shostakobitchh

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Snily 2nd year first kiss doodle!

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snily art I can never finish because my iPad destroyed the file do not repost my art.

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Should we expect an unhinged Snape on the edge of sanity for having created a potion that was supposed to help his daughter but ended up giving her a heart problem?

You’re going to get probably the most tender Snape we’ve ever seen and then a completely unhinged, desperate feral animal who hates himself exponentially more than he already does.

I feel like that’s a fair trade off.

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May Sarton, from "She Shall Be Called Woman", Selected Poems

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Oh my gosh that chapter was amazing! I’m kind of glad we didn’t see it from Snape’s POV because I’m not sure my heart would be able to handle the pain (neither could Ariels apparently, the poor girl 😭)

I feel so bad for Remus - the guy just cant catch a break. Though I am curious about how and when Sirius is going to learn the truth about Snape and Ariel. Especially how it will affect his relationship with her, considering how close he was to James and how much he hates Snape. I doubt he’ll be neglectful, but I hope he isn’t indirectly mean to her :(. She deserves to have people who love and care about her.

Thank you so much for blessing us with your talent once again!

Omg thank you! So glad you enjoyed it, I was really nervous about this chapter - I literally rewrote it 3 times because at first, it was gonna be full flashback, but then I liked the idea of alternating timelines so THAT got layered in, and then for a hot second we got Ariel POV but it got too messy so I moved that to the beginning of 68. But it's been a PROCESS so it's nice to hear that you enjoyed it so much!!

Remus kind of lowkey deserves it (he's my beloved but he's a freaking mess) since he's been sitting on the info about Padfoot, but The Truth is the tipping point for him to finally do something about it (I think it was clear where he's going at the end of the chapter but we shall see).

I know a lot of people are anxious for Sirius to interact with Ariel and Snape - I think people are going to be surprised with how I choose to take it - I don't think Sirius would ever be mean to Ariel (or - rather - Snape would never let ANYONE be mean to her, ESPECIALLY Sirius). Keep in mind that he's been hanging out with her as Snuffles, so there's already some fondness there.

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Chapter 68 sneak peek!

Three things happened very quickly, one right after the other. 

The first was that Ariel felt herself being sucked backwards as her chest caved in, like she’d been shrunken down and shoved through a tube, hurtling somewhere she couldn’t see. The pain lessened as she sailed further, and the voices around her grew distant and muffled, miles away. 

The second thing was a sudden light in the abyss, flaring into existence like a lone star against the pitch black. 

You’re not supposed to be here. 

The voice was achingly familiar and yet — not. The light, however, Ariel recognized, because it wasn’t a light at all, but a pair of eyes — ocean blue eyes that held her, for just a moment. 

Ariel couldn’t answer. She knew something was terribly wrong with her heart, but it suddenly felt like it was in her throat, to the point where her voice had gone from her — and even if she could, she had no bloody clue what this voice was on about. 

Make it stop, Ariel thought. Make it stop, I want it to stop — please. 

Something’s not right. 

Please, Ariel begged. Please —

Ariel tried to call out, but something was clogging her throat, a sound buzzing away in her ears that made her teeth rattle. Her sense of smell — strangely — was perfectly intact, and as the light faded, Ariel had one last thought. 

She could smell roses. 

The third thing happened — or rather, it had always been happening the whole time, it was just the last thing Ariel registered — when she felt Snape dive in after her, plunge straight into her mind with a ferocity that should’ve shattered her into a million tiny pieces, but the burn of his intrusion, the needle-like jackhammering of his insistence and desperation made the room shimmer and spin, and soon she was back where the pain was spreading through her like a wildfire. 

Ariel heard herself shriek. 

Snape didn’t relent. He was willing her to stay. She could feel the insistence burrowing through the pain, making it worse — 

Ariel’s vision swam before everything sharpened and refocused only to find her father’s face inches from hers, one hand gnarled in her hair and the other clawing into her shoulder. That Thing that lived in the caverns of his eyes was running rampant again, and the other reason Ariel even registered it was because she felt her heart try to give a panicked start at the sight of it. 

