note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

REGULUS BLACK

THEODORE NOTT

TOM RIDDLE

DRACO MALFOY

MATTHEO RIDDLE

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

compliments

harry james potter x fem!reader

summary: on the train ride back home for christmas break ron dares you to find out what harry likes about you

established relationship

warnings: it’s the awkward lavender train scene … so be prepared, unbreakable vow is mentioned, sad hermione :( year 6!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this was the scene i came up with that made me decide i wanted to write for harry and turn it into this small interconnected series lmao. i love writing my oc’s into existing book/movie scenes, so pls lmk if you do so as well, and if you do; my requests are open<3

── ᵎᵎ ✦

you, ron and harry had settled into an empty compartment on the train back to london for christmas break. your legs were crossed by the ankles as your eyes glided over the words carefully written down in the book you’d been reading for a few days now — not that you were actually processing what they said though, since your friends’ conversation took care of being a constant distraction.

“unbreakable vow?” ron leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “you’re sure that’s what snape said?”

“positive. why?” harry leaned against the window, his eyes focused on the red haired across from him. the latter looked down in thought, “well, it’s just you can’t break an unbreakable vow.”

a soft sigh, barely noticeable, escaped your lips as you dog eared the page you were on. you were fairly sure you wouldn’t be able to pick up any information if the pair continued talking.

“i’d worked that much out for myself funnily enough.” harry spoke causing you to let out a light chuckle. the pair turned to you at the sound and ron’s brows were raised as if he was waiting for you to say something. your head gave a small shake, “nothing… please, continue.” you smiled as you looked at them; wanting to hear their thoughts.

ron slowly turned his head back to harry, “it’s just that…” the rest of the sentence never came, as ron looked deep in thought. you kept your eyes on him for a moment longer before resting them on harry, “unbreakable vows are incredibly dangerous.”

harry, who was sat beside you, sat up a bit straighter at your words, “are they?”

“yeah, mate.” ron breathed out, “you don’t understand…” but before he could continue the presence of someone outside the compartment caught his attention, “oh, bloody hell.”

you followed ron’s line of sight and when you saw lavender brown behind the glass door you immediately closed your book, incredibly curious what’s to happen. her exhaling on the glass, along with the movement of her finger drawing an outrageously big heart on the condensed part of the door, caused you to press your lips together — having to try your utmost best not to laugh.

“no!” you whispered, turning your head to look at harry, who was busy distracting himself while lavender continued drawing an ‘r’ and ‘l’ in the middle of the heart. it made it even harder for you to suppress the laugh bubbling up in your throat when harry mindlessly pulled the armrest out of the train seat, only to push it back in not even a second later.

eventually you dared to look back at the door, just in time to catch lavender exhale one last time against the glass; clarifying the heart and message she’d drawn. you watched — your eyes still wide and lips still pressed together — as she breathed out an exasperated ‘i miss you’ before turning to leave.

the second she’d left you turned to look at the two boys sat across one another, and when harry uttered — deadly serious — ‘lovely’, you couldn’t help but let the laughs escape your lips, “oh my god.”

ron shook his head, “all she wants to do is snog me.” he leaned closer towards harry, “my lips are getting chapped.” his finger moved up to point at his lips, “look.”

while the red haired moved closer, harry tried to dodge his face, “i’ll take your word for it.”

“i don’t get how you two do it.” ron sighed as he sat back, but after a short second he crossed his arms, “now that i think about it,” he squinted his eyes as he observed the couple that sat across him. “i’ve never even seen you snog.”

“i mean, we don’t really do it in front of—“

however, before harry could finish his sentence you sat up straight and cut him off, “i still can’t believe you two are together, honestly.” your hands were curled around your book, which had been laying abandoned on your lap for the entire interaction. ron sat back, “is it really so hard to believe that i have a girlfriend?”

“no.” you shrugged, “she just doesn’t really seem like your type, now does she?”

