Invisible String (g.w.)

invisible string (g.w.)

A/N: So I've been working on my Folklore/Evermore fics between working on requests. The request I am working for right now, I really want to do my research on so that I have everything correct so that's why that is taking a bit longer than usual, but it is almost done and ready to be posted. Once again, this one is a little long, I can't help it, I just kinda let Taylor lead me and she leads me to ~ 14-page fics😅 (oops). Anyway, enjoy this soft, fluffy soulmate AU with Georgie boy!

TV Show/Movie: Harry Potter

Pairing: George Weasley x fem!Hufflepuff!reader

Not Requested

Taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @rottenstyx @frederickandgeorge-weasley

No Voldemort AU, but Umbrige is still there.

Warnings: Some negative thoughts about oneself, angst, but happy ending. Very long, like over 20 pages in docs (I got a little carried away)masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation - my gif -

Y/N was always fascinated by the idea of soulmates. Not just how there was a person out there for everyone, a true match, but how soulmates have a string connecting them. An invisible string that only appears when it wants. The idea of her being connected to her soulmate by some invisible thread, stretching across an unpredictable distance, weaving around buildings and landscape even though they might not even know each other (or live in the same country). “Maybe one of the Durmstrang students will be my soulmate,” Her friend, Freya sighed dreamily as she gazed at a group of Durmstrang boys striding by the group. Y/N didn’t even look up from her book, only humming half-heartedly in response. “Could you imagine the romance,” She gushed, flopping onto the grass to look at the sky. “Me, in Scotland, my soulmate, in Bulgaria. Separated by vast waters and rolling hills only to meet at a ball one fateful night.”

“Wouldn’t you want to meet your soulmate before the ball so you guys could attend it together?” Kieron, Freya’s brother, spoke up from where he twirled his wand between his fingers, his back pressed against the same tree Y/N sat at. Freya flailed around to lay on her stomach, glaring at her brother, not noticing the dead leaves that were tangled in her fine, auburn locks.

“That wouldn’t be romantic, Kieron,” She rolled her eyes, plucking a few blades of grass from the ground below her. “Imagine this,” She paused, tossing the blades away as she fanned her hands through the air like she was prepping a TV screen to play her vision out for her. “I’m dancing with another guy, he’s dancing with another girl. My date spins me but loses my hand, I accidentally bump into him. He turns around and our eyes lock and our string reveals itself right there in the middle of the dance floor. Time stops because we found each other.” She rambled, the story choppy as she tried to keep up with her fast imagination.

“Yeah, and if you bumped into someone you would become a stuttering mess and your face will be about ten thousand shades redder than your hair,” Kieron pointed out a flaw - Freya’s seemingly incurable shyness. “You wouldn’t stick around long enough for your string to show up if he was your soulmate.” He poked fun at his sister.

“I would too! It’s different with your soulmate.” Freya defended herself. Snapping her head to Y/N, she hit one of her bent knees making her book fall from where it was perched on her thighs.

“Hey! I was reading that.” Y/N cried as the heavy tome fell closed on the grass, narrowly missing Kieron’s leg. She pushed her back off the thick tree trunk, grabbing the red and gold book, watching Freya with cautious eyes.

“Tell him that it’s different with your soulmate.” Freya insisted, pointing to her twin brother. Sighing, Y/N nodded as she turned her head to face Kieron.

“She’s right, it is different with your soulmate,” She agreed, earning an eye roll from Kieron. “No matter what happens when the string shows up, you don’t feel any embarrassment. You might blush and be shocked, but you don’t feel anxious. You might feel embarrassed when you first meet them unless your string appears then, but there is this feeling within you that keeps you there long enough to form an acquaintance,” She paused, cracking her book back open to where she left off. “If Freya does meet her soulmate at the ball in an embarrassing way, it doesn’t matter if the string appears or not, she won’t feel embarrassed enough to run away.”

“How are you so sure of all of this,” Kieron posed the question, narrowing his eyes at Y/N. “Have you met your soulmate?” He almost seemed nervous for her to answer. His fingers stopped twirling his wand and now picked anxiously at the grass.

“No, not that I know of,” She shrugged. “But I read a lot about soulmates so I think I have a pretty good understanding of how this works.”

“Reading and experiencing are two very different things-”

“Y/N! Freya,” Kieron was interrupted by a breathless call of their names. The three looked up to see Pippa, one of their other friends, running along the shore of the lake towards them. “Look at what Maisy and I did!” She waved two flower crowns in the air. She was the only one out of the group to have found her soulmate. Her string appeared between her and Maisy just last year - five years after they first met in first year.

“They look lovely, Pippa,” Y/N smiled, looking at the crowns as she stood in front of them. She plopped down on the grass, sitting criss-cross as she extended the crowns out towards them. Y/N grabbed the red one she handed her. “Chrysanthemums, are they?” She asked, looking over at her out-of-breath friend.

“Red ones, I thought it would look best with your hair. I gave you white ones to compliment your red hair,” She directed the last bit to Freya who placed the white chrysanthemum crown on her head. “Well, go on, Y/N! Put yours on,” Pippa clapped her hands excitedly before reaching over and adjusting Freya’s crown. Y/N laughed lightly, letting her other hand leave her book to grip the crown, placing it on her head as well. “It looks gorgeous!” She squealed.

“Hey, Pip,” Freya sat up on her knees, careful not to knock her crown off. “We were just talking about soulmates and if you feel embarrassed if you embarrassingly meet them. Y/N and I both claim that you don’t but Kieron is insisting that you do. From your experience, which is true?”

“That you don’t,” Pippa told them right off the bat, smiling fondly as she thought of meeting Maisy. “When we first met, it was in such an embarrassing way. I had gone to the loo during Charms and when I walked back into the classroom, Maisy was the one who pulled me aside and told me my shirt was tucked into my panties,” She recalled, her cheeks flaring. “At that moment, I was as red as a tomato and a clumsy fool, but in a weird way, I wasn’t embarrassed. Looking back now, yeah, I cringe and want to crawl into my skin, but at that moment,” She paused, shaking her head slightly as she tried to find the words. “I don’t know how to describe it, it was just different.” She shrugged.

“What about when your string appeared? Did you feel embarrassed then?” Freya asked eagerly, her hands clasped together tightly as she hung off of every word Pippa spoke. Y/N couldn’t help but close her book on her finger, keeping her spot but giving Pippa all her attention.

“Looking back now, it was so embarrassing, but at that moment it was like a scene out of a rom-com-”

“What’s that?” The three asked at the same time, their faces scrunching up in confusion.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Pippa smiled shyly. “I forgot you guys aren’t muggle-born. Rom-coms are romantic films with comedy in them, they are all the rage among hopeless romantics in the Muggle world,” She cleared her throat, looking over her shoulder to see Maisy talking with one of her friends farther along the lakeshore. “When our string appeared, I was in the Hospital Wing with nasty blisters all over my face from a potion exploding in my face. Maisy was volunteering one night and she was tasked with giving everyone a glass of water before bed. She yanked the curtain around my bed back while I sat there with frizzy hair and my headgear on with green, oozing blisters on my face, but get this-” She paused, holding her two-pointer fingers up. “She then trips over her own feet and dumps the whole pitcher of water on me before falling on me. When she pulled away, the fateful gold string was there connecting her hand to my hip which is where we collided first.”

“Oh wow,” Freya whispered, her green eyes wide. “If I were you, I wouldn’t show my face anywhere for years.”

“Exactly. Normally I would have gladly jumped into a Red Cap’s den if those things happened in front of anyone else, but I just wasn’t that mortified!” Pippa exclaimed, her hands slapping her bent knees, her fingers brushing the tips of the grass.

“I read a theory on it recently,” Y/N spoke up, sitting back against the tree trunk as she opened her book again. “Many people think that you don’t get embarrassed when meeting your soulmate or seeing the string so that you actually stay. So, if you meet your soulmate while making a fool out of yourself, they will still want to get to know you! Same thing if the pair just don’t understand that they are meant to be soulmates - the universe will just keep pushing them together.”

“I still think this is just a bunch of dragon dung,” Kieron muttered begrudgingly, making all three girls roll their eyes. “But can we please set this all aside and go to lunch now?” He whined, pleading with them to finally wander towards the Great Hall like they promised they would ten minutes ago.

“You guys go ahead, I’m going to sit out here and read some more.” Y/N told them as they all stood up from the grass. Freya looked down at her with furrowed brows.

“Do you want us to bring you anything?” She asked as Pippa skipped off to Maisy, her two braids flapping behind her in the fall air. Y/N shook her head prompting Freya to take the hint and leave. Kieron trailed behind her, leaving Y/N in her solitude as she found her place in her book once again. With the silence that surrounded her, she was able to hear the robins chirping as they flung fallen leaves in search of bugs to eat. She enjoyed the soft sounds of nature, there was something so poetic about it.

Unlike Freya, Y/N always thought she would meet her soulmate at a time like this. With the fall air twirling the leaves around, the slight chill of the day barely seeping through her cable-knit sweater, the golden rays of sunlight spotlighting the changing leaves. She always dreamed of the mysterious string appearing in the glistening sun as her cheeks flared red - matching her soulmate’s cheeks. She let her eyes flutter closed, her head falling back against the tree trunk, careful not to tangle her hair with the peeling bark of the mighty oak she sat under.

Just then, the wind picked up causing some flaming red leaves to flutter down on top of her head, but she paid them no mind as she visualized her soulmate stumbling upon her and picking them gently out of her hair. “Fred, catch it!” She heard Lee Jordan yell before she felt someone’s shoe get caught on her calves, pulling her over as they fell. Letting out a surprised yelp, her eyes closed tighter as she barely kept her face from hitting the dirt.

“Ow-” She groaned, the tree root she was sitting next to now digging into her stomach. Rolling over, she let her eyes open again, the fluffy white clouds greeting pleasantly her as if she didn’t have a large bruise forming on her stomach.

“I’m sorry about that, Love,” Another deep voice sounded from right beside her. Flopping her head over, she spotted the infamous ginger laying on the grass beside her as he also flipped over. “At least you met me and not the fanged frisbee my brother lost control of.” He pointed out. Y/N searched his face, trying to figure out which twin had knocked her over. He was ignorant of this, too busy trying to wipe the dirt off his freckled face.

“That’s alright, you probably didn’t see my legs there so it’s partially my fault really.” She shook her head, giving up on guessing which twin it was, leaning over to pick her book back up. The twin laughed at that, sitting up as he inspected his clothes for more dirt.

“I saw your legs, I just misjudged how close you were to me,” He admitted. Y/N hummed, nodding in understanding as she sat right beside him. Glancing over at him, she noticed how his hair lit up in the sun, how beautiful he looked with the lopsided grin he wore. Now that she was so close to him, she could definitely see what all the girls fawned over when talking about the Weasley twins. “Do I have any more dirt on me?” He asked her suddenly, startling her enough for her to snap out of her daze - just narrowly escaping him realizing she was checking him out.

“Um, I think you have a speck right here,” She pointed to the spot on her own face. The twin lifted his hand, wiping at the wrong spot. “No, other side,” She shook her head, a smile tugging on her lips as he missed again. “Here, may I get it?” She asked, her hand raising to hover over the spot, waiting for his answer.

“Only if I can get the smudged lipstick off the corner of your lips.” He winked, flirting shamelessly. Y/N blinked, assuming the twin was Fred, she had heard tales of his flirtatious and outgoing personality. From what she knew, George was much more of a hopeless romantic like herself and had a different kind of flirtatious charm than his twin. She always assumed she would like George better as he had more things in common, but she would be lying if she didn’t like the kind of attention she was getting.

“I’m not wearing any lipstick today, I ran out yesterday,” She told him, her eyes narrowing in flirty playfulness, something she never thought she would do, wanting to question how he knew she usually wore lipstick. Instead, she dropped her hand to his cheek, wiping the spec of dirt away, taking his flirtations as an okay, moving to another spot she noticed. “Oh, that’s a freckle, sorry.” She apologized, dropping her hand from his cheek, her eyes meeting his intense stare.

“I do that sometimes myself. Sometimes, freckles just look so much like dirt, my mum had a horrible time trying to keep all of us clean, she’d scrub our faces thinking we were playing in the mud for hours before cluing in,” He told her before his cheeks flared ever so slightly, only being noticeable due to the ray of sun pointed directly at his face. “I’m George Weasley by the way.” Y/N blinked. She thought for sure that it was Fred sitting in front of her, but she was pleasantly shocked by this news.

“You and your brother are pretty famous, I recognized you instantly I just didn’t know which one you were,” She told him, her cheeks darkening as she hoped he didn’t think she was one of the Weasley obsessed girls who follow them around all the time. “I’m Y/N L/N.” She extended her hand to him.

“So that’s your name,” His large hand wrapped around hers, shaking it softly. “I’ve always wondered and let me tell you, it’s just as beautiful as you.” He winked, his hand lingering on hers as she blushed darker, letting out a giggle.

“Well, thank you. I like your name as well.” She returned the compliment.

“That’s awfully nice of you to lie like that for my sake, but I know my name sounds like I should be some stuffy old Muggle King,” He joked, earning a laugh from Y/N as their hands finally separated, her hand covering her mouth. “I like your flower crown, it’s the same red as my sweater.” He finally spotted the braided flowers perched on her head. She let her eyes flick upwards like she would be able to see it before looking back at him, bashful once again.

“My friend made it for me with her girlfriend-”

“George, we need your help, Fred got bit by the frisbee and we can see the bone. You have to get the frisbee, I’m taking him to the Hospital Wing.” Lee yelled, making the pair look over. There, Lee stood next to a boy identical to George who kept trying to wave Lee off - claiming to be fine especially as a group of girls sauntered by.

“Even in pain, he’s still flirting with everything that walks,” George shook his head. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N, but I better go before the frisbee bites anyone else,” He told her, standing up. “Look forward to seeing you again sometime soon.” He called to her as he ran farther away from the lake, following the screams of terror telling him exactly where the frisbee was.

“Wait, George,” She yelled, making him wheel around to face her as he walked backwards. “How did you know I usually wear lipstick?” She asked, her brows furrowed. Some of her closest friends barely notice she wears lipstick, how could someone she never even talked to before know that.

“You wear that brownish shade sometimes with the lip pencil thing, right?” He asked, his voice carrying through the schoolyard.

“Yeah, that’s right,” She nodded, she had recently found her signature shade after an episode of Friends she watched over the summer holiday she spent with Pippa and she fell in love with the bricky red colour Rachel wore. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve noticed you around, that’s all.” He shrugged before turning around and running off in pursuit of the frisbee flying around, gnashing its teeth dangerously. Y/N sat there, her book on her lap and her mouth hanging open as she replayed the entire interaction back. There was one thing she noticed, her lack of embarrassment. She felt like her heart was blooming a beautiful flower as she let herself dwell on that for a moment. She was practically trampled by a cute guy, almost had her face caked in mud, embarrassingly tried to wipe one of his freckles off, had the same cute guy flirt with her so nonchalantly, and have him confess to paying attention to her lips, but yet, she wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest.

