harris wash

9

everyone in harry potter is a poc: beauxbaton girls

Harry noticed a dozen girls- all, by the look of them, in their late teens- had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxine. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing clocks. A few of them had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. (based on this post)

anonymous asked:

Au where petunia is a witch and lily is a muggle?

When the letter arrives, Lily is almost as excited as Petunia. She writes Albus Dumbledore to ask if she can go to, and if she cries a little when the answer comes back no she doesn’t tell anyone. Lily waves from the train platform, writes diligently, and listens with excitement whenever her big sister deigns to share stories of magic.

Petunia gets Sorted Slytherin, where she falls into a mutually-venemous friendship with Severus Snape, who she had considered dirty and poor when he was skulking around Lily in their little neighborhood, lighting leaves on fire like a baby arsonist, but who now seems like the best ally in a pool of ugly little fish.

The blood-purists are their normal asshole selves, which Petunia responds to with busybody eavesdropping, cruel gossip, and manipulative emotional bullying. Severus calls her mudblood in their fifth year (it’s not the first time) and joins the Death Eaters. Tuney calls him a greasy git of a wanker and they still have lunch away from prying eyes now and then.

When the war comes, Petunia does not fight in it. She marries a Hufflepuff boy named Vincent Dunsley who spends their entire first date telling her about his junior position in the Ministry and his planned thirty-six bureaucratic steps to the top of the food chain. Vincent has no problem with Muggleborns, or at least not ones who behave as properly as Petunia.

Lily does fight. She’s been reading the Daily Prophet for years as she sits through history class dreaming of brooms and punching bullies on the playground. At seventeen, she writes Albus Dumbledore again. When he still writes back no, she packs a bag and shows up on the Order’s doorstep.

Alice Longbottom gives her a place to stay, some spare robes, and teaches her how to fly– Lily hopes, wrapped in a warm blanket while they sip cocoa and discuss action plans, that if she’d gone to Hogwarts she’d have been good enough to get Sorted Hufflepuff. Frank beams at his wife in the dim yellow light.

Of the Marauders, Lily meets Sirius first– shaggy hair and strong bones, he’s a tall glass of water and he’s anxiously watching a skinny, scarred boy sleep on the sofa. They’re an hour off a mission and Remus crashed as soon as they got back to headquarters. The first thing Sirius Black, troublemaker and risktaker, says to her is “Shh! You walk like an elephant.”

She’d snap back, but Remus does look that worn down, curled on the cushions.

Peter and James are in the kitchen, shoveling sandwiches down their gullets that are the size of their heads. James staggers to his feet when she comes in. “Hi. Uh, new recruit?”

“Something like that.”

James shoves his hair out of his eyes with one hand and thrusts the other one out in her direction. “James Potter,” he says. “Beauxbatons? I don’t think I ever saw you at Hogwarts.”

She grins. “Lily Evans,” she says. “Cokeworth. And I’d shake your hand, but you’ve got mustard on it.”

Lily defies the Dark Lord and his forces three times, with James’s wand at her back, with Remus’s and Sirius’s and Peter’s. They tell her about Hogwarts and its secrets, and she brings them Muggle candy bars and the boxes of X-Men comic books from under her bed. No one gets chocolate smudges on her pages, under threat of James’s disappointed-in-you face, which he’s been practicing.

Severus Snape hears about a Muggle Evans on the warfront. “Petunia’s not a Muggle,” he snaps when Dolohov mocks him for it, but Crabbe cradles his broken arm and keeps talking– about green eyes, red hair like a war banner– and Severus’s stomach sinks low in his gut, cold and aching.

Severus Snape overhears a prophecy and he tells it to his Lord. Lily Evans Potter is the mother of a halfblood boy with a mess of dark hair. Lily is in Augusta Longbottom’s living room, playing peekaboo with Harry and Neville, because Alice and Frank are already in St. Mungo’s, because she does not know that she is soon to be not a soldier but a fugitive. Her child has no scars, yet.

On Halloween night 1981, Tom Riddle goes to the Godric’s Hollow home that Peter Pettigrew betrayed. He kills James in the front room, wand in hand. He kills Lily in the nursery, after giving her a chance to step aside. He tries to kill Harry, but he fails.

Harry goes to his closest living relatives– his aunt Petunia, uncle Vincent, and cousin Dudley. He sleeps in a little room just off the kitchen, which he thinks used to be a broom closet. They hate the attention he brings when he’s dragged behind his aunt at the grocery store, so they leave Harry home when they go to Diagon Alley, Ministry potlucks, or the evening shows that Dudley fusses through, fists full of pumpkin pasties.

Harry knows how to wash dishes by hand, how to cook bacon without burning it (most mornings), and how to capture the spiders in the broom closet and escort them carefully outside. For his birthday Dudley gets a toy broom. For his, Harry gets an Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card because Dudley already has fifteen and didn’t want that one. Petunia likes to peer over the hedge into the yard of Mrs. Figg, the squib who lives next door, and snigger about how she has to do her laundry without magic.

When Harry is ten years old, his Hogwarts letter comes in the mail and the Dunsleys are surprised. “I wasn’t sure,” Petunia sniffs. “I mean, with my sister’s blood in you and everything, anything could have happened.”

