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pet-genius · 4 years ago

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The Death Eaters as a Cult - Part 1

This is a very lightly edited old Reddit post, that I'll publish in parts because the whole thing is like 7000 words. Analyzing Voldemort, the DE and their dynamics, Dumbledore and Harry in comparison, and individual Death Eaters. Hope you like it!

Some say Voldemort is a cartoon villain, or wizard Hitler. I think he is very realistic, and that the focus on his political aspirations ignores interesting aspects of him. I cannot prove that JKR had cults in mind when she wrote Voldemort and his followers, but this is how I read them. It’s nearly impossible to define a cult, so, for the purpose hereof, I’m going with “a group dedicated to the worship of a person”. Many cult leaders in real life present themselves merely as “god’s voice” or “the messiah”, but Voldemort specifically didn’t bother to hide behind a power higher than himself.

Tom Riddle comes from humble beginnings, like many cult leaders - he’s raised in an orphanage. He already has delusions of grandeur, only in this case they’re not delusions, because he really is magic, which makes it all the more dangerous. Look how he reacted to discovering he was a wizard, and how Harry did.

Immediately following the revelation that Lily and James did not die in a car crash, and that Harry is famous, and that he survived an attempt at his life by the worst wizard in history:

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He’d spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn’t they been turned into warty toads every time they’d tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he’d once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

“Hagrid,” he said quietly, “I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a wizard.”

Heart-breaking. Harry doesn’t believe he can be special, he blames himself for the way he’s treated.

This is Tom Riddle:

“I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic.”

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore’s, as though trying to catch one of them lying. “Magic?” he repeated in a whisper.

“That’s right,” said Dumbledore.

“It’s... it’s magic, what I can do?”

“What is it that you can do?”

“All sorts,” breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. “I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

“I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.”

His megalomania and violent nature are already apparent, as is his preternatural control of his magic. It also hints at rudimentary legilimency.

Dumbledore spells out that young Tom Riddle equated magic with immortality and liked to collect trophies, and that Tom Riddle liked being special, as he resents the name Tom for being too common; he already lives behind a mask and only shows his true face in shock. This, and not Dumbledore’s magical prowess, is what always scared Tom. Voldemort knew Dumbledore knew what he was. That was the only tactical advantage Dumbledore had.

It’s also one of JKR’s strokes of brilliance: Dumbledore saw Tom for what Tom was, and others never did until it was too late, not because he was that clever, but because he knew from experience. Dumbledore had allowed himself to fall for a charismatic but heartless man before, and it took Ariana dying to slap him awake. Dumbledore knows good people can be led astray: It happened to him. It has nothing to do with intelligence or “goodness”. Gellert was able to give Albus exactly what Albus lacked, stuck at home taking care of Ariana: the promise of freedom and a bright future, and the companionship of an equal. Albus fell for it, despite warning signs that should have been obvious.

Later, we know Tom is chosen by a wand of yew and phoenix feather. Both yew and phoenix are associated with immortality; yew trees are very long-lived. Compare this to Harry’s wand, holly and phoenix feather: both these characters will experience death and rebirth, except Tom Riddle’s wand tree is yew, and Harry’s is holly.

From Wikipedia: “The Christian church commonly found it expedient to take over existing pre-Christian sacred sites for churches. It has also been suggested that yews were planted at religious sites as their long life was suggestive of eternity, or because, being toxic when ingested, they were seen as trees of death.” Also from Wikipedia: “Christians have identified a wealth of symbolism in the holly tree’s form. The sharpness of the leaves help to recall the crown of thorns worn by Jesus; the red berries serve as a reminder of the drops of blood that were shed for salvation; and the shape of the leaves, which resemble flames, can serve to reveal God's burning love for His people.”

The two orphans’ wildly different views of death are also apparent in their wand trees. Voldemort will murder to attain his goals; Harry will sacrifice himself. That the phoenix feather came from Fawkes is also meaningful - Dumbledore taught both magic in some capacity, but he never could defeat Voldemort, because they’re too alike. One of Harry’s advantages in this battle is the integrity of his soul, which cannot be compromised.

Next, Tom Riddle is sorted into Slytherin. For a child who is already prone to megalomania, the house values bring out the worst in him, and under Slughorn, he grows into a manipulative, cunning, ruthless young man. I’m not blaming Horace for Tom being a psychopath, but some of the particular ways his psychopathy manifested in seem to have been directly due to Slughorn’s influence. Slughorn is a blood-supremacist, who was convinced Tom must come from fine stock. Slughorn tests drinks for poison using house elves; Tom Riddle tests the effectiveness of his Horcrux’s protection on Kreacher. Slughorn emphasizes the importance of connections and outright praises Tom for knowing more than he needs to, and encourages an attitude of “it’s only wrong if you get caught.” But Slughorn, prejudiced and cunning as he is, is not violent - he is academically curious about Horcruxes, but he finds them repugnant. Tom’s heart is not so faint - at the point of asking Slughorn about Horcruxes, the diary is already a horcrux, and Tom has already murdered his father. This is how Dumbledore describes Tom’s original gang, who were the proto-Death Eaters:

As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts. Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrongdoing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.

Dumbledore explains what motivated people to join Tom: some were afraid, some ambitious, some cruel. He controlled his so-called friends, and already started framing others for his own crimes (Hagrid’s framing was followed by Morfin’s and Hokey the house elf’s).

This is followed by Tom’s attempt to become a teacher (Dumbledore spells out his motivations: He is attached to the school, he wants to study its magic, and he already wants to build himself an army). He is denied, oddly chooses to work for Borgin and Burkes, a choice fueled by the desire to trace down more items to make into Horcruxes. Through the memory of the meeting with Heptzibah Smith, we see that Tom was definitely charming when he needed to be, and knew how to make people feel good. He did not use magic to trick her into showing him her precious locket and cup: he used muggle manipulation - flattery, making an old and forlorn lady feel valuable, perhaps even flirting with her (she’s certainly flirting with him). He was pleasant enough that Ms. Smith eagerly looked forward to his visits - but as she showed him her treasures, he was caught off guard by hearing about his mother and how she sold the locket, and she saw him for what he was, although she quickly fell into denial. Sadly, she was murdered two days later.

Why rely on Horcruxes to gain immortality? Tom must have known about Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher’s Stone, and the Horcruxes require someone else to perform the resurrection ritual. Either making the Stone is so hard that it would deter Tom (unlikely), or he already expected to rely on followers who would find him and revive him - he certainly seems to have expected his followers to have searched for him earlier. Maybe Horcruxes were appealing because they require murder. In any case, this is followed by the memory of Tom asking Dumbledore for the DADA job again, a decade later. Tom has spent a decade gathering followers, and he has already changed his name to Lord Voldemort. This is reminiscent of real life cult leader David Koresh, and the leaders of the Children of God, Aum Shinrikyo, etc. The meeting between Voldemort and Albus is interesting, because it’s clear that Dumbledore had tried to teach Tom about the power of love:

“The old argument,” he said softly. “But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore.”

“Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places,” suggested Dumbledore.

This did not help. Tom never learned - how could he? At 16, he was already a murderer - who could love him now for who he was? He could never be truly loved, and he could never truly love another, and he underestimated the power of love for his entire life, leading to his downfall - twice (were that it was so simple in real life).

Voldemort is trying to obfuscate the nature of the relationship, like all cults - they never admit this is what they are.

“I am glad to hear that you consider them friends,” said Dumbledore. “I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants.”

“You are mistaken,” said Voldemort.

But LV can’t lie to Dumbledore, who changes the subject. He denies him the DADA job again, and the curse is placed on the job. LV’s ascent is due to begin in a few years. Hagrid tells the story:

Anyway, this — this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ’em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ’cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches...

Voldemort isn’t just interested in immortality. He wants complete control. He wants everyone fearing him - even fearing his name. He has people isolated and distrustful, fearing for their lives.

But we know his reign of terror was dreadful - what I’m interested in is the way he treated his own followers. We know little about how he treated them in the first war, but we do have what Sirius had to say about Regulus’s fate:

From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death.

We know the real story of Regulus’s disappearance, and it’s different. Kreacher tells us that Regulus died in the Horcrux cave - but more telling is that Regulus forbade Kreacher from telling his parents what had happened to him. Why did he feel the need to do that? This suggests that Regulus knew LV destroyed traitors’ families, which is a tactic used in cults and other abusive dynamics. We know LV would leverage Draco’s welfare against Lucius for his failure in the Department of Mysteries, too. We know also that instead of going to Dumbledore, or to his own brother, Regulus chose death – unless he was really dumb, and I don’t think he was, he must have been manipulated into believing that was his only option, or his world made no sense after his faith had shattered. So many people never readjust to life outside the cult.

Voldemort “dies” about two years after that, having successfully recruited about 400 followers (“the death eaters outnumbered us the Order 20:1” - Lupin). We can’t say if all these people were genuine Death Eaters or people who had been Imperiused or otherwise coerced, or allies like Narcissa, but that coercion is used to recruit shows that Voldemort did not take his own followers’ ambitions and wishes into account. People who use outright coercion don't suddenly draw the line at manipulation.

#death eaters #cult #death eater meta #voldemort #voldemort meta #harry potter #meta

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up-to-some-good · 3 years ago

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Part 5: 5 times I fixed it...

“Mr and Mrs Potter,” Dumbledore started. “I’m afraid I have some bad news regarding the prophecy.”

Lily had had a bad feeling when he had pulled them out of the meeting early to talk. They had heard about the prophecy a month ago, but at that point it was between her baby and Alice’s, both born at the end of July.

“He thinks it’s about Harry,” she said.

She thought of her son. He was with James’s parents at Potter manor while they were at the meeting. He had been asleep when they left for headquarters. It was hard to believe there was a target on his back.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore responded.

James took a sharp breath and pulled Lily’s into his lap, squeezing her fingers. He reached for her whenever he needed comfort; every time he found out about another casualty, he pulled her into his arms. It was a comfort to both of them, but it didn’t work this time.

“What do we do?” James asked quietly.

“I believe you should go into hiding,” Dumbledore said. “Are you aware of the Fidelius charm?”

“Yes,” Lily said. “You conceal the secret of your location in another person. You cannot be found unless that person chooses to divulge the secret, but it cannot be coerced or otherwise forced out.”

“Correct,” the old man said, his eyes twinkling.

For a moment, Lily felt like she was back at Hogwarts, answering her Professors’ questions to win back the house points the man sitting next to her had lost.

“I suggest you use it to hide your family, until all is safe,” Dumbledore said calmly.

“All due respect, Albus,” a voice came from the door. “But that is a terrible idea.”

Professor McGonagall walked into the room and passed each of the Potters a biscuit from the tray downstairs. Dumbledore gave her an indecipherable look.

“We all know there is a spy in the Order,” she continued. “You cannot guarantee the person you choose will not betray you and, even if they do not, they could be found and killed or tortured until they revealed the location.”

“What do you suggest, Professor?” Lily asked.

“Leave the country,” she said simply. “Go somewhere far away, like Australia, where there are no Death Eaters, and return when the war is over. I suggest the Longbottoms go with you as a precaution.”

“How do we stop Voldemort from simply following us? We won’t have back up in Australia if he comes for us,” James questioned.

“A simple diversion will do,” McGonagall responded. “We will place two houses under the Fidelius as if you were living there. They will serve the purpose to hide your true location without putting you at risk.”

“Who will be the secret keeper?” James asked.

“Myself and Alastor,” McGonagall said easily.

“Okay,” James said. “I trust you.”

Two days later, the Potters packed their bags and headed for the airport. They said goodbye to Euphemia and Fleamont the night before at dinner, pretending they would be reunited, but knowing the elder two would not be around much longer. Alice and Frank met them at the airport with Neville and gave them tight hugs. No one in the Order, not even the other marauders, knew where the families were going, just that they would be in hiding for the foreseeable future.

“Ready to go?” Frank asked.

“As much as we can be,” Lily said.

The six passed through the airport and boarded the plane together, disappearing for the next year.

***

When he arrived at the flat, Sirius poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and retreated to his bedroom. James and Lily had been gone for a month and things were getting harder. The remaining marauders were always on separate missions, gone for days at a time and not telling each other where they were going.

Remus came back injured and held on to Sirius as tightly as he could when he came back, but they didn’t talk. Sirius loved him as much as he ever had but wondered how much longer he could go without knowing what Remus was doing or telling Remus what he was doing.

Peter did nothing but talk, guessing who the spy was and changing his opinion daily. The day he suggested Remus, Sirius asked him to move out of the apartment. He had to trust Remus and Peter. They were all he had left without the Potters.

A sound from the living room startled him. Someone had apparated into the flat, someone unexpected. Remus always apparated outside the front door, so his boyfriend wasn’t back, and Peter always sent an owl ahead, so it couldn’t be him.

He grabbed his wand and stormed into the living room to find –

Regulus, lying on the floor and drenched. He looked like he was breathing, but the strain of apparating had clearly knocked him out. There was some sort of locket clutched in his hands.

“Merlin,” Sirius said, running to crouch at his brother’s side.

He started casting every healing and warming spell he could think of, grateful for Remus’s lycanthropy for the first time. Regulus was a known Death Eater so Sirius shouldn’t have been helping him. He was his little brother, though, and he couldn’t watch him die on his living room carpet.

Eventually, Regulus started awake, sitting up rapidly and nearly collapsing again from the effort. Sirius caught him before he fell and moved him carefully to the sofa.

“Sirius?” he asked weakly.

“What the hell happened, Reg?” he asked.

Regulus started laughing, leaning his head back on one of the throw pillows. Bewildered, Sirius watched his brother laugh hysterically for a few minutes before he calmed down and looked back at him.

“I should be dead,” he said eventually. “I thought for sure apparating to a place I barely remember from underwater would kill me, if the inferi didn’t first.”

“What are you talking about?”

Regulus didn’t answer. Instead he sat up and threw the locket at Sirius, who caught it easily.

“What do you know about horcruxes, Siri?” he asked tiredly.

Within the next few days, Regulus repeated his story multiple times, to Dumbledore, Remus, Moody, and any other Order member who wanted to hear it. He wanted to join the Order, help with the hunt for horcruxes, but few trusted him.

“I’ll swear an Unbreakable Vow,” he said eventually. “I’ll vow that I won’t betray the Order, that I’ll be loyal.”

Dumbledore agreed and, once the spell was cast, Regulus was welcomed into the Order of the Phoenix.

Everyone’s missions were cancelled, unless absolutely necessary, in lieu of the hunt for horcruxes. Dumbledore guessed at the number and objects and sent them out to look for them. Within a few months, the Order had gathered the cup, locket, diadem, diary and ring after a few daring missions and one small, albeit destructive, heist from Gringotts.

“Now what?” Sirius asked. “How do we get rid of them?”

“There are two known methods,” came the calm answer from Dumbledore. “Basilisk venom or Fiendfyre.”

“So we’re fucked?” Remus asked incredulously. “Unless someone as a pet Basilisk they’d like to share?”

“There’s rumoured to be one at Hogwarts,” Regulus said mildly. “But I don’t know where.”

The Order looked at the objects on the table and collectively sighed. The few months tracking them down meant nothing if they couldn’t destroy them.

“Anyone have a house they’re willing to burn down?” Remus asked the room eventually. “Preferably one with an astounding amount of protective charms so we don’t have to cast them?”

Sirius and Regulus shared a look. Walburga Black had died just a month ago, leaving Grimmauld Place entirely empty. Orion had been an especially paranoid man, so the house had always been protected with every charm he could find. Neither of them wanted the house and they had already set Kreacher free – it was perfect.

“Actually,” Regulus said. “I think we do.”

Watching the house burn was incredible, skulls rising from the smoke as Voldemort’s soul died in the fire. It was almost fun – until the Death Eaters arrived.

A fierce battle started, everyone fighting to get to the centre, where Voldemort himself was fighting Dumbledore. Sirius stood with his back against Remus’s, righting Bellatrix and Rowle simultaneously. Remus was engaged with Yaxley and Malfoy, occasionally shooting a jinx at Goyle, busy fighting Regulus.

Across from them, Peter and Snape were engaged in a duel, neither of them focused on anything around them. Unexpectedly, Peter stunned Snape and moved on. Even more, unexpectedly, he joined Sirius’s duel – on the Death Eaters’ side.

“You little rat, Pettigrew,” he yelled. “How could you?”

“You’re not going to win, Black,” Peter yelled. “Last chance to switch sides!”

“Fuck you,” Sirius sneered.

A second later, everything changed. Dumbledore landed the killing shot and Voldemort crumpled. Bellatrix pointed her wand at a distracted Sirius. He yelled in pain and fell to his knees, but she didn’t let up, keeping her focus on torturing her cousin as if he were personally responsible for her master’s death. Peter cursed Remus before disapparating with the other Death Eaters as Moody began stunning everyone in sight.

Remus collapsed next to Sirius, blood pouring from the cuts on his chest.

“Avada kedavra!”

A green beam of light hit Bellatrix in the chest, she and Sirius collapsed simultaneously, the latter panting and shaking.

“I never liked her,” Regulus said mildly, pocketing his wand.

Sirius and Remus woke up to a sound in the living room a week later. They had left the hospital a day before, both of them still exhausted and still in pain, but alive. They slowly got up and grabbed their wands before padding to the living room, where they were tackled into a group hug by a flash of red hair.

“Lily,” Sirius said breathlessly, hugging her tighter. “You’re back.”

He pulled away and looked up to see James, holding Harry, who was almost a toddler at this point.

“We’re back,” James said quietly.

#five times i fixed harry potter and one time i absolutely did not #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter fix it #fix it fic #marauders #marauders fic #marauders fix it fic #james potter #lily potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #regulus black #regulus black redemption #wolfstar #jily #tomorrow is gonna be rough #5+1 fic

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

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I read your headcanons about James Potter and I’m really interested to hear your thoughts Sirius and regulus Black pls pls pls

Oh no.

Alright, strap in people, because I’m about to say some things that nobody will like.

Let’s start in alphabetical order with Regulus.

Fandom often sees Regulus as a reformed Death Eater, the redeemed villain, or else a cooler suaver version of Sirius steeped in pure blood culture, making him more palatable than many pureblood characters as a love interest. There’s a lot of fics of him having almost defeated Voldemort, coming back from the dead and actually defeating Voldemort, reconnecting with Sirius, showing Harry the cool pureblood ways without being racist, etc.

Well, I don’t really buy into any of that.

I think, even with his defection, Regulus was likely still a very racist character and never really disavowed the cause. True, he was young when he was sucked in, he had his whole family meltdown when Sirius was disowned and suddenly he was heir, but I do think he really did believe in blood purism and nothing from the books suggests that he died not believing in it. He just stopped believing in Voldemort.

Instead, I believe he discovered that Voldemort a) did not mean anything good for his culture and b) Voldemort was a fraud.

What do I mean by that?

Well, in the first case, I’ve always viewed Tom Riddle in that period in time as a hate filled nihilist who doesn’t really believe in what he preaches. It’s just convenient to him as the purebloods are the ones with the money and the power. There’s no point in him appealing to Dumbledore’s ilk as they’re far less likely to be able to make him king (also it would mean putting up with Dumbledore and his stupid speeches about love and friendship). Most of Voldemort’s actions throughout the books don’t make the muggle borns’ lives miserable (at least not until he gets into power) but makes hell of the purebloods’ lives and absolutely ruins them.

The Black family, in particular, he essentially wipes off the face of the Earth.

With that in mind, I imagine a young Regulus eventually came to realize that Voldemort was systematically destroying the great families from the inside to put himself in power. It was never about the muggleborns or the country, it was only ever about power.

Then we get to the other bit, Voldemort being a fraud. Unlike many, I believe the Death Eaters had no idea who Voldemort was. It’s too unbelievable to me that some guy named Tom Riddle, who their fathers all went to school with, who everyone knew as a muggle born impoverished orphan, could convince them all that he was the next Merlin who they should devote their lives (and their money) to. Tom’s charismatic, but he’s not that charismatic. Better for Tom Riddle to just disappear entirely and show up as the Count of Monte Cristo, descendent of Salazar Slytherin himself, impressing all the young heirs while their young, angry, and stupid.

With Regulus finding out that his great leader is actually just the halfblood son of a squib, the whole movement falls apart. Regulus is a pawn, fighting for nothing he believes in. Now, that said, I don’t think Regulus ever figured out who exactly, Tom was. He clearly knew the name, as we see from the locket, but just knowing that Riddle is a muggle last name would be enough to know that Voldemort was nothing he presented as.

Basically, Regulus becomes extremely disillusioned with the Death Eaters and Voldemort in a few short years. The change he wanted to see sweeping the country doesn’t happen. Instead the violence, which he was initially very excited for (guys, Regulus did join a domestic terrorist organization and I will not cut him slack for that, he was excited to blow up some muggle borns) is pointless and hurting their own people as opposed to the muggle borns.

During all of this we have Kreacher borrowed by Voldemort for the creepy horcrux placement. This certainly makes Regulus go “hm” and he’s clever enough to put together on his own that the locket must be a horcrux.

