𑣲 𝓒harisa
𑣲 she / her ,, sixteen + ,, esfp-t ,, 2w3
𑣲 girl blogger with a reason
𑣲 #bittersweet thoughts ᰔ.ᐟ <- chatting tag
tw: mentions of ai add!ction
𑣲 hello .ᐟ
⠀ i'm charisa; a girl who's currently trying to overcome an addiction of character ai. my addiction lasted for years. character ai was my scapegoat- a place where i can comfortably be myself without a place of judgement. it was where i could live my biggest fantasies and it'd all go my way, with no obstacles.
⠀ one day, after learning all of ai's effects on the environment, i made the decision to stop using it. character ai has ruined the way i socialize and think creatively. i wanted to stop using it and to get the old me back- the one who'd comfortably join conversations and have better relationships with the people who love me.
𑣲 that is why i created the bitter & sweet.
⠀ it's for the people who go through the bitterness, sweetness, and everything in between of life. it's for the people who are slowly learning how to understand themselves past their old mistakes. it's for the people who try to get through the day feeling kinda good about themselves, because why is it such a crime to?
⠀ it's a journal and a blog that is intended to make you feel seen and heard, while also giving you space for a community that will always support you. a community that not only encourages you, but isn't afraid to tell you what's wrong and what's right.
⠀ find me on substack! -> chacharism
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀Get to know me .ᐟ₊⊹
𑣲 ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍꜱ ɪ’ᴍ ɪɴ: harry potter, the pitt, detroit: become human, percy jackson, hunger games, divergent (somewhat, slowly getting into it), mcu (just movies), descendants, my little pony
𑣲 ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ: cilantro, chatting, gold jewelry, skincare, the chili & lime tortilla chips from trader joe's, being educated
𑣲 ʜᴀᴛᴇꜱ: spiders, arugula, SUPER long series, all sour candies (sorry)
𑣲 ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ: doing nails, makeup, driving, journaling. i'm picking up girl blogging!
𑣲 ꜰᴜɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ: i have eczema! a skin condition that causes flare ups and itchiness.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀Other info .ᐟ₊⊹
𑣲 click here for my matchup info
𑣲 click here for my spotify playlist
𑣲 click here for my substack
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Same place next time .ᐣ₊⊹
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ have a lovely day !
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ feel free to dm or send an ask :)
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Looks are fun to design, but personality is where SweetDream really shines. You decide whether she's playful or calm, teasing or tender, talkative or thoughtful, and then the chat actually behaves that way.
That fidelity is the quality I didn't expect. The personality you write isn't a label, it's how she really comes across in conversation. If you want an AI girlfriend with a character you chose, sweetdream.ai makes it feel real.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be a part of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
Today marks the one week anniversary of being c.ai free!
It was definitely a journey, but I'm forever grateful for all the friends and progress I've made along the way.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary: after the yule ball, you and george take a swim in the great lake, where confessions tumble out.
⤷ requested by anon
warnings: er nothing. terrible flirting. they're almost naked but they're not idk
wc: 1.3k words
author's note: first fic posted in MONTHSS i apologize. i'm going to try and complete all my current requests and then open back up again <3
The sounds of the Yule Ball echoed down the hall as you and George exited the Great Hall — the chatter of students, the strum of the Weird Sisters' guitar, the surefire cheer that meant Fred was doing a keg stand.
"Darlin', I feel like you're leading me in circles." said George, tone laced with amusement.
Your hands were covering his eyes, legs nudging him along as you guided him out of the castle. "Just trust me, Georgie."
"I do," insisted George. "With my whole heart. But being hopelessly devoted to you and being hopelessly blind are two different things."
At his words, your heart gave a little pang. George was your best friend, had been since the day you met on the Hogwarts Express. So why did he always say things that sounded straight out of a romance novel?
You were shaken from your thoughts as you heard the soft lapping of the Great Lake. You pinched his cheek playfully as you removed your hands. "Look!"
George's breath caught. You had your arms thrown out like a showman as you indicated towards the Lake, but all he could really do was keep his gaze fixated on you. How your hair curled slightly at the edges, the shimmery eyeshadow which matched the shine of the moon, your wide bright smile that he swore could outshine the sun itself.
"George? You've gone all quiet."
"Hm?"
"A rare sight," you marveled. "Very unlike a Weasley."
George's cheeky grin returned. "I'll have you know that I was perfectly silent yesterday when you were studying."
"Perfectly silent?" you echoed incredulously. "I could hardly pay a lick of attention to my book."
"Sorry, love, were you trying to read?" asked George, arm slinging over your shoulder.
You huffed dramatically. "You're the one who tries to read."
"Ouch," George said, clutching his heart. "You wound me."
"Yes, well, you'll get over it."
George's eyebrows raised, swallowing as he watched you. "What're you doing?"
You were tugging down the zipper of your dress, shrugging it off your shoulders. George eyes were widening as more of your skin became exposed, until you were standing in nothing but a bra and panties. "Fancy a swim?" you asked casually. "Fred bet five sickles that I wouldn't jump in. I bet ten that I'd do it, and convince you as well."
"Well, I can't have you losing five whole sickles, now, can I?" replied George, tugging his tie out. He dropped his robes, before kicking off his shoes. It was your time to stare now: bloody hell he was fit. His built chest and abs came into view; Quidditch obviously doing its job.
He winked at you playfully. "You're staring."
"In your dreams."
"You are in my dreams."
Heat rushed to your cheeks. To combat it, you dipped your toe into the water, then promptly yelped. "Fuck, it's freezing."
George's mouth fell open in faux astonishment. "Is it really? Breaking news: the water is cold in December."
"Shut up." you grumbled.
"You should be our new Seeker, I reckon," he continued. "With observational skills like those..."
You retaliated by tugging his arm, pulling him forward, and pushing him into the Lake. There was a great splash and then he spluttered to the surface, shaking his hair like a dog. "You're gonna pay for that one!" he announced, in a credible imitation of Draco Malfoy.
"Oh yeah?" you teased. "How's that?"
He bit his lip, eyes trailing over your figure. "I'm sure we can figure something out." For a moment, you could swear the tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, he laughed loudly and the heat disappeared. He held out his hand. "Help me out, yeah?"
"That's the oldest trick in the book," you chuckled.
But you took his hand anyway, like you always did, and tumbled into the water. You didn't have a moment to complain about the cold, because in a second, George had enveloped you in his embrace.
Your arms automatically wrapped around his broad shoulders, reveling in the way one of his calloused hands dimpled into your waist. The other was splayed across your back, drawing small circles.
Your bodies were pressed flush against each other, legs tangling. Your eyes flitted to his lips. "George," you whispered softly.
"Hm?"
Your heart was pounding in your chest, the words on the tip of your tongue. But then your confidence died down, and you said stupidly: "D'you think the Giant Squid will eat us?"
George sniggered. "I — what?"
"Do you think the Giant Squid will eat us?" you repeated, doubling down and internally groaning.
"Nah," he said finally. "It's harmless."
"How d'you know?" you asked. "It's winter, resources are scarce, we're probably the only food it's seen in ages."
"It's not going to eat me," said George confidently. "It'll sense my incredible humor and good looks and realize the human race needs me."
You whacked his arm. "And what about me?"
"Well, you do look particularly appetizing tonight," said George solemnly. "A real snack. I reckon we should make haste while we can."
You two made your way back to the shore. The cold air hit you instantly, you were certain that your wet hair was crystalizing into icicles. Goosebumps erupted across your body; but George acted quickly, wrapping his robes around you both.