She tried desperately to push him out, to Occlude, but nothing they’d ever done had felt like this — he’d never taught her how to fight back while under this type of duress, while every atom in her body seemed to riot in agony. 

Her consciousness split in two — one part desperately clinging to her father's presence, his insistence anchoring her, while the other yearned to flee into the abyss, to escape the searing pain radiating through every nerve ending — and she couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended — 

“You’re with me,” Snape rasped, like he was the one writhing on the bed and not her. “You’re with me — you stay.” 

At the sound of his voice, Ariel hurtled back to herself fully. She gasped for breath, her lungs burning as if she'd been holding it for an eternity. The room slowly came more into focus — the stone walls, the flickering torchlight —

Her father’s face, tight but wild. Ariel might’ve blanched, had she not felt like her insides were being shredded apart.

"I can't," she gasped, tears streaming down her face. "It hurts, it hurts too much —” 

Snape’s grip on her tightened, and then he hissed: “You will.” 

She tried, latching onto her father, the subtle undercurrent of desperation that coated his commanding tone, but the pain was a living thing, writhing and clawing at her insides, threatening to drag her under.

"Now, Severus,” Ariel heard Dumbledore command, then, his voice calm but urgent. "I need to guide it out carefully."

Dumbledore was here. That made Ariel feel only minutely better. He was close, it sounded like he was just above her, where the pain was ripping through her nerve endings, like she was on fire. Beneath the agony, though, was a new feeling, a pressure that felt tighter and higher in her chest. Ariel didn’t like it one bit — didn’t like the fact that it felt like it was moving. 

“What are you waiting for?” Snape bit out. “I’ve got her — do it now!” 

“Keep her airways open, once it’s detached it will move quickly.” Dumbledore said grimly, and then Ariel’s entire world narrowed to the burning in her chest and the distant, echoing voice that called to her from beyond the void. Ariel could feel it calling to stay away, now, but she felt herself falling anyway — 

And then it started to move. 

Ariel choked, her body convulsing as the pressure in her chest rose higher and higher like a dam about to burst, constricting her lungs and clawing its way up her throat. She clutched at her neck, clawed at the skin until one of Snape’s hands pinned hers down. 

“You’re alright, you’re with me,” Snape’s voice lowered to a hiss, his breath hot against her forehead. “You stay with me.” 

She just managed to glance up through the haze, trying to grapple onto something other than the pain, to find Dumbledore replacing Snape’s position next to her. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, the blue irises almost luminescent in the dim light, but he wasn’t in the void with her, he was — 

Please, Ariel tried to shriek at him, I want my dad — I want it to stop — 

“Miss Evans,” Snape’s voice was low at her ear again, but she couldn’t see him, still pinning her hands to the cot. “Look at me.” 

She found his eyes again, felt herself being pulled back into them, like bottomless pools. 

"Focus on me," Snape said, his voice a low growl. "Do not look away. You stay with me.” 

All Ariel could manage was a muffled sob. What was happening to her? Why couldn’t she talk now, why was her heart trying to pry its way out of her chest? She tried to obey, fighting against the instinct to thrash and scream. Each inhale felt like swallowing shards of glass. 

Dumbledore's hand hesitated above her. “She needs a Body Bind —” 

“No.” Snape snarled back. “I’ve got her.” 

"Severus," Dumbledore warned. 

"I’ve. Got. Her,” Snape threw back at him, the veins in his neck straining with the effort of keeping Ariel still. His gaze never wavered from hers. His hand moved to her temple, cool fingers brushing back damp strands of hair. “For Merlin’s sake, go!” 

Then, Dumbledore began to chant. His words were soft and lilting, a strange melody that echoed through the room and seemed to vibrate within Ariel’s chest. His hand moved rhythmically above her body as if conducting some secret symphony only he could hear.

A strangled, gurgling sound tore from Ariel's throat as the searing pressure clawed its way higher, gathering in a tight knot behind her sternum. She could feel it pulsing, writhing, fighting to break free. Her vision swam, the faces around her blurring into indistinct shapes as darkness crept in at the edges. 

That was when Snape's fingers gripped her jaw to hold her mouth open.