That said, I do not believe he knew enough about Tom Riddle to have been able to hunt down the rest or even know where or what they would be. Dumbledore had been paranoidly collecting memories of Tom Riddle’s entire goddamn life and relying on the plot convenient aspect that Tom was apparently so much of a romantic he never left his horcruxes anywhere but Britain and always left them in very noticeable sentimental objects. Regulus knew about the locket because of Kreacher, had he lived, he’d have no idea where the hell else to start.

So that’s Regulus for you, a fairly intelligent, yet youthfully stupid, extremist whose dream did not live up to the reality and probably still would have spat in Hermione’s face had the gang resurrected him from being a lake zombie.

As for Sirius, well, he’s James the asshole times a thousand to the point where he makes some “ha ha, very funny, but actually really this is horrifying” decisions.

I guess we’ll start back when he’s young.

We don’t see much of the young Sirius, and granted, what we do directly is given to us by a very bitter, resentful, and biased Severus Snape but his actions still read a lot like pretty much any Stephen King bully villain. The scene where they’re tormenting Snape (and Snape drops the slur, Lily abandoning him) is horrifying to read. And it’s clearly one of many moments over many years of this group of boys sexually harassing him (and yes, that was sexual harassment guys, let’s not pull out stops here).

Then we get to the joke with Lupin that... really wasn’t a joke.

The flimsy excuse we’re given in canon is that a) it was all in good fun b) Snape was so much of a coward he’d never actually go to the Shrieking Shack because he’s a big chicken. Bawk bawk bawk, Snivellus the chicken. But, well, these excuses are flimsy.

When you get down to the bare bones of it what Sirius did there was attempted murder via his chronically ill best friend. It’s one of those actions that I simply cannot justify, even had Sirius not thought it all the way through, as boys will be boys. What was the good outcome there? Snape sees Lupin and shrieks in terror? (Only to probably run to some authority and try to get the uncontrolled werewolf the fuck off of campus, nice going Sirius) Snape gets infected with lycanthropy? Snape dies, Lupin wakes up covered in blood with the horror of knowing he ate a classmate?

Later, we do get Sirius sort of apologizing for his behavior. But it’s at best a ‘sort of’ apology. He never admits the full horror of what he did, just how relentlessly brutal he was to Snape, or what the werewolf thing really would have ended in. Instead he goes, “yeah, James and I were kind of assholes. He grew up though, Lily married him so he couldn’t be an ass anymore! And it was Snape, Come on, Harry, it was Snape.” And Harry, messed up asshole that he himself is goes, “Yeah, it was Snape! Stupid Snape!”

I also never got the feeling he ever fully apologized to Remus. Sirius used Remus in the worst of ways, made it clear he had no respect for Remus and no compassion for his condition, and continues to treat him as a sort of secondary friend to James. I think it says a lot that Remus was able and willing to believe Sirius was guilty of murdering James and Lily in cold blood.

Which probably gives you a hint that I think Remus/Sirius would never happen except in the most toxic of ways possible.

Basically, in a fair world, Sirius should have been expelled if not tried for the werewolf incident. However, Dumbledore plays favorites and chose the sons of two lords as opposed to the poor half blood (which I imagine cemented Snape’s path to becoming a Death Eater). And so there is some cruel irony in that Sirius was eventually jailed for something, even though it was something he didn’t do.

Now, after Azkaban, Sirius seems to have mellowed out a lot. While he’s a bit unhinged and thoughtless (his rescue attempt of Harry’s rescue attempt at the end of Order of the Phoenix) a lot of this can be seen as after effects of his stay in literally hell on Earth for over ten years.

That said, a lot of people see him as the cool uncle character who, if Harry had been able to live with him, all would have been well. I firmly disagree. Young Sirius was, well, god knows how warped Harry would have been growing up with a young and reckless Sirius Black. After prison he’s in no condition to take care of Harry, and even says as much multiple times. Sirius is cool to hang around at a distance, but up close and personal he’d be very messed up and not at all ready to be a father to a teenage boy.

Otherwise, Sirius was very very very gay for James Potter. Unfortunately for him, James Potter was straight and into Lily Evans. I’m sure it was a very sad day for Sirius when Lily actually said yes to James. Except not really, because James always strikes me as a “bros before hos” kind of dude. Not that I’m sure if Sirius ever admitted he was gay and in love with James, I’ve always been of the belief that pureblood culture is extremely homophobic and it just... wouldn’t come up.

So there it is, now excuse me while I go hide behind this barrier before I get eaten alive.

#harry potter #head canons #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #severus snape #ask #anon

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dranza · 4 years ago

Text

Tarot

Draco x Reader

Word count: 2232

Draco bumps into you in the slytherin common room, late at night. You both find yourself opening up to each other. I just think its cute man.

Warnings: Parent struggles. If there is anymore please let me know!

Glancing at the clock on the wall I realise it's now half past twelve in the morning. I had officially spent over four hours painting my tarot cards, procrastinating from doing my homework is officially one of my skills. Sighing, I slide the card I was working on over to the edge of the table to dry. I then reach for a mint leaf from my pocket and slide it into my mouth, the taste takes me back to being a child and playing in the manor gardens with my Nanny. I'm clearing up my paints as I hear footsteps coming into the hall that leads to the slytherin common room. Scrambling, I hide the paints under the table and pretend to fall asleep over the charms book I was meant to be reading. Recently, Pansy had been taking her prefect duties a little too seriously and had busted me for being out of my dorm room too many times now. I could easily wind her up and make her leave me alone but tonight I just didn't have the energy to hear her rattle on about how ‘we aren't meant to hang in the common room outside of curfew times’. The thing is, I’ve always been a night owl and not wanting to wake up the other girls in my room, I've made a habit of coming down to the common room to have some alone time.

“Stop being so pathetic, I know you're not asleep y/n” Draco announces in a chuckle as he walks in front of the table I'm at.

“Oh, what do you want Draco?” I lift my head to look at the white haired boy towering over me.

“Don’t worry, I'm not here to kick you out.” He pulls at a stool with his foot and sits opposite me, picking an apple from the bowl on the side table “I was just coming to pick up a snack. What are you doing awake at this hour anyway?”

I lift a paintbrush from under the table in response. “I don't even know where to start on the charms essay so I thought I'd add to my collection instead.”

He places his elbows onto his knees and leans closer to the three cards I had set on the edge of the table. “These are pretty good, I didn't know you could paint.”

“I didnt realise I had to inform you of everything I do.”

Draco huffs contempt, tilting his head a little “fair enough.”

“What are you doing awake?” I ask as I lift my wand and clean my paint brushes.

“Just finished the reading for potions class” he takes a bite from his apple and lifts the middle card.

A confused giggle escapes my mouth and I tease “I didn't know Draco Malfoy actually cared about his grades.”

Under his breath (more to himself than to me) he whispers “my parents would probably kill me if I didn’t.” Switching to a smirk, he echoes my words back to me “Well, I didn’t realise I had to inform you of everything I do.” He places the card back onto the table and drags the subject back to me “anyway, everything you need for the charms paper is in the fourth and fifth chapter.”

“Ah, thankyou.” I open up the charms book to the suggested chapters and place in a book mark. I stretch out my legs and lean back onto the sofa behind me, sitting on the floor for so long has made my legs go dead. “So, do you want me to do a reading?”

Dracos body stiffens slightly, and he straightens his back. “I don't think so, it's not very accurate anyway is it?” His thin fingers pick at his loose black pajama bottoms for fluff that wasn't there.

He clearly was one of the people who thought divination wasn’t actual magic. Back at Durmstrang, divination was such a popular subject that I was shocked when I came to England and saw so many columns popping up in The Daily Prophet about it just being a hoax. “Oh, for goodness sake Draco, it is accurate if it's done correctly. One card wont hurt you. Also, accurate or not, at least I'll get some practice.” I offer an encouraging smile.

“Please... my father says it's purely based on chance and calculated guessing. I don't imagine you'll be very good if you've had Trelawney teaching you anyway, the woman is out of her mind.” he says in a huff, scrunching his nose in disgust.

“One card?” I lift my eyes to meet his and pout in an exaggerated way.

He cocks a brow and flashes a look at the cards “one.”

I sit up instantly, leaning to the chair that I dumped my bag on earlier that night and pull out a full tarot deck. I clear the table, shuffle the cards and spread them upside down in a row. “What do you want to know?”

“Errr,” he squeezes his eyes shut and sways his head trying to think of a question. “What do I need to focus more on right now?” he asks unsurely.

I smile softly at him, surprised that he actually asked a decent question. “Perfect, now just really concentrate on that question and pick the card you're most drawn to.” He seems to hesitate a bit so I add “Don't think too deeply about it, just go with your instinct.”

He lets out a loud breath as he bows over the table to be closer to the cards. With a single finger he slides a card out slightly from the deck and then sits back, looking down at me tentatively.

Sitting on my knees, I take the card he selected and flip it over.

“The magician? Really? What may this suggest y/n? Well, we're at school and maybe I need to focus on my magic skills.” he word vomits in such a patronizing manner I resist the urge to punch him.

“Will you just shut up Malfoy! Let me concentrate…”

He lets out a sharp nose exhale but obeys.

“I think it suggests you have an opportunity to right a wrong, it's something you've been putting off but you finally have all the tools you need to be able to make it happen.” I look away from the card to him but his gaze is locked to his hands now. “This has really been weighing down on you, hasn't it? You just need to focus and manifest on the outcome. Is it… is it to do with your father?”

“What?” he lifts his head in a sharp movement at my final question. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I told you this is all a load of rubbish. I'm heading back to bed.” He throws his half eaten apple into the bin. “As should you, we have potions first thing tomorrow and I doubt Snape will let you nap in class.”

“I’m sorry Draco…” I break, realising I had touched a nerve. “You don't have to answer me. Don't just… you don't have to leave.”

He runs his fingers through his messy white hair. “I just… well, I’d just rather not focus on that right now.”

Draco’s father (Lucius Malfoy) is meant to be having his final hearing, for conspiring with Voldemort, this weekend and whispers all about the Malfoy family have been wandering through every hall at Hogwarts. Last year Voldemort had tried to take over the wizarding world and Draco (much to his parents' alarm) had apparently joined Harry Potter in destroying the horcruxes. Still, everyone was questioning his intentions. He has been putting on a brave face but it's obvious he's been more reserved since the news broke out.

“That's ok.” I try a sympathising smile. “I get it, I’m not trying to pry.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one then.” he says with a sigh.

I look around to try and change the subject, “what's your favourite colour?” I blurt out. I sink inwardly, was this really the best I could come up with.

Draco smiles, raising a brow. “Black.” he states confidently.

“Ha, dytto.” I pick at the dry paint on my hands. “It reminds me of ink... and wolves... and outer space.”

“Yes, that. Also, you always look great when you wear black” Draco chuckles softly. “Well, I mean not you personally. Although… I'm sure you also do look great in black. But I mean generally, no one can ever… really go wrong if they’re dressed in black.” A blush creeps up his face as he stammers over his words.

A funny little giggle escapes me as I watch him, a similar pink tinting my face. “I know what you mean.” I nudge his arm slightly, noticing his all black pajamas. “I think there’s still a certain skill in pulling off a black outfit though.”

Draco picks up one of my paint pots and twists it in his hand, trying to look at anything but me, his blush deepening. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You know, I would have pinned you more as a bright pink kind of guy myself.” I kick myself for trying to be funny but it lifts his nervousness.

“Not quite.” His laugh is deep and sensual, sending a warm fuzziness through my body.

“Do you ever paint?” I ask, signally to the pot in his hand.

“No. I’ve never done any intricate stuff like this anyway.” he gestures to my cards. “These really are quite amazing.”

“Thankyou.” I try not to stare at his face as he studies my work, but the candle light bouncing off his eyelashes and his soft, bottom lip kind of tucking under his teeth is making it very difficult. “To be honest, I don’t really like them.”

“What? Why?” he shoots at me.

“It’s not very neat around here…” I point at the first card, I’d spent half an hour trying to get the shading right on the bricks of the tower earlier tonight. “And her hair just looks like a wig.” My finger grazes the back of Draco’s hand as I point to the Empress card.

“No it doesn't, plus no one else would notice these things you’re bothering about”

“My mother will.” Quietly correcting myself, I add “would.” I clear my throat lightly to continue “And she would definitely reveal a few more mistakes as well.” I take in a long breath and rub my eyes. “I know this sounds terrible but sometimes I think it's not so bad that she's gone.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I… I didn't know.” He stretches his arm across the table towards me but stops just before his hand touches. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I was never really close to her anyway.” I sadly shrug. I realise I’ve never told anyone else any of this. I'm clearly over-tired.

“And your father?”

“He died when I was 3, I don't remember him. It’s why I’ve had to move here after my mum passed, Uncle Filius is the only member of my family that would take me in.”

Draco questions in surprise “So it’s true. You are Professor Flitwick's niece?”

“The one and only.” I give him a side smile.

“Hmmh, well, I know this means nothing… but I don’t think it's all that terrible that you don't feel bad you mother is gone. Sometimes parents aren’t as perfect as they seem.” Draco clicks his fingers and continues, “As you probably know, I’m meant to be meeting my dad this weekend. I have no idea how to explain myself to him. The last time...” Draco stops abruptly at the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. Two 3rd year students walk in carrying a whole load of sweets whispering to each other in rapid conversation. Draco swiftly stands and informs them that they cannot be out of their dorms so late. They try to oppose but after a stern look from the tall, blonde-haired prefect they give in and return. He takes a second before turning back to me and saying “I think we both ought to go back to our beds as well, it has gotten quite late.”

I look up at him confused, “don't you want to finish what you were saying?”

He shakes his head while holding out a hand to me. “Maybe another time. I’m guessing this won't be the last time we bump into each other, here at this hour.”

I accept his tight grip and with a strong motion he lifts me from the ground. “No, I hope not anyway. This was nice.” I squeeze his hand gently before letting it go and picking up my things.

His hand combs through his thick hair as he smiles shyly “It was.” He waits as I pick up the last of my books and we walk out together. As we get to the end of the hallway he stops and looks down at me, “are you sure you don't need help taking that stuff up?” I shake my head and with that he yawns. “Well then… good night y/n.”

“Goodnight Draco.” I glance back as I’m walking up to my room and catch his eyes looking back at me. He instantly pulls his gaze away and for some reason I feel a little disappointed. Goodness me, was I really forming a crush on the Draco Malfoy?

Im writing a few different one shots that can be read on their own or in order for a full story. Here’s the masterlist!

#draco malfoy #Draco x reader #Imagine #Harry potter #Draco is so hot #Tom felton #Hogwarts #Slytherin #common room #dungeons #voldemort #lucius malfoy #cute draco #slow burn #filler #getting there #mine

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malereader-inserts · 4 years ago

Text

broken crown | vii.

“You know, you have something he doesn’t have,” You mumbled as Harry looks at you, seeing your eyes wander off to the distance, “You have love and friendship, and that’s why they fear you, Harry.”

Word Count: 1,650

< Previous | Next >

“Oppugno!”

Swishing your wand as it goes to attack the death eaters hot on yours and the trio’s tail. Running through the Ministry of Magic, was a thrill really. You had been bored out of your mind just waiting for the polyjuice potion to be perfectly brewed. And, everyone has gone back to Hogwarts, you really don’t want to know what was going on back there. It was a vicious game of waiting, with limited clues onto where the horcruxes were and how to destroy them.

Harry was leading the way, he was the first back into the atrium, sliding into the fireplace. You follow quickly behind, then Hermione and then lastly Ron. However, at the last moments, Yaxley grabbed Hermione's arm as all four of you disapparated.

You thought you were going to end up back at the Black home, but when you collect your bearings you had found yourself in a forest. Unknown and unfamiliar to you. You had noticed Harry landed not too far from you, you sat up to see him remove his jacket and grabbing the locket that Hermione was yanked from Umbridge’s neck.

“Shh, shh, shh. It's all right. It's okay,” Hermione soothes as you turn to see Ron bleeding from his arm.

Your eyes widen as you crawl towards Hermione, looking at Harry, “Harry. Harry, quickly, in Hermione’s bag. There's a bottle labelled Essence of Dittany.’ Grab it quick.” “Shh. Shh, okay, okay,” Hermione continue to soothe as Ron was almost sobbing from the pain, Hermione looked at Harry and yelled, “Quickly!”

“Accio Dittany.” Harry pointed his wand inside her back, dropping his wand and moving as quickly as he can to you and Hermione, looking in horror to see Ron’s arm, “Hermione, his arm.”

“I know, just do it,” Harry hands her the bottle, “Okay.”

“Okay, Ron, Hermione is going to stop the pain but it's gonna sting a little bit first,” You reassure him as you look at Hermione, who started to do droplets upon his wound.

“What happened? I thought we meant to be going back to Grimmauld Place,” Harry questioned, looking at you as you looked at Hermione for her explanation.

“We were. We were. Shh,” She soothes Ron, trying to quiet down his cries and groans, “It's all right. One more, one more.”

The two of you watch as slowly Ron’s wound was starting to heal over as Hermione tried to reassure Ron and tell you and Harry why you weren’t in Grimmauld Place.

“We were there, we were there, but Yaxley had hold of me, and I-I knew once he'd seen where we were, we couldn't stay so I brought us here, but Ron got splinched.”

Ron had stopped his whines, his breathing was slowly returning to normal, in fact, there was no surprised that Ron would get splinched. You had heard that Ron hadn’t passed his test for apparating and obviously he could not return to Hogwarts to retake it.

“It's all right,” You say to him, as Harry comes by your side.

Hermione gets up and started to do enchantments around the area.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, you really had to refrain yourself from rolling your eyes at his idiocy sometimes.

“Protective enchantments,” You responded, as you looked over Ron and his wound.

“I don't fancy another visit like the one we had in Shaftesbury Avenue, do you?” Hermione asked, moving down the area, gripping her wand in hand, “You can get going on the tent.”

“Tent?” Harry asked, “Where am I supposed to find a tent?”

Harry looked over to Hermione’s bag, moving towards it as he opens the small bag.

“Harry, whilst you’re there,” You called out, “Grab the bandages, Ron will need them.”

“You think Harry will be alright?” You asked with your arms crossed over your chest as you looked over to where Harry had wandered off to.

Hermione was sitting on a log whilst Ron fiddled with the radio. You, Harry and Hermione, had attempted to try and destroy the horcrux but there was no avail. Harry had put the locket on around his neck and walked off, perhaps to cool off.

“He always is,” Ron says, you sighed, running your hand through your hair, “You should know, mate, you’re the one dating him.”

“Hm,” You responded, before turning around to sit on the log across Hermione, “He’s been like that since you told us about how you-know-who is tracking people.”

There was silence, “So, where do we go from here?” Ron asked as Hermione turns to look at you.

It was a silent agreement within the group that you and Hermione were great at making plans, more so Hermione. If Harry and Ron had left without taking you and Hermione, they’d get stuck perhaps killed. They needed your skills and Hermione’s brain.

“I guess,” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders, “We camp out, figure out how to destroy the locket and avoid getting killed.”

“And you need to heal,” Hermione says looking at Ron.

“You alright?”

Harry snapped his head towards you to see you stand before the entrance of the tent, arms crossed over your chest. Your wand resting on the back of your ear, he stands up to match your height.

“I heard from Hermione,” You continued, “You feeling better now that’s off your chest?”

Harry sits back down, defeated as you sat by him. Handing him food, you softly smile as he takes it - biting down on the food. You looked at your surroundings, taking in the fresh air. You think how differently you would be if you decided to attend Hogwarts.

“Remember when we were eight?” You talked, having a feeling that your boyfriend didn’t want to talk, “We were playing pirates in my garden. You accidentally whacked me.”

“And I gave you a bloody nose,” Harry smiles softly, “I was convinced I broke it.”

“You did,” You nodded, chuckling, shaking your head, “But, mum used Episkey when you weren’t looking and we had convinced you that it was just a bloody nose.”

Harry looked at you as your smirk, “How close was I to magic?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Close, but we weren’t trying to be obvious to you. Mum and I already broke a rule by seeing you in the neighbourhood and inviting you around. Dumbledore gave my mum a right earful because of it.”

“Well, you were my only friend,” Harry muttered, shuffling closer to you and leaning his head against your shoulder - you relaxed at his touch.

“Mum was your godmother, she never told you that but since Sirius couldn’t look after you, mum immediately went to buy a house nearby you. If she couldn’t look after you, she would help from afar - she made a promise to your mum, give you a good enough childhood as she can” You explained, sighing softly, “Mum often saw Lily in your eyes.”

“Many people do,” Harry responded.

“Seven years old?” You recalled back, “Halloween, we dressed up as wizards.”

“You found it hilarious and I could never figure out why,” Harry chuckled, moving to rest his chin on your shoulder so he could look at you, “You made me dress up as Dumbledore!”

“You suspected nothing!” You laughed, trying not to be too loud since you didn’t know who was about, “You know, I always had a crush on you. I only realised when we were in our third year.”

“And we only got together in our fifth year,” Harry spoke, “I fancied you in the fourth year, why did we not get together then?”