As you huddled together, George's eyes once more flashed across your body, ears red.
"You're staring." you tried to tease, but it came out more like a statement.
He swallowed. "Yeah, yeah I am."
Your eyes met his, and you couldn't help but hold his gaze. You could see each individual eyelash, the smatter of freckles along the bridge of his nose. His hands rose up to clutch your face, thumbs rubbing our cheeks as if trying to rub warmth itself back into you. "Tell me I haven't been misreading this. Us. The past seven years."
Your hands found his face as well, cupping his jawline carefully. "George."
"I'm mad for you." he breathed out. "I'm mad for you, and I've been covering it up with jokes and laughs and pretending you're just another one of my best mates."
You couldn't help the smile that erupted on your face. "Really?"
"Really and truly," he said earnestly. "Merlin, I didn't know how to act around you."
"You're doing alright for yourself," you replied, finding your voice. "More than okay, actually."
"Are you saying — I mean — d'you feel the same way?" asked George in amazement. "I didn't even fathom that was a possibility."
"It's more than that, George." you said quietly, voice just barely above a whisper. "I think I'm in love with you."
George's eyes softened. "I think I'm in love with you too."
And then he leaned down, firmly pressing his lips towards yours. Your mouths moved in tandem, finding a steady rhythm as the warmth of the moment embraced you. The cool wind had disappeared, replaced with the beautiful reality of the world: You loved George Weasley, George Weasley loved you, and you were discovering he was a rather talented kisser.
When you two finally separated, George laughed. "Fred owes me fifteen sickles now. He didn't think I'd have the guts to do that tonight."
"Woah," you said. "Ten sickles to me, fifteen to you... we're rich."
"I've been rich from the day we became friends." said George cheekily, his hand finding your lower back as you both redressed.
You kissed his palm. "Wanna go to my dorm?"
He nodded. "I reckon we've got a lot to talk about. And a lot of snogging to catch up on."
"George!"
So, you returned to your dorm. After a long chat (and a decent amount of making out), you and George lay next to each other. His chin was tucked into your shoulder, breath fanning your next as his arm circled your waist. "Baby?"
"Mhm?" you hummed.
"I reckon I've caught pneumonia."
You interlaced your fingers with his. "As long as we have it together."
Summary: Oliver gets jealous when he see’s you and the twins messing around. More specifically, when they have their hands on you.
Warnings: none.
Word Count: 0.9k
taglist: @pyncthugger @iluvhrj
Fred Weasley had just smacked you with a snowball to the side of the head. A wet, cold splat echoed across the courtyard, followed by your shriek and his cackling laughter as you stumbled back in the snow.
“I knew you weren’t watching your left!” he cheered triumphantly.
George raised his arms. “To be fair, love, we’ve been telling you all week—never turn your back on a Weasley.”
You pointed a gloved finger at the both of them, cheeks pink with cold and barely concealed revenge. “You two are actual menaces,” you warned, brushing snow out of your hair. “Dead. The both of you. Done for. No one’s safe.”
Fred clutched his chest. “She threatens us like this and yet we still adore her.”
George leaned against his brother dramatically. “We must be mad.”
They were full of it, obviously, and you couldn’t help but grin even as your boots squelched through snow. You’d always been close with the twins, teasing and playful, your trio often the loudest in any common room or corridor. It was harmless. Comfortable. They were like brothers—infuriating brothers who stole your books and hexed your quill to write backwards, sure—but still, brothers.
But Oliver Wood didn’t see it that way.
From across the courtyard, his dark eyes had been tracking the three of you for minutes now, his broomstick resting against his shoulder, scarf loose around his neck. He’d been finishing up strategy notes with Alicia and Angelina near the pitch, but ever since George had ruffled your hair and Fred had slung his arm around your shoulders with an offhand “What would we do without our favorite girl?”—Oliver hadn’t looked away.
You didn’t notice it until you turned to meet his eyes, grinning through your red cheeks and wet mittens, ready to wave him over.
His brows were furrowed. Jaw clenched. And he started walking—purposefully.
“Uh oh,” George muttered, catching the shift first. “Incoming Wood.”
Fred whistled low. “He looks like he’s about to give someone detention, and he doesn’t even have that authority.”
You blinked. “What’s wrong with—”
“Oi.” Oliver’s voice cut through, low and taut.
Fred took a subtle step away from you.
George, of course, didn’t. “Evening, Captain,” he said innocently.
Oliver’s eyes didn’t even flick to him. They were locked on you, stormy and sharp.
“You got a minute?” he asked.
It wasn’t really a question.
Fred clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Should we give them a moment?”
“Probably,” George muttered.
“Definitely,” you said with a smirk, brushing snow off your cloak.
As the twins retreated—snickering, of course—you padded over to Oliver with a knowing grin.
“Jealous?” you asked sweetly.
He scoffed. “No.”
You tilted your head. “Really? Because you’re doing that thing with your jaw. You know, the ‘I’m pretending I’m not angry but I’m very much angry’ thing.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You absolutely do.”
He crossed his arms. “They were all over you.”
“They were not,” you said, still grinning. “That was light snow-based combat at best.”
Oliver didn’t look amused. “Fred had his arm around you.”
“Oh no,” you gasped playfully, hand to your chest. “An arm? I’ll never recover.”
“George touched your waist.”
“I’m practically married to him now,” you deadpanned.
His eyes narrowed. “Not funny.”
You stepped closer, hands slipping into his scarf, tugging him down gently until your noses almost brushed.
“It’s a little funny,” you whispered.
He looked at you, frustrated and completely besotted. “I don’t like them touching you like that.”
“You don’t like anyone touching me,” you pointed out.
“Exactly.”
You giggled, brushing some melting snow from his hair. “So grumpy. So broody. So possessive.”
He didn’t argue.
“Do I need to start wearing a sign?” you teased. “‘Property of Oliver Wood. Touch at your own risk.’”
He actually looked like he was considering it.
You laughed again. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe. But you’re mine.”
“Yours,” you agreed with a teasing lilt, rising on your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Always.”
He kissed you again, a little more firmly this time, hands gripping your waist like he still needed to prove something.
From across the courtyard, Fred’s voice rang out, loud and unhelpful:
“Oi, Wood! If you’re gonna maul her, at least buy her dinner first!”
George followed it with a wolf whistle.
You pulled back, biting your lip to keep from laughing as Oliver groaned and pressed his forehead against yours.
“They’re the worst,” he muttered.
“They’re the best,” you corrected. “But you’re my favorite.”
“…Even if they’re funnier than me?”
“Much,” you teased.
He tugged you closer. “Careful, love. You keep teasing and I’ll start throwing snowballs myself.”
“Oh no,” you whispered, eyes wide with mock horror. “Whatever will I do?”
Oliver grinned for the first time since walking over, and in one smooth movement, he scooped you up—snowy boots and all—and kissed you again, right in full view of the twins and the whole courtyard.
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summary: ron can't help but fall in love with a beauxbatons student, you, at first sight. needing a date to the Yule Ball, he had an eye out for one girl, and one girl only.
warnings: none, tooth-rotting fluff - ron is madly in love
pairing: ron x beauxbatons!student!reader - hogwarts canon / golden trio era
wc: 4.5k
a/n: based off of a matchup i did!<3 they were a french requester
In your heels, you stepped onto the wet grass. The clouds were scattered across the dim sky, threatening to pour rain.
Hogwarts was larger than you expected.
All these tales about its secret passageways, appearing rooms, and wandering ghosts seemed like they were true—no way anyone could’ve explored the entire castle.