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I think my favorite thing about last chapter is not the collective feels for Remus and the shitshow he just walked into, but for first time literally ever the majority of people are like “OH MY GOD POOR SNAPE”

this never happens. everyone is always mad at snape. so proud of our bad dad. 🥲

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Chapter 67: as it was

January 1981

Remus hurried through the darkening alleyway, his wand pressed tight against his upper thigh. 

He kept it concealed but close, ready to draw at a moment's notice. James strode ahead, his shoulders tense and his footsteps quick. The damp cobblestones glistened under the flickering lamplight, slippery from the slush and snow. Remus ducked his head, drawing his cloak higher to conceal his face more as James went around the back of the flat, to the little garden Lily had started. She’d started growing herbs, but now they lay dormant, the plants withered and brown, waiting for spring's revival.

James tapped his wand on the back door, muttering an incantation under his breath. The lock clicked and he shouldered it open, Remus close on his heels. They hurried inside, shutting the door firmly behind them.

The kitchen was dark and still. James flicked his wand, igniting the lamps and casting a warm glow across the worn wooden table and mismatched chairs. 

Remus immediately slumped into the nearest seat. 

“Fucking hell,” he managed to rasp out. His heart still felt like a battering ram against his chest, his nose clogged with the smokey scent of Stunners. 

James began pacing the length of the small kitchen, running an agitated hand through his messy black hair, ash and bits of debris flying into the air. "That was too close.”

“You’re telling me,” Remus said, noticing that he was still panting heavily. “Are we alright? Are you alright?” 

James’ wand slipped from underneath his sleeve, the Wards shimmering like liquid starlight as he checked them. “Now I am — they won’t be able to follow.” 

Remus nodded grimly, his mind replaying the chaotic scene that had just unfolded in Diagon Alley. It was supposed to have been on a routine mission for the Order, gathering intelligence on suspected Death Eater activity, when it had suddenly become very apparent that they had walked straight into an ambush. It was nothing short of a miracle that they’d escaped with their lives — or rather, that they’d escaped together, because it had become wildly apparent that the ambush had a target in mind — James. 

James finally stopped his frantic pacing and fell down into the chair across from Remus. He leaned his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands. "It was like they knew exactly where we'd be," he said, his voice muffled. "Like they were waiting for us.”

He looked up at Remus, hazel eyes dark with worry behind his glasses. There had been that heart-stopping moment, when some blackened Curse had whizzed past James’ head, hit the splintered beam behind him with a sickening thwack that Remus had noticed that four of the five Death Eaters had James surrounded. It had taken splintering apart a storefront to come crashing down that had given James just enough time to escape. 

Remus swallowed audibly, trying to shake the image from his mind. “It’s no secret you’re a priority target, given your visibility in the Order, but you’re right. This — this felt different. They weren't just trying to capture any Order member, they were specifically trying to get to you."

“What if Lily had been there, Moony? What if the baby —” 

It was then that Remus realized why he still felt so shaken — Lily should’ve been flying out of the back of the flat demanding to know what was happening, rubbing her hands down James’ shoulders to make sure his neck was still screwed on the right way. Then she’d shove them into chairs and force mugs of tea doused with Calming Draughts down their throats while the baby napped, and the three of them — sometimes four or five, depending on if Padfoot or Wormtail joined them or not — would sit at the cramped kitchen table and whisper about what had transpired, what they were meant to do about it. Most of the time, those nights ended in an eerie sort of silence — or a lot of drinking. 

Once the baby woke up, though, Lily banned all talk of the War. Sirius had told her about a dozen times that the baby couldn’t understand what they were saying, but Lily didn’t want to hear it. She insisted it wasn’t good for her development, like the War could affect her through osmosis, that their words would seep into the baby and give her a twitch by the time she turned three. 

“Where is Lily?” Remus asked, looking around the dark flat with surprise. “Is she here?” 

James stared at Remus, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, a brilliant flash of silver light illuminated the kitchen. A shimmering phoenix materialized before them, its wings spreading wide. The yellow light in the tight kitchen seemed to dim, like the Patronus was sucking all the light into it, bathing them in a comforting glow. 

Dumbledore's voice emanated from the Patronus, calm and measured, yet tinged with concern. "I take it you’re both safe, if I’m finding you here."

