#garreth x reader

“Oh my god—” you laugh, immediately mortified. “I’m talking about your temperature.”

There’s a beat.

Then he exhales a quiet, wheezy laugh and tips his head back against the sofa. “Merlin, help me.”

“You’re burning up,” you say, gentler now, thumb brushing his temple. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt this bad?”

“Because,” he says, turning his face slightly into your touch, “I hoped if I ignored it, it would go away.”

“That is the worst possible strategy.”

“It’s worked before.”

You make a noise of deep scepticism and reach for the potion vial you’d hidden behind your back. “Drink.”

He frowns. “Is that Pepper-Up?”

“Yes.”

“The one that tastes like regret?”

“Drink,” you repeat.

He does, grimacing dramatically, then immediately reaches for you, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve like it’s instinct. You sit beside him without thinking, and he leans in, forehead pressing to your shoulder. His wand slips from his grasp, dimming as it rolls against your leg.

“Stay,” he murmurs, already half-asleep.

You wrap an arm around him, careful, warm, and he relaxes fully—breathing evening out, body heavy with trust. His voice is softer now, words barely there.

“You’re very good at this,” he says. “Being here.”

You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Get some rest, Gaunt.”

“Mmm,” he hums. “I love you.”

Yeah. You’re not moving anytime soon.

Sebastian Sallow

Sebastian is terrible at being sick.

He insists on sitting up even when he’s clearly dizzy, sprawled messily across his bed with a blanket he keeps kicking off and a glass of water he keeps forgetting to drink. His usual spark is dulled, but it’s still there—flickering stubbornly, like he refuses to let it go out completely.

You hover in the doorway for a moment, taking him in.

“I hate seeing you like this,” you say at last, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Feels wrong when you’re not being annoying.”

He lets out a weak huff of a laugh. “Wow. That’s how you show concern now?”

“You love it.”

“I do,” he admits easily, then coughs and scowls at his own body like it’s betrayed him. “Don’t get used to this. I’m only quiet because breathing hurts.”

You reach out, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He’s warm—too warm—and he leans into your touch before he can stop himself. When he realises, he doesn’t pull away. Just closes his eyes, lashes resting against his cheeks.

“Stay,” he says, softer than usual. Not a demand. Not a joke.

You stay.

He drifts after that, tension easing from his shoulders, fingers brushing yours like he needs the reassurance without wanting to say it. For once, there’s no teasing, no clever remark waiting in reserve.

Just Sebastian, worn down enough to let you take care of him—and trusting you not to make a big deal out of it.

Tomorrow, he’ll be annoying again.

Tonight, this is enough.

Garreth Weasley

Garreth is talking to himself when you walk in.

He’s pacing the Gryffindor common room with a blanket half-draped over his shoulders, gesturing animatedly as he explains—again—why the concoction simmering in a mug would have worked if he’d just adjusted the temperature. He pauses only to cough, then waves it off like it’s an inconvenient interruption.

“Garreth,” you say flatly.

He turns, eyes lighting up when he sees you. “Oh! Perfect timing—I was just thinking, if I add a dash of—”

“Lay your ass down and drink the tea I made you.”

He blinks.

Once. Twice.

“…You made tea?”

“Yes. Normal tea. No experiments. Sit.”

There’s a moment where he clearly considers arguing. Then another cough hits him harder this time, and the fight drains right out of his shoulders. He lets you steer him toward the sofa, grumbling good-naturedly as he sinks down beneath the blanket.

“For the record,” he mutters, accepting the mug, “I was about to rest.”

“Sure you were.”

He takes a careful sip, nose wrinkling. “Okay, yeah. This is actually really good.”

You tuck the blanket around him properly, and his voice softens without him noticing. “Sorry,” he adds, quieter. “Didn’t mean to worry you. I just thought I could fix it myself.”

“I know,” you say.

