Draco X Y/n

Draco Malfoy x Y/n

(In the common room after Draco got turned into a ferret)

Y/n and Pansy: *laughing their asses off*

Draco: "Oh for fucks sake! Shut your mouths! It's not that funny!"

Blaise: "Mate, you where in someone else's pants."

Y/n and Pansy: *fall off the couch laughing*

Draco: *giving Blaise a death glare*

Y/n: "D-dray did you know that the brain lives on for seven minutes after death?"

Draco: "Babe what the fuck are you talking about?"

Y/n: *giving him a smirk a she tries to hold in her laughter* "It replays the best memories..."

Draco: *confused as fuck*

Y/n: "That will be my seven minutes.."

Draco: *Flips them off*

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist

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MIRAGE MASTERLIST

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 5.1

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Coming soon

To Love Again (Severus Snape x Y/N)

Severs Snape x fem!reader

Main Masterlist here -> DracoLilHoe

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist

Warnings: Starts off a little dark but becomes more light hearted, soft/out of character Snape, mostly fluff, female reader, use of Y/n

Words: +7.5k

Summary: (Based off a request <3)

If you find mistakes please tell me! I'm not a perfect writer so please just let me know. Happy reading! :)

A/N: So this took a lot longer to write and was wayyyy longer than I expected it was gonna be lol but I really enjoyed how this turned out (other than the fact that I kind of gave up toward the end. my birthday is on the 4th bro I was js trying to get this shit completed 😭) and this was a my first request so tyms!! (Im really sorry if this didn't turn out how you envisioned i tried my best! <3) -> Request

1995

As I stir awake, a sliver of sunlight slips through the dark curtains and lands right in my eye. Somehow, this is the best sleep I’ve had in months—and I’m not even in my own bed. With the news of Voldemort’s return and the Ministry scrambling to cover it up, Dumbledore decided it was time to bring the Order back together. He even added a few new members. Myself included.

The house is quiet, which is strange considering how many people are packed into it now. I hear faint movement downstairs—probably Molly making breakfast or Moody pacing like he always does, paranoid that the place will be ambushed any second.

Joining the Order wasn’t something I planned, especially so close to Christmas. But when you see what I’ve seen—what he’s capable of—you don’t stay on the sidelines. You pick a side. And I’ve picked mine, even if that means being a double agent with my husband and putting our lives at risk. I sit up slowly, removing Severus' arm wrapped tightly around my waist, the old bed creaking under me.

I ease out from under the blankets, careful not to wake him. He rarely sleeps this soundly, and I know better than to steal that from him. War has carved deep lines into all of us, but with Severus, it’s in the way his jaw never unclenches, the way he listens to silence like it’s saying something. Right now, though, he looks almost peaceful. Almost.

My feet touch the cold wooden floor, and I shiver. This house, Black’s ancestral home, feels like it’s holding its breath. Grimmauld Place is nothing short of oppressive, but it’s the safest place we’ve got.

I pull on my sweater and head for the hallway, avoiding the floorboard near the door that always groans. The air smells like dust and old wood. Downstairs, I hear a pan clatter, followed by Molly’s low murmur.

There’s a tightness in my chest I haven’t shaken since Dumbledore brought us in. Every morning feels like a countdown. To what, I’m not sure yet. A raid? A betrayal? A message that someone didn’t make it through the night?

I reach the landing and glance back at the room, at Severus. He’d never admit it, but he’s scared. We both are. But fear doesn’t mean you back down. It means you move forward anyway, and I’m already halfway down the stairs.

The stairs creak beneath me, old wood groaning like it resents being walked on. Every sound in this house feels amplified like the place itself is watching, listening. I pass the umbrella stand with the decapitated troll leg and the row of portraits that used to scream every time someone so much as coughed. Someone, probably Tonks, finally found a silencing charm that sticks. Small victories yay!

In the kitchen, the air is warmer. Molly’s at the stove, wand in one hand, spatula in the other, humming something soft and familiar. Her shoulders are tense, though, and she keeps glancing at the clock with all the moving hands, none of which point to “Safe.” She brings it with her everywhere and it's starting to freak some of us out.

She turns when she hears me, a tight smile already on her face. “Morning, dear. Hope we didn’t wake you.” “You didn’t,” I lie. “I slept fine." She studies me for a beat too long, like she knows exactly how heavy sleep has been lately. But she lets it go. “Tea?”

“Please.” I slide into one of the worn chairs at the table, the wood cool under my fingers. There’s a plate of toast already laid out, and I realize just how hungry I am, not just for food, but for something normal.

Voices echo from upstairs, Remus and Arthur, maybe. Something about a meeting. Another day, another strategy session, another list of things we can’t control.

Molly sets a chipped mug in front of me. “Are you managing all right?” It’s not just small talk. It’s the kind of question people ask in war when they want to know if they need to start preparing for grief. I give her a nod and take a sip of tea that’s too hot. "Yeah. I'm managing.”

She pats my hand once, gently, like she knows better. The door creaks open behind me, and I hear the heavy, uneven footsteps of Moody. “Meeting in fifteen,” he growls without looking up. His magical eye swivels toward the corner, “Dumbledore wants everyone.”

Molly sighs and starts clearing the stove. I drain my tea and stand, feeling the weight settle back onto my shoulders. This is what it means to be part of the Order, quiet mornings laced with tension, polite conversation sitting beside secrets, and always, always the knowledge that we’re just one step ahead of darkness.

"I'll fetch Severus."

I head back upstairs, hoping to grab my wand and maybe splash some cold water on my face (and to wake Severus). I pause at the top of the stairs. The hallway is dim, lit only by the pale morning light leaking in through dusty windows.

Our bedroom door is still cracked open. I step inside quietly. Severus hasn’t moved much. One arm still rests where I left it, the other now tucked under his head. His brows twitch like he’s already halfway back in a fight. I get it. Sleep doesn’t come easy when you're always watching for betrayal, even in your dreams. I watch him for a second longer, then turn to the dresser and grab my wand.

The silver handle feels cold in my hand. Familiar. Steady. I tuck it into my sleeve and catch my reflection in the mirror: circles under my eyes, hair pulled back in a lazy knot, an expression I don’t fully recognize anymore. There’s a version of me before all this before the meetings and the lying and the long, quiet looks exchanged over war maps, but she feels like someone I used to know, not someone I still am.

I walk over to the bed shaking Severus awake. "Sev. Sev!" He groans rolling over his eyes opening slightly. "Moody needs us for a meeting in fifteen." "At this bloody hour?" He groans sitting up, a bit of his hair falling into his face.

"Yes, unfortunately. It must have something to do with the children coming for Christmas." I walk over to the dresser grabbing a pair of jeans and a sweater. I jump as a pair of arms wrap around my waist.

"We could just stay a bit longer up here darling, they wouldn't even notice we're gone." I chuckle as he plants a few kisses along my neck. "Put your damn clothes on we are here because they need us Sev."

-

The kitchen is louder now, more voices, chairs scraping, the familiar hum of wizards and witches trying to sound normal in a house built on bloodlines and curses. Sirius leans against the fireplace, arms crossed, jaw tight. He barely acknowledges me. Not out of rudeness, he’s just locked in his own storm.

Remus nods at me as I slip into a seat. “We’re just waiting on Alastor and Snape.” I give a short nod. “He’s coming.” The door opens again, and Moody limps in, muttering to himself. “Too quiet out there. I don’t trust it.”

“When do you ever trust it?” Sirius says dryly. “Exactly.”

I glance toward the door just as Severus walks in, silent and unreadable, cloak billowing slightly as he takes the last empty seat beside me. His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second, no smile, no nod, just a flicker of shared understanding.

There’s a soft pop, and Dumbledore appears near the hearth, robes trailing, eyes sharper than usual. The chatter dies instantly. “Good morning,” he says, voice calm but firm. “We have a lot to cover.”

And just like that, we’re back in it, talking names, safe houses, coded messages, wand movements, Ministry leaks. Everyone contributes, and everyone listens, but the air hums with the knowledge that everything we’re planning could fall apart by nightfall.

Kingsley runs a hand down his face, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. “We’ve confirmed sightings near Ottery St. Catchpole. Three Death Eaters, possibly more. No casualties, but they’re testing the perimeter spells now.”

Murmurs ripple around the table. Molly stiffens at the mention of her village. Arthur reaches out, touching her arm just briefly. Dumbledore raises a hand. The room stills again. “We’ll need to rotate guard shifts more frequently,” he continues. “We can’t afford to let our protections go stale. Severus," his gaze shifts, “any updates from your end?”

Severus leans forward, elbows on the table, voice low. “They’re looking for something. He hasn’t said what. But there’s movement in the Inner Circle. Lucius is growing reckless. Bellatrix… worse.”

I feel his words like a draft through a crack in the walls. Everyone does. No one asks what “worse” means. No one wants to know. Sirius snorts from the fireplace. “So we’re still dancing blind while they’re planning gods-know-what?” Remus shoots him a warning look. “We’re doing what we can. That’s more than most.”

Dumbledore’s expression doesn’t waver. “We’ll hold ground where we must. But we have another matter to discuss.” A rustle of parchment. A name appears in glowing ink on the air, suspended like a ghost: Draco Malfoy. My stomach knots. Not out of surprise—but because I’ve been waiting for this.

Severus doesn’t move, but I see the way his jaw tightens beside me.

“He’s being watched closely,” Dumbledore says. “Lucius is desperate to keep him protected, but Voldemort has begun to take interest in the boy. If Draco is drawn in, we risk losing whatever leverage we have left with the Malfoy family.”

“And what exactly are we supposed to do about it?” Moody growls. “We’re not babysitters.” “No,” Dumbledore agrees. “But we need eyes on him. Discreet ones.” There’s a silence heavy enough to choke on. I speak before I even know I’m going to. “I can help.”

