harry potter fic

anonymous asked:

Drarry prompt: Draco finds an old furby of Harry's and is so terrified by it that he becomes utterly convinced that it is possessed by a demon. (The furby was a present that once belonged to Dudley but it scared him shitless. Because of that it became Harry's best friend)

Oooooh, thank you, Anon! I’ve never written directly for a prompt before! I hope it’s okay! (and humour is not my thing, but I gave it a go! and had fun!)

(Or read on AO3 or FFnet)

Demons are…fluffy? (1.1k)

Harry cursed, spilling tea on himself as his whole body jerked. He drew his wand, looking around, ears straining. The ungodly shriek didn’t sound out again, but there was a loud thump, and a crash from the living room. Advancing cautiously, Harry entered the room, only to deflate.

“What have you done now?”

Draco whirled around, eyes wide, chest heaving. He made an incomprehensible sound, and then gestured wildly in the direction of the broken vase, and overturned box.

A strange sound came from the box a moment later. Harry frowned, trying to place it, before he suddenly remembered. Sniggering, he walked over, and righted the box. Reaching inside, he retrieved the toy. It reacted immediately, and made a low chattering sound. Hermione must have put new batteries in it when she’d resorted the box of belongings he’d saved from the Dursleys’ house for him.

There was a scuffle behind him, and he turned to see Draco had shuffled backwards, eyes wide, and fixed on the toy.

“What is that…that…thing?” he said, voice in that high-pitched range he only got when he was afraid or extremely embarrassed.

“It’s just a furby,” Harry said, patting its head.

It vibrated, and made a pleased purring sound, its ears moving side to side. Draco made a panicked sound, and shuffled back a bit more, bumping into the wall.

“What kind of creature is it? Why was it hiding in that box?”

Harry frowned. “It’s a muggle toy. Don’t be so silly. It’s harmless.”

He’d managed to save it when the Dursleys left Privet Drive, and it had remained in a box since then, carted around the Weasleys’ and the flat Harry had shared with Ron, before being shifted to Harry and Draco’s new home. He hadn’t liked it when he first saw it, but it had scared the living daylights out of Dudley when he’d received it for his birthday one year, and that was enough to make Harry instantly change his opinion. And activated it whenever Dudley came near his room.

“It tried to get me!”

Harry scoffed. Although, it shouldn’t have been turned on. Hermione had said she’d packed the boxes, but Ron might have got in it. He knew Draco was helping him unpack. And he’d had a similar reaction to the toy when he’d first seen it.

“It’s a toy. It can’t get you,” Harry said, laughing as he put his finger in its mouth, and watched it react. He couldn’t believe it still worked.

When he looked up, Draco was gone, and he laughed again, before taking the furby up to the bedroom, and hiding it in Draco’s dresser.

Keep reading

Everyone Lived.

Everyone lived, and James and Lily rocked Harry to sleep on the night of his second birthday by quietly humming lullabies to him. The moon spilled through the window and bathed his crib with a soft blue light, and Lily had never seen something so peaceful. The rest of the evening was spent slow dancing to one of Sirius’ old records. That Halloween, Harry dressed up as James’ favorite member of the Cannons. Not that he had much of a choice in the matter. 

Everyone lived, and Padfoot and Moony, known more affectionately to little Harry as “Poof” and “Moo,” took him to ice cream every Thursday afternoon. Sometimes, Sirius would put him in the sidecar of his motorcycle and fly low over the neighborhood before dropping him off (Don’t tell Lily). Harry was the ringbearer in Sirius’ and Remus’ wedding, much to James’ objection (“I would make a much better ringbearer than a toddler. Come on Padfoot.”.) 

Everyone lived, and Harry and Neville spent their fifth birthdays together. Lily and Alice thought they both looked just smashing in their matching blazers, but Neville was too busy throwing dirt at Ron to care. Molly baked a cake that was taller than Harry, and it was the best thing he had ever tasted. Lily invited Narcissa to her weekly book club that consisted of all the moms getting wine drunk and complaining about their husbands. Neville, Draco, Ron and Harry would eavesdrop and report to their dads later that day with everything they heard. Cue an unnecessary amount of shocked scoffing from James (”I do not do that, Lillian!”).

Everyone lived, and  Harry had a whole gang of people come to see him, Ron, Neville, and Draco off on their first year at Hogwarts. When Draco was sorted into Slytherin, no one made too much of a fuss because, as Ron claimed, maybe Draco and Harry would bicker less like an old married couple if they weren’t rooming together. As a group, the five of them, including Hermione later that year, broke the school record for most detentions in a month. James was angry, but only because he had been the previous record holder. Lily was angry because she was called in twice for a meeting with the headmaster to discuss Harry’s actions.

Everyone lived, and Christmases were full of light and music and shy kisses under the mistletoe. James, Sirius, and Remus all got drunk together before the Christmas party even started and by the time all the guests had arrived, there had been four proclamations of undying love made from the kitchen counter (three of them were Sirius confessing his love for James.)(One of them was from Sirius to Remus.). Molly knitted everyone a Weasley jumper. Harry stole some firewhiskey from James and shared the bottle with Draco later that night in his room after everyone left. They were both so drunk they weren’t really aware they were kissing until it was too late to take it back. Harry’s face was red, and no one could be sure if the flush in his cheeks was from the alcohol or the snogging. Fifth year was full of a series of not-so-secret makeout sessions in empty classrooms. No one said anything about it.

Everyone lived, and during sixth year when Draco and Harry finally admitted they were dating, no one batted an eye. Lucius groaned, and James winked reassuringly at the two of them, and Lily was grinning from ear to ear. Sirius and Remus were so proud. They had all seen it coming from a mile away.

Everyone lived, and though no one was able to fully escape heartbreak, or tears, or nightmares, everyone had each other. Harry’s memories were not haunted by cramped cupboards or loneliness but warmed by smiles and magic and feathery soft kisses on cheeks, on lips, on foreheads. 

Everyone lived, and Harry didn’t have to be the savior. He just had to be Harry, and that was just fine.

This sucks but I had extra time today and I keep having IDEAS so anyways! Please put any headcanons or ideas or prompts you may have in my ask! I check it very frequently and will probably start writing some of those suggestions you’ve already given me tomorrow. Love you guys xx

-Emily

  • Me when I'm not home: omfg I have so much to do when I get home, and so many essays to write not to mention all the studying I have
  • Me when I get home: oh cool 115k word fic, lets read it all in one sitting
{Birthday Celebration}

MASTERLIST

Birthday Celebration: Newt Scamander x Reader Imagine

Summary:
Based on the two requests I got from these darling anons:

Anonymous said: i know this is really over used in a sense, but can i request a protective newt imagine???? something about it makes my heart melt 💝💝💝💖💖💖   

Anonymous said: Hi Belle :) can I request a one shot where the reader gets drunk and confesses how she feels about newt? Thanks , love ur blog :)    

Possessive Newt? Drunk Confessions?? These are never done enough for me, Nonnies, this stuff is my ultimate TRASH. I thank you so much for the requests! I combined them because that’s where the creative juices were flowing, but I made it extra long for you <3 I hope it brings you much joy!!! *blows kisses*

Word Count: 6443

Warnings: Drunkenness and alcohol, mentions of plans to drug someone.

Originally posted by hardyness

“What about this one?” Queenie turned in a slow circle for Tina and you, who were sitting in the waiting room inside the dressing room of a shopping mall, located a few blocks away from the Goldsteins’ apartment in New York City. You and Tina were done shopping, having picked out your dresses. Tina’s was long, black, sparkling, and sleek; yours was purple, strapless, and knee-length. It hugged you in a way you weren’t used to and still weren’t quite sure that you liked, but the girls had begged and complimented you so much that you had eventually caved in and settled on it.

Queenie was clad in a salmon colored cocktail dress, a dress that looked wonderful with her blonde curls and radiant smile. It was stunning and honestly, Queenie probably looked great in anything she wore.

“You’re so sweet, honey,” she smiled wider as she read your thoughts.

“Get it, Queens,” said Tina. “It looks fantastic.”

Queenie quirked an eyebrow at her. “Now Teenie, I know you’re telling me the truth, but I also know that you are ready to be done shopping and don’t want for me to keep on looking.”

You laughed and Tina smiled guiltily. It was true that the three of you had been out for most of the day already and that shopping had been a large chunk of it. Queenie had wanted a few things for her birthday that day and you were wrapping up one of them now.

She had wanted to start it with a girl’s day, have dinner and cake, and end the festivities by going out that night. The three of you had had coffee and breakfast pastries at Jacob’s bakery, during which you all had sat in a corner and chatted and she had made intermittently made doe eyes at Jacob while he worked behind the counter.

Jacob’s memory, though not perfect, certainly had not erased Queenie and they had picked up their relationship almost exactly where it had left after the fiasco in New York City a few months ago. After your pastries and coffee you had headed out to do some shopping.

You, Queenie, and Tina had bought the dresses and were leaving the shopping center now, walking down the street. It was wintertime and the cold air nipped at your faces as you walked, stinging your cheeks. The air fanned out around your mouth as you exhaled. You wondered briefly if it would snow here - it didn’t get much snow where you lived in London. Mostly just rain.

Tina was talking about work, her newly reinstated position of Auror. You listened for a few moments, and then she and Queenie were talking about something specific at MACUSA that you couldn’t follow, and you let your mind drift.

You and Newt - who had attended Hogwarts together, but had not really gotten to know each other until later, after you became his traveling apprentice and editor when he went off exploring the world to write his book - were back to visit Jacob and the Goldsteins. Queenie was absolutely thrilled that the gang could be back together for her birthday.

Newt’s manuscript was finally done and submitted. The book would hit the shelves of England next week. You were both quite proud of it, so now all that was left was to see if it would sell well. To take an official vacation of it all, Newt had taken you, his creatures, and himself back to New York for two weeks, having been prepaid a decent amount from the publishing house.

You had to admit, it was nice having the book done, but it was also a bit unnerving. You had traveled with him for almost two years, and you knew he had traveled even longer before that. Both of you were quite unsure what to do without the deadline and work load of the book looming over you constantly. It had been a strange week. It was a bit sad, as endings always were, but it was also quite nice, of course. Although, you did wonder what would happen to you and Newt from here on out now that he had no need for an official traveling apprentice or an editor, and the thought depressed you. You loved the creatures more than anything - except for maybe Newt himself. You had grown far, far too fond of the quirky, blonde haired man.

You weren’t sure when you it had started. Was it that time you had walked in to find him shirtless, back to you, pressing plants together and grinding them up at his work table, scars zigzagging across his skin and muscles flexing as he worked? Was it after that, when the two of you had escaped successfully with Frank, having captured him from captivity? Or was it no singular event but something gradual, as you had watched him care for his animals with such tenderness and found out how kind and wonderful he was?