3

The Marauders on a rare warm and sunny day on the Hogwarts grounds (Remus is forgoing his Good Marauder rep to help Sirius cheat) 

print available here 

I’m opening up a shop on Society6 where you can buy prints and other things of my art! This is going to be the first drawing up, but more will follow ✧˖°⁎  

ps click here if you want to see the full size

The Compliment Game

(Still writers blocked. Here’s an old story I’ve never posted before, it’s good but I always felt like it deserved a second part and could never come up with one. It works as a one shot but it just could be… y’know?) Eighth Year fic, 3K word count.


“Welcome to detention, lads,” Ruz Yarrow, their new Potions professor, said with a pleasant smile and a lovely Scottish lilt.

Draco kept his gaze locked on his hands in his lap. Harry bit his lip nervously. Professor Yarrow didn’t give detentions out often and they were rumored to the worst. Only no one would say what happened in them, and a bunch of kids with active imaginations only conjured the worst possible scenarios. It was all a little unsettling.

Professor Yarrow had that way about her. She was only five foot five and slight as a wisp, with curly brown hair that was almost always tied back, brown skin and eyes; and yet she was always a bit unnerving. It might have had something to do with the way she always seemed to be smiling like something delightfully awful was just about to happen. She was a very good teacher but took an inordinate amount of glee out of cauldron explosions. Sometimes she even caused them herself, as teaching examples. It was most of the student body’s opinion that the new Potions Professor had a very strange personality indeed.

Professor Yarrow circled around behind them, “See those cauldrons?” she stopped between their shoulders and pointed to the stack of cauldrons reaching the ceiling, stinking of sulfur and dragon liver.

They both nodded and relaxed just a touch, scrubbing cauldrons wasn’t that bad, it was sort of what was expected in a detention.

“Good,” Yarrow went on, “Keep them in mind now, y'hear? During this detention the two of y'are gonna play-” she paused, apparently for effect, “-a compliment game.”

“A what?!” They both blurted, turning around to stare up at her.

Professor Yarrow smiled that gentle unnerving smile of hers, as she walked around back in front of them, “Y'heard me. It’s simple, y'ken. Just take turns give'n each other compliments. If'n y'can’t, or y'say somethin’ a bit rude or cruel, y’ll washs a cauldron wit a dollop of elbow grease, while the rest of us watches you wit scorn and maybe mockery for bein’ a right silly bugger.”

Harry and Draco looked at each other with apprehension.

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“The fridge light washes this room white, moon dances over your good side”

request here

The one where it’s 3am and he thinks you’re beautiful  

She was the only quiet he wanted, content with unspoken words being heard in soft smiles in hair and kisses on foreheads worn like crowns and he’d give anything to capture moments like these in picture frames so he’d be sure he’d never lose them. He was crazy about her. He could tell you exactly what made her smile that day two years ago, even if it was just for a moment. Don’t get me wrong, she was head over heals for him too, she’d memorised the deep lines in his palms that cupped her cheeks perfectly and she knew from first glance that he would know how to hold her.

He wasn’t completely sure what it was that had woken him up but he thinks it was the realisation that her breath was no longer on his neck. So he makes his passed the discarded clothes and Polaroids strung together on walls, looking for her, and when he finds her he swears to this day that he stopped breathing. She was wearing one of his shirts and it was just hanging off her back, her hair in a top knot that kind of looked like a baby had been pulling at it but to him she made it work. Her skin was illuminated but the dull glow of the refrigerator light and her thighs had bruises which made he’s heart ache with pride because she’s wearing proof of his fingertips from the night before.  

The radio is on and it’s playing the song she attached to that drunk guy they met and that party one time because she’s the kind of girl who’d attach songs to people and hate it when they stop being important because the songs still are. She hasn’t noticed he’s there yet, hasn’t seen his fond smile and his eyes that had that glimmer in them that only she could provoke but he figures she’ll notice soon and when she does she’ll lean against the open refrigerator door and she’ll sigh out a ‘hi’ and he won’t say anything because words aren’t needed, he’ll just walk over to her so he can do what he’s wanted to do since finding her in the kitchen 15 minutes ago. He’ll kiss her, almost as soft as her voice, and when they pull apart he’ll rest his forehead on hers and the radio will start to play a slow love song about how the guy finally got the girl, and they’ll dance.

“Flat out” -h.s. Part 2

Part 1

—–

—–

Waking up the morning of your birthday, you tried to keep your nerves in check. You expected pancakes and coffee in the least, but nothing too fancy. Instead, you found a quiet flat thanks to a very still asleep Harry. You didn’t blame him for that though, considering you had a pretty early class anyway. Who would want to get up at 6:30am willingly? 

So you made your own coffee and dressed for school. You wouldn’t be on campus much today anyway, but more in the courthouse. Your professor was working a case, a very high profile case, and you had been asked to be his consulting student. You were very excited about it, but due to the nature of the case and the amount of thugs you were sure you’d encounter, you’d yet to tell Harry about it. He could get protective of this kind of thing, and you didn’t want to have to worry about his feelings and the case at the same time. 

Harry was still asleep when you left, smoothing out your dress as you heels clicked down the hall on the way to the elevator. You’d get a ‘Happy Birthday’ text, you were sure. That at the very least. 

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anonymous asked:

Can you do a pref where you and Harry are having a serious fight, but mutually decide to put up a happy front around others. And everyone buys it, but one of the other guys notices that somethings wrong between you two. And he pulls you away and is like "spill" and you confess everything and you break down crying

This was no-doubt the worst fight of your relationship.

