what is wrong with harrys face

Evil Harry stood frozen with terror as Cohen advanced across the snow, hand raised.
“You tipped off the gods, Harry,” said Cohen.
“We all heard yez,” said Mad Hamish.
“But it’s okay,” Cohen added. “Makes it more interestin’.” His hand came down and slapped the small man on the back.
“We thought: That Evil Harry, he may be dumber’n a thick brick, but betrayin’ us at a time like this… well, that’s what we call nerve,” said Cohen. “I’ve known a few Evil Dark Lords in my time, Harry, but I’d def’nit’ly give you three great big goblins’ heads for style. You might have never made it into the, you know, big Dark Lord league, but you’ve got… well, Harry, you’ve definitely got the Wrong Stuff.”
Evil Harry looked down and shuffled his feet, his face a battle between pride and relief.
“Good of you to say that, lads,” he mumbled. “I mean, you know, if it was up to me I wouldn’t do this to yer, but I got a reputation to–”
“I said we understand,” said Cohen. “It’s just like with us. You see a big hairy thing galloping towards you, you don’t stop to think: Is this a rare species on the point of extinction? No, you hack its head off. ‘Cos that’s heroing, am I right? An’ you see someone, you betray ‘em, quick as wink, ‘cos that’s villaining.”
There was a murmur of approval from the rest of the Horde. In a strange way, this too was part of the Code.

– on the Code | Terry Pratchett, The Last Hero

I always thought that Magnus is just fixing Alec’s jacket. You know as the reason for him to touch him. But it was just about 5 minutes ago that I realize that he is stroking his cheek too. I never saw that he brushed his finger at Alec’s cheek. No surprise that Matt couldn’t keep straight face and smiled and blushed. 

Seriously, what is wrong with me when it took me so long to get some of their touchings? 

The 5 Elements of a LIKABLE Main Character

“I don’t like your main character. He’s kind of obnoxious.” my beta reader laughingly told me, after reading the first chapter of my novel.

On the surface, I looked like this: 

Inside, I looked like this: 

Aloud, I said “Oh, well, he’s kind of hard to understand. He changes by the end.”

Inside, I screamed “How could you not like him?! Do you have a heart?! Is there a void where your soul should be?! Are you actually a Dementor that’s really good at makeup? Well, I guess this is what the Dementors are doing after getting kicked out of Azkaban!”

Outside: “But I really enjoyed it!” *Hugs between broken writer and Dementor in disguise* “Thank you for reading!" 

But you know what? That person that might be a soul-sucking cloaked demon creature? They were right. The character was unlikable, or more accurately, there was no reason to cheer him on. There was nothing to make the reader connect with him, relate to him, transfer themselves into his story, feel affection towards him. 

And if the reader doesn’t connect with the character through empathy? Nothing else in the story can work. Everything relies on this one fictional person. The basic definition of story is "A flawed hero with a goal overcoming obstacles to reach that goal, and how that journey changes them.” So without character, you don’t have story. Without empathy from the reader, you don’t even have character. 

So what is empathy when it comes to characters? 

It’s the process of a reader transferring their own lives onto the character. When this happens, the character’s goal and inner desires, values and weaknesses, everything about them, become proxies for our own. We learn of a shared piece of human nature between us, something we have in common on a significant inner level, and suddenly we want to see this character succeed. Because now, they are us – and we want to see ourselves succeed in real life. We feel what they feel, we experience what they experience.  

The best way to sum up character empathy in my opinion, is this quote from C.S.Lewis: “Friendship is born at the moment when one person says to another ‘Really? You too? I thought I was the only one!’”

That’s empathy. 

Which doesn’t mean the character has to be an angelic little cherub …

There are characters that operate in a moral gray area, there are characters that are downright awful, there are characters that shouldn’t be lovable …but we love them. So this is NOT saying that a main character has to be a perfect angel that rescues baby squirrels when they’re not busy volunteering at the local soup kitchen, it just means there’s something WORTHWHILE in the character that persuades the reader to stick around. We need a reason to relate with that at-first-glance unlikable character. Just as we have flawed people in our own lives who we can forgive and love.

A good quote for this one would be this, by G.K.Chesterton: “That’s the great lesson of Beauty and the Beast; that a thing must be loved before it is lovable.”

So how does a writer accomplish a good empathetic connection?

Luckily for us, establishing this only takes a little planning in the beginning of the story. Certain elements foster empathy, elements which you can give to your character and display in the story. Making sure to incorporate a few of these will ensure that first connection between reader and character. A connection which you, the author, will then be able to grow. It’s this tiny first note of shared humanity which deepens into those important links we hold with characters. We’re living people, they’re imagined and comprised of words on a page; yet these people can be friends to us, family, mentors, role models, and become some of the most influential people in our lives. 

And how does that begin? Evoking empathy. 

And how do you evoke empathy? Well here are the characteristics that human beings instinctively identify with and admire … 

– Courage (This is the one EVERY main character should possess. Gumption to pursue what they want separates main from background characters.)

– Humor (Wit charms us without fail.)

– Goal-Obsessed 

– Hard-working  

– Noble motivations

– Loving

– Loved by others

– Kind 

– Treated unfairly

– In imminent danger, physically

– In imminent danger, emotionally

– In a sorrowful situation

– Smart/Expert at something

– Suffering from psychological weakness  

– Haunted by something in their past

– Dissatisfied with current state of their life

– Lacking something like love, friendship, belonging, family, safety, freedom, etc

It’s a good plan to give your main character at least FIVE of these empathetic little “virtues.”