“You were smitten by Cho Chang that’s why-!” You exclaimed, rolling your eyes, “And I was trying to get over my crush on you by crushing on Cedric. Which, obviously, failed because you were prettier than him! And I guess we didn’t want to ruin what we built.”

“Years of friendship.”

“And trust and loyalty,” You reminded him, you looked at him with s goofy grin, “If I’m Merlin then you must be King Arthur!”

Harry groaned, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, “You said that when you tried to ask me out, it wasn’t funny then, it’s not funny now.”

“But, you said yes to a date with me? I’d count that as a win,” You spoke with a smug tone, “January 23rd, the day we officially became boyfriends, and also the day that Hermione and Ron forgot their argument that day to ask about the details.”

“It’s a miracle,” Harry mused out.

The two of you looked at each other before a smile had started to appear on their faces. Small laughter had escaped the two, Harry enjoyed the feeling. Despite the need to run and destroy the horcuxes - you being you was comforting enough. The two of you had calmed down, admiring the view, taking in the warmness that autumn had brought with.

You looked at him. Harry gets lost in your (e/c) eyes. Shining extraordinarily, as if it was the same twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes. Your eyes smile, even if your lips do not convey that, your eyes do. They have always said that eyes are the window to the soul.

“It’s why they hate you, so, let them hate so long as they fear.”

You stood up, stretching your back as Harry watches you slowly return to enter the tent before stopping to look at him, to say one last thing to him before you keep to the tent. Words that gave Harry a little bit of motivation, words uttered by you that Harry cannot help but smile at your Merlin wisdom.

“After all, to be united by hatred is a fragile alliance at best.”

Tagged

@carefulthatsharassment-sir @lanlanlan020202 @hanniejji @dumbssbtch @lea-the-foxe @stan-joonies @littertortilla

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x male reader #Remus Lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader #remus lupin x male reader #x male reader #broken crown

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whenihaveyouromione · 4 years ago

Text

When I Have You - Chapter 10

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow this story’s IG account ‘whenihaveyou.romione’.

If you’re interested in participating in a fanfiction writing competition for Harry Potter, playing in a Quidditch team and in a Quidditch position (Keeper, Chaser, Beater or Seeker) follow this link here. It’s super fun and well run, as it has been going on for 9 seasons now.

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Chapter 10

Ron didn’t pry, but he was pleased to see that his words had made some kind of impact on Harry, because on moving day, Ginny appeared the happiest Ron had seen her in a very long time. It seemed Harry had taken his very vague and inexperienced advice and done something to assure Ginny that she was important to him.

Cheerfully, she offered her assistance in their move.

Ron didn’t have much to bring over. Just his clothes (which, once he had his own money, he was going to replace), and everything he’d had pinned to his wall. It almost felt a bit childish taking all the Chudley Cannons things he’d collected over the years, but he couldn’t allow his mother to toss them out either, which he knew would happen if he didn’t take them. Perhaps it was time he got a new bedspread, but he could at least store the other stuff away somewhere as keepsakes.

He’d just watched the last of his possessions fly into a large cardboard box when Ginny came into his room and sat down on his now bare bed. She looked around at the empty walls, where all of his posters had once been, and smiled. “Ah, so that is the colour of your walls?”

“Ha, ha.”

“Hermione will be disappointed,” Ginny continued. “She actually told me she thought your obsession with the Cannons was endearing; even when I told her you’d had it that way since you were five.”

“Really?” Ron asked, his mind suddenly picturing an even bigger room for more souvenirs. “She likes my room?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “She loves a lot about you, Chudley-Cannons-obsession included.” She looked at the box on the floor and smiled. “But I’d still think of a new way to decorate.”

“You’re being unnaturally nice,” Ron said, suddenly suspicious. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just assume I have you to thank for Harry’s sudden change in attitude.”

Ron flushed. “Er, he told you about that?”. He really didn’t want to engage with Ginny in a conversation about this. It was one thing giving Harry advice; it was a whole other thing to have to talk to his sister about her lovelife. Though, from what she had just told him, it seemed that Hermione and Ginny didn’t seem to have an issue discussing theirs.

“No, but it was such a sudden change, I assumed someone was in his ear, and you were the one I told about my frustrations, so I figured… well, thanks, Ron.”

“Anytime,” Ron mumbled, not meeting her eye. “Someone needed to say it. I don’t want him messing you around.”

“Funny, isn’t it?” Ginny continued, as if she was oblivious to his awkwardness. “You and I, being friends. I mean, you’re my brother and I love you, but it’s almost as if we’re friends now, too.”

“I guess,” Ron said, the thought only just occurring to him that he had, in fact, been spending a lot of time with his sister since the war. “It makes sense, I suppose. I’m friends with Harry, you’re friends with Hermione, I’m with Hermione, you’re… with Harry.” The last part came out in a squeak.

Ginny snorted. “It really makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it? Me being with Harry?”

“Well, you are my sister,” Ron said, “and he’s my best mate, and… you’re my sister, and it just feels… weird. But I’m alright so long as I don’t hear about the intimate details —”

“Says you, who shares that with Harry!” Ginny scoffed.

“That’s different,” Ron said.

“How?”

“Hermione isn’t his little sister.”

Ginny laughed. “You being my brother doesn’t seem to stop her…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ginny stood up from the bed, grinning. Then, catching Ron completely off guard, she hugged him. Ron hugged her back, and he realised that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even hugged his sister. They must have been really young…

“What was that for?” he asked when she pulled away.

“For standing up for me,” Ginny said. “Even when I don’t need it, even when I resent you for it, even when it’s to your best friend. Thank you.”

“Er, anytime.” Ron picked the box up from the floor, and Ginny followed him down the many flights of stairs until they reached the bottom. Harry was already waiting, with even less stuff than Ron had.

It was a stark reminder for Ron that while Harry may have been famous in the wizarding world, he had grown up with less than Ron had. It had taken Ron a very long time to work it out; that his best friend in the whole world had had a miserable life growing up thanks to his Muggle relatives, and most of the time, Harry had never sought the attention he got.

Ron got that now, and he no longer envied Harry. In fact, he felt sorry for him. Ron wanted nothing less than to ever be in Harry’s shoes.

Harry eyed the box Ron carried in his arms, then smiled. “Plan on decorating the house?” he asked.

“No,” Ron said. “I just don’t want Mum throwing them out. Although,” he looked to Ginny, “apparently Hermione finds it endearing, so you never know.”

Harry snorted and then nodded to the fireplace. “You ready?”

“Yep.”

It felt very odd to be leaving the Burrow, knowing that he’d never be back. Not to be living there, anyway. He’d probably still come over for dinner often, and to visit. This had been the only home he had known, and as small and as crowded as it was, it was still home, and, if he was being honest, always would be. No matter where he lived in the future, he’d always remember the Burrow.

Molly gave them each a hug, wiping her eyes and carrying on like it would be the last time she’d ever see them. She then placed a container of food on top of Ron’s box.

“That’s so you boys don’t go hungry tonight.” She sniffed, gave them both another hug, and finally stepped back to give them access to the fireplace.

“It’s alright, Mum,” Ron said, throwing some Floo powder into it. “We’ll come back to visit often. You’re all good.”

Ron let Harry go first, considering it was his house. Ginny said goodbye to him in a way that forced Ron to look away. She said something about seeing him tomorrow, letting him settle in. Then Harry was gone.

With one last goodbye (to his family and his home), Ron followed and was soon stepping into the much darker room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

He looked around, a strange feeling settling upon him, and it wasn’t because this was now his home; Grimmauld Place had always made him feel a little uncomfortable, even when it had been bustling with the Order.

“The Blacks were a miserable sort, weren’t they?” he said to Harry. “We definitely need to brighten this place up a bit if we’re going to be living here.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yeah, definitely can’t live here with house-elf heads all through the house. Hermione would have a fit. They’ll be the first to go. Maybe some new furniture, too. Something more…”

“Colourful?” Ron offered, looking down at his box of Chudley Cannons stuff again. “I mean —”

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Harry promised. “For now, let’s just sort out what’s what.”

Ron followed Harry up the creaky staircase, stopping on the landing with the covered portrait of Walburga Black. “I really wish that could go,” he said. “Not sure I fancy coming down for breakfast every morning and having to see her.” He shuddered, still remembering the times she’d screeched for hours at a time when he, Harry and Hermione had stayed there for a brief time on their Horcrux hunt.

“We’ll work on that, too,” Harry said. “Maybe Auror training will teach us some new tricks that we can use.”

“If Moody couldn’t do it, do you think we can?” Ron asked.

Harry shrugged, continuing up the stairs until they reached some of the bedrooms.

“You can have that one,” Ron said, indicating the one Harry had lived in for a bit after the war. “If you want, I mean. I guess we have plenty to choose from.”

“Nah, this will do me,” Harry said. “Which one will you pick?”

Ron contemplated some of the wooden doors. One had belonged to Sirius’ parents, which he flat out refused to even consider. Another was the one he’d stayed in just the other year. “That one, I guess.”

Harry nodded.

Ron pushed open the door to the room slightly down the hall and opposite Harry’s room. It was just as he had left it before; cold, dark and rather gloomy. At least this time he had the means to change it.

He set the box down and turned to Harry. “Are we crazy for living here?” he asked. “It’s not the best place in the world…”

“It’s the only other home I know,” Harry said. “It’ll be alright for a while, won’t it?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I guess. It’s huge for the two of us, though.”

“Would have been even bigger with just me.” And Ron saw the grateful smile Harry gave him. It warmed Ron; he was welcome here.

“So,” Ron began, “what should we do on our first night here?”

…

The answer to that question was to have a quiet night in. That evening, around dinner time, Ron fetched the food his mother had given them, and they sat in the large kitchen at the end of the table to eat it. It wasn’t much, but it was more than what either of them could have cooked for themselves.

“So, maybe shopping for food is the first step tomorrow?” Ron asked as he sent his empty plate flying to the sink. “Where is Kreacher, anyway?”

“I… dismissed him,” Harry said. “When I first came back. He wasn’t too pleased about it, but he’s free now. Who knows where he’s gone, but I’m sure if we ever need him, he’ll be glad to come back to the house of his old master.”

“Right, so I guess we’ll be doing our own dishes then?” Ron said, and Harry smirked.

“Don’t let Hermione hear you saying that,” he said.

“Don’t plan on it,” Ron said, yawning. To his surprise, he realised that that was the first time since that morning that he’d thought about Hermione. In the hours leading up to dinner, he and Harry had attempted to brighten up the place, but to no avail. “I hope she’s alright,” he added after a moment.

“Percy said she was fine, didn’t he?” Harry asked. “That it was all going to plan?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, but I’d love to hear from her personally, you know? I guess it takes a while for an owl to get here from Australia.”

“I guess…” Harry looked around the empty kitchen, frowning. “Hey, you don’t fancy a Butterbeer, do you?”

“Sure,” Ron said. “You got any?”

“No,” Harry said, “but I can get some. Why don’t we really celebrate our first night as housemates?”

“By getting drunk?” Ron asked.

“No, by, just… celebrating?”

Ron grinned. “Sounds like a plan, mate. Listen, you get them this time, and once we start getting paid for the training, I’ll do the next one.” Once again, he felt a thrill rush through him over the thought of making his own money. There were so many things he wanted to do with it that he doubted he’d be able to do it all on the first go.

“Agreed,” Harry said and he clambered from his seat. “Won’t be too long,” and he vanished down the hall, where Ron heard the whoosh of Harry disappearing via the fireplace.

The house immediately became quieter the moment Harry was gone. Ron got up from his own chair and wandered back down the hall and to the stairs. He contemplated writing to Hermione while Harry was out and letting her know that he wasn’t at the Burrow anymore. But then he decided against it. She had far more important things to worry about than him telling her that he’d moved house. He’d mention it in a reply whenever he received an update from her.

Instead, he moved into the living area, which — like the rest of the house — was dark and bland. Sirius had hated this place growing up and as an adult, and Ron had never been a fan of it. It held a lot of memories for him, good and bad, and he hoped that eventually he’d be able to erase the bad ones entirely.

He moved into the drawing room and sat down on the sofa, smiling slightly to himself. Here had been a good memory for him. It hadn’t been that long ago, though it felt like a lifetime. It was the first night here after escaping the wedding, and they’d all been terrified of being discovered after the attack in Muggle London.

Ron remembered how he’d insisted he sleep on the floor and let Hermione sleep on the cushions. It seemed silly now, considering all that had happened, but it had felt right at the time. He’d been so desperate to prove himself to her despite having just fled an attack on theirs — and everyone else’s — lives. In fact, it had seemed even more important in that moment to give her some sign about how he felt. How many more days would they have together?

And it had kind of worked, too, for not long after Harry had fallen asleep she’d shifted on the cushions, her head turning slightly to face him. She’d been so close in that moment, and even with his own fear for his family, his father’s Patronus the only word that they were safe, her presence soothed him.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

Those two words put everything else aside then, and he reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“Me too,” was all he said.

He had expected her to let go after that, but she didn’t, and he had absolutely no intention of letting go if she didn’t want to. They’d fallen asleep like that, and it had been the calmest he had felt in a very long time.

In the present, he sat there for a long while, until Harry returned carrying some bottles of Butterbeer and one large bottle of Firewhisky. He held them up. “All ready to go!” he said.

The remainder of the evening was great, Ron thought. They chatted, mostly about Quidditch and what would happen once the new season started. Ron, as usual, had higher expectations for the Cannons than he should have, while Harry said if it was possible, he’d really like to attend a game or two. His only experience in watching the professionals was in the World Cup, which had been years ago now.

“I hear Oliver Wood is actually getting a chance to play this year,” Ron said. “So the Prophet says, anyway.”

They both smiled at that, and as amusing as it was, Harry and Ron agreed that they were genuinely pleased for the old Gryffindor captain.

“Though, I’ll be honest, it would be a sweet victory if the Cannons beat Puddlemere,” Ron said.

As the evening wore on, and the Butterbeer bottles slowly emptied, Ron found himself contemplating what life was going to be like in the coming months. The day after next he’d be all consumed with training, but what would happen after that? Once training was complete? Would he become a real Auror? Someone who could go on missions, catch Dark wizards?

And what of his life with Hermione? She wanted to finish school, and he had no doubt that once she got her one hundred NEWTs or whatever exceptional result she was capable of, she’d be highly sought after in whatever career she chose to pursue. But then what?

“You alright there?” Harry asked, snapping Ron from his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“You looked as if you were lost in thought,” Harry said. “And you had a stupid grin on your face.”

“Oh, right.” Ron felt his ears burning. “I was just thinking.” He wasn’t sure Harry would appreciate him talking about how he just simply could not imagine a future that didn’t involve Hermione in it anymore, so to change the topic, he said, “This’ll be great, won’t it?”

“What will?” Harry asked.

“The two of us living together?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a small smile. “I think it’ll be fantastic.”

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mfingenius · 5 years ago

Note

Hello ! Can you write a little story Drarry, about Draco who return a child (physically and mentally) because any accident ? Sorry, my english isn't my origin language... but i love read your writtings (with a dictionnary) ! Thanks

“There is no fucking way that’s Malfoy.” Ron says.

Harry scratches the back of his neck and looks down at the child, who’s looking up at them with wide eyes.

“Don’t curse,” he admonishes lamely. Ron stares at him, disbelieving, and Harry huffs in exasperation. “I don’t know what to tell you, Ron, it’s Malfoy. I know you recognize him.”

Malfoy can’t be any older than two in his current state. His eyes seem to be taking up too much of his face, clear grey and innocent, and his skin… well, if Harry thought sixteen-year-old Malfoy was pale, two-year-old Malfoy is transparent. His hair is very nearly white.

Some of his pointedness seems to be gone; he has red, chubby cheeks, but his nose and his chin seem as pointy as ever. It’s odd on a baby.

“It looks like him,” Ron admits. “But it’s not. There’s no way Narcissa would do that to her son.”

Harry, if he’s quite honest, admires the raw nerve on the woman; no one other than a Slytherin would’ve thought that the best way to save their son from a madman would be to de-age them and give him to Harry, saying ‘Good luck turning him away now’ and prompy apparating away.

She’d gotten it right, of course. Harry wouldn’t leave Malfoy on the street, not at age two. Probably not at age sixteen, either, but he doesn’t think he’s quite ready to admit that, yet.

“Well, she did.” Harry says. Malfoy, who’d been sitting calmly on the carpet entertaining himself with Harry’s wand - drooling on it - pushes himself up onto his feet and toddles over to Harry, who freezes.

His wand is left on the floor with teeth marks on it; he doesn’t know why he thinks about it. What’s he going to do with it anyway, Flipendo Malfoy away?

The toddler pulls at Harry’s pants and lifts his hands towards him with a pout, and it takes Harry three full seconds to realize that Malfoy is demanding to be carried.

Harry picks him up almost on instinct, and then freezes again when Malfoy rests his tiny head on Harry’s shoulder and grabs a fistful of his jumper.

“Honestly, Harry, he’s just a baby, he’s not going to curse you.” Hermione had been eerily quiet on the couch next to Ron up until then.

“You never know,” Ron says. “It’s Malfoy.”

Harry is inclined to agree. Admittedly, Malfoy seems to be an uncomfortably quiet child. He hasn’t said a word since Narcissa practically shoved him into Harry’s arms, and the only thing he’s even done is chew on Harry’s wand and, apparently, sleep on his shoulder.

“We need to come up with a plan,” Hermione says, because of course she does. “We can’t keep a child here in Grimmauld, it’s hardly safe, especially with the order here.”

Harry groans. He’d entirely forgotten about that; fuck, but Sirius is going to have a stroke when he comes back and finds himself stranded with a two year old kid. His two year old nephew.

Everyone is out in different places - they’re all helping look for the Horcruxes, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione are practically living in Grimmauld now - and Harry can imagine that it won’t be pleasant to come back to this.

“And we’re not throwing him out on the street, either,” Hermione reasons.

“We could.” Ron says.

“No,” Harry says immediately.

“Narcissa Malfoy will come back for him,” Ron shrugs a shoulder. “When she sees her plan didn’t work, she’ll have to get him back to normal.”

“We’re not putting a child out on the street Ron,” Hermione says. “He could get hurt.”

“It’s Malfoy.” Ron says.

“He’s still a kid,” Harry points out. “We can’t just-”

He’s stopped when a tiny hand presses against his lips lightly.

“Sleepy time,” Malfoy mutters quietly, nuzzling further into Harry’s shoulder. He drops his hand to fist at Harry’s sweater again, wrapping the other one around his shoulder so that he can suck his thumb into his mouth.

Harry looks at Ron and Hermione disbelievingly.

Hermione’s snickering. “You heard him, Harry. Sleepy time.”

They decide to take turns babysitting. It doesn’t work - because of course, even at two years old, Malfoy likes to make Harry’s life miserable - because Malfoy doesn’t like anyone in the house but Harry and Fred and George Weasley, but Harry doesn’t trust them to babysit, not after he finds them one afternoon trying their new hair-dye line on Malfoy.

So he gets used to having a baby perched on his hip. Malfoy becomes Draco because the toddler doesn’t seem to respond to the name Malfoy, and Harry finds himself getting a little… attatched.

Draco’s overtly quiet around strangers, but when they’re alone in Harry’s room - because the first night that Harry had tried to put him in a separate room the blond had cried and screamed until Harry had put him in his bed with him - he babbles to Harry about his toys - which he misses - and how excited he is to go to Hogwarts one day, to meet Harry Potter - Harry says that although he is called Harry Potter he’s not that Harry Potter, because it’s odd to find out that Malfoy had been crazy about him as a child - and his mummy - When’s she coming back?

Harry never knows how to answer that.

Meanwhile, Hermione has been searching for a cure everywhere, trying to identify the potion or the spell Narcissa could’ve used on him, but she seems to be making little progress, even with Grimmauld’s vast collection of books on dark magic.

“Harry!” The second he steps through the door, Draco launches himself at him.

“Hey, angel.” He says, hoisting Draco up in his arms. The toddler is blinking up at him widely, and though Harry just got back from looking for a Horcrux, it makes him feel oddly calm. “Something wrong?”

Draco pouts. “You left me.”

He’s nothing like the boy Harry knew. Or thought he knew.

“I told you I was going to leave.” Harry reminds him. “Last night.”

“But you didn’t wake me.” Draco says, and his eyes are wide and wet with tears, lip wobbly. Harry curses inwardly. “I didn’t know if you were coming back.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Harry says, wiping the tear that leaks out with his thumb. “And I came back, didn’t I?”

Draco sniffles and buries his head in Harry’s chest.

“C’mon, Draco, angel, it’s alright.” Harry tries. “I’m here. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I have come back?”

“My mummy left me.” Draco whispers against his chest, like it’s a secret. “She didn’t want me, and you don’t either.”

“I do,” Harry says. It’s not a lie. “Of course I do.”

“You promise?” Draco says.

“I promise.”

There are a few seconds of silence, and then Draco squirms closer to him.

“I’m hungry.” He says.

Harry laughs. “Alright. Cereal?”

Draco nods against him, and, as he walks to the kitchen, Harry can’t help but wonder what will happen after Draco’s Malfoy again. His heart aches at the thought.

———————————

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mooncleo · 4 years ago

Text

and we recover slowly, my love, but surely

Fandom: Harry Potter

Main Pairing: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Description: Ron, Harry, and Hermione live together after the war. It seems like the logical choice, and the next step into comfortable domesticity seems logical as well. They learn and they love and they heal and cope and live and it’s beautiful and painful and perfect.

Words: 6,893

Edited: Literally not at all sorry guys

Author’s Note: Good morning to everyone who did not ask!!! I’m gonna double post my fic for all of my two followers, whom I love and cherish very much 🥰🥰

I honestly was not expecting this fic to end up being ot3, that kinda took me by surprise. So did my 2k turning into almost 7k, that was a little bit of fun.

I’m going to try to put in a read more, if I fail PLEASE tell me I don’t want anyone to have to scroll through everything.

Read it on Ao3 here.

…

It was the cool quiet of the evenings that kept him from even entertaining the thought of returning to London. Nights at the Dursley’s had never been this calm, always filled with Aunt Petunia or Vernon’s yelling, Dudley’s taunts, or the rumbling of an empty stomach, sent to bed without a bite of the dinner that he helped to cook.

He never went to bed hungry anymore. It was one of his triggers, they found out one night when he’d spent all day working on one of his projects and forgotten to eat- laying in the dark with his stomach beginning to knaw on itself in protest had sent him spiralling nearly into a fully blown panic attack. The Dursley’s had fucked him up, for sure.

It was not long that they’d been living together in their little cottage that Harry made a joke about cupboards and beds. It was bound to come up eventually, but he had hoped, somehow, to put the ensuing conversation off forever.

Before they had even gotten into details, Hermione’s eyes had started to water in a way that made him, quite frankly, uncomfortable. “All these years, and we never even knew? You’ve gone home to them every summer! I knew they didn’t feed you very well, but God, Harry. I didn’t think it was this bad."

He could tell that Ron felt the same way, but he’d never been particularly good at expressing it. Instead, Harry got twice the usual serving at dinner, and Ron’s grip was tight around him when they settled down to watch a movie later.

The next day at breakfast, Hermione brought it up again. She’d started by trying to convince him to file a court case against them.

"It’s a serious case of child abuse, Harry. They were horrible to you, and they shouldn’t be able to get away with it.” That argument had not gone down well, as Harry had first denied that there was any child abuse involved, however horrible they’d been, and then added on that he had no idea where they’d ended up after the war. He also didn’t really ever want to see them again, though he left that part out. He had a feeling it might not help his case.

“Well, you should at least go to therapy. It might help you process what they put you through.” She held up a finger when she saw him going to argue and said, “Listen, even if you don’t think the Dursley’s abused you, I still think you should go to therapy. Don’t pretend you haven’t stopped sleeping because of the nightmares, Harry Potter, so help me God. I know what you look like when you’re well-rested and this isn’t it. Those bags under your eyes could carry our groceries. Actually, I think we should all go. It’s not as though you’re the only one who went through a year on the run in addition to all the other fun trauma that comes with war."

Ron was a little confused about what therapy was until they explained the concept to him and he shouted out, "Mind healers! Oh! Yeah, we have those.” This, thankfully, saved them from the ordeal of finding an either muggleborn or squib therapist so that they could talk about magic without being declared properly insane.

Harry had been apprehensive about going to anyone who could claim to fix his mental issues- in part because he was half in denial about those mental issues to begin with. Yes, he had trouble sleeping most nights because of nightmares. Yes, he felt guilty about every single death that had happened during the war. Yes, the Dursley’s had treated him horribly for all of his life. But everyone had nightmares because of the war, those deaths really were his fault because they were all fighting for him, and the Dursley’s just hadn’t liked him that much on account of his parents. The hate was mutual, after all.

It only took one session with his mind healer, Gertha, for him to begin to open up to the idea that maybe he was a little bit misguided. Gertha was an 80 year old witch with gray hair just beginning to pepper her bun, and she took no shit. Her age had given her the grace of being willing to properly fight him when he started to go into a spiral, and she had a dry wit that he appreciated. Halfway through the first time they met, he’d started talking about the war and how it was his fault. Her eagle-eyed stare had stopped him in his tracks, and he’d asked, “What?"

"Boy, you are taking on far too much responsibility here. You think all those people died just for you? You think the war wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been around? No! Voldemort was coming back, with or without you- he would have found a way. And just because you were the face of the war, that does not make you the war. A rallying point does not control those who gather around it, it simply exists as a marker, a way to say ‘we are here.’ Those people did not die just for you, you hear me? They were going to fight either way. People don’t like to lay down and give up when their loves and lives are threatened."

At the time, he hadn’t believed a word she’d said, but he liked the way she said it. It wasn’t quite scolding, more disbelieving than anything else. She also had said that Voldemort was coming back with or without him, even without knowing about the horcruxes. He liked her wit and the easy way she had handled his self-pity. She reminded him a bit of Professor McGonagall, and that in and of itself was a recommendation to him.

He went back the next week, because she had told him to and he liked her. He felt lucky that he found someone he liked right away, because both Ron and Hermione didn’t like the first Healers they talked to. Hermione had not liked the bright, peppy young witch who was apparently entirely too optimistic. "Her office was covered in little paper flowers, as though she didn’t deal with grown adults. As soon as I mentioned the war she started patronising about how she felt there surely must have been a better option than fighting, like maybe talking. First of all, did she do literally any research before I walked into the room? Honestly, what if I had been just a mite more fragile? Or Harry?"

"Hey! I resemble that remark!” A pillow found its way through the air in the direction of his face.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m ranting. Anyway, she was absolutely insane. 'Why did they have to fight?’ Because when another wizard throws a curse at you, you aren’t gonna just fucking stand there and take it! Good God, woman. I don’t know where she was during the war, but she clearly wasn’t paying any kind of attention to Britain. How did she even get her Healer’s license? Ridiculous.” Hermione took an angry sip of her tea and she and Harry both looked to Ron.

“Yeah, mine wasn’t as bad as all that. I just didn’t really think he had the type of vibe I’m looking for. Kinda reminded me of my dad, actually. Not really what I wanted.” After sympathetic nods from the other two, Ron turned towards the TV. “What are we planning on tonight?"

"Right! I forgot completely. The Princess Bride! The librarian was raving about it when I was checking it out, so hopefully it’ll be good.” As Ron was raised in a wizarding household, Harry hadn’t really had much of a childhood by way of movies, and Hermione’s parents had been very strict, the three of them had decided to work their way through iconic muggle films that they’d missed over the years. They’d all liked The Breakfast Club the week before, though they were postponing Star Wars from two weeks ago until they could get through the fight scenes without having semi-simultaneous panic attacks.

The Princess Bride was a hit, and Hermione liked it enough that she put the VHS on her to-buy list. They wanted to build up their own collection of movies that they liked for rewatching purposes. Hermione had argued that going to the Blockbuster and renting a movie was much more cost effective that just buying all of them outright, since they were trying to get through at least a movie a week. The boys had decided not to argue, as she tended to be right about most things (and was also managing their finances).

Three weeks later, Ron had found a mind healer he liked, and Hermione was still stuck. Ron never said much about the therapy sessions he went to, while Hermione preferred to rant after hers. “God, it’s like he wasn’t even listening! There has to be at least one healer out there that I can actually talk to with a modicum of intelligence."

Ron and Harry traded glances. Harry’s look was quizzical, Ron’s was certain. It seemed that Harry would be the one to say it, then. ”'Mione, do you think that there’s a chance that maybe you’re having trouble finding a therapist because you don’t want to give any of them the chance to help?“

She was quiet for a moment. "I mean. I had considered it, but. Well. None of them- well. I suppose I may not have been entirely fair with all them. Although I stand by everything I’ve said."

"Everything you’ve said? Your main complaint about the last one was that she wore a cardigan instead of doing warming charms on herself. You may want to rethink that, love.” Ron’s tone was gentle and amused. It was a good thing, because Harry was fairly certain she’d have bitten his head off if it’d been anything but.

“Oh. Yes, well. Maybe a tad.” She coloured as she admitted it, and then added, “It was a truly hideous cardigan, though."

"And warming charms are a rather simple.” Harry mimicked the arch way that Hermione said things of people she looked down on, a voice that only those close to her ever really got to hear. She never mocked people in polite company, but both Ron and Harry knew that she could be properly vicious when she felt like putting in effort. Ron laughed, and then Hermione did too, a second later. They descended into giggles for a few moments before subsiding.

“Really, though. Your main complaints about her were her clothing, and not the soundness of her advice. Maybe try a second session with her, and see if it was a one off? If the only thing you could come up with was an ugly sweater then she must have been rather on the nose about everything else."

"Hmmm. Maybe. She did seem reasonably intelligent, actually."

The matter was concluded for the night, and they all went off to bed. After a night of rest, Hermione felt comfortable admitting that, looking back, it was rather obvious that she had been searching for faults as an excuse not to have to be vulnerable around people she didn’t know very well.

The solution to this, according to her mind healer, would be to get to know each other before starting. Hermione raved about how intelligent the woman was when she got home, and Ron and Harry once again traded glances. They didn’t say anything, but they were glad to have been able to help her find someone she actually liked. Neither was surprised that she was happy so quickly. It had been clear to them, before, that she was searching for faults.

Their lives went on. Tuesdays became therapy days, and they’d all go out for ice cream afterwards. Eventually, Harry and Hermione ended up back in the workforce. Ron decided to stay home and take care of the house. (He referred to the two of them as his sugar parents, an idea that deeply offended Hermione. Harry thought it was hilarious.)

Harry had toyed with the idea of going on to become an auror like he’d thought he wanted when he was 15. It did not take him very long to decide that he’d only really come up with the idea in the first place because he’d supposed that his life’s purpose was fighting Voldemort, and the aurors could have given him a leg up in that. With as long as it had taken him to accept that his life had meaning beyond fighting and defeating a dark lord, he wasn’t going to give that up now.

They ended up spending the entire evening brainstorming when he brought up wanting to get a job. Even if he was never going to be an auror, he was still starting to get restless with all the free time they’d accrued living off the map together.

"You could be a- a- um, fuck, what’re they called. Bus driver!! That’s a job.” Hermione, rather drunk on her fourth glass of wine, had taken to suggesting whatever came to mind.

“I don’t drive, I’m gay."

"Mmmm, you’re just as bi as the rest of us, darling. I bet we could figure it out. Actually, you know what, we should probably get a car.” She was starting to light up the way she did when she had a goal, and Ron groaned loudly.

“God, I forgot we never even learned to drive. Do we have to? I can apparate half-decently, and so can Harry. We could just practice and then not drive."

At Hermione’s put-out look, Harry interjected. "I’ll put bus driver on the list, but I don’t know that we need to drive. Where are we going? Half the shit we eat we grow ourselves."

"That’s right! It’s sus- sustains- no, oh my god, I’m drunk- sustainsabilities. Fuck, I can’t speak. Sustainabilities. Yup, it’s sustainable! We’re helping the environment.” Hermione had, at some point during their conversation, migrated sideways so that she was leaning almost entirely on Harry.

“'Mione, you have to move. You gotta- lean on Ron, I have to pee.” She snorted and nuzzled slightly further into his chest.

“Hmmm, you do that."

A few seconds later, there were snores coming from her frame, and Harry looked over at Ron, who was shaking with silent laughter. "Don’t laugh, I have to pee! Help me move her."

Harry pushed at Hermione’s shoulder, and she flopped a little bit onto the back of the couch. Ron doubled over in another round of giggles, and Harry hissed, "Ron, I swear to god- if I start laughing I’m gonna piss! You gotta- oh my god- help!"

At this point, Harry had started laughing and tried to slip out from under his girlfriend. Instead of quietly moving her without waking her, she fell and glanced her head off the arm of the couch. A brief moment of panic ensued, in which Harry and Ron both tried to check on her at once, and only succeeded in bonking their heads together.

Ron was gasping through peals of laughter as he grabbed onto Harry to avoid falling off the couch. "Oh- oh shit, oh fuck, oh my god. Is- is she- fuck- is she okay? Harry, you fucking idiot, check her head."

"She’s fine, dipshit. Fuck, that could have been so bad, shit.” Harry had sobered for the moment that it took to remember the diagnostic spell to make sure that Hermione was actually okay, and upon confirmation he sank back into the humor of the situation.

“Goddamnit, I can’t believe that happened. Good god.” He wiped his eyes and then got up to actually use the bathroom.

“Don’t get a concussion in there, Harry, the last thing we need is two of them.” Ron called after him, and he responded with a one fingered salute in the general direction of his boyfriend. He heard Ron’s collapse against the couch as he closed the bathroom door.

It was as he was staring at the green tiling on the bathroom floor that he found himself reflecting on the fact that if that had happened a few months ago, it would have gone much worse. Any injuries sustained by the three of them were largely blind territory that brought back horrible memories for the worst of the months after the war. It was remarkable that they could laugh through it, now.

When he came out to stick his still slightly damp hands under Ron’s jumper, he found Ron and Hermione curled up together, softly snoring. He smiled and climbed onto their couch next to them, levitating a blanket over the three of them as he went. It was a good night.

The next morning, he woke up first. They’d ended up tangled closer together in sleep, but he was still on the edge and managed to slip out to start breakfast and find the paracetamol for the three of them.

Breakfast was quieter than usual, with lots of gestures and grunts when someone wanted something. Wine hangovers were no joke. Later in the day, they went out to the garden together to weed, and Hermione suggested gardening as a potential profession. Harry vetoed, with the reasoning that he got to do it enough at home.

Ron bounced off that logic to suggest Quidditch, and they had the first of what would end up as their two final options. The other was working as a professor, which Harry took a full week to warm up to the idea of.

“I don’t know, becoming a professor seems like kind of a big deal. First of all, you’re shaping students’ whole lives, and second of all wouldn’t I need, like, higher education?"

"Oooh, good point, actually. I believe you would need to get a mastery in the subject that you want to teach, which you can obtain by apprenticing under an expert in the field. I think that was in Hogwarts: A History? It might have come from somewhere else, I’m not sure. As for the other thing, I’ve seen you with kids, Harry. You’re brilliant. I don’t know that you even really need to worry about that quarter."

"Mate, it might be good for you to get a mastery, actually. They usually discuss them with seventh years at Hogwarts, so I don’t really know much about them. Charlie’s was how he got started in Romania, actually."

"Huh. That makes a lot of sense, actually. I always wondered if wizards had an equivalent to college, but I was a bit busy worrying about the dark wizard trying to kill me for most of my life, so I never got the chance to look it up.” Harry had actually considered asking McGonagall about it during his consultation on his future, but they’d started talking about Defense Against the Dark Arts exams before he could mention it.

“Harry, you should write McGonagall about it. She’s always looking for new teachers, and even if you don’t end up wanting to do it, she can give you advice on how to start looking for a mastery, which you’ll pretty much need for most jobs, anyway."

With that, they’d settled the matter. He wrote to McGonagall, and she replied promptly with an invitation to her office to discuss it in person.

McGonagall had taken Dumbldore’s old office. Harry had known that she would, as Headmistress, but it still shocked him a little to see the space decorated so differently. Minerva McGonagall was a practical woman, and as such had no need for random devices scattered about the room. He walls were lined with shelves full of books of many kinds, and her fire was roaring. She and Harry sat across from each other in matching armchairs that Harry swore must have had some kind of charm on them, because they were the most comfortable chairs he’d ever sat in.

"Professor-” Harry started, and then stopped. He wasn’t quite certain how to go about this meeting, on unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t quite his teacher anymore, and he didn’t know how to approach that.

“You can call me Minerva, Harry. You are no longer my student.” The way she said it was not unkind, but he still felt lightly chastised. “I believe you wanted to discuss how to proceed in finding a career in the wizarding world?"

"Um. Yes. Well. Minerva- hmmm, yeah that tastes strange. Minerva, I’ve been thinking that it would be a good idea to get myself back out into the world, starting with a job. Ron, Hermione, and I have been fine in our cottage, but sometimes it- I just feel like it’s time. I’m getting a bit restless, I think."

Minerva looked amused at his rambling. "I know how that feels. Did you know that after Elphinstone and I got married, I took a break from teaching?"

"Really?” Harry was genuinely surprised, because he couldn’t really imagine Minerva as a house wife.

“Yes, really. I took a year off to take care of our home and try my hand at being a stay at home wife. A year was about all I could stand, honestly. I ended up going back to teaching the following September, I was lucky enough that Albus had been unable to fill my position beyond a temporary professor. I loved our house and I loved spending time with my husband, but I found it difficult to be alone all day and trying to productively fill my days. I also missed my students with no small amount of fierceness."

"I definitely know how that feels. We have plenty of things to do but it’s so easy to get distracted without the structure of school."

"Hmm. Speaking of which, how much do you know about masteries, Harry? I know that you and your peers all missed our usual talks about them, but you are also living with one Hermione Granger, who I am sure knows a fair amount about them through the pure virtue of planning three years ahead at least at all times."

Minerva said it with humor and fondness in her voice, and Harry chuckled. "You’re not wrong. I know that it’s a bit like muggle college, and that it’s essentially an apprenticeship? I am a little bit confused about what one would do if they got to their mastery and found out that they’d picked something that they actually don’t like as much as they thought they did- for muggles they would just change their major, but if you’re working with one specific person because of their expertise in the subject that you’ve chosen, what do you do?"

"That’s a good point. Most students have at least an idea of what they want to do based on what classes they liked while they were in school, but many don’t. Towards the end of seventh year, we allow students to start trying out different concentrations. Many will start to work with teachers in subjects that they like to see if they like the subject as much as they think they do. If we don’t have anyone specializing in the subject that they are thinking of, we can, more often than not, find someone who is willing to allow them to tail their work for a week or so to see if that’s something they like. We encourage students to look into at least three different masteries so that they can fully explore their options. This helps most students decide where they’ll end up, but even if you get to where you want to be and then decide that it actually isn’t for you, it’s not nearly as difficult to try something new as it would seem."

"Good lord, that it a lot of information.” Minerva tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. “So, if I start where I am now, without any weeks of tailing anyone and a bit beyond graduation, what do I do?"

"Well, I might suggest taking remedial courses for the year that you missed, to start. It might help some with the boredom that you were talking about earlier, and you are a bright young man. I have no doubt that you will find you can complete the courses in far less time than it would take you to complete a full school year. We thought about offering students an option to complete an extra 'eighth’ year, but ultimately decided to keep Hogwarts at its usual seven years, and instead look into alternate options for them to finish. That September, most of our older students weren’t ready to return to the school anyway. War takes its tolls."

"Isn’t that just ridiculously true? We were all wrecks for months, rather a bit. In the end Hermione pushed us to start going to therapy, and that helped loads. As for the completing the courses, I think that’s a good idea- I could probably do them with Hermione and Ron, Hermione’s been trying to figure out the logistics of finishing seventh year since it occurred to her that we never did, nevermind the fact that she’s performing spells of that level since fifth year."

"I’ve been trying to remember that that is a letter I need to send out to everyone, though I keep forgetting. Even this far down the line, we’re still working through castle repairs and damages. There is always so much to do… well, that’s no excuse for slacking, regardless. I’ll have to add it to the list."

She pulled out a piece of parchment from seemingly nowhere, and began to write on it with a quill also pulled from the ether.

Harry was deservedly very impressed. "That was awesome, professor- what spell was that?"

"I am no longer your professor, Harry. That is a useful little spell Filius taught me… "

Their visit went on, with Minerva imparting far too much wisdom for Harry to ever be able to remember it all. They discussed a wide variety of topics, and McGonagall seriously considered all of the options that he had looked into, and was a particular fan of the quidditch idea. "Even if you don’t end up doing it as a career, it’s an excellent way to stay in shape. Far too many of my students simply stop playing when they decide on an office job, such a shame, and so much wasted potential as well."

That particular comment sparked a long discussion about the merits of playing quidditch recreationally, which led to them talking about the professor’s league at the school. Harry was shocked that he hadn’t known about it as a student, had never heard it mentioned, and Minerva laughed at him for it. Apparently there were many secrets of the staff and school that students didn’t know about.

When he left with several biscuits tucked away in a container for travel to bring to Ron and Hermione, he felt better. He was almost entirely decided on what to do for his apprenticeship, and he had a solid plan for his next few years. After the uncertainty of being on the run for a year combined with the certainty that he wouldn’t live past 17, it felt good to know what he was going to do, and additionally know that it had nothing to do with dark wizards. It was rare for him to be anything resembling normal.

Ron and Hermione listened animatedly to his recollection of the meeting. Hermione was especially delighted to find that they’d have a way to complete their schooling, while Ron was relieved that it was from home. "Gotta be honest, I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts. It’s lovely, and in a special way it will always be home, but I think there are a tad too many memories lurking around corners for me to be completely comfortable there ever again."

Harry nodded, though he wasn’t entirely certain he agreed. It was something he’d not considered, the memories contained within the school’s walls. Hogwarts was his home, and it likely would always be in his mind, the first place that he ever truly felt comfortable. But with how bad his PTSD had been, and still was on occasion, would he be able to live there? Walk its halls the way he had as a child? He wasn’t sure.