“You can’t just leave me and Darcy here while you go shoot a six month movie in France!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. Harry tightens his jaw, and he basks in his silent fury while you go on and say, “We’re in a marriage, Haz! That means you can’t just pick up and leave anytime you want to!”

“This isn’t anytime, though!” Harry yells, fist colliding with the wall. You filch visibly, but that doesn’t stop him from scaring you. “This is a once and a lifetime opportunity! My movie screen debut! I could win an oscar or–”

You sigh exasperatedly, “Do you hear yourself!” You tear your fingers through your hair and your breathing becomes laboured. “You’re saying a goddamn oscar is more important to you than me and Darcy.”

“AT LEAST AN OSCAR WON’T LEAVE ME!” Harry screams and the plaster on the wall crumbles under his fist. 

Your chest heaves up and down and a moment of silence goes by before you whisper, “That was two years ago, Styles. And I didn’t leave you. I just thought it would be better for all of us if Darcy and I lived with my parents while you were on your tour, so she wouldn’t keep asking where daddy was–”

FUCKING EXCUSES!” He screams, and you start crying. You didn’t understand why he was so furious at you. He takes a step closer to you, teeth grinding. His voice lowers to a deadly whisper, “Sometimes I wish I didn’t love you so much because I’m giving you everything you need to rip out my heart and let me bleed out.”

Your eyes crinkle at the sides, and you fold your arms over your chest. “So you’re saying you regret falling in love with me?”

Harry looks at you, right in the eye, for the first time that night. He can see how much his answer will impact your next actions, so he takes a few moments to think his answer through. But apparently he’s too blinded by rage to choose wisely because he says, “I don’t regret falling in love with you. I regret taking that love and letting it control my life.”

You furrow our eyebrows and shake your head slowly, vision blurred with tears. “You don’t mean that,” you give him another chance to change his answer.

But his eyes are still trained on yours as he says, “I do.”

And just like that, the two words that started your marriage are the same words that are ending it.

WE’RE HOME!”

Both of you wince as you hear the door swing open and the sounds of your four-year-old daughter Darcy being carried by Louis, who is followed closely by Niall and Liam, fill the living room.

You quickly rush over to the sink, rinsing our face to make it appear as if the wetness of your cheeks came from a facial wash. Harry quickly hangs a calendar over the hole in the wall he had created, and is quick to walk out to greet the guests.

Struggling to hold back tears, you watch as Harry greets Darcy with a kiss on the cheek. How can somebody who regrets having their own daughter still smile at her? 

“Hey Y/N.” You turn around to see Liam exiting the kitchen, a glass of cold Cola in his hand. His eyebrows knit together as he sees the red outlining your eyes. “Is there anything wrong?”

At those words, Harry quickly turns to you, and you hesitate as you tell Liam, “No…I just got soap in my eye…that’s all.” Your husband turns back around and rocks Darcy back and forth in his arms as he and Niall discuss sports. Liam’s eyes are still trained on you, however, and he’s not buying your lie. 

“Come on,” Liam pulls you by the elbow, abandoning his glass on the kitchen counter as he leads you into the downstairs bathroom. He locks the door, and whispers, “Spill.”

You shrug nonchalantly, trying to pass off as cool. “Nothing’s wrong, Liam. Just soap in my eye, like I told you–”

“Bull,” he calls you out. “Y/N, do you know overtime you lie your cheeks heat up?”

You feel them heating up now. “What? No they don’t,” you try but fail miserably. Huffing out a breath, you confess, “Fine. Harry and I had a fight.”

He didn’t have to prompt you for you to break down crying, “And he said he regrets letting our relationship play such a big role in his life. That means he regrets marrying me, having Darcy, and–”

“Harry would never say that,” Liam interrupts you, baffled. “He’s not that kind of dude.”

“Well…he did.”


Liam storms out of the bathroom, and points an accusing finger at Harry. “Styles, you selfish–” about to say bastard, but sees Darcy peering up at him curiously, so he settles for “–respectful, successful, talented man.”

Harry looks more confused than ever, but when Louis steps in to take Darcy upstairs to the loo, his eyes find yours and he sighs deeply. “Liam, whatever Y/N told you–”

“Is true,” he interrupts. “How could you say those things to her? And mean them?”

“I–”

“Liam, you’re not our couple therapist,” you step in and shoot a sad smile at him. “Thanks for trying, though.” You turn to your husband, and your expression immediately hardens. 

“Go shoot that fucking film, Darcy and I can survive without you.”


i’m writing a sequel but don’t rush me darling xx

anonymous asked:

hello! can you rec me a famous/nonfamous where they interacted over twitter? ive read "thats sounds fake buy okay" and its addictive j want more. help? thank youuu

(I love you anon, you and me should be BFF)

- baby, you’re my only reason : Harry’s famous and Louis’ a big fan. or, “you’re a celebrity and you just broke up and i tweeted you a selfie and said “date me” and you thought i was serious?“ au (6k)

Then We Talk Slow   : A famous/non-famous AU in which Louis banters back and forth with his new record company on Twitter, only to find out that Harry is the man behind the tweets. (20k)