James exchanged a loaded glance with Remus before responding to Dumbledore. "Yes, we're fine, more or less.” 

“You did not call for reinforcements.” Dumbledore sounded unhappy. That was — unusual. 

“It escalated rather quickly,” Remus said, frowning. “We were lucky to get out when we did.” 

The phoenix shimmered, its ethereal feathers ruffling slightly. It seemed to consider this for a moment, its luminous eyes fixed upon James. When it spoke again, Dumbledore's voice was laced with a hint of reproach. "James, you were instructed to leave with Lily for the safe house immediately.”

A terrible feeling fell through Remus’ chest, then. It started in his skull, rattling as he stared at the simmering silver form, and then back to James, whose gaze had dropped to the worn tabletop. Remus felt it travel all the way down his sternum, twisting his insides on the way down. 

“I wasn’t going to let Remus go off and do it alone,” James muttered darkly.

The phoenix seemed to grow brighter, its light intensifying as Dumbledore's voice took on a sterner tone. “There was only an attack because of your presence. Forgive me if I was not clear yesterday —”

“You were,” James snapped. 

“What’s he talking about?” Remus demanded. Sirius hadn’t mentioned anything about this, and Remus had left him back in his apartment that morning, languid and sleepy, still in bed and snoring loud enough that their neighbors had started banging on the wall. If James had been ordered to a safe house, Remus reckoned Sirius would’ve been moping about as though it were a death sentence — or demanding that he join them. “What are you talking about? Are you — you’re leaving the Order?” 

Dumbledore’s Patronus hovered in the air, its wings slowly beating as it regarded James with an unwavering sternness. “I cannot stress enough the importance of following these instructions. I need you to leave at once. You still have the Portkey, yes?” 

James gave a dismissive nod. He would not meet either of their gazes, now. 

“I will let Lily know you’re on your way.” The phoenix turned to Remus. “I’ll expect you back at Headquarters to debrief. We have much to discuss.” 

The phoenix Patronus dissipated in a shimmering mist, leaving Remus sitting there, stunned. James stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. He paced over to the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stared out into the darkened garden. 

The kitchen suddenly felt too quiet, the ticking of the old clock on the wall unnaturally loud. Remus stared at James, his posture rigid, head hung low and shoulders hiked up to his ears as Remus waited for an explanation. He didn’t trust himself to speak, yet.  

Remus took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The adrenaline from their narrow escape was still coursing through his veins, making his heart race and his hands tremble slightly. He clenched them into fists, pressing them against his thighs. James had been instructed to leave immediately for a safe house — with Lily — with the baby — and he hadn't told any of them. Hadn't told Sirius, or Peter, or Remus himself. He’d ignored Dumbledore’s orders to leave, had put himself in danger — but for what? 

“Well,” James gave a dry, hollow laugh, then. “Cat’s out of the bag now, I guess.” 

Remus felt like he was going to vomit. "What's going on, James?”

James turned and gave a sad sort of half-smile. “Lily’s going to kill me.” 

“I reckon she’ll do worse than that.” 

James let out a humorless chuckle. "You're probably right." 

“Probably,” Remus said, and then he let some of his irritation leak into his voice. “Why do you need to leave for a safe house?”

There was a long, ballooning silence that filled up the kitchen. Remus was only aware of it because it had become deafening, and when James finally spoke it left the room, along with all of the air. 

James finally turned to face him, his expression grave. 

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Dumbledore’s gotten word of a Prophecy pertaining to You-Know-Who.” 

Remus felt himself go very still. 

“It’s about a child born at the end of July who will have the power to defeat him. Born to parents who have thrice defied him. You-Know-Who thinks it’s Ariel. It’s her or Frank and Alice’s boy — the Prophecy didn’t specify if it was a boy or a girl, so I guess that the tosser figured he’d rather be safe than sorry.” 

Remus felt the blood drain from his face, a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t find the words, really. The horror was a thick, viscous thing, clogging his throat.

"Dumbledore said he has reason to believe that You-Know-Who is going to target us specifically — that he's going to come after Ariel to prevent the Prophecy from coming true. Dumbledore was meant to tell the Order tonight. Lily and I were supposed to be there, but I think I’ve bungled it, after today.” James shook his head, as though to himself. “We don’t know what to think.” 

