Novel & Cerita Female Harry Potter Fanfic

The day of the verdict, Simon—my fiancé—begged me to take the deal. "I know you're innocent, but Nancy's pregnant. I can't let her go to jail." Tears. Fake concern. "This is for your own good," he said, holding my hand. I signed it. In my last life, I refused—and paid for it with prison, torture, and infertility. This time? I played along. By morning, headlines screamed I'd stolen trade secrets. Nancy? Front and center. "Yeah, it was her. I saw her sneak into Johnston Group with my own eyes!" But when court opened that afternoon, Clark—yes, the plaintiff—stepped up and dropped the case. Then, in front of everyone, he pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee, and said, "Heidi Wynn, this time... will you marry me?"

Starla Xander was orphaned at a young age. With both her parents gone, it was her uncle, Xavier Lloyd, who rescued her from that hopeless home. For over a decade, he had cherished her, shielding her from the world, treating her like the most precious gem in his life. And so, inevitably, she fell in love with him. She truly believed he loved her too. She thought that one day, they would get married and build a future together. But when Starla finally confessed her feelings, Xavier reacted as if she had crossed an unforgivable line. “Starla, I’m your uncle. Get rid of those disgusting thoughts!” And that wasn’t even the cruelest part. He chose the most brutal way to reject her. On the twelfth anniversary of the day they met, he stood before her with a beautiful woman by his side. He met Starla’s eyes and said, “Meet her. She’s your future aunt-in-law.” As she watched them standing together—so effortlessly close—something inside her shattered. She let out a soft, bitter laugh. “I understand now.” Without another word, she turned away, pulled out her phone, and called her research mentor. “Professor Zimmer, I’ve made my decision. I agree to the cryogenic preservation procedure.”

It was six years since I started dating Duke when I asked, "Shouldn't we prepare for the marking ceremony? It's almost July." Duke stiffened, lowering his eyes to avert his gaze. "You know I'm the Alpha of the Forest Pack, Fiona. And things have been busy with the pack, so I really don't have the time to think about it." "Okay." I smiled faintly—he really had forgotten about the promise. While I had been preparing for the ceremony for days, I had also anticipated disappointment. If he could forget about something so important, that only meant I didn't mean much in his heart. In that case, I should just leave.

I was five months pregnant when my husband, James Fletcher, allowed his mistress to invade our lives—on the very night of our wedding anniversary. But she didn’t just come to flaunt her presence. She came to take my life. Pregnant and vulnerable, I confronted her, desperately clinging to my dignity. But the fight ended with me tumbling down the staircase, my swollen belly crashing against the cold, hard ground. Blood seeped across the floor, vivid and unrelenting. James only arrived after hearing about his precious mistress’ ordeal. He stood there, staring at the pool of blood, at my broken body. But instead of helping me, he rushed to her side. She had nothing but a few superficial scratches, yet he swept her off to the hospital like she was the one dying. By the time he returned, my child was gone. The doctors barely managed to save me. And what did James do? He struck me in front of everyone, his words sharper than the sting of his hand. "Lisa only wanted to bring you a Christmas gift, and you attacked her out of nowhere! You shameless witch!" “She didn’t force her way in! What nonsense! I gave her the house key ages ago. You just can’t stand that she’s prettier and kinder than you!" “You didn’t just hurt her. You killed my child! You vile, despicable woman. Why couldn’t it have been you instead?” Lisa stood beside him, pretending to comfort him while flashing me a smug, victorious smirk. James’s vicious tirade didn’t stop there. He dragged my name onto the internet, painting me as a monster.

For five years, my fated mate, Alpha Kaelen and I have had 98 marking ceremonies. And every single time, his teeth would stop right at my neck. All because the Omega he claimed was "like a sister" to him always managed to faint at just the "right" moment. At the 99th ceremony, that Omega got "hurt" again. "I swear I'll complete the marking next time," Kaelen said, scooping up the other she-wolf without a backward glance. I burned the Luna gown I'd worn 99 times and changed back into my royal princess dress from the Moonshadow Realm. Then severed my mate bond and walked away without a second glance. It wasn't until searing pain hit Kaelen, and he crying for me to come back, that the Shaman coldly told him: "She is a true princess! And you were never worthy of her."

