For the first nineteen years of my life nothing happened. Nothing at all. Not ever. And then I met a man called The Doctor. A man who could change his face. And he took me away from home in his magical machine. He showed me the whole of time and space. I thought it would never end.
Rita Skeeter, “Dumbledore’s Army Reunites at Quidditch World Cup Final”
headcanon that Neville punched Harry right in the goddamn face for naming his son Albus Severus
how come i can keep a poker face on when reading aggressive frickling and frackling but i end up a gooey mess when there are cute nose boops and shy kisses and shit
I was reading a smutty fic on the bus and a boy leaned over and said “how can you read that with a straight face” and i just said “im used to it” and the look of horror on his face was hilarious
I. I just realized this.