“She’s a baby,” Remus managed to strangle out. His mind briefly went to Ariel flinging mashed peas at Sirius the last time they'd visited, giggling madly as bits of green goop stuck to his hair. Sirius had looked horrified for a moment before cracking a smile, grabbing a spoonful and flinging it right back at her. Lily had wanted to Hex him. 

“No shit,” James said, his voice heavy. "But Dumbledore believes it, and if he believes it, then You-Know-Who will too."

“Prongs, I’m serious. Merlin and Morgana, why are you still here?” 

It took James a very long time to answer. Remus was reminded very much of Fleamont, then, of him hunched over the dining room table, just after graduation, when he’d had the Prophet out and read it aloud only to look up at James and say, “They’ll be coming for us next, son.” 

And now they were coming for James’ daughter. 

“I want to know what they know.” James’ leg had begun to shake — it always did, when he was nervous. “I can’t just sit around and wait for someone to fix this. There’s information out there, things we can be doing so that You-Know-Who is stopped once and for all.” 

Remus leaned forward carefully in his chair as it creaked beneath him. “That would be the point of the Order, mate.” 

James finally turned from the window, meeting Remus' gaze. His hazel eyes were fierce, burning with a determined intensity that Remus had only seen a handful of times before. "The Order is doing what it can, but it's not enough. Not anymore. I want to know exactly what they know.” 

Remus felt a chill run down his spine at the intensity in James' eyes. He had seen that look before, that unwavering resolve, but never quite like this. Never with stakes this high.

"Prongs," Remus said carefully, "Dumbledore has given you a direct order. For your safety, for Lily's, for Ariel's. You can't just ignore that."

James pushed off from the window, resuming his agitated pacing. "I'm not ignoring it. I'll go to the safe house, I will, but first, I need answers. I need to know what the Death Eaters know about this Prophecy, about why they're targeting Ariel."

“And how do you figure you’d do that all by yourself?” 

“I’m not — you’re coming with me.” 

Remus felt an impending sense of doom fall over him. 

“To do what, exactly?” he asked slowly. 

James lifted his eyes, and they sunk into Remus’, several shades darker. “We’re going to find Snivellus.” 

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I don’t want a handsome Snape. I don’t need him to be “hot.” I don’t need excuses to find him attractive. I want the Severus who couldn’t care less about his appearance because he’s utterly depressed—the Severus who couldn’t afford kids’ clothes and had to wear his mother’s hand-me-downs. I want the Severus with the long nose, crooked teeth, hunched posture, and that sleep-deprived look that says he hasn’t seen a good night’s rest in a century. I want the Severus whose physical appearance speaks to his miserable life in some crumbling neighborhood in the roughest part of England—the Severus who’s basically the embodiment of the poorest of the working class. That’s the Severus I find hot.

If he ever had to leave his mess of a home on Spinner’s End and look “presentable,” he’d throw on the oldest, most threadbare clothes he owns, probably oversized because he’s skeletal from stress. He’d look like some ghost from up north, his face reflecting both his awful life and the harsh social class he was born into. This is a Snape who doesn’t give off tortured anti-hero vibes in some romantic Byron-esque way. No, he’s straight out of an Irvine Welsh, Charles Bukowski, or John Fante novel—the kind of Snape who’d be right at home in a Guy Ritchie movie. That’s the Snape I want, feeding into my terrible, questionable tastes.

I’m not interested in some elegant, well-groomed, or conventionally sexy Snape. Please, keep that image far away from me.

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Well... 👀

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Ada Limón, “To Be Made Whole”, On Being with Krista Tippett

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Chad Wilder

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yeppp they make me sick

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dumbledore's scary dog privilege

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alright ladies and gents, I have most of chapter 67 done. it's not complete and needs editing so I'll have it up this weekend, probably Saturday. 🫡

just wanted to give y'all an update. I'll be kinda MIA this week - I'm doing the pit orchestra for my district's musical - so I'm booked solid.

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hah idk was just doing warm-up sketches and this one got away from me so here's a hug