Harry Potter Oneshots (x Readers)

(Seamus x Fem!Sly!Reader) Porter

requested anonymously
y/n is in 6th year
all in your pov

Stressed. Very stressed.

We had mountains of homework every day, and my brother kept on drawing attention despite me not technically being part of anything. Let me explain.

There's the whole backstory and whatever, but I didn't end up in Gryffindor. I politely asked to be in Gryffindor, but apparently, it's just not meant to be. I became a very easy target— taunts about not being a "true Potter", people just being insecure as fuck and taking it out on other people, but obviously worst of all, the spells.

I always have to keep my guard up. With Malfoy and his goons in this house, I'm outnumbered. DADA and Charms easily became my best subjects.

Other than that, I'm generally not that popular at all. I have around three or five friends here. It's three or five because the other two might be more of acquaintances. Sure, the "Golden Trio" might count, but they're more my brother's friends than mine.

These three are Seamus, Dean, and Luna— the fourth and fifth being the Patil twins. My only friends are in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, so I only get to see them when I feel like getting out of my room which is not that often. My roommates— they really don't care. They're just kind of there. I like that; good for them.

Generally though, I'm lonely. I'm very very lonely. I don't fit in anywhere except the bed, I guess. I used to go with Harry to Ron's, but I'm a little bit of an extra. Hermione and I get along okay, and I actually do hang around with the twins; it just doesn't work as well.

It doesn't work like how it does with Seamus and Dean and Luna and why? Why is it like that? I would like to be with them, but I don't want to. I'm glad there are, at least, some people there.

"Oi I'm heading to Three Broomsticks; you in? Dean won't be coming though. He decided he wanted to do homework on a Saturday." Seamus said.

"Mm," I hummed nonchalantly, mouth full of food.

I was eating breakfast when he came by. He looked concerned and sat in front of me.

"Y/n?"

My eyes met his— his very blue eyes. I nodded in question. No energy. I had no energy. He moved from where he was and sat next to me.

"What's wrong?"

"Have you ever noticed that it's always 'What's wrong?' instead of 'What's right?' indicating that whenever someone seems different, we search for errors? Like okay, fine, it's a figure of speech, and it would be pretty fucked up to go up to someone crying and be like, 'Hey you, what's right?' It's just we do it to a fault, and I just think 'huh'. Ya follow?"

That was definitely a cry for help. He, being used to my mannerisms, knew that and hugged me.

"C'mon- Three Broomsticks, my treat."

Thank god for Seamus. I probably rely on him more than I do on Harry; it's just different if you catch my drift.

Harry— I've been with him my whole life for blindingly obvious reasons. He's family, and I should be able to trust him with everything given that we've more or less been through the same bullshit a million times and out of it by the power of painfully idiotic deus ex machinas. Seriously, why am I alive? I am a danger to myself and others and should, AT THE VERY LEAST, not be in the place I'm expected to be at??

I don't though. I know I can trust him with whatever, but if I know anything, he has his own things to worry about. I'd just be a bother.

But Seamus— he's another kind of magic. He knows when and how I need help, and my tongue's so loose around him. Unfortunately not in that way. I'd probably jump off a cliff if he asked me to, but it's not like the Dursleys ever taught me not to; hell, they'd probably be glad if I did. I'd be one less magic Potter they have to deal with.

Wow, I have issues, and so we went to the Three Broomsticks-

We took our usual orders, him getting butterbeer and for me, soda with ice. It was delightfully plain, something different to clash with the magical world that ended up becoming my home.

Seamus looked nice even in casual. He wore a horizontally striped shirt, thin turquoise lines on white that deepened his eyes and a regular pair of jeans. His sandy hair looked like an accent. He's handsome is what I mean. Us being close, I did tell him that.

"You look nice, yourself," he

"And you just might have a shot at this," I responded jokingly, gesturing to myself.

"I just said you look nice!" he laughed.

"Oh dear, my heart— it hurts. And here, I thought that you're the handsomest one here and the nicest to be around if I might add."

Red tinted my cheeks; I never really took it this far. I was glad the setting was so warm I'm sure it hid my blush.

"Fine then- you can be the handsomest one, and I'll just be the best one."

"You are," I smiled, and I was just so happy at that moment.

He smiled as well.

"Is this the part where we kiss?"

That caught me off guard, but I tried to reply smoothly with, "I hope so."

That was the part, and he did do it well. I mean of course, he did; it's him, and he kissed me.

"Can we do it again for good measure?"