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https://archiveofourown.org/works/61946362/chapters/162765895
George Weasley, house plant enthusiast! Percy Weasley, pottery newbie! Sweden’s magical district! So fun so fun, here’s ch 6 🫶🏻
Hi I literally have such existential dread about my fanfic like I had such high hopes it would be well received and loved and supported and it’s not so does that make me fake for craving love instead of being content honing the craft??? Yeah I’m a poser lol the spiraling is real
I’ve got some questions about Swedish magic in the Harry Potter universe/fandom— anybody with some first hand experience or knowledge able to talk about wicked cool Viking and Eskimo magic for my fanfic?!
i saw a lot of complaints about RY's writing of Violet and how she's supposed to be extremely intelligent, and blah blah blah they were rude and felt like RY didn't know how to pull that off so she instead made all the other characters dumb instead of making Violet smart. look, as a writer, complaints like that are hard to see. I'm writing a geormione fic, hermione POV, and lemme just say, nothing makes me feel more dumb than trying to write an intelligent character. i personally feel like there's no one way to do it correctly, bc i know ms. hermione granger is lightyears smarter than i am. just treat writers with kindness, we already are our own biggest critics, we don't need your disapproval too <3
There would be no more wallowing today.
Hermione Granger, chapter 5 of the essence of time
After a long plotting break ch 5 is out 🥳 I’m proud of it
“Time is sentient, George, and it does not stand with being manipulated.”
The Essence of Time ch 1 ✨
George Weasley has always loved the color gold. It was half his Hogwarts house. It was also something his Weasley house never had within its four walls. It was earned, through blood, sweat, and tears of his own merit in his joke shop— school drop-out notwithstanding. Gold, from its hue to its shine to its value, is beautiful. Not in a greedy way, just an unattainable beauty that always seemed to walk beside him, companionably. Something he could admire, and then partake in, while having both nostalgia and longing all at once.
Gold interested him, it always did. Now, in the After it taunts him. In his dreams, in his memories, in every bleeding moment of his existence. Even in the Before, when he was a shell of a man, merely clinging to his firewhiskey and living on despite all desires, gold did not bother him as such. Nothing bothered him, he didn’t have a care in the world. In the Before, he was a pair without his match. Left in a limbo of sorts, one foot in the world and one foot in the beyond, following after Fred. Each day was a test— or at least it felt like one. What decision would he make today: stay or leave? It was a cruel choice, and many that he doesn’t quite remember making consciously. Most he probably did not, if he was being honest with himself.
The first of April 1999 brought it all to a head, and dragged George Weasley kicking and screaming by his remaining ear. That was the last night he had to make that particular choice, and if his current circumstances are of any indication, he definitely had no clue what was waiting for him on the other side.
George’s first birthday without his twin sent him tumbling into the arms of the bottle. Following that, he stumbled down the narrow stairs which led to the back of his shop, aggravated and searching for his wand.
The spell wouldn’t work, when he whispered or when he shouted. It just wouldn’t. He slammed the offending wood against his wrist over and over— wild sparks ricocheting off the shelves. Explosions and liquids and fireworks and bubbles filled the air, crowding the space and overwhelming his senses. He screamed until his voice caught in his throat, until all he had left was soundless sobs, that rocked his body against the floor. It was pointless— his wand refused to harm its master. To break the allegiance it so cherished.
He chucked the black walnut against the wall, sending gold sparks flashing through the dark workroom. Pointless. Utterly pointless. George let out a hoarse moan, the choice floating above him, mocking him.
I tried! He roared to no one. To the great beyond, he really didn’t know. It was the Before, it’s all a blur to him now.
But did he, really?
The shop creaked at times. Whether the age, or the weight, or the magic of a building full of laughter, they never knew. They were accustomed to the sound, even joked more than once that 93 Diagon Alley just liked to check in, say hello.
At that moment, on George’s twenty-first birthday, but not Fred’s, their home creaked. The stairs actually. They were steep, and narrow and many.