You weren’t quite sure.

All you knew was this: the thoughts that crossed your mind about Newt at times were unprofessional at best, inappropriate at worst, and they had gotten more and more frequent the more time you had spent together. And this was another reason you were quite glad not to officially be his apprentice anymore. It was quite awkward having feelings for your boss, even if had always felt more like a friendship and never a formal, working relationship.

The three of you had reached the door and you snapped back to reality. Tina was fumbling with the keys in her purse, the shopping bags shifting in her arms as she pulled them out. Queenie, however, was looking at you, eyes far too knowing for your liking.

“I won’t say a word,” she said to you, winking, and you flushed.

“Huh?” Tina was putting the keys in the door now, distracted and thinking that Queenie had said something to her.

“Nothing,” Queenie thrilled, with another covert smile in your direction.

When you arrived upstairs, all dumping your bags unceremoniously on the couch, Newt was nowhere to be seen. That wasn’t surprising to any of you. You all knew exactly where he would be.

Queenie and Tina were heading to the kitchen to start preparing some tea and coffee. Jacob would be here any moment, having promised to cook dinner with Queenie (”The No-Maj way, oh, I’m so excited!”). Tina called over her shoulder, “Y/N, go tell Newt we’re back and having dinner soon, will you? You know how he gets all carried away down there.”

“Of course,” you agreed, nodding. She was right; Newt often forgot to check a clock when he was dealing with his creatures, especially for social events. He didn’t particularly enjoy them.

You glanced at the clock. It was 5 PM. Queenie was bubbling over with excitement about dolling the girls up in her bedroom together after dinner when the doorbell rang - it must be Jacob. You’d greet him when you got back up, you thought, heading to the bedroom where Newt’s suitcase was. It was definitely wise to alert Newt as soon as possible to the timing of everything.


Clambering down into the familiar suitcase - your home for the past two years, you thought fondly - you found Newt at his work table. There were plants and liquids and vials scattered everywhere.

Newt himself was holding a white mortar and pestle and vigorously smashing some herbs inside, his white shirt splattered with dirt and mud and his sleeves rolled up over his forearms. His blonde hair was draping over his forehead, lips pressed together, his face screwed up in concentration as he worked. Your heart fluttered.

“Knock knock,” you said, and he jumped and whipped his head around, apparently not having heard you enter.

“Hello Y/N,” he greeted, flashing you a quick grin before continuing his work. “How was it?”

“Really fun,” you told him enthusiastically. “Queenie’s over the moon about it all. Jacob just got here and they’re cooking, so I’m supposed to tell you dinner is going to be ready soon.”

“What?!” He stopped and turned to look at you. “What time is it?”

“About five,” you answer, and giggle as his eyes widen because his reaction is so predictable.

“Merlin’s beard,” he muttered, throwing down the mortar and pestle. “Already! I completely-”

“Lost track of time?” you offer knowingly. “We figured. That’s what I’m here for.” You smile at him.

“As always,” he said, sending you a grateful look. And then his eyes flickered with something unrecognizable and he cleared his throat. “I’ll be up soon.”

“Okay.” You smile once more and turn to head back upstairs, but not before you caught a slight frown grace his features, a troubled look in his eyes, as much as he seemed to be trying to hide it.

You could read him quite well by now and you wondered if everything was all right. You didn’t want to pry; and besides, you guessed it had to do with the social plans for the evening, as well as leaving behind his babies.


The food and the table was ready to go and looked amazing a little less than an hour later. Of course it did, pairing Jacob and Queenie’s kitchen skills. There were rolls and salads, mashed potatoes and gravy, and large bowls of a delicious looking soup steaming on the table. “It’s French Onion,” Queenie supplied happily. as everyone came to have a seat. “Jacob’s recipe. Doesn’t it smell amazing? And I mashed the potatoes myself - by hand!”

Jacob grinned bashfully as Queenie positively glowed with adoration for him. “It looks fantastic, you two,” said Tina, shooting you a grin at the infatuated antics of her head over heels sister. You grin back.

Conversation was lighthearted and happy during dinner, sprinkled with laughter. Jacob’s bakery, work at MACUSA, the completion of Newt’s book were discussed; Queenie bubbled excitedly about the No-Maj bar she was wanting to try, the entire evening peppered with her contagious laugh and her flirting with Jacob. Jacob had missed Newt’s creatures since they had seen each other last, and Newt caught him up on them all, the pair of them deciding to go down together when the girls were getting ready. Teasing jokes from the men ensued about how long girls need to get ready, anyway.

You found yourself glancing at Newt every so often throughout the whole thing, how he laughed and smiled. You couldn’t see any trace of the earlier frustration, or whatever it was that you had noticed.

Finally, a cake Jacob had brought and made himself was hovering over the table after dinner and sparkling with lit candles in celebration of Queenie, beautifully and laboriously hand decorated with pink and green and yellow roses. You all begged Queenie to wear a birthday hat and she complied with grace, giggling, standing up to blow out the candles while everybody cheered and clapped.

After indulging in Jacob’s amazing cake it was time to get ready, so you followed Queenie and Tina into their bedroom and you all gathered around the vanity while Jacob and Newt headed down into Newt’s case, Tina calling out dire warnings to Newt about not losing track of time. It took some time to do each of your makeup, despite having the advantage of magic. Conversation was fun and light for the next half an hour - finally, the other two were finished and there was just you. Tina was already changing into her dress across the room, bare back to the both of you, and Queenie sat in front of you, carefully supervising the brushes that danced across your cheeks and the mascara that pulled itself through your eyelashes,

“All done!” Queenie squealed after about fifteen minutes, looking at you with definite pride in her work. “Teenie, will you check on the boys while we finish getting dressed?”

Tina nodded and left the room and you took a cautious peek at yourself in the mirror. It really was spectacular, you decided, after a moment of appraisal. You hardly ever wore makeup. After all, what was the point, working with the creatures and plants all day?

Your cheeks were now tinted slightly pink, your eyes popping in a way that you had never believed possible. It was beautiful, girly, but quite dark; there was almost a seductress look in the smoky look that Queenie had achieved around your eyes.

“You’re going to absolutely turn heads, honey,” Queenie said, winking.

“Thanks, Queenie,” you said. “I love it.”

You were sad, suddenly, that you didn’t live closer to the Goldsteins. They were fast becoming like sisters to you, and you had thoroughly enjoyed your time with both of them that day. You never wanted it to end, this time in New York. But too soon, you and Newt would be boarding the boat…back to what?

No Goldsteins. Starting a new job, something that would likely always seem mediocre compared to these past two amazing years. Slowly drifting apart from Newt and keeping up every once in a while, as life seems to go.

Your heart clenched suddenly, painfully. You wanted none of this to end.

Queenie was handing you your dress. You hadn’t even noticed her grab it. “Here you go,” she said, giving you a soft smile. You nodded and started to change together and in a minute, you were ready to go, having shimmed into your dress and picked up your jacket. You followed Queenie to the door. Hand on the knob, she turned back to look at you, eyes warm. “And honey?” You cocked your head, waiting. “You should just tell him,” she stated simply, with a grin, and then opened the door to the living room, leaving you standing in the doorway and tingling with surprise and slight embarrassment.

Collecting yourself with a deep breath, you stepped out into the living room. “Y/N!” Jacob called out kindly. “Look at you! You ladies all look just wonderful tonight.” Queenie was already on his arm, smiling radiantly. He and Newt were waiting by the door, both clad in dress pants and button up shirts.

You realized you had never seen Newt dressed quite like this before, and it really suited him. You felt your cheeks warm up, avoiding looking up at his face because you suddenly didn’t trust yourself to look for too long, shaken by Queenie’s casual comment. “Thank you, Jacob. That’s so nice of you,” you said, smiling shyly.

You glance at Queenie, whose eyes flickering away from where Newt was standing and then she grinned mischievously at you. You again fervently thanked the fact that you had blush on. “Isn’t she just a doll?” she gushed. “Newt?“

You narrow your eyes at her and she gives you a perfectly innocent look before you hear him say from across the room, clearing his throat, “O-of course. Very lovely.” Your eyes flicker over to meet his, momentarily, and he gives you a small smile, shuffling his feet.

You smile back, shyly, before his eyes flick away quickly and Tina suggests that you all get going.

It was much colder now that the sun had gone down than it had been earlier that day, walking through the city with Tina and Queenie. Everyone’s breath was fogging out in front of them and the sound of high heels clicked across the sidewalk. Your bare legs were absolutely freezing. You hugged your jacket closer to you with a bit of a shiver.

“You’re freezing in that dress, aren’t you?” You hear Newt’s voice from beside you, eyeing your obviously cold form with raised eyebrows.

“No,” you hissed at him defiantly. Your teeth chattered, and he laughed. “Okay, a little,” you admitted. He began unwrapping his scarf. “No!” You protested. “We’re Apparating in a few minutes and then we’ll be there. I’m totally fine.”

He took no notice of your words and wrapped it around your neck. “Just a few minutes is still too long for my liking,” he pointed out.


The bar that Queenie had chosen was quite large from the outside, and the building was very fancy looking. Two men were waiting outside to look you all over before you went in, eyes drifting over the women appreciatively before nodding and allowing you all inside. You all followed Queenie to a table; she led the way, her arm hooked around one of Jacob’s.

You all settled into a booth, taking off coats and scarves and chatting. Queenie ordered a round of shots and Newt excused himself, mumbling something about scotch. A waitress came over a few minutes later and set down a tray with a gigantic round of the shots. It was clear and you knew it was vodka - you didn’t drink much, and you were a bit wary of shots and vodka in general. You weren’t sure you wanted to take any.

“It’s my birthday, Y/N,” and you looked up to see Queenie pouting at you from across the table. “Come on, take a few with us.”

“Queenie, that stuff affects me pretty strongly,” you say, laughing.

“Then you’ll just be an adorable drunk,” she said, and Tina giggled from across the table. She had already had one drink and had a content smile on her face.

“I don’t know…” You said, still wary.

You all waited a few minutes for Newt to return so you could all take the first shots together, but he didn’t return right away. Finally, Jacob scanned the crowd looking for him. “Where did he…ahh. I think we should just take them. He looks pretty busy.” He smirked a little and jerked his head in the direction of the bar. The four of you looked over to see Newt talking to a girl at the bar.

You couldn’t see his face but he seemed to be enjoying the conversation; a half consumed scotch was next to him and he wasn’t making any attempt to come back to the table. You could see her face, though, and she was beautiful. Blonde, long legs, perfect bone structure, flirtatious eyes. She laughed loudly and put her arm on his shoulder as she said something.