If this sounds like a resume, that’s kind of what it is. “Dear Potential Reader, I’m applying for the job of Main Character of this book series. I aspire to consume your every waking thought and drastically change your life, for better and worse.” It’s a diagram of the worthwhile traits of the hero, the characteristics that win us over, which promise the reader “If you follow my story, knowing me – and experiencing the story through me – will be well worth your time.”

These traits will be displayed in the set-up of the story, the first ten pages or so. But the story CANNOT stop to let the character exhibit these winning behaviors; the story must KEEP PROGRESSING, every empathetic element must be shown with a story reason for existing within a scene. Like exposition, empathy needs to be added in subtly, as the story motors onward, slipping into the reader’s knowledge without them noticing. If it’s a scene created for the express purpose of convincing the reader “This character is lovable! Love them! I said love them!” then it will be glaringly obvious and the reader will feel the exact opposite. (They’ll also feel that way about the author, incidentally.)

Now! How does this work? 

Harry Potter: 

Harry is the poster child for being treated unfairly. Yet in the face of the abusive treatment of his childhood, Harry is courageous. He does not succumb to the Dursley’s relentless campaign to stamp the magic out of him, and become a proper Dursley; though this would’ve won their approval, put him in their good graces, and made his life exponentially easier – but he didn’t do it. He knew they were wrong, knew what was right, and refused to become like them. So heck yes Sorting Hat, there is “plenty of courage, I see”. He was loved by his parents, by the three that dropped him off at his Aunt and Uncle’s, and by the majority of the Wizarding World. He’s also snarky, loving, and in constant danger. 

Judy Hopps: 

Every reason why we care about Judy is established in the first few scenes. She’s courageous. She’s funny. She’s loved by her parents. She’s motivated by noble values. Definitely goal oriented, hard working, and smart. She’s also in imminent danger, and being treated unfairly.

If we took out the pieces of the story meant to evoke our empathy, what would happen? 

Nobody would care. Judy Hopps would have been an annoying, smug, and consumed by ruthless ambition. Harry Potter would have ceased to exist because everything about him is empathetic. 

Establishing these early allows us to begin the process of temporarily transferring our lives into a story. Or in the case of some life-changing stories, not temporarily transferring, but letting them become part of our souls forever. 

Yup, having your story connect with a reader forever starts with just a little empathy. Pretty useful.

Oh, and speaking of souls, give me mine back, Dementor reader. I learned how to make people like my characters. Now you’re out of the Azkaban job and the beta reading job. 

Kiwi, Though.

A/N: this is a bit of an extension of the birthday bows/valentine woes world, but certainly functions as a stand alone piece.  thank you for the request*, nonny 😘

this is a very, very smutty, dirty piece about anal so if that’s not your thing, turn back now. there’s a lot of movement in this, so please offer me a bit of suspension of disbelief and just know that harry and his missus did everything they needed to in order to be clean and safe in this encounter.

*requests are currently closed


He didn’t mean it. Really, he didn’t. Well, he did, but he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t mean it anymore. Not now. Not now that you were hanging it over his head and torturing him with it.

It had been just another nightly FaceTime before bed from miles and miles apart; well bedtime for you, the night had only just started in Jamaica. And it was just typical banter to hide the sour feeling due to return once you hung up. And it was just a sly comment to rile you up, get you excited to join him in Jamaica in a few days.

“Yeh not gonna be able to keep yeh hands off me, love.” And that would have been enough, but Harry often struggled when it came to shutting his big, stupid mouth. “Not even if yeh wanted.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise, mouth ajar with incredulity. “Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I can keep my hands to myself much better than you can, H.”

“Right.” A cocky smirk crossed his lips. “Always got yeh hands all over me, kitten, ’specially when we’re reunited. S’never enough with you. Keep me up all night–satisfy your every need–but then yeh right back on me in the mornin’. Insatiable, you are.”

“If I’m insatiable, what’s that make you?!” Sure, he was right; you liked a few sleepless nights upon reunion, enjoyed testing the limits of your bodies, but it’s not like he protested. It’s not like he didn’t want to explore your body, relearn your inner workings mind, body and soul and try a few new things, too.

“Sex slave. At your every beck and call, kitten.” He was pleased with himself, grinning ear-to-ear as he teased you.

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  • Remus: what's wrong?
  • Sirius: nothing... it's just that adults are boring and i hate them. and i don't want to buy all this stupid, boring, adult stuff and become boring adults.
  • Remus: hey, listen to me. yes, we're going to get a dish rack and shower curtains and a cutting board... but if you think for one second that i'm not also going to get that marshmallow shooter so that i can shoot you in the face with marshmallows when you're asleep, then you're the dumbest man i know.
  • Sirius: you're gonna make me cry.
Something About a Touch

It took me a month, but I finally did it. If you haven’t read the first part, you can so here. I also want to thank @twerkit-hxrry for being my eyes and ears throughout this grueling ordeal, and for helping me write the ‘Niall bathroom scene’. Seriously, thank you.

This part is a little shorter than the one before, but there’s still more to come with these two. And with that being said, enjoy. x

Harry was fucked.

He knew it from the moment he opened Instagram to find you had gracefully accepted his follower request, and was met with what he could only describe as ‘the most strikingly beautiful selfie to ever grace the palms of the earth’ – and what didn’t help was it was the same picture you had taken on his sofa only the day before, an empty chow mien box laid discarded on the table by your side.

The caption read: ‘Chow mieny soy sauce you want?’

A heavy quake erupted deep in Harry’s throat, a sound he could only describe as an unmanly squawk, and he instantly goes to cover his agape expression as he retains the joke he had told you just the night before.

He doesn’t take a second to think before he quickly double taps the photo, only just before noticing Niall had gotten there first, and continues scrolling.

