I'm in love with Fleamont Potter's son
If you read even A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration, you will surely come across the story of Calopa Bolingbrooke. The classic tale of an Animagus gone wrong, Calopa attempted the hideously complex spell during her second year at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It is unclear exactly what went wrong- rumor has it that she said anthos where she should have said athos- but she was quickly transferred to the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, where she had a long and successful career as a counselor to those unfortunate witches and wizards whose accidental magic wasn’t entirely reversible.
Of course, the textbooks don’t mention this- they leave you with a single shocking photo, and a dire warning. Calopa’s public story begins and ends with her sitting on that bench in a garden. No one thinks to ask who took the picture.
(Their wedding cake was lovely, according to all reports- beautifully floral).
Number 12 Grimmauld Place is no longer hidden. It sits neatly between Number 11 and Number 13, its wrought iron polished and shiny, its windows clean of dust and grime. Muggles can see it, though they rarely give it more than a moment’s glance; wizards and witches will occasionally approach cautiously to lay down a wreath of flowers, or a handwritten note addressed to The Boy Who Lives Still. Their wary respect is well-intentioned but unnecessary- Number 12 is second only to Hogwarts in the number of protective spells and wards place around it.
It is empty most of the year.
Fall winds blow and disturb no one’s slumber inside. In winter, snow gathers on the steps and railings; the windows remain dark and the curtains drawn. No flowers peek out from the windowsills to celebrate the arrival of spring.
In the summer, they arrive.
From the outside, there is nothing to unite them. There are loud, boisterous teenagers and shy, quiet children no older than twelve; there are some dressed in the latest Muggle fashions and some whose jeans are patched and worn. They are of all races and ethnicities, all shapes and sizes, from all parts of the British Isles; they can be heard chattering in accents that clash and meld and somehow become harmonious. From the outside, they have nothing in common. But since when has someone’s outside reflected who they really are?
Molly Weasley was the first person Harry told about his idea. She and Arthur help him expand Number 12′s interior, adding bathrooms and reading nooks and bedrooms. Ginny chooses the squashiest armchairs and sturdiest furniture, tracking down bargains with a fierce glint in her eyes. When he realizes he needs an outdoor space, Hermione helps him to link his back door to an empty field. Ron helps Bill put up Quidditch hoops while Neville transplants trees and Hannah stations benches beneath their shady branches. Parvati paints the rooms in swirls of bright colors- green and red and blue and yellow mingle on the walls.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place becomes a refuge for lost children. They are the ones with no home to go to when the term ends, the ones who don’t have someone waiting to pick them up when the Hogwarts Express pulls into Platform 9 ¾. They are the ones whose homes are not safe, who grow anxious as June approaches and spring turns to summer. They are the ones who are no longer welcomed by those who share their blood, who have had to make family out of friends.
Harry Potter greets these students at Kings Cross and he takes them in.
In the summer, former DA members stream in and out of Number 12′s brightly polished door. Luna brings suitcases packed with odd creatures she’s discovered on her travels; the students sit in the sunny field as she pulls them out one by one and tells of hiking up mountains and wading through marshes. Ginny gives flying lessons and organizes Quidditch matches; the Harpies donate their old brooms when they switch sponsors (something that happens far more often than any other team in the league). There is a greenhouse where students with a green thumb can tend their own plots and assist Neville with his herbology experiments. Justin and Hermione drill them on Muggle subjects; Justin teaches algebra, geometry, and basic sciences while Hermione covers history and literature. George always spends a memorable week showing off his newest inventions while Ron drops by almost every evening to play chess. Students entering their fifth year can spend the summer shadowing people in careers that pique their interest; the Trio rarely use their fame for their own gain, but they wield it with fierce determination in the service of others.