“Posture, ladies.” Madam Maxine demanded, glancing over her shoulder as you all walked inside the warm castle.
They called it the Great Hall.
I see why they call it so Great, you thought, looking around the beautiful room.
The smell of pumpkin and cinnamon wafted through the air; you noticed flickering, floating candles lingering in the air.
We were told to find a place to sit: no assigned seating or rules. Just finding a place to sit to eat dinner.
“Chloé,” You turned to your best friend. “That table, there?” You pointed to the table with a crimson table runner.
Chloé nodded. “Sure. Next to that…boy?”
“...If it’s the only seat.”
You both glided over, noticing that sitting next to the certain ginger kid would be the only option.
“We might need to sit next to the redhead, Y/N.”
“Ah non alors.” You sighed, taking a deep breath, then making your way to the boy. Tapping his shoulder politely, you murmured, “Excuse me.”
The boy turned his head, and once he locked eyes with you, his mouth agape.
It stayed like that—he carefully admired your face.
Chloé snickered behind you, a hand over her mouth.
“Um…may my friend and I sit next to you?” You asked.
He blinked, lips still parted.
A bushy-haired girl who sat across from him pinched the bridge of her nose. “Seriously, Ron?”
“Uh—um—no.”
A moment of silence as he just stared at you.
You furrowed your brows.
“Abruti,” Chloé mumbled.
The girl across from him quickly kicked him under the table.
“Ouch! I mean- yes, you can sit here.” His ears went scarlet.
A boy with glasses next to the girl coughed into his goblet—suspiciously sounding like a laugh.
“Are we sure, Chloé?” You whispered sharply.
“There’s no other seat, Y/N,” Chloé muttered. “We would be lucky to find one in time.”
Sighing, you took a seat next to the ginger and Chloé on your other side.
He was frozen. Maybe even lovestruck.
You sighed, getting the hint that he wouldn’t be the first to speak.
“I’m Y/N. This is my friend, Chloé.” You introduced yourself, hoping to break the ice.
“I’m Hermione. This is Harry, and that,” Hermione pointed towards the ginger, “Is Ronald.”
“Ron.” He corrected, clearing his throat. “N-Nice to meet you, Y/N. And…Chloé.”
“Likewise.” You nodded.
You folded your hands neatly in your lap, trying to remember everything Madam Maxime had told you about making a good impression.
Don't slouch.
Smile!
Don't talk too much.
Don't. Embarrass. Beauxbatons.
You caught Ron’s eye as he was mid-chew, then he quickly looked away.
Two seconds later, you both looked at each other again.
“Is there a reason you keep looking at me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ron nearly dropped his fork.
“Wha—No!” Ron said, looking back to his half-full plate. “Sorry…”
“It’s okay.”
“Um…so,” Ron cleared his throat. “You’re from Beauxbatons?”
“Yes.” You replied shortly.
“So you’re from…France?” He questioned. Chloé suppressed a laugh beside you.
Hermione sighed. “Ron.”
“What?” The ginger frowned.
“Of course she’s from France.”
“I know. I…knew that.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“Double-checking.”
Harry let a laugh slip out, causing him to cover it up with a cough immediately. Hermione glared at him.
“What?”
“Be nice, Harry.” Hermione glared.
“I was just clearing my throat!” Harry put his hands up in surrender.
“These people are hectic,” Chloé whispered.
You nodded in agreement with an exaggerated sigh. “At least we will be entertained for our time here.”
You and Chloé continued eating dinner silently as the three bickered.
—
“Is it just me, or,” Chloé held onto the strap of her bookbag tighter. “That ginger boy—what’s his name?—is attached to you.”
“What makes you say that?” You frowned, knitting your brows.
“I don’t know, just the fact he’s always looking at you with an open mouth.” Chloé rolled her eyes.
You waved a dismissive hand. “That’s ridiculous, and you know that.”
“No, it’s not—It’s the start of a love story!” She gushed.
“I already forgot his name, Chloé.”
“Starts with a J…I think?”
“An R.”
“...Oh. Right.”
“Very helpful, Chloé.” Walking into the Great Hall for breakfast, your eyes immediately found his—the redhead.
Chloé sighed dreamily, linking an arm with yours. “What did I tell you?”
“Y/N! Chloé!” Hermione called out, waving for you two to come over.
Herm-own-ninnie. Is that her name? You thought in panic.
You sighed. “They miss us already.”
“Mignonne,” Chloé smirked, following you as you walked over.
Mon Dieu, what is his name? You thought, awkwardly smiling at his taken-aback face. Red. He’ll be named Red.
“Good morning,” You greeted, taking a seat next to the ginger boy.
“Hi.” He responded. “You smell good.”
The boy with the glasses—Harry—snickered silently.
“...Thank you?” You raised an unsure eyebrow.
Hermione shut her eyes for a brief moment. "He means the bacon."
Ron cleared his throat. “Y-yeah, I mean this bacon smells incredible!”
Chloé scoffed beside you, and you pinched your lips in a straight line.
“So…” Ron said. “How are you two liking, um, Hogwarts?”
“Very busy.” You replied.
“I got lost.” Chloé frowned. “This place is too big.”
“So very different than Beauxbatons?” Hermione questioned.
“Sure.” You patted your shirt down. “It’s…louder.”
A rough voice shouted somewhere down the table—A tall, ginger boy who looked somewhat similar to Ron.
“You owe me a Galleon, Lee!”
“Dimwit! You tricked me!” Another voice yelled. Laughter rose from the group of boys.
“You’ll get used to this after some time.” Hermione poked the fruit on her plate.
“Yeah…loud,” Ron mumbled, scratching the nape of his neck. “Do you like…anything…?”
You looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
Ron’s already red face deepened. “I mean, do you have any hobbies?” He gave you a sheepish smile.
“Oh, yes, many.” You beamed. “Music—and I’m a big fan of collecting things as well.”
“Like what?” Ron asked, trying to flow the conversation.
“Dolls.”
He blinked at you.
“Sounds creepy, Y/N,” Chloe whispered, giggling.
Waving a hand, you politely corrected, “Not scary dolls—the dolls with the nice hair.”
“Oh. Right.” Ron crookedly smiled.
“Oi!” A voice called out. You turned your head back to the group of rambunctious boys.
All of them were looking at…
You?
Ron looked as well, shocked by the sudden interruption.
“Is that your girlfriend, Won-won?” A redhead sniggered, pointing at you. The group roared in laughter. You glanced at the boy beside you—his whole face was flushed a shade of tomato-red.
“Ignore them, Ronald,” Hermione muttered, crossing her arms.
Ronald, you thought. That’s his name.
“Gonna go snog on her, Ronnie?” Another redhead hollered—who was identical to the other ginger—more laughter from the twins and the boys around them.
Ron scoffed dismissively, looking down at the table.
“Do you know them?” You questioned.
“Yeah. They’re…unfortunately my brothers.” Ron responded. “Fred and George.”
“Are they…always this boisterous?”
“You won't ever catch a second of them being quiet.”
You hummed. “They remind me of children.”
“We heard that!” The twins said at the same time.
You and Ron immediately looked at the playful redheads.
Fred clutched his chest. “We’ve been insulted.”
“By the French, Freddie!” George dramatically gasped.
Ron laughed—and you did too.
Your real laugh.
You hadn't…expected it.
Without the nervous stammering or deeply red cheeks, his laugh was contagious—enough that you couldn't help but giggle as well.