It was at the bottom of these wooden stairs, well after high tea time, late on the first of April that Hermione Granger found one lone broken man. The morning of the second of April found that broken, twenty-one year old man safely tucked in his bed, Skele-Gro resting offensively on his nightstand, and his collarbone wrapped tightly. His friend holding tight to his hand on the uninjured side of his body and staring at him with her all-seeing owl-ish eyes. And on that morning he couldn’t face her, nor on the third morning. He couldn’t face himself, either. He had avoided that choice for three-hundred and thirty-four days. He limped through the sunlight and the moonlight, not living, but not doing the other thing either. And then when he finally made a choice— the world in all its buggery wouldn’t let him do it. Not his magic. Not his home. Not his friend. So he avoided her gaze. He stayed silent and didn’t answer her questions, her pleas. He sat and breathed, and fumed, and mourned. But she didn’t give up. It was a battle, apparently, the kind he hasn’t played in a very long while. Hermione Granger played very well, George soon learned. She could play the long game. She could outsmart anyone, he already knew that, but battle strategies? Warfare? Color him impressed. She met his silence with presence. She emboldened herself to solidify her right to be there, in his home. She washed his dishes, all one million of them that had piled up from his despicable human needs. She scourgified his laundry, and mopped his floors the Muggle way. She gave him a satisfied, if not small, smile under her flushed skin, slightly damp from the hard work. On the fourth morning, over the black tea she handed him, she hummed a tune he had never heard.
What song is that?
A smirk had graced her lips and she could’ve shocked the pants off Merlin himself with what she said next.
Hit Me Baby One More Time.
Muggles and their music. George hadn’t smiled in three-hundred and thirty-seven days. He smiled that day.
So Hermione stayed, teetering around his home and his shop in some unspoken agreement they made. He never received the first Howler full of hysterics, the mediwizards never arrived to cart him off to St. Mungo’s, and Hermione maintained her visits. His family never heard a word of what happened, and he never complained when his friend turned her key into his lock and announced they were nipping to Tesco for crisps since he didn’t have anything.
The anniversary came and went, but George did not grieve alone. He may have wanted to. He may have felt a twinge in his collarbone, and he may have glanced one too many times at his stairs, but he was not alone. Instead, he saw his mother for the first time in six months, his friend with a watery smile in the shadows, watching. Spring turned into summer, and with the heat came sunlight. Glorious sunlight that sparkled off the pond at the Burrow, and turned the hairs on his arms white. The sunlight glistened in Ginny’s hair like a fiery halo, and reflected off Harry’s glasses. It tinged Ron’s skin pink, and brought out the golden flakes in Hermione’s brown eyes. George had forgotten she had such striking eyes. The first time he had noticed the color was years ago at Hogwarts, when she had been wearing a gold chain around her neck, its pendant tucked under her robes. The necklace brought the color out in her eyes, but had done nothing to hide the deep rings of purple underneath. The sunlight brought many memories back to him in the Before. The memories brought pain. But the pain brought ideas. Memories and ideas. An idea that Hermione didn’t like. That was illegal. You don’t understand, George— it cannot be done. Hermione… please. It took many more nights, weeks even, but his friend agreed to look, to see. But no promises, George. At the dawn of fall, her key turned in his lock and wide, owl eyes met his. The gears started turning before she even finished speaking. They would have to travel far, to meet with a Mistress Linnea Birger in Sweden, an expert.
She was rude and unhelpful and George brooded the whole portkey home. As Hermione kicked her shoes off by his front door, he was still grumbling about the international forms he’d filled out in the Portkey Office of the Department of Magical Transportation. The long-suffering sigh and a cup of steaming tea finally soothed his temper. The slam of a book upon his coffee table was as natural to him as the creaking of 93 Diagon Alley. Finally, finally, the night of the winter solstice Hermione says she has it. Nothing about this will be easy, George. Nothing really ever is, is it? The Headmistress will not be pleased when she speaks to her Gargoyle in the stairwell, but the pair are hopeful she could be distracted with joy in the After. Hope, a dangerous feeling indeed. The last Time-Turner, preserved by Professor Dumbledore for services to the school in 1994, lays within the Headmaster’s office. How Hermione knew that is beyond George’s knowledge, but he’s following her lead. They walk in silence, each step bringing them closer to George’s nightmares. The seventh floor, once a place of such fun, now left just as scarred as the rest of them. The castle mourned too. Its magic was ancient and deep, more complex than any have understood. It withstood the great battle, but the castle lost too many that day. One barely a man, who brought such joy into these walls, such cleverness and bravery. A man who breathed life into this magic, kept it going even in the dark, just as he was taught. They would fix this. This pair, one newly formed and one broken, would restore just a bit of what the castle lost that night. They would succeed. They had to. The wall has been repaired and it's waiting for them in the left corridor. George keeps his eyes on Hermione, her spellwork upon the old Time-Turner more rapid and complex than he’s ever seen. The dust, golden and sparkling, swirls up around them. It sticks to his clothes, tangles in her hair, brushes his ear. He doesn’t ask questions, he just watches her work, entranced. The dust creeps up her neck, and she pauses for a split second, wildly seeking him out.
