Hp Fanfic - Blog Posts

“which regulus would win in a fight??” probably only the brave but I think it’s important to note that if just lovers regulus was put in a room with any of the others he’d be reduced to tears in mere minutes

Hermione: do you know people are mostly killed during the night by their own spouses ?

Ron: why the fuck would you say that?

Hermione: it's a fun fact....and facts are true.

Ron: .....

Hermione: you actually don't think I would kill you right?

Ron: Mom, come pick me up I am scared.

MY FANFICS.

Hi you guys, I have few of fanfics in Ao3:

-OUR LIFE.

What would happen if Magix didn't exist, what would their life be on Earth? Let's find out.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36418753/chapters/90804184

-ARE WE TOO YOUNG FOR THIS?

Bloom is tired of her routine what will happen when she found Stella, this moment will change her life.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36968230/chapters/92232619

-YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT!

Basically Musa, Stella and Layla have to figure out a way to save their boyfriends, and keep themselves mentaly stable.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38020930/chapters/94964281

-WITHOUT VOLDEMORT.

¿What happened to everyone after the war? ¿How do you overcome your biggest trauma? What happens when there's nothing left to fight for?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37251925/chapters/92943619

-THE TAPE.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron are bored so they check out the only room the Sirius has never let Harry in to check out. What will happen when they found a tape?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36203380

-DON'T YOU HAVE ANY SHAME?

Bill Weasley for most of his life has been taking care of his siblings. His whole life has been the parental figure of his family.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37700752/chapters/94119001

-WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE ME?

Hermione has been missing for almost a day, her friends don't know where she was, they searched her everywhere. Where Herms is?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37708438/chapters/94139689

-THE CANDLE KEEPER.

Alma Madrigal was left alone with three toddlers to raise and a miracle to honor.

She had three beautiful toddlers, Pepa could go from laughter to crying, Julietta with that maturity for a four-year-old, and Bruno her bean who loved everything odd.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36207310/chapters/90255760

-MARVEL HIGH.

What if the coolest heroes ever, went to highschool, how would it be? Oh highschool, so much drama...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36587752/chapters/91254805

-

I wish there was a fanfic or fanart of Drarry based on the Disney movie The Princess and the Frog. In my opinion, Harry and Draco give off the same vibe as Tiana and Naveen, the dynamics are at least similar. :D

I've just started the Harry Potter saga, I'm almost at the end of the book Chamber of Secrets, and as I was reading I thought of something that made me laugh... Harry is basically the Cinderella of the wizarding world. They both lost their parents when they were little, they are both mistreated at home (Harry by his uncles and cousin; Cinderella by her stepmother and her half-sisters) and they both change their lives with an unexpected visit (Harry with Hagrid and Cindy with the fairy godmother ). Seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed so heartily in my life. (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Does anyone need fic recs? This is just from 2024 BTW, that's how much fanfic I consume in a year. I got (mostly) MHA (seriously, i can recommend hundreds of MHA fics), JJK, HP, a few DCs, mostly DC x Danny Phantom or Spiderman, and some Mystic Messenger

Have a fanfic idea I’ve been conjuring up for a while

A house of the dragon and Harry Potter crossover with the main character being the adopted daughter of Rhaenyra and the twin sister of Harry Potter. It would also have two other OCs of mine, Rhaenyra’s younger sister, and an older sister of Baela and Rhaena. Story of the Targaryens would also be altered a bit, much more happy than the original.

If you have any questions or are interested let me know. I’d love to answer them!

Quibbler's Queer Quills Pride Fest Presents:

Title: 93 Diagon Alley

AO3 Name: Schmem_14

Tumblr Name (if applicable): @schmem14

Prompt: Moving in together

Pairing: Harry Potter/George Weasley

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 30204

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Comfort, Moving In Together, there was one bed, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay George Weasley, Slow Burn, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, Treacle Tarts (Harry Potter), Eating Disorders, Friends to Lovers, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Rimming, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Amortentia Potion (Harry Potter), Amortentia has a fourth scent, Potions Master Harry Potter, George is built, Happy Ending, Minor Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Dramione is my HC, Reconciliation, Jealousy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Harry Potter, Waltzing, Harry is a Good Cook, George works out a lot, Harry is rich af, Mutual Pining, George eats but doesn't sleep, Harry sleeps but doesn't eat

Summary: The war has been hard on everyone, especially Harry and George. Harry is depressed, and needs to be taken care of for once. George is always hungry, and definitely doesn't want to talk about Fred. So, they make the only reasonable decisions available in such a situation; move in together, and fall in love, but not necessarily in that order.

