Harry Potter Oneshots + More

Complex- H.P

(In which y/n, a Slytherin half-blood, realises how much shit she puts up with because she's with Harry, and finally goes to talk to him about it)

(Kind of angst, fluff if you squint)

"But I'm wearin' his boxers, I'm bein' a good wife
We won't be together, but maybe the next life
I need him like water, he lives on a landslide
I cry in his bathroom, he turns off the big light
I'm bein' a cool girl, I'm keepin' it so tight
I carry him home while my friends have a good night
I need him like water, he thinks that I'm alright
I'm not feelin' human, I think he's a good guy

But it's complex."
   -Complex, Katie Gregson-Macleod

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It wasn't easy, being in love with the boy who lived.

With him being the most famous prison in the wizarding world, you often found your name in many a scandalous article, and were sometimes followed by the press in public—especially by the likes of the invasive Rita Skeeter.

The attention, however, was something you could handle. What you couldn't was the amount of times you cried because he'd nearly died again, the amount of times he'd blown off plans in order to help "save the world," his friends' wariness towards you for being in Slytherins and your father's hatred for him.

Your mother was fine with the relationship—she was a muggle, and as long as you were happy, she was happy. However, your father, a pureblood with just enough toleration for muggles to hook up with one (and then feel the need to marry her upon discovering she was pregnant) despised Harry. He told you he was a selfish, idiotic bastard, called him scum from the bottom of his shoe, and had attempted to break up with him for you multiple times. Each time you'd interfered, begged him to stop, told him how much you loved and needed Harry. 

The night it all came to a point, Harry had been out late, too late, when he'd promised he'd come to your dorm right after dinner to study. That morning, your father had sent yet another particularly scalding letter of disapproval. You sat on your bed in his boxers and one of his only nice shirts (not 6 years old or overly washed due to having blood stains), reading some book as you tried not to think about it and waited patiently.

Two hours after the was supposed to come over, your roommate, Pansy, flung open the door. Her face was pale as a ghost as the words tumbled out of her mouth.

"Dumbledore is dead!"

You basically jumped out of bed. "What?"

When the two of your ran outside, you found just about every single person in school crowded in the courtyard with their wands raised in the air.

Still no sign of Harry.

In all your confusion, you accidentally ran into Blaise's back as he stood with the rest of the people in your friend group.

"Mmf! Shit, sorry—Blaise?" You asked.

He turned around, not immediately recognizing the voice of the person who'd run into him. "Y/n? Pans? Did you hear what happened?"

"Yeah, I did. I just ran up to tell y/n." Pansy responded for you both.

"Can't believe he's just...gone like that." Lorenzo furrowed his brows.

"It's about time if you ask me," Matteo snorted. "The bloke was a million years old and an idiot."

The rest of the group nodded in silent agreement, but you were too busy still searching for Harry even as the crowd dispersed. He above all people would be at a gathering like that.