Time is sentient, George, and it does not stand with being manipulated.
What? It’s too late. The Before is rapidly shifting, the ground under them is trembling. Their hands rip apart and George didn’t even remember reaching for her. Spells begin flying over their heads, and George vaults in front, shielding his friend’s body with his own. She pushes him off, landing a shield over their heads and scrambles back as green flashes around them. "Hello, Minister!" George lurches, a visceral response. Nonononono— Hermione, she’s faster. She moves like a cat, vaulting over stone and wood, shoving her way through the bodies and the blood. He didn’t even hear her cast, didn’t see her wand move, but the wall stood still and Fred laughed and Percy adjusted his glasses and Fred laughed and laughed. One moment George was across the corridor and the next his arms were around his twin. Blood and snot and dust and tears— madness. Total madness. “She did it! Oh, Fred, she saved you. Hermione did it. Hermione! Fred, you’re here!”
Fred patted his back. Fred!
“HERMIONE! You did it, Hermione!”
George gripped his brother so tightly it must hurt, but Fred didn’t complain.
“Georgie? What’s wrong?”
George loosened his grip on his twin, a beaming smile on his face. Gold dust still coated his hands, mingling onto Fred’s shoulder.
Fred peered back, concern and bemusement resting on his freckled face. “And who is Hermione?”
So I’m trying to write an epic multi chapter original fanfic post-Hogwarts era about my otp rare pair and sometimes I spiral about how much this work means to me and how I so painstakingly want to present it to ao3 like a precious labor of love and cope by staring at my computer screen unmoving for hours lol anybody else?
And here I am, with the update, whoop whoop it’s posted
But what came out of his mouth instead, “But why not me?” was just as broken as his heart. “It was my idea— my meddling. Why wasn’t I the one punished? Why was it her?”
Chapter 4 is angsty sad
the essence of time Chapter 4
Got my lil outline going and it’s just me, this Gatorade, and my laptop against the world (if the world is actually the flu in this scenario) anyway here’s hoping I’ll get this update posted by tomorrow night 🪩
the essence of time Chapter 4
Got my lil outline going and it’s just me, this Gatorade, and my laptop against the world (if the world is actually the flu in this scenario) anyway here’s hoping I’ll get this update posted by tomorrow night 🪩
Her Mudblood scar twinged. They wouldn’t touch her this time— they wouldn’t. Not her, not Fred, not Percy, none of her family. Not again. She jolted up, ignoring the startled grumbles from those around her. George. Get back to George.
chapter three is posted whoop whoop
Sometimes you just need some encouragement that you write for yourself and not others but ouch my little fangirl heart wants to find her tribe </3
“But she didn’t give up. It was a battle, apparently, the kind he hasn’t played in a very long while. Hermione Granger played very well, George soon learned. She could play the long game. She could outsmart anyone, he already knew that, but battle strategies? Warfare? Color him impressed.”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/61946362/chapters/158403220
https://archiveofourown.org/works/61946362/chapters/158403220
Cautiously optimistic that I can accomplish completing a fanfic for the first time in my life, so come check this out and enjoy some sporadic updates with no set schedule!!
Hermione x George time turner shenanigans
Do you ever think about your favorite fanfic writers from 2009-2013 and hope they’re doing okay? I hope you got professionally published, your stories changed my life <3
My husband is a casual potter fan, as in he’s seen the movies several times a year with me but has never read the books. Occasionally he makes innocent comments like “Harry and Luna would be cute together.” Or “Ron and Luna seem like they’d be a nice couple.” All the while having no idea the meaning of “otp” or the absolute PERFECTION of an arranged marriage au to repopulate the magical community and the chokehold it has on the fanfic fandom
Can someone please write a hilarious and accurate Derry Girls / Harry Potter universe crossover? I just recently finished Derry Girls and now equipped with a very basic knowledge of ‘90s Ireland, imagining those Muggleborn girls in Hogwarts surrounded by the ENGLISH? Unmatched potential, that is.