“my type??” ron’s brows raised, “i don’t have a type.” he slumped down in his seat. you playfully raised your brows at his words, “alright, what do you like about her then?”

ron swallowed, resting his head against the backrest in thought. when you glanced at harry you could tell he was confused on why you were interrogating your friend by his slightly squinted eyes and furrowed brows. you shrugged, “what? i don’t know her that well, really. i’d just like to know.”

a harsh sigh from ron pulled your attention back to him. in the meantime he’d closed his eyes and after another long silence he looked back at you and harry, “i guess she’s quite nice?”

your mouth fell open at his words, “she’s quite nice?” you blinked before looking at harry who just shrugged his shoulders. a scoff fell from you lips as you put your attention back on the red haired, “ron, if you’d had genuine feelings for her, i’d imagine you would be able to come up with a lot more than just guessing she is quite nice?!”

he crossed his arms, “it’s pretty difficult actually, why don’t you ask harry what he likes about you, hm?”

you rolled your eyes once more before sighing, “sure.” after carefully placing your book beside you, you turned slightly in your seat so your body was facing your boyfriend, “harry, what do you like about me?”

the brunette glanced between you and his best friend, “what?!” he shook his head, “i’m not doing this, alright? this is your discussion.” his eyes landed on yours and when you raised your brows at him — waiting for an answer — he sighed, “fine.”

he sat up slightly straighter before speaking up again, “for starters, you’re incredibly kind. not only through words, but through actions, also. you’re always there for me, ready to help with … anything, really. not only after we started dating, but when we were just friends, too, and even when you barely knew who i was, in our third year.” when harry saw a soft smile starting to form on your lips he felt encouraged to continue.

“you’re funny, doesn’t really matter if you try to be, but you make me laugh. you’re also an amazing storyteller; the one about the four siblings in their fantasy world, that one’s great.” a soft chuckle fell from your lips at the memory of you telling harry the story from your childhood. “and i really like it when you play with my hair, helps me relax when—“

“bloody hell, you’re aggravatingly cute together, the two of you.” ron cut harry off before he could continue his list.

your eyes stayed on harry for a moment longer, the smile still evident when you eventually turned to look at ron, “proved my point, don’t you think?” but the red haired slightly shook his head and mumbled under his breath, ‘whatever.’

in the corner of your eye you noticed hermione walking up to the door to your compartment. however, when you turned around — ready for her to walk in — she stopped in front of the drawing lavender had made on the glass only a moment earlier.

your heart sank for her, knowing how much she liked ron, and when she immediately stalked off without even saying hello your smile dropped. you quickly glanced at your friends before standing up and opening the compartment door, “i’m going to talk to her. i’ll be back in a moment.” you spoke, slipping through the opening before closing the door behind you and following hermione.

“that was … weird.” ron muttered and after a moment of awkward silence harry turned to his best friend, “so what happens to you? what happens if you break an unbreakable vow?”

“you die.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

SOUNDTRACK // stardust, zayn

TAGLIST // @callsigncrushx @moonjellyfishie @pussyslayerhd @accio-mayachhiato @ezrafrss @iyskgd

“A line, please!” Professor Sprout chirped. “Let me pair you up—no nitpicking.”

You shuffled into the blob of a line, pressing against someone’s shoulder. Professor Sprout patted dirt from her clothes and then observed the students.

“Let’s see…” She tapped her chin. “Abbott with Weasley.”

The redhead shuffled to the awkward-looking girl.

“Granger with McKennon.”

The brunette girl walked to a taller boy.

“Y/L/N with…” Professor Sprout looked in the back. “Longbottom.” 

"BRO'S THE TYPE TO-"

-Bro’s the type to be dating you because he finds some sense comfort in you since he never had any growing up.

-Bro’s the type to be emotionally unavailable but makes it up by spending time with you outside of school and buying you things

-Bro’s the type to make to super obvious that he has a crush on you but if you confront him about it, he’ll deny everything.

-Bro’s the type to ask Hermione what to do while dating you. She doesn’t even have to know you personally and he’ll still ask her because she knows “everything” on what girls like.

-Bro’s the type to be really awkward while being in public with you but when you two are alone, he melts into your touch like he’s never been held before.

-Bro’s the type to be terrible at any form of verbal comfort but he’s here if you need a shoulder to cry on or want to rant about your day.

