#weasly

After transfer student, Y/N L/N, has to duel against Mattheo Riddle in a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson and notices something a tad suspicious about his magic, Mattheo’s best friend, Theodore Nott, takes no time in noticing her back.

First Part / Second Part

Contains: always rlly slow, hogwarts uni au, fem!hufflepuff!reader, actual plot relevance (slightly), YULE BALL!!!!! Reader lowk being an idiot but its ok, everyone being shitfaced again im so sorry, lowk a lot of dialogue hope its not boring

A/N: this chapters gives mattheo a bit more depth and acc putting more attention to the plot lolololololololol still i need to fanservice guys hope u enjoy!!! (might hate me for this one as well.)

Word count: 8K

“Funny story, actually,”

Y/N braided a strand of her hair nervously as a suspicious group of Gryffindors stood in front of her, their gazes going downwards as the girl sat down in one of the comfortable, puffy chairs in the library.

Potter sighed, both of his hands going under his glasses to rub his eyes full of fatigue from the last few weeks. “Please tell me you got at least something out of the party.”

The Hufflepuff paused for a moment. She had two options. One would save her from looking like an absolute incompetent excuse for a ‘responsible adult’ (slightly), the other was saying the truth.

She had completely forgotten about digging into Mattheo Riddle at the party. That was the whole point about her going to talk to Nott in the first place. She had gotten too distracted, either by the amount of alcohol she had digested or by how her small talk turned into real talk with her now blue-eyed friend. L/N kept on thinking. Her options were basically to say she either asked him, but completely blacked out, or that it never crossed her mind again after leaving Harry.

She wouldn’t admit it to them, but part of why she had forgotten was due to his presence being quite good company at the loud and crowded event, giving her even the smallest place to breathe and talk normally with someone else.

“I forgot.” Y/N sighed, giving up her act as she took off the braid of her strand of hair. “He did tell me about how they met though– did you know that Riddle was a difficult kid?”

The redhead leaned down at one of the tables, a small laugh coming from his lips. “Yes, Y/N. We grew up around him.”

“Right.” The girl in yellow gulped, looking around her as if for a route of escape from her embarrassment. “I’m sorry, the thought completely left my mind. I won’t get distracted again, though.”

Even through his exhaustion, Harry’s eyes had a hint of sympathy in them.“It’s alright,” he said, grabbing his bag from the table Ron was leaning against. “Just keep looking into it, yeah? You’ll figure something out.”

“Surely,” The redhead continued, “Just don’t get too distracted with those blue eyes of his.”

“Ronald.” Hermione groaned before shooing both boys out with her hand. “Get to practice, you two.”

As both guys left talking to themselves, Granger sat beside L/N. She could tell that a part of the h/c girl felt guilty. “Don’t worry about it,” she started, resting her arms crossed on the table. “We’ll find information sooner than we think.”

“I know, Mione. It’s still a bummer I forgot though.” Y/N let out an airy laugh as her arm stretched to the other side of the table to grab her bag. Clumsily, her fingers pushed her bag further away, making it fall on the floor, followed by a loud thud sound, cringing the Hufflepuff. She scoffed before standing up to grab her things that had spilled out. “I wish it were easier just going up to him or straight up Riddle and just asking ‘hey, what’s up with you?’ without it being weird. Y’know?” the girl crouched, finding her lip gloss, quill, parchment…

“I mean, you could do that. Only if you’re okay being looked at as a Ron 2.0.” Hermione let out a short laugh at her comment, waiting for the other girl’s reply. “Y/N?”

“Mione.” She stood up in less than a second, stumbling backwards. Her lips were formed in a tight grin as she held up only a certain book in her hands and placed it on the table in front of the brunette. She had completely forgotten she had picked this up.

Notable Wizarding Families of Britain. 

Granger smiled back.

Page by page, the two pairs of eyes wandered across different surnames, dates, places and deaths. Facts about the Wizarding War and the Goblin Rebellion spilled all over the book. Both girls kept on searching, whispering every now and then a comment or two about a name they found.

“Malfoy’s truly a nepobaby.”

“Of course,” Hermione grumbled. “His family’s been rich since 1066.”

The Gryffindor took notes of the power circles and the people within them as Y/N read out names and brief descriptions from the book resting between them.

Y/N’s eyes drifted further down the yellowed page.

“Tiberius… Nott.”

She paused a little longer at the surname.

Beside his name stood another: Phoena Nott– Italian pureblooded witch.

Her eyes scanned the paragraph carefully as Hermione’s quill continued scratching against parchment. Tiberius Nott was described as one of Voldemort’s earliest and most loyal followers, heavily involved in the blood-purity movement that had granted him influence and a feared reputation within the wizarding world. The book went on to mention his close association with Voldemort over the years– and then, lower down the page, came the rumours surrounding Phoena Nott’s death, in Italy.

Allegedly ordered by Voldemort himself. To Tiberius.

Y/N felt something cold crawl down her spine as she reread the line, her eyes lingering on Theodore’s surname inked into the page.

Did Theodore grow up around all of this?

Why wasn’t there any more information surrounding Phoena and her death?

“Mhm?” Asked Mione, sucking Y/N out of her trance.

The girl shook her head quickly. “He was married to Phoena Nott, pureblooded Italian witch. He’s one of the biggest Death Eaters out there.”

“Nott’s father?”

“...Yeah.”

Both stayed silent for a moment.

“...So he’s deeply interlaced with Voldemort.”

“No,” Y/N interrupted. “His father is.”

