#From the pressure of Harry Potter to where she writes best for the first time the bestselling author invites readers into her creative...

[djfrancuz]

Harry Potter - Tell Me Why #hitsdjsong #musicforeveryone @PositiveVibrat...

[muiitoloko]

Would you be able to do a Severus Snape story. One where his girlfriend is nervous about having sex with him, as she still suffers from issues she suffered at the hands of a man who thought cared about her but just wanted to abuse her. Severus completely understands and never pressures her, she tells him she finally wants to have sex with him and he takes his time with her and is gently with her due her abuser being a sadist when it came to sex and not preparing her enough. Then after they have made love, he cuddles up with her which is a foreign concept to her as her abuser just use to shove her clothes into her arms after he was finished. Severus telling her how beautiful she is, as her abuser also belittled her about her body.

if you aren’t comfortable with this idea, it is fine if you choose not to write this idea.

Title: Alchemy of the Heart

Summary: A story of transformation and healing, where Severus Snape learns that love, like magic, can mend even the most broken of souls.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request! 🫶

Also read on Ao3

Severus Snape never thought he would find himself in such a situation—dating a Muggle, living a life that was so mundanely normal after everything he had endured. He scoffed at the absurdity of it all as he moved about the small kitchen in his modest home at Spinner's End, preparing dinner for himself and you, the woman who had somehow wormed her way into his life, despite his best efforts to keep everyone at arm’s length.

The irony was not lost on him. He, Severus Snape, a man who had spent his entire adult life hiding behind shadows and secrets, was now standing over a stove, chopping vegetables for a Muggle dish he barely knew how to make. He was a man who had survived the war, against all odds, only to be pulled back from the brink of death by none other than Harry bloody Potter. That particular twist of fate still rankled him. Potter had used the Elder Wand to heal the wounds inflicted by Nagini, saving his life and subsequently fighting to free him from Azkaban, where he had been imprisoned for a year. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing he owed his life and freedom to the very boy he had spent years despising.

Snape grimaced as he remembered the cold, damp cells of Azkaban, the Dementors draining every ounce of warmth and hope from him, leaving only a hollow shell behind. He had resigned himself to that fate, ready to be forgotten, to fade into obscurity. But Potter had other plans, of course. The boy who lived, the boy who couldn’t leave well enough alone.

And now, here he was, living in his old childhood home, the memories of his past haunting every corner, every shadow. But there was one new element in his life, something—or rather someone—who had become an unexpected comfort in this bleak existence. You.

He had first noticed you a few weeks after his release, moving into the house next door with your belongings piled into an old, beat-up car. You were a breath of fresh air in the stale, suffocating environment of Spinner’s End. Snape had tried to scare you off at first, his usual acerbic demeanor and cutting remarks meant to keep you at a distance. But you were persistent, infuriatingly so. You would knock on his door with some trivial request—a cup of sugar, a light for your stove, a missing ingredient for dinner. And every time, despite himself, Snape would begrudgingly oblige, always with a scowl and a sarcastic remark.

But you kept coming back. No matter how cold or curt he was, you would return, flashing that infuriatingly bright smile, your eyes sparkling with a warmth that he hadn’t known in years. Slowly, despite his best efforts, Snape found himself softening towards you, your presence becoming a constant, a fixture in his life that he didn’t entirely hate.

It had started as a reluctant friendship—if he could even call it that—exchanging a few words here and there, discussing the weather or some mundane topic. But then, one evening, you had invited him over for dinner. He had almost declined, the words on the tip of his tongue, but something in your eyes, a quiet loneliness, made him change his mind. And that night, as you both sat in your small, cozy kitchen, sharing a simple meal, Snape felt something shift between you. It was subtle, a barely noticeable change in the air, but it was there, and he knew you felt it too.

From that moment on, things were different. The awkwardness that had always lingered between you seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet understanding, a comfort in each other’s presence that neither of you could deny. The dinners became more frequent, the conversations more personal, and before long, those moments spent together turned into something more.

The first time you kissed him, it was hesitant, a brief brush of lips that left him reeling. He had pulled back, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, of regret. But all he saw was warmth, acceptance, and something deeper—something he hadn’t felt in years. And so, he had kissed you again, this time with more conviction, more certainty, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, tasting the sweetness of your lips.

But even as things between you grew more intimate, there was always a hesitance on your part, a reluctance to let things progress beyond those heated kisses, those moments of passion that left you both breathless. Snape had tried to be patient, tried to respect your boundaries, but there were times when he couldn’t help the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface.

It wasn’t until one night, after another round of heated kisses that left you both wanting more, that Snape’s patience finally wore thin. He had used Legilimency on you, a skill he had honed to perfection over the years, and what he saw left him reeling. Memories of your past, of a relationship that had been toxic, abusive, of a man who had used your body, your trust, against you. It made Snape’s blood boil with rage, a fury that he hadn’t felt in years, directed not at you but at the man who had hurt you.

He had pulled back immediately, ashamed of what he had done, of the intrusion, but he couldn’t erase the memories from his mind. He couldn’t forget the pain in your eyes, the fear that had lingered just beneath the surface, even as you tried to move on, to find happiness with him.

So he kept it to himself, burying the knowledge deep within, refusing to let it taint what was growing between you. He would wait, he decided. He would wait until you were ready to tell him, until you trusted him enough to open up, to share your past with him.

And then, one evening, as you both sat on his old, worn sofa, your head resting on his shoulder, you had finally told him. The words had tumbled out in a rush, your voice trembling with fear and uncertainty, and Snape had listened, his heart aching with every word. When you had finished, he had wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing against your hair as he whispered words of comfort, of reassurance.

"Thank you for telling me," he had murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "You’re safe with me, always."

And that night, as you lay in his arms, Snape had made a silent vow to himself. He would never hurt you, never push you beyond what you were comfortable with. He would wait, as long as it took, until you were ready.

Now, as he stirred the pot of soup simmering on the stove, Snape couldn’t help but think back to that night, to the way you had looked at him with such trust, such vulnerability. It made his heart clench in a way that he wasn’t used to, a feeling that he had tried to bury for years but that now resurfaced with a vengeance.

You had come into his life like a force of nature, breaking down the walls he had built around himself, forcing him to confront emotions that he had long since buried. And while part of him resented it, resented the way you had made him feel again, another part of him—the part he tried to ignore—was grateful.

He heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind him and turned to see you standing in the doorway, your eyes bright with affection as you watched him cook. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him at the sight of you, so full of life, so full of light.

"You’re cooking," you said, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight as you stepped into the kitchen, your hands coming to rest on the counter as you leaned against it, watching him with those warm, trusting eyes.

"Don’t sound so shocked," Snape replied, his tone dry but not unkind as he turned back to the stove, giving the soup another stir. "I am capable of preparing a meal, despite what you may think."

You chuckled softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. "I never doubted it," you said, your voice light and teasing as you stepped closer, your hands resting on his shoulders as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "But I’m still impressed."

Snape felt a warmth spread through him at your touch, your lips against his skin sending a wave of heat coursing through his body. He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the warmth of your gaze, the affection that shone in your eyes.

But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment was gone, and Snape turned back to the stove, his hands tightening on the spoon as he stirred the soup with more force than necessary. He couldn’t allow himself to get too comfortable, to let his guard down. There was still so much you didn’t know about him, so much he was keeping from you.

You didn’t know that the man you were dating was not just a simple recluse living in a small, forgotten town. You didn’t know that the man you had trusted with your secrets, with your heart, was a wizard, a man who had fought in a war that had left deep scars on his soul. You didn’t know that the man you had chosen to love was capable of things that would terrify most people.

And as much as Snape wanted to keep it that way, to keep you safe from the darkness that had consumed so much of his life, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. He could only hope that when it did, you would still look at him with the same warmth, the same affection that you did now.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand—preparing a simple meal for the woman who had become the light in his dark, shadowed world. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to offer.

You moved closer to him, your body pressing against his as you wrapped your arms around his waist, your head resting on his shoulder as you watched him cook. Snape stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into your embrace, the warmth of your body seeping into his own, calming the storm of thoughts that constantly swirled in his mind.

"Thank you, Sev," you murmured, your voice soft and sincere as you pressed another kiss to his shoulder, your lips lingering against the fabric of his shirt. "For everything."

Snape swallowed hard, his throat tightening at the sound of your voice, the sincerity in your words. He wasn’t used to this—this warmth, this affection. It was foreign to him, something he had long since resigned himself to living without. But now, with you, it was becoming a part of his life, and as much as it terrified him, he found himself clinging to it, desperate for the light you brought into his world.

He didn’t trust himself to speak, didn’t trust his voice to remain steady, so instead, he simply nodded, his hand coming up to rest on yours, squeezing it gently in silent acknowledgment.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just a connection, a confirmation that he was here, with you, in this moment. Whatever it was, Snape felt a surge of emotion rise up within him, threatening to overwhelm him.

And then, as if sensing his turmoil, you leaned in and kissed him, your lips soft and warm against his, a gentle caress that made his heart ache with longing. Snape responded almost automatically, his hands coming up to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperate need that he hadn’t felt in years.

The kiss quickly grew more heated, more urgent, as Snape’s hands roamed over your body, feeling the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your clothes. He could feel the desire building within him, the need to take this further, to lose himself in you, in the warmth and comfort that you offered.

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, you pulled back, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"Severus," you murmured, your voice trembling slightly as you placed your hands on his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "I… I want to be with you, but…"

Snape felt his heart clench at your words, the hesitation in your voice, the uncertainty in your eyes. He knew what you were going to say, knew what was holding you back, and it made his chest tighten with a mix of frustration and sorrow.

"But you’re not ready," Snape finished for you, his voice low and rough as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. "And that’s okay, love. We’ll take things at your pace."

You looked up at him, your eyes filling with tears as you nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you savored the warmth of his hand against your skin.

Snape felt a wave of emotion wash over him, a mixture of love and frustration and something else—something deeper, something darker that he couldn’t quite put into words. He wanted you, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—push you into something you weren’t ready for. Not after everything you had been through.

So instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as he whispered, "When you’re ready, I’ll be here."

You nodded, your arms wrapping around his waist as you buried your face in his chest, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline. And in that moment, Snape realized that maybe, just maybe, he was.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Snape couldn’t help but think of how far he had come, how much his life had changed since the end of the war. He had gone from being a man consumed by darkness and hatred, to a man who was learning to love again, who was finding solace in the warmth of a woman’s embrace.

But even as he held you close, the weight of his secrets pressed down on him, a constant reminder that there was still so much you didn’t know about him, so much that he was keeping from you.

And as much as he wanted to protect you from that darkness, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

For now, though, he would hold onto this moment, this brief reprieve from the shadows that haunted his every step. And he would continue to wait, as long as it took, until you were ready to take that next step, to fully trust him with your body, your heart, your soul.

Because for the first time in his life, Severus Snape had something worth waiting for.

You and Severus Snape sat across from each other at the small, worn kitchen table in his modest home. The room was quiet, save for the soft clinking of spoons against bowls as you both ate the soup he had prepared. The aroma of the dish filled the air, a comforting blend of herbs and spices that seemed almost out of place in the austere surroundings of Spinner’s End.

Snape watched you closely, his dark, piercing eyes never leaving your face as you took your first tentative spoonful of the soup. He appeared calm and composed, but there was a hint of something else in his gaze—an emotion that he carefully kept hidden behind his usual mask of indifference. You, oblivious to the scrutiny, tasted the soup, savoring the warmth that spread through you as you swallowed.

To your surprise, the soup was not just good—it was delicious. The flavors were rich and well-balanced, each ingredient perfectly complementing the others. You glanced up at Snape, your eyes wide with genuine admiration. “This is amazing, Severus,” you said, your voice filled with pleasant surprise. “I didn’t expect you to be such a good cook!”

Snape’s response was immediate. He rolled his eyes in a manner that was both exaggerated and entirely out of character, the motion so unexpected that it caught you off guard. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he affected a tone of mock offense. “What did you expect, then? That I would poison you with my lack of culinary skills?”

You burst into laughter, the sound bright and clear in the small, dimly lit kitchen. “No, no! It’s just—I mean, you never struck me as the type to… well, cook. You always seem so serious, so… severe.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, but there was a glint of amusement in them that you hadn’t noticed before. “I am full of surprises, as you’ve clearly discovered,” he said dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were fighting the urge to smile.

You tried to stifle your laughter, covering your mouth with one hand as you leaned forward, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Sev. I didn’t mean to sound so… rude. I’m just pleasantly surprised, that’s all.”

Snape’s expression remained impassive, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, if you’re going to be so disrespectful about my cooking, perhaps I should refrain from ever doing it again,” he said, his tone smooth and measured, though laced with a subtle edge of sarcasm.

Your laughter died down, and you looked at him with wide, imploring eyes, your lips forming a small, playful pout. “Oh, please don’t do that! I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He allowed the silence to stretch out, letting you squirm slightly under his gaze. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he set his spoon down and leaned back in his chair, his long, pale fingers steepled in front of him. “I suppose I can find it within myself to forgive you,” he said with mock gravity, his voice carrying that familiar, rich baritone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You grinned, relieved by the playful banter that had emerged between you two. “I promise to be more appreciative next time,” you said, your tone light and teasing.

Snape’s eyes softened slightly, and he allowed himself a small, genuine smile, though it was fleeting. “See that you do,” he replied, his voice carrying just a hint of warmth. He picked up his spoon once more, returning his attention to his soup, though you could tell he was still watching you from the corner of his eye.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, the earlier tension between you having dissipated entirely. There was something soothing about the simplicity of the moment—the two of you sharing a meal, the quiet intimacy of the evening wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

After a while, you looked up at him, a thought crossing your mind. “Severus,” you began, your voice soft and curious, “you never really talk about your past. You’ve told me bits and pieces, but… I don’t really know much about you.”

Snape’s hand paused mid-motion, his spoon hovering over the bowl. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something—uncertainty, perhaps?—in his gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual inscrutable expression.

“What exactly do you want to know?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

You hesitated, unsure of how to phrase your question without prying too much. “I know you were a professor—a chemistry professor, right? At a college in Scotland?”

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the version of his past that he had shared with you. “Yes,” he said, his voice measured. “I taught for many years.”

You smiled at him, trying to convey that you weren’t seeking to push him into sharing anything he wasn’t comfortable with. “It must have been… interesting, teaching. But I can’t imagine it was easy, especially with students who didn’t always appreciate your brilliance.”

Snape’s lips twitched at that, and he let out a soft, sardonic huff. “Indeed. Many of them were more interested in their own self-indulgent pursuits than in actually learning anything of value.”

You chuckled, imagining a classroom full of students cowering under Snape’s stern gaze, their attempts at chemistry likely met with his cutting remarks. “I’m sure you were a… challenging teacher,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your tact. “I was effective,” he replied simply, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

You leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him with genuine curiosity. “Do you miss it? Teaching, I mean.”

For a moment, Snape was silent, his eyes distant as if he were considering your question—or perhaps reliving old memories. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more reflective. “There are aspects of it that I miss, yes. The pursuit of knowledge, the satisfaction of imparting it to those few who were truly eager to learn… But the rest… no, I do not miss that.”

You nodded, understanding that there was much more to his past than he was willing—or perhaps able—to share. You didn’t press further, content to let him reveal what he wished in his own time. Instead, you reached out and gently placed your hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Sev,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with sincerity.

Snape looked at you, his expression inscrutable, but you could sense the shift in his mood—the subtle softening of his usual defenses. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice low and almost reluctant, as if the words didn’t come easily to him.

You both returned to your meal, the earlier levity now replaced by a quiet, comfortable silence. As you finished your soup, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment—a feeling that, despite everything, you were exactly where you were meant to be, with the man who, against all odds, had become so important to you.

And as Snape watched you from across the table, his dark eyes lingering on your face, he too felt a stirring of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years—something that, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t entirely hate.

Days later, you found yourself in a small, charming boutique nestled in the heart of town, dragging Severus Snape along with you. The place was a far cry from the dark, foreboding atmosphere of Spinner's End. It was bright, colorful, and filled with racks of clothing that seemed to almost offend Snape’s sensibilities. The air was thick with the scent of fresh fabric and a hint of perfume, and the light streaming through the windows made everything seem almost unnaturally cheerful.

Snape, however, was anything but cheerful.

He stood in the middle of the store, his tall, lean frame towering over the racks of clothing, his long black coat making him look like a shadow in a world of light. His greasy black hair hung over his pale, angular face, and his dark eyes were narrowed in a mixture of disdain and discomfort. He watched you with a glare that could have curdled milk, his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

"You cannot be serious," he growled, his deep, monotone voice cutting through the lighthearted chatter of the boutique. "I have no interest in—"

"Oh, come on, Sev," you interrupted, undeterred by his intimidating presence as you held up a bright, turquoise shirt, eyeing it critically before pushing it against his chest. "You can't always wear black. It's time for a change, don't you think?"

Snape recoiled as if you had just handed him a particularly venomous potion. "Absolutely not," he snapped, pushing the shirt away from him as if it were toxic. "I am perfectly content with my current wardrobe, thank you very much."

You rolled your eyes, clearly unfazed by his resistance. "You can't hide in black forever, you know. It’s time to add a little color to your life, Severus."

He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of stubborn defiance. "I see no need for such frivolity. I am not one of your... fashion experiments."

You grinned at his surly tone, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you rifled through another rack of clothing. "Well, maybe you should be. I think you’d look quite dashing in something other than black for a change."

Snape’s eyes narrowed further as he watched you, clearly unimpressed with the direction this outing was taking. "This is absurd," he muttered, though there was a faint trace of resignation in his voice as he realized that there was no escaping your determination.

And then, as if to test his resolve further, you pulled out a bright pink shirt from the rack, holding it up for him to see. "What about this?" you asked, your voice filled with playful innocence. "I think pink would really bring out the color in your eyes."

Snape’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His dark eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, it looked as if he might actually hiss at the offending garment. "Absolutely not!" he thundered, taking a step back as if the shirt were about to attack him. "I will not—under any circumstances—wear pink! No! No! No way! I’d rather die before wearing that!"

You burst into laughter at his dramatic reaction, clutching the shirt to your chest as you tried to stifle your giggles. "Oh, Sev," you managed between laughs, "you’re being ridiculous. It’s just a shirt!"

"It’s not just a shirt," he retorted, his voice laced with indignation. "It’s a deliberate assault on my dignity. Pink, indeed!" He scoffed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. "Do I look like someone who would wear pink?"

You stepped closer to him, your laughter subsiding as you held the shirt up to his chest again, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of challenge and affection. "You might be surprised," you teased, your voice softening slightly as you gave him a knowing smile. "Besides, I think you’d look quite handsome in it. It’s just for fun, Sev. No one’s going to see you."

Snape stared down at you, his expression unreadable as he contemplated your words. There was a long moment of silence as the two of you stood there, the bright pink shirt still held between you, an unspoken battle of wills playing out in the air.

Finally, with a resigned sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, Snape snatched the shirt from your hands, his dark eyes glaring at you with a mixture of frustration and reluctant acceptance. "Fine," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "But if I look ridiculous, I will hold you personally responsible."

You grinned, practically bouncing on your toes with excitement as you watched him disappear into the dressing room. "I’m sure you’ll look fantastic," you called after him, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

Several minutes passed, and you waited impatiently outside the dressing room, practically buzzing with anticipation. Finally, the door creaked open, and Snape stepped out, his tall, lean frame draped in the bright pink shirt you had chosen for him.

