#beating heart

Ginny: Are you ok?

Harry: Always my love ❤️

Harry: *Records his heartbeat for her with his phone*

Harry: Turn the volume up, my love. It’s my offering to you ❤️

Ginny: Aww Tappy it’s beautiful. Thank you ❤️❤️😘 I heard it flutter at the end. I love the little groan after the breath hold. It’s like my ear is on your chest and I can just hear it all.

Ginny: I can see your belly moving with your breaths. You’re so alive, my king 😘

Harry: My heart had a lot to say so it wanted to speak to you ❤️

Harry: thump thump thump thump

Ginny: It always has so much to say ❤️❤️ I can hear the strength of it. It’s recovering nicely Tappy. It sounds a lot slower than it did before. I didn’t hear anything arrhythmic this time except for that flutter at the end lol

Harry: I’m proud of every beat it gives me. It’s fought so much just to keep me alive. It’s so strong ❤️

My babies 🥹 I had to do this idea and it’s coming soon to Rush 👀🫀

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ RUSH a harry potter motorsport au

111; devil inside the walls

SUMMARY

The scent of a devil thriving among the weak strengthens the moment young eyes leave the classroom. Harry finally is alone with Samuel Murray to relish in the psychological tension the interrogation demands, and it's up to Harry to do whatever he can in the open window of extraction. Will he be able to drag the necessary information he needs out of Samuel to confess his ties with The Elder Secrecy? Or is the professor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts truly an innocent man mislead by blood-stained lineage?

wc: 16.8k

rating: mature

content: interrogation, physical teasing intimidation, cardiophilia, psychological tension

characters: Harry Potter, Samuel Murray, Minerva McGonagall

The moment the heavy oak door finally clicked shut behind the last departing student, the ambient chatter of the corridor dissolved into a profound, suffocating hush. The silence didn't bring peace; instead, it hung in the air, heavy with a thousand unspoken words and a thickening, burning truth that vibrated dangerously between Harry and Samuel Murray.

Harry drew in a massive, cavernous breath as his eyelids drifted shut, filling his lungs to their maximum capacity. He deliberately held the air, savouring the internal expansion of his chest cavity and the prominent, rhythmic strike of his precious heartbeat as it delivered a bolder, more thunderous thump directly against the back of his sternum. Slow, deliberate, and entirely unbothered by the presence of a potential enemy, Harry slid his right hand beneath the fabric of his black Auror shirt. His palm sensually glided upward against the feverish warmth of his bare skin, his fingers seeking out and nesting directly into the visible pulsation of his precious heart.

The organ had been waiting for this devotional communion. God, he absolutely worshiped the sensation of those magnificent, heavy thumps speaking back into the sensitive pads of his fingers, soaking entirely in the steady, rich, and beautifully complex rhythm of his beating heart meeting his fingertips. He had deeply missed this intimate surrender to the muscular organ that had always spoken to his soul, carrying him through a lifetime of violence with unmatched strength and grounding comfort. He stood frozen, feeling the sheer warmth of its every sacred, resilient rise and fall beneath his worshipful touch. It was intimate in a way nothing else ever was—his own body, his own truth, all answering him without lies, fear, or betrayal. It was his and his alone to commune with that always centred his soul.

Slowly, deliberately, he released the compressed air past his lips in a whisper of pure reverence, his miraculous exhale bleeding into the static room like a ghostly echo of survival. His focus narrowed until the entire universe consisted of nothing but the oxygen entering his airway and the beautiful, rich thumping of his heart against the pads of his fingers. He let the moment stretch and breathe as his dominion over the room's energy remained clear; he knew the violent trajectory of what was coming, and he would dictate every syllable of the narrative with every beat of his heart. Finally, the room was vacant of adolescent eyes. He could work without shielding the raw, terrifying darkness of a predator he was prepared to unleash upon the man behind him. He longed for the hunt to begin. He could feel his colder, predatory Auror persona slithering beneath his skin, seeping like black ink into the very marrow of his bones.

"You really do have a poet's devotion to being alive, Head Auror," Murray's heavy Scottish brogue cut through the silence like a scalpel, violating Harry's moment of private reverence before the storm. "And a brilliant, albeit manipulative choice of words for the teenagers. They performed well under your direction. Frankly, I doubt I could have guided them to a successful nonverbal cast with half that efficiency. But even then, that's the reason why you sit in the commander's chair at the DMLE, isn't it?"