Theodore’s words from the party echoed through her mind almost instantly; how he had casually mentioned that their families had been close long before he and Riddle even met. A part of her doubted the way she had immediately defended him right there, but oh well. Sooner or later, she would find out.

Hermione looked up at Y/N quickly, as if taking into consideration her response, and simply continued writing. “Alright.”

“Right.” She continued, flipping a few pages in search of new names. She immediately stopped and nudged Hermione with her elbow.

Holy shit. She just hit the jackpot. 

Their heads bumped as they read the name right. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

“Read, quickly. I almost got class.”

L/N nodded as one of her hands went to grab onto her yellow scarf, paraphrasing what she read out loud.“Tom Marvolo Riddle. Son of a British ‘Gaunt’ witch and a Muggle man. Ended up an orphan as a kid. One of the most brilliant students this university had years ago, an Ancient Magic Studies major, ended up going into retail at Borgin and Burkes.”

Hermione arched one of her eyebrows. “Why?”

Y/N shrugged. “No idea.” Her eyes continued examining the page. “Apparently, the Gaunts were a pretty big deal too, a millennium ago, though.” The witch read a bit more. “A lot of incest. Last Gaunts alive were Marvolo Gaunt, Morfin Gaunt, and Merope– Tom’s mother.”

“Ew,” Granger laughed, her quill never staying still. “Did Tom marry anyone?”

She quickly glanced over the page, searching for specific words or stories that could answer that question. “Nope. Guess Voldemort wasn’t the relationship type.”

Granger frowned, stopping her quill for a moment. “There must be someone, though. How else would Mattheo be here?”

L/N opened her mouth ready to respond, but nothing came out. “It’s probably classified. Why would they expose Voldemort’s lineage like that? If he’s supposed to be dead, they would like us to think that with him, his bloodline is gone.”

The quill finally lay on the table, Hermione thinking as she played with her curls. “Could Mattheo’s mother be one of Voldemort’s followers?”

“Could be. We should dig deeper into that.”

“Perfect,” Hermione muttered, satisfied as she skimmed over the notes one last time. She quickly slipped her quill into her bag before standing up abruptly, nearly knocking one of the books over in the process. “I’ve got class in five minutes.”

She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder before looking back at Y/N with an encouraging smile. “Keep looking into it, alright? You’re doing well so far. I’ll leave you the parchment with the notes.”

Y/N nodded softly. “Thanks, Mione. Good luck.”

Hermione smiled one last time before hurrying out of the library, her shoes echoing against the stone floors until the sound disappeared completely.

Silence settled around Y/N almost instantly.

Her eyes drifted back toward the open pages resting on the table; the names, the dates, the deaths. Nott. Gaunt. Riddle. Malfoy. It all felt strangely intertwined, like a tangled thread she couldn’t stop pulling at, even when she probably should.

Phoena Nott.

The line about her death replayed in Y/N’s head once again, making her stomach twist slightly.

Did Theodore know?

Her fingers absent-mindedly traced the edge of the yellowed page before she shut the book closed with a quiet thud.

Merlin. This was going to be a long one.

—-------

The echo of heels clicking went down the hallway, as Y/N dragged her feet back and forth through the Hufflepuff common room. She looked at the old clock on top of the entrance door.

“It isn’t that bad,” Susan spoke in a comforting manner, sitting right next to Justin as his hands struggled to open the box with her corsage in it. “He’s not ugly, Quidditch captain, really enthusiastic–”

“I know.” Interrupted Y/N, her dress flowing with her movement as she abruptly stopped in front of the redhead. “I just don’t know him.”

“Then why are you going with him?” Justin joined the conversation as he picked up the box and tilted it to the right, checking if somehow the lock had been messed with. Susan sighed before taking the box from him, grabbing her wand, and, with a small whisper of Alohomora, the box’s top slid open. She immediately passed the box to the boy again.

Y/N exhaled as she mentally cursed her friends. “Ron and Harry set me up with him. His old date ditched him a few days ago for McLaggen.”

The blonde gasped, stopping mid-motion with Susan’s corsage still in hand.

“No chance.” His eyes widened. “She ditched Oliver Wood for McLaggen?”

Y/N nodded.

Justin looked offended, looking back and forth at both girls. “That’s mental.”

“Justin,” Susan sighed, shaking her wrist so he would finish putting the damm thing on.

“No, I’m serious. Wood’s Quidditch captain. McLaggen’s just McLaggen.” He shook his head, his fingers gently continuing to tighten the corsage. “Can’t believe it.”

“McLaggen is not just ‘McLaggen’-- he is hot McLaggen.”

“Yeah,” Agreed Y/N, beginning to walk once again. “He’s got a lot of anger issues, though. Quite scary.”

“Still fit, though,” Susan muttered with a smirk.

“Bones!”

“What?” she defended herself.

As both Hufflepuffs fought on the couch, Y/N exhaled before stilling completely as she heard the knock of the common room’s door. Then, another knock followed– and another. She turned around to see her friends again, a nervous aura crawling off her like little ants.

“Should I wait a bit to open the door?”

“At what time did he say he would arrive?” Asked Bones, crossing one of her legs above the other.

“At 8:00. Sharp.”

Justin looked at the clock. “Well, he’s just in time.”

Another knock followed, softer. 

“You can’t keep him waiting, Y/N,” Susan stated. “He’s on time AND if he knocks anymore on the barrels they’ll wash him up with vinegar before the ball.”