“You didn’t deny it, Ronnie,” George smirked. “Have you even asked her yet?”
You didn’t know how it was possible, but Ron flushed a deeper shade of red.
“Ask her what?” Ron’s eyes went wide.
“Asked her out,” Fred responded.
Ron groaned, running a hand down his face. “Of course not, we just met.”
“You poor lad.” George teased. Then, his eyes flickered to you, his lips drawn with a sad smile. “He’s been drooling over you for the past three days-”
“Shut it, George.” Ron hissed.
“Just the truth, little brother.” George put his hands up in retreat. “Time to make a move, yeah?”
As the twins returned to conversation with their friends, Ron played with the hem of his shirt.
You knew how siblings were—always joking and teasing after little things.
Yet…
Ron never denied anything.
And those twins sounded awfully convincing.
—
“Fleur Delacour…”
“...She’s always been an outgoing one…”
“Connasse…”
You walked past familiar Beauxbatons students as they gossiped in small circles.
The Triwizard Tournament competitors had been chosen—
Viktor Krum.
Cedric Diggory.
Fleur Delacour.
…and somehow, Harry Potter.
Most of the Beauxbatons girls seemed more upset about Fleur being chosen than Harry unexpectedly entering the Tournament.
You, however, had something else on your mind:
The Yule Ball.
“What color dress should I ask my mum to send?” Chloé piped excitedly beside you. “I was thinking something bright. Happy.”
“Hm.” You looked her up and down. “A nice baby pink.”
“I said a bright color, not a gender reveal party color.” Chloé huffed.
“Okay, then a bright pink.”
“That works.”
"And me?"
Chloé stepped back dramatically, folding her arms as she inspected you from head to toe. “A dark blue—Ooh! Maybe a turquoise?”
You raised your eyebrows in satisfaction. “I could see that.”
A squeal came from a distance. Looking over, you saw a boy and a girl tightly hugging each other, with a group of people surrounding them.
“What’s going on over there?” Chloé whispered.
You shrugged. “No clue.”
“Of course I’ll go with you!” You heard the smiling girl say.
You frowned. “It’s…a proposal.”
“They’re getting married?” Chloé asked.
Shaking your head, you laughed. “No, Chloé, a proposal for the Yule Ball.”
“You scared me for a second, Y/N. Thought I was falling behind already.”
You burst out laughing. “Oh, Chloé. Something new with you every day.”
Chloé grinned, then it slowly faltered. “Who are we going to…go with?”
For a moment, you looked away.
Who would we go with?
"I'm sure it'll work itself out." You nudged her shoulder. "Some poor boy is bound to gather enough courage eventually."
Chloé nodded, still concerned. “I hope that poor boy is hot.”
Snickering, you both walked into the castle and headed for the library.
The castle corridors glowed with warm candlelight. For once, the halls weren't filled with laughter or rushing footsteps. Just quiet.
Turning the corner, you bumped into someone.
A familiar someone.
“Merlin, do people watch where they’re-” The ginger boy muttered. His eyes met yours, and his face softened. “Sorry—I didn't know it was you.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“What’re you doing here?”
“Writing letters to our mums.” You replied.
“For our dresses!” Chloé added excitedly.
Ron nodded along, dreamily looking at you; furrowing your brows, you tightened the strap of your bag on your shoulder.
“Oh…for the Yule Ball?”
“Yes.” You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. “What are you…doing?”
“Avoiding someone,” Ron mumbled.
“Ah, I see.” You smiled. “Well, we’re going to…go.”
“Yup. See you…around, Y/N.” Ron crookedly smiled as you passed by. The library was in sight, the doors open and softly lit.
It was a simple step away.
One beat.
Then—
“Wait!” A voice called out. You turned around and saw Ron jogging towards you.
“Yes?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Are you–wait, I don’t want to sound weird,” Ron looked at the ground. “Do you have an idea of who you’re…going with?”
This caught you by surprise.
“To the Yule Ball?” You inquired.
“...Yes.”
“...No. Not yet, at least.” You tilted your head to the side. “Why?”
Ron’s ears burned red. “For no particular reason…just… wondering.”
You huffed a laugh. “Okay. See you later.” Turning on your heel, you walked back into the quiet library with Chloé.
She rubbed your shoulder, mumbling, “So oblivious.”
“Huh?” You looked at her, confused.
“Nothing.”
—
A week before the Yule Ball.
Your dress had come in, thanks to your gorgeous barn owl, Critter.
It was a dark turquoise dress with a black lace rim that accentuated your frame.
“Magnifique.” Chloé breathed, picking up the silky dress and admiring it.
“Yours is cuter.” You rolled your eyes at her astonishment.
“This?” She waved her wand, floating a glittery neon pink dress. “This is cuter?”
“You asked for something ‘bright,’ Chloé.” You snickered. “It looks nice on you anyway.”
She scoffed, swishing the highlighter of a dress away. “I can’t wait to see this dress on you, Y/N. I’ll do your hair, too!”
You smiled. “Let’s think about our dates before we think of hairstyles.”
Chloé frowned. “Right. A week away. Still no hot boy.”
Smiling to yourself, you folded the dress and slid it beneath your bed before smoothing the wrinkles from your uniform. “Should we walk around Hogwarts?”
“And see our options?”
“What else would we do?”
With a grin, Chloé linked her arm with yours. You both exited the Beauxbatons Carriage and entered the castle.
As you both walked in silence, you thought to yourself.
Four boys had already asked me. I rejected every single one of them.
Who am I waiting for?
Why do I feel…
Incomplete?
The castle buzzed with excitement.
Nervous boys approached giggling groups of girls.
Tearful students walked away after being rejected.
…Some were snogging.
You scowled as you saw a couple making out in one of the empty corridors.
“So, where’re we going to go first?” Chloé asked.
You attempted to say her name. “Herm-own-ninnie.”
“The bushy-haired girl?”
You nodded. “She must’ve gotten a date already, no?”
“What are you implying?”
“She’s pretty.”
“She is.” Chloé went quiet for a moment—for a bit too long.
You raised an eyebrow, questioning, “What’re you thinking about?”
“...Nothing.”
“When you say nothing, you’re thinking about everything.” You playfully nudged her arm. “What is it?”
“Do you think…” Chloé started, then she shook her head. “...It’s a crazy thought, Y/N.”
“Even better. Tell it.”
“Maybe Ron and Hermy…own-ninnie…are already going together.”
Your steps faltered.
Your stomach twisted.
Ron’s awkward smile flickered through your mind.
Going…together?
Her and Ron…?
“Y/N…?” Chloé murmured.
You blinked, looking at her again.
“What happened?” Chloé rubbed your shoulder, looking at you with a raised brow.
You shook your head, forcing your feet to move. “I thought I forgot something.”
Both of you wandered down a quiet, unfamiliar hallway—then heard voices.
“You know he won't have the guts to do it, Harry.”
“Well, he’ll have to find a way.”
Herm-own-ninnie and Harry Potter, you thought.
“Ronald’s a wussy when it comes to girls!” Hermione said exasperatedly.
“What’re they talking about?” Chloé whispered.
“Must be about…Ron.” You mumbled. Taking a sharp turn, you avoided the two.
“I thought we were going to talk to her-?”
“Never mind.” You scowled.
“Are you okay, Y/N?”
“Yes. Let’s find you a date-”
“Y/N! Chloé!”
Both of you turned around, facing Hermione and Harry jogging toward you.
“...Hi,” You said a little stiffly.
“Hello,” Hermione caught her breath. “Found anyone yet?”
