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yrluvjane · 1 year

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| 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 |

Chapter One: The Night it Bled

Warning: Angst, self-hate.

Summary: 8 years after the haunting incident of Lord and Lady Potter on 31st of October 1981, Harry and Jean finally visit their parents, However, Harry's feelings towards the trip are concerning .

Harry and Jean were met with the familiar smell of soaps and cleaners and the triggering scents of — well hospitals; which, ironically, made them feel sick as they walked into St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

They were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests.

The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises... Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards. Jean noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

They followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds.

More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing.

The fourth floor housed the Janus Thickey Ward, which was for the treatment of spell damage. It addressed unliftable jinxes, hexes, curses, incorrectly-applied charms,

"This is our long-term residents' ward. For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement." The nurse introduces. "We usually keep the doors to the door locked to stop patients from wandering about."

"We do, however, allow patients to surround themselves with their personal possessions to make them feel more at home and, in many cases, to help remember who they were." She says, and Harry doubts that anyone other than Remus is listening to her.

His uncle Sirius is busy trying to cheer his sister up with jokes that he doubted was appropriate at a hospital and evidence of that is when a passing nurse gaped at Sirius and immediately rushed to tell another nurse.

Though Harry did appreciate Sirius trying to put a smile on Jean's face, and he was sure she too was grateful. "Mr. Potter, Miss Potter..." The healer calls and faces the siblings with an unsure look, wandering her eyes to the two adults with them before crouching to their level.

Jean crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the Healer.

"This is the first time visiting your parents, no?" The latter asked. Both the ten year old and eight year old nodded. "Your parents were hit with a rather strong charm... when they came here, they were very hurt, and they were missing -"

"We know what happened to them." Jean says with a harsh edge to her tone. "Jean! Don't be rude." Harry stated, looking at his younger sister in disbelief. "Thank you, Mr. Potter, but it's fine. We expect this from everyone. I just want to warn you that they may not recognise you and to ask you not to mention anything related to the events of that night or your relationship with them." The healer asked, and Harry stared confusingly at his uncle Remus, then faced the healer.

"Why not?" Harry asked, sharing a worried look with his sister. Jean finally let her arms down. "Lord and Lady Potter seem to experience an unexplainable surge of pain whenever one brings up that fateful night, and sometimes these surges lead to excruciating mental pain or seizures."

"Why?" It's Jean that asks, her voice is soft and barely audiable with sadness, and Harry can see her chest rise and fall rapidly as she tries to prevent herself from crying. Sirius puts a hand on her shoulder and leans down to whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was must have worked cause the next thing she did was playfully push Sirius and send him a narrowed look.

Harry doesn't appreciate the pity he sees the mediwitch gives them, but he understands where it's coming from. After a rather long and partially unnecessary pep-talk from Remus and Sirius, Harry pulls his sister aside and takes her in a hug. The younger girl stares at him sadly before poking his face, "You're too emotional, y'know that right."

"Pads says I get it from dad. And you're too quiet. It's okay to hurt every once in a while." Jean only raises her brows, Harry grins they had only been arguing the other week on how he could lift one brow at time and she couldn't.

"Remus says I'm like mum, I'm taking that as a compliment." She says as she pushes his glasses back up his nose and smiles. Harry looks over her shoulder where the mediwitch is talking to their uncles in hushed tones and wary glances. Remus looks up and catches Harry eyes, he sends the raven-haired boy an encouraging smile.

"If you don't want to go in, we can come back some other time." Harry states, scratching mercilessly at his palm, his sweating in his clothes even if though the room they're in is spelled with cooling charms. "I can handle it, I'm not a baby, Harry!" She hisses at him. "I'm not! I– I'm not–" Harry can feel tear stinging in his eyes as he looks at the small creak between the ward's doors.

Behind those are his parents, his parents. Harry doesn't know what’s worse, this or not having parents at all. At some point in his life he forgot he even had those. It doesn't feel like he has parents. Remus and Sirius are his uncle's but Lord and Lady Potter were like fictional characters to him, they were heroes in the eyes in the wizarding world and for some reason everyone need to make it sound as though they were dead. And he has to wait, wait for that wave of emotion to hit when he realises they may not be buried in a coffin but they don't exist anymore, they don't even exist to each other.

He has to go in, he decides, next year he leaves for Hogwarts and he can't have—He can't have not met his parents! And he knows Jean wants to see them, she's stuck on it too. He doesn't blame her but Harry doesn't want go, he—

It's my fault Harry wants to say. The Dark Lord wanted him. Why did his parents and Jean need to suffer. He'd rather die than let his sister go through this. "I'm scared, Jean." He blurts quietly, and it's clear on his face and in his voice. Harry feels as though his under veritaserum. It comes out of him like a secret, and he feels a bit relieved when he says it. Jean's demenor immediately changes.

Despite Harry being the older one, his sister has always been the mature one. There it is, pity and sadness in her eyes, and Harry wants to hit himself against the wall. He can't handle it, not from her.

"Harry, why didn't you say anything?" She asks, pulling him closer and further to the side. She looks at him as though he's a wounded bird as though she might break him if she looks hard enough. "Because I'm not supposed to be scared!" But he is, he's scared they'll blame him. He knows it he's fault he sees every time Remus or Sirius or Jean look at a picture at mum or dad. But to hear it from them, the thought enough makes him feel sick.

He realises he's been for too quiet and Jean turns around towards their uncle's, no doubt about to ask them to leave. Harry manages to get there before her and declares they're ready.

He ignores the look of shock and disbelief from his sister and pulls his hand back when she tries to reach for him. The mediwitch puts an unnecessary hand on their back and whispers in their ear where they are. But Harry doesn't need her, he's already spotted his mum and dad the moment his stepped in.

They're far enough to not notice them but close enough for Harry to make out their faces. His dad is leaning back on a chair, his feet over the table, playing with a Snitch. His mum on the other hand is writing by the looks of it. While his father gives of an air of friendliness and companionship; his mother gives on of solitude, he head is hunched in her book and when Harry concentrates he can see her furrow her brows every once in a while.

He wants to see her and apologise and cry and be held and he wants her to hug him and tell him it's going to be alright. "I'll see dad." He mutters shamefully. It's truly a shameful Jean deserves to choose who to see first after all she was the one who was a baby and missed the chance to make memories with them then but Harry won't dare look at his mum.

He can't act as though he didn't sit there like an idiot that night and watched his mum and dad march to death just to save his useless existence. Jean is pulled by Remus for a hug, his whispering something while kissing her head, and Harry sees Jean nod. "How do you feel? Okay? Sad? Nauseous? We can get you something to eat. There should be a–"

"I'm fine, Pads." Harry whispers tiredly. He's so tired. He can't even bother to raise his glasses back up. He doesn't need to because Sirius does it for him. Harry smiles. It's mostly forced, but Harry can feel a genuiness somewhere. Contrary to popular belief, Sirius is the mum between him and Remus. Sirius kisses him on the head and ruffles his hair before playfully pushing towards his dad.

By the corner of his eyes, he can see Jean narrow her eyes at him with pursed lips and concerned brows. Now that he is getting closer to his dad, enough to make out the lightning shaped scar on his wrist, Harry gasps in a sharp breath before pushing himself forward.

"Hey!" Harry says awkwardly and is now aware of the itchiness of his hair. His dad, James Potter, turns toward him with a grin and suspicious eyes. He pushes his feet of the table and pockets the snitch. "Can I help you kid?" His dad asks.

Harry notes the dark curls they share, the glasses, the facial structure and it's almost like seeing an older version of himself. Everyone always tells him he has his father's look and grandmother eyes. It's Jean who is a complete copy of mum. Harry chokes on air and faces his dad with a worried expression.

"I'm...ahm...I'm Harry, Uncle Sirius' Godson?"

His dad's confused face almost instantly perks up, "Really? He talks a lot about you, y'know. His proud of you!"

"Oh uhm yeah, I guess...He's visiting someone and said I could come and hang out with you." Harry awkwardly lies. He begins to scratch the pad of his thumb in hopes to stop the bubbling sadness in his throat.

"You okay? You seem quite nervous? I promise I don't bite." His dad jokes and Harry misses the flick of an odd expression that sparks in his face. "Harry," James notes with a confused nod and said boy whips his head up in shock. "Yeah?" He asks unsurely.

"That's a really nice name." James says biting his lip and smiling, showing off his dimples. "So, Sirius tells me you're really good at Quidditch, a seeker right?"

"Yeah, my dad used to play." Harry replies with a small smile. Uncomfortable tears begin to burn his eyes and Harry needs to silently scratch at his thighs to prevent them from falling. "Is that why you play? Cause your dad used to?"

"I guess doing the things he used to do makes me feel as though he's doing it with me? It's crazy and weird. Whatever but I just...uhm...I just really make him proud." Harry admits, staring right back at his dad. The older man stares back it him with a soft smile and leans over to ruffle his hair. "You're a good kid, Harry. You're dad should be proud...I know I would."

"Really?" Harry asks and the tears that he's been trying to bury finally surface as James' scared face begins to blur. "No no no, don't cry. Please, don't cry." James' voice comes as Harry hangs his head down, tears falling freely. He feels his dad's hand over his shoulder and on his back; trying to calm him down.

"It's okay buddy. If it makes you feel any better my parents dead too." However, James realized that does not appropriate to say cause Harry let out a louder sob. "I'm sorry! I'm really sorry. I didn't mean too! I didn't know." Harry defends to his dad. He knows he won't understand what his saying or why he's saying it but Harry doesn't care. He wants to apologize, he wants his parents forgiveness, he needs it. He needs this pain, this guilt, to go away.

Harry's vision blurs as James takes of his glasses and wipes his tears with the sleeve of the red sweater his wearing. "Why don't talk about something else?...Remus says you have a younger sister! Why don't we talk about her?" James muses, hoping it will stop the little boy from crying.

Harry hiccups and almost laughs as his dad trips to get him water. "Here!"

Chapter Three: The Calm Before the Storm

Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog

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anne-chloe · 9 months

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Darling Girl

Draco Malfoy x F! Reader [With slight x Harry Potter]

Summary : [Name] Darling is the youngest daughter of Aurora and Maximus Darling - two powerful witches and wizards who aided in the downfall of The Dark Lord himself.

When [Name] turns 11, she finally gets the chance to attend Hogwarts. During her 7 years of studying and learning to become the greatest Witch possible, [Name] must overcome a series of challenges, dangerous situations and the possibility of loving the enemy.

{This story has intense slow-burn. There is basically zero love for Draco in the beginning. Some sparks of feelings half way through. And basically full blown romance at the end. There may be drabbles of some Harry x Reader, but for plot purposes.}

01 | Darling

Year One

Stepping onto the London train platform, you listened cautiously to the bustling noise. New and returning students congregated around The Hogwarts Express steam train, sharing goodbyes with their families before hustling their trunks onto the loading train.

Your palms sweated as you gripped the trolley handle with complete nerves. Your heart thumped wildly. This was it, you thought with darting eyes, taking in your surroundings, my witchcraft journey starts today.

Behind you trailed your adoring parents, both of them sharing loving whispers and laughs, unaware of their nervous child in front of them. They spoke of their fond memories at Hogwarts only a decade earlier. While they spoke, they were also oblivious to the excited whispers of the wizard community surrounding them.

"Mummy," you finally said, coming to a halt as you neared the loading bay of the train. You spun around to face your parents, hair billowing over your shoulders in a graceful manner. Your bottom lip wobbled, fear striking your chest and making it almost difficult for you to breathe.

You would be embarking on this journey alone. Without the constant support of your parents. They would be so far away, on the other side of the country. How would you possibly cope?

"Mummy," you repeated, voice trembling, "I don't know if I can do this."

Aurora paused her conversation and shared a worried stare with Maximus. Aurora moved forwards and crouched down, taking your hands into her own and rubbing her thumb in soothing circles on the backs of your hand. You relaxed at the loving touch, trying to focus your mind on the comfort.