“I must have just been comfortable around him because I somehow knew it was George and not Fred,” She theorized, playing off her notion that she would get along better with George than Fred. “That’s it, I can’t be the soulmate to a Weasley, there is no way I can survive that much attention on me at all times. Besides, which Weasley would be happy with a quiet Hufflepuff with like four friends? Not the twins, that’s for sure.” She muttered to herself. As much as she wanted to believe in the cliches she read in her books, she just couldn’t imagine her life working out quite like that. George’s soulmate was probably some outgoing Gryffindor who played Quidditch and was wildly popular - that is a better match for someone as popular as George, not Y/N.

____

The hall was swamped with students rushing around, but Y/N walked at her normal pace, her mind swirling with thoughts and worries as she paced on. Her satin-like lipstick covered her lips as she chewed on her bottom lip. She was beyond happy when Kieron had somehow bought her a new tube of lipstick to make up for the one he broke, but then he placed his lips upon hers after Freya had left with Pippa and Maisy. Days had passed from that moment and she was avoiding him like he had a case of Dragon Pox. “Y/N!” She heard the familiar call of the one person she didn’t want to be around from way down the hall. Sucking in a breath, she wished she didn’t have the luck of a cursed person.

Almost as if being pulled towards it, she pulled open the old door to the broom closet next to her, slipping in under the cover of the large crowd between them. Leaning her back against the door, she ignored the peeling scarlet paint chips stabbing into her neck as she let it click closed behind her, letting a relieved breath escape past her lips. “I was beginning to think we weren’t going to run into each other again.” A voice emitted from the darkness in the room making her jump, startled by their presence.

Squinting, her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, showing the famous red hair. “George?” She asked, tapping her wand in the direction of the candle stationed on the wall, lighting the room.

“In the flesh,” He nodded, the candle showing Y/N that he sat on an overturned bucket, clad in his Gryffindor robes, the scarlet hood glaringly obvious. She shuffled over, sitting on one of the other buckets that littered the small closet. It was bigger than some of the other ones she’s been in, but still pretty cramped thanks to George’s long limbs. “What brought you in here?”

“Avoiding someone,” She answered quickly, the noise of the other students out in the hall drowning out any noise coming from inside. George nodded, humming as an answer. “What about you? Why are you hiding in here alone? Aren’t you normally with your brother most of the time?” She asked, looking over at him. The orange glow from the single candle only lit a small portion of his face.

“Same as you, I’m just hiding from more people.” He shrugged, absentmindedly fiddling with one of his contraptions he kept in his pocket. She spotted the golden object, making her nervous. She leered back slightly, the hood of her Hufflepuff robes getting caught under her neck uncomfortably.

“Please don’t set off one of your prank devices please,” She pleaded, making George look down in his hand. For a second, he looked shocked that he had one of their products in his hand, but he quickly pocketed it, sending her a reassuring smile. “So why are you hiding from people?” She asked, feeling more at ease knowing it is less likely for them to be suddenly covered in a mysterious goop or being victims of whatever the product did. Sitting upright, her golden hood flopped against her back.

“I just needed some space from everyone,” He confided. “Fred loves the attention we get, but sometimes being swarmed by gaggles of people - especially girls - hanging off us all the time gets a bit much for me. Last night at the Gryffindor party, I was talking to a girl and we kissed a couple of times, you know from the firewhiskey-” Y/N nodded in understanding, but she in fact didn’t know. She’s only had one shot of firewhiskey once in her life and that was at a Ravenclaw party after they beat Slytherin in a match. She wasn’t sure why she’s never had another drink of it, it wasn’t bad, she just wasn’t much of a party person. She hated Hogwarts parties since they often ended up with someone cursed or seriously injured. “I just needed to escape her, she’s following me everywhere.”

“How can she tell you and Fred apart if she was drunk last night?” Y/N asked, finding a flaw in his explanation instantly.

“She wasn’t drunk, I was the tipsy one,” He corrected. “And how can you tell me apart from my brother? This is the second time we are actually speaking and it was dark when you figured out that it was me.”

“Fifty-fifty chance of it being you, I took my chances,” She joked slightly before clearing her throat. “But, no, in all honesty, I just had a feeling it was you. Plus, you referenced our little meeting a few weeks ago which I don’t think Fred would greet me with when I barge in on him in a broom closet.”

“Ah, you pay attention to details, probably from all the reading you do,” He bounced his finger in her direction, sending her a wink. She laughed, nodding, her fondness for reading did aid in her ability to pick up on little details. “I’m good at that too. I noticed that you said you were hiding from someone and you seemed pretty relieved to get away from them, what’s the deal with that, Love?” He asked, leaning his elbows on his knees.

She sighed, raking a hand through her hair. “I’m avoiding someone who kissed me the other day, have been since the kiss,” She disclosed, slumping her shoulders slightly. “He had bought me some new lipstick since he was the one who broke my other one. Right after he gave it to me, he kissed me. It was so weird, and now he probably thinks we are dating and we most certainly are not.” She ranted. Groaning, she buried her face in her hands.

“So who is this bloke?” George wondered, his voice hiding a bit of resentment that Y/N barely picked up on. The small thought in the back of her mind that had been lingering there lit up. Was George jealous? She had to admit, hearing of that girl and him kissing last night did send some sort of primal jealous urge coursing through her veins, could the same thing be happening to George? Making a mental note to do some research on that in soulmates, she lifted her head from her hands.

“Kieron. He’s my best friend’s twin brother, he’s in Ravenclaw and he’s persistent. He hasn’t left me alone since the kiss, it’s suffocating me. The worst thing is that I haven’t told Freya yet,” She paused, shaking her head as she kicked the floor with the toe of her school shoe. “I had no idea he liked me. We are completely different in every way possible, not to mention he’s kind of a jerk sometimes.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters, he’s very self-obsessed, he sees himself as smarter and better than everyone, he knows all and he deserves all, he judges everyone and he doesn’t care about anyone else other than himself. Sometimes I think the only reason he ever started hanging around us is because of his sister,” She released all that had been weighing on her mind since he kissed her. “He knows how important romance and finding my soulmate is to me and he goes and kisses me all because he doesn’t believe in it?”

“Were you saving your first kiss for your soulmate?” George asked quietly.

Y/N shook her head. “No, I’ve kissed people before, I’ve dated people before, but I was never one just to randomly kiss people out of nowhere. I also do not kiss people who clearly do not want it.”

“Understandable-” George nodded. He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by Dumbledore’s magnified voice echoing through the whole school, warning them they only had two minutes to get to their next class. “Well, I guess we have to get going, what do you have next?” He stood, reaching his hand down for her to take. She accepted, using it to stand up.

“Double Herbology with the Slytherins.” She told him as he led her to the door. She pointed her wand to the candle, extinguishing it and bathing them back into darkness.

“Sorry to hear that, I would rather cuddle with a dragon than have a double class with Slytherins.” George pulled a face, opening the door to the empty hall. Y/N shrugged, hiking her bag up on her shoulder as they walked out of the cramped room, the natural sunlight pouring into the corridor stung their eyes but they powered on.

“They aren’t so bad to us, most of them aren’t,” She told him, her eyes watching the floor in front of her. “The only house we really have problems with are Ravenclaws, and that's only a bit of them.”

“I think every house has a problem with a few Ravenclaws, they are just so arrogant and priggish,” George admitted, kicking an empty chocolate frog container as they exited the building, heading towards the Greenhouses, braving the fall air. “Well, you have fun with the Slytherins and I think you should talk to that Ravenclaw guy, set things straight so he doesn’t bother you anymore.” He stopped walking just shy of the Greenhouses.

“Will do. Thanks for listening to my problems,” She smiled up at him, rubbing her hands together as the cold nipped at them. “You should get to class, you don’t want to be late.” She worried about him, but he simply shrugged.

“Can’t be late if my class is right here,” He pointed to the other Greenhouse. Y/N furrowed her brows at him. “We have a new teacher, fresh out of Ilvermorny. Hogwarts offered to help train him, you should take your nose out of your books sometime, Love, you might notice some things.” George said in a sing-song voice, sauntering over to Greenhouse One, leaving her standing them once again with her mouth hanging open. Shaking her head, she turned to Greenhouse Three, pulling the door open and slipped in unnoticed by the rest of the class.

____

Sniffling, Y/N sat at her stool as Professor Sprout frantically rushed around the room. She barely noticed how none of the Slytherins had shown up yet, all the seats being taken up by Hufflepuffs scattered in their groups. Nobody paid her no mind as she wiped away a single tear that managed to slip out of the corner of her eye, giving her the space and time she needed. “Professor, why are the Slytherins not here? Class was supposed to start four minutes ago.” Cordelia, one of Y/N’s fellow Hufflepuffs, asked gently.

“The Slytherins do not have a double Herbology with you guys anymore, they are now in Greenhouse One-” Professor Sprout began to explain, but she was interrupted by worrying gasps. Y/N even lifted her head, her puffy eyes wide. She had just found out that Kieron was also in Greenhouse One when she talked to Freya about the new Herbology professor (which everyone apparently knew about).

“Please tell us that the Ravenclaws aren’t moving into this Greenhouse with us,” Cordelia pleaded. “Please Professor, Hugo McAllister is in that block and he keeps calling me the third Darkside of my arse and then explains the name every time as if I don’t know that Cordelia is the third moon of Uranus-”

“We do not need to hear more of that Miss. Jaymes, we’ve all taken an astronomy class,” Sprout stopped her politely. “The Ravenclaws are not coming in here, the Gryffindors are. George Weasley decided it was a good idea to start a fight in that class with a Ravenclaw so they are the ones moving.” She informed them making Y/N still. George got in a fight with a Ravenclaw, and Kieron was in the hospital wing - all within forty-eight hours after she told George about her problem with Kieron. She had just connected the dots when the door opened and in trailed the Gryffindors.

Y/N watched the door as they all filled in, taking random seats quietly. “This seat taken?” A familiar voice asked, sneaking up on her. She looked up, greeted by the smile of George Weasley, pointing to the empty seat beside her the Hufflepuffs left open to give her space.

“Um, no, it’s empty,” She told him, confused as to how he managed to slip in without her seeing him. “Why did you start a fight with Kieron last week?” She asked quietly as people continued to shuffle around them, moving her leather-bound book from the stool. George shrugged, placing his bag and books on the floor beside his stool.

“I didn’t, I accidentally hit him when trying to escape a nasty flesh-eating plant and he took it personally.” George told her. She pressed her lips together, humming slightly to tell him she didn’t believe him.

“Really, because I visited him in the hospital wing yesterday, and he was milking a black eye, a broken nose, and a sprained wrist.”

“Why were you visiting him?” He asked the tinge of jealousy back in his voice. Y/N noted it, but she couldn’t make sense of it as she had not found any evidence that sudden jealousy points to a soulmate - just a crush which was even more unrealistic than her being his soulmate.

“I went to talk to him like you told me to, he’s still an ass and we are no longer friends, but that is beside the point right now, George,” She paused, looking around to make sure people weren’t listening. “Why did you hit Kieron, honestly?”

“Honestly, it was an accident. Then he attacked me and I had to defend myself,” George told her sincerely. Sighing, she dropped her forehead into her hand as Sprout fussed around upfront to get things ready for the lesson. There were more Gryffindors than there were Slytherins signed up for herbology, meaning she didn’t have enough of everyone. “Now, tell me what happened when you went to talk to him.”

“Nothing much. He got mad at me because I didn’t like him back. Said that I was being ridiculous by carrying on about this soulmate stuff. He even dared to say that he deserved the kiss because he got me a present as a boyfriend does,” She hissed out. “Anyway, Freya knows and she sided with me since she knew I had no feelings for him. We don’t talk to him anymore, her parents are mad at her for it but she doesn’t care.”

“So he’s out of your hair?”

“Yes-” She nodded, but Sprout clapped her hands, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Alright class, I don’t have enough of what we are working on for this month for everyone so everyone has to pair up. Look to the person beside you, they are your partner for the next month. End people, you are paired up with the people across from you so that everyone has a partner.” Sprout instructed.

“Looks like we’re partners, Love,” George nudged her, making her look back at him. “It’s funny how we keep coming together, it’s like fate is playing with us or something.” He commented.

Y/N hummed, nodding slowly as she thought over things. “Yes, it is funny,” She whispered, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. She couldn’t seem to shake George since she met him. He was like a constant in her life now, somehow popping up. Shaking her head, she tried to forget the thought. She couldn’t be his soulmate, the universe wouldn’t put him through that. George drummed his hands on the tabletop loudly, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip before he pushed off the desk, heading over to collect their items. Something poking out from under his robe sleeve caught Y/N’s eye. A leather bracelet with dyed straps of red and gold. The exact same leather and dyed strings as her book. Staring at it, she became overwhelmed with the possibility. “I have to be jumping to conclusions, there is no way he’d be happy with me.” She muttered to herself.

____

For the rest of the year, George Weasley was in her life whether they wanted it or not. It was as if there was a force that kept leading them to each other. As much as Y/N loved the string that connected her to her soulmate, she refused to believe that it was George Weasley. She would refuse to believe it was any of the Weasley’s, she was too different from them. Even in the summer holiday, she would find herself running into him when she ventured out to run errands at Diagon Alley.

“No, you don’t understand Freya,” Y/N stressed as she rocked gently with the train. They were heading back for another year at Hogwarts, and she had already encountered George when their baggage got mixed up in the parking lot somehow. “It cannot be George. He’s popular, he’s a Quidditch player, he’s one-half of the Weasley Twins, how could I be his soulmate?”

“Because being soulmates doesn’t mean you are an exact copy of the other person. And newsflash, Y/N, you’re popular. Everyone knows you and likes you, except my brother now, but I don’t think you care about that-”

“I don’t, trust me,” Y/N interrupted her. “No offence.” She winced when she remembered he is still her brother.

“None taken,” Freya waved her off. “Maybe you’re trying to make up any excuse as to why George cannot be your soulmate because now that you’re actually faced with the possibility that you’ve found your soulmate, you’re scared.”

Y/N scoffed “Why would I be scared of something I’ve wanted for my whole life?” Freya shrugged, looking up for a second as the door slid open, letting Pippa in.

“You don’t want the magic to end?” She guessed. Pippa looked between the pair with furrowed brows. Y/N shook her head stubbornly. She was not scared of the magic ending. She wanted to see the string, she wanted to find that one person she’s been connected to her whole life. The magic isn’t the wonder, the magic is what happens after the string appears.