All eyes turn to me. “Lucius knows me. He trusts me or did. Enough to talk. I can get close to Narcissa.” Severus turns to me, his expression unreadable but something behind his eyes flashes sharp, alarm, maybe. Or something closer to fear.

“I’ll be careful,” I add. “I know how far I can go.” “You’re already too close,” he says under his breath, barely audible. But Dumbledore catches it. He watches us both, eyes thoughtful. “You wouldn’t be alone,” he says gently. “And I trust you to know the difference between risk and recklessness.”

That’s the thing about trust in this house, it’s not a gift. It’s a burden. You carry it like a second skin. The meeting drags on, plans stacking atop each other like unstable towers. Assignments are given. Timelines drawn. When it ends, it does so abruptly, and we’re all left trying to remember how to breathe again.

"Oh and one last thing," Dumbledore says as all eyes turn to him, "Severus, Y/n, Remus, and Sirius when the children come I would like you four to teach and aid them in their dueling skills," We all nod exchanging glances.

Chairs scrape back. Sirius disappears into the hallway without a word. Arthur and Molly exchange quiet words near the sink. Tonks fidgets with a broken spoon. And Severus... Severus doesn’t look at me I just follow him up the stairs.

Inside our room, he closes the door and just stands there for a second. Silent. Still. His back to me. “You shouldn’t have volunteered,” he says finally, voice low. Controlled. “Not for that.”

“I can handle them,” I answer, just as quiet. “And you know it.” He turns slowly. “That’s not the point.” I meet his gaze. “Then what is?” He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at me like he’s measuring something—distance, maybe. Risk. What it costs to love someone in wartime.

“They’ll use you,” he says finally. “The way they always do. And when it comes down to it, Dumbledore will sacrifice you if it means tipping the scale.” “I know,” I say. And I do.

But I also know that I’d do the same if it meant saving even one of those kids who’ll be walking into this house later with their trunks and their scarred hearts, pretending it’s still Christmas. “I picked this side,” I remind him. "Your side."

He steps toward me, slow and deliberate like we’re back on a battlefield. Maybe we are. “Then let me protect you,” he murmurs, voice almost breaking. “You already do.”

And in the silence that follows, in the quiet ache of the room, I let him pull me in because out there, it’s strategy and secrets and sacrifice. But in here, for just a breath, it’s something else. It’s what we’re still fighting for.

-

The front door creaks open sometime after noon. Laughter echoes down the hall—too loud, too bright for this house—but welcome all the same.

I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear Harry first. “Same miserable wallpaper. Same creepy elf heads.” His voice is tired but dry, amused. “Glad to see nothing’s changed.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Ron mutters behind him, dragging his trunk over the threshold. “Mum’s already got a to-do list longer than my arm. And Moody's breathing down everyone's neck like it’s a sport.”

Hermione follows just behind, trying to wrangle Crookshanks back into his carrier with one hand and hold her bag with the other. “Honestly, Ron, it’s not about comfort. It’s about safety.”

“Comfort would be nice too,” Ginny cuts in, brushing snow out of her hair. “One Christmas where no one gets cursed, cursed at, or nearly killed would be an improvement.”

From the landing, I catch Harry’s eyes. He blinks up at me, then offers a small smile. A tired one, but real. “You look taller,” I say, stepping aside to let them through. It’s something to say, something normal.

“Not sure about taller,” he replies. “Just older.” He’s right. They all are. You don’t come back from this fear-stricken world like this and stay untouched. Even Ginny, always quick with a quip, has a shadow behind her eyes. I've only ever met them all once before, so we aren't that familiar with each other, but they all seem like lovely kids.

Molly rushes in from the kitchen, apron on, arms open. She gathers them up one by one, fussing, scolding gently, hugging too long. The hallway fills with warmth and voices, boots thudding, trunks scraping.

Severus appears beside me silently, eyes sweeping the chaos with practiced detachment. But I catch the way his fingers twitch near his wand when Fred drops something with a loud crash.

“Relax,” I murmur. “That was just a box of—” “Exploding Snap cards,” Fred calls from the floor. “No actual explosions this time, promise!” Severus doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch just slightly. “Merlin help us all,” he mumbles and vanishes back down the hall.

By dinner, the long table is packed, mismatched chairs pulled in from other rooms. The kids eat like they haven’t had a full meal in weeks—which, judging by the state of Hogwarts, might not be far off.

There’s laughter again, real this time, layered over the clink of plates and the smell of roast chicken. For a few brief moments, it almost feels like Christmas.

But underneath it all is the quiet hum of what’s coming. Dumbledore hasn’t said it outright, but we all know this is the calm before another kind of storm. The kids are safe, for now. But safe is a temporary state in this war. And Grimmauld Place, for all its wards and silencing charms, can’t keep the world at bay forever.

Later that evening, Remus gathers them in the drawing room. “Tomorrow, we start dueling lessons,” he says, voice calm but direct. “Not because we want to turn your holiday into homework, but because the world outside these walls won’t wait for you to grow up.”

“Too late for that,” Harry says under his breath. Hermione nods. Severus steps in from the shadows. “You’ll be paired. Rotated. Watched. No improvising.” He casts a look at Fred and George. “No fireworks.”

“Who, us?” George grins.

Sirius lounges in the armchair, legs kicked out, watching everyone like he’s not sure whether to feel proud or protective. Maybe both. I take a seat on the edge of the sofa and pull out my wand. “Tomorrow, we’ll test your reflexes. For tonight, just don’t hex each other over the last mince pie,” I tease. Ginny raises a brow. “No promises.” They laugh. It’s light, but underneath, I feel it again—that tightness.

-

The dishes are mostly cleared, the fire’s burning low, and the rest of the house is beginning to settle into a wary kind of peace when I feel a tug on my sleeve. It’s Harry. He doesn’t say anything at first, just jerks his chin slightly toward the hallway. Away from the others. Away from the low murmur of Sirius and Remus arguing softly about training plans. Away from the way Severus is pretending not to listen from the corner of the room.

I nod once and follow him. The hallway is dark and cool. The only light comes from a lone, flickering candle floating near the ceiling. Harry leans against the wall, arms crossed, the worn fabric of his jumper stretched tight across his shoulders.

“I didn’t want to ask in front of everyone, and I since we don't know each other that well I know you won't lie or try to protect me like everyone else does,” he says, voice low, a little rough around the edges. “But... how bad is it?”

I exhale slowly. There’s no point pretending. Not with him. Not with everything he's seen already. “Worse than the Prophet says. Worse than the Ministry will ever admit.” He kicks the heel of his boot against the floor once, a sharp, frustrated tap. “I figured.”

There’s a silence between us that isn’t awkward. It’s heavy. Real. He looks up at me then, green eyes fierce under the mess of his hair. “Are they going to come for us here?” I could lie. It would be easy. Safer, maybe.

But I don’t. “They might.”

Another beat. He absorbs it like someone learning to live with a wound that won’t heal. “Good,” he says finally. It startles me a little, and my eyebrows raise. I frown. “Good?”

He straightens off the wall, jaw set. “I’d rather they come here. Where we’re ready. Where we can fight.” There’s something in his voice—not bravado, not anger exactly. Just a grim certainty. A kind of steel that shouldn't belong to someone so young, but here it is anyway.

“You’ll have to be smarter than them, not just braver,” I warn. “Dueling lessons aren’t about flash and showmanship. It’s about surviving. It’s about finishing the fight before they even know it’s started.” “I know.”

And I believe him. God help me, I do. I study him for a second longer, the stubborn line of his mouth, the tension in his shoulders, the bone-deep tiredness he wears like armor. “You’re not alone in this, Harry.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Doesn’t always feel that way.” “No,” I agree. “It doesn’t. But it’s still true.” A shadow crosses his face, something raw, unspoken. I think he wants to ask something else. Maybe about Voldemort. Maybe about the parts of this war, no one wants to say out loud.

But instead, he just nods and says, “Thanks,” before slipping back toward the drawing room, shoulders squared against whatever comes next. I stand there a moment longer, alone in the hallway, listening to the fire crackle faintly behind the door.

-

The next morning breaks cold and grey. No surprise there. Grimmauld Place never really feels like it’s breathing, even on good days. By the time I make it down to the drawing room, most of the others are already there. The furniture’s been shoved to the edges. Rugs rolled up. Floor cleared. It looks less like a home and more like a dueling arena. Which is exactly what we want.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione are lined up, wands in hand, faces set. Fred, George, and Ginny flank them, fidgeting with nervous energy. Molly’s hovering at the doorway, wringing her hands until Arthur gently steers her away with a whispered, "Let them be."

Severus is standing near the fireplace, black robes sweeping the floor, arms crossed like he’s already judging them. Which, to be fair, he probably is. Sirius is pacing. Restless. Coiled tight like a spring.

“All right, listen up!” Sirius says, clapping his hands once. “First rule of a real duel: you don’t wait for your enemy to bow. You strike first.” Severus’s mouth curls into a cold smirk. “A philosophy befitting a reckless Gryffindor.”

Sirius turns, already ready to bite. “And what's your tactic, Snape? Bore them into submission?” “Enough,” I cut in, stepping between them before either one pulls a wand. “This isn’t about you two chest-thumping your old grudges. It’s about them.” I jerk my chin toward the kids. “And whether they survive what's coming.”

Sirius’s jaw flexes. Severus’s eyes narrow. But both stay silent. “Pair up,” I call. “Two across from two. Wands at the ready.” Harry and Ron square off instinctively. Hermione and Ginny trade a quick look before taking opposite sides. George hesitates until Fred claps him on the back and steps into position.