Draco Malfoy... and the fatigue of doing things again.
Draco Malfoy and… the fatigue of doing things again.
Rating: Teen and Up Published: 2022-10-17 Completed: Not yet completely published, but yes. Words: 25.024 Chapters: 12/16 Updates Every Monday
HELLO!!!
I'm working on drawing some of my favorite scenes from my fanfics... Here is a little snippet of chapter twelve (12)
__________
“Alright. Let me ask you this then - Does destiny exist? And if it does, is it really possible to change it, if you knew it? AND if you can change it… what then?”
Luna hummed, her eyes glossy and unfocused, like she was far away from the corridor they were in.
“You are thinking of destiny as a line, but…” Luna’s gaze focused onto Hermione, making her shiver a bit. Her eyes were so blue and deep, like she knew every secret of the universe - it was a little unnerving. “What if, Destiny, is more like a rug?”
What?
“What if, instead of a single thread, destiny was a big rug, with hundreds of thousands of threads? Each of those woven to hundreds more, so each decision or change, it's just… reaching another one of the threads?” Luna linked her fingers together. “It won't change the rug as a whole, right?”
Hermione felt like her brain had just short-circuited like her mom’s blender last Christmas - frozen in place, with the engine still making sounds trying and failing to make the blades spin. What Luna just said made a LOT of sense, but at the same time Hermione couldn’t really process it - She guessed this must be what realizing a big mystery of the universe must feel like - like a broken blender that still tried to work.
____________
HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!!!
Hello! I'm pretty new to writing fics on here I've only got two so far a Luke Patterson x Reader and a Peter Parker x Reader (Link to my masterlist in my bio)
But I would love some requests if that isn't too much to ask love you all!!
P.S. At this point in time I won't be writing anything that isn't an x reader I'll update if I decide to change that. I am willing to write a lot of different things so feel free to req for any show, game, celebrity, ect.
P.P.S I write smut but only for characters/ people 18+ Thank you 😁
FANFIC MASTERLIST
Bucky Barnes:
Draco Malfoy:
Who would have thought it?
My first draco x !femreader.
Part II
English is not my first language sorry it’s something feel awkward.
1,4k words
Everyone was excited about Yule Ball but you couldn’t be less bothered about it.
Changing classes was a spectacle since Yule Ball was two weeks ahead. Boys and girls declaring their love in every single corner. Such a cheesy view made you want to shut yourself in your bedroom and not go out until everything came to an end. Why was everyone so desperate?
As a Ravenclaw anything apart from books, classes, etc. was a waste of time. Going to the Yule Ball wouldn't make you pass Snape’s exams.
“y/n” your friend called you several times before you could hear her “Any date for the Yule Ball?”
“You too?” you spited out almost offended. Why are you so obsessed? You asked her trying to figure out how a dance could make people go insane.
“C’mon, you could relax.” she laughed “Tell me the truth, not even a Durmstrang student makes you want to go to the ball?” she added when some of them walked by your left.
Your eyes landed on them, they were handsome, tall and the dream of every girl or boy. But not yours…
A huge group of people in front of the class you were going to made you curious. “What is going on?”
“It’s happening again” your friend laughed excitedly while she dragged you with her to have a better view. It wasn’t a surprise to find a certain blonde in the middle of that fuss. A really nervous Slytherin was in front of him with her eyes shut down and with her whole body shaking.
“She must be the fifteenth or even the twentieth.” Another Slytherin murmured behind you.
Your brain started to put the pieces together. As the most popular Slytherin, Draco Malfoy was a very desirable target for the Yule Ball, but you didn’t expect to witness a proposal, and even more, as far you had heard it wasn’t the first one.
“Do you want to be my date to Yule Ball?” the girl in front of Draco said with a honeyed voice.
The boy didn't seem very amazed. Giving a fast peek at his surroundings, sighed in frustration with his hand buried in his blonde hair. Your eyes met for a few seconds and he narrowed them in your presence. The truth was that you weren’t friends, not even acquaintances but for a mysterious reason he detested you. You were a great witch from a good family, none blood thing could justify his aversion. But every time you crossed paths you felt like you did something wrong.
