t like it. Stereotypes are something I can’t stand, but come on, people, don’t strip my house of what we actually are. 

Okay, moving on from Slytherin. 

Let’s take a step back from the new characters and visit the one’s we already know, we already love. Oh wait, they’ve been ripped to shreds. 

Keep reading

I GOT THE GIRL [FRED WEASLEY]

request: “Hi! Can you write a Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader imagine? The reader is a bookworm, and is often found in the library. She and Fred are almost complete opposites. Fred is intrigued by the "different” girl you can say and they start hanging out. Introducing each other to their life, with things the other would never do. Ends with a cute passionate kiss?“ — by @my-unique-mind

a/n: added a little twist to it. hope you don’t mind :-) also, i got carried away with this one so it is quite long 😂

Masterlist + Request here!

    On the course of your stay in Hogwarts, the only conversations you would share with Fred Weasley were just mere hellos and greetings. Whenever the seat beside you wasn’t taken yet in some class, he would ask if it was okay to sit beside you, and you would glance at him before nodding, minding your own business starting then.

    Though other than that, the both of you never bothered to approach the other in attempt to get to know them better. It has been always like that for the past years — so for him to suddenly ask you a very important favor, it was quite unbelievable.

    It was a Saturday morning that time and you were spending your day inside the library as usual. In front of you was one clear parchment, a book needed for Transfiguration, and a bottle of ink that you had. You were just about to write the first sentence of your essay when someone abruptly sat down across you.

    It was Fred, with his red hair and goofy smile. You raised your eyebrow in question and slowly brought your quill down, waiting for the boy before you to say something that would explain why he was here.

    "Good day, isn’t it?” he started, his head turning around as if to look at his surroundings. ‘The sun’s not shining too bright, the wind’s pace is just right, and it’s not that cloudy.“

    "Is there something I can help you with?” you asked with your eyebrow still raised.

    Fred flickered his eyes to you. “I’m glad you asked, Y/N, because there is this one tinsy little problem I’m dealing with and I know you can help me figure it out.” there was mischief in the way he spoke those words, which made you kind of uneasy.

    “Oh, is it regarding about that Transfiguration assignment Professor McGonagall gave us 'cause I’m doing it right now —”

    “Y/N,” he politely cut you off that made you stop talking, “that’s not it.”

    You involuntarily blush. “Then what is it?”

    Fred leaned on the table, prompting his elbows and placing his chin on top. “I knew it was a good choice to pick you, Y/N. I had a hard time convincing George that you’re the perfect accomplice —”

    “Woah, what?” it was your turn to you cut him off. “You lost me at accomplice.”

    “Well, you see,” Fred licked his lips, “we need a book from the restricted section of the library. Of course, no teacher with the right mind would let me or my brother get it, so I thought since you’re always in the library so much, not to mention you’re a Ravenclaw, you would be the one to do it for us.”

    “You must be out of your mind.” You scoffed. “What makes you think I’ll do that for you?”

    “Because,” Fred trailed, “I’m such a good person and I make other people happy?”

    You couldn’t help but snort at his reason.

   "Oh, come on, Y/N! I promise, this will the first and last favor I’ll be asking you if you agree to help.“

    The two of you stared at each other for what seemed like minutes before you finally broke free and groaned.

    "Fine, I’ll do it.”

    Fred fist pumped in the air that made Madam Pince to suddenly appear and hiss at him.

    “But you need to do something in return. Anything, so that I’ll feel I’m not doing this for free.” you chuckled lightly.

    He nodded in understanding. “Okay,” he shrugged, “how about I do a poem? You’re into those kind of stuff, right?”

    “Well, yeah …” you blushed again for whatever reason.

    “Then it’s settled then. You help us get the book and I’ll do a poem. Deal?” he extended a hand out and you didn’t hesitate to grasp it with your own, shaking it.

    “Deal.”


     You indeed had done what you had to do. After Fred and George talked to you and gave you the title of the book that they needed, you immediately made up an excuse as you ask the head of your house, Professor Flitwick, to sign the slip that allowed you to get the book from the restricted section of the library.

    The whole plan seemed too easy, because the teacher didn’t even question you or grew suspicious on why you needed the book. And now, you were patiently waiting inside the cosy atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks, your eyes glued on the door, ready to finalize your deal with the Weasley twins.

    Though Fred was the only one who came, even panting as he sits down beside you. You couldn’t help but glance at him oddly but still a smile was playing on your lips.

    “Sorry,” he sighed while he takes off his coat and hangs it on the chair he was sitting on, “had to get away from George. I didn’t want him to come.”

