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100 Days of Drabble

Chapter Text

Percy groaned in pain as he faceplanted onto his soft and inviting fourposter bed, arse in the air, and not giving a toss as to how undignified the position was. He turned his head to the side and grumbled, “Remind me to never let you talk me into riding a broom, ever again.”

Oliver laughed and flopped down on the bed beside him. “You’re just a bit broom sore. If you keep riding and wear a better pair of flying trousers you’ll be fine.”

Not wanting to risk putting any pressure on his arse, Percy just cocked his head and gave his boyfriend the most withering glare that he could muster. “Oh yeah? Then why did Madam Pomfrey give me a salve and tell me to cast cushioning charms on everything for the next week?”

“Lighten up, Perce, you can’t be more sore than that time we--”

Percy’s face flushed scarlet and he was certain the blush was creeping down his neck. “No, but this is cruel and unusual.”

“All the healers say that it’s normal,” Oliver counted.

“Well,” Percy retorted, “that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.”

Oliver suppressed a laugh and began rubbing soothing circles along the man’s back before leaning down to murmur slyly in his ear, “So does this mean I can convince you to top for the next few days?”

A wicked grin spread across Percy’s face. “Oh, I believe that can be arranged.”

Chapter Text

A knock sounded at the door. Harry looked up from his heavily highlighted and underlined volume of British Magical Criminal Code and Rules to see a sleep rumpled Draco standing shyly in the doorframe. His heart ached at the sight. 

The man’s normally pristine white-blond hair was an untidy mess. Harry’s Weasley jumper from last Christmas nearly swallowed Draco’s slighter frame, a pair of black boxer briefs just peeking out below the hem. Barefoot and with a pillow crease down his left cheek, he looked impossibly young. 

“Nightmare?” Harry asked, knowing the answer already.

Draco just shuffled his feet and nodded, eyes downcast as though ashamed.

Harry scooted his chair back from his desk and reached out a hand. “Come here, love. I still have a bit more reading to do, but you can cuddle up on me.”

Draco’s eyes widened a bit and he seemed to draw in on himself. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to bother you. You’re busy. I’ll just—”

“Baby,” Harry whispered, heart nearly breaking at the sight, “you’re not a bother. You’re never a bother.”

“Yes, I am,” Draco’s voice trembled. “I’m too needy. You don’t deserve it.”

Before Draco could flee the room Harry stood, crossed the small distance between them, and enveloped his boyfriend in a tight hug. As he pulled back, he tucked a lock of hair behind the man’s ear before cupping the angular face in his hands. “I love you. You are the most precious thing to me in this entire world. You are allowed to have needs and it is my pleasure to fulfil them.” 

He pressed a chaste kiss to Draco’s lips then took him by the hand and led him to his desk chair. Harry sat back down and pulled Draco into his lap facing him, Draco’s thighs on either side of his hips. He held the man to him in a one-armed embrace, hooked his chin over Draco’s shoulder, levitated the book to eye-level, and continued reading. 

He wasn’t exactly sure when Draco fell back asleep, but he smiled into the wool clad shoulder, smelling the citrus of the man’s body wash, clean sweat, and a scent that was uniquely Draco. He held the man closer to him feeling content, in love, and honoured to be allowed to see this very private side of the most amazing man in the world. 

Chapter Text

“We’re not going to talk about this now, Remus Lupin! Or ever again!” 

Tonks stormed down the hallway of the seventh-floor corridor furiously blinking back tears. Dumbledore’s funeral had been difficult enough to get through without crying and now, here they were again. She and Remus had come together again after that terrible night. After a year apart he had finally come to his senses and found his way back to her, leaving his baggage at the proverbial door. When their bodies came together that night, she was able to show him yet again that she did not require someone ‘young and whole’; she just needed him.

And yet, as they walked through the castle halls he had started it all up again. She was sick of it.

“No, Dora,” he called out as he caught up to her. He grabbed her elbow, turning her around to face him. “That wasn’t… That’s not where I was going with all this. Please, let me start over.” He tucked a strand of bubblegum pink hair behind her ear, looking into her eyes imploringly. 

Dora positively melted at the sight of those amber eyes, so desperate and full of need. She fiddled with the collar of his robes, smoothing it down. Finally, she nodded. She could never deny him anything.

“Come with me to the other room,” he almost whispered as he reverently caressed her cheek. 

“What other room?” she asked. “Remus, there aren’t any other rooms on this side of the corridor, just tapestries.”

He grinned teasingly, “What, never heard of the Room of Requirement, Ms Tonks? I thought I was dating a former troublemaker.”

She rolled her eyes affectionately and watched in rapt curiosity as Remus stepped back from her and began pacing the hall in front of one of the old tapestries. “Remus, what are you—” she began to ask on his third pass when suddenly a door appeared in the wall where none had been before. “What the fuck?”

He chuckled, “Just another secret of Hogwarts. Harry told me about it. It can become anything you want. Come on,” he held out a hand to her, looking eager and slightly nervous.   

Never one to say no to adventure, she took it quickly and followed him into the enchanted room. What greeted them took her breath away. 

They were standing on the banks of Lake Kawaguchiko at twilight in the middle of cherry blossom season. Looming over them was the beautiful snow-capped sight of Mount Fuji.

“You said that you always wanted to come here, ever since you were a child and saw a photo in your dad’s encyclopedia,” he murmured. “ And I may be too old, too poor, and sometimes too dangerous to ever fulfil desires such as these, but I want to. I want to be here beside you, for however long I have left, and do what little I can to bring you happiness.”

She tore her eyes away from the magically made natural beauty around them to stare into the eyes of the man before her. Her breath hitched in her throat, tears of a completely different kind burning her eyes at the depths of love and passion she found there.

“Remus, what are you saying?” she asked, barely audible. 

“Nymphadora Tonks, Dora…” he cupped her face in his large hands, holding it as if she were the most precious thing in the world. “I love you. Please, will you marry me?”

Chapter Text

It had been storming for three days straight. It was as if the heavens had sent a personal “Fuck You” to the occupants of Hogwarts Castle. And so, as cooped up, horny young adults are wont to do, the eighth year students had thrown a rager in their common room, music blasting so loud that it completely drowned out the thunder and pounding rain. At some point during the night, a drunken Ron had coerced Harry into a dramatic retelling of their adventure in the Chamber of Secrets much to everyone’s enjoyment.

Several hours, a bottle of firewhisky, and several ill-advised shots of gigglewater later found Draco Malfoy trying to suck his boyfriend’s soul out through his cock. Harry moaned, fully believing that Draco would be much more pleasurable at this task than the dementors.

As he felt his release draw near, Draco pulled off with a loud wet pop before dipping lower to tease at the sweet furrowed pucker of Harry’s hole with his quicksilver tongue. Harry was so lost in his own pleasure that he almost missed what Draco did next.

“Hissss, hissss, hissss,” Draco mouthed against Harry’s waiting entrance, dragging a teasing finger across the rim. 

Harry’s head shot up, propping himself on his elbows, he stared down at his boyfriend, eyebrow quirked. “Um, Draco?”

Draco only hummed in response.

“Did you just hiss at me?”

Draco giggled and hissed again. “Are you judging me?”

Harry chuckled. “A bit, yeah. Why the fuck are you hissing at my arsehole?”

Draco propped his cheek on Harry’s thigh and smirked up at him, “Well, that’s how you get in, right?  I’m speaking Parseltongue to open your Chamber of Secrets so my basilisk can Slytherin.”

For a moment, Harry just stared at the man between his thighs before he burst out laughing, throwing his head back on the pillow. His laughter didn’t last long though as Draco smirked again and bent his head back to his task.

Chapter Text

"Merlin's saggy tits!" Sirius cursed down at the now ruined piece of white construction paper in his hands.

"Padfoot," Remus admonished, "Harry is right there."

"He's not even five months old," he defended. "He doesn't know what I said. Besides, he's asleep, and I have a one-way silencing charm around him. We can hear him cry, but he can't hear us.”

Remus sighed and rolled his eyes. When they had agreed to watch Harry for a few hours so an exhausted James and Lily could get some sleep,  they had not anticipated the massive crafting project currently starting them in the face. 

It was almost Christmas, and the little house in Godric's Hollow didn't even have a tree up. The couple had been cooped up in the house for ages and James was pretty sure Lily was dealing with something more than the baby blues. 

Determined to bring some of the Christmas spirit to their friends, Remus and Sirius had set to work transforming the living room into an infant friendly winter wonderland. The pair now sat on the floor cutting out paper snowflakes with varied rates of success.

"Remind me again why we're doing this the Muggle way?” Sirius grumbled.

"Because," Remus explained, "Lily mentioned ages ago that she loved making these with her family as a child, so we're making them this way. They'll be more authentic."

Sirius raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Okay, okay," he conceded. "Lily will like them better this way. She'll appreciate the time and effort we put into it."

"You're right," Sirius sighed and bent his head once again to his task.

It wasn't long, however, before Sirius cursed again and sent his pair of scissors flying across the room. Only Remus' quick wandwork stopped the projectile from impaling itself in the far wall.

"What the fuck, Sirius," he whisper-screamed at his boyfriend. "Harry is right there! You never think before—"

"Don't yell at me like I'm a child!" Sirius cradled his left hand against his chest, before sucking his cut finger into his mouth to try to stop the bleeding.

"Don’t throw scissors!” Remus countered, before scooting over with a sigh and gently taking Sirius's hand and healing the wound with a muttered spell. He brought the mended digit to his mouth and kissed it lightly. "Okay, no more snowflake duty for you. Why don't you hang up some greenery?"

Sirius grinned and pointed to a spot above their heads, "I already took care of the mistletoe."

Remus rolled his eyes affectionately and pulled the man to him, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. He pulled away with a sly grin, Sirius trailing after him longing for more. "There's more where that came from later if you behave."

Sirius smirked, threw him a salute, then stood to go retrieve more decorations.

Chapter Text

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck! Hermione thought as she speed-walked from her tent to the Ukranian Ironbelly’s enclosure on the far side of the Sanctuary. Three days in Romania had proven that she was wildly unprepared. She was in the final rotation of her Magizoology and Veterinary program, and she had put off dragons for a reason. She had always been terrified of flying, but her escape from Gringotts on the back of the very creature she was to be working with today had not only solidified her fears but added extra anxiety regarding the winged animal in question. 

It had started raining not long after she arrived and only let up that morning, the humidity disappearing with the rising sun, leaving in its place a beautiful verdant landscape. Unfortunately, it also brought with it a strong northeastern wind that chilled her to the bone. She had been distracted when preparing for her time at the Sanctuary and had forgotten to check the average temperatures for mid-April. Idiotically, she just assumed that since the dragons were cold-blooded creatures that the entire reserve had a warming charm around it and had not packed a jacket. Clearly, she assumed wrong. Her personal warming charm began fading almost as soon as she left the protection of her tent. 

The sound of crunching gravel tore her from her thoughts, and she smiled up at the broad-chested redhead who fell into step with her. 

“Morning, Hermione,” he greeted her with his trademark grin. “Healer Thomas is out today, so you’re stuck with me. I hope that’s alright?” he asked with a hopeful gleam in his piercing blue eyes.

“Of course,” she exclaimed, hoping that her slight blush could be attributed to the bracing wind against her cheeks. She pulled her shirt sleeves further over her hands, desperately trying to keep warm. The enclosure wasn’t too much further. She could make it without fear of frostbite, although a part of her silently screamed at the discomfort.

“You alright?” he asked, an amused smirk on his face. “You look a bit cold.”

She shook her head, not wishing to appear weak. “No, I’m fine.”

Charlie reached a hand out and grabbed her by the elbow, swinging her around to face him. “Here, take my jacket, you must be bloody freezing.” He gave her a wry smile as he removed his outer cloak revealing a white thermal that perfectly encased his muscular frame, showing it off in a way that she knew made both witches and wizards swoon, herself included.

“I told you, I’m not cold,” she said as a particularly frigid gust of wind blew through the reserve, wiping strands of hair out of its neat bun and sending a shiver down her spine. 

“You might be the brightest witch of your age but you’re an awful liar,” he quipped. “Stop being so proud and let someone take care of you for a change.” 

He stepped closer, so near that she could feel his warm breath on her skin as he fastened the cloak around her shoulders. He then brushed the strands of hair that the wind captured behind her ear. His hand lingered just a moment longer than necessary on her cheek as his eyes focused on her lips, pupils blown wide despite the brilliant sunlight.

Her breath hitched. Charlie Weasley was going to kiss her. And she wanted him to. 

A screaming cry pierced the air as two Welch Green’s flew above them, seeming to dance in midair. 

Charlie smiled and stepped away, the spell broken. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Face flushed, she nodded and followed his lead toward the Ironbelly’s enclosure, hopeful that maybe sometime in the next six weeks they would have another moment. One that wouldn’t be interrupted by dragons.

Chapter Text

It started off as just a harmless prank. Hermione was hurt by Ron’s sheer idiocy and clearly needed some cheering up. The boy was clearly using Lavender to make her jealous. If he had just opened his bloody eyes, he would have seen, plain as day, that Hermione had been in love with him for ages.

For the last week, Harry and Hermione had followed Ron throughout the castle under the invisibility cloak causing little incidents of mischief around him. They would move objects, make odd noises, and even whisper to him. Ron, already a bit wary by nature, was wildly on edge, much to the irritation of Lavender.

The couple were currently ensconced in an alcove near the top of the Astronomy Tower, snogging each other senseless, when Ron suddenly broke the kiss. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

“No,” Lavender replied. “Probably just another couple looking for somewhere private.” She captured his lips again in a searing kiss while coyly trying to coax Ron into putting his hand up her blouse.

A sound of something sharp dragging against stone startled them both. “Ron—” Lavender began a note of worry in her voice.

“I’m haunted,” he insisted.

“Ron, people can’t be haunted. Only places.”

“Lav, weird things keep happening all around me. I’ll set something down on a table and then turn around and it’ll be gone. I keep hearing weird noises. It’s not Peeves. He’s not that subtle. The other ghosts don’t seem like they’d do that either. This is something new. I’m telling you, I’m haunted!”

The girl sighed. “Well, whatever made that sound, it’s gone now. So are you going to kiss me or—”

She never got to finish her sentence. Ron leaned forward and captured the words from her mouth. Devouring her. Ginny’s description had been apt. They did look like a pair of eels thrashing about. 

Just as Ron was starting to feel bold again, a monstrous roar erupted from behind them. The pair shrieked and took off down the winding stairway desperate to get as far away as possible. 

Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak off he and Hermione as they collapsed in a corner, laughing hysterically.

“What on earth was that Harry? I sounded like a lion,” Hermione gasped out as soon as she recovered her breath.

“Sound-producing sweets,” he said with a grin, tossing her the package, “Seamus likes to keep them on hand.”

She smiled back at her best friend. “Thank you, Harry. This was fun.”

He stood and helped her up, slinging the cloak back around them. “You feeling better?”

She nodded, grateful for a friend who didn’t judge her desire for a little petty revenge.

Chapter Text

Click, clack, click, clack. The sharp snap of the heels of my thigh-high black dragonhide boots against marble tile punctuates every purposeful step I take as I stride down the Ministry halls, only one goal in mind. My long black robes billowing behind me thanks to a charm I learnt off Severus.

Stupid Potter! Always having to be all noble and brave. A fucking Gryffindor if I ever saw one. Saint Potter off to save the day again. Ugh, it’s so bloody annoying… and kind of hot.

Okay, very hot. There’s a reason why I’m already sporting a semi and it isn’t because of the delicious friction these lace knickers create against my cock with every step I take.

Of all the days. Of all the fucking days for a Dark wizard, the likes of which haven’t been seen since that Fucker-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, to screw up and get caught…

We were supposed to have a quiet day in--well, not too quiet--all to ourselves. We shut off the floo; we sent the owl to France with a letter from my mum; we locked and warded all the doors. I bloody well prepared myself for this! I’ve been wearing that god-damned plug he loves so much since I woke up this morning in preparation for today. But no, someone had to ruin it all and make Harry Freakin’ Potter come in on his day off. 

I get it, I do. I can’t really be mad about this. But I was looking forward to this, damn it! I just wanted an easy day with my boyfriend. Is that too much to ask? So… here I am, opening the door to Potter’s office with just a flick of my wand and pure sexual frustration.

I stride into the room, looking fierce and powerful, closing and locking the door behind me with the strongest charm I know.

Potter looks up from a sea of paperwork, looking exhausted and on edge. One glance at me, however, has his whole demeanour changing. He sits up straight, eyes wide, feasting on my appearance and the aura of pure lust exuding from every fibre of my being.

“Draco,” he rasps. “Hey. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long, I just have to—”

“Oh, I know,” I say, smug. Enjoying the look of confusion and desire blooming across his bespectacled face. “This was important. But I got impatient. So, I thought, I’d come to give you a little break.”

With those words, I unclasp my robes, letting them pool on the floor around me to reveal the pièce de résistance: a Gryffindor red and gold lace corset with matching knickers. 

“Now,” I say, “are you going to bend me over your desk and fuck me or am I going to have to do it myself?”

Chapter Text

Midnight was approaching. All Minerva wanted to do was collapse onto the bed and into the arms of her partner. Thank Merlin tomorrow is Saturday, she thought as she pushed open the door to their rooms. She stopped short at the sight that met her. 

Rolanda was standing at the window, clad only in black boyshorts and a thin white crop top, teacup in hand, staring out onto the grounds. The witch looked up and smiled at her warmly and held up a second cup of tea in greeting. Even at fifty, the woman’s slim body was well-toned and irresistible. Despite her exhaustion, Minerva felt a warmth pool below her navel, a desire tugging her toward her lover.

Blinking away the thought, she stepped further into the room, accepted the cup of tea and placed a chaste kiss to Rolanda’s lips. “Why are you awake right now? Isn’t there a big game tomorrow?”

Rolanda hid a smirk behind her cup and took a long sip. “The Slytherins are favoured to win. That’ll put you lot in third place for the cup.”

Minerva rolled her eyes.

“I was waiting up for you, actually,” Rolanda said shyly. “It’s been a long week. For both of us. And… well… I missed you.”

Overcome yet again with love for the woman before her, Minerva took the cup from Rolanda’s hands and set them both down on the side. She grabbed her lover’s hand and brought it up to her mouth, kissing the fingers, the palm, and inside the wrist revelling in the shivers it sent running up and down Rolanda’s spine.

“I missed you too. Come to bed with me?” Minerva asked, staring into golden eyes.


Chapter Text

“Gideon?” Remus called from the doorway, “Gideon, love, what are you doing?”

The redhead stood with his back to the door, facing the closet as he slowly buttoned up that deep blue shirt that brought out his eyes and drove Remus absolutely wild. Still a bit clumsy with his prosthetic hand, Gideon cursed under his breath before turning and throwing a smirk his lover’s way.

“It’s Sunday, Remus. Molly’s cooking a roast,” he said as if that explained everything. 

Remus rolled his eyes affectionately and took a sip of overly hot tea from his favourite mug, not minding the burn at all. “And she already floo’d to say that she’d send some over for us later. Besides, you should be resting.”

Gideon huffed in frustration and ran his good hand through his hair, tugging slightly, a sure sign of his irritation. “I’ve been stuck in this flat for weeks! I haven’t seen my family or my brother. And you’re pants at cooking. Remus, I love you, but if I have to eat another one of your gods awful pasta bakes again, I’m going to scream.”

Remus hid his small smile behind the rim of his mug. He was pants at cooking. He understood Gideon’s frustration and wanted so badly to give the man exactly what he wanted, but it was for his own good.

“Love, Dumbledore said that it wouldn’t be much longer—”

“Fuck Dumbledore!” Gideon shouted. “Haven’t I sacrificed enough?” Angrily, he pulled off the magical hand and chucked it at the wall so hard that it made a dent.

Remus didn’t even flinch. He was no stranger to anger, to sacrifice, to pain. With a wave of his wand, he quietly sent his mug back to the kitchen and repaired the damaged wall before picking up the hand and setting it on the dresser.  

“You’ve sacrificed more than enough,” he whispered in earnest, his voice raw. “It’s just a little while longer and we can bring you out of hiding. It’s to keep you safe. To help you recover. Fuck, Gideon, you almost died. I don’t… I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you. You are everything to me.”

Gideon looked up, unshed tears shining in his eyes. “I am? Even now, after…” his voice trailed off as he gestured to the ugly scarred stump that used to be his arm, now ending just above his elbow.

“Of course,” Remus said, incredulous. “How can you think that? I love you. Every bit of you. Just as you love every scarred and damaged bit of me.”

“But,” he said quietly, “You… you haven’t touched me in that way since…”

“You were recovering from a dark curse! I didn’t want you to— I didn’t want to push you. Gideon, I love you. I want you. You have to believe me.” Remus was pulling on his own hair now, desperate to touch. Desperate to show the man before him exactly how he felt.

“Then come over here and make me,” Gideon whispered, a slightly mischievous look behind his sad eyes. 

Remus wasted no time, crossing the room in two long strides and pinning the man to the bed before kissing him soundly, revelling in the taste of him, moaning with need against his mouth and the feeling of stubble against his hand as he caressed his lover’s cheek. He pulled away, breathless and began trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of Gideon’s throat and broad chest, slowly removing the shirt as he went.

“How do I love thee?” he murmured against the man’s skin, unbuckling his lover’s trousers and nuzzling his nose into the warm, rapidly hardening flesh there. “Let me count the ways.”

Chapter Text

For the last three weeks, all Harry has talked about is Kevin, his new Auror partner. “Kevin does this” and “Kevin does that.” Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. Fuck Kevin! Who cares if the man is a legend and holds the highest arrest rate in MACUSA history? Who cares that his body is sculpted like a fucking Greek god’s? Who cares that he runs the most prestigious Fantasy Quidditch League in the Ministry? The man’s a tosser and needs to get his filthy paws off my best friend!

Look, I know why they separated us. Best friends do not always make good work partners, but this is getting ridiculous. Kevin is completely taking over our lives and I’m sick of it. 

And now, NOW , Potter has dragged me along to some soiree at the man’s flat. It’s nice, I guess. Just like a typical American, his decorating skills leave a lot to be desired, but the party itself… it’s not terrible. His choice in music isn’t atrocious and the refreshments are decent. But of course, Harry is once again obsessing over the man, trailing after him like a lost puppy. It’s disgusting. If he likes him so much, why doesn’t he just marry him?

“Hey, Draco,” Harry says. He’s leaning up against the wall beside me, a glass of Ogdon’s Finest in hand. “What’re you doing? There’s a party going on.”

“Yes, Potter , I am aware,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. 