Suddenly, the room was shrinking and cold, and your heart gave a painful squeeze. It began to race and you averted your eyes, unable to look any longer; a bitter taste entered your mouth, along with the terrible urge to go strangle the woman senseless. You knew you had no right to think any of this whatsoever - but at the moment, that thought only made you angrier.

“Let’s do them,” you suggested quickly, hoping the others didn’t notice how hard you had to work to keep your face neutral. You especially did not dare to look at Queenie, though you felt her eyes on you. It was her birthday, her evening, and you refused to let your unwarranted jealousy ruin it.

Ten minutes and six shots later, you were strongly feeling the effects of the alcohol and feeling a thousand times better. It was lovely. You refused to look back over at the bar, instead focusing your attention completely on the four at the table. The conversation was getting louder and louder, more and more giggly. Jacob had just told a particularly funny story concerning a strange customer, one that had you, Queenie, and Tina howling with laughter, when Newt returned to the table.

He had a full drink in his hand, so he must have finished the other. His cheeks were flushed. Whether it was from the alcohol or the other pretty blonde, you really didn’t want to know. He grinned at you all as he sat down again.

“So, who’s the blonde?” Jacob asked curiously, mouth curved into a mischievous smile.

Newt shrugged, giving Jacob a quick glance before blinking down at the table awkwardly. Then he asked, pulling out a piece of paper, “What’s this mean? These numbers here? Then she said to call her.” His face was full of confusion.

Your hand stretched out almost automatically for another shot glass, a strange ringing in your ears. You hoped the small quake in your hand wasn’t noticeable, but you supposed if it had been it could be easily attributed to the the shots.

Jacob laughed at his confusion at something so simplistic in the non magic world. “That’s what girls do in bars when they want to see you again. She gives you the number, you call it with a phone, and you get a date.”

“Date?” Newt repeated blankly.

“Yeah,” Jacob said. “You should just invite her over here though, you’re both already here, you know. She seemed interested.”

“Jacob-“ Queenie began to interject, her voice full of protest, but you drowned out the rest of her words by standing up suddenly, loudly, gripping the edge of the table tightly with your fingers. Your knees had bumped the table and your brain was fuzzy, the shots clouding your judgement and confusing you. Even you were quite surprised to see yourself standing there.

Everyone stared at you, eyes wide, waiting. Hastily, you mumbled, “Drink,” and slipped out of the booth. You walked purposefully to the bar, stumbling a little.

You had only just got there and told the bartender what you wanted when a man already sitting there turned and said to you, “Why don’t you let me buy it for you, doll face?”

You were too hazy to notice his eyes scan your body up and down, slowly, in a way that, had you been sober, would have perhaps made you uncomfortable. So you just shrugged and nodded - your altered brain telling you it was a free drink, after all - and sank down in the chair beside him. The drink came with a clang in front of you, a clang that seemed louder than it actually was in your drunken stupor. You leaned forward and took a sip from the straw.

“So gorgeous, you are,” the man drawled, “What are you doing here on this fine evening?”

“It’s my friend’s birthday,” you answer him, looking up, eyes trying to focus on his face. It took a few moments, but you finally did. You decided he was quite handsome.

“Ah,” he replied, “Well I’m glad you decided to join me for a drink, then. I’m honored, pretty lady.”

You stayed there for the first drink and then started on a second one, desperately trying to forget about the blonde man at the table across the room and ultimately afraid to look back, afraid to see the long-legged blonde sitting in your old spot. Somewhere in your mind you reprimanded yourself for Queenie’s sake, and you knew you would have to go back after this drink.

The man at the bar was friendly enough; perhaps too much so. You didn’t even remember his name. You were not in the right state to notice that his smiles were more like leers, that his touching was perhaps too frequent, and that they lingered longer than usual on your skin.

You dizzily excused yourself to the bathroom and came back, fully intending to finish that second drink, go back to the table, and get over yourself.

He smiled at you widely when you came back. “Here, finish this up, darlin’.” He pushed the drink at you and numbly, you sat down again and reached your hand out to take it.

“Y/N, don’t drink that.”

An all too familiar voice came from behind you, a voice that you had grown to adore over the past two years. But there was something entirely unfamiliar about it at the moment. It was like ice, cold hard fury radiating through every word that he spoke.

You turned over your shoulder to see Newt hovering behind you, his face twisted in unmistakable anger. You had seen him angry before - when he found creatures that had been in captivity and treated terribly, for example. But it had always been harder to see - he was normally so mild. He would just clench his jaw, or become quiet or brooding for a while.

But this was entirely different. He was glaring at the man behind you with an unmistakable hatred. “Newt?” you squeaked, confused at his sudden appearance and even more so at his hostility. “Why not, what’s-”

“Hey man, come on, I’ve been talking to the lady, so move along,” the man protested loudly. But to your incredible shock, Newt lunged forward with lightning speed and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling the man’s face close to his.

“Newt?” you tried again weakly, dizzy, confused. He didn’t answer or look at you, too focused on the man in front of him. This behavior frightened you. You had never imagined Newt, sweet and shy and awkward Newt, was capable of such things. Your head was spinning just a little and you wondered briefly if you were imagining it.

Newt spoke to the man in a menacing voice, his words coming out as a harsh growl, something feral and foreign in his calm personality. You shrank back automatically at the tone, eyes wide.

“How dare you,” Newt snarled, his voice shaking and a hard line in his jaw. “How dare you ever even think of doing such a thing to her. I’m going to take her with me now, and if you even so much as send one more disgusting glance in her direction tonight…” He leaned forward closer, so he was right in the man’s face. “I will most certainly hurt you, and I will also very much enjoy it.”

He had been so frightening, so threatening, his last words spoken with pure malice, but when he released the man’s shirt and turned to you sitting there, eyes wide with fear and confusion, his face softened, though the anger didn’t disappear. The man still sat there, apparently too stunned to move, though his eyes were narrowed at the back of Newt’s head.

“Come on love,” Newt said to you gently, though his voice still contained a hard line of anger and slight desperation. “Let’s go. Quickly.” You felt his hand on the small of your back, gently nudging you out of the seat. You complied numbly, almost afraid not to. You had no idea what was happening. You couldn’t help but notice how Newt had positioned his body between the two chairs as he helped you out of the chair, as if shielding you from view.

You clung to his arm as he led you, stumbling and drunk, away from the bar. You felt that his arm was shaking and when you peeked up at him tentatively you saw that his jaw was still clenched painfully tight. “N-Newt,” you mumbled, your words a slight slur. “W-What’s wrong…?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw once more, his eyes burning all over again, but when he spoke to you his voice was kind. “Don’t worry about that now, Y/N. I’ll explain everything when we’re out of here. But I want us to leave. Immediately.”

You were almost to the table now; you could see the other three sitting there, waiting on the both of you, relief evident on their faces when they saw Newt with you in tow. It only made you more confused.

“Why would you leave your drink like that, Y/N?” he burst out suddenly, exasperatedly, his voice full of sudden irritation. “You should know better than that!”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumbled, feeling suddenly ashamed and terribly saddened that he was lecturing you. Your eyes filled with tears. You were still trying to process exactly what had happened. Your brain was sluggish, lurching behind but trying desperately to keep up, trying to understand. You reached the table and Newt deposited you in your spot next to Tina. “I need to go have a word with the bartender,” he muttered, and with one more glance at you, he hurried off again, his shoulders still hunched in unmistakable anger.

“Oh thank goodness,” Tina breathed when you were next to her again. Jacob’s face, too, was extremely troubled.

“We were so worried, honey!” Queenie exclaimed, reaching across to take your hand. “You need to be more careful. There are bad men out there.”

More tears welled up in your eyes. You had ruined the evening and you felt like an idiot. Newt and Queenie had even had to lecture you - what a mess you had made. Your thoughts spiraled out of control in your stupor; Newt was angry with you and likely thought you were a child, he had a beautiful girl’s phone number, and in one week you would start drifting apart.

“I’m sorry, Queenie.” It came out as a mortified whisper, tears spilling over your eyelids without warning. The words stumbled out of you, tripping over themselves in your haste to apologize. “I’m so s-stupid. I’ve ruined your birthday. This is why I don’t d-drink.”

“Oh, no!” Queenie exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously. “No, not at all! We’ve had such a good time. Don’t you think on it. Nothing that happened is your fault. A woman should be able to enjoy herself in public without something like this.” She rubbed your hand soothingly, brows furrowed. And then she added, in response to things you hadn’t said out loud, "And Y/N, he’s not mad at you, don’t you worry. He’s just so scared, honey. His head is still absolutely screaming.”

Tina took your other hand from next to you and smiled encouragingly. You gave her a watery smile back, grateful and sad all over again for the Goldsteins. Newt returned, his cheeks still red and eyes still very troubled, but it seemed he was calmer. “I’ve told the bartender,” he said.

As if from a distance away, Tina’s voice came from behind you. “She’s really shaking. I think she should go home.” You hadn’t realized you were, but now that she spoke the words, you realized she was correct. Your hands were jittery in your lap.

“I’m certainly taking her out of here this moment,” Newt told her. His eyes drifted to you, the tears running silently down your cheeks, and he extended his arm out to you. You saw the softness return in his face. Obliging, you slid out of the booth and took Newt’s extended arm. He pulled you over and latched it around your waist, holding you steady so you wouldn’t stumble. “We’ll be going now,” he told the others.

“You sure you two will be all right?” pressed Jacob. “We can all come. We don’t have to stay longer.”

“Jacob,” Queenie said, giving him a meaningful glance. “Let Newt take Y/N back. She can rest a bit.”

Jacob seemed to understand something from Queenie’s expression. His eyes flickered between you and Newt. “Ah,” he said, nodding. “Of course. Erm…let’s stay a bit, then. Feel better, Y/N.” His eyes were sympathetic.

“Make her drink water, Newt,” Tina instructed him. “A lot of it.”

“Sleep well, honey,” Queenie said, smiling at you. “Go relax.”

“Thank you, Queenie,” you mumbled, still slurring. “Happy birthday.” The three waved and you gave them all a smile.

Newt steered you out of the bar. He was gripping your waist very tightly, refusing to let you move even a few inches away from him. As soon as you were outside in the fresh air and walking on the street, you mumbled, “I’m sorry. You w-were right. I was stupid, I d-drank way too much…”

Newt pulled you into a side alley and you expected him to pull you into Apparation. But instead, you felt him tug you to his chest very tightly, sighing. “No,” he murmured to you. “I’m sorry, Y/N, this isn’t your fault at all. It was his, of course. I shouldn’t have snapped. I was just tense and afraid. I’m sorry,” he said again urgently, rubbing his hands across your back.