“What are we talking about?” Pippa asked.

“Does the magic end after you find your soulmate?” Freya asked right off the bat, ignoring Pippa’s question completely. Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend.

“Of course not, Freya,” Y/N answered instead. “I’m not scared of the magic ending, or of the mystery dying out. I am simply saying that I have to be reading too far into this!” She explained, finally finding the words she was searching for since last year. Freya huffed, exhausted with this argument.

“If you want to know if you’re reading too far into it, you just have to relax, let George into your life. If you’re thinking the string will appear or trying to make sense of why George keeps popping up, the string will never appear,” Pippa told her. “That’s what happened with Maisy’s parents. They kept worrying about when the string would appear. Once they stopped and just started to enjoy each other’s company, the string appeared.”

“Exactly,” Freya exclaimed. “So just relax and enjoy George’s friendship. Maybe the string will appear, maybe it won’t. If it does or doesn't, what is the big deal?” She asked.

“The big deal is that I like him.” She admitted, making Freya’s eyes widen.

“Like, you like, like him?”

“Yes, I might even love him, I don’t know, but I do know that I will be incredibly broken if the string doesn’t appear. Could it be possible for two soulmates not to have a string?” Y/N asked, suddenly worried once again.

“I don’t think so, Y/N/N,” Pippa shook her head sadly. “I think you just have to wait it out. Remember that the string shows up when it wants. You just have to be patient with this one.”

“That’s not what I want to hear!” She groaned, falling dramatically back in her seat, huffing as she prepared herself to face another confusing year that could potentially end in heartbreak caused by the one and only George Weasley.

____

Y/N sat in the swirling silence of the Library, hunched over a large book, hidden among the shelves. Her finger trailed along the rough, aged page of the book, frantically scanning the page for something that could help her. Resisting the urge to let out a frustrated scream, she took a deep breath as she closed the book as she grabbed yet another one from the large stack on the table. Pushing the old one away, she flopped the new equally as large one open. “And what is it that you’re up to?” A drawling voice startled her. She snapped her head up from where she was just about to start reading the chapter she thought would help her. There, leaning against one of the many bookshelves that hid her from the rest of the Library was George Weasley, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Just reading.” She told him, letting her head fall back down to read, knowing full well that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“This is the first we are seeing of each other this school year and you’re not even going to speak more than two words to me?” George asked as he settled into the seat across from her.

“I figured you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon so I’m sure we’ll exchange more words,” She muttered, keeping her attention on the book. “Besides, isn’t my company good enough for you?” She asked, flipping the page.

“It would be if your nose wasn’t stuck in that book, Darling,” He quipped. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her, waiting for her to give up on the book and pay attention to him. “What are you working on anyway, we don’t have any assignments or tests yet-“ He trailed off, snatching the large red book she had just pushed aside. “Everything You Need to Know About Soulmates, Volume Two,” He read the title before looking back up at her. Her cheeks flushed a pink colour as she tried to bow her head even more. “What are you trying to figure out?”

“Nothing, I just find it fascinating.”

“Oh, I know that. But I also know that you have already read this ten times.”

“It’s not my fault the school hasn’t got any new books on soulmates-“ She tried to defend herself.

“Yes they do,” He stated simply, plucking the book from under her hands in her distraction. Just as she was about to ask him about the new books, he interrupted her unknowingly. “Chapter Nine: Is It Possible for Soulmates To Not Have A String,” He read the chapter title at the top of the page before humming. “What are you on about?”

“I’m on about nothing, I’m just interested in the possibility,” She lied, earning a hum from George that told her he didn’t believe her. “Now, tell me about the new books.” She pleaded, taking the book back from him as he leaned back in his seat.

“They are in the Restricted Section, Fred and I saw them when we snuck in to look for any books that would help us cure a nasty side effect our new product has,” He informed her nonchalantly, tapping his nails on the dark wood of the library table. Her eyes widened, making George laugh lightly. “I suppose you want me to help you sneak into the Restricted Section so you can nab those books.” He smirked knowingly.

She slumped down in her chair slightly, a deeper blush covering her cheeks. “Yes please,” She admitted bashfully before sitting upright again. “Am I really that easy to read?” She asked. He shook his head, leaning his weight on the table, his eyes digging into hers.

“Not at all,” He shook his head truthfully. “I would have never guessed you would want to break into the Restricted Section for anything, but I guess that’s the Hufflepuff dedication shining through,” He teased, standing from his seat. “Meet me outside of the Hufflepuff Common Room tonight an hour after curfew, that’s when the Prefects on duty tonight slack off. I’ll get you into the Restricted Section.” With that, he sauntered away, disappearing behind the same bookshelf he came from.

____

The constant drip of the dungeons echoed around her as she hid in the shadows, anxiously watching the corridor for any signs of a Prefect, Professor, or George. The thrill of sneaking around the castle after curfew died out after about five minutes after she stood in the hall waiting for George. Now, ten minutes later, she was scared that he forgot about their plans, or that he grew tired and ditched her. Both would be embarrassing and absolutely soul-crushing, but one-hundred percent a possibility. Looking at the watch on her wrist, she decided to wait for five more minutes. “Sorry to keep you, Love-” A deep voice spoke from behind her, sounding out of breath. Whirling around, she almost let you a shrill scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her.

She shoved his hand away from her mouth, letting her speak. “Merlin, George,” She sighed, her hand pressed over her heart as she tried to calm it before she had a heart attack. “You scared the wits right out of me!” She shoved him lightly, making him let out a soft laugh. She glared up at him.

“Once again, I am sorry, Love,” He pulled out his natural charm, making her disdain melt away in an instant. “I had to do a bit of running. Apparently one of the other Prefects on shift today was sick so the Percy clone, who is ever the keener, took their shift and he’s a bugger to shake off.”

“Percy clone?” Y/N repeated curiously. Of course she knew of Percy Weasley. The incessant Prefect who seemed to actually like rules. She respected Percy, more than most people. While he was at Hogwarts, he ruffled many feathers with his pompous attitude, but Y/N tried to remember that he didn’t mean to come across nasty.

“That’s what the Gryffindors are calling the new Prefect, he’s just like Percy. So much like him, that if he had red hair, I would think he was related to us,” George explained. “Speaking of which, we better scurry along before Percy squared pops up.” He nudged his head in the direction of the Library. Y/N furrowed her brows, pointing to the stairs behind her.

“But the Library is that way.” She corrected him, but he laughed in reply, confusing her more.

“Not when you’re with me it’s not,” He winked. She opened her mouth to question him, but the echo of a distant footfall at the top of the long, winding, stone staircase behind her made her freeze, her blood running cold. “That’s our cue.” George didn’t even flinch, instead, grabbing Y/N’s hand and yanking her farther down the dark corridor.

“I am putting all my trust in your hands right now, Weasley. I’ve never been outside the Common Room after curfew so I’ve got a seven-year clean streak of not having detention for knowingly breaking school rules.” She informed him as he darted down a corridor she’s never been in. It was dark, so dark that Y/N couldn’t even see George. The only thing she had that confirmed his presence was his tight grip on her hand.

“Don’t worry, you’re in great hands, Love.” He told her, a flirty tone in his voice. She groaned internally, wishing his flirting didn’t cause a flurry of butterflies within the pit of her stomach, wishing that his touch didn’t send a tingling burn that could only be compared to a wildfire shooting up her arm, but most importantly, she wished that all of this wasn’t so confusing. She just wished that she could figure out a way to know if a string would eventually appear or not so that she could spare herself the confusion and the dull heartache that had persisted in her chest since the day he tripped over her legs.

“Are we almost there?” She asked nervously to George, wanting the race against the watchful eyes patrolling the corridors and the heat consuming her body from their conjoined hands to end.

“Just this staircase and a few short corridors left.” George told her, poking his head out of the end of the corridor they were in, checking up and down the main corridor for any sign of people. Y/N barely had time to breathe out a shaky breath before George was running across the wide corridor, tugging her along behind him. She let out a squeak when her eye caught a warm glow from around the corner at the opening to the corridor, the shadow of a cat growing on the stone walls.

“George, it’s Filch and Mrs. Norris!” She whispered, making the tall redhead snap his eyes towards the echoing steps and the small meow from Mrs. Norris as she obviously picked up their scent.

“Quick, take off your sweater,” George pulled her into the corridor they were headed for, pointing to her large cardigan that was nearly falling off her shoulders. She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “You’re right, Filch will know someone’s been out of bed if you leave the sweater there, it’s not part of the uniform.” He paused tapping his chin as the echoing footsteps stopped.

“What do you smell, Mrs. Norris? Students out of bed?” Filch’s voice echoed instead, making Y/N look up at George with wide eyes. The flames from the touches in the main hall just barely lighting his face, only making one side of it visible to her. For a moment, she forgot about Filch and Mrs. Norris, too consumed with the beauty of George Weasley. It appeared that when he looked down at her, he too was taken aback by the soft orange glow illuminating half her face in a way that could only be adequately described in her muggle romance books that Pippa hooked her on. She blinked, internally shaking her head as she scolded herself. George Weasley was not breath taken by her beauty, she was just being a hopeless dreamer once again and it was not helping her with her little crush.

“Here,” George seemed to snap out of whatever caught his focus too with a couple of quick blinks of his eyes. He pried off his ratty old sneaker, making Y/N look down with wide eyes. Peeling off his sock, he tossed it into the middle of the corridor, careful to stay hidden behind the cover of the shadows. “It’ll make Filch think that someone just carelessly left their sock there before curfew, covering us for a bit.” He explained, wiggling his foot back into his sneaker with a slight struggle.

“But, it’s still warm.” She pointed out the flaw as he tried to jam his heel into the still tied sneaker.

“Not by the time Filch stops ranting to Mrs. Norris, it wouldn’t stay warm for long in this weather, it’s bloody freezing for September,” George commented, finally sliding his foot into the shoe, his hand reaching out to grab hers once again. “Come on, we have to get as far away from here as possible, Mrs. Norris has my scent memorized at this point.” He warned, tugging on her hand gently before taking off in a run down the narrow corridor and up the tight staircase Y/N barely saw in the darkness. He led her expertly through the last few turns, running along the darkened passageways with only the echoes of their shoes against the stone surrounding them.

“Oh wow,” Y/N breathed out as they came to a halt in front of the large, magnificent doors of the library. There was a whole other beauty to the normally breath-taking oak doors as the moonlight laid upon it. “What other castle secrets are you hiding?” She asked him, half-jokingly as he looked down at her, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Tons, Love,” He answered her, pushing the heavy door open just enough for them to slip through. Nodding his head under his arm, he indicated for her to go first. Obeying his unspoken command, she swooped under his arm, stepping foot into the library. “Even hiding some of my own secrets.” He muttered, more to himself, but Y/N heard, having not wanted to venture too far into the library in fear of someone lurking in the shadows the moonlight reaching through the windows couldn’t reach.

“Do tell some of your secrets, George Weasley.” She hummed as they walked towards the Restricted Section. Glancing over, she noted how the moonlight hit his skin and hair, making him glow incandescently. She couldn’t help but to gaze upon him longer, he just looked so ethereal, so divine - almost as if he belonged in Greek Mythology as the God of divine beauty.

“What do you want to know,” He wondered, picking up the old, cast-iron lock as if it was nothing. With furrowed brows, she sent him a questioning look. No matter how strong someone was, there was no way they could pick up a lock such as that as if it were a piece of paper. Feeling her gaze, he looked over at her. “Switched the lock the other day. It’s an exact replica that only unlocks for Fred or me. The best thing, it acts and feels just like the other one for anyone else. Here, give it a feel.” He grabbed her wrist with his free hand, gently laying the lock in her hand. With a startling jolt and a click, the lock locked, laying heavy in her hand.

“Oh wow,” She breathed out, her arm straining to stay still as she held the heavy lock. “It really does feel like the real thing.” She observed, impressed.

“We spent the past six years at Hogwarts trying to perfect this and this summer, we finally did it,” He explained, taking the lock from her as gently as he had been when he placed it in her palm. With another jolt and click, the lock was open. Quickly feeding it back through the chain before pulling the chain just enough for him to be able to crack the large, metal gates open. “Go on,” He nudged his head towards the open gate, holding it open for her to slip through. He followed through, more awkwardly due to his long limbs and tall stature. “So, back to what we were talking about before,” He cleared his throat, standing to his full height and turning back to the gate. “What secrets do you want to know?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder at her as she stood half bathed in the shadows, the moonlight only ghosting over half her face.

“You don’t actually have to tell me any of your secrets, George, I was just joking.” She clarified, watching his back move under his knitted sweater - the same sweater he wore the day he tripped over her. He expertly wove the chain back through the handles of the gate, pressing the lock closed with a loud, echoing click, making it look like it was untouched.

“No, no,” George shook his head, whirling around to face her, his arms crossing over his chest. She perked an eyebrow at this, confused. “That’s not how this works-” He paused, taking two large steps closer to her, almost swaggering if Y/N had to describe it. “You cannot just ask me to reveal my secrets and then say you’re joking, I’m supposed to be the one who jokes here.”

She rolled her eyes at this as he smiled wide, glad to get a reaction from her. Flicking his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes flicking all the way down to her feet before springing back up to her face. She resisted the urge for her eyes to roll back into her head at the sheer attractiveness of the action as she sent him the best glare she could muster. “Well, how does this work? Not everyone plays by Weasley rules.” She reminded him, trying to keep up the snarky facade.

George paused for a moment, his lips pursing and his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’re acting different.” He commented, his eyes raking over her in a much different way than a second ago.

“Are we just going to keep changing the subject?”

“I’m just expressing concern,” George raised his hands in the air defensively. “But, if you wish, the rules are simple: I tell you a secret, you tell me one,” He explained, flicking his finger between the pair as he talked. “Since you’re not coming up with something, I’ll start, how about that, Love?”

“Fine by me, but can we do this while looking for the books?” She pleaded, the fear of being caught fair outweighing her desire to appear snarky and nonchalant now that they were hidden in the Restricted Section - soon to be fully immersed in the shadows.

“I’ll lead the way,” He nodded, agreeing to her circumstances. Muttering a quiet, but clear ‘Lumos’ the rows upon rows of dark, cobweb connected bookshelves were suddenly exposed to them, the light from George’s wand being held up high enough to cover the majority of the space surrounding them. “Okay, now, I want to know-” He trailed off, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he tried to figure out what to reveal about the girl next to him. “Tell me why you’re so caught up about this soulmate stuff.” He pried, looking over at her as they slowly made their way down the aisle George and Fred ventured down last night.