“So, shouldn’t you be enjoying yourself? What’s going on with you? You’ve been kind of distant lately. I...” he pauses, looking slightly embarrassed. “I just want my best friend back.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? Seems like your observational skills are even worse than I’ve been led to believe. Kevin is over there.” I jerk my head in the direction of our host and then look away, hoping that I’ve successfully masked just how hurt I am.

“What?” the Golden Boy asks, seemingly shocked. He crowds into my personal space. “Draco, Kevin’s not my best friend. You are.”

“Could have fooled me,” I drawl, downing the rest of my drink. “You talk about him constantly. Never shut up, in fact.”

“Um… yeah,” Harry says. “Because you fancy him.”

I stare at him in shock.

“Draco, you’re constantly staring at Kevin, so I’ve been trying to talk him up. I think he’s rather a twat, actually.”

“Kevin is not the one I’m constantly staring at or fancy, Potter!” I snap. Instantly realizing what I have just said I clamp my mouth shut, certain that my entire body has just flushed beet red. 

Maybe he won’t notice. I could always just Obliviate him.

No such luck…

Harry’s mouth falls open just a bit, his pupils dilate so wide that there’s barely a green ring lining the bottomless pit of his eyes that I am certain to fall into.

“You’ve…” he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing appealingly. “You’ve been staring at… at me?”

All I can do is nod.

“You… fancy me?”

Again, I nod. In for a penny…

Chapter Text

The sultry notes of Celestina Warbeck filled the kitchen of The Burrow. Molly swayed her hips to the music while she stirred the chicken stew, stealing a little taste and adding a bit more of her personally curated seasoning mix. A quick Tempus showed that the cake cooling on the rack had about five minutes left before it could be iced. It was Arthur’s birthday and everything needed to be perfect. 

Bill and Charlie were at her mother’s, the house was spotless, all of Arthur’s favourite foods would be served, that wine he liked had been decanted, and she had bought a new black dress that was very similar to the one she wore on their very first date all those years ago—the one she knew had driven him wild. A warmth pooled in her belly at the thought of this night ending similarly.

With a flick of her wand, she sent the chocolate hazelnut frosting over to the cake, making sure to leave a perfectly even layer atop the dessert before decorating it with thinly sliced strawberries.

The music changed. Overcome with nostalgia, Molly began to sing along to A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love, dancing more freely and giggling at the way her skirt poofed out as she twirled.

Oh, come and stir my cauldron

And if you do it right

I'll boil you up some hot, strong love

To keep you warm tonight!

"I sure hope so," a voice said from the doorway.

Molly shrieked and placed a hand against her chest as if she could still her racing heart. : "H- how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” Arthur chuckled as he came into the room. He swept Molly into his arms, whirling her around the kitchen as if it were a dancefloor. 

She giggled and allowed herself to be led. Arthur was a terrible dancer, but he always did it with enthusiasm. What were a few bruised toes when you were in the arms of a handsome man who loved you with his whole being? Besides, that old adage about a man's skill in the bedroom being linked to his ability to dance was utter rubbish.

As if reading her thoughts, Arthur's hand strayed from her waist to her bum. He squeezed it lightly before allowing himself to teasingly explore the rest of her curves. "Let's throw a stasis charm on the food and go upstairs," he murmured in her ear, his voice husky and low. "I'm hungry for something a bit more… carnal."

Chapter Text

Warm summer air drifted through the open window in the living room where Ron and Hermione were curled up on the couch. She sat between his legs, back against his chest, and her nose buried in what she lovingly referred to as a “trashy romance novel.”

Ron would never admit this, but he actually quite liked some of these Muggle bodice rippers. They were far more imaginative than the Wizarding ones his mum had hidden away at The Burrow and usually much better written. 

He had long since given up reading through the charms book Flitwick had suggested he use for research on the new line of Wheezes. The text was rather convoluted. He would have to ask Hermione if there was a spell that could search the contents of a book and direct the reader to the correct passages. Instead, he had started to gently play with her hair, twirling a loose curl around his finger and letting it snap back into place. 

She snuggled up closer to him, and he buried his face in the juncture of her neck and shoulder, nuzzling her bare skin with his nose. After a moment, she giggled and turned to him. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” Ron asked, pretending to be oblivious while he continued to slowly move his nose against her neck.

“Ron?” she asked through another bout of giggles, “Are you spelling out words with your nose?”

“No…,” he said, fighting back his own laughter as he continued to move.

“Oh my god, Ronald, you’re doing the alphabet!” She turned around and playfully slapped him on the chest.

The laugh escaped him then. He leaned back against the arm of the sofa and let it wash over him, laughing even harder at Hermione’s attempt at an indignant look. “Got all the way to ‘O’ before you figured it out!” he howled.

She smacked him again before shutting her book, placing it on the coffee table, rolling over onto her stomach, and placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve been a lot more… quietly affectionate lately, not that I’m complaining. You’re just normally a bit more overt about it.”

“Well, I just know that you prefer the quiet stuff. The little things,” he said quickly, hoping that she would drop the subject.

She hummed in response.

Ron shifted nervously. Did she suspect? He had tried so hard to act normally so she wouldn’t suspect that he had been carrying the ring around in his pocket for weeks--shrunk down of course, so she wouldn’t accidentally feel it. But maybe she had found it while he was in the shower or asleep.

She looked up at him through her long eyelashes and slowly raised a brow. He felt his stomach plummet to the floor.

“You have something planned, don’t you?” she asked, a look crossed her face that was very similar to the one his mother wore when she knew he and his brothers were up to something.

“What? No!” he said a bit too quickly.

Hermione sat up in excitement, "You’re lying! You’re blushing.”

“Shut up!” he felt himself grow even redder. “No, I’m not!”

She smirked and looked up at him expectantly, ready for him to spill his secret. Ron reached into his pocket slowly, feeling for the ring. Well, he thought, now is as good a time as ever .

Chapter Text

Lily stormed out of the common room, trunk floating behind her. The train was scheduled to leave soon, and she had waited until the last possible moment to leave, hoping to avoid Potter. With everything that had happened after their OWLs, she was even less keen to run into the insufferable toerag. Unfortunately, it seemed that he had been waiting for her.

“Hey, Evans!” the boy called, jogging to keep up with her. “Evans! Lily, wait!”

She whipped around angrily, fire blazing in her emerald eyes and wand out, “No, I’m not talking to you, Potter!” 

She turned back around, but he moved quickly, stepping in front of her, hands up in surrender.

“Lily, please,” he pleaded with her. “You don’t have to talk to me. Hell, you can hex me all you want--Merlin knows that I deserve it. But, please, just listen to me for a moment. Please.” 

Wearily, she lowered her wand and crossed her arms, as if to protect herself from whatever onslaught was about to come out of Potter’s mouth. She said nothing, but raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

James sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. This time, however, it wasn’t in his usual way--ruffled up to look like he had just gotten off his broom--it was out of nervousness, something she had never seen out of him before.

“It’s just…” he began, steeling himself before ploughing ahead, “I’m sorry. For everything. I know that I’ve been a right pain in your arse ever since first year. You’ve told me repeatedly to leave you alone and that you’re not interested. I haven’t respected that. I just kept bothering you and acting like I had some right to your affections. That was wrong of me. I also continued to purposely torment Sniv— um… Snape,” he quickly corrected. “He was your friend. We never got on, and I still don’t like the way that he treated you. No one should treat their friends like that. But, that’s not the point. He was your friend and I… I went out of my way to be a prat. I’m sorry.”

He looked down and shuffled his feet anxiously before looking her in the eye again and continuing, “I promise, that I won’t bother you again. Unless it’s something for a class I won’t even speak to you. I can’t promise that I’ll never be a git again, or pull a prank on Snape, but I can promise that I’ll try.”

Lily swallowed, blinking rapidly at the boy standing before her. Who would have thought that James Potter would have been capable of an apology?

He shifted uncomfortably again before walking back toward the portrait hole, “Anyway, I gotta go get my trunk. Thank you for listening. Have a good summer, Lily.”

Lily stood and watched his retreating form utterly stunned. A feeling of warmth began to flood her chest and she couldn’t stop the whispered words from leaving her mouth, “Have a good summer… James.”

Chapter Text

The eerie tones of a synthesizer sprang to life from the jacket pocket of Draco Malfoy’s second-best charcoal grey dress robes. He received a few odd glances from other Ministry workers he had been forced to share a lift with, but it was no matter. He quickly pulled out the sleek black smartphone and unlocked it to reveal a text from Harry. Draco smiled to himself. The man was utterly rubbish with technology, but he had taken to the gadget with enthusiasm, much to Draco’s amusement. He was not prepared, however, for the photo message that assaulted his eyeballs. 

There, on the screen, for all on the lift to see--and yes, they were looking, the nosey bastards--was unmistakably the large, fully erect phallus of his boyfriend and Saviour of the Wizarding World, Harry James Potter.

He promptly tucked the phone back into his pocket and tried to remember how to breathe, a task that was not made easy by the sidelong glances he was receiving all around him.

When the lift finally stopped on Level Five, he raced through the halls to his little cubicle in the International Magical Office of Law. He quickly sat in his chair sitting as close to the desk as humanly possible so as to hide his raging hard-on.

He discreetly checked his phone again and was able to confirm that yes, Harry had just sent him a dick pic. What the actual fuck? They had never done anything like this before. Not that Draco wasn’t up for a bit of sexting, but honestly, he was at work. This was highly inappropriate. And maybe a little hot.

Putting that thought aside, Draco set his phone to vibrate and placed it back in his pocket ready to begin the workday.

Unfortunately… fortunately? No, (definitely) unfortunately for Draco, his mobile vibrated once every quarter-hour for the next four hours. After confirming that the next two were more of the same type of photo from Harry, he studiously ignored the texts until his lunch break. He raced to the single-stall loo, locked himself in, and pulled out his phone. 

There, on the display screen, Draco scrolled through sixteen dick pics taken from various angles, and apparently locations, in their flat. 

Unable to type out any sort of a response, he called Harry, who to his credit, answered on the first ring.

Before Harry could even say ‘hello’ Draco burst out, “No! No more! I am at work for Salizar’s sake!”

Harry just laughed, “Okay, fine! I won’t send you any more selfies.”

Draco was silent for a moment, a bit of amused horror filling him. “Harry,” he said, “you didn’t send me any selfies.”

“Of course I did,” the man sounded a bit confused. “I sent you photos that I took of, you know, myself .”

Draco could practically hear the eyebrow wiggling that was sure to be going on at that moment. “Selfies are generally photos one takes of one’s face.”

It was Harry’s turn to be silent. 


“Oh,” Harry said, almost to himself, his voice sounded small. “I probably should have looked at examples of selfies before I posted all those on Facebook, huh?”

Draco ran a hand down his face, trying his best not to shout. “Probably not,” he choked out as his phone beeped and he saw another call coming in. “Hermione and I will fix this,” he reassured. “Maybe, don’t take any photos until I get back home, okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry rasped out. 

“And babe,” he added before ringing off, “just thought I’d say, nice cock.”

Chapter Text

“Percy, open up!”

The knocking--well, banging--continued.

Percy continued to sit on his sofa, clad only in a vest and pair of pants that he didn’t quite remember putting on which probably meant that he had been wearing them for several days. There was a cobweb in the far corner that he had been staring at for Merlin knew how long. The spider had long since abandoned it. Probably died of boredom , he thought before letting his mind go blank again. While he knew that the knocking was still going on, the sound had faded to something like radio static. He was tired. So very tired, but he hadn’t slept in days. Couldn’t. Maybe he never would again.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a Bombarda sent his front door flying off its hinges landing with a loud bang against the opposite wall. He stared wide-eyed as Oliver strode into the flat, repaired the door with a flick of his wand, and flopped down on the sofa beside him as though this were a normal occurrence. Percy quickly averted his eyes, seeking out the old cobweb again.

Oliver was clad in what he could only assume was Puddlemere’s training gear, looking as though he came straight from practice, not even bothering to hit the showers first. He kicked off his boots and leaned his back against the arm of the sofa, feet drawn up on the cushions. After a moment, he sighed and poked Percy’s thigh with his big toe. “You going to offer me tea or what?”

“Why?” Percy asks blandly, not bothering to react as he normally would if a man’s sweaty and smelly foot touched him.

“Because I’m your guest,” Oliver said playfully, clearly trying to lighten the mood. It wasn’t working.

Percy burrowed even further into his corner of the sofa. “By definition,” he started in a poor imitation of his normally pompous self--yes, he was self-aware enough to admit it, “a ‘guest’ is one who has been invited .”

“Yeah, and you gave me an open invitation when you moved in. So, therefore,” he grinned and pointed at himself, “guest.”

The corner of Percy’s mouth twitched briefly before it fell back into a completely neutral expression.

“Please,” Oliver begged, eyes going wide, “I just got out of training, and I’m completely parched.”

Percy glanced over and sighed. He could never refuse Oliver anything, at least not for long.

He stood and made his way to the tiny kitchen, boiling the water and measuring out the tea leaves. He went to pull out the milk from the cooling cabinet but stopped when he noticed it had gone clumpy. Not having the energy to deal with it at the moment, he left the carton where it was shutting the cabinet door behind him. They could have tea without milk. It wasn’t the end of the world.

As he moved to pour the water, Oliver came up behind him and started rummaging through the cooling cabinet. The man-made a face and discreetly vanished the milk along with the vegetables in the bottom left corner that Percy was sure had started to rot. 

“What do you have to eat?” Oliver asked, “I’m starved.”

Percy just shrugged and slid a mug over to him, not even bothering to pick up his own.

After opening every single one of the cabinets and poking his head in, Oliver muttered, “Pizza rolls and Cup O’Noodles… that’s about it. Popcorn? Percy, you hate popcorn. You don’t like that it gets stuck in your teeth.”

“I know,” Percy said quietly. “Fred liked it though, so…” he swallowed hard and stared intently into his untouched cup of tea, wishing that he could say or do something more. He couldn’t even cry. The tears had all been wrung out of him; they just wouldn’t come anymore.

In an instant, he was engulfed in strong arms and found himself breathing in the scent of grass and sweat and Oliver. He couldn’t stop the dry sob that was wrenched out of him. Oliver just held him closer. Eventually, he was led back to the sofa and pulled back into the man’s embrace. 

“I’m going to stay with you for a bit Perce. Is that alright?” he whispered.

Percy just nodded and curled into the man further, finally letting sleep overtake him.

Chapter Text

And if Remus thought the last five years had been hard… truth be told, they were nothing compared to this.

Grief and mourning had long since dulled and life marched steadily on. After James’ death, his friendship with Lily slowly began to change into something that neither of them had expected. Love. Real romantic love. They had both fought it tooth and nail, afraid they were just seeking comfort in the familiar, but, eventually, the pair came together. No one had been happier than four-year-old Harry who had insisted on being both the flower boy and ring bearer for their small back garden ceremony which Sirius had officiated.

He had thought that mourning one of his best friends had been hard. He had thought that falling in love with his friend/other best friend’s widow had been hard. He had thought that trying to defend said relationship to most of the Wizarding world had been hard. He had thought that helping parent a rambunctious mini-Marauder had been difficult. But this… dealing with a very pregnant Lily who was carrying his child--a child who would most likely have werewolf tendencies--was hard.

The pair were out for what was probably the last date night they would have before the baby arrived. They had chosen a new, trendy restaurant that had recently opened in Diagon Alley--one that Sirius had recommended after trying it with one of his dates--and were enjoying their evening out. Or at least they were until Remus accidentally fucked it all up.

While perusing the menu, he innocuous commented, “I heard that the salad is really good here.”

Lily glared at him, “Do I look like a fucking rabbit to you?”

“No,” he said quickly, a bit confused, “of course not. The other day you said that you were craving a salad—”

She cut him off angrily, “Well, that was the other day. Today , I’m craving steak.” Lily downed her mocktail and motioned for their waiter to come over. “I’d like a steak. Rare. Preferably, I’d like it to still be mooing. This one,” she waved her hand dismissively at Remus, “will be having the salad. Also, another round of drinks, please.”

Their water scurried away quickly, clearly unnerved by the tension in the air.

“Lily,” he started, “I was just—”

“Trying to tell me what to do?”

“No! I—”

She sighed heavily and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Remus. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just… Merlin, I’m so hormonal. It wasn’t this bad with Harry. These cravings are really intense and I’m just tired all the time and my back hurts.”

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Hey, it’s alright. Would you like to just get out of here? Sirius has Harry at his place for the night. I’ll draw you a bath, rub your feet, and we can just relax.”

She smiled up at him. “That sounds really nice. I do want that steak though.”

“And you shall have it,” he said, relieved that disaster had been averted.

Lily excused herself to go to the ladies, however, as soon as she stood up a horrified look crossed her face. “Remus,” she whispered, “I think my water just broke.”

In a flurry of movement, Remus tossed down enough galleons to cover their uneaten meal, pulled Lily into the floo, and headed to St Mungo’s, nervous and excited to meet their new little girl, Hope.

Chapter Text

The door to their flat swung open and a grinning Draco Malfoy sauntered in dropping a parcel wrapped in brown paper in Hermione’s lap. “Open this,” he said before placing a kiss on her cheek and sitting in his favourite wingback chair.

Her eyes lit up, “Is this—?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “Open it,” his grin turned wicked.

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself before slowly unwrapping the box to reveal a long black strapless strap-on dildo with an adjustable engorgement charm on the vaginal bulb. Her breath caught in her throat as she admired the toy. They had talked about getting one for ages, but nothing had ever quite met their criteria until that new store opened up off of Diagon Alley. The shop made custom magical sex toys and the quality was absolutely fantastic. 

The couple quickly made their way to the bedroom, divesting themselves of clothing along the way. Hermione pushed Draco down on the mattress and climbed over him, murmuring the preparation charms before taking his waiting cock into her mouth. 

“Hermione,” he moaned. “I need… I need you inside of me.”

Hermione pulled off slowly, tonguing his frenulum and licking the weeping head. She looked up at him beneath her lashes, a wicked smile playing across her lips, “Can you say please?”

Chapter Text

Ginny stood under the hot spray of the shower, alone in the locker room, wondering if it would be possible to drown herself there. As the water beat down upon her back, she cringed at the utter shit-show that had been the day’s game. After six hours of game-play, the Wasps had beaten all of the odds and caught the snitch bringing the score to 300 to 290. 

The other players had been gone for almost a quarter of an hour. She knew that she needed to head out, they had an early portkey the next morning to France for a scrimmage and she wanted to be well-rested, but she couldn’t seem to get herself to move.

"Ginny," a tentative voice called, pulling her from her thoughts. "Ginny, love, I just came to say goodbye… You played well to—"

"Bullshit!" she yelled, not bothering to leave the warmth and bit of security the shower stall provided. "You just feel bad that we lost." She sighed and leaned her head against the cool tiles.

Ginny would never admit how glad she was to hear his heavy footsteps carrying him closer and closer to her hiding place. Her eyes were closed when he opened the door and slid in behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her, not caring that he was getting his own clothing wet. 

"I am sorry that the team lost, but that doesn't mean that you didn't play well," he murmured in her ear. "You gave it your all. You were bloody brilliant."

She smiled a bit at his words and turned in his embrace. "I'm going to miss you so much this week," she whispered against his lips.

He kisses her chastely at first, letting her melt into the comfort and tranquility of their embrace, before gently brushing a hand against a nipple. He took advantage of her involuntary gasp and claimed her mouth with his tongue. 

All too soon, he broke away and with a lust-filled voice whispered, "I'm going to miss you too," before sinking to his knees.

She leaned her head and shoulders back against the shower wall and spread her legs as his mouth met her waiting quim. 

A moan escaped her lips as he worked his tongue expertly against her. He always knew just how to touch her to make her writhe with pleasure, to pick up all the pieces and make her whole. As her pleasure built she knew that she needed more. "Neville," she gasped, "Neville, please. I need you."

Chapter Text

“Booyah!” Draco yelled, throwing up his hands in celebration and adding in a little hip wiggle for good measure. The line of kids behind him groaned as he turned back to the machine, ready to level up. “What,” he asked, throwing a sneer over his shoulder, though his eyes were playful, “you jelly?”

“Come on, old man,” one of the braver kids taunted, “you’ve been at it for ages, let someone else have a turn!”

Draco just scoffed and leaned over the console, blocking out all the other electronic and humanoid sounds emanating from the arcade, focusing solely on the game in front of him. He destroyed every one of the alien ships before taking out the Boss Galaga and celebrating as he had before and geared up to take on the next level. Again, the kids groaned, a few breaking away from the group to find other games.

“Oh, I’m sorry, can you judge me harder?” Draco smirked, “Your pre-pubescent angst only fuels my superior gameplay skills.”

As he shot down more ships he felt a presence behind him. Harry’s warm hand grasped his shoulder in a companionable gesture. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Harry look!” he exclaimed excitedly, “It’s the furthest I’ve gotten in one session before.”

When Harry squinted down at the screen, Draco suppressed a chuckle and made a mental note to remind him to update the prescription for his glasses. 

“Hey, you’re on level 176, that’s awesome!”

“I know,” the man preened as he took down another Boss.

As if noticing the group of children surrounding them for the first time Harry asked, “Um, love… how long have you been playing?”

“Whole time,” Draco said, his focus entirely back on the game.

“That’s over two hours!” Harry exclaimed. “Maybe you could let someone else have a go?”

“But Harry,” he whined, “how am I supposed to get to level 255 and beat the game?”

“You do know that you can save your high score, right?” a shy voice piped up from behind them.

Draco whirled on the girl, “Talk to the hand—”

“Draco!” Harry admonished. When he tried to protest, Harry picked him up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes heading for the exit.

“But the game!” Draco wailed.

Harry gave him a teasing swat on the arse, carrying him out of the building and to the closest apparition point, only setting him down once they arrived home. “Go into the living room, I have a surprise for you.”

Draco grumbled, just trying to keep up appearances, but he was giddy at the thought of Harry having a gift for him. Sitting in front of their massive television was a brand new Nintendo with a box of games, Galaga sitting right on top. He squealed in excitement and rushed over to the console ready to play.

Harry chuckled from the doorway as he looked on at the sight before him. “Have fun,” he called, “maybe this will finally pull you from all that crap American telly.”

Draco just grinned at him, his smile offering all of the thanks he was unable to verbalize. When the upbeat music began to play from the speakers, he allowed himself to get lost in the game, filing away the thought that he would be giving Harry a thorough thank you later that evening.