I walk the line, pacing slowly like Moody taught me. "Spellwork first. Control before power. If you throw a curse without discipline, you're not just endangering your enemy. You're endangering yourself."

Sirius snorts quietly but doesn't argue. “Stunners to start,” I say. “Basic shield spells allowed. No counterattacks until I say.” They nod, faces tightening with focus.

“On three. One… two… three—” The room explodes into motion.

Bolts of red light crisscross the room. Shields flash up. Shouts echo off the high ceiling.

George’s shield charm shatters instantly under Fred’s hit, and he goes sprawling backward with a yelp. “Get up!” Severus snaps from the fireplace. “You think a Death Eater will wait for you to dust yourself off?”

George scrambles up, face burning.

“Focus, George!” I say, softer but firm. “You’re better than you think.”

Harry’s already adapting, side-stepping Ron’s stunner and sending one back with a twist of his wrist that would’ve made Moody grunt in approval.

Hermione’s quick too, blocking Ginny’s shot neatly—but she hesitates a second too long to counter. In a real duel, hesitation kills. “Don’t wait for permission!” Sirius calls. “If you’ve got a shot, take it!”

Severus tenses visibly. "And get yourselves hexed into oblivion by lunging like amateurs? Typical." "Better to fight like hell than cower behind a textbook!" Sirius barks back. "Better to win," Severus hisses.

The kids freeze between them, caught in the crossfire of something that has nothing to do with today's lesson and everything to do with a history they can't see but can definitely feel.

"ENOUGH!" I snap, my voice ringing off the stone walls. Silence crashes down. Sirius glares at Severus. Severus stares back, cold and cutting.

I look at the kids. Their faces are pale and tense. This is not what they need.

“This is real training," I say, voice steady. "Not a pissing contest. Learn from both styles, because out there, you’ll need every edge you can get.”

I turn back to them fully. “Again. Harder. Smarter. And this time, move like your lives depend on it.”

I shoot a sharp look at Remus. He catches it, understands immediately, and steps in front of the kids. “All right, pairs switch!” he calls out smoothly, clapping his hands to break the tension. “New partners. Keep your guard up!”

The kids hesitate, glancing at us, but Remus waves them on. Slowly, they shuffle into new pairs, wands up again, throwing cautious spells under his steady watch. I grab Sirius and Severus by the elbows and haul them toward the far corner of the room, out of earshot.

The second we’re out of range, I round on them. “What the hell was that?” I snap, keeping my voice low but lethal. “Are you both mad?” Sirius opens his mouth, but I cut him off with a glare sharp enough to slice.

“No, you don't get to explain. You don't get to excuse it.” I jab a finger at his chest. “This isn’t about you and your teenage grudge against Severus. This is about them—” I jab toward the kids, where Harry just barely blocks a hex from Fred. “—learning to survive a war!”

Sirius’s jaw works furiously, but he doesn’t speak. Good. He knows he’s on thin ice. I turn slightly toward Severus. “And you,” I say, voice cooling but still hard. “You’re not off the hook either. If you can't keep your disdain on a leash, get out of the room.”

Severus inclines his head stiffly, dark eyes flashing once, but he says nothing. No argument. No excuse. I whirl back on Sirius, stepping in closer. “You're supposed to be better than this, Sirius. You're Harry’s godfather. Do you think he needs to see you losing control like some first-year who can't take a slight? You think that’s what will keep him alive when Death Eaters are throwing real curses at him?”

He flinches slightly at that—barely—but I see it. Good. Let it sting. “You want to protect him? Then act like someone worth following.” Sirius stares at me, breathing hard, hands clenched into fists at his sides. But he says nothing. And that's the only reason I don't rip into him even worse.

I step back, my chest tight. “This is bigger than your pride,” I say, voice quieter but sharper. “Bigger than your hate. You don’t have the luxury of grudges anymore.” Severus shifts beside me, mouth twitching in something quite like a smirk, but I barely catch it.

“And you,” I add, giving him a pointed look, “don’t mistake his mistakes for your permission to be a bastard.” A faint raise of Severus's eyebrow. A very slight, almost imperceptible, nod. Across the room, Remus calls out a correction to Hermione’s footwork, completely ignoring us. Bless him.

“Now,” I say, voice cutting final. “Get your shit together—or get out. I won’t let you two tear this place apart.” I hold their gazes for a beat longer, daring either of them to argue. They don't.

Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and walk back toward the kids. They need focus. They need strength. Not whatever bloody mess Sirius and Severus have been dragging around like a ball and chain.

Behind me, I hear Sirius mutter something under his breath, but it’s low and bitter and meant for himself, not for me. Severus follows a second later, silent and dark-eyed, slipping back into the shadows near the hearth. The kids don’t even look up. They’re too busy ducking and blocking and casting.

Remus gathers them back into a circle after another round of sparring, his voice calm but carrying weight. “All right,” he says, lowering his wand. “Change of plan. You’ve practiced defense. Now it’s time for offense.”

The kids straighten instinctively, a ripple of energy moving through them.

I cross my arms, watching.

Severus stays leaned against the wall, silent but alert. Sirius lingers near the fireplace, brooding, but at least keeping his damn mouth shut. “New exercise,” Remus continues. “You’ll work in pairs. Your goal is to disarm or disable one of us—me, Snape, or Y/n—before we disarm you.”

A few eyebrows shoot up. “Wait—us against you three?” Fred asks, incredulous. A rare smirk flickers across Severus’s mouth. “If you find that unfair,” he drawls, “you may want to reconsider your odds in actual combat.”

Remus only smiles, patient. “You have surprise on your side. Use it.”

Ginny’s eyes spark with something dangerous. Harry’s jaw sets. They’re ready. Or as ready as they’re going to be. Remus and I exchange a quick nod. He moves to the center of the room.

Severus shifts lazily from the wall, his wand sliding easily into his hand.

I roll my shoulders once. Let’s see what they’ve got. Remus gives a sharp whistle. “Begin!”

At first, it’s cautious — they scatter, dodging between broken chairs and rolled-up carpets. Whispered plans. Quick glances. But then Harry moves—fast. A sharp flick of his wand sends a bright stunner toward Remus, who parries it easily.

Ginny dives low, rolling behind an overturned settee. Fred and George create a distraction, hurling smoke bombs that erupt with a loud bang and a cloud of purple mist. Typical. But clever.

I raise my wand, clearing the smoke with a slicing spell—and that’s when I see her: Ginny, darting from the side. Before I can fully block, a hex hits my wand hand—not strong enough to disarm me, but enough to jar my grip. Impressive.

I fire a mild shield charm in return, forcing her back, but out of the corner of my eye— Harry. Moving like a shadow. I pivot, readying a block—too slow. His Expelliarmus hits me dead-center. My wand flies from my hand, clattering across the floor. For half a second, the room freezes.

Then Sirius lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned!” Remus smiles, lowering his own wand slightly.

Severus’s face is unreadable, but his black eyes flicker toward Harry and Ginny, calculating. I retrieve my wand with a small bow of my head toward Harry and Ginny. "Well played." Harry looks stunned for half a breath like he hadn’t believed he could do it.

Ginny just grins fiercely, panting a little, cheeks flushed. Fred whoops from across the room. “That’s our girl!” "Oi!" George elbows him. "And Harry!" Remus raises a hand for quiet. "This," he says, voice steady, "is what survival looks like. Not bravado. Not reckless spells. Strategy."

Harry and Ginny glance at each other, something solid and unspoken passing between them. Severus speaks finally, voice soft but cutting. "Next time, aim for the throat."

I laugh, and Sev cracks a smile. It’s brutal. It’s honest. And exactly what they need to hear. The room stays still for a moment longer, the fire crackling in the silence. This isn’t about winning practice duels. It’s about preparing for the night they won’t be warned first.

"All right let's take a quick break and meet back here in about an hour." The others break off —Fred and George tossing mock insults, Ron rubbing his shoulder and muttering about “bloody insane stunners”, Ginny and Hermione chatting low and fast.

I’m gathering the leftover dueling mats when I feel someone hovering behind me. “Can I—uh—can I ask you something?” Harry says, voice a little rough, a little awkward. I straighten, nodding once. “Of course.”

He hesitates, running a hand through his already-messy hair. His wand is tucked loosely into his belt; he looks younger now, out of the heat of the fight. More unsure.

“It’s about... Snape.” He says the name like it tastes strange. I stay still. Careful. Neutral. “What about him?” Harry looks around once, making sure we’re alone. Sirius and Remus have disappeared into the hallway, voices low. Severus is nowhere in sight. Good.

Harry shifts his weight. “You trust him." It’s not quite a question. Not quite an accusation either. Just raw curiosity. And something sharper underneath hurt maybe. Fear. I don’t answer right away. I slip my wand into my sleeve and lean back against the table, crossing my arms.

“I trust him with my life,” I say finally. “I trust him with yours, too.”

Harry’s brow furrows, suspicious, almost wounded. “But why?” His voice cracks just slightly on the last word, and I realize this isn’t about Severus. Not really.

It’s about everyone Harry’s ever trusted letting him down. He wants a reason not to hate. He wants a reason to believe. I meet his eyes fully. “He’s not your friend, Harry. He’s not here to make you feel safe. He’s not here to like you. But he is here to keep you alive. And in the end, that matters more.”

Harry’s mouth twists like he wants to argue but can’t quite find the shape of it. “He’s risked more than you know,” I continue, voice steady. “More than he’ll ever tell you. And he’s still risking it. Every time he steps back into that world, every time he sits at a table with monsters and pretends to be one of them, he’s betting his life that we’ll win.”

Harry looks away, jaw tight. “It’s not about liking him,” I say, softer now. “It’s about understanding the price he’s paying to stand here on this side of the line.” He drags a hand through his hair, rough and frustrated.