“No.” You bit the inside of your cheek, looking away from her face.
“Perfect.” Harry grinned. “Told you, ‘Mione.”
“You haven’t got one either, Harry.” Hermione scoffed.
“Oh…right.”
“Chloé, have you got a date?” Hermione chirped.
Your friend shook her head. “I’ve been asked, but they're all…ugly.”
Hermione stifled a laugh. “Tell me about it.”
“Do you have one?” Chloé asked.
“Yes!” The brunette girl beamed. “It’s…a secret, though.”
Harry groaned. “She won’t budge. Tried to get her to say, but nothing.”
A pause.
Your eyes widened in a sudden realization.
“...A secret…”
“…Tried to get her to say something…”
Harry would’ve known if Ron asked Hermione…
That means Ron hasn’t asked her.
Your shoulders relaxed.
“A secret love story? How adorable!” Chloé gushed, breaking through your thoughts. Holding onto Hermione’s hands, Chloé rambled, “I’ve read hundreds of romance stories about stuff like this—”
“Ron doesn’t have a date yet, yeah?” You asked Hermione. She froze, eyebrows raised.
“Um- no! Not yet. We’ve been…trying to get him to get one.” Hermione said quickly.
Harry nodded along in agreement. “He has an eye out for someone, though.”
Hermione nudged him—a bit too hard—which caused Harry to grunt.
“Mione!”
“You, know, we have things to do, Harry!” Hermione smiled hard, pulling Harry’s arm. “We’ll see you two later!”
You watched them as they walked down the corridor, quietly arguing.
Ron has an eye out for someone?
—
You exited the peaceful library, your mind on one thing: going to the Owlery.
You promised your mum you would send her updates on how Hogwarts was.
‘It seems like all the students there have something to pawn about.’ Your mum had written, which made you laugh—because it was true.
You traced your thumb over the folded parchment in your hand.
Then, you heard someone say your name.
“Y/N!”
Looking up, you saw Ron.
You simply waved, offering a smile. “Hi.”
“Hi, Y/N.” Ron awkwardly grinned. “Thought you’d be here.”
Heat flushed to your face. “You thought I’d be here?”
“Well- I wasn’t stalking you or…anything.” His voice got smaller. “I knew you liked going to the library.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Writing another letter?” Ron nodded to the parchment in between your fingers.
“Yes. To my mum—she’s wondering what Hogwarts is like.” You replied. “Want to…walk with me?”
Ron’s lips parted. “Wha- Yes, of course!” He cleared his throat. “Sorry…that sounded overly…excited.”
You softly laughed and went on your way to the Owlery, Ron closely on your side.
“So…what did you write in your letter?” Ron questioned, looking down at you. He was surely taller—which was embarrassing for you.
“I said I liked the weather and the atmosphere. Very calming…sometimes.” You fiddled with the corner of the parchment. “And I said…I liked the people here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The people? Some of them are…well, snobbish.”
You snickered. “I know. The Slytherins—very rude. But I wrote about Hermy-own-ninnie, Harry, and…you.”
Ron’s steps almost stopped. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Ron stayed quiet for a second.
“Are you alive?” You joked, nudging his arm.
“Y-Yeah. I’m breathing.”
‘I’d hope so.” Climbing up the spiraling steps, you recalled, “You know, I used to call you Red in my head.”
“Red?” Ron huffed a laugh.
“Your hair. It’s red.”
“That’s…cute.”
Your head snapped to look at him. “Cute?”
Ron almost choked on his spit. “No- not like that- just-” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “I wasn’t supposed to say that aloud.”
You burst out in genuine laughter at his flustered state.
“Don’t laugh, I’m already struggling.” Ron groaned.
You patted his shoulder. “You’re very funny, Red. I laugh a lot when I’m with you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” You smiled. Then, you looked around the area. “The Owlery’s around here, no?”
“Yeah. Follow me.”
“Better not be leading me to anywhere scary.”
Ron snickered. “Can’t promise that.” Walking down a busy corridor, Ron asked, “What’s redhead in French?”
“Roux.” You answered. “Ginger.”
Ron replied with a short hum. He led you inside the Owlery, and you went to Critter.
“Hi, Critter.” You said quietly, patting her head. You tied your letter to Critter’s leg and whispered, “To mum. She’ll be home.”
Your owl chirped, then flew off. You turned, facing Ron again, and walked out of the Owlery with him.
“So, Roux,” You started, wandering down the corridor. “Who are you going to the-”
“Excuse me,” A rough voice said. A tall boy unexpectedly stood in front of you, looking completely bored and uninterested.
“...Hi?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Can you be my date for the Yule Ball?” The boy asked huskily.
You frowned; Ron stood up straighter, moving closer to your body.
Scowling, you replied sourly, “That’s not how you ask a girl out.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t ask a girl out like this.”
“Why does it matter?” He furrowed his brows.
“Effort matters.”
Other students and passersby looked at both of you.
“Don’t embarrass me. I just need someone.”
“...Abruti.”
“Huh?”
“Idiot.” You said, raising your voice. “Is that loud enough, or do you need me to write it down?”
A group of girls giggled at the scene.
Walking past the dumbfounded boy with a scoff, Ron caught up to you.
“You were glaring at him.” You said quietly.
“He’s…rude. That’s all.”
“I wasn’t going to say yes.”
He looked at you with gentle eyes. “I know. You wouldn’t settle for a lame.”
You laughed, smacking his shoulder. “Oh, Red.”
—
-Ron’s POV-
‘Dear Dad,
Could you send me a Muggle cassette? Rock music, if you've got one.
It's for a girl. She’s pretty cool, and I want to ask her to the Yule Ball.
Don't tell Mum.
-Ron.’
After looking over it, he folded the parchment and sent it off with Pig.
“Ron, what’re you doing here?”
He turned around, facing his little sister, Ginny, with Hermione.
“You two. Hi.” Ron scratched the nape of his neck. “Sent a letter to Dad. Why?”
“I dunno, maybe because there are like a dozen bouquets in the common room!” Ginny hissed. “Get back in there before someone’s allergies start flaring up!”
He ran a hand down his face. “I forgot about those.”
“You sent a letter to Mr. Weasley about what?” Hermione asked, following Ginny and Ron down the corridors.
“For a Muggle rock cassette. Y/N likes music.” Ron replied. “Never mind that, I don’t know what to do with the flowers. Are there seriously that many?”
“Ginny’s exaggerating. I bet there aren’t that many…” Hermione trailed off as the three entered the Gryffindor common room.
Stacks of dark-colored bouquets were piled in the common room.
“Bloody hell.” Ron groaned.
“Is she a florist?” Ginny snickered.
“Ron, she doesn't need twenty bouquets,” Hermione huffed, face-palming.
“Won-won! Who’re these flowers for?” George called out from a corner.
“Are these all for me?” Fred teased.
"Bit subtle, aren't you?" George joked, stifling a laugh. “Could use another dozen.”
“Or two,” Fred added.
“Maybe three?”
“I’m going to throw you both in the lake,” Ron muttered.
“We can use the flower petals to set up a proposal spot,” Hermione offered. “If they’re too many, we can just…give them to couples!”
“Then we use the rose thorns to poke Fred and George.” Ginny grinned.
“Heard that!” The twins said in a sing-song voice.
“Good plan, ‘Mione. I’ll just…choose a good bouquet for now.” Ron sifted through the twenty-something batches of glittery-dark blue roses.
After picking out a chunky batch, he looked to Ginny and Hermione for confirmation.