Chapter Text

The autumn term of 1996 brought a wave of Muggle pop culture to the students of Hogwarts, particularly the Gryffindors. The terms "gnarly," and "as if," could be heard ringing through the common room, most of the girls had adorned their hair with sparkling butterfly clips, and a seventh year had managed to charm a Walkman to not only play but amplify an array of Muggle music. Lately, The Spice Girls and Oasis were on heavy rotation. 

Another now common occurrence was the Jinx game. Some enterprising student had found a way to actually jinx the jinxee into silence until they got the jinxer a butterbeer--the closest thing they could get to Coke. McGonagall and the other professors had tried to ban the game, but there wasn't much they could do.

One such Friday evening in mid-October found the sixth year boys studying for a Potions exam. Well, studying in the broadest sense of the term. They were really reliving Seamus' most recent explosion. 

"Well, how was I to know that adding the Unicorn hair then would cause—"

"Something the IRA would be proud of?" Dean quipped.

"Oi!" Seamus yelled, playfully punching him on the arm. "No Muggle politics. Besides, all my explosions are—"

"Accidental," they both said at the exact same time.

"Jinx! You owe me a butterbeer" Dean crowed. "Good thing it's Hogsmede tomorrow."

Seamus rolled his eyes and hid a small smile. He gathered up his books and headed upstairs, figuring that since he couldn't speak he might as well call it a night. Before he left, however, he scrawled a note on some parchment and slid it in front of Dean with a wink.

Dean could barely hide a blush. He had finally stopped reasoning away the funny little swooping sensation he felt in his stomach every time that wink was thrown his way, but he had no idea what to do about it.

Discreetly, he unfolded the parchment and read in Seamus' hopelessly messy hand: Guess this means you're just going to have to be my date tomorrow. See you at breakfast. XOXO

Chapter Text

Ginny didn’t expect Luna to be a screamer. She thought the ethereal woman would stay fairly quiet during sex, only letting out breathy moans and gasps, perhaps whispering a few words of endearment. Ginny had never been more wrong. 

The first time she placed her mouth on Luna’s wanting cunt the woman had let out a toe-curling moan and begged Ginny for more. The next hour proceeded to test the strength of their silencing charms to the extreme. The fires of Ginny’s lust were only fueled by the sounds she solicited from her lover’s mouth. She indulged her competitive streak by seeing just how many times she could bring the woman crashing over the brink, shattering her into a million pieces only to put her back together again.

Luna gave as good as she got too. Her delicate fingers were positively wicked. They somehow instinctively knew all the secret spots inside and out of Ginny’s quivering form and exactly how to manipulate them. 

Ginny had never known pleasure like this. She had never even dreamt that it was possible. Harry, Merlin bless him, had tried, but at the end of their first and last awkward coupling they had both turned to each other and blurted out, “I think I’m gay.” It was something they laughed about now, but at the moment had been absolutely terrifying. 

But here, in the newly restored Room of Requirement, Ginny had learned how to give pleasure to a woman and take her own in return. They had come together quite naturally. Their friendship had spanned almost two decades, starting before either of them could even walk. If Ginny was honest with herself, her infatuation with Luna began many years ago, it had just taken her a while to realize exactly what it was. And now they had come together--in both senses of the phrase--she felt as though a missing piece of herself had been restored. 

Lying on the plush bed that the room had provided, playing with Luna’s hair, Ginny allowed herself to feel true happiness for the first time since the war ended. Since Fred’s death. Since before her sixth year started, really. For a moment at least, the nightmares didn’t matter. The anxiety and stress were all held at bay. It wasn’t just because of the multiple orgasms either. It was because of Luna, their friendship, and the support they gave one another to face their inner demons together. 

Ginny had begun to doze when she felt a shift in the mattress. Opening her eyes, she saw Luna beside the bed, quietly putting on her eclectic wrap dress and sandals.

“Luna,” she said, her voice starting to shake. “Luna, please don’t leave me.” She looked away quickly, ashamed at the vulnerability that had just spilt forth. 

The woman stepped towards her and ran a hand through Ginny’s fiery red hair. “I don’t want to go,” she said in her willowy voice, “and I will never leave you, love. But we missed dinner and you’ll be a right boar when you wake up if you haven’t eaten. I’m just headed to the kitchens.” She placed a kiss on Ginny’s brow. “Rest now. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Ginny nodded and relaxed back into the blankets, cocooning herself in their warmth. They smelled of sex and Luna, and probably her as well. She closed her eyes and allowed the calming fragrance to envelop her and gently drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Lily!” James called out desperately as Sirius dragged him by the collar into their shared dorm room. “Babe, I’m sorry!”

Sirius slammed the door behind him. “Seriously, Prongs! What the fuck?”

Remus sat on his bed, back to the headboard. He had been stuffing his mouth full of chocolate while reading over his Defence text but was now staring wide-eyed at the spectacle in front of him. The boys clearly hadn’t noticed him yet. He had no idea what James could have done to anger both Lily and Sirius at the same time. James’ and Lily’s relationship had taken off like a shot once they finally came together, and the couple was rarely known to fight. 

Remus briefly considered making his presence known or Disillusioning himself and sneaking out. However, the pure entertainment value of a row between Padfoot and Prongs rooted him to the spot. Besides, he had enough chocolate for the show.

“Pads, you know I didn’t mean to—” James whined.

“Your dad and grandad were both potioneers. You know better!”

“Well, if Snivellus hadn’t—”

“Merlin’s saggy tits, I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Sirius mutters. “You promised to stop antagonizing him!”

Damn , Remus thought, never thought I’d see Pads being the reasonable one.

“--around Lily,” he adds. 

There we go.

James looked affronted. “Well I couldn’t very well let him sit there and keep saying all that shit about—”

“We would have gotten him for it later,” Sirius retorted. “And not at the price of my Sex Pistols shirt!” He ripped the shirt over his head and shook it in James’ face, a massive hole in front now evident.

Remus allowed his eyes to roam over the wide expanse of Sirius’ back: firm, and solid, and oh so perfectly tattooed. He imagined licking melted chocolate off the man’s trapezius and the dimples of Venus that were peaking out from those oh so skinny trousers so tantalizingly. His mouth ran dry at the thought, and he could feel his trousers grow tighter. This crush he’s had on Sirius has started to get a bit out of hand. 

He was pretty sure that most people didn’t fantasize about their best friend during their morning wank. Remus can’t really help it though. Even before he knew what he was feeling, he had been drawn to Sirius. Sirius was his best friend. His person. The two were constantly drawn together. Remus was the moon, and Sirius was the stars. They just fit together. But he would never say anything. Their friendship was much too important to him. Besides, Sirius heart-on-my-sleeve Black had never given an indication that he wanted anything more--at least, none that Remus was aware of.

“It’s just a shirt, Pads—”

Oh shit!

James immediately realized his mistake. “I’ll get you another! I swear!” 

But Sirius wasn’t listening. He changed into Padfood on the spot and started growling, hackles raised.

James held up his hands in supplication. “I’m sorry!” he yelped as Padfoot snapped at his legs. He very wisely turned tail and fled the room.

Padfoot chased him to the door before shifting back and yelling down the stairwell, “Suck my arse!” before slamming the door.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Sirius looked up, startled, and met Remus’ eyes. “What?”

Remus paled. Did I say that out loud? “Hmm?”

Still shirtless, Sirius walked over to the edge of the bed. “What did you just say?”

Remus was sure that Sirius could hear his heart thundering in his chest. His face had grown hot and he was sure that he was blushing;he forced himself to maintain eye contact. He had already let it slip. He might as well go all in. “Um… I said, ‘don’t mind if I do’.”

He heard Sirius’s breath catch. “Really?” The man asked, almost shyly.

“Really,” he nodded.

The next thing he knew, Sirius was astride his lap, brushing an errant curl away from his face before placing a tender kiss on his lips. “Moony,” he moaned into the kiss, “you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say something like that.”

Chapter Text

A high-pitched shriek could be heard from the opposite end of the house followed by a cacophony of child-sized feet speeding down the stairs and into the kitchen. Harry and Ginny hadn’t been gone for more than half an hour and already the Potter children had turned into little heathens. 

Teddy hastily closed the oven, shutting in the casserole Harry had left for them, and making sure the timer was set. Not a moment later, he was nearly taken out at the knees by seven-year-old Lily who clung to him for dear life as her brothers slid into the kitchen behind her on socked feet.

“Hey,” he called out, trying to calm the situation. He bent down to Lily’s eye level and tucked a wild auburn lock of hair behind her ear. “What happened?”

James and Albus’ yelling was indistinguishable as each boy’s words ran over the other’s. Teddy held out a hand to silence them.

“Lils,” he said calmly, forcing eye contact with the girl, “can you tell me what happened?”

She sniffled a few times. He could tell that tears were not imminent, but she was clearly upset. “J-jamie and Al said...they said that my tea party was stupid and then...then they pulled my hair.” She threw her still chubby arms around Teddy’s neck and buried her face in his shirt.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!” James accused as he crossed his arms across his chest as if trying to protect himself. Albus followed suit a few moments later, but there was a guilty look on his face. 

“Seriously,” Teddy said, a bright blue eyebrow quirked, “you’re worse than a kid.”

“I am a kid,” James said scandalized. 

“A kid who is going away to Hogwarts in a month,” he retorted. Teddy gave Lily one last squeeze before standing up and taking her hand. “You won’t get into your lion house if you keep being a tit to your sister,” he teased.

James scoffed, “As if I would be caught dead housed anywhere but Gryffindor.”

Teddy rolled his eyes and waved the boys off to play. Turning to Lily he said, “Dinner’s not for another half hour. May I join your tea party?”

The little girl’s face positively beamed up at him. “Sure, but you have to wear a tiara.”

“Anything for my favourite little witch,” he smiled and followed the girl up to the playroom to, no doubt, have the best imaginary tea party in existence.

Chapter Text

“Lils!” James called from the garage. “What’s this?”

“What’s what, James?” she called as she poked her head through the door.

James smiled fondly at the witch in front of him. Lily's fiery red hair had started slipping out of its ponytail, the loose tendrils framed her face beautifully. Her bright eyes lacked their usual sparkle and his heart ached for her. He couldn't imagine the pain of losing both parents and being kicked out of her childhood home. The little respect he had held for Petunia evaporated the moment that vial woman insisted she clear out all her belongings within the week. 

Marauders and Co.--Lily's dorm mates—all banded together to help gather her things and anything of her parents that Petunia hadn't sold off yet. Everything was set to be moved to James' family home in Godric's Hollow later that day. His mother had already started converting the guest room into Lily's bedroom. 

Tearing himself away from his thoughts, he gestured to the thing against the wall. It looked like a much thinner and less powerful version of Sirius' motorbike. "What's that?"

Lily quirked an eyebrow, "Do you mean the bicycle?”

"Is that what it's called?" he asked. "How does it work?"

"You don't know how to ride a bike?" she whispered incredulously.

He shook his head."No, why would I? And why are we whispering?" 

"You ride with Sirius all the time. Hell, you fly a broom better than anyone—"

He preened at the praise.

"How do you not know how to ride a bike?" she asked.

James shrugged. "Muggle thing. Never got the chance to try." After a pause, he added, "Do you know how?"

"Of course," she nods, "it's a right of passage for most Muggles."

Impulsively, he demands, "Teach me!”

"What?" she asks, a small smile playing on her lips. It's the first one he's seen from her in days. 

"Teach me how to ride," he smirks. "Unless you're chicken."

Just for a moment, James sees the spark return to her eyes and feels that faint crackle of magic he's come to associate with a determined Lily and it excites him.

"Oh, you're on Potter!"

Chapter Text

" Incendio ," Remus growled, setting the crumpled up parchment in front of him on fire. 

Without missing a beat, Sirius flicked his wand, sending the burning essay into the common room fireplace and slid a fresh cup of tea in front of his boyfriend. Remus grunted his thanks and took a large swig before pulling out another roll of parchment.

"You alright there, Moony?" Peter asked nervously.

Remus glared at him across the table and said through gritted teeth, "I would be if somebody hadn't released a cage of Doxies in the library. I needed that book on the Second Goblin Rebellion. How am I supposed to—"

"Just use the textbook like the rest of us," Peter laughed. "You don't have to be such a bloody swoot."

Remus' eyes flashed amber, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" he snarled.

James and Sirius exchanged a slightly panicked look.

"Hey, Pete," James jumped in quickly, "come help me get snacks from the kitchen!”

But Peter, the idiot, wasn't listening. He had always been a bit thick, but something had happened during Easter hols the previous year and Peter had turned a bit cruel. James was convinced that it was just a phase. Like most angsty teen boys, they had all gone through an angry period. Sirius wasn't so sure but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, until now.

"Is it that time of the month?” the boy quipped, clearly not able to read the room.

The common room went deathly silent. Sirius was certain that he was standing in the calm at the eye of a storm.

“Peter," Remus said in a terrifyingly calm voice, "You literally ask me that whenever I'm mad at you. Do you not understand how insulting that is, not only to me but to every woman?"

The boy gave him a puzzled look, "Every woman isn't a werewolf, Moony. Why would that offend them?"

"You know," Sirius whispered, "once a month girls…" he waved a hand as if to fill in the rest.

"Girls what?" James asked innocently.

"Merlin's saggy tit," Sirius exclaimed at the pair. "You two have had girlfriends! How is it that the gay couple knows more about the female anatomy?" He turned to Remus, "Are we the only ones who paid attention to Poppy's sex-ed classes in third year?"

"Apparently," Remus drawled. 

Wanting to defuse the situation, Sirius stood and grabbed Remus' hand. "Come on, I've got some chocolate frogs up in the room. And maybe we could try that thing you mentioned…"

The tips of Remus' ears flushed pink. With a flick of his wand, all his schoolwork neatly flew into his bag, and he practically ran up the dormitory stairs dragging Sirius behind him.

"Might want to give us a few hours, mates!" Sirius called to the boys behind him.

James and Peter sat at the table, staring awkwardly at their homework. 

After a moment, Peter called out to the girls by the fire, "Hey Mary, do girls have a 'time of the month'?"

James groaned and buried his face in his hands, wondering why on earth he had failed to be carrying around the cloak.

Chapter Text

“We’re going downtown,” Pansy said to the Muggle cab driver, as the three of them crammed inside the death trap that was to be their means of transportation that evening. 

Blaise didn’t catch the name of the place and didn’t much care. They were just slightly terrified of getting out of the house. Of being around other people again. Draco and Pansy had nearly dragged them out of the house on what would have been week twelve of what their friends were now calling “Blaise’s Big Queer Breakup of 2003.” 

Adrian had appeared to be an amazing partner--doting, caring, generous, and oh so fit. Unfortunately, Adrian had also been a lying sack of shit who not only attempted to embezzle money from Gringotts but was also cheating on Blaise with some Curse-Breaker from Australia. 

Blaise had, understandably, been devastated, and their friends had been very supportive but they made it clear that Adrian had not been worth a twelve-week “mourning period” and that it was time for them to get back out there.

“Why are we going downtown in Muggle London?” they asked, desperately hoping their voice didn’t betray the roiling mess of nerves they felt--like a mass of vipers in their belly.

Draco wiggled his eyebrows, “There’s a strip club downtown.”

“What?” they nearly squeaked. “I don’t think—”

“Relax, love,” Pansy squeezed their upper thigh. “It’s all Muggle, I swear. We won’t see anyone we know. I’ve been a few times. They have a good mix of dancers of most genders. Besides, a strip club is a much better ‘first outing’ after a breakup than a club. There is literally no pressure. You give money to people you think are hot and dance well, no touching, and no one’s going to try and chat you up.”

When she noticed them still looking anxious, she levelled them with one of her famous—and quite terrifying--stares. “I did not Portkey all the way from Milan a few days before Fashion Week, get you all dolled up like some gorgeous sex deity just for you to chicken out at the last second. So put on your big kid pants and get over it, because we’re here.”

Draco nudged Blaise out of the cab and ushered them through the entrance with a hand to the small of their back. “We just want you to be happy, mate. It’s not good for you to wallow, especially for that long.”

Blaise just nodded in agreement. They were so nervous that they barely registered walking into the anteroom of the darkened club. However, once the trio entered the main room, all apprehension melted away with the beat of the music and the coloured lights. Dancers undulated on the various stages, scantily clad servers sauntered around the floors offering body shots. 

They allowed themselves to be pulled along from stage to stage, to appreciate the beauty and skill of each performance, to lose themselves in the freedom of openly expressed and celebrated sexuality. 

Eventually, Pansy led them to a private room on the far side of the club. “I’ve booked you a lapdance with their best,” she grinned wickedly before slipping out of the room.

Blaise felt the metaphorical vipers writhe again, not entirely sure if they were prepared for such an experience, but Pansy had already paid. Worst case scenario, they could just tell the dancer ‘no thank you’. They closed their eyes and breathed the way that the Mind Healer had shown them, preparing for whatever was to come.

Nothing, however, could have prepared Blaise for who walked into the room next. Out of all of the people in all the world, Blaise never would have thought that the man they had fancied all through Hogwarts, and still made regular appearances in their dreams, the one person who had never given them a second look and they knew would never care for them in return, simply because of who they were, would be standing in front of them wearing only gold hotpants that Blaise was sure had been painted on.

“Blaise?” the god among men whispered, his brown eyes widening in surprise.


Chapter Text

Blaise’s breath caught in their throat. How could it not when the absolute vision that was Dean Thomas stood in front of them looking like that . Sweet mother of Merlin. Damn.

Dean quirked a smile, “Really now?”

They stifled a cringe but couldn’t help the blush that crept across their face. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Well, you probably shouldn’t be saying it aloud then,” he teased.

“Sorry, I just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean shrugged. “So, you paid for a lap dance…”

If it were possible, Blaise flushed even harder. “No, Pansy and Draco did. I didn’t even know…I just went through a breakup and they were tired of me being a sad sod, so…” they admitted. “You don’t have to— I would have rather just had a quiet night. I’m just going to go.” They made as if to stand, not quite sure where to look.

“Hey,” Dean said, reaching out to grab their hand, “Look, they’ve already paid for the dance. Do you wanna just hang out for a bit?”

“How long is that?”

“About five minutes.”

Blaise looked down at their hands nervously, “Would you mind sitting with me?”

Dean nodded.

The music swirled around them. The pulse of the club raging on as the two sat together in silence. Blaise had felt alone for so long. Even that night with Pansy and Draco. The two were such good friends and meant well, but didn’t understand what Blaise was going through. Somehow, sitting in a small private room with Dean Thomas, not even saying a word, they felt content, at peace, and something told them that Dean felt it as well.

“Thank you,” they whispered after the song ended.

“Of course,” Dean smiled and walked them to the door. Before letting Blaise go though, he said, “Do you want to go get coffee later? My shift ends in an hour. There’s a pretty good diner not too far. We could just sit and talk.”

Blaise smiled genuinely for the first time in weeks. “I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

“It’s fucking freezing!” Fred exclaimed as he rushed into the cabin. Thankfully there were already dry logs in the fireplace,  all he had to do was throw a quick Incindio and warmth quickly engulfed the room. 

“It’s nice though, right?” Harry asked, shutting the door behind him. “The perfect place to get away from it all for a while.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Fred chuckled. 

Fred had been in a funk for weeks. The Mind Healer said that he suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress. Fred was sure that a lot of people did, especially those who had fought in that final battle, but everyone else seemed to have it all together. The nightmares and inability to sleep felt par for the course, but no one else seemed to have emotional outbursts or feel like they had to constantly be on guard. He felt as though he always had to be “on” when around others. They expected him to be happy and constantly joking around, so he delivered. But when he was alone, he just felt numb. Fred hid it well though; even George was fooled, but not Harry. 

Harry had been the one to notice, to see beyond the veneer. He cut through all the bullshit and practically dragged Fred to a support group for wix dealing with the aftermath of the war. Fred had been reluctant at first but slowly came to enjoy the meetings, learning tools to deal with his trauma, and finding the beginnings of normalcy.

The last few weeks, however, had been hell. Fred wasn’t sure exactly what triggered it, but it felt as though something inside of him had been severed. That something being whatever it was that processed emotions. Everything had been going so well and then--BAM--he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. All he wanted was to feel something again. Anything. He lost himself inside his mind fixating on ways to feel. Even if it was painful. He just needed that reassurance that the numbness was temporary. That he was, in fact, still alive.

Thin vertical scars covered his hips. They were easy to hide, but he had let them scar as a reminder, as proof that he could feel. He wondered if by taking a vegetable peeler to his skin he could strip away the layers upon layers of dullness, of isolation, of fear and dread. 

It wasn’t until he was standing over a hot cauldron contemplating pressing his forearm against the outside that he knew he needed help. 

Harry had come over immediately. He didn’t judge. He didn’t pity. He just sat with Fred, made sure Fred was safe, and listened when Fred was ready to talk.

While the intrusive thoughts steadily became less prominent in his mind, Fred still felt adrift-- unmoored. Harry seemed to sense it and had planned for a change in scenery. Some time away from it all where they could just be. No expectations. 

A few months after the war, Harry had purchased a small cabin on one of the uninhabited islands of the Hebrides. The man had been so bombarded with the press and adoring fans that he needed a place to retreat. It really was perfect, except for it being the middle of January and positively frigid.

Fred rested his socked feet in front of the fire, massaging them to try to get the blood flowing. “I’ve got a thick pair of socks, a warming charm, and I’m in front of the fire and my feet are still bloody frozen.”

Harry laughed while unpacking the bag of groceries. “I’ve got a few socks with warming charms knitted in. Top drawer of the wardrobe in the back bedroom.”

Fred leapt up and practically ran out of the room in search of his prize. 

“Um, Harry…” Fred said as he emerged from the hallway.

“Yeah?” Harry had his back to the man as he laid out ingredients for their dinner.

“What the fuck is this?”

Harry turned around. His curious look turned to one of pure embarrassment at the sight of the large knitted item in Fred’s hands.

“It’s not mine, I swear!” he choked out. 

“How is it not fucking yours?" Fred asked, “It was in your socks and pants drawer and it’s not the only one.” 

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words came out.

“Is this what I think it is?” Fred cracked a grin.

“I don’t know, depends on what you think it is.”

“What I think it is,” said Fred, “is a willy warmer knit to look like a stag.”

“Then you would be right,” Harry mumbled.

“Why do you have at least half a dozen willy warmers all made to look like animals?”

Harry blushed furiously and avoided eye contact, “An ex got me one as a laugh, but then…well, I like them. They’re fun.”

Fred nodded and took a closer look at the dick sock made to look like a stag, antlers and all. It suddenly occurred to him just how large the garment was. His mouth ran dry at the thought of how large Harry must be to be able to properly fill it out.