His face displayed an annoyed gesture, and his fingers went to his temples, massaging them. “I don’t have time for this rubbish.” his head turned away from you and landed on the poor Slytherin’s girl. “Get lost.” he huffed just the right moment McGonagall appeared, dissolving the big crowd. “Whatever is happening can continue after my class.” she announced heading every student inside.
The next classes were very peaceful, no more random events on the hallway. You and your friend were on your way to the Great Hall when you remembered you needed to return a book. Your friend and you split apart, and you hurried up your way.
The hallways were empty, everyone one was on their break. You were grateful for a little bit of peace, you took your time in the library wandering around, it didn't surprise you when you found another Ravenclaw. The library was the temple of all of you, but it didn’t feel right when he started to smile in your direction and not take his eyes off of you. Something was wrong and it pissed you.
It almost gave you a heart attack when he faced you the moment you put one foot out the library. “y/n, can we talk for a moment?” he asked you kindly with his face tinted slightly pink. That scene recalled a certain moment of the morning and your hands started to sweat. The boy in front of you was the same age but you hadn’t exchanged many words through the years, you didn't even know his name. You bit your lower lip trying to kill the urge of running away. “Sure…” you hesitated in a lower voice and with your hands clenched to your cape
“I hope it isn’t too late.” he whispered, rubbing his neck “By any chance would you like to go with me to Yule Ball?”
You froze and your usual eloquence disappeared. You couldn’t imagine that that would happen to you. You didn't plan a negative for the occasion, and you didn't want to go to the ball, because the truth was that HE would never ask you to go with him, and no one else had your interest.
“I’m sorry but…” you faltered to say. Your mouth was dry, and you couldn’t find the words.
“What y/n want to say is that she is already taken.” a very known voice interrupted you. Your brows raised in surprise when you saw Draco come out from behind a pillar.
“That's true?” the Ravenclaw looked at you with surprise, you were surprised as well, in which world were you Draco’s date? Maybe you just hit your head.
He came closer and one of his arms wrapped around your waist, your whole body shivered. He was the only one who could make you feel like that. “It’s true” you lied with your face completely red and avoiding the eyes of any of the boys. Sadly, it was a lie you wanted to believe with all your heart. The Ravenclaw gave up and disappeared after he looked at you very surprised. Your heart was pounding in your chest, you were alone with Draco and you were afraid to do or say anything that could break the spell.
“Why have you done that?” you slapped Draco away, as much as you wanted that touch you didn't want it to be as a part of a lie. He faced you with his beautiful grey eyes and smirked maciously. “Don't you know?” he whispered in your ear. You blushed entirely, your face, your neck, etc. “I thought you hated me.” you answered with your eyes locked on the floor, you were unable to look him in the face. Your head was spinning, you couldn't forget all those scornful looks in the hallway.
He grabbed you by the chin and lifted it forcing you to look at him. "And I hate you.” he said in a deep voice. “I hate your indifferent face every time we meet, the way you smile at all your friends.” You got goose bumps but trying not to be intimidated you answered "If I didn't know you, I'd say you have feelings for me..." you tilted your head with innocence and a wide smile on your face. You weren't going to let Malfoy have all the control of the situation, if he wanted to play dirty you also knew. The blond boy looked at you in surprise, you had left him speechless. Point for you. But he seemed to recover immediately, clinging to your hips, and trapping you against the nearest wall, his head rising to your height, and your faces just a few inches away. “You've always been very smart.” he sighed on your neck, making you turn your head to the side leaving even more bare skin in sight. He deposited a quick kiss in the crack of your neck "What about you? he started to play with a strand of your hair. Your head was full of Malfoy, your legs were shaking and since he had cornered you against that wall you were unable to add two plus two. Everything seemed like a dream. A dirty one, but with Draco it couldn't be any other way. You managed to hear his question, he wanted to know how you felt even if he had not spoken, not verbally. “I'd say it's a tie.” you almost moaned when he pulled up your skirt caressing your thighs. He rested his forehead on yours, enraptured by your half-open mouth, your watery eyes and your heavy breath. “What do you say if we try to break the tie? '' he smiled “You and me at the Yule Ball.”