“I just... it’s hard to forget everything.” “I know.” I pause. “You’re not supposed to forget. Just don’t let it blind you.”

He looks up at me, and for the first time I see it—the crack running down the center of him, the fear underneath the anger, the hurt underneath the defiance. He’s still just a boy.

But he’s carrying the kind of burdens grown men would break under.

“If I didn’t believe he was on our side,” I say quietly, “I wouldn’t be here either.” Harry lets out a shaky breath.

"Okay," he says finally, voice low. Not quite convinced. But willing to try.

It’s the best anyone could ask for. I reach out and squeeze his shoulder once, brief but firm. “You’re allowed to be angry, Harry. You’re allowed to hate what he’s done. Just don’t hate what he’s doing now.”

He nods again, sharper this time. More certain. Without another word, he turns and heads toward the stairs, shoulders hunched against everything still waiting for him. I watch him go, my chest tight. One day soon, he’s going to understand just how much Severus has sacrificed for him. And one day soon, it’s going to cost all of us more than we want to give.

But not today.

-

The hour flies by faster than expected. The kids trickle back into the drawing room, looking a little more rested—and a little cockier after their earlier success.

Fred’s juggling two cushions with a Wingardium Leviosa charm, George is trying to distract Ginny with a fake wand that keeps sprouting daisies, and Ron looks suspiciously like he’s hoping to skip this next round entirely.

I’m adjusting the ward lines along the floor when Severus sweeps in, black robes billowing, a fresh scowl already carved into his face like he’s thrilled to be doing this again.

“Ready to embarrass yourselves?” he drawls, voice slicing the room neatly in half. Sirius lounges against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You know, Snivellus, you could try encouragement sometime. Might stop people from ducking when you enter a room.”

Severus doesn’t even look at him. “Your continued breathing is encouragement enough.” Fred snorts loudly. Hermione coughs to cover her laugh. I roll my eyes and step between them before it escalates.

“All right. Same drill—defense first, offense later. And no funny business,” I add, staring pointedly at Fred and George, who try to look innocent and fail miserably.

We spread out. Remus waves his wand, conjuring more padded mats across the floor. “Standard stunners and shield charms to start. Nothing lethal, thank you.” We pair off. Ginny with Harry. Hermione with Ron.

Fred and George.

Severus is stalking the edges of the room, wand drawn, barking sharp corrections. "Elbow in, Weasley!" "Stronger shield, Potter!" "Granger, less hesitation—your enemy won’t be patient."

I stand off to the side, arms folded, letting them get into a rhythm before I join in. That’s when it happens. Fred and George—because of course it’s Fred and George—start sparring a little too wildly. One of them fires a rogue hex that ricochets off Hermione’s shield, bounces off a mirror, and slams into me and Severus simultaneously.

For a split second, there’s a blinding flash of white-blue light. A sound like a rubber band snapping through time. When the smoke clears, the room goes dead silent.

Because standing where I had been— —and where Severus had been—

—are now two very confused-looking teenagers. Severus is skinny, sharp-angled, with a mop of greasy black hair nearly falling into his narrowed black eyes. His school robes are rumpled and his wand arm tensed like he’s ready to hex first, ask questions later.

I glance down at myself. I’m 15 again too. Brilliant. “What the—where the hell are we?” I snap instinctively, patting myself down for my wand (still tucked in my sleeve, thank Merlin).

Severus whirls toward me instantly, all tension bleeding out of him in one second flat. "Y/n?" he says, voice shockingly soft compared to the venom he just spat at Sirius minutes ago. "You okay?" he asks, stepping toward me, frowning like the world might actually end if I’m hurt.

The kids look like they’ve been hit with a Confundus Charm. Harry’s jaw literally drops open. Hermione makes a tiny squeaking noise.

I blink at Severus. He looks... young. And worried.

And very much not the terrifying man everyone knows him as. "Yeah," I say, breathless with surprise. "I'm fine. Are you?" He relaxes fractionally at that, lips twitching into what could almost be a smile.

"Wouldn’t leave you alone in this dump even if I was bleeding out," he mutters under his breath, voice so low only I hear it. Heat creeps up my cheeks.

Because fifteen-year-old Severus Snape is ridiculously earnest under all his prickly armor. And I’m realizing with horrifying clarity that this is how we must've fallen in love the first time.

Meanwhile, Sirius is staring like he’s seen a ghost—and he does not like it.

“What the bloody hell is this?” he demands, pointing at us. Severus instinctively steps half in front of me. Protectively. I glare at Sirius, stepping up beside Severus.

“Maybe if you weren't such a reckless idiot, we wouldn't be standing here, Black, and god did you not age well!” Sirius bristles instantly. “Oi—”

“Touch her and I’ll hex you into next week,” Severus says, deadly calm.

Sirius actually looks offended.

Harry tugs at Remus’s sleeve, whispering frantically. “Is he—? Are they—? Friends?” Remus looks absolutely delighted. “More than friends, if you ask me.”

Meanwhile, Hermione is scribbling notes on a scrap of parchment like she’s documenting a rare magical phenomenon. Ginny nudges Harry. “I think she just made Snape smile. I didn’t even know he had the muscles for that.”

Severus scowls at the room at large, still staying close to me like he’s ready to throw curses at anyone who looks sideways. I nudge him lightly with my shoulder, forcing a teasing smile onto my face to hide my complete and utter panic at the situation.

“Um, what exactly is happening?” Ron asks, looking wildly between me and Severus like we’ve sprouted extra heads. “It appears,” Remus says, with the kind of forced calm that only makes it funnier, “they’ve been turned back into their fifteen-year-old selves. They seem to remember some things, but I think the longer they stay like this... the more they’ll forget.”

“Oh, brilliant,” Harry mutters. “So, what—are we supposed to just pretend everything’s normal?” Across the room, Severus glances around, unimpressed. “Is this some kind of pathetic club meeting?” he sneers, arms crossed but still hovering a little too close to me like I might vanish if he blinks.

“No,” I cut in before he can get more acidic. “It’s dueling practice, genius.”

He perks up immediately at that, dark eyes lighting with interest. “Finally. Something worth my time.”

Fred nudges George. “Ten Galleons says he forgets he’s supposed to teach and just hexes someone for fun.” George snickers. “Make it twenty.”

Remus, wisely, just sighs and raises his hands. “Carry on, then.” Severus spins toward me, tilting his head with mock seriousness. "Partners?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Obviously." He offers me a dramatic little bow, smirking the whole time. It’s stupid and its so out of character for him but it's still adorable. It’s very much not the Severus Snape these kids know.

I can feel the students gaping behind us. Hermione whispers furiously to Ron, "He bowed to her! When has Snape ever bowed to anyone?" Ron just makes a helpless, strangled noise. "Alright, let's begin before these two start to forget everything," Remus announces.

Sirius stiffens, about two seconds away from launching himself across the room. I shoot Sirius a razor-edged grin. “What’s wrong, Black? You finally met someone who doesn’t find you charming?” I say sweetly.

Ginny loses it, barely muffling her laughter into Hermione’s shoulder. Even Harry looks like he’s struggling not to smile. Sirius scowls like he’s been personally insulted by the universe. Fred whispers to George, "I love her."

George whispers back, "Same."

“Enough talking!” Severus snaps, but there’s no real bite to it. “Wands up!”

He faces me, and for a second there’s nothing but fierce, electric focus between us.

Then—wham—he fires a nonverbal hex that I barely block. “Ooh, dirty move, Snape!” I laugh, countering with a spell that sends him staggering back a step.

He grins—grins—and lunges right back at me, fast and graceful and clearly holding back only because he doesn’t actually want to hurt me.

The kids watch, stunned, as we spar.

It’s fast. Fluid. Almost like a dance. No hesitation. No cruelty. Just two people who know exactly how the other moves. “You know,” Hermione whispers to Harry, “this is the least miserable I’ve ever seen him.”

Harry watches Severus, who ducks a hex from me with an easy, boyish laugh—completely different from the rigid, scowling professor they know. “Yeah,” Harry mutters back. “It’s... weird. But kinda cool.”

Meanwhile, Sirius keeps grumbling under his breath, “He’s showing off. He’s absolutely showing off.” At one point, Severus ducks behind me to dodge a fake curse from Fred.

Sirius, meanwhile, looks ready to hex a wall. Through all of it, Severus just gives me a look—half dare, half devotion—and I feel my stomach flip the way it hasn’t since I actually was fifteen. We’re a disaster.

We’re going to be an even bigger disaster the longer we stay like this. And Merlin help everyone because neither of us is anywhere near ready to admit it yet.

The next half hour is absolute, glorious disaster. Fred and George keep "dueling" each other, but really they’re just trying to sneak closer to eavesdrop on me and Severus.

Hermione’s still trying to organize actual drills, bless her, but Ron keeps getting distracted every time Severus "accidentally" brushes his hand against mine again. Ginny’s full-on cackling now, pretending to duel Harry but missing half her shots because she keeps looking over her shoulder and whispering, “Did you see that?! Did you see what Snape just said to her?!”

Harry, to his credit, is trying very hard to be mature about it. He mostly fails. Meanwhile, Sirius is about two seconds from combusting. He stands off to the side, arms crossed, glaring daggers at young Severus like sheer force of will might turn him into dust.

“Unbelievable,” Sirius mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Absolutely unbelievable. He's flirting. Snivellus is flirting.” “And doing a better job than you ever did,” I shoot back without thinking.

Dead silence. Severus outright laughs at that—sharp and rare, the sound surprising even him. He flashes me a grin so quick, so private, that I feel it like a hook behind my ribs. Sirius looks personally offended.