“Are these made to order?” he asked.

Harry seemed to have picked up on the shift in mood. Fred caught a predatory glint in the man’s eye and swallowed audibly. 

“Of course,” Harry said. “Why? Would you like me to model them for you?”

Chapter Text

Hermione stood in front of the lavatory staring at the wad of gauze wrapped inexpertly around her finger. One of the Ridgebacks had gotten agitated and attacked one of the younger dragons sharing its enclosure. Not a moment after the tamers had secured the Ridgeback, Hermione dashed to the injured creature and began tending its wounds. However, the stunning spells the tamers had sent its way weren’t enough. The panicked dragon lashed out, nearly slicing off the first finger of her right hand with a razor-sharp talon before it was rendered unconscious. 

The only thing available to staunch the flow of her blood was a woven gauze which was not ideal, but needs must. One of the tamers in training grabbed the roll and quickly wrapped it for her while she tended to the beast. She was now regretting letting them do it for her. 

The gauze was made specifically for dragons, a loosely woven mesh that magically adhered to their rough flesh and could not be easily removed or simply vanished. She was able to release the binding with a spell, but loosening the bandaging was not what gave her pause. A large chunk of flesh had been lost, she had been cut down to the tendons. As it was a magical wound, there wasn’t much she could do about the lost skin, but the damaged tendons could be repaired once the skin healed on its own. Yes, it would scar. It would just be another to add to her collection. Proof that she faced down a dragon and lived. However, the loose weave of the gauze had stuck to the open wound and wasn’t going anywhere easily.

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply before meeting her own gaze in the mirror. “Alright, Granger,” she said aloud, “this is going to suck. It’s going to fucking hurt, but you survived the Cruciatus, this should be easy.”

She looked back down at her finger, grasped the gauze with her left hand and paused. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Just take it off,” she huffed at herself, yet she still could not make herself remove the bandage.

“Come on, Granger, just close your eyes and do it. Rip it off like a plaster.”

Her breathing quickened as she gave the gauze a light tug. It held fast to the wound and caused a small jolt of pain to run through her hand. She stifled a whimper and began to talk herself up again.

“Do it already. Are you a wimp? Do you need to get Charlie in here to rip it off for you with his big man hands?”

“Rip what off with my ‘big man hands’?” Charlie asked as he leaned against the doorframe.

Hermione shrieked in surprise, “When did—”

He chuckled, “I went to get you some better gauze. You forgot to lock your door, so I just let myself in.”

Hermione flushed. “Um…thanks.”

“Here,” he said, taking her right hand, “let me see.” He frowned at the finger. “Parsons’ shit at healing. We’ll have to send him for additional training.”

“It’s not his fault,” she defended. “It’s all that was available and—”

“Still could have wrapped it better,” he said. “Do you want me to remove it then redress the cut for you?”

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. She immediately lost herself in the cobalt blue of his irises. In those eyes, she saw a great many things: kindness, concern, care, and… She felt as though all the air had been sucked from the room. His face was so open, so genuine, but could she trust that it wasn’t just wishful thinking that she had seen something that felt a whole lot like love.

“Hermione,” he repeated, hand hovering over the gauze, “would you like me to take care of this for you?”

All she could do was nod and wonder when they had moved so close to one another. 

“You ready?” he whispered.

She squeezed her eyes shut, not able to make herself look.

“Would you like a distraction?”

She nodded, still unable to look.

Suddenly, warm full lips were pressed against hers, capturing her in a languid kiss. His firm hand quickly removed the gauze and a moment later he released her lips as well. He performed a cleaning charm and wrapped her finger back up in the better material, placing a delicate kiss on the tip when done. “All better,” he whispered.

Hermione met his gaze again and smiled. “All better,” she whispered before caressing his cheek and pulling him down for another kiss, one that was much more heated than the first.

Chapter Text

Ron was grumbling to himself as he stepped off the ladder. He was hot. His face and body were covered in sweat and partially composted leaves. He had promised Hermione that he would clean out the gutters at the end of last autumn. Now, it was almost June and little plants had started to take root, one looking suspiciously like a tree. A huge storm system was predicted to come through the area and span several days. It had become painfully obvious that something needed to be done about the gutters, now.

As Ron walked back into the house, he wiped his face with the hem of his shirt and made his way to the fridge for a well-deserved beer.

“Is it done?” Hermione’s voice called from the study.

“Yeah, I’ve just got to—”

“Ronald,” she huffed, walking into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “I told you—

He rolled his eyes but smiled at his wife affectionately. “It’s done. I just have to put the ladder and trowel away which I will do after I finish my beer.”

She sighed, “I know, but this would have been so much easier if you had just done it in November when I asked you to, or the five times after that. Clogged gutters can cause all sorts of issues for a— Hey!” she shrieked.

Ron had picked her up and thrown her over his shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Quit nagging, woman,” he laughed and lightly swatted her on the arse while making his way to their room.

“Ronald Billius Weasley, put me down this instant!” She ineffectually beat her fists against his broad back.

“As you wish.” He dropped her onto the bed and crawled between her thighs, stripping himself of his shirt as he went.

Hermione’s face heated, “Ron, you’re filthy. I just changed the sheets.”

He gave a low chuckle and leant down kissing a trail from that spot behind her ear and down the column of her throat. “So I’ll change them after,” he murmured against her clavicle as he unbuttoned her shirt slowly revealing her breasts. “Besides,” he said, moving to divest her of the dress completely. “I worked up quite an appetite out there. It’s only right that I satiate that hunger.”

Without another word, he pushed her thin lace knickers to the side and began lapping at her centre. She moaned and pulled at his hair sending a jolt of further arousal to his already hardened cock. 

He playfully nipped at the juncture of her hip and thigh before looking up at her from beneath his lashes. “Let’s see just how filthy we can make these sheets. Shall we?”

Chapter Text

got one for you

Oh god.

Alright, lay it on me.


Boo? Like a ghost?


What the fuck?

bell used it to refer to weasley during practice

Which Weasley?


you know they’re an item now


yeah, took them long enough

It won’t last though. He’s going to end up with Johnson.

fred’s girlfriend? 

that’s just weird

Oh, didn’t you hear? They broke up ages ago. Better off as friends. I give this thing between him and Bell six months at most. He’ll be with Johnson by the end of his final year.

care to make it interesting?


£5 says George and Angelina will be together by their graduation.

you’re on

So, what does it mean?



oh, it’s a way of referring to your significant other

Use it in a sentence.

minnie, you’re my boo

So it’s like a substitute for ‘love’ or ‘babe’?


you are, you know

I am what?

you’re my boo


You’re my boo, too.

Chapter Text

The world swirled in and out of focus around him. He could hear someone speaking but couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Slowly, the blobs around him started to take shape. Well, as much shape as he could make out without his glasses.

"Oh, good, he's coming 'round," a voice he didn't recognize said.

Someone grabbed his hand. It felt familiar. Soft and cool to the touch. Draco.

"Potter? Oh, thank Merlin," Harry heard him say.

The other voice started droning on about...something. Harry wasn't quite sure what. The violently lime green colour of the man's robes was horribly distracting and the man sounded an awful lot like Professor Binns. 

Harry briefly wondered how the ghost could be wearing those hideous healer robes but his attention was pulled away by the divine feeling of Draco's fingers playing with his hair.

"Hey, hot stuff," Harry said in his best flirtatious voice. "Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Draco rolled his eyes and looked to the healer. "How much pain relief potion is he on?"

The healer said...something. Harry wasn't sure. He was too busy ogling his boyfriend. His extremely fit and well-hung boyfriend who he hoped was here to shag him into the mattress.

"Can you give us a moment?" Draco asked the healer.

After the door clicked shut Draco turned to him. "Harry—"

Harry's face lit up and he tried with little success to pull Draco into the bed. "Come on, he's gone. If we're quick we can try that thing I found in the sex magic book Hermione lent us!”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. " Harry," he gritted out, "you have been unconscious in hospital for three days. You followed a suspect into a Death Eater safehouse without backup. You got yourself blown up. Again."

"Yeah, but I got the bad guys."

Draco stifled a cry of frustration before gently laying his head on the pillow beside Harry. "Please," he whispered in earnest, "don't you ever do that again! You scared the shit out of me. I know you're The Boy Who Lived and all that rot, but please don't do that again. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Harry reached up slowly and cupped Draco's face. "Promise. I'll do anything to make sure you're happy."

"Anything?" Draco chuckled. "I'll have to remind you of that when you're not loopy as shit."

"Oh, I'm not loopy," Harry grinned.

"Whatever you say, love."

Chapter Text


“Filth! Blood Traitors! Stain on the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!”

“And good afternoon to you too, Aunt Walburga,” Tonks greeted cheerfully as she picked herself back up off the floor. A quick glance around the hallway showed that she had taken that ugly green vase with her when she stumbled over the umbrella stand shaped like a troll’s foot.


She looked up to see Sirius and a tall tawny-haired man rushing down the stairs.

“Hey, cuz!” she called. “Sorry about the broken vase, I’ll repair it.” 

“Stains of dishonour, bringing shame on the house of my fathers!”

"You broke what?!?” he asked over the shouting of his mother’s portrait.

With a grin and a flick of her wand, the vase repaired itself and she held it out to him.

Sirius laughed, “Broke her favourite Ming Dynasty vase. No wonder she’s in a snit.” With a shrug to his friend who was desperately trying to silence the portrait. Sirius turned and sauntered toward the kitchen, “Going to make tea for everyone. Tonks, do whatever you want with that piece of shit.”

“Merlin, her squawking is annoying,” she mused. 

The man looked over apologetically and she finally got a good look at him. He was tall--taller even than Sirius--lanky, but even beneath the tweedy jacket with elbow patches, she could tell he was strong. The scars on his face spoke of danger, but his amber eyes were kind and drew her in and she was suddenly flooded with a pool of desire, and the streaks of grey in his hair were doing things for her. She could feel her hair shifting from its usual violet to bubblegum pink. Oh, she was absolutely done for. 

When the portrait continued to throw slurs, Tonks transfigured the vase into heavy curtains and tossed one end to the man. “Help me put them over her frame like you would to an annoying bird.”

The man chuckled and helped her spell them into place, drowning out its final screams of “Mutant spawn of Blood Traitor and Mudblood! Freak! Half-breeds! Scum!”

“You alright?” he asked once the hall was silent.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay. I’ve had much worse.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Never met the bitch while she was alive,” Tonks grinned, “but even though the portrait isn’t a Dorian Grey, she’s certainly ugly enough for it to be mistaken as one.”

The laugh that burst from the man’s mouth was low and so full of joy that it completely transformed his face. The warm feeling rushed back into her, low in her belly, and she longed to simply jump the man and snog him senseless. 

Instead, she reached out her hand, “I’m Tonks, Sirius’ cousin.”

He smiled and grasped her hand. It was large, warm and calloused and she could easily imagine it caressing her body, bringing her pleasure again and again. “Remus Lupin,” he said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

They stood, hands clasped, for just a beat too long to be considered polite, both losing themselves in each other’s eyes.

“Teatime!” Sirius’ sing-song voice calling up from the kitchen, breaking the spell.

“After you,” Remus murmured, ushering her down the stairs ahead of him.

She grinned to herself, allowing her hips to sway a bit as she walked, knowing his eyes were on her. Even if nothing came of it--and she prayed to any deity that might be listening that something would--their brief interaction would fuel many, many fantasies. And she hoped that by the end of the night, she would be fueling many of his.

Chapter Text

Ted checked his watch. He was still a bit early, but it was bloody freezing. He stood on the street, eyes fixed on the doors to the Acropolis style building where the reception of a Pure Blood wedding raged. As a Muggle Born, he had not been invited, at least not to this wedding. Even if he had, he would have gladly declined. The only reason he was here now was because he was waiting for her. 

As if summoned, the doors opened and the absolute vision that was Andromeda Black glided down the stairs, stopping a few steps from the bottom so they were eye-level. 

“You came,” she breathed, a puff of white lingering in the air, the only reminder Ted registered that he had been freezing his bollocks off only moments before.

Usually, when it came to formal events in the Wizarding World, Andromeda was fairly buttoned up. Her robes were almost always Victorian in nature--as dictated by her stern mother. But tonight, tonight she stood before him in a long, form-fitting black dress, the train pooling at her feet. While the neckline was modest, it was completely sleeveless.

She gave him a coy smile, noticing his eyes taking her in, and slowly turned on the spot to give him the full view. At the sight of her back, Ted’s heart skipped a beat. The dress was backless, save for a large golden snake with emerald eyes that looked as though it had slithered up her spine. The serpent was held in place with thin golden chains that attached it to the dress.

His breath caught in his throat and the smirk she had thrown his way was doing things to his insides. She didn’t always outwardly embrace her Slytherin traits, but tonight, she looked as though Circe herself had sprung forth. 

“Why’re you dressed like that?” he asked breathlessly. “You must be freezing.” He hurriedly transfigured his scarf into a long Muggle women's overcoat and helped her into it. 

“Does that mean it looks good or should I change?” she asked, voice sharp, but eyes alight with humour.

“Good. Very good,” he insisted.

“My sister went a little more risque with the bridesmaid’s dresses. Will this be alright for the art gallery?”

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he murmured in her ear, brushing the lightest of kisses to her cheek before taking her hand and disapparating away.

Chapter Text

The shrill tones of their alarm clock pierced through the quiet of their bedroom. Dean cursed under his breath as his lover stirred and shut off the offending device. He hadn’t meant to be awake before the alarm, but a particularly bad nightmare about the war had woken him around five and he hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. As was his ritual, whenever Dean couldn’t sleep, he pulled out a sketchpad and began to draw. Usually, it was objects in the room: his wand on the bedside table, the lamp with the green glass shade on the desk, the ivy that was planted in a box just outside the window. However, when he was really troubled, he drew Seamus.

Dean had notebooks filled only with images of the man. Sometimes it was his full person, but other times, like today, it was just a part of him: his hands, his feet, his eyes. Today, Dean had been focusing on the man’s lips; plump and full, a dusky pink cupid’s bow that matched his cock so nicely. 

Seamus stretched, letting out a jaw cracking yawn, and noticing the sketchpad smiled up at Dean. “Mornin’ love. What are we drawing today?”

 “You,” Dean blushed crimson. “I’m almost done. Lie back and let me finish, yeah?” He pushed at his boyfriend’s shoulder and went back to his drawing.

“Not even a good mornin’ kiss?” Seamus pouted playfully, sticking out his lower lip.

He laughed, “Can you stop being so bloody cute so I can concentrate?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll amuse myself and you can just do what you have to do.” Seamus shot him a wicked grin trailing a hand along a pale chest and underneath the covers. 

Dean sat frozen and watched as his lover’s lips parted in a pleasurable gasp as hand met cock. His hand stroked slowly up and down before coming back from under the blankets. Seamus looked into Dean’s eyes, brought it up to his mouth and licked his hand slowly, laving at it like he would an ice lolly. 

As Seamus moved his hand back down to his waiting cock he smirked, “What? Thought you had a sketch to finish.”  

Dean felt all the blood in his body rushing south. He quickly closed the sketchbook, tossed it to the side, and moved to bat Seamus’ hands away. Who needed a sketch when the man was right in front of him just waiting to be devoured?

Chapter Text

“...then I picked up your coffee by mistake,” the man drawled, somehow looking down his nose at Remus even though he was much shorter. “I guess they can make you another.” The man snapped his fingers at the young barista. “You there—”

“Bridget,” the giggling girl supplied. She was practically salivating over the man. Sure, he was aesthetically pleasing, golden hair, charming smile, but Remus could tell right away that he was a smarmy bastard.

“Bridget,” the man simpered, “would you be a dear and remake this man’s coffee?”

“Latte with almond milk,” Remus supplied.

The girl looked a bit embarrassed, “Just used the last of it in that one, sorry. We have soy and cow’s milk.”

“Allergic to both,” Remus groaned. 

“Oh, tough luck, man,” the coffee thief said, taking out an honest-to-god money clip and handing him a tenner. “Maybe the Pret downtown has that faux milk. Ciao!” 

Remus just stood there stunned as the man flounced away. All I wanted was an apology , he thought staring down at the money. He needed caffeine. Needed it. After having worked a double shift the day before, he pulled an all-nighter to finish a thirty page paper on Proust. If he was going to stay awake until he got out of classes, he needed his almond milk latte. 

He whipped out his phone and found there was another coffee shop not too far from campus. It was on a sidestreet he’d never had reason to go down before, but it wasn’t a chain and the website said they had vegan options, so he figured that he might as well try it and the cash that the latte thief gave him would also cover a pastry. Remus hoped they had chocolate croissants.

A few minutes later found Remus entering Padfoot & Prongs Coffee, a shop that had clearly been renovated from a former garage. The owners had seemed to embrace the theme, decorating the inside with antique car parts, vintage ads for motor oil and equipment. Remus had obviously missed the morning rush, but several tables were occupied and the smell of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air. What caught his attention, however, was the man standing behind the counter. 

The man was beautiful. Tall and broad-chested. His sleeveless Queen t-shirt showed off well-toned arms and hinted at fantastic pecs. His jet black hair was pulled up in a messy bun and just begged to be released from its tie so it could cascade down the man’s shoulders. But his eyes...Remus found himself enraptured by piercing grey eyes that he knew he could drown in.

“Hey, mate, what can I do you for?” The low gravelly voice caused a coil of desire to tighten in Remus’ abdomen. 

“Um…” he stuttered, “you wouldn’t by chance be able to make a latte with almond milk?”

The man grinned and Remus felt his knees go weak. “Sure thing. You look like you’ve had a rough morning. Want a chocolate croissant while you wait? I just pulled them out of the oven.”

Remus nodded. Marry me , he thought. The man grinned again and slid a fresh pastry onto a plate, indicating for Remus to grab a table. 

The first bite of the flakey, buttery, chocolaty confection had Remus stifling a moan. It may have been the exhaustion talking, but he was one hundred per cent certain that this was the single most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life.

The hot barista dropped off a mug so large Remus thought he could have drowned himself in and threw him a wink before heading back to the counter. Remus flushed and brought the latte to his mouth. He had thought too soon. This latte was the nectar of the gods. There was no way something that good could be legal. 

Something white on the table caught his eye. A piece of receipt paper had been placed under his mug. On it, in an elegant cursive script was written: 

Hi, I’m Sirius

07123 555555


Remus felt his whole body warm as a smile spread across his face. He sent a silent ‘thank you’ to the latte thief in Pret. Today was going to be a good day.

Chapter Text

“Prongs! Prongs! Prongs! Prongs! Prongs!” Sirius nearly shouted as he rushed into the tiny kitchen of Padfoot & Prongs Coffee, having shucked his cool demeanour as soon as the swinging door shut. He grabbed his best friend around the middle and spun the taller man around in a circle.

“Ugh, get off. Don’t touch me. I’m trying to ice some buns!” James complained, but his hazel eyes shone with amusement. “The fuck’s gotten into you?”

Sirius groaned and set him back down but couldn’t rid himself of the dopey grin plastered across his face. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but his excitement got the better of him and he began bouncing on the balls of his feet. “My soulmate is drinking an almond milk latte at table seven.” 

James rolled his eyes. “Pads, you can’t possibly know that this bloke’s your soulmate after just serving him coffee.”

Sirius gave him a hard glare, one he was sure could curdle milk, but had very little effect on his friend--such were the pitfalls of being best mates with someone since you were eleven. “One word,” he glowered, “Lily.”

James threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. You talk to him? Get his number? Is he even gay?”

Sirius blushed, “Yes. No, but I gave him mine. And probably?”

“Asking him what he wanted to drink isn’t talking to him.”

“Well, I could barely speak in the face of such beauty!” he defended. “Just go look at him and you’ll see what I mean.”

James groaned as he was steered out of the kitchen door. As they exited the back room, James stopped short as they watched Sirius’ supposed soulmate literally sweep Lily, who had just walked into the shop, off her feet in a tight hug and proceeded to kiss her on the cheek. 

“Well, this is awkward,” Sirius murmured wondering what the fuck his best mate’s fiancee was doing looking so chummy with his soon to be soulmate.

Chapter Text

Remus grinned and hugged the petite redhead tightly before setting her back down. It had been years since they had last seen each other, but he knew that he would recognize that smile and those forest green eyes anywhere.

“Moony!” she squealed, “I haven’t seen you since that Christmas at Marsden.”

He cringed inwardly at the nickname and instantly his mind flashed back to their first meeting: Remus had been cooped up inside the ward for ages. Although very ill, he was having one of his better days. Unfortunately, it had been raining its arse off for the past week so going outside was a non-sequitur. He had already finished all of his books and the few he had nicked from the ward's library. So, he turned to his new favourite game of annoying the new girl's bitch of a sister. 

The new girl, Lily, was small but a bit of a firecracker unless her older sister was around. The older girl was constantly complaining about having to go to hospital when she wasn't even the one who was ill. She would steal Lily's ice lollies and tell Lily that she looked ugly without her hair. Remus had finally had enough. He and Lily might not have been friends, yet, but cancer kids stuck together. 

In a flash of childhood brilliance, he ran toward the girl's bed, skidding to a stop on his socked feet, and yelled at the sister, "Hey, fart face! Stop being such a meanie!" promptly dropped his trousers, and mooned her.

Lily dissolved into a fit of giggles while her sister shrieked in outrage, "Stop!"

"You can’t make me," he taunted, shaking his pasty arse at her.

“What are you? Five?” the bitch asked.

"Six on Saturday," he said proudly as he pulled his trousers back up.

The bitch huffed and stormed out of the room mumbling something about finding her parents. When Lily had finally gotten control of her laughter she pulled Remus onto her bed where they bonded over their mutual love of books and movies and sweets. The moniker "Moony" had been formed that day and stuck through their years of hospital visits and treatments.

Now, standing in the middle of his new favourite coffee shop, reunited with his childhood best friend, and the number of the most beautiful man he had ever seen, Remus felt for the first time in a long time that things were looking up. 

"Fancy meeting you here," he grinned.

"My fiance owns the place" she admitted with a blush. Something at the counter caught her eye and she smiled, "Speak of the devil."

Remus turned his head and saw Hot Barista--Sirius--standing behind a lanky man with wire-rimmed glasses and hair that stood on end looking like its owner had received an electric shock. He smirked a bit at the sight of Sirius’ cool demeanour having slipped away to reveal a man who looked like a shy but excitable puppy.

The next thing he knew, Lily had grabbed his hand and hauled him over to meet the two men. Although he smiled, was polite, and was sure he was going to like her fiance, Remus couldn’t tear his gaze away from eyes like pools of cool grey starlight. He was absolutely done for.

