WackyJaqui
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After the war Harry Potter's world falls apart. Then he is offered a chance to try and make a better future for himself and his friends. Of course things are never simple.
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When I write this, I shall be 17 going onto 18 in a few weeks. I should hope Rigel never finds this and that this parchment is burnt at my return. My name is Regulus Arcturus Black, Second Son of the house of Black’s main branch family. I’m bound in soul and loyalty to James Fleamont Potter as of August 12th 1978 witnessed by my best friends Bartemus Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier, Pandora Rosier and Dorcas Meadows, and by my elder Brother, Sirius Black, and James’ close friends Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnion.
I have birthed the heir of the Houses of both Potter and Black, named Rigel Perseus Potter.
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Harry recieves a letter from Gringotts that changes absolutely everything about everything he knew about everything. How will he fair against all he will know?
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East of the River, West of the Mill by turntoPaige394
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
16 Jul 2026
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Even though it filled him with dread, the girl who lived between the river and the mill - his best friend - wore soulmate words that he'd never seen and couldn't change. When her mysterious soulmate inevitably came calling, how was he ever going to let her go? [SEVERUS POV for THE BOY FROM THE EASTSIDE]
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After spending a night in the tent together, Harry and Hermione were faced with consequences they weren't prepared for. When Ron comes back, Harry tries to let Hermione go, but the strange, matching marks on their chests keep forcing them back together. As the secrets they keep build higher, it's only a matter of time before their house of cards comes crumbling down to crush them.
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He sees his perfect girl and knows he’s gone quite mad, for she’s still in the sleep clothes he saw her in just a few hours ago as she stepped out of the hallway loo. He could still smell her spearmint toothpaste and see her pinked cheeks from embarrassment from her lack of clothes. How was a thin tee shirt with a faded Bee Gees logo and the shortest shorts he’d ever seen on a person considered clothing? Why were his dreams becoming more lucid when he’s had one too many firewhiskeys?
After her squeal of surprise from his quiet pop of apparition and self body-dump on her bed, she asked, “What– What are you doing here, Professor?”
She covered her chest with the book she was reading, and her quiet, unsure tone made him hesitate as he reclined on the bed, facing her. This full-sized bed of hers in his dreams was quite luxurious and soft. Much like she was. He liked the closeness of it, too. He reached up to catch the curl that had escaped the messy bun atop her head. He watched as his fingers instinctively curled around it and he saw his dream Hermione shiver. His eyes caught hers. What was he supposed to be doing? Oh, yes. She asked a question; he was supposed to answer.