You shivered standing there, wrapped in his arms, and even though it was cold outside, you were certain that wasn’t what it was from. The alcohol was still keeping you relatively warm and Newt himself radiated a very large amount of body heat. Newt, however, looked at you and frowned. “You’re freezing, of course,” he muttered.

Taking you into his chest again, he Apparated, pulling you with him. He didn’t seem to care about secrecy tonight, because he had Apparated you both directly to the Goldstein’s front door. Luckily, no one else was out on the street at the moment. He pulled out a key - you hadn’t even noticed Tina give it to him, and you wondered how much else you had missed in your drunken state - and clicked the door open.

Once inside the apartment, he helped you to the couch and disappeared to the kitchen, returning almost immediately with a glass of water. “Drink it,” he commanded you, though his eyes were tender. “And then you’ll drink more. We can’t have you sick tomorrow.”

You obeyed, tentatively taking sips as Newt watched you carefully, eyes full of too many swirling emotions for you to recognize, especially at the moment. After your first glass, he refilled it.

“I’m confused,” you finally confessed in a low voice. “Wh-what happened?”

Another flash of anger in his eyes, another hardening of his jaw; his face was contorted once more, though after a moment’s effort and a deep breath, he seemed calmer. “Queenie heard his thoughts,” he told you, brow furrowed and eyes burning all over again. He reached out to take your hands. His were warm, but you noticed they were shaking ever so slightly. “He drugged your drink. You had told him you were there with friends, but it seemed he had specific plans, very careful, explicit plans on how to get you away and alone. That’s why I overreacted to you. I didn’t want you there another minute.”

He swallowed hard and you looked into his eyes. When he looked at you, the anger was still smoldering in them, but it was next to something else. “He’s very lucky we were surrounded by witnesses,” he muttered sharply, more to himself than to you.

You were still shocked at this side of Newt, this anger and aggression you had never seen before. Horror rose up in you at the implications of what Newt had told you, what would have happened had Queenie not heard, had Newt not come to help you…

You set your glass on the table and threw your arms around his neck, hugging him. “Th-thank you,” you whimpered, tears spilling out of your eyes all over again. Soon you were sobbing horribly, overwhelmed by the range of emotions that evening and the possible outcomes and the effects of the drink. He waited you out, rubbing your back.

“You need to go to bed,” Newt whispered soothingly, after your tears had subsided and your breathing had slowed somewhat. “I think you’re very drunk, love.” He pulled back to look at you, tucking hair off of your damp cheeks with a slightly amused look. The anger had gone from his face again.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter darkly, your brain completely fogged and disconnected from your mouth. “The other o-o-option was to watch you and your h-hot date.” You frowned, mind hazy, and stood up. The room swayed - you clutched your head and stumbled.

Newt was standing next to you in a heartbeat, steadying you. “What did you just say?” he asked you breathlessly, eyes wide.

You frowned deeper, peering up at him confusedly. The room was still spinning a little bit. “What?”

“Are you talking about that blonde?” Newt asked you, seeming genuinely confused. “You think I was actually going to go on a date her?”

“Of course.” You hiccuped. “L-look at her.”

Newt laughed out loud, gazing at you with clear affection in his eyes. “You have no idea, do you?” he murmured tenderly, shaking his head. He was now gazing at you with a ferocious intensity, but you hadn’t heard him and you were not paying him much attention.

You had begun to ramble. Something very, very deep in your brain told you to stop, that you may seriously regret all of this talking tomorrow - but your mouth still seemed to have other ideas. The words came stumbling drunkenly out of you as if on autopilot, as if forgetting exactly who you were speaking to. “You’re going to have this date with this blonde and I’ll h-hate it but will be too m-much of a coward to say a w-word and then you and I will go back to England and start to drift apart, w-won’t we? D-do you have any idea what it feels like for me to be around y-you…?”

You trail off, mouth and eyes suddenly wide as you gaze into Newt’s green ones. “No, I don’t know,” he said, very quietly. “Tell me. What does it feel like?”

The air suddenly became very charged in the room. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You look away, a blush beginning to burn across your cheeks, but suddenly one of Newt’s hands are on your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

You frown deeply, moving your eyes down and away, ripping your chin out of his grasp and mutter, “I r-really like you, is that wh-what you want to hear? So y-you can feel sorry-”

But you couldn’t continue. Newt’s lips had pressed against yours and all of the sudden it was like there were fireworks going off in your mind. It was soft, full of such tenderness; he tasted slightly like whiskey and his lips were so warm

He didn’t kiss you for very long at all, and you made a sound of blatant protest, but when you opened your eyes he was shaking his head, smiling at you warmly. His beautiful, freckled face was so close to yours that you still were momentarily stunned by it. “No more kissing when you’re like this, love,” he explained a bit regretfully, his breathing quite a bit quicker than usual. “And not after everything tonight. It’s not right. You need rest and a clear mind.”

His eyes had the familiar sweetness back in them and he pressed his lips to your forehead, letting them linger there for a long moment. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of it. “But to answer your question,” he continued, eyes shining at you and his voice suddenly much huskier, “That was actually exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“It was?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

He suddenly scooped you up into his arms easily and you couldn’t help but giggle when he looked down at you. You saw adoration and slight exasperation in his eyes, and he cradled you close to him. “You beautiful, silly woman,” he told you lovingly, brushing more hair tenderly from your face as he started to walk you to Tina and Queenie’s room. “I’ve been utterly mad for you. How could I not be?”

Your heart felt like a balloon - it was expanding so large and fast that you seriously wondered if it would burst out of your chest. You sigh contentedly, letting your head rest against his chest as he carried you to your bed.

As it turned out, you thought to yourself happily, it seemed that you had plenty of things to look forward to in the future, Newt included.

Me in the shower: *Thinks up extremely complicated and amazing personality for character*

Me in math class: *Comes up with unique yet not too outlandish names for characters*

Me at cram school: *Comes up with tragic backstory for characters*

Me when I’m supposed to be sleeping: *Comes up with plot twists, complicated relationship problems and fun and awesome scenes/dialogue*

Me in front of the computer: wut r wurds

Best Drarry Tropes

-Eighth Year EVERYTHING
-House unity party games where Harry and Draco are forced to kiss
-post-hogwarts when Harry and Draco are put on an assignment together for the ministry
-enemies to lovers
-making amortentia in potions class. One of them comes into class late and loudly exclaims that the whole room smells disgustingly like “Potter/Malfoy.”
-they both stumble upon the Mirror of Erised, Draco doesn’t know what it is and of course only sees himself standing next to Harry because that’s his greatest desire so he thinks it’s just a normal mirror and can’t seem to wrap his mind around why Harry is freaking out about a stupid old mirror.
-bonded together by some accidental spell and/or punishment
-forced to be able to read each other’s minds because of accidental magic
-coffee shop AUs
-French!Draco/Parseltongue!Harry
-post-hogwarts where Draco becomes invested in Muggle culture to get away from it all and becomes much more punk/hip/HOT and Harry runs into him somewhere and his whole life changes forever

Massages

4.2k of smut, I’m not even sorry

‘OUCH! Stop, st- STOP IT PANSY! Argh, fuck, I think I broke a rib.’ Draco sat down on his bed, a painful expression on his face which was paler than usual.

‘You’re an ungrateful bastard’ Pansy flopped beside him pouting ‘the whole Slyntherin house knows I’m the best on giving massage’

‘Well, I better look for someone from other houses then’ Draco made another pained expression as he got up. ‘I can’t, I can’t walk. Argh, fuck!’ He laid down slowly. Pansy only stared at him from the door, the look on her a face a mixture of pity and remorse.

'I’ll get someone. Even though you were a little bitch just now.’ She glared at him before leaving.

It’d started three days before then. He was getting ready on Wednesday morning to practice quidditch. Everything was fine when he bent down to tie his shoelaces, but the second he straightened his back an acute pain hit him on his hips. It’d gotten worse the past two days to the point now he couldn’t even sit properly without feeling it.

He laid there, thinking maybe he would have to look for Madam Pomfrey after all. But fuck, those potions always messed up with his stomach, he’d do anything to avoid taking them even if it meant asking for someone he didn’t know to give him a massage. Pansy had told him she knew what she was doing but at the end it’d only worsened it.

***

'It’s for a friend, you see. He’s in a lot of pain at the moment and I was hoping you knew someone good on giving massages’ Pansy flopped down on a chair at the eighth year common room.

'Well,’ Hermione started, closing her arithmancy book. 'I do, but… who exactly is this friend of yours?’ She gave Pansy a look that could be translated as 'Are-we-talking-about-who-i-think-we-are-talking-about?’

'Draco’ Pansy sighed, predicting the other’s answer. 'But… I swear he’ll behave. And you owe me this one, right? After I brought you those French hair products’ Pansy smirked.

'You really are a Slytherin’ Hermione sighed 'but they were actually amazing. I’ll help you with this one but I can’t guarantee it’ll go well.’

Pansy gave her a quick hug, grinning. 'Who is it then?’

'Harry’ Hermione murmured to herself.

Pansy gasped and then laughed until tears were streaming down her face.

'Holy. Shit. Are you sure he’ll want to do it?’

Hermione gave her a little smile.

'He owes he a favor’

Pansy’s giggling was catching the attention of everyone around them.

'Who’s the Slytherin one now?’

***

'Tell me how amazing I am’

The girl bursted inside his dorm an hour after she’d left to find Draco in the same position.

'You found someone?’ He got up, regretting the decision immediately. 'Ah, shit! Are they outside? Please tell me they’re outside’

'They’ll be here in ten’ Pany sat by his side and poked his cheek 'go on, tell me how amazing I am’

'You’re amazing’ he grunted. When he looked at his friend, though, she wasn’t paying attention, busy with a little pink bag Draco hadn’t noticed she’d brought before. 'What-’

'Oils. For the massage’ she smirked and Draco felt blood going to his cheeks.

'There’s no need for that’

'They have properties. They could help’ she started to take the little flasks with different colors out of the bag and pile them on Draco’s bed.

A light knock on the door told them Pansy’s friends had arrived.

'C'mon in!’

'I just don’t understand why… No. No fucking way.’

'Harry, please, Pansy said-’

'What the actual fuck, Pansy!’ Draco started talking at the same time Hermione tried to stop Harry from leaving the room. 'This is… ah, shit shit- ARGH!’ Draco’s attempt to get up brought back the striking pain on his lower back and he felt his knees failing. The next second he was tumbling to the ground with a loud thud. Tears came uninvited to his eyes and he bit his lips as hard as he could to stop from screaming.