Chapter Text

"You're a blanket hog, Matt!" 

"It's my blanket, Celeste! Leave me alone and stop being so selfish. There are plenty of blankets in the tent."

Fleur rolled her eyes at her coworkers' childish behaviour. Someone had idiotically thought that a camping trip would be the perfect option for the annual Gringotts Human Employee retreat. While she was not opposed to camping, she wanted nothing to do with most of her colleagues and was sure that most of them felt the same about her.

Fleur was blunt; she didn't sugar-coat anything and mostly liked to keep to herself. She had always found it difficult to form friendships. Most people didn't bother getting to know her. They saw only a pretty face, a fit body to lust after, and a rude demeanour. They didn't bother to find out that she loved to read anything she could get her hands on, that she liked to sew and made most of her own clothes, that she secretly loved Muggle "buddy cop" films and would have a movie marathon at least once a month. 

She had taken the job at Gringotts to help improve her English and while it had certainly helped, she often wondered if it was worth the emotional toll it took to deal with her coworkers. She would have loved to quit and work somewhere that better suited her interests, however, her visa was tied to her job at the bank. 

However, not everything about the job was terrible. She was good at maths and arithmancy, finding her daily tasks rather easy. There was also Bill Weasley. 

The former Curse Breaker was tall, lanky but obviously strong, his hair was long, and the fang earring he sported gave him the appearance of a bad boy. She just knew that his arms and chest were covered in tattoos. The little part of herself that she let loose only while alone longed to map them out with her fingers and tongue, but she reigned that desire in. Knowing the fantasy was unlikely to become anything more that just that, a fantasy.

It wasn't just his appearance that captured her thoughts, though. He was kind. He didn't seem to be affected at all by her part Veela heritage. Unlike most men, he didn't fawn over her. He didn't grab her hand or "accidentally" brush up against her. He didn't press her for dates, and he did seem genuinely interested in speaking with her.

Bill asked questions and actually listened to her answers. He was a good conversationalist and always made a point to make her feel included in the group. It was refreshing. It was exhilarating. It was sexy and she wanted him.

As if summoned, the man himself approached her seat beside the fire, holding a bag of marshmallows and two sticks. Bill smiled and nodded at the space on the bench where she sat. "May I sit with you?"

Chapter Text

Severus Snape stalked into his spacious classroom in the basement of Hogwarts College. It would have made much more sense for the classroom to have been built beside the canteen, but nothing ever made sense at Hogwarts. Dean Dumbledore--the flamboyant bastard--had no business running the school. The man was highly ineffective, planned the most ridiculous events, was constantly in fancy dress, and seemed to have an unhealthy attraction to Potter--an insufferable student who thought himself above all others, but was, Snape had to admit, very fit.

Potter and the rest of the young man’s study group had signed up for his Intro to Baking class that term. Teaching the delicate art of baking had not been something Snape had set out to do with his life, but one stupid decision in his youth robbed him of the chance to become one of the greatest pastry chefs the world had ever seen. Dean Dumbledore had come to his rescue and Snape was now in his debt. Apparently, spending years instructing idiot young adults and non-traditional students on how to best bake a cake was his penance. 

“Open your recipe books to page three hundred and ninety-four,” he called out as he stepped behind his work station in front of the class. “Today, we will be making whipped cream. Follow the recipe listed in your textbooks.”

A few students chuckled, obviously thinking they were in for an easy class. And they were if they followed the instructions correctly. 

“Oh,” he added with a little smirk, “there will be no need to use the stand mixers at your stations. You will be whipping the heavy cream by hand.”

Severus smiled internally at the loud groans the students emitted. He couldn’t make it too easy for them after all. The bowls and cream were already chilled and the instructions were plain to read in the book. Normally, he preferred to write his own versions of the recipes on the whiteboard, but this one was so easy that even Longbottom couldn’t fuck it up too badly. 

As the students began to work, he quickly made his own batch and set it in the refrigerator to stay cool. After cleaning his station, Severus looked out into the room, to see what progress had been made. His eyes--as they so often did--were drawn to Harry Potter. 

Severus’ breath caught in his throat as he watched the man dip a long caramel-coloured finger into the metal bowl, bringing a dollop of whipped cream to his mouth. The young man’s pink tongue darted out for a taste before sucking it clean while verdant green eyes closed in bliss at the taste. Severus realized with a blush that his trousers had grown very tight.

He found himself suddenly standing over the man, much too near to be considered appropriate, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t sure why, but he needed to be as close as he could. Trying to think of something to say as Harry threw him a challenging look, he defaulted to his normally acerbic state. A quick glance into the mixing bowl was all he needed.

“And why, Mr Potter does your whipped cream have a brown hue?”

“I added extra dark maple.”

He raised an eyebrow. Adding dark maple to whipped cream was something he had picked up from his mother and did every time he made the recipe outside of class. Not many people did this or did so well.

“I think—” Potter began.

"You think? I thought you needed a brain to do that,” he sneered. “Do you remember me telling you to follow the recipe in your book?”

“Yes,” the young man said petulantly.

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir’, Chef.”

Severus had to bite his tongue, lest he flings himself at Potter. Oh, there is every need to call you sir, he thought as his mind transported him to all of the ways he fantasized the young man could dominate him. But he knew that someone like Potter could never want a disgraced pastry chef like him and his heart ached.

Turning to walk away, he snapped, “Clean up your stations. Class dismissed.”

He needed time to himself. Time to calm down. Time to get a grip. And time to possibly have a very long wank to thoughts of licking whipped cream off of every inch of Harry Potter.

Chapter Text

Percy stood against the wall, frozen in absolute horror as Oliver--the idiot--came out of a Double Eight Loop into a modified Starfish and Stick right in the path of an oncoming bludger. To his credit, the man did try to dodge, however, he was a split second too late. The ball tore through the tail of his broom, sending shards flying towards the goalposts. It had surly hit his leg too as his foot looked to be at an odd angle. Though the ref was able to slow Oliver’s descent, he still crashed to the ground with a sickening crunch. 

Shaking himself from his terror, Percy tore down the steep steps of the stands and through the gate at the very bottom. He forced his way through the crowd and onto the pitch towards his husband. The team’s mediwitch was already hard at work, clearly setting his leg and running diagnostic spells.

Percy collapsed beside Oliver who was thankfully awake and alert. “Oh, thank Merlin!”

“Hey, love,” Oliver grinned, taking Percy’s hand in his own. “You see that Loop? I totally nailed it!”

Percy let out a strangled cry, “Of course, I saw it. The whole damn stadium saw it. What possessed you making you think that attempting a modified move right after returning from an injury was a good idea? You aren’t twenty anymore. This is insane-”

He laughed, “Gotta outfly the newbies. Just because I’m nearing forty doesn’t mean that I can’t play just as well as them. Like they say, ‘Do it for the gram”!”

The redhead rolled his eyes, “I really hate you sometimes.”

“No, you don’t,” Oliver smiled. “You love me.”

With a sigh, Percy smiled back, “Yeah, you’re right. I really, really do.”

Chapter Text

“One of those Quidditch calendars? For charity?” Harry asked, raking a hand through his already wild mane and going a bit pink in the cheeks. “You’d be um...naked?”

Ginny laughed at Harry’s embarrassment. He could be such a prude, and she was determined to rile him up whenever she could. Harry was quite sexy when he blushed. “Yes, you prat. One of those calendars. I won’t be completely nude, and it will be tasteful. Besides, if I remember correctly, you keep several of those types of magazines and calendars in your pants drawer.”

Harry’s light blush deepened into something close to tomato red, something that made her laugh even harder. His sputtered reply was all the confirmations she needed.

“Honestly, Harry, I don’t mind. I’ve had a few wanks to some of your magazines myself. The Muggle ones are less fun though. Maybe I should order us some new ones from that shop that just opened up by Fred & George’s shop.”

He buried his burning face in his hands, but she didn’t miss the flash in his eyes indicating his total arousal. Oh, they would be having some fun once they got Jamie to bed later that night.

Finally, he cleared his throat and looked up, seeming to have composed himself. “So, the Harpies are doing a nude calendar, and you’re going to be in it.”

“I’m Ms July,” she smirked and threw him a wink before turning back to finish up the soup she had simmering on the stove.

Suddenly, she felt strong arms around her middle and Harry’s hardness pressing up against her arse. “Should I be worried?” he murmured in her ear.

She gasped and pressed herself further into his touch, suddenly very grateful that Jamie was playing in the other room. Had their wands not been all the way on the other side of the room she would have cast a quick Notice-Me-Not and fucked him quick and dirty on the kitchen floor. But she could already hear her son getting restless and knew that her libido would have to wait. 

Turning around in Harry’s arms, she placed a kiss to his cheek before grazing his earlobe with her teeth. “Oh, Mr Potter,” she chuckled darkly, “is the grass green?”

Chapter Text

Rolanda really should have known better. She had known the woman for eight years, dated her for three, and lived with her for one. It wasn’t like she had gone into this blindly. Yet, for some reason, that only Merlin knew, she had entered into a bet with Minerva McGonagall. As was the case for all such foolishness, Rolanda had lost.

“A whole damned week,” she muttered under her breath. “A whole Godric damned week of this shite.” A mountain of clean laundry stared her in the face and she was determined to have it all folded and put away before Minerva returned from the shops. 

When Rolanda had lost the bet, she had been relegated to doing housework the Muggle way for an entire week. While her mother had been Muggleborn, Rolanda didn’t have much experience in doing any kind of domestic work without the aid of magic. She wasn’t really the domestic sort, to begin with, but she had always kept a fairly clean and organized home thanks to a few charms.

So now, standing in front of the mound of linens and towels, she felt an odd mixture of dread and competitive spirit. She rolled her shoulders a few times and took a deep breath. “Alright, Ro. If you get all of this done by the time Minnie gets back, you can apparate over to that shop in Edinburgh that sells the really good Pinot Noir then treat yourself to a glass while taking a long bath. Let’s do this.”

It wasn’t like Rolanda didn’t know how to fold laundry by hand. It wasn’t hard. The task was just painfully mind-numbing and she was shocked to realize just how many towels and linens they actually owned.

Everything was going fine until she got to the fitted sheet. No matter how she folded or twisted it the fabric always ended up in a tangled ball. Whoever created such a monstrosity, she thought, should be Avadaed.  

She was so engrossed in fighting with the sheet that she didn’t hear Minerva come home until the woman had nearly collapsed in a fit of giggles at the spectacle. 

“Having trouble?” Minerva asked.

“This is fucking impossible!” Rolanda huffed.

“You’re kidding me,” Minerva asked with a smirk, “Rolanda Hooch admitting defeat? I never thought I’d see the day. It’s a perfectly easy task.”

“Shush, you! My mum never taught me. And it’s not like there’s some database out there where I can get a visual on how to do these things.”

Minerva just laughed and reminded her that they had access to one of the greatest libraries in all of Britain. 

With a huff, Rolanda tossed the sheet at the woman. “Well, if it’s so easy, why don’t you do it.”

In a flash, Minerva had the sheet perfectly folded in eight easy moves. She neatly tucked it along with the rest of the folded set into its pillowcase. Her eyes danced with mischief as she went to unpack the day’s purchases.

Rolanda sighed and began putting the laundry in its proper place, lamenting the fact that she had lost her own personal challenge. However, when she returned, she found a bottle of her favourite wine and two glasses sitting out on the kitchen counter. Minerva appeared in the doorway stark naked and holding two fluffy towels. “Thought the wine would be a nice treat. Are you going to join me in the bath?”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t like he looked at it all the time. He rarely even used the damned thing. Most of the time he left it on his nightstand, completely forgotten. It didn’t serve much purpose on the reserve--all the magic in the area really interfered with the signal making the main function of the thing useless, but whenever he was offbase he used it religiously, almost as often as a Muggle. Charlie chuckled to himself anytime he thought of the mobile. Sometimes he was positively like his father. 

That was the primary reason why he had purchased it. He bought two from a Muggle shop the previous Christmas and gave one to Arthur. Floo-calls were nice, but there was something special about indulging in his father’s slight obsession, hearing the man’s delighted voice across the airwaves that made him feel as though he wasn’t so far away. Like home was just around the corner. 

The mobile also took fairly decent Muggle pictures. It was still a bit weird that the subjects didn’t move, but it didn’t freak him out like it did most Wizards. Charlie really only took photographs during his travels or when one of the dragons hit an important milestone. He often found himself scrolling through pictures before bed as a way to decompress. However, in the weeks since Hermione arrived at the reserve, he found himself using the device more often. He had started carrying it with him whenever he knew that they would be working in close proximity. Besides, a lot had been happening with the dragons lately. 

Brunhilda, a Hungarian Horntail who had been at the reserve for less than a year hatched six eggs the day before. Hatchings were always beautiful to watch. He did everything in his power to make sure that he was present at each and every one. However, this time, Hermione was at his side. Seeing the absolute awe on her face as six baby dragons crawled out of the nest for the first time did something to him. Something he couldn’t quite put into words. The only way he knew how to describe it was that his chest had clinched and there was the overwhelming need to be close to her. Unfortunately, once the baby dragons learned they were mobile the team had to get to work. 

The new dragons had to be looked over, given health screenings and tagged. Horntail mothers weren’t known for their maternal instincts once the eggs had hatched. Much like sharks, Horntails were left to fend for themselves soon after birth. This made the veterinarian and tamers’ work much easier. Brunhilda lounged on the far side of the enclosure, sunning herself on a large boulder and paid them no mind as they entered, intent on performing their jobs and leaving as quickly as possible.

The hatchlings seemed to gravitate directly toward Hermione. She had a way with most animals, but adolescent dragons loved her. They tended to flock around her like moths to a flame. And if Charlie were very honest with himself, he was drawn to her too.

He always had been. When they had kissed the previous week he thought that surely, they would have gotten together or at least done more than just cast furtive glances at one another. Unfortunately, there had been an accident with one of the Welch Green’s and they had to part ways. But standing in that Horntail enclosure, watching as tiny dragons crawled into her lap Charlie knew that he was absolutely done for. Without giving it a second thought, he wiped out his mobile and took a photo of the scene before him promptly saving the image as his lock screen. 

Later while alone in his quarters, Charlie found himself looking at the photograph and wondering what it would be like to see that look on Hermione’s face every day. She clearly loved being on the reserve and the dragons had taken so well to her. Would she ever consider staying? Would she even want to? Would it even be appropriate for him to ask?

A knock at the door pulled him from his cascading thoughts. He looked to find the woman herself standing on his threshold holding a large parcel wrapped in brown paper. His mother’s unmistakable handwriting littering the outside. 

“Care package from Molly,” she called cheerfully as he beckoned her into the room.

Charlie should have been excited. He looked forward to receiving his mother’s monthly shipment of baked goods, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the witch who was standing before him in an oversized jumper and a pair of maroon hotpants that just barely peeked out from beneath the hem. 

“Oh, hey,” Hermione said as she sat beside him on the sofa and gestured to the device on the coffee table, “I didn’t know mobiles worked here.”

“They don’t, not really” he somehow managed to choke out in a voice that thankfully sounded halfway normal. “I use it to talk with Dad sometimes though.”

As though conjured by magic, his phone lit up with a message from Arthur. Charlie reached out to pick up the mobile, but Hermione was quicker. She snatched the phone off the table and stared at the screen for a moment before looking up at him, her eyes filled with questions.

“I’m your lock screen?”

Shit. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he muttered under his breath before defensively continuing to her, “You and the dragons.”

“Why am I your lock screen, Charlie?” she asked, voice almost a whisper. 

“You know why,” he whispered back, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. His eyes lingered upon her lips. He was desperate for a kiss and something told him that she was too. He ran the pad of his thumb across her full lower lip and asked so softly that he was afraid he wouldn’t be heard, “May I?”

Chapter Text

It had been a long time since the oppressive grey of a Scottish winter sky reflected Draco’s mood. Although far from perfect, the last year had been one of the happiest of Draco’s life. He finally felt as though he had a handle on teaching. His mother had finally accepted that he was going to live the life of an academic and educator, not a nobleman. And Harry…

The friendship the two of them had slowly and painstakingly built since the end of the war had finally bloomed into something more. Something so much more than either of them ever thought possible. When Draco had been a little boy, he had dreamed of a love like this. Of a love worthy of fairy tales. A love that came from the most unlikely of places--if you asked them of course. Apparently, even Greg had known they were meant for each other. 

It was the Sunday before Christmas and Draco found himself standing in front of the Black Lake, skipping stones. It wasn’t something he normally did. During his ‘eighth year’, he had a run-in with the Giant Squid whilst trying to swim and had mostly stayed away since. However, from time to time, when he was feeling particularly melancholy or needed space to think, he came here, sheltered beneath a gnarled old tree, and skipped as many stones as he could find, usually until Harry found him and dragged him back to the castle. 

Today was no different. Draco wasn’t sure if he had been standing there for hours or only moments. Most likely the former. Harry was always good about giving him space when he needed it. Without a word, Harry came to stand beside Draco, allowing the sounds of the countryside to envelop them. He wouldn’t speak unless Draco broke the silence. 

Finally, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, Draco took a breath and allowed the dam holding back all of his thoughts to break. “This will be it. Tomorrow morning will be the last time I see him. Well, that he’ll let me see him. After tomorrow...after tomorrow he’ll be so bloody furious. It’s going to be a complete and utter shit show. He won’t take it well.”

Harry stepped close and grasped his hand, just listening to his ramblings. His slew of word-vomit. Harry knew of course. Had read the letters. Had heard all about the previous visits. Had sat with him through the aftermath of every communication with Lucius. 

The ten years since the end of the war had done nothing to curb his father’s fanaticism. If anything, it had made it that much worse. Draco’s only solace was that Lucius would never leave Azkaban. The murder of both his cellmate and the guard who attempted to intervene assured a lifetime sentence. 

Every letter that Draco received from the man, each annual visit he made, left him feeling hollow. All the man spoke of was blood-purity and restoring the Malfoy name. As he expected, Draco’s father demanded that he take action, stop “sitting about in that abhorrent school which preached ‘all that unity tripe’.” Lucius wanted him to marry a ‘good Pure-Blood’ woman and produce Pure-Blooded children, to make the family great again. And it was killing him. It was absolutely killing him that he could not be honest with his father. With the man that had raised him and loved him (well, the idea of him) so much as to walk away from the greatest megalomaniac alive--a man his father had looked to like a god.

Still, that did not mean that his father was a good person, nor would ever be a good person. It did not mean that Lucius would accept him as he was--a twenty-eight year old gay man who had shucked the teachings of his father and learned to love, to accept things and people who were so very different from him. It had not been an easy road, and he still had to correct his inner thoughts from time to time, but the Draco Malfoy that was standing on the banks of the Black Lake next to the love of his life was so very different from the Draco Malfoy of so long ago, and through it all, Draco had learned to love himself. No one, not even Lucius was going to be able to stop him from living his truth.

Draco stared into the middle-distance, blinking rapidly doing his best not to break down. “I know exactly what he’ll say and yet I’m terrified. Why am I so scared of disappointing a man whose every core value I find abhorrent?”

“Because he’s your father, and you love him,” said Harry simply.

“But I shouldn’t!” Draco nearly cried.

Harry squeezed his hand gently. “A part of you will probably always love him. And that’s okay. There is absolutely nothing wrong with loving a parent, even if they have done something horrible.” 

They stood in silence again, watching as birds danced over the water, searching for food and the Giant Squid splashed merrily at them. 

“Would you like me to go with you?” Harry whispered, so low that Draco almost missed it.

For the first time that day, Draco smiled. “As long as you hold my hand.”

It had become a refrain between them over the past year. Something they could say in addition to the three little words that meant so much. It was a way for them to ask for strength and support without appearing too weak, almost like a secret code between them.

“You know that you don’t have to tell him, love,” Harry said after a moment. “He never has to know.”

Draco smiled and brought Harry’s hand to his lips, kissing the scar on the back, ‘I must not tell lies’. 

"No,” he said. “My father will hear about this."

Chapter Text

“Come on, love,” Ron nearly begged. “I promise, it isn’t very far.”

Try as she might, Hermione couldn’t hide the tremble of fear coursing through her body. Even with the well-practised front of obstinance, she couldn’t hide anything from Ron. “Why can’t we just Apparate or even drive?!”

Ron ran a hand through his hair in frustration, trying to maintain his composure. “Hermione, we’re going to see the fairy lights that the Muggles have out for Christmas.”

“Yes, and one usually drives or walks through those displays.”

“Look,” he finally snapped; the dam finally broke and all his emotions came flooding out. “You need to see this one from the air to really appreciate it. Like those crop circles the Muggles get all weird about. Please, Hermione, Fred and I used to sneak out every year to look at the lights from above. This is my first Christmas without him and I just—I just want to share it with you.”

The wind whipped at Hermione’s hair. The cold was kept at bay by a warming charm and her winter clothes. For a long moment, she just stared at Ron, the man she had ever so slowly fallen in love with, so slowly that she hadn’t fully realized it until one day she looked up and realized that he was everything she ever wanted. She knew that Ron struggled with the loss of his brother, but he had kept so quiet about it, only speaking of those feelings with his Mind Healer. And now, here he was, asking her to be a part of it, even in such a small way. How could she say no?

With a deep breath, Hermione stepped forward and mounted the broom behind him. Gripping him tightly, she buried her face in between his shoulder blades and mumbled, “Just tell me when we’re there.” She knew Ron well enough to know that he was smiling as he kicked off. 

The flight was short, only to the next village over, but that knowledge did little to assuage her fears. She felt them turn in midair and Ron leaned back slightly and yelled, “We’re here!”

She wanted to look, she really did, but Hermione felt paralyzed. If she opened her eyes, she would surely fall. “Ron, I...I’m scared.”

He pulled a hand off the handle and wove their fingers together. "You don’t have to be; not as long as I’m here. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her face out to the sky around them. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the lights below. It was beautiful. There were really no other words to describe it. Although the wind whipped around them, and they were higher in the air than she would have ever felt comfortable with, she felt calm and safe. At that moment, she knew. She knew with every fibre in her being that he was right. As long as they were together, there was absolutely nothing to fear. They may go through some difficult times, but he would always be there beside her. Always.

Chapter Text

Percy sat on the fire escape furiously smoking the one cigarette he had allocated for the week. It was a nasty habit, but one a week wouldn't kill him, no matter what Oliver said. 

He rolled his eyes at the thought of his boyfriend and seriously thought about apparating to the off-license on the corner so he could purchase another pack of "cancer sticks" but thought better of it. Besides, it was raining its arse off and he didn't feel like dealing with it. The umbrella charm he had going right now was losing its potency and he just didn't have the energy to perform more magic.