    “Why?” you slowly brought out the book from your bag.

    Fred smirked at you, “Because I wouldn’t want him hearing my poem, obviously. He wouldn’t let it go if he heard it, will keep on teasing me for an eternity if he did.” he murmured mostly to himself.

    You almost forgotten about the poem and with the mention of it, you raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “Well, now that you mentioned it, read it to me.”

    For the first time, you saw his cheeks turn into a shade of pink as he softly stutters. “Uh, r-right now?” he cleared his throat.

    “Not necessarily, but if you want to have this book —”

    “Okay,” he pouted, “I get it, I get it. Just let me …” he rummaged through his bag and got a notepad with written notes on it, though before you could take a peak, he blocked it away from your view with his hand. “Hey! I’m going to read it to you anyway so why bother?”

    “I’m just curious, jeez.” You chuckled. “You know, I’m very interested in what you have prepared. It’s always been in my bucket list to get you to do something completely out of your character.”

    “Oh, I’m sure it is.” he snorted with a grin. “Uh, so, before I begin, I’m just gonna ask you not to laugh, okay? I admit it’s not my best work but … it’s what I wanted the poem to be about.” the color red was creeping on his cheeks again.

    You smiled. “I promise.”

    He dramatically cleared his throat, turning sideways so he was completely facing you.

“The way she speaks can lure me to sleep
the way she smiles can change my cold feet
the way she reads can send thousands of thoughts
like why only now did I notice she smelled like apricots?”

     He stops momentarily to look at you and sees you laughing silently which draws him to continue.

I can never really explain why I started feeling so differently
when she has always been there, always been pretty.
and maybe that is why I decided to make a plan
something that will give my chance a hand.

It amuses me how she doesn’t notice
like for the first time, she didn’t know how to focus
but how can she not, that’s not her flaw
After all, she is a Ravenclaw.”

    Your eyes widened at that mere line and you could hear Fred taking a gulp before carrying on like nothing happened.

“So this time, as I read this poem to you
please tell me you understand it like you always do
keep in mind that out of all the pranks I’ve done, all of the shows
you rejecting me at this very moment terrifies me the most.”

    Fred closed the notepad and immediately turned away from you, folding his hands on the table. “Done.” he stated with his lips pursed together, not bringing himself to see your reaction after just confessing that he indeed fancied you.

    “That was … beautiful. You might actually beat Edgar Allan Poe if you pursued writing.” you tried to catch his eye but he wouldn’t budge. “Fred, please do look at me.”

    “No.” he answered immediately. “I-I had some time thinking about this and now that I’ve done it, I think I regretted doing it.” he spoke very fast.

    It seemed cruel, but you enjoyed seeing him all frantic and shy — because in your defense, it wasn’t everyday you would see Fred Weasley behaving this way. He was mostly so confident with his brother, the complete opposite of what he was showing you right now, and it made you reach out and place a hand over his.

    “Would it make you feel better if I told you I felt the same way?” You couldn’t help but tease, causing him to finally look at you.

    “Not funny, Y/N. You’re completely messing with my emotions and do you know how many times I’ve thought about telling you about this and now you’re —”

    You rolled your eyes, leaning in and pressing your lips onto his just to make him shut up, and also maybe because you’ve been meaning to do it for a long time now. It definitely did the trick though because Fred caught on and began to kiss you back, his hand soon resting on your cheek while his other one still intertwined with yours. When the both of you let go, Fred’s eyes looked like they were twinkling from delight.

    “What is it?” you asked, a goofy smile plastered on your mouth as well.

    “Nothing, I just — my brother and I didn’t really need the book, it was the plan I’ve been talking about in my poem, to give my chance a hand.” he repeated.

    “Wow.” you playfully slapped his arm with the borrowed book. “So meaning to say, all my efforts were put into nothing?”

    “Well, it did make you a rebel even a little bit, didn’t it?” he grinned. “And it did help this thing going on between us to evolve as well.”

    You pulled on your best confused face. “What thing?”

    “Hardy har har.” he sarcastically laughed and pulled you in for another passionate kiss, your laugh audible in between as you place your arm around his neck.

    Before the two of you could even decided to finally break free — realizing that you were still inside the Three Broomsticks — George Weasley came waltzing inside the pub and did a very loud gasp, enough to catch the attention of the other students to him.

    “I can’t believe it. It actually worked!”

    Fred groaned and turned to his brother who was now grinning like mad. “Shut up and go away, George.”

    But George was already fist bumping him, and despite Fred getting annoyed, he couldn’t help but put on a cocky and bragging grin on his face as he did so because finally, he got the girl.