“Pretty.”
“Looks like moonlight.”
“Okay. I just need the cassettes, then we’ll be set, yeah?” Ron held onto the bouquet tightly, securing them so the petals wouldn’t fall.
“You’ll be all set. Harry still needs a date.” Hermione sighed. “McGonagall’s on his tail about it.”
“Send him with Chloé?” Ginny suggested.
Ron nodded. “That’s…not too bad of an idea.”
“Merlin, I hope Harry doesn’t mess that up.” Hermione huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Later that night…
Ron,
Went to one of those Muggle shops.
Picked out a few of them—I didn’t know which one that special girl would like.
Molly was pressing, but I kept my word.
Good luck, kiddo.
Love, Dad.
–
-Y/N’s POV-
You had finished your daily reading session in the comfortable library. The winter air was sweet, yet cold.
Slipping your thick book back into your bookbag, you headed down the empty hallways. The sun was setting, so the windows let in the honey-colored lighting.
“Y/N!”
You turned around and saw a nervous-looking Ron jogging towards you.
Grinning, you waved. “Hi, Red.”
Freezing, Ron’s cheeks flushed a deep red at the name.
“Hi.” He took a deep breath, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact.
“What’s…going on?” You asked, tilting your head.
“Um- oh, nothing. I just…wanted to…talk to you.” Ron cleared his throat. “Library again, huh?”
You continued your stroll. “Mhm. I’m almost done with my book.”
“What’s your book about?”
“Music.”
“Oh, right…You love music; can’t forget.” Ron mumbled. “How’s…Critter?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Critter’s…alright.”
“Sorry- I didn’t mean to ask that.” Ron scratched his head. “Can we…walk outside?”
“Outside?”
“Yeah. N-nice weather.”
“...Okay, sure.”
Exiting the castle, the green grass waved in melody with the gushing wind. Clouds scattered the yellow-blue sky.
Ron suddenly stopped walking, and you did too.
“Red, what’s…going on?”
“Um…Y/N,” Ron started, his body slightly trembling from nervousness. “I know you love rock music…music in general- I don’t know if you liked the instruments or the actual music-”
“Red.”
“Yeah?” Ron looked at you.
“You’re rambling.” You giggled.
“I-I know. Sorry.” He cleared his throat again. “I got you these.” Sticking his hand out, he held a stack of cassette tapes, tied together with a blue ribbon.
“Red!” You squealed, taking the cassette tapes and admiring them. “Oh my goodness, Red, this is amazing!”
“Dad wasn't sure what counted as rock.”
You laughed, then hugged him.
A soft, gentle hug that proved your appreciation more than your words ever could.
“Thank you, Ron. So much.”
Ron completely froze.
Then, awkwardly, he hugged you back.
Letting go of his body, you saw Ron blush, massaging the nape of his neck.
“You’re welcome. It’s…nothing.” Glancing behind him, he murmured, “There’s more.”
“More? What else is there?”
“Take a look.”
You both walked to a small garden, surrounded by green shrubs, and there you saw it—
Flower petals shaping an embarrassingly big heart.
You burst out laughing. “Oh my goodness, Red, this is hilarious.”
He turned a shade of magenta. “The flowers weren’t my idea…at least the heart of flowers.”
“I really love the colors; it matches my Yule Ball dress…” You trailed off, then your eyes went wide.
The Yule Ball.
Your eyes drifted from the flowers...
...to the cassette tapes in your hands.
...to Ron.
Oh.
This wasn't just a gift…
This was a…
“Y/N…” Ron said quietly, silencing your train of thought.
You slowly faced him, lips parted.
“I remembered what you said,” He started, looking down at the grass. “About effort.”
You felt your heartbeat in your throat.
Why were your palms so sweaty?
“Will you…” He winced, then recollected himself. “Will you…be my date to the Yule Ball?”
Your heart dropped at the words; it was like your legs turned into jelly.
Butterflies filled your stomach as a small smile grew on your lips.
"...It's alright if you've already got someone-”
“Of course I’ll be your date!” You beamed, embracing him again.
“Wha-?”
“Yes, Red, I’ll be your date,” You giggled, parting from his body.
Ron stared at you. "...Really?"
"Really."
A grin slowly spread across Ron’s face. "Blimey."
"What?"
"I thought I was going to throw up."
You burst into laughter. "You looked like you might."
He nodded to behind you. “So…honest thoughts on the flower heart…thing?”
“Still hilarious to me.”
“Fred and George.”
“Yeah. Figured.”
As the two of you walked back toward the castle, the cassette tapes rested safely in your arms.
The Yule Ball was still a long, treacherous week away.
Somehow, you had a feeling in your chest that it would be your favorite night of the year.
hello! i'd love to request a Harry Potter matchup, please!
specifically the Marauders era...
straight, she/her
-
music taste: pop, alt, r&b, hip-hop, basically stuff that makes me feel confident and baddie, and makes me feel hot lmaooo... stuff that makes me dance. i CAN'T STAND sad music... ig if the beat is danceable but the lyrics is sad, that's acceptable i guess, but i can't stand anything sadder than that.
i loveee sabrina carpenter, madison beer, elyanna (but i kinda just listen to songs i like from random artists)
-
appearance: 5'2, chest-length dark brown (basically black) hair. My hair is technically straight, but it has lots of waves and very tiny curls hidden in there, so i consider it wavy lol.
I'm light-skinned, but i'm middle eastern-american though.
I have a slightly thin hourglass figure, semi-large chest.
I have a heart-shaped face.
Black thick, bushy eyebrows. Button nose. Very dark brown roundish eyes. heart-shaped lips. i have a barely noticeable mole on my chin.
PASSIONATE (i can be kinda intense and excited when i talk about stuff i love, so i tend to kinda tone it down a bit to not scare people away😭)
i hold grudges!!!!!!! and don't forgive or forget.
i can randomly become sarcastic, but only when i'm really comfortable with someone.
i tend to laugh/chuckle/smile awkwardly when i'm feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable or awkward or anything like that.
I get really tough headaches that are a mix between tension headaches and a migraine (when i'm really anxious/overthinking something i have going on for the day) and they cause me to not be able to do anything but sleep (i take it as like, my body forcing me to rest lolli).
lowkey have anger issues (can control them, but i get angry inwards and i barely let it show).
i don't rest until i fulfill what i set my mind to, no matter how long it takes.
i can't control my facial expressions whatsoever... i can be quiet for hours and my face will tell u everything i'm thinking.
i'm pretty fidgety, especially with my hair.
when i'm really comfortable with someone i sometimes randomly playfully poke them/"hit" them (not roughly, just playfully).
Since a really young age, i've had a slouching problem, and i struggle with sitting up-right and i've had back pain.
I struggle with sleeping/i'm a really light sleeper... i guess i could say i have insomnia.
hogwarts house: ravenclaw with very heavy slytherin in me… i go back and forth and i've spent years trying to figure out which i am lol, it's a long story.
-
green flags: supportive, flexible, really good listener, can be a hypewoman at times (hyping you up), always sending good vibes and prayers to those i love/care about, always trying to help in any way and giving advice when someone vents/has a problem.
red flags: lowkey kinda toxic in relationships/friendships (in terms of possession, jealousy, insecurity, accusatory), huge gatekeeper, mostly do things for my own benefit, i tend to pull away/get scared/kinda "fall out of love" i guess when someone gets too close or when things are going really well, struggle with communication + people pleaser.