"My darling daughter," Aurora cooed, "nobody ever achieved anything without feeling a little fear. Have faith in yourself. Explore this new chapter of freedom and growth." Her hand released yours and reached ho to touch your cheek; you melted into the caress, tears glossing over your eyes. "Write to me about your adventures, about the memories you shall make and the friendships you will form."

You straightened your back, puffing out your chest in an attempt to embody some bravery. You felt a little more eased than a few minutes prior, but your knees still felt like jelly.

Maximus crouched next to Aurora, a bright smile stretched across his face. You were in awe at how beautiful your parents looked together. "Do not fear, little darling, we might not be with you at Hogwarts, but we are always at the other end of paper and quill."

Your mother leaned forwards and placed a gentle kiss upon your forehead. "Be extraordinary," Aurora whispered, her eyes full of love and adoration.

The final whistle sounded from the conductor. Aurora and Maximus shared an excited smile before they stood to their true heights. You bid your parents one final farewell, a restored excitement and confidence urging you to board the train alongside your fellow peers.

You rushed to the nearest window and immediately peered out in search for your parents. They stood where you had left them, fully in view and crowded by many other families. They caught your stare and waved, your mother blowing kisses and your father shooting a supportive thumbs up.

And as the train began departing from the station, you found your anxiety returning. This entire journey would be new and unfamiliar. You would experience new things by yourself, and you were trying to remain positive for the uncertain future.

It was roughly ten minutes later before you finally detached from the safety of the window. The other students had settled down into cosy cabins or train carts full of tables. Everyone had found a place, meanwhile you were struggling to discover somewhere to sit. You didn't recognise anybody; anyone who briefly glanced your way didn't offer much of a friendly smile.

Then, just as you were losing hope, you came upon a slightly empty cabin. Inside sat a lone blond boy, his attention diverted outside the passing scenery through the window. He glanced up as you opened the door, his blank canvas of an expression painting into surprise. He caught his composure, a small smile lifting his mouth upwards.

"Hello," you greeted nervously, stepping into the cabin with fleeing eyes. "My name is [Name]. [Name] Darling. May I sit in here with you? Everywhere else is particularly full."

The boy gestured to the empty seat opposite him. Relieved, you sat down. Your hands fell immediately into your lap, fingers twisting nervously around.

"Draco Malloy. Your surname is familiar, have we met before?" Draco inquired with a raised brow.

You thought for a moment, scouring your memories for any recollection of ever meeting Draco before. But you couldn't think of ever seeing him, or hearing of his name. Despite this, Malloy seemed familiar, so you assumed that perhaps he was part of an upper class wizarding family.

You shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't think so. But your surname also sounds familiar, perhaps our parents are friends?" You suggested.

"Who are your parents?"

"Aurora and Maximus Darling."

At this, Draco seemed to brighten. "We should be friends," he immediately suggested, his eagerness catching you off guard. You knew your parents names would have a large influence on your social life given their status as legendary wizards, mostly due to their incredible input during The Dark Lords reign of fear. Draco stuck out his hand, and while got eyed it suspiciously for a moment, you shook his hand firmly.

"Friends," you repeated softly, enjoying how the word sounded. "Yes, I think we should be rather good friends."

As the train ride continued, you spoke with Draco about many things. Two more individuals of your age entered the cabin, joining in to the conversation. Crabbe and Goyle, as they introduced themselves, and you found them rather interesting as they sucked up to Draco. It became quickly clear that Draco knew them from before joining Hogwarts, and it was also clear that Draco was the 'leader' of their little group.

"I'm going to be in Slytherin," Draco announced into the conversation. You had been discussing almost everything you knew about Hogwarts. "Everybody in my family has been a Slytherin, so I have no doubts that I will too."

Draco then turned to you, his brow raised expectantly. "And what about you, what house do you think you'll be sorted in to?"

You shuffled in your seat. You hadn't given the sorting ceremony much thought. Your mother was a Ravenclaw while your father was a Gryffindor. Their love story was incredibly comical - your father was head over heels in love with your mother, and he chased her down with his love until she eventually caved in. Having said that, your older sister was a Slytherin, too.

"I'd be happy with any house," you finally said, much to the disdain of Draco.

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes at your answer. "We all know Slytherin is the superior house to be sorted in to!" He smirked, then added: "but I suppose I'd even prefer Gryffindor to being sorted as a Hufflepuff."

You hummed. "What's wrong with being a Hufflepuff?"

"They're utter wimps," Draco sneered without missing a beat. "None of them have a single backbone in their body. They'd all rather run away and hide. Useless."

You fell quiet after that. You were quick to realise that Draco harboured strong opinions that he valued close to his heart. Your sister had warned you that many Hogwarts students had their opinions heavily influenced by their parents, and it seemed as though you'd witnessed one first hand.

But it also made you think about your own opinions and values - were they influenced by your parents? It surely couldn't be a complete bad thing to value your parents thoughts, because didn't they know better? They had experienced events that you hadn't, which shaped their thoughts around serious matters in the world. Your parents weren't particularly bothered about which house any of their children belonged to, and they supported the outcome regardless. They were overjoyed that Bonnie was sorted into Slytherin, expressing emphasis that anyone can achieve anything with the resources and support they are given.

Night had fallen when the train arrived at Hogsmede Station. You clambered off alongside everybody else, watching with anxious eyes as the taller students walked freely down the path that would lead them to Hogwarts. You had already started to follow them before hearing a booming voice shout: "First Years this way!", to which you changed course and followed like a lost sheep.

A giant man stood incredibly taller than you and the other students. Even compared to the older students, he would still tower above them. You admired him with a mixture of awe and fear, but you tried your hardest to not show it, instead whispering "be brave" under your breath to still your unease. Eventually, once the station had cleared out of all students, the giant man lead the awaiting first years down a rocky path, where he encouraged everyone to board the boats that were docked on a river bed.

You sat inside one of the boats alongside Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. They chatted amongst themselves while you kept your eyes glued to the castle that loomed in the closing distance, it's shadow cast large from the moon rising behind it.

Soon, you arrived at the school. Again, you blindly followed the giant towards the front of the school, where an older woman stood patiently waiting. Her eyes scanned the crowd of students carefully, as if searching for a particular face. Whether she spotted them or not, you couldn't say, because she then started to speak:

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she greeted. "I am Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House..."

You eyed the witch closely. She wore robes of a stunning dark green with a pointed hat that sat proudly on her head. Her hands were folded in front of her as she spoke firmly and clearly to the group of new students.

"Now," she cleared her throat, "if you'll follow me."

The flock of students walked closely behind Professor McGonagall, most desperate to keep up with her sharp pace. Her robes billowed behind her as she gestured to many hallways and rooms that the group passed through or by, explaining what they were and what they were for. The information shot straight over your head as you scanned the intimidating halls, watching as paintings and knight statues waved, nodded and gave subtle greetings.

Standing outside large double doors, the students watched Professor McGonagall curiously as she turned to face the students once more. "Once inside we will conduct the sorting ceremony to discover which house you will belong to: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Your name will be called out and you will be encouraged to the front of the Hall."

While Professor McGonagall spoke, you realised Draco was suddenly speaking to another boy. His hair messy, glasses slightly too large for his face. You zoned in to their conversation curiously.

"Draco Malfoy. You'd be wise to make friends with the right sort," Draco said with his hand jutted out for the unsuspecting boy to take. "Unlike a Weasley , who would only damage your reputation."

You felt bad for the boy.

"No thanks, I think I can tell the right sorts for myself."

At this, Draco's smile morphed into a deep scowl. Before he could snap back a nasty response, Professor McGonagall clapped her hands to regain the wandering attention of the students, just in time for the doors to swing open. She gestured for the young group to follow.

You felt all eyes fall to the group. Professor Dumbledore stood at the very front of the school, looming over the podium with a sincere smile upon his face.

While walking down the centre of the hall, you discreetly tried to search for Bonnie. You found the Slytherin table with ease; the serpent insignia hanging proudly above the long table with its silver and green colours. However, names were already being summoned to the front of the hall, where students were started to be sorted, giving you less time to search for your awol sister.

"[Name] Darling."

Your attention snapped to the front. A few murmurs and whispers flew about the hall as you found yourself automatically shuffling out of the crowd of students. You blinked owlishly at the hat sitting upon the stool, it's creases morphing into some sort of grin as you came closer.

You swallowed nervously. This is it, you thought as the hat was lifted and you perched yourself onto the stool. You stared straight ahead, finding Draco's eyes staring straight back at you from the crowd. The hat settled upon your head, and you tried not to squirm under its weight.

"Ah," it spoke, it's voice sounding loud in your ears. You fought back a shiver. "Another Darling!"

You couldn't help but wonder what your sisters thoughts were at this very moment. Would she be bothered if you were sorted in to Slytherin or not? Would she care? You couldn't imagine she would seek you out after she abruptly left home midway through the summer holidays.

You desired her support for you, yet with the way she left on such a sour note, you felt as though you would have to be brave for yourself.

Be brave, you chanted, fighting back the urge to cry, be brave.

"Be brave," the sorting hat repeated, basically mocking you as you let out an audible gasp. Was it somehow reading your thoughts? You were in awe at the type of magic. "Youngest daughter of Aurora and Maximus Darling; a brilliant Ravenclaw and a daring Gryffindor... your heritage is certainly one to live up to! You're brimming with ambition, knowing what you want, but you're uncertain of how to get it. Perhaps... Hufflepuff would suit your needs? But, no, you don't entirely play fairly, which you must have inherited from your sister..."

Where was Bonnie? You searched almost desperately for her kind eyes, but found yourself only gazing in to the unreadable stares of the awaiting students, who all listened with a certain intensity to the sorting hat as it spoke of your qualities and what you lacked.

You wished your parents were here to support you. You didn't recognise any of these students. You felt almost like prey to a predator. You felt lost and alone. You needed to be brave, to have confidence in yourself - you'd already made a friend, Draco, and despite him slowly showing his truer colours as the train ride went on, you valued your friendship for him regardless.

"Interesting... very interesting indeed..."

You squirmed upon hearing the hat chuckle to your thoughts.

"Bravery. Yes, indeed you value bravery. Which is why you must be..."

"Gryffindor!"

#harry potter #Harry Potter and the philosopher’s stone #Draco Malfoy x reader #female reader #own characters #fan fiction #angst #magic #fantasy #Harry Potter x reader #pure blood wizards #muggle born wizards #slowburn #book 1 to book 7 #very long story #fluff #enemies to lovers

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padfootastic · 2 years

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in a turn of events that doesn’t surprise anyone im sure, @impishtubist has caused yet another scene to be stuck in my head until i wrote it down. so, have some sexy, greying sirius; a deeply thirsty, appreciative james who won’t let him dye it; and a very-fed-up-of-his-parents-antics harry for prongsfoot wednesday!

Harry entered the house with ‘I’m home!’ on his lips that died an instant death as soon as he registered what he was seeing.

“Er,” he hesitated. Does he really want to—? One more look at the scene in front of him and he decided to bite the bullet. Better to clear the air now than keep stewing on it later.

“Um. Is this a—kink? A fetish? Should I leave and never come back?”

In any other scenario, the way both his parents froze and looked at him with wide eyes would’ve been comical.

If only Dad wasn’t straddling his Papa on the ground, one of his hands holding both of Papa’s above him with disturbing ease.

“Er—“

“It’s not what it looks like, Haz!” Dad yelped, cutting across Papa who’s face and neck were turning a steady pink. “I swear.”

“Then why are you still—like that?” Harry asked, deciding to play it safe and look at the boring grey couch in the living room instead. Nothing scandalous going on there.

He could hear the scrambling of feet, a few thumps, and a mini-yelp, absently wondering about the amount of noise the simple act of getting up could produce.

“Right.” Dad cleared his throat. “So, Harry, would you please tell your Papa that he is, under no circumstances, allowed to dye his hair?”

Harry blinks, turning to his other, exasperated, father in silent question.