It’s only a quarter passed eleven that morning, and you’ve been gone for two hours, and the one thing keeping him calmly situated in the comfort of his sofa is your scent left lingering on the hoodie he has taken upon wearing the moment you stepped foot out of his house – the same hoodie you claimed as your own the night before when, after grumpily swinging your legs over the sofa with a deep exhale, you trudged over to his wing chair to steal the Muscle Machine hoodie he had hanging over the back.

“Were you born in the Arctic?”

After sharing your intricate meal of Chinese takeaway, it was left to his surprise when you brought up the idea to break out the wine, and it dawned on Harry quickly that the second you start to bat your eyelashes and pout your lip out, there’s no way he could ever say no to you.

Another thing he learned about you was you were, in fact, very dangerous.

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Don't Call Me Binary

Tonks: /Sometimes it doesn’t matter how I change my hair, or my eyes, or my face… sometimes everything just feels wrong/

Tonks: /Like being caught inside the wrong body/ 

Tonks: /It took years for me to figure out why this happened, and what I needed to do on those days to fix it/ 

Tonks: /gender is about as existent as Voldys nose/ 


Bonus

Remus: Hey Tonks have you-… wow

Tonks: is this weird?… 

Remus: Quite the opposite actually… you look great 

((OOC: when you get tired of peoples ignorance whilst also loving the idea of a gender fluid Tonks)) 

Remorse.

or… harry regrets breaking y/n’s heart

category: angst

I miss you.

His mouth is dry as he stares down at his phone, thumb hovering over the arrow that’ll send the text he’s longing to mail. With another deep breath, he studies the message over again, then begins to question himself. Should I write more? She deserves an apology. Maybe the word crave instead of miss. Yearn for? He deletes the text but retypes it in the same moment.

He’s never felt guilt this deeply before, he’s never so desperately wanted to turn back time and change everything– rephrase all of his words differently. Do things differently. The thought of him not being able to go back and change things hits him like a ton of bricks, sending his short nails into the palm of his hand.

A clap on his shoulder wakes him from his thoughts, and he looks up with attentive eyes. “Ready to go?” Jeff laughs, tucking his heel into the back of his shoe. “Reservations don’t hold themselves.”

“No, yeah.” he rushes, tucking the locked phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Let’s go.”

“It’s my fucking job, y’know that, we’ve been through this a million times before. Get over it, angel.”

She scoffs in disbelief, untying the silk scarf from around her neck. “Get over it? Get over it. Over my boyfriend of nearly a year not telling anyone about our relationship—?“

“The media would go insane I- fuck I told y’this—”

“I’m not asking you to tell the world, Harry! Maybe your mom, your sister? My family? I’ve been lying to them for way too long, keeping an enormous part of my life away from them how’s that supposed to make me feel? Do you know how distressing it is to be introduced as a friend to you? To not tell anyone, not even my best friend how much you mean to me?”

“Y’do know it’s like that for me as well? A relationship is consists of two people—”

“Not that I’d know.”

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You love me, right?

A/N: Maybe not exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy. 

“Don’t touch me!” you giggled. But Harry didn’t listen as he continued to reach for you, narrowly avoiding the bicycle kicks you were sending his way.


“Oh, come off it, m’hands aren’t that cold,” he said with an eye roll as he finally got you to settle beneath him. His hands rested on your sides, and while your flesh was protected from his chilly fingers by the thick fabric of your sweater, you could feel the coldness hovering above.


“They are freezing, Harry.” You looked around best you could with Harry keeping you still, trying to find some way to escape. But you were trapped in the middle of the bed like a raft out to sea with no sight of shore.


“Fine, fine. Won’t touch you.” His shoulders slumped in dejection, bottom lip protruding pathetically. You looked for signs of movement; you’d been in this relationship long enough to know Harry never gave up without a fight. “But yeh know, love, cold hands mean ‘ve got a warm heart.”


Your eyebrows raised, mouth in a hard line. “That is the biggest load—”


The words hardly left your mouth before Harry’s hands infiltrated your warm sweater. He roamed the expanse of your warm body, squeezing and tickling all the spots that made you squeal. Maybe it wasn’t his cold hands, but the sound of your laugh echoing throughout his bedroom did make Harry swell with warmth.


“Harry…Harry, please,” you pleaded through heavy breaths, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. “My tummy hurts…think you’ve given me a cramp.”

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He was right

Hellooo lovelies! Here’s something a little different. Really hope you enjoy! All the love, B xx

Originally posted by hryhoney

The pop pop pop of the corn exploding and turning into white crunchy popcorn invades his ears and the sickening smell of the caramel he’s stirring on a small pan on the stove top invades his nostril and make him roll his eyes - you’ve always been addicted to caramel popcorn and he never understood why. He always told you it was too sweet for his taste and he couldn’t eat more than a handful but you… you could eat it until the bowl was empty and you had sticky fingers and smacking lips.

Mixing everything into the silver bowl you said was designated to your popcorn addiction, he makes way for your bedroom, where the two of you are setting up to watch a movie for the night.

“What’s that smell?” You yell and you sound… disgusted. He’s ten feet away from the door and he sniffs, trying to find what’s the smell you’re talking about but still, the only thing he can smell is the caramel from the popcorn in his hand.

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anonymous asked:

What would make us all very happy (me especially) is if you expended the lil ficlet you made where draco steals Harry's sweater, because its adorable and perfect and everything I need in my life and I'm dying for more

Ok~ (edit: I wrote this thinking anon meant the hoodie stealing fic but they also might have meant the holiday jumper stealing fic. Hopefully, I picked the right one or at least made them happy?)


“Potter. Potter. Potter!”