-
dislikes: jealous/envious people, rude/mean people, being abandoned, not having control (of myself/life... not necessarily others), people who are always so negative and are always worrying and causing me to be even more anxious/worried than i already am, people who over-exaggerate a story/something that happened & add untrue details (ESPECIALLY if it's a story about me/involves me)
You and James would definitely have an opposites-attract / golden retriever x black cat energy!
Speaking of 'golden retriever energy,' since you said you were awkward, he would 100% try to bring you out of your comfort zone to try new things - since you're already an open person to hobbies!
You both are passionate about things - for James, it was Quidditch! But when you talk and speak your heart out, James would totally sit there, admiring you and your devotion to your favorite topics.
Since you described yourself as a 'hype-woman,' you would surely be the loudest in the stands at any Gryffindor match.
James would make you feel like the luckiest girl ever. He might be a 'playboy,' but once he lands his eyes on someone like you, he would become deeply loyal to you - so when you feel like pulling away from any relationship, James would pull you closer and validate your feelings.
You and James are both playful people, can be physical and verbal! He would totally tease you, pull harmless pranks on you, and love making you laugh!
James is a protector - therefore, if he heard someone talking bad about you or spreading misinformation, he would definitely put them in their place or even jinx them discreetly.
He's also generous - gifts, thoughtful acts, and servicing you would be his priority.
Since you said you get jealous easily, James would make sure to assure you that you are his only one, and would never love anyone but you.
summary: staying up late in the library wasn't the best idea. maybe your love letters dedicated to your boyfriend, james potter, being read aloud could've been prevented if you were careful - and a bit less sleepy.
warnings: none, sfw, fluff
pairing: boyfriend!james x fem!reader
wc: 2.5k
a/n: based off of a matchup i did!<3 sorry for the long wait
Loud cheers, whistles, and whoops flooded your eardrums as you hurried down to the Quidditch field.
Your shoes crunched on top of the damp grass as you ran past other excited, celebrating students, hair whipping in the wind.
The Gryffindors had won against the Slytherins.
“James!” You called out. He turned, looking at you, and smiled. He opened his arms, and you hugged him tightly. “Merlin, you did so well!”
“Thank you, Y/N,” James grinned. Sweat dripped from his temples; his messy curls stuck to his forehead. Fixing his glasses, he teased, “Gonna give me a reward?”
You rolled your eyes, playfully smacking his shoulder. “In your dreams.”
“Trust me, I’ve dreamt about it.” He winked at you.
“Gross!”
Laughing, he pulled you into another tight hug and kissed the top of your head.
“James! Get over here!” The seeker yelled.
His warmth leaving your body, he murmured, “Be back in a sec. Wait for me, yeah?” James rubbed the sides of your arms with his calloused hands.
You nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
You watched him walk away to the rest of the Gryffindor team, who were chanting and hooting with joy.
The thick clouds hung in the sky, lightly drizzling rain atop your head. You zipped up your loose jacket, preserving as much heat as you could.
The crowd dilated, students heading back into their common rooms and teachers discussing the match among themselves. It was a nice autumn day, and you knew nothing could get in the way.
…right?
“Hey, Y/N!” A voice called out. You turned around, spotting a black-haired seventh-year, Josh Hunter, jogging towards you.
“Hi, Josh.” You waved. “Did you watch the game?”
“Sure did; James did great!” He smiled. It slowly faltered. “Did you…by any chance, finish the essay?”
Your heart dropped.
“What essay?” You asked quietly, eyes wide.
“The one for Potions; it’s due tomorrow—two parchments. I was going to ask you for some help,” Josh explained, his green eyes flickering to the ground.
“Merlin.” You sighed. “I’ll have to work on it. Thanks for reminding me.”
He nodded. “No problem. See you around, Y/N.”
The lanky boy headed back to his group of energetic friends, and as you were about to turn around, you felt two strong arms pick you up from behind.
“Argh! James, what the hell?” You scowled. He gently placed you down, and you angrily turned to face him.
He was just too happy to be mad at.
“I love you too, Y/N.” James joked, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Inside?”
“...Yeah. It’s cold.”
“Need my jacket?”
“I’m already wearing one.”
“Two won’t hurt, yeah?”
“No thanks. I’ll get the cold sweat.”
James stopped walking, then looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “When did you get salty?”
You sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t know there was an essay due tomorrow.”
“For which class?”
“Potions.”
“Oh.” James looked to the ground in thought, then his eyes went wide. “Ohhh.”
“Please don’t tell me you knew and you didn’t bother to remind me.” You massaged your temples, attempting to relieve your headache.
James put his hands up in retreat. “I was excused from it. Forgot there was even any essay due.”
“Excused from it?”
A glint in his eye told you more than you needed to know.
“Idiot.” You crossed your arms and continued to walk. James caught up to you, walking so close next to you that you could smell him—a dark musk, sweat, laced with vanilla.
“Padfoot and I got excused, actually,” James said happily.
“And you two didn’t even offer to include me?”
He went quiet as you both entered the castle.
“The plan…well, it included…violence.”
“What?”
“We didn’t want you to be included because it was risky.”
“Tell me what the plan was.”
“It just…we pretended to get into a fight, then we got detention, but they knew I was a Quidditch player. Pure luck.” James quickly explained. “You should be glad you weren’t included.”
“I’d take an uppercut to the jaw rather than stress about a stupid paper.” You mumbled, walking up the staircase.
“Do you need me to help you with the paper?” James offered. “I do know a few things about potions.”
You shook your head. “Going to you for help is a trip to getting a ‘Troll.’”
“Potter! Get over here!” A husky voice shouted—one of the beaters. He had a half-full brown bottle in his hand.
The Gryffindor common room must’ve been near because the members of the Quidditch team were holding a bunch of food and drinks.
James looked at you, a sly grin growing on his lips.
You looked at him sternly, pointing a finger in his chest. “No getting drunk. Bad for your health. Understood?”
“I can’t promise that, Y/N.”
“Well, today, you’re going to have to.” You poked his hard chest again. “Am I clear?”
“Fine.” He sighed, pecking your lips. “Good luck with your essay.”
You watched him walk into the thick crowd of whooping Gryffindor boys, patting his back and ruffling his curly brunette hair.
As your boyfriend disappeared into the sea of red and gold, you turned toward the quieter corridors that led to Ravenclaw Tower.
Time to work on this essay, then, you thought, climbing up another spiraling staircase to the Ravenclaw common room.
In the girls’ dormitory, you picked up your book bag, grabbed your stationery, then slipped out of the bustling room and into the quiet hallway.
As you hurried toward the library, your fingers unconsciously found a familiar strand of hair.
Twist.
Tug.
A sharp sting.
You looked down at the strand between your fingers and sighed.
Not again.
Fuck, you thought, dropping your hand from your scalp. I should stop doing this. I’ll be bald by the time I’m twenty.
You turned the corner, seeing the library already in sight.
You entered the serene library, illuminated by floating candles. Going to your normal corner spot, you placed your materials down and prepared what you needed.
Two parchments, your Potions book, black ink, and your favorite quill.
Perfect, you thought, cracking your knuckles. Time to write.
Once you picked up your ink-dripping quill, you immersed yourself in the constant sound of your thoughts.
An hour passed.
Two hours.
Maybe another passed—you couldn’t remember.
How long have I been here? You yawned, placing your head down on the wooden desk. Your eyes started to flutter shut as you imagined the peaceful rain.
–
“Excuse me,” You heard a muffled voice. Someone tapped your shoulder. You shifted in your seat. Just a dream, you said to yourself, shutting your eyes shut harder this time.