“Harry, will you please tell your Dad that this is my hair and I can do with it as I please?”

“Not when you promised yourself to me!” Dad yelps and Harry is hit with an intense wave of regret at instigating this.

“Promised—?”

“Yes! Our wedding, you said, and I quote, ‘I give myself to you, James Potter, mind, body and soul’, don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Of course I didn’t forget,” Papa throws his hands up in the air. “But c’mon James—this is not what I meant when I said body!”

“What, you think I only wanted you for that ars—“

“Dad!” Harry, yelps, mortified. He can feel his cheeks heating in a violent blush. He can feel a similar flush creeping up Papa’s neck. Sadly, his words don’t have the deterring effect he’d intended.

“I mean, it is spectacular, don’t get me wrong, but you’re more than just a beautiful body, Si!”

“James, please, have some mercy for our child, if not me,” Papa says. Thankfully, this seems to register as Dad’s eye widened, part horror and part apology. Harry waves it away tiredly; though he’s no less embarrassed every time it happens, growing up in the Potter household with two extremely affectionate parents has exposed him to much worse. He’s accepted it as his lot in life.

“Er—yeah, anyway,” he coughs, ruffling his hair, “Bottom line—Sirius isn’t allowed to dye his hair.”

“I literally never agreed to that.”

“Too bad because you will,” Dad says, slowly moving towards Papa with a look on his face that Harry is loath to describe as predatory. If only it wasn’t so true.

“Oh?” Papa’s left eyebrow rises extraordinarily high, as it tends to do quite often. He crosses his arms over his chest in challenge. The motion makes his Dad smile.

“Mhm.” The two of them are chest-to-chest by this point, staring into each other’s eyes. Harry could probably conduct a whole rave party right here, right then, and they wouldn’t even notice. That is when he decides it’s high time he should step in—not literally, Merlin, no—before they end up doing something that makes him try to run away (again).

“So I was right—it is a kink,” Harry says dryly, once again regretting starting this entire conversation in the first place. He should’ve just turned back around and gone to the Weasleys instead.

“Harry, no—“

Three years later, Harry—who’s almost blissfully forgotten about the entire incident—walks into his parents’ house to an almost identical scene, just with his Papa on top this time. This time, he makes the sensible choice he still regrets not making all those years ago, and walks right back out the door.

Let those two sort it out on their own. Merlin knows his intervention hadn’t helped a bit the last time around.

#sirius black #james potter #prongsfoot wednesday #bambibelle #prongsfoot #harry potter #not one person far has the ability to make me write on command like miss imp #it’s absolutely ridiculous (i love every second of it)#which reminds me #my sentient black tapestry fic is still in the drafts 😭😭😭#(yes there is a reference to harry running away from home bc he saw his parents kiss each other—and more—one too many times)#i just think the idea is exceedingly funny hehehe #little harry packing a backpack and running away to the weasleys #or hell. teen harry walking in & out of the house and not being found for the next day and a half bc he saw them snogging #also just want it to be known that i was giggling so much while writing amorous j/s and traumatised harry #bc it’s all jokes anyway. harry lowkey adores how in love his dads are. wants the same for himself #boys got HIGH standards #as he should #bc his parents aren’t gonna allow anyone but the best for their son #also SPOILER ALERT: sirius obviously loses. james employs some *creative persuasion* a box of dye never entered their house after that #pen’s writing #tumblr works

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 6 months

Text

The Dating Game [Part One]

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauders Era]

Pairing: Sirius Black x Original Female Character, James Potter x Original Female Character, James Potter x Lily Evans

Characters: James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Dorcas Meadow, Original Female Character, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Sabrina Lovegood

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3991

Summary: James and Sabrina decide to play the dating game.

Tags/Warnings: Fake Dating, Fake Couple, Kissing, Jealousy, Quidditch, Arguing, Angst, Fluff, MASTERLISTS // TAG LIST Notes: Sabrina face claim Sabrina Carpenter <3

PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE

Sabrina was trying to focus on her charms essay, it was due in less than an hour but she’d fallen asleep in the common room last night and failed to finish which left forced to do it over breakfast, one hand furiously working her quill whilst the other helped her nibble on a piece of perfectly browned toast. The only problem was the noise. After months of being stuck inside the castle the sun had finally started shining which had revved up the excitement amongst the students who had arrived down at breakfast to find glorious rays streaming in through the high windows. To her right the marauders [a nickname of their own choosing] were discussing how they, mainly James and Sirius, could get in a couple of hours of quidditch practice after lessons if the weather conditions held up. To her left the girls [Marlene, Mary, Lily and Dorcas] were going over how Gary Nelson had invited Marlene to Hogsmeade this weekend and how she was debating whether to go considering they’d had an uneasy romantic history.

Sabrina was trying to tune them out the best that she could. It was easier to do when she stationed herself in the middle of both groups and next to Remus who wasn’t really participating in the quidditch talk and instead reading his book whilst trying to shovel cornflakes into his mouth though his focus was so intense it was proving a struggle. Still there was a lot of noise around her which made it hard to focus and even harder for her to be able to distinguish her name from the chatter which is why she didn’t notice Gabriel Prewett was standing on the opposite side of the table waiting to catch her attention which came as Remus nudged her with his elbow.

‘Hey,’ he said, offering her a small smile when she finally looked up.

‘Hey Gabriel,’ Sabrina said, covering her mouth as she swallowed down a piece of toast, ‘everything alright?’

‘Yeah just got those potion notes I borrowed from you,’ he said, placing a couple pieces of parchment on the cluttered table in front of her.

‘Aw thanks,’ she said, ‘hope they helped.’

‘They did, really concise,’ Gabriel said with a smile. Sabrina liked Gabriel. They didn’t hang out a lot given that she mostly spent time with her house mates but they had a few lessons together and they had found themselves often in the library going over the same things and therefore ended up revising together. But other than that they weren’t the chit-chatting type which was why she was surprised when he lingered clearing his throat awkwardly as he said, ‘I was going to give you them back tomorrow but I didn’t know if you’d be headed to the village or not.’

‘I am but there was no rush,’ Sabrina said.

‘In that case maybe we could go to the three broomsticks? Go over that care of magical creatures essay, I’m a bit lost truth be told,’ Gabriel said. Sabrina sighed.

‘I don’t think I’ll have time,’ she replied, ‘Flitwicks moved choir practice so I was only nipping down there for some new quills.’

‘Oh,’ Gabriel said crestfallen, ‘okay, no bother. Another time?’

‘Sure,’ Sabrina said with a smile, grabbing her notes and putting them in her bag. Gabriel watched her duck under the table to reach, her ponytail bobbing just over the table line, and feeling embarrassed he muttered goodbye and headed back to the Hufflepuff table.

Sabrina’s bag was chalked full of papers and textbooks but she found a nook for her notes and tucked them in neatly before reemerging from under the table ready to carry on tackling her essay. However as she settled back in she found the girls' conversation had halted and they were now watching her agog.

‘What?’ Sabrina asked self-consciously.

‘Did I just hear right?’ Mary asked, her dark brown eyes wide.

‘What?’ Sabrina asked again.

‘Did you just turn down a date with Gabriel Prewett?’ Marlene replied from beside her. Sabrina looked at her and scoffed, ‘it wasn’t a date.’

‘That’s a date if ever I’ve heard one,’ Mary protested. Sabrina felt her cheeks warm up, turning her skin to the colour of a grapefruit rather than the fetching coral blush she’d dusted across her cheeks this morning. Had it been a date? She liked Gabriel. He was nice, sweet even, and very handsome but she didn’t like him, like that. Did he like her like that? Had he been hinting throughout their study sessions and she’d been too oblivious to notice.

‘He just wants help with his care of magical creatures essay,’ she said indignantly.

‘In the pub,’ Sirius reasoned from across the table, making her groan internally. It was one thing for the girls to interrogate her but for the boys to join in was so much worse.

‘Yeah Sirius is right,’ Dorcas continued, ‘no boy suggests a study session in the pub!’

‘Why did you say no?’ James said, adding on to Sabrina’s despair. All eyes were on her now, scrutinising every move she made.

‘It wasn’t a date!’ Sabrina whined.

‘Do you not fancy him?’ Mary asked.

‘He’s the fittest lad in our year,’ Marlene added.

‘That hurts,’ James quipped, earning a grin from his friends.

‘Oh shut up Potter,’ Lily said, rolling her eyes. Sabrina shrank back, knowing that once these two got into it the conversation would soon be dominated by their squabbling and would maybe give her a chance to flee. Her bag was under the desk but if she did make a break for it Remus would probably bring it for her, the only one not joining in with this lunacy.

As predicted James was refusing to look anywhere but at Lily who was staring back at him not willing to back down as he said, ‘are you saying you’d go out with him if he asked Evans?’

‘Maybe,’ Lily challenged, smirking as James’ face fell for a second, ‘besides this isn’t about me this is about Sabs.’

‘Can you just drop it! Gabes is just a friend,’ Sabrina said.

‘Oh Gabe is it now?’ James teased, making her blush deepen.

‘Oh Merlin,’ Sabrina said. The conversation lulled and Sabrina heaved an internal sigh of relief hoping that they’d just let it go but it was unfortunately not to be as across from her Sirius, who’d been watching her closely sniffed and said, ‘nah Bri’s right.’

‘I am?’ she asked, watching him closely, her eyes narrowed.

‘Yeah,’ he shrugged, ‘besides not everyones ready for that stuff.’

‘Yeah,’ Sabrina started before she noticed his choice of words, her face falling into a frown as she looked at him and said, ‘what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing but well, you’ve turned down every date you’ve been offered this year,’ Sirius shrugged. Sabrina’s mouth fell open, confusion plaguing her as it did everyone else who appeared to be trying to recall when and who had been asking her out. Was Sirius right? Had she been asked out and turned them down? She didn’t even know at this point though she did notice the looks of sheepish pity on her friends faces as his words started to cloud their judgment.

‘I have, I do not,’ was all she could make come out of her mouth as a reply.

‘Yes you do,’ Sirius said firmly.

‘No one’s asked me out,’ Sabrina refuted.

‘Bollocks,’ Sirius snorted, ‘I’ve seen at least three lads try and you’ve rebuked every one of them. That doesn’t even include Gabe.’

‘Ooh who?’ Dorcas asked eagerly, ignoring the way Sirius sneered Gabriel’s nickname.

‘Blake Jones, Frank Longbottom, Yousif Shafique,’ Sirius rhymed them off so quickly Sabrina was scrambling to recall having interactions with these boys let alone being asked out. How did he recall them if she couldn’t? Surely he was winding her up.

‘What’s wrong with them?’ Mary asked.

‘Yeah Frank’s lovely,’ Lily agreed.

'As lovely as me Evans,' James quipped, earning a roll of the eyes from Lily.

‘I never said there was anything wrong with any of them!’ Sabrina said exasperatedly, glaring at Sirius as she added, ‘they haven’t asked me out!’

‘Yes they have,’ Sirius said firmly.

‘Why don’t you want to go out with them?’ Lily probed curiously.

‘You go out with them if you’re so bothered,’ Sabrina snapped, not taking her eyes off of Sirius, scowling at him.

‘No thanks,’ Lily said, scowling herself after being snapped at. When no one spoke Sabrina felt her irritation rev and said, ‘hang on why doesn’t Lily get stick for that!’

‘Wouldn’t want Potter to combust would we,’ Sirius quipped, earning a dig in the ribs from James though he kept his eyes on Sabrina, leaning forward until his elbows were resting on the mahogany so he could ask, ‘so go on, what is it?’

‘None of your business that’s what,’ Sabrina snapped, ‘any of you.’

‘Oooh,’ came several replies, only infuriating her further.

‘Oh piss off,’ she snapped and with that she grabbed her bag from under the table and stood up, swinging it over her shoulder which made Lily have to duck in order not to be clunked in the head. Remus sighed, ‘Sabs sit down.’