Remus just sighs deeply like he’s aged ten years in two minutes. “All right, enough,” Remus says, stepping between us with a forced, strained smile. “Maybe... maybe we should take another break.”

“You said that an hour ago,” Fred points out, trying to keep a straight face and failing. “This time I mean it,” Remus says through clenched teeth.

He pulls out his wand and mutters a diagnostic spell under his breath. Golden threads of magic swirl around me and Severus, flickering slightly at the edges. "Hm.”

“Hm?” Hermione asks sharply, lowering her wand. Remus hums again. “The age-reversal spell is... strengthening. They’re slipping more into their fifteen-year-old selves the longer it holds.”

“Meaning?” Harry presses, stepping forward. "Meaning,” Remus says, looking slightly pale, “we need to reverse it. Soon. Before they forget everything—including the Order, Voldemort, and what side they’re supposed to be on.”

Severus perks up at that word. “Voldemort?” he repeats, frowning deeply. “What’s he got to do with anything?” I frown too, my forehead creasing. The word sounds familiar, important. But it doesn’t click the way it should.

Remus scrubs a hand over his face. “Right. Right. Definitely time to fix this.”

He pulls Sirius aside, murmuring rapid instructions about fetching some old counter-curse tomes from the Black family library. Sirius grumbles but stomps off, clearly glad to have an excuse to leave the room before he says something that’ll start a duel of his own.

“Are we... are we sure we want them to turn back?” Ron whispers to Hermione. Hermione looks torn between horrified and fascinated. Before any of us can say more, Sirius bursts back in, slamming a huge, dusty spellbook onto the table. “Found it!” he snaps, flipping through pages aggressively. Remus leans over his shoulder. “Hurry.”

Sirius flips through the spellbook with the kind of frantic energy normally reserved for full moons and house fires. “Counter-curse, counter-curse, bloody hell, where is it—?” “Page 394,” Remus says calmly without looking.

Sirius glares at him but flips anyway—and sure enough, there it is.

Meanwhile, Severus has moved closer to me again, shifting nervously from foot to foot like he’s working up to something he’s never said out loud before.

A blinding flash of golden light erupts from the table where Sirius and Remus finally cast the counter-curse. I feel it hit me like a tidal wave—yanking me forward, back, spinning through a lifetime of memories slamming into place.

The Order. The war. The betrayal. The blood. The love. The weight of everything we fought for. I gasp, stumbling, catching myself on the edge of the dueling mat.

Severus staggers too, clutching his head for half a second before straightening—taller now, leaner, sharper. Older. Haunted. He blinks once, twice—and his face slams shut like a vault. All softness gone. All vulnerabilities locked away.

The room is dead silent. I stare at him, heart still racing, memories crashing over me like surf. I remember. He remembers. Everything.

Severus exhales slowly through his nose, cold and composed again, tugging his robes straight like a shield.

Behind me, I hear someone—Fred, maybe—whisper, “Merlin, that was brutal.”

Harry looks stricken. Hermione bites her lip so hard it goes white. Sirius, bless him, mutters, “Still the same miserable git.” But I see it. In the flicker of Severus’s dark eyes.

“Right,” I say briskly. “Practice is over. Everyone out. Now.”

The kids scatter like birds, even Fred and George not daring to joke right now. Sirius lingers just long enough to shoot Severus a filthy look before Remus drags him out by the elbow, murmuring something about giving them space.

Finally, it’s just me and Severus again. And the vast, bruised silence between us.

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Severus x Y/n

(Severus and Y/n having an argument)

Severus: "Darling, the whole reason we are in this situation again is because you cant follow the rules!"

Y/n: "Sev, rules are made to be broken!"

Severus: "Is that why you're wanted in fourteen countries?"

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Moonlit Serenade (Remus Lupin x Y/n)

Remus Lupin x fem!girlfriend!reader

Main Masterlist here -> DracoLilHoe

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist

Warnings: Female reader, use of Y/n

Words: +800

Summary: (1975) It is your fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the night of a full moon. Your boyfriend, Remus Lupin, is going to go to the shrieking shack tonight in order to keep you as well as the rest of the students safe.

If you find mistakes please tell me! I'm not a perfect writer so please just let me know. Happy reading! :)

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Hogwarts grounds as the school day drew to a close. You walked along the cobblestone path, lost in thought, the soft rustle of fallen leaves beneath your feet the only sound breaking the peaceful silence. As you rounded a corner, you nearly collided with someone hurrying in the opposite direction. "Sorry," you murmured, instinctively stepping aside, only to find yourself face-to-face with your boyfriend Remus Lupin. His tired eyes softened into a warm smile as he recognized you. "No need to apologize, love. Are you heading back to the common room?" You nodded, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks at the unexpected encounter. "Yes, just lost in thought, I suppose." "Understandable," Lupin replied, falling into step beside you. "It's been a long day." You glanced up at him, noticing the faint lines of weariness etched into his features. "It's a full moon tonight... isn't it." It was more than a statement than a question. Remus would always start acting differently the night of a full moon. He nods his face losing the beautiful smile you hold so dear to your heart. "I'm coming with you four this time." You say a determined look on your face. Lupin's eyebrows furrow as a frown appears on his. "Absolutely not!" "Remus-" "No Y/n. I'm not letting you get hurt!" You pinch your nose in frustration as you sigh. "Remus, you won't hurt me!" "You don't know that Y/n! I have no control in that state! I've hurt Sirius before I can't afford to hurt you too!" "Remus, please just let me help you!" "No. End of discussion. I'm not letting you get hurt." He begins making his way toward the shrieking shack. "I'll see you later." 

Remus continues his walk to the shrieking shack wondering if he should have just let you come with. "No, I did the right thing. It's for her safety." He mutters to himself as he makes his way up the stairs listening to the creaking of the old shack. Remus opens a door walking into a room. Sirius is on the bed staring at the ceiling. James is next to him leaning against the headboard. Wormtail is sitting in the corner a book in his hand. "Moony!" Sirus says as he sits up and stares at Remus. James looks up and notices the look on Remus's face. "Moony, you doing alright? You're acting different than usual." Remus nods as he looks up at the two boys. "You can talk to us, you know that right Moony?" "Yeah, I know." "So tell us what's wrong." Remus sighs and shakes his head. "I just... Y/n asked to come with us again. I kind of snapped and told her no." Sirius sighs dramatically as he rolls his eyes. "Why are girls so complicated?" "I just feel really bad. She wants to help, but I don't want to accidentally hurt her." "You should probably apologize when we get back," Peter says as he stands up throwing his book on a chair, "It's almost dark out." Remus sighs as he goes to sit on the bed. "Yeah. I should. Let's get this over with." 

A little while later the four boys make it through the secret passageway back to the castle. "You think she'll still be awake?" Remus asks as they walk the dark empty corridors. "Probably not. She usually falls asleep," Sirius smiles. "She's like a sloth." James chuckles as he says the password to the portrait. The four boys walk into the common room and see Y/n in an armchair by the fire an open book in her lap. "Well, Monny we'll leave you to deal with your girl," James raises his eyebrows up and down as the two other boys follow him up the stairs. "Have fun." Remus sighs as he admires you asleep on the armchair your hair falling in front of your eyes. He smiles as he walks over grabs the book from your lap placing it on the small table next to the chair. He puts his arm underneath your legs, the other holding your back as he lifts you carrying you up the stairs to your bed. He slowly places you down on your soft bed taking off your shoes and placing them beside your bed. He pulls the war covers over your body and kisses your forehead. "I'm sorry about earlier, darling. I didn't mean to make you feel upset," his hands go to your hair stroking it softly. "I love you. We'll talk tomorrow." He makes his way to the door turning off the lights. "Goodnight my love." He whispers closing the door. 

Little did he know you were awake the whole time. 

A/N: I'm sorry if something wasn't written accurately I've never done something on the marauders era before so my apologies! <3

I also rushed through this so sorry if it sucks!

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Forbidden Enchantment (Draco Malfoy x Y/n)

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Main Masterlist here -> DracoLilHoe

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist!

Warnings: Use of Y/n, mild swearing

Words: 4,457 (God damn)

Summary: There's been a new rumor going around Hogwarts recently that you and the infamous Draco Malfoy are a thing. How could people even think that?! Why the hell would you date your enemy? Your standards obviously aren't that low.

If you find mistakes please tell me! I'm not a perfect writer so please just let me know. Happy reading! :)

There's been a new rumor going around Hogwarts lately. Apparently, you and Draco Malfoy are "dating." Obviously, this is true because he's basically your enemy! And why would you lower your standards to rock bottom? From your first year to now, your sixth, you and Draco have never gotten along and have gotten into many arguments. Luckily, you have little to no lessons with him, but now classes are over for the day, and at the end of the hall, of course, you see Draco.

"You actually just wandered about looking like that?" Draco sneers, a nasty smirk on his lips. "And to consider, people actually believe I'm dating you. I'm offended." 

“I’m offended they don’t think I have better taste.” I snap back. "Yeah, because you have great taste," he says sarcastically. "I've seen you staring at that Ravenclaw. What's his name? Smith?" he asks with a smug smirk plastered across his face. "I'm definitely a bigger catch than him," he says with a hint of arrogance in his tone. 

"Jealous, are we?” I ask, an identical smirk making its way onto my lips. "Of course not!" He snaps back, "Why would I be jealous of a complete idiot like him? I just meant that I'm clearly more attractive, that's all!" he says quickly, his expression shifting from smug to a bit defensive.

"Suit yourself." I shrug. He scoffs. "Oh, now you're being sarcastic," he says, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. "I was talking purely about facts, and the fact is, I'm much better looking than him in every way."