In the summer, these children are fed by Molly Weasley, hugged by Hannah Abbott, told bedtime stories by Luna Lovegood. They can spend all day reading under a tree or playing Exploding Snap in the kitchen or arguing about how best to make a phone work at Hogwarts. They can wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and make their way down to the kitchen, where Harry will meet them with a mug of hot tea and a listening ear. They can stay in bed on days when the world is too cruel and lonely, when the emptiness in their body is too heavy to bear. They can see others who struggle with it too and realize that family is not limited by blood, that being lonely doesn’t always mean being alone.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place opens its doors wide and vibrates with life. It becomes a place where Sirius Black would be welcomed along with Severus Snape, where Harry Potter and Tom Riddle could spend their summers side by side.
In the summer, Number 12 Grimmauld Place becomes a home.
After many months of being squashed by the stresses of my last year of graduate school, my muse has come roaring back with a vengeance. No promises on when the next update will be, but I hope you enjoy this piece
@hogwartsonline | james and lily potter
If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realise that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.
Foreplay tips
- Make her want you. A long stretch, showing off your height and size where your man v’s (unf) and stomach show. So you get her mind warmed up first. Thinking about how she wants your body on top of hers. Biting your lip, or playing with your hair. Talking to her about something sexual. Make her mind anticipate what she wants, so when you start touching her, she’s already hungry & panting for more. Its all about initial seduction & setting the mood. Light some candles, put on some mood music.
- Warm her up! Foreplay is soooo underrated! That is coming from a girl who can go 0-60 pretty darn quick too! She should be BEGGING for a guy to go down on her(at least in her head) or penetrate her because he’s been edging her so effectively. It all starts with kissing. A good kiss just starts flooding the basement. Soft lips, to firm lips, and everything in between. I myself am a sucker for neck & ear kisses. Play and kiss my ears, and I’m putty in your hands. Moving your lips down the collarbone, then the breasts, and the nipples, then down the stomach, legs, and everywhere you can think of. Just kiss the girl! Kiss her like you mean it! I feel like I should write this because I’ve come across it quite frequently….. DON’T just force your mouth on her, and like push into her for minutes at a time. That isn’t sexy and is rather awful. Kissing needs some deep, heavy moments, but you need air. The sexiest kisses are often the slightest brush of the lips, or a bite of the lip, with an extra moment hanging in the air in between the lips rushing toward one another.
- Hands. Use your digits! You’ve got ten of them, and she wants to feel them everywhere! Every crevice, every curve, on every freckle. If you aren’t pulling her closer & grabbing her like you need to for your life, you’re not doing it right. Get a handful of that booty, and caress her thighs, down to her calves. Holding her waist firmly is so lovely too.
- Words can be a very effective tool. Words hold power. Now not every girl is into dirty talk and the levels can drastically vary. However, I’ve never come across a woman who doesn’t like a few positive affirmations about how sexy they are. Tell her how wild she is driving you! Scream it from the rooftops! (Warning, may cause neighbors to hate you.) She should feel like a goddess and that your desire is at its utmost highest level. If she is more demure and not into dirty talk, tell her how beautiful she is, and what about her body you love…. don’t overkill it, but lovely comments can stick with a girl for a lifetime. Even just say her name, and moan. If she’s a little freakier, get on her level. I always recommend starting slow with more romantic dirty talk, and then upping it as you see fit, and if positive feedback seems to follow with it. I often find whispering in the ear is effective, but I personally feel quite proud when I can get a guy screaming too.
- Be a tease! She should be in agony wanting more of you! Know when to give in though, and give her what she wants. But when she’s really enjoying something you’re doing, continue it, but ease off, and really back off, until shes writhing for more. Make her crave you! Once you give in though, bring it home. Woman want what they can’t have, and it’s a sure fire way to get her soaking wet.
- In addition to teasing, create some tension. If she went out of her way to wear lingerie (or even if she didn’t) leave it on a bit. Admire it, play with it. Kiss her through her panties. Tease her with the fabric. This drives me personally wild. Women also always love feeling appreciated, so you keeping that lingerie on a little longer makes her know it was worthwhile, and in turn, makes her appreciate you all the more!
- A sensual massage always does the trick. Any time your bodies can be close, without doing anything overtly sexual always creates thick sexual tension, which can drive a woman (or man) wild. Massages are the obvious choice, but a hand on the thigh. Hand holding. Playing with her hair. Whatever. Just touch her.