‘No,’ Sabrina said, clambering over the back of the bench. She could see Remus was watching her worriedly which made her feel bad for a second, after all had elected not to participate in this haranguing of her character but still she needed to get out of there.

‘Where are you going?’ James asked, watching her just as worriedly. Of course he was the first to see the error of his tormenting. He was always like this when he and Sirius got going. It had been the thing that had initially put her off being friends with them before her friendship with Remus had made her see that they weren’t that bad. But Sirius, oh he was never one to realise when he was going too far. Even when he knew he was being an outright dick if there was a sniff of him being right he’d carry on no matter what the damage.

That was why he was looking at her, challenging him to prove him wrong with evidence that she hadn’t refuted these boys even though she still couldn’t recall it enough to prove him right or wrong. And so she grumbled, ‘somewhere where people don’t try and marry me off every five minutes.’

✵✵✵

Even with the balmy spring day outside the castle wasn’t exactly warm, well not in the areas that weren’t lit by firelight which unfortunately for Sabrina meant the girls second floor bathroom. It wasn’t the optimal study area; the sinks and toilets were grimy from being forgotten most of the time and Moaning Myrtle had talked her ear off about a cruel third year boy who’d called her various unsavoury names for accidentally getting in his way. But it was empty and more importantly out of the way of all her friends. She hadn’t spoken to them throughout any lessons and had scrounged her lunch and dinner from the kitchens rather than join them in the hall. Not to mention there was a slight nook in the wall which if she laid her cloak out made it slightly more comfortable to sit and study.

Her studying however was suspended when she heard the door open. She remained stock still, clutching the care of magical creatures essay she’d decided to get a jump on, wondering if she didn’t make a noise whoever it was would use the loo and get out. That was not the case though as from behind the sinks a flop of messy hair followed by the tentative smile of James Potter. Sabrina sighed and dropped her gaze back to her homework. She shouldn’t have been surprised he managed to find her, not once she remembered that damned map.

‘Hey,’ James said tentatively, moving closer towards her and leaning back on the sinks, ‘you okay?’

‘Fine,’ Sabrina said curtly.

‘He didn’t mean it you know. You know what he’s like when he gets an idea in his head,’ James said. It was true that James Potter was always the first to realise when he and his friends had gone too far. It was also true that he was his friends', more accurately Sirius Black’s, greatest defender. Sabrina sighed, finally looking up at him as she replied, ‘yeah but I don’t know where he gets off acting like I’m,’ she paused, she thought about what Sirius had made her seem like but she didn’t feel like saying the words ‘pathetic’ or ‘stuck up’ because they hurt far too much so instead she navigated away from what she was like and continued, ‘well he has girls fawning over him day in and day out and no one bats an eye! And I don’t care what he says, boys don’t hang around me like that.’

‘They do,’ James said, startling himself at how quickly it rolled off his tongue. Sabrina too was surprised, her face becoming shocked before she managed to compose herself and say, ‘no they don’t!’

‘They really do Sabs,’ James said, somewhat apologetically, like it didn’t feel right to call her out even if he was right, ‘Pads was right. You’ve been asked out at least three times this year and you’ve always said no.’

‘They weren’t. No one’s asked. I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Sabrina muttered, looking down at her papers. James sighed and took a seat in the nook beside her, trying to ignore how awkward her scrunched up cloak felt nestled under his thigh. He figured now was not the time to talk about his comfort. They were quiet now, James watching her though her blonde locks fell like curtain and blocked most of her face from view.

He didn’t know how she hadn’t figured it out yet. She was one of the prettiest girls in their year. Soft golden locks, complimenting sun kissed skin and bright blue eyes. She was like a doll, pretty and perfect, and completely oblivious to how boys saw her. Mary knew what allure she had. Marlene was pretty but one of the boys. Dorcas hopped from boy to boy with no qualms about what people thought of her. Lily was, well, Lily was all he thought about and to him the prettiest girl ever but he couldn’t deny Sabrina had something, even if she hadn’t realised it yet which he couldn’t believe was true.

After a moment he murmured, ‘you really didn’t notice?’

‘I guess not,’ Sabrina lied. Of course she knew boys liked her. She wasn’t completely oblivious to what she looked like; she just hadn’t wanted to pay them any attention. Not the ones that liked her anyway.

‘Do you just not want to date anyone?’ James asked.

‘Of course I do!’ she protested, looking at him.

‘Then why not?’ he said. His glasses had slid down the end of his nose and his brow was furrowed trying to figure out why she had such an aversion to what seemed to dominate every conversation he and his friends had these days. Sabrina closed her eyes and sighed as she saw it finally dawn on him, ‘you like someone don’t you?’

‘James,’ she sighed.

‘Oh go on, you do don’t you?’ James said, earning a small smile which made everything seem more clear and not just because he’d pushed his glasses into place, ‘who is it?’

‘Let’s just say if I have been asked out I haven’t noticed because I was probably distracted at the time,’ she explained.

Again James’ brow furrowed as he tried to deduct her logic and suddenly it was like the stars aligning. How he hadn’t realised it before he didn’t know. Probably too focused on Lily to notice how her eyes flitted to Sirius any time a boy approached, trying to gauge his reaction, ‘it’s Pads innit?’

‘He kind of eclipses the attention of any boy who looks my way,’ she admitted bashfully.

‘Since when?’ James probed, wondering how long he’d been in the dark.

‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged, ‘start of this year? I guess he just seems different, acts differently somehow.’

‘Why not ask him out?’ James asked, unaccustomed to how someone could keep their feelings in for so long.

‘Like I said he has a million girls hanging off him,’ she grumbled.

‘Yeah and he’s been busy watching who's asking you out.

It had been an odd thing to start liking Sirius. At first she had firmly been in Lily’s camp – that the marauders were nothing but a nuisance. And then she and Remus had been paired together, their names next to each other in the register and well he was lovely. That had made her curious because how could someone as patient and nice be friends with such arrogant oiks? After spending more time with them she realised they weren’t all that bad. Arrogant, sure. Loud and bolshie, absolutely. Slightly snobbish, perhaps. But they were also sweet, funny, kind and caring. They looked after their friends, were fiercely loyal and well a whole lot of fun.

When she had returned after the summer she hadn’t expected her feelings towards them to change and for the other boys they hadn’t. Except she started to get this funny feeling in her stomach when Sirius looked at her. He seemed to be more caring, funnier, brighter. It was only when she’d seen him flirting with Lavinia Porthrop she had realised why it felt like that. She liked him and sure enough everything had soon become him. He dominated her thoughts, when they talked it was him she kept glancing at, and when boys approached her she was watching him, wondering if he’d feel irked like she had. She didn’t think he had but James’ words sparked hope inside her. Hope she had to snuff out because Sirius was well, Sirius. He wasn’t coy. He didn’t shy away from his feelings like she did, if he liked her he would have told her.

‘You’re just saying that,’ she said, feeling her stomach knot.

‘No I’m not,’ James said, nudging her thigh so she’d look up at him. She smiled at him sadly.

‘If he liked me he’d just ask me out,’ she countered, her logic sound and reasoned.

‘I don’t know,’ James replied, ‘he’s different when it comes to people he cares about. The girls know what he’s like and they’re not really bothered but we’ve been friends forever. That means something to him, to all of us, he wouldn’t be willing to throw it away in case he fucked it up. And especially if he wasn’t sure if you were ready or not.’

‘Can you blame me?’ she sighed, ‘it’s not exactly easy to navigate is it?’

‘No, no I guess you’re right,’ James sighed, as she put her head on his shoulder.

‘The dating game is awful,’ Sabrina murmured. James breathed a laugh.

‘Try being in love with a girl who won’t give you the time of day.’

‘That’s the problem!’ Sabrina cried, lifting her head and jumping up from the nook until she was looking at him and looking at him, ‘Lily’s bloody nuts about you and it’s no easier to navigate!’

‘Sure she is,’ James said, rolling his eyes.

‘She is,’ Sabrina said firmly, still slightly irked at her friends and their teasing to restrain herself from spilling something she was sure was true, ‘that’s the problem! She just loves teasing you and making you work for it. Honestly I don’t know how you put up with it.’

‘I really like her,’ James mumbled sadly as the energy left her, forcing her to nestle in back beside him as she grumbled, ‘yeah and I like him. I just wish it wasn’t so bloody complicated.’

‘I get what you mean. Why can't you just say you like someone and see where it goes y’know,’ James agreed.

‘Too busy playing daft games or dancing around the subject,’ Sabrina huffed.

They were quiet for a moment, the pair of them staring at the grubby old sinks opposite as they thought about everything. She hated it being so complicated. She hated that she was too nervous to just tell Sirius she liked him if anything she still wasn’t convinced he’d like her back. Maybe he did and James was right, he was just nervous to ruin their friendship. It was hard to tell because he wasn’t as obvious as James was or Lily for that matter. But to be honest she was grateful for that because it was one thing holding your feelings in and it was another flaunting them at every given moment of the day and not acting on them. She glanced at James, finding him staring glumly at his shoes and was overcome with pity. Thinking of Sirius she felt pity for herself.

To be honest she just wished it was out in the open. Cards on the table so they could all move on. She knew that wasn’t going to happen though; James was an open book and that was still getting him nowhere.

‘Maybe you ought to play it their way,’ a voice inside her head whispered, ‘play the game.’

‘What if we played them too?’ she asked, causing his hazel gaze to fall on her.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, pushing his glasses up from the end of his nose.

‘What if we messed with them?’ she asked. The idea made nerves flutter in her stomach.

‘How?’ James asked, narrowing his eyes.

‘Well Lily only keeps you hanging on because she thinks you’re gonna hang on forever,’ she said.

‘Right,’ he said dubiously.

‘And you say Pads likes me,’ she said.

‘He does,’ James said, sitting up a tad straighter, his interest piqued.

‘But he won’t tell me or maybe he would if he saw I was open to dating,’ she said, ‘or that a relationship between friends could work.’

‘What are you on about?’ James said, still lost.

‘Me and you start dating,’ Sabrina said firmly, shocked to see James’ eyes widen in surprise. The marauders were some of the least flappable she’d ever met and yet he was staring at her as if she had three heads, an expression she tried to rectify as she said, ‘think about it. If they want us, as theorised, they’d be bothered by it, right?’

‘Right,’ James said unsurely. Trust Sabrina to come up with a logical, measured test. She should’ve been a Ravenclaw but luncacy and bravery of the idea lended itself to Gryffindor and more accurately, the marauders.

‘Maybe enough to admit how they really feel,’ she said, ‘and if not we give it a couple of weeks and pretend the romance fizzled out, tell them it wasn’t for us but we’re still pals.’

‘You think they’d fall for it?’ James asked sceptically.

‘Worth a shot,’ she shrugged, ‘besides you could always think of it as a prank.’

‘You hate being involved in pranks,’ James countered, raising an eyebrow.

‘Because they’re pointless but this has a purpose, you might even bag Lily,’ she said, a radiant smile dancing across her face. James allowed that to tug at his heart strings. She had a point. He wa2s sure Lily liked him, he could feel it, but what would it take for her to admit that? Maybe this was the way. And Sabrina was right, if they had a couple of weeks with no luck they’d know for sure and could both move on with their lives, not to mention people would probably treat their failed relationship as just one of the casualties of the Hogwarts social scene. James nibbled on the inside of his lip nervously, wondering what to say. Sabrina merely whispered, ‘so, you in?’

‘Go on then,’ James smiled.

Sirius Black Tags

@caitlin1996 @imthebadguyyy

#my writing #sirius black #sirius black fic #james potter #james potter fic #marauders #marauders fic #marauders era #sirius black x ofc #james potter x ofc #james potter x lily evans #the dating game

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childotkw · 2 years

Note

Hi Jordan! Do you have any new murderous guardian angel snippets? Preferably with harry and Voldemort???

Also! Do you think reg would still be in Slytherin if harry was in his head sin he was a child????