- we’re still going, eight in the morning, :Harry washes his hands quickly before grabbing his phone. His screen lights up to 3 notifications.DJTommo is now following you!@DJTommo mentioned you in a tweet!Direct Message from @DJTommo!Harry yelps, throwing his phone to Niall who just barely catches it.Niall looks down at the phone, seeing first the tweet, then the DM. He tosses the phone back to Harry, who nearly drops it. “What are ya doing, mate! Answer him!”Harry thinks for a moment about what he wants to say. This is his chance to actually talk to Louis Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson messaged him directly. He can say anything he wants. He begins typing, his fingers shaky.Niall comes over to stand next to Harry and peers down, looking to see what he wrote. When he does, he lets out a groan….Or, the one where Harry owns a bakery, Louis is a radio DJ, and Niall and Liam roll their eyes at their incessant flirting. (31k, Twitter)

- say you want me : Louist95: @HarryStyles, I’m personally offended that you haven’t invited me to your concert in Leeds next week. Proper fan I am and all.HarryStyles: @Louist95 Proper fan? I’m personally offended on behalf of all our fans everywhere that you’ve lumped yourself with them. ~ A Famous/Not-Famous AU featuring Liam, Zayn, and Harry as the members of Sonic Boom, an English band that unexpectedly sky rocketed to international fame, Niall as their biggest fan, and Louis as the exact opposite. Harry’s a closeted pop star and Louis is the uni student he keeps fighting with on Twitter. It’s all silly banter until it turns into something else. (31k)

- you don’t have to play the part : : or the one where Harry is Britain’s new pop sensation, Louis is R&B star Zayn’s sassy social media manager and things get confusing. (17k)

- Every Story Ever Told Becoming a best-selling author isn’t as difficult as Louis would have guessed. It seems all you need these days is the perfect blend of alcohol induced philosophy, complete disregard for one’s dignity, a live blog about how fucked love is, and a bored publisher interested enough to offer him a deal. (54k, Twitter)

- two feet standing on a principle: The one where they pretend to still be a couple and it’s a disaster until it’s not. (Harry is a famous fashion model and Louis works at the mall, nobody knows they broke up two weeks ago.) (10k, Twitter)

- You’ve Got the Face to Play the Role, : Harry is a writer at Sugarscape with a not so secret crush on BBC actor Louis Tomlinson. (5k, Tumblr and Twitter)

- And this old world is a new world   : Louis works in a little coffee shop although he hates coffee but what can you do when you’re pretty much living day by day trying to ignore that dream of yours you’re too scared to pursue. And then Harry enters the scene, or more precisely the coffee shop. He’s beautiful and kind and funny and also famous and not in town for very, very long. But that doesn’t keep Louis from maybe falling for him a bit and his friends from randomly inviting him along to go golfing. (44k, twitter)

- RootsThere aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous. He’s spent the past couple of years on and off various stages, filled with screaming fans, all chanting his name, loud and adoring. He’s done countless interviews, some even on live, national television, never faltering over his words, answers meticulously planned out, smooth and steady. He’s signed countless autographs, taken just as many photos, and even when he sat in his label’s studio, waiting to see how high up on the charts his single made it, he didn’t feel uneasy or uncomfortable. It’s all been unbelievably fun. No, there aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous.Enter Louis Tomlinson. (43k)

2

Soulmate.

He still remembered the looks full of pity he received whenever his friends saw his empty wrists.



He had a soulmate.

Knowing that the person who was supposed to love and cherish him unconditionally was simply not there was— right beside the absence of his parents in his life— the most painful thing that could have happened to him.

Merlin. He had an actual soulmate!

Whereas his first instincts had been to panic, there was now an indescribable feeling of hope and longing bubbling in his chest.

Because, if the words on his wrists were anything to go by, his soulmate had been waiting for him just as much as he had for them.

You’re here. You’re finally here. Thought you were dead. You…

Never mind that the familiarity of those letters still caused an inexplainable rush of anxiety to run through his body.

With newfound determination, Harry Potter followed his new head of house, a certain Professor Slughorn, down into the dungeons until they were standing in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Maybe this insane mission Dumbledore had sent him on wouldn’t turn out to be so bad after all. At least he could, besides trying to get useful information out of Riddle, try to find his soulmate.

The first thing he noticed about entering the common room was that nothing had really changed from what he could still remember from second year. It was still gloomy, the lake right outside the windows still cast green shadows upon the walls and there was a small fire crackling in the hearth.

He tried to ignore the constant dripping sound echoing throughout room but that still didn’t prevent the flashes of dark chambers and black serpents to dance before his eyes.

The second thing he noticed was that all eyes were on him.
Every person that had been reading, chatting or simply dozing off before was now staring at Harry.

“Listen up, everyone! This-” a hand was placed on his shoulder “is Harry Potter. He’s a transfer student and I am proud tho say that he has been sorted into our house.”

There were quiet whispers traded back and forth now.
Curious expressions on the other’s faces.

But as of now Harry was glad to say that he hadn’t spotted Riddle, yet.

He let his fingers ghost over his wrist. Internally wrestling with the impulse to check it again for any new words.

“… Now, without much further ado, I ask all of you to be kind to our new addition. But maybe someone could volunteer to be Harry’s guide for the first few days until he knows where his classes are and has become a little more familiar with this new environment?” Slughorn let his gaze wander over the crowd questioningly.

Although Harry suspected that he was actually searching for someone specific whom he expected to answer.