Harry looked up from his plate across the table at Draco with a frown, “What? I’m right here, you don’t have to shout, you twat.”

“Then answer the first time,” Draco sniffed.

Harry rolled his eyes, “What do you want?”

“Do you want my potatoes?” He pushed his plate halfway across the table.

Harry frowned at them, “What’s wrong with them?”

“There’s nothing wrong with them. You ate some of them, you daft wanker.”

Harry made a face at him, “What’s wrong with yours then?”

“Merlin save me,” Draco muttered, briefly pressing his fingers to his forehead. “I just don’t want them.”

“Don’t you like the roasted potatoes?” Harry asked.

“No.” Draco said flatly, “Now do you want them or not.”

Ron leaned over and pointed at Draco with his fork, “Liar. I’ve seen you eating them.”

“On occasion,” Draco said stiffly.

“They’re one of your favorites,” Ron went on mercilessly.

Draco glared at him, “Well today they’re not.”

“They’re Harry’s favorites too,” Ron said.

“So?” Draco said.

“They’re the first dish to run out,” Ron said with mounting frustration, “You could just be honest and say you got them for him.”

Draco gave him a cold look and then turned away like Ron had ceased to exist. He picked up his plate and dumped the potatoes onto Harry’s plate and then stood up. “It’s not my fault you’re too scrawny,” he said and marched off.

“Hey! I am not!” Harry yelled after, standing as well. He went to follow and hesitated, glancing at his plate and quickly shoveling down the potatoes before running after him.

Ron slowly dropped his forehead onto the table with a thump, “They’re going to be the death of me… If I don’t strangle them with my bare hands first.”

Hermione patted his back sympathetically, “Well, you tried.”


Part 1 ~ Part 2 (you are here) ~  Part 3 ~ Part 4

“Protector” - One Shot

This is one of my older pieces. Enjoy jealous/angry harry :) 

Rating: M (smut) 

“What is it?” You notice Harry’s body language change drastically, his jaw clenched and his fist almost breaking the glass he’s holding on the table, his head turning back to stare at the drink, eyebrows pressed forward.

           “ ‘Snothing, love”, he lied, his face never shifted as he took a short and quick sip, never looking you in the eye. The arm around you at the booth became tighter as he pulled you into his body. He was protecting you. Something was wrong.

           Turning your head you glanced around and saw four foul, malicious eyes glaring at you, their eyebrows raised and their laughs boomed when you caught their gaze, pointing. You felt your face turn red and you turned around quickly, burying your head into the crook of his arm.

           “You shouldn’ have done that”, he grumbled, anger seeping from every pore in his body, his muscles clenched again as he heard them yelp in laughter behind them, trying to ignore the hideous phrases thrown at you.

           “Harry let’s just go. There a bunch of douche bags who’ve had too much to drink”, peering up at him, his jaw adjusted and slacked a little.

           “You said you wanted to dance”, he was draping his arm around you, now. Completely caged into his body, you could have sworn this position was safer than and prison on earth.

           “Let’s go dance. Get lost on the dance floor”, a smile played on your lips trying to loosen him up, even though you could still faintly hear the shit bags behind you.

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Father

“Where’s Malfoy?” The vacant spot next to professor Sinistra immediately caught his eye. Usually he was greeted every morning with a “Late for breakfast again now, are we? You know you could just set an alarm for once like a normal person.” And Harry would respond with something among the lines of “I’m not a normal person, I’m the chosen one.” Then Malfoy would roll his eyes while Harry did a dramatic hair flip.

He always loved seeing Malfoy struggle to suppress a smile every time he did that, and had gotten quite accustomed to their morning ritual.

“Called in sick this morning. Migraine I believe.” Answered professor Mcgonagall.

“Odd. I don’t believe he’s ever been sick since he started working here.” Professor Sinistra looked a bit worried.

“Shouldn’t someone go check on him?”

“Yes, excellent idea Harry. Why don’t you go bring our favorite Slytherin a nice cup of tea? Maybe mention you still haven’t bought an alarm clock while you’re at it.” Neville always made comments like these and Harry still didn’t know why. He and Malfoy seemed to get along just fine but as soon as Harry suggested Neville should go to him to run an errand or something he always sent Harry instead.

“Uhm, well I don’t think I’ll bother him with my non existing shopping habits but I’ll go and have a look. If someone could cover the first couple of minutes of my second years…?”

“Yes of course Harry.” Sounded the answer from Neville, professor Mcgonagall and Flitwick, who exchanged some knowing looks with each other.

“Right then… I’ll go pay him a visit…” Harry gave his colleagues a strange look.

“You go do that Potter.”

“A task right up your alley.”

“Remember to be safe!” Called Neville after him. Sometimes Harry didn’t really get his co-workers. After giving them another questioning look Harry walked off towards the dungeons. It was too early to deal with their weird behaviour.


“Malfoy? Malfoy are you in there?” Harry got no response, but when he pressed his ear to the door he could hear heavy, irregular breathing. Someone was in there at least, and if it wasn’t Malfoy then Harry had to chase the intruder out. And if it was Malfoy then he might be in dire need of help since he didn’t answer.

He decided to open the door.

“Malfoy? Are you in here? I brought tea… “ Harry looked around in the room. It didn’t look like Malfoy was suffering from migraine. The torches on the sides of the walls were burning brightly and illuminated a true mess of a room. Clothes, books, quills and a couple of empty wine bottles decorated the floor.

“Malfoy?” The blond man sat on the middle of his king-sized bed on the far end of the room. He was hugging his knees, and stared out of the window looking out into the great lake. He didn’t respond.