You smiled at him. “Deal.” you whispered, taking him by his tie to press his lips against you in a hungry kiss. He took advantage immediately and did not hold back. You melted in his embrace and bit his lower lip when you felt his hard bulge against your centre.
Who would have thought it? You had a date.
the boy who has everything// [f.w.]
Summary: Fred and you have been secretly going steady since the end of your fifth year. Now that he and George are making their grand exit to follow their dreams, you are struggling to come up with the perfect parting gift.
Inspired by: https://open.spotify.com/track/37hblhCnC5YzhDQH58Rgpi?si=0EISnLcTRE2mctlIXNObTA
Warnings: Angst, Malfoy!Reader, difficult home life, neglect mentioned
A/N: Currently going through a bit of a writers block that definitely came from school, but I thought something to do with my fav boy would help clear my mind. Just want some input from ya’ll, would you be interested in me starting to take requests? Also, low-key miss having mutuals before I decided to completely start over lol. Also, why does ‘each other’ look wrong to me? Like I am a native English speaker but the words just like sus...
Word Count: 2.2k
The numerous differences between your childhood and your boyfriend’s were anything but subtle.
Growing up, you felt as if you were a puppet being dangled for the world to see. Your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, was a complex woman; She obviously loved you very much. She held you, but never longer than it took to keep your tears at bay. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, was your father in blood only. His disdain for your lack of enthusiasm regarding blood purity was obvious. He had never once in your 18 years on Earth said ‘I love you’, or even a simple ‘I’m proud of you’. Until the day came where you were willing to take the dark mark and fight on behalf of Lord Voldemort, you would be nothing in your parents’ eyes besides a test child before Draco’s birth.
Now, from what Fred had told you, his childhood was seemingly filled with sunshine and rainbows. He spent his summers wading in the pond near the Burrow, listening to the chirp of crickets and giggles of his numerous siblings. The entire family was open about showing their love in words and actions. Molly and Arthur, despite not being particularly rich, would give the clothes off their backs if it meant their children would never have to experience fear in any capacity. Fred always had a playmate, and never did he have to go through life fearing being expelled from the family home for his opinions.
In the simplest of terms, Fred and you were complete opposites. Your similarities were found in the small things; the way you both were headstrong and loyal, and most of all...
You both despised Filch. Fred had saved your butt from being caught in the halls after dark at the beginning of 5th year. He had decided then and there that despite the fact that you were in a different house, you simply had to be more than another member of the besmirched sacred twenty-eight. He knew from the second you were taking his outstretched hand in the dimly lit corridors that no matter what, you both were destined to be in each others’ lives. As he led you down a secret passage to the sound of Mrs. Norris’ eardrum-rattling mewls, you knew that the idea that he was just another impoverished ginger from the Weasley family was anything but true. Despite all the odds, that night was what laid down the foundations for you and Fred to become more than just another member of the family feud.
Going on almost 2 years later, and your relationship had shifted from what was a slightly odd friendship to an unexpected relationship. Fred and George were now planning their grand escape for sometime after the Easter holidays, but you had a totally different date on your mind; April 1st.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
“Oi, Weasley! You are a whole 42 seconds late!” You giggled, and Fred simply chuckled before dropping his books next to yours.
It was rare for Fred to be on time, but he always made an effort (and usually succeeded) for you. Due to your obvious difference in house loyalty, the easiest way you found to spend time together was to carve out 2 afternoons each week to just bask in each others’ presence. Every Monday and Friday (unless there was a quidditch match), you would meet Fred in a secluded corner of the courtyard. The two of you would goof around study, snack on some treats from Honeydukes, or simply lie back and enjoy the sunset while talking about whatever came up.
“So, anything big happen today, love?” Fred pecked you on the cheek quickly before dropping his head on your shoulder.
“Just the usual. Apparently, my mother has finally given up on sending me howlers to come home.”
“Y/N, mum already said she would love for you to come and stay with us during the holidays. You could come get a feel for the family over the holidays next week, and you would finally get to see what the Weasley-Twin-Birthday-Bonanza is like!”
“You mean watch your aunt call you George for a whole evening while asking why you aren’t a prefect? Oh, I am so in.” The ginger made a face of mock offense while dramatically huffing into the shoulder of your robes. “That reminds me, will you finally cave and tell me what you want for your birthday?”