He looks at you then—really looks—and smiles, tired but genuine. “Thanks for stopping me before I blew something up.”

“Anytime.”

He drinks the rest of the tea without complaint, eyes fluttering shut as the common room noise fades into the background. For once, Garreth Weasley lets someone else take over.

Even if it’s just for tonight.

Poppy Sweeting

Poppy doesn’t mean to disappear when she’s sick. It just… happens, so she says.

You find her in the Hufflepuff dormitory with the curtains drawn wide, sunlight spilling across the floor in warm stripes. She’s curled beneath a mess of quilts, hair loose, cheeks flushed in a way that has nothing to do with embarrassment this time. There’s a faint, earthy smell in the air—dried herbs, something floral you can’t quite place.

“You look cute, all bundled in the blankets,” you say softly.

She peeks at you over the edge of the quilt, eyes bright despite herself.

“Hehe, yeah.” She coughs immediately after, turning her face away as if embarrassed by the sound.

You sit beside her without comment, smoothing the blankets back up around her shoulders. She relaxes at once, like she’d been holding herself together out of habit rather than comfort.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone,” she admits quietly. “The Puffskeins seemed fine this morning. I thought I could… manage.”

You brush your thumb over her knuckles. They’re warm. Too warm.

“Managing doesn’t mean being alone,” you murmur.

She nods, slow and thoughtful, then leans into your side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, lashes resting against flushed cheeks. Her hand stays curled around yours, gentle but certain.

Outside, the castle hums on—students laughing, footsteps echoing—but here, it’s just warmth and sunlight and the steady comfort of being found.

This time, she lets herself rest.

Garreth picked at the splintered wood on his broom from a recent tussle with a bludger, scanning the courtyard intermittently for any trace of his Quidditch team. Their head of house had recently delivered a stern criticism about their hero complex. Apparently, each member was too focused on personal glory, neglecting the importance of working as a cohesive team.

He eventually detected a figure on a broom, although quickly realised they displayed a level of nimble grace far beyond what he'd expect from one of his lumbering teammates. Hogwarts' resident hero was evidently making a return from one of her mysterious outings.

His eyes swept the courtyard again, a scattering of students strolled across the well-kempt grass, a handful basked in the sun near the fountain, but none he recognised. Thinking about it, Garreth wondered whether he should hang around for this team-building training. It was probably wise, considering he was not only the captain but also the one who had organised the whole thing. However, they were running late, and he had spotted far more appealing company.

Before he could put much more thought into it, he swung his leg over his broomstick and began to silently trail the unsuspecting witch.

He couldn't quite pinpoint when he started noticing her disappearances. He assumed he just hadn't been paying much attention to her whereabouts prior to her inquiry regarding his more 'unobtainable' potions. His tactics hadn't evolved significantly since fifth-year when he’d charmed the newcomer into pilfering Sharp's office for supplies, but he had become far more adept at sneaking around for rare ingredients.

He agreed to assist in whatever scheme she was cooking up, on the condition she helped him obtain the key component. Partly for the benefits of having someone on the lookout for wandering faculty, but mostly because the beloved heroine of Hogwarts could do no wrong. If their covert operation were to be exposed, her involvement would mean the detention time his aunt dished out would be significantly reduced.

They needed snakeweed, which he was fairly certain was cultivated and harvested in the greenhouse. However, Professor Garlick was extremely protective of her plants, requiring their thieving to be done after curfew.

Moonlight wiggled through the twisted tendrils of the countless plants scattered throughout the greenhouse as they dispelled their disillusionment charm and got to work.

"What do you reckon all of this is?" The witch gestured towards a dense blanket covering the harvesting bench, a few neatly folded sheets at one end made it appear like some kind of makeshift bed.

"Perhaps the rumours about Garlick and Kogawa are true. Maybe we've stumbled upon their secret little sex den.” Garreth turned around and playfully wiggled his eyebrows, narrowly avoiding stumbling into a venomous tentacula lurking in the shadows.

She pulled back the cover, unveiling a project in progress—mallowsweet leaves neatly laid out, drying between the two blankets.

"You need to get your mind out of the gutter,” she scoffed, laying the covering back over the golden foliage. “Or you need to get laid.”

"It was a logical assumption," he argued, crouching beneath a table, casting a dim lumos across a collection of small plant pots. "The height of these tables are just right for it."

"Should I ask how you know that?"

She lifted herself onto the table as if testing the height for herself. Garreth smirked as he shifted the pots around with flicks of his wand.

"I’m a warm-blooded male, I'd say I'm an expert in these things."

Spotting a small propagation of snakeweed, he cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure she was keeping a watchful eye on the door. She wasn't. She was perched primly on the edge of the table, legs pressed together from knees to toes.

His eyes roamed across her body, and he realised he had never really had the opportunity to thoroughly check her out. She was like forbidden fruit, always flanked by her two Slytherin gatekeepers. It's not that he hadn't noticed she was attractive, she certainly was. Her feminine figure hinted at subtle signs of muscle earned from days spent sprinting around the castle.

His lusty gaze travelled up to her face, only to discover she had been watching him the entire time. Suppressing the flicker of embarrassment, he instead leaned into his Gryffindor bravery. He grabbed the small pot and approached her, his hips meeting her knees with an intentional bump.

"As promised," he presented her with the delicate plant, his fingers brushing against hers as he handed it over.

"That was easy," she raised the pot to catch the moonlight. Her eyes shifted from the plant to him, and her pupils bloomed. "You've earned yourself a returning customer."

"Splendid," he grinned, wondering whether this meant more after-hour hangouts, a thought that kindled his overactive imagination. "The first one's on the house, the rest might come with a price tag."

“I suppose I’ll have to start saving then. What's your price?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to make demands beyond your means,” he backtracked, worried she might think he was being serious. “Wouldn’t want to scare off my favourite customer.”

"Snagged the title of the favourite customer without parting with a single penny?” She chuckled lightly, scraping her teeth across her lower lip, “Business must be crawling."

"I prioritise quality over quantity," his eyebrow quirked as he studied her face, purposefully lingering a beat too long on her lips before flitting back to her eyes. "Now, what assets do you bring to the trading table?"

"Let me think," she reclined on her palms. "What do I bring to this specific table..." she emphasised each word with a tap of her nails against the wood, "that a warm-blooded male might find tempting?"

Heat surged through his body, and he began to regret pressing himself up against her legs, there was no way she couldn’t feel his enthusiasm swell against her knees.

“Did I mention it’s one for the price of two?”

She laughed, the sugar-sweet sound tickling his brain and the movement of her body causing her legs to part slightly.

“See, what did I tell you?" he pushed his palms against the table on either side of her thighs as he slotted himself between them. "Perfect height."

"I took your word for it. After all, you're the expert." She gave his tie a tug before running the fabric through her fingers. “Well, so you say...”

"Correct," he answered simply, because the only other words rattling around in his head was an offer to sit on his face, and he was trying really hard to play it cool.

She cocked her head to the side, “Are you going to verify that claim?”

You would have thought they were time-fated lovers, not classroom acquaintances. She had been right. He needed to get laid, and she needed some stress relief. It didn't take long before her skirt was hiked up around her waist and he was showcasing just how perfect the height of the table was. He assured her the greenhouse was soundproof due to the mandrakes, though he wasn't entirely sure if that was true. Frankly, he didn't care. Her unrestrained moaning, nails scraping across the wooden table, heels digging into his back to pull him in deeper—it made a lifetime of detention feel like a minor nuisance.

The saying goes, once is a mistake and twice is a habit, but Garreth wondered when it tipped into addiction. Whenever she was stressed—and fortunately for him, that was often—he found himself happily yanked by his tie into the nearest broom cupboard, beneath the Quidditch stands before one of his matches, by the edge of the lake under a disillusionment charm...