She shrugged, looking ahead into the darkness that continued to inch away from them the farther they walked. “I’m not really sure. I’ve just always been drawn to all the sappy, cliche, cheesy romance stuff. I like hearing the testimonies of people telling the story of when they found their soulmate,” She confessed. “My favourite thing about it is just the thought of having someone connected to you for your whole life. Constantly, there are parallels mirroring each other's lives, but you have no idea where this person is! They could be right next to you or they could be in a whole other country, only to be brought together one fateful day,” She gushed, not noticing George watching her as she expressed her fascination. “It sounds like a romance novel - two people, living two completely different lives, the only thing connecting them: an invisible string.”

“Interesting,” George nodded. “May I ask you another question before you dig into my secrets?” He asked politely, stopping in the spot where he had found the books last night, holding his wand to the bookshelf to scan the pristine books. Y/N also gazed at them, noting how almost all of them were in such great condition. Perhaps it was due to the lack of people handling them, perhaps, Madam Pince had some sort of possessive feeling over them and cleaned them every morning before the library opened - whatever it was, she would never know, but it didn’t bother her too much.

“Go for it.” She gave him the go-ahead.

“What do you think the string looks like when you find your soulmate?” He posed the question, looking down at her once again. She stilled, her finger just lightly touching the spine of an older book that was visibly worn down.

“I’m not too sure, I think it’s different for a lot of people. I’ve heard some people say that their string was two different colour strings intricately twisted together. But others say theirs was just one string. Typically, the colour is gold, but there have been different colours than that reported,” She answered his question almost as if she were an expert on the topic - as if it was the job she did day in and day out, just researching soulmates. “Okay, now my turn, I have just the question for you-” She turned to face him, the light from his wand lighting her up entirely. “You act like you don’t care about finding your soulmate, is that really the case?”

“Of course I care about finding my soulmate, but I’m not worrying myself sick about it or anything,” He informed her. She nodded, understanding where he was coming from. “I just don’t see the point in not living and experiencing things while I sit around and wait for the universe to reveal my soulmate. How am I supposed to woo my soulmate off her feet if I don’t know how to be romantic?”

“Makes sense.” Y/N nodded, turning to look back at the books. Another thing that proved that she and George Weasley were not soulmates. He would never go for someone who would rather sit and wait for the universe to reveal her soulmate. She was tired of the dating scene and hook-up culture. She wanted a true connection and not just another lousy boyfriend.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am naturally romantic, it’s a gift, but with all-natural talent, you must learn how to use it,” He continued, his eyes squinting to try and read the faded words on a book spine. “Don’t tell anyone this, but sometimes when I zone out, I’m imagining what it will be like to finally find my soulmate - how it’ll happen and all that,” He paused, pulling a book off the shelf, resting it on the ledge as he moved on. “I like to imagine different ways I would meet her.”

“I do that too,” Y/N exclaimed, almost too loudly making her shrink back and clear her throat, hoping George didn’t think she was a complete dork, but also her unexpected shout hadn’t gotten them caught. Silence encompassed them as they both browsed the books, plunking relevant ones off the shelves as they went. Clearing her throat once again, Y/N glanced over at George quickly, seeing him focused on a book, his head tilted exposing his sharp jawline even more. Y/N swallowed thickly as she admired him. With his new shorter haircut, he looked ten times hotter (which Y/N wasn’t sure was possible) than last year. It was almost like he aged by two years, appearing more mature. “So, um,” She cleared her throat, needing to get her mind off the jawline she so desperately wanted to kiss alone at that moment. “If you’re not too worried about finding your soulmate, how did you know that they got new books in the Restricted Section on soulmates?”

“Easy, Love,” He started, pulling another book off the shelf. “One fell on my head last night, nearly knocked me out,” He informed her, holding the large, red and gold book up with one hand, his forearm straining making Y/N’s mouth go dry. “It was this one actually, I was taken back by how much it looked like the one you were reading the day we met. When I went to put it back, I realized it was the newest version of the book you were reading.” He commented, looking at the book as he placed it with the others. Y/N couldn’t fight her smile as she realized that George had remembered the small details of that day just like she had - having them all permanently tattooed in her memory.

____

Unfortunately, due to Umbridge's reign of terror upon Hogwarts, that was the last time Y/N and George had been able to talk. The only class they shared had been Defense Against the Dark Arts and Umbridge hadn’t let boys and girls sit next to one another in fear they would apparently spontaneously start having sex in the middle of class. Whatever the reason was, Y/N cursed the pink monster for it. But, once she found out George and Fred had left Hogwarts all together because of her, she down-right hated the woman and wished only the worst upon her - even now, a good three years after she graduated from Hogwarts.

However, one good thing came from George’s early departure from the school: Y/N finally was able to figure out that they were absolutely not soulmates. For if they were, the universe surely wouldn’t have made him leave before their string was revealed, would it? Y/N found herself pondering that question often. Especially now as she walked down the snowy cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley as yet another failed date yammered on beside her. He was currently telling her the story of how he single-handedly took down Wizarding London’s most notorious illegal potion smuggler - again. “Hey, Nickleson!” A deep, goofy voice hollered from farther down the alley making Y/N’s date run over to him.

Breathing out a much-needed breath, Y/N looked around frantically for an escape. Spotting a dimly lit alley, she darted down as a large group of elderly witches waddled by, providing her cover from her date and his friends as they talked. Spotting a red-painted door, Y/N (for the first time in three years) praised the universe for providing her with a decent escape from a horrid date. Pulling her gloved hands from the pockets of her travelling cloak, she yanked the door towards her, ducking in. “Safe at last in this-” Her mind stopped when she realized she didn’t know where she was. “Is this a dive bar?” She asked herself in her mind again, looking around at the fifties decorations.

“I was beginning to think we weren’t ever going to run into each other again.” A voice spoke from the bar. Looking towards it, she spotted the familiar head of red hair she never thought she would see again. Wheeling around on the red, leather stool, he turned to face her properly, still sitting down. Taking a moment out of shock, Y/N drank him in, her mouth hanging open slightly. He wore a brown suit, the funky print on his tie matching the one on his suit jacket. Even in business clothes, he managed to find a way to stand out.

“George?” She breathed out, walking towards him as she pulled her gloves off her hands, shedding her travelling cloak as the hot air from the kitchen heated the dining room. She wasn’t entirely sure what drew her to this alley and to this door out of all the others, but now that she saw who was behind this door, she was thankful the invisible force tugged her towards it.

“In the flesh,” He nodded, smiling wide as she sat on the stool beside him, her thawing hands picking up the menu that lay in the unoccupied spot, eyes skimming it. George took a moment to watch her, almost not believing that she was sitting next to him - Y/N couldn’t believe it was George sitting next to her either. “What brought you here? Not many people know about this place, I like to think of it as my little secret hideout.”

“Oh, I was just escaping somebody,” She waved him off, setting the menu back down, still too full from her lunch date. “What about you? Why are you here eating alone? On your lunch break?” She wondered, turning her chair slightly to point her knees towards him, giving him her full attention.

“Just that,” He shrugged, picking up one of the last french fries from his plate, popping it into his mouth. “On my lunch break from the shop, decided to treat myself to lunch today instead of packing it,” He answered her question, taking a sip of his soda. “But tell me about the person you were escaping.” He swallowed his drink, crossing his hands over one another as he waited for her to talk.

“It was this horrible guy someone at my work set me up with, I just had to get out of there fast and I saw the door to this dive bar.” She explained as George waved down the waiter, sliding his neatly stacked plate and empty cup over to him before placing some money on the bar, standing up and picking his winter gear off the stool beside him.

Y/N followed suit, hoping her date caught the drift and left. “You seem to have bad luck with guys, Love.” He noted as he shrugged his winter coat on. Y/N snorted, nodding as she wrapped herself back up in her travelling cloak.

“Tell me about it,” She agreed, pulling her gloves on as they walked to the door. “Are you going back to work?” She asked as he pulled open the door, letting the bitter cold blow into the Dive Bar, attacking their cheeks. Stepping out, her boots crunched on the loose snow dusting the cobblestones. George stepped out a second later, his ginger hair being instantly sprinkled with the falling snowflakes.

“I’m sure Fred can manage a bit longer,” He waved off the concern as they settled beside each other in the empty alleyway. Slowly walking, they both basked in the company of the person they never thought they would see again. “But tell me, what are you doing for work these days?” He posed the question, craning his head to the side to watch her. She kept her eyes down on the slippery snow ahead of her, the wind pushing her hair back lightly making her bury her face farther into the scarf she tucked under her travelling cloak.

“I actually work for an independent research company, we work to solve the biggest mysteries of the wizarding world and even the muggle world,” She explained, her eyes lighting up as she talked of her career. “I’m assigned to researching soulmates, we’ve made great progress in the past few years.”

“That’s great, Y/N. I always pictured you doing something with soulmates.” He commented, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket, a soft smile tugging on his lips as he glanced at the ground in front of him.

“Something tells me you didn’t need to be a seer to predict this,” She laughed, not paying attention to where she was placing her feet. Blissfully unaware, she felt her feet slipping out from under her causing her stomach to twist and her smile to fall - being replaced by fear as she realized that she was falling. “Bloody hell!” She gasped.

George, thinking fast, tried to help her, but the ice underneath their feet was too slick with freshly fallen snow. In a matter of seconds, George’s feet slid out from under him, sending him and the already falling Y/N crashing down. Y/N’s breath hitched as her back smacked against the frozen cobblestone, but she managed a grunt when George’s lanky body sank down onto her, a groan leaving his lips upon impact. “Sorry, Love, are you okay,” George began to ask once he realized he had fallen on top of Y/N, pushing himself up only slightly, he paused, his eyes locked on her parted lips. Fluttering her eyes open, Y/N sent him an odd look. “You still wear the same lipstick - the brown colour with the matching lip pencil.” He almost breathed the words in awe, still staring at her lips.

“Um, yeah, I really like how it looks,” She nodded, wondering why he wasn’t climbing off her yet. With her voice strained from the weight of him, she spoke up again. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re kind of smushing me into the cobblestone.”

“Oh! Right, sorry, Love-” He tried to scramble up, but a tug on both their stomachs made them look down, George’s sentence getting cut off. Gasping, Y/N eyes grew wide as she saw it. The one thing she has been waiting her entire life to see - and it was attached to George Weasley out of all people. There, connecting their stomachs (Y/N’s at her belly button, George’s just below his sternum), was the magnificent, elusive, and otherwise invisible string; or strings in their case. Two intertwining strings, one of magnificent gold and one of scarlet red, between them.

“It’s always been you?” Y/N breathed out. She was shocked that her gut feeling had been right - her heart had been right. It was the ginger-haired boy she convinced herself would never be happy with her. The boy she had never been able to shake, even when they hadn’t seen each other for years. He had always crept into her mind in one way or another. She could have kicked herself for not sending a letter to him, thinking that if she had, they would have found the string earlier. But, by some miracle, she had stumbled upon that hidden Dive Bar within the dark alleys of Diagon Alley. In some way, that Dive Bar acted as a blanket thrown over the imprisoning barbed wire - allowing her to escape the fall out of her bad decisions.

“That’s what the universe says, Love,” George shrugged smugly, looking as if he had been dreaming of this day and (little did Y/N know) he had been. Constantly having dreams and daydreaming of the string that connected him to the schoolboy crush that carried into adulthood. “And you of all people should know that the universe is never wrong when it comes to the invisible string.”

the stars in our eyes

songfic: what being in a secret relationship with sirius would be like.

content: sirius black x fem reader, swears, reader briefly stress non-eating, fluff, steamy content

a/n: this song is the sweetest ever and the lyrics are adorable i highly reccomend besties - if you watched ATAPS you might know it ;) literally I've been writing so much for sirius but I've got some other marauder stuff lined up 🤪 hope u enjoy besties <3

Cradle me, I'll cradle you

Giggles drifted in the midnight air as you and Sirius snuggled, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

What with the other marauders being asleep, he'd casted the muffliato charm hours ago to conceal your conversation from their ears.

The marauders always had you in their dorm - you were friends with all of them, of course. But while the others were sleeping and thought you had left, you and Sirius stayed up most of the night talking in his bed.

It was the only real alone time you got at the magical boarding school, what with constant prying eyes and no privacy. The early hours provided a cover that the both of you hid yourselves behind each night.

Though the both of you were somewhat tired most days, it was worth it to spend those small hours in each other's arms.

He had you tucked into his chest, limbs entangled, his hands smoothing your back and lulling you to sleep.

"Pads." you whispered. "I have to go." you smiled sleepily, as he groaned, merely pulling you closer.

"We don't want the others waking up and finding me here, Siri." you explained, tucking his messy hair behind his ear.

He let out a long sigh, opening his eyes slowly. "Just stay here a few minutes longer." he pleaded.

"Okay." you whispered, cuddling back into him.

I mean, how could you say no?

I'll win your heart with a woop a woo

Though your relationship was a secret, Sirius Black was still an infamous flirt. People knew the both of you to have amorous exchanges even before real attraction was on the cards, so he kept up the front.

You walked down the dorm room steps and into the common room, fumbling to zip your bag closed as you prepared for a day out in Hogsmeade.

"Hey, guys!" you beamed over at the marauders, who were waiting for you by the door.

Sirius' eyes unashamedly raked over your body, dumbfounded by how pretty you looked in anything you put on. He noticed the dress you were wearing was new, and wanted everyone to know what he thought about it.

A low wolf whistle was sent your way, which commanded the attention of a lot of the room. You blushed, laughing, as you walked closer to them.

"You clean up nice, L/n." Sirius said, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

You only responded with even more bashful giggling. You were good at disregarding his remarks before, but now you knew his feelings for you... you couldn't hide it as well.

"Ready to go?" Remus asked, oblivious to the whole thing.

"Yep." You confirmed, and the five of you began to walk towards the portrait hole.

"I mean it," Sirius whispered. "You're gorgeous."

Pulling shapes just for your eyes

You had seen him from across the room - in fact, you knew exactly how long he'd been in the room because you kept looking for him ever since you came down.

And without fail, whenever you searched for his eyes, his were looking for yours.

As you danced, the common room was bustling with drunken teenagers and the scent of firewhiskey and smoke dancing in the air.

You saw Sirius in the crowd, talking to someone in just the right position so as to still be able to look at you in notion.

You smiled, intensifying the 'sexy' of your dance moves as you kept your focus on him. This proved to work, as he chuckled, shaking his head, and quickly finished his conversation.

Meandering his way around the crowd to find you, he subtly slipped a hand in yours and you let him pull you away, and upstairs.

"Missed me, huh?" you joked, biting your lip.

"You made it very hard not to." he chuckled, referencing your tantalising dancing.

You were like magnets, always wanting to be closeby.

So with toothpaste kisses and lines

You tried to cover your mouth as the fluoride foam dribbled down your chin, but he moved your hand away from your face, laughing around his toothbrush.

He leaned in to kiss you, and you dodged it, frowning jokingly and shaking your head.