The girl took a deep breath before gathering the skirt of her dress and hurried toward the barrel entrance. She mentally prepared herself for the first few minutes of awkward small talk and the amount of Quidditch knowledge he would probably dump on her throughout the night. Her hand went up to the handle of the big, round wooden door and swung it gently, on the other side revealing a nicely-dressed Oliver Wood, perfectly on time.

“Hi,”

“Hullo, Y/N.” The Gryffindor gently took her hand and kissed it, making a small, airy giggle part her glossy lips. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, walking next to the taller guy as she held both of her hands in front of her. The only sound between them was the click of her heels and the thud from his shoes, neither of them looking at the other.

“Harry an’ Ron’ll be at the pre, by the way.” Oliver glanced down at her briefly. “Figured ye might like knowin’ that. Ye seem pretty close with the pair of them.” 

L/N smiled before glancing up at him as well. “Yeah. They’re pretty good friends of mine. Figured you’d also get along with Harry due to Quidditch.”

His brown eyes lit up at the mention of the sport, making Y/N almost regret bringing it up for a second. He began to talk about Gryffindor’s team and whatnot, how much their strategy had changed since he had joined and how he tried to make it better each day. He even told her about how he used to play Quidditch back in Scotland with his dad when he was younger, and how that began planting the seed for love for the game.

“Your whole life is Quidditch.”

He shrugged. “Aye, it’s alright. I can handle a harsh truth.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Ye never got into Quidditch, then?”

“Nope.”

“Not even for a bloke?” He arched one of his eyebrows as he held his playful grin, gaining a big eyeroll from her.

“Eh,” she began, twirling a piece of her hair between her thumb and index finger. “I dunno, seems quite tedious, honestly.”

Oliver stopped walking for half a second.

“Tedious?” he repeated, looking at her as though she'd just admitted she hated breathing.

The Hufflepuff laughed, taking a few steps towards him.

“Aye, alright.” He shook his head. “Ye're entitled to yer wrong opinion.”

“Oh, I’m wrong now?”

“Completely.” His grin widened. “I spend every day of my life thinkin' about Quidditch, and even I don't think I've ever called it tedious.”

“That's because you're clinically obsessed.”

“That's because I have standards.”

Another laugh escaped her lips, both of them walking at the same pace now.

“Besides,” he continued, “if Quidditch's tedious, what exactly d'you find interesting?”

Y/N opened her mouth before pausing. She remembered where she got the word Tedious for Quidditch from: Theodore. Back in the game.

She quickly brought her head back to where she was. “Probably anything that doesn’t have to do with drunk guys in their 20’s yelling in a pitch.”

He groaned, accepting defeat.

Maybe she had judged him too quickly. Sure, Oliver Wood could probably talk about Quidditch for hours if given the chance, but there was something refreshingly straightforward about him.

Both of them kept walking in comfortable silence as they were finally in the last hallway before getting to the Lion’s common room. 

“We're here.” Oliver nodded towards the portrait entrance, the fat lady eyeing them both before opening up.

The moment they stepped inside, the common room erupted with conversation.

“Y/N!”

Parvati Patil was the first to spot her, immediately abandoning whatever conversation she had been having to pull the Hufflepuff into a hug. Padma followed shortly behind, looking effortlessly put together as always.

“You look gorgeous,” Parvati said without missing a beat.

“So do you,” Y/N replied, taking in both twins' dresses. “You two make me feel underdressed.”

“That is because you are,” Padma answered dryly, a playful smirk on her lips.

Parvati gasped. “Padma!”

“What? Someone had to tell her.”

Y/N laughed as the twins bickered amongst themselves. She internally prayed for them as she remembered who their partners were for the ball.

Across the room, Fred and George Weasley were arguing over something that appeared to involve a bottle and a wand. Lee Jordan sat between them, looking like a man who had long accepted his fate as he fidgeted with cards.

“Wood!” Fred called out. “Glad to see you've survived the journey.”

“Barely,” Oliver replied.

George pointed towards Y/N. “She seems harmless enough.”

“That's because she hasn't started talking yet,” Fred added.

“Hey,” Y/N protested, nudging the redhead’s arm.

Lee lifted his glass towards her. “Good luck dealing with these two all night. They just put my wand inside that bottle and aren’t able to get it out.”

“Oh,” The Hufflepuff took a look at the bottle; in fact, Lee’s wand was stuck there. “Thank you, right back at you.”

The conversation carried on around them as more students arrived. Every few minutes, someone new walked through the portrait hole, greeted by cheers and whistles.

Eventually, Y/N spotted Harry and Ron near the drinks table.

“Look who finally showed up,” Ron greeted, cup in hand.

Harry's eyes moved between her and Oliver before he gave her a small approving nod. “You made it.”

Y/N shifted her weight from one leg to another, tilting her head to the side curiously. “Was there any doubt?”

“Considering it's you?” Ron answered.

“Ron.”

“What?” He shrugged as he looked at Harry.

Y/N rolled her eyes, earning a laugh from both boys.

Time, drinks, and laughs passed between the group of students before the ball. By the time they reached the Great Hall, the castle seemed transformed. 

The music softened as the champions took to the centre of the dance floor.

Y/N sat between Ron and Ginny at one of the round tables, her chin resting on the back of her hand as she watched the couples begin their dance beneath the enchanted ceiling– it looked like a winter wonderland out of a children’s book.

Her gaze went towards Cedric and Cho, almost getting hypnotized by them as they looked annoyingly perfect. She heard Ron snort.

"That's revolting," Ron muttered, drumming his fingers against the table.