Maybe this time, on the balcony of the highest tower?

That's where she gracefully dismounted her broom. He followed suit, touching down behind her without a sound. Her jumper was splattered with mud down one arm, but for the most part, she was reasonably unscathed which was a rarity. She tugged it over her head to clean it with a quick charm, and he realised the stain bore a suspicious resemblance to a troll's handprint.

He knew she could handle herself, she’d been doing so for almost two years without his observations. Nevertheless, he realised he’d begun to worry about her when she was away.

He cleared his throat.

She whirled around with startled eyes and he muffled her gasp with a kiss. She squirmed for a few seconds, but her resistance crumbled as his thumbs glided up her neck, tracing delicate patterns under her ears.

He wasn't certain if she was doing the pulling or if he was doing the pushing, but somehow her back ended up crashing against the wall. Her fingers wove through his hair as his lips tore from hers and latched onto the sensitive skin of her throat.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she landed a weak thump on his bicep.

"You look like you lost a fight with a swamp," he mumbled against her skin, his hands wandering down to her hips.

"I'll have you know, I beat that swamp fair and square."

A ghost of a laugh dispersed across her neck, "I like the thought of watching you mud-wrestle. Let me come with you next time."

“Or you could come in me now?”

It was an obvious deflection tactic, but he gladly took the bait. His kisses grew forceful as he began to nip at her exposed skin.

“You better not be leaving marks, Weasley.”

He grumbled in protest against the light pink blotch he had begun to work into her throat. Something in the primal recesses of his mind itched to brand her. He wanted his lips stained on her skin, regardless of wherever or whoever she was with when she was gone.

"What if they're out of sight?" His fingers danced against her neck as he worked on undoing her tie, it fluttered to the ground before he finished asking for permission.

She withdrew her wand and uttered the incantation for a protective charm to shield their misdeeds from any potential spectators. He took that as consent, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her chest as he unbuttoned her shirt.

"Where have you been?" he probed before his teeth dug into the plump flesh above her breasts. It had been nearly nine days since their last encounter, easily their longest dry spell in the two months since their greenhouse tryst.

"None of your business," She hooked her fingers into his trousers to pull him closer, trying to find some friction.

"I want it to be.”

"Tough shit, Weasley,” her voice faltered as he hiked her skirt up around her waist.

“Garreth,” he reprimanded.

She only called him by his first name when they were fucking. He was certain she’d been deliberately conditioning him with it. If he teased her too vigorously in class all she had to do was say, "Shut it, Garreth," and he'd have to discreetly conceal his excitement for the next ten minutes. She made him dumb, plain and simple.

"You'll have to earn that," she purred, licking a trail along his neck that made his gut twist taut.

He scooped her up, spinning her around until she perched on the balcony's banister. A yelp escaped her as she teetered on the concrete edge, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“I want to feel this tomorrow,” she popped open his buttons to speed up the process, “Please?"

“I've got you," he assured, feeling her pulse thunder against his chest as he positioned himself between her thighs. One hand supported her back, while the other fumbled to unclasp his belt.

It was difficult to recall how he'd ever got aroused before she came along. The way she demanded and begged all at once sent his brain spinning. "Say please again," he whispered, nipping her lower lip as he moved her soaked underwear to the side and positioned himself at her entrance. "I like it when you ask nicely."

"Pretty please?" she simpered before kissing him, her tongue eagerly seeking his.

He swallowed her moan as he pushed himself into her, she felt better than he remembered. Tight, hot, and quivering as he gave her everything he had. He loosely wrapped his fingers around her throat, and she whined against his mouth, her head tilting back as her eyes fluttered shut. He tightened his grip, her own hands scrambling at his waist to encourage him deeper.

He pulled her close by the small of her back with one arm, maintaining his grip on her neck with the other, aligning her to accommodate all of him. With each thrust, she bit down on the flesh of his shoulder as he bottomed out.