Link: 93 Diagon Alley

I've read another fic, I can't stop wanting to draw it

The ordeal of being know

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61946362/chapters/162765895

George Weasley, house plant enthusiast! Percy Weasley, pottery newbie! Sweden’s magical district! So fun so fun, here’s ch 6 🫶🏻

Hi I literally have such existential dread about my fanfic like I had such high hopes it would be well received and loved and supported and it’s not so does that make me fake for craving love instead of being content honing the craft??? Yeah I’m a poser lol the spiraling is real

I’ve got some questions about Swedish magic in the Harry Potter universe/fandom— anybody with some first hand experience or knowledge able to talk about wicked cool Viking and Eskimo magic for my fanfic?!

i saw a lot of complaints about RY's writing of Violet and how she's supposed to be extremely intelligent, and blah blah blah they were rude and felt like RY didn't know how to pull that off so she instead made all the other characters dumb instead of making Violet smart. look, as a writer, complaints like that are hard to see. I'm writing a geormione fic, hermione POV, and lemme just say, nothing makes me feel more dumb than trying to write an intelligent character. i personally feel like there's no one way to do it correctly, bc i know ms. hermione granger is lightyears smarter than i am. just treat writers with kindness, we already are our own biggest critics, we don't need your disapproval too <3

There would be no more wallowing today. 

Hermione Granger, chapter 5 of the essence of time

After a long plotting break ch 5 is out 🥳 I’m proud of it

“Time is sentient, George, and it does not stand with being manipulated.”

The Essence of Time ch 1 ✨

George Weasley has always loved the color gold. It was half his Hogwarts house. It was also something his Weasley house never had within its four walls. It was earned, through blood, sweat, and tears of his own merit in his joke shop— school drop-out notwithstanding. Gold, from its hue to its shine to its value, is beautiful. Not in a greedy way, just an unattainable beauty that always seemed to walk beside him, companionably. Something he could admire, and then partake in, while having both nostalgia and longing all at once.

Gold interested him, it always did. Now, in the After it taunts him. In his dreams, in his memories, in every bleeding moment of his existence. Even in the Before, when he was a shell of a man, merely clinging to his firewhiskey and living on despite all desires, gold did not bother him as such. Nothing bothered him, he didn’t have a care in the world. In the Before, he was a pair without his match. Left in a limbo of sorts, one foot in the world and one foot in the beyond, following after Fred. Each day was a test— or at least it felt like one. What decision would he make today: stay or leave? It was a cruel choice, and many that he doesn’t quite remember making consciously. Most he probably did not, if he was being honest with himself.

The first of April 1999 brought it all to a head, and dragged George Weasley kicking and screaming by his remaining ear. That was the last night he had to make that particular choice, and if his current circumstances are of any indication, he definitely had no clue what was waiting for him on the other side.

George’s first birthday without his twin sent him tumbling into the arms of the bottle. Following that, he stumbled down the narrow stairs which led to the back of his shop, aggravated and searching for his wand.

The spell wouldn’t work, when he whispered or when he shouted. It just wouldn’t. He slammed the offending wood against his wrist over and over— wild sparks ricocheting off the shelves. Explosions and liquids and fireworks and bubbles filled the air, crowding the space and overwhelming his senses. He screamed until his voice caught in his throat, until all he had left was soundless sobs, that rocked his body against the floor. It was pointless— his wand refused to harm its master. To break the allegiance it so cherished.

He chucked the black walnut against the wall, sending gold sparks flashing through the dark workroom. Pointless. Utterly pointless. George let out a hoarse moan, the choice floating above him, mocking him.

I tried! He roared to no one. To the great beyond, he really didn’t know. It was the Before, it’s all a blur to him now.

But did he, really?

The shop creaked at times. Whether the age, or the weight, or the magic of a building full of laughter, they never knew. They were accustomed to the sound, even joked more than once that 93 Diagon Alley just liked to check in, say hello.

At that moment, on George’s twenty-first birthday, but not Fred’s, their home creaked. The stairs actually. They were steep, and narrow and many.