For a moment, you were stunned into silence. The shirt, against all odds, actually looked… good on him. The color, while a far cry from his usual black, brought out a warmth in his pale complexion that you hadn’t noticed before. The way the fabric clung to his lean form was surprisingly flattering, highlighting the sharp lines of his shoulders and chest.

But what really struck you was the expression on Snape’s face. He looked utterly resigned, as if he were bracing himself for some inevitable disaster, but there was also a glimmer of something else in his dark eyes—something that almost looked like amusement.

He stood there, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he clapped his hands together, his expression deadpan as he waited for your reaction. "Well?" he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you satisfied with your handiwork, or do I need to suffer through more of this torture?"

You couldn’t help it. You burst into laughter, the sound bright and joyful as you clapped your hands together in delight. "You look… amazing, Severus!" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you stepped closer to him, reaching out to smooth the fabric of the shirt against his chest. "I knew you’d look good in pink!"

Snape rolled his eyes, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips that betrayed his own amusement. "I look like an idiot," he muttered, though the words lacked any real heat. "This is precisely why I do not allow you to choose my clothing."

You grinned up at him, your hands resting on his chest as you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, I think you look quite handsome," you said, your voice filled with affection. "And besides, it’s good to have a little fun every now and then, don’t you think?"

Snape huffed, clearly unconvinced, but there was a softness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before—a subtle acknowledgment of the fact that, despite his grumbling, he didn’t entirely hate the experience.

"Fun," he repeated, his voice laced with irony as he gave you a pointed look. "Yes, well, I suppose if nothing else, I’ve provided you with some amusement."

You chuckled, your eyes twinkling as you leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "You always do, Severus. You always do."

And as you both left the boutique, Snape still wearing the pink shirt with a mixture of resignation and reluctant acceptance, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. The man who had once been shrouded in darkness, who had built walls around himself so high that no one could penetrate them, was slowly letting you in—one bright pink shirt at a time.

Later that day, after the unexpected and rather amusing shopping trip, you found yourself back at Snape’s home. The small, dimly lit rooms of Spinner’s End were a stark contrast to the bright, colorful boutique you had dragged him to earlier, but there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of the old, worn furniture and the quiet, almost melancholic atmosphere that seemed to permeate every corner of the house.

Snape, now mercifully back in his usual black attire, sat stiffly on a low stool in the bathroom, his long legs awkwardly folded in front of him, as you fussed over his hair. The small, narrow room was filled with the scent of shampoo and the faint sound of water dripping from the faucet, the only noises breaking the otherwise heavy silence.

You stood behind him, your fingers working through the tangled strands of his long, greasy black hair, your touch gentle but insistent. The hair-washing had been your idea, of course—a suggestion made with the kind of playful insistence that you knew Snape could never fully resist, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

Snape, for his part, was doing his best to endure the ordeal with what little dignity he had left. His dark eyes were narrowed in a mixture of discomfort and irritation as he glared at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink, his lips pressed into a thin line of discontent. Every so often, he would let out a low grumble, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

"Must you continue this charade?" he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shot you a sideways glance in the mirror. "I’m quite capable of washing my own hair, you know."

You ignored his complaints, your fingers continuing to work through the soapy strands of his hair with determined care. "Oh, hush, Severus," you replied, your tone light and teasing as you gently massaged his scalp. "You’re just being grumpy because you know I’m right—this hair needs a good washing, and you weren’t about to do it yourself."

Snape let out an indignant huff, his fingers curling tightly around the edge of the sink as he tried to maintain some semblance of control over the situation. "I hardly think you’re qualified to make such judgments," he retorted, though the faint hint of amusement in his tone betrayed his true feelings. "And you’re taking entirely too much pleasure in this."

You chuckled softly, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you leaned down to press a quick, playful kiss to the top of his head. "Of course I am," you admitted, your voice filled with affection as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. "When else do I get the chance to pamper you like this?"

Snape rolled his eyes, though the gesture lacked any real heat. "Pamper," he repeated, his voice laced with irony as he met your gaze in the mirror. "If this is what you consider pampering, then I shudder to think what you would consider torture."

You grinned, your hands still working methodically through his hair, carefully untangling each knot with the patience of someone who had come to know him well enough to not be intimidated by his gruff demeanor. "Oh, Sev," you teased, your voice soft and affectionate, "I think you secretly enjoy this more than you let on. You just don’t want to admit it."

He scoffed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he turned his head to glare at you, though there was no real malice in his gaze. "I assure you, I derive no enjoyment from being subjected to this… this—"

"Indulgence?" you supplied, your tone light and playful as you met his glare with a knowing smile.

"Humiliation," Snape corrected, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he turned his attention back to the mirror, his expression once again settling into its usual stoic mask. "But by all means, continue with your… indulgence."

You shook your head, your grin widening as you continued to work through his hair, the strands slowly becoming less tangled, less greasy under your careful ministrations. "You’re impossible," you muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words. "But that’s part of your charm, I suppose."

Snape’s only response was a low, noncommittal grunt, his fingers tapping impatiently against the edge of the sink as he tried to maintain his patience.

After a few more minutes of combing through his hair, you finally felt satisfied with your work. You reached for a clean towel, gently wrapping it around his head as you began to dry the now-clean strands with a firm but gentle touch. "There, all done," you said, your voice filled with a quiet satisfaction as you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

Snape, however, was less than impressed. He reached up, his long fingers brushing through his now-damp hair with a frown, as if expecting to find some glaring imperfection. "Are you quite finished?" he asked, his tone a mixture of irritation and resignation as he glanced at you in the mirror.

"Not quite," you replied, your eyes catching sight of a single strand of white hair near the crown of his head. Your expression shifted from playful to curious as you reached out to touch the strand, gently pulling it free from the rest of his hair.

"Sev," you said, your voice filled with a mixture of surprise and amusement as you held up the white hair for him to see. "Look what I found."

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the strand in your hand, his expression immediately hardening. "That is not mine," he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It must have gotten mixed in with my hair somehow."

You couldn’t help but laugh at his stubborn denial, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you dangled the strand in front of him. "Oh, come on, Sev," you teased, your voice light and playful as you met his glare with a grin. "It’s just one white hair. It’s nothing to be ashamed of."

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line, his dark eyes narrowing further as he snatched the strand from your hand, his expression one of absolute refusal. "It is not mine," he repeated, his voice filled with the kind of certainty that only Severus Snape could muster. "I do not have white hair."

You rolled your eyes, clearly amused by his adamant refusal to accept the truth. "You’re impossible," you muttered, shaking your head as you watched him carefully inspect the strand of hair, as if trying to find some evidence to support his claim.

"Impossible or not," Snape replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he tossed the strand of hair into the waste bin with a flick of his wrist, "I refuse to believe that I am… aging."

You chuckled softly, reaching out to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against the sharp line of his jaw as you looked up at him with a mixture of affection and amusement. "Everyone ages, Sev," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth as you met his gaze. "Even you."

Snape’s expression softened slightly at your words, though he still seemed reluctant to accept the truth. "Perhaps," he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he glanced away, his dark eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had become so important to you, despite his stubbornness, despite his gruff exterior. "It’s nothing to worry about," you assured him, your voice soft and reassuring as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I think it just makes you more distinguished."

Snape let out a low, skeptical grunt, his lips curving into a faint, reluctant smile as he met your gaze once more. "Distinguished," he repeated, his tone filled with a mixture of irony and amusement. "Is that what you call it?"

You grinned, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you nodded. "Absolutely," you replied, your voice filled with playful conviction. "And besides, it’s just one hair. You’ve got plenty of time before you have to worry about going gray."

Snape rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced by your reassurances, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into your touch, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you closer, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down at you with a mixture of desire and frustration.

"You’re entirely too pleased with yourself," he murmured, his voice low and rough as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering on your skin.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze, your heart quickening as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. "And you’re entirely too grumpy," you retorted, though your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, the playful banter giving way to a sudden, undeniable tension that crackled in the air between you.

Snape’s lips curved into a small, dangerous smile, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "Perhaps," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, seductive growl as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "you need to be reminded of why you shouldn’t push me too far."

Your breath hitched at the underlying threat in his tone, a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you as his fingers tightened around your wrist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady, insistent pressure of his arousal against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of desire straight to your core.

"Severus," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and uncertain.

He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly as he sensed your hesitation, the dark intensity in his eyes giving way to a quiet, almost tender concern. "You’re still afraid," he murmured, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire as he brushed his lips against your temple, the gentle gesture at odds with the possessive grip he had on your wrist. "You don’t have to be, love."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the weight of his words, the quiet reassurance in his voice making your resolve waver. "I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt, of hesitation.

But there was none. Only the dark, smoldering intensity of a man who wanted you—body, heart, and soul.

"I want this," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for so long, the words that you had been too afraid to say. "I want you, Sev."

A low growl rumbled deep in his chest at your admission, his dark eyes flashing with a mixture of desire and satisfaction as he leaned down to capture your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a possessive urgency that made your knees weak.

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his damp hair as you pressed yourself against him, the fear and hesitation that had held you back for so long melting away in the heat of his embrace. There was no room for doubt, no room for fear—only the overwhelming need to be with him, to feel him, to lose yourself in the pleasure that he offered.

Snape’s hands moved with a sure, practiced grace as he deftly unbuttoned your blouse, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pushed the fabric aside, revealing the smooth, pale expanse of your chest. He let out a low, appreciative groan as he took in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire as he reached up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the hollow of your throat, his hands moving to your waist as he slowly began to guide you toward the bed. "I’ve wanted this for so long… wanted you for so long."

You let out a soft moan at the feel of his lips against your skin, your heart pounding in your chest as you allowed him to lead you, your legs trembling with anticipation as you felt the edge of the bed against the back of your knees. "Sev," you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly as he sensed your lingering hesitation, his hands moving to cup your face as he leaned down to press a gentle, reassuring kiss to your lips. "You don’t have to be afraid," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he brushed his thumbs against your cheeks, his dark eyes filled with a quiet, tender concern. "I’ll be gentle, love. I promise."

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had been so patient, so understanding, even as his own desire threatened to consume him. "I trust you," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you savored the warmth of his hands against your skin.

Snape let out a low, relieved sigh at your words, his lips curving into a small, tender smile as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his hands moving to gently guide you onto the bed. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet, sincere gratitude as he leaned over you, his dark eyes never leaving yours as he slowly began to undress you, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverent care that made your heart ache.

There was no rush, no urgency—only the slow, deliberate movements of a man who wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every kiss. And as he finally stripped away the last of your clothing, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, the fear and uncertainty that had plagued you for so long fading into the background as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

Snape took his time, his hands and lips exploring every inch of your body with a slow, deliberate care that made your breath hitch in your throat, the pleasure building with every touch, every caress. He was patient, attentive, always watching, always listening for any sign of discomfort, of hesitation, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if you so much as whispered a word of doubt.

But you gave him none. Only soft, breathless moans and whispered pleas for more, your body arching into his touch as he slowly, gently, brought you to the edge of pleasure, only to pull back, teasing you with the promise of release before finally, mercifully, giving you what you craved.

When he finally entered you, it was with a slow, deliberate thrust, his hands gripping your hips as he filled you completely, the sensation both overwhelming and exquisitely perfect. You let out a soft cry, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure that surged through you.

"Sev," you moaned, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and relief as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

He let out a low, guttural groan at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands tightening on your hips as he quickened his pace, the intensity of his movements matched only by the fierce, possessive hunger in his eyes as he looked down at you, his expression one of absolute, unbridled need.

"You’re mine," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his hips driving into you with a desperate urgency that made your breath hitch in your throat. "Mine, love. Always."

You could only moan in response, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form coherent words as you lost yourself in the sensation of him moving inside you, the steady, insistent rhythm of his thrusts sending you spiraling closer and closer to the edge of release.

And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you cried out in pleasure, your fingers digging into his back as you clung to him, the intensity of your orgasm leaving you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent.

Snape continued moving inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as the intensity of his own pleasure grew, his control slipping with each passing second. His dark eyes, usually so guarded and inscrutable, were now clouded with raw desire as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, his voice a strained whisper, rough with the effort to hold back. There was a note of desperation in his tone, a plea for your permission, your acceptance, as he teetered on the edge of release.

Your mind was a haze of pleasure, your body still trembling from the powerful orgasm he had just coaxed from you. His question hung in the air, charged with the weight of what it would mean—for him to finally claim you, to mark you as his.

“In me,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, but there was no mistaking the conviction in your words. “Cum inside me, Severus.”

A low, guttural curse escaped his lips, a rare crack in his usually controlled demeanor, as he buried himself to the hilt with a final, powerful thrust. The sensation of his thick length pulsing deep inside you sent a shudder through your body, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, holding him close as he found his release.

He came hard, his entire body tensing as he spilled himself inside you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he held you in place, ensuring that every last drop was buried deep within you. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, mingling with the soft, desperate moans that escaped his lips as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, the intensity of it nearly overwhelming him.

“Mine,” he growled through clenched teeth, his voice rough with satisfaction as he pressed a bruising kiss to your lips, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release. “You’re mine, love… all mine.”

You could only nod weakly, your body spent, your mind still reeling from the force of your own climax. The weight of his words, the possessiveness in his tone, sent a thrill through you, even as exhaustion began to creep in, your limbs heavy and languid as you lay beneath him.

Snape slowly pulled out of you, a low, satisfied groan rumbling in his chest as he watched the evidence of his claim slowly begin to seep from your body. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, the sight stirring something deep within him—something primal, possessive, and utterly inescapable.

But before you could fully process what was happening, Snape surprised you by shifting lower, his long, lean frame sliding down the bed until his face was level with your still-sensitive core. Your eyes widened in shock as you realized what he intended, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide to make room for himself.

“Sev—” you began, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and lingering sensitivity, but he silenced you with a look, his dark eyes glinting with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Be still,” he commanded softly, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your inner thigh in a feather-light caress. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

You whimpered softly, your body trembling as he moved closer, his breath hot against your already oversensitive skin. You could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your most intimate areas, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure and discomfort through your body in equal measure.

“Severus, please,” you pleaded, your voice weak and breathy as you tried to squirm away, the overwhelming sensitivity making you want to pull back, to escape the onslaught of sensations that were too much, too intense.

But Snape would have none of it. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you firmly in place as he buried his face between your legs, his lips and tongue seeking out the remnants of his own release mixed with your essence. The feel of his mouth on you, the deliberate, almost reverent way he cleaned you, was both too much and not enough, your mind spinning with the intensity of it all.

“Stay still,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a rough whisper as he continued his ministrations, his tongue lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers of pleasure racing up your spine. “Let me taste you… let me taste what’s mine.”

You gasped, your fingers curling into the sheets as you fought against the urge to pull away, the overwhelming sensitivity making every touch feel like both pleasure and torture. Your body jerked involuntarily, but Snape only tightened his grip, holding you steady as he continued to work his mouth against you, his dark eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

He loved this—loved the way you trembled beneath him, the way your body responded to his touch even when it was too much, too intense. He loved the way your breath hitched in your throat, the way your nails dug into the sheets as you fought to keep still, to endure the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with dark satisfaction as he continued to lap at you, his tongue flicking against your clit in a way that made you cry out, your body convulsing beneath him. “So perfect… so responsive… I could do this forever.”

You couldn’t respond, your mind too clouded with pleasure, your body too wracked with sensation to form coherent words. All you could do was cling to the sheets, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Snape continued to work his mouth against you, his tongue relentless in its pursuit of every last drop of your combined release.

“Sev, please… it’s too much,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and need as you tried to pull away, your body on the verge of another climax, the overstimulation sending jolts of pleasure and pain through you in equal measure.

But Snape didn’t let up. If anything, your pleas only seemed to spur him on, his mouth working you with renewed fervor, his hands tightening on your thighs as he held you in place, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

“You can take it,” he growled against your skin, his voice filled with a dark, possessive hunger as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re mine, love… every part of you. I’ll make you cum again… I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”

His words were your undoing. With a final, desperate cry, your body convulsed beneath him, your second orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent. Snape held you through it, his mouth never leaving you, his tongue continuing to lap at you even as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your release.

When you finally came down from the high, your body limp and exhausted, Snape slowly pulled away, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you, his lips curving into a small, dangerous smile.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a dark, possessive satisfaction as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

You could only nod weakly, your mind clouded by exhaustion and the overwhelming pleasure that had just coursed through you. Every muscle in your body felt heavy, spent, and as you lay there, trying to catch your breath, the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart still pounding in your ears, as you waited for the inevitable.

You braced yourself for the cold distance that you had come to expect from your past—waiting for him to pull away, to turn his back on you, to push you away with a dismissive order, just like your ex-boyfriend used to do. The old fears began to creep back in, threatening to ruin the quiet afterglow that had settled over the room.

But Severus didn’t do that.

Instead, he surprised you. The bed shifted under his weight as he climbed in beside you, and before you could even process what was happening, he gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. His embrace was firm but comforting, his long, lean body molding perfectly to yours as he held you, his breath warm against your temple.

“Did you like it?” he asked quietly, his deep, monotone voice soft, almost hesitant, as if he were unsure of the answer. His hand came up to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and careful, as if he were afraid of overwhelming you further. You could feel his lips brush against your forehead in a tender kiss, a gesture that was so unexpected, so out of character, that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the voice to tell him how much his gentleness meant to you, how much his care and concern had touched you. Instead, all you could do was lay there in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

When you didn’t respond immediately, Severus tensed slightly, his grip on you loosening as if he feared he had done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet regret. “If I was too much… if I pressured you… that was never my intention.”

The sincerity in his words, the genuine worry that laced his tone, sent a wave of emotion crashing over you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to blink rapidly to keep them from falling. The care he was showing you, the way he was so attuned to your feelings, was something you weren’t used to. Your ex-boyfriend had never asked if you were okay, never checked if you were comfortable or happy. But here was Severus, a man who had every reason to be distant and cold, holding you with such tenderness, such concern, that it made your heart ache.

You turned your head slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. His dark gaze met yours, and you could see the worry etched into his sharp features, the way his brow furrowed as he waited for your response. He was genuinely concerned for you, genuinely worried that he had done something to hurt you, and the realization was almost too much to bear.

“I…” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, but all you could manage was a soft, choked sob as the tears finally spilled over, trailing down your cheeks. “Severus, I… I’ve never…”

You couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t find a way to explain the depth of what you were feeling. But Severus seemed to understand. His expression softened, and he gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb, his touch so gentle, so reverent, that it only made you cry harder.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “It’s all right, love. You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here… and I’m not going anywhere.”

The reassurance in his words, the quiet promise that he would stay, that he wouldn’t push you away, was more than you could have ever hoped for. You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him, your arms wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to hold onto this moment, to hold onto the safety and comfort he was offering you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest as you tried to control the sobs that threatened to overwhelm you. “I’m sorry for crying… I just… I’m not used to this. To someone caring.”

Severus tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you against him as he whispered, “You never have to apologize for your feelings, not with me. And you deserve to be cared for, love. You deserve to be treated with kindness… with respect.”

The words sent another wave of emotion crashing over you, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs that shook your body, the raw, unfiltered emotion spilling out of you as you finally allowed yourself to feel the depth of what you had been holding back for so long. Severus held you through it all, his arms wrapped around you, his hand gently stroking your hair as he murmured soft words of comfort, his deep voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you exhausted and drained, you pulled back slightly, looking up at Severus through tear-streaked eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “Thank you for… for being so kind. For caring.”