Harry took some tentative steps towards the bed, careful not to trod on anything. “Are you alright? Minerva said…”

His words got stuck in his throat. The closer he got the more he saw. Malfoy was clutching a ministry letter in his hands, the date above the writing told Harry it had arrived the day before. But what shook him the most was that Malfoy was crying.

Silent tears were running down his face, showing no sign of stopping any time soon.

“What happened?” Harry put down the steaming mug of tea on the nightstand, shocked. The last time he’d seen Malfoy cry was during sixth year in the bathroom, just before he cocked everything up by nearly murdering him.

Something bad must have happened. Something really bad.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was barely above a whisper. He felt nerves pool in his gut waiting for the answer.

What could have upset Malfoy so much? What on earth could possibly have the power to break the man who even after the war and the trials hadn’t been broken. The man who had turned Slytherin from a mouldy and disgusting mess into a proud and fierce house again. The man who had been so strong that even Ron had started to admire his character, though he would never admit it.

“He’s reopening his case. He’s blaming everything on me. Everything.” Malfoy drew a couple of shaky breaths. He looked like he could pass out any moment.

Harry suddenly felt his insides turn to ice. It had been ten years since the trials. Ten years. That meant convicts could now ask for a do-over of their case.

He pried the ministry letter from Malfoy’s cramped up hands and read. His frozen insides fell out. Lucius Malfoy was pleading not-guilty, on the grounds that his son had forced him to join Voldemort’s ranks. His own son. He was blaming everything on his own son.

“I won’t let them do this to you. I won’t let them force you to re-live everything, I won’t.” Harry crumbled up the letter in his shaking hands. He wanted to punch something, or floo to the ministry and tell them exactly why this was not happening, or…

“Please leave.” Sniffled Malfoy. “I need to be alone right now.” It broke Harry’s heart that the man thought Harry could leave him alone when he was in such a high state of distress. If ever there had been a moment when Malfoy should not be alone, it was now.

Malfoy tried to wipe the tears from his eyes, tried to recompose himself. Harry caught his hands. “Don’t. Don’t do that. He betrayed you. He is your father and he betrayed you. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I’m not, Potter.” He tried to free his hands while avoiding Harry’s gaze. “I’m fucking not, I should have been in class ten minutes ago. I can’t… “

“You can. Fuck you Malfoy, for thinking that you don’t even deserve to be upset about this.” Malfoy tried to pull his hands free again, and this time Harry pulled back. Without much resistance Malfoy fell towards Harry, who let go of his hands and wrapped him into a hug.

“Shove it Malfoy.” He kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed, holding Malfoy tightly wrapped in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Malfoy didn’t protest anymore, suddenly he felt all of his energy drain away. He’d barely survived the first trials, repeating everything… It was too much to ask. He didn’t even have the energy to feel ashamed for crying in front of his former rival, his current crush.

He caved and he caved hard. “He is my dad.” Malfoy buried his head in the crook of Harry’s neck, his voice broken by tears. “What kind of monster do you have to be, in order to make your own father hate you?”


So I thought it might be fun to write a piece of this story every time I hit a memorable number of followers, in this case that’s 250. Is that a good idea not? Please tell me I have zero judgement skills.

I have reached 350 followers! Omg thank you guys! You can now you can read part two here

for 400 followers part 3 is here!

If you want more parts then you can follow me!

home : hs

Request: Yes (this one)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Y/N

Word count: 1,442

Warnings: Cursing (one or two!)

What are you about to read: Y/N getting inked by Harry

Requests open!

Originally posted by tmlnsn

Harry wasn’t a sap. Oh god, he wasn’t. but when it comes to Y/N, he couldn’t help but feel a tad whipped.

It was when he saw his friend Jeff getting a tattoo of his girlfriend’s hometown coordinates on his arm. As much as it seemed creepy and strange, he couldn’t help but letting the idea of having something from Y/N tattooed forever on his body creep into his mind.  

It was after a week when they managed to take some time to themselves and chill at Y/N’s small but cozy apartment in downtown London. They were sat on Y/N’s tiny bed (it was a double sized bed but Harry’s feet were always left outside) and she had her arms around him. He could feel her warm breath on his neck.

“I don’t want them to see my boobs, ‘s all.” He could almost sense her eyebrows furrowing behind him while she continued stroking his biceps.

“Love, they don’t care ‘bout yeh boobs, they only care ‘bout the money they’ll be receiving” Harry shook his head and a few strands fell on his forehead, making Y/N lean over and kiss his forehead from where she was seated behind him.

Harry was slowly regretting the whole tattoo idea. He knew Y/N liked his tattoos and sure, she had a couple of small ones here and there but he wanted to go and get one together. And not because he wanted to get matching ones, Harry wasn’t into that whole idea of getting hearts and flowers with your lover.

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Migraine

Originally posted by hothothotgg

Prompt: “Can you write a Harry styles imagine where he wakes you up in the middle of the night with a migraine and he needs you to take care of him because he doesn’t feel good ?? Thanks darling!” -Anon

Word Count: 1,106. 

Ah- Ah- Ah -Ah I’ve got a migraine. There’s a couple tøp references in this heh. Apologies that it’s so short! Wrote this in the hour of free time that I had lol. Thank you for requesting :) I’m slowly moving down my lists of requests now that I got a new laptop! Next one will be a Josh Dun imagine. 

Love to you, Iz xx


Fuck. Harry thinks to himself, green eyes reluctantly opening. He moves to grip his head only to realise his arm is stuck in your firm grasp. Another line of profanities slips from his lips as he edges it out of your arms. You stir slightly before flipping to the other side, a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

Fucking hell this hurts. Harry clutches his head, which is now aching. He knew exactly what was coming on. The discomfort only increases the more he rouses himself. His eyes shut, the pain reverberating throughout the rest of his skull. 