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Malfoy, but you're really not." "What do you mean I'm not?!" He exclaims, his defensiveness growing stronger. "I'm far more attractive than him, and you know it." “Clearly I don’t.” "Well, you're clearly wrong," he says firmly. "I don't look like a complete slob every day. My hair always looks neat; I wear nice robes; I'm tall and fit; I'm clearly the better choice between him and me," he says with a scowl.

"Sooo, what your saying is that you are jealous?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "No! Why would I be jealous of him?!” He snaps back a bit too quickly, hinting that he is jealous. He crosses his arms again. "I can't help the fact you have bad taste."

A small laugh escapes my lips as I look at the look spread across his face. “You're so stupid!” He glares at you, clearly offended. "I am not stupid! I'm one of the smartest people in this school; you're the stupid one!" he says defensively.

“Well if you excuse me I have a date to go on,” I say pushing past him. He turns his head to you, his expression shifting from anger to annoyance. "With Smith, I assume" he mutters, watching you walk off. "Yep!" I turn around a good distance in front of him and give him a small smirk.

 He huffs in annoyance, crossing his arms again, and turns to walk the other way, "I don't know why you'd choose him over me." he grumbles, his voice quiet so you can barely hear him. "Sorry, what was that?" I ask my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He looks away, his face getting slightly pink. "I didn't say anything important" he mumbles, avoiding your gaze, knowing you heard what he said.

"You sure?" I ask my voice soft. "I'm positive," he says quickly, his voice slightly louder, "I don't know why you're interested in Smith anyway. I could treat you much better," he says, still looking away from you. "Then show me," I whisper stepping a few feet in front of him.

His eyes widen as he looks up at you, "You want me to what?! Prove that I'm a better choice than him? You're serious?" I nod. "Smith and I aren't official sooo." He nods, processing the information for a moment. "So you're telling me you're single," he says, a hint of smugness in his voice, "and that you are willing to give me a chance if I show you that I'm a better option than Smith, correct?"

"Yeah basically." He takes a step closer, his gaze locked on you. "Very well then," he says, a confident smirk on his face, "Consider this your first date. Or trial period. Whatever you want to call it." A small giggle escapes my lips. "Alright then!"

"Now let's start this trial," he says, standing up straight with a sense of arrogance, "I'll show you that I'm a better choice than that idiot. And then you'll see that you've been wrong this whole time." He thinks for a moment, "The first thing is that I would look after you better" he says, his smirk growing slightly, "Smith doesn't have a clue what you need. But I do. I know exactly how to treat a girl, and I would treat you with the respect you deserve."

"Next, my fashion taste is clearly superior," he says, adjusting his tie, "Just look at me. I always look sharp and polished. But Smith? He looks like he just rolled out of bed and put on the first thing he found." I begin to bite my lip nervously. "I think it's kind of cute."

He rolls his eyes, clearly not happy with your answer. "Of course you do" he mutters under his breath. "But you're missing the point. You deserve someone who can dress well and look good in front of other people. Not some messy, lazy boy who doesn't even comb his hair!"

He takes another step closer, looking down at you. "Another thing, I would be a lot more fun to spend time with. I could take you places and keep you entertained. Smith probably doesn't even know how to have a proper conversation." "Uh yeah, he does," I say defensively.

He snorts, "Please. The most I've ever seen him say is 'hi' and 'how are you'. He doesn't have an interesting bone in his body," he says, shaking his head slightly. He watches you for a moment, gauging your expression before continuing, "And let's not even talk about loyalty," he says, his eyes locking on yours, "Smith probably gets distracted by every other girl that comes along. But me? I would be loyal to you. I wouldn't look at anyone else but you."

"How would I know that for sure?" I ask taking a step forward. He looks down at you as you step closer, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You don't," he says bluntly, "But you'll just have to trust me. Trust me, I have no interest in anyone else but you," he says, his voice slightly softer.

"I knew it! You were jealous!" He huffs, his smirk disappearing as he's hit with the reminder. He looks away for a moment, avoiding your gaze. "Yes, okay. I was a little jealous. Happy?" he says reluctantly, his voice betraying just a hint of vulnerability. I nod a smirk on my face for getting him to admit it.

He glares at you, annoyance and slight embarrassment in his eyes. "Don't look so smug," he snaps, "You're not supposed to be enjoying this, I thought you were supposed to be judging me against Smith?" "I am I am!" I say raising my hands defensively.

"And? Who's winning so far?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, his competitive side showing. "Well the thing is Malfoy, you gotta take me out first." He grins, clearly liking the sound of that. "Oh, I will," he says confidently, "you'll see. By the end of this trial you'll be begging me to not dump you for that idiot," he says with a smirk, the competitive spark still in his eyes.

He looks at you for a moment, his eyes lingering on your face as he studies you. He thinks for a moment before his smirk grows wider. "And just so you know, I'll be taking you to someplace that SMITH can't even afford." He says, his voice slightly mocking, "I'll show you just how good I can treat you, darling."

He pauses for a moment, realizing what he called you. "Darling" he repeats in a quieter voice, a hint of surprise in his tone, as if it slipped out unintentionally. He looks down at you, his expression a mix of surprise, curiosity, and a hint of vulnerability. "Did I just call you that out loud?" he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.

I feel my cheeks heat up as I nod. He notices your blush and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Did you like that?" he asks, his tone teasing and slightly smug, "Being called darling, I mean."

"Yes..." I whisper my gaze not meeting his. His smirk grows wider and he takes a small step closer to you. "You liked being called darling? You liked it when I referred to you in a cute, affectionate way?" he asks, his voice slightly cocky. He enjoys seeing you flustered, it only boosts his ego.

He takes another step closer, his voice turning softer and more seductive. "Darling" he repeats, his tone almost a whisper, "such a cute nickname. I think it suits you quite well," he says, his eyes locked on yours, a hint of fondness in his gaze.

I blush taking a small step back. He notices you stepping back and his smirk returns, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. "Are you getting flustered, darling?" he teases, taking another step closer, and closing the distance you created. "Draco-" He steps even closer, now only inches away from you. "Yes darling?" he asks, his voice sultry and his smirk growing, enjoying the way you stutter.

"Screw Smith," I whisper grabbing Draco’s neck and pulling him down to meet my lips. He's caught off guard as you grasp his neck and pull him down. He lets out a surprised gasp, but quickly recovers as your lips meet his. His eyes widen for a moment before he relaxes, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against him. He kisses you back fiercely, his hands moving up to cup your face as he deepens the kiss.

He pushes you back slightly, pinning you against the wall as he continues the kiss, his body pressed against yours. His hands move down to your waist, gripping you tightly as he explores your mouth with his tongue. He can feel your body pressed against his and the feeling is intoxicating, it only makes him want you even more.

I pull away for a moment catching my breath. He leans his forehead against yours, panting slightly as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes are still closed, the feeling of your body against his etched into his mind. "That was..." he says, his voice gruff and out of breath, "unexpected."

"Y/n? What the fuck!" A voice says from down the corridor. Draco's eyes fly open as he hears the voice, his head snapping towards the direction it came from. He looks slightly irritated at being interrupted but doesn’t move away from you, still keeping you pinned against the wall with his body. My eyes widen in shock as I look toward the voice. "Smith? I- "

Smith approaches his expression a mix of surprise and hurt as he sees you pinned against the wall by Draco. He looks at the two of you for a moment before speaking. "Y/n, what's going on here?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief. "I- " Draco's arms tighten around you at the sound of Smith's voice, his eyes locking on the other boy, his expression growing more annoyed. "Can't you see we're busy here?" he snaps, his tone cold and dismissive.

Smith looks at Draco, a mixture of anger and hurt etched across his face. "Yeah, I can see that," he says through gritted teeth, "but I just saw my girlfriend pinned against the wall by you." Draco rolls his eyes, his smirk returning as he looks at Smith. "Well, about that," he says casually, "She's not your girlfriend anymore, is she?"

Smith's eyes widen at Draco's words, and he looks at you with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "What? What do you mean she's not my girlfriend anymore?" he asks, his tone turning from hurt to anger. "Draco- " I whisper nervously. He gives you a sidelong glance, a silent command to let him handle this. "I mean that she's mine now," he says casually, his tone almost challenging as he looks at Smith, "Sorry to disappoint you, but she's decided to upgrade."

Smith's expression darkens at Draco's words, his anger growing. "You're joking right?" he asks, his voice rising, "You can't just waltz in here and steal my girlfriend like it's nothing!" Draco chuckles coldly, finding amusement in Smith's anger. "Oh, but I can and I did," he says smugly, "And let's face it, she deserves better than you anyway." Smith's hands ball into fists at his sides, his eyes filled with a dangerous glint. "You better shut your mouth, Malfoy," he growls, taking a step forward, "or I'll shut it myself."

Draco grins, clearly enjoying the power he holds over the situation. "Oh, I'm so scared," he says sarcastically, his tone dripping with mockery. "You really think you can take me, Smith? Please. I'd have you on your ass in seconds." "Okay, guys," I say nervously, "Let's just calm down..." Both Draco and Smith look at you at the sound of your voice, their attention suddenly focused on you. Draco's expression softens slightly, his hand still on your waist. Smith, on the other hand, looks at you with a mix of defiance and confusion.

"Yeah, let's calm down for a second," Draco says, his voice now softer. He looks at Smith, his expression still cocky, but with a hint of vulnerability. "You heard the lady." Smith looks at the two of you for a moment, his anger still visible in his eyes. "So what, I'm just supposed to stand here and accept that you two are together now?" he asks, his voice laced with bitterness. Draco lets out a humorless chuckle. "You don't have a choice, do you? She's made her decision," he says bluntly, his hand still resting on your waist, his grip firm.