Draco didn’t look up to see who it was that was trying to help him get up. A firm hand went on the underside of his thigh as the other grabbed his shoulder firmly, pushing him to his feet just long enough for him to get to his bed. When he collapsed on his bed, flushed cheeks and tears still streaming down his face, everything he could think about was that maybe his time had come. Die would be better than suffer so much humiliation in front of Saint Potter, who was panting by his side.

Harry stared down at the boy in front of him, Malfoy’s face twisted in an ugly expression. It was like he was trying to sneer at Harry but the pain was too much even for that. Harry sighed and turned to see he was left alone in the room with an incapacitated Malfoy. Well, shit, that was just great. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone? Peace, it was all he was asking for after everything. But, oh no, he had to have asked Hermione for help with his potions homework the week before, and now he owed her this. Harry wouldn’t have denied giving a massage to any of his friends if they’d asked him. He’d helped Hermione, Ginny and even Luna in the past. But Malfoy? Give Malfoy a massage, after everything, almost sounded funny.

Except it wasn’t because Harry had a hero complex and he knew Malfoy wouldn’t ask for such a thing if he wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t even Malfoy who came looking for Hermione, it was Pansy, which meant he probably was in a lot of pain. He couldn’t walk, from what Harry could see.

Small flasks caught his attention, all of them pilled up beside Malfoy.

'What’s this?’ He grabbed one and put it against the light. The liquid inside was thicker than water.

'Oils. Pansy brought them. She said they could help. Not like you need to know this anyway since you won’t use them.’ Malfoy spoke through gritted teeth, facing the wall opposite to where Harry stood. So he was expecting him to leave, that cocky bastard.

'Take off your shirt then’ Harry levitated all the tiny flasks to the ground and picked up one randomly. When he opened it the smell of cinnamon filled the room. Malfoy stared at him like he’d gone insane.

'What do you think you’re doing?’ he asked slowly.

'Well, maybe a massage since that’s what Hermione asked me to do and I can’t have a fucking moment of peace in this castle. And since you seem to be unable to even walk I advise you shut the fuck up and take off your shirt so I can see what’s wrong and finish in time for dinner’ Harry looked up to find Malfoy gaping at him.

'Do you even-’

'Yes, I do know how to do it, you prick. And I’m using this one, so take off your shirt’ Harry signaled to the open flask in his hands as he sat down on the far end of the bed.

He didn’t quite know how the oil would help since he’d never used them when he gave massages before. He liked the smell of it, that was all.

Malfoy struggled to sit down. He undid his tie, opened every button and started to take it off, really slowly trying not to move too much, wincing everytime he did. He folded his shirt and put it on the chair beside the bed. Harry couldn’t help staring at the huge scars on his chest he knew he was responsible for. Guilt settled on his stomach as he tore his gaze away.

'Lay down on your stomach’ Harry got up and sat beside Malfoy’s body as close as he could without brushing their thighs. It was ridiculous, he knew, since he would be touching him quite soon. Malfoy did as he was told and stilled, realising what that meant.

And what it meant was that, like that, he was completely vulnerable. He turned his face to Potter’s side and searched the other boy’s face for any sign of danger but all he could see was a frown as Harry dripped the oil in his fingers. Draco felt his cheeks heat up for some reason he didn’t understand.

'I’m going to start’ Potter’s voice was low when he spoke. Before Draco could say anything Potter’s hands were on his shoulders, placed at the same distance from the centre of his back. They were warmer than Draco’s skin, soft and sticky with oil. His breath got stuck on his throat  when Potter squeezed and, even though his lower back still hurt, Draco felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He exaled, relaxing into the matress.

Harry maintained the rhythm for a while, squeazing and releasing Malfoy’s shoulders, his thumbs pressing small circles on the other’s neck as he did. Harry, then, started to let his hands go lower, maintaining the pressing of his thumbs as he did until he reached the high of Malfoy’s kidneys. He stopped there to smear his hands with more oil.

'Where did the pain start?’ Harry found his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

'Hm… my hips’ Malfoy sounded sleepy when he spoke. He was so relaxed Harry had to hold back a giggle. He must really be great at giving massage if it meant even Malfoy was enjoying it.

He stopped shortly.

'Your hips?’ Shit, he wasn’t expecting that. 'Er… okay. I’ll- I’ll need you to lower you trousers a bit.  

'What?’ Draco opened his eyes, snapping out of his daze. What did Potter just say?

'So I can reach your hips. I can’t do much with them in the way’ he said slowly, almost like he expected Draco to start yelling at him.

'So you want me to take off my pants?’ Draco couldn’s believe what the fuck was going on.

'No! Just- Just open it, okay? I can do the rest…’ Draco stopped for a second. He reached for his buttons, opened them and laid down again. He turned his face the other way since he was pretty sure he was blushing. Shit, Potter better know what he was doing.

Harry exhaled gradually. He most definitely didn’t know what he was doing. Well, he did, but he shouldn         ’t be doing this. He should’ve stopped, told Malfoy to go look for Pomfrey and got out of there.

Instead he placed his hands on Malfoy’s lower back again. He rubbed his thumbs in circles there, with less pressure this time, and started to press lower as he did. He reached his trousers but since the buttons were open it hang loose on Malfoy’s hips. Harry let his thumbs go under the waist and Malfoy froze.

Harry exhaled again. 'This will probably hurt but if it doesn’t work I’ll know what I have to do, okay?’ He pulled his trousers lower until he could see the other’s boxers. They were black, just like his trousers. Harry could see the fine blond hair that covered his lower back was up.

'Just don’t break my bones’ His tone was sarcastic.

Harry had his weigh on one knee which was pressed against the matress, both hands on Malfoy’s hips.

'Inhale’ Harry instructed. 'Hold’ Malfoy did as he was told.

'Exhale’ he pushed all his weight on his hands as quickly as he could. Malfoy screamed and Harry cursed. They were panting, Malfoy still too shocked to say anything.

'It won’t work, not like this’ Harry got off the bed to take off his shoes. When he looked back Malfoy was staring at him with a strange expression on his face, fear mixed with something else. Was it anticipation?

'This will work’ Harry got on the bed again and before malfoy could say anything he passed one of his legs over the blond’s body, straddling him. Harry sat on Malfoys thighs, trapping him so he couldn’t turn around.

'WHAT THE FUCK, POTTER?’ Malfoy tried to free himself but Harry pinned both Draco’s hands above his head in a strong grip.

'I’m telling you this will work! Stop fidgeting and shut up!’

But focusing on Potter’s words was hard since all he could sense was the warmth and pressure on his thighs, so close to his ass. He’d never felt anything like that before, something disturbingly intimate and his whole body was reacting as if it was. He closed his eyes, cursing inside his head as blood rushed into his cock. Fuck fuck fuck, this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be…

'Inhale’ Potter’s words resonated closer to his ear than before. He shivered, inhaling as deep as he could. 'You need to relax’ Potter’s voice came out hoarse, his thumbs still tracing circles on his hips. Draco shuddered but felt his shoulders lose tension again.

'Inhale’, Harry repetead. 'Hold’ And Draco did.

Potter shifted on his thighs and Draco almost forgot what he was supposed to do.

'Exhale’ he did it again, placing all his weight in his hands, his thighs pressing hard against Malfoy’s as he did. A loud crack made Harry smile and Draco scream.

And then Malfoy let out a loud moan and Harry lost his train of thought.

Suddenly all the blood in his brain was going down, making his pants too tight. His ears felt like they were full of water when he heard Malfoy hum against the pillow.

'It worked’ Draco breathed, lifting his hips a bit to check if the pain was still there. The motion caused his ass to rub against something hard.

Draco gasped.

Harry moaned low.

Draco’s hips rose up again, higher, rubbing harder against what he knew was Potter and fuck, he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. And then Potter pressed down, literally pressed against Draco’s ass so he could feel it, the whole length even through the fabric. Potter was hard, really hard and Draco felt his own cock twitching at that.

Draco moaned, the sound ringing in Harry’s ears. He should go, he knew he should, but Malfoy was panting, and lifting that roundy ass for him, to rub against him, and Harry saw his face when he turned his head to the side. His cheeks were flushed and lips parted.

Harry pressed again, leaning forward until his mouth was just above Malfoy’s left ear.

'Do you want me to go?’ He needed to be sure, to be certain he wasn’t imagining all that.

Malfoy gasped, his eyes tightly shut. 'No’ He lifted his arm, grabbing Harry’s thigh and craving his nails on it. Harry bit his earlobe, went for his jaw and started sucking there.

Draco’s cock was throbbing beneath him, so hard he was sure he might faint any second.

The next minute the pressure against his ass was gone making a small cry escape his lips. Fuck fuck, Potter must have come to his senses before he did…

His pants were suddenly yanked down to his knees, his boxers with them. The sudden movement ccreating friction against his cock, now leaking on the matress. Draco was sure he couldn’t blush any harder but it didn’t stop him from moaning when hands grabbed his arse cheeks. How come he didn’t know he could get pleasure from there? Potter’s hands were everywhere, squeezing, pinching, scratching the soft skin.

Harry opened his cheeks, exposing his hole and run his thumb there tentatively.

'Ah- ha fuck…’ Draco buried his face in the pillow again. This wasn’t right, this was so fucking wrong, what was he doing moaning for…

'I wanna eat you up’ Harry didn’t mean to let the words escape his lips. His gaze was fixed on Malfoy’s pink hole and when it contracted under his thumb the thought of licking there, fucking him with his tongue, assaulted his mind immediately. Malfoy shivered under him.

'Wh-What are you saying?’ the tips of his ears were even redder from where Harry could see them.

Harry got off of Malfoy’s thighs and pushed them apart. He grabbed Malfoy’s hips again, pulling his ass up a bit. He could see the blond’s cock was hard and swollen, rubbing against the matress. Harry got on his elbows, squeezed Draco’s arse again and bit the already marked skin.

Draco gasped, his head jerking to the side so he could get a glimpse of Potter between his legs. Potter was sucking him at the spot he’d bitten before, his hands massaging the place where his thighs met his ass. He run his fingers there, grabbed his arse cheeks and pulled them apart. Draco drew a sharp breath.

He could hear Harry fidgeting with his own pants followed by the sound of clothes hitting the ground. Draco waved his hand towards the door, a click signalling it was now locked. He couldn’t even begin to think what would happen if anyone decided to come in.

Draco felt something wet, warm and firm press against his hole.

'Fuck fuck, you can’t- ah… ahhhh P-Potter this is…’ he gave a choking moan when Harry began to lick him relentlessly, his own moans reverberating in Draco’s skin.