It was at the bottom of these wooden stairs, well after high tea time, late on the first of April that Hermione Granger found one lone broken man. The morning of the second of April found that broken, twenty-one year old man safely tucked in his bed, Skele-Gro resting offensively on his nightstand, and his collarbone wrapped tightly. His friend holding tight to his hand on the uninjured side of his body and staring at him with her all-seeing owl-ish eyes. And on that morning he couldn’t face her, nor on the third morning. He couldn’t face himself, either. He had avoided that choice for three-hundred and thirty-four days. He limped through the sunlight and the moonlight, not living, but not doing the other thing either. And then when he finally made a choice— the world in all its buggery wouldn’t let him do it. Not his magic. Not his home. Not his friend. So he avoided her gaze. He stayed silent and didn’t answer her questions, her pleas. He sat and breathed, and fumed, and mourned. But she didn’t give up. It was a battle, apparently, the kind he hasn’t played in a very long while. Hermione Granger played very well, George soon learned. She could play the long game. She could outsmart anyone, he already knew that, but battle strategies? Warfare? Color him impressed. She met his silence with presence. She emboldened herself to solidify her right to be there, in his home. She washed his dishes, all one million of them that had piled up from his despicable human needs. She scourgified his laundry, and mopped his floors the Muggle way. She gave him a satisfied, if not small, smile under her flushed skin, slightly damp from the hard work. On the fourth morning, over the black tea she handed him, she hummed a tune he had never heard.

What song is that?

A smirk had graced her lips and she could’ve shocked the pants off Merlin himself with what she said next.

Hit Me Baby One More Time.

Muggles and their music. George hadn’t smiled in three-hundred and thirty-seven days. He smiled that day.

So Hermione stayed, teetering around his home and his shop in some unspoken agreement they made. He never received the first Howler full of hysterics, the mediwizards never arrived to cart him off to St. Mungo’s, and Hermione maintained her visits. His family never heard a word of what happened, and he never complained when his friend turned her key into his lock and announced they were nipping to Tesco for crisps since he didn’t have anything.

The anniversary came and went, but George did not grieve alone. He may have wanted to. He may have felt a twinge in his collarbone, and he may have glanced one too many times at his stairs, but he was not alone. Instead, he saw his mother for the first time in six months, his friend with a watery smile in the shadows, watching. Spring turned into summer, and with the heat came sunlight. Glorious sunlight that sparkled off the pond at the Burrow, and turned the hairs on his arms white. The sunlight glistened in Ginny’s hair like a fiery halo, and reflected off Harry’s glasses. It tinged Ron’s skin pink, and brought out the golden flakes in Hermione’s brown eyes. George had forgotten she had such striking eyes. The first time he had noticed the color was years ago at Hogwarts, when she had been wearing a gold chain around her neck, its pendant tucked under her robes. The necklace brought the color out in her eyes, but had done nothing to hide the deep rings of purple underneath. The sunlight brought many memories back to him in the Before. The memories brought pain. But the pain brought ideas. Memories and ideas. An idea that Hermione didn’t like. That was illegal. You don’t understand, George— it cannot be done. Hermione… please. It took many more nights, weeks even, but his friend agreed to look, to see. But no promises, George. At the dawn of fall, her key turned in his lock and wide, owl eyes met his. The gears started turning before she even finished speaking. They would have to travel far, to meet with a Mistress Linnea Birger in Sweden, an expert.

She was rude and unhelpful and George brooded the whole portkey home. As Hermione kicked her shoes off by his front door, he was still grumbling about the international forms he’d filled out in the Portkey Office of the Department of Magical Transportation. The long-suffering sigh and a cup of steaming tea finally soothed his temper. The slam of a book upon his coffee table was as natural to him as the creaking of 93 Diagon Alley. Finally, finally, the night of the winter solstice Hermione says she has it. Nothing about this will be easy, George. Nothing really ever is, is it? The Headmistress will not be pleased when she speaks to her Gargoyle in the stairwell, but the pair are hopeful she could be distracted with joy in the After. Hope, a dangerous feeling indeed. The last Time-Turner, preserved by Professor Dumbledore for services to the school in 1994, lays within the Headmaster’s office. How Hermione knew that is beyond George’s knowledge, but he’s following her lead. They walk in silence, each step bringing them closer to George’s nightmares. The seventh floor, once a place of such fun, now left just as scarred as the rest of them. The castle mourned too. Its magic was ancient and deep, more complex than any have understood. It withstood the great battle, but the castle lost too many that day. One barely a man, who brought such joy into these walls, such cleverness and bravery. A man who breathed life into this magic, kept it going even in the dark, just as he was taught. They would fix this. This pair, one newly formed and one broken, would restore just a bit of what the castle lost that night. They would succeed. They had to. The wall has been repaired and it's waiting for them in the left corridor. George keeps his eyes on Hermione, her spellwork upon the old Time-Turner more rapid and complex than he’s ever seen. The dust, golden and sparkling, swirls up around them. It sticks to his clothes, tangles in her hair, brushes his ear. He doesn’t ask questions, he just watches her work, entranced. The dust creeps up her neck, and she pauses for a split second, wildly seeking him out.