- Ask her. So many people forget the easiest way to please anyone, is to ask them what they like!
- Eye contact. Look at her. Smile at her! This all goes back to she will feel so desired and be on the edge of her seat wanting more.
At the end of the day, make her feel comfortable in your arms. Make her feel desired, and like she’s a goddess and all that you want. Tease her and build up to every touch, every next step. Act as though you cannot get enough of her, touch her, kiss her, and love her like your life depends on it. Don’t forget that the gentle touches, warm breath, and little things amount to big things in the grand picture. Don’t be afraid to press her against a wall, and take her, make her feel so desirable. Now that is some good foreplay! xxox
PS: I post on my blog sexualinnuendo.com all of this and more xox
i. of napping, a realisation.
‘What are you doing,’ Lily mumbled in confusion, turning in bed to face him with half-opened eyes before dropping her head to rest against his chest, his lips brushing the crown of her head softly.
‘I was playing with your hair,’ he murmured onto it, the smile evident in the movement of his lips. ‘It’s a mess, Cariad.’
‘You’re one to talk,’ she laughed, the sound softened by the feeling of her mouth against his skin; the vibration of it causing a shiver to go down his back. Gazing at her adoringly, he repositioned the fingers of his left hand into her hair in an attempt to untangle the unruly curls. She let out a content sigh before whispering, ‘James?’
‘Yeah?’ His voice came out both sleepily and in awe, the tone that had only ever been reserved for Lily; his other hand pressing her even closer against him, settling on tracing up and down her spine leisurely.
Slightly lifting her head up off his chest, her eyes blinked slowly before rapidly closing as a small yawn escaped her. The action causing the ever-present butterflies in his stomach to flutter against every fibre of his being. ‘I love you,’ she uttered mid-yawn before snuggling into him.
He shifted the hand on her back to her right hip, giving it a gentle squeeze before breathlessly uttering,‘Yeah?’
She sent him a smile that had he been standing would have had him falling face first but, because he wasn’t, simply left him falling deeper in love with her. It was the kind of smile you would do anything to be on the receiving end of and left him even more convinced of the absolute control she had over him, the control he trusted her to never abuse.
Lily replied softly with a ‘Yeah,’ before drifting off to sleep shortly after; the fragment of the earth-shattering smile remaining on her face. It hadn’t been the first time the couple had said, ‘I love you,’ but the effect those words had on him never ceased to amaze him. He decided then that he would go to the jewellers in the morning. His lovely girlfriend deserved everything he could give her and more, but he supposed he could start with a ring. Fondly placing another kiss on her head, he joined her in her nap, excited for a time when he will be able to wake up next to her for the rest of his life–even if she did hog the blankets.
edited as of 06/28/18
my favorite moment in the sorcerer’s stone is when hagrid comes to get harry for hogwarts and he’s like “you mean to tell me this boy know nothing about anything?!” and harry, bless his heart, is lowkey offended and is like “i mean i know math” like what a pure boy…….. what a shining soul……
(via bilestat)
I would respect JK Rowling so much more if she just came out and said yeah the Harry Potter books don’t have enough representation, thats a problem and I’ll do better in future rather than being like oh actually Voldemort’s mum’s cat was gay.
(via jiisoooo)
Sirius: I love you so much.
Remus: Love you too.
Sirius: You are so hot.
Remus: Uh… thanks.
Sirius: I’m gonna ride you all night long…
Remus: Oh my god! Sirius!
Sirius: Or, I will once I’ve got you all fixed up…
Remus: Wha- fixed…?
Remus: Aaand he’s talking to his motorcycle.
HEY WOLFSTAR SHIPPERS
did u know
@marauderseranetwork june event: LGBT ships
W O L F S T A R
Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.