His musings proved to be correct when every student simultaneously turned their head the slightest bit in the same direction and a few stepped aside to let a rather tall, brunet male through, whose blue eyes were fixed on his in a predatory manner.

He wished those flashbacks would just s t o p but he simply couldn’t tune out the low hissing of Parseltongue and the sound of snake skin dragging itself across wet stones and oh Merlin Ginny was-

“-Tom Riddle.”

Harry blinked. Slightly perplexed when the dark-lord-to-be inclined his head in a polite nod.

There was a pause.

“Harry. Harry Potter.” He answered eventually. Trying to ignore the tingling on his wrist and the unnerving glint in the other’s eyes.

As well as the bile attempting to claw up his throat at the close proximity of the future-mass-murderer.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter.” Then, like an afterthought. “I’m sure we will get along just fine.”

Yeah. Maybe when hell freezes over and Salazar Slytherin starts step dancing on top of the astronomy tower in a pink skirt.

Without waiting for an answer, Riddle turned around— apparently expecting Harry to follow— and strutted off into the general direction of one of the staircases leading further down into the dungeons.

That realization was accompanied by a sharp tug of panic and a thought that hadn’t even occurred to him until now.

Was there maybe more than just one path leading into the Chamber of Secrets?

Rip. Tear. Kill. Let me kill.
No no no nonononononono-

A sudden wave of calm and reassurance washed over Harry and he released a breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding.

The still new soul bond inside his mind was vibrating with poorly concealed worry and there was a moment’s worth of confusion before he caught on.

His soulmate had felt his distress and had tried to comfort him.

But that was supposed to be impossible.

He hadn’t even met his soulmate yet. The bond shouldn’t be that strong.

Harry cast a quick glance down at his wrist, catching the hastily scribbled phrases of:

Are you okay? Did something happen? Merlin forbid if something happened….

He ripped his gaze away from the words to turn his attention back to Riddle.

Never turn your back to the enemy.
He had learned that lesson the hard way.

But the other hadn’t moved an inch either. Standing before the staircase with a deep frown on his face and something akin to restlessness in his eyes.

Then his gaze settled back on Harry and his expression smoothed over. “I apologize. I spaced out there for a second. Now, shall we? The boy’s dorm is just down there and we need to get you settled in quickly if we want to get to dinner on time.”

“…right.”

With a foreboding sense of doom, Harry followed the Dark-Lord-to-be down the stairs.

This time effectively shutting out the unwelcome images triggered by the dark stone walls encasing them.

What he couldn’t quite shut out, however, was the soft humming of soothing emotions bleeding over the bond, and suddenly he thought that, just maybe, fate didn’t hate him so much after all.


- Tomarry [Soulmate + Time Tavel AU (part 2)]

Part 1

Sugar And Lemon Kisses H.S

This. This was supposed to help me get pink and plump lips? This. This makes me look like I have a horrible lip disease. Oh My God. God please show the internet the right path. Apparently, mixing sugar and lemon and applying it on your lips, is suppose to give you pink and plump lips.

And me being the dumb person I am, thought; Why not? I have lemon and sugar, what’s the problem?

I look like I had too many pop rocks at Halloween and forgot to wash my face the next morning. Yup. That bad. I mean, I obviously have never ever experienced something like that on Halloween. Haha.

“Oh Lord, baby, I mean your beautiful, gorgeous actually, but that new lip gloss. Er, no.” Harry gasped stepping out of the washroom. Way to make me feel better about myself, Harry. Great job.

“Shut up Harry! It’s a lip scrub.” I said burying my face in my hands. Don’t worry, I was extra cautious when covering my lips.

I stood up from my lazy position, making my way to wash my lip scrub before Harry sends another rude remark my way. “Baby come ‘ere.” Harry called.

“I can’t, I have to wash my lips.”

“Baby just a minute.”

“Can’t Harry.”

“Please?” He pouted.

“Okay, I’m coming.” I huffed.

I stalked over to Harry, my head hanging low. “Come closer.” He urged. I leaned my head closer to him as Harry’s eyes snapped to my lips. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stared at them.

“Harry I have to wash it off.”

“I can clean it for you.” He whispered. His minty breathe fanned my face as his eyes looked at my lips with a newfound determination. “And how are you going to do that?” I questioned.

And then suddenly without any warning, Harry’s lips came down on mine, sucking and licking the lemon and sugar off of my lips. Okay. Wasn’t expecting that, I’m not complaining. Harry pulled away from my lips looking at them like they were Gold.

“Like that.” He said,

Before his lips came back down to meet mine in the most blissful state.

Secret Love Song - Harry Styles Mini Series (Part 5)

Part 4

“Do you want to tell me what the hell happened to you last night?” Your friend demanded as you walked through the supermarket. 

“I texted you and told you I left,” you said grabbing some broccoli. 

“I know, but you just like disappeared and left your jacket and your unpaid tab,” she said. “So, what the hell happened? Did you freak out?” She asked. 

Technically, yes, but you didn’t want to tell her that. 

“No, I just, remember the guy I was seeing,” you said. “He was there and we talked about things and then we left together.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say that! I’m perfectly okay with the fact that you left me, knowing that you went and got you some!” she smirked. 

You blushed. “We didn’t, we haven’t exactly…” you whispered. 

“Really? It’s been what like a few weeks already right?” she asked. 