Hello darling! I don’t have one on hand but I’ll pump one out for you 💕 it’s not fully Harry and Voldemort, but they’re both here, so hope that’s alright

And I think Regulus would always be a Slytherin, even with - or perhaps especially with - Harry in his head from a young age. Harry’s got his share of Slytherin qualities, after all 😉

———————

Harry stared down at the plate, then at the lines of cutlery on either side with a suspicious silence that had Regulus distracted from his own panic.

What? he asked, wondering if Harry might have sensed something he had missed. Is it poisoned? They wouldn’t dare, not in such a public setting.

‘Yeah, that’s not what I’m worried about,’ Harry replied with something like resigned amusement blooming in his chest. Regulus stared out through their eyes, trying to understand what the cause was.

‘We might need you in the lead for this one,’ Harry continued.

What do you mean? Regulus tried not to sound as worried as that remark made him. He had grown used to this arrangement between them, and in many ways, he appreciated having Harry in control during these encounters.

Regulus was strong but in the presence of the Dark Lord, he was…reduced. Harry held none of his reservations when confronted with Voldemort - seeming to revel in generating as much confusion and chaos as possible whenever the man was around.

‘I don’t know which cutlery to use,’ Harry admitted easily. ‘I know you get particular about this sort of thing, so maybe you should be the one eating?’

Regulus let his disbelief flood their connection. You said you were the Heir of both the Potter and Black Houses? How do you not know this?

Harry huffed, the noise drawing the attention of the man across from them. If it had ever left. Regulus couldn’t be sure, he had been trying not to think about him. ‘I was lucky to get food when I was a child, and then got busy fighting a war - I didn’t exactly have time for posh lessons.’

That just made Regulus sad.

“Are you alright, Mr. Black? Experiencing some trouble?” Voldemort asked, head tilted. There was nothing innocent about the curiosity in his voice. He sounded anticipatory, and when Harry raised their eyes to meet the man’s, the intensity of his attention was like fire licking at their skin.

“Just peachy, Tom,” Harry replied, and Regulus wished he had taken control when it was offered. Now all he could do was watch in horror as Harry continued, “Was just considering which knife to throw at your head.”

Harry!

‘What? He’d move in time, it’s not like it would hit him.’

And he would retaliate. Apologise! Regulus snapped.

Harry sighed, aborting an exaggerated roll of his eyes. He looked back at Voldemort and pursed his lips. “Regulus said I should say sorry,” he said, and any offence on Voldemort’s face vanished at the direct reference to their unique situation.

To the entire reason the two - three - of them were here in the first place. Voldemort had never been able to resist not knowing something, and Harry was unfortunately very good at capturing the man’s focus.

Voldemort watched him for a moment, eyes scanning as if he could peel back the layers of skin and see what lay beneath.

“I notice you’ve yet to say the words,” he eventually murmured.

And Harry snorted, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. “I only said Regulus wanted me to apologise, not that I’d do it.” His eyes turned to the wall behind Voldemort’s shoulder. “I don’t make a habit of offering insincere apologies.”

“Is that criticism I hear in your voice?” He sounded amused, and it calmed Regulus in turn. Amused was better than angry. So long as Harry danced the line carefully, they could get out of this with minimal bodily harm.

“If I started criticising your flaws we’d be here for a year,” Harry replied with a biting grin.

‘I won’t let him touch us,’ he sent to Regulus with more assurance than one man should be able to muster.

#anonymous #HP #murderous guardian angel au #harry potter #regulus black #tom riddle

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gallifrey1sburning · 2 years

Text

Logic is Overrated

A sequel to ‘The Logic Checks Out’

January 4, 1999

On the first day of the spring term of their eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter became boyfriends.

Harry was sitting in the common room when it happened. They’d just returned from their winter break, and almost everyone had gone to bed, but Harry hadn’t felt particularly tired, so he’d grabbed a Quidditch magazine to peruse in front of the fire for a while. As he absently pondered an ad for a new line of gloves, wondering if it was worth upgrading, a tall, thin body dropped heavily into the empty space next to him on the plush sofa. Harry ignored him. He tried not to grin as his new companion let out an annoyed huff at the lack of acknowledgement.

After flipping a few more pages, he finally gave in, smirking but still not looking up. “Hello, Malfoy.”

Against all odds, in the four months since Malfoy had unceremoniously announced to Harry that they were now friends, Harry had become rather fond of the audacious bastard. He was still an arrogant prat, of course, but he was also slyly funny, entertainingly dramatic, and—most surprisingly—quite a good friend, when it came down to it. He taunted Harry mercilessly about his atrocious hair and abominable Potions skills, sure, but he also listened quietly when Harry spoke in shaky whispers of the nightmares he tried to hide from Ron and Hermione and snarled protectively at the fame-seeming hangers-on that had only multiplied in the aftermath of the war. (He also taught Harry how to make his hair more manageable and coached him through their increasingly difficult potions homework—albeit with a great deal of eye rolling and put-upon sighing—between the bouts of taunting.)

Additionally, Malfoy wasn’t bad to look at these days—a fact that Malfoy was exceedingly aware of, if his perpetual preening and saucy winks in Harry’s direction when he caught him looking were anything to go by. Which happened, frankly, rather more often than Harry was keen to admit. The looking, that was. Not that Malfoy seemed to mind Harry’s constant (if involuntary and slightly humiliating) staring. In fact, in the weeks leading up to their break, Malfoy had moved beyond winking to frequent, unsubtle physical teasing: a purposeful brush against Harry’s body as he moved past him; a mouth too close to his ear as he whispered something snarky during class, breath hot against Harry’s skin; a warm hand on Harry’s arm, back, or thigh for any even slightly plausible reason. It was unbearable.

Harry had found himself quite missing the arsehole over the holidays.

“Hello, Potter.”

Harry couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice at the petulance of the other boy’s tone. “Good hols?”

Malfoy made a noncommittal noise. “Passable.”

Harry flipped a few more pages until, unable to ignore the feeling of the blond’s intense gaze on the side of his face, he closed his magazine, looking over and raising his eyebrows. “Need something?”

Malfoy watched him for another moment, tilting his head consideringly, before announcing, “I’ve decided we’re going to date now.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot higher up his face as his eyes widened in genuine shock. He let out a surprised cough. “Is that so?”

“Mm,” Malfoy gave an affirmative little hum, one hand sliding forward along the back of the sofa to trail along Harry’s shoulder and down his arm, making him shiver. His expression was confident, but there was a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

“Why’s that, then?” Harry’s voice came out slightly breathy, despite his best attempts at projecting amusement.

“Because.” Malfoy’s nails reversed their path, trailing up Harry’s arm and to the back of his neck, his fingers toying with the hair there in a deliberately casual manner. “You clearly want to.” He tugged at the hairs lightly, and Harry let out an involuntary gasp, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “And so do I.”

His hand released Harry’s hair, moving to brush against his cheek, and Harry let his lips graze the thin skin of the pale inner wrist, letting out a shaky breath, but unable to hold back a smile. Something warm was rising inside him, a bubbling lightness. He bit Malfoy’s palm gently, right below his thumb.

“What, no carefully thought out line of logic, this time?”

Malfoy had inhaled sharply at the nip of teeth against skin, his eyes darkening. Pushing his fingers into Harry’s hair, he leaned in, his nose brushing Harry’s before he pressed their lips together, hot and firm and determined. Harry groaned quietly, grasping the back of the other boy’s neck, pulling him closer. Malfoy slid his tongue into Harry’s mouth, confident and claiming, and Harry melted into it, letting himself be claimed. They kissed for several long, blissful minutes before Malfoy finally pulled back with a final bite to Harry’s lower lip, panting slightly, and smirked.

“Logic is overrated.”

And as he pressed their lips back together, smiling, Harry couldn’t help but agree.

Also on AO3: (Part 1) (Part 2)

#drarry #harry potter #drarry art #hogwarts eighth year #drarry fanfic #my writing #fluff

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longeyelashedtragedy · 11 months

Note

for the asks -- a8 and c2 :)

A8. What was your first fandom? Are you still in that fandom now?

like a lot of us, my first fandom was harry potter. i didn't do anything in it though, just read a lot of fanfic about the black and malfoy families and mauraders era and i was so in awe of the people older than me who wrote these amazing stories. the first fandom i contributed stories to was technically like. 80s metal & punk bandom lol. i hit the mainstream big fandoms with a song of ice and fire/game of thrones!

C2. What word or expression always makes you cringe when you read it?

i really HATE when people randomly call each other by their nationalities in fics? Mikel stared into the Swiss man's big brown eyes until he felt suffocated by their intensity. like no one would ever say this or think this and i find it so disruptive! i think a lot of people aren't comfortable with the extra level of strategizing it sometimes takes to write a fic where everyone has the same pronouns, but like--agggh.

i also hate when people are writing sex scenes and they say someone was "keening" to describe like. sex noises. but i haven't seen that in a while thank goodness

#purefractals #answered #fic saga #kinda

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diamonata · 2 years

Text

The Room of Requirement had been acting up ever since the fiendfyre damage was repaired. No matter how hard Harry concentrated on his requests, the Room always managed to slip in some mischievous twist to its intended purpose.

So it was with some trepidation that Harry entered the Room on the last night of term. Hermione had insisted they throw a Christmas party, something about "inter-house unity" and a "return to normalcy". Harry thought that was a load of bollocks—as if they could pretend things were even remotely normal just seven months after the worst day of their lives—but it was as good an excuse as any to test out the undetectable extension charm on his new flask.

As he stepped into the darkened room, the tinkle of Christmas music and chatter of a couple dozen students washed over him. He wandered the room aimlessly, scanning the crowd for Ron and Hermione. As he tipped his head back for a mid-stride swig of his flask, he nearly collided with someone who had stopped directly in front of him.

It was Theodore Nott, his Slytherin potions partner and general pain in his arse. The swot was always chatting to him about potions ingredients and alchemical theory. Nott never wanted to talk about something interesting like quidditch, even though Harry knew he attended every match. Nott didn't seem to pay much attention to the game, his nose buried in a book or watching Harry and the other seeker scout for the snitch. He obviously didn't care about the score.

Harry wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and gave Nott a perfunctory nod. He was just standing there, his pale blue eyes riveted to a point over Harry's shoulder.

"Oh, shit", Nott breathed.

Harry spun around, whipping his wand out reflexively. "What is it?", he asked, as he scanned the crowd and nearby alcoves. He didn't see anything amiss. He was about to turn back toward Nott to demand what he was on about when a cluster of foliage with small glowing berries caught his eye.

He felt inexplicably transfixed by the small bunch of mistletoe. It could have been mistaken for normal mistletoe were it not for the luminescent berries and golden aura of magic that seemed to pulse around it. Harry was also suddenly, intensely aware of Nott's presence behind him. He was close enough that he could almost imagine he felt Nott's body heat emanating through his tailored oxford.

"What—" Harry began, unable to tear his gaze from the magical plant.

Nott made a strangled sort of noise, and Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as Nott's exhalation ghosted over his skin. "That's—" Nott's voice was barely a whisper— "that's meschever mistletoe. It's—" Nott let out a low groan that Harry swore he could feel in his chest, lower. "It's the active ingredient in—fuck."

Harry tried to look back at Nott to respond, but instead felt his feet move of their own accord, edging him closer to the mesmerizing plant. He felt, more than heard, Nott's footsteps as he followed close behind. His stomach swooped with awareness of the Nott's proximity. He felt lightheaded.

Harry managed to unscramble his thoughts for long enough to remember that Nott had mentioned this very plant a couple of weeks ago during potions class. And the single, key detail that he remembered hit him like a freight train.

"You mean," Harry choked out, "the one that draws you in... but only with the person you—"

He was underneath the hanging bunch now, and he slowly turned, his eyes running over Nott's chest as he raised his eyes to meet his gaze.

"Yeah," Nott murmured. Harry felt as if he were falling, like gravity had reoriented toward Nott's crystal blue gaze.