Ron did for Harry what James did for Sirius. Take him out of an abusive home and give him a loving one.
me: *sees primary colours*
me @me: IT’S NOT HP YOU PIECE OF SHIT NERD
when she was sorted into gryffindor, she was excited and nervous, because she was a muggleborn and wasn’t quite sure what that meant. but everyone was smiling and clapping, and she grinned at the sea of smiling faces dressed in red.
she was given a place in the boys dorm, and that seemed right to her at the time. but in her fourth year, she began to wonder if the out-of-place feeling she had wasn’t just her anxiety and awkwardness, but something else. when she realised she was a girl, it felt like she had blossomed into the world, to face it as a finished person. she told people that summer - texts to her muggle friends, owls to the wizards, and everyone was happy for her. for days she couldn’t do anything without the beep of her phone, or the peck of an owl at the window.
when she came back to hogwarts, and went to her dorm, she turned the other way. towards the girls dorm, where she had a place ready for her, picked out by her friends. she felt that same tight nervousness she felt when she was sorted, the pounding in her chest, the shaky hands. but she told herself to be calm. she was going to do this.
she put her foot on the bottom step. and then the next. and then the next.
the voice inside her head that had been telling her that hogwarts wouldn’t realise who she was shut up. she whispered a thank you to the steps, a small word that only the castle heard. then she ran up the rest of the stairs, a grin emblazoned on her face, new robes swirling behind her, ready to start the next year at school.
-
he was fifteen when it happened. he had been questioning for a while, but he wasn’t sure. he didn’t want to call himself a boy, not yet. a part of him was urging himself to just go for it, because he knew who he was, if he really thought about it. but he was hesitant, and didn’t define himself.
then it happened. one night, when he was alone, he was going back upstairs, when he slipped. his hand steadied himself on the rough stone wall, and he looked down to see what had happened. one of the steps was slanted, just enough to make him trip. it wiggled a bit, then made itself into a step, as if nothing had happened. he frowned at it at the time, and went up to bed, but the memory of the incident lingered days after. and weeks.
he remembered it later, when he sat up all night thinking of how he didn’t belong here, in the girls dorms. he didn’t want to label himself, but he’d been more and more out of place, and he knew who he was, really. when he stopped telling himself that he wasn’t.
it wasn’t too long before he told everyone. he felt like shouting it from the rooftops, flying over the castle with his new name on a banner. he didn’t, though. he just settled for casual chats with the people he knew and an awkward owl to his professors.
and one night, after he’d settled in to the boys dorms, he put a foot on the bottom step of the girls staircase. instantly, the bricks flattened themselves into a slide. he grinned, and carried on up to his new room in the boys dorms.
-
they always knew they didn’t quite fit into any of the genders they knew. they weren’t quite a boy, weren’t quite a girl, but they didn’t have the words to express what they felt. it was only after a few years at hogwarts (and a lengthy google search one night at home) that they learned the word ‘nonbinary’, and realised that there was a word for it, after all.
they decided to be casual about it at school. the people that they trusted knew, and some of the teachers. but it wasn’t as though they had a separate dorm just for them, so
except…
one day, when they were heading up to sleep, they saw a door. it was on the stairs to the dorms - girls went one way, boys went the other, with a blank wall in the middle. except it wasn’t blank, not then. there was a door. they asked their friends about it, but just got strange looks in return. but every time they climbed those stairs, the third door was there.
the next year brought a new wave of first-years, and they joined a group helping the kids out with navigating hogwarts. they were showing a group the way to the dungeons when one asked them what the third door was for. you know, the one between the girls and boys dorms. they froze, and looked down at a nervous first-year who was, even then, getting odd looks from their classmates.
they opened it together, the first-year and them. turned out it was another dorm. the beds were made, light shone through the windows, and the whole room seemed to beckon, invitingly. the first-year was ecstatic, and they found themself smiling too. the pair of them moved in the next day, and began to set up their own little space.
after they moved in, everyone could see the door. and slowly, the dorm began to fill up. kids from all years claimed beds there, older kids who had been too nervous to try the door, younger kids who were thrilled that it existed. they were the first, so they were looked up to, and they were happy they had.
-
help will always be given by hogwarts, you see. even for those who don’t know they need it.
(via fanonical)
i ship draco malfoy with seeing a therapist