“Yeah, but I mean, we’ve been getting to know each other,” you said. “Which is what you do when you first start seeing someone besides we’re not even official yet.” 

“That makes sense,” she nodded. “So, what’s all this for anyway?” she said pointing to your cart full of food. 

“He’s uh, he’s coming to my house tonight and I’m cooking dinner,” you said. 

“Oooh, are you planning a little something special?” she smirked. 

“Oh god, no,” you laughed. “Will you stop with the sex interrogation? We haven’t even talked about going that far yet.” 

“But have you thought about it?” She asked. 

“Of course I have, I’m human aren’t I?” You said. “It’s just, you know how I am. I have to really like and care about someone before I feel comfortable to go that far.” 

“I know, remember when we tried to take you out for a one night stand after your last breakup? That was bad,” she laughed. 

“Well, it also didn’t help that the guy you happened to point out was the current boyfriend of the girl that my ex cheated on me with, and that’s how he found out about her cheating on him,” you laughed. 

“That’s true,” she laughed. “Anyway, am I ever going to meet or at least know the name of this mystery boy toy?” 

You laughed. “You will at some point, I promise, but it’s still really new.” 

“You’ve always told me when you’ve been dating someone, so what’s different with this one?” she asked. 

“it’s complicated,” you sighed. 

“Y/N! You’re not the other woman are you?” She gasped. 

“What? No, no, of course not. He’s not married or in a relationship at all,” you said. “It’s just complicated…” 

“Does it not want to be seen with you?” She asked. 

“It’s sort of the opposite,” you said. “I can’t be seen with him because of… work,” you said. 

“Wait, is it someone from work?” She gasped. “Like a coworker?” 

“No…” you said. 

“ARE YOU DATING A FAMOUS PERSON!” She shouted. 

“Oh my god, will you lower your voice,” you hissed looking around at everyone staring. 

“Sorry, it’s just a lot to take in,” she said. “Wait a minute… if it’s someone you met at work and you can’t really be seen with them…and you saw him at the club the other night… HOLY FUCKING SHIT ITS HARRY STYLES ISN’T IT?” she shouted. 

You groaned. “Sorry, she’s a bit uh… drunk,” you said to an old lady staring. 

Once everyone was away, you sighed looking at her. “Yes, okay, I’ve been seeing him,” you said. 

“Oh my god! How did you keep this information from me for so long?” she gasped. 

“Because I had to,” you sighed. “And you can’t tell anyone.” 

“Scouts honor!” she said. “I can’t believe this. This is so cool!” 

You laughed. “Come on, I’ve got everything I need.” 

“I bet you do,” she smirked. 

**

Later that night, you were getting everything ready for the dinner. Harry would be over soon and you were just finishing everything up. You had music playing in the background as you cooked. You were nervous about tonight, especially after your conversation with your friend from earlier. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you were definitely ready to take that step with him, but you wanted to wait until you knew where this was going to go. 

The doorbell rang and you knew it was Harry. You quickly washed your hands and headed over to the door. 

“Hey,” he smiled holding a bottle of wine in his hands. 

“Hey, come on in, everything is almost ready,” you smiled. 

Harry walked in and you shut the door. He gave you a quick kiss before following you into the kitchen. 

“Need any help?” He asked. 

“You can pour the wine,” you smiled. 

“Sounds good,” he smiled going over to your cabinet and getting two wine glasses. 

“How was your day?” You asked. 

“It was okay, I had a few radio interviews,” he said. 

“Oh, how did those go?” You asked. 

“Pretty good,” he smiled. “How about you? Did you go back to work today?” 

“No, I’ve been working from home,” you sighed. “I know it seems childish, but Madison just… she irks me the wrong way and I’m just afraid that she’s going to say something and I’m gonna punch her or something.”

“Now, baby, violence is never the answer,” he laughed wrapping his arms around you. “But I do think you should go back to work because the longer you’re gone, the more it looks like she won.” 

“You’re probably right,” you sighed. 

“I am right,” he smirked. 

You rolled your eyes. “Well, Mr. Right, why don’t you go set the table and I’ll bring the food in,” you laughed. 

“So, you admit I’m your Mr. Right?” he smirked. 

“I never said that,” you laughed. 

“Oh, I think you did,” he said walking over to the table. 

You laughed shaking your head. You put everything on the table and sit down. You both start eating quickly and Harry looks over at you. 

“I’m going to Paris in a few days,” he said. “I have an appearance there on a show and I was sort of wondering if you’d want to go with me?” 

“Oh, wow, I’d love to go, but would that be the best idea for us?” You asked. “I mean, how would I go with you and not be seen?”

“I guess I didn’t think about that,” he sighed. “But I mean are we supposed to hide out forever?” 

“No,” you sighed. 

“Then come with me,” he said. “It’s going to be a big appearance for me and I want my girlfriend to be there with me, plus we’ll have some time to spend in Paris and I’d love to have you there with me.” 

You stopped eating and looked up at him. “Girlfriend?” 

Harry blushed and took a sip of his wine. “I uh… well… I mean… Aren’t you?” 

“I guess, but I didn’t know we were…at that step yet…” you blushed. 

“Well, that’s sort of my fault,” he coughed. “I never did really ask you.” 

“No, you didn’t,” you laughed. “But I would say yes if you did.” 