“Love, I don’t want anything at all. Having my gal be there for the big one-eight is more than I could ever ask for.”
Money was no issue; Your mother had continued sending you a small allowance, most likely in the hopes that it would sway you to ‘do the right thing’. Fred had always made an effort to get you a new charm for your bracelet for your birthday, which most likely cost him a few weeks in sales, so of course you wanted to return the favor and find the perfect gift. Last year, you had crocheted him a plush lion wearing a Gryffindor-themed scarf and he had loved it. For some reason, though, you couldn’t help but feel like you needed to find him something bigger and better for his final birthday as a Hogwarts student.
“If you say so, Fred. Just don’t complain when you open my gift and it’s a pair of socks embroidered with little kittens.” Fred simply smiled and grabbed your hand that was previously tapping on the edge of your potions textbook.
“I’ll wear them with pride.”
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
“Ginny, please tell me you have some amazing idea for a gift that I haven’t thought of....” Ginny grimaced as you sunk into the wooden chair, obviously aware that this meeting you had called in the library wasn’t just to give her some advice in terms of course selection.
“Well... um... maybe you could bring him some muggle joke products? He really gets quite a kick out of them.” The apples of Ginny’s round cheeks became rosy, and she awkwardly rubbed at the back of her neck. “I mean, no offense, but couldn’t you just ask him?”
“I tried that already. At this rate, he will be turning 19 before I figure out what to get him...” A puff of air escaped your chapped lips, and you once again found yourself nibbling on them in thought.
“Well, here you are, big sis! Trying to figure out a gift for your git of a boyfriend?” Draco’s familiar greasy head popped out from behind the shelf before the young wizard marched up to you directly. “Do us all a favor, give him a little ‘life sans Y/N’... Merlin knows his parents probably don’t want a child of dark lord sympathizers at their shack anyways.”
“Shut up, Draco...” Before Ginny could attempt to soothe your anger, you had up and left the room.
“Psh, serves her right anyways...” A resounding smack was heard as Ginny wacked the platinum-headed goon on the back with the heaviest textbook lying nearby.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
It wasn’t like doubt surrounding your relationship had never been an issue before. You often found yourself wondering if your company was putting Fred in danger, especially considering the current climate surrounding the resurgence in death eater activity. Fred had always tried to quell your worries, but sweet words and gentle kisses could only do so much. You and Fred knew how you both felt towards each other, but it seemed like the world was against you some days.
Maybe Draco is right, he could get out of here and find a nice girl with normal parents to settle down with. After all, who wants to be known as the significant other of a Malfoy?
A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye, but you quickly dabbed it away with the edge of your sleeve to avoid grabbing attention from any of your housemates. The only perk you found that happened to come with being sorted into Slytherin like the rest of your family was that it was far enough away that you knew Fred wouldn’t find out if you spent any time sulking about your common room. For once, the slam of the heavy dungeon doors brought you comfort instead of a nagging chill.
Fred isn’t like me. He has everything he could ever want... All I do is create more stress for him.
Ignoring the harsh gaze of your housemates, you slipped into your dorm and found yourself slinking to bed without so much as slipping off your robes. Pulling the emerald comforters over your head, you let yourself slip into a restless sleep.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
It was finally the day before the Easter holidays, and Hogwarts was more alive than ever. Young couples were spending their last day on campus wandering the corridors, groups of friends sat laughing and promising to write letters on what they each planned to bring back, and even some people that swore they were enemies seemed to be acting more hospitable. It must’ve been nice to not be spending the morning trying to calm your beating heart and convincing yourself that what you are doing isn’t wrong.
“Hey Lovey! Have you finished packing yet?”
“Well... not exactly, Freddie.” Fred’s face dropped, and he took your hand in his.
“Is this about my aunt? I promise you won’t even have to say more than a simple ‘hello’ to her.” The mere mention of Fred’s Auntie Muriel almost cracked your tough exterior.
“I can’t come home with you, Freddie. There is no way your family wants to spend their holiday break with the daughter of Lucius Malfoy. Look, I mean... here’s your gift. Just please promise to wait till you get to the station to open it.”