-Bro’s the type to get defensive when someone speaks poorly about you. They don’t even have to be speaking to Harry directly, a speckle of your name can come out from someone’s mouth and now he’s fighting the urge to not fight them.

-Bro’s the type to deny any physical touch but when you stop, he’ll start looking like a kicked puppy, begging for attention

-Bro’s the type to look for any excuse to spend holiday at your house because he would quite literally would rather die than spend his holiday with the Dursley’s.

-Bro’s the type to listen to you talk shit about a random and agree with what you say regardless if he knows them or not.

“I actually hate __ so much. She’s so annoying”

“I completely agree with that.”

-Bro’s the type to scheme and ask you for a second opinion on his plan.

“Love, you don’t think I’m crazy for investigating to see if Malfoy’s a Death Eater, right?”

“Harry James Potter…Go. To. Bed.”

-Bro’s the type to do well in every class but ask you for help so he can find an excuse to spend more time with you.

It Begins With Silence

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Soft!Reader

Summary: A series of interactions. Subtle realizations. Unacknowledged feelings. Your existence to Draco Malfoy was inconsequential, at first. Yet wonders never cease when he decides to acknowledge you.

-

You were the silent type.

He's never talked to you before but he knew of your existence. Like a ghost that lingered at the walls, ever present yet elusive. He knew you from your claimed seat in the Slytherin common room, right by the fireplace. Close enough to his friends' lounging spot yet far enough to be unnoticed.

He knew you were always there with a book in your hand and a stoic expression on your face. He knew that younger Slytherins would sometimes come up to you and ask for help. He knew you from when you would pass his friends when you grab or return a book to the bookshelves.

Other than that, you were just there. Irrelevant. Like a buzz in the air you eventually grew accustomed to. That was your existence: nonconsequential to his life in Hogwarts.

Draco Malfoy didn't give a knut about you until you were partnered up in Potions. After Theo Nott had bolted away from him the moment he heard his partner, he felt the quiet shift of your presence settle beside him on the table. You gave him a small nod as you sat which he deemed not to reciprocate. Chin rested in one hand, he glanced at you once–upright posture, folded hands, neutral expression–then brought his attention back to the board.

Mr. "I don't fall in love" Nott, realizing he's already fallen, pure fluff and the other boys making fun

The Slytherin common room breathed like a living thing: low emerald light pulsing from the lake windows, the fire hissing soft secrets into the hush, the faint mineral scent of deep water seeping through stone. Theo Nott had claimed the velvet wingback hours ago, boots kicked off, socks mismatched—one black, one dark green with tiny silver snakes he’d never admit to owning. The book in his lap, Defensive Magical Theory that he was supposed to be revising lay open to the same diagram of a Protego variant he’d memorized in fourth year. Useless. Every nerve ending was tuned to the pretty girl asleep on him instead.

You were a compact tangle of limbs and warmth, knees drawn up, one socked foot hooked over his ankle like you’d staked territory. Your hair smelled of cedarwood soap and the vanilla ink you used for notes; every time you exhaled, the strands fluttered against his collarbone and his heartbeat tripped like a drunk on stairs. Theo’s palm had found the warm crescent of skin between your hoodie and joggers twenty minutes ago and hadn’t left. Slow, reverent circles—thumb tracing the faint dimple at the base of your spine, middle finger brushing the soft rise just above your hip. Each pass felt like signing his name in a language he’d sworn he’d never learn.

He was not in love. He’d said it out loud to Draco last week, voice bored, cigarette dangling: “Love’s a liability. I don’t do liabilities.” Draco had laughed so hard he’d nearly fallen off the astronomy tower railing. Theo had meant it then. He was ninety percent sure he’d meant it.

Then you’d sighed—a tiny, kittenish sound—and burrowed closer, nose nudging the hollow beneath his jaw. Ninety percent plummeted to seventy-five. Your fingers, slack in sleep, uncurled against his chest, pinky brushing the silver chain he wore under his shirt. Sixty percent. He was free-falling and the ground was made of your eyelashes.