He smiled taking your hand. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend and come with me to Paris?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I will,” you smiled. 

He leaned into kiss you before pulling you out of your chair and into his lap. You laughed wrapping your arms around his neck and looking down at him. 

“I really like you,” he whispered. 

“And I really like you,” you whispered. 

Harry leaned into kiss you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You deepen the kiss and tightened his grip on you. You pull back a bit and turn so that you’re straddling him. He then gets up from the chair to carry you over to the couch. You both practically fall onto the couch and start laughing. 

“Oops,” he laughed. “I tripped.” 

“Way to go,” you laughed. “Now, come here.” 

He smirked and kissed you again. It didn’t take long before you found yourself unbuttoning the rest of shirt. He leaned up a bit from the couch as he helped you take off his shirt and throw it. His hands were making their way up your thighs and sides before pulling you closer to him. He pulled away from your lips and started kissing down your neck. You closed your eyes as you tilted your head to the side. 

You felt his hands at the hem of your shirt and touching the skin underneath. You pulled back from the kiss and took it off. Harry smiled and leaned up to kiss you on the lips. You put your hands on the side of his face as you smiled into the kiss. 

A half an hour later, Harry pulled away from your neck. “W-We should probably stop,” he whispered. 

“Why?” You said kissing his neck. 

“Because…as I’m sure you can tell, I’m developing a bit of a problem,” he said. 

“Oh, right,” you blushed. “But uh… we don’t have to stop,” you whispered. 

“What? I mean, are you sure? We don’t have to do anything,” he said. 

“I know, but I want to unless you don’t,” you said. 

“It’s not that I don’t because I do, trust me I do, I just don’t want you to feel like pressured or anything,” he said. “I don’t want to rush things with you,” 

“Okay, I’m confused,” you said getting off his lap and sitting next to him on the couch. 

He tried his best to rearrange himself once you got off of him. “So, you want to have sex with me, but you’re not going to?” You asked. 

He sighed grabbing a pillow and looking over at you. “Not tonight,” he said. “I want our first time together to be a bit more romantic than this,” he said pointing to the couch. 

“We can go to my bedroom, I wasn’t exactly insinuating that we do it here,” you laughed. 

“I know, but I still want it to be more romantic,” he blushed. “And I want to know that we’re both ready for this. I don’t want us to just give in to the moment and then one of us regret it the next morning.” 

“If you’re worried about me regretting it, I wouldn’t,” you said. 

“I’m glad that you wouldn’t, but still,” he smiled taking your hand. “I would feel better if it happened a different night. I hope you’re mad…” 

“Why would I be mad?” You laughed. “It’s okay, really. I understand and I see where you’re coming from and I agree. We hadn’t really talked about it and you’re right, I think we’d both feel better about taking that step when we both are on the same page.” 

He smiled. “But I promise you, it will happen soon.” 

“Looking forward to it,” you smirked. 

**

The next morning you decided that you were going to work. You got up, dressed, and headed out the door. You weren’t exactly gung-ho on going to work, but Harry was right, the longer you avoided Madison, the more she could gloat that she won. 

When you arrived at the office, Madison wasn’t there yet, and you couldn’t be happier. You went into your office and started finishing up some things that you had been working on at home. 

A few hours later, there was a knock on the door. You opened it and it was a delivery guy holding flowers. 

“Are you Y/N?” he asked. 

“I am,” you nodded. 

“These are for you,” he smiled. 

“Oh, thank you,” you said taking them from him. It was a huge bouquet of red and pink roses. You found a card and opened it.

“I figured you might need something to brighten your first day back at the office. Meet me for lunch at noon?” - H. 

You smiled widely and put the vase on your desk. You grabbed your phone and texted him that you would meet him, but only at a cafe a few blocks away from the office. 

“What’s this?” A voice said standing in your doorway. 

You turned around and saw Madison standing there. “Well, I’m not exactly sure, but I think they’re roses,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Duh, Y/N. I meant why did you buy yourself roses,” she said. 

“I didn’t buy myself roses, they were sent to me,” you said. 

“But who?” She scoffs. 

“None of your business,” you said. 

“No need to get defensive, Y/N,” she said. “Anyway, glad to see you back at work.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled before going back to work. 

When it came time to leave for lunch, you left your office and got in your car. You drove to the restaurant that you were meeting Harry at and walked inside. Harry was already there and sitting at a back table that was pretty private. 

He hugged you tightly when you got there before giving you a quick kiss and you two sat down at the table. Before you could even say anything to him, someone walked up to the table. You figured it was the waiter, but you quickly found out that it wasn’t. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Madison smirked crossing her arms as she looked at you and Harry. 

An Open Letter to JK Rowling

To the beloved queen of the Harry Potter Universe:

Let me begin by first thanking you for being an inspiration to your millions (if not billions) of readers. Your writing has touched souls across the world, perhaps even saved lives. You have captured the essence of what it means to be human: to have a little bit of light and dark in every one of us. And while we might begin a little biased towards one side or another, it is ultimately our choices and the power of love that define us. We choose who we become, and you have single-handedly whispered that powerful truth into the minds and hearts of countless strangers you will likely never meet. I am one of them, for your universe is truly magical.

But with such accomplishments in mind, I’d like to ask you one thing.

Please stop.

I don’t mean stop writing, forever, because that would cruelly deprive the world of the continuation of your magic that you still have so much to give. But I’d like you to take a step back, stop, and breathe.