He knew that he should just go back inside, but that would mean Oliver had won. No, best to just wait out here until the man came grovelling. 

As if on cue, the window flew open and Oliver sat on the ledge. "Percy, come inside. This is getting ridiculous. I'm sorry, okay."

Percy scoffed and tossed the butt of the cigarette off the fire escape. "Not until you apologise for what you said."

"I just said I'm freaking sorry—"

"Yes," he cut him off, "but not because you mean it.

Oliver groaned and slid off the window sill to stand in front of Percy. " Listen here, you sexy berk! No, I should not have called you 'uptight'. I knew your feelie and decided to push your buttons anyway. Yes, I am still frustrated. No, I don't agree with you and I probably never will. Cauldron bottom thickness doesn't affect me—"


"No," Oliver cut him off before taking a calming breath. "Just, this is a stupid thing for us to be arguing about. I shouldn't have called you that. I know how you feel about the word. I'm sorry."

Percy nodded, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Great," Oliver continued brightly, "now will you please come inside? I ordered Thai."

"Fine," he grumbled before attempting to push past the man.

But Oliver grabbed his hand and pulled him close for a kiss. Their lips met tentatively at first, an apology all its own. Slowly, the kiss became more heated and Percy found himself pressed up against the wall, a position he normally loved, but that night he had a point to prove. 

In one swift motion, he flipped their positions and slotted a leg between Oliver's thighs, pressing gently at the hardness he found there, eliciting a wanton moan from the man. "Would an uptight man do this?" he murmured low in Oliver's ear before picking the man up, wrapping strong muscled legs around his waist.

With a flick of his wrist, their trousers and pants vanished—being sent to the hamper inside. Another whisper against Oliver's skin had the man stretched open and dripping with lube. "Would an uptight man fuck you on the fire escape for the whole neighbourhood to see?" Percy rasped as he lined up his cock and pushed home.

Chapter Text

How Remus got roped into helping chaperone the goddamn Sadie Hawkins Dance was a complete mystery. Nevertheless, here he was, standing in the corner of a shittily decorated gymnasium watching a sea of gawky high school kids flail about on the dance floor and scream the lyrics of a highly ironic song in their hormone-addled voices.

The most exciting thing about the evening had been when one of the choir kids tried to dump a bottle of Everclear into the punchbowl. Why was it always the choir kids? he mused. He would have thought that the theater or band kids would be the wild ones--and they could be--but there was something about the choir kids...If any of the students knew where to purchase hard drugs, it was the choir kids.

And, of course, there was Officer Tonks.

Officer Tonks was the newest School Resource Officer at Hogwarts High and as such had pulled the short straw in having to work the dance. She was fun and constantly smiling. The kids really liked and respected her which was a plus if you worked in a school. He also suspected that she was a bit of a rebel. Had it not been against code, he was certain that she was the type of person who would walk around with pink hair. She was his complete opposite, and he felt drawn to her like a magnet. 

After the dance wound down, Remus made a bit of a show of looking busy so as to avoid having to do too much. The weather had recently turned a bit cooler and his bad shoulder was acting up again. 

As soon as he was able, he rushed out of the old gymnasium through the nearly empty parking lot, thinking only of getting home. However, a shout from one of the cars grabbed his attention.

“Hey, Mr. Lupin,” Officer Tonks called. She was parked directly under a light and was standing beside her car in just a tank top and her uniform pants, clearly having shucked the duty belt, shirt, and vest as soon as she could. “Got a question for ya!”

Remus suppressed the little flutter that rose up in his chest as he made his way on over to her. “Yes, Officer Tonks?”

She blushed. Honest-to-god blushed--a pretty pink that spread from her cheeks to the tips of her ears—and he knew that he was done for.

“It’s Tonks, Mr. Lupin. Just Tonks,” she said a bit shyly.

“Alright,” a slow smile playing across his face, “Tonks. But you’ll have to call me Remus.”

She grinned and seemed to become a bit emboldened by his poor attempt at flirting. “Remus, is that sweater you’re wearing the one from the song?”


She playfully rolled her eyes, “You know, like the song,” and began to sing in a soulful Alto, “ The girls ask the guys/It's always a surprise/There's nothing better baby/Do you like my sweater?”

It was his turn to blush. 

“I do, by the way,” she continued, mischief playing in her eyes. “I do like your sweater. It’s quite sexy.”

“Your voice is sexy,” he blurted, the words shooting out of his mouth completely unbidden. He would have melted into a puddle of embarrassment right there had she not, in that exact moment, stepped into his personal space and looked up at him with a hunger that reflected his own feelings toward her.

“Your ass is sexy,” she said, voice laced with suggestion. “I’m headed to the Three Broomsticks,” she continued. “Buy me a beer and I might let you find out what else is sexy about me.”

Chapter Text

Minerva gently stirred a cube of sugar into her evening tea. It had been a long day of lessons and overseeing children. Teaching was her calling, and she loved almost every moment of it, but some days really took it out of her and today had been mentally draining. 

Being Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House meant that she dealt with most of the discipline matters. A certain level of mischief from the students was expected--they were children after all--but the Weasley twins were giving the Marauders a run for their money.

She was contemplating finally opening the novel she had borrowed from Poppy but wasn’t quite sure that she was in the mood for a mystery. If she was going to read anything today, she wanted something light, something that didn’t require her to think. Maybe a romance, but she would never be caught dead with one of those.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in romance, she had fallen in love three times in her long life. Twice it had actually worked out. But none of those times had been anything like a romance novel. Those books were nothing short of fairy tales. Idealizations of what love could be. Love was never easy and often brought along with it a modicum of pain. At least, that is what she had told herself for so many years. 

With Rolanda, it was different. Their relationship wasn’t easy, per se, but they communicated well. They worked through issues quickly, and really listened to what the other had to say. Their love was quiet but fun. Every day together felt like a new adventure. Not the kind so many of her Gryffindors sought after. But the kind where one woke up each morning with a sense of longing to experience the day together with one’s partner. Even after the newness of the relationship had worn off, Minerva never felt bored. 

“What is it, love?” she had asked Rolanda one night after getting into bed. “You’ve seemed on edge all evening.”

Rolanda had sighed in that contemplative way that simultaneously drove Minerva insane and brought a small smile to her face. 

“I’d like...there’s something that I’d like for us to try together, but I know that if I asked, you’d say no, ” Rolanda replied. “It just doesn’t seem like something you’d be interested in.”

Minerva sat up. “What is it? You don’t know that I’d say no.” She flicked on the light and smirked at her lover before continuing, “Is it sexual in nature? I’m open to trying just about anything.”

And that’s how Minerva found herself tied to the bedposts and experimenting with impact play. 

Maybe their relationship did have a modicum of pain involved. But that pain always gave way to pleasure. Again, and again, and again. 

Setting her tea aside, Minerva went into the bedroom and stripped slowly before lying back on the bed. A wave of her wand had her favourite restraints fastening themselves around her wrists, ankles, and each corner of the bed. Rolanda wouldn’t be gone for too much longer. Besides, she found that she rather enjoyed the sensation of being tied up for long periods of time. It was calming. Grounding. Almost meditative. And it would drive Rolanda absolutely crazy.

Chapter Text

It was a bright sunny spring day--the perfect time of year to go out in search of plimpies. Luna’s dishwater blond hair had long since slipped out of its ribbon and danced loosely in the breeze. She suspected nargles had stolen the Ravenclaw blue fabric. After all, she had been walking under trees known to have fallen victim to the parasitic mistletoe. 

As she made her way past an abandoned woodcutter’s hut a commotion caught her attention. With a shout of alarm, a man fell through the roof of the hut.

Not stopping to think twice, Luna rushed across the grassy meadow, bare feet flying against the earth. Just as she reached the entrance, the front door flew open to reveal the most handsome wizard she had ever seen. Tall and leggy with beautiful auburn hair and eyes that burned with intensity, the man registered her appearance quickly and then began climbing the side of the hut to get back on the roof.

“Did you see them?” he called down as he gingerly made his way towards the chimney. 

“See what?” she asked curiously, following him up onto the roof, plimpies forgotten.

He threw a look over his shoulder at her, as if he were surprised that she had joined him. Quickly though, he turned his attention back to the rickety stone chimney. “The Shelliferous Drogodflikerous, of course. They’re—”

“A winged creature roughly the size of a quill,” she finished. “Yes, but what would they be doing here?”

The man grinned sheepishly and flicked his wand towards the chimney several times, trying to draw the beings out. “They may have escaped their confinement...The leader wants to build a home in the chimney.”

“Seriously, the chimney?” she gasped, taken aback. This was very uncommon behaviour for Shelliferous Drogodflikerous.

“Yep,” he said brightly as four of the offending creatures soared out of the chimney and landed in an open case that she had just now noticed. The case swung shut and he began casting in earnest. “They’re after the squirrel’s nest. The squirrel can’t win, but it will certainly put up a fight.”

Before he could cast again, Luna sent a spell at the chimney which expelled the remaining two creatures. He caught them quickly and placed them in the case along with the others before turning to face her.

“Wow, thanks!” His honey coloured eyes were still just as intense, but there was an infinite kindness in them that drew her immediately to him. “I’m Rolf, by the way.”

She smiled and held out a hand to shake. “Luna.”

Chapter Text

Draco growled in frustration and slammed the book down on the coffee table. He nearly ran to his desk which was tucked away in a far corner of the library and retrieved some parchment and a quill, muttering under his breath the whole way.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Harry mused, glancing up from his copy of Quidditch Quarterly.

“It’s wrong!” Draco said a bit manically as he flopped back down on the sofa, opened the offending book, and began a complex series of arithmancy equations. 

“Love,” Harry began cautiously, “Hitchhiker’s Guide is a work of fiction. How can it be wrong?”

Draco through him a sour look then bent his head back to his task. “Forty-two can’t be the answer to the ultimate question. He’s calculated it wrong. It’s thirty-two.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Thirty-two? Draco, you’re not even done with the first book. How do you know that the answer is wrong if you don’t even know what the ultimate question is?”

“It’s thirty-two, damn it! I’ll prove it!”

Draco’s quill flew over the parchment in a blur. Harry thought it best to leave his boyfriend to it and went back to his magazine until half an hour later when he looked back up and saw a veritable mountain of crumpled parchment and arithmancy books scattered around the man whose normally pristine hair was nearly standing on end with how much he’d been pulling at it.

Quietly, Harry slipped out of the room and ran to the kitchen’s fireplace, tossing in a bit of floo powder. “Hermione!” he called after sticking his face in the flames. He was a bit panicked. He hadn’t seen Draco like this in ages. “Code Green. I repeat, Code Green! Bring your arithmancy books and be prepared to explain Douglas Adams!”

Chapter Text

It was disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. The spectacle that was currently assaulting Ginny's eyeballs so early in the morning completely turned her off to breakfast. 

Honestly, why one of the professors hadn't already put a stop to it was beyond her. The couple was practically shagging on the table. So what if it was Valentine's Day. A made-up holiday hardly made this lewd display acceptable. 

"Oh Ron," Lavender cried when she finally came up for air, "thank you!" In her lap sat a violently pink Pigmy Puff. 

Ginny had hoped that Ron's summer romance with Hermione would last. However, when both Ron and Lavender returned for their eighth year they renewed their relationship with a ferver, much to the chagrin of the rest of the castle. Hermione, to her credit, had taken the breakup well and had even traded up (in Ginny's opinion) and was now dating Fred. 

Scooping up the Pigmy Puff, who was now named Won-Won, Lavender cooed over the creature. “It’s just so little and adorable!”

“Said the actress to the bishop," Ginny murmured to Neville who promptly burst out laughing.

Lavender looked up with wide eyes, a bit confused. "Well, I was thinking about becoming an actress, but I'm not religious. Why would I ever speak to a bishop?"

Unfortunately, Neville had just taken a large bite of porridge which he ended up choking on in a valiant effort not to laugh even harder.

Ginny whacked him on the back and smirked at the woman who was likely to soon become her sister-in-law. "Oh, Lav, " she said, an evil glint in her eye, "I think we're going to have loads of fun."

Chapter Text

"Neville, please, please, please, please please!” 

Ginny followed Neville through the tight aisles of his shop, narrowly skirting something that vaguely resembled a venus fly trap.

“For the last time, no,” he grumbled. “I am not letting you have an orchid. Especially not the Habenaria.”

“But Neville,” she whined, “they’re weird and funky looking, and I want one in my flat.”

Neville rolled his eyes before setting to work on filling an order for the Finnigan-Thomas wedding that was to take place at the end of the week. He loved Ginny dearly and was rarely able to refuse her anything. However, when it came to plants, he had to put his foot down.

“Ginny, love,” he said, greenery in hand, “you’re away almost two hundred nights of the year for Quidditch. You’re not going to be able to meet its needs.”

“I’ll set an automatic watering spell,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And besides, you’re over at my flat all the time. You could always check on it for me.”

“And do all the work?” he quirked an eyebrow at her incredulously. “Nope. If you’re going to get a plant, you need to be responsible enough to take care of it on your own.”

Her face turned beet red in anger, the ends of her hair sparked with barely contained magic. “You’re saying that I’m not mature enough to be a plant parent?”

Normally, seeing her like this would either be a huge turn-on or reason enough to flee for the hills. But this was his shop and his area of expertise. He would never claim to be smarter than Ginevra Weasley, however, in all things flora, he was the expert, and on this issue, he would not budge.

“No,” he said. “What I’m saying is—”

“Name one time, Longbottom! One time where I gave you any indication that I would be shit at being a plant parent. Try me!”

“You mean that time you confused turnips for gurdyroot in seventh year or the time you killed seven succulents and cacti?”

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault!” She gave his shoulder a light shove, making him turn to face her.

“How wasn’t that your fault,” he laughed. “You overwatered them and deprived them of sunlight.”

Ginny tossed a stalk of greenery at him, trying to hide a wry smile. “That flat had almost no natural light and didn’t allow plants on the balconies. And the soil looked parched. Of course I watered them!”

Neville laughed again and pulled a few leaves out of his hair before lifting her up and placing her on the workbench, coming to stand between her legs. “Tell you what, I’ll give you some devil’s ivy. If you can keep that alive for three months then we’ll move you on up to a jade plant and maybe some flowers. Sounds good?”

She nodded, picking another leaf out of his hair, giving him an affectionate smile. “I think that I can live with that.”

Chapter Text

“Remind me again why we’re dressing like a Muggle pop group,” Sirius groaned as he shimmied into a blue halter jumpsuit. The Marauders were getting ready for the annual Halloween party in Gryffindor tower and three out of the four members were less than enthused by their costume choice.

“Because Lily likes them!” was James’ enthusiastic response. Somehow, the man had already managed to get into his jumpsuit and was trying to get his wig to sit properly. “And you’ve heard the song. We’ve been practising! She’s going to love the routine!”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Peter piped up, “but why are you and Sirius dressed as girls? If we were going to go as a band we could have at least picked a group that’s all male.” Peter hadn’t quite mastered the fitting spell they were using on the costumes. His blue vest and trousers were just a bit too big for him.”

Sirius, having finally managed to get into his costume, jumped up on Remus’ bed and struck a dramatic pose. “Because Prongs and I have sexy Quidditch muscles that just cannot be contained!”

Remus grinned and gave him a playful shove as he grabbed his jacket.

“And why does Remus get to have a full suit?” Peter complained bitterly.

James heaved a sigh and turned to face his friends, wig still slightly askew. “For the last time, Moony is scruffy like Benny, Sirius and I are the only ones foxy enough to pull off Agnetha and Anni-Frid, and you are the spitting image of Björn. It’s perfect! So, quit your whining and hurry up. We have a song to perform!”

The group quickly finished up getting ready before gathering at the door to troop down to the Common Room as one. James had enchanted a record player to begin as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs and he was anxious to get down there. 

“They wouldn’t notice if I just quickly turned into Wormtail and scurried away, right?” Peter mumbled to Remus.

He barked out a laugh, “Um...let me Come on, Pete, it’ll be over quick. Besides, once Lily’s either snogging or murdering him, James won’t notice if you come back up and change.”

Unable to wait any longer, James led the charge down the stairs, adrenaline singing through his veins. At the bottom of the stairs, a hush fell over the crowd of Gryffindors as the Marauders lined up and beginning notes of ABBA’s “Take A Chance On Me” began to play.

Chapter Text

Usually, games of pickup-Quidditch were fun. Usually, it was a group of fourteen who flew around just trying to blow off steam and have a good time. Usually, the rules were relaxed a bit and everyone enjoyed themselves playing shirts and skins--much to Percy’s enjoyment. Today was not one of those days. Today, the other team got Marcus Flint to play. 

From the moment Flint stepped onto the pitch, Oliver was on edge. The two had never had a good relationship--being rival captains at school and everything. Percy groaned, knowing that today’s game was going to be a rough one. He had half a mind to send a Patronus to St Mungo’s so they could have a mediwix on standby. If it were anyone else, Percy would have thought that the pair should just have hate-sex in the showers after a game and get it out of their systems. 

As soon as the starting whistle sounded, the players took to the sky with reckless abandon. Apparently, the rest of the players had picked up on the energy of their captains and all fantasies about a fun game went out the window. Beaters weren’t just swinging at bludgers, chasers were flying recklessly,  seekers were dangerously darting between players, and a shirtless Oliver Wood was performing wild stunts to defend his hoops. No less than four time-outs had to be called within the first quarter-hour so as to attend to minor injuries such as broken noses and fingers. Percy had never been more glad for the hour time limit in these pickup games--and that was saying something. 

When the snitch was finally caught and the skins won 500 — 440, Percy thought that would be the end of it. However, the moment both teams landed, all hell broke loose.

Later, he would find out that Flint had yelled slurs at Oliver, something that wouldn’t normally anger the man, except everything Flint said was about Percy. No one was sure who exactly threw the first punch, but the players all jumped into the fray, brawling on the pitch like Muggle school children. 

Percy, wreckless Gryffindor that he sometimes was, jumped into the mass of bodies trying to find his boyfriend. He knew that Oliver didn’t really need his help, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. By the time he reached the man, he saw him punch Flint in the eye and yell, “The game’s fucking over, you son of a bitch! You lost. Stop being such a knob!”

Percy threw a quick body-bind at Flint then reached out and grabbed his boyfriend by the wrist, ducking an instinctive hit. “Okay, okay, you’ve proven your point, just don’t hit me!” he yelled over the den. With a wicked grin, he added, “Keep fighting or post-game shag in the showers?”

Oliver smirked, pupils blown wide with adrenalin and lust. Grabbing Percy’s hand more firmly, he quickly apparated them away.

Chapter Text

Pansy sat on the counter in the bathroom, face only inches from the mirror, as she applied her makeup for the evening. She knew that it was rather uncouth--her mother surely would have thrown a fit had she known--but there was something comforting about sitting like a child in one of Blaise’s button-down shirts, perfect bob pinned out of her face, and contouring her face to perfection. 

Normally, she would have put on one of Blaise’s discarded button-downs, however, today she had chosen his favourite plum shirt. She didn’t give a shit if she got makeup on it. The shirt would be ruined, anything but professional cleaning spells would damage the fabric. It would serve him right, the bastard. Besides, he could always just purchase another. Money was no object.

Just as she was applying the finishing touches to her lips--a lovely blood red colour--she heard the front door open and Blaise’s graceful footfalls as he glided through their flat. She rolled her eyes, unpinned her hair, hopped down from the counter, and strode into her walk-in closet unbuttoning the shirt as she went. 

“Hello, love,” Blaise lilted in his smooth baritone. He casually leaned against the door jamb and observed her. “What’s the occasion? Are we going out?”

Pansy through him a reproachful side-eyed glance as she slid the shirt off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor in a puddle around her feet. She selected her skimpiest little black dress from its hanger and stepped into it, completely forgoing underwear. “Zip,” she demanded, turning her back to him. 

Blaise’s gentle fingers slid up the zipper. He allowed his hands to linger briefly on the slight curve of her hips. 

I ,” Pansy drawled, slipping her feet into matching emerald pumps with impossibly high heels, “am going out. You can continue with whatever it was you had going for the evening. As for the occasion? If you don’t remember, I certainly am not going to remind you.” 

“Oh, Pans,” he sighed, “you know how I am with—”

“With dates?” she snapped, grabbing her favourite pair of large gold earrings. “Yes, I know. But seeing as we have known each other since we were children, I would have thought that this particular date would have been imprinted on your memory by now.”

At Blaise’s blank look she threw her hands up in frustration. “You forgot about my birthday, you complete wanker!”

The light of understanding flashed in his eyes. “In my defence, I forget about a lot of things.”

She scoffed and brushed past him to grab a clutch for the evening.

“So it’s a good thing I didn’t actually forget about your birthday,” he continued.

At this, she glanced up at him sharply.

“I was gone all day getting your gift,” he explained, “and I didn’t say anything to you because I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Pansy’s quiet anger immediately evaporated. Blaise was horrible at keeping surprises to himself. He always seemed to give it away. It was his most unSlytherin trait. 

She shook her head slightly, pushing away her earlier frustrations and any lingering feelings of betrayal. “What’d you get me?” she asked, doing her best to suppress any lingering anxieties.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Blaise smirked. “I’ve kept it a secret up until now. You’re just going to have to wait a bit longer.”

Pansy sighed but conceded. Besides, she was sure she could somehow wheedle it out of him before they even left the flat.

Chapter Text

Ginny groaned as she collapsed into a dining room chair in her and Luna’s flat. It had been another long, hard day of training with the Harpies and she was certain that her sore muscles were going to seize up any moment despite the hour and a half of stretching she had done before apparating home. All she wanted was dinner and a hot bath. In that order. Thank Merlin that Luna always seemed to know exactly what she needed. 

A pale hand gently set a plate in front of her with small chunks of steak, a hardboiled egg on a massive bed of spinach leaves. Although Luna was a strict vegetarian, she was happy to make Ginny all the meat-based foods she needed during Quidditch season.

Ginny eyed the large plate of vegetables with disinterest. “Baby,” she whined, “no salad today. I need more steak and eggs. Please?”

"The greens are good for you," Luna said in a sing-song voice, "besides, you'll need more stamina for later."

Ginny groaned but tucked into her salad nonetheless. After a few mouthfuls, she looked up and noticed that Luna hadn't joined her. The woman was sitting on the counter drinking a glass of sparkling wine.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow, "Babe, why aren't you eating? And why will I need stamina later?"