The portrait hole scraped open with the subtlety of a troll in tap shoes. Blaise stumbled in first, tie askew, cheeks flushed from whatever fruity drink he'd decided to drink. Draco followed, hair artfully mussed, smirking like he always is with his pureblood arrogance. Mattheo brought up the rear, one shoe untied, humming an off-key Celestina Warbeck chorus.

They froze in a perfect comedic tableau.

Blaise’s mouth opened, closed. Draco’s eyebrow performed an Olympic vault. Mattheo actually dropped his cloak.

Theo didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your weight pinned him more thoroughly than any binding spell. He settled for a glare sharp enough to slice bread. “You’re drunk.” As if that would make the trio believe they were having hallucinations, unfortunately, he was not so lucky.

“Observant,” Draco drawled, but his eyes were laughing. “We texted you six times, Nott. Thought you’d been kidnapped by merpeople. Turns out you were kidnapped by—” he gestured vaguely at your sleeping form—“cozy domesticity.”

Mattheo flopped onto the rug, propping his chin in his hands like a gossip columnist, his cheeks flushed from alcohol and eyes red from something he probably shouldn't have had. “Look at him. The Ice Prince melteth. I give it three minutes before he starts braiding her hair.”

Theo’s fingers twitched toward his wand, then thought better of it. You’d hate the noise. Instead he tucked the blanket higher around your shoulders, the motion so tender it should’ve come with a warning label. “Shut up,” he said, but there was no venom in it. The words came out soft, almost fond. Fifty percent.

Blaise circled like a shark scenting blood. “Remember when you said—and I quote—‘I don’t do commitment, I have more important goals’?” He produced a crumpled receipt from the Three Broomsticks, waving it like evidence. “Goal tonight was butterbeer and that Ravenclaw with the long legs. Instead you’re here playing weighted blanket.”

Your next breath hitched, a sleepy whimper that arrowed straight through Theo’s ribs. You turned your face into his neck, lips brushing the pulse that was suddenly sprinting. Forty percent. Thirty. He was a house of cards in a windstorm.

Draco dropped into the opposite chair, stretching long legs toward the fire. “He’s counting her freckles,” he announced to the ceiling. “I can see it. Left cheek—three. Nose—two. There’s one shaped like a wonky star he’s mentally named after himself.”

“Fuck. Off.” Theo hissed, but his voice cracked on the second word because you’d just made that sound again—half sigh, half murmur—and your hand had slid under his sweater, palm flat over his heart like you were checking it still worked. It did. Barely.

Mattheo rolled onto his back, laughing silently, shoulders shaking. “Mate, you’re gone. Stick a fork in him.”

Theo looked down at you: lashes casting shadows on cheeks flushed from the fire, lower lip caught between your teeth in dreams. The blanket had slipped again from your movements; he fixed it without thinking, tucking it under your chin the way his mum used to do when he was small. The memory hit like a Bludger—he hadn’t thought of that in years. Twenty percent.

Blaise sighed, theatrical. “Fine. We’ll leave you to your not-girlfriend and your totally platonic cuddling. But tomorrow, Nott, you’re buying rounds. Emotional damage fee.”

They shuffled out, still snickering. Heads close together so they could whisper about this occurrence the whole way to their dorms, leaving Theo to wonder how bad it could really be to run away. Silence rushed back in, thick and velvet, your vanilla scent letting reason back into his brain. If he ran away, then what about you?

Fuck.

Theo exhaled shakily. His hand resumed its slow worship along your spine. You shifted again, knee sliding between his, fitting against him like you’d been carved for the space. Zero percent. He was in free fall now, no broom, no net.

He pressed his lips to your temple, lingering, breathing you in. “You’re ruining me,” he whispered to the sleeping girl who owned every shard of his carefully constructed indifference. “And I’m going to let you.”

The fire popped. Outside the window, a shadow of a giant squid drifted past, slow and unconcerned. Theo closed his eyes, counted your heartbeats against his own, and didn’t move until dawn painted the lake gold.

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.

summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.

pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.

wc. 4.1k

tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.

cws: brief mention of violence and blood.

note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.

i. 

SIRIUS BLACK did not love you—not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.