Time is sentient, George, and it does not stand with being manipulated.

What? It’s too late. The Before is rapidly shifting, the ground under them is trembling. Their hands rip apart and George didn’t even remember reaching for her. Spells begin flying over their heads, and George vaults in front, shielding his friend’s body with his own. She pushes him off, landing a shield over their heads and scrambles back as green flashes around them. "Hello, Minister!" George lurches, a visceral response. Nonononono— Hermione, she’s faster. She moves like a cat, vaulting over stone and wood, shoving her way through the bodies and the blood. He didn’t even hear her cast, didn’t see her wand move, but the wall stood still and Fred laughed and Percy adjusted his glasses and Fred laughed and laughed. One moment George was across the corridor and the next his arms were around his twin. Blood and snot and dust and tears— madness. Total madness. “She did it! Oh, Fred, she saved you. Hermione did it. Hermione! Fred, you’re here!”

Fred patted his back. Fred!

“HERMIONE! You did it, Hermione!”

George gripped his brother so tightly it must hurt, but Fred didn’t complain.

“Georgie? What’s wrong?”

George loosened his grip on his twin, a beaming smile on his face. Gold dust still coated his hands, mingling onto Fred’s shoulder.

Fred peered back, concern and bemusement resting on his freckled face. “And who is Hermione?”

So I’m trying to write an epic multi chapter original fanfic post-Hogwarts era about my otp rare pair and sometimes I spiral about how much this work means to me and how I so painstakingly want to present it to ao3 like a precious labor of love and cope by staring at my computer screen unmoving for hours lol anybody else?

And here I am, with the update, whoop whoop it’s posted

But what came out of his mouth instead, “But why not me?” was just as broken as his heart. “It was my idea— my meddling. Why wasn’t I the one punished? Why was it her?”

Chapter 4 is angsty sad

the essence of time Chapter 4

Got my lil outline going and it’s just me, this Gatorade, and my laptop against the world (if the world is actually the flu in this scenario) anyway here’s hoping I’ll get this update posted by tomorrow night 🪩

the essence of time Chapter 4

Got my lil outline going and it’s just me, this Gatorade, and my laptop against the world (if the world is actually the flu in this scenario) anyway here’s hoping I’ll get this update posted by tomorrow night 🪩

Her Mudblood scar twinged. They wouldn’t touch her this time— they wouldn’t. Not her, not Fred, not Percy, none of her family. Not again. She jolted up, ignoring the startled grumbles from those around her.  George. Get back to George. 

chapter three is posted whoop whoop

Sometimes you just need some encouragement that you write for yourself and not others but ouch my little fangirl heart wants to find her tribe </3

“But she didn’t give up. It was a battle, apparently, the kind he hasn’t played in a very long while. Hermione Granger played very well, George soon learned. She could play the long game. She could outsmart anyone, he already knew that, but battle strategies? Warfare? Color him impressed.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61946362/chapters/158403220

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61946362/chapters/158403220

Cautiously optimistic that I can accomplish completing a fanfic for the first time in my life, so come check this out and enjoy some sporadic updates with no set schedule!!

Hermione x George time turner shenanigans

Do you ever think about your favorite fanfic writers from 2009-2013 and hope they’re doing okay? I hope you got professionally published, your stories changed my life <3

My husband is a casual potter fan, as in he’s seen the movies several times a year with me but has never read the books. Occasionally he makes innocent comments like “Harry and Luna would be cute together.” Or “Ron and Luna seem like they’d be a nice couple.” All the while having no idea the meaning of “otp” or the absolute PERFECTION of an arranged marriage au to repopulate the magical community and the chokehold it has on the fanfic fandom

drawing i made for chapter 2 of my fic!

alternate versions + sketch :)

⬇️⬇️⬇️

I really want some angst after the prank fics. Do you have any? Thank you!