They started their schooling a month, later, when it became widely available. The three of them were in some of the same core classes, as they’d always been, but they were all taking different paths and therefore most of the time they spent with papers spread out around them at the dinner table that they never ate at were for actual working, not talking.

Ron was taking only what interested him, just enough courses to be able to get his degree. He tended to finish his work before the other three, and would go kiss the top of their heads as he got up to go start dinner. Hermione had taken as many courses as she could fit, as always. It was almost worse than third year, because the courses weren’t held in person. She had taken that to mean that if she could find the time for it in her personal schedule, she could fit it in.

Ron and Harry had talked her down from taking all available courses. She’d ended up with a fairly large courseload regardless, but that was to be expected.

Harry was, as ever, in the middle. He found himself with a courseload he was happy with, a few extra classes that he thought could be interesting, but not so many that he was constantly doing work. That worked out well for him, because he’d taken an herbology elective having to do with the growing of potions ingredients in the wild. It turned out that understanding the ingredients in a deeper sense than just their names was immensely helpful for potions. He’d never been doing better in a potions class without cheating, and he’d also begun to actually understand some of the notes Snape had left in the margins of the stolen book.

They got through their class work and watched movies and made tea and went for walks and before they knew it, the holiday season was upon them. Their classes all had breaks for Christmas, and they took full advantage of that time.

"What d'you think we should get Molly this year?” Harry through the question out from his position on the couch, draped across Ron and Hermione’s laps.

“That’s gotta be some sign of adulthood, having to give your parents Christmas gifts.” Ron’s fingers paused their carding through his hair as he digested the question, and then he resumed. “I bet she’d like some of that cleaner we saw the other day, the one that changes scent."

"Oooooh, good point. I was thinking maybe some new knitting patterns, actually- I found a bunch in the clearance section in the bookshop we went to the other day.” Hermione started diligently scribbling on the parchment in front of her under the “parents” section of her well-organized christmas shopping/gift ideas list. She turned to her boys to say something more, but as she opened her mouth the tinny sound o a timer going off filled the room “That;s your turn done then, Harry. Scoot."

"Awww, but I’m so comfortable, 'Mione.” Harry pleaded to Hermione’s uncaring eyes as he heaved himself upwards out of Ron’s lap. Ron scooted down the couch to take Hermione’s place as she laid down to replace Harry.

“Mhmmm. Well, it’s my turn to be comfortable.” Harry’s fingers found their way to her hair as her quill and parchment floated in the air by her head. “Alright, where was I? Okay. Ummmm, right! Under Molly, I want: "knitting needles, pattern books, and scent changing cleaning spray."

The quill started scratching across the page as Hermione explained, "The other day over tea she mentioned to me that she hadn’t a good way to organize her needles, and usually has so many projects going that half the time she doesn’t know which ones are already in use and which aren’t. I think we should get her a new set so that she can have doubles AND an organizing system. I’m sure if we look hard enough we can find a case that has an extension charm on it, or we can do one ourselves."

Ron looked down at Hermione with a smile on his face. "Brilliant. Alright, who’s next?"

Harry glanced at the parchment hanging in the air to see which space was blank. "Looks like we don’t have anything for Ginny, which should be easy enough. She was complaining about her broom the other day, but I know she likes the model too well to want a new one. I was thinking a broom servicing kit?”

The evening went on like that, and they eventually had at least a rough sketch of what they would be looking for when they went out to do Christmas shopping. They found a fair amount of the things actually on the list, and were able to get suitable substitutes where they couldn’t.

Their Christmas plans were this: they spent Christmas Eve at Hermione’s aunt’s house. She explained to them that her mother’s siblings had a rotation going, and that next year the three of them would likely be required to come to her parents’ aid with hosting. Her family was surprisingly large, and she told them that they tended not to gather for anything other than holidays. She never talked about them because there weren’t any other wizards in the family.

They found out that this was not actually true on Christmas Eve, when Ron walked in on one of the cousins changing her kid’s diaper with a spell. It was a rather awkward conversation, while Ron tried to explain that he was a wizard and she tried to obliviate him. Eventually, the truth came out: her cousins were American, and hadn’t been particularly affected by the war. They, in all honesty, had been remarking to each other all night that Harry looked oddly familiar to them, but had been unable to parse out exactly what it was.

They ended up setting up a lunch date for all of them for later that week before they apparated back to Minnesota. The cousins were very excited to find that there was another wizard in the family, and Hermione was similarly vibrating.

“I can’t believe, all this time, and I didn’t even know! I knew it would make sense that some of my relatives would be magical, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. I obviously wasn’t going to sniff around and risk them finding out just to see if they really were muggles or not. Oh my goodness, this is amazing. I wonder what schooling looks like in America? I mean, I know the basic principles, of course, but I would love specifics. It’s such a big country, and Ilvermorny is the main school that we hear of, but I’m certain they wouldn’t have travelled that far just for school, that doesn’t make sense, does it?"

”'Mione, we’re having lunch with them later this week. I’m sure they’ll be happy enough to answer your questions. We certainly don’t know the answers.“

Ron nodded as he hoisted the backpack holding their gifts in it higher on his shoulders. They were walking to the closest apparition point. According to Harry, who was using google maps, they were about 5 minutes away.

"Turn left here. For tonight we should just focus on trying to get ourselves home, I think. Did we end up finishing the wrapping for tomorrow?"

"Oh shit, I forgot, actually. We ran out of wrapping paper. We only have a few left, but still. Should we find a Tesco and stop in? It’s not too late, is it?"

"They’re open til 10.” Ron stopped walking for a moment to consult his watch on the time, which read out 9:37 p.m.

“Alright, let’s go then."

The tesco had one roll of wrapping paper with lumberjack Santa Claus’s dancing across it with axes. They were not literally dancing of course- there was a Tesco in London with a wizard section where they might have found something similar, but they hadn’t the time to go to it.

The next day, George refolded his "hot santa claus” wrapping paper into a hat and wore it all through dinner. Molly was too happy that he was smiling to scold him about it, although she did have to excuse herself at one point. When Harry came in to check on her, she was crying lightly into a handkerchief.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be alright- he just- oh, for the love of- he looks very much like his brother.” She blew her nose and took a deep breath. A weak smile graced her face as she looked up at Harry. “It’s hard, still. It’s been getting better, but- well, I didn’t think they could even survive without each other. I used to look at the two of them, always together, always finishing each other’s sentences, and think, god, they’re just like my brother’s, and oh, thank goodness they’ll never have to be apart. I just- I just wish I’d been right.” Her voice broke a little bit on the last word, and she started dabbing at her eyes again.

“I know. I remember in school, they were always together. No one thought they should ever be apart, but. I don’t know. George is doing- not well, but- he’s surviving. That’s all we can ask of him. That’s all we can ask of any of us, really. I think he’s being happy in Fred’s memory, instead of in spite of it, you know?"

"Oh, I know, dear, I know. It’s just difficult. I’ll get over myself, I just needed a moment. I love seeing him smile again, it’s like Fred’s back, just for a little. Fetch me a glass of water?"

Harry nodded and swiftly vacated the room. Even after all his therapy, he was still shit with emotions. He found Arthur and informed him of the situation, sending him back to his wife with the water she requested. He knew that was the right decision when he saw Molly again, tears dried, laughing at something Arthur was saying. Her arm was laced through his, a glass of wine in her hand as she leaned against him on the couch.

He took a minute to reflect that he rarely saw Molly so relaxed, and especially not since the war. He was glad that they’d healed enough at this point that they could, at the very least, enjoy Christmas. His musing were interrupted when Ron came up to him from behind and hugged him. "We’re going to play pick-up, you’re on my team. Ginny’s pissed about it, come on."

He turned into his boyfriend with a smile on his face and give him a peck. "Excellent, let’s go crush her."

Ginny, who was training to be a professional quidditch player, soundly kicked their asses. George and Bill helped too.

As punishment for losing, Ron, Harry, and Charlie went skinny dipping into the pond on the property, but ended up just getting everyone else wet until they all went swimming together, whooping and laughing.

It was a good night, and Harry woke up sandwiched between Ron and Hermione. He was content to lay there and wait for them to wake up, listening to their breathing and looking at the rise and fall of their chests. They were here, and they’d made it through- he hadn’t thought they would. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he’d done out the math and he had been so certain that they wouldn’t make it through the war all together- something would have to give. Thank god he was wrong, pseudo death or no. He wanted to be nowhere else than where he was, listening to the Weasley household wake up on a Christmas morning.

They all got up eventually, slowly stumbling their way into the kitchen as the lure of coffee and sausages called to them. Mrs. Weasley seemed happy to have all of her birds back in the nest. Percy kissed her cheek as he left for work, the only one who hadn’t been able to get the day off. The rest of them sat down to eat.

Overall, it was one of the best Christmases he’d had in a long time, one of the few that he’d truly been able to enjoy. It was reminiscent of some of his first Christmases at Hogwarts, the first ones that he’d ever known what it was like to get presents that weren’t hand-me-downs or worthless garbage.

He thought about that feeling of being new to a world of literal magic, and the fact that the most magical part of it all had been that he’d had an out, that he’d been able to get far away from the Dursleys for 9 months. He liked this feeling better. Contentedly settled into his skin, with a wide and bright future set out in front of him. He couldn’t help but think that just maybe, there was nowhere better to be.

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makeste · 5 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 253: That Good Angst

Previously on BnHA: The villain Ending, whose name in retrospect is hella melodramatic for a guy whose power is MAKING ROAD MARKINGS COME TO LIFE, kidnapped Natsuo and then deservedly got his ass kicked by three teenagers. Endeavor won the manga’s coveted Best Hug award, made up by me just now, and then gave one of the best monologues in the whole series, basically owning up to all his crimes and saying he doesn’t want or deserve his son’s forgiveness. And he didn’t get it either, which was excellent. Instead, he announced to his kids that he was building them a new home for them to go live in with their mother and without him. Meanwhile Katsuki was all, “btw I’ve decided on my new hero name,” and the ENTIRE FANDOM was all “!!!!” until he went on to say, “but I ain’t revealing SHIT until I’ve told it to Best Jeanist,” which caused everyone to collectively wince and awkwardly glance at each other wondering who’s going to break it to him. Uh.

Today on BnHA: hAHAHAHAHHA.

Sorry, I forgot to turn my capslock back off. Anyways, so we return to U.A. and everything is all “HAPPY NEW YEAR IIDA!” and “STILL ON ABOUT THAT UNREQUITED LOVE THING, HUH OCHAKO?” and “LOOKS LIKE THAT SCAMPISH IMP BAKUGOU IS AT IT AGAIN!” and all the usual stuff. We then have a complete switch of gears, and I seriously mean like the GEAR SWITCH TO END ALL GEAR SWITCHES, as we cut to Aizawa and Mic driving to Tartarus! Why are they driving to Tartarus you ask? Well it’s because they got a call from Naomasa and he was all “hey, so you know your deceased childhood friend from chapters 59 through 65 of Vigilantes? Well IT TURNS OUT I HAVE A FUNNY STORY ABOUT THAT.” Anyway so the rest of this chapter can basically be summed up as (1) LOL SO KUROGIRI WAS REALLY SHIRAKUMO ALL ALONG, and (2) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

btw the whole reason I spoiled myself in the first place was because my dumbass id was all “WE SHOULD CHECK IF THEY MENTION THE HERO NAME” and I was like “YES” and just immediately lost all self-control. like it wasn’t an accidental click or anything; I was fully aware of what I was doing. lord knows what I would have done if I actually had been spoiled about the hero name lol. that would have been so much worse than the spoiler I actually got, so yeah. just stupid decisions all around. anyways how are you

no BnHA thumbnails on the Mangastream homepage today. must mean Kacchan didn’t make any good faces. ah well

lmao the chapter is literally titled “Shirakumo.” well I guess I wasn’t spoiled much after all. I did catch a half-glimpse (I was trying not to look; like, I had my fingers covering my eyes and was peeking through them. again, I’m not really sure what I was trying to accomplish in the first place honestly) of what seemed to be Aizawa with a shocked expression on his face though, so that’s why I was so convinced Kumo was somehow coming back from the dead or something. WE SHALL SEE

MY FORMULA 1 SON!!

lol I’m having one of those Berenstein moments. like. he didn’t always have those huge exhaust pipes running out from his sides and from either leg, right? those are just for this cover. or else something new and fancy he just added to his suit. right??

anyway so yes, Iida is the color page this week, just as we all expected from a chapter titled “Shirakumo”

“WINTER BREAK WAS OVER IN A FLASH” oh man. ain’t that always the way

wow I’ve really missed U.A. like, we’re cutting to these panels of USJ and the stadium, and it’s so fucking nostalgic geez. we weren’t even gone that long

Deku’s voiceover is talking about how they only have three months left in their “tumultuous” first year. ha. tumultuous. if Deku hadn’t met up with All Might, he could have easily fallen back on a career in PR; he’s got a gift for phrasing things diplomatically

Iida is wishing everyone a happy new year! happy new year Iida!!

he’s announcing that their class will be an action report meeting, which apparently means everyone’s gonna share what they learned over the winter break

but now he’s telling everyone to come down to Field Alpha, which Mangastream annoyingly spelled out with the Greek symbol α, forcing me to look it up because I’m sorry but I don’t speak math. ?? like what is this

now Aizawa’s sliding the door open all CRANKY because he’s MISSING HIS NAP

but Mina is all smooth like,

Mina could also have had a promising future in PR. well it’ll still serve them well in their hero careers too

oh my lord

WHAT is that FACE, Iida. just what. is that an eyebrow waggle. what the fuck. he looks like the next words out of his mouth were going to be “sliding into people’s dms”

jokes’s on you Horikoshi!! you think a panel like this will stop my “stupid sexy Iida” jokes? IT ONLY MAKES ME LOVE HIM MORE

oh? someone on the loudspeaker is calling Aizawa and summoning him to the faculty room. I wonder what this could be about. probably nothing!

now we’re cutting to the changing room and the girls are admiring Ochako’s new costume!

I’ll add an ETA later where I actually analyze the changes in her costume. right now let’s just pretend like I’m aware of what actually changed. I swear I pay attention to things. by the way, why would the suitcase get heavy? her quirk can be applied to anything can’t it?

(ETA: so the costume changes are (1) an upgrade to her gauntlets, and (2) an upgrade to her headset. so anyway that’s pretty cool, even if it was really only brought up in this chapter so that we could get that SWEET YA ROMANCE DRAMA. which I know annoys some people, but at this point I feel like Horikoshi only throws it in because he’s expected to, and the way he does it is so adorably reluctant that I can’t help but enjoy it at this point lol.)

OH MY GOD

OCHAKO YOU KEPT DEKU’S CHRISTMAS PRESENT TO YOU IN YOUR HERO COSTUME FOR GOOD LUCK, OH MY GOD. (1) YOU ARE THE LITERAL CUTEST, (2) IT’S TIMES LIKE THIS I’M GLAD I SHIP BASICALLY EVERYTHING BECAUSE THIS IS A DELIGHT, and (3) MINA’S REACTION TO THIS IS ABOUT TO BE MY FAVORITE THING OF ALL TIME, SO LET’S COUNT DOWN TO IT IN 3... 2...

okay but before we click to the next page, I just need to draw everyone’s attention to the background of that Jirou panel, where I’m pretty sure that is Ochako acquiring Hagakure’s quirk in a moment of transcendent desperation, much like how parents are able to summon incredible strength in times of crisis to lift cars off of their trapped children and shit. we are witnessing the next stage of human evolution over here

-- oh fuck me

hello, Horikoshi? yes, this was supposed to be a cute moment of teens being teens and giggling over high school crushes. did you not get the memo. what are you doing here with this sucker punch of feels right to my fucking kidneys. why would you do that. why does this panel of Ochako make me want to fucking cry, I did not ask for this

(ETA: but like also, you see how he just instantly drops the subject less than a panel later lol. like “THERE’S YOUR ROMANCE PLOT, OKAY?? NOW BACK TO THE REANIMATED BRAINWASHED CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ARC.”)

meanwhile in the boy’s locker room! so apparently word has spread about Deku mastering Bloopwhip!

so Ojiro is evidently fucking ripped under that karate gi. Ojiro, this one corner of a panel with you facing away from the screen is possibly the most interesting thing you’ve ever done. have you considered what a costume change might do for your image. I’m just saying

lmao Deku

I have never in my life found the idea of Villain Deku even remotely convincing until this exact moment. jesus christ. Deku are you sure there isn’t a little piece of AFO horcrux soul in you right at this moment. just wondering. if it was Kaminari doing this, the headline for this chapter would be “KAMINARI 100% CONFIRMED THE TRAITOR” and even I would find myself hard-pressed to argue at this point

anyway, the hero we deserve is stepping in to bring him back to reality sob

(ETA: I’m not even going to check the bnha tag to see if there is discourse about this, because I already know!! because clearly this is a very serious panel which should be taken 100% seriously!! anyway I’m not even going to go here lol.)

it’s okay kids I’m already dialing 911. Kacchan, honey, come here. listen, we need to put you in a time out. I love you but you can’t just go around throwing your spiky headgear at people like a fucking tomahawk, and also what the fuck is that thing even made of jesus christ

sob is Deku actually fucking dead

and so, while the girls were having cute shoujo drama about a romantic All Might plush, over in the boy’s locker room an actual murder was going down

FSDKDJL

I can’t. stop laughing. I

and the way they’re all just staring at him and clearly have no idea what to fucking do at this point. “so should we just... leave it in, then?” lmao Horikoshi what the fuck kind of substance did you ingest before you went and drew this. I need me some of that

(ETA: and now that I’ve mostly stopped laughing, I would also just like to point out that he is essentially saying “I just had to stop thinking so hard about it and just do it”, which I’ve only been saying SINCE FOREVER, DEKU, but sure go ahead and don’t listen to me then!)

ALL MIGHT IS...

WHY, YOU ASK? WHO CARES!!

lol apparently it’s a pun. someone go over there and check to make sure this All Might isn’t actually a bunch of Mirios hidden underneath a trench coat

anyway so they’re completely unimpressed, because they’re all jaded fucking teenagers with no souls, and they’re asking where Aizawa is

is this the part where we slide right back into the angst after our brief humorous interlude with the kiddos. because I am ready. bring it

OOOOH HERE WE GO, LOOK AT THIS TENSION

SO HERE WE HAVE MIC ACTUALLY TELLING AIZAWA TO SHUT THE FUCK UP, AND IT’S CONFIRMED, THE WORLD IS ENDING

and look at Aizawa’s body language. arms crossed, fingers tapping anxiously, gritting his teeth. fucking Mic has to tell him to calm down. jesus christ. anyway so Aizawa angst is apparently MY DRUG you guys, and Horikoshi you can go right ahead and INJECT THAT SHIT STRAIGHT INTO MY VEINS

AHHHHHHH

OHHHHHH THAT’S GOOD. I might need someone to come and slap me in the face in another minute just to make sure I can continue here

-- HOLD UP, WHAT

THAT SOUND YOU HEAR IS THE SOUND OF MY MENTAL BRAKES SCREECHING TO A FUCKING HALT, EVERYONE HOLD THE FUCK UP WHILE I DO A QUICK MENTAL ROLL CALL OF THE VILLAIN CAST AT USJ. FUCK ME, PLEASE TELL ME HE WASN’T THE NOUMU. BUT ASIDE FROM HIM AND TOMURA, AND THE FACELESS NO-NAME VILLAINS, THAT ONLY LEAVES... OKAY MY BRAIN JUST SERIOUSLY FROZE UP WHILE PROCESSING THIS, BECAUSE NO FUCKING WAY

fuck me fuck me FUCK ME

there is no fucking way it can really be Kurogiri, can it?? Kumo didn’t have a portal quirk. but All For One, though?? but no wait because we know he didn’t have that quirk because he had to use the other teleportation one instead. John’s or whoever’s

so then the only other option is the Noumu. could this be the start of the Noumu arc at long last?! oh my godddddd I’m about to get up out of my seat and just jump around for a second to get all my nerves out. ahhhhhhh

Horikoshi knew full well what he was doing titling the chapter “Shirakumo” and then teasing us with this incredibly tense buildup, too. I have actual fucking chills

oh my god IT REALLY IS THE NOUMU ISN’T IT

I HATE AND LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SIMULTANEOUSLY, IT IS THE WEIRDEST FEELING. IT’S BOTH INVIGORATING AND TERRIFYING HOLY SHIT

I WANTED THIS. I KNEW IT WAS GONNA BE DARK. I WANTED IT SO BAD AND I COULDN’T WAIT FOR IT AND NOW IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING AND WHAT A FUCKING WAY TO KICK IT OFF I JUST!!!