Severus gazed down at you, his dark eyes filled with a warmth that took your breath away. “I care about you more than you know,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “And I will always care. You’re safe with me… always.”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how much his reassurance meant to you, how much his presence in your life had changed everything. Instead, you simply leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, pouring all of your gratitude, all of your affection, into that one, simple gesture.

Severus returned the kiss with a tenderness that made your heart swell, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate care that made you feel cherished, adored.

When the kiss finally ended, Severus rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he whispered, “You’re incredible, love. So strong… so beautiful. And I’m honored that you’ve allowed me to be a part of your life.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he spoke those words as if he truly believed them, made your chest tighten with emotion. No one had ever spoken to you like this before, had ever made you feel so valued, so loved.

“Severus,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you looked up at him, your eyes shining with tears. “I… I love you.”

For a moment, Severus didn’t respond. His dark eyes searched yours, as if trying to discern the truth in your words, and when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with a quiet, almost reverent awe. “You love me?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you repeated the words, letting them hang in the air between you. “I love you, Severus. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Severus closed his eyes, a soft, shaky breath escaping his lips as he let the words sink in. When he opened his eyes again, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that took your breath away, a raw, unguarded emotion that he had never allowed you to see before.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet, almost desperate sincerity. “More than I ever thought possible.”

The words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the wounds left by your past, filling the empty spaces in your heart with a warmth that you had never known before. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as you buried your face in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear.

And as Severus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a protective, comforting embrace, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. In his arms, in his heart, in his life. And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly, deeply loved.

[capricorn-season]

[halestrom]

❦ ➷ get to know your fellow fanfic writers better ༊ ✧.*

Tagged by @frankthesnek so thank you for this

When did you post your first ever fic? 2004-ish on livejournal. It was Harry/Draco

First character you wrote for? Harry Potter, which tracks for being 13 and in fandom in the early 2000's

Main characters you are currently writing for? Rooster, Hangman and Bob from Top Gun. I love them so much.

Characters you haven't written about before but plan on writing about soon? I want to write a fic for Phoenix so badly bc she is Goals as a human being. Also, IceMav but ahhhhh

Fandoms your currently writing for? Top Gun, and still SGA

Platonic pairings you currently write for? I love all variations of AR-1 as friends and so I love writing them as friends. Bc their friendship is SO GOOD and so different in all the ways.

Romantic pairings you currently write for? Hangster, and I'm team Bob/Phoenix. McShep, McLorne, OT4

Your top 3 tags on AO3 if you post there? Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort which 10000% tracks

Current platform where you post your works? Only AO3, but also sometimes on tumblr, but one of these days I will migrate them over.

Snippet of the WIP you are currently working on?

My currently fandom is set in current day so I'm having fun like...writing text messages lol so this is the latest set of text messages within the fic (i havent added the emojis in cuz im lazy so far)

Rooster: Raise ur hand if u get to be the token queers at some sort of gala

Rooster: hand raise emoji

Hangman: hand raise, middle finger, hand raise

Hangman: but then again, if they want the best. They have the best. And that’s me.

Rooster: hey!

Hangman: Don’t worry boo, you make some good arm candy.

Rooster: Thank you.

Fanboy: Vulcan fingers emoji

Harvard: sucks.

Halo: Hopefully the food is good!

Fritz: maybe someone famous will be there?

Yale: You boys got your uniforms?

Omaha: lol

Hangman: gotta get a new pants. This ass cannot be contained.

Coyote: by that he means he split his seam drunk the last time he was wearing it trying to drop it low

Hangman: Betrayal. But point stands. Ass too good. Rooster can confirm.

Rooster: confirmed.

Coyote: kiss face emoji

Hangman: crying emoji

Coyote: hug emoji

Hangman: hug emoji

Phoenix: you two are pathetic.

Phoenix:  you both owe me a drink

Bob: If you go and buy fusible bonding tape you can add it to the inside seam of your pants to help reenforce it.

Harvard: fucking bob’s the best isn’t he?

Yale: always looking for us

Fritz: what a fucking beauty, bob

Bob: :)

Hangman: Bob, you’re almost making me want a backseater

Phoenix: BACK THE FUCK UP

Halo: 20 on Phoenix

Fanboy: thumbs up

Payback: same

Harvard: same

Yale: 100 emoji

Omaha: same

Bob: Agreed

Rooster: sorry babe.

Hangman: hey!

Coyote: I got u boo

Hangman: at least someone’s loyal

Coyote: 40 on Phoenix

Hangman: fuck all y’all

no pressure tagging: @nimuetheseawitch @spurious @wonkyelk @trainofcommand @gingerpolyglot @esteefee @colonelshepparrrrd and whomever else wants to do this

[andithiel]

Snippet tag

Thank you for tagging me @uncannycerulean (you can find her lovely snippet feat. Pansy here).

I’m currently writing agonising over an anon fest (while being away with extended family, yay, life is great!) so I can’t share a snippet of that. And I feel like maybe I’ve shared enough of the brain rot that is “Draco got a vibrator stuck in his arse and Harry needs to help him get it out”? And this is probably a bad idea because I can’t be distracted from the fest fic and I’ve no idea when I’d be able to finish this, but I’ve been toying with the idea of a werewolf A/B/O fic where Harry goes into his first heat and Draco needs to help him out by having him in his home and trying his best not to give into his rut. This is a pretty rough section (but the most polished I have for this WIP) where Draco’s asked Luna to come over and give Harry some special lycanthropy sex aid.

Luna hums and Draco’s not sure if she agrees or not. “He likes you though.”

“Luna, I’m sorry, I know you live on another planet, where I’m sure that statement is true. I, however, live on this one, the one where Harry Potter does not like Draco Malfoy. He’s not in his right mind right now, he doesn’t want— He’d want anyone who happens to—”

Luna regards him and it’s eery, he squirms.

“And what would the harm be in that? If he wants you for this problem, and you want him for the exact same—” Draco looks up and then down again. “Oh.”

Draco rubs at his nose, trying to quell his embarrassment.

“Maybe ‘like’ isn’t the right word,” she says. “But you were both heavily obsessed with each other in school.” Matter of factly as she always does.

Draco doesn’t feel like elaborating on this. “As pleasant as talking about Potter and me is, there was a reason I asked you to come over.”

“Oh! Yes, you did! I’m sorry Draco, I was so happy to see you that I forgot.”

Guilty that she feels that way about him and that he’s not good at keeping in touch. Luna rummages around in her bag and pulls out a box.

“Here, this is the latest in our lycanthropy collection: the inflatable dildo.”

Draco frowns while Luna unpacks the contents of the box. She pulls out a regular looking dildo. It’s purple, of course it’s purple.

“Right,” he mutters, unreasonably jealous of a piece of plastic. “Thanks.”

“Shall I give you a demonstration?”

“I’ve used this kind of thing, and I would venture that Potter has, too.”

“Oh, but this isn’t a regular dildo. It can sense when the user is about to reach climax, and then it expands at the base, like this.” She taps the dildo with her wand, and sure enough, it expands around the base, mimicking a knot that Draco is all too familiar with. “It won’t stay inflated for as long as a knot does, we’ve reached the conclusion that our clients find it a bit uncomfortable to keep it for that long when there’s not a body attached to it. It automatically deflates after about five minutes, but the user can postpone or shorten that time as they choose.”

Okay! That was fun right? *sweats nervously*. Onto the tagging! No pressure @rei382 @phdmama @dragonbornphoenix @crazybutgood @fictional @thehoneybeet and YOU who see this and want to share, please do!

[mimbotomy]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗 (No pressure, of course!)

After much debate, I have finally decided my five favorite fics, with only one WIP that I’m including bc I love it so much.

The Children of Kephallonia

A retelling of Odyssey where Kassandra decides to take Phoibe with her on the Adrestia at the beginning of the Korinth storyline, and also a whole lot of other stuff changes. There are no Isu, because fuck the Isu, but there's going to be a whole lot of gods and monsters and mythology, starting with Kassandra being a legit demigod. I sort of ended up combining this with a half formed WIP so the mythological part of the story is going to be a little bigger than I initially planned, but I still want the heart of the story to be the mother daughter relationship between Kassandra and Phoibe. Other than that, you can expect a fun interpretation of Kassandra and Ikaros' bond with each other, Barnabas and Herodotos being the best dads/grandpas, a more complicated relationship between Kassandra and Myrrine, my attempt to write a more complicated Deimos, a bunch of different ships, and lots of references to Kassandra and Phoibe's life on Kephallonia, based on another fic I'm writing, In the Shadow of Zeus.

Rebirth

My first big fic, a time travel fix it where Kassandra wakes up back in Markos' home in Kephallonia a few years before the start of Odyssey after her death and decides to fix things. Featuring a ridiculously overpowered Kassandra, lots of family bonding, a polyamorous relationship between Kassandra, Daphnae, and Brasidas, some Isu shenanigans, some actual exploration of the implications of Kassandra, Alexios, and Myrrine being Spartan royalty, Kassandra and Barbabas giving custody of their shared braincell to Herodotos whether he likes it or not, a complete disregard of actual history, and a plot that has lowkey gone off the rails from what I first planned. I'm somewhere in the middle of Arc 2 of 3 and am also rewriting most of Arc 1 because I'm a much better writer now.

Not a Malákes Ravenclaw

Affectionately known to me as the crack fic, this absolutely ridiculous crossover between Odyssey and Harry Potter is actually maybe kind of good? I continue to have absolutely no idea where the idea came from, I just woke up one morning, opened my laptop, and found a new google doc with almost 20K words and a somewhat coherent plot, and now there's sort of an actual plot and feelings and shit? Starts in the middle of the Torment of Hades DLC and at the end of the Order of the Phoenix when Phoibe walks through the doorway to Elysium and ends up coming out through the Veil in the middle of the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Chaos follows. Featuring lots of Kassandra x Brasidas fluff, a semi feral Phoibe, and some strange crossover bromances. And you can find a fun drawing of Phoibe from this fic here!

To Live by Another Name

My Deimos Kassandra fic that has NOT been abandoned despite not having been updated since last October. But I did end up hating large chunks of my outline and have been both rewriting my outline and the already posted chapters, except I haven't had a ton of motivation to work on this fic in a while. I still really love the idea and look forward to going back to it someday though. To sum up, in this fic Kassandra is both Deimos and the Eagle Bearer, who broke from the Cult upon learning that she had living family, Ikaros is the best boy, Nikolaos ends up on Kephallonia and adopts Phoibe after being banished from Sparta, Alexios is the Agiad king of Sparta, with Myrrine and Stentor his most loyal supporters in dealing with his treasonous cousin Pausanias, and Barnabas and Herodotos are just as immediately ride or die for Kassandra as they are in canon.

A Flap of an Eagle’s Wings

The one WIP on this list, and my second Odyssey time travel fix it fic, this fic also starts with Kassandra’s death in Atlantis, except Kassandra comes back that night on Taygetos - and she’s not the only one. Without spoiling who the others are, just know that everyone had the absolute best of intentions when they completely fucked everything up. Featuring a Kassandra who just doesn’t have the time to pretend she isn’t a demigod, Alexios and Phoibe as a chaotic dynamic duo, and the romance with our beloved Brasidas that our girl deserved, as well as a bunch of other stuff that would be too spoilery to include here. I’m still working on the outline but I have a bunch of snippets written and am having a lot of fun writing it, so who knows, maybe the first chapter will be up before the end of the year!

[mybookplacenet]

Author Interview: Aditi Mishra

Tell us about yourself.: My full name is Aditi Mishra, I am a teen author dreaming to become a bestselling author Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?: So basically from class 2 I love writing stories and I have always written short stories but from grade 6. I grew up in non writing background non of friends or relatives write and I am only person who writes so I use to gett a lot of support which always kept me motivated while writing Do you have any unusual writing habits? I don't have a writing routine, it's not a good habit but yes, it's the truth What authors have influenced you? So basically from class 2 I love writing stories and I have always written short stories but from grade 6. I grew up in non writing background non of friends or relatives write and I am only person who writes so I use to gett a lot of support which always kept me motivated while writing Do you have any advice for new authors? "The writing advice I want to give young authors is (though I'm not an expert, this advice helped me): Write the story or scene that you love. Don't write with your readers in mind, worrying about whether they'll like it. Write what you love, what you would want to read." And don't give up!! What is the best advice you have ever been given? Your life isn't yours when you will think about others:) I kinda liked it alot What are you reading now? Verity by Colleen Hoover What's your biggest weakness? Should I reveal this? 😭 What do you guys think my biggest fear is? What is your favorite book of all time? Harry Potter series When you're not writing, how do you like to spend your time? I read books , and other than a author I am student too so I do study That's it , I don't do anything interesting 😭 Do you remember the first story you ever read, and the impact it had on you? The first story that really impacted me was "Charlotte's Web" by E.B. White. It's a heartwarming tale about friendship, loyalty, and the power of kindness. The characters, especially Charlotte the spider and Wilbur the pig, taught me valuable lessons about compassion and the importance of being there for one another. It's a classic story that has stayed with me throughout the years. What has inspired you and your writing style? "From my childhood, I've always loved writing stories. The people around me are incredibly supportive, and their encouragement inspires me every day. My top inspiration is JK Rowling. I draw my writing style and motivation from her. She's the one who fuels my creativity and pushes me to keep writing. She's my ultimate inspiration!" What are you working on now? I am working on somewhere between us part 2 and a fantasy romance novel What is your favorite method for promoting your work? Posting on social media, doing interviews :) What's next for you as a writer? I want to try more genres , I want to do more interviews, there is so much more to do , I am just at the beginning and special I wanna try writing non fiction How well do you work under pressure? When I'm under pressure, I try to stay focused, prioritize tasks, and break things down into smaller steps. It helps me manage the stress and tackle one thing at a time. Taking deep breaths and staying organized also really helps me stay on track. How do you decide what tone to use with a particular piece of writing? I usually think about who I'm writing for, what I want to convey, and the feelings I want to evoke. By considering these factors, I can figure out the right tone to use for each piece of writing. It's all about connecting with the audience. If you could share one thing with your fans, what would that be? Love!! Ofc I will share my love with them :) And I wanna say thank you to all my fans and I love you all :) Aditi Mishra's Author Websites and Profiles Website Amazon Profile Goodreads Profile Aditi Mishra's Social Media Links Instagram YouTube Account Read the full article

[catubarca]

Autism & Stereotype

 So i’m absolutely not an expert on this subject, but I am autistic myself and have recently been diagnosed as of Nov 2020. I’ve been thinking about this subject a lot recently, and I really just wanted a place to discuss my thoughts.

I never thought I was autistic.

Sure, I learnt about autism in school when my (year 9?) class had to read about an autistic character in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, but I never related particularly strongly to the book.

I understood the character’s dislike of social settings and how he’d rather avoid talking to people, and the dislike of physical touch, and even then it flagged with me that this book was (up until Jasper Jones) the only English assigned school book I’d ever bothered to read the whole way through, but it didn’t flag enough for me to look any further.

I didn’t relate to a lot of the canonically autistic characters in the media; the Sheldon Cooper’s & Good Doctors. I didn’t have hyper-fixations on things like math or science or trains, I did understand sarcasm and I (usually) got jokes.

But the kind of characters I did relate to?

Hermione Granger & Luna Lovegood & Newt Scammander & Tony Stark & Peter Parker & MJ & Batman & Katniss Everdeen & Will Graham & Amy Santiago & Castiel & all these other characters that, since receiving my diagnosis, I’ve seen arguments for them being (possibly) on the spectrum.

When I used to read Harry Potter aloud to my dad, he would always comment on how I would literally talk just like Emma Watson. I had a phase where I tried to dress like Luna Lovegood.

Tony Stark is so tied up and in-tangled with my own personality I literally don’t know where he starts and I finish anymore; when he died on screen I was inconsolable for weeks and had, at the time, no way of understanding or communicating why his death was so personal but I was grieving an actual part of myself.

Something I’ve come to see in the media & its representation of autistic folk is how often the characters that are actually intended to be autistic often fall flat into stereotypes.

It’s often the characters that aren’t written as autistic that we latch onto strongest. Why though?

Because those characters aren’t approached as “autistic”, they’re approached as “humans”, and that’s what we all are primarily: humans.

As a writer myself who loves character creation, so often I steal little personality traits from my friends and family, and from myself. It is, as so many authors have said before, the best and strongest way to make interesting characters that feel real. Giving them traits you see in real people is the best way to ground characters in actual reality.

So, when you have an author sitting down to write a character - they look to those strangers & familiar around them. And you know what, in a world where so many neurodivergent people go undiagnosed (especially those AFAB), sometimes a writer might pick up traits from an undiagnosed person.

That’s why the non-canonical autistic characters end up feeling so much more diverse and unique, and why they often accidentally end up registering with the less common or understood or even known traits of autism: because their treated as humans first, not stereotypes and simple trait breakdown on an autism diagnosis website.

Hermione is bossy and can come across as rude when she’s trying so hard to socialise and make friends (”I’m Hermione Granger. And, you are?”). She turns to books and quiet spaces like the library, feels such a strong pressure to succeed academically because she’s less strong socially. She is incredibly loyal to her few friends she has made, and stays out of Ron & Harry’s fights as much as possible (”I’m not an owl!” “Boys.”). She swings between being under-empathetic (i.e. struggling to understand Harry doesn’t want to talk about Sirius’ death so soon) & hyper-empathetic (i.e. Cho Chang, “just because you’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon”).

Luna Lovegood is unique and one-of-a-kind, and faces quite intense bullying at time from her peers in Ravenclaw. She doesn’t conform to normal fashion expectations and, similar to Hermione in some ways, is often seen with her nose in some edition of the Quibbler. She loves her weird creatures and even spends time with the Thestrals, preferring animals over humans. She misses social cues and jokes, even those made at her expense (or, perhaps, she ignores them). She also has, often, the same facial expressions.

Newt Scammander avoids eye contact, usually only making it for a brief second before glancing away, usually to stare over someone’s shoulder. He is awkward with physical touch and often blunt about his social skills (”most people find me annoying”). He prefers the company of animals over humans, and hyperfixates on them intensely. He has little regard for people thinking he is strange or odd. Sometimes he even blinks excessively, something I’ve done since childhood (it worried my mother so much she took me to an optometrist. I now know it’s a stim).

Tony Stark had a weird thing about not being handed stuff, which I don’t know about any other autistic people, but that’s actually something I hate myself. He blasts loud music in his lab because it’s a loud noise under his control. He rambles and talks about whatever he wants/is interested in, with little regard for if anyone else is keeping up with what he’s saying (this got noted in my diagnostic report, myself). Not to mention his significant intelligence and sometimes black & white sense of justice (”suit of armour around the world”). He struggles to communicate his emotions and often masks his emotional distress beneath wit & humour. He can also be quick to forgive (i.e. “thank god I’m here”), even to those it seems only a short time before he was furious with, because he doesn’t have much luck elsewhere with friends (also fixing Fury’s display to better suit is one eye).

Peter Parker (and yes I know this is from the spiderbite but it stills strikes a chord with many) suffers from sensory overload, but he also has a very black & white sense of justice (”I don’t want to kill anybody” “if you can do the things that I can, and you don’t, and then the bad things happen...”). He misses social cues (”I’m just grabbing the door for you”) and hyperfixates on topics of interest like science & sci-fi & lego, and so much of his communication style is quotes and references and interest topics, something we also see with Tony (”Point Break”, “you ever seen this really old movie Aliens?” “i don’t want another single pop-culture reference out of you for the rest of this trip” “I don’t know I didn’t carbon-date him”), which is, funnily enough, exactly the style of communication my autistic father and I have with each other, communicating primarily through Douglas Adams quotes.