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ RUSH a harry potter motorsport au

110; the saviour SUMMARY As Harry returns to the familiar walls of Hogwarts, his heart's wrapped with warmth as he steps foot into nostalgia once again. With the invitation to teach as a guest speaker in front of sixth-year students, it's Harry's job to deliver the familiar teaching of Unforgivable Curses and nonverbal spells with his own experiences, experiences that he never learned as a child. But as warmth settles into the marrow of his bones as young eyes watch the return of the Head Auror, not every fragment is wrapped by a blanket. Not everything is as it seems. wc: 13.4k rating: mature content: Harry as a guest speaker at Hogwarts, slight psychological tension characters: Harry Potter, Samuel Murray, Hogwarts students

He moved with slow, predatory calculation. Each strike of his boots against the stone floor echoed the calm, steady tempo of his heart. With a fluid motion, he tucked his hands behind his back, straightening his spine until his posture reached a point of lethal elegance. Hidden from the students' sight, his index finger began to tap against the back of his hand—a faithful, rhythmic pulse in perfect cadence with the athletic crawl of the organ beneath his ribs.

Tap-tap... tap-tap... tap-tap...

His sharp gaze scanned the room, noting the row of slack-jawed expressions and wide, disbelieving eyes, before his focus locked onto a blonde man with eyes of glacial blue. Recognition struck him like a physical chill. Samuel Murray possessed the unsettling, mirrored visage of his brother. He had the same well-kept blonde hair and piercing gaze, though his frame was shorter and more compact. While Sebastian had been lithe and willow-thin, Samuel was built with a dense, functional muscle mass that strained against his robes.

Harry's internal alarm bells chimed in resonance with his pulse. This wasn't the build of a typical academic; this was the physique of a man who prioritized physical dominance. He saw the tell-tale signs of a wizard who supplemented his duelling with martial arts and a familiarity with the grit of Muggle combat. Deep in the marrow of his bones, Harry knew Samuel was likely—nearly just as rotted as his brother. No simple professor maintained that level of lethal bulk just to teach Shield Charms. He did not believe for a second that Samuel Murray was just a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. The Elder Secrecy was etched inside of that man. He could smell it, and it rotted his insides just looking at the false charade of another Murray brother—a twin—he had to look at all over again. It almost made his face twist in bitterness with a glare that could kill just by a single look of his venomous orbs.

As he reached the front of the classroom, the stunned silence broke into a feverish tide of whispers.

"No way!" a boy hissed. "It's actually him—look at the Auror robes!"

"Head Auror Potter?" a girl whispered, her voice trembling with awe. "The Head Auror Potter? Look at the bruise on his nose... he really is out there in the trenches."

"My father said he took down a hundred Dementors alone at thirteen," another added, eyes fixed on the obsidian leather of Harry's long coat. "He's a walking legend."

"And the youngest Head Auror ever recorded in history!"

They’re such intimate creatures. They feel so much emotion to what a human feels and are just that sensitive. It does make me miss riding, but I would love to have my own and have a relationship with one and be best buddies. It’s just so wholesome and precious knowing that. It’s just so intimate in that way knowing a horse is such an emotionally sensitive creature and can actually hear a human heartbeat. Like I really wonder if they’re very connected to you and trust you with their life, I wonder if they just purposely stand there with their muzzle into your chest and actually listen to your heartbeat. And bonding with them for so long, I feel like it would just know every rhythm of your heart and your energy. Like it’d just know. Because they’re so energy driven, I believe that because even scientifically it’s known that they do feel your energy shift. But I just wonder. I write that with Harry and Tuxedo but I really do think that can be the case at times, especially for comfort if a person’s gone through a lot and seeks comfort from a horse. It’s so comforting knowing that

Thing is, Harry lost his iWatch so many chapters ago after being abducted by Draco Malfoy but that’s where his growth really comes in tho. But this gives me ideas if he buys another one. He would totally send Ginny a Digital Touch of his own heartbeat. DHIFHEJDJS THATS SO SWEEEET OMG. Or he could send a recording of his own when he’s out with his phone. Omg YES it needs to happen. But he doesn’t use his phone much. He’s being hunted and not using his phone is his only leverage to not be tracked by The Elder Secrecy. But i definitely wanna just have him bring his phone and text Ginny and send his heartbeat to her omg.

UPDATE: THEY BROUGHT IT BACK? MINE HAS IT. But I have no partner lmao :(