Harry's breath hitched as he felt cool, long fingers slide up his jaw. "That means we're—"

Nott's hand tightened on his face. "Kiss me, Potter."

------

Drawn and written for the HP Season of Giving Fic/Art fest

#nottpott #eighth year #harry potter #theodore nott #drabble #fanart #fanfic #hp season of giving #self indulgence at its finest

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blorbobird · 2 years

Text

LUCEMOND

hotd × harry potter au

lucerys x aemond show down but make it wizard magic

There was a break — a split second of warning — before Lucerys knew he was screwed beyond all comprehension.

The look Aemond had given him after Luke's horribly timed retort sent him into near-death territory. A flicker of the wand and the roaring, billowing noise that followed that had students screaming and Luke running for the hills.

Honestly, he hadnt thought it'd get this intense this quickly.

"No dark magic in the castle-" One of the professors yelled, Baratheon perhaps, Luke hadnt really being paying attention to anyone else but Aemond trailing behind him.

In Aemond's defense, this certainly wasn't dark magic "inside" the castle anymore. Exactly the same magic they used at the entry demonstration the day prior. Just used a bit more … deliberately.

Fiendfyre. Cast so carelessly, so easily. As if it was nothing of extreme power or importance. A fiery, bulking, flame of a dragon. Soaring right for Luke and Luke alone.

Burning anything in its path.

"Come on, boy!" Aemond calls from some where above as Luke runs down the grassy green hill. Nearly missing steps and tripping with every other movement. He wasnt coordinated , nor fast , but luckily he hadnt been reached yet. Maybe it was luck or he wasnt giving himself enough credit.

Some part of him knew though that it was Aemond's doing. The immense control he had over such a strong spell, as if he used it often. All to taunt Lucerys with. Or maybe he was killing him slow, painful, and cruelly. It wouldnt be a fast death. Make a show of it — burn him in a speculate. All enemies beware.

"Show me why they call you Lord of the Tides?!" An amused cackle follows and, Luke considers himself somewhat lucky now, because he trips in time as he feels heat burn just behind his back. Rolling down the hill with a yelp. A faster pace begrudgingly helping him. Little cuts and scrapes be damned. Something snaps and nothing hurts so he assumes its his wand. Which sucks, but it isnt his bones so far that he's aware of, so he's grateful.

Lord of the Tides. That useless fucken nickname. Water magic had been his back-fault. It had taken Luke rather long to show signs of any power as a child, to the point where Rhaenyra even considered him a possible Squib at some point, although she'd never admit it. His eleventh birthday on the dot (oh, what a late bloomer he had been) he had made Uncle Lord Velaryons living room flood. Luckily, Uncle Daemon laughed it off and the rest followed.

Knowing painfully well that an Aguamenti error wouldn't help him now. The equivalent of a bucket of water or two to a house on fire.

The hits the bottom of the hill, eyes opening. He wouldn't make it to Ser Harrold's Hut in time. Best to just duck into the lake and hope for the best.

He just had to stall until then. Try not to be burned alive in the process. He might take that fate over talking to Aemond - but seeing the Fiendfyre's wings spread above him had him considering otherwise.

"Ill take the eye out myself!" He yells as loud as he can. Voice hoarse. Voicing louder in a second attempt. "I will not take a year of this torture!"

He can hear commotion, he can hear the others, in some place close but also just far enough to not matter. All he can see , all that truly matters, is Aemond fifty feety away. A huge false dragon to scale of horrific proportions. Wings spread vast behind him as if they were his own. The spell bending to his corrupt will. Some part of Lucerys hoped he was as in control of the fyre charm as he seemed to be.

If he lost any control, both be damned.

"You'll take whatever I give you." His voice is even and hard. Luke scrambles to his feet. Covered in dirt and green. "You need me to what you gave me?"

An ego problem? A chip on the shoulder? A villain origin story? A need of an attitude adjustment …. For once Luke keeps his mouth shut from saying any of these things.

"Im sorry," He says quietenough that he's not even sure Aemond truly hears him. It strikes him then that maybe, just maybe , he's never apologized for it.

"A bit too late for that," Aemond says as his free hand, the right one not wielding the wand, goes to his head. That eye patch he always has on it and peals it back in a quick, swift movement.

Luke ceases his walking for a second. Movements stilled in maybe fear or something else he can't quite place.

His eye - where he expects a gaping hole in his skull or some horrific sight - is a jewel. The scar on ethier side bending his ivory flesh into something macabre but beautiful. Even from way down here the sight took the air out of his lungs.

A sapphire eye gleaming in the sunlight, starring down at him with a glare that can only mean one thing.

'He wants me dead. He wants me in pain and Aemond Targeryn makes damn sure to get what he wants.'

Emotions rolled through Lucerys like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. Looking and finally seeing what he's done. Who he's done it too. How this all ends. Nerves in his stomach unsettle and twist. ( Or maybe that was just the eggs from breakfast being scrambled from tumbling down a hill so fast? Who could really tell.)

Either way. He felt somewhere crossed between becoming sick and screaming every curse word he's learned so far in his young, stupid life.

"An eye for an eye? Really. Fine." He says glaring back at the elder Targaryen. "How do you want it done? Like this."

The smile on Aemond's face doesnt help dimiss anything racking through him. "You think its as simple as that?" He beings walking down, dragon behind him, wand at his side. Still unbelievably controlled. "All the years of torture and pain? Of mocking-" He spits the word out. "No, I always pictured you screaming beneath me. So loud everyone can hear and know what I , Aemond Targaryen, have done to you."

Lucerys can hear the ponds some where behind him, feel the sun beating down on his skin, and considers it may be a nice day to die.

"-You'll walk around with far more shame than a simple mark could suffice, princess." Another term of insult. A way for the almighty Aemond to call Lucerys spoiled, as he did when they were young.

It sparks something. Something deep and petty, in that moment deciding he wont let Aemond humiliate him like this. Death or none. He wouldn't be made a speculate out of without fighting.

"Listen," Sincere. "I am apologetic towards the eye. Maiming isn't my go to but you were torturing Jace. Im not the best with magic or control and dueling—"

"So resorting to physical violence is your reasoning?"

"... To be fair I think you wouldve grown up a scary murderous virgin even without the eye trauma."

It's the half second of shock and hate that flickers over Aemonds features that Lucerys takes advantage of. A half second that he's able to return the favor.

Wandless magic, the broken twig in his back pocket useless. Noting his surroundings and all the focus he's gathered with Aemond's villain speech, to do what he can. He's not going down without a fight - he wont be scared like he always is. Not to this psychopath at least.

Creating his own dragon, small in comparison, but made out of the lake water. It surroundings him in tiny tides until it is all that he sees. Surging forward and going towards that fiery beast.

Aemond's taken back and thus so soaked. Covered head to toe as magical elemental beasts collide and his flaming dragon is doused by Lucery's smaller creation. It lets out a roar and the wand tumbles in Aemond's had as he's shoved with the waves. Losing control of his fyre charm and therefore the dragon as well.

"No!" He yells but its too late. A useless scramble forward to find what he's lost amongst the grass, as the fiendfyre soars above to Lucerys.

The tiny water beast had distinguished some of the flames momentarily. He considers that at least something. One last mark before he dies.

If anything, however, this action had pissed it off. Growing bigger, larger. Until it meets with the minute lake-beast and swallows it entirely. Creating wide puffs of steam all over the area until both boys are choking on it.

Killing Luke's creation as it aims for him, uncontrolled and deadly, its jaws open and flame-teeth barred. Lucerys accepts his fate with eyes wide open. Fear striking through him then peace. There are worse ways to die.

He hears someone scream his name but its lost among the roar. A ringing silence with his fate accepted.

Then someone elses voice mingles through and the beast is gone. Not even realizing he's closed his eyes at all until he opens them. Heat lingers on his face and smoke fumes through his lungs. Charred grass surrounding everywhere he stands and possible hair burned off from his arms. A lack of eyebrows also wouldn't be a shock — but that wasnt the concern right now.

Something is burning, maybe his flesh. Maybe someone elses. It all clogs his vision and he coughs thickly. Unable to get any air in as his vision follows and he feels his legs give out. Falling back till he hits his head against the burned earth. Everything is sore … is he really even alive?

Aemond's face appears above his. Panicked and dripping onto him, hair sticking to the sides of his face and eye alarmed. Taking in Lucerys easing-into-unconciousness state of mind. Black dots blur and not many thoughts pass him but one clear one:

'I cant be dead. Aemonds here. Either that : or Im in hell'

The Targaryen's mouth moves but no words come out. Ears ring in an uncomfortable form of silence. Headmistress Rhaenys comes into view soon enough and Lucerys blacks out.

Oddly, wishing he was dead.

#lucerys strong #lucerys velaryon #harry potter #aemond vs lucerys #aemond targaryen #aemond x lucerys #aemond fanfiction #slytherin #hufflepuff #hogwarts

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just-a-smut-slut · 10 months

Text

The Neighborhood

Chapter Four

When Hermione got to the Great Hall for breakfast, Ron had saved her a seat next to him. Harry and Ginny shared knowing glances. As Ron shoveled food into his mouth, he complained loudly about having to serve detention when Malfoy was the one that started the fight. Hermione ate her pumpkin porridge in silence, letting Ron narrate the events. After breakfast, Ginny and Harry decided to go to the library to study. Hermione knew that that actually meant that they would find an unoccupied corner of the library and make out (if they weren’t already having sex). Harry tried to keep some level of subtlety when Ron was around. Ron nodded with his mouth full as they left the table, holding hands and giggling to each other.

Hermione sat with her back to the Slytherin table, but as she got up to leave with Ron, she noticed that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. She scolded herself for being slightly disappointed. She realized how often she found herself looking over at the Slytherin table to see if he was there over the years. At first to see if he was plotting anything against her and her friends, but later… she wasn’t sure.

“Ron, I’ve got some studying to do as well for Astronomy. I’ll see you later, okay?” Hermione gave his arm a squeeze before heading off to the Astronomy tower. As she climbed the stairs to the highest part of the school, she found herself wondering if she was betraying Ron. They weren’t officially dating, but she wondered if Ron just expected her to agree to dating him. If he thought that them being together was inevitable and just the way things were meant to go. She wasn’t so sure. Her goals would more than likely drive her to not be able to settle down until much later in life. She wondered if Ron would understand, but knew that after all these years, Ron never seemed to understand her ambition. He had ambitions, but they mainly focused on glory and fame. Her goals were more academically aligned.

She opened the door to the astronomy tower. Malfoy wasn’t there. She sighed in disappointment. She hadn’t realized that she was hoping he was there until it was too late. She stayed in the tower to work on her star charts, but became restless after an hour. Hermione trudged back down the steps. She started hearing noises from one of the closets in a tower alcove.

The sound of skin slapping against skin caused Hermione to blush and she walked faster trying to block out the moans. The sounds grew faster and more intense. She knew that the couple were close to finishing. She wanted to rip out her ears as she heard a girl’s voice cry out “Oh, Harry! Oh! Oh! Oh!” It was Ginny. Hermione cursed herself. She didn’t get out of the stairway fast enough. She wouldn’t be able to look at them for weeks. She slammed the tower door and stomped, her face flushed. That answered the questions she had had about whether they had slept together yet or not.

As she moved quickly through the hall, she ran into Malfoy so hard she fell back on the floor. Malfoy swore and glared down until he realized that Hermione was the one who had plowed into him. “What’s wrong with you?” He asked with scorn.

Hermiorne’s face grew more red, if that were possible. “N-nothing.”

“Oh, sure,” Malfoy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “You Just storm through hallways and slam into every person you see?”

As Malfoy spoke, The tower door opened and Ginny and Harry walked out, turning down a different corridor than Hermione and Malfoy were in. They were talking low and lovingly to each other. Their clothes and hair were askew. It took only a moment before Malfoy realized what had happened.

He turned to Hermione. “I didn’t take you for a peeping Tom, Granger.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she growled out, “I wasn’t peeping! I was coming down the stairs and… they were in the alcove closet.”