MJ self-admittedly “doesn’t have much luck... getting close to people”, she is blunt and doesn’t give much thought to what other people think of her (”but you’re also at this party?” “Am I?”). She can come across perhaps to some as rude (”you guys are losers”). She has weird interests (black dahlia, “i read it was secretly built as a mind control tower... which is why it’s my favourite destination on the whole trip”), and as an autistic person dating another autistic person Peter getting her a Black Dahlia necklace was accurate and adorable.

Batman is a character I saw quite an interesting argument for a while ago, so forgive me if I’m forgetful on the details. But, someone was arguing the alter-ego of Batman or, more accurately, his false identity as ‘playboy’ ‘himbo’ Bruce Wayne is the alter-ego, a mask to appear how people expect him to be. He prefers dark spaces & has the weird attachment to bats, and a black & white no-killing!!! sense of justice (which the DC movies :( seem to have forgotten). He is intelligent but intensely private & loyal.

Katniss Everdeen is one I related to myself. She struggles to connect with her mother in any meaningful way and can often be quite blunt with her (”you can’t [disappear] like you did with dad”), but has a very strong connection with Primrose. She prefers being out in the forest hunting, where it is simple and quiet. Some complain she was too “bland” and a typical “YA main character” but I always thought she was really quite interesting? Her hunting skills don’t come out of no where, she clearly practices and it’s a connection to her dad, it’s a soothing and somewhat repetitive activity to lose herself in. She’s quiet and reserved around strangers except for anger (i.e. first meeting Haymitch), but she’s looser and funnier with i.e. Gale (mocking Effie in the first book). She’s able to mask and act (rather awkwardly, I’ll admit, but not every autistic person is good at masking) in front of the camera, and jokes she does make with Caesar Flickerman that get a laugh from the audience seem to surprise her.

Will Graham is a character commonly thought of as autistic. He also has an aversion to eye contact, saying it’s “distracting”, but seems to love (a bit reluctantly) physical touch, especially from those he cares about (perhaps to a fault - loyalty to toxic relationships is often seen in autistic women in particular), and is a unique case of hyper-empathy, which we so often don’t see in autistic characters. He loves his dogs and doesn’t react well to people who try and analyse him like some kind of science project. He’s funny but blunt and can come across as intense.

Amy Santiago tries her hardest in both her job & with her coworkers, and often comes across as a little too earnest and maybe a bit awkward. She’s detail orientated and loves her organisational folders, and an absolute stickler for the rules, but she’s driven sometimes to the point of stubbornness. She’s a bit of a perfectionist and sometimes gets made fun of by the other characters for her “goody-two-shoes” attitude. She doesn’t handle change and become anxious when she can’t plan properly.

Castiel “didn’t understand that reference.” When he first meets the Winchester’s he’s a bit uptight and struggles to understand and relate to human emotions. He’s clueless to human media and struggles to keep up with Dean’s constant references, but tried to connect with him in the ways he can (”it’s funnier in enochian”). He misses social cues (”what’s the word, Cas?” “a shortened version of my name.”) He can be a bit naive and easily driven, i.e. making a deal with Crowley, but intensely loyal to the Winchesters despite their often lacklustre treatment of him. He doesn’t make a lot of facial expression, and often mimics Dean, and, of course, “dude, we talked about this... personal space?”

All of these characters show various symptoms & behaviours, at least ones that are familiar to my experience with my autism, and I find it interesting the characters I used to mask and create fake identifies to hide my behaviours as a kid were all characters I shared traits with.

These are just a few characters I could talk about - and please don’t be upset if you disagree or didn’t see your head-cannoned character here, I haven’t watched every single piece of media ever and am still learning about this community myself :)

[collegeishardbutwritingisharder]

Yandere Acromantula w/ child reader

A.N. Okay, so, I should mention that I am not a Harry Potter fan in the slightest but I do find the creatures fascinating. Thus I wanted to write some stuff with each creature. If any Harry Potter character does appear in the writing, they will most likely be ooc because I didn't read any of the books past the first one. Apologies if that upset someone. Also there will be some triggering things when reading this. If something related to the yandere genre, do yourself a favor and don't read. P.S. this is all platonic.

"Hello?"

I called out, hoping to find my parents again.

My parents and I were on a trip to Borneo and we decided to take a tour of one of the jungles there. Sadly, my parents continued along their way while I was admiring a beautiful flower. I was trying to find somebody from my travel group but instead, I was just getting more and more lost. The sun started going down and the forest was getting darker and darker. Tears started to fill the corners of my eyes for my imagination was making shapes and creatures that weren't real.

"Mommy! Daddy! Where are you?!" I shouted, running away from the gruesome creatures of the shadows.

A root was slightly above the ground and snagged my foot. I tripped and spun around on the ground. Like Sonic The Hedgehog's spin attack. I got plenty of different scrapes and bruises but the worse was the fact that my ankle got twisted. I tried to get back up but I couldn't put any pressure on my foot to get anywhere.

'Time to start crawling. It would be better than nothing at all.'

I used my elbows to dig into the ground to start inching forward. Plenty of rocks were digging into my skin but I had to ignore the pain to actually get far away from anything. Eventually, I made it to an area that was covered with spider webs everywhere. The webs were quite large and the silk was extra sticky. You could see the drops on each string. I was doing my best to avoid the webs but I'm not the most careful person in the world.

My arm got stuck in one of the webs and I couldn't get loose from it. I really didn't want to be eaten by a giant spider today. I was wriggling as much as I could but I ended up getting more and more entangled in the web.

"You poor little child. Got stuck inside of my web it seems. What is something as small and weak as you doing in this dark forest?" A silky, woman's voice came in my ears.

I felt myself freeze for a few seconds before and uncontrollable shake started to take over my entire body. My breathing became irregular and shaky. My vision was starting to become blurry with the tears that were starting to form in my eyes. I then felt a presence behind me which made me turn around slightly. That proved to be a horrible decision.

A giant spider was only about two feet away from me. I thought that spiders couldn't talk or if they could, then humans were just not able to understand them. She was covered in black hair and was making a clicking noise that reminded me of my father's snapping. She then brought one of her legs up to brush my hair out of my face slightly.

The tears that were originally staying put started to flow freely down my face. All that I wanted now is my mother.

"M-mommy..." I whispered to myself, thinking that if I said her name that she would magically appear and save me from this situation. With her in mind, I could feel phantom hugs and kisses from her.

"Mommy?" The spider repeated, confusion filling her being, not used to being called mommy.

The acromantula then started to observe her prey and notice certain features that she originally didn't pay much attention before. The little child's sparkling eyes were filled with fear and sorrow but also had a few hidden sparks of curiosity. Their hair was beautifully styled and was fuller than the hair that covered her and her family's bodies. All of the bright red scrapes and blue/purple bruises that were covering their nicely colored skin.

After a detailed scan, the acromantula decided to speak again and try to comfort the crying child.

"You are quite the stunning creature, little one. Especially for a human. Normally, I don't care much for appearances but you, my dear, would be quite a shame to lose. Now, it's time for us to go and meet all of your new siblings. But, let us make sure that you don't accidentally hurt yourself anymore. My birth name is Reina but you can call me Mommy."

Reina plucked me out of her web and then proceeded to wrap a silk cocoon around me at a fast pace. My fight or flight kicked in and I had panic filling my veins.

"N-no! Wait, please!" I shouted, trying to struggle to prevent the cocoon from being made.

"Now, now. No squirming. You don't have to worry anymore. I'll take great care of you. How about to build some trust, you tell me your name since I already told you mine." Reina said, successfully getting silk all around my arms and legs, which also ended all of my struggling.

"(Y-Y/N)." I choked out, my throat tightening from all of the crying and the fact that my fate was sealed with a silk ribbon.

"(Y/N). What a unique name. I quite like that name. Well, I hope that you enjoy your new home with all of your new siblings."

After making sure that I secure on her back, Reina quickly climbed up a tree, revealing how large the webs truly were. She was moving at such blinding speed that I needed to close my eyes for most of it. I reopened my eyes when I felt the wind stop flowing my hair. We made it to what seemed to be a giant web. I could see the ground and I did not appreciate how far it was from me.

Something else that I noticed was all of the giant orbs that were littered around the web. They seemed to be the size of a beach ball but I had a feeling that they were actually beach balls. Reina then removed my cocoon from her back and stuck me to the web. She cut most of the web away from my body except from my back to make sure that I wouldn't tumble down to the ground below. She then took my twisted ankle and started to wrap it. It was an excellently made cast. I just wish it was a human who made it.

"There we go. Now, I want you to stay off that leg of yours. You wouldn't want to go and make your ankle worse. I'm gonna go and make sure that all of your unborn siblings are doing just fine."

So, that's what all of the beach balls things are. They're her eggs. While she seemed to be distracted, I started to observe the web that I was stuck on. It seemed that the webs actually climb down the trees. If I could crawl over there, I can climb all of the way down to the ground.

I started to struggle to try and get off of my back but I quickly realized that was a bad idea. I don't know how to move around the web without falling to my doom. The web on my back was the only thing that was keeping me from falling to my death.

"All of my babies are nice and healthy. Now, it's time to ensure that you won't be eaten the first time that I leave you alone in the web," Reina explained, petting my head lightly with one of her legs, "And then we can have some well needed parent child time together."

Reina picked me up once again and started rushing through the trees. I saw plenty of other large spiders on the way. They didn't seem all that pleased with my presence. I started to shake slightly. Their glares mixed with the deep seeded loneliness of being lost were making near impossible to breath normally. I tried to take deep breaths to regulate my heartbeat. It only worked slightly.

"We're here." Reina said out of nowhere.

I looked behind my shoulder at another spider like Reina. Except he was a tad smaller then Reina. Reina took me off of her back before she started talking with the other spider. They started yelling at each other but I sort of tuned them out. I didn't need to know if I was going to be eaten or not by the male spider.

The male spider seemed to back down because Reina was getting really scary. He only nodded to her before going off on his own. Reina started to let out light clicks. They reminded me of the snapping that my dad would do to me when I was a baby to entertain me. Reina picked me up again and started to carry me back to her web. I was honestly getting really sick of being carried around like I'm some sort of doll for Reina. But I know better than to try and get out of this. Falling to my death isn't better.

We made it back and Reina stuck me on my back once again. She kept on clicking but she was adding more webs around my body. She stuck my hands and legs into a star fish position and I couldn't move at all. After she was pleased with what she done, Reina just laid down near me.

"There you go, all tucked in and safe. Now, let's bring your siblings over."

Reina then rolled all 100 eggs over to where I was stuck and next thing that I knew was that I was surrounded by all of the soft squishy eggs. Reina then crawled over the eggs carefully before lying down on top of me.

"There we go. Now, you won't freeze half way through the night."

Reina then closed her eyes and started click rhythmically. The clicks started to make me drift off to sleep as well. It was like some sort of lullaby.

I don't know how long I was out for. When I came to, Reina wasn't there but I was still surrounded by all of the eggs. The ones that were closest to me were actually tapping me which I found odd. It was like the baby spiders were trying to get close to me.

"Awwww, how adorable."

Reina' voice flooded my ears and freaked me out. I jolted my head towards her and saw her with an animal carcass.

"W-What's adorable?"

"That my babies are already growing close to you! I was worried that they were too far within their growing process to like someone other than their Mommy. But now my fears are fictional."

Reina placed the animal down before crawling over to me. My fear was renewed and I tried to struggle once again but the webs were still really strong. Reina laid down on me again and started clicking.

This became a sort of pattern for the next few weeks. I would wake up, my 'siblings' would be all around me, and Reina would come back with some sort of food for us. My ankle finally healed and Reina spent an entire week to teach me how to walk on the webs. It actually a lot of fun to crawl over each of the lines!

One day, when Reina was out and I finally worked up the courage to crawl down one of the trees, something started happening to the eggs. Cracks started to form all over the shells. Panic was starting to form in my stomach and made me kick my movements into high gear.

I was walking as quickly as I could around the web to reach one of the trunks but before I could reach it, I was tackled to the web by one of the newly hatched spiders.

"Sibling! Sibling! Sibling!" All of the new born spiders started chanting around me.

"H-he-hey! N-n-n-no. I'm not your sibling."

"Yes, you are! We recognize you!"

I kept trying to distract all of the young ones but eventually, I was being chased around the web in a weird version of tag. Thankfully, I ended up tiring a few of them out but in the end, I was the one who ended up losing all of their energy. The not tired spiders crawled on top of me once again while the more tired once crawled onto the dog pile.

I tried to squirm my way out from underneath all of the children but I couldn't move an inch. My vision started to fade. I guess that I was more tired than I originally guessed. I woke up to Reina's laughter. I felt her legs lightly stroking my head.

"This is such a welcoming scene to come back to. My babies hatched and to see them cuddling their older sibling. This is everything that I could have dreamed of when I took you in. The best part is that I can sense that you are not of wizard heritage. Which means that you can't use powers to get away from us, plus anybody who might try to look for you wouldn't know that we exist. What a perfect scenario."

My mind went blank at her words. Wizards are real. I shouldn't be too surprised considering I'm having a conversation with a spider right now. I heard a tiny yawn before a shout of "Mother!" was sounded.

All of the tiny spiders crawled off of me and started to crawl on Reina. I started to try and crawl backwards towards a tree trunk but Reina took notice of my movements and shot out of silk, sticking my leg to the web.

"Now, now, (Y/N). I know that you're as excited as I am but you must stay here for now. Now, my children, I'm hoping that your older siblings did a good job of entertaining and taking care of you while I was gone. Who's hungry though? I've got a lot of delicious food for all of us to feast upon." Reina spoke, successfully getting all of the young spiders crawling towards the food.

Reina watched over her children before turning her gaze towards me. I started shaking because now, I had no chance of escaping this web. Why couldn't the children have hatched tomorrow?!

"Come now, my child. We must feast as well."

Reina sliced through her web and held out her leg for me to grab. She was glaring at me, sort of taunting me to disobey her. I forced myself to grab her leg and I started walking to the food.

"That's my good child."

[dracowars]

could u write where draco and y/n tells scorpius how they met, their relationship etc etc throughout hogwarts ☹️☹️ and scorpius is just like omg :O and maube y/n can be a hufflepuff so like a super cute slytherpuff relationship ARGH (ofc u dont need to do it 👍🏻 no pressure!! have a great day 🤍)

undying love | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

word count: 1,5k

summary: where draco and y/n tell scorpius about their love story

a/n: i love family tropes :( thank you for sending this in! <3

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

“Mommy, look what I found!”, your son calls for you through the house and shortly afterwards you can hear him coming down the stairs at an unbelievable speed, running to you in the kitchen. With a cup of tea and the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, you sit at the dining table and look at Scorpius as he walks towards you with what looks like a photo in his tiny hands.

“Look, look!”, Scorpius says excitedly while placing the moving picture on the table in front of you. A gentle smile forms on your lips as you take a closer look. The magical photo shows Draco, your friends and you at your graduation from Hogwarts so many years ago. You proudly hold your certificates in front of the camera, the traditional graduation hats on your heads, waiting for the enchanted boats, that took you to Hogwarts prior to the start of your very first year, ready to leave Hogwarts forever.

At the sight, beautiful memories of your school days come up inside of you and you have to hold back a sob until you notice that Scorpius’ big, interested puppy eyes are still on you.

“Yes, that is us, Scorpius darling”, you smile at him gently and pull him onto your lap in order to take a closer look at the picture together.

“But Mommy had completely different hair then!”, Scorpius giggles and points at your former self, which is smiling brightly into the camera with Draco’s arm tightly embracing you and pressing you against him. “And the hats look funny!”

“That is true. The photo was taken several years ago. It was when we graduated from Hogwarts. You know, in a few years, you will be going there too. It is a special school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is for young magicians, to teach them everything they need for their life in the Wizarding World”, you explain to your son, whose gaze is still fixed on the photo.

“Mommy and Daddy have been a couple for that long?”, Scorpius marvels at your words and averts his gaze as he shifts on your lap to look up at you. Kissing him on the forehead, you smile and nod.

Before you can tell him more about it, however, the slamming of the front door announces that Draco is back home.

“Daddy!”, Scorpius immediately exclaims excitedly and hops down from your lap, takes the photo from the table and rushes to the entrance. Because of Draco’s following laughter coming from the hallway, Scorpius must have happily thrown himself around his father’s neck as he usually does as a welcome.

With Scorpius in his arms, your husband finally walks into the kitchen while Scorpius is babbling incoherently. Not quite sure what it is about, Draco just smiles before greeting you with a tender kiss before putting Scorpius back down on your lap.

“Look, Daddy! Look what I found! That is you!”, your son giggles and hands Draco the photo. A big grin immediately decorates his lips when he looks at the picture and he sits down at the table with you.

“Oh yes, it really is us. But we were still pretty young then”, Draco chuckles and Scorpius fidgets on your lap, wanting to know as much as possible while leaning forward.

“How was it at Hogmarts?”, Scorpius asks innocently and due to the misnomer, you and Draco can���t help but giggle in unison before Draco softly tousles your son’s white hair, which he naturally inherited from his father.

“It was a great time that I would not want to miss for anything in the world. If I had not gone there, I would have never met Mommy”, Draco explains, getting Scorpius’ full attention. “Just wait until you are eleven years old. You will experience incredible adventures that you would not even dare to dream of right now.”

“Eleven?!”, Scorpius huffs out in shock and puts on an offended expression while crossing his arms in front of his body. “That is too long! I want to go there now.”

“I am afraid you will have to wait a little longer, but I am sure that you will become a great wizard someday”, you reassure Scorpius, although you feel a little nervous inside. Yes, you have had wonderful adventures that ultimately made you stronger. Still, most of them were extremely dangerous, and it was not just once that you skipped death.

“Once you are in Hogwarts, you have to make sure to get into Slytherin”, Draco mentions, earning a shocked expression from you.

“No way! Scorpius will definitely be a Hufflepuff. I mean, look at him!”, you deny your husband’s statement and softly squish your son’s cheeks. “It is in his blood.”

“What is a Slinger and Pufflehuff?”, Scorpius asks interested, looking up at both of you.

“There are four different houses at Hogwarts that every student is placed in during the Sorting Ceremony at the beginning of their first year. I was a Slytherin, the best house there is. You will get into Slytherin if you are resourceful, determined and ambitious. Your mother, however, was in Hufflepuff”, Draco explains to Scorpius, a disparaging tone in his voice as he talks about your house. “Only the uncool children who are patient and loyal go there. Totally boring.”

“Draco!”, you utter out indignantly and give him a slap on the upper arm.

“I want to be a Slytherin”, Scorpius decides and while Draco is obviously happy about this statement, you can only shake your head in disbelief. “But if you do not like Mommy’s house, why did you fall in love?”

In response to Scorpius’ straight forward question, even Draco’s words get stuck in his throat and he does not know what to say next.

“Oh exactly, why did you fall in love with me when I was so extremely boring?”, you mock him playfully, raising your eyebrows as you now look at him expectantly.

“In the end, everyone is the same, no matter what family or house you come from. You must know, Scorpius, your mother actually hated me, but she just could not resist me and my charm”, Draco winks at you while telling his lie – well, maybe not all of it is a lie.

