#SEVERUS SNAPE. (THREAD)

[slitheringghost]

“When Lily Cast Her Life As A Shield”: Analysis of the Shield Charm

Some busily burnished the aegis Athena wears in her angry moods—a fearsome thing with a surface of gold like scaly snake-skin, and the linked serpents and the Gorgon herself upon the goddess's breast—a severed head rolling its eyes (Virgil, Aeneid)

The recurring use of the word “shield”, the Shield Charm (Protego), and the Invisibility Cloak are all a reference to the Aegis, which Zeus god of lightning lent his daughter Athena in battle ("daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus"), in some variations of myth depicted as a shield or breastplate and in others a cloak; it's described as producing "a sound as from myriad roaring dragons" and often features Medusa's head whose gaze turns people to stone (like a basilisk, like Lily and Harry's killer green eyes).

JKR also predictably incorporates it in misogynistic ways to indicate "ideal" vs. "warped" motherhood - i.e. "Aunt Petunia screamed worse than ever and threw herself on top of Dudley, shielding him from Mr. Weasley", "Umbridge gave a little scream and pushed him in front of her like a shield", Narcissa in DH "her lips were an inch from his ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers", the German family LV kills "She screamed. Two young children came running into the hall. She tried to shield them with her arms.", etc.

But much more interestingly, it shows up across the narrative in several dynamics.

I. Voldemort, Harry, and Lily

The word “shield” is repeatedly used for Lily’s sacrificial magic/deflection of the Killing Curse (for elaboration on how Priori Incantatem is related to Lily’s magic, see this meta):

Voldemort had advanced on Lily Potter, told her to move aside so that he could kill Harry… how she had begged him to kill her instead, refused to stop shielding her son... and so Voldemort had murdered her too, before turning his wand on Harry (Ch 14, GoF) [...] the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died — but the shadowy figures of Voldemort’s victims did not disappear — they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze (Ch 34, GoF) “Your mother’s sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you” (Ch 37, OoTP) The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut... He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear [...] [...] and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead (Ch 17, DH) Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort’s soul was blasted apart from the whole (Ch 33, DH)

Note that in the last quote, Dumbledore doesn't say that Lily "died to save" Harry - he instead uses active phrasing, and very similar to the phrasing he uses for the death of Ariana ("It was the truth I feared. You see, I never knew which of us, in that last, horrific fight, had actually cast the curse that killed my sister.")

Despite it being James's Cloak, it's textually linked to Lily in DH, as Death's Invisibility Cloak (and Lily and Harry both implied as the “true owners”, as the conquerors of death - see my meta Unweaving Canon Lily: Master of Death) and also representative of the Aegis. Harry received Death’s Invisibility Cloak the same day he first found the Mirror of Erised - on Christmas Day - in which the text focuses on Lily (Harry’s true reflection - “his deepest nature is more like his mother’s”), and in front of which Lily’s blood magic saves Harry from death.

Christmas is also when we finally see the full memory of Lily’s murder/vanquishment of LV in DH (“he screamed with rage, a scream that mingled with the girl’s, that echoed across the dark gardens over the church bells ringing in Christmas Day”) and the Invisibility Cloak is mentioned in Lily’s letter, part of what leads Harry on the trail of the Hallows.

“Both of us could conceal ourselves well enough without the Cloak, the true magic of which, of course, is that it can be used to protect and shield others as well as its owner. I thought that, if we ever found it, it might be useful in hiding Ariana [...] (Ch 35, DH) “But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.’” (Ch 21, DH)

Lily is aegis-bearing Zeus (and the third brother, and Death himself), passing down her shield and her cloak - Death’s cloak - to her son.

Hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry cast a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort before the latter could raise his wand. Still hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry was buffeted into the entrance hall: He was searching for Voldemort and saw him across the room [...] still screaming instructions to his followers as he sent curses flying [...] Harry cast more Shield Charms, and Voldemort’s would-be victims, Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott, darted past him he saw McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort’s fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley. “Protego!” roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last. “Potter doesn’t mean that,” he said, his red eyes wide. “That isn’t how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?” “I’ve done what my mother did. They’re protected from you. Haven’t you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can’t torture them. You can’t touch them.” (Ch 36, DH)

Another allusion is when Harry finds Tom Riddle's name on the Award for Special Services shield, this quote right after the passage when Harry thinks of Riddle as "a friend he'd had when he was very small", establishing the dynamic as familial (and the shield first mentioned by Ron, right after which Harry points out T.M. Riddle must've been Muggleborn - like Lily):

Riddle's burnished gold shield was tucked away in a corner cabinet. (CoS)

Note how "burnished gold" matches the description of the Aegis in the first Aeneid quote. Shields are mentioned in relation to the founders, as LV's replacement parental figures, by Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, and LV mentioning Slytherin's shield:

Harry’s wandlight passed over shields and goblin-made helmets [...] higher and higher he raised the beam, until suddenly it found an object that made his heart skip and his hand tremble. “It’s there, it’s up there!” Ron and Hermione pointed their wands at it too, so that the little golden cup sparkled in a three-way spotlight: the cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, which had passed into the possession of Hepzibah Smith, from whom it had been stolen by Tom Riddle. (Ch 26, DH) all around them the last few objects unburned by the devouring flames were flung into the air, as the creatures of the cursed fire cast them high in celebration: cups and shields, a sparkling necklace, and an old, discolored tiara — (Ch 31, DH) “There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won’t they, Neville Longbottom?” (Ch 36, DH)

Then there’s Voldemort in the DoM battle - which is likely meant to indicate LV having a weak shield game; realistically though, he can do an excellent Shield Charm, but his conjured Shield is weak, because, well, Dumbledore was his Transfiguration teacher:

Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his stone guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed, and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gonglike note reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound... “You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?” “We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world [...] “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —” “There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort. (Ch 36, OoTP)

This conversation between Dumbledore and LV happening in tandem with the shield mention is significant, because Lily deflecting the Killing Curse landed LV in a state of suffering that the series intends us to read as "worse than death": the despair caused by the dementors (grief, trauma, abuse, isolation, imprisonment, helplessness, etc.), and LV was trapped alone in Albania in that state, in his own personal "Azkaban" - which is also the state LV inflicts on his victims, the "other way of destroying someone" (of course, a result of the horcruxes and not Lily's intent - unlike Dumbledore, merely killing LV would've satisfied her).