Malfoy’s mouth broke into a smile and then began to laugh openly. “How long did Potter last? Please tell me. I bet it was under a minute.”

Hermione wanted to vomit. That was the last thing that she wanted to think about. “Why is all you boys think about sex!”

Malfoy looked back at Hermione with hunger in his eyes. “Don’t you think about it, Granger?”

“A normal amount,” Hermione finally admitted. “Unlike boys!”

Malfoy almost purred, “I would argue that I think about it a normal amount for someone as attractive as I am. Girls are always throwing themselves at me.”

Hermione scoffed. “Don’t brag about being a slut, Malfoy. It doesn’t suit your pure blood manners.”

Malfoy’s eyes took on a more serious look as he spoke quietly. “I said girls threw themselves at me. I didn’t say that I slept with them.” He looked almost embarrassed.

What’s that supposed to mean? Hermione thought. Was he admitting that he hadn’t slept with anyone before? What a weird thing for him to admit to her. Unless… Did he think that she was a virgin? Is that why he felt comfortable telling her this.

“I’m not a virgin, Malfoy. Don’t patronize me,” Hermione growled.

Malfoy’s ears turned pink and he looked down from her. A scowl forming on his face,“Who?”

Hermione glared. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Krum?” Malfoy asked. Hermione knew that he didn’t want to know the answer but knew that it would drive him crazy. She wanted to drive him crazy.

“Yes,” she said flatly.

“How was he?”

“Good,” she said.

“I always wondered how serious you two were,” Hermione letting him in on this piece of information seemed to do exactly what she wanted. His pride deflated. She could feel his bravado ebb away.

“We were quite serious. I stayed in Bulgaria for a month with him over summer break. It was amazing,” she said.

“What happened? If he was such a good lover, why aren’t you still moon-eyed over him?” He asked.

Hermione shrugged. “The distance was too much. He had his career to focus on. I have school. We hooked up again last summer but nothing more came of it. Why? Jealous, Draco?”

“Are you trying to make me jealous, Granger?” That dangerous tone in his voice had reappeared.

“I don’t have to try, apparently,” Hermione shot back. She stepped around Malfoy and started walking down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Malfoy called after her.

Hermione turned around but continued to walk backward, “Back to my room. Go get some sleep if you can, Malfoy.” She knew she’d won that exchange, so she didn’t understand why that victory felt hollow.

#harry potter fanfic #wizarding world #hermioneanddraco #hermione #draco malfoy #hermione x draco #Dramione #dramionefanfic #dramione smut #fanfic blog

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witchofimber · 2 years

Text

Fracture

This is a fragment of a planned, longer work that I’m probably never going to finish. I already posted one snippet of it on here (which is repeated in this story), but this puts it into a longer context.

FRACTURE: November 1981

“The boy should be at his aunts,” says Dumbledore.

Remus says nothing. The noise of St Mungo’s prohibits speech. From far away; hushed voices, footsteps pressing circles into the worn carpet, the clatter of shaking hands putting down cups of tea. He can just about make out Shacklebolt’s voice, but not the words. Further away – distant screaming. Peter’s mother. And inside this room, the same sounds that have been playing for the last five days. There are no beeping heartbeat monitors in St Mungo’s. There is only a green line over Lily’s chest, rising and falling. Sometimes when Harry makes a sound, Remus swears it spikes. Harry in his arms, the smallest thing he’s ever seen. And now Dumbledore.

“You know they won’t let you keep him, Mr Lupin.”

“Lily’s still alive. I’m not keeping him. I’m – borrowing him. Holding him.”

“And yet – “

“I’ll fight you on it. Lily and – they left a list of who should execute their estate if they were incapacitated. It was – Peter and me. Peter’s gone, and – I’m the only one left. So I have their money, and I’ll fight you on it.”

The light flashes over Dumbledore’s half-moon glasses, turns them hard as silver. Silver rattles his teeth and sends shooting pains along his nerves; silver makes the wolf inside him cower; silver are the eyes of the man they have dragged into Azkaban, the man who left Lily comatose at their front door and James Potter dead by his son’s crib.

Dumbledore sighs. “The boy is in danger.”

“Voldemort’s dead.”

“His followers are not. And – forgive me for bringing even more gloom into a situation that is already dire – we still don’t understand what happened in Godric’s Hollow, or how the Dark Lord disappeared. The fact that his followers believe him gone does not mean he will never return.”

“I can keep him safe,” he insists; thinks you can’t even keep yourself safe; thinks even monsters protect their young; thinks James, oh James, I will pay this penance for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry.

There is an opalescent sheen over Lily’s tiny body. A cocoon of spellwork, rebuilding the charred remains of her nervous system from scratch. She doesn’t move. Remus had asked the mediwitch if that meant she wasn’t in pain; the mediwitch had looked at him for a long time, stroked Harry’s head and left without a word.

“We’d have to hide you,” says Dumbledore. “We know the Death Eaters are targeting Harry. You’ll have to miss the funeral.”

James will be buried alone. But James would pick Harry every time.

“Ok.”

“And you’d have to stop visiting here.”

Lily, third year, during a study session around midnight when they were both loopy with lack of sleep. She’d told him how her grandmother had died in a Muggle hospital, how the people there even cried quietly. It’s awful, and it’s wrong, she’d said, because you’re sitting there feeling the most intense grief of your life at ten, eleven years old, and it should drown out everything, but you can’t even just focus on your sadness because at the back of your head there’s ‘this is a hospital, have some decorum.’

But, that same night: I think my sister hates me. I can see her hating me more with every passing year.

“But what about – “ if – “when she wakes up?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Harry still doesn’t have any hair. He’d been born almost completely hairless, and Lily, tired and beatific, had nudged James and said looks like those Potter bald genes are kicking in early. James had rocked Harry, tears streaming down his face, and choked out but he’s so beautiful, he’ll be the most beautiful little bald man in the world.

“I’ll do it,” Remus promises. “I’ll keep Harry safe.”

---

They’re in a cottage at the edge of nowhere and Harry’s screaming with the gusto of a full-grown man.

“I’m sorry,” says Remus. He is on the floor, and in one hand is a bottle of milk and in the other is a shiny little wooden man with a rictus grin and charmed cymbals in his painted fists, crash crash crash, and Remus in between with an equally rictus grin and tears streaming down his face. There is probably snot on his upper lip as well, but he’s too immune to being moist to notice. That’s something nobody tells you about infants – just how much time you spend time squelching. There’s milk and mush and shit and puke and tears and snot, and occasionally Harry just seems to produce various weird damp spots without doing anything. Add to that all the crying that Remus is doing and one day they’ll just drift away, Alice in Wonderland style.

“Hello?” There’s someone outside, and Remus grabs his wand and has the door open and the tip under the stranger’s throat before he recognises the voice, the face – Arthur Weasley, in a crumpled purple suit, with two bags of groceries on each arm.

“I’m only supposed to walk the perimeter,” he says, “but I thought to myself I bet Dumbledore has no idea how much stuff babies need, so I picked up a few things – nothing that would set off any alarm bells if I was being followed, don’t worry – oh my, is that Harry? He’s got big lungs, hasn’t he?”

He nudges past Remus into the kitchen, bellowing, “Don’t forget to ask me the question!” after him.

“Uh, ah - “ Remus potters after him, wonders if it’s morally acceptable to obliviate Arthur before he reports back to Dumbledore about what a terrible parent he is. “I don’t - fuck, give me a second - “

“How about this,” says Arthur. “My coat turned yellow on the night of Alice Longbottom’s twenty-second because Peter had spilt a drink down the back of it, and you were tipsily trying to clean it up before I noticed. You thought I didn’t see you, but I did. Will that do?”

Remus scratches his ear. “I’ll pay for the coat?”

“Ah, I never liked it. Present from Molly’s parents. Hello, little man, what’s got you so upset?” He scoops up Harry, who’s now resorted to thrashing anything around him – the floor, his toys, Arthur’s chest – with his tiny fists.

“I don’t know what to do,” says Remus, right back on the brink of tears. “I’ve changed him and fed him and burped him and walked him and – I can’t do it. I don’t know what he wants. How the hell could I know what he wants?”

“Oh, Remus,” says Arthur. “Sometimes babies just scream. You’ve got to remember that they’re very small, and very scared, and they don’t know what any of their feelings are.”

“He wants his mum and dad.”

Arthur nods. “I’m sorry, lad, but he probably does.”

Remus slumps over and puts his head between his knees.

Arthur’s voice is soft over the sound of Harry’s screaming. There’s something calming in his cadence, and Remus lets himself drift into it, float away.

“Bill was a very easy baby, you know. We got ridiculously lucky first time out of the gate. Should have seen it coming with Charlie – nothing that charmed can hold. He got sick a lot. That was the worst of it. You become this sort of – irrational nightmare, standing over a crib and being told it’s just a cough but knowing, knowing, that something’s seriously wrong with your baby and it’s probably your fault. We were wrong, of course, it was just a cough and it was nobody’s fault, but that paranoia never really leaves you. Percy was the opposite – too quiet. We kept on missing these big developmental milestones. You know the sort of thing; wouldn’t look at us, wouldn’t smile. His shapes and numbers and sounds were all on track, but it was like he didn’t notice us. Eventually Molly just sat me down and said, ‘Arthur, our son’s just a little odd, and we love him fine.’ George and Fred were surprisingly easy, given what terrors they turned out to be. I think twins can sort of amuse themselves, you know? Ron’s a stoic little chap, but when he wails, he wails. And then as soon as you think you’ve calmed him he’ll start fussing again. Ginny’s too new to be much of anything, but she’s got a ferocious grip – if she gets your finger it’s like being tussled by an octopus.”

“Harry hates me,” mumbles Remus.

“He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think babies even have big, complex feelings like that – hate, love. I think they just know safe and not-safe, and sometimes something spooks them. You have to remember that the big, blurry blobs he trusted to keep him safe have disappeared. They usually come when he screams. It’s going to take a while to learn that they – but he’s got you. You’re doing ok.”

“I was drunk the night they died.”

“Ah, lad. You’re – what, twenty-three? Quite a bit younger than I was when I had my Bill. You’re doing better than me, I can promise you that. Tell you what – if Dumbledore thinks it’s safe, how about I bring some of the boys round for a playdate? You can’t imagine how happy Molly would be to get some of them out of the house. I’ll bring Ron, and maybe Percy – we’ll stick him in the corner with a book and he’ll happily ignore us. I’ll save the twins for when you’re feeling a bit stronger. And then we can have a cup of tea and a chat while they throw blocks at each other. Does that sound ok?”

“The house is a mess, I couldn’t – “

“I’ll bring you a picture of the Burrow next time as well, and you can see what a real mess looks like. It takes a village, you know that, don’t you? Gid and Fab – Molly’s brothers – used to do what they called ‘the three-week blitz.’ Three weeks after the birth they’d come to the Burrow, hand me a beer and Molly a sleeping potion, and whizz round the whole place with a bunch of cleaning spells.”

Harry had a village, and now it’s dead. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he says instead, because he heard about the Prewitts, knew them on sight – two big, identical Viking-types, the sort of lads he’d seen outside the pub in Wales after a big rugby win slamming back pints, men who would have been threatening if they weren’t so obviously nice.

“Thank you,” says Arthur. Harry’s calm now, and Arthur lays him back into Remus’s arms. “Well, there’s a lot of that going around.”

---

The first time Remus heard Harry’s name was three years before he even existed. They were stoned in James and Lily’s first flat, and Sirius was waving James’ seventh-year jotter in one hand and laughing until he cried.

“What you have to remember – “ James made another one-handed swipe for the jotter, the other hand still pleading at Lily – “what you have to remember is that I was seventeen, and – Sirius, give it back – very in love, and perhaps my taste wasn’t fully formed – “

“Ah, and now you’re a mature old man of nineteen,” said Remus.

“Thistledown Potter,” sang Sirius.