Ginny laughed into her drink.

"What?" Y/N asked.

"They've been looking at each other like that all night."

Y/N followed his gaze back to where Cedric was smiling down at Cho. "You mean happily?"

"Exactly."

Ginny kicked her brother underneath the table. “Don’t be such a knob.”

Across the hall, Fleur Delacour flowed effortlessly across the floor with Roger Davies while Viktor Krum danced with Hermione– they looked oddly good together. Good for her. Y/N could make out Weasly looking at Granger for half a second, before turning away his gaze, almost embarrassed. Harry, meanwhile, looked as if he was drowning on the dance floor– moving stiffly, and bumping against Pavati every second in between.

"Harry looks terrified," Y/N observed.

Ron immediately brightened.

"He does, doesn't he?"

She immediately turned to look at him. "You're a horrible friend."

"He's surviving. Though he does look as if he’d prefer to fight another dragon.”

The three of them laughed quietly amongst themselves as the champions continued dancing.

The Great Hall seemed entirely different tonight– every single one of the hundreds of floating candles seemed to glow above everyone’s head rather beautifully, shining a gentle light that only showed the best angles of every single student. People filled every corner of the room, dresses and dress robes moving across the dance floor while music echoed through the castle.

When the dance finally ended, applause erupted through the hall. Before L/N could catch up to anybody, everyone had scattered into their own sidequests for the night. She saw first-hand Ron going straight towards the bar, Padma being nowhere to be seen. Ginny had been taken by part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team as well as Wood, even though he gave her an apologetic smile as he got dragged out. Her gaze went around the room.

She saw Cho and Cedric looking as beautiful as ever, as next to them stood Harry attempting to talk to Parvati, the girl wearing an awkward smile as they danced. Suddenly, a really eccentric laugh called for her attention. She knew damm well who it was.

She made her way towards Pansy as she stood near one of the side tables, black dress perfectly fitted, and a champagne flute dangling from her fingers. Beside her stood Draco Malfoy and Mattheo Riddle, both looking equally uninterested in whatever conversation was happening around them.

Well, one of them did. Mattheo was laughing and talking as animatedly as Parkinson, while Draco looked around the room. As Y/N got closer, Pansy spotted her immediately.

“There she is.”

The Slytherin grabbed her wrist and spun her around before she could even greet anyone properly. "You look divine."

Y/N laughed. “So do you.”

“I know.”

The Hufflepuff scoffed at her playfulness as Pansy’s grin only widened. Between them, across the table, Malfoy looked between both girls. "This is unbearable."

"Good evening to you too, Malfoy." She immediately turned her head towards the blonde, “Riddle,” then the brunette. 

Mattheo only nodded back with a smirk.

"It was until now." Spoke Draco, before taking another sip from his drink.

"Charming."

"I try."

Pansy rolled her eyes dramatically. "Ignore him."

"Please do," Mattheo added. "We've been trying for years."

The h/c girl laughed as Draco looked offended. He lifted his brows. “You’re all very funny.”

"No, they're funny.” L/N began, “You're mostly decorative."

A laugh was shared between them before Draco rolled his eyes at the girl’s comment. “Sure, blood traitor.”

“Don’t start,” warned the black-haired girl, placing her glass on the table. Her retort caught Malfoy off guard, taking both of them on a long, back-and-forth that ended with both Y/N and Mattheo basically third-wheeling the pair.

The Hufflepuff half listened to their banter at first, before leaning over the table and watching over the crowd around them– until she felt a sudden nudge on her upper arm.

“Thirsty?”

Y/N turned her head around and looked at Mattheo, offering her a glass filled with dark, purple wine. She gave him back a pearly-white smile. “Thanks, Riddle.”

They clinked their glasses, and both took a sip, but she knew what he was. Not taking out how she remembered what Pansy told her about Mattheo hearing about hers and Nott’s tiny friendship– about being careful being seen with a blood traitor.

Maybe she was thinking too seriously for the Yule Ball. She drank two more fat sips from her glass.

“D’you know where Nott’s at?” Questioned Mattheo, almost automatically. He shifted his eyebrows as he waited for her response.

“No, not really.” Her eyes fell to the crowd, subconsciously searching for the Italian now. “Didn’t he come with you?”

A small hissing sound escaped from his thin lips as he thought, scrunching his scarred nose. “He did, he got lost, though. Thought he might’ve been with you like last time.”

Y/N stared at him for a second, the meaning behind his words finally clicking into place. Her brows furrowed in amusement as she pointed her glass at him. “Are you insinuating something?”

The man simply shrugged, his dark eyes looking to the side. “No idea. Are you thinking ‘bout something?”

She gave him a deadpanned look. “You ever considered that not every guy thinks exactly like you do?”

“What tells you he doesn’t?”

Y/N hummed thoughtfully before taking a sip from her glass.

“Years of knowing men taught me they are rarely as subtle as they think they are.”

Riddle laughed, shaking his head. "See, that's where you and I disagree." He drank more from his wine. "I think I'm excellent at it."

“Most men, though?”

He tsked his tongue. “Sure. I’ll give you that.”

He swirled the wine around his glass absentmindedly before glancing at her. “Though knowing how to hide things comes in handy.”

She raised one of her brows. “Does it?”

“‘Course it does.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You think I learned that just to flirt with girls?”

Y/N laughed into her drink.

“When I was fifteen, for example, I came home absolutely shitfaced after a New Year's party.” He pointed at himself with mock seriousness. “Thought I'd gotten away with it too.”