As I am loathe to do on sleepless nights, I turned to the newest update on Pottermore, excited to immerse myself again in the Potter-universe, but with a distinctly American twist. Ilvermorny, an intriguing name, seemed a promising treasure trove of new secrets to discover.

The possibilities were endless - the spoilers about the house names seemed to point towards Native American folklore. Would we learn about the magical traditions of the Cherokee or the Apache? Perhaps they would open up a whole new world of creating magic – without the European influence of wands, perhaps their magic would be channeled through sacred stones that had been carefully carved and treated. How could they cast spells through their ritual song and dance? How might they view “No-Majs” differently from European cultural norms? What if instead of disdain, they held the utmost respect for non-magicals – for those people had to be the most imaginative to invent ways to go about their daily lives where magic could not ease their paths?

But while well-written and certainly heart-tugging, I was simply left with another sour-cream-white traumatic orphan sob story (not to trivialize whites, orphans, or tragedies that numerous people face) that was eerily reminiscent to Harry’s orphaned past and defeat of a dark wizard through the power of love.

And I get it, Jo. It’s a theme with you – that despite the thousands of obstacles people face, love and tenacity conquer all.

But why couldn’t we have had wandless healing, channeled through song, dance, and herbology? Why couldn’t we have learned how to identify the magic thrumming in the soil, stones, trees, and animals around us? Why couldn’t we have learned how the Native Americans sought balance in dark and light magic, and performed magic that no European had ever encountered before?

Why couldn’t we have had a narrative about the European colonization of the Americas, where Native Americans had to run to the most isolated parts of the continent, ward their homes with heavy enchantments, and struggle to brew new potions to battle the horrible, foreign, diseases that came with it? Why couldn’t we have seen a population learn from each school of magic, mixing in perfect harmony? Classes could include Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Herbology, but with Amulet Creation, Harmonic Healing, Ritual Spell-casting, and Elemental Charms?

Let’s have an openly LGBTQ+ character, not a closeted Dumbledore that is only confirmed after publication and book sales. Let’s investigate the Native American gender and sexuality identities - take a new perspective on what it means to be human. Let’s deal with income inequality in a whole new light - two friends from opposing worlds who constantly find themselves reevaluating what they know to be true. Add some more strong female characters - I want to feel the subtle condescension, passive aggressiveness, and glass ceilings as we watch them struggle through their careers. Let’s see the post traumatic stress of the entire generation that fought a war as children. Let’s have canon (confirmed before, not after the fact), strong, and compelling people of color in your writing, where the characters’ names aren’t two surnames (Cho Chang… really?) and as dimensional as the sad pancake on which someone sat.

When you write your next installments about the other schools in Brazil, in Africa, in Japan, I want you to do some serious research. I want you to try, at least try, to understand and explore the cultural beauty that you’ve allowed yourself the freedom to pioneer. I want to hear about family, not blood-prejudice in Japan, and how honor and a history of ancestors in warring states still hold onto that enmity today. I want you to detail the families that were ripped apart in Africa by the slave trade, and the inventive magical ways that different tribes avoided detection. I want to see the conflict between magic and the religion that Portuguese colonists began to impose on the indigenous people in Brazil, and how somehow they were able to reconcile that religious-magical barrier. I want you to treat each culture with respect instead of white-washing, and even if you don’t get it quite right and you come under fire, you will know in your heart that you tried to understand and that you will learn so much more from what people say is different to your outlook.

You deal with so much prejudice in your books, in gruesome detail outlining the harm it causes to all. Unintentionally or no, are you really doing much better when you maintain the same, incredibly British storyline and try to apply it to other places?

Perhaps this is harsh of me. Perhaps this perfect cultural melting pot is too idealistically American of me, as it will never be the same to tell a story that you have not experienced yourself. But instead of more of the same, why can’t you try?

Stretch yourself, Ms. Rowling. I want you to challenge the world you created, for there is so much possibility and so much room to grow. I want you to challenge your own rules, explore and pioneer and learn because that’s another fundamental truth that Hermione Granger not only knows, but epitomizes. You’ve become too comfortable in your own universe, writing installments that are really just repurposed storylines with characters of different names. Instead of wasting your time taking swipes at Donald Trump on Twitter, grow your universe. It’s time to upend it, throw it in the wash, and look at it again with a new perspective.

So please stop. Why don’t you stop writing for a little bit, and try listening? There are so many interesting and different stories for you to tell.

With much love from a faithful fan,

AW

I have a lot of opinions abt rvb Harry Potter aus but none that I will fight ppl over quite as much as Grif being in Hufflepuff

Like he goes to the sorting hat and the hats like, “hmmm yes, I see a lot of cunningness here, a dash of bravery-”

“Yeah yeah, that’s great. Can you put me in Hufflepuff?”

“Hufflepuff? Yes, the loyalty is definitely there, though I don’t think you would excel there quite as much as in Slyth-”

“Excel? No, no, listen. You put me in Slytherin, people are gonna start expecting shit, y'know? I wanna cruise the next seven years, I don’t need people to think I’m gonna excel.”

“That’s… One of the most Slytherin things I’ve heard.”

“Plus? I hear the Hufflepuff dorms are right next to the kitchen. I wanna get in on that.”

“……… HUFFLEPUFF!”