AHHHHH

DON’T MIND ME PLEASE CONTINUE AND IGNORE ALL OF MY SILENT SCREAMING!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

AIZAWA IS ABOUT TO LOSE HIS FUCKING MIND. HIS CLOSEST FRIEND WAS DESECRATED AND VIOLATED IN AN UNIMAGINABLE WAY AND TRANSFORMED INTO SOMETHING UNRECOGNIZABLE WITH ALL TRACES OF HUMANITY LOST, AND THIS WHOLE TIME HE THOUGHT HE WAS FUCKING DEAD. THEY DON’T EVEN HAVE A THERAPY FOR THAT, PEOPLE. THAT IS THE KIND OF ANGST THERE’S NO COMING BACK FROM

ANYWAY, SO THERE’S THAT SHOCKED AIZAWA FACE I CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF YESTERDAY, NOW WITH HORRIFIC CONTEXT, AND IF ANYONE NEEDS ME I’LL JUST BE HERE IN THE CORNER SETTING MY KEYBOARD TO PERMANENT CAPSLOCK, AND UPDATING MY SEXUAL ORIENTATION TO “THE FUCKED-UP AIZAWA ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER” BECAUSE THAT’S APPARENTLY WHAT IT IS AND ALL THIS TIME I NEVER KNEW

OH GODDDDD

BRB UPDATING MY ORIENTATION AGAIN TO “MIC’S COMFORTING HAND ON AIZAWA’S SHOULDER AS AIZAWA STRUGGLES TO HOLD ON TO THE LAST OF HIS COMPOSURE WHILE TRYING AND FAILING TO PROCESS THIS UNFATHOMABLY HEINOUS THING THAT’S ABOUT TO BE REVEALED”

(ETA: and also!! the fact that either Mic’s hand is shaking, or Aizawa is shaking so badly that it’s affecting Mic’s hand on his shoulder too! either way how the hell am I not literally dead after reading this chapter, I don’t even know.)

WAIT WHAT!!!!

THE CORE?! SO WAIT, IS IT KUROGIRI THEN??? OR WHAT?!

(ETA: I know I’m just inserting random commentary all over the place at this point, but like, can we also talk about how Naomasa looks like he hasn’t slept in eleven years?? this is taking such a toll on his soul here and it’s heartbreaking.)

OH MY GOD!!!!!

I WISH I COULD BETTER DESCRIBE THIS FEELING BECAUSE IT’S REALLY SOMETHING!! I’M SO EXCITED AND AT THE SAME TIME FULLY AWARE OF HOW I’M DELIGHTING IN THE PAIN OF THESE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, SO IT’S LIKE THIS GUILTY SADISTIC GLEE AND AT THE SAME TIME SHOCK AND EXCITEMENT AND DAMN NEAR A KIND OF ELATION AT BEING FULLY TAKEN FOR A RIDE BY THIS EPIC FUCKING TWIST. IT’S GOOD SHIT

SDLKFJASLKDFJ;LKS

(ETA: so if they can trace quirk factors like this, they should be able to do it with the other Noumu they have in captivity, and also with any dead Noumus they’ve collected as well, yes? including the one that Stain killed a few months back? like, don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here trying to calculate the Six Degrees of Bakuangst for this plotline seeing as my brain, as ever, is focused on one thing and one thing only.

and so if they have managed to ID some of the Noumus, would that info maybe be on the Hero Network? meaning Endeavor would have access? would the interns then have access too? or if not, is his password something easily guessable, like Shouto’s birthday or something? will I ever stop running out of hypothetical scenarios along these lines? doesn’t seem likely as of now.)

“SEVERAL DIFFERENT QUIRK FACTORS” HOLY SHIT, AFO. THAT MANIAC. THIS WHOLE TIME MY RESPECTED DOCTOR OF MEDICINE WAS REALLY A HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT WHO GOT CONKED ON THE HEAD BY SOME FALLING ROCKS ONE DAY. THE GRANDDADDY OF ALL TWISTS!! THIS TWIST WAS CONCEIVED IN THE BOOK OF GENESIS!!

AND BY THE WAY, THANK YOU AGAIN TO THAT ANON, BECAUSE HOLY SHIT THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT IS FUCKING RAW. ONCE I FINALLY COME DOWN FROM THIS BIZARRE HIGH I’M GOING TO CRY FOR AIZAWA BECAUSE HE IS HURTING SO BAD RIGHT NOW AND I CAN’T EVEN, SOMEONE SAVE HIMMMM

WELL FOLKS. THERE IT IS. HORIKOSHI FINALLY HOOKING US UP WITH THAT GOOD ANGST. THE PLOT THAT WAS PROMISED. THE ANGST THAT WAS AVOWED. YOU GUYS I CAN’T BELIEVE AIZAWA SHOUTA WAS SHIGARAKI TOMURA’S FUCKING UNCLE THIS WHOLE FUCKING TIME. HOLY SHIT

AND YOOOO I JUST HAD A BUNCH OF THOUGHTS THAT I CAN BARELY EVEN PROCESS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE THIS REVELATION OPENS UP SO MANY NEW DOORS NOW ALL OF A SUDDEN THOUGH. BUT LIKE, IF AFO AND UJIKO WERE IN THE BUSINESS OF TAKING CHILDREN’S CORPSES AND REVIVING THEM AND INFUSING THEM WITH UPGRADED QUIRKS AND NO MEMORIES OF THEIR PRIOR LIVES, THEN HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WHAT IF A CERTAIN TODOROKI SIBLING REALLY DID FUCKING DIE AND HAS ACTUALLY BEEN A PUPPET OF AFO’S THIS ENTIRE TIME OH MY GOD. THIS CHAPTER IS JUST!!!

(ETA: yeah I actually have a lot of thinking to do about this one, because holy shit. I mean there must be a reason we’re getting this reveal directly on the heels of the Todoangst Arc with all of its talk about Touya and how dead he is, right? god I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. this stupid manga!!)

AND AIZAWA’S FACE. THE WAY HE’S COVERING HIS MOUTH AS THOUGH TRYING TO KEEP HIMSELF FROM BEING SICK. THE MAN WHO PRIDES HIMSELF ON HIS RATIONALITY IS SO COMPLETELY OVERWHELMED BY EMOTION THAT HE’S STRUGGLING TO KEEP IT TOGETHER. THIS IS THE DEFINING WOUND OF HIS CHILDHOOD, RETURNING ALL OF A SUDDEN TO STAB HIM RIGHT IN THE HEART ALL OVER AGAIN WITH A FRESH NEW KIND OF HORROR. MIC, YOU’D BETTER BE THERE FOR HIM AFTER THIS, BECAUSE HE’S GOING TO FUCKING BREAK DOWN IN THE CAR ON THE RIDE HOME OR SOMETHING PROBABLY, AND HE NEEDS YOU, AND YOU PROBABLY NEED HIM TOO, AND FUCK

I DON’T HAVE SPACE FOR ALL THIS ANGST IN MY HOUSE!!! BUT LIKE HELL AM I GIVING ANY OF IT BACK, IT’S MINE NOW AND I’M KEEPING IT!! I WILL FUCKING RENT OUT A STORAGE LOCKER FOR THE EXCESS!! I WILL HOARD IT ALL LIKE A GREEDY DRAGON IN MY CAVE. THIS ANGST IS MY CHILD NOW. FUCKING SUBSCRIBED, GOOD NIGHT EVERYONE

#bnha 253 #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shirakumo oboro #kurogiri #uraraka ochako #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #and here's another thought I just had #which is that we were basically one momo away from potentially playing out this exact same plot twist #but with deku and kacchan instead #because the league would not have taken no for an answer #and even if tomura had felt like being merciful #(since he clearly has more humanity left in him than I formerly gave him credit for)#I guarantee you that afo would have stepped in at some point and been all #'you know what tomura why don't you let me see if I can help convince him'#like every now and then I just randomly think about how close my child came to experiencing an unimaginably dark fate #and I'm just like #deep sigh of relief #but oh the angst #this is the fuel that sustains me friends

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regulusblackfest · 2 years ago

Text

Week 5 Round Up

And with this week, we've wrapped up an absolutely amazing posting period of this year's Regulus Fest! The final masterlist, including the creators-reveal, will go up next Saturday - until then, have fun with this last batch of brilliant fics, and leave our creators some love if you can!

Title: Hour-Glasses, Lightning Bolts and Lions Pairing/main characters: Regulus Black/Harry Potter Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Medium/Word Count: 9340 Summary:

The soulmark on Regulus’ wrist has never made sense, an hour-glass and a lightning bolt. Then he goes to the cave, prepared to die, and instead wakes up to what looks like a whole army of Weasleys and, apparently, a wedding. The soulmark on Harry’s wrist has never made sense, an hour-glass and a constellation. Until his 17th birthday and Bill and Fleur’s wedding, when a drenched boy who looks painfully like Sirius lands in the midst of the chaos, matching soulmark unmistakable.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38619609/chapters/96543495

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Title: Out of the Shadow (Into the Abyss) Pairing/main characters: Regulus Black/ Barty Crouch Jr. Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: None Medium/Word Count: 10k

Summary:

His first assignment as a Death Eater was to bring another student into the fold. Easy, he thought. It would have been, too, if only the student in question hadn’t been none other than the son of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: Crouch.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38660685

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Title: We Don’t Die Like Heroes Pairing/main characters: Sirius & Regulus Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: No Warnings Medium/Word Count: 4445 words Summary:

When an otherwise normal day goes awry, Regulus thinks about how his own life and values.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Regulus_Black_Fest_2022/works/39043473

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Title: that would be enough Pairing/main characters: Gen, Alphard Black. Regulus Black. Sirius Black Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Major Character Death (off screen) Medium/Word Count: Fic, 15559 Summary:

Prompt: Walburga and Orion die when Sirius and Regulus are young (pre-Hogwarts), and their Uncle Alphard steps in to raise them. Sirius and Regulus find the true meaning of family, bravery, and kindness when Alphard steps in to raise them.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39135687/chapters/97907835

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Title: in too deep to find a safe way out Pairing/main characters: Regulus Black/Harry Potter Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: None Medium/Word Count: 28k Summary:

“That was rude,” the boy says, but he doesn’t look particularly annoyed. In fact, he looks amused, of all things. “Who in Salazar’s name are you?” “I’m Harry Potter,” he says, and now he is definitely grinning. It disappears as quickly as it appeared, and he takes Regulus in once more. There is something far too knowing in his gaze. “And you are Regulus Black, here to steal Tom Riddle’s Horcrux.” — Regulus never wanted to be saved, but Harry Potter is nothing if not stubborn. As it turns out, they might have both needed each other, really, and if they save a few more people in the process, well… that’s a rather lucky side-effect, isn’t it?

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38953695/chapters/97422636

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Title: Live Fast, Die Young, Leave a Pretty Corpse Pairing/Main Characters: Sirius Black & Regulus Black Rating: Teen & up Warnings: None Word Count: 12919 Summary:

It’s been two years since his brother died, and Sirius still hasn’t mourned. The sudden appearance in his life of a Muggle fashion model who bears him a suspicious resemblance is making it difficult for Sirius to keep pretending he doesn’t care.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38850015/chapters/97150725

#regulus black #regulus black fest #regulus black fest 2022 #round up post

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angel-of-arkham · 5 years ago

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Safe and Sound (together)

(Harry is Tom's secret husband, and Tom is Dark Lord Voldemort. After a failed raid, Tom apparated to his and Harry's safe place. Tom is severely injured. Tom doesn't have any Horcruxes.)

| I listened to Taylor Swift’s “Safe and Sound” while writing this, and I suggest you listen to it as you’re reading this. Also, sorry if it’s not good, I wrote this trying to get over writer’s block. |

Harry stared numbly at the scene before him, his voice leaving him. Tom weakly chuckled from the ground, "Finally struck speechless, have you?"

Harry found his voice again, and fell to the ground, clutching the now-bloodied Tom, "Shut the Hell up, you slimy snake."

"Ah, it was peaceful while it lasted. But really, how many times did I need to tell you that snakes aren't slimy---" Tom was cut off by a sudden, harsh coughing fit. He looked at his hands, and saw blood covering them. He stared at it, as if not registering that it was his blood.

"Tom! Please, relax...Please...I can...I can get you to Saint Mungo's..." Harry stammered, his hands shaking. He tried to get up, but Tom stopped him.

"Harry, it's useless."

"No! We have time, I--I can!--"

"No, you can't. Harry, I'm the Dark Lord. I'd hardly think anyone is willing to help us."

"The Death Eaters---"

"---Are all cowards."

"I could get the medical supplies---"

"Love, this is a cursed wound. Only a specialist can help me."

Harry sobbed, hugging Tom close to him. Tom gently hugged Harry, rubbing his back soothingly, "It's okay, it's okay," he murmured in his ear.

"It's not..It's not okay..." Harry brokenly sobbed into Tom's shoulder. Tom pulled Harry back, and gently kissed him. The kiss was salty due to the tears, from Tom or Harry, Harry didn't know. A loud voice came from outside the safe house, startling the two.

"Lord Voldemort, surrender now! We have you surrounded!"

It was the Aurors. Tom snarled, "I refuse to surrender---" then hissed in pain. He fell back to the floor, weak.

"How---How did they find..." Harry wondered. Tom weakly laughed, "I always knew I couldn't trust Severus..."

"Lord Voldemort, you have until the count of 10 to come out with your hands up."

"If we surrender, then maybe you could get help!---"

"No...I refuse to be thrown into Azkaban and be made a mockery of."

"10, 9..."

"I...I don't...What do I do? Tom, you always know what to do..."

"Looks like my luck ran out, darling."

"...8, 7, 6..."

"...Tom, I love you. I love you more than you could ever---" Harry was cut off by Tom placing a finger on Harry's lips.

"I know. I...I love you too, Harry," Tom said, giving Harry a small smile. Harry gave him a pained, watery smile back. It was the first time Tom had said he had loved him.

"You're five years late, you bastard," Harry said, pressing his forehead against Tom's forehead, caressing his face.

"I'm not too late, though," Tom pointed out.

"You idiot," Harry laughed weakly.

"...5, 4, 3..."

Tom and Harry looked at each other, and came to the same conclusion. They leaned in, and kissed each other one last time. As they kissed, Tom and Harry used their magic to activate the emergency wards around the safe house.

---

Outside, the Aurors were ready to break in, as the countdown was beginning to end. However, they were suddenly thrown back as the safe house exploded around them. After collecting themselves, the surviving Aurors all gather around the burning debris, looking for any sign of the Dark Lord.

"Hey! Kingsley! Look what I found!" An Auror called to Kingsley Walking over to here the Auror had pointed, Kingsley blinked in surprise as he saw two bodies, one obviously being the Dark Lord's, and a slightly smaller body. He was especially startled when they were seemingly tightly hugging each other.

"Who would have known, the Dark Lord could love..." Kingsley said softly. The couple's faces were visible, so Kingsley could see the last expression they had as they died. Neither seemed to have suffered painfully, there was only acceptance, and love. Something Kingsley had never thought he could see on the face of the Dark Lord.

The English Wizarding World was celebrating the fall of the Dark Lord, and the heroics of the Aurors and Order of the Phoenix. It wasn't until later that the secret lover of the Dark Lord was reveled, showing the magical population that the Dark Lord wasn't entirely inhumane.

Soon, many stories and plays were written about the love between the Dark Lord and his lover, heavily romanticizing the bloody war. The two went down in history for their love, how they spent their last minutes together.

Meanwhile, in death, Harry and Tom knew of the stories and gossip that spawned, but they didn't care.

Since Tom has sinned as Voldemort, he wasn't allowed in Heaven. Harry was okay, and thus was arranged to be sent into Heaven. But they couldn't bear the thought of being separated for eternity. Harry, using his infamous Gryffindor stubbornness, made Death an agreement.

They would live a hundred lives together, in pain, if it means they would live happily together in the afterlife. They were reincarnated life after life, and still managed to find each other. Each one of their lives ended in tragedy, but that didn't stop them from loving each other until their final breaths.

They both awaited for their last lives, when they could finally peacefully spend the afterlife together, without having the worry of how they would die painfully. But there’s one thing they knew, every life. As they were together, even with a painful death in their future, they would be safe and sound.

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aidanchaser · 4 years ago

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Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero, @magic713m, @ccboomer, @aubsenroute, @somebodyswatson

Chapter Twenty Lord Voldemort’s Request

Dear Remus,

Happy Birthday! I don’t know when you’ll get this, or where you’ll get this, since you’re traveling so much. I’m sure you heard from Mum and Dad about my Quidditch game. Madam Pomfrey just let me out of the hospital wing this morning. I’m not sure if I’m angrier that we lost the game or that McLaggen nearly broke my skull open. Either way, both are McLaggen’s fault.

If you’re worried I’ll do something reckless, don’t be. Ginny and the team already took care of it. They got together while Ron and I were still in the hospital wing and they really did a number on him. Demelza slipped a rat into his robes at dinner. I don’t know where she got one, but I heard he screamed and lost his head in front of the entire school. Then Dean and Ginny caught him with a Bat-Bogey Hex each just before he got to Gryffindor Tower.

Finally, Peakes and Coote put dungbombs in his bed. They cleared it with his roommates first, and made sure that they all had friends in different years to stay with, so McLaggen was stuck there for the night alone with the smell.

I’m only sad Ron and I weren’t around to see all of it. But we’re better now. Madam Pomfrey let Ron out today, too, so we are back in classes. My head still aches a bit, though, so maybe I ought to skip Defense tomorrow?

Anyway, just wanted to say happy birthday, and that I’m thinking of you, and I hope everything is still okay between you and Sirius, and maybe you’re talking to Tonks again?

Love, Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

Cedric —

I had my next (and possibly my last, for a while anyway) meeting with Dumbledore last night. I would have written to you right away, but I’d just gotten out of the hospital after a Quidditch accident. I’m alright, but it was a nasty hit with a Beater’s bat, thanks to an idiot of a Keeper.

Dumbledore wasn’t happy I hadn’t gotten the memory from Slughorn yet. I’ve been trying, but Slughorn doesn’t trust me since I’ve tried once already. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. And Dumbledore says we can’t meet again until I have that memory, but I haven’t any idea where to start. How do you get a memory out of someone who is so ashamed of what he’s done, he’s intentionally changed his memory of how it happened to spare himself?

I don’t expect you to have any answers to it. I know you’ve never met Professor Slughorn. Even Hermione doesn’t have any real ideas, and she knows him better than I do. She just keeps insisting that I’ll have to persuade him or appeal to his better nature, but he won’t even talk to me. I’m not sure what to try next.

Anyway, last night Dumbledore showed me the final two memories that he thinks are important to defeating Voldemort. He said we were moving on from Voldemort’s time at school and into his life after leaving Hogwarts. He also said it was hard enough to know what Voldemort was up to at school, and it was even harder to know afterwards, so he was making a lot of guesswork, but it all seemed straight-forward to me.

Voldemort turned down a lot of opportunities to connect with Ministry officials and ended up at Borgin and Burkes, but Dumbledore said what he really wanted was a job at Hogwarts. I couldn’t think why Voldemort would want to be a professor, but Dumbledore thinks he would have liked to explore the castle further, and maybe even influence the students. He also said it was the only place Voldemort had ever felt at home. I thought that was odd, to think of school as a home. I get not wanting to leave Hogwarts — that was quite the fight with Mum and Dad last year — but I can’t imagine wanting to stay here forever.

Anyway, he didn’t get the teaching position. The Headmaster at the time advised him to get experience first, and apply again later. So he ended up at Borgin and Burkes convincing people to part with their ancient and powerful valuables. In the memory, he was talking to this woman named Hepzibah Smith, and she had all sorts of valuable items. The two that were most interesting to Voldemort, though, were the locket of Salazar Slytherin and the cup of Helga Hufflepuff. Ms Smith had apparently bought the locket from Burke after Burke had bought it off of Merope Gaunt. Voldemort wanted them both so badly, it was obvious. I thought he might take the locket right there, but he didn’t. Dumbledore said, though, that Hepizibah Smith died two days later. I’m sure you’re already thinking about looking up the record of that event, so I’ll spare you the trouble. Ms Smith’s house-elf took the blame for her death. The Ministry decided she was old and confused, and the sugar she put in her mistress’s cocoa wasn’t sugar at all but a lethal poison. The family didn’t notice the cup and the locket were gone for a while, since it took them so long to sort through all of Ms Smith’s collection. By then, Voldemort had completely vanished.

I get why he wanted the locket — he clearly knew that it had belonged to his mother and was part of his magical family heritage — but I don’t understand the cup. Dumbledore thinks it was because it was something connected to Hogwarts. He said it was also about something else, but he wouldn’t tell me anymore. He wanted to show me his own memory, of when Voldemort resurfaced, ten years after Hepizibah Smith’s murder. It was his memory of when Voldemort showed up at Hogwarts to interview for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

It was strange to see him in that memory. He didn’t look like what we saw in the graveyard — not those awful red snake eyes, nor the shapeless face — but he was still horridly strange. He was sort of wax-like, and definitely as pale as he is now. He didn’t look anything like the Tom Riddle I’d gotten used to looking at in Dumbledore’s memory. He was well and truly Voldemort by then.