"'Thatsh grosh, Shiri." you said, your voice muffled by your toothbrush and the mint paste frothing up in your mouth.

You quickly washed your mouth out with water, Sirius doing the same, before he picked you up and placed you on the counter next to the sink, standing between your legs and running hands along the skin underneath his your shirt.

You smiled down at him, resting your forehead against his.

You were so glad you could have normal couple moments like this when all your roomates were staying with their respective partners.

"Gonna let me kiss you, now?" he asked. You nodded, cheeks now aching from how much you were smiling.

Butterflies flooded your abdomen as he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, tasting like his mint toothpaste.

You parted, still smiling, as his fingers traced all the lines of your body - your hips, your thighs, your collarbones, fully appreciating every inch of you.

"You're beautiful."

I'll be yours and you'll be...

There were other sides to the secrecy - certain difficulties.

Though futile, you found it hard having to sit there and listen to conversations about how 'sexy' your boyfriend was and how girls would opt to have sex with him in a game of fuck, marry, kill.

And you couldn't say anything - he wasn't openly yours, yet.

Seeing girls actually try to pursue him was the worst. And sometimes he'd let it happen. But you understood why - he was the Hogwarts playboy. Who could possibly assume he'd have something else going on behind the scenes?

All you could do was sit there, trying not to stare or listen so as to not upset yourself.

It was similar for him; he wished he could kiss you in front of everyone after you got a high score on a test, or wrap his arms around you whenever someone would try to ask you out.

But he practiced restraint. The both of you did.

Because you couldn't call each other 'mine'.

Lay with me, I'll lay with you

"Can I see him?" you asked Madam Pomfrey tentatively, after you'd snuck into the hospital after hours.

"Yes, dear, but only for a short while. The boy needs his rest."

"Thankyou, thankyou!"

Sirius had been injured in a quidditch match, much to his chagrin. He saw your concerned face as he limped from the pitch towards the nurse's ward, and hated himself for causing you worry.

But you didn't look worried when you stuck your head around the curtain of his hospital bed - you looked at him in pure adoration.

He wanted your eyes on him forever.

"How are you feeling?" you asked immediately, tucking his hand in yours as the curtains shrouded the both of you from view.

"Better now." he flirted, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, that crooked smile appearing on his face.

He began to shuffle over, wincing in pain as he did so. You wished you could take away that pain - but all he wanted was just your presence.

"C'mere." he beckoned, lifting the covers up for you to slip under. Nestling into his chest, you sighed.

"You were amazing out there, Siri."

"I flew into a bludger. Not my finest hour."

"Well, 's not your fault the bludger had a vendetta."

We'll do the things that lovers do

Sitting in the Great Hall with the entire school in the room was a feat, especially when the both of you sat next to each other.

You couldn't resist footsying him under the table, or leaning into him in a way that looked normal, brushing your hand with his as you reached across the table for various items.

Then there were more obvious things that would've been glazed over by your mates - Sirius pouring out your water for you, the two of you stealing food from each other's plate, the long held glances you shared.

But holding hands was something you adored.

His thumb brushed against your knuckles as your fingers intertwined out of sight, you fiddling with his rings on particularly stressful mornings.

"You've barely touched your food, Y/n/n..." he'd notice, whispering his concern to you so only you could hear.

"Just a bit stressed, is all." you explained.

And he'd know exactly what you needed. A subtle arm around you, circling warm patterns on the small of your back for encouragement and reassurance.

You lived for these secret signs of affection.

Put the stars in our eyes

"Look, it's Sirius!"

"No, I'm right here."

"Look up, Pads."

The two of you were laying on the soft grass, cuddled together in a hidden area of the grounds where nobody would find you. Sneaking back into the castle at this time would be a feat, but that was an issue for later.

For now, you were staring at the canis major constellation twinkling above you in the sky.

"You see that star right next to it?" Sirius asked, pointing to the star twinkling right alongside it. "It's called Mirzam, but I think I'd rather it be Y/n." He smiled.

You giggled into his chest, before sitting up slightly, leaning on your elbow.

"You can't just go around renaming stars, Siri."

"Who says? That star was named after me."

"Sirius, I don't think that's how it-"

He cut you off by leaning up and kissing you. When he leaned back again, he smirked in triumph. You laughed at how childish he could be sometimes, despite the fact that you were in one of your last years at Hogwarts.

"So it's settled. Now I've got you by my side forever." he grinned, tickling you as you let out shrieking giggles.

And with heart shaped bruises

You smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror, the hickeys and love bites left by your lover adorning your neck and chest. You found his marks beautiful - everyone knew you belonged to someone, though they didn't know it was him.

You put on one of his sweat shirts that had somehow landed in your posession, yet another signifier that you were his.

As it was a Sunday and Sirius was busy with the marauders gallavanting around the school pranking whoever, you took your time that morning, deciding to write in your journal a little.

You flicked through, smiling giddily at all the magical moving polaroids you'd stuck in there of your time at hogwarts.

There were several of him - your favourite being the first day you met, at midnight quidditch. The picture was captured while the both of you laughed at something in the distance, but it was so perfect.

You knew even back then that you were going to fall in love with him.

And late night kisses divine

You let out a soft moan as Sirius planted hot, wet kisses down your neck, the atmosphere around you humid and sweaty as Sirius moved in and out of you.

"Sirius..." you breathed out his name, dragging your nails along his back as he groaned at the feeling.

He loved everything about sex with you - your legs wrapped tightly around his middle as he thrusted, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he consistently hit your sweet spot, the soft sighs you let out of smiling lips with his praise and loving words.

Times like this were your favourite, too - words could no longer serve their purpose after long conversations that drifted into the early hours. Smiles turned into kisses and most nights were completed by an eternity of hazy lovemaking.

Slurred 'I love you's were repeated from both of you as pure pleasure built up inside you.

Coming undone together was a phenomenon both of you had mastered, chests heaving against each other as your breathing mingled, followed by soft laugher from the both of you at how amazing this was every single time.

"I love you so much."

"I love you more."

Marlene’s got a crush

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, Marlene Mckinnon x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1.7 k

Warnings: My English, swearing, and like 2 sexual innuendos if you squint.

Author’s Note: I know I have a request to be working on, but I just wanted to share with you guys this little piece I wrote for my best friend in honor of her gayversary (yes, that’s a thing for us). This fic kinda resembles how she came out to me, and I thought maybe someone somewhere could use the encouragement. You are loved. 

ꕤ*ꕤ*ꕤ*ꕤ*ꕤ*ꕤ

Sirius Black. Handsome. Intelligent. Professional charmer. It came as no surprise everyone loved him. And Y/N Y/L was no exception. But she couldn’t say anything, because her friend Marlene McKinnon was no exception either.

She found out about Marlene’s crush one night when they were having a sleepover. Lily had just started dating James Potter, and was determined to have all her friends be as happy as her. After some peer pressure, Marlene finally broke and let out her secret adoration for Sirius. Y/N kept quiet. And she was still keeping quiet in afternoons like this, when her friends and her lounged in their room; talking about nothing and everything.

“Marly, you should ask him out” Lily spoke.

“Who?”

“Sirius, obviously” Lily replied, sitting up. “Marls, darling, you always stare at him when he hangs out with Remus’ study group. You are not subtle”.

“No, Lily I’m really fine as it is. He would reject me, and my pride couldn’t take such embarrassment” Marlene said, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“But you are amazing!” Lily snapped “I’m sure, if he just got to know you a little bit better he would be absolutely smitten”.

“I’m not asking him out Evans”.

“Fine. Don’t. But…”

Marlene sighed tiredly. “What?”

“Y/N is in Remus’ study group. She could take you to one of their meetings and start a conversation between you and Sirius.”

Y/N lifted her gaze from the magazine she was reading, putting on the most believable smile she could produce.

“Yeah, come with me” she offered “I’ll be fun”

Before Marlene could give an answer, Lily started rambling about the geniality of the plan. Between Lily’s excitement, and Marlene’s skepticism; the girls were too busy to notice Y/N’s pained expression.

Anxiety was eating her up. How was she supposed to hand around Sirius Black, and successfully hide her feelings? She always got so caught up in conversation with him. She couldn’t hold her laugh when he made a terrible joke. Or avoid hitting him playfully when he was being a twat. And she definitely couldn’t hide her lovey-dovey eyes when he spoke about the things he was passionate about.

She was absolutely and completely enamored by him. But she wouldn’t screw things up for Marlene. Her friend had trusted her with the object of her affections, and revealing she loved him as well felt like a horrible betrayal. She couldn’t put that weight on Marlene, that was the woman that taught her how to ride a broom; to put on eyeliner and to throw a punch. Y/N would much rather hurt herself than hurt Marlene.

ꕤ*ꕤ*ꕤ*ꕤ*ꕤ*ꕤ

When they arrived at the library, Y/N/n could feel the nervousness emanating from Marlene. One part of her was glad Marlene was feeling anxious, that way she wouldn’t notice she was just as stressed for the meeting.

“You are gonna be okay. You are one hell of a woman”.

Thank you” Marlene smile and took a deep breath. “Let’s do this”

Both girls entered the library and sat down at the table where the rest was waiting for them. Sirius, Frank, Kingsley and three Ravenclaw girls flirting with an oblivious Remus Lupin conformed the infamous study group.

“Hey guys” Y/N greeted them “Marlene will be joining us today, she needs some help with Transfiguration. Sirius aren’t you some kind of prodigy in that?”

Sirius looked at her, playfully raising an eyebrow “Blimey Y/L, I didn’t know you thought so highly of me”

She smirked back at him almost instinctively. “Don’t let it get to your head” she joked “Could you help Marls please?”

“Anything for you love” he winked at her and turned to Marlene “McKinnon I’ll be the best teacher you’ve ever had”

Y/N kept trying to focus on her Herbology revision with Frank, but her eyes kept wandering towards the couple. Marlene wasn’t looking at Sirius at all. She needed to intervene and get her crush’s attention back to her friend.

“Hey Sirius, did you know it was Marlene who introduced me to Quidditch?” she said, knowing Sirius could never resist Quidditch talk.

“Really?” he asked, and directed her gaze to a flustered Marlene “So you are also a Holyhead Harpies fan I suppose”

“Merlin no” she replied, almost insulted by the insinuation “I’m a Chudley Cannons type of girl”

“What? The Cannons suck.”

So, her plan wasn’t being very successful. She needed to intervene again, and make Sirius notice how great Marlene was. Because that is what she was there for. To be a good friend, no matter how much it hurt.

“She may not have the best taste in teams, but she is a great player. I mean you have seen her fly and she is also the one who taught me how to ride a broom, she is really a great teacher”

Sirius let out a loud laugh. “With all due respect McKinnon, you can’t be that great of a teacher if you taught Y/N/n. She is the worst rider I’ve ever seen”

“Oi! You are the worst rider you have ever seen!” she snapped slightly offended

“You have never seen me ride anyone love, but if you wanna change that…”

“Merlin you are disgusting!” she said, trying and failing to hide her amusement behind her hands. He could always make her laugh.

She lowered her hands to her lap, where they met Sirius’ and, softly caressing her thigh.

“I like your laugh” he said, suddenly serious, and looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher.

He moved his hand, grabbing hers in an affectionate way. “You and I always have so much fun together” he started “Go on a date with me. Please. I promise I’ll make you laugh like never before. And I’ll get you food. And I…please just say yes. Please”

She wanted to say yes. She really did, but she couldn’t do that to Marlene. Dear Merlin, Marlene. She must feel so betrayed. She looked up to apologize, but Marlene wasn’t there.

“Wait where’s Marlene?” she anxiously asked.

“McKinnon? I think she went to the bathroom” he answered, slightly confused.

“Shit, I need to talk to her”

“Wait, why?” he was failing to see where Marlene fell in the equation.

“Shit”

Fuck men and their oblivious ways.

Y/N rushed out of the library in search of the nearest bathroom. It was Moaning Myrtle’s. she knew Marlene wouldn’t mind going there if she needed to cry. After all. Her cries would be muffled by Myrtle’s usual tantrums. She entered and ran to the only closed stall there.

“Marlene? Marls I am so sorry, please talk to me.”

The stall door opened and Marlene’s head poked out.

“Y/N/n? What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry” She began to explain, almost tripping on her own words “I should have told you sooner. I fancy Sirius, I really do. And I wanted to tell you, but then you told me you liked him, and I didn’t want to get in between the both of you because I value your happiness so much. I value your happiness much more than mine. I swear to you I wasn’t trying to get him to ask me out. I promise I’ll never go out with him—“

“Wait” Marlene stopped her “You like Sirius?”

“I—yes I do”. She admitted, too afraid to look at her friend in the eye.

“Merlin Y/N/n, I’m so sorry”

“What?” she asked, thoroughly confused “why are you sorry? You should be mad, I’m a terrible friend”

“No, I’m a terrible friend”

“What do you mean?”

“I—“ Marlene couldn’t bring herself to explain. She took a deep breath and opened the door fully, only to reveal a quite flustered Dorcas Meadowes buttoning her shirt.

“I like Dorcas, Y/N/n. I don’t like Sirius, never have, and probably never will”

“But…then why did you tell me you did?”

“Because he was the obvious choice!” She answered, her voice on the verge of breaking “Half the school is in love with him, so no one would question me if I did too. No one would suspect that I…that men just don’t do it for me. And I was so afraid to tell you, I didn’t want you to feel weird around me or look at me differently. I swear, if I had known you fancied him, I would have never used him as a cover up”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I am so sorry”

“Please don’t apologize Marls” Y/N hugged her tightly, like she did every time her friend was upset “You were afraid, you were protecting yourself, there’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s nothing wrong with liking girls either, its just as natural as liking men. You are still my Marlene, and I still love you”

She felt something wet on her shoulder. She pulled back to find Marlene was crying on full waterfall mode.

“Thank you” she said.

“Hey, I’m friends with you, not your sexuality.  I love you just the same, no matter who you fancy” she then smiled kindly towards Dorcas “I will be leaving now, I’m sorry I interrupted your moment”

Y/N was on her way back to the library, when she stumbled upon— and almost collided with— Sirius Black.  He seemed relieved to find her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable back there” he said “You don’t have to go on a date with me. Ever. Unless you want to but if you don’t w—“

She covered his mouth with her hand in a quick motion, and smiles. “Merlin you never shut up, do you? You are like a radio or something”

He chuckled softly as she removed her hand.

“So, you are not mad at me?” he asked

“Of course not. I just needed to sort something out. Actually, if your offer still stands, I would love to go on a date with you”

“Really?” he said hopefully.

“Really” she answered “In case you haven’t noticed Mr. Black I have fancy you quite a lot”

He smiled and grabbed her hand in his. “Probably not as much as I fancy you love. I find you quite…pawtastic”

She laughed and looked at him lovingly “that pun is terrible, you know that?”