Oh friend, for many readers this is such a huge part of the appeal of the marauders. There are a few previous lists linked below along with some extra fics on this subject. Hope you find some new fics to love but be prepared for the hurt/comfort feels. 

Prank Aftermath Fics

Muggle Take on the Prank

Pranks Aftermath Fics 2

A Simple Fact by trailingoff Whatever happens, whatever he does, whoever he tries to be, Sirius’s father was right about one thing.

The Red Phone by @wanderingbandurria It’s the summer before Seventh year, and things haven’t been easy for Remus Lupin in the past year, between Snape gaining knowledge of his lycanthropy and him giving up his prefecture to avoid casting attention. Things with his friends have been strange too, James angry at Sirius for the first time, and Sirius making less flamboyant displays and making Remus nervous when he catches him looking at him with weirdly fixed eyes. And then, one hot afternoon, a red phone appears in the middle of the Lupins backyard. He takes it, of course, because he is a Gryffindor, goddammit, and even more, a Marauder, and not for nothing.

By the Seaside by shoebox_addict In the wake of 'The Prank,' Sirius visits Wales with Remus over the summer.

all lies and jests by @angwrites​ The days are measured as such: before Monday, and after Monday. The "after" days come one by one yet all at once, while James watches his friends fracture, and tries to help put them back together. In the end, it requires more than a single motorbike ride or bar of chocolate. It requires learning when to run and when to stand still, when to talk and when to say nothing, when to interfere and when to leave them to it. However...

Several Ways to Apologize by Aria "The thing is, though," Sirius said, addressing the scarlet draperies, "Moony's not going to give me legumes and yell. He's too nice."

Concerning the 25th by Psychomanteum (SilentP) The full moon rises at seven in the evening on December 24th, 1996. This is, coincidentally, the first full moon that Sirius knows Remus Lupin is a werewolf. Not coincidentally, December 25th is the first day Sirius will spend three hours waiting outside a Ministry building.

If you know tumblr tags for the authors, please send them in! 

Praise

@drarrymicrofic​ prompt: Good   NSFW

It started as a joke. A throwaway comment and a patronising pat on the head. Only then Harry’s eyes had dilated and Draco knew he’d uncovered something special.

The next time he’s entirely serious when he says it, with Harry all spit-slick lips and cum drunk beneath him.

“Good boy.”

Nobody Pinch Me

A mysteriously locked door keeps Harry and Draco trapped in the room where they’re serving detention.

Words: 18k

Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mystery, Angst, Bickering, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Blowjobs, Anal Sex, Top Harry, Bottom Draco, D/s Elements

“You’re twisted,” says Harry. “I’ve chained you to the wall not because you’re a twat who tried to take my head off just now, but because I want to shag you, or something, is that right?”

Draco laughs in delighted shock. His stomach twists, and not with fear or hatred this time.

“You tell me,” he says goadingly. “I didn’t say anything about shagging.”

@dracoladon

Broke my own heart writing this unrequited Jegulus drabble based on Radiohead's Creep this morning, so the day's off to a great start! 🖤

My eyes are glued to you. Gryffindor’s golden boy, your reckless hair and persistent smirk. You never catch mine, always peacocking for someone else's attention. But it's mine you have.

Maybe if I was shinier, like my brother or Evans, you'd notice. If I controlled a broom like you did, or if Dumbledore hadn't already given up on me by the time I sorted along party lines at eleven.

I wish I was special.

You're so fucking special.

I knew taking the Mark was wrong, but I didn't fight my parents when they told me what was expected of me. I thought maybe you'd notice then, your sneer and derision better than nothing. But it wasn't enough to turn your head.

And now I'm in too deep. I don't belong here, among our peers. I don't belong with him either, though the way his dead eyes bore into me tell me he feels differently.

I have one final act, one way to go out in a blaze of glory. I'm not naive enough to think I'll survive. You all underestimate him. He's intoxicating. He'll control more of you than your side is willing to let on. You won't know until it's too late, until you're looking the knife in your back in the eye.

But maybe this weirdo can slow him down a notch. I'll do it for you. I'd do anything for you.

Protect Sirius for me. Save yourself, you reckless angel. Maybe someday you'll know what I've done.

I'll creep, this one last night in the shadows. I'll watch you hold court, feel your ignorance pierce my heart one last time.

I don't care if it hurts. I want to have control.