Smith's eyes flick from Draco's hand to yours, and you can see the hurt and betrayal etched across his face. "I can't believe this. You were my girlfriend, Y/n", he says, his voice cracking slightly, "How could you just throw all of that away for... HIM?” "Smith..." Smith looks at you, his eyes pleading for an explanation. "Don't 'Smith' me," he says, his voice raising in frustration, "I just want to know why. Why him? After everything we've been through together, why would you choose him?!"

"I just- I- " I trail off as I struggle to find the right words. Draco's smirk widens at your hesitation, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he looks at Smith, his grip on your waist tightening. "Can you believe it, Smith? She doesn't even have an explanation for choosing me over you," he says mockingly. "Draco shut it!" I snap. He raises an eyebrow not expecting you to snap at him, but his expression remains nonchalant. "Fine, fine," he says, raising his hands in mock surrender, "I'll keep my mouth shut. For now, at least."

The tension between the three of you is palpable as you all stand there in the hallway. Smith is still reeling from the shock of the situation, his eyes flicking between you and Draco, trying to process what's happening. Draco, on the other hand, is still standing with his arm around your waist, seemingly nonchalant and unbothered. But you can sense a tension in his body like he's holding back the urge to say more. Finally, Smith speaks up, breaking the silence. "So that's it, huh?" he says, his voice still laced with anger, "You're just gonna forget about everything we had and be with him now?"

"Smith just listen- " Smith cuts you off, his voice rising. "Don't give me that, ‘Smith please’ bullshit," he snaps, "You know what I’ve done for you, what we’ve been through together. And now you just toss me aside for him like I’m nothing?" “Smith we weren’t even official!” Smith looks at you stunned, his anger temporarily replaced by surprise. "What do you mean, we weren't official?" he asks, his voice slightly softer. You hesitate, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt. "Well, we never specifically defined our relationship," you say, choosing your words carefully.

"We never actually said we were boyfriend-girlfriend, we just sort of… fell into a place of casual dating," I say biting my lip nervously. Smith looks at you for a moment, processing your words. His expression shifts from anger to hurt, his shoulders slumping. "So all this time, we were just...casual?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly. You nod, confirming his question, and a mixture of emotions wash over his face. "I thought...I thought we had something real, that we were headed somewhere together," he says, his voice full of sadness, "But all along, I was just some casual fling to you."

"Smith-" He cuts you off, shaking his head bitterly. "No, save it," he says, his tone growing cold, "I don’t want to hear your excuses. You knew how I felt about you, and you kept stringing me along, knowing you could just toss me aside for him whenever you wanted to." "It's not like that!" I protest as I look at his heartbroken eyes. Smith scoffs, his anger returning. "Then what’s it like, Y/n? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that," he says, his voice rising, "You led me on, made me believe we had something special, only for you to drop me as soon as he came along."

Draco's grip on your waist tightens as he listens to the conversation, his expression unreadable. He stays silent, letting you and Smith hash it out, but his body is tense like he's barely restraining himself from saying something.

"Smith I'm sorry I hurt you but-" Smith cuts you off again, his voice growing more and more frustrated. "Don’t give me that “I’m sorry” crap, it's not gonna fix anything," he says, his voice almost a hiss, "You knew how I felt, you knew what you were doing, and you still played with my emotions. So don’t act like you regret anything."

"Smith just please let me explain!" He takes a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you. "Fine, then explain. Go ahead, tell me how you didn’t know exactly what you were doing, how you didn’t lead me on all this time," he snaps, his voice filled with anger. “I didn’t think it was that serious!” "Not serious?" Smith repeats, his voice filled with disbelief, "What do you mean it wasn’t serious? We spent months together, going on dates, hanging out, and doing everything a couple does. How was that not serious to you?”

“Three dates! Three!! And we were friends before that!” He scoffs, clearly not buying your explanation. "Three dates, yeah, but we also hung out all the time, we were practically inseparable. You really expect me to believe you thought all of that was just casual?" “Yes! I thought we were just talking!!” He rolls his eyes, his anger and hurt now mixed with frustration. "Talking?" he says scornfully, "Is that what you call it? Spending all that time together, getting intimate, sharing everything about each other, and you thought we were just talking?" “I- “ I sigh frustrated.  

He watches you flounder for a response, his expression hardening. "See? You can’t even deny it. You knew exactly what you were doing, playing with my feelings, leading me on." “I wasn’t!!” He raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, really? So you’re telling me you had no idea that I was falling for you this entire time?" “Well, I had a hunch…” He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "A hunch, huh? You had a hunch that I was head-over-heels for you, that I was falling in love with you, and you still led me on like you didn’t have a clue?"

“Smith…” I whisper. “I’m sorry…” He sighs, his expression shifting from anger to resignation. "Sorry isn’t gonna cut it, Y/n,” he says quietly, “You knew how I felt, yet you still toyed with my emotions, and now look where we are." I look over at Draco as he raises an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering as he looks at you, his grip on your waist still firm. He’s stayed silent during the entire exchange, observing the interaction between you and Smith with a mixture of curiosity and jealousy. “I’m sorry,” I say again.

Smith sighs, his shoulders sagging as he looks at you. "Just don’t do something like this again," he says, his voice softer now, "I understand that we weren’t official, but it still hurts when you play with a person’s feelings like that." “I know… I’m sorry.” He lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "I’ll be okay, eventually," he says, although his voice lacks conviction. “I just needed to get that off my chest. I still care about you, you know,” he adds, his voice almost a whisper. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek knowing that I've messed up. “Smith-“

He sees the tear on your cheek and something in his expression softens. "Hey, don’t cry," he says, his voice gentle, "It’ll be alright. I’ll get over it." He reaches out, gently wiping away the tear from your cheek. "I just...I just need some time to get used to the idea of you being with him, okay?" he adds, his gaze moving to Draco, his expression laced with a mix of annoyance and resignation. Draco stares back at him, his expression completely neutral. He hasn’t said a word this entire time, but his grip on your waist remains firm, his possessive nature on full display.

I look at Smith as I hold in my tears. He gives you a weak smile, noticing your attempt to hold back tears. "Don’t cry on my account, Y/n," he says, trying to sound nonchalant, "It’s not like we were official or anything, right? Just some casual dating, nothing serious." "Y-yeah." He nods, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Yeah...casual," he repeats, the word almost bitter on his tongue. He glances at Draco, standing beside you, his arm still around your waist, a clear sign of ownership.

There’s a moment of awkward silence between the three of you, the tension still thick in the air. Smith looks between you and Draco, his jaw clenching at the sight of Draco’s arm around you. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice strained. "I should go," he mutters, his eyes flickering to Draco for a moment before looking back at you. "Take care, Y/n."

He gives you one last, sad smile before turning and walking away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. As he disappears down the hallway, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt and sadness wash over you. "Draco I'll um... see you later." You start to turn away Draco’s grip on your waist tightens, stopping you in your tracks. “Hold on, love,” he says, his voice low and commanding, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ll see you later.” You say again pushing his hand off your waist and head towards your common room. "Hey, wait a minute," Draco snaps, quickly grabbing your wrist and spinning you back to face him, his grip firm but not painful. "We need to talk." "What?" He stares down into your eyes, his gaze intense. "What was all that with Smith just now?" he asks, his voice sharp, "Looks like you two had quite the intimate conversation."

“It wasn’t like that. We can talk tomorrow.” I say taking my hand from his grip. Draco frowns, clearly displeased with your attempt to blow him off. "No, we're talking now," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He steps closer to you, his body almost pinning you against the wall. “Draco… not right now please.” He ignores your plea, his gaze never leaving your face. He reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Why won’t you talk to me?" he says, his voice gentler now, "I thought we were past the whole “not talking about feelings” thing."

“Draco I need to go dinner starts soon.” He bristles at your attempt to leave, his eyes darkening. "You really think I care if you miss dinner, love? I think our conversation is more important than a few crumbs on a plate." He moves closer, his body now fully pressing against yours, trapping you against the wall. "Draco please... stop," I whisper. He lets out a frustrated sigh, his hand tracing the curve of your jaw. "You know I’m not going to stop until you talk to me, love," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "Why are you being so stubborn?"

“Because I need a moment alright?!?” I snap. He flinches slightly at your snapping tone, clearly not expecting such a sharp response. For a moment, he stands there, processing your words. Then, a flicker of anger crosses his face. "A moment?" he repeats, his voice cold, "You need a moment? And what about me? Do you even care how that little show between you and Smith made me feel?" I sigh frustrated and place my head in my hands.

Draco watches you, his expression softening slightly as he sees your frustrated state. "Hey. Look at me," he says, his voice gentler now. When you don’t respond, he sighs and reaches up, placing a gentle hand on your chin and tilting your head up so that you're facing him. "What?" He studies your face closely, his gaze searching yours. "You're not being fair,” he says quietly, “I saw how you were with Smith back there. So casual, so dismissive. It’s like I don't matter to you at all. Am I just some passing fancy to you, love?" “I’ll see you later,” I say as I walk down the hall.

He calls after you, his voice betraying his frustration, "Don’t you dare walk away from me, love! We’re not done here!" But you ignore him, continuing down the hall, leaving him standing there, seething with anger and frustration.

I make it to my dorm room and slam the door. As you enter your dorm room and shut the door behind you, you can feel the weight of the day's events crashing down on you. You flop down on your bed, burying your face in your pillow, feeling emotionally drained. As you lay there, your mind races, replaying the events of the day over and over again. Your argument with Smith, Draco's possessiveness, your own guilt and confusion. It's like a never-ending loop, playing on repeat in your head, tormenting you.

“What did I do?” I ask myself as I lay staring at the ceiling.