Harry licked, savoured until his tongue got past the tight ring, and then he was fucking Draco, fucking him with wet and hot thrusts of his tongue. Draco kept pushing  back, gasping as he did, completely out of control.

Harry had never done that before but the sencond he laid eyes on Draco’s ass, naked before him all he could thing about was opening him, filing him up to get all those delicious sounds out of him.

Draco moaned, and moaned, louder each time. The words that came out of his mouth were incoherent, interrupted by sharp intakes of air.

'Yes… This- fuck Potter… I-deep-deeper’

Deeper, he wanted it deeper. Harry grasped the tiny flask he’d left on the ground and smeared his fingers with the oil again. He retreated his tongue earning a whimper from Malfoy that turned into a sob the second Harry’s middle finger replaced his tongue, getting in smoothly. Draco gasped, shivering uncontrollably and Harry just stayed there, mouth hanging open at the view. His finger disappeared and reappeared, Malfoy sucking him in while rutting against the matress. Harry curled his finger experimentally getting Malfoy to jolt and scream, throwing his head back. Harry caressed his thigh marked with purple bruises, another finger going inside his hole. The blond hissed but didn’t tell Harry to stop so he thrusted them to the base.

Draco’s brain was shutting down. The lewd sounds filling the room paired with the smell of cinnamon overstimulating his whole body. He wanted more heat, more pressure, more skin against his but the words kept getting lost in his throat everytime he tried to voice his needs. And Potter, fuck, he knew what to do with his hands, with his mouth. That fucking tongue worked like magic inside him. Potter was moving his fingers inside him in a way Draco didn’t even know was possible, scissoring them, thrusting them to the base.

The fingers were suddenly gone. Draco inhalled sharply but before he could complain Potter grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. He laid there on his back, legs spread open, cock dripping with pre come. And Harry stared him down, took in every inch of his light skin shamelessly. Draco felt exposed even though they were both naked. His hole twitched, stretched and leaking all the oil Potter had rubbed inside him and Potter stared. He fucking stared, jerking himself as he did.

Draco grabbed his own cock and began to do the same. It was unfair, having to do it all by himself after all Potter did, that bastard. The gesture caught the Golden Boys’s attention, though, and Draco smirked.

'i want,’ Harry bent down, their chests flushed against each other, his mouth whispering in Draco’s lips. 'I want to put it in you’ he sucked Draco’s lower lip. Holy fuck, he was on the edge already. Potter moved his lips to Draco’s ear and shifted, the head of his cock now poking Draco’s entrance. Draco felt it tingle as Potter cast a protective spell. 'I want to fill you up’ he whispered against his ear.

'Fuck, fuck…’

'Has anyone ever done that?’ he nuzzled Draco’s temple, his glans rubbing against his hole. 'I’m going to take you’ Harry hold his cock steadily as he pushed an inch, stretching Malfoy for him. The blond was panting on his cheek, small sobs inbetween gasps for air.

Harry’s ability to dirty talk, even as his own mind wasn’t working properly was something he didn’t know he could do. He was blushing, panting, but the possessivness he felt made him talk. Malfoy was his, all his, he just never thought that that anger, the rush of adrenaline he felt every time they were close could be hiding something else. He always thought Malfoy was his to take down, to fight against. But he also was his to consume, to bury himself into.

Harry thrust slowly, taking in the tightness, the heat engulfing him. Malfoy was fisting his cock under him, eyes tightly shut and mouth hanging open. Harry stopped Malfoy’s hand with his own and, with a tight grip, trapped them both above his head. Malfoy opened his eyes, his grey irisis thin rings around blown pupils.

'Touch my cock’ he whispered against Harry’s lips, more a command than a pleading. Harry smashed their mouths together instead, refusing to let go of his grip. Draco shivered under him, opened his mouth, let Potter invade his mouth with that tongue. Fuck, that tongue that’d fucked him just minutes ago. And Harry kissed him, his cock deep buried to the hilt inside him. He was full, so fucking full he felt his whole body collapse when Potter started to pull back.

He thrust again, the friction, the pressure, sending shocks of pleasure to Draco’s cock, up his spine, everywhere. Through half opened eyes Draco saw Harry gazing at him, his glasses gone, his lips red, parted as puffs of air escaped them. Harry thrust hard when he realized Draco was staring back. His complex changed immediately.

'I-yes fuck ahh-ah…’ Draco’s whole body was trembling, his ass thrusting back against Harry’s cock, trying to get him to go deeper.

Harry released Draco’s hands, grabbed his thighs instead and lifted them, shoving in until his fingers were numb from the tight grip. He’d leave marks there, crimson lines, and the thought made him moan. Harry bent down again, his mouth reaching Draco’s neck. He sucked him there while he fucked hard and fast. Draco fisted his cock with one hand while the other scratched Harry’s back repeatedly.

His moans were louder now, loud enough Harry was sure people could hear them from outside the dorm. Draco didn’t seem to care, or even realize he was making those sounds.

The next moment Draco was contracting around him, trembling violently and coming on their stomachs. The pressure was enough to send Harry over the edge, his thrusts erratic as he came deep inside Draco.

Draco moaned again when he felt something hot filling him up, Harry’s last thrusts too much to handle.

Harry flopped beside him, his limbs drained of strengh.

'Merlin’ he whispered to himself.

'Yeah’

'That was…’

'Yeah’

They didn’t speak for the next couple of minutes. When Harry got up to leave, though, Draco reached for his arm.

'You could… we- uh… we could…’

Harry kissed him softly, almost clumsily before speaking 'Yeah, I- I’d like that’

***

Draco sat down that evening with Pansy and Blaise at their common room to warm themselves in front of the fire. He couldn’t help wincing a bit when he did.

'What’s wrong? I thought Potter had fixed you back’

Draco felt his face flushing immediately.

'He did! I just…’

'I’m sure he did. Just remember to go somewhere else with thicker walls next time you call him to fix your back’ Blaise didn’t even care to lift his eyes from the book he had in hands.

His cheeks were in flames and the expression on Pansy’s face wasn’t helping.

‘You owe me two favours now!’ She smirked, leaning against the couch like she’d won a bet.

‘What- Why two?’ Draco shifted and winced again at the new burning ache.

‘Because,’ She stuck up a finger like she needed to count all the favours Draco owned her. ‘I found someone to fix your back’ She lifted another finger. ‘And,’

Right that second Potter walked through the portrait followed by Granger and Weasley. He spotted Draco immediately and, well wasn’t that great, strode towards him, leaving Weasley with a confused look and Granger with a knowing one. He glanced at Pancy and saw her waving at the Gryffindor girl. Fucking amazing.

‘Hey,’ Potter stood awkwardly there before sitting on the arm of Draco’s chair. Draco knew his cheeks were already flushed but when Potter bent down and whispered in his ear he was sure he probably looked like a tomatoe. ‘Fancy a game of Wizard’s chess later?’

Pansy was shaking trying to keep herself from bursting out laughing.

‘Your dorm?’ Draco found himself playing with the hem of Potter’s hoody. The bastard blushed at Draco’s words, but nodded with a smile on his face.

He’d barely turned his back when Draco heard Pansy’s voice loud and clear.

‘And, I got you a cute boyfriend. Two favours!’

***

Ao3 

To lose or to be broken

This was inspired by four post (1, 2, 3 & 4) made by the talented @asktheboywholived . I couldn’t stop myself from write something i had twirling in my head involving them.

Thanks to @stripygirl for being my beta.

  • He was terrified 
  • he could feel the blood in his veins pumping quickly
  • the hair at the back of his neck standing
  • a chill going through his spine
  • his hands were shaky
  • his forehead damp in cold sweat
  • he knew that at some point this was going to happen
  • but he never expected it to be this way
  • nor so quickly
  • being a double agent was a risky move
  • he knew
  • Dumbledore had told him about it
  • and he had accepted anyways
  • ‘You should watch your steps even more now, Mr Lupin’
  • at that moment that sounded like a threat more than an advice
  • 'I may have to remind you that there are more lives on the line than your own’
  • and that was what weighted more on his consciense right now
  • the fact that he knew what could happen
  • even though he didn’t want to believe it
  • but he wasn’t strong enough to let go of his small piece of heaven
  • he couldn’t set free that overwhelming and healing light
  • that Sirius brought into his life
  • he was too much of a coward to face that heart-breaking truth
  • he was being too much selfish to think about that
  • but his friends were involved
  • his brothers
  • him
  • his eyes shutted close in an almost painful way
  • his hands climbing to the sides of his head
  • pulling his hair with so much strenght
  • trying to ground himself
  • to forget the fear a bit and search for a solution
  • one that didn’t mean leaving him
  • nor having he being taken away
  • but the only thing that came to his mind was the way those broken lips contorted themselves into a snarl
  • full of mixed blood
  • showing fangs that had torn apart throats and limbs many times before
  • as well as dreams and futures
  • the same way it did with him when he was only four
  • the same way it was planning on to do it again 
  • and take everything away
  • his mind was falling down a rabbit hole full of fear and insecurities
  • in wich those yellow eyes scanned him up and down
  • and mocked him
  • and showed him what fear is made of
  • because those were the eyes of a predator
  • and he was now able to see that all those years
  • he believed himself to be one but was actually a prey
  • and he was being hunted down just for amusement
  • his ears were still ringing
  • not being able to catch any sound of his surroundings
  • except for that husky voice repeating over and over again in his head
  • making him feel sick
  • the laughing tone in each of those question making his insides twist
  • growls rising from the back of that throat with excitement and arousal
  • he was being played at
  • because Fenrir was a real monster 
  • who didn’t actually think rationally a lot
  • but he could follow clues
  • and Remus had been too careless
  • and Fenrir took the hint
  • when the plan on attacking the one of the quarters of the Order came
  • and Bellatrix said that his dirty little cousin was there
  • Remus’ eyes flickered with surprise and fear for a couple of seconds
  • but then his sight landed on Fenrir 
  • a smirk that showed fangs being licked the same way he did after hunting
  • goosebumps all over his skin
  • Remus knew that game too well
  • but he tried to avoid it
  • leaving fake clues
  • being more viceral
  • more of an animal
  • play better his role
  • being what Fenrir expected of him
  • but he wasn’t fooling anyone
  • not even himself
  • and he knew what Fenrir was going to do
  • because he clearly told him once
  • 'You have a special place in my heart, y'know. I’ve never wanted to hurt anybody so badly.’
  • and he was scared
  • and he was shocked
  • moment after moment poping up on his mind
  • each little detail that gave out the facade
  • all the mistakes he had made
  • it all had come to this
  • 'How sane do you think you can keep yourself when I finally get my claws on that little friend of yours?’
  • 'What would that pure and noble blood of a traitor taste like?’
  • 'Should I give him my gift perhaps?’
  • a game of chase and be chased
  • in which Remus was the victim and Fenrir was the killer
  • but the main target was Sirius
  • because he was the only way to really break down the werewolf boy
  • and Fenrir rejoyced on that knowledge
  • but there was less and less time for games each day
  • and being bored was not an option for a monster
  • nor being merciful
  • and the chord was being cut
  • there wasn’t any other thing to do
  • and Remus had to choose
Saturday

It was a normal Saturday, when it happened. Y/N was in one of his flannels, working on one of her many paintings, hands covered in different colors of paint, some dried, and some still very much wet. Her hair was a mess, and his flannel was way too big on her, but Remus couldn’t help but think how adorable she looked, her brow furrowing and her lips pursing as she worked to get the perfect blend on the canvas. A stray hair fell into her her face and she brushed it away, leaving a trail of blue paint across her forehead. “Um darling, you’ve got a little,” Remus chuckled, motioning to her forehead and drawing her attention away from her artwork. “Huh?” She asked, reaching up and feeling the wet paint. “Oh.” She took a deep breath and looked around. A lot more time had passed than she’d expected. Suddenly, she stood up and grabbed Remus’ hand, smearing cold paint along his palm as she did so. He didn’t mind. He’d learned long ago that Y/N was different, in the best of ways. He just chuckled and let her drag him to whatever had captured her attention.