It was strange to watch him talk with Dumbledore. It seemed clear from the moment he walked in that Dumbledore had no interest in giving the position to Voldemort. And I remembered something Tom Riddle’s diary had told me — that Dumbledore had kept an “annoyingly close watch on him” after Moaning Myrtle had died, so I don’t think that Voldemort had any real expectation that Dumbledore would give him the job. And they didn’t say anything important to each other, really. They had a brief argument about magical studies, where Dumbledore said he believed that love was the greatest form of magic, and Voldemort disagreed, but suggested he be allowed to pursue his studies into powerful magic while teaching at Hogwarts. And Voldemort really wasn’t happy when Dumbledore brought up the Death Eaters who had traveled with him and were waiting for him at the Hog’s Head, but as soon as Dumbledore asked why Voldemort was really there, because it wasn’t for an interview, Voldemort just left.

When I asked Dumbledore what he thought, he said he had ideas but he wasn’t going to tell them to me until I get that memory from Slughorn. He did say though that the teaching position was definitely important to Voldemort, because it’s been cursed ever since that interview.

I thought that maybe by the time I got to the end of this letter, I’d have a better idea of how to tackle the Slughorn problem, but I still haven’t a clue.

While I wait for inspiration to strike, I’ve been following Draco Malfoy around. I know you said that you don’t think he could be hiding anything, but I overheard Snape talking to Malfoy just before Christmas. Snape knew he was up to something and was trying to get it out of him. And Ginny overheard Regulus and Snape discussing it about a week ago. All Regulus knew was that Draco was sneaking off to the seventh floor, and he was giving his mates Polyjuice Potion. I can’t figure out why.

I’ve got Potions again tomorrow afternoon so I guess I’ll, I don’t know, just try and talk to Slughorn alone at the very least, but I expect he’ll dodge me as he always does.

Hope your work is going better, though I don’t expect there to be much good news, or I’d have seen it plastered on the front page of the Prophet.

— Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

Dear Harry,

I can’t believe you waited even a day to tell me all of that! I read your letter over breakfast this morning and am hurrying to reply before I have to meet Williamson at Gringotts. Everything Dumbledore has shown you now makes perfect sense, even with what we barely know of Slughorn’s memory!

Remember a few months ago, when you mentioned that Dumbledore said it was important that Tom Riddle was a collector? He takes trophies, things that have value to him, including the locket and cup you described. You also mentioned in your latest letter that he thinks of Hogwarts as a home, and that Hogwarts is somewhere he has been desperate to explore more deeply.

Harry, isn’t it obvious? One of the objects in the memory is a Horcrux! It must be! And Voldemort must have hidden it at Hogwarts. Why else would he have returned that night if he was so certain Dumbledore would not give him the teaching post? Why return with a guard of Death Eaters unless he was carrying something valuable?

Harry, that memory from Slughorn could not possibly be more important. I’m certain that it will help you identify exactly which item Voldemort has made into a Horcrux, and perhaps even where it was hidden. If we can identify and destroy his Horcrux, we can destroy Voldemort. I’m sorry I can’t help you cajole Slughorn into divulging that memory, because I would do anything I could if it meant getting that information.

You realise that whatever it is Draco Malfoy is up to is meaningless if we can stop Voldemort?

Though, Harry, I have to tell you, I’m surprised you haven’t worked that one out, either. I think it’s obvious why Snape and Regulus Black haven’t figured it out, but you and I know very well what’s hidden away on the seventh floor, near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and Malfoy knows about it too, thanks to Marietta Edgecombe. I can’t say I’ve got any answers about the Polyjuice Potion, though.

I hope some of my insights sound like good news to you. I don’t think I have anything that’s close to good news, other than what I’ve already said. There are the usual disappearances. And Mundungus got arrested this week. Deserved it, too. He was impersonating an Inferius.

To top it off, the Ministry brought in a kid the other day for attempting to murder his grandparents. Most likely the Imperius Curse. I still remember on my first day in the Ministry, I asked Christian if he thought giant attack on the West Country was worse than Death Eaters Imperiusing members of the Muggle government. We disagreed on which was worse, but regardless, it seems like the Death Eaters find new ways to horrify me every day.

We have to stop Voldemort, and quickly. The sooner you get that memory from Slughorn, the sooner we can end this war.

I’ve got to dash off to Gringotts and go over security measures there. Hopefully Williamson won’t scold me if I’m a few minutes late for swinging by the owl post first.

Best of luck,

Cedric

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

Dear Harry,

It was lovely to hear from you on my birthday. I’m sorry it took me so long to reply to you. Regulus was kind enough to gift me a set of quills for Christmas, but I’m afraid parchment is harder to come by.

I just spent a full thirty minutes at your parents’ kitchen table listening to James dramatically recount your Quidditch match, and I’m terribly sorry about your loss. If McLaggen is even half as bad as James described, I can’t imagine he’ll be on your team for much longer. Though, from what I recall of McLaggen, I think he probably deserved your Quidditch team’s revenge. I’m surprised a girl hasn’t given him a Bat-Bogey Hex sooner.

I’m glad to hear that you and Ron are doing better. What happened to Ron is terrifying. I hope the culprit is caught soon, and whatever it was they were trying to do is thwarted. I’m sure you have your own theories on what happened to Ron, but I would trust that Dumbledore is doing everything he can to make certain that Hogwarts is safe.

I have not heard anything from Tonks, but Sirius and I have made up after our fight — though we have both agreed to give each other some space for now. We haven’t been apart for any length of time in over twenty-five years, except for this summer when we parted on less-than-pleasant terms. It’s been interesting to have this space between us since Christmas. We still see each other regularly, of course, but… well, it’s different is all. It’s not a bad different, but it’s different.

I apologise. I’m not making a lot of sense. I do hope your head feels better by now. Lingering headaches are quite a pain. (Does the pun work as well if I’m not there to see you roll your eyes?)

Thank you again for thinking of me, even when you had a lot going on yourself. It means a great deal to me. I can’t quite put it into words. Thank you, Harry.

Love, Remus

#Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince #harry potter #cedric diggory #remus lupin #hp everyone lives #hp #hp fic #hbp

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

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[tomione thing] Thanks for the recs! I actually was looking forward to the rant, I like how you break things apart so they make sense in a very unique way.( I don't have any strong feelings to the pairing if that was your concern, I just think the stories about them have the potential to be fantastic because I enjoy intelligent characters going through life and solving problems and, usually, in fanfiction there's focus on only one smart character.

So, you people are just poking me with sticks to see what ridiculous opinions spew out then. I’m onto your game.

With that said, let’s get to answering then, and know that you bring this upon yourself.

I loathe Tomione. I put up with it, sometimes, because I will read almost any fic featuring Tom Riddle as a main character. (Want the Carnivorous Muffin to read your fic? Tom Riddle as a main character. Even if I disagree with 110% of your premise I will probably still read your story.)

However, it’s extremely telling that my recs the other day were hilariously small, and one was actually Hermione/Loki. The Tomione exists, I just hate it.

This is for two main reasons. First, I just don’t believe the ship would ever work under any circumstances and the pair are naturally doomed to loathe one another. Second, fanfiction has a collection of tropes associated with Tomione that are in unbearable (likely caused unconsciously by the first, Tomione doesn’t really work, so we do terrible things to make it work).

Tomione Doesn’t Work: Change My Mind

So, remember we’re living in Muffin-land for this. I’ve explained some of my headcanons regarding these characters, and I’ll offer brief explanation for why I think what I do here, but I’m not going to expand on it too much.

Tomione has appeal under the premise that either you or someone else previously mentioned: they’re both so smart, of course they belong together.

The trouble, Hermione’s not nearly as smart as she thinks she is. What we see of Hermione’s cleverness boils down to having a very good work ethic and reading a lot of books. She tends to outsmart Ron and Harry because she actually puts in the work to do her homework and, my god, read her text books. Also, as I’ve covered before, Harry’s an idiot, so that’s a low bar.

Because Hogwarts can be passed by the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, and the curriculum seems to boil down to “pronounce this fake Latin correctly, ooh look, a spell”, actually reading her books not only gets Hermione by but skyrockets her ahead of her peers. Who, apparently, have no ear at all and don’t understand the swishy motions are important and probably never bothered to read their books.

This isn’t to say she’s stupid, she’s by far one of the more intelligent characters in the series, but it says a lot of not so good things about Hogwarts that Hermione is the “brightest witch of her generation”. In my mind she has never compared to characters like Tom Riddle, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, or Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione never questions how magic exists, why wands work, or why pronunciation is so weirdly important and why we’re using spells that are gibberish Latin instead of English or simply Latin. She never takes that step outside the box I would expect a truly intelligent person to take.

An example, Hermione completely throws out the entire discipline of divination. This is part because she believes it’s stupid, but she also only spends about two seconds thinking about it, and she doesn’t appear to be any good at it. If Hermione’s not good at it then it must be a stupid subject for stupid people.

Now, that alone doesn’t doom her, but it does put a huge chink in the major appeal of Tomione: they’re both just so brilliant that they’d be great together.

What dooms them is that Hermione both a) thinks she is as brilliant as all these other people and b) has this pervasive need to be the smartest person in any room she walks into. Hermione comes across Tom Riddle in the past or just chills with Voldemort in the future, she will inevitably try to show him up. This isn’t just to assure us that good is better than evil, but because she can’t help herself, because being the smartest is how she defines herself.

As a result, especially if we’re in the time travel/school setting, she would inevitably get in competition with him to prove she’s so much better/smarter than he is. It would undoubtedly be on her terms, probably revolving around school work, and she’d throw a fit when Tom wins because he understands the value in being concise where Hermione would quite easily write a hundred page Potions’ essay (that had a five page limit) with the subtext “PRAISE ME” written on every page.

I can’t imagine Tom Riddle would find this anything but completely obnoxious and a waste of his time.

Now, part of this goes into headcanon land, but I have always imagined, 100%, that Tom Riddle in Hogwarts was treated like a muggleborn, that he didn’t find out his ancestry until at least part of the way through, and he never confessed to being the Heir of Slytherin. I can back this up, but that’s another story for another day, I’ll just say that no matter what Dumbledore says any other backdrop makes no damn sense.

So, Tom has clawed the respect of his peers into reality with bleeding hands, he came from nothing in a way that even the ‘good’ purebloods wouldn’t have sympathy for. Even the muggleborns I imagine thought they were better than him. Tom is an impoverished orphan, so poor he has to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, he was not having a fun time at school.

Tom has ambitions, is mired in hatred, and is not really all that wrapped up in Hogwarts except to get him where he wants to go.

Now, imagine Hermione suddenly shows up in front of this Tom. Suddenly he’s being challenged to essay competitions, she probably leaves cryptic remarks all the time about how evil he is and how amazing she is because she’s not evil and smarter than he is, and if he thinks he’s smarter than her then he better find time to prove it.

It’s like talking to a Dumbledore he can never escape from.

Tom doesn’t have time for this bullshit.

Tomione not only insists that he does but that he lives for this bullshit. Forget Voldemort, Hermione making weird comments about how Tom has a mutilated soul, or that Dumbledore is so much cooler than he is, is where it’s at.

As for Hermione, ultimately, I don’t think she’d ever really be attracted to Tom Riddle because he’s too much competition. The guys we’ve seen Hermione with are all safely much dumber than she is, Hermione likes being in relationships with men she feels in some way better than. Tom Riddle is not that guy.

Add on top of this that Hermione’s righteousness would never allow her to even think about dating someone like Tom and we get her, at best, trying for the sake of destroying him (if she seduces Tom then she destroys Voldemort!) but ultimately failing.

Because the thing is, circling back to where we started, there are different kinds of intelligence, different levels of intelligence, and intelligence alone isn’t a reason to get along. Smart people might gravitate towards smart people, but they still have to have compatible personalities. Reading books isn’t magical glue that can bind people together.

No matter what way I look at it, Hermione and Tom would absolutely loathe one another in every capacity.

Hermione ends up back in time accidentally and goes to Tom with Hogwarts: utter loathing.

Hermione ends up back in time on purpose and tries to save Tom’s troubled soul or else murder the shit out of him: utter loathing with an extra dash of “what the fuck?!” on Tom’s end.

Hermione ends up back in time after Hogwarts when Tom’s a store clerk: utter loathing (Hermione walks into Tom’s shop to tell him how cool and interesting she is to enter into the typical Tomione mind games, all Tom wants is commission.)

Hermione enters into deals with devils with the horcruxes: utter loathing complete with Tom’s triumphant/Nelson laugh when he inevitably betrays her to get his own body.

A young Tom Riddle somehow winds up in the future and is forced to attend Hogwarts because Dumbledore does what he wants: utter loathing (Tom has to sit there and enjoy Harry and especially Hermione telling him how evil he is and how Hermione’s so much smarter than him because she’s muggleborn and reads books.)

Lord Voldemort takes Hermione hostage during the horcrux hunt: utter loathing (though this would be sadly less irritating to Tom than the others, I imagine, if only because Hermione would probably be more terrified and less righteous. But she’d hate him with the fire of a thousand suns and inevitably pull a horrific revenge scheme on either him or his Death Eaters. No one crosses Hermione. No one.)

You name it, I think it’s going to end with the pair hurling chairs at each other and just being completely and utterly uninterested in every capacity.

Now, onto how Tomione is typically written, which just makes it so much worse.

Tomione Fics Breed Awful: Change My Mind

Tomione, to me, is born from a few things. It’s born from the author’s desire to have an intelligent, female, borderline SI lead and to shove her together with another edgy smart person with some degree of a bad boy persona.

In this way Tomione fics are very similar to Snape/Hermione fics, are similar to Lokane from Thor/Avengers, are similar to Zutara back in the earlier seasons of Avatar the Last Airbender, etc.

As a result the fics almost invariably spiral into: “Hermione is so smart, she’s so much smarter than everyone else, she impresses Tom because she is so smart. Tom is so smart but so evil, he sexy growls at her, and confesses how much he hates love every other chapter.”

Only, as I noted above, while there are many interpretations of Tom’s character (and mine certainly doesn’t agree with the vast majority) I can’t help but think every single version would hate her.

To make him not hate her the author will often turn him into one of two Tom Riddles: Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom or Growling Sexy Sociopath Tom. Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom will often have paragraph long tangents to remind us he doesn’t compute your human emotions, “Beep boop” but despite this Hermione’s out of control hair makes him feel urges “bloop bloop”. Growling sexy sociopath Tom usually goes on a rant about how love is beneath him, backs Hermione into broom closets, and growls as he sexily makes out with her in a non-romantic manner because “ew love”.

In other words, Tom is made an unbelievably flat character. He becomes a base archetype of sexy villain character. He never really gets redeemed, even if the story insists he does, he usually doesn’t have a reason for the way he is (”um, love potions!” the author often cries), and he and Hermione always think they’re much more important than they are.

The story rarely, if ever, goes anywhere because the entire point of the story is mind games between two sixteen-year-olds who think they’re smarter than everyone else. So we get a lot of chapters of Hermione and Tom running around, being very clever to each other, but doing nothing.

Sometimes authors do deviate from this, we will have an actual plot where we’re not just in Hogwarts again or it’s not just centering on ridiculous mind games. However, even then, Tom is usually is some variant of a very flat cartoon villain while Hermione is... Well, one would think the way she’s described that she’s the smartest, best, most beautiful, most brilliant thing to ever grace this earth.

TL;DR

Tomione is not my jam.

#ask #anon #harry potter #tom riddle #hermione granger

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theprogressofspring · 6 years ago

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Why did Voldemort force Peter to move in with Snape?

Long ago, I said my next piece would be about why Peter went back to Voldemort. HOWEVER there has been some recent interest from readers regarding the subject of Snape and Peter living together, and I’m grateful for the encouragement and for the reminder! It’s been a while since I’ve added a new essay to the bunch, and I admit that this is one of the periods of Peter’s life (not to mention a plot of Voldemort’s) that I find especially fascinating.

Voldemort’s decision to place Peter at Spinner’s End likely happened immediately after the events at the Little Hangleton graveyard in Goblet of Fire: Voldemort has a body now. He no longer requires full-time care, nor would he want to remind his followers that he ever needed it—it wouldn’t do to have Peter remain by his side. Plus, all this one-on-one time and physical/magical reliance has given Peter an unusual amount of knowledge about Voldemort, and perhaps the knowledge has made Peter…overly familiar. So, Voldemort removes Peter to Spinner’s End, and likely moves back into the Riddle House in Little Hangleton by himself.*

*Between the World Cup and Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort and Peter were living at Barty Crouch Sr’s home, which has now been compromised due to Barty Jr’s arrest. Voldemort doesn’t move into Malfoy Manor until right before Deathly Hallows begins.

Therefore, Peter is out of a job. I expect that Peter—with his fancy silver hand and Voldemort’s apparent gratitude—thought that he would now take his place at the Adult Table with the rest of the still-loyal first-tier Death Eaters that showed up at Little Hangleton when Voldemort called them. But…no.

Instead, Voldemort removes Peter from the Inner Circle, where all the action is happening and the plans are being made, and places him not only in Snape’s company, but in Snape’s own house, and therefore—it could be argued—under Snape’s authority.

Snape is, admittedly, not in the most secure position among the Death Eaters and Voldemort. He’s only just reemerged after living in essentially Dumbledore’s lap for the last 15 years. But he has over a decade of information that is valuable to Voldemort, and Voldemort isn’t foolish enough to disregard that, even if he doesn’t fully trust Snape (yet).

I suspect Voldemort placed Snape and Peter together for a couple reasons:

1. to have them spy on each other;

2. to get Peter out of his hair (or lack thereof), but not out of his orbit;

3. to stir shit.

Voldemort doesn’t fully trust Snape yet—he needs to hear some of that alleged Dumbledore/Order information first—and he’s never seen Peter operating as a full-time Death Eater**; there’s plenty of reason to believe that Peter might try to make a run for it.

**Unlike some, I don’t believe Peter was a fully Marked Death Eater until after Voldemort regained a body. I don’t think he was involved with/loyal to Voldemort at all during the First War—he spilled the beans to save his own life, not out of loyalty to or love of evil.

It kills two birds with one stone to give these men the task of checking up on each other—it fosters competition, and it doesn’t require any extra manpower. Each takes care of the other.

There’s a sort of apocryphal legend about Pharoahs and their tombs. I’m not sure how true it is, but it illustrates my next point well. When a Pharoah—along with an architect—designed and built his tomb, he wanted to ensure that his was the largest, grandest, and most spectacular tomb that had ever come before or after. So, when the Pharoah died, the architect might be killed and placed in the tomb with the Pharoah. This way, the royal architect would never be able to improve upon that which he had made, and never share the secrets of the Pharoah’s tomb with anyone else.

This is the principle upon which Voldemort is working with regards to removing Peter from his side and his confidence. Peter, frankly, knows too much. He was Voldemort’s sole confidant for nearly a year.

It is EXTREMELY likely that Peter is the only Death Eater who is clearly aware that Voldemort has not only one Horcrux, but several.^ Peter likely knows how Horcruxes are made and was almost certainly there when Nagini was made into one. He has seen Voldemort at his most vulnerable as well as at his most evil. Peter has proven himself not only a competent wizard, but an extraordinary one. Not to mention a dogged survivor!

^Snape doesn’t become aware of this until Dumbledore shows up with a rotting hand and the Peverell ring between OotP and HBP.

Peter’s not worth killing, either. A man who is willing to do anything to live is a valuable tool for someone like Lord Voldemort. Peter has proven that he’s willing to do the dirty work. (Bertha Jorkins, for example.)^^

^^In this way, Peter:Voldemort::Snape:Dumbledore. It’s a delicious and compelling parallel that lends itself beautifully to this circumstance.

Besides, Voldemort created his own insurance in the form of the silver hand, which seems to be programmed to kill Peter should he show an inclination to disobey Voldemort. Regarding the circumstances of Peter’s death as a consequence of sparing Harry’s life, there’s some confusion regarding the Life Debt business, but both the text and Pottermore heavily imply (or claim outright) that Peter did indeed show Harry a moment of mercy†, and the hand turned on him and strangled him to death as punishment for that mercy.

†The canon text grants this only grudgingly—Peter himself seems surprised to have done it, which muddies the waters a bit re: the hand and its motives/purpose.

Now, to my third point:

Almost nobody would argue with the idea that Voldemort is a raging drama queen. So when I say Voldemort was absolutely stirring shit by putting Snape and Peter under the same roof, you shouldn’t find it at all surprising.

It’s not just the fact that Peter ran with the two boys that made Snape’s life a living hell for almost a decade (and contributed to that hell, I’m sure, in his own right), not to mention with the werewolf who nearly—through no fault of Remus’s own—killed Snape. By the time Goblet of Fire ends, Snape is well aware that for all of his other awful and infuriating personality traits, Sirius is indeed innocent of betraying the Potters. Which can mean only one thing:

Snape knows that Peter Pettigrew is the one responsible for Lily’s death.

Snape’s feelings for and relationship to Lily were not a secret, especially to Voldemort (since Snape asked him to spare Lily’s life) and to the people Snape went to school with—especially James, who was fixated on and jealous of Snape and Lily’s friendship. Peter would, of course, be aware. I have no doubt that Peter immediately realized the position he was being put in when Voldemort ordered him to live with Snape in Spinner’s End, and I’m sure he was quite rightly nervous.