Luna gave an airy smirk, "Oh, I had a bit of salad earlier, I'm just waiting until after your bath for dessert."

"Dessert?" Ginny asked, a blush rising in her cheeks.

"Yes," Luna said after another sip of wine. "You need stamina later because tonight, I intend to eat my fill of your cunt."

Chapter Text

“Training for the ballet, Potter?” Draco sneers as he leans against the doorframe of the dance studio.

Harry looks up from his position on the floor where he is attempting to stretch, very poorly in Draco’s opinion.

“Um...” he rasps, his cheeks darkening with a blush. “Coach Hooch said that ballet would help with my agility on the field so...yeah. I guess I am.”

Draco scoffs and walks further into the room, letting his bag drop in a corner before he begins to strip out of his street clothes, revealing a tight black leotard and leggings beneath. “So you’re the one I’m supposed to be tutoring. Lovely.”

Harry looks up at him, dumbfounded. “ You’re teaching the class?”

“Of course,” Draco says as he gracefully glides to the barre to begin his stretching. “And it’s just you and me. Didn’t you read the email? It’s a private class.”

Harry’s face mimics a fish, mouth hanging agape, eyes wide. Draco rolls his eyes again and silently wonders if he will cause himself permanent ocular damage from the number of times he’s sure he will be rolling his eyes in the next hour.

“Look, Potter,” he continues, leg perched on the top barre. “Can you follow my instructions? Can you dance with me?”

Harry blinks, then raises an inquiring eyebrow, “You’re not mad that I’m the one you’ll be tutoring?”

“No, I’m not mad,” there he goes rolling his eyes again for the third time in as many minutes. “Frustrated? Sure that this will be a disaster? Not actually convinced that you can put your ego aside for one moment and learn something from me? Yes. But I’m willing to try. So, come on!” he switches legs on the barre and nods his head motioning for Harry to join him. “I haven’t got all day twinkle-toes!”

Chapter Text

"Smash it!” Ginny cried, handing Hermione a beater’s bat.

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed, but took the bat nonetheless. “This is destruction of property, Gin.”

“Who’s?” the girl asked. “We’re in a junkyard. All this crap has been here for ages, and it’s already all beaten up. Take the bat and smash the car.”

“Ginny, what are we doing here? What will breaking the windshield or hitting anything accomplish?” Hermione whined. 

Ginny sighed and cupped Hermione’s face in her hands. “Ronald is an arsehole who couldn’t see what was right in front of him. You can’t smash his face in, but you can beat the shit out of this hunk of junk. You smash the car, you’ll feel better and then we’re done here. You can go back home and eat a pint of ice cream and wallow in heartbreak again, but not until you get some of these feelings out. Okay?”

Hermione nodded. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back and circled the car, stopping by the boot. She raised the bat and took aim at one of the tail lights but hesitated. She had never willfully destroyed anything before and doing so now, as a means to improve her mood, felt selfish. 

Ginny must have sensed her hesitation. The girl came up on the other side of the car and started chanting, “Smash it. Smash it. Smash it. Smash it.”

“Okay,” Hermione groaned, “I’ll smash it, I swear. Just give me a second.” She took a breath and repositioned herself, choosing to ignore Ginny’s admittedly quieter chant. Bat raised, she breathed again, closed her eyes, and swung.

Chapter Text

James trudged up the stairs to his room. It had been a long day: two tests, a twenty-four-inch essay, Quidditch practice in the rain, and leading a prefect meeting had completely taken it out of him. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a week. Unfortunately, those plans all went to shit when he reached his bed. 

The curtains around the enlarged four-poster were drawn. With a sigh, he pushed them open. As he suspected, a very naked Remus and Sirius were sprawled out across the bed having clearly fallen asleep while waiting for him to get off patrol. On any other day, the sight of his boyfriends naked in their bed would have excited him, but tonight, he was just too tired. 

James quickly undressed, set his glasses down on the bedside table and climbed onto the mattress trying to squeeze between his two lovers. “Move!” he grumbled to them both. 

“Why would I move if I’m so comfy where I am?” Sirius murmured sleepily but shifted to allow James some space. 

Once settled, Remus rolled over and spooned him. Sirius snuggled close and put his arms around them both.

“Night, loves,” Remus whispered before sleep claimed him again.

James breathed in the scent of Moony and Padfoot. His boyfriends, his lovers, his pack. The stress of the day melted away and he finally allowed himself to relax and fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Ron groaned, shoulders drooping, and silently begged Merlin and Morgana to just kill him now. “Another bookshop? Hermione, I love you, but this is getting ridiculous.” 

She rolled her eyes affectionately. Yes, the pair had been out shopping most of the day, but this was their final stop and she was rather excited to go in. “Ron, I promise, it’ll be quick. I have a list. I know exactly what I’m looking for.”

“We went to Flourish & Blotts and that second-hand book shop off of Diagon. Couldn’t you have just had one of them order what you want?”

“No,” she said. “What I need is rather niche.”

Almost petulantly, he sat down on the stoop, shopping bags pooled around him. “I’m not going in.”

Hermione reached out and gently ran a hand through her husband’s hair. As he leaned into the touch, she gripped his hair roughly and forced him to look at her. “Ronald, if you don’t go in, then we’re not going to get a treat after.”

Ron registered the spark of warning in her eyes and immediately felt himself grow hard. He swallowed.

“Besides,” she whispered, “it’s not really a bookshop. I think you’ll like what they have inside. Are you coming?”

Ron nodded and stood quickly, ready to follow. “Yes, mistress.”

Chapter Text

Teddy was exhausted. He had just apparated home from a week-long trip in the Sahara for his Magizoology masters. James wasn’t expecting him to get home for another few hours, but he just couldn’t wait to get home. Although it was six in the morning, all he wanted to do was strip out of his sweat-stained clothes, take a cool shower, and fall into bed. 

Even before he entered the house, he could smell bacon frying in the kitchen. Jamie had always been an earlier riser and held a firm belief that one should start off their day with protein. Maybe, Teddy would be able to convince him to leave some under a stasis charm for later. 

Spurred on by the thought, he quickly opened the back door that led to their utility room. One of the things the men had bonded over was their love of Muggle household appliances. The first thing they had purchased for their home together had been a Muggle washer and dryer. Teddy stripped off his stained and smelly work clothes and dumped them in the wash and left his bag by the door, everything in there would need to be washed as well or thrown out.

Naked, he walked into the kitchen. As he suspected, James was at the stove cooking breakfast. “Hey, love!” he called as he wrapped his arms around James' waist. 

Jamie jumped in surprise but quickly recovered, smothering Teddy in a tight hug and screaming his excitement about having him home. They were locked in a passionate kiss--Teddy felt that he might be able to wait a while to shower and sleep, especially seeing as other parts of him began to stir in wakefulness--when the sound of a throat clearing came from the other side of the kitchen. 

When they pulled apart, Teddy looked up, startled, and made eye contact with Harry and Ginny. He felt his face immediately blush red and he was sure his hair--all of his hair--had turned a matching shade. “Jamie,” he whispered, trying to hide behind his boyfriend, “I really would have liked it if you told me your parents were coming to town.”

James snickered, “Well, you’re early, and I really would have liked it if you put pants on before coming into the kitchen, but here we are.”

A stifled laugh came from Ginny. She was patting her husband on the back. Harry’s face was buried in his hands, hiding what was sure to be a blush. “Oh, don’t hide on our account,” she quipped. “We’ve been changing both of your nappies since just about day one. We know what you’re working with.”

Harry groaned in embarrassment, Teddy grabbed a tea towel to cover his bits, James and Ginny just laughed.

Chapter Text

Arthur: Guess what!!!

Molly: You didn't… 🤦♀️

Arthur: Didn't what? 😇

Molly: Don't you play innocent with me Arthur Weasley. You were supposed to drop off the glass and come straight home.

Arthur: But look at it!

Molly: I don't want to see a picture!


Arthur: I found them in the recycling bin!

Arthur: You've been saying that you want a new clock for the mantle.

Molly: There are at least ten clocks there. How many did you grab?

Arthur: Ummm…

Molly: 🤯

Molly: WTF are we going to do with TEN clocks? Someone recycled them. They probably don't even work and belong in a landfill.

Arthur: But I can fix them up! And maybe I can sell a few.

Arthur: Besides, they're already in the car.

Molly: No. Just no. Put them in the bin.

Arthur: That's wasteful.

Molly: I don't care.

Arthur: Well, you’re the one killing the environment, so who’s really in the wrong here? 🤷♂️

Molly:  …

Molly: Wanna rephrase that?

Arthur: I've returned all but one and am picking up dinner...and flowers.

Molly: I love you, you big idiot 😘

Arthur: I love you too.

Chapter Text

Ron lay down on the tattooist's chair feeling like he was sweating bullets. How could he have been so wrong? He silently cursed himself for the hundredth time and tried to tune out the boisterous laughter of his five older brothers. Even Percy had come along to witness his misery. 

"Aw, don't give us such a sad face Ronniekins," Fred crowed. "We bet and you lost."

"But tattoos are permanent!” Ron wailed. "I'm his best mate and I couldn't ever see it happening. There is no way you two could have either. You must have cheated."

"Not our fault Harry gave us the map back after the war," George quipped. "But honestly, little brother, it was obvious that something was bound to happen sooner or later. They were either going to kill each other or shag. We've known that for years."

Ron winced as the tattoo artist began to work, permanently adorning his arse with a large pygmy puff. Damn Harry, he thought, of all the blokes I was so sure he'd end up with Malfoy. Harry Snape-Potter just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Chapter Text

Hermione: Really? Again?

Harry: 🤷♀️


Harry: Oh shit! Caps lock mode

Hermione: Can you quit being so sassy? This is how you landed yourself in detention. Again!

Harry: Hey hey can u quit being so controlling? It's just detention nbd

Hermione: Excuse me? You didn't seem to find me to be too controlling last night!

Harry: Hermione…

Hermione: If you EVER want me to do that thing for you again…

Harry: I know I know sry. U R right. I'll try not to be so whatever with Snape

Hermione: PROFESSOR Snape!

Harry: 🙄

Harry: Respect is earned

Harry: So, can I get some cheering up after detention? 🙏

Hermione: …

Hermione: Maybe some more punishment. ;-)

Chapter Text

“Sirius, honestly, you can’t go out like that!”

“What Lils? Are you getting jealous?” he smirked as he admired his profile in the mirror.

Lily huffed and flipped her long red hair over her shoulder. “In your dreams, Black.”

“Look,” he chuckled as he sauntered over to her, “just because I look better in the—”

“Sirius Orion Black, you’re changing your outfit, now!”

“No can do bug-a-boo!” he sang as he stepped into black five-inch stilettos and threw a stability charm on them. “I’ve been planning this costume for months. You’ve already secured your man, let me get mine. Besides, I doubt James will be able to keep his hands to himself for long. Ten galleons say you two will be shagging within the hour.”

Lily rolled her eyes and sighed, giving in. “Fine. But I get to go down first.”

“Sorry, doll, but I need to make an entrance. Gotta make sure Remus is watching.” With one last glance in the mirror, Sirius straightened the black bunny ears and placed an additional sticking charm on the white cotton tail making sure it was properly affixed to his black bodysuit and made his way down the stairs into the common room.

Chapter Text

Sirius lay sprawled out on the bed, legs up on the wall and hair dangling off the edge of the mattress. He held the mirror above him as he waited for Remus to answer on his end. He hadn’t been too happy when Remus had been sent out on yet another mission for Dumbledore. It was painful for him to be away from his boyfriend on the full moon. They hadn’t missed a moon together since they were fifteen. 

There were still a few more hours before moonrise, and Sirius was getting anxious. There was no doubt that he would spend the night as Padfoot. He wondered if he would just curl up on one of Remus’ jumpers and sleep or if he would go mad with pent up energy and destroy the flat. It could really go either way. 

“Hey!” Remus’ face materialized in the mirror. His voice was bright and he was smiling, but Sirius could tell that the man was exhausted. 

“Hey, love!” he said just as brightly, trying to cover up his anxiety. “You doing alright?”

Remus smiled. “Yeah, I made contact with the group yesterday. Everything’s going to plan. How about you?”

Sirius just shrugged, worried that he’d give away his unease if he started talking about anything less than mundane. “I’m fine. What time is it there?”

Remus chuckled and rolled his eyes, “You know we’re in the same time-zone, right? I haven’t left England.”

“Are you supposed to be telling me where you are? I thought this was some super-secret mission?”

The man’s grin only widened. “Only for you, love.” 

As he lay there and talked with Remus: his boyfriend, his lover, his friend, he was slowly overcome by the feeling that everything would soon be alright. This was just another thing they would need to endure together. They could do it, just like they could do everything else. It would be difficult, but in the end, it would all be worth it.

Chapter Text

When they had received the invitation from Luna, they had been expecting…well, Neville wasn’t quite sure what Ginny had been expecting, but he had been expecting leather, chains hanging from the walls and ceilings, and lots of intimidating equipment. Neville had thought that everyone would be masked or that he wouldn’t recognize anyone at all. What they found, however, was rather unexpected.

Ginny and Neville’s relationship had been open from the beginning. With how much they both travelled for work, neither had ever sustained an additional long term partner--they were just too fucking busy--however, as they were both bisexual, sex and a possible date with someone else every so often was nice and fun. They had even brought in a third or fourth from time to time, but they had never gone out to play together and it was something they were eager to try.

Walking out into the main room, Neville was surprised at how nice everything was. It honestly felt as though they had stepped into a swanky hotel lobby, except that the furniture was much more accommodating for...activities, and everyone was having sex. Couples and triads dotted the sofas engaged in various acts, each more interesting than the last. However, it was the centre of the room that caught both of their eyes. 

There, on full display, for all to see was what could only be described as a sixty-nining train. At least ten witches, wizards, and wixen were laying or kneeling over each other in a massive line of oral sex. All of them, completely recognizable from their time at Hogwarts. Draco, Blaise, Ernie, Hannah, Cho, Luna, Harry, Fred, Oliver, Angelina, and so many others scattered about the room.

The pair stood in awe, quite unsure where to look or how to begin. Mercifully, Luna broke away from the group and led them by the hands to a free spot on one of the sofas. 

“It’s alright if you want to watch for a while, or just play by yourselves,” she said dreamily, “but I’d love to get to play with you two, or for you to join us on the floor. But whatever you chose, quit flirting with the decision to stay or go.”

“S-sorry,” Neville stammered. “I didn’t mean to, it’s just—”

“New and exciting,” Ginny cut in, “and a bit overwhelming.” A fortifying look passed between the couple and they grinned at one another.

“Alright,” Neville said, after a breath. “Where should we start?”

Chapter Text

Draco flopped back on the bed dramatically. Apparently being seated on the plush surface wasn’t emotive enough. He had been in a strop ever since he returned home from pub night. Well, he was probably in a strop before he even left the pub, but Harry knew that he’d never admit to that. 

“I just don’t know what happened,” he whined. “One moment we were all laughing and talking about Marigold’s disastrous holiday in Naples and the next everyone was looking at me like I was lower than bubotuber pus.” He threw a hand over his eyes and let out a sigh. “I mean really, I was just trying to point out that when holidaying in Naples—”

“Draco,” Harry cut in with a groan. “Shut up. You’re too good for them.” 

“Well, I know that,” he huffed, “but I’m trying to network.”

Harry rolled his eyes and went back to his task.

Draco suddenly propped himself up on an elbow to look at his boyfriend. “Hey, you’re likeable. Maybe you could teach me how to interact with the unwashed masses.”

Harry sighed and sat back on his heels. “Look, love, I fucking hate networking. I’m only likeable because I’m the damned ‘Chosen One’. If you want help with this, go ask a Hufflepuff. Now, do you want to keep complaining about it or would you like me to get back to the blow job?”

Chapter Text

D: Potter

D: What. The. Fuck. Is. This?

H: To what are you referring, my love?

D: Oh no! Don’t you pull that innocent shit with me!

D: What

D: The actual fuck

D: Is THIS doing in our flat?


green snake with white spots

H: Oh! That’s Sali

D: Sali?

H: Short for Salizar. 

H: Duh! 

H: Isn’t she precious?

D: You know how I feel about snakes.

H: But Sali is a sweetheart! She begged me to bring her home from that awful pet shop. 

H: Some kid was just going to buy her and leave her in a glass case and feed her frozen mice. 

H: But she doesn’t want that. She’s lonely. 

H: And maybe we can love her like she deserves.

H: Please…? I’ll be sure to translate for her. 

D: …

H: I can teach you Parseltongue.

D: Fine.

D: And YOU feed the Nope Rope.

H: Sali

D: Danger Noodle.

H: The sweetest snake to ever slither across the earth!

D: Whatever.


D: You have a cute nose, don’t make me break it.

H: Close up of man's face in sunglasses

H: Too late, hot stuff! Sixth year?

D: Ugh. Fine.

D: Sorry about that, by the way.

H: Hey, Draco?

D: …

D: Yeah?

H: I like my nose better this way.

H: I love you.

D: I love you too.

D: Your pet is going in the guest room until you get home.

H: That’s fair.

Chapter Text

Andromeda stood on the small balcony of her flat, staring at the neighbourhood below, but not really seeing anything. There really wasn’t much of a view to look at anyway, unless you counted a semi-busy Muggle street and just the tiniest sliver of green off to the left, if you leaned over the railing just a bit. Park view my arse , she thought. But still, it was so much better than it could have been. 

No, it was nowhere near beautiful and by all financial standards, she probably should have purchased a flat elsewhere to get more “bang for her buck” but she loved her little flat and everything it represented. Freedom. Freedom from the insidious ties of her family. Bravery for so flagrantly ignoring their instructions and staking out her own claim on the world. Peace to be herself, by herself. 

Although, she wasn’t by herself anymore. If she were honest with herself, she hadn’t been by herself for over two years. It just took them a long while to actually come together in that way. Ted’s friendship had meant the world to her, but his love… His love was everything. Without him, she doubted that she would have ever found the strength to do what she had done that day.

No, it wasn’t because of him, at least, not in the way most thought. So many people--women especially, particularly in their world--seemed to feel incomplete without a man. Andromeda wasn’t one of them. She had been fine on her own. Whole. But when Ted had come crashing into her life, he had somehow been able to see all of her, even the tiny seemingly insignificant pieces of her; what she was and what she could be. 

Ted’s faith and confidence in her were absolute. It wasn’t that he thought she could do no wrong, it was that he knew her potential and somehow knew exactly how to bring it out. How to encourage her, support her. How to make her feel more capable than she could have ever imagined herself to be. 

And now, here she was, standing on her balcony, looking out into the night without really registering what she was seeing. In her mind, she was back on that hill which overlooked the family estate in Wiltshire. A few horses were still in the field, the topiary lining the long drive that led to the house was neatly trimmed as always. The only thing out of place was the front door to the manor. 

She knew that she had closed it firmly behind her as she made that final walk out of her childhood home. However, in the time since she had disapparated from the gates and appeared on the hillside, the door’s large brass handle and knocker had vanished. They were closing ranks, she knew. They had probably already fire called Aunt Walburga and had her blasted off the family tapestry.

Ted came up behind her on the balcony and wrapped his long arms around her waist. She leaned back into the embrace, allowing herself to get lost in his scent for the second time that day. Bergamot, citrus, laundry soap, and something that was uniquely Ted. He didn’t ask if she was okay. He knew that she wasn’t. Even though she was finally free of those people--her former family--the small piece inside of her that had held out hope for a change in them had shattered that day. 

“Tell me what I can do to help?” he asked, voice low and calming.

“When you were small,” she whispered to him, so low that she knew he had to strain to listen, “and you were sad or couldn’t sleep, what helped?”

Ted placed a kiss to the top of her head and held her closer. “My mum used to sing me to sleep,” he murmured.

Feeling ever so small and vulnerable, she asked, “Would you...would you sing me to sleep?”

He hid his smile in her hair, “You do remember that Molly and Arthur have banned me from karaoke…?”

She huffed a laugh, the first one she had all day. “Tell me a story then?”

“Alright,” he said leading her back into the flat and gently tucked her back into bed. He curled up behind her and began to play with her hair as he spoke, “Once upon a time…”

Chapter Text

It might not have been the most dignified or regal way to stand, hands in the pockets of his robes, but he was able to effect an air of refined nonchalance so it didn’t really matter. He knew that he would appear more rakish, more aloof and haughty if he had let his hair do the slightly tousled thing--the way all of the handsome wizards had it styled in the magazines--the way his hair wanted to fall if left to its own devices, but his father had insisted on the more proper slicked-back look. And at the end of the day, if Father was happy, everyone was happy.

He sat through most of the train ride and the welcome feast with at least one hand stuffed into a pocket. Potter’s rejection had been a crushing blow made even worse by Crabbe and Goyle bearing witness to his humiliation. But with a hand in his pocket, he is able to forget it all, even if it’s just for a moment. He can slide back on the mask of cool indifference, throw out a few barbed remarks or insults, and be just fine. 

That night, finally ensconced in his four-poster bed behind the green hangings and the swirling light that filters in from the window which shows below the murky waters of The Black Lake he cringes a bit when he hears Blaise’s lilting voice taunting Goyle “You still need your baby blanket? What, never been away from Mummy before?”

From the depths of his pockets, Draco pulls out two squares of brilliantly white muslin fabric. He brings them up to his nose and inhales. They still smell like home--like apples and lilacs and whatever laundry soap the house-elves use. He rubs his fingers along their smooth edges and holds back tears. He was growing up, almost a man, his father had said. It was time to put to bed childish things and become who he was meant to be. Draco hadn’t been able to save his stuffed animals from the culling, but he had been able to cut the two squares from his beloved blanket and hide them in his pockets before it too was vanished.  

With one last sniff, he inhales comfort, and peace, and childhood, and innocence. He stuffs the fabric into his pillowcase for safekeeping. Tomorrow, he’ll pull them back out again and place them in the pockets of his robes. His father never has to know.

Chapter Text

Noise. There was so much noise. Harry's brain couldn't figure out what to focus on. It all sounded like a great big jumble of sounds. Logically, he knew that he was in the spell damage ward of St Mungos with Healers darting in and out of the room, but nothing else was registering. 

Finally, a familiar voice rose above the din, "He's coming round."

"Draco?" he asked. The word stuck in his throat. His mouth was dry, parched really. "Did I black out?"

Strong hands manoeuvred him into a sitting position and brought a straw to his lips. Water. Oh, the sweet taste of water, he thought.

"You've been out for about an hour," murmured Draco. He ran his fingers through the rat's nest of Harry's hair. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like I'm gonna puke," Harry moaned. He cast his eyes around the room for a bin or something else he could use to be sick in. 

"That's just the potions, love," Draco said for what must be the thousandth time. "They caught the guy, " he continued. "Ron has him in for questioning now. They'll get the countercurse out of him soon, I'm sure."

Harry smiled and leaned into Draco's touch. Being cursed was never fun, but if he had Draco there to take care of him, maybe it wasn't so bad.

Chapter Text

"'Let's just bury the hatchet,' he said. 'Family is important,' he said." 

Harry is angry, angrier than Severus has ever seen him before. Most would say that the righteous indignation of The Boy Who Lived, the Saviour of the Wizarding World was terrifying. True, it takes a lot to rile Harry up, especially these days, but the almost manic glint in those deep green eyes stirs a deep seated, almost animalistic, desire within Severus. He just can't help himself.

Visiting the Dursley's was probably one of Severus' least brilliant ideas, but gods, Harry is glorious. 

"Fuck you, and fuck your hatchet!" Harry grunts.

"I rather thought that's what you were already doing," Severus drawls, trying to hide the smirk threatening to appear on his lips.

"Shut up," Harry growls low in his chest and increases his speed. He throws his head back in ecstasy as he impales himself on Severus' cock again and again.

Fuck, Severus loves it when Harry's angry—loves his bossy bottom.

Chapter Text

“It’s hatching! It’s hatching!” an excitable Teddy cried.

Somehow, and Merlin help him if he ever found out, Teddy had gotten a hold of a giant egg. Charlie had been able to confirm that it was not a dragon egg but was certain it was reptilian in origin. If Harry had to posit a guess, Teddy got the egg from Hagrid.

Still, the sight of the little boy’s awe and wonderment at the beginning of new life--not to mention his hair shifting rapidly between seven different colours--was heartwarming. He glanced over at Draco who was watching the hatching just as eagerly.

“I bet it’s a boy,” Teddy said, bouncing on his toes.

Draco smirked as he peered along the faultlines of the shell, “I bet it’s a turtle.”

At his words, the unmistakably scaled leg of a turtle broke through, followed quickly by a head and the top of a brownish shell. Quickly, Harry transfigured half of the enclosure into a little pool for the turtle to swim. They would have to figure out what to do with the little creature soon. He doubted that Andromeda would allow Teddy to keep it in the house.

“Draco,” Teddy asked, “where do turtles come from?”

Harry suppressed a grin at the look on Draco’s face, so grateful that he wasn’t the one to have to explain reproduction to the six-year-old.

“Well, um…Teddy,” Draco stuttered, “you just saw the turtle hatch from its egg. Ergo, a mother turtle lays an egg and a baby turtle hatches from it.”

“Yeah, I know that,” the boy said petulantly, “but turtles had to come from somewhere. Which came first? A mummy turtle or an egg?”

At Draco’s panicked stare, Harry jumped in, “Teddy, I think we have some Muggle books on evolution in the library. Why don’t we go take a look.” 

Chapter Text

"Moony!” Sirius nearly howls as he rifles through the contents of his bedroom floor. The room is an utter mess with clothes and the odd detritus littering the carpet as if a cyclone has blown through the room. Remus would be concerned that his friend has displayed an extraordinary amount of accidental magic, but he knows that this is, unfortunately, the normal status of his friend’s room.

“Moony!” Sirius yells again, “Have you seen my wallet?”

“Why would I have seen your wallet?” he asks, trying to suppress an eye roll at the sight before him. Remus is a tidy person. His friends say that he’s a bit obsessive about it all, but he knows that he is the regular amount of clean and that they are just slobs. 

Sirius groans and tosses a pair of trousers from one pile into another and continues on his treasure hunt. “I don’t know. You just seem to know where everything is.”

“That’s because everything of mine has a proper place and it’s always put there. Something you should probably do,” he quips. An old white trainer flies at his head and he laughs ducking out of the way. “What do you need your wallet for anyway?”

Sirius gives him a withering look over his shoulder. “Because I need more cigarettes and the Muggle shop around the corner has the best ones.”

“Just grab some spare change from the jar,” Remus offers. Their communal change jar has gotten rather full.”

“Spare change?” Sirius sputters, looking at Remus as though he’s grown another head.

“Hey, you can’t be responsible enough to put your wallet someplace consistently, you don’t get a wallet.” He shrugs and starts walking back out to the living room. “Or, you know,” he adds with a smirk, “you are a wizard. You could just summon it. Or have you lost your wand to?”

Chapter Text

To say that the day had not gone well would be a colossal understatement. Fred had woken up that morning with a sense of dread. It felt as though there was a humming in his ears and under his skin.

His morning tea scalded his tongue, his toast burnt to charcoal, the new product he was working on for the shop went berserk and somehow destroyed all of his research notes, he had worked through lunch, and while trying to close up that evening he had accidentally shut his hand in the door. It was all too much. He had been trying to stave off a panic attack all day and had thought himself to be succeeding, but it seemed to all be for not. 

The buzzing, humming feeling hit him in a rush as soon as he made it to his flat. It itched. He needed to scratch. Scratch his scalp, scratch his arms, scratch the back of his neck. He thought that if he could just claw open the skin whatever was causing the irritation would go away, be released like a flock of birds and then he would be left alone in peace. 

He knew better. He knew that wouldn’t work. Knew it was unhealthy to try to open his skin. But he wanted it. No, he craved it. Like a man in the desert thirsts for water, Fred longed for it. To see it, to feel it. It would calm him down. He knew it would. But no. No, he would not.

With shaking hands, he fished the old D. A. galleon out of his pocket and sent a quick message to Harry. Harry would know what to do. Harry understood.

It felt like only a moment later when Harry’s blundering footsteps could be heard ascending the staircase to the flat. The man was horrible at stealth. How he had ever passed the Auror exam was anyone's guess.

Harry didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He gently removed Fred’s hands from the now unruly mop of ginger hair and led him to the bathroom where he prepared the tub. Fred wasn’t really a bath person, he much preferred the shower, but that night it seemed almost restorative. 

Later, they laid on the sofa, Fred’s head on Harry’s chest. Listening and feeling the rhythmic movements of Harry’s heart and lungs served to further calm his already shot nerves. And the warmth of Harry, the weight of Harry holding him was more than he could have ever asked for or deserved. 

Long ago, when Harry had first started helping him out before things had become...whatever it was they were to each other now, Fred had tried to joke, “Cuddle or leave,” he had said. And Harry had. Fred was a very tactile person and had cuddled both romantically and platonically with many people. Hell, his mother had even said that almost from the moment of birth he had been cuddled up next to George and had refused to leave his side. But cuddling with Harry was different somehow. 

He wasn’t sure that he wanted to put a name to it, not yet at least. But he knew that there was something more. Something almost magical in this thing between them. He would figure it out another day.

Below him, Harry shifted and said, “Getting hungry? I could order us some curry.”

“Stay,” Fred mumbled against the fabric of the man’s warm jumper.

Harry chuckled, “So that’s a ‘no’ to supper then?”

With a flick of his wand, Fred summoned two chocolate bars from the cooling cabinet. “Chocolate makes everything better,” he said quietly.

Harry just nodded and opened the wrappers, neither of them saying, but both thinking, that although he wasn’t plagued by literal Dementors, the ones in his mind could still easily be put to rest, at least for a while, with the sweet taste of chocolate.

Chapter Text

Her hair was a much wilder mess than usual. It was as though her normally bushy mane had been electrocuted. Even her frizz had frizz.

Severus stood in the doorway for a few moments watching as his young colleague—his lover—was bent over a massive stack of parchment, furiously grading essays. Seventh-year by the look of them—each was sixty inches at least. NEWTs were fast approaching and Hermione was determined that all of her students would be prepared.

He set a large mug of black coffee on the desk and gently took the quill out of her hand. "You need to take a break," he murmured.

"What I need is caffeine," she groaned while trying to snatch back her quill.

He smirked and pressed the warm mug into her hands. "You've been at this for hours."

Hermione downed half the coffee in one swallow, "Not that long. Just since eight. What time is it now?”


She blinked owlishly at him.

"In the morning," he continued. "Therefore, time for a break."

Hermione began humming idly and he thought he heard her mumble something like, Coffee, coffee, coffee before she began rifling around in a drawer at the bottom of her desk.

"Are you high," he quipped. "Haven't purchased any study aids from nefarious Hufflepuffs, have you?"

She flushed tomato red and he suppressed a smug grin.

"Merlin, no!" she squeezed. "I learned my lesson. And no, I'm not high, I'm just so fucking tired."

He was about to suggest that she just go to bed when she let out a triumphant cry and pulled a massive can of Red Bull out of the drawer and promptly dumped half of it into the remainder of her coffee.

Sweet Salizar, he thought, the woman was so wired that she'd probably start seeing sound and hearing colour soon. 

"Alright," she said, flexing her fingers, "let's do this bitch."

Chapter Text

“No, I’m telling you, it’d make the perfect music room,” James insisted.

Lily rolled her eyes. They had been arguing...well, the term arguing was a bit strong. Discussing? Yes, discussing what to do with the other bedroom in the upstairs portion of the little house in Godric’s Hollow. They had only been moved in for a week and the small room--what she was certain was meant to be a study--had quickly become the “How do we own so much shit? Where do we put it? Just shove it in there for now!” room. She was determined to have the room set-up and available for use by the end of the month. However, they first needed to agree to its use.  

“James,” she sighed, “neither of us is musical. I’ve never once picked up an instrument that agreed with me and your singing voice could strip paint off the walls.”

He sighed and flopped down on a small stack of boxes. “Why did I marry you?” he asked with a wry grin.

“Because you’re madly in love with me and I’m always right.” She smiled and brushed his ever messy hair off his face with her fingers.

“It certainly took a lot of convincing.”

Lily laughed and placed a kiss to his forehead. 

Little did they know, the perfect use for the spare room would reveal itself the very next morning. 

Chapter Text

Marlene flopped down on the common room sofa completely exhausted after another rough Quidditch practice. James had been relentless in their training today and all she wanted to do was sneak into the Prefect’s Bathroom and have a good long soak. Well, there were other things that she would like to do as well while she was in there, but...that wasn’t going to happen. 

She had been so sure that Dorcas had been interested. Every time they were in the same room together these days the tension was palpable. Marlene wished that she had the confidence, the gusto to just go up to her best friend and kiss her, to tell her how she really felt. But all Dorcas could talk about the last few days was “Remus this” and “Remus that”. Yes, they were the two out bisexuals in Gryffindor tower, but that didn’t mean they had to get together. 

Marlene scrubbed a hand over her face and sighed, trying to clear her mind, to shove her thoughts about Dorcas back into their designated box. It wouldn’t do to keep pining after her friend--her best friend--who didn’t like her back. 

As if summoned, Dorcas sat down in her favourite armchair completely engrossed in her phone. She smiled at whatever it was she read and quickly fired off a text in reply.

“Who are you texting?” Marlene asked, desperate for any type of interaction with the girl.

Dorcas blushed, “Um...nobody,” she said, quickly pocketing her phone. She promptly started twisting a lock of hair, clearly trying to hide her embarrassment.

Marlene sighed, “It’s Remus again, isn’t it?”

“So what if it was,” she shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant.

Suddenly, Marlene felt the bite of bile rise up in the back of her throat, she wanted to stomp from the room and scream. She wanted to steal one of the Beater’s bats, fly around the pitch, and beat the shit out of the bludgers. Why was she so angry? She had absolutely no right to be this upset about her best friend and crush liking a boy. It was insane and she needed to get a grip on herself. She needed to—

“WouldyougotoHogsmeadewithme?” Dorcas blurted out suddenly, all in a rush.

Marlene’s thoughts came to a crashing halt. “What?” she whispered, not quite sure she had actually said aloud.

Dorcas took a breath and visibly struggled to slow her speech down. “This weekend, would you go to Hogsmeade with my date.” The girl’s eyes shifted to the fireplace. It was as if she were trying to steel herself for a letdown.

“As your date?” Marlene repeated, the gears in her mind spinning.

“You don’t have to. It’s fine—” Dorcas tried to backtrack.

“But you like Remus,” she insisted. “You were just texting him and smiling about it. You like Remus, don’t you? You’re constantly texting him.”

Dorcas laughed, actually laughed, a high tinkling bell-like sound. Merlin, Marlene loved her laugh. 

“No silly,” she said. “Remus has been helping me work up the courage to ask you out.”


Silence spread between them. Marlene would never be sure if it were only for a moment, or if it were for ages. But that aforementioned tension was back in the air as the women gazed at each other. Fuck. she could gaze at Dorcas all day.

“So...will you?” the woman asked.

 “Will I what?”

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Chapter Text

Minerva sighed, barely suppressing an eye roll. She was tired, exhausted really, and she was done. So fucking done with this conversation. "You have two choices here, Ro—” 

“Neither of which I like,” the woman muttered darkly.

“They’re just hats. Pick one.”

Rolanda flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, “I look atrocious in hats. You know this.”

“It’s the start of term feast, Rolanda. Everyone is in formal robes. A hat is part of the formal robes.” Trying to reason with the woman was getting her nowhere.

“I bet you ten galleons Severus won’t be wearing a hat.”

“And he’ll be the only one which will make him look ridiculous. Now, which hat are you going to wear?”

Rolanda crossed her arms petulantly, sulking even further, “Nope. Not wearing a hat. You can’t make me.”

Again, Minerva sighed. She would have to try another tactic. She knelt down in front of her lover, placing her hands gently on the woman’s thighs. “If you wear one of the hats,” she said diplomatically, “I’ll order that...that thing.”

Rolanda glanced up, “What thing?”

“You know ‘what thing’,” she said, her voice low.

“The rope?”

“Yes, the rope.”

Rolanda’s pupils blew wide with lust. She lunged toward Minerva. “I’ll take the short one.”

Chapter Text

“What the actual fuck is that?” Ginny whispered, gripping Harry’s arm like a vice.

Harry winced a little but hoped she hadn’t noticed. “It’s a clown,” he said cooly.

“A clown?”

“Yes, it’s a type of Muggle entertainer, usually found at circuses or children’s birthday parties. They’re supposed to be fun.”

“More like terrifying,” she scoffed, just barely containing her urge to go yank James and Al away from the frightening creature.

“I think someone in my third year had a clown as their boggart?”

“It’s certainly my boggart now.”

Harry looked around quickly to make sure the Muggles hadn’t overheard. He needn’t have worried. All of the children had now swarmed the clown who was now brandishing an air pump and lots of coloured balloons. James and Albus were in the middle of the fray, excitedly jumping around with their cousins and the other children. The other parents all seemed to be very interested in their glasses of punch which Harry suspected had been generously spiked with something strong.

“Oh hush,” he laughed, “the kids are loving it.”

“What is it doing now?” she asked as a long green balloon was being twisted into an indistinguishable shape. 

“Balloon animals.”

“I want a cat!” a little girl called.

Choruses of, “I want a sward! I want a dog!” and many others rang through the throng of children.

“How much longer do we have to stay?” Ginny asked, slowly starting to edge towards the punch bowl. “I sware, that thing is going to give me nightmares.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Harry joked in a low voice, discreetly reaching for her arse.

“You will be sleeping on the sofa if you make—”

Harry jumped into action, grabbing Ginny by the hand and scooping his two boys up over each shoulder whilst they tried to swordfight with their new balloon creations. “Hey, um, Dudley,” he said, rushing over to his cousin. “Thanks for the invite, so sorry we have to dash. Important, you know,” here he lowered his voice, “ wizard business. Tell Aster Happy Birthday for us!”

Ginny waited to laugh until they were well out of earshot. Her mirth didn’t last long though when Jamie asked, “Mum, can I have a clown at my next birthday?”

Chapter Text

“Ron,” Harry asked, gently poking at the “casserole” currently sitting on the kitchen counter, “what did she say this was supposed to be?”

To his credit, Ron did try to stifle the grimace before it completely spread across his face. Casseroles weren’t supposed to jiggle like that. It just wasn’t natural. “She called it...tuna surprise.”

At Harry’s horrified look, he added, “She says that she followed her mum’s recipe exactly.”

“Do we even know what that’s made of?” Harry asked.

“Tuna apparently,” Ron quipped.

Harry shoved him good-naturedly. “Not helpful. I didn’t complain that year in the tent because I was so focused on...well, you know. But honestly, why did you let her cook? She’s horrible at it!”

Ron just shrugged, “You try arguing with your heavily pregnant wife who misses her mother. Hermione was already scary. You really think I have the balls to tell that woman not to do something?”

With a snort, Harry spooned out two portions of the “food” passing one to Ron. “So why isn’t she helping eat this?”

“Because she’s having a ‘girl’s night’ with your wife.” He sighed, “They’re probably eating something amazing right now.”

They were silent for a moment, then gathered their courage and each took a bite of the Tuna Surprise.

Instantly, their faces contorted into expressions of revolution. They hurried to the sink and spit out their paltry mouthfuls.

“Chinese food?” Ron gasped.

All Harry could do was nod and pray that a breath-freshening charm would get rid of the rancid taste in his mouth. He was never going to eat anything Hermione prepared ever again.

Chapter Text

“Well, what do you think?” James asked, poorly disguised apprehension clear on his face. He was trying to mask it with his usual good natured excitement, but it clearly wasn’t enough.

Remus and Sirius stared around at the tiny one room cabin in front of them. It wasn’t...horrible. The structure was much better than the Shack, but it still held a quality of...abandonment? Disrepair? Something that should have been burned to the ground ages ago? Sirius wasn’t sure which, but whatever it was, the cabin had it.

The young men had been talking for months about going on holiday together and James had been all too happy to suggest the Potter’s old hunting cabin in northern Scotland. It wasn’t entirely what Sirius had in mind, but the only time they were all able to get off from work was the week of the full moon and they needed a safe place for Remus to transform.

“How long did you say it was since your family has been out here?” Remus asked far more tactfully than Sirius could have ever hoped to do.

James just shrugged, “So we’ll have to throw a few scurigify’s around. We’re here and it’s going to be loads of fun! Besides,” he added with an eyebrow wiggle, “the bed is absolutely massive. We can get up to all sorts of things here.”

It was true, the bed was overly large and Sirius’ mind raced with all of the things they would be able to do with the extra room. However, a closer look had him wrinkling his nose. “These sheets are stained!”

“Bathroom?” Remus asked, hopefully.

“We’re roughing it,” James said, again trying to sound cheerful. “It’s like camping, but with a real structure.”

“I’m not shitting in a hole in the ground,” Remus said firmly. “That’s disgusting.”

Sirius sighed, with all the tact and diplomacy he could muster he said, “Inverness isn’t too far. We could rent a room there and then come back here for the moon.”

James looked a little bit crestfallen. He knew that James was just as let down by the state of the cabin as they all were but was desperately trying to salvage the situation.

“Yeah, that’d probably be for the best,” the man conceded.

Remus walked over and pulled James into a hug, kissing him lightly. “Thank you for setting this up, love.” He motioned for Sirius to join them and placed a kiss on his lips as well. “It’s getting late. No hotel will have a room ready this late. Why don’t we stay here for the night, try out the bed, and we’ll go to Inverness tomorrow.”

James’ eyes lit up. “Really?”

Sirius smiled at him and said, “Of course, James, but only if you clean the sheets.”

Chapter Text

“Dora, watch out for the—”

Thunk. Thunk.

“-board in the middle of the road,” Remus finished on a dejected sigh.

As soon as the tires of the tiny car ran over the debris he knew something was wrong. As if to confirm his premonition, the vehicle’s tire pressure light came on.

“Merlin’s tits,” Tonks mumbled. “I was sure it would be fine.”

Remus would have asked why she hadn’t swerved to avoid the board that must have fallen off the back of a lorry, but knowing his wife, he could put money on her coming back with a snappy retort and he just wasn’t in the mood. It was the day after the moon and all he wanted to do was get home and curl up in his own bed.

He hadn’t had the best night and was in no spot to Apparate, even after being patched up, so Dora had acquired a car and was bringing him back to London. Remus had never been a fan of Muggle transportation and was reminded once again just why he had stopped riding in motor vehicles with descendants of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. They were all terrible drivers .

“Too many Muggles around to repair it with magic,” she sighed. “Think you can talk me through changing the tire?”

Remus blinked at her. “You don’t know how to change a tire? But, your dad is a mechanic. Surely he—”

“Taught me?” she asked, quirking a small smile. “Nope, he hates doing tires. Does them all by magic.”

Remus groaned.

“Give it a rest, would ya?” Tonks said, reaching over to the passenger seat to rub away the crease forming between his eyebrows. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just do a strong Dissolutionment charm before I fix the tire.”

“And when you get arrested for breaking the Statute of Secrecy?” he asked with a wry smile.

“Then I’ll charm my way out of it like I always do.”  

Tonks gave him a quick peck on the cheek and set to work.

Chapter Text

He would have thought running into his old roommate from Hogwarts in an IKEA of all places would have been awkward. He would have thought that running into the man he had spent most of his adolescence pining over, a man who had basically been his real-life sexual awakening would have been stilted. They would have shared a polite ‘hello’ and some pleasantries before one of them pretended to be in a hurry and began winding their way quickly through the maze that those Scandinavian bastards had designed to trick you into buying lots of inexpensive furniture and then laugh in their high tower as you attempted to put it together by yourself. However, running into Sirius Black in the food court of IKEA ended up being the highlight of his week.

Remus had been minding his own business, trying to decide if he really wanted to try sparkling pear water when he heard Sirius’ unmistakable cool baritone shout across the food court, “Moony!”

Surprisingly, the pair were able to pick up where they had left off and spent almost an hour chatting away, completely unable to remember why they had ever allowed themselves to lose touch.

As they rounded the corner into what Sirius called ‘Sofa Land’ Remus’ face drained of all colour. He quickly turned back around pretending to be engrossed in throw pillows when his friend tugged on his arm.

“What’s wrong, Moons?” he asked quietly.

Remus thought about lying, he really did, but this was his childhood best friend, a man that he could possibly become great friends with again. He didn’t want to lie. Besides, Sirius had a way of sniffing out the truth. He sighed, “You see the red-head over there?” he indicated with a slight nod.

“The one with the pompous looking blond?”

“Yeah, that’s my ex and his new...whatever they are.” Remus began looking through the different pillow covering options just for something to do. He couldn’t turn back around and face Gideon. He just couldn’t. Not yet anyway. “Shit, they’re coming this way,” he hissed.

Sirius grabbed his bicep and pulled him close, “Kiss me so they see. It’ll drive him mental that you’ve moved on.”

And without a second’s hesitation, the thing Remus had wanted so many years ago finally came to life. Sirius was kissing him.