II. The Golden Trio

In PoA, Ron gets his willow wand - the same wand wood as Lily - and embodies Lily in the Shrieking Shack by physically shielding Harry and echoes her last words disobeying Voldemort's orders to stand aside ("Take me, kill me instead"):

Ron, however, spoke to Black. “If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us too!” he said fiercely, though the effort of standing upright was draining him of still more color, and he swayed slightly as he spoke. Something flickered in Black’s shadowed eyes. “Lie down,” he said quietly to Ron. “You will damage that leg even more.” “Did you hear me?” Ron said weakly, though he was clinging painfully to Harry to stay upright. “You’ll have to kill all three of us!” (PoA)

Hermione’s the one to teach Harry the Shield Charm while training him for the Triwizard Tournament, which Harry then teaches the whole DA (Neville, the other Chosen One, mastering the Charm faster than anyone other than Hermione), which permeates throughout the wizarding world via the Weasley twins’ Shield line (the narrative significance of this and how Hermione starts performing the part of Lily elaborated further in my meta Hermione As Teacher and Connections To Lily). Then we have the trio in DH:

“It’s all right for you two, isn’t it, with your parents safely out of the way —” “My parents are dead!” Harry bellowed. “And mine could be going the same way!” yelled Ron. “Then GO!” roared Harry. “Go back to them, pretend you’ve got over your spattergroit and Mummy’ll be able to feed you up and —” Ron made a sudden movement: Harry reacted, but before either wand was clear of its owner’s pocket, Hermione had raised her own. “Protego!” she cried, and an invisible shield expanded between her and Harry on the one side and Ron on the other; all of them were forced backward a few steps by the strength of the spell, and Harry and Ron glared from either side of the transparent barrier as though they were seeing each other clearly for the first time. Harry felt a corrosive hatred toward Ron: Something had broken between them. (DH)

We see the memory of Lily's death in the center of these two instances of the Shield Charm - and Lily echoes Hermione, throwing herself as a shield in between the two "brothers" Voldemort and Harry, with the fight between Harry and Ron echoing that dynamic, while Harry then follows in both Hermione and Lily's footsteps when it's Ron and Hermione fighting:

“You — complete — arse — Ronald — Weasley!” She punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced. “You — crawl — back — here — after — weeks — and — weeks — oh, where’s my wand?” She looked as though ready to wrestle it out of Harry’s hands and he reacted instinctively. “Protego!” The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione: The force of it knocked her backward onto the floor. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she leapt up again. “Hermione!” said Harry. “Calm —” (DH)

There's also Harry throwing himself between Sirius and Snape like Lily does in SWM, and between Ron and Ginny fighting and drawing wands on each other in HBP, and Percy "shielding Fred's body from further harm" in DH.

III. Snape, Harry, and Lily

Chapters before this, Snape saw Lily in the Mirror of Erised through Harry's memories ("His father and mother were waving at him out of an enchanted mirror"), and when Harry performs the Shield Charm, he then glimpses Lily in Snape’s memory for the first time:

He raised his wand. “One — two — three — Legilimens!” A hundred dementors were swooping toward Harry across the lake in the grounds... He screwed up his face in concentration... They were coming closer... He could see the dark holes beneath their hoods... yet he could also see Snape standing in front of him, his eyes fixed upon Harry’s face, muttering under his breath... And somehow, Snape was growing clearer, and the dementors were growing fainter... Harry raised his own wand. “Protego!” Snape staggered; his wand flew upward, away from Harry — and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his — a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner... A greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies... A girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick — (OoTP)

The wording here evokes the idea that Snape is like a patronus, driving the dementors away from Harry (a patronus described as “a kind of anti-dementor - a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor”), foreshadowing the appearance of the doe patronus in DH.

(Later in OoTP, similar wording is used for Snape as for Lily - lilies called the "white-robed apostles of hope" - "A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope" when Harry first finds the Mirror of the Erised // "He closed the door behind him with a snap, leaving Harry in a state of worse turmoil than before: Snape had been his very last hope." // “'while that enchantment survives, so do you and so does Voldemort’s one last hope for himself.'”)

“Well, Potter... that was certainly an improvement...” Panting slightly, Snape straightened the Pensieve in which he had again stored some of his thoughts before starting the lesson, almost as though checking that they were still there. “I don’t remember telling you to use a Shield Charm... but there is no doubt that it was effective...” (OoTP)

Then a paranoid Snape checks the Pensieve, where he's stored his memories of Lily, because of Harry managing to glimpse her in Snape's head.

He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively; all thought of nonverbal spells forgotten, he yelled, “Protego!” His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. [...] “There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.” The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying [...] “Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter... not even ‘the Chosen One.’” (HBP)

Chapters earlier in HBP, we were told that Lily gave "cheeky answers" to another Head of Slytherin house, and it’s right after Harry uses the Shield Charm that Harry mirrors Lily in his sarcastic answer to Snape - and right after that, Hermione points out how Harry mirrors Snape ("I thought he sounded a bit like you"). Then, Snape in the final battle:

Snape looked into her eyes. “Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist —” Professor McGonagall moved faster than Harry could have believed: Her wand slashed through the air and for a split second Harry thought that Snape must crumple, unconscious, but the swiftness of his Shield Charm was such that McGonagall was thrown off balance. (Ch 30, DH)

This is also the scene Snape uses the suit of armor implied to be the one by the door where Harry first found the Mirror of Erised, and then flies unsupported, like Lily:

[…] Harry spotted the suit of armor. "It's here - just here - yes!" They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the Cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror. There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him. (PS) From behind a suit of armor stepped Severus Snape. [...] Snape avoided them only by forcing the suit of armor in front of him, and with echoing clangs the daggers sank, one after another, into its breast — [...] Flitwick’s spell hit the suit of armor behind which Snape had taken shelter: With a clatter it came to life. Snape struggled free of the crushing arms and sent it flying back toward his attackers: Harry and Luna had to dive sideways to avoid it as it smashed into the wall and shattered. When Harry looked up again, Snape was in full flight (DH)

IV. Sirius, Bellatrix, and Harry

In the DoM battle, these three mirror each other (and Harry and Bellatrix also mirror LV):

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the female Death Eater shrieked, “Accio Proph —” Harry was just ready for her. He shouted “Protego!” before she had finished her spell, and though the glass sphere slipped to the tips of his fingers he managed to cling on to it. “Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter,” she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. (OoTP)

He made the same slashing movement with his wand that he had used on Hermione just as Harry yelled, “Protego!” Harry felt something streak across his face like a blunt knife but the force of it knocked him sideways, and he fell over Neville’s jerking legs, but the Shield Charm had stopped the worst of the spell. Dolohov raised his wand again. “Accio Proph —” Sirius hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder, and sent him flying out of the way. The prophecy had again flown to the tips of Harry’s fingers but he had managed to cling to it. Now Sirius and Dolohov were dueling, their wands flashing like swords [...] (OoTP)

“Potter, you cannot win against me!” she cried [...] He backed around the statue away from her, crouching behind the centaur’s legs, his head level with the house-elf’s. “I was and am the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant, I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete —” “Stupefy!” yelled Harry. He had edged right around to where the goblin stood beaming up at the now headless wizard and taken aim at her back as she peered around the fountain for him. She reacted so fast he barely had time to duck. “Protego!” The jet of red light, his own Stunning Spell, bounced back at him. (OoTP)

Sirius reflects Harry at the same moment Harry next performs the Shield Charm, "shielding" Harry physically with his body. Bellatrix echoes this after Sirius's death, when right after gloating about her Dark Arts lessons from Voldemort, Bellatrix doesn’t use a powerful Dark curse - she uses the Shield Charm, the spell she witnessed Harry using earlier. This mirroring also occurs in the “mad laughter”:

“Laughed,” said Stan. “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An’ when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, ’e went wiv ’em quiet as anyfink, still laughing ’is ’ead off. ’Cos ’e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?” (PoA) “Get it himself?” shrieked Bellatrix on a cackle of mad laughter. “The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?” (OoTP) Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix���s jet of red light: He was laughing at her. “Come on, you can do better than that!” he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room. The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. (OoTP) “Potter, I am going to give you one chance!” shouted Bellatrix. “Give me the prophecy — roll it out toward me now — and I may spare your life!” “Well, you’re going to have to kill me, because it’s gone!” Harry roared — and as he shouted it, pain seared across his forehead [...]And he knows!” said Harry with a mad laugh to match Bellatrix’s own. “Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it’s gone! He’s not going to be happy with you, is he?” (OoTP)

And the other instance Harry laughing madly in OoTP is when he's feeling LV's happiness at Bellatrix escaping Azkaban (and Bellatrix's scream when Sirius dies is echoed by her scream when Voldemort momentarily disappears):

Maniacal laughter was ringing in his ears... He was happier than he had been in a very long time... Jubilant, ecstatic, triumphant... A wonderful, wonderful thing had happened... “Harry? HARRY!” Someone had hit him around the face. The insane laughter was punctuated with a cry of pain. The happiness was draining out of him, but the laughter continued... He opened his eyes and as he did so, he became aware that the wild laughter was coming out of his own mouth [...] [...] “He’s really happy... really happy [...] Something good’s happened [...] Something he’s been hoping for.” (OoTP)

[dcmoniism]

@starwrittenfates, continued from here.

the wonders of firewhisky. it made people say things they would not say sober. for instance, severus had heard of confessions of all sorts made under the influence — and this time, it seemed as though he was becoming a victim of the beverage too. his eyes had been lingering on her the entire day, shamelessly. severus didn't want to tear his gaze away, not even for a split second.

instead of backtracking his words, severus actually moves closer to her. “ what? you're going to say you hadn't noticed it? ” impossible. severus himself knew he'd been far too obvious in his own advanced lately. what was there to lose? “ i said, if anyone were to kiss me, i would want that person to be you. is that a bad thing? ” the slytherin student replies and immediately questions. “ i don't expect you to feel the same way, don't worry, lils. i won't do anything. ” even if he wanted to, but he respected her, unlike some students he knew.

[tmvoldemort]

@starwrittenfates

Severus simper under Lily smile.

"You truly make me the happiess man on earth."

A thousand emotions burst out of him. He could run a mile. Jump on top of the golden fountain in the Ministry of Magic. But right at that moment he wanted to kiss her. To wrap his arms around her middle. Pulling her nearer to him. Feeling her truly in his embrace. Already burning as he was from under the touch of her hand. She scorch him through.

But Severus held frim.

No. Not yet. Not until he had her fully. Not till he place his mothers ring on her finger.

"They won't bother you now." Thinking of her future, an off hand comment, "Not when we're married. You'll see."

[lcmos]

a mini lyric starer for rita @skeeterscribbles

" don't you tell me what you think that I could be "

his voice was sharp - his eyes piercing as he looked at her. of all the places....... he had been wandering the fair when he ran into her. "i will not listen to that poison tongue of yours , skeeter." he hissed at her. "you do not know me." looking down towards the daily prophet in his hands. "i assume you are here to write some more nonsense."

[ofxscavengcrs]

❛ leave me alone. ❜ - lily luna to snape

.｡.:*☆ Severus had no idea what was going on. Like, all he had done was asking if the seat next to the woman would be free. But then, maybe it was not really anything against him. Maybe she just wanted to company. That would be something Snape could relate to very well, usually.

"Alright then, Miss," He therefore just said, assuming she was not up for any sort of conversation, either. "I am just going to find another place to sit then.