How the hell did this even happen? He didn’t even drink much before going to bed- just a couple wine glasses of wine at his dinner party with Jeff and Glenn.

His free hand pats the bedside table for the glass of water you always made sure to set out in case of instances like this. The migraine picks at him as he gulps down the glass and decides medicine would be the only cure.

The hardwood floor is frigid underneath his feet and Harry reminds himself to start wearing socks to bed; the winter months in London are always unforgiving.

Not wanting to worsen the pain, he is forced to search for the medicine in the dark. His fingers brush over a bottle similar to his usual pain relief bottle so he pours two into his hands. However once the pills touch his palm, his brows furrow. They’re circular instead of the usual capsule-shaped pills. 

He pulls the bottle closer, eyes widening at the label. “Fast Acting Laxatives” reads the jar, causing Harry to yelp and drop it. He was this close to taking two of them. He winces at the sound of hard plastic hitting the floor, knowing several little pills spilt out. 

Why ‘ave we even got these in the first place? Oh shit, wait, yeah. Harry answers his own question, thinking back to the time he pranked Louis back by crushing one and putting it into his drink. Serves Louis right though, no one messes with Harry’s boots, especially if it is to draw something on them.

Rummaging through the rest of the drawer, he finally comes across the correct bottle of medicine after carefully examining the label despite the strain in his eyes and pulse in his head.

He quietly pads back to the bed, hoping to fall asleep quickly and wake up feeling better. Your eyes flutter open at the sudden dip and wave of warmth, turning to glance at your husband.

“Harry?” You mumble in the darkness, reaching a hand out for his. He curses to himself, having woken you up.

He cuddles closer to you, tugging your body onto his chest. He’s afraid if he tells you about the raging migraine in his head, you’ll feel compelled to stay awake and take care of him. He murmurs a reply you just barely register. 

“Go back to sleep, darlin.” You don’t have to be told twice as you drift off, sleep becoming of you once again.

A small smile etches across his face as he feels you falling deeper. 

Though once your breathing slows, Harry regrets not telling you what was wrong as the throbbing only escalates. He lets out a groan knowing it would take another twenty minutes for the medicine to set in, and even then he doesn’t know if it would work that well.

His breathing becomes heavy, gripping the right side of his head. He didn’t get migraines often, but when he did, oh boy were they raging. His eyes clamp down in an attempt to force sleep, but it only worsens the pain.

“Mgh.” He releases an incoherent moan, shifting from side to side. Harry knows he probably shouldn’t, but fuck it, you’re the only person he knows could help.

“Love,” He gently shakes. You grumble a bit as his swaying continues, his repeated pet names finally waking you.

“What? What is it, H?” You almost snap, slightly annoyed. 

“I-I-I’ve got a migraine.” He mutters in reply, guilt also setting in as he woke you with his own problems. 

“Oh.” You bite your lip, thankful that you did not utter any rude words. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. You can go back to sleep-”

“No, no. Of course not. I’m glad you woke me up. Do you want me to get some more water or boil some? Have you taken meds for it?” 

His head nods, whining lowly at the sensation.

“ ‘m sorry,” Harry apologises again. “I really wouldn’t wake you unless it was bad and I’ve tried to go back to sleep but I just can’t and- and… it really fooking hurts.” 

You lean forward to lay a kiss on his forehead. “Don’t apologise for wanting help, my love.” You respond before exiting to make tea. The herbal ones always seemed to calm him.

Once back in the room, you frown at his exterior. His body is up against the headboard, arms crossed and trying to relax but it was only causing more of an ache.

You sigh, pulling him closer. He tries to relax in your grasp but cannot rattle the discomfort. Your fingers dig into his hair, gently massaging the tender areas.

“… and my pain will range from up, down and sideways, thank God it’s Friday cause Fridays…” You hum lowly, the TØP song sticking to your brain after Harry brought up the title.

“Don’t know why they, always seem so dismal. Thunderstorms, clouds, snow, and a slight drizzle…” 

“What’s the name of that song again, angel?” Harry interjects. 

“Migraine.” You chuckle, causing him to groan. 

“You don’t like the song?” 

“No, no. I do, it’s just… perhaps something a bit more mellow for the moment?” 

You nod, beginning a different song for your husband. Though everything still hurt, your repeated touch and sound eased his pain just a bit. 

“But ain’t nobody love you like I do…” 

You notice his breathing gradually calm as you sing softly. Another smile comes across his face, feeling incredibly thankful to have you around. Nothing and no one could ever make him feel as you do. 

“Promise that I will not take it personal-”

“-baby?” He completes the line, though his intonation hints that it is question rather than him singing. You pout, thinking you had upset him again by the choice of song. Happier had also been circling your thoughts and though it did not apply to either of you, it was still a fantastic song to sing.

“Yes, Haz?” 

“I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

#Look at how gentle this makeout sesh is#how cute is that??!!#i mean#dont get me wrong#i fully expect a heavy#lips on lips#lips on skin#hands on face#hands on neck#hands anywhere they can reach#maybe in fingers in the hair#-type makeout session in the future#please let it be this season#and soon#but i cant get over how adorable this is#because just look at how soft those kisses are#no one can tell me that these two arent already in love they just havent figured out thats what it is yet#matt and harry have such amazing chemistry with one another#when malec do get hot and heavy#its gunna end us all#cant stop lookin at magnus’ hands on his leg either#those first few seconds#just thinking how they are soo close to alec#just a few inches#why cudnt they just b a few inches over#touching alec’s thigh instead#????#*shudders*

in which harry just wants to kiss…

Y/N was having a bad day. It wasn’t too often when she came home so off her rocker that she couldn’t fully calm herself, but the odds just were not in her favour. It just felt like she couldn’t catch a break and everyone was out to get her, and of course the day wasn’t finished with her yet. Unlike other days when Harry was in some part of the house awaiting her arrival, he was nowhere to be found. So, she did the only thing she thought to do with her nerves that rattled. She sat on the couch and stewed until he came home.

He walked in, a little while later, face set in a hard glare. He hadn’t had the best day either. Still, he saw her on the couch looking in a bit of a daze wearing the same thing she wore to work and knew that she wasn’t okay. He let out a long sigh and sat next to her. “Bad day?”

She nodded her head. “It was horrible.”

“What happened?” he asked and she launched into all the wrong thrust upon her. Harry wishes he could say that he was giving her his full attention, but he had a rough day too. Besides, she didn’t necessarily want feedback so much as someone who would listen.

She laid her head on his shoulder when she was done venting. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, love.” He turned his head, kissing her temple.

“Do you want to talk about your day? You look like you’ve not had a great day either.”

He maneuvered his body so he was fully facing her. “No, I’d just like to kiss you for a really long time.”

A small smile crept up onto her face. “Okay. I can make that happen,” she said, already leaning forward and wrapping her hands around his neck. 

He closed what little distance was left between them, pressing his lips to hers and wrapping his arms around her back. 

She could tell he was putting all his feelings into the kiss because of how hard and frantic it was. The way he was pushing against her. The way he was capturing her bottom lip with his top. The way he bit her bottom lip and let it snap back before going back in for another kiss.

He laid her all the way back against the couch so his weight was resting on her and deepened the kiss. He gently prodded the crease of her lips with his tongue, urging her to open her mouth, and once she did he swooped his tongue around hers in a battle for dominance. She let him have it. He could take all she had to give and then some.

They both began feeling a bit lightheaded, so he pulled back so they could have some time to breathe. But, the action didn’t come to a full stop. He took the time to lavish her neck with attention. He suckled on the juncture of her neck and jawline before pressing multiple kisses at the spot to soothe it. He moved the kisses along to the middle of her neck and left sloppy kisses down its column until he hit just above her collar bone and bit down, eliciting a moan. Again, he chose to suckle on the spot and leave kisses to seal it off. 

He lifted his head and dropped his jaw in awe of the colour blooming from the love bite he left on her skin. Typically, he’s not one to leave marks in such obvious places, but he swears he’s never been more into her than he was in that moment and he was really into her. His admiration didn’t last for long, though, as he licked a stripe up the opposite side of her neck to her jawline and kissed a line right to her earlobe, which he took between his teeth and whispered, “God, I love you,” in her ear.

She moaned louder than she’s used to in response, while wrapping her legs around his waist. Instead of returning back to her lips, her breath having come and gone as a result of his assault on her neck, he peppered kisses all around her face. At this point, she was absolutely reeling. Her mind wasn’t even working anymore. All the kisses that weren’t where she craved them was driving her crazy and she couldn’t take it anymore, so she cupped his face in her hands in an attempt to guide him back to her. She spotted the little lopsided smirk on his lips, telling tales of the satisfaction he gets from making her mental and bucked her hips to his in retaliation. He tilted his head back slightly as she did it again and again and again until his defences finally broke down and like the moon to earth he’s gravitated back to her.

He firmly grasped her hips, holding her down to stop from really getting his engine started when he was much too tired to do anything about it. Still, he absolutely loved the way she was kissing him back with just as much gusto he gave. He let out little growls and groans from the back of his throat and had to focus nearly all his brain power from giving into his urges and reigning the two of them back into neutral territory. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to because he loved when they went farther. He’s 100% convinced he could spend forever between her legs with her wrapped all around him. Today, though, it’d just embarrass him, and really all he wanted to do was kiss her. 

After a while, he broke up the kisses, pecking her lips until their lips are just barely brushing against each other, lazy smiles drawn on both of their faces.

Harry felt much more calm and collected and extremely connected to the girl laid down under him. He splattered a few kisses across her chest, tucking himself into her and begins to lay out the woes of his day. Once all the frustrations were finally freed, the conversation flowed easily between them, and they stayed up into all hours of the night and early morning talking about everything and nothing until they fell asleep.

Tell me about the one who loved him (part two) - A Sirius Black Imagine

Originally posted by one-cold-day


Part two of Tell me about the one who loved him


Many days had passed and Harry was sitting into Sirius’ room, along with Ron and Hermione. He hated being into the Blacks house, especially because he felt so guilty about facing Sirius everyday and not telling him the secret he knew about him. It put so much pressure on him that he did everything to avoid his godfather during the Christmas holidays, which made him sad and anxious. He needed his presence more than anything but he couldn’t handle looking at him in the eyes with what he now knew. The first day when he came to Grimmauld place, he thought about telling at once Sirius. But the man didn’t seem to be in a good mood; in fact, he looked more depressed than he looked back when he got out of Azkaban. One night, as Harry came downstairs to get a glass of water after a nightmare, he surprised a conversation between Lupin and Sirius, as they were drinking into the drawing room together.

‘I tried to look for her, but it’s like she vanished into thin air’ he heard his godfather whisper.

There was a pause.

‘Come on Sirius, don’t get yourself into trouble just for her.’

Just for her? Do you know how much time I spent thinking she believes I am guilty?’

‘Why does it matter? You said it yourself, it’s been ages.’

Harry heard Sirius swallowing heavily his liquor.

‘What about me?’ he asked.

‘You are safe here. Don’t you think about going out of here ever again before it’s okay for you to do so’ replied Remus with a cold voice.

‘It’s like you don’t want me to see her. Is it? Are you hiding something from me? Is she okay?’ said Sirius, sounding nervous and angry.

‘Are you thinking straight, Pads?’

There was another pause.

‘The girl has moved on, don’t go trouble Y/N with your excuses and explications!’

‘What’s the matter with you, since when did you lose any empathy for your old friend? I just want to see her again, just one time, for Merlin’s beard-‘

‘She’s married Sirius! There, I said it. She has a life of her own now, she moved on, don’t go trouble her with the past! What are you thinking, that she was going to wait for you? It’s been almost fourteen years.’

Harry felt the tension in the room. For a few minutes, he wondered what was happening as he heard nobody talk anymore. As time passed and nobody move or spoke, Harry walked silently back into his room. He felt so sorry for Sirius he couldn’t breathe anymore, his chest hurt. How he wished Sirius knew that he had a daughter with Y/N, that he had a future of his own, that he hadn’t lost everything. He heard somebody opening the door. Hermione was standing in the doorway, looking at him curiously.

‘I thought I heard noise in here’ she whispered.

‘Couldn’t sleep’ replied Harry, trying to chase away his thoughts.

She looked at Ron who seemed to be lost into a deep sleep.

‘That makes at least two of us’ she smiled. ‘Mind if I come in?’

Harry shook his head and Hermione sat beside him on the bed.

‘Are you having visions again?’ she enquired.

‘No, that’s not it’ said Harry, feeling uncomfortable with what he just heard.

Hermione put her hand on Harry’s and looked at him with sincere eyes.

‘You know, you can tell me anything.’

Harry smiled back to her and they sat in silence, staring at the flames crackling in the fireplace.

‘Hermione?’ said Harry, breaking the silence.

She looked up at her friend.

‘What would you do if you knew a secret, a big one, that would change one’s perception on life and future?’

She frowned her eyebrows.

‘Who would it concerns?’ she asked.

Harry sighed.

‘I know something – something very important – but I’m not confident about telling the person it concerns, because I’m not sure how that person would react.’

‘Harry, you’re worrying me… Why don’t you just tell me what it’s about and I’ll try to help?’

Maybe he could tell Hermione. He looked at Ron, fast asleep.

‘Are you familiar with the other students? Other houses, other years?’

Hermione raised her shoulders.

‘I don’t know everybody, but I have a good memory.’

‘There’s this girl, maybe you know her. Second grade’ he continued.

‘Mmm…’

‘Well, I came to know recently, something about her. Something huge.’

‘I didn’t know you were interested in gossip, Harry’ mumbled Hermione, not sure where her friend was going with this.

Harry sighed heavily.

‘You know Y/D/N Y/L/N?’

Hermione raised her shoulders again.

‘Long black hair, silver eyes. She’s pretty too. She’s in Slytherin.’

‘The name does ring a bell. But I’d have to see what she looks like, to be honest… Where’re you going with that Harry?’

Harry felt his hands becoming sweaty and his blood pumping loudly in his veins.

‘You wouldn’t have to get out of this house to see what she looks like…’ he whispered.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and waited for the denouement. Harry felt nervous, he wished she’d have put the puzzle pieces together by now.

Don’t make me say it, don’t make me say it’ he thought.

‘Wait a minute…’ he heard Hermione say.

She got up and started pacing in the room.

‘I think I know who you’re talking about. She has those shiny long black hair does she? I remember her cause the first time I noticed her, she was in the library and something about her felt very familiar when I glanced at her!’

Harry waited patiently for Hermione to figure it out.

‘The eyes, yes, the eyes. These silver eyes, well, her whole face expression, the smirk…’

There was a long pause. Her eyes widened and she put her hand in front of her now opened mouth, her expression shocked.

‘Are you sure?’ she asked, nervously.

‘Without a doubt.’

‘Does he know?’

Harry shook his head and felt his eyes burn. 

‘I surprised a conversation and I asked questions to Lupin afterwards and pretty figured the rest myself.’

‘Then maybe you’re wrong’ suggested Hermione, not sure she really wanted to believe what she was just told.

‘No. Lupin confirmed it. He asked me to tell no one, but how could I keep this to myself?’

‘You need to tell him, Harry!’ said Hermione, hurrying to her friend, taking him by the shoulders.

‘How can I be the one telling him? How can I tell Sirius that he has a daughter he doesn’t know about?’

Harry heard the floor crack outside the room. Both he and Hermione jumped with fear. He stood up and looked into the door crack that Hermione didn’t close entirely. There, two pairs of bright silver eyes were shining into the dark, reflecting the dancing flames of the fireplace behind Harry’s weak body, surrounded by black fur all around. The big dog seemed to look blankly at Harry. Surely, Sirius had heard them say they weren’t able to sleep and decided to make them laugh by transforming into Padfoot, like he did some nights before. He started to walk slowly in reverse.

‘Sirius, I-‘ Harry tried to mumble.

But the dog had disappeared.

‘SIRIUS!’ he shouted again, waking up Ron and the entire household.

They heard a door being shut down loudly downstairs. 

Internship

“Oh God, oh God,” she whispered, rushing through the parking lot, tray of coffee in her hands, she flashes her ID at the security guard and runs into the building.

Y/N was never late, never. She was always fifteen minutes early to everything, but today the world seemed to hate her. Her alarm never went off, her roommate didn’t bother to help her, she was late to class so the professor pulled her aside which caused her to leave later, which meant she ended up in traffic and now she was late to her internship. 

Just as she turns the corner another body slams into hers, making the coffee on her tray spill all over the other person. She closes her eyes praying it;s another intern. 

“What the fuck,” a deeper voice hissed, causing her to look up at Harry Styles. 

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