“Oh, but you laughed” he teased.

“You better make me laugh harder at this date of ours”

“Oh, trust me, I can do a lot of things harder”

She laughed wholeheartedly. There she was, joking with the man that might be one; and she felt no guilt, for she knew Marlene would be as happy as her.

A Moment

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 2.1 k

Warnings: Mentions of kissing, swearing, Remus Lupin stealing the show.

Author’s Note: This was requested by @violetrainbow412-blog . Hope you like it love.

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Sirius Black and Y/N Y/L hated each other. They didn’t really know why, they just couldn’t help but bicker. Still Y/N had never been as angry at him as she was after the Quidditch tryouts of 1977.

Marlene McKinnon was Gryffindor’s new beater. Y/N really wanted that position, and although Marlene was quite a good player, she knew she could have beaten her if Sirius hadn’t been so keen on sabotaging her.

“What is wrong with you!” she screamed at him “That was a direct attack against me. You went way softer on Marlene! You used all those weird moves at me on purpose!”

“I did you a favor” He replied, nonchalantly ignoring her stare “Other teams wouldn’t have gone soft on you either, you will be much safer watching from the stands”.

“I don’t want to be on the stands! You knew how hard I’ve been working for this, and why do you even care if I get hit by a bludger?”

“What? Am I not allowed to look out for my friends?” he mocked her.

“Friends? Since when are we friends Black?” she spat.

He sighed, and finally looked at her.

“Don’t be a bitch Y/N. We are friends”

“I’m not being a bitch” she replied “My best friend is dating your best friend. We are forced to spend time together and that’s it. We are not friends”.

He tried to pretend her words didn’t hurt him. And he succeeded, for Sirius Black was a master at concealing his emotions.

“We hang out we party, that’s what friends do”

“Friends don’t sabotage each other” She retorted, clear venom in her voice.

“I didn’t sabotage you. Don’t be bitter just because you weren’t skilled enough to make it into the team”

“Not skilled enough?” She let out a bitter laugh “Ohh, fuck you Black”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He teased.

Y/N launched herself forward, ready to beat the life of out Sirius, but she was stopped by one James Potter. He grabbed her by the waist and placed her over his shoulder, as if she was a potato sack.

“James, put me down this instant!” She shouted, attempting to release herself from his grip.

“Only if you promise to not hurt Padfoot” he said, voicing his statement as a plead.

“Why would I do that? He deserves it”

“C’mon Y/n/n” the soothing voice of Remus Lupin caused her to stop fighting James, as the boy walked up to them “he’s an idiot, just let him be”

Remus’ presence calmed her enough for James to consider it a safe bet to place her on the ground.

“Let’s go have some chocolate” he suggested “it always helps me when I’m upset”

“You are an angel Moony” she whispered, as he wrapped an arm over her shoulder and led her back to the castle.

Sirius resigned himself to watch the adorable pair walk away. He didn’t like it. And he didn’t like the weird feeling on his chest either. Y/N got on his nerves and stressed him out, but somehow it felt like a good stress. A kind of stress that reminded him he was alive. As if she was meant to be with him, teasing him and laughing. Merlin her laugh. He loved her laugh.

“You are staring” James informed him

“I’m not”

“Yes, you are” he chuckled “And you look like you want to punch poor Moony”

“He shouldn’t have taken her side” Sirius complained

“He was not taking sides. He noticed is fried was upset and offered to cheer her up. It’s called being a gentleman, you should try it sometime” he suggested “Maybe that’ll make her look at you the way you look at her”

“And how exactly do I look at her, oh wise Messier Prongs?” he mocked

“Like she is the reason you breathe” James concluded before patting his friend on the shoulder and walking away.

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“You need to understand where he is coming from” Remus said, lounging on the couch an eating a chocolate frog.

“From Twatland?” Y/N asked, slightly tired of Remus becoming a Sirius Black apologist.

“From a place of worry” he corrected her “He just feels protective over you. Our next match is against Slytherin, and last time we played against them both our beaters ended up in the Hospital Wing. He just doesn’t want you to get hurt”

“But he had no problem crushing my dreams” she complained “And he enjoyed it. Oh, he did…he had this annoying smirk, and his cute mischief dimples were on full display”

“Excuse me…Cute dimples?” Remus chuckled “Y/n/n, do you fancy Padfoot?”

“What? That’s ridiculous, I only emphasized on that particular feature because it makes him especially irritating”

“Yeah sure” he scoffed “So you haven’t noticed his blue eyes either?”

“Moony, they are grey…a special kind of grey, almost silver…”

Remus just looked at her amused, and took a bite out of his chocolate to keep his laughter in. he knew damn well no one devoted that much attention to anyone’s eyes. Merlin, he couldn’t have described his owns mother’s eye colour with such accuracy.  

“Gotcha. You are head over heels for him” he stated.

“That’s ridiculous”

“Oh, is it?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely”

“Then you would have no problem sitting next to him on Potions tomorrow, right?”

“Actually, I would, because he stresses me out” she spat

“I’ll make you a deal” Remus said grinning “If you can spend tomorrow’s full class without having a moment with Sirius, I’ll drop the subject and give you my orange peel chocolates”

“But you love your orange peel chocolates! Why would you bet on them?”

“Because I won’t lose” he said confidently “And when I win, you’ll have to kiss Sirius”

“I will do no such thing”

“Don’t lose then” he challenged her

“Fine. I won’t. You’ll see Lupin”.

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Y/N entered the Potions classroom, regretting her bet with Lupin as soon as she sat down next to Sirius.

“Why are you sitting here?” he spat, sounding offended.

“Moony asked me to switch seats” she answered, not even looking at him.

“Ugh. Lucky me” he said sarcastically.

She finally looked at him. What an unlikeable twat.

“Unlucky me” she retorted.

It looked like Sirius was about to fire back, but Professor Slughorn chose that exact minute to enter the classroom in a joyful manner.

“Hello everybody!” he beamed “Today is quite a special day. We’ll be brewing one of the most powerful potions known to Wizarding Society. Maybe one of the members of my little club would like to give us an introduction. Lupin perhaps?”

“Gladly Professor” Remus said, grinning and standing up. “The potion we will be brewing today is Amortentia”

Y/N looked at him in shock. She would have to brew fucking Amortentia with Sirius. She was quite sure Remus was well aware of that fact when he made the bet with her. Bastard.

“Amortentia is the strongest love potion known, nevertheless it cannot create actual love; just a deep infatuation that mimics love.” He paused a second to look directly at Y/N, and shot her a mocking grin. The man had it all planned out. “It is also characterized for smelling differently to everyone, emitting the scents of what— or who— we love”.

“Thank you, Mr. Lupin, that was perfect! 10 points to Gryffindor” Slughorn praised once Remus had finished his little explanation. “Now, let’s get to potion making everyone!”

“How am I supposed to brew a fucking love potion with you?” Y/N complained, as she began crushing the pearls in the mortar.

“Why, afraid my dashing good looks will distract you?” Sirius taunted her “Or worse…afraid I’ll notice you smell me in your Amortentia?”

“You wish” she scoffed “Now, get to work, I’m not doing this alone”

They got to work, speaking to each other only when strictly necessary— and reluctantly so—.

After a couple hours, their potion exhibited the distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen. Steam rose from it in perfectly shaped spirals. Everything about it screamed ‘the peak of potion making’. Everything but the smell, for neither Y/N nor Sirius sensed the aroma.

“It´s not working” she complained “You probably messed something up, just like you mess with everything that matters to me”

“Its this about the Quidditch tryouts?” he asked tiredly “Don’t be petty, get over it”

“I won’t get over it, and I’ll be as petty as I want to be” she sneered “I practiced all summer, and you sabotaged my chance because you have some kind of weird vendetta against me”

“I don’t have any vendetta against you!” he started, trying to defend himself from her accusations “Slytherin can get pretty violent against our beaters, why can’t you just accept that I was protecting you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you hate me?” she sarcastically said, voicing it as if it was obvious.

“I don’t hate you, why would you think that?” he snapped “If anything, its you who hates me”

“I don’t hate you! I simply strike back because you are always nagging me!”

“Well, maybe I nag you because you only pay attention to me when I’m being blatantly annoying!”

“I do pay attention to you, you absolute drama queen!”

“Ha, really?” he said, sarcasm now being the only detectable feature on his voice “Name one random fact about me. Not related to being a pain in your arse”

“You love Jane Austen” she declared triumphally, smiling at the shock on his face. “Don’t even try to deny it”.

Sirius didn’t answer. He just stared at her, an unknown warmth spreading through his chest after realizing he was not invisible to her. After realizing she cared.

“And you are obsessed with astronomy” she continued, too lost in the shock of his eyes to notice how close to each other they were standing. “You put chocolate in your coffee, but only when you think no one’s watching, because you want to be the though bloke who drinks his coffee black. Even if you hate the taste”

He continued to stare, focusing on how her features moved when she talked. Until she spoke again.

“Cat got your tongue Black?” she teased “Can’t think of a comeback?”

The spell Sirius seemed to be under finally broke, bringing him back to reality. A reality in which his only connection to Y/N was constant bickering.

“Well, I could if you hadn’t practically bathed in that rose perfume!”  he cried, talking a step back “I can’t concentrate, it’s nauseating!”

“Maybe you could concentrate if you hadn’t smoked so much before class! Really, you fucking stink!”

Sirius was about to insult her back, when he heard giggles behind them.

James Potter and Marlene McKinnon were looking amused, covering their mouths in a fruitless attempt to conceal their laughter.

“Y/L, dear, Padfoot hasn’t smoked today” James grinned.

“And Sirius, dear, Y/n/n ran out of that rose perfume yesterday” Marlene seconded him, an equally huge grin on her face.

Sirius and Y/N looked at each other in utter shock. What had just happened?

“Black, Y/L” Slughorn’s voice interrupted before they could let anxiousness take over “judging by this little…interaction, it would seem like your potion is ready to be evaluated”

He was about to lean down to inspect their work, when Remus showed up next to them.

“Excuse me Professor” he said, using his most charming voice “Would you call their little interaction, a moment of some sort?”

“Well, em I—” Slughorn seemed slightly taken aback, definitely not expecting to be asked such question “Well yes, I guess you could call it a moment Mr. Lupin”

Slughorn walked away to judge another potion, wondering how did he end up unknowingly taking part in Lupin’s matchmaking scheme.

“Did you hear that Y/n/n?” Remus said, with a cocky tone she had never heard him use before “A moment. A beautiful moment. Now, you have to kiss my mate Padfoot”

“Seems like I have to Lupin” she replied, trying to look uninterested as she avoided Sirius’ gaze.

“Don’t kiss me if you don’t want to” Sirius blurted out “Don’t let him get to you, you shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to just because you made a bet with this sneaky bloke”

“Well, maybe I do” She looked at him, determination in her eyes. A sudden wave of confidence making her flirty.

“You do?” he asked

“I do. Do you?”

“Yeah, I do”

“Stop it with the do’s and kiss already for Merlin’s sake!” James shouted, catching the attention of the whole class.

Laughter erupted in the room, causing Slughorn to give James a detention for “disruptive behavior”, right after he smiled softly at the two teenagers sharing a kiss in the back of his classroom.

Cosy Night ↝ R.W

Ron Weasley x Female Reader

↝ Bethie’s Masterlist

Request? Yes from 🧚‍♀️ anon

Prompt(s): “You’re my best friend” + “Person A tucking Person B’s hair behind their ear.”

Summary: After spending a night with Ron’s family, Y/n and him cuddle outside and watch the night sky.

Blood Status: Any

House: Any

Year: Post-War

Warnings? None

Words: 0.7k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for participating and requesting I really enjoyed writing this cosy fic !!

Keep reading

It Was Love

PAIRING: Ron Weasley x GN!Squib!Reader

SUMMARY: At two in the morning, Ron receives a call from a hospital about three hours away about you who he hadn’t heard from for half a year. [loosely based on It Was Love by The Elected]

WORDS: 7.3k

WARNING(S): cursing, arguments, breakup, angst, financial problems, driving, hospitals, celebrating Christmas. [Y/S] means your size. this fic is told in switching timelines. Half-proofread! || SECOND PERSON

REFERENCE(S): Ness Point

A/N: i have a love hate relationship with this fic honestly djfhejwjw sorry if it’s messy istg if this flops- ANYWAY um i’ve been working for this for a longer time than i expected so uhsdjhrwiaka rushed the ending a bit mbad. please let me know via dms if there are any pronouns mentioned so i can fix it!

NAVIGATION || MAIN MASTERLIST || HP MASTERLIST

I. TO THE THENS || 2010

Miles from a place you used to call home, you stood on the surface of what used to only be in your mind and on paper. A beaming crowd surrounded you, and it took all of what you had to reassure yourself that they were there to congratulate you and not strangle you to death.

Gulping, you forced yourself to snap out of your dazed state and slip back into reality just after the woman behind the podium at the platform called out your name, waiting for you to come up and cite your speech.

Although you were hesitant, the looks of your coworkers and all the unfamiliar faces whose names you did not know told you they were all anticipating for what it was you had to say. So within a few moments, you were behind the podium yourself, marveling at the grand view before you, scrambling for all the right words.

You made this. You made it.

You cleared your throat. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and people and strangers,” you started, throwing in a nervous laugh, already regretting how you began. To your relief, you earned polite applause among the audience. “First and foremost, I would like to thank. . .”

You proceeded to mention countless names such as the firm you work for, the board of directors, your co-workers, and everyone else who had helped you on your architectural project.

“I am beyond honored to be here today, able to spend this moment with all of you as we witness a grandeur I am proud to say is my creation.” You took a deep breath. “Now, I have more I want to express my gratitude for, and so I’d like to raise a glass to an engineer and an architect.

“This architect did not build a single building nor design one on paper. One thing this architect did, however, is turn me into the person that I am today.”

You had to stop yourself from cringing at your words, the same words that just a second ago sounded so moving but now it sounds so . . . fake. You raised your glass, to which the others followed suit. “To the glorious past, to the thens we failed to protect yet never prevailed to shape us.”

II. THEN || March 1997

His hand on yours as the world moved around the two of you is a truth you’re thankful to preserve. He turned on the air freshener in an attempt to cover something up, worried you’d find it foul.

This was not the case with you, for you only laughed it off and, well, so did he. It’s the beautiful nature of your romance; it’s home, it’s something you’d be honored to go home to when all is lost.

“Ron, there’s no elegant way to say this but I can still smell it,” you said, using a part of your sleeve to cover your nose as you giggled.

“And away goes my honor and in comes shame,” he said with mock agony.

“Aw, how does it feel to fart in front of me for the second time ev — RON, KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE WHEEL!”

He composed himself, and you couldn’t help but grin at the sight of his ears turning crimson. “Sorry, second time? What are you — what do you mean?”