Fred opened his mouth to argue, but you had already turned away as to avoid him seeing hot tears trail down your cheeks. You would have to be insane to go and willingly spend your holiday alone in the Malfoy Manor. There would be no family meals, especially now that all your parent’s energy went towards providing shelter for the death eaters. As you stumbled away to make your way back to your dorm to finish packing, Fred’s warm hand grasped your shoulder.
“Please. Y/N, all I want is to be able to spend every day of this holiday mucking about with you. I know why you want to go home, and I’m telling you as your boyfriend and best friend to not do it. Just please, grant me a birthday wish... come home with me.”
Fred drew you into his chest, and you found yourself clutching onto his striped button-up as if it would save your life. His larger hands rubbed across your back, and he pressed a small kiss on the top of your head.
“Are you really sure about this, Fred? I wouldn’t want to make your mum and dad uncomfortable, or even your older brothers for that matter.”
“Y/N, my love, the light of my life, just come home. If you can manage to get George to like you more than he likes me, I promise you the rest of my family will love you.” His signature smirk spread on his freckled face, and he pressed a quick peck on the tip of your nose.
“Now, let’s go get you packed, Y/N.”
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
“Oi, Fred, what’s in the box?” George elbowed his brother while somewhat attempting to be quiet. The train ride was almost over, and you had resorted to using the seat opposite to the twins as a temporary napping spot.
“I nearly forgot I had it on me to be quite honest. Do you think I should open it even though she is coming with us?”
“She said to open it at the station, but we are obviously past that point, so please just open it!” George bounced in his seat, and Fred gave in to temptation. He unwrapped the ribbon holding the small box shut, opened the lid, and discovered a dainty chain with a circular pendant hanging on the end.
“Is that a size reference for your-”
“George! Shut up, you dimwit. I think it might be a mirror-glass type thing, but I genuinely have no idea...”
“Freddie, bring it to your eye and look through it.” The twins both jumped as you rolled over, clearly no longer asleep.
Fred brought the pendant to his right eye, squinted, and his immediate smile couldn’t be contained. When held at the right distance, he could see a small picture of you and him from your first date at Hogsmeade. He was much more lanky and awkward looking, and you were almost matched in height. The smile you both shared in the photo warmed his heart to no end, and Fred found himself having to gather his emotions from the memories he had of that day.
The ginger all but leapt to your side of the cart, and he wrapped his arm around your still-sleepy figure. He squeezed you tightly to his side before leaning in to whisper something in your ear without allowing George to hear.
“It’s perfect, my love.”
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
~Post-fic A/N: I hope this was a good read for you guys! I am definitely on the verge of passing out, but proofreading is superior to sleep (jk). Anyways, if anything comes to mind, don’t hesitate to reach out or send in an ask! I love interacting with you guys, even if it is just a brief hello! :) ~
writing romione nonstop
guys yk… i post romione fics and stuff on ao3 under the same username… you can also find a link in my profile… just saying…
trying to turn these tweets of @/incorrectrhr (on twt ofc) into one-shots it’s getting harder than i thought. i might give up on these OR just make them crack fics and completely absurd ones. after all this whole fanfic is very absurd.
(ALL CREDITS TO USER @/INCORRECTRHR, OFC, GO FOLLOW THEM ON TWITTER)
btw, if you didn’t know i wrote one-shots based on their posts you can check them out here
lol
okay question,
i like to have EVERYTHING organised but idk. should i make separate one shot fics OR post them as chapters to the same story if they're all related to the same topic and i'll be adding if i write more.
Let's say... "romione tent fics missing moments" and each chapter is a stand alone one shot of a missing momnet in the tent.
Or should i just post random one shots, 1 at at time as im writing them/feel like posting them.
i kinda have a problem with organization...
ps. im already doing so with shell cottage missing moments. if you want o check it out, my ao3 is in my bio *wink*
crack fic idea where hermione tells ron (obviously not mad lol, dont be saying stuff) that luna has/had a crush on him. lol.
Classic romione shell cottage by me, just out of the oven
this multichapter wip fic... just got delted (i deleted bc i don’t know how ao3 works) and i managed to get it back rdtfugyihojpk. (i had to post it again) so pls check it out. ily, bye.
I write dumb stories and all...
check out my ao3 where i post stories sometimes (all romione related btw!)
More and better ones are comingggggg i have so many written already uhuhfhguhg