The sound of boiling cauldrons and knives slicing ingredients filled the room as students chattered happily with their neighbors. It was one of those rare days in which Professor Snape allowed us to choose our own partners for brewing potions and everyone was ecstatic. The dark dungeon seemed to hum with energy, the lights casting a warm glow over what was usually a cold echoing dungeon. Everyone was cheerful. Everyone, that was, except for my partner and I.
Draco and I stood in silence as we moved through our work; the only sounds coming from him were the steady sounds of his breathing and him crushing ingredients into the pot. I was offe
A/N: This was a request made by . The reader is a Gryffindor and Professor McGonagall is her great-aunt. She's in the same year as Harry, and I've set this in the fifth book. I do take requests, so if you would like one, just drop me a note any time. Now, on with the story!
You huffed as you trudged down the winding stairs that led to the Great Hall. You'd just finished having a "discussion" with your great-aunt. Being the niece of one of the most talented Transfiguration teachers Hogwarts had ever seen was NOT as easy as it seemed to be. You didn't get cut any slack, like all your classmates assumed y
Rain fell down in soft splatters against the leaves above my head, a few cascading down and falling down upon us. I paid them no attention, however, and continued to stare out at the sky. It was dusk and the sky would have been burning pink and red had it not been covered with a thick layer of dark clouds. The clouds above us weren’t worrisome at all—in fact, they were the same color as the eyes of the man who lay before me. Above the mountains, however, clouds inched towards us like charcoal smeared across the sky. I watched them, waiting warily for the storm to begin.
The man, whose head rested softly in my lap, twitched ligh
Shuffling the paperwork on his desk Rostyslav Sytnyk stubs out his cigar burning a hole through the picture of you smiling up at him from the Daily Prophet. He smirks thinking back on the injuries he caused you knowing that it will put you out of commission for a while. Rostyslav leans back fingering the President application for the GMWB lying filled out on his desk a scowl marring his already worn face. Knowing that the chances of him being the President were shot not to mention he was a wanted man now. Though he was curious as to why there wasn’t a reward placed on his head, why his name and photo hadn’t appeared in the Daily P
Lowering your wand, your patronus disappears out the door heading towards the recipient. Threading your fingers in your hair you rest your elbows on the desk staring at the notes you made. Pack office; find a representative for the British and Ukraine DIMC to be on the GMWB, pack flat, find a flat, break the news to friends, break the news to Scorpius, try not to die from the amount of stress that is about to happen within the next three days, try not to die an early death from the amount of stress that is bound to happen the rest of your life, cry, cry loads, consider becoming an alcoholic- you pause in your musings when you hear a
The number one unspoken rule in the Weasley household was, “Don't go poking around in the twins' stuff.”
Anyone who had even heard of Fred and George Weasley knew that their things were rife with prank items, unfinished inventions, and booby traps. It would be safer to walk into the Forbidden Forest alone at night and ask the centaurs for a ride than to mess around with the Weasley twins' belongings.
And yet that is exactly what Ginny was doing. She needed her boots back. When she'd been here earlier talking with the twins, she'd wisely worn her boots to protect herself from whatever might be in their room. It was best not to dw
Summary: What if Merope Gaunt hadn't secretly spiked Tom Riddle with a love potion or used the Imperius Curse on him? What if she used a potion on herself? A potion that had been promised to be not just any ordinary love potion, but one that could bring about love...
Disclaimer: *Please refer to Author's/Artist's description/comment area for disclaimer.
Merope Gaunt lowered her tattered hood and quickly scan the small secluded area that was several acres down from the hovel she had had the misfortune to have been born in. Seeing no one about, she closed her eyes and carefully, slowly made a circle. While worrying her lip, anxious that one s
Her Chamber Of Secrets
The Goblet of Fire
A few days had passed since Professor Dumbledore had officially announced that Hogwarts was hosting this year’s Triwizard Tournament. In an hours’ time, the whole school would be making its way into the Great Hall to watch the ceremony in which Dumbledore would extract three names from the Goblet of Fire to reveal who would be competing.
You walked down the hall towards the Great Hall with Blaise at your side. It felt incredibly good to have things back to normal. Draco wasn’t bothering you, which meant Pansy didn’t feel as threatened, which in turn left you with n
Scrawling on a piece of parchment he stretches out his hand to grab another scroll pausing when he notices scribbles on it. Arching his eyebrow, Draco sets it to the side reaching out to grab another noticing the same thing. Setting down his quill he pulls the stack towards him flipping through five pages before coming across his sons name written several times in various sizes his ‘S’ written backwards before Scorpius must have noticed it then corrected the problem.
Smiling softly to himself Draco pushes back from his desk grabbing the stack of scrolls. Striding out of his study, he makes his way down the hall towards his sons