“Your father was really obnoxious when he was younger. Always considered himself the most sublime and someone had to teach him otherwise and get him back to the ground. He really did not like that it was a girl from Hufflepuff who taught him a lesson in the end”, you giggle and make Scorpius laugh with your story.

“That is not funny! Everyone laughed at me after you turned me into a weasel!”

“Wow! You can do that?”, Scorpius asks amazed and turns to you while you reach for your wand that lays on the table, nodding.

“And I could do it again anytime”, you threaten your husband and point the tip of your wand at him, but he does not move a bit.

“You would not dare. Unless you want all your books to fly around your head again”, Draco replies, thus awakening the painful memory of when he had bewitched your books and they literally flew around your head.

“Actually, your father always did all of this to impress me. At some point it might have actually worked”, you continue to tell Scorpius about your love story, a love story which is probably not that common.

“If I had not negotiated an armistice back then by taking you to the Yule Ball, then maybe we would not be here today.”

“And if I had not given you another chance, I would probably never have found out what a great person you actually are”, you smile at him lovingly, while Scorpius just sits in front of you with his mouth wide open, listening intently. “Suddenly, Daddy was very friendly and attentive, he bought me gifts every week until I finally showed mercy and returned his love.”

“What are you even talking about? I clearly had to reciprocate your love, not the other way around!”, Draco intervenes immediately, although you both know exactly that what you said is true. He just wants to look cooler in front of his son.

“Mommy and Daddy loved each other very much and that is why I am here”, Scorpius grins, leaving you two speechless yet again, ending your little argument.

“You are right. And I could not have asked for anything better in my life than your mother, Scorpius. Had she not been there a few times, I would have done very stupid things. I am very grateful that we have found each other and that we now also have you in our life. I could not think of anything more beautiful”, Draco admits, and his demeanor is suddenly so loving and gentle, something he was afraid to show back then. Something you taught him to not hide but to show openly.

“Your father and I, we complete each other. We always did”, you reply as you all take a look at the photo again. “I would even say that we are even happier now than we are in this picture.”

[sneverussape]

What kind of person do you think lily was? There's a lot said about her in the series, but i have trouble reconciling pure, shining paragon lily with someone who would marry someone that spent years tormenting her friend, 4 on 1.

ooh boy this will be a LOT. i can't even promise it will be coherent but i'll make an attempt to be. (going under a cut to save us all the grief).

first off, i think it's fair to state that one of the biggest drawbacks of lily's character is how she was written. she is a plot device. she exists to boost other characters’ narratives: she's simultaneously the Rich Boy's trophy wife, the self-sacrificing mother of the Boy Who Lived, the best friend slash lost love of the Fallen Hero, and, at the same time, also no one at all. lily is a character with little to no background and character development that she can barely stand on her own two feet without any of the associated (usually male) characters to prop her up. it absolutely sucks but that's how it is. that's how jk wrote her.

given that and working with the scraps that we do have, my opinion of lily is...complex. i try to give her justice by trying to understand her context, the workings of her mind, and the possible pressures she was subjected to, but it can be challenging especially since lack of canon pushes you into a space where you have to put them in Either/Or situations. my opinion of her has also changed as i got older. when i was younger (i read the books waaaay back, as they were getting released in fact) i only saw her as an extra character (i was most interested in snape, if that's not obvious enough, but neither did i think snape was 'obsessed' with her as a lot of hp fans now think). i saw her and snape as good friends who had had a falling out, and that he'd probably had a crush on her at some point, and it got naturally overtaken by guilt etc when she died. then when i reread some chapters containing her, i was quick to put her in the Bad Friend camp. i don't think that now. i think that she, like snape, was a complex human being who made a lot of questionable decisions but shouldn't be entirely vilified for them.

my main thoughts of her that are kind of built on material from canon as well as what jkr has said herself:

- she was not posh. she grew up in cokeworth, in the same town as severus. i don't think she was middle class as a lot of fics portray her. i think the evanses were slightly better off than the snapes but they were all working-class, and living was a day-to-day struggle. the kids spoke in the local accent, their clothes were all worn and patched over, there were no green spaces or public infrastructure for kids to safely play in, and they were all mostly running wild about the town since all their parents had to work. food was something to be thankful for because there was never enough, and sometimes they had to share with their neighbors. that's the kind of setting i think lily and severus grew up in, although severus suffered abuse on top of it all. it's possible that lily did too because of the setting (post-world war 2, poverty, adults dealing with repressed trauma from the war, etc) and it wouldn't even be that surprising if she had been;

- she and petunia got along fairly well up until the point lily found out she was a witch and, as a result, became friends with severus. it's stated in canon that petunia had also wanted to attend hogwarts with them, going as far as writing to dumbledore to allow her admittance. her jealousy upon his rejection had festered and grown into outright hate that she projected onto harry as an adult, but i don't doubt that she continued to love lily even after her death and despite how she treated harry. i think as kids they had stuck together and were very close, but magic had torn them apart. suddenly lily had a world of her own that petunia wasn't welcome in, and that would have hurt. pottermore stated lily attended vernon and petunia's wedding or engagement party but james made a right mess of it. i think lily TRIED to maintain their relationship but external factors always got in the way. i don't doubt she had also loved her sister very much;

- i don't think she had any other friends. she may have had a lot of acquaintances but i think her only real friend, the one who saw her for who she really was, was severus, and i think, at a certain point in their lives, she saw that as a weakness and resented it;

- i think, from the interactions we saw in canon of lily with other people, that lily had a penchant to please people, especially the ones who ranked higher than her in terms of power dynamics - petunia (who was the older sister), professors (sluggy comes to mind, the head of slytherin with a lot of connections), even the marauders whose actions she defended. it's not necessarily a bad thing, but i've always seen it as her being borderline manipulative. i noted that she wasn't the same with severus (based on their conversations, especially the ones in 5th year, before SWM) because he's lower than her in a lot of aspects, being a slytherin and quite likely of a lower social standing. she could boss him around and tell him to piss off and he probably wouldn't have minded. she actually strikes me as someone who could have been in slytherin; a perfect arrangement, save for the fact that she was a muggleborn. i think lily knew her place and the cards she was dealt with more than anyone, but she was also determined not to stay there;

- this brings me to the point as to why she ever went out with james potter in the first place. i think her friendship breakup with severus was inevitable because they were in the middle of a burgeoning war and both of them were being pulled to opposite and opposing ends. as an added complexity, i think she also wanted to be better than being muggleborn lily evans of cokeworth, best friend of the evil greasy slytherin git, and her way out was to associate with housemates who were in the upper echelons of power. like, we don't even know what her life was like in gryffindor tower. ron was poor, but he was also a pureblood, so that may have saved him from ridicule. but what if you were a poor muggleborn, with a northern accent to boot? in the same way severus trained himself to be more posh, lily could have done the same and could have furiously tried to blend in. maintaining a friendship with severus would have ended in heartbreak as there were too many risks and it likely outweighed the gains. this was the wizarding world too which is much much smaller than the muggle world and relied on connections more than anything. openly siding with the marauders would have saved her skin and secured her a future (which, as we all know, was forfeit anyway but whatever);

- jumping to the jily relationship, i honestly think it was also not one that was meant to last. iirc jkr projected a lot onto lily, so i'm surmising jily reflected a lot of her own failed relationships. i think james and lily had a less-than-ideal relationship, one that involved abuse (verbal, emotional, mental, physical, take your pick, but at least one form of it), and i think she may have been unhappy in the last year of her life, living in hiding with none of her own friends (if they even existed) and seeing no one else but james' pals. her only light in that darkness was likely harry as she couldn't even see her own family. i think, during those times, she thought a lot about the home she left behind and, as a consequence, her lost friendship with severus. she probably missed him, and i'm sure she must have been very lonely.

in sum, i don't think she was the Virgin Mary figure a lot of hp fans paint her to be. imho she had her own questionable but utterly human moments, and i just tried to fill in the blanks as to why she would have acted the way she did. i don't think it was easy to be lily evans at all, and majority of the 21 years of her life was likely a struggle.

[loeyparker]

hurt her to save her - d.m

pairing: draco x fem!reader

word count: 7k 

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death and torture

plot: getting closer to Draco during sixth year has consequences. Draco realizes that when he’s forced to hurt you in order to keep you safe from Voldemort

a/n: my HP obsession is back so I’ve returned to writing fics but i might have went overboard with this one lmao . it wasn’t requested, but if someone wants part 2 i’m gonna do it <3

Draco Malfoy had a very good memory. Besides being cunning and arrogant, he was also incredibly smart – which is precisely why he was second best in most classes. Behind the cold, uncaring façade the youngest Malfoy put out into the world however, stood a boy who remembered things he probably should have forgotten.

Lately, Draco Malfoy couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything but fear. He attempted to mask the feeling either with anger, determination or indifference but the true, raw feeling of fear was behind it all, much like a dementor guarding all his other emotions. The past summer planted dread and terror deep into his mind and the ink on his skin felt like it was seeping through his skin, entering his veins and poisoning his heart.

By the time he arrived back at Hogwarts for his sixth year, he felt drained. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, the young boy attempted to pretend to be a normal student, despite the countless sleepless nights and stray tears that sometimes escaped through small cracks in the emotional wall he’d built around him over the years. The tears only saw the light of day in the darkness of the Room of Requirement, where he found himself surrounded by old artifacts and silence.  

“Draco, Severus has been telling me you seem distracted.” The soft, yet scared tone of Draco’s mother rang throughout the empty, rotting room in the Shrieking Shack. Broken windows allowed for the wind to invade the abandoned building violently and loudly, and to dance around the three figures standing in the dark. It caused a shiver to run up Draco’s spine, but he couldn’t tell if the reaction came from the cold or from Narcissa and Severus’s stares aimed at him.

Draco felt so small under their gaze.

“That’s true, I have been.” Draco admitted, looking forward. He focused on a spider trapping a moth in its web. “With school.” The moth fought, attempted to flap its wings but the web was too sticky. “I have to keep up my grades. Them dropping suddenly would be suspicious.” Draco’s voice didn’t waver, despite his heart beating at a much more rapid pace than normally.

“Lie.” Severus Snape spoke simply. The professor was tasked with taking care of the Slytherin boy, but he wasn’t about to listen to his childish lies while the man knew what he had been seeing in the past months around Hogwarts.

Draco didn’t move.

Narcissa sighed and got closer to her son. She placed her palms on Draco’s pale cheeks and she felt them being hollower than she remembered. Draco still didn’t look at her. The spider was covering the dying moth in his web, fully suffocating the creature.

“My boy, the dead don’t need lovers.” Narcissa’s voice was quiet, regretful even. Her heart ached for the boy who was so quickly deprived of a childhood.

“You cannot forget about the assignment because of a girl.” Snape spoke up, his voice monotonous.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Draco spat back and took a step away from his mother, whose hands dropped. He didn’t feel the lack of her palms on his cheeks, as they left no warmth Draco could feel. “And there’s no girl.”

“Do not lie to us, boy. I have seen you with the Ravenclaw girl, I am not blind.” Snape saw the glances between Draco and you in the Great Hall, he saw the way Draco fixed his gaze on you during DADA. He also caught you walking into the Room of Requirement not long after Draco the previous night. On top of that, Minerva had mentioned how Draco’s recent assignments closely mirrored yours. You had a certain style noticeable in your homework answers, and that style began to be seen in Draco’s own homework which lead everyone to speculate the two students may be closer than everyone thinks.

Before Draco could deny, Narcissa spoke “Under other circumstances, I’d be delighted to hear about a girl in your life.” Her tone was soft, yet it held an edge and sternness to it. “But you have a mission, Draco. Do I need to remind you of the consequences to befall our family if you don’t succeed?”

“No.” Draco spat. He already knew the consequences – loud and clear. They had been drilled into his mind, heart and soul the entire summer. If he couldn’t kill Dumbledore, Voldemort would kill Draco’s entire family instead.

“The girl is another weakness. Another person to add to the death list, Draco.” His mother pleaded. “You know he will kill her if he finds out.”

“I know.”

Draco could feel all the warmth in his body melt away and even his bones felt cold and heavy.

“You can still save her.” Snape spoke. “Focus on you mission, hurt her. Make her believe you don’t love her.”

Draco glanced at the spider one last time, and the moth laid still in the webs of the predator. The wind made the web sway, but only slightly. It was too sturdy to be blown away by any forces.

“Hurt her to save her.” Narcissa’s voice echoed through Draco’s mind all the way back to the castle. The Room of Requirement didn’t appear that night, and so the boy went to bed instead. He entered an empty Slytherin common room and even though the fire was burning, Draco couldn’t feel its warmth. Not even as he knelt in front of the flames, attempting to warm his freezing hands. His movements were mechanic. As he laid in bed that night, he couldn’t remember how exactly he got back into the dorm from the Shack.

However, he remembered events that took place years ago perfectly.

He especially remembered the night of the Yule Ball, two years prior. He can pinpoint the exact moment he spotted you in the crowd of well-dressed students. It was, in his mind, the first time he really, truly saw you. He remembered the small -but noticeable skip of his heart that happened as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. You were smiling, but sitting at the wrong table –  which confused him for a moment. You were sat at the Gryffindor table, right next to the Weasley twins who were making you laugh. A Ravenclaw boy whose name Draco didn’t know was behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders thus signaling that he was your date that night through possessive body language. You didn’t acknowledge his presence much, though.

Pansy, Draco’s date, made comments about your dress each time you stood up to dance. The long dark blue satin dress gently touched the ground with each step you took, the slit in its side slightly exposed your leg with each movement. There was a smile on your face the whole night.

Draco thought you looked so beautiful.

He thought you looked beautiful even when your glance danced towards Ron Weasley until the end of the ball.

Draco also remembered the night Pansy dragged you into Umbridge’s office a year later. She held your arms behind your back forcefully while you struggled to get out of her grasp. Your wand was in her possession and you looked angry. A great juxtaposition to how you looked on the night of the Yule Ball. He remembered thinking how much sense it made for you to be tangled in Harry Potter’s mess because that’s what Potter did. He had everyone on his side, all odds in his favor while Draco was being dealt bad cards at every turn.  

You fought and tried to get away from Pansy. Your hair was messy, and your oversized blue sweater was getting untucked from your jeans with each forceful move you made. A frown painted your soft features, your eyes seemed darker than usual. Draco caught a glimpse of the scars on your wrist which he immediately knew came from Umbridge’s detention sessions, and he felt a flicker of rage rise into his stomach. The feeling directly contradicted the satisfaction he had been feeling at the sight of Potter getting his plans spoiled right in front of him.

“Parkinson, lay it off.” Draco found himself spitting when he realized the pressure on your wrist was painful. He spoke before he realized what he was doing, and so he found the confused gazes of Ginny and Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and you – all fixed on him. Pansy obeyed Draco with discomfort.

You looked at him quizzingly, not really understanding why he was suddenly…helping you? He met your gaze just for a second before a heavy glare returned in his eyes and he turned away, focusing entirely on Harry and Umbridge.

It was minutes later when he watched your figure getting smaller as you ran away from Umbridge’s office, escaping with your friends. Draco and his friends were left behind and unable to follow as they each struggled with curses thrown at them in the escape. You were all long gone by the time the group of Slytherins came to, and Draco remembered that he found himself wishing he had people running into the line of fire for him like Harry did – he wished you would’ve glanced back at him in your escape and then weeks later when he was told about the events of that night, he found himself hoping his father didn’t hurt you in the Ministry attack.

Those thoughts and memories didn’t stay with him for long that summer, though. Draco couldn’t say that you crossed his mind after he received the Mark.

Until that night.

It was late and he was in the Room of Requirement, still fiddling with the cabinet. It was the fourth consecutive night spent in there after finding the damn thing, and he wasn’t anywhere close to fixing it. Frustrated, he punched and kicked the wood so hard that his knuckles sent sharp waves of pain through his arm. It was because of the noise he was making, the kicks and grunts that he didn’t hear the Room’s doors open and close.

You had previously been in the Gryffindor common room, attending one of their parties. There weren’t lots of Ravenclaws there – hell, it was only you, Stiles, Padma, Anthony and Michael. And it was all going well. You were sat on a bean bag chair with Stiles in-between your legs, surrounded by your Gryffindor friends: Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ginny, with Dean and Seamus on their way to you all with butterbeers in hand. The atmosphere was fun and light – a welcomed escape from the reality surrounding you, but you all decided to enjoy the moment and pretend the world outside the common room didn’t exist for the night. So you sat close to the fire and you didn’t know if the hot flames were warming you up or if it was the fact that Ron was focusing an unusual amount of attention on you.

You’ve had a crush on the Weasley boy since third year, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating faster each time he smiled at you.

You were having a great time.

“And if I become an Animagus to help Scott, then what?” Stiles spoke. Harry shook his head. You puffed. “What? We’d be the new generation of the Marauders; someone has to keep the legacy alive.” He continued, determined.

“Lupin would kill you, mate.” Ron laughed.

“You know animagi don’t pick their animal though, right?” You questioned. Stiles looked up at you and beamed.

“I know. But it’s like, vibe related so I think I’m safe. I’d absolutely be a dog, or a wolf.”

You glanced worryingly at Harry, but the boy simply burst out laughing and denied jokingly. Everyone else hearing the conversation laughed as well.

“Stiles, if it’s vibe related then you’d be a weasel.” You spoke, prompting laughs from everyone. Ron high fived you for the joke and you smiled wider than you thought possible.

The good mood didn’t last long, though. Only moments later Lavender Brown joined the group and comfortably sat herself in Ron’s lap. You watched him give her a quick kiss and wrap his arms around her. “What are we talking about?” She asked and it was as if your ears got covered. The sound faded, your smile dropped, your shoulders slumped. Ron would never like you back, you had to accept that. It was pathetic how you longed for the boy for so long.

So, you excused yourself and left the common room entirely to take a walk. You didn’t expect to end up outside the Room of Requirement, and you didn’t even feel like going inside. But the hall was dark and cold and you began hearing footsteps and the flickering light of Filch’s lantern slowly began illuminating the stone walls and with a haste movement, you went into the Room before Filch could walk around the corner and catch you.

You found yourself in a Room much different from the training grounds you had known while being part of the D.A. Tall piles of clutter seemed to reach the ceiling and despite the room being extremely vast, it felt tiny and crowded because of all the objects tossed and piled everywhere in sight. You walked on a path formed through columns made out of old boxes and books, all piled amongst stacked chairs, empty owl cages and rusty potions equipment. Loud bangs followed by grunts caused you to stop in your tracks and draw out your wand. The room in itself seemed unpredictable, and so you already had about six defensive spells ready to go in your mind and on the tip of your tongue.

You caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair before anything else. It looked messy – very different from the way Draco usually wore it: slick and perfect. Now, it gave you the feeling that he’d been vigorously running his fingers through it, causing it to become tousled. He was only in a white shirt – the robe, vest and tie laid disregarded on a near-by couch.

Lowering your wand, you gently knocked on a table to get his attention.

He turned around in a panic. His hand reached for his wand but stopped midair when he saw you. “What are you doing here?” Draco spat with no hesitation. His heart skipped a beat again, like it did on the night of the Yule Ball.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You responded, glancing at the cabinet in front of him. At the time, you didn’t think anything of it.

“None of your business.”