“Need I remind you the day I introduced you to my grandparents?”

“Yeah,” Ron started hesitantly as his shoulders tensed, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. “What — what about it?”

“You totally farted and blamed it on the dog,” you admitted, and Ron jerked his hand off yours, looking thoroughly offended.

He scoffed. “I totally did not fart and blame it on the dog.”

“Nope, I distinctly remember you saying ‘Oh no, champ’s got a package’ and your ears were as red as they are right now.”

“No, I did not do that and my ears are not red right now,” said Ron, but you kept your eyes on him until he finally gave up and groaned. “Fine, I may have done that, but it doesn’t mean I’m proud of it.”

You snorted. “Sure you aren’t.”

“I’m really not.”

“Okay, mate.”

Silence.

“I swear, I—”

“Merlin, Ron, let it go!” you said with a laugh. “It’s alright. I don’t hate you yet, if that helps.”

“I would say it doesn’t, but it really does.”

You nodded slowly. “Mhm, and what do you say?”

“I don’t hate you, too.”

“Good, now put your hand on my lap.”

“I thought . . . road safety?”

“Road safety my ass, like you care about that.”

He didn’t, for he let go of himself and rested his free hand on your thigh all the while you played with his fingers.

II. NOW || June 2004

Mr. Hoiss always hated Ron’s necktie. The old man constantly said that neckties were an insult to his ancestry, and that bow-ties were far more elegant. You always begged to disagree, though, having always tied Ron’s necktie everyday on his way to the Ministry.

But today, you’re not there to fix him up. You hadn’t been there for almost half a year now, and Ron had been wearing the types of bow-ties that were easy to put on in contrast to the neckties he considered too complicated to learn.

“Great tie again, Weasley!” said Mr. Hoiss, tipping his hat in greeting as Ron prepared to make his leave. “Going home early, yeah?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. . . ”

“Any plans today, Weasley?”

“I — uh — got a date this afternoon.”

“You are the man of the hour, kid. To moving on!” said Mr. Hoiss with a laugh resembling a malfunctioning car engine. “Take care, yeah?”

The least he could do was grimace and hope that Mr. Hoiss thought it was wide enough to be excused as a polite smile. Harsh as it may be, he forced himself to look at the watch you had given him.

01:48, it said. It could just as easily be a bright afternoon, but it isn’t — he’d worked overtime today, and so he hurried down to the Atrium and into the fireplaces, back to his empty house.

As soon as he heard the distant sputtering of his neighbor’s garden sprinkler, he let himself sink into his couch. He ran his fingers over the peeling surface of the leather couch, the orange of it more visible than ever.

He hated you.

He wanted to see you just so he could scream; he wanted you to come in through the door right now just so he could rip off the leather that remained on the couch, just . . . wanted you to come back home.

So that you’d help him do his necktie again.

So that you’d bring him to the store and buy a cover for your couch, looking for a pattern you could both agree on.

So that you’d be there.

Ron tugged his necktie off his collar and tossed it onto the cluttered coffee table. He stared at it for a good five seconds before standing up and rushing to the empty bedroom with wrinkled shirts and belts that resembled snakes the only things occupying the bed.

He swung the messy wardrobe door open and pulled out one of his striped ties. Taking a deep breath, he tried to put it on himself.

After doing so, Ron walked over to the bathroom, unsatisfied with his own reflection and how weirdly unfamiliar he seemed even to himself.

His necktie was a disaster: The back was too long to tuck to the keeper loop and there were subtle hints of his beard growing again.

Ron cleared his throat and picked up his razor and began to shave the length of his jaw.

“Argh!” Ron jumped. He’d cut himself a bit on the side and so he began to wash his face, blood mixing in with the water. “Merlin’s toenail. . .”

Ron covered it up with a small bandage. He could easily cure it, sure, but as much as he hated to admit it, having them on reminded him of when you put one on his fingers the day he met your grandparents: He was trying to open a can of soda when he felt a pang of pain on one of his fingers.

His wand was nowhere in sight as you’d been trying to minimize his use of it so you had hurried to the bathroom to fetch him a bandage and as soon as you came back, you cut its sides and put it on the small wound on his finger.

He couldn’t help but smile even as he touched the bandage on his jaw now, silly as he may have looked.

No, he thought. Get out. Get out of my head. Just get—

Something buzzed. Ron froze, his hand holding his razor defensively.

He remained still, waiting for an intruder to come hurtling through the door.

Nothing happened, but Ron could hear something . . . ringing?

Gathering himself, he searched for the source of the sound, tense. It seemed to be coming from the drawer. He dropped the unplugged razor on the surface of the cabinet and began pulling all the drawer boxes off its places and rummaged, tossing everything in his way such as a black velvet box, a bulky white envelope, and a knitted scarf and more until he found a bulky gray block. It vibrated and a loud sound came from it. Ron realized with a start that it was actually the phone you’d given him.

He fumbled with it.

“This is a nokia phone,” you had told him last year. “Muggles use it for communication, so you could call me whenever you’re out!”

“But we have owls for that,” he’d said.

“Oh, I don’t think I’d want some of those swooping in while I’m out for work.”

Ron snapped himself back, looking at the ringing phone in anticipation. Were you by some miracle finally calling him?

“Which button again? Right!” Gulping, he clicked the green button and held the phone up hesitantly to his ear, and he heard muffled sounds of busy chatter in the background.

“Hello?” Ron inquired. “[Y/N]?”

He winced at your name.

Just saying your name alone felt like a punishment to his throat, but it was also sort of a relief.

“Hello, is this Mr. Ronald Weasley?” said an unfamiliar voice. Ron froze, trying to think back on what your voice sounded like. Is this you?

“Hello?” said the voice again.

“Oh, er — yeah, you’re speaking to him — Ron — Ronald Weasley. Who’s this?”

Then came the news he was not at all enthusiastic to hear.

Did he want to hear from you? Absolutely. Did he want to know if you’re still out there? Of course he did.

But as he ran to the garage with rusty car keys in hand, he couldn’t help but think if it’s really worth it because at two o’clock a.m., Ron Weasley got in the car, about to drive to a hospital three hours away. For you, he was ready to drive at any time of the day and wherever such as what he's doing as of the moment: Driving from Weybridge to Lowestoft.

III. THEN || August 2000

“It’s a nice house,” Ron commented, his arm draped over your shoulder as you scrutinized the porch with narrowed eyes. “We can work with it.”

“Yeah, we could make a few changes. We’ll have one of those weird garden sprinklers those people next door have,” you said, arms crossed in thought.

“Could we shower in those?” Ron asked.

“Heck, why not?” you chuckled.

As soon as the two of you stepped inside, however, silence fell. Safe to say that as of this moment, both of you could see a future here: New picture frames sitting on the fireplace’s mantelpiece as the years go by, a full dining table and chairs occupied by not just the two of you but what would be your children, a very comfortable couch and so much more.

But for now, all you’ve got is a beat green bean bag in the middle of it all and each other. None of you were complaining.

“Shotgun!” Ron yelled before diving to it just before you could even open your mouth to say the same thing. Dust emanated from the bean bag, and only then did you notice the tiny white beads rolling away.

“You busted it!” you exclaimed, wagging an accusatory finger his way.

“Oh, give it a break, you were about to do the same thing.”

“No I wasn’t.”

Ron turned his back on you and began to pick up the white beads. You peeked from his shoulder and asked, “What are you doing this time?”

And in a blink of an eye, Ron had made it snow, throwing countless soft beads over the two of you, the laughter and the raining of soft pellets on each other as if in a snow fight creating a picture one would find worthy of being in a romantic movie.

It’s love, is what it is. Sweat trickling down your necks? Love. Tackling each other to the ground in fits of laughter? Love.

The littlest thing like the unruly bandage he wore long before? Heck, it’s love.

Soon enough, you found your way in Ron’s arms long after you two had wrestled each other to the floor, the ripped bean bag and its contents tucked to the side and it was only you, Ron, and the carpeted floor of your brand new home while your backs were to the wallpaper you had decided you’ll replace one day.

IV. NOW || June 2004 4:44 AM

It’s four in the morning, and you couldn’t believe it: A familiar face stepped into the room looking disgruntled as if he hadn’t slept but even so, his presence was homely nonetheless. He looked like he’d just shaved, though you’d say it was poorly done for you could glimpse a light stubble from afar.

Is that a bandage? you thought to yourself as you squinted your eyes to try and get a better look at him.

He was frantically searching the crowd, and when he reached the reception, he raked his hand through his hair, his ears red. A smile formed on your lips until his eyes caught yours and fell to the blue sling posing as support on your arm. His shoulders slouched, and his nervous expression turned into one of something that could only either be hatred or revulsion; synonymous, but rightfully so.

“Hi,” you said lamely with a hoarse throat, “you can go home now.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he gestured for you to follow him outside. You complied.

“Seriously, you can go now. I’m staying with a friend just a few minutes from here, I can take the bus.”

The hospital buzzed with busy people, commands being yelled back and forth between everyone, and you were both caught in the middle of it all even when he walked ahead of you.

The parking lot, on the other hand, was just as busy, only that it looked much more better being away from the stench of cleansing agents and such.

He stopped in front of a familiar car you knew too well and leaned on the driver door.

“Get in,” he said, not daring to look you in the eye again. You didn’t move, just studying him for the first time in a long time. Clearing your head, you crestfallenly walked over to the rear door.

“What are you doing?”

“Er — getting in,” you answered, stopping just shy of opening the door.

“Get in the front seat, I’m not your chauffeur.” With a scowl, Ron got in the car, starting it before you could even set foot into it. “Where to?” he asked blankly.

“The nearest gas station,” you told him.

“The nearest gas— are you out of your mind?”

You didn't say anything.

His hand stayed on the steering wheel, yet the car did not move one bit. He’s stagnant, both in his place and his mind. You fidgeted with your fingers, and Ron just . . . sat there.

“Look—”

He turned on the car stereo.

Static.

“Ron, I—”

“Don’t say my name,” he said as he switched the station until it landed on one playing the chorus of an upbeat song.

“Kind of unfitting, don’t you think?” you said in an attempt to douse his anger.

But he only stepped on the gas and began driving. By that time, the best you could do was just lean back in your chair and look out at the window.

Merlin, he hated how familiar and at home he felt in your presence. It’s like any other day, and he loathed the idea that it only takes you being there to throw him back to the routine he’d grown shamefully accustomed to.

A while later, a gas station came into view and you took off your seatbelt with your good arm. “Just drop me off there.”

He didn’t stop.

“Ron, just drop me off there.” He didn’t. He kept going straight ahead, not even looking at you as he did so. “Ron, I said—”

“I heard what you said,” he said with spite. It felt like forever until the car in front stopped as did the others around you.

“Where are we even going?”

As the car stopped at the red signal light, Ron turned to you, his face contorted in disbelief; and you could see from the corner of your eye that his hair had grown longer. If this was like any other normal day like you wished, you’d go ahead and tie his hair up and tell him how much he resembled Bill a bit more now.

Here’s the catch: Today is grim, a day considered both a death sentence and a pleasant merit.

V. THEN || 2001

Money was tighter than it had ever been and you couldn’t stand watching the love of your life struggle to keep himself together as to not let you think he was weak.

You saw the brave smile he’d give you whenever he’d kiss you before sleeping in each other’s arms, sure, but you also saw the conflict in that same gesture. Heard it, even. You heard it in his sugarcoated words of farewell every time he left for work right after you fixed up his necktie he couldn’t ever master learning.

But he wanted to give you everything even when he had nothing just as you did. Merlin, how he loved you with everything he owned: His eyes always seemed to linger a moment longer on you whenever you were around a crowd of your wealthy friends or loaded acquaintances whose necks were donned with jewels one could only dream of — just whenever you were both surrounded by riches: In a mansion both of you could not at all afford even if you tried and much more.

And so when he happened to be out in the open surrounded by riches put on sale by arrogant jewelers, he had his eye set on a ring resting in a red cushion cradled by an elegant black velvet box.

“How much is this?” he asked the Muggle jeweler, who then only looked him up and down and snorted.

He came home defeated that night, but not without at least a couple of consolation gifts: A new white formal blazer from the discount store, a garment Ron considered the best he could find; a slice of your favorite cake, also the best he could get; and the best smile he could give.

“Sorry I’m late,” he told you, pressing a kiss against your temple as he lay down next to you. “Happy birthday, sunshine.”

You stirred in your sleep, only moaning in response. Ron simpered at the presence of your comfort before he laid down next to you, wrapping his arms around you out of habit and soon tapping his fingers lightly on your hand until he fell asleep.

You woke up earlier than him that morning, and you spent a good three minutes only watching his chest rise and fall as you got yourself out to brush your teeth.

By the time you had finished, you went over to the paper bag on the top of the drawer, its handle seemingly tired. You pulled out the blazer to try it on, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

Goodness, when was the last time you felt like yourself? Something that tasted a lot like salt found its way into your lips, and you wiped away the tears from your eyes.

I love you, Ron! you thought as you made serious and formal poses, giddy at the thought of coming to the firm you were an intern for looking like a million bucks. You squealed in excitement and along came a vision: You could get married in this blazer. It was silly, but it could be your something old, even. One would think it was quite questionable to get married in a blazer, but who cares? You could see Ron standing in a make-do altar you and your closest friends had built all for the essence of an intimate wedding. Heck, it could also be in city hall for all you care but other than that, you could see yourself walking down the—

Something at the back itched. With a curious tug, you felt the price tag leaving a mark on your skin. Groaning, you took off the blazer and fumbled to find the price tag in it.

You gasped. He had spent too much. If Ron wanted to give you everything, you did so for him as well. You bit your fingers in conflict before deciding to brokenheartedly put it back in the bag and tell him later on before he went to work that the blazer doesn’t fit and that he should return it.

Which was wrong, you knew that, but money was too tight, right?: Paying for the house’s pricey mortgage, your weekly and monthly budget, funding Ron’s Auror training, funding your tuition for college. . .

“D’you like it?” he said as he stretched in bed, rubbing his eyes in the process of waking up. You were holding the blazer bunched up in your arms.

“Oh, yes, but it doesn’t fit,” you said with the lightest voice you could manage. In a time like this, you could only give or take.

And you chose to give.

“It doesn’t?” said Ron, hastily standing up to grab the blazer, checking the size. “But you’re size [Y/S], right? Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I’ll get it replaced later.”

“No, no, don’t do that, it’s okay. Besides, we’re saving up, remember?”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he came back after replacing the blazer with a necklace with a teddy bear for a pendant. You let it go this time because of that hopeful and expectant eyes of his that you’d like it. Stupid of him to assume that you didn’t love it. Laughing, you turned around after he put the necklace on you and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

But you wouldn’t let him spend his money on you again. He wouldn’t listen to you telling him you want him to have new clothes and not secondhand ones and that he should spend his money on himself, and so you resorted to what one may call tough love.