Remus had known from the very beginning that Y/N was special. Aside from her being absolutely beautiful, she had this aura of kindness that drew him to her before they even met. He’d watched her around the school, amazed by how she never turned down a request for help. He’d used that to his advantage when he worked up the courage to talk to her. “I can’t help but notice you’ve always got a new book with you, could you recommend one to me?” He had asked her. She gladly suggested her favorite to him, and when he finished, they discussed the book, and then more books, and next thing they knew, Remus was taking her on picnics and hogsmead dates. As he got to know her better, Remus learned that Y/N had a secret obsession with painting, and he loved how she saw the beauty in everything, even him with his condition. Especially him. She was the most accepting, loving, compassionate person-

“Babe,” Y/N snapped him out of his thoughts, her pace stopping abruptly. “Look at that,” she was pointing to something in the distance, but he couldn’t help but look at her. Her hair was all over the place after the run, his flannel that she was wearing was much too large and slipping over her shoulder, leaving it bare, she was covered in paint, and she was still so beautiful. Her eyes were glittering with excitement as she stared at whatever it was that had caught her attention. “Rem, seriously, look!” She exclaimed, pointing behind him. “’M sorry love, ’s just… you’re so beautiful,” he sighed, pulling her in for a kiss. She pecked his lips quickly and pulled away. “Thank you. Now look!” She squealed, turning him around. Remus was met with the sun setting above the forest, the sky shining with vibrant pinks and purples and blues.

It was, indeed, very beautiful, and different than how the sunsets at the school usually looked like-but maybe it wasn’t. Who could pay attention to the sunset when Y/N was around, shining more bright and more beautiful than anything the sky had to offer? “Merlin, look at those colors, so perfect together, and that little bit of light peeking through the trees…” Y/N rambled excitedly and Remus turned and watched her. He loved how she saw everything as art, and the way her eyes lit up when she was sharing her thoughts. She could turn anything in front of her into a masterpiece, and Remus admired that deeply. She could make others see the beauty in the world, and as someone who hated who he was and how he looked, Remus appreciated that as well.

It was a normal Saturday, when it happened. Y/N was staring up at the sky as the sun set, her hair messy, the flannel she was wearing was engulfing her small frame, and her little hands and face were smeared with paint. “I love you,” Remus blurted, causing the small girl to take her eyes away from the sky and look at him. He worried for a moment, if it was too soon, if he shouldn’t have said anything- but then a smile broke out on her face and she closed the gap between them and kissed his lips softly. “I love you, too, Rem.” She rested her head against his chest and looked back at the darkening sky as the sun dipped into the trees. “More than the sunset,” Remus heard her murmur, and he smiled. It was a normal Saturday, it happened. Remus was holding the most amazing girl he’d ever known in his arms. They were watching the sunset after a long day of painting and bad jokes. They had just told each other that they loved each other for the first time, but Remus had loved her for much longer before that. Remus couldn’t have been happier. It was a normal Saturday when Remus realized that Y/N was the one.

Originally posted by your-harry-potter-imagines


——————————————————————————————-

A/N: Sorry it’s super short, but I hope you guys love it anyway! Thank you for being patient with me while I’ve been sick the past couple of days, and thank you to everyone who voted for who the imagine was about. If you voted for Sirius or Draco, fret not, because I am already working on a new Draco imagine, and Sirius Black is the love of my life, so I assure you, there will be plenty of him in the future as well. Thank you for reading, I love you! ♡♡♡


Masterlist

The Kitchens - Ancient

So this is the first chapter of the ancient version of The Kitchens… not sure exactly what time period but some time in that kind of medieval high point of kings and queens. ENJOY!


Sirius set out for the West parlor, wondering if maybe he could sleep a while on one of the couches. His bare feet were cool against the July-warmed stone, even at night. He wished he could enjoy this more like he usually did, with the absence of prying eyes. But his head ached, spinning with thoughts of the ever-looming events that summer’s end promised. There were fall’s many festivals, hunting trips. And among these things, a bride. He’d be eighteen in November. He’d known what eighteen meant for as long as he could remember. It was inevitable, like a pressing weight on his chest. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head: Alliances are needed, Sirius. You’ll be a King one day and you’ll need a powerful Queen at your side. And besides, fall weddings are lucky.

Sirius rubbed at his eyes, huffing as he turned blindly into the room he knew to well, only to find it bathed in a soft warm glow. He let his hand drop to his side, taken off guard by the light-soaked walls, and he froze. Because there was a boy there. His heels were coming out of his shoes as he crouched over the softly roasting coals of the beginning of one of the Black castle’s many fires. Sirius realized he’d been standing there too long to make any sort of proper introduction too late.

Of all the words in his grand vocabulary, his mind decided to settle on, “Oh.”

The boy jumped. He went to stand up too fast and ended up thumping his head painfully against the brick under edge of the fireplace. Sirius cursed at the same time the boy did.

“Christ James, I told you to do the East Wing-“

The boy spoke at the same time that he turned. He cut off just as he saw Sirius.

“Oh.” He inhaled sharply, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, “My Lord. I didn’t realize…”

And Sirius watched it happen, just as it always did. He watched the boy’s back straighten, he watched the front go up.

Sirius huffed, annoyed. He made his way around the sofa slowly, fingers trailing against the plush fabric as he did, “Didn’t realize I’d be in my own castle?”

The boy frowned. He looked like he wanted to narrow his eyes but thought better of it, “Not at these hours. My Lord.” He added the last part hastily, half-heartedly, and a bit heatedly.

“I’d ask you the same question.” Sirius did narrow his eyes. He was allowed to.

The boy looked like he was biting his tongue before he spoke, “I was to light the fires this morning, my Lord.”

Sirius froze, expression flickering, “Morning?”

The boy glanced out the window briefly, “Morning, my Lord.”

Sirius followed his eyes, only to see that it was morning. He blinked at the dawning sky, the world still pink, and cleared his throat, “Oh.”

“Have-“ The boy hesitated until Sirius looked back at him. His expression slightly softer but guarded still, “have you been out all night? Around the castle? My Lord.”

Sirius hesitated, then sighed, rubbing his face, “You don’t have to add that after every sentence.” He pressed his thumbs into his eyes, as if trying to rub the fatigue out, before looking back at the boy. He had flour on his cheek, a bit of ash on his temple.

“Yes.” He looked back out the window, “I guess so.”

He didn’t think he’d been walking all night and yet there was the sun, peaking over the mountains.

The boy crouched down, scraping the iron fire poker back up and prodding at the coals with it, “Sometime on your mind, my Lord?”

Sirius jerked his head downward, “I said-“

But he stopped, words catching in his throat. He shouldn’t admit it, really he couldn’t admit it- not out loud anyways- but, now that he was looking, the boy was a bit of a beautiful sight. Maybe it was just the firelight, or lack of sleep, but the thought sprang to the front of Sirius’ mind so quickly he just… thought it.

He shifted, clearing his throat, “No.” He meant to turn away, maybe leave, but instead he sat down, “No. I simply lost track of time.”

The fire light made the boy’s eyes look like a a pot of melting amber when he turned towards Sirius, expression forwardly quizzical, “Yes, my Lord.”

Sirius frowned, “Do you not know my name?”

The boy raised an eye brow, “My Lord?”

“Do you not know my name.” Sirius repeated, “Is that why you refuse to use it, even upon my request?”

It was still quite dark, but Sirius could have sworn the boy flushed. He turned back to poking the fire.

“You know, you aren’t doing that right.”

The boy kept poking, not looking away, “I’m not usually in charge of the fires.” He mumbled.

Sirius leaned forward, “No, you see, they aren’t going to stay alight like that. Didn’t you- no, stop, stop.” Sirius swiftly moved to crouch next to the boy, putting his hand over his on the poker, “Watch. You need it to be…” He guided their hands to push the embers towards the center, “Like such. That way the smoke goes up and the heat goes out. See now?”

“I… Yes. How did you…”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “I’m royal, not helpless.”

“That’s not what Sam says.”

Sirius did his best to look aghast but it ended as more of a smile, “That’s how you address your superiors?”

The boy grinned, “A moment ago you were begging me to call you Sirius.”

Sirius turned sharply away from the coals, taken off guard. He tightened his grip on the iron. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard his name from a servant’s mouth before. Sam, his valet, called him Sirius. He had just never heard his name quite like that. Soft, gentile. The way this boy said it… it almost made him sound like a good person. The boy seemed to roll his eyes a little, surprising a smile.

“So the truth is out. You do know my name.”

He wrapped his arms around his knees, watching the coals. His sandy hair flopped nicely into his eyes, “Everyone in the world probably knows your name.”

Sirius laughed softly, “I think you’re sorely misjudging the size of the world.”

The boy looked at him, features extraordinarily soft in the firelight. Sirius’ heart caught.

“That wouldn’t surprise me.” He said quietly, “It isn’t like I’ve seen any of it.”

“S’not that great, really.” Sirius said softly. It was, but Sirius wasn’t about to say that. He cleared his throat instead, “Well, I should-“

He cut himself off again, this time with a curse. He tumbled back on his heels, the poker clattering to the floor, his left hand burning.