“I don’t care anyway.” You glared. “This room appeared to me like it did for you and since I think I need it, I’m not leaving.” With your arms crossed, you leaned against a random tossed out piece of furniture.

“Isn’t there a Gryffindor party you should be at?” Draco’s gaze remained cold and the scowl on his face didn’t falter.

“You know about that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I know everything that goes on around here.” He broke eye contact by focusing on folding up his sleeves. When his hand began working on his left forearm, he stopped abruptly, remembering. He went stiff at the realization, which you noticed. Before you could speak however, he looked back at you with a smirk, “Was Lavender Brown there so you ran away?” It was as if he didn’t look struck by lightning just two seconds before.

However, his words made you forget his strange behavior. “The hell? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/L/N). Everyone knows you have the hots for Weasley. Least you can do is own up to it.” He teased with a mixture of annoyance and amusement present on his face.

“Piss off, Malfoy.” Walking up to the old couch Draco’s uniform laid on top of, you sat down and watched as the dust flew out of its cushion. Draco groaned. “I’m just gonna nap here until I’m sure Filch left and isn’t near the Ravenclaw tower.”

Draco mumbled some things you didn’t bother to understand, and then silence befell both of you. He didn’t really bother to fight you to leave even though, in retrospect, he should have had. Maybe if you didn’t stay with him that night, he wouldn’t be meeting you in the Room months later with tears burning his eyes. But, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that night. That night, he just rolled his eyes at you breaking the silence ten minutes later, when he thought you were asleep.

“What are you even doing there?”

“I told you, none of your business.” He spat.

“Is that the vanishing cabinet Peeves broke a few years ago?”

Draco turned around. It was his turn to be surprised by your knowledge. “How do you know about that?” He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over your figure as you sat cross-legged on the old couch he napped on countless times before. You wore casual clothes – which he always thought looked great on you, and your hair laid straight over your shoulders. The few candles he had lit around softly luminated your face with warm tones.

You smiled proudly at his question.

“Fred and George shoved Montague in it last year” you laughed “it was quite funny.”

Draco remembered the incident. He was, after all, the one who found Montague stuck in a bathroom after the encounter with the twins.

“You’re trying to fix it, aren’t you?” Draco watched you jump up from the couch and walk next to him to examine the cabinet. He suddenly felt on edge, exposed. The Ravenclaw in you was jumping to solve a problem, while the Slytherin in him was about to explode. “Have you tried a mending charm?”

“Of course, I tried a mending charm.” Draco answered with annoyance in his voice. You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t work.”

“Well, then- “

“I don’t need nor want your help, (Y/L/N).” He glared down at you. “I can handle it myself.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled before taking a few steps back from Draco. He didn’t turn to you. Instead, he focused on his task even though his mind wasn’t on it anymore. He focused on your footsteps as you began to walk away without another word and before he could overthink, he spoke up softly. “But you can stay, if you want.”

You didn’t stop walking as you answered him. “I don’t.”

Draco then heard you utter “Lumos”, heard your footsteps getting quitter and quieter, then the heavy doors being pulled open. After they closed, he found himself surrounded by silence once again. Not dwelling on it, he pushed the thought of you away and resumed his work. Nothing was more important than his assignment.

Things slowly started to shift after that night.

The next day in Transfiguration as he was zoning out, a paper butterfly landed on his desk. He glanced around the room but saw nobody giving any sign of sending him the note. However, after he opened it and read its contents, his eyes immediately found you. On the paper was a list of incantations that would be useful in repairing things, and he knew you had sent it even though you looked focused on the textbook in front of you. It looked as if you were purposefully trying to ignore him, and Draco allowed the ghost of a smirk to form at the corners of his lips.

Two nights later, Draco walked into the Room of Requirement and you were already there. A few more candles than usual were lit as you sat on the (now clean looking) couch, reading a heavy, dense book. “Have they worked?” you asked without looking up from your book.

Draco sighed, loosening his tie. “No.”

And as time passed, you and Draco began spending more and more time together. Initially, you tried to help him fix the cabinet. It gave you a distraction from Ron and Lavender. But it was also obvious that fixing the old thing was important to him – he seemed desperate and for some reason, you felt like helping. And so, you found yourself sitting close to Draco on that old, tossed out couch with different heavy books resting in your lap every night, both searching for spells that could work. Each few day the space between you decreased until you reached a point where your knees touched and your shoulder pressed into his bicep. Sometimes you could even feel his minty breath on your face – just for a second. But the feeling began to linger even as you walked the stairs up to the Ravenclaw tower late at night.

You also found yourself thinking less and less about Ron.

Then, about a month after the Gryffindor party, the Katie Bell incident took place.

Harry began suspecting Draco of the attack and accused him of being a Death Eater. You didn’t go to the Room of Requirement for a few days after that because honestly, you were scared. You knew, deep in your heart that what Harry was saying made sense and because of that you started to believe that Draco’s cabinet wasn’t just some fun project. You lit on fire all the parchment you had written mending charms on, in a haste and with shaky hands.

You didn’t want to see him after that.

But you found yourself days later sneaking out of the tower late at night, quietly making your way to the seventh floor.

Draco got heavily scolded by Snape for the necklace attempt. The Professor found his action completely foolish and didn’t hesitate to let Draco know that. The boy arrived at the Room feeling beaten, defeated. On top of that, he was met by the empty couch and the broken cabinet and he snapped. In a fit of rage, he broke one of the cabinet’s doors and threw it at the couch. The noise he caused rang through the entire room, momentarily covering the silence. He couldn’t bear the sight of his failure any longer and the thought that you were now possibly scared of him after rumors of him being a Death Eater spread around the school, thanks to Potter, angered him even more.

“Training for the next Triwizard Tournament, Malfoy?”

Your voice made him turn around quickly, surprised look on his face.

A small smile danced at your lips, and you took out your wand. Pointing it at the broken door, you cast out “Repairo,” and the door lifted from the couch, gently levitating towards the cabinet and fixing itself. In the end, it looked as if nothing had happened. “At least this works, otherwise you would’ve had to pick up some muggle skills.” You teased.

Draco let out a small laugh, before his face fell again and he sat down on the dusty floor. His back rested against some other piece of forgotten furniture and he brought his knees up, hugging them to his chest. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes.

You quietly sat next to him with a huff.

“Why are you here?” Draco asked quietly.

After a moment of silence, you answered with honesty “I don’t know.” And you didn’t. You couldn’t understand why, despite the pit in your stomach that took shape as soon as Harry accused Draco of being a Death Eater, you were alone with him in a secret room, late at night.

Opening his eyes, Draco made a quick decision. He placed his left hand on your right knee, squeezing. Your eyes met – he looked calm; you were confused. “Do you trust me?” Draco’s voice was just a whisper. Alas, through the deafening silence of the Room, you heard him loud and clear.

“I don’t know.” You answered again. And, mirroring his impulsive move, you placed a hand over his. He felt cold at the touch and as you got used to the slightly stinging feeling, he found comfort in your warmth. “All I know is that I’m here, for some reason. I felt like seeing you.” You admitted, your voice tender and quiet.

Draco didn’t speak for a while. You thought you embarrassed yourself but didn’t dare to move.

“There are things about me that you really wouldn’t like if you knew.” The boy finally spoke. His eyes were glued to the cabinet that was a few feet from you both, but his mind was miles away. “I’m not a good man.” He admitted with no waver in his tone, no hesitation.

And maybe it was the daily, month-long meetings you’ve had with him. Or maybe it was the flicker of decency you saw in him when he got Pansy to release her painful grip on you the previous year. But your mind dug up small events and information buried deep in your memory that made you frown at his words. You remembered Dobby. Harry told you he was the Malfoy’s house elf who tried to keep him safe during second year, and it all seemed strange to you. You knew that house elves, if owned, could not act on their own volition no matter how strong their beliefs and inclinations were. In your mind it seemed unlikely that Dobby left the Malfoys without their knowledge and so, for the longest time you had a hunch it was Draco who sent Dobby to warn Harry. Especially since Lucius was the one who snuck Tom Riddle’s diary into Hogwarts. You were also quite sure it was Draco who helped Harry figure out the monster from the Chamber of Secrets was a Basilisk.

But overall, you knew Draco didn’t grow up in a good environment. He’d been heavily manipulated his entire life and it was in that moment, as you sat next to him on dirty floors, hand on top of his, that you decided whatever he was doing, he was doing either because of blackmail or manipulation.

“You can’t let the bad things from the past define you,” You whispered as your fingers slowly occupied the empty spaces between Draco’s own fingers. He was quick to grip your hand into his. “I think you are good. You’ve just been dealt shit cards.”

Draco didn’t show any emotion as he processed your words. But that night as he lay in his bed all he could think about were your words. Nobody had told him he was a good person before, and he’d never felt supported before in his life. And he felt a wave of emotions hit him all at once. He felt envy because Potter had had you all this time and because of your friendship with him, Draco didn’t get close to you sooner. He felt jealousy because he remembered you were in the Room in the first place because you were heartbroken over Ron – again, someone he didn’t like had all the things Draco felt he should’ve had instead. He felt comfort knowing you weren’t scared of him despite Potter filling your mind with (true) accusations. He felt hopeless because he was a Death Eater now and you were one of the good guys. He also felt entitled, selfish and determined because for the first time in a while, he found himself wanting something – someone, that he wanted for himself: you.

Over the next few months, you both unintentionally grew closer. Draco remembered every smile, every laugh shared between the two of you in the candlelight, hidden deep inside the Room of Requirement. Most days, he worked alone on the cabinet while you studied and pretended he wasn’t doing something potentially harmful. You both found yourselves finding comfort in the other’s mere presence.

You began to think less about Ron and more about Draco and it made you feel strangely guilty, especially when Ron would throw his arm around you like he used to in the Great Hall and you’d catch Draco’s eyes and excuse yourself to move back to the Ravenclaw table.

On certain nights you attempted to get Draco to do homework with you. But with each passing day, he became more and more anxious and afraid. And with each passing day, it hurt and worried you more and more. On a few occasions you did his Transfiguration homework for him just to keep him out of detention.

He owled you a Merry Christmas note during winter break but told you not to write him back. He knew you wished him happy holidays as well.

You gave him a Christmas present when you got back to Hogwarts – a ring, as you’d noticed he liked wearing them. His face lit up at the gesture and it was the first time he embraced you. The action was impulsive but it felt right. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back, the other cradled your head gently. His face buried in your neck and he held you so tight you didn’t dare move. He held you to make sure you were real and wouldn’t slip away from his grasp.

A little over a month later, Draco was feeling the pressure of his tasks heavier than ever. He felt sick each time he looked at the cabinet and you were noticing that. You were also noticing his complete disinterest in school and his reoccurring absences. He’d spend days in the Room, not even coming down to eat. You snuck him meals each time you could but sometimes you’d find them untouched on the floor.

“Alright, Draco. What’s going on?” You confronted him one night.

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” you pleaded “Draco you’re not acting like yourself please, tell me what’s going on so I can help.” You never pleaded with a man before, never thought you would. Your ego felt too strong for this. And yet, there you were, standing behind a disheveled Draco Malfoy with an ache in your chest.

He ignored you.

You felt like throwing something at his head.

You watched as he opened the cabinet doors and took out a rotten apple. He held it in his hand for a second too long. It wasn’t unusual, you’ve watched him do this repeatedly over the past five months. You flinched when he threw the apple on the floor with vicious force. He then kicked the bottom of the cabined a bunch of times, yelling out in anger and frustration. His scream echoed through the Room. You pursed your lips.

“I can’t do this.” He finally spoke. “I can’t bloody do this and everyone’s going to die.” He started pacing around the small clearing amidst clutter. “My mum, my dad, me…you – we’re all going to die.” He kicked the plate of food you had brought him a few hours prior, spilling the contents over the floor.

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s gonna kill you and mum in front of me, make me watch,” He was frantic “probably gonna torture you first so I die remembering your screams. Then,” he pinched his nose, wiped his mouth “then he’ll kill me. I’ll be last and everyone’s gonna be taking the piss out of me, the fucking kid who couldn’t fix a fucking,” he kicked the cabinet again “magic fucking cabinet!” he kicked and kicked until you could feel the pain he felt in his leg yourself.

You walked up to him and attempted to pull him away from the large wooden broken object, but he pushed you away forcefully. You stumbled back in shock. “How dare – “ You couldn’t finish your sentence, however. He hastily turned to face you, pulling up the sleeve of his left arm aggressively, exposing the Dark Mark.

No words came out of your mouth after that.

You couldn’t seem to peel your eyes off of the mark, and Draco watched you with a pained heart. Part of him expected you to run, another to pull out your wand and attack. He didn’t know which one was coming, he didn’t know which one he preferred. However, he didn’t expect you to walk up to him with slow, steady steps.

His eyes locked with yours as you took his arm into your own. It was as if the Room emptied and the only things in it were the two of you. Holding his arm to your chest, you got as close to him as possible. As he looked down at you, his heavy breath fanned your face. “It’s okay, Draco.” You whispered. “I understand.”

And you did. You understood his choice, understood the position he was forced into. And your heart ached for him.

That’s the night Draco remembered best. The way your figure was illuminated by the soft glow of yellow candles, the soft fabric of your sweater rubbing on his skin. The kindness in your eyes spreading warmth through his veins, the way your lips moved when you spoke his name. Most times he thought about conjuring a Patronus, Draco believed the memory of that night was what he needed to focus on in order to succeed.

With his hand on the back of your head, he quickly lowered himself to reach your height and caught your lips in a kiss. He felt you smiling into it and he found himself mirroring you, until you pulled away to giggle into his shoulder. He couldn’t do anything besides kissing the top of your head.

Days later you were both laying on the couch you had transformed into a cozy spot. You were focused on his Mark, tracing your fingers along the lines of it, gently. Draco knew he was supposed to feel pride in having the Mark – that’s what his family had told him, but he felt something close to shame each time he looked at it.

You rested your hand on top of it, covering it. “I’m sorry. But we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

A week later he was forced into the meeting with his mom and Snape at the Shrieking Shack. The following night he walked towards the Room of Requirement late, with heavy steps. It felt as if each movement he made on the way happened in slow-motion.

You were reading comfortably when he finally reached you. A smile formed on your lips upon seeing him, but it faded when you took in his appearance, his sour face, hardened figure, stone gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Draco didn’t speak, only pointed his wand towards you. You froze. “Draco?” His hand shook, his face wavered. You were confused.

“I have to do this, (Y/N). He’ll kill you otherwise.” Draco’s voice cracked.

“No, he won’t. You’re a skilled Occlumentist, right? He can’t get into your mind.” You immediately caught on.

He shook his head. “He’ll know, he’ll know. Snape knows, mum knows,” he sounded so scared that you attempted to get up to comfort him, but he threated so you sat back down “he’ll know.”

Tears formed and blurred your vision as your heart picked up speed.

“You know, I didn’t wanna think about you, I wanted to stay focused. I came here to do a task, that’s it. I came to be great, to do great things for the Dark Lord.” Draco began, “But then I saw you. I’ve wanted you since fourth year and then here you were, being good to me and…you woke up a weakness inside me. And I got selfish, I put my mission aside to get something for myself.”

Tears now ran down your face, and Draco mirrored you. You shook your head, silently pleading for him to reconsider.

“But I have a mission, (Y/N) and it’s so important. I can’t be distracted. And I can’t have you being associated with me – it’ll get you killed and I can’t – I can’t have it.”

The candles flickered and for a split second your mind went to a Divination class, where Trelawney explained candle magic. Their dancing light showed instability, chaotic energy while its tall flame indicated success brought about with complications. The air felt cold as you stared at Draco who hadn’t fully stepped into the candlelight. An abyss of darkness stood tall behind him, the sights of it deepening the pit in your stomach. Despite his shaky hands, dark circles underneath his saddened eyes and hollow cheeks, Draco looked put-together. His hair wasn’t messy like it was the first night you found him in the Room. It was back to its slick, flawless style. He wore his all-black suit, and his tie wasn’t loosened.

“I also can’t have you walk out of here knowing everything about me.” His voice hardened and for the first time while being with him, you felt fear.  

“I won’t tell anyone.” Your voice was small. You sat up, your eyes beginning to look for a way out.

“I can’t risk it, you’re friends with Potter. You’re one of the good guys.”

“I won’t put you in danger, Draco.”

He grimaced at your words as if they’ve hit him with the force of a Cruciatus Curse. He tried not to let any more tears fall. You took his reaction as an opportunity to get closer to him. Maybe if you could take away his wand, touch him. Maybe then you could change his mind.

“I won’t endanger you either,” He whispered. “That’s why I have to do this.” At that, he lowered his wand and took two long strides towards you. Another one of his unpredictable actions that left you frozen in your spot. In a swift motion, he cupped your face between his calloused palms. “You know this is the right choice.”

“No,” you whispered and shook your head “no, it’s not. You can teach me Occlumency, I can help you,” your fearful eyes bore into his saddened ones, his heart ached at your words, at the fear he was capable of instilling in you. “We’re a good team, remember? I can help.” You kept pleading as your own hands rested on top of his. You felt the ring you’d given him still on his finger.

He simply shook his head with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. “I’ve already corrupted you enough.” Draco admitted and you were taken aback; rendered speechless. “You’ve been covering for me with your friends, lying to Professors, basically doing my homework while I’m working on bringing the school down.”

Your heart dropped; hands started shaking. Draco felt it. He felt the weight of his words starting to crush you. Down in your mind you knew he was doing something bad with the cabinet, but you didn’t think it was so drastic.

Draco continued. Hurt her to save her, his mom’s words rang through his mind. “I’m using the Vanishing Cabinet to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” his words made you remember the Death Eaters attack at the Quidditch World Cup, where you were almost trampled. You remembered the attack on London that sent one of your family members to the Hospital. You remembered how ruthless the Death Eaters were at the Ministry, when they were throwing deadly curses at a bunch of teenagers.

And there it was.

The look of betrayal, hurt and fear on your face that Draco never wanted to see. He tried to remember the night you saw his Mark, the night you accepted and comforted him. That’s what he wanted to remember, not this. “After I get them here, I’m going to kill Dumbledore.” He continued.

Chills erupted on your body and you recoiled from his touch.

“I knew you were planning something bad, but this, Draco?” You couldn’t speak louder than a whisper as you took small steps away from him. He knew this was coming; the disgust, the unacceptance. Was your speech about understanding him all bullshit? “You don’t have to- “

“Yes, I do. It’s my mission.”

“No, listen to me. You’re not this person, you’re not a Death Eater. I know you, Draco. You’re still a good person put in a terrible situation but it’s not all lost, we can-“ Despite your fear, you still found yourself comforting him, pleading with him. Your mind lead an inner battle between understanding the boy’s motives and wanting to let Harry know of everything that was happening.

You couldn’t let Dumbledore die, couldn’t let Death Eaters attack Hogwarts.

“I cursed Katie Bell. Almost killed her.” Draco cut you off.

“I know.” You deadpanned. He parted his lips and frowned in confusion. “I saw the necklace in your bag a week before it all happened. Then I saw it on McGonagall’s desk. It wasn’t hard to piece together the puzzle.” You explained.

Despite the warmth spreading through his heart at the thought of you not abandoning him even after knowing that all those months ago, at the thought that he’d finally found someone to be on his side for once in his life, someone who understood and maybe even actually loved him – despite it all, Draco’s eyes had never showed less emotion.

You wanted to cry but didn’t. Your ego won.