VI. NOW || June 2004 4:51 AM

He turned off the music and kept his eyes on the road. Cars were stopped just like yours while waiting for the light to turn green. It was still dark and the blinding white lights of the other cars overwhelmed you so.

There’s so much he wanted to tell you but all of this was contained in a furious face, hands gripping the steering wheel too tight, and unsteady breathing.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I was hoping you’d come home, and I hate hoping you still would.”

“Ron,” you said, treading lightly, “I can’t.”

“Right, because it’s so hard.”

“Ron, it’s not you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah? Because it’s you? It’s not me because it’s you, right? Because it always has to be about you.”

“No! If you’d just listen for—”

Ron gulped. “Where have you been, [Y/N]?”

You couldn’t find your voice. Explain, you willed yourself to say. Tell him what you want to say, it’s the least that you could do for him.

But try as you might, there were no words coming out.

“Go on,” said Ron, “explain.”

“I just — it’s for the best, alright?”

He took a deep breath, and you could tell right there and then that he was just furious.

“For the best? You — you left without even a word for half a year for what? For the best?”

“Ron, please,” you breathed, now looking at him for the first time again. You wanted to kiss his anger away, tell him how much you missed him, tell him you wanted to go home with him again, tell him it’s alright because you’re home now.

But such lies are only beautiful once carved on a headstone. You did want to go home with him but . . . nothing can be undone.

He gulped again, not looking at you as he angrily took a turn to the highway. “Oh, look! I took a right turn instead of going straight ahead because it’s for the best! Should I make U-turn in this one-way lane? Who knows? Oh, yeah, I’ll do it anyway because it’s for the best!”

You wanted to laugh. Even when he was angry there was that air about him that made you just want to pull him into a hug. Even this felt like home already. “Ronald, it would really help if you’d just listen to me—”

“Listen? No, you listen. You left on Christmas Eve, never called, never did anything for the past six months! Do you realize how stupid that made me? You think — you think I didn’t — that I don’t feel bloody shitty knowing that I think I’m doing my best when really it will never be enough for you?”

The sense of home was gone. “It is enough for me, what makes you think it’s not?” But your words were drowning in his and he isn’t even listening and so you sat there, taking this heavy blow you told yourself you deserved.

“Oh, yeah, now you’re asking me questions.”

“I’M A SQUIB, RON,” you cried, your chest heaving. “Do you know what a dirty word that is? And — and I know people look at you and think of you as the damned blood traitor boy who — who was going to marry a damned Squib!”

Silence. It was true; you knew you were going down and that you were dragging him down with you. You’d tried to keep the fact that you were a squib as hidden as hard as you can but it’s hard when you’re in love with someone from the very world that pushed you away.

Silence once more. He knew it, too. Your once epic romance would be the downfall of the both of you and it pains him that this is true.

“If it’s enough, then why’d you leave?” He turned to you, expectant, dismissive of what you just said. “If at least for once it was enough like you claim it to be, why’s it that the first time I heard from you in a long time was through a bloody call from a bloody hospital in bloody Lowestoft? Why’s it that the first time that I see you is you’ve got your arm broken — I’m not gonna ask — and why’s it that you keep on rejecting everything I give even until now?”

Because I love you. Because I want you to have what you want me to have, and you wouldn’t be able to give yourself everything if you give it all to me. “So you could stop rejecting everything you wanted for yourself.”

Even when you weren’t looking, you could tell he’d clenched his jaw tight. “What does that even mean?” muttered Ron.

You decided to take a gentler tone in talking to him to diffuse his mounting anger. “Take a turn and drop me off at Ness Point,” you said, expecting another full-blown speech.

Nothing happened.

After a couple seconds of silence, Ron obliged, defeatedly took a turn like you asked him to do.

The next few minutes went still, giving you time to busy yourself watching the stars above twinkle and as cars with overly blinding lights speed past just like that one night.

Exactly like that one night.

VII. THEN || November 2003 8:34 PM

Again, money was tight. You saw the way he came home crestfallen every time, how he always wore the same clothes in a routine. . .

On his way to work, you had kept your eyes on your task of tying his tie, not wanting to look him in the eye in fear of being seen completely. You managed a small smile before going your way upstairs, not even bidding him goodbye as he prepared to step into the fireplace.

The night he drove you back home by car from your internship orientation was unbearable for you always saw those worried eyes of his everywhere: Whenever he pulled out his wallet, whenever he caught you looking at something pricey, just whenever your eyes met his.

It was silent, the AC and your breathing the only things you could hear as cars drove past.

“Do you want to go to a drive-thru?” he had asked you timidly.

You didn’t look at him. “No,” you grunted in response.

“Come on, you barely ate, you could at least use some food.”

“No, Ron, I don’t want to,” you told him, stern.

“It doesn’t have to be grand, just say what you want and—”

“I said I don’t want to! Is that so hard for you to understand?” He was looking at you as if you had just set yourself on fire. You shifted in your seat to face your window, eager not to show the tears streaming down your face. Calming yourself, you said in a lower voice, “Just keep driving.”

But it was for the best, wasn’t it? If he had gone in to buy you some food, he would’ve struggled even more to fund his Auror training, and it would’ve already been a major cut down on your mortgage and not to mention—

“Why are you like this?” Ron said, half-whispering. You didn’t answer, not that you didn’t want to.

It’s just that you hadn’t a clue, either.

——

On the night before Christmas, Ron came home later than usual. Clearly, this year’s Christmas already isn’t as lovely as the past few years had been; you could tell from how sloppily you’d put together the decor, the gifts only being wrapped in brown paper bags and lousy ribbons.

It was ten in the evening and you heard him come into the bedroom and put something on the drawer right before pressing a kiss on your shoulder. You waited for him to leave and go to the shower.

Hesitantly, you sat up and grabbed the small yet fine white bag sitting on the drawer. Inside it you found a tiny black velvet box, the sight of it causing you to call up a colossal nightmare and a lovely daydream: One moment you’re walking down the aisle and being the cause of your husband’s downfall the next.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the box from which you found a ring exactly the way you said you wanted it to be. At that moment, you knew you wouldn’t let your name take down his. You felt your eyes prickle with tears as you listened to him humming in the shower.

I love you, Ron, you thought to yourself once more as you pictured what the ring would look like on your finger. At that moment, you had made up your mind. You stood up and pulled out the two piggy banks from under the bed; one had ‘ARCHITECT’ written on it and ‘AUROR’ on the other.

You took a deep breath before pulling the cap off both of them. You carefully put more than half of the coins from the ‘ARCHITECT’ piggy to the ‘AUROR’ one as to not interrupt Ron.

You grabbed an envelope from one of the drawers and put some bills in it, soon placing it inside the same drawer, its bulky figure seemingly innocent.

From where you stood, you could still hear the faulty garden sprinklers of your neighbor. This is home, you thought, however flawed it may be.

“Oh, where’re you going?” said Ron while drying himself as he watched you pack your bags lousily. “I got us ice cream, it’s in the fridge, in case you were wondering. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just going out to get grocery,” you said hastily as you zipped up your purse.

“It’s snowing outside,” he said, confused. “Is everything alright?”

“No, Ron, everything’s not alright because you just spent loads on a damned ring!”

“How’d you—”

“It’s on the literal drawer!” You ran your palm down to your face, disbelieving what you were doing. At this point, you just weren’t sure anymore. “You know we’re saving up, right? What about your Auror training, my future in architecture, this house. . . We could barely afford our necessities! And — and you’d be marrying me, a Squib! What they would think — what they would all think. . .”

You were spiraling. With countless thoughts tugging at your mind, you swung the door of your bedroom and went down to the kitchen. Ron followed you while hurriedly putting clothes on.

He caught up to you, pulling up your hands to his as you tried hard as you can to not look him in the eye. “Didn’t I tell you that I don’t care about what they think? I — I want to marry you just because. [Y/N], we’ll work it out like we always do, I promise.”

You looked at him; his eyes a scene that assured you it would all be okay. All those memories with him yet you could not recall one where he spoke with such tenderness.

I want to marry you just because.

It was tempting to be blinded by a promise, but you had seen it all before and you knew better. “I can’t do this right now. Actually, no, I can’t do this anymore.” You let go of his hands.

After subtly wiping a tear away, you pulled out your house key from your purse and threw it on the kitchen counter where he now stood hunched, leaning against it with a disheartened expression on his face you hated to see.

He watched as you walked out the door, the snow falling down as if it were a lovely evening.

Ron worried for where you went. You had left your scarf and it was cold as ever.

That night, he waited for you to come back home because you always did. He stood outside or pacing in the front porch or up in your bedroom and looking out the window for any sign of your return. . .

But there was never a sign of a small camper van pulling into the driveway.

He wrote to you by owl, hoping you’d respond. For the first few days, he lay in bed restlessly, worried. Were you still out there? Would you come back home?

He looked for you constantly, going to every place you’d been to together, having even bothered to use the phone you’d given him to call you. You never responded so he tried to call your grandparents, two of which told him they hadn’t seen you since your birthday and asked if you were both okay unbeknownst to Ron that you’d been staying with them for a while since leaving.

On his return to the Ministry, he came to work with slumped shoulders. Mr. Hoiss asked what was wrong with him, who then only shook his head.

Ron didn’t know how but the very next day most of the people knew about it already, giving him words of encouragement.

“It’s alright, Weasley. Let that Squib—”

“Don’t talk about [Y/N] like that,” he had said silently yet still bringing a hushed silence among the workplace.

He hated that it was only now that he realized the gravity of what would become of your relationship. He now saw the way you saw it. All of a sudden, it was all clear: Ron was aware of what everyone not limited to this department would think of the two of you — a laughing stock.

He shook his head, keeping his mind clear as he continued to complete his tasks for the day.

VIII. NOW || June 2004 5:16 AM

Despite the steady length of the road promising a dark night until the end of an era, you knew full well the sun would rise soon in just a few minutes.

The car halted and Ron sat still in his seat. With one look your way, he sighed before swinging his door open.

Ness Point; the most easterly point in the UK. From where you sat, you could hear the crashing of the waves, its tune innocent, calming. You watched as Ron stepped out to the open yet empty road, stopping by in front of one of the railings.

You hesitantly stepped out as well, following him.

“Ron?” you called out.

He turned around, his face contorted in confusion and (surprisingly) hope. “Would you have said yes?”

“What?”

“If I had popped the question on a better night, would you have said yes?”

In that one question, numerous answers sprung up in front of you, each one heavier than the next.

And out of all those answers, you happened to come up with the worst ones: “I don’t know, maybe.”

Across the round and striped platform from below, you found warm streaks of sunlight laying where it always rested. Ron kept silent once more until you began to trudge down the slope, following the railing until you made it down.

After a moment of taking in the scenery of the brilliant landscape that is the Ness Point, you turned around to find Ron, standing just a respectable distance away from you, also marveling at the view.

“Ness Point,” you breathed. “We finally made it.”

“I guess so,” said Ron.

“You know, if someone had randomly tapped my shoulder years back and told me I’d eventually get to see the sunrise from here at Ness Point, I’d have jumped up from my seat and demanded to have it happen right at that moment.”

“What if that random person said it would only be after you left me?”

“Well, Ron, I’d have slapped that random person across the face!” you said with a smile. For the first time since you first saw him, he laughed.

Words couldn’t even define how at home you felt when you heard that sound you had longed for an awful long time.

“I missed you,” said Ron. “It’s a weird feeling, y’know.”

“I missed you, too,” you told him, “and I know.”

“So would you have said . . . yes?”

“In a perfect world, I would.”

“That’s a very miserable answer to a very miserable question,” said Ron, his voice plain and desolate at the same time.

“I don’t know, I think the question’s vividly blithe.”

Silence again.

But this time, it’s a happy kind.

“Why the broken arm?”

“It’s a long story,” you tell him in an attempt to divert the prospect of telling it at all. You’d been staying over at your friend’s after leaving your grandparents’ home and as soon as you left, the first thing you had in mind was clear your name off the mortgage. It did not go well. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Sorry for not taking your name off as emergency contact.

“Thank you for not.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you, either.” The sun was rising now, and just a few strangers were milling about, some taking pictures by the wind turbine. “But I still can’t come home.”

Defeated, he only nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Your reassuring circles on his shoulder did the job of soothing him for just a bit, enough for you to reach out to his badly done necktie.

You untied it before putting it back on him again just like you did every single day before you left. He didn’t mention the money you’d left, the ring box you refused to accept, and the scarf you forgot to bring. He didn’t mention that he’d just decided to cancel his date this afternoon no matter how technically free he was now.

He was satisfied just letting you tie his necktie properly on him for possibly the last time ever.

“Don’t listen to Mr. Hoiss, you look dashing in a necktie.” You pressed a kiss against his forehead. Smiling, you pat his chest one last time, relishing the beauty and the harsh undertones of the moment. “Goodbye, Ron.”

With one last smile his way, you began walking away, leaving him watching you as you disappeared, his feet rooted to the ground.

So much he wanted to say was reduced to a nod and a longing look at the rising sun because no matter how hard he wept just as you did, you both loved.

IX. TO THE NOWS || 2010

You found yourself at one of the top floors, the tall windows looking out the countless lit buildings of New York, the idle and busy chatter supposedly trying to distract you not doing its job.

Beside you stood a young woman your age, and it took you a second to realize she was congratulating you.

“Oh! Well, yes, thank you,” you nodded, your mind elsewhere. “Er — may I excuse myself for a bit? I just need a second.”

Not a second. You needed a walk.

Wrong as it may sound to leave guests alone, you had to take a breather. You put your own not even half empty glass of champagne on one of the glass tables right before you slithered out of the crowd and into one of the elevators and into the dead of the night.

All you had was your phone and your wallet but you were pretty much lost. It took a long while for you to reach the sidewalk because of the parking lot but it was worth it as soon as you did.

Why?

Because a little ways down the road, a couple turns here and there stood a thrift store. It was closed, sure, but the windows gave you a jolly opportunity to window shop.

One garment stood out from the rest — a white blazer that almost resembled what you’d received years and years ago.

Maybe it was the champagne kicking in but within a few seconds, you had your phone out and the number of the phone you’d given your ex just a tap away.

Would he answer? It’s a long shot. . .

What would you even say? What would you even ask him, even?

You paced back and forth and back and forth until you finally decided on simply putting your phone away to walk back to your building.

Although it would be nice to tell him about the grand opening, your story’s perfect in itself already even when it had already met its grand ending.

You glanced at the white blazer one last time before turning away, leaving your sentiments alone from that very spot in front of the window.

No matter what the outcome had been, it was was love.

Or at least the closest you’ve come.

i probably should have lead with this

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