So, it was fine when she left a mark. He'd certainly remember that.

“You feel so fucking good, Garreth-”

A fractured cry fell from her lips as he pounded into her because his name had floated off her tongue like a prayer, causing something inside him to shatter, like it always did. Defining the constantly shifting dynamic between them was impossible, but it was addicting - He always found himself craving a little more than what he was getting.

“Who do you belong to?”

Garreth threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging her head up to look him in the eyes. She regarded him with a dizzy stare but remained silent. He began to slow down, and she instinctively bucked her hips to maintain some friction as her building orgasm began to ebb away.

“I said, who do you belong to?”

She wasn't his, they were both aware of that. This was never more than a matter of convenient timing and a means of stress relief. Nonetheless, he took pleasure in the hold he had over the most formidable witch of their generation. The witch with unwavering principles and determination. The witch who never faltered in her beliefs. The witch who was currently lying through her teeth for the pleasure of coming undone on his cock.

“You,” she whimpered, “Please, Garreth. Don’t stop, please.”

He didn't know if it was the way she was begging or the frantic desperation of her hips grinding against his, but he was teetering on the edge of his breaking point. He bit down hard on his lip, struggling to hold himself together long enough for her to reach the finish line.

"Chin up," he demanded, his breath coming in ragged pants as he reached one hand between them, rubbing a lopsided circle around her clit. “You look at me when you come."

He groaned through clenched teeth as his words caused her to instantly tighten around him, and that beautiful, hazy look fell over her face. She pulled him in by his collar, kissing him so hard it carved itself onto his brain and he released nine days of pent-up desire. He rolled his hips against hers as they both rode it out, briefly forgetting he should be gentle considering she was perched on the edge of a several hundred-foot drop.

He had believed there was nothing better than watching her unravel in his arms before seeking his own release, but he was wrong. Feeling her orgasm spasming over his shaft as he filled her up damn near killed him.

He fastened his trousers and helped her down from the stone balustrade. She smoothed down her skirt, trying to hide the fact that she was wobbling. He hoped his performance had met her expectations and he’d still be making her legs tremble tomorrow.

He peppered kisses across the blemishes he'd left on her breasts as he fastened the buttons of her shirt, trailing up to nip at the delicate spot on her neck just beneath her ear, the spot only he knew about, the spot that made her head tilt back and her vision fill with stars. He whispered an "Accio" against her skin, summoning a tie from the ground. He secured it around her throat with a playful tug before pulling her jumper over her head.

“You have to go?” he murmured between kisses, finding it bothered him less when he asked rather than when she told him.

Her chest heaved as she sighed, planting a lingering kiss on his lips before bending down to gather her things. “I have a study group. You’re welcome to join?”

He gave her a foggy smile and shook his head lightly. “I have some Quidditch thing I’m late for.”

“Alright, well…” She cast a fleeting glance at her abandoned broom on the floor. They hadn’t quite mastered the art of goodbyes yet. “Later, Weasley.”

“See you later,” he offered her a half-hearted wave, hoping she wouldn't make him wait another nine days before flying into his line of sight again.

Garreth :

Garreth will make you as many potions as possible to help reduce symptoms/attempt to get you better. If you’re skeptical of them then he will try and find other ways!!

He asks Natty to help with soup or small things to keep you entertained while in bed. Books, little puzzles he creates, and stuffed animals.

“Babe you look terrible. I’m here to share my beauty.” (smack him)

He won’t mind cuddling and entertaining you with stories while you rest as well <3

You had stayed in bed for most of the day, hoping for the stupid cold you caught to go away. Much to your dismay, it did not. In fact, it only got worse. Your nose was stuffy and it felt like there were cats clawing at your throat at every swallow. 

“Babe? Are you good?” You heard a knock on your door and you jumped.