“You know I have to do this, (Y/N).” His voice didn’t waver anymore. The more reasons you gave him to love you, the more his decision solidified in his mind. “And you know I’m doing the right thing,” he wanted to hold you so bad, but he didn’t move; instead, you both stood feet away from each other. “Knowing all this puts you in danger. Coming here every night puts you in danger hell, even looking at me in the Great Hall puts you in danger. I can’t see you brought into the manor tied up, imprisoned and killed as a punishment for me. And you know I’m right. I’m not just some irrelevant follower, I’ve sat at a damn table with The Dark Lord countless times this summer. He’s been in my home; he knows me personally.”

You couldn’t look at him the more he spoke. So, your gaze was stuck on a candle, but your eyes remained unfocused.  

“You’re smart.” Draco kept speaking, his tone now loud and confident. “This is the part where you tell me that even though you wanna change my mind, you know I’m doing the right thing,” he even joked. You wanted to cry but couldn’t speak. He was right. “Tell me you’re proud of me because I’m putting someone else’s wellbeing above my own for once” his voice became muffled, as if he spoke from underwater. It was silent for a moment as Draco watched you process his words, “You’ll be on the right side of history after this. You’ll go back to Weasley who’s a better choice for you than I could ever be – even though it kills me to say that.”

All you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

By the time you looked back up at him, he had a few tears running down his face and his wand pointed at you. And so you cried.

“We were a good team, weren’t we?” Draco spoke with one last saddened smile.

“Draco, please. I love –“ you began, but Draco couldn’t bear hear it.

You watched Draco wipe his tears with a swift motion, before a white light formed at the tip of his wand. His voice came out strong, unwavering, and determined. His hand stopped shaking.

“Obliviate,” Draco uttered before you could react.

[thequibblah]

I’m kinda surprised by the dark James discourse. Obviously, everyone is totally valid in their feelings and reactions. Certain versions of deatheater!James have not been my cup of tea in the past but why is a reluctant DE James is the bridge too far for some people when it seems like par for course for the fandom? Fics involving DE ships are consistently the most popular in the HP fandom (Dramione, Drarry, Tom/Harry) and the biggest Marauders’ WIP right now has James cheating on his pregnant girlfriend with a Deatheater. Like yeah it’s all problematic if it was real life but it’s fiction. I would love your perspective if I’m missing something.

Sure! If I wanted to read a death eater love interest as you mentioned, I’d be a fan of those ships. I’m not. I’m not here for that. I’m here for Order members. Par for the course for the Harry Potter fandom is not the same in each niche at all. Personally I have never cared about or run into darkfic until last year, when it entered the community’s discussion spaces and IMO popped into the mainstream — i.e. written by extremely popular authors, read widely, recommended on jilyarchive (IIRC???), and fairly represented in awards nominations. Let me be absolutely clear, I am well aware there is stuff I would hate all over AO3. My discomfort is when becomes impossible for me to ignore.

The reluctant Death Eater as a character cutout personally makes me extremely wary. First, I’m not really interested in stories where a so-called “reluctant” member of a hate group (surely we can agree this is what Voldemort’s followers are?) is shown the light by a marginalised woman. Big “I can fix him” vibes, when in reality the “right woman’s love” does not “turn” anyone. You change if you want to change. Nor am I interested in reading morally anguished lust — never have I ever felt shamefully attracted to someone who (pressured or not!!!!) has thought of me as less-than or hurt people like me. And that is in everyday life, where the stakes are certainly not as high as murder or torture.

Now, specifics: it seems especially twisted to write James this way. I’ve been in this fandom on Tumblr for ten years and I remember the days we used to actively argue with Sn*ly fans (😭😭😭). We spent ridiculous amounts of time on James’s sense of honour, on his aversion to the Dark arts, on those being the reasons — and rightfully so! — Lily fell in love with him. I fail to see how ANY kind of DE James is not Sn*pe. I fail to see how James, who became an Animagus for his best friend, would not fight tooth and nail against an institution that would turn him into a weapon. I fail to see how James, who was a brother to Sirius, would side even nominally with the people Sirius ran away from. I fail to see how James, who made a fucking magical map of Hogwarts, would not find a way to join the resistance. That’s so far from the James I know and love that I am not interested in what boils down to an OC with his name slapped on it. And that’s not even touching on the jarring unreality of his position as the wealthy heir of a well-known, pro-Muggle pure-blood family still somehow…not being protection and privilege enough that he must join in genocide?

Further, even if James is truly dragging his heels in this, I do not see Lily falling for him at all. It does her a disservice and imo insults her sense of dignity. If she could drop her best friend at the age of 16 for calling her a slur, she can resist the charms of someone turning weapons on people like her. I am not interested in these stories, where a young woman is faced with brutal prejudice on all fronts and has to deal with the violence of it even from her love. I find it distasteful to revel in that so-called angst.

Finally — I don’t believe there is any possibility of nuance in a romance-centric fanfiction that explores a story like this. Because we as readers, and certainly the author as a shipper, thinks they’re soulmates! So…if they’re soulmates, he loved her all along, right? If they’re soulmates, he didn’t mean anything by it, right? If they’re soulmates, she has to forgive him, right, because she loves him. There is no way it cannot be romanticised. There is no atonement that feels earned because in the reader’s eyes he doesn’t have to atone for anything, really — he’s loved her all along and surely James and Lily have a love that conquers all!

It reeks of apologia. Not interested in fic like that about my ship that centres personal growth and maturing, and kicking Voldemort’s mouldy ass. In any universe.

I don’t think the implications of this can be restricted to just fiction and I think the stated discomfort of fans based on personal marginalisation proves that. We don’t write in a vacuum. We can’t claim to love the antifascism of canon or express distaste for Sn*pe’s flawed love for Lily and then turn around and act surprised when our own writing — again in the MAINSTREAM, I don’t care about what’s written far from the centre of this fandom and easy to ignore — is hypocritical and hurts people because of it. We can’t extol fanfiction’s powerful themes and talk about what fic has taught us and made us think about and then say “oh it’s just fiction” when it suits us. If it’s moved you so much clearly words have impact.

Again let me underscore this: this hurts people. Drives away fans and creators. You would not believe the specific writers and fans who feel sad and upset and discouraged and again, WANT TO STOP WRITING AND INTERACTING HERE because of this.

That to me is why this is a very clear line in the sand.

[leahblackk]

Lies pt.2

(The gif is not mine. Whoever made this thank you so much and I’m sorry)

Summary: Spencer wants to apologize and explain everything to Y/n, but will she let him?

Type: Angst

Hey!! Look, I wanted to make just two parts and that's it, but while I was writing it more ideas came to my mind. Anyways, enjoy!

People who asked me to tagg them; @rexorangecouny and @b-a-utiful​

Pt.1

Pt.3

. . .

Y/n stared at, what seems now, a really awful and boring white wall in front of her. Blanky and space out from reality.

When she stepped into the bullpen with Emily Johnson, everyone stared at her in shock, but at that moment, she thought that was because of the fact that her boyfriend cheat on her with a criminal, an unsub until she looked at her left and let a sigh out of her lips. After all, it wasn't because of what had happened. It was because of the girl by her side.

They approached her and asked her questions. She gave them answers without the minor detail of what really happened with Cat. The one people said she didn't need to worry about. But they were wrong, so was she.

Hotch called the Johnsons, and they were happy, thanking Y/n for her act of bravery.

Her coworkers noticed her odd behaviour; after all, it was a room full of profilers, yet they didn't ask her what was wrong, maybe because they didn't want to push her to talk.

Y/n was thinking.

How was she supposed to move forward after what has happened in the last hour?

How was she going to "get over it" and move on?

Not after all the desires and dreams, she had with Spencer. The one she thought was the love of her life, the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life—the one she loved.

The one who had her hands on Cat's hair, kissing her like he was in love with her, kissing her in the way he kissed her.

They used to have a beautiful relationship, even before they started dating. Y/n had found a best friend and a lover in Spencer's embrace.

She thought about all those nights when they watched Star Wars and discussed the storyline. When they watched Harry Potter and agreed, they both belonged in the Ravenclaw house, and they also were Hufflepuff and a little bit of Slytherin, and they definitely hated Umbridge.

And those nights were they cuddle up in bed, whispering in each other's ear how much they loved each thing of them and how much they loved each other, how important they were and how happy they were because they found each other.

God, they even shared an apartment.

Now she was there, thinking about Spencer, her Spencer or the one she thought was hers.

Y/n was forced to get out of her memories and mind when her coworkers approached the man she was just thinking about. Her heart hurt just to see him.

She wiped the tears in her cheeks and looked at him.

Spencer gave his coworkers polite smiles, trying to focus on the only thing he wanted, Y/n.

His eyes looked over the bullpen, trying to find his girl so he could go and tried to explain himself to her, even when he knew it was going to be difficult because she was very proud, just like him.

Then his hazel eyes land on her. She looked away from her boyfriend, not so boyfriend. His world stops. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful.

But then he noticed her red eyes, and then he knew. She has been crying.

He would go over her ignoring everything else, not caring about anyone but her, hugging her, asking her why she was upset, and trying to make things better. But he couldn't, because the reason she was crying was his fault.

She looked at him hurt. And then she stood from her chair and took her purse. Ready to leave.

Spencer panicked, watching her walk in front of him. Spencer starts walking.

"Y/n," He said, but she didn't stop. "Y/n please" now tears were in his eyes, taking her elbow.

"Spencer, please let me go," She whispered. Her voice cracking at the immense pain she was feeling, hoping that Spencer would let her go to their house and packed everything so she could leave him.

She didn't dare to look at him. She knew she wasn't that strong. And how could she? When she was feeling sad, and like the world was on her shoulders, Spencer was the one who comforts her. But what happened when he was the reason she felt that way?

"Let me- Just please let me explain." He begged.

"Let you explain what?" She finally looked at him with anger and sadness. "The way you dared to kiss her when you told me how much you hate her? When I was the one who comforts you when you were sad about all the things she did to you? Do you want to narrate to me word by word how well you enjoy that kiss while I was in fucking front of you?" Even though everyone stared at them, they didn't know why they were arguing because she wasn't yelling even when she wanted to, neither did he. They were the only ones who knew what was happening.

"No, I want to explain why I did what I did."

"Spencer, please" Y/n looked at him in disbelief. "There's no other reason. I think it is pretty obvious. You didn't had the guts to tell me you didn't love me anymore. You didn't tell me that you were lying all those times when you told me that you loved me and you wanted to be with me."

"I never lied. I love you, but you didn't tell me either about the letters she was sending you. So I guess you weren't honest."

Y/n chuckled in disbelief. "You know why I didn't tell you about those letters?" Spencer nodded. "I didn't tell you because I thought It was nothing. You were there with so many problems and those horrible migraines that I didn't want to add more. I cared about you."

Spencer's eyes soften at her words. "But I don't care about anything about that, Y/n. You are my girl. You are my entire world. I want to be there for you, even if I am not so well because you are always there for me. I want to help you, doesn't matter what."

"I was." She said.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"I was your girl. We are over."

. . .

After the fight they had, Y/n turned off her phone because people called her, asked her what happened. She didn't have the energies to answer those calls.

She just left, now, Spencer's apartment with her belongings. She didn't want to bother anyone and answer their questions about what happened. She could have stayed at Emily's or Penelopes, but she didn't want to.

So she turned to her old house. It was cold and lonely, maybe because she felt that way.

Y/n had bought a house when she came into Virginia. When Spencer and her started dating, Spencer decided that it was better to stay in his place because it had a better view. It wasn't that cold like hers and, in Spencer's words, was cooler than hers.

But she didn't put her house in sale, maybe because a part of her knew something like this could happen, and she never liked to stay at her friend's house for too long.

She sat in her old coach and took her phone out of her purse. She turned it on, feeling the light way too bright on her face.

The phone started getting all the notifications, all the messages, and all those missed phone calls.

The first one she answered was Penelope. She knew she would freak out because she wasn't responding.

Y/n didn't say anything more than she was okay, repeating the same answer to all of her friends.

She listened to her voicemails: her friends and four of Spencer.

Y/n bit inside her cheek, thinking if it was a good idea to listen to it, but before it was too late, she did.

"Hey, darling. My angel, I really don't know if I can call you like that anymore, but you are always going to be my angel. You obviously know who I am, and I also know you don't want to talk to me, but I think this is important, and-"

"Sorry, my last voicemail got cut. I was saying that I am really sorry Y/n, you don't even have an idea" His voice broke. "I-I got home right now, and you are not here. I wasn't expecting you to be either, but-"

"You're not here, and your things either. You left a sweater though. The white you- your favourite. The one you always put on even if it doesn't match with your outfit because you say it is comfy. And, it smells just like you-"

"I know I messed things up. I swear I have a reason and an explanation for all of this, but please come back. Come back to me because I don't think I can't live without you. I can't stay in this empty cold house. Remember when I told you to come to my home because yours was colder? It was because you were here. Every time you are in my home, it gets warmer and feels like home because home is not home if you are not here with me. I love you, please, never forget th-"

Tears came down her cheeks. All those emotions she was avoiding were out now. She felt pressure in her chest. I felt like the reality hit her hard. She was feeling alone, she was cold, and she needed him yet she knows it is not correct.

Her phone started ringing; Hotch.

She tried to calm herself down. Breathing in and out.

"Hey, Hotch, what's up?"

"You don't have to pretend when you are around me, Y/n," He said.

Hotch knew her very well. He was like a father to her, and Y/n like a daughter to him.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I-I Hotch I- I really don't want to talk about that."

"You don't have to, but please don't pull away just because of the way you are feeling. I know it is your way to defend yourself from the world, but today you got us pretty worried. You know we live in a world where there are not so good people, and we thought. I thought something had happened."

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention. I swear, I just needed my time alone."

"That's okay, but next time let us know, and I will tell you that I'm here for you, always. You are not alone."

"Thank you, Hotch. It means the world to me."

"Any time, kid."

. . .

After she took a bath and ate her dinner, it seems like she was doing everything on pilot, and maybe that was the truth, but she didn't know what to do.

She sighs and sits in her coach. She couldn't sleep.

Her phone buzzed next to her. Confused, she took it and saw who was calling her; Hotch.

She frowned and answered it. Y/n didn't have enough time to greet her boss when he was already talking. "Did Spencer call you?" He asked. Concerned?

"Yeah, he did, but-"

"Did he tell you to come to the office?"

"No, it was for other reasons. Why?"

"You need to come. Right now."

"Why? Is everything okay?"

"We have a case."

. . .

Y/n drove fast to the Bau, concerned about what Hotch just told her. She parked her car and took her purse out of the vehicle. She saw JJ just got out of her car as well.

"Do you know what is going on?" The blonde one asked.

"No, I thought you did.

Both confused women walked inside. Everyone was there.

"What it is, Hotch?" JJ asked and took a seat next to Emily. Y/n sat next to Penelope, far away from Spencer, who was looking at her in pain. Derek sat in the chair next to him, the one he saved for her, having hope she would take it.

"Spencer," Aaron said, giving the word to the young doctor. Spencer stood up and walked in front of everyone, where JJ usually briefed the team. Giving Y/n a quick look, but she was busy playing with her rings. A little hope grew in him when he saw she was still wearing his.

"I received a strange call today after I-I left Cat in jail. The voice said that my mom was in danger and that I need to protect her, so I brought her here. Hoping I can take care of her while we find the person who wants to harm her."

Y/n knew Diana Reid. She was a beautiful woman, and Y/n loved her. Besides what happened to her and Reid, she felt sorry for him. She wanted to help him.

Reid got out of the conference room and returned one minute after with her mom, who was shy at first, but she smiled when her eyes found Y/n.

"Y/n, it is so lovely to see you. Please come to say hi. I've missed you." Y/n smiled and stood up from her chair and hugged the woman. Spencer smiled at the encounter between the two women he loves the most. "How are you, darling? Look at you. You look absolutely stunning. How is my Spencer treating you?"

She looks over to Spencer, and he just looks at the ground. "I-I'm okay, and everything is okay." She lied.

"Oh darling, I'm glad."

"Mom, I think we have to start working. Do you mind waiting for me?"

She nodded. "Yeah, can I come back to your boss's office?"

"Yeah, please. Follow me." Hotch said, walking with Diana to his office.

Y/n walked where she was before, and Spencer followed her and stood in front of everyone. "Pretty boy, tell us how we can help," Morgan said.

"I-I actually think that we have to take this as a usual case. The profiling an-and everything, but Hotch said that we need to keep eyes close to my mom, and she doesn't trust the agents around, she has to be with someone she has spend time with and, I can't be with her because I need things to do, so-"Spencer looked at Y/n hoping she can understand what he was saying. Everyone looked at her, but she was looking at the ground until she heard nothing but silence.

"Pretty girl, that's your call." Morgan teased.

"Oh yeah, of course."

. . .

After everyone was brief, Hotch came back and told everyone what to do. Y/n had to keep Spencer's mom company and work with the profiling. Everyone was leaving to do their duties, but Y/n and Spencer were the last in the room. Not on purpose, of course.

When Y/n was exiting, Spencer took her wrist. She turned around to look at him with a severe face, and Spencer felt nervous. "I'm sorry, I know you don't want to talk with me, but I really appreciate what you are doing for me after all that has happened between us and-"

"Doctor Reid, I'm not doing this for you if that's what you’re thinking. I'm doing this for her, even though you don't deserve anything from me, and how I said, is for her. She's an amazing woman, and she doesn't deserve any of this, so please don't confuse things. If you excuse me, I have things to do." And with that, she left. Leaving the young doctor with the words in his mouth and with a hurt heart.

Y/n walked the short path to Hotch's office and opened the door. Diana was looking over the window. She turned around and looked at Y/n.

"It seems like we have a girl's day." She said, and Diana smiled.

. . .

Y/n spent almost the whole day with Diana Reid. It was now three in the afternoon. She already delivered the profile but still hasn't got a clue of who the person might be.

Spencer was getting desperate, but every time she saw her mom tried to look the calmest he could. Y/n always exited the room every time he did so.

Diana thought it was to give them space, but they didn't look in love as always. At least Y/n didn't. Spencer always looked at her in that way, trying to capture her attention, but he failed.

She didn't make any comments, but the last time Spencer came into the office, she couldn't stand that anymore. "There's something going on with you and Spencer?" The question took the doctor in surprise.

"Um, no. Everything is okay."

"Darling, you are not a very good liar when it comes to Spencer. What is going on?"

Y/n knew Spencer didn't deserve anything, but she couldn't bring herself to tell his mom the truth. "I don't know. It was just a fight we had earlier. Nothing to worry about."

"I see. I know Spencer can be a little bit of an idiot for being a genius, you know? He never loved anyone in the way he loves you. You are his very first girlfriend. He didn't even talk about any women until he met you, and he couldn't stop talking about you over and over again. I knew you were pretty special, and I know Spencer can sometimes be challenging. I mean, he's a man, after all. What do you expect?" Y/n chuckled. "But I do know that man loves you, and whatever that happened, it has its fix."

So Spencer didn’t told his mom about Maeve?

Y/n wanted to believe her. She tried to think it would be a way to fix things and everything could go back to normal, but she also knew something of its magnitude would be difficult.

"Hey, how are we going here?" Spencer asked. "Y/n um, they need you outside."

"It was fun to talk to you, Diana. I'll see you later."

"Thanks for spending the day with me."

"It was my pleasure." Y/n smiled, and without looking at Spencer, she exited the room.