Isn’t that a delightful little mindfuck move on Voldemort’s part? Putting Snape and Peter together in time-out is a very practical punishment. He puts Snape with his childhood tormentor and the one who got the woman he loved killed, as punishment for perceived abandonment. And naturally Voldemort would be aware that Snape would hate and resent Peter because of their shared childhood and because of Lily; so what a fitting punishment for Peter, who is a man terrified that his past will catch up to him. All because he dared to witness Voldemort at his weakest. (Voldemort is SO petty, you guys.) And it dovetails so nicely with the primary reasons for placing them together: both Snape and Peter will be on edge, each desperate to prove his own loyalties as well as extra sensitive to any flaw in his roommate’s.

But Snape can’t let on that Lily’s death bothers him, nor murder Peter and risk outing himself as disloyal to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. What Snape can do, however, is make Peter’s time in Spinner’s End unpleasant and irritating. And the chapter Spinner’s End establishes exactly that: Snape treats Peter like a servant, and—as he does to Bellatrix—likely lords his own usefulness to Voldemort (and therefore, his arguably larger worth to him) over Peter’s head in the process.

And Peter can’t fight back. He’s not an idiot—he’s the kind of guy who knows when he knows too much. As to why he puts up with Snape treating him like shit, on one hand, I’m sure Peter is aware he deserves it (and besides, it’s only a couple months until Hogwarts is back in session). On the other, it’s not going to help him one whit to go complaining to Voldemort. As Peter’s been excused from the field of duty (and would frankly be too conspicuous‡), he can’t do anything to earn a reward, and unless he has rock-hard evidence that Snape is a traitor to Voldemort, Peter knows he’s stuck where he is. Which is exactly why he puts so much effort into spying on Snape in the hopes of catching him out and taking the opportunity to restore himself in Voldemort’s good graces. (Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Voldemort suggested that was a Very Important Job and the only way for Peter to make his way back to the Adult Table.)

‡Sirius parallel!

Unfortunately, we only get a tiny glimpse into the life that Snape and Peter had made! There’s a massive well of tantalizing possibilities here regarding their interactions in Spinner’s End—how do you think it went? (I have a pet theory that they ended up tolerating each other quite well—they’re both DEEPLY lonely men with a great deal of shared history and references. I think there’s a lot about each other that they understand, which can, of course, be repulsive in this instance, but when it comes to a roommate, sometimes you also have to get on with it and cook a shared dinner and chat about the day’s events.)

I always love hearing your reactions, questions, and observations on these essays��please do keep them coming! If you like this, check out the rest of my Peter collection here.

#peter pettigrew #severus snape #Harry Potter #HP meta #meta #my meta #justice4peter2k18 #lord voldemort #i made this

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queen-swagzilla · 5 years ago

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Hermione Granger and the Pit, Chapter 28

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The next morning, Harry filled them in on his latest lesson with Dumbledore, along with his next assignment. Retrieving a memory from Slughorn—the moment he’d told young Tom Riddle about Horcruxes. Dumbledore had an inkling that Slughorn had given him some ideas for vessels to store them in.

“Well lucky for you, there’s a Slug Club dinner on Thursday.” Hermione smirked. “You can approach him after. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“No.” He barked.

“Oh come on, Harry. It’s actually quite interesting.” Hermione insisted. “We talk about our studies, and influential wizards and learn from each other.” Harry groaned. “It’s fun! Ginny, tell him it’s fun.”

Ginny paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Uh…” She thought carefully. “It…can be fun. It’s not always, but it’s about a 50/50 split. It would be better with more friends there, though.”

Hermione shot her a withering look. “Yes, that’s exactly the support I was looking for.”

“I’m sure it’s always fun for you! You’re a nerd! But then there are some shitheads who show up and I want to throttle them half the time.” Ginny replied. “The Carrows alone make me want to sharpen a spear, and don’t even get me started on McLaggen.”

“Isn’t Malfoy in the Slug Club?” Ron asked (through a mouthful of sausage). “That’s got to be terrible.”

“Malfoy is fairly decent during dinners. McLaggen is definitely the worst.” She couldn’t help the disgust that crawled up her spine. “I could honestly castrate him and feel completely unbothered.” Ginny guffawed.

“Even if you only come to one dinner, you have to come just to see what we’re talking about.” Ginny told him. “It makes you want to laugh at his incompetence and vomit at the display all at once.”

“Tempting.” He deadpanned.

There was a flash of white-blond at the doors of the Great Hall, and Hermione observed discreetly as Malfoy made his way into the hall. She was pleased to note that he looked less sallow, and the bags under his eyes had diminished. Pansy pushed a heaping plate at him, and flashed Hermione a wink so fast that if she hadn’t been looking, she’d have missed it.

She turned her attention back to her friends quickly, glad that they hadn’t noticed her observing their nemesis. Her stomach felt strange, both warm with pleasure that she had managed to get Malfoy to take care of himself, and anxious because that meant she’d have to cough up the information she’d promised. Knowing what she did, she couldn’t say she was looking forward to that.

Sure enough, he approached her in the library a week later. Pansy had warned her that he would, but that didn’t help her feel any better. “Granger.”

“Malfoy.”

“I’ve done what you asked. I’ve come to collect.”

She regarded him carefully. “So be it.” She reached into her bag, leafed through her (impeccably organized) stack of parchment carefully, until she found what she was looking for and held it out to him. “These are all the books in this library that I could think of, and on the back there’s a list of books I’ve been looking for, but you’ll have to special-order.” She relayed quietly, eyes boring holes into his. He took it from her gracefully, eyes skimming the first few lines before folding it and stowing it in his pocket.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” He replied sarcastically.

“Malfoy.” She stopped him before he turned to leave. “I’m glad you’re taking better care of yourself. My offer still stands if you need anything else.”

He squinted at her. “Noted. I’ll let you know.” He muttered finally, before sweeping away. She sighed. She wasn’t holding her breath.

The weeks passed quickly, and Hermione (for once) was struggling to stay afloat. Not much of note had happened beyond their day to day. Harry was struggling spectacularly regarding Slughorn, Ginny was still poking around Theo Nott (who was getting suspicious rather than relaxed), and between schoolwork, training, and Malfoy; Pansy and Blaise were running themselves ragged.

“I’m exhausted.” Blaise groaned, flopping onto the couch next to Marcus.

“Oh don’t be like that.” Marcus replied jovially. “Firewhiskey?” He flicked his wand at the bar cart by the kitchen. “How was your first apparation lesson?”

“Fine.” Pansy sighed. “We all managed it by the end, I think. But Justin Finch-Fletchley pirouetted into his hoop like a trained ballerina.”

Marcus snorted. Hermione smacked him on the shoulder. “Be nice. He did his best.”

“His best involved a charming rendition of Swan Lake, Hermione.” Blaise chuckled, swirling his drink.

It was a Friday night, so the four of them had decided to stay at the Pit for the evening. Everyone was in the house—Grin and Amalia on the couch beside them, Prim and Anwar in the kitchen making dinner while Lawrence talked their ears off, the rest of the boys upstairs smoking cigars, and Cal and Rhiannon were painting their nails at the dining table. The only person missing was…

“Hey, where’s Ginny?” Pansy asked. “She said she’d be here at 8.”

Hermione frowned. “Well the tattoos haven’t done anything, so she must be safe. Maybe she got caught up at school.”

“If she doesn’t show up in a half hour, we’ll reach out to see what’s up.” Grin suggested, fully reclined with her head in Amalia’s lap. Hermione nodded, unconcerned. She’d left Ginny in the Gryffindor common room because the younger girl had a study group she had to attend before joining them.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later Ginny portkeyed into the center of the common room. “Okay, so some news.”

Grin groaned. “It’s officially weekend. Weekend is for sleeping, drinking, and watching the telly.”

“Won’t take long!” Ginny brushed her off. “First of all, I got Theo Nott alone for a whole hour, and we have a study date for tomorrow. I have a good feeling about it but,” she turned to Pansy and Blaise. "I want you two on standby so that I can message you if I need advice in a pinch.”

“I knew I should have started working on two-way parchment.” Hermione muttered, shoving more popcorn in her mouth.

“Second,” Ginny continued as though Hermione hadn’t spoken. “Harry overheard Malfoy talking to Crabbe—apparently he’s been acting as Malfoy’s lookout. And he promises,” she locked her eyes on Hermione. “That he overheard them by accident.”

“He’s using Vince as his lookout? Vince wouldn’t notice if Professor McGonagall danced naked in the Great Hall.” Blaise growled. “And that means he’s decided to let someone help him. That prick. After all the shite he fed us about keeping us safe.”

“Greg and Vince don’t ask questions.” Pansy reminded him quietly.

Hermione sighed, curling into Marcus’ side. “I’ll get back after him on Monday. Find out where he’s working. Won’t be hard if Crabbe’s guarding it.”

“Somewhere he can work on a Vanishing Cabinet without being interrupted.” Blaise grumbled. “Snape would give him any of the dungeon classrooms, if he came up with a good enough cover story. But he wouldn’t need a lookout if he had permission.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Hermione assured him. But as the evening progressed, Blaise’s mood didn’t improve. Eventually, he couldn’t handle his teammates’ good cheer. Draco was his best friend, and he was going down a dark road. The fact that he was taking Crabbe and Goyle on that dark road instead of him stung more than he was willing to admit aloud.

“I’m going to bed.” He grunted, tossing back the rest of his drink before stalking up the stairs. They stared after him, Pansy and Hermione longer than the rest.

“I should talk to him.” Pansy sighed.

“No. I’ll take care of it.” Hermione replied. Pansy smiled up at her as she stood from the couch. “Goodnight everyone.” She ascended the stairs and made her way to Blaise’s room, knocking on the door when she arrived. “Blaise?”

He swung the door open and stood there, face blank. “Yes?”

“Can I come in?” She asked, getting nervous when he remained in place, face still unreadable. Finally, he stood aside so she could slip past him. “Do you want to talk about it?” She offered hesitantly, stepping closer to him and laying a hand on his arm.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He replied coldly. “Draco decided to trust Crabbe and Goyle with his death-defying mission instead of his oldest friends, even though we begged him. He made his choice.”

Her eyes softened. “He knows that you’re not on Voldemort’s side.” She reminded him. “He’s respecting your decision, and keeping you safe the only way he knows how. We’ll get him, Blaise, and we’ll figure it out together.”

“God, I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about whatever he’s doing, because it’s so dangerous that he won’t tell us about it and he wasn’t eating or sleeping. I don’t want to think about the fact that he’s using idiots like Crabbe and Goyle as backup when they can barely do basic arithmetic.” His breathing grew heavier, and he squeezed his eyes shut, backing away to perch on the bed and press his eyes into his palm.

“So don’t. Don’t think about it. Not right now, when you can’t do anything. Take your mind off it.” Hermione pressed, sitting beside him. “What you’re doing now isn’t healthy. You can’t take responsibility for his decisions. You can only help him if he wants to be helped, so all you can do is keep after him. In the meantime, do something else. Don’t—”

“Hermione.” He barked. She stopped short, words bottling in her throat. “You don’t need to fix this.”

“I’m not trying to.” She insisted. “But you’re upset. You’re my friend and teammate. Am I not supposed to make you feel better?” He was silent for a long time—long enough that she felt nervous. “Blaise?"

He turned to catch her eye. “If you’re up for it, I know a better way to take my mind off things.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, but she always did catch on quick. She blushed furiously. “Oh. Uh, sure?”

Without another word, he wound his hand through her hair and he yanked her mouth towards his. She squeaked in surprise as he lunged—intent and sure—devouring her mouth as his free hand yanked at her blouse. She cried out as he bit down hard on her lip and tugged on her hair, leading her backward to lie on the bed so that he could crawl over her. “Tell me when to stop, will you? Tell me when it’s too much.” He growled as he pushed her shirt off her shoulders, dropping his mouth to her neck to scrape his teeth across her heated skin. She moaned and bucked into him, grinding her hips into his excitedly. “Talk to me, beautiful. You’ll tell me, won’t you?”

“Yes!” She yelped as he bit down on her pulse point and ground his teeth in, squeezing her tits through her bra.

“Good girl.” He replied, moaning when she bucked against him again and fastening his mouth to hers again. She curled her fingers into his waistband, searching eagerly for the button on his slacks.

“God, why are you still wearing slacks?” She groaned, struggling with the clasp in annoyance. “You’re supposed to ditch your uniform on Friday evenings.” He chuckled, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses across her jaw and throat, hands snaking around her back to deftly flick her bra open. Instead of pulling it down her arms, he pushed it over her breasts, impatient, and fastened his teeth to a hardened nipple and bit, just on the edge of too rough. She cried out and clenched her fist on his waistband, inadvertently yanking him closer.

“Fuck, Hermione.” He snarled, soft and heated, sucking bruises onto the tops of her tits. He dropped his hand to the button on her jeans, but couldn’t find the leverage he needed. He groaned in frustration, pulling back and Hermione whined at the loss. “Sorry beautiful, just give me a moment.” He muttered, working the button open before yanking her jeans down her legs and dragging her underwear with it. She kicked them off as soon as they were past her knees, and reached up to unsnap the clasp on his trousers, pushing them past his hips. He batted her hands away, wrapped his arms under her lower back, and hoisted her further onto the bed.

“Blaise!”

“Not yet.” He shushed her. “You first.” He crawled onto the bed and lay on his belly between her legs, sucking more bruises into her thighs.

“No, but Blaise—“ She whimpered as he bit her, grasping his shoulders to push at them. “What about you?”

“Me after. You first.” He grumbled, pressing an open mouthed kiss to her slit. Her hands left his shoulders and curled into his hair. He ran his thumb through the seam of her pussy lips, parting the way for his tongue and coming to rub circles into her clit. She canted her hips up into his mouth desperately. He groaned, licking into her with more fervor, banding one arm around her waist to hold her in place.

“God Blaise,” she gasped, moaning loudly when he replaced his thumb over her clit with his mouth and sucked, slipping two fingers into her dripping pussy without warning. Her grip tightened in his hair and he groaned against her clit, relishing the way her hips stuttered as she ground into his face.

Entirely too soon, he felt her thighs quaking around his shoulders and her pussy squeezing his fingers a tighter, then her back was arching off the bed and she was humping his face and keening at the ceiling.

She didn’t fall back like the first time though. Once she came down, she dragged him up by his hair, kissing him fiercely and licking into his mouth. Then, all of a sudden, she hooked one leg over his, another over his hip, and pushed at his shoulder until he was on his back and she was straddling him. “You’ve been practicing muggle martial arts with Ginny.” He accused.

“Not as naked, but yeah.” She grinned. She leaned down, capturing his lips again. Then she trailed those kisses down to his neck and his torso, working the buttons on his shirt as she went. “I wish you’d let me take these off earlier.” She murmured, now between his legs and working his trousers the rest of the way down his legs.

“Yeah me too.” He grunted, frustrated when they got caught around his knees. “Get up.” She complied, dropping off to the side while he kicked his pants off impatiently. “Fucking finally.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back over him, groaning when her dripping pussy slid along his cock. “Fuck!”

Hermione had tensed in his arms, and for a moment he thought he’d crossed a line. Then, she braced her arms on his shoulders and repeated the motion, sliding the seam of her hot, slippery slit over his cock until the head bumped against her clit, then slid back down with a delighted whimper. “Oh my god.”

“You’re killing me, Hermione.” He groaned, thrusting up against her. She jerked as his cock hit her clit again.

“Sit up against the headboard, Blaise.” She panted. “Please, just—“

“Up.” She got up on her knees so that he could scoot up like she’d asked, crawling with him as she went. “Fuck, you’re a genius.” He muttered, grabbing her by the waist to pull her back onto his lap, trapping his cock between her folds and his stomach before pulling her forward to fasten his mouth to her neck. He wound one hand into her hair while the other squeezed her ass, guiding her thrusts and baring her neck.

She ground down on him desperately, emitting a pitchy wail when he dropped his mouth to her tits and ground up into her clit. “ That’s my dirty little lioness.” He growled around her nipple. “I love it when you’re loud for me, beautiful.”

“Blaise please, I need—“ She broke of with a sharp cry when he tugged sharply on her hair.

“What do you need, Hermione? Tell me.”

“Again!” She demanded, back arched and hips stuttering. He grinned and yanked her hair again, groaning as she undulated almost violently. They picked up a rhythm quickly—grinding into each other desperately, exchanging sloppy open mouthed kisses. Her nails dug into his shoulders or ran across his scalp, as his hands stroked and squeezed every inch of her heated skin that he could reach. Finally, they came to rest on her ass, squeezing as he pushed and pulled her across his leaking cock—pressing her has close to him as he could even as he pulled away from her mouth to leave hot, bitten bruises on her neck and shoulders.

Another orgasm crested over her and he cried out at the fresh wave of heat against his cock, thrusting up against her almost violently as he came all over his stomach.

She slumped into his hold, mouthing tired kisses into his neck as she regained her equilibrium.

“Outstanding as ever, Ms. Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor.” He panted, stroking his hand down her spine lazily. She laughed breathily, nuzzling into his chest.

“I aim to impress, Professor.”

“Mission accomplished.” He grunted, shifting them into a more comfortable position. She grumbled as he moved, but was immediately at ease when she came to rest her head on his chest, arm slung across his (sticky) stomach. “We should clean up.”

“Later. If you move now, I’ll kill you.” She threatened lazily—boneless and satisfied. They lay in silence, Blaise in a near meditative state as Hermione drifted off. He glanced at her as her breathing evened out.

“If you say we’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.” He murmured. “I trust you.” She didn’t stir, but it still made him feel better. With Hermione Granger leading the way, he could hope a little harder.

They returned to school the next morning—mostly so that Pansy and Blaise could tail Ginny as she studied with the elusive Theo Nott.

Hermione, at a lack for what to do, decided to visit Hagrid and Witherwings for a cuppa. That didn’t last long though—Hagrid seemed preoccupied, and scurried into the forest as she made her leave.

Not one to leave her mind unoccupied, Hermione turned her focus to the Malfoy problem. She sighed. 'It couldn’t have been a Hufflepuff. It had to be the most pig-headed, strong-willed ferret known to man.' She didn’t know how to get through to him. He was well rested, he was well fed, but he was not at the top of his game. Yet, he refused to ask for help from competent wizards, and refused to see reason.

Without even realizing it, she had slogged her way up six flights of stairs while valiantly trying to sort out possible approaches. She was so caught in her musings that she startled a small Hufflepuff girl who promptly dropped her scales at the sight of her. “Sorry about that.” She said, hastily bending to snatch the fallen device. “Here you go. Are you alright?” The girl squeaked and nodded hastily, before scurrying over to her friend. They eyed her warily, like she was going to explode. “Er…right. I’ll be off then.” She waved jerkily before continuing, barely sparing a thought to their strange behavior.

“I guess I could catch him in another unattended classroom.” She muttered. “Haunt him until he cracks. It would satisfy me, at least.”

“Haunt who?” Harry asked. Hermione jumped, spinning on her heel to look at Harry. She blinked owlishly, completely caught off guard. Then she examined her surroundings. She’d already made it back to the common room.

“No one. Doesn’t matter. Won’t work anyways.”

“So you’re muttering to yourself because you can’t find an answer?”

“I’m not muttering!”

“Fine then, having a rousing conversation with yourself under your breath. Better?”

“Shut it.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” Harry grinned. She scowled at him. “Want help? Or at least a second person for that conversation?”

“Depends. Are you done with your essay for Herbology?” She asked. He whined in response. “Well then. I only speak about my secret plots with people who don’t procrastinate.” She sniffed.

“And you only get hickeys from Nobel Prize Winners? Because that would narrow the list of suspects for that crime scene on your neck. Jesus, Hermione.”

She slapped her hand against her neck, covering the hickey in question and blushing furiously. “That is none of your business, Harry Potter!”

“You’re the one who taught me to be curious. You’ve only yourself to blame you know.” He scolded. “Come on, tell me! I promise I won’t make fun.”

“I’m not worried you’ll take the mickey out of me, I’m worried you’ll commit a crime in the range of manslaughter to murder.” She retorted. “Or something equally melodramatic. Like tell Ron.”

He gasped, affronted. “I would never!” He paused. “Unless it was a Slytherin.” She narrowed her eyes threateningly. “Merlin’s saggy left nut. It’s a bloody Slytherin."

“It doesn’t matter if it was a Slytherin, a Hufflepuff, or a bloody hippogriff. Whoever it was has my approval and is my choice. Therefore, no matter what house he’s in, you will accept my decision if it ever comes to light. Do I make myself clear?” Her voice had gone dangerously low. Harry could feel a cold sweat building at the nape of his neck.

“Er…yeah, Hermione. Of course it’s your choice. Just a joke, I swear. I mean, I’d be surprised, but you’ve probably got a better head on your shoulders than Dumbledore.” He backpedaled.

She cracked a grin, and Harry gaped. She was fucking with him! “Oh, am I really that scary?” She laughed. “Relax. I can’t tell you who it is because of my mission, not because of you and Ron.”

“That was mean!”

She snorted. “You’ve looked Voldemort in the eye. You can handle a practical joke, you baby.”

Read it on Ao3!

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