“Garreth?” You questioned as you waved the door open. He stood there grinning until he saw you.

“Oh no. Are you sick?” He ran over, putting his hand against your forehead to check for a fever. His eyes widened.

“You have a terrible fever. I can help with it. Let me make you a few potions and I’ll be back.” 

It wasn’t long before Garreth was back and setting a few vials on the bedside table.

“Here, drink this doll.” He put the liquid up to your lips and you drank. It helped almost instantly with your sore throat and you moaned.

“Feels a bit better huh? Got one more for you.” Garreth grinned at your bliss and fed you another strange potion. Almost instantly your sinuses cleared and you felt sleepy.

“This is so good. Thanks babe.” You murmured. The ginger just smiled and left a loving kiss on your head before getting up.

“Anytime baby. Get some rest and I’ll come check up on you later.”

Ominis :

He’s worried at first and then realizes you’ve just caught a cold. 

He makes sure to give you your space and makes you tea. He also goes out of his way to get medicines or herbs that will help!

“Here you are dear. Just rest.” As he places a blanket on you and pats you. Wholesome king.

Sebastian and Ominis were seated in the halls talking when an owl dropped a quick note. Ominis opened it quickly and used his wand to help him decipher the words. His eyebrows pinched together and he sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked and the boy shook his head.

“Y/N is sick and in the hospital wing. I am going to go check on them.” Ominis told his friend and he nodded.

“Tell Y/N I hope they feel better. I’ll see you later.” Sebastian went on his way as Ominis strolled down the halls. Eventually the hospital’s door opened and your eyes slowly moved to see him.

“Omi.” You groaned from your bed and he followed your voice. His hand reached out and you took it in yours.

“Darling are you alright? Are they helping you?” Ominis asked with worry. 

“Don’t worry Ominis. They gave me some medicine and it’s helped to stop most of the symptoms for now. I shouldn’t be this sick for long. I just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t ditching you.” You breathed out and he nodded along. He gave your hand a quick squeeze and pulled the covers over you a bit more.

“Thank you for telling me. Just rest up and you’ll be better in no time, love.” 

Sebastian :

He worries too much.. a little too much. 

“Oh my god how did I not notice. Don’t worry I won’t let you die.” “Sebastian, it's a cold.” “You never know babe.”

He’s surprisingly good at keeping track of medicine and helping you to eat. He does anything and everything so you don’t move a muscle.

He does not care about getting sick himself and will lay with you all day if you’d let him. He wants to make sure you’re okay and taken care of at all times.

You had come down with a bad cold and not gone down for breakfast. You knew your boyfriend would already be scouting around looking for why you had ditched them. You let out a cough as you heard the door to your dorm open.

“Sebastian? How did you get in here?” You croaked as the boy ran over to your bedside.

“Merlin’s beard! Y/N you’re sick!” Sebastian breathed out and looked around. “Don’t worry baby I won’t let you die. Not on my watch.” The boy went around the room fetching tissues and some medicine thrown around. Your heart fluttered at the care and he sat down next to you. 

“It’s just a cold Sebastian.” 

“Yes and next it could be pneumonia or something! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to nurse you back to health.” He grimaced as he read at the cold medicines instructions. You decided not to say anything, knowing that he was worrying so much because of his past with Anne. It couldn’t hurt to let the boy fawn over you anyways.

“Okay Doctor Sallow.” You teased and then turned to cough again. You hated when you got like this.

“Oh shush. Take this. I’m going to get you some water.” Sebastian paced the room and grabbed at the jug while you swallowed the terrible tasting concoction. He handed you the glass and you drank away, feeling the burning in your throat quell for only a second. Your bed sheets moved and Sebastian laid right beside you.

“Would you like to cuddle?” He whispered and your body relaxed.

“You’ll get sick, Seb.” 

“Nonsense. Come here darling.” Sebastian yanked at your form and laid your head on his chest, fingers rubbing away at your scalp.