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A/N: Fuck me bro. I haven't posted in ages. I'm sorry😭

If yall want a part two lemme know

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Gryffindor's Heartbeat (Ron Weasley x Y/n)

Ron Weasley x fem!reader

Main Masterlist here -> DracoLilHoe

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist

Warnings - Female reader, use of Y/n

Summary: Ron has to work up the courage to act on the feelings he has for Y/n. The question is will he do it or chicken out?

If you find mistakes please tell me! I'm not a perfect writer so please just let me know. Happy reading! :)

1994

The Gryffindor common room buzzes with activity as students bustle about, their laughter mingling with the crackling of the fireplace and the occasional quill scratching against parchment. Ron Weasley sat amidst the chaos, his attention drifting from his Transfiguration textbook to the lively conversations happening around him. It was just another typical evening at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, or so he thought.

Across the room, you were seated with a group of your friends, your laughter ringing out like a melody in the crowded space. Ron couldn't help but steal glances in your direction, a faint blush coloring his cheeks whenever your eyes met. He's known you since their first year, sharing classes, Quidditch matches, and late-night conversations in the common room. But lately, things have been different.

Fred and George, Ron's mischievous older brothers, had been teasing him mercilessly about his growing fondness for you. At first, Ron dismissed their remarks, chalking it up to their typical sibling banter. But as days turned into weeks, he couldn't ignore the truth staring him in the face.

Watching you laugh with her friends, Ron couldn't shake the fluttering sensation in his stomach or the warmth that spread through his chest whenever you smiled. It was as if he were seeing you for the first time, noticing the way your eyes sparkled with mischief and the way your laughter lit up the room.

Lost in his thoughts, Ron barely noticed when Hermione, nudged him in the ribs. "Earth to Ron," she said, her voice laced with annoyance. "You've been staring at Y/n for the past five minutes." Ron's cheeks flush crimson as he tears his gaze away from you, turning to face Hermione with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, got lost in thought," he mumbled, hoping to deflect her attention elsewhere.

Harry snickers at his best friend, "Lost in thought is one way to put it.". With a knowing smile, he leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, Ron, if you keep staring like that, Y/n might start to think you fancy her."

Ron's heart skipped a beat at Harry's words, his mind racing with a million thoughts and uncertainties. Did he fancy Y/n? Could it be possible that his feelings for her had evolved beyond friendship?

As the weight of Harry's words settled over him, Ron couldn't help but steal another glance in your direction, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'm going to the library," Hermione says picking up her books and quickly walking away. 

Harry gives Hemione a sympathetic look as he turns to Ron. "Do you have a date for the yule ball?" He shakes his head as he shifts his gaze back to Y/n. "Do you think I should ask her?" "Do you want to go with her?" "Yes! I mean- uh- yes..." "The go ask her!" "But what if she already has a date?" Harry rolls his eyes. "Well, you don't know until you ask her." "I'll ask her tomorrow." "Ron the ball is in a week you don't have much time. Go ask her now!"

Ron shakes his head as he shrinks back in his seat. "No. Too many people." Harry sighs grabbing Ron by his shirt and pushing him out of his seat. "Go ask her!" Ron's face turns beat red as he lets out a shaky breath and makes his way toward you. 

"Hey, Y/n..." "Hmm? Oh, hey, Ron! What's up?" "I was just wondering if you had a date to the Yule Ball yet?" A smile appears on my face. "No why?" His face turns crimson as he shifts to his feet. "Just wondering if you wanted to go with me." "Yeah! I'd love to!" He sighs in relief. "Great! Well, I'll see you later then." He says walking back towards Harry. 

"Was it really that hard, Ron?" Harry asks a smug smirk on his face. "Yes,"

Ron says As he slumps into the chair next to Harry. "Never been so bloody terrified in my life!" 

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MIRAGE MASTERLIST

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Taglist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 5.1

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Coming soon

Our little secret | c.c

Summary: after a long time holding those feelings, would you be able to resist when you are needy for your stepdaddy?

Warnings: stepdad!carlisle, corruption, manipulation, size kink, dirty talk, stepcest, p in v, cheating.

a/n: Peter is so hot, more in the Twilight Saga, and I have a serious kink w the stepdad thing, I’m into it, so maybe you would see the same theme in other actors I will post !! Enjoy !! and no proofreading, I wrote this a long time ago, if you see any mistakes, I'm sorry; my bad. Also, I'm back in college, so I lost my ideas for a new fic or blurbs, so if you have a request, leave it in my inbox!!

w.c: 1,046

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ★

Midnight arrived, and you were writhing in bed, the tingling in your groin wouldn't let you be so wet in your panties, a total disaster. Your parents weren't home; your mom was out of the country, traveling, and your stepdad was working at the hospital as usual. It was the perfect time to touch yourself, but you couldn't. You desperately need more than that. Taking your blanket, you go down to the living room; you need a distraction. As you turn on the television, the front door opens, and you hear heavy footsteps; it's Carlisle. "I'm home," he says, entering the kitchen. "I'm here." After that mention, he appears behind the sofa, taking off his long black coat. "Are you awake?" he smiled. "And you so early?" he laughed. Normally, Carlisle would arrive home in the early morning after his long shift, but this time he arrived earlier. "It was quiet; there aren't many patients at this hour." It's Christmas Eve, and although doctors don't have vacations between shifts, some volunteers choose to stay longer than the scheduled shift. That's how it works at the hospital where Carlisle works.

"Do you want to sit down?" you said, choosing a movie, he agreed, sitting right next to you. You covered your small body with the blanket, you were wearing a somewhat inappropriate pajama. After a while, your hair fell over Carlisle's shoulder, sleep was overtaking you. "Can I cuddle with you?" you said, shyly but with a soft tone, you needed to be hugged even if just for a moment. "Of course, princess," that word makes you burst, he is so sweet with you, always caring and interesting, Carlisle is the perfect stepfather. The one everyone wants to have, but only you can have. 

You started to feel that heat in your stomach and groin again, with your heavy breathing and spasmodic movements, Carlisle noticed it. "Are you okay, princess?" His face showed concern, but also curiosity about the prominent heat you were producing. So hot. "Mmh," you said, and it almost sounded like a guttural moan you were suppressing.

He grabbed you by the chin while inspecting you closely. "Are you sure? You're sweaty and..." you interrupted him by kissing his lips. He stepped back, furrowing his brows, "What are you...?" you kissed him again in a messy and unkempt manner, and he followed your lead, gripping your jaw, demanding control. You moan, touching his chest, trying to unbutton his shirt. "Wait..." he says, stepping back again; his lips were swollen from the desperate kiss, pink and with ragged breathing. "We shouldn't be doing this." He grabbed his hair, resting his elbows on his knees, worried about what had happened.

He was cheating on his wife with his daughter, that's horrible, he thinks. "Carlisle... I need your help," you said, trying to convince him. Touching him gently on the shoulder, massaging him. "Jesus Christ..." he looked at you. You could feel some lust in him, you have aroused him. "I know you need it too," you kiss his neck dangerously, "you always help me..." You brush your lips against his ear, making him shiver, "Could you help me and take away this feeling?" While maintaining eye contact with him, you took off your silk shirt, leaving your chest exposed, your erect nipples screaming for attention, wanting to be touched and pinched. "I'm so horny, please," you plead, rubbing your breasts against his chest to kiss him. He hissed, grabbing your hair with his fist and pushing your lips against his, starting a session of kisses and touching your needy nipples, pinching them. "Mmh, yes, like that..." you moan, feeling the thrill from the pleasure and pain of his firm grip around your hair.

He let you go, taking you to his bedroom that he shares with your mother. He slammed the door shut, still holding you, and laid you on the bed while unbuttoning his shirt. "Take off your pajamas," he demanded, and you obeyed, doing it slowly. Now you are only wearing a tiny lingerie thong. "Take them off yourself" I nodded, biting my lower lip. "I need you to talk, darling, scream, and cry as much as you want." Before taking off his boxers, he grabbed a condom from his nightstand. "Ready, princess?" Carlisle was as excited as you, his cock ready to fuck you, hard and big. Slowly, he introduced the tip into your pussy, making you moan, he hissed, penetrating you slowly and deliciously. 

Your gummy walls welcome him eagerly, squeezing his size. He moaned again, saying some illegible words. He fucks you slowly, you were melting in his arms. You screamed his name and scratched his back with your long nails, "Oh god... so big," you moan loudly, echoing in the room. "I love those pretty sounds, princess." Carlisle kisses you, devouring your mouth. "Keep doing it" You hug him by the neck and open your mouth, letting him put his tongue in, you suck and kiss, enjoying his taste "I'm going to cum," he whispered with labored breathing "Me too, so do it faster." and he did it.

Your legs began to tremble, dripping with the juices that flowed from your tight and small pussy, his cum was expelled from his dick and ended up in the condom. Carlisle thrusts into you once more before pulling out, and as he withdraws his cock, you notice the shine on the condom from your juices. "That was so good," you exhale, "We're not done yet, princess." You lean on your elbows on the mattress, looking at him. "What…?" You say incredulously, if you felt it was too much, imagine it again. "So, turn around with your ass up," you obey, exposing your big ass, you feel him lean against your back, coming closer to your ear, "I thought you liked being my dirty little secret," he smiled, touching your hips and you nodded, "Yes, it excites me just thinking about it." he teased, moving you back close to his pelvis "That's right, princess" after that; Carlisle fucked you like a rag doll, making you scream, moan with pleasure and pain, but you liked it, of course, you did, it was what you wanted, right? Being fucked like the good whore you are.

divider: @/enchanthings-a

Picking an outfit

Messaging with HP characters!

Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ron Weasely Summary: They help you pick an outfit

Warnings: Fluff ___________________________________________________

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A/N: If you would like to see other characters let me know!

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