“And?”

“My mum was sitting in the kitchen waiting for me.”

She left her glass on the table. “Oh, that's terrifying.”

“Exactly.” Mattheo nodded. “Didn't even yell. Just sat there.”

“That's worse.”

“Much worse.”

He shuddered dramatically before taking another sip of wine. “After that, I just learned how to hide things like that well.”

A laugh escaped her lips, though it faded quicker than expected.

Mum.

The word lingered in her head.

Only a few days ago, she had been sitting in the library surrounded by dusty books and family trees, trying to piece together the mystery that was Mattheo Riddle. Questions about his origins had practically consumed the better part of her week.

And now he was standing in front of her, talking about his mother as casually as someone discussing the weather.

Y/N stared into her wine. 

She could always ask.

Merlin, it would be easy.

What's she like?

Does she live nearby?

Is she a witch?

Is she, perchance, related to Voldemort in any sort of way?

Perfectly harmless questions– The sort of things people asked each other every day.

Instead, she took her glass again and took another sip. And another.

The music was good. The drinks were good. For once, she wasn't buried under books or sneaking around after clues, or even studying.

The last thing she wanted was to turn a perfectly pleasant conversation into an interrogation.

Still.

Her eyes drifted back towards Mattheo.

She was supposed to be investigating him. She groaned internally, before feeling either her guardian angel or her own consciousness patting her on the back, as if to say to just take it easy.

So she did!

“You’re a funny guy, Riddle.”

He stretched his arms above his head. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

Both of them smiled into their drinks. She wouldn’t admit it, but Riddle was quite charming. She hadn’t imagined that Voldemort’s possible heir could make her laugh so much at his snarky remarks.

“Don’t drown yourself in your glass,” a new voice came through, right from behind the curly head. With the voice, a tall, blue-eyed man with a big smile was now between the pair, followed by a blonde bloke she swore she had seen before.

Riddle’s smile was hard to miss. “I thought I had lost you already, mate.”

Nott was fake offended, leaving the bottle he brought on the table. “This early in the night? Please.”

“Astoria was already looking for you.” The blonde guy laughed. Y/N noticed Nott’s eyeroll.

“Wait until she finds Zacharias Smith, Goldstein.”

The three of them laughed before the Italian looked at Y/N.

“Good evening, L/N.”

He wore a smirk as he greeted her.

“Nott, Goldstein,” 

“Didn't know you and Riddle had become drinking buddies,” Goldstein commented, grabbing a glass from the table.

The girl laughed. “We haven't.”

Mattheo pointed at her. “She's lying.”

“I am not.”

“I gave you wine, and you laughed at three of my jokes.”

“That means absolutely nothing.”

Nott furrowed his brows as he looked between them.

“Terrifying.”

“See?” Y/N pointed at Theodore. “He gets it.”

He shook his head. “I don't.”

“Thank you, Theodore.” Y/N groaned before resting her head on her palm.

For a moment, the four of them simply stood there, watching the crowd move around the room. Somewhere across the hall, a group of Ravenclaws had started cheering loudly over something none of them could identify.

“Have you seen Draco?” Mattheo asked suddenly.

Goldstein glanced around. “Probably bothering someone.”

“Helpful.”

Proudly, Anthony patted his own chest. “Always.”

Mattheo shook his head before nudging Goldstein's shoulder with his own, his eyes still looking around the groups of people around them. “He has my cigarettes.”

Theodore didn't even look at him.

“No.”

Riddle acted offended. “I haven't asked anything yet.”

“You're about to.”

“Theodore.” The curlyhead placed a hand over his chest, his eyes fluttering his eyelashes as if he were a damsel in distress.

“Fuck off.”

“Just one.”

“No.”

“Theodore.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Y/N watched the exchange with poorly hidden amusement, her gaze meeting with Goldstein’s as they both laughed silently.

“Sharing is caring, Nott.”

The blue-eyed man looked at her as if she had personally offended him, his gaze furrowing down at her. Goldstein immediately pointed at the girl as he laughed. “She has a point.”

A groan escaped Theodore as he reached into the pocket of his dress robes. “You're all unbearable.”

Mattheo's grin widened triumphantly as Theodore handed him a cigarette.

“Love you too.”

Riddle was excitedly reaching for his lighter when Theodore stopped him. “You can't smoke in here, idiot.”

Mattheo paused.

“Why not?”

The Italian sighed, one of his hands going to scratch his cheek right under his beauty mark. “The fact you got into university remains one of life's great mysteries.”

Goldstein snorted. “Security patrol. They don’t want the whole room smelling like tobacco.”

Mattheo sighed dramatically.

“Right.”

He looked between the group, his eyes filled with fake heartbreak. He looked kind of like a sad puppy. “Anyone coming?”

“I will,” Goldstein answered immediately before taking a cigarette from Theodore's hand.

“Anthony,” Theodore stared at him. “You don't even smoke.”

“Not the point.”

“No”, the Slytherin grunted, “The point is literally smoking.”

Goldstein shrugged. “Fresh air.”

“Coward.”

“Addict.” He shot back.

The pair disappeared into the crowd, still bickering, Mattheo throwing an offended gesture over his shoulder as Anthony laughed. 

Y/N couldn't help the laugh that escaped her glossy lips, as Theodore glanced at her judgmentally.

“What's so funny?”

“The fact that you deny Riddle cigarettes as if he’s a 12-year-old asking for pocket money.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Theodore's mouth despite himself.

Her fingers were twirling with a piece of her hair. “He seems dramatic.”

“He is.”

They both looked at each other. Theodore wore one of his stupidly cocky grins as he took in the look of the girl in front of him– he hadn’t meant to, but his eyes did wander all the way from her hair to her heels, subtly admiring the way her dress fit perfectly onto her body.

Y/N looked away first, feeling his gaze on her. “That's reassuring.”

“What is?” Theodore raised an eyebrow.

“Knowing Slytherins are just as ridiculous as everyone else.”

Her comment gained a small, huffled laugh from Theodore that she could barely make out.

His eyes drifted towards her glass. “You're starting to sound fond of us.”

“Possibly.” Y/N began, her eyes doing their sequence of darting around the room, but no longer searching for anyone specific. “When I got here, I always got the impression that I should be really careful of who I get along with.”

“Funny you say that,” He grinned, his arms resting on the table in front of them. “You seem to get along with us pretty well. Especially for a Hufflepuff.”

Her pretty brows furrowed at the last part of his comment. “What do you mean?”

His eyes went back to her, noticing her troubled expression. “What do I mean by what?”

“The Hufflepuff thing.”

Theodore visibly paused. His mind immediately went into damage-control mode. Cazzo. 

“That's not–” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. “I just mean it's not exactly the most socially acclaimed house.”

Her mouth dropped with an airy laugh escaping from her lips. “Wow.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

A groan escaped him, his hand going to shuffle with his hair as his gaze left hers just for one second. “Hufflepuffs have a reputation.”

“We're kind.”

Theodore smiled at her, as if she finally got it. “Exactly.”

Y/N stared at him. Nott’s smile faded out faster than when it came. 

“That sounded much worse out loud.”

She nodded. “It really did.”

The corner of Theodore's mouth twitched. “Look, all I'm saying is that most people expect Hufflepuffs to stay with Hufflepuffs– Gryffindors, even.”

“And instead?”

“I mean,” he paused, giving himself time to find adequate words for what he was going to say. “You get along with your housemates, obviously, Pansy, Ravenclaws, those annoying Lions,” the girl laughed as he slashed her friends. “With me.”

A smile pulled at her lips despite herself, an honest one, at that. The way he admitted their friendship somehow made her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Instead of straight up showing it, she simply tilted her head and finished her glass of wine with one last gulp. “That's better.”

He exhaled loosely. “Thank Merlin.”

A comfortable silence settled between them. Not awkward– at all, it was just quiet, as their surroundings were filled with noise and music, this silence made them feel almost like in the same orbit.

Y/N rested her elbows against the table as she watched the crowd move across the dance floor.

“Honestly,” she admitted, “I thought transferring here would've been harder.”

Theodore glanced at her. “Why?”

“I don't know.” She shrugged. “Everyone already had their friend groups. History. Inside jokes.” Her eyes wandered across the room. “I figured I'd spend the year awkwardly following people around until they got used to me.”

“Sounds miserable.”

“It would've been.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Wasn't exactly brilliant for me either.” He glanced down at his drink. “Moved here right before Secondary. Everyone already had their people.”

“That's fair.” She tilted her head. “You already had connections, though. Through your family, I mean.”

Theodore's hand went to the bow tie around his neck, tugging at it absentmindedly.

“S'pose so.” He looked away briefly. “Doesn't automatically make you friends with anyone, though.”

Y/N thought for a moment about his response before deciding that it was better to leave it as it was. “Guess we’re past that point now, at least.”

A small smile appeared on his face. “Yeah.”

Another beat of silence between them.

Then, Theodore's gaze drifted across the hall before returning to her, the alcohol in his bloodstream affecting his words.

“You make it easy.”

Her brows furrowed. “Make what easy?”

“Talking to you.”

For once, he sounded completely genuine. No teasing. No sarcasm. Just Theodore talking, saying what he thought at the moment.

Y/N opened her mouth.

Then immediately closed it again. She side-eyed him with a smirk.

“That's suspiciously nice of you.”

He smirked back. “Don't get used to it.”

She looked down at the table. “You know, you're significantly less scary than everyone said.”

“Really?” He raised one of his eyebrows at her comment, his smirk staying the same.

“Yeah,” she responded. “Possibly because they only know the sober you.”

He chuckled. “Could be.”

L/N’s mind was working for a response until someone calling her name got her attention. She turned her head around, looking at Hannah with Cho waving at her to come their way, both determined to spend at least some of the night with their friend. 

Theodore followed her gaze before his eyes dropped on hers. “Go with them. They look like they’ve missed you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “As if. They’ll probably ask me where Wood’s at.”

“It’s alright,” he responded, “Astoria’s probably looking for me as well.”

The Hufflepuff’s smile became slightly flatter at that. She pushed herself away from the table before looking back at him. “I’ll see you around, Nott.”

He nodded at her before she left, his light eyes unconsciously following her figure as she walked towards her friends. 

The rest of the evening passed quicker than expected. Between dancing, drinks, conversations and being dragged from group to group by her friends, Y/N barely noticed the hours slipping by.

By the time the ball had settled into its later hours, the formal dances had long been abandoned. Students occupied every corner of the Great Hall; some danced, others sat around tables talking far too loudly, whilst a few had disappeared altogether.

“So?” Y/N pressed, leaning closer to Hermione with a grin she was making no effort to hide. “How's Krum?”

Hermione immediately looked away, embarrassment crawling its way to her face.

The Hufflepuff gasped.

That was an answer enough.

“No.” Y/N tilted her head to take a better look at Granger’s face.

“Y/N.”

“No.”

Hermione pushed Y/N’s face away with her hand. “Hush.”

“You kissed him.”

Hermione buried her face in her hands for half a second.

That was enough evidence for L/N.

“Oh Helga, you kissed him.”

A laugh escaped the girl in the pretty pink dress despite herself. “Maybe.”

Y/N's jaw dropped. “Just ‘maybe’?”

Hermione's cheeks had gone entirely pink now, an annoyed giggle escaping from her thin lips. “We did.”

Y/N grabbed her arm dramatically, bringing her closer as she asked in a lower voice, “Kissed or snogged?”

Granger looked scandalized, taking a step back. “Y/N!”

“What? There's a difference.”

The brunette crossed both her arms across her chest. “I'm not answering that.”

L/N looked satisfied, passing her weight onto one of her legs. “That means snogged.”

“It does not!”

“It absolutely does.”

The Gryffindor groaned before hiding her face behind her glass, drinking whatever was left in it. Meanwhile, Y/N kept laughing at her friend’s embarrassment.

“Hermione Granger.”

“Stop.” Her mouth left her glass, tone annoyed, even if her smile betrayed her angry persona.

“You were smooching with Viktor Krum.”

Granger’s hands went smoothing her dress. “I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“No,” she admitted, defeated. “I don't.”

Y/N's expression softened, and both girls started giggling softly.

“Mione,” her eyes looked at her brown ones, “Are you happy?”

For a moment, Hermione's eyes drifted across the room. Y/N’s gaze followed hers until she saw who she was looking at. Viktor.

The smile that appeared on Granger’s face was small, but real. Her cheeks blushed slightly as she tucked a piece of her curls behind her ear.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I think I am.”

“Good.”

Then, a familiar Scottish voice came from beside them. “There you are.”

Y/N turned her head, already knowing who it was. Oliver Wood stood a few steps away, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dress robes.

Hermione noticed immediately, a mischievous look creeping its way across her face as she looked at the pair in front of her. A knowing smile appeared on her lips.

“Oh.”

“No,” Y/N immediately pointed at her, disbelief hitting her body.

“Yes.”

“Hermione.”

Y/N’s begging eyes did not affect Hermione, as she casually scratched her chin and looked towards where the German wizard was. “I'm suddenly remembering I was in the middle of a conversation.”

“Yes,” the other girl spoke, “with me.”

The Gryffindor ignored her completely, instead smiling at Oliver before taking a step back. “Good seeing you, Oliver.”

The man smiled. “You too.”

Hermione gave Y/N one last look. The kind that promised questions later. The kind of look that made Y/N want to drag her nails across her face and call for Granger to stay, to not leave her in a situation like this. Sadly, Hermione couldn’t tell (or care), so she turned around and headed straight towards Viktor before Y/N could stop her.

The Hufflepuff stared after her, then at Wood.

“She planned that.”

“Aye.” Oliver watched Hermione disappear into the crowd. “Not particularly subtle either.”

Y/N groaned into her hands. “She'll never let me hear the end of this.”

“Sounds about right.”

A laugh escaped her lips.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Around them, students continued dancing and talking, the room louder than ever now that the night had settled in.

Oliver’s dark eyes looked around the Great Hall before shifting his attention back to her. “Want to get out of here for a bit?”

Y/N followed his gaze across the crowded room, letting out a low humming sound as she thought.

Honestly?

A break sounded brilliant.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

The Gryffindor offered her his arm almost automatically.

Y/N eyed him up and down before smiling and taking it.

The pair began making their way through the crowd, squeezing past groups of students and abandoned chairs. Every few steps, Oliver stopped to greet someone he knew, which, to Y/N's surprise, seemed to be nearly everyone.

“Wood!”

Roger Davies, Ravenclaw Quidditch player, waved at him. “Still alive?”

“Barely,” Oliver called back. His head moved to see next to the dark-haired guy. “And Delacour?

“With her friends,” he replied, “G’luck with the rest of the night.”

As he waved goodbye, his gaze fell between the two of them.

Y/N laughed.“You really do know half the castle.”

“Occupational hazard.”

She side-eyed him. “Being popular?”

“Being Quidditch captain.”

She chuckled. “Same thing.”

Oliver groaned. “It is not.”

The conversation carried them all the way to the large doors of the Great Hall. The moment they stepped outside, cold winter air rushed against their faces, Y/N feeling herself shiver slightly at the change of temperature.

She immediately sighed in relief. “Oh, that's so much better.”

The castle grounds were covered in a thin layer of snow, reflecting the moonlight above them. Further ahead, small groups of students lingered outside, escaping the noise for a while before inevitably returning to the party. Others were getting inside carriages in pairs, which neither really wanted to dig deeper into.

Oliver glanced sideways at her. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Honestly?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “More than I thought I would.”

That seemed to satisfy him, a small smile being on his lips.

The pair continued walking slowly through the snow-covered path, both taking in their surroundings in a calm manner.

“What brought you here from Scotland?”

Oliver blinked. “Aye?”

“Your accent’s still pretty strong.” Y/N laughed, earning a small snort from Wood.

“Glad to know it’s subtle.”

“So?”

He looked at her briefly before looking at their snowy surroundings once again. “Sports scholarship, mostly. Hogwarts has one of the best Quidditch programmes in Britain. Couldn't really turn that down.”

“Fair.”

“What about you?” he asked, his attention going back into her once again. “Didn't grow up here, did ye?”

She shook her head. “No. I transferred this year.”