She walked downstairs where everyone was. "Y/n, Hotch wants you to go where he's right now. The police said they have a witness. Morgan and Prentiss are over there right now." JJ informed.

Y/n nod feeling a strange sensation in her stomach. She took her purse that was on her desk and walked out.

Y/n walked through the parking lot until she found her car and unlocked it. She sat in, closed the door and put her purse in the other seat. When she was about to start the car, someone knocked on her window.

.  . .

"Y/n told me you two had troubles." Her mom said. Spencer looked at her with panic in his eyes. "Don't worry. She's too loyal to tell me what you did wrong. But you have to understand she's an amazing woman, and there's no one like her in the world. Besides, she's the only one I like for you. "Spencer lightly laughed and nodded.

"I know, mom. I messed it up." He looked at her with watery eyes.

"Oh hun, come here." She hugged him. "I know it is hard, but I do know she loves you. You should talk to her and tell her how much you love her and that you don't want to lose her. Go, now."

Spencer felt encouraged and walked out of the room, going downstairs where JJ, Emily, Morgan, and Hotch were. No sign of Y/n. He frowned.

"What is going on?" He asked.

"Spence," JJ started talking.

"Don't "Spence" me. What is going on?”

“Y/n got kidnapped.”

[messrmoonyy]

number 3 from the physical touch list (hiding face in neck) for remadora please :)) (no pressure)

Not me neglecting previous prompts/requests because this one the one I got motivation for.

Prompt from this list.

I used this to do my spin on the aftermath of the Battle of the Seven Potters, Cause I like anxious overprotective Remus🙃😗✌🏻( I also changed like. The entire dialogue from the original scenes because why not ). Think battle of seven potters but add a little ✨spice and drama✨. I went off on a total tangent on this tbh. As I do with every prompt it seems. Anyway. Hope you like it my dear anon.

Pairing: Remus lupin x Nymphadora Tonks

Warnings: none

Check my masterlist for all my other writing!

She was late. Incredibly so. Her and Ron should have been one of the first pairs to arrive at The Burrow, he’d arranged for her to have one of the shortest routes. He’d not told her that of course but he was quite sure she’d known he’d gotten a little too tetchy and secretly spoken to Alastor. But he had a right to be over protective didn’t he? This was was his wife. The woman he had literally, and in every sense of the word, sworn his life to. Sworn his dying breath to protect her, care for her.

Yet he’d let her put herself in danger. He could have tried to persuade Alastor to let him and George go the same route as Dora and Ron, or at least in the similar direction. He knew he had to be focussed on the war effort, knew he had a duty to protect the children. But… he also had a duty to protect her. His wife. His Dora. And now for all he knew Bellatrix could have struck her down, her body lying lifeless in a field somewhere.

He wasn’t a particular calm man at the best of times, his stress had its own stress, but he had never felt worse than he did in that moment. He’d already practically attacked Harry, was in no way of any comfort to George and Molly. Or anyone else.

So he was waiting out of the way by the window, constantly looking up at the sky through the glass and waiting for her to materialise through the burrows guards, come skidding over and laugh at him for being anxious over nothing. But the sky remained clear of her vibrant hair and her joyful laugh. The stars practically mocking him as he waited.

“ she’s a tough one. She’ll be okay “ Kingsley had appeared at his side “ Bill and Fleur, Ron and Tonks. They’ll all be here soon. Stop fretting Remus “ Remus almost laughed at the sheer stupidity of telling him not to fret over her. As if he ever did anything else. He always worried for her safety, had done long before they had even become a couple. Waiting up for her to come home from late shifts at the ministry in the days she’d stay at Grimmauld, worrying about her when she’d turn up with a new bruise or gash from something. Marrying her had simply made him fret more.

He’d never felt so protective of anyone in his life, never thinking he ever would either. Yet here he was, constantly putting her first and wanting to do nothing but take care of her. She never left his mind, was his first priority forever and always. He didn’t even want to think about what he’d do if he ever lost her, if he ever failed to protect her.

“ Bill and Fleur were scheduled to arrive as one of the last. Dora and Ron should have been one of the first pairs here “ he said it slightly more harshly than intended and turned to apologise to his friend immediately after, but as he did there was the sound of something passing through the guards outside.

Remus charged outside, almost tripping over his own gangly limbs as he went. He froze to the spot in a mixture of shock and relief as Doras broom appeared in the sky, the bristles smoking and charred as she made an unsteady decent to the ground. She landed in a long skid,stumbling from the broom and directly into Remus’ arms. She practically fell into him and would have knocked him to the floor if he hadn’t been stiff as a board.

“ Remus “ she gasped, hugging him so tightly it took the air from his lungs. But he didn’t even care, he’d give his last breath if it meant dying with her there in his arms. Because she was alright. She was right. There “ was so worried about you. The death eaters and- fuck I know you’re really no good on a broom and you bloody hate flying at the best of times. Merlins balls I was so scared “ she rambled so fast Remus barely understood what she was saying to him.

His hand slipped into her hair in some attempt to hold her as close as he could, still trying to accept that she was really there. Safe. Alive. He had worried for nothing of course. He should have known. She was tough. So much tougher than he gave her credit for it seemed.

He gently pried her out of his grip slightly, needing to see her face just to make sure it really was her. That he wasn’t dreaming it.

“ where were you “ as had most of his words that evening, it came out a little harsh but she didn’t seem to care. She reached up to cup his face in a soothing manner that was the complete opposite of his previous words to her.

“ Bellatrix. Wants me dead just about as much as Voldy wants Harry. Missed our port key. But I’m fine. Ron’s fine. We’re fine. You’re fine? “ he could feel tears welling in his eyes and he felt a bit stupid, but he couldn’t help it. Words failed him and he simply just nodded and pulled her back into his arms “ fucking deatheaters “ she grumbled.

He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent and letting it calm him. She smelt like the fresh air, her hair all wind tousled and the slightest hint of smoke. Probably from her charred broom. Her hand rubbed gentle circles into his back and it made him feel… small. Which was funny with how much smaller she actually was compared to him.

“ sweetheart… I’m fine “ she said softly, clearly reading his fear still evident on him “ Remus “

He lifted his head as her hand patted him lightly, but he couldn’t bare to part from her again just yet and his forehead dropped to hers.

“ I’m afraid I underestimated you once again, darling. I knew deep down you’d make it back to me, I’m getting far too old to be worrying like this “ he said with a hint of a smile.

“ oh don’t worry, you won’t get rid of me that easily. Take more than a few of old Voldys mental lackeys to take me out. You’re stuck with me now. Im going no where “ their faces were so close he could feel her cheeks shift as she smiled with her words. Her nose brushed against his before she pressed a kiss to his lips. He usually was rather strict on his avoidance of showing affection to his wife in front of well… anyone really. But he happily kissed her back, even if he did cut it off a little shorter than he truly wanted. Still wondering at the back of his mind if any of the order were secretly judging him. It’d never escape him no matter how hard he tried not to care about it.

As they pulled apart she then only seemed to notice that there was blood on his hands and his jacket. She took a step back, her hands suddenly searching for an injury.

" blood? Remus? " her hands were frantic as she yanked at his collar, pushed up his sleeves, searching for anywhere she could find an injury. He grabbed ahold of her hands and shook her slightly so that she would look at him, it was clearly her time to fret and not his.

" Dora. Dora relax. It's not mine. It's not my blood. George was hit.. don't worry he's alive. He's lost an ear but he's okay. So am I. Not my blood love, it's not mine " she couldn't seem to help herself then and dived for lips again, holding his face in her hands and kissing him harder than before. He still couldn’t help but be a little reluctant but kissed her back, his embarrassment of kissing her in front of others not mattering when they were both just thankful to be alive and with each other.

" I'm just so happy you're alive " she whispered when she pulled back, resting her forehead to his. He opened his mouth to say something else but suddenly she was yanked out of Remus' embrace and shoved away, her clumsy legs stumbling in the gravel and she fell quite ungraciously onto her ass with a grunt of pain. Remus immediately rushed to her side in confusion.

" what the fuck! " she shouted and Remus looked up to see that Kingsley had been the one to pull her away, his wand now pointed at her face.

" Kingsley! Lower your wand! " Remus immediately jumped to her defence, crouching beside her and placing a hand to her shoulder  " Dora are you okay? Dora? "

" someone betrayed us we have to check everyone. You didn't even confirm her identity Lupin, she could have killed you. Look I didn’t mean to knock you down- we have to be certain you understand? "

" are you bloody mental?! " Dora yelled again, rubbing at her elbow that she’d clearly hurt on the way down.

" Kingsley... lower your wand she got Ron back safetly it's quite clearly- "

" we have to check " Kingsley said cutting off Molly, who had come outside with the commotion. Remus helped her back to her feet and then grabbed her hand, stepping in between her and kingsleys raised wand.

" lower. Your. wand. " his voice was commanding as he could muster, Kingsley was his friend. But Dora was his wife. And she came first. And he would put himself between her and a raised wand any and every time. No matter who was on the other end of it.

" Nymphadora Tonks gave me a present for my birthday last year. What was it?" Kingsley asked, ignoring Remus entirely, his wand still pointed at her as she was half hid behind Remus’ body.

" this is ridiculous! We're all turning on each other now? "

" answer the question " Kingsley ignored Remus again, which only made his blood boil more. He was already on edge that evening with the fear of losing his wife. This wasn’t helping to lower his stress levels.

" I know my own damned wife- "

" what was it! " Remus drew his own wand then at the increase in Kingsleys anger, pointing it in Kingsleys direction.

" Remus! "

" lower. Your wand. And step away from my wife " he demanded, not wanting to hurt Kingsley… but willing to if he had to.

" you don't even know if that is your wife"

" please! Stop the both of you! " Molly shouted.

" fucking hell " Dora said and held onto Remus hand harder, stepping better into view " I gave you a new set of quills because I charmed your last lot to throw them self out the window whenever you touched them. Happy? " Kingsley was quiet for a moment longer " now drop your wands. Both of you " Kingsley looked to Remus before finally lowering his wand. But Remus couldn’t. He felt betrayed almost, that someone he thought as a friend would do something like threaten the woman he loved.

Dora pressed gently on Remus' wrist to make him too lower his wand when he didn’t do it if his accord immediately " Remus. Lower your wand...Remus “

" this is exactly what Voldemort would want. To see us all turning on each other. We cannot let ourselves get paranoid like this " Remus said bitterly, wrapping an arm around his wife protectively and finally dropping his wand arm. He knew that Kingsley has been right to check in a way. He had needed to check. Though there were much better ways to go about it rather than pointing a wand at her head. To hold a wand to a witch or wizard was one of the most disrespectful things you could do.

" someone betrayed us "

" Dora and I are never out of each other's sight long enough for anyone to have made a switch or have her as their spy. And you know that. How dare you hold a wand to her head. How dare you " Remus was itching for an argument. And Dora could sense it, also so incredibly good at reading his emotions and thoughts before even he was.

" Remus " she said softly, lifting a hand to gently turn his face to look at her instead of glaring at Kingsley " Remus look at me " she ran her hand gently through his hair and he instantly seemed to relax. His own muscles losing tension without his consent at her touch. She had a knack at being one of the only people to get him to the calm down in almost an instant. Sirius and James had been the only other people he knew that could " relax. It's okay " she transported them into their own little bubble. As if the others were no longer in the burrow too and she kept him there, gently rubbing at his hand until his first unclenched and angry breaths returned to normal.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Sex Tape

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader

Request: “ If you take requests, would you consider doing johnny reaction to like theirs sex tape getting leaked? Reader may also be a celebrity or not. Whatever you prefer “ - @fanficshitandother 

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no actual smut

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Sorry this one is so short. I was having a harder time writing it than I thought I would. I hope you enjoy!

__________________________________

Shit. 

You knew this was a bad idea when he suggested it but no. He just had to have this video “for when he was away filming.” It always ended like this, though, right? It always started out as fun and games until bam! Celebrity sex tape leaked! 

The gossip talk show video that your best friend had sent you was still playing on your phone and you watched in silent horror as the red haired woman talked about your sex life to her male counterpart as if she had any actual right to have an opinion. In the top corner was a picture of you and Johnny at the red carpet for the premier of the Crimes of Grindelwald, his arm around your waist and both of you smiling for the paparazzi pictures. “Okay, guys. You are going to want to hear this,” She started, clasping her absurdly long acrylic-clad fingers together and holding onto her knees, “So there has been yet another sex tape leaked and I want you to guess who’s it is.” She looked over to her co-host. He had a push broom mustache that was bleached blonde to match his hair. 

The man hummed before waving his hand, which also donned long yellow acrylics, “I swear, Laurel, if this is another Kardashian or Paris Hilton tape, I’m gonna scream. That’s such old news.” 

“Actually, it’s someone that I certainly didn’t expect. Johnny Depp and his wife, Y/N L/N.” She dropped the news and the co-star’s mouth dropped. 

“Are you serious? Like Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp?” He asked in total shock, “I didn’t expect that either! But you know what? I feel like he’d be really good in bed.” 

He and Laurel both laughed, “You’re so bad!” She squealed, hitting him with the paper notes in her hand, “But, between you and me,” She leaned in, as if she was telling an actual secret that wasn’t being broadcast on the internet, “I did see it.” 

“And?” 

“It was pretty hot, I can’t lie. That Y/N is a very lucky girl indeed.” The pair giggled like a pair of school girls. 

You were absolutely mortified. How did this happen? How many people had seen it? Who had seen it? Oh God… all you could imagine was your family stumbling across the video or, debatably worse, Johnny’s kids. This had to be one of the worst moments of your life. 

You turned off the video and quickly dialed your husband. “Hello, love.” He greeted cheerily on the other end. The faint sound of cars passing in the background told you he was probably driving home from the meeting he had been at. 

“Did you see it? Did you hear it?” You asked frantically. 

“What?” He asked, confused.

“The video! The video got leaked!” You ran your fingers through your hair messily, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. 

“What video?” He questioned, not sounding like he fully understood what had happened, but then you could almost feel the weight of realization falling on him, “Wait, our video?” 

“Yes! Our video!” You were yelling at this point, not at him but at the situation and thankfully he understood that. 

“Okay, okay. We’ll- Hang on my manager is calling. Probably to tell me about it. I’ll be home in five minutes. I love you.” He signed off your call quickly before hanging up without giving you the chance to respond. 

While you waited for him to get there, you spiraled down the rabbit hole that was the tabloids and social media. Your phone buzzed off the charts as everyone from your sister to Helena Bonham Carter called you to ask if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t. But it was one phone call from a former college roommate, Sheila, had really gotten your blood boiling. 

“It’s okay! If anything, this is just going to make you more famous! Look at all the other celebs who’ve had their sex tapes leaked. They’re like, super famous.” Sheila sounded more excited than she should have, which certainly made you question her motives behind calling you in the first place. Since marrying Johnny, you’d had the unfortunate displeasure of having to cut a few people off from your past who had randomly called you up after years of little to no contact, asking more favors in the movie industry, money, or even just for the clout of saying they knew you. There really was such a downside to this whole marrying famous person thing that nobody ever really talked about - not that you would take it back, though, of course. You loved Johnny more than anything. 

Still, when the words left her mouth, you felt a flash of anger swell up, “Contrary to what a lot of people might believe, being famous actually kind of sucks,” You spat angrily, “And call me crazy, but I don’t exactly feel thrilled at knowing the whole world as access to a video of my naked ass!” 

“At least it’s a good naked ass, though! Your boobs are looking pretty good too. Did you get them done?” She asked bluntly, still not a care to be heard in her voice. You swore you could almost detect a fake valley girl accent too. 

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief at the words coming from her voice, “I can’t believe you.” Without giving her a chance to respond, you clicked the off button before flipping her off through the screen, though you knew she couldn’t see it. The audacity of some people. 

The front door swung open, drawing your attention as Johnny hurried into the house, setting his bag down by the front door. “How bad is it?” You asked, knowing his manager must have told him the full extent. 

“Do you want the truth?” Johnny saw as panic and humiliation swept across your face, knowing that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to break it to you that it was pretty bad. He stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms, “I told Harrison to take ‘em down. Whenever he found one, he said he’d get it deleted. 

You sighed defeatedly, “That doesn’t stop the fact that a bunch of people already saw it.” Your arms wrapped around Johnny’s torso and you allowed your head to fall against his chest, trying to calm yourself with his scent- exotic spicy cologne and old books. 

His large hand came to stroke through your hair, “That is true,” He conceded with a heavy breath, “But, it also means that fewer and fewer people will continue to see it.” There was a pause in which neither of you said anything, only took a few minutes to hold onto each other while you thought about the future now, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel like this is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have asked to make the video. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You shook your head in disagreement, “I agreed to do it too. It’s on both of us. In retrospect, we should have put it on an actual VHS tape or something that would be more difficult to get into the tabloid’s hands.” 

You were tired of this - of this constant running from the vultures that prayed off your every misstep just to turn them against you and create headlining stories. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a scandal unless the media allowed it. You were just grateful that you happened to marry one of the most private actors in Hollywood, knowing that whatever pressure you felt, more public figures like Angelina Jolie had it much worse. Still, something inside you stirred, a decision that you’d stop living in fear. 

Johnny pulled back and gave you that infamous cocked eyebrow look of wonder, one that you’d mostly seen him use as Jack Sparrow. Little did everyone know, it was a gesture he’d picked up on doing in real life as well. “Do we even have a VHS player anymore?” 

You chuckled and buried your head back into his white shirt, “I don’t even know. I feel like there must be one laying around somewhere. And if not, I’ll go down to a pawn shop and pick one up just for you to use while filming.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” You leaned back, pulling on his shirt to bring him down closer to your level, “That if we’re going to be making you another one of these videos, it’s gonna be on something that stays only between us.” 

Your husband nearly choked on air, “Another one? After what just happened?” 

“Only if you want to and only if it stays on something physical like a CD or VHS that we can mutually agree to burn and destroy if anything happens.” You giggled and Johnny joined in with a low chuckle as well, “But… the video was leaked. We knew that was a risk when we made it. But, y’know what? I’m tired of living in fear of the paparazzi and public. They’ve already seen us fuck. There’s not much else we’ve got to lose.” 

His dark eyes flashed with mischief before he took off in a light jog down the hall without a word. You followed him, “Where are you going?” You giggled, turning the corner to find him digging through your little Harry Potter closet under the stairs. 

When he stood up, he shook his long hair out of his eyes messily and held up an old tape recorder that had to be at least twenty years old. Johnny swayed towards you, jokingly flirtatious as he spoke, “Well, Mrs. Depp, it would seem that you’re in luck because your husband likes to hoard old shit.” 

The grey and black machine seemed to stare at you and some hesitation set in again but then you remembered what you’d said: I’m tired of living in fear… there’s not much else we’ve got to lose. 

Johnny flicked open the side compartment and his eyes opened in surprise to find a tape still in there. He lifted it from the slide and looked it over, shocked to see that it appeared to be an unused blank tape, “Well, well, looks like we’re in luck.” 

Biting your lip, you looked up at him with those eyes before grabbing his hand and running upstairs to your bedroom, dragging him along. “The world thinks they’ve seen us fuck. They only got a preview.” 

“Only a preview? I thought we went pretty hard last time?” He countered with a low challenging laugh.

You turned around at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister as you turned to face him. His body collided with yours, his hand reaching around the small of your back to steady the two of you and you arched your body into his, being sure to brush your body against his groin, “Oh, Johnny… we’re both throwing our backs out tonight.”