“Excuse me,” They said, sharper this time.
“Another minute,” You mumbled.
“The library’s closed, dear.”
You woke up, startled, to see a person standing in front of you. You picked up your head, face-to-face with the librarian herself.
“Oh- oh my goodness, what time is it?” You said, starting to shuffle your papers into a pile.
“Ten o’clock. You best be on your way to your dormitory.” The librarian said softly, patting your shoulder. You stuffed all your items into an over-packed book bag and weakly stood up.
“Thank you…and I’m sorry about all of…this.” You apologized, tightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder.
The woman waved a dismissive hand, and you took that as a cue to leave.
You basically sprinted down the empty, echoing corridors. Your Converse laces clicked on the stone ground; the light from the moon illuminated the hallways you passed through.
Hopping off the last step of the staircase, you stood in front of the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room.
Tapping on the dark wooden door, the eagle knocker asked, “What has a head and a tail, but no body?”
You answered quietly, “A coin…?”
The door opened, and you sighed in relief. Slipping inside, you noticed a few students were scattered around—on the couches, cramming last-minute assignments, or playing chess on the ground.
Knowing your essay was basically complete, you exhaled and headed to the girls' dormitory.
–
Once you straightened your blue tie around your neck, you picked up your school bag. You placed your quill inside—then noticed something was…missing.
Your essay was there, so were your books.
What was it?
Shit. The letters.
You had forgot to put them in your nightstand and left them in your bag for too long, you nearly forgot about them.
Leaving the dorm room, you briefly scanned the common room.
Maybe it fell last night when I was going up the stairs?
For two minutes, you looked through the entire room.
You were close to giving up.
“Excuse me, have you seen a stack of letters anywhere?” You asked a group of people.
They exchanged glances.
“Um…no, but that’s what a few girls were talking about.” One of them replied after a beat.
Okay. Not as bad. I’ll just ask Remus to help me find them…or something.
“Thanks.” You smiled weakly, then headed out of the common room.
For some reason, it felt like everyone was…looking at you.
What the hell are these people’s problems? You thought to yourself, keeping your head down and weaving through the groups of students in the corridors.
You wouldn’t let that get in your way, though.
Assholes, you thought, glaring at a giggling Ravenclaw student.
Surely no one knew about the notes.
Maybe the group of girls who were talking about it threw it away.
As you made it into the loud Great Hall, your thoughts became static.
You spotted James next to Sirius, Remus, and Peter in their usual seating, then walked behind James. Surprising him, you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Oh, hi, Y/N,” James smiled, tilting his head up and kissing your lips.
“Good morning, Prongs.” You took a seat next to your boyfriend and greeted the other three.
“Did you end up finishing the essay?” James asked.
You fixed his hair, responding, “I…think so. I fell asleep in the library.”
“No way.”
“I know. I was probably writing my essay in my dreams.”
James snorted and took another bite of bacon.
“These girls in the halls were talking about you,” Remus said quietly, looking at you with sympathetic eyes.
Sirius nodded in confirmation beside Remus. “Did you do some shit that made them hate you?”
You raised an eyebrow. “No…Not that I’m aware of.”
Remus shrugged. “Couldn’t be too bad then. Maybe it’s that Ravenclaw girl that’s out to get you.”
Sirius snickered, and you sighed.
Something’s always happening in my life, you thought, reaching into your bookbag. As you were about to look over your sloppily done essay, James nudged your side.
“You got friends?”
You looked up, with a raised eyebrow, spotting two familiar Ravenclaws coming over.
Them.
Alice Graves and Sylvie Reed.
You never knew envy could be taken so far—Sylvie showed you otherwise.
She fell in love with James at the start of seventh year. Ever since then, she’s been trying to get at you—spreading false rumors or even trying to hex you.
What the hell does she want now?
"Morning, Y/N," Sylvie said in a sing-song voice, three crumpled pieces of parchment pinched between her fingers.
The blonde beside her, Alice, held a few more.
Folded with little flowers.
“You know, I hope that bacon is as delicious as these notes!”
Your stomach dropped.
"Let's see..." Alice hummed, unfolding one. “'To my lover, James Potter—”
You stopped breathing.
Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized.
My love letters.
“‘My one and only, the most perfect boy I’ve ever known…’” She continued.
Snickers rippled throughout the tables.
Half of the Great Hall was listening.
You felt dozens of eyes settle on the two of you.
“‘I never knew someone could be so handsome’…Y/N, you sure are flirtatious,” Sylvie cackled.
Alice did an exaggerated sigh. “So desperate.”
The edges of the Great Hall blurred.
You weren’t going to cry—no, you were better than that.
You knew not to give them the satisfaction they wanted.
But this weight, this bubbling anger in your chest wanted you to hit her in the fucking face.
“Aw, no need to look so ashamed, Y/N. We’re just…helping you out,” Sylvie said sweetly.
Your hands balled into tight fists, digging into your sweaty palms.
James glanced at you, then at the two girls.
“Can I have them?” He asked, nodding towards the parchment.
Alice and Sylvie blinked, unsure of what to say.
They slowly slid the crumpled pieces of parchment towards James.
“Thanks.”
“...Thanks?” Sylvie raised an eyebrow, a frown playing on her lips.
“Yeah,” James said. “Been looking for these.”
The girls scoffed, sharply walking away from the table and muttering words under their breath.
“Weirdos…” You heard Sylvie utter, tossing her hair back.
You noticed Sirius scowling and Remus eyeing them.
James lightly took the papers in his hand. He carefully unfolded one, straightening out the crumpled corners.
You watched him as his eyes flickered across the page.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“You designed it yourself?” He murmured, tracing his thumb over the gold imprints.
“James…”
“They’re gorgeous.” He looked at you with soft eyes. Nudging your side, James said, “You’ll have to teach me sometime.”
You weakly smiled, looking down at your hands in your lap.
Your embarrassment was probably plastered on your face.
You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him.
James quietly folded the letters and set them beside his plate.
Then his hand found your thigh beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I don’t care about those girls—or anyone in that matter,” James assured.
“...The letters…they weren’t finished.” You whispered.
He grinned. “Good thing I got my hands on them, then.”
–
As you two exited the bustling Great Hall, James squeezed your shoulder comfortingly. “Think your essay is good enough?”
You sighed. “I hope so.” From the corner of your eye, you saw James still holding a folded letter. “James…”
“Hm?”
“Don’t…read it.”
“Why?”
“They’re- they’re love letters, James.”
“...So?”
You looked at him, ears tinted red. “They’re embarrassing.”
James smiled. “They’re from you.” He glanced at his watch. “We can spare fifteen minutes, yeah?”
You ran a hand down your hot face. “Merlin.”
In an empty corridor, James leaned against the cold wall, and you stood in front of him. You watched as he read every word of every note; you wanted to hide—or even get rid of the awkward feeling in your chest.
On the last letter, James snickered at a part near the end.
“Don’t laugh.” You groaned.
“I didn’t know you noticed that; that's all,” James replied, folding the letter gently. “Any of that, really. No one really does.” He put the last piece of parchment into his bookbag.
“You’re…keeping all of them?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course I am. I’d frame them if I could.” James responded simply. “Then show our kids so they know how obsessed you were with me.”
You smacked his arm playfully. “I hate you.”
“You didn’t seem to hate me when you complimented my eye color.”
Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “They do look pretty in the sunlight.”
He hugged you tightly, kissing your head. “You look prettier.” Pulling away, he laced his fingers in yours. “Thank you for writing these.”
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