“How come?”

Y/N glanced ahead. “Honestly? A degree from Hogwarts carries a lot more weight than one from back home.”

Oliver nodded immediately.

“Fair enough. Hard to argue with that.”

The conversation faded naturally after that, both only listening to the sound of their steps crunching the snow, Y/N sniffling slightly due to the cold her feet had.

The grounds were quieter than the Great Hall, filled only with some laughter and chatter. A few groups of students stood scattered around the courtyard, enjoying the cold air before returning inside.

Y/N tilted her head back slightly, looking up at the stars as she stopped walking. “It's pretty tonight.”

“Aye.”

She glanced at him in disbelief. “That's all you've got?”

Oliver shrugged.

“It's pretty.”

She simply accepted his response and laughed. They got ready to continue walking before a familiar voice cut through the night.

“THERE THEY ARE.”

Y/N immediately groaned. “No.”

“Oi! Mistletoe!” Fred Weasley yelled as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere. George wasn't far behind either; between them floated a large bunch of enchanted mistletoe.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N said, taking a few steps back as her hand pointed towards the menaces that were the twins.

Oliver looked over at her, eyebrows raised.

Y/N looked back.

The twins were still hovering nearby with far too much interest in the situation. Around them, a few drunk students had laughed or whistled at the situation before continuing with whatever sidequest they had ending the night.

"C'mon, Wood," spoke Fred, stepping closer to the Quidditch captain.

"Rules are rules," continued George, standing by his other side.

Oliver retracted, looking at the older guys with an unserious look. "There are no rules."

"There are tonight," refuted Fred with a devilish smile. 

“Bollocks.” Oliver laughed, playfully hitting George on his arm as he laughed back.

Fred gasped dramatically. “Language,”

“Shut up.”

The twins looked far too pleased with themselves, as Y/N could already picture the story spreading around the castle by breakfast. The whole Gryffindor tower would probably know by the end of the night.

Her eyes narrowed. “You two are horrible.”

“We know.” The twins smiled. “That's why people like us.”

She cocked one of her eyebrows.“People tolerate you.”

The brothers looked at each other. “Fair.” 

Oliver shook his head, still smiling to himself, before his gaze settled back on the girl in front of him.

“Well?”

The girl let out an incredulous laugh, tilting her head as she looked up at the brunette. “Well, what?”

He gestured vaguely towards the mistletoe still floating above their heads, still smiling.

“Your call.”

That simple response somehow made the situation less awkward.

Y/N looked at him for a moment and took in his expression.

He wasn't embarrassed, wasn't pushing, wasn't making a big deal out of it– he just stood there with that easy grin on his face.

Around them, she wasn’t looking at the twins, but their presence was still there. They had become suspiciously quiet.

Waiting.

Watching.

Being nuisances as always.

L/N laughed as she thought about that. “Merlin, I hate all of you.”

“Love you as well,” George replied immediately.

The alcohol buzzing pleasantly through her system made the whole thing seem significantly less mortifying than it probably should have. She wasn’t nervous, she didn’t even feel the cold at her feel anymore– she just felt Oliver’s gaze on her.

Rolling her eyes, she stepped closer to Oliver. Her hands came up loosely around his neck, her face getting closer to his due to her heels, as the Quidditch captain's hands settled naturally at her waist.

Around them, both redheads were already celebrating as if they had personally accomplished something.

“That's my boy,” Fred announced proudly.

“Shut up,” Oliver muttered without looking away from her.

The cold air bit at her cheeks, though she barely noticed it anymore.

Just before she leaned in, a familiar voice carried across the courtyard. 

“Could’ve been worse.”

Theodore Nott.

Y/N's eyes drifted instinctively towards the sound.

A little further down the path, Malfoy was speaking with animated frustration, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers as he complained about something she couldn't quite make out. Beside him stood Theodore.

He seemed to immediately shut up as the blonde began to speak again, complaining about something being criminal and yada yada yada.

One of Theodore’s hands rested inside the pocket of his dress trousers whilst the other held his cigarette between two fingers.

And he was looking straight at her.

For a second, neither of them moved.

The noise around them seemed oddly distant.

Theodore didn't look surprised to have been caught staring– he didn't even look away. His expression remained calm, unreadable as ever, his blue gaze still washing over her figure from a distance.

What was he looking at?

A whistle sounded somewhere behind her, dragging her back to the current situation she was stuck in. She blinked a few times, then looked back at Oliver. 

A small laugh escaped her lips at how ridiculous the entire situation was.

Without giving herself time to think about it any further, she closed the remaining distance between them, Wood lowering his head slightly to fix his lips onto hers.

The applause from the twins was immediate, almost mixing in with the rest of the chatter and laughs from the groups across the courtyard.

“We got 23 pairs by now,” Fred muttered to George, both extremely proud of their work.

Percy weasley x reader

Note: Sorry this is short if this dose well I will write PT2

After you realize you missed your period you desided to go to a muggle shop to pickup a pregnetcy test. So here you are whating for the dreded test, it was only a few minutes but it felt like years. You and your husband of 2 years Percy haven'tgone into detail about Kids yet, so you just thought he didn't want Kids. But here you are with that test layed face down on the counter, heart racing as you flip it over to see your worst fear.

Two little pink lines.

Rebirth p2

Words: 4k Pairings: George Weasly x reader Summary: reader pregnant and tries to tell George

masterlist|requests

Do you ever look at a magic system and go „well they‘re all just incredibly unimaginative?“ yeah…