I took a drugged drink for Moretti, the Don I had loved for seven years. He helped Bella, my frightened sister, to her feet first. "Bella is fragile. I'll get her to the car." "Iris, wait here. I'll come back for you soon." My stomach burned like fire, but my fingers were turning cold. I stood there frozen for a long moment before a bitter laugh slipped out. It was the ninety-ninth time he had chosen Bella. In college, I once waited for him in the library with a fever, expecting him to take me home. Then Bella called and said her panic attack was back, so he told me to wait. Years later, I entered the Valtieri family and became his underboss. I balanced his books, negotiated his deals, took bullets for him. He still believed I would always wait. I bit my tongue and forced myself to stay clear-headed while I handled another round of probing from the rival family. At one in the morning, Moretti still had not come back. Bella's post appeared first. In the photo, Moretti was making her a late-night meal. That was when I understood. This time, too, he would not come back for me. And I no longer wanted to wait. I opened my phone and bought a ticket to Sicily three days later. Moretti, goodbye.

My physics teacher held up my test paper with an 18-point score in front of all the students and parents and said, “Students like this are hopeless. I don’t even know how someone like this passed the high school entrance exam. “I didn’t think there was a way to cheat on the high school entrance exam, but it turns out there is. It gives people like this a chance to cheat.” He did not just insult my intelligence but also questioned my character and family. “Well, it’s not surprising. Only a junk-collecting family could raise a kid like this.” I curled up in my seat, too scared to say anything. But my stepmom could not stand it anymore. She smacked the chalk box off his desk, pointed at him, and yelled, “Who do you think you’re talking about?! “I send my kid to school and pay all the tuition and book fees! How did it turn into us being a junk-collecting family?! “You can’t even teach properly, and I haven’t called you out for it! Have you no shame?! You don’t deserve to be called a teacher! You’re just a piece of trash!” For some reason, she suddenly seemed imposing and heroic to me.

Belle York, my wife, was pregnant, but on our way back from getting the diagnosis, she said, “I have something to tell you. The baby is Harry’s. I also got a notice saying that my health won’t let me have another baby after this one.” When she saw my smile freeze, she took out a paternity test. Harry Grant, my brother-in-law, was indeed listed as the father. Her voice was eerily calm. “On the day you fell asleep at the back of the jeep with fever, we did it in the passenger seat, right where I’m sitting.” In an instant, I felt like I had fallen into the abyss. I opened my mouth, but it was like something was blocking my throat. As she spoke, Belle cast her eyes on her swollen belly, and every word she spoke next was like needles stabbing into my heart. “If you can’t accept the baby, I’ll abort it, but my uterus will still be badly damaged, and I won’t get pregnant again. I’ve told you the truth now. You decide on whether I get to give birth or not.”

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

The first time I lived, my sister and I found two dragon eggs. The black one pulsed with raw, untamed power. My sister, Isabella, claimed it without a second thought. The white one was left for me. A cracked, forgotten thing. It held only a whisper of magic. I took it out of pity. Within a year, the black dragon shattered his shell and emerged a man so beautiful it was a curse. He became Isabella's devoted weapon, his power forging her path to godhood. Meanwhile, the white egg fed on me. I poured everything I had into my white egg. My magic, my money, my soul. For ten long years, it gave me nothing. Everyone said to abandon it. But I couldn’t. I was an orphan, ignored by my sister. I just wanted a companion. But as the dark plague swept the lands, the egg I'd nurtured for a decade hatched overnight—while I was dying, he soared past me to save Isabella. He could have hatched years ago. Could have been human all along. But he chose Isabella. He mistook her for his savior. Then I was back to the day it all began. This time, Isabella lunged for the white egg first, afraid I'd take it. I slung my worn satchel of herbs over my shoulder. Turned my back on them both. "You can have them both," I said calmly. "I choose myself." This life, I swore I would have nothing to do with Adrian. But now, he's the one filled with regret, willing to give his own life just to have me look at him one more time.