“Fuck-“ He unclenched his fist, seeing an angry red mark already forming across his knuckles.

The boy cursed, “Shit, the coals. I forgot to put the gate up- one rolled out- I- your highness-“

“I’m fine,” Sirius grit his teeth, trying his best to smile, “It’s just a little hot, I-“

“Oh come off it, that’s more than a little hot-” The second the words were out of the boy’s mouth his eyes were wide, “Oh god. I-“

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the your highness, at the horror on the boy’s face when he’d slipped and spoken to Sirius like a normal person.

The boy pressed his lips together, the hollows of his cheeks pink. He directed his gaze to Sirius’ injured hand, “We should really get something for that.”

Sirius nodded, “You can rouse Pomfrey for me?”

The boy stood, “I think I can help you, actually… if you like.” He offered Sirius a hesitant hand.

Sirius took it. He didn’t even think about it, he just let this boy pull him up, cradling his injured one to his chest, “I don’t even know your name.”

The boy arched an eyebrow, “I’m sure I can help either way.”

Sirius suppressed a smile, “You know mine.”

“Everyone knows yours.”

Sirius stood up ridiculously straight, holding his nose in the air accentuating his posh accent, “Sir, your prince is asking your name-”

The boy snorted, “Merlin, it’s Remus, it’s Remus.” He turned, leading the way out of the room, “Now stop that…”

“Like the myth?” Sirius followed him.

“What myth?”

“The Roman one. With the wolf.”

Remus glanced behind him, “What?”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, “Didn’t you learn it in school?”

Remus raised an eyebrow as Sirius fell into stride with him, “You’re assuming I went to school.”

Sirius’ steps faltered, “I- oh.”

“Not all of us grow up in castles, not to mention princes.”

Sirius glanced at Remus’ profile as they walked down the servant’s staircase. It was hard to read, “I didn’t mean any offense.” Sirius offered.

Remus sent him a small smile, “And yet…”

Sirius suddenly felt very aware of his words, his accent, even his attire, all in comparison to Remus. He felt overdressed in his maroon robe, the gold embroidery feeling flashy and unnecessary next to Remus’ plain white shirt, littered with stains from work.

Remus shook his head gently at him as they entered the kitchen, “I’m joking. It’s alright, you didn’t know,” he nodded towards the countertop, “sit there.”

Sirius rubbed at the back of his neck, “I suppose I should have known…” His eyes widened, “I mean-“

Remus rolled his eyes, “Sit.”

“-not that I would assume you didn’t have an education-“

Sit, Sirius.”

Sirius pushed himself up onto the counter, silently kicking himself. He watched wordlessly as Remus set ingredients out on the counter next to him. Honey, and a lemon.

“Well… this is odd.”

Remus looked at Sirius, “You’ve never seen this before?”

Sirius shook his head.

Remus smirked, slicing the lemon in half, “Well, you’re obviously not learning everything with that education of yours, are you?”

Sirius grinned back, relieved.

Remus held his palm out, “Give your hand here.”

Sirius glanced nervously at the lemon, “Won’t that hurt?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, reaching and grabbing Sirius’ injury for himself, “What do you think the honey’s for? It will only sting for a moment…”

He trailed off as he gently pressed the the cross section of the lemon across Sirius’ slightly blistered knuckles. Sirius hissed, then tried to turn it into a cough. He pointedly ignored Remus’ smirk.

Remus’ fingers were cool against the irritated skin around the burn, and Sirius drew his lip between his teeth as Remus carefully smeared a bit of honey over the aching cut. The thick paste relieved the throbbing to a duller pain.

“Merlin.”

Remus wiped his hands on a kitchen rag, “More useful than a Roman myth, huh?”

Sirius groaned, “I apologized.”

“Is that how world affairs are settled then? Apologies?” Remus smiled, producing a bandage from the same cupboard the honey had come from. His long fingers worked nimbly as he wraps Sirius’ hand.

“There. If it starts to hurt again, I- or I mean Madame Pomfrey can-“

“I’ll find you if it hurts.” Sirius said, sliding from the counter.

Remus nodded slowly, “Right.”

Sirius drummed his fingers on the countertop, looking down at Remus, “Right.”

Remus glanced around Sirius nervously, “People will probably be waking soon.”

Sirius nodded, although he hadn’t really heard what Remus had said. They were standing quite close, “Right…”

Remus seemed a bit breathless when he spoke again, “We have to prepare your breakfast…”

Sirius arched an eyebrow, “Do you prepare the breakfast?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, “I prepare your breakfast.”

Sirius smiled slowly, “Really?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder, “When you take it in your room at least. Which is-“

“-most days.” Sirius finished, laughing, “But how do you know?”

Remus shook his head, confused, “Know?”

“That I’m having it upstairs.”

Remus paused for a moment, as if waiting for Sirius to continue, or to laugh. Then his eyebrows raised very high to his hairline and he let out a burst of laughter, “Honestly?”

Sirius stepped back a step, “What?”

Remus shook his head again, reaching out and catching Sirius’ wrist either to keep himself steady in his laughter, or to keep Sirius from moving away, “No- No, I’m sorry,” he gasped, “It’s just… you really don’t know how we work down here, do you?”

Sirius shuffled uncomfortably, trying not to jostle his hand too much. He didn’t want Remus to let go, “Well…” He tried to think of some excuse, shrugging, “When I come down here everyone stops working to ask what I want!”

“They’re suppose to do that.” Remus points out.

“Yes, but that explains why I don’t know how it works!” Sirius spluttered.

Remus smiled, “Fine, fine… Lord, I’m sitting here arguing with a Prince… Sam tells me.”

Sirius, fully prepared for a defense again, deflated some, “Oh.” He contemplated for a moment, “Well, I guess I should have thought of that.”

Remus shrugged, eyes still teasing, “I guess.”

There was a creak from the floorboards above causing both boys to look up, then back down at each other. They were nearly nose to nose, and Sirius quite enjoyed that he had to look down a bit to meet Remus’ eyes.

“You need to go.”

“Kicking a royal out?”

Remus rolled his eyes, “You need to go your highness.”

He guided Sirius somewhat forcefully to the door as footsteps quickly approached the staircase.

“Hey.”

Remus froze in his act of shutting the door, only Sirius’ face visible from the other side.

“What?” He said impatiently.

“The eggs are always perfect.”

Sirius grinned at the eye roll he received before the door was shut in his face.

Drarry Fic Recs

While I’m off adventuring with my Hannah, here’s a list of all my fic recs to (hopefully) tide you over :)

General Rec Lists

AUs (sorted into different houses, re-sorted, canon divergent Hogwarts era, nonmagical, different universes)

Angst

Eighth Years and Hogwarts Era

Fluff

Long, Plotty, and Smutty

Slowburns

Smutty Rec Lists

Delicious PWPs (eighth years, hate sex, public sex, hung!drarry, bdsm, & established Relationships)

Sub!Harry

Top!Draco

Top!Harry

Tropes

Anxiety and Mental Illness

Christmas Drarry

Domestic Drarry

Draco and Luna are Best Friends

Everybody Lives AU

Fake Boyfriends/Pretend Relationship

French Draco

Harry’s History of Abuse is Examined

Kid Fics

Pining Draco

Room of Requirement

Slytherin!Harry and Pro-Slytherin

Student/Teacher

Other Rec Lists

My Favorite Fics

Author Recs

Harry/Draco/Blaise Threesomes

Scorbus Recs

My Girl (James)

Requested- could you pls write a oneshot where the reader gets cat-called by a group of boys from another House and James tells them to back off and they leave, and the reader is shocked because they’re not dating, they’ve never spoken before but James asks her to really be his gf?

For the mood: Gryffin, Bipolar Sunshine - Whole Heart

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It is another normal day at Hogwarts—wait, scratch that, it is never normal around here—it is another school day at Hogwarts, and you are walking in the hallway alone, carrying numerous textbooks for your classes. People walk by quickly as they are all going somewhere in different directions. When you finally make a turn, a group of Slytherin boys catch your attention. They are all wearing their robes with books in their hands, just like the rest of the students. But they have a look on their faces that screams no good, smirks appearing on their faces as they see you noticing them. You try to walk faster and ignore them, but you are outnumbered.

“Where are you heading, love?” One of them with pale skin and light grey eyes demands. Another whistles at you.

You give them a harsh stare, not speaking to either of them.

“Aww, playing hard to get, aren’t we?” A third one says.

You roll your eyes, “get lost.”

“What makes you think we’d do that?” The first Slytherin boy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Leave her alone, Presley.” A guy’s voice comes to your hearing, and you spin around to see James Potter frowning at the group. He wraps his arm around your waist, making you blush.

“Who do you think you are, Potter?” Halcyon Presley replies irritatedly.

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here is a drarry fanfiction I wrote while on wisdom teeth drugs.

i am on drugs NOW RIHGHT NOW and I am go going tgo write a drarry fafiction when i am dnon t drugs her w e go

ther are 2 wizards here we are with two gay wizards theeeeeeir neimse s are draceo and hariui poter

they ar e gay

and in lov e love tehey are in love but they!!!!!!!!!!!! are in lveo but its a seret okay they are gay and in love but its a sevret shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 

drqaco and harrrrry are gay and in love and draco has a penis it s is ts its a thing but does harrry  have a penis YES HE DOES that is what maes it g ay theyre gray th e end!!!!!!


Okay so I wrote this while I was on drugs and I wrote it in my notes on my phone and then I sent it to myself and then now here it is. It happened. I am so disappointed in myself. Enjoy this literary work of art.

Healing.

I was going through my small library of old pieces and came across this Jily piece with a little flicker of Wolfstar.

Lily has nearly perfected her healing magic and it comes in handy more often than she would like. And sometimes, she doesn’t even need the charms to do a little healing.

Enjoy.

  • Lily pressed her cheek further into the arm rest of the chair she had curled up in
  • She had taken refuge there after a certain Head Boy got her kicked out of the library earlier and was ultimately the last one standing when the clock struck midnight
  • She wasn’t sure what time it was now as she tugged at the blanket wrapped around her body
  • There was a faint breeze coming in from the window, autumn was fast approaching at Hogwarts
  • She could still feel the heat radiating from the fire she had lit ages ago, it was still crackling and her books were still snuggly tucked between her thighs and her chest
  • She knew she should force herself out of her cozy little spot and crawl into bed but the peaceful feeling of the common room was lulling her back into her sleepy haze
  • That was of course until she heard the portrait hole swing open and multiple bodies come clamoring inside
  • Her head shot up immediately at the noise
  • She knew the sound of the Marauders anywhere
  • And she figured they would come bustling around the thin corridor sooner or later
  • It was the night of a full moon after all

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