“For a boy or for a girl?” said Pete.

“God, does it matter?” said Lily. “James, in what universe would I have agreed to any of these names for my kid – “

“Hey, these are old family names, some of them are traditional – “

Remus leaned over and snatched the book from Sirius. “Oh yeah? Hey Padfoot, do you remember any Bowie Potters on the family tree?”

“Your great uncle, I believe, wasn’t he James?” Sirius stopped jumping around and fell onto the sofa next to Remus, half in his lap. “Second cousin of – ah, here it is – Zepplin Potter. Are we about to find a Ramones Potter somewhere on the list?”

James raised a finger as if to argue, and then lowered it, abashed. “Ramona. For a girl.”

“I can’t believe I’m in love with you,” said Lily. “I’m going to name my kid something nice and normal. None of this weird pureblood shit.”

“Good shout,” said Remus, pulling the joint from Sirius’ mouth, “otherwise you might end up with something really out there, like – I don’t know – James.”

“Fuck off, Remus. Me and Pete are the only ones here with a proud family tradition of normal nomen- nomen- ugh, name-stuff.”

“Nomenclature,” said Remus, which earned him a middle finger from Lily.

“Isn’t your sister called Petunia?” said Sirius.

“Petunia,” said Lily, with a grand and sweeping air, “does not count as a person. Anyway, I’m going to pick something as aggressively mundane as I can. Bob or Sally or Harry.”

“I like Harry,” said Pete.

James scoffed. “Harold, surely. Shortened to Harry.”

“Absolutely fucking not, otherwise he’ll grow into the sort of person who ends proclamations with surely.” Lily planted a kiss on James’ nose and snuggled softly into his arms as she gestured at Remus and Sirius. “Anyway, what about you two?”

Remus turned his head into Sirius’ hair. “Darling, are you pregnant? But you told me you were on the pill.”

“I’m baby-trapping you,” said Sirius, and kissed him firmly on the nose. “Gotten tired of waiting to see you make an honest woman out of me.”

“You could always adopt,” said Lily. “Do you want to?”

“Not sure,” said Remus, who was dimly aware, through the wavering mist of hash, that this conversation was dangerous.

“We’ll just be the cool uncles to Harry-not-Harold Potter,” said Sirius. “Teaching him how to ride a motorbike and giving him his first tattoos.”

“And I’ll stop them from doing that,” said Pete.

And after that it became a running joke, the kind that peppered all their conversations until they were nearly incomprehensible to outsiders. Lily, asking Remus if he really needed that much firewhisky for one party – Ah, Lils, I’m saving it for Harry-not-Harold’s first birthday. Sirius won a shitty plastic watch in a Muggle claw-machine and proudly presented it to James to save for Harry-not-Harold’s seventeenth. Pete ducked out of the office early to meet them for a pint – I told them I was needed for babysitting duties. If anyone asks, Harry has a terrible cough. James, pissed as a lord, had snorted and declared loudly that his son had the lungs of an ox, how dare you importune – is that the right word? – how dare you DENIGRATE the Potter family name. So by the time Lily stood up at a dinner party with a glass of sparkling apple juice in her hands and announced that she was pregnant, it felt like Harry had always existed between them.

Like they’d spun him up into being together.

---

“Read about it in a Muggle parenting book,” says Arthur, beaming proudly at Ron and Harry. They’re painstakingly transferring ping-pong balls from one bowl to another, spoon by spoon. Occasionally they get confused and start transferring the other way, re-filling the original bowl. Arthur and Remus, by unspoken consent, have decided to let this happen.

“They’re terribly clever, these Muggles,” says Arthur. “All sorts of ideas as to what to do with babies. With Bill, I think I mostly just walked around the house and pointed at things, telling him the names. He used to love the bathroom when he was a little ‘un. Always got very excited when I pointed at the taps. Now it’s so difficult getting him into the bath that half the time I just aim a strong Augamenti at him when he’s on the back step.”

“You make fatherhood sound so fun.”

“Oh, you’ve got a lot to look forward to.”

“It’s not – I won’t be there for that bit, Arthur. Lily’s going to wake up.”

Arthur’s giving him a strange look, and it feels like a fist to his sternum. “She will, Arthur. She will.”

“I know,” says Arthur. “But you’ll still be around, won’t you?”

“I’m not his dad.”

“Remus. I know you loved James. But Harry doesn’t have a dad anymore. He needs you.”

And Remus stares at the floor and tries very hard not to cry, until Harry flicks a ball into his nose and gives him an excuse.

#remus lupin #harry potter #wolfstar #jily #sirius black #arthur weasley #james potter #lily evans

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coochiequeens · 1 year

Text

“I have stated in a public post, that I stand for JK Rowling and Kathleen Stock and I’m against calling women ‘menstruators,’ ‘birthing people’ and other dehumanizing slurs. Consequently, I was told I’m a transphobe and homophobe, which is absolutely untrue.”

By Bryndís Blackadder. October 8, 2023

An award-winning Polish electronic and noise musician has found herself “canceled” after speaking out against gender ideology. Ewa Justka, a musician and electronics teacher, has spoken exclusively to Reduxx about her experience becoming the target for harassment and abuse because of her views.

Justka’s ordeal began on July 1, when she posted on her Instagram in support of Harry Potter creator JK Rowling and professor Kathleen Stock. Justka uploaded multiple screenshots, including one with the definition of “lesbian” as a “female homosexual,” and another of a Telegraph article which denounced the term “TERF” as “the ultimate slur against women.” TERF is an acronym meaning “trans exclusionary radical feminist,” but has been applied more broadly to any woman who criticizes gender ideology, often accompanied with threats of violence.

“Are you a woman who experienced sex-based discrimination? Have you been canceled for expressing your views regarding recent misogyny and hatred towards feminists like JK Rowling, Kathleen Stock, and other brave women having the balls (metaphoric ones) to speak out?” Justka began her Instagram post, continuing that she wanted women who fit her description to contact her.

But shortly after the post was uploaded, Justka found herself the target of a cancellation campaign intended to penalize her for her views.

Following her post on Instagram, Justka received hate mail in her direct messages and emails, angry comments on her post, a removal from a pending compilation album, and the cancellation of workshops and gigs.

One of her shows, which had been arranged at The Old Hairdressers in Glasgow, was cancelled, and Justka began to receive intense online and in-person harassment from local musicians. One local establishment, Stereo, even refused her service due to allegedly making patrons “feel unsafe” because of her views.

One of the hateful messages Justka received included a threat from music journalist Peter Kirn who stated “…tell you what, Ewa- we’ll beat you. I’ll do my best to absolutely makes sure no one works with you. So you want to see the power of this patriarchal system you’re so upset about? Watch me.”

While she was immediately struck off from some events she had been scheduled at, one of her most pressing concerns was her appearance with an influential artist.

Justka was due to perform alongside British electronic musician Mathew Herbert in October of 2023 at the Gulbenkian Art Centre in Canterbury, an event associated with the Oram Awards. Worried the campaign against her would reach the Awards administration, she contacted them for support and assurance that they would not cancel her appearance. But she found that her invitation to perform was being rescinded.

Justka won the Oram Award in 2017 and is an alumna of the institution, having won the “inaugural” competition judged by Róisín Murphy and mastering engineer Mandy Parnell. As described by FACT magazine: “The PRS Foundation and The New BBC Radiophonic Workshop have announced a new awards initiative to celebrate women innovating in the fields of sound and music. The awards are named after BBC Radiophonic Workshop co-founder Daphne Oram and purport to “build on her legacy.”

Justka was offered the invitation in May to travel to appear in the October 7 event where she was contracted to run an audio-visual synth workshop, appear in a Q&A panel, and do a performance, with brochures for the event being produced.

In an email seen by Reduxx, Justka reached out to The Oram Awards on July 7 to ask whether they were planning on removing her from the event due to her opinions.

“I’m not sure if you are aware, but during the last few days I have experienced quite a big wave of harassment, attempts of intimidation, bullying and I lost numerous workshops and gigs,” Justka wrote. “I have stated in a public post, that I stand for JK Rowling and Kathleen Stock and I’m against calling women ‘menstruators,’ ‘birthing people’ and other dehumanizing slurs. Consequently, I was told I’m a transphobe and homophobe, which is absolutely untrue.”

She then elaborated on her opinions on the political situation, linking it to the Oram Awards’ mission statement.

“Please let me know where you stand on that, as I won’t stay silent about this, and also I want to have an actual discussion with people about this topic, no matter what they identify as. Unfortunately I wasn’t given this opportunity yet.”

Days later, the Oram Awards responded:

“Thank you for reaching out to us about this. We weren’t aware of this situation and sorry to hear how this experience has affected you personally and professionally. We want to carefully discuss this and reply to you when the rest of the team comes back from holiday next week.”

Justka chased them up a week later as she had received no further communication, and finally received a reply on July 18.

“We are an organization fighting for women’s rights in the music industry by providing a much-needed platform for their work and supporting their creative development,” an Oram Awards organizer wrote. “Our position on trans rights is that trans women are women and we hope that everyone we work with responds to that respectfully.”

Confused, Justka asked for an elaboration, and inquired as to whether the Awards was suggesting that males could change their sex or identify into womanhood.

On July 20, Justka received a response condemning her “negative emails” towards the Awards, and stating that “it has become clear that we can no longer work with you.”

It continued: “This email is confirmation that the invitation to participate in our event at the Gulbenkian on October 7th has been revoked.”

Following the months-long ordeal, Justka continued to lose work, including a provisional arrangement to lecture for the London College of Communication at the University of the Arts in London. She has since moved to Italy in order “to escape” the situation.

While continuing her work in solitude, Justka has created an album in response to her cancellation and started a women-only project to encourage female musicians to create and build their own electronic synthesizers.

Speaking to Reduxx, Justka explained that her July comments came from a place of concern for the impact gender ideology was having on women’s rights.

“I’ve been listening to women’s voices and hearing about the discrimination so many of them went through just by stating biological facts and by sharing their concerns about having dangerous men in women’s prisons, and predators who take advantage of self id laws in UK,” she said. “Moreover, I’ve experienced domestic abuse throughout my life, I couldn’t stay silent anymore.”

Calling gender ideology “extremely dangerous,” Justka notes that the language employed by trans activists often dehumanizes women and erodes women-only spaces.

“This all damages women’s rights so many feminists fought for. The art scene that celebrates this ideology is, in my view, extremely hypocritical and I could not subscribe to their agenda anymore.”

Justka notes that her expulsion from the Oram Awards was the most hurtful incident in her ordeal.

“The Oram Awards claims to be a ‘women-supporting foundation,’ yet it clearly does not stand for women since, in their view, men can be women and they’ll drop a female artist in a whim if she dares to question gender ideology,” she says. “I moved to the UK from Poland as I believed I would be valued according to my work, knowledge, and capabilities. Clearly, I was wrong – it’s unfortunate, but in UK, if you’re a female artist and don’t subscribe to gender ideology, you will be cancelled, and your work opportunities will be taken away. It’s very clear to me, that this is vindictive, Stasi-like discrimination of women and girls and we must speak out against it and stand for women’s rights.”

Ironically, one of the judges who awarded Justka the Oram Award in 2017, pop-musician Róisín Murphy, also recently found herself being attacked for making a statement against gender ideology.

Murphy made international headlines after screenshots of a comment she made on her personal Facebook page began circulating on X (formerly Twitter). In the post, Murphy stated: “Please don’t call me a terf, please don’t keep using that word against women. I beg you! But puberty blockers ARE FUCKED, absolutely desolate, big pharma laughing all the way to the bank. Little mixed up kids are vulnerable and need to be protected, that’s just true.”

Murphy soon after penned an apology following some backlash from trans activists, and it is alleged that the BBC refused to play tunes from her chart-topping album as a result of her comments.

#Ewa Justka #TERF is a slur used to silence women #Silencing women #Peter Kirn threatened to destroy a woman’s career #Oran awards and censorship

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