@mastcrmiind

[severass-snape]

Severus sat in his dimly lit chambers, a glass of fire whiskey in his hand. The amber liquid swirled within the glass, its warmth seeping through his fingertips as he brought it to his lips, taking a measured sip. The day had been long and filled with its usual challenges, and now it was time for him to indulge in a moment of solitude.

As he savored the rich flavors dancing on his tongue, the muffled sounds of footsteps and a distant alarm caught his attention. Severus furrowed his brow, wondering about the source of the disturbance. Setting his glass down on the small table beside him, he rose from his chair and made his way towards the door, his steps slightly unsteady from the effects of the fire whiskey.

Opening the door, Severus peered out into the corridor, his curiosity piqued. He caught a glimpse of Atropa rushing through the hallway, her determined strides betraying a sense of urgency. The sight intrigued him, his mind momentarily distracted from the contents of his glass.

Intrigued by the commotion, Severus decided to follow Atropa, letting his curiosity override his usual reserve. He navigated the hallway with careful steps, the slight swaying of his body evidence of his inebriation, though he didn't plan to make his precense known, only making sure she wasn't in any immediate danger.

@acciotherpthread

Atropa wandered the halls of Hogwarts. She didn't remember it being this maze like when she was a student. But then again she usually just followed the other Hufflepuffs. Her familiar, Lenore, crowed loudly in her cage.

"I know, I know, we are lost. You don't have to remind me." Grumbled Atropa as she walked down the hallway only to look out a window and notice she was looking at the black lake "Yes we are definitely lost. No where near the headmaster's office. Oh bother...oh oh! Excuse me!"

Atropa grabbed her suitcase and lenore's cage and ran after the man she saw round a corner.

"Excuse me!"

@severass-snape

[liv2post]

Professors and Plants

Severus Snape x Herbology!Reader Wordcount: ~2.4k Summary: You're the new replacement for Professor Sprout and one day you require someone to plant-sit for you.

Read here or on ao3

Severus was struck the first time he saw you enter the Great Hall for breakfast at the start of the new term. You were Professor Sprout’s replacement as well as her cousin, but most people wouldn’t have thought the latter due to your appearance. Your dark robes resembled his and you donned a pair of boots with yellow thread sewn into the tops of the soles. What really stood out was your hair. It was snow white, transitioning into black at the bottom third of your hair length like a gradient. Your eyes met his and held his gaze for no more than a second as you took the last available seat that happened to be at the opposite end of the head table.

Despite your dark appearance, you were perfectly amicable and polite with the other teachers, even Lockhart, but you weren’t one to ever start conversations with any of them, preferring to keep more to yourself unless someone wished to converse with you. 

The first time he talked to you was that same day before classes would start tomorrow to get a proper read on you. 

“Hello, Professor Snape,” you greeted mildly, turning away from a Sopophorous Bean plant to face him as he barely clicked the door to the greenhouse behind him.

“How do you know my name?” His eyebrows furrowed and his soft baritone voice floated through the air.

“I know your first name, too. We went to school together, but you were older. I graduated just before you took over for Professor Slughorn.”

“I see…”

“Is there something you need from me?”

“Dittany leaves. Surely, Pomona left a plant or two in your care.”

“She most definitely did. Will a standard 16 oz jar’s worth do?”

“Yes.”

You smiled softly, retrieving a mason jar and a pair of snippers, and began trimming the fuzzy green leaves of one of the tall dittany plants that sat in the corner. “Did you and Pomona have any arrangements?” you called back to him.

“Arrangements?” Snape repeated, his eyes flicking over a decorative succulent whose pot was shaped like a mushroom before looking back at you. 

“Given our positions, I imagine you and I will be supplying each other with inventory and remedies or what have you. I was just wondering if you and Pomona had any arrangements that made each other's lives easier or more efficient work-wise. Do you like your ingredients bottled a certain way? Are there certain things you find yourself running out of more often than others?”

“We didn’t have any specific protocols established. Pomona was annoyingly protective of her plants,” he stated coolly. “But…now that you mention it, my store of wormwood tends to fluctuate. The younger years can be…unapologetically wasteful.”

“Noted. I will try to remain well-stocked on wormwood. And by the way,” you screwed on the jar lid, the glass filled to the brim with leaves—not so compactly that they were squashed inside, but certainly not leaving much wiggle room either, “I’m not as crazy a plant lady as my cousin is. Minerva tells me you're quite competent at your job and it sounds like I can trust you so…if you ever need to grab something feel free to come and go through the greenhouses as you please. I just ask that if I happen to not be present to leave a note citing what you took and the quantity. Y’know, for proper record keeping ‘n all. If I know what I have then I know what I can still provide you with.”

Snape nodded lightly. “Yes… That sounds practical enough.”

“Good,” you hummed, handing him the mason jar, your fingertips just barely brushing as he took it from you. “Glad we understand each other."

______________________________________________________________

Duties aside, you and Professor Snape got along rather well. He respected your need for notes and wrote what he took crystal clear, signing them off with “S.S”. You delivered ingredients he’d sent for in a timely manner, ensuring they weren’t overly compacted or bottled improperly. He returned the courtesy when it came to any potion meant to help your plants’ growth, sometimes brewing them fresh rather than giving you a bottle that had sat on the shelf for months at a time. Sometimes he’d add a sarcastic little comment on the notes about a student or a certain DADA teacher who you’d both found to be pretentious. 

From the notes blossomed more sociable interactions. Despite being separated by multiple floors, your classes were within the same vicinity of the castle’s layout, which meant, more often than not, you’d run into him when descending down to meals as he ascended up. You’d walk with each other, and talk a little bit, whether it be about incidents in the classroom or happenings informed to the both of you from the Prophet. The conversations would continue at meals where you’d start sitting next to one another. You didn’t get to know each other beyond a collegial level until around early November when the temperature started to get colder every day and the leaves were a vibrant wash of yellow, orange, and red. Your open-door policy on your greenhouses remained the same, but you had clarified that if he ever wanted to have tea or escape the chill of the dungeons, that open-door policy extended to your warm and cozy office. One day he knocked and when you opened the door he simply stated, “It’s cold,” before you promptly held the door back further, allowing him entry. 

You’d drink tea often, sometimes while the both of you graded, passively enjoying one another’s company as you did so, sometimes sitting on the couch or chairs and having direct conversations with one another. You compared each other's schooling experience with one another, gaping at the fact that he knew so many curses and had even invented a few spells. He confessed that it was actually Lockhart’s position he wanted, not to teach potions. 

“I didn’t take you for a Hufflepuff when I first saw you,” he admitted one afternoon.

“Was there anything else to take me as, Severus? My being here was not only to satisfy the Herbology teacher role, but also to fill the Head of Hufflepuff spot.”

“Of course, just outwardly…you didn’t seem the type. And the students have joked that your creatively witty chiding ought to have landed you in Slytherin.”

You exhaled quietly. “My whole family is mostly Hufflepuff with a few Gryffindors sprinkled in, but even so I understand my general dark attire and reticence made me a bit of a black sheep amongst my peers. I can’t really disagree with you much on that second point. All I can say in my defense is that my loyalty is sharper than my tongue. If you ever need a reminder that I am indeed a Hufflepuff, know that I am always wearing this.” You rolled up the left sleeve of your dark robe to reveal a beaded bracelet around your wrist, each bead yellow with black text stamped in on the sides, spelling out “HUFFLEPUFF.”

An unexpected, incredulous smirk tugged on Severus’s lips. “You really wear that all the time?”

“Only when I’m not bathing or sleeping. My sister made it for me after we got sorted. We, unfortunately, were not placed in the same house… Don’t look at me like that!” you chuckled at the mostly feigned repulsed expression regarding your sibling's sickly sweet behavior. “I happen to like this bracelet, thank you very much!”

“Who knew under your robes was something so garishly bright,” he sneered playfully.

“You’re not as slick as you think either, Severus. Don’t think I didn’t see that Slytherin scarf beneath your cloak at the last Quidditch match,” you eyed him knowingly. He parted his lips to refute but found he had no argument and grumbled while blushing against his tea cup.

______________________________________________________________

“Pardon me, Professor Lockhart, but could I speak to you for a moment?” 

The DADA teacher replied with an “Of course, dear” as he followed you to a spot off to the side from the entrance of the Great Hall after you had finished lunch one Friday afternoon. Severus eyed the both of you as he himself was slowly exiting the Great Hall as well. He slowed his pace down significantly as he floated through the corridor so he could pick up on what you two were saying. You had never willingly started a conversation with Lockhart before.

“...going to be gone this weekend. Leaving tonight, actually…

…take care of a few plants…? I left instructions in Greenhouse 4…”

“...ourse I can! Watering a few plants should be easier than defeating a vampire or two…”

You wanted Lockhart to plant-sit for you this weekend? That actually stung him a bit. Why wouldn’t you ask him to plant-sit for you? He was perfectly capable of doing so and he knew your greenhouses like the back of his hand. Did you not actually trust him like you claimed to?

He kept silent on the matter, his expression remaining impassive as he saw you off to the midnight train in Hogsmeade that same night. 

“See you Monday, Severus,” you bid softly, lightly patting his upper arm before stepping off the platform and disappearing into the night on the train until it was no more than a dot in the distance.

Severus didn’t trust Lockhart to do what was asked of him. Not one bit. Unless it was DADA-related or stroked his ego directly, the man couldn’t be bothered to accomplish what was asked of him. He imagined the fool would pass off the task to a student. Severus unlocked Greenhouse 4 the next morning and found the instructions you had left behind for Lockhart. They were simple and bullet-pointed, detailing exactly what to do and where he could find what. All that was asked of him was to spray a batch of Alihotsy plants with a germinating solution that sat on the third shelf in the supply cabinet, rotate them out of the sun at three o’clock each day, place them back at dawn, trim the matured leaves and store them in a jar. “Eventually to be delivered to our amazing potion master,” it noted, making him smile.

Severus kept a watchful eye on Lockhart that first day. Lockhart remained in his office until lunch, and after that made a trip down to Hogsmeade, no doubt to drink and find some entertaining company. At 2:45, Snape went up to Greenhouse 4 and confirmed that nothing had been moved from when he entered there this morning, the germinating solution still sitting in the exact same spot. He sprayed them all heartily and shifted the plants to a shelf away from the sun’s sight. A few leaves had matured so he gingerly snipped them from the stem and placed them in a standard mason jar. He also noticed several snails trying to sneak their way into some Potted Mandrake and disposed of them as well as repaired some worn netting protecting the Shrivelfig that was meant to keep out aphids.

He came by Sunday morning and treated the Alihotsy the same, making sure to place them in the sun at dawn so they had absorbed plenty of light by mid-afternoon. Once again, Lockhart hadn’t even bothered. 

______________________________________________________________

You returned Monday morning while everyone was at breakfast. Upon stepping into Greenhouse 4, you sighed in relief when it looked as though your plants had indeed been taken care of in your absence. You smiled pleasantly when you noticed some protective netting had been repaired, a task you planned on getting to when you had returned, but your smile broadened even more when you noticed a muddy boot print on the ground, one that did not at all belong to Professor Lockhart.

“Thank you for taking care of the Alihotsy this weekend,” you said to Lockhart who happened to be passing by the door that led down to the kitchen as you had come back from retrieving a snack that would substitute breakfast.

“Huh? Oh!” The man quickly recovered. The look of confusion lasted not even a second before plastering on a smile. “Yes, it was nothing! You can always count on me, Y/N!” he winked. You nodded once, drifting away from the man in favor of walking alongside the potion master who was breezing by in the same corridor.

“Hi,” you greeted. 

“Welcome back,” he replied, hiding his delight at your return. 

“Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Not particularly, though I was tempted to push Lockhart down a flight of stairs multiple times.” 

“Aren’t we all,” you laughed.

He walked with you all the way back to your office, select words hanging on the tip of his tongue until finally, he couldn’t hold them back anymore as you pushed on the handle of the door.

“Lockhart didn’t take care of your plants,” Severus blurted. 

“Oh?” Your hand slipped from the handle to face him with feigned curiosity.

“I didn’t trust him and…was proven correct when he ignored the task and instead spent his time in Hogsmeade, so I took care of them,” he explained carefully.

You smiled sweetly at him, lacing your fingers together in front of you. “I know, Severus.”

His breath caught in his throat. “You do?”

“Mhm. Truthfully it wouldn't have been the end of the world had those plants gone a couple of days without treatment, but I wanted to see what Lockhart would do and how he’d react to receiving false praise. I can’t say I’m surprised by the results, really. He’s as phony as ever.”

The potion master smirked. “Quite.”

You took a small step forward, stood on your tippy toes, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, making him flush pink when you pulled back and looked at him with twinkling eyes. “Thank you for taking care of my plants, Severus,” you murmured, affectionately squeezing his shoulders, before slipping inside of your office. Severus stood frozen in shock, his heart drumming in his chest before he managed to stop his brain from short-circuiting further. Without warning, he entered your office as well—you did have an open door policy after all—where he received another kiss. And another. And another…

He should plant-sit for you more often.

[ruinofchimera]

Please tell us more about Voldemort's relationship with Severus, and why you think it differs so much from Voldemort's other relationships

Whatever it is that lingers between Tom and Severus—power, manipulation, some dark bond none of us can fully grasp—it naturally ignites chaos in the mind of the beholders. And if you’re eager to feel that burn, I’ll gladly embrace you in it. To you brave, reckless souls, I say this: your wish is my command.

So, here we are, picking apart how Severus Snape—mudblood, poor, and bruised from the heavy hand of a Muggle father—managed to land himself a spot at the table with the most rabid pack of blood purists you’ve ever seen. A table, mind you, he had no business sitting at. The Death Eaters, that tight little clique of privileged purebloods, had no real reason to let in this scruffy little outsider. Sure, Snape was useful. Very useful. His skills were sharp as knives, and he could do their dirty work, get his hands filthy so they didn’t have to. But useful doesn’t mean welcome. Useful doesn’t mean accepted. You know who else was useful? Fenrir Greyback and his mangy lot. They brought terror to the doorsteps of half the wizarding world, and did Voldemort’s cause no small service. But did they get a place at the inner circle? Did they get respect? Hell no. They were the dirt beneath the boots of the real Death Eaters. Useful filth. And then there’s Snape, embodying everything these purists claim to despise—a half-blood with a tainted surname, living in squalor, dragged through the muck by a Muggle brute of a father. By all accounts, Death Eaters should have spat in his face and tossed him out like yesterday’s rubbish. But no. Not only does he get a seat at the table, he rises. He’s placed on a pedestal, standing closer to Voldemort than some of the most loyal, purest-blooded lackeys in the room. Voldemort, in all his cold-blooded glory, didn’t just tolerate Severus. He raised him up, right in front of their sneering, offended faces. Now, here’s where it gets really interesting. If you think Voldemort did this out of some sense of gratitude, you’ve missed the point entirely. Tom Riddle doesn’t do gratitude. That kind of sentiment is beneath him, an alien concept. Voldemort doesn’t reward; he uses. Deeds done in his name are expected, not appreciated. You’re not going to get a pat on the back from a man who thinks the world owes him its loyalty. Snape’s service should’ve earned him nothing more than a brief reprieve from pain. A loosening of the noose around his neck, if he was lucky. That’s Voldemort’s way—keep them all desperate, keep them all afraid. So why did Snape, of all people, get raised up? Why did he, the least likely among them, become a favorite?

Mind, it’s not just me declaring Snape as Voldemort’s favorite. That dark, twisted bond is laced into nearly every interaction between the two, as if something unspoken and festering passes between them. But it’s Narcissa Malfoy who lays it bare. A woman born into the highest echelons of pure-blood privilege, the very foundation on which Voldemort’s so-called supremacy stands, doesn’t hesitate when she calls him “the Dark Lord’s favorite, his most trusted advisor.” Let that sink in.

Here is the wife of Lucius Malfoy, a man whose lineage is steeped in the darkest of traditions. But when her family’s future is on the edge of a wand, when her son’s life dangles by a thread, she doesn’t rely on Lucius, doesn’t turn to Bellatrix. No, she comes to Severus, because deep down, she knows. They all do.

It’s something more insidious, something that slips through the cracks in the floorboards of Voldemort’s ideology. He is the one Voldemort trusts, the one Voldemort leans on, the one whose counsel can shift the dark winds of fate. That is real power, raw and untouchable. Narcissa sees it—how could she not? Even with all her aristocratic pride, even with the weight of her name and her family’s legacy pressing down on her, she understands that none of it means a damn thing next to what Snape has. Narcissa, with her family’s long, proud heritage, has to grovel before someone who, by the very logic of Voldemort’s cause, should be inferior. But Snape is different, and everyone knows it. They may not say it, they may not even want to admit it, but they know. He operates outside the lines, above the fray, immune to the very rules that were meant to keep people like him down. Snape, the half-blood, the one with the muddied past, holds a kind of sway that no one else in Voldemort’s ranks can claim.

Oh, there comes the bitter irony of Peter Pettigrew. After years of scraping and groveling, thinking he’d earned his place in the Dark Lord’s favor, Peter is handed over like a rag for Severus to wring out. Peter, one of the smug Marauders who’d gleefully hounded Snape through school, reduced now to something just shy of a house-elf, bowing and cringing under Snape’s very roof. A cruel twist of fate, no doubt arranged with Voldemort’s signature malevolence. Was this some attempt to plant a spy in Snape's house? Maybe, if you take it at face value. But think for a moment—Voldemort, who couldn’t pry Snape's treachery from his skull with all the power of Legilimency, putting his trust in Wormtail to do the job? The rat that couldn't outsmart a dormitory prank, never mind a master of deception like Severus?

No, this isn’t espionage; this is karma. Cruel, twisted karma orchestrated by the Dark Lord himself. You can almost picture Severus watching Peter scuttle about his house, casting him those withering, superior glances—knowing full well that Tom has given him this indulgence, this little taste of vengeance. Snape treats Wormtail with open contempt, because he knows he can. He knows it’s allowed, expected even. It’s as if the tables have turned in the most bitter of ways, a humiliating reversal of fortune. Pettigrew, who once revelled in Snape’s humiliation, now reduced to the lowest of roles, while Snape—Voldemort’s golden boy—sits at the top. Isn’t it delicious? You’d have to be blind to chalk it up to coincidence. Moreover, Pettigrew’s fate is all the proof you’ll ever need that Voldemort’s rule isn’t founded on something as simple or sentimental as loyalty. Loyalty? Sacrifice? Please. Pettigrew’s life was one long, groveling act of desperation to stay in the Dark Lord’s good graces. You bring your master back from the brink of death itself, and still, all you get is contempt. Voldemort demands service, sure. But service? Guarantees nothing. And when you set Severus and Peter side by side, the question gnaws at you. Why? Why is Snape the favored one, the exception, the enigma in Voldemort’s otherwise brutal, predictable hierarchy? What makes him different? There’s something between them—something that doesn’t follow the usual logic of power and punishment. Voldemort doesn’t just tolerate Snape’s defiance; he rewards it, bends the system to accommodate it. Something unspoken, something hidden behind the masks they both wear, grants Snape a level of favor that Pettigrew could only dream of.

What’s crucial to grasp here is that Voldemort doesn’t spare anyone. His entire ideology is rooted in cruelty, in domination, in the ruthless obliteration of all who oppose him. He doesn’t just eliminate enemies; he obliterates them, wipes them from existence without a second thought. And yet, here’s the anomaly: Lily Evans, mother of Harry Potter, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and a Muggle-born witch, is offered a chance to live. Live. This decision, however, is directly tied to Snape. Snape had begged Voldemort to spare her, and it is this plea—Snape’s plea—that softens the Dark Lord’s otherwise unyielding cruelty.

To truly grasp the enormity of this act, we need to take a step back and consider Snape’s position in all of this. Remember, Severus was just 21 years old when he found himself pleading with Voldemort, one of the most dangerous dark wizard in history, to spare Lily Evans.

Snape wasn’t the imposing, confident figure we often associate with him thanks to Alan Rickman’s performance—he wasn’t a man exuding quiet menace, seemingly capable of standing toe-to-toe with Voldemort. No, at this point in canon, he was barely more than a boy, a young man fresh out of Hogwarts, with no powerful lineage or wealth to protect him.

And yet, despite this—despite the sheer imbalance of power between them—Snape dared to approach Voldemort. Voldemort. With a plea. Not for himself, but for a Muggle-born witch. At best, Snape’s request might have been laughed off, dismissed as the desperate wish of a foolish young Death Eater. But it wasn’t. For some reason, Voldemort didn’t just tolerate Snape’s plea—he actually acted on it.

Consider how critical this moment was to Voldemort’s larger agenda. At the heart of his entire scheme is a singular, consuming fixation: the annihilation of the child prophesied to be his undoing. Harry Potter is Voldemort’s obsession, the one threat he must eliminate to secure his dominion. The Potters were no longer just enemies—they were the key to his future, and Harry was the focus of his most crucial mission. In this context, sparing anyone even remotely connected to Harry was an extraordinary risk. Leniency wasn’t just unnecessary—it was dangerous. By showing mercy to Lily, Voldemort risked undermining his own carefully constructed agenda. And this wasn’t a moment where Voldemort could afford to make mistakes.

This unprecedented act of “mercy,” this concession Voldemort granted Snape, became the very thing that led to his downfall. Had Voldemort simply killed Lily Evans on the spot, as he did James, she would never have had the chance to sacrifice herself for Harry. The protection her sacrifice invoked—the ancient magic that saved Harry’s life and turned Voldemort’s killing curse back on him—would never have existed. Voldemort, the cold strategist, fell because he didn’t bend for anyone—except, inexplicably, for Snape. And that single, dangerous deviation cost him everything. That’s how it’s all started.

And there it is— how it’s all ends. Voldemort’s final words to Severus Snape before he executes him. But pay attention to how he begins. “Clever man,” he calls him. He suggests that Snape might’ve already known the truth of the Elder Wand’s treachery. Tom would never acknowledge someone’s cleverness if it undermined his own intellectual abilities. If he implies that Snape may have already unraveled the mystery of the Elder Wand, it undoubtedly indicates that Voldemort had recognized Snape’s crucial role in the wand’s problems long before. It’s not just idle chatter or casual flattery. No, it’s a bloody confirmation that Voldemort himself had long ago pieced together the mystery of Snape’s involvement with the wand. This wasn’t some last-minute realization that forced his hand. It wasn’t ignorance that delayed Snape’s death, not at all. It was deliberation. Voldemort, for all his cruelty, wasn’t stupid. He suspected, long before that moment, that Snape was at the center of the problem with the wand’s loyalty. He just chose not to act on it until the very last moment.

He held back from executing him, searching for any other way around the wand’s limitations, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve killing Snape. But when it came down to it, when all other options were exhausted, Voldemort finally made his move.

And what does he do? He delivers a speech. A bloody speech, full of regret and excuses—“I regret what must happen.” Does that sound like the Voldemort we know? The Dark Lord who kills without a second thought, who carves his empire from the bones of the disobedient? Hell no. This is the man who thrives on fear, on swift, brutal punishment. And yet, here he is, delivering justifications like some guilty executioner. This isn’t Voldemort’s usual method. This isn’t the whip coming down fast and hard. This is something altogether more… hesitant.

That speech, soaked in rationalizations, tells us everything we need to know. Snape’s death wasn’t just business—it was personal. It’s a messy, ugly end to the unexplainable dynamic between them. Even at the very end, Voldemort is bending, twisting, trying to justify his actions to the one man who had managed to worm his way under his skin. And in that second, we see something rare—a glimpse of the complexity in their relationship. Voldemort’s usual ruthless efficiency is absent.

His “I regret it,” spoken once more, stands out like a blade in the gut, sharp and unexpected, slicing straight through Voldemort’s usual cold indifference. The Dark Lord, who has never spared a thought for the wreckage in his wake, lets these words hang in the air, unnatural as they are. A man who’s never known the weight of remorse now offers something that almost feels like regret. Not true regret, of course—Voldemort doesn’t have the luxury of feeling something so weak, so human. But still, It’s not a sentiment he offers to anyone else. It’s almost as if Voldemort doesn’t know how to process this lingering attachment, as though Snape’s mere existence demands something from him that Voldemort is incapable of giving. Snape occupies some strange corner of Voldemort’s mind, twisted and dark it may be, that not even the Dark Lord himself seems to understand. Despite the fact that I’ve painted a whole canvas of tangled thoughts on the strange relationship between Severus and Tom, I’ve barely begun to tug at the thread of their inexplicable dynamic. There’s so much more I could unearth, layers of intrigue and tension that ripple through every scene between them, and I could easily go on for hours about the small, delicious details woven into their story. But, as it happens, my full-time job is already sharpening its knife and aiming for my back, so I'll have to bring this whole saga to a close with the following quote:

For me, the intensity of this scene speaks volumes about their relationship, capturing the very essence of what makes these two so bloody fascinating. The way their gaze alone can make Death Eaters flinch under the weight of their unspoken understanding. It’s not fear, not exactly. It’s something colder, something deeper. As though they’re witnessing a bond forged in the dark, a grim understanding that none of them can ever be a part of.

That’s what keeps dragging me back to these two. The tension, the labyrinth of contradictions, the complex tangle of manipulation. I want to look away—hell, I should look away, just like the Death Eaters did. But there’s something about it, something that coils around me, tightening like a serpent’s embrace. Can you blame me?

[ms-snape]

Hi, i see that request are open.

What if Severus survived the war but didn't tell anyone. He moved far away, to another country (maybe Italy). But at home, his wife was waiting for him and she was his biggest support during the war. She refused to believe he is dead. And a few years later she would find out by accident when she bumped into him on the street hand in hand with someone else. Lots of angst. I mean….. lots of angst. 🙂

Title: Moving On

Request: Finally a request I've been waiting for one for like days.... REQUESTS ARE OPENED

Summary: I don't think I can give a better summary than the request so...

Warning: angst.... sad ending...

Word Count: 2305

Masterlist

---

In the heart of Italy, where the sun-drenched landscapes mingled with the whisper of ancient cobblestone streets, YN felt a certain heaviness. It was a weight she carried not just in her suitcase, filled with clothes and hopes for a brighter future, but in her heart, where the memory of Severus Snape lingered like a ghost. The world believed him dead, a casualty of a war that had torn apart the very fabric of their lives, but YN had never accepted that finality. She could not bring herself to mourn him as everyone else had; instead, she clung to the thread of hope that wove through her despair.

YN had been broken when the news of his death reached her—a jagged dagger that pierced her soul and left her hollow. The days that followed were a blur of grief and longing. She had wandered through her life like a specter, lost in the memories of their time together, each moment spent with Severus replaying in her mind like a shattered record. She remembered his quiet intensity, the way his dark eyes would soften when he looked at her, the sound of his voice as he spoke of potions and spells, of love and loss. It was as if he had taken a part of her with him when he vanished from the world.

Ella, her best friend, had insisted on this trip—an attempt to pull YN from the depths of her sorrow. They ventured to the quaint coastal town of Positano, with its colorful cliffside houses and azure waters, where laughter echoed around them like a distant memory. But even in the midst of beauty, YN felt numb. The sun could not warm the chill that resided in her heart. Every breathtaking view of the Italian coast felt tainted by the absence of the one person she could not forget.

As Ella tried to engage YN in conversation, pointing out the charm of the local markets and the deliciousness of the gelato, YN’s mind drifted elsewhere. She found herself staring out at the sea, imagining it was Severus standing there, his silhouette framed against the horizon, waiting for her to join him. The thought was both comforting and torturous, a bittersweet reminder of love that once was.

“YN, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Ella said one evening as they sat on a balcony overlooking the sunset. “You need to let him go. It’s been years.He's gone and you need to accept it”

But how could she? How could she dismiss the love they had shared, the promises whispered in the dark? Each time YN closed her eyes, she could see Severus—his furrowed brow, the way his lips curled into a half-smile when she teased him. The memories were too vivid, too real. They were the only thing that anchored her to the world, the only thing that kept the shadows at bay.

The days passed, and YN felt the ache in her heart deepen. She wandered through the streets of Positano, searching for something she could not name. Perhaps it was closure, or maybe just a sign that Severus was still alive. She explored the narrow alleys, the vibrant shops, and the azure beaches, all while carrying the weight of her unyielding hope.

Then, on a seemingly ordinary afternoon, everything changed. YN had taken to wandering alone, her heart heavy with the memories that haunted her. She meandered through the bustling market square, the colors and sounds swirling around her like a kaleidoscope of life. She paused by a stall selling handmade jewelry, absentmindedly running her fingers over the delicate pieces. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over everything, and for a moment, she allowed herself to breathe.

But then, as she turned to leave the stall, she collided with someone. The force of the impact sent her stumbling back, and she looked up, ready to apologize to the stranger. But then time seemed to freeze. There, standing before her, was Severus Snape—alive, breathing, and somehow more real than the memories she had clung to for so long.

Her heart raced, a wild tempest of disbelief and hope. But as her eyes traveled down to his hand, the world shattered around her. He was holding the hand of another woman—a stunning brunette with an easy smile and laughter that danced in the air between them. YN felt her heart plummet, the fragile thread of hope she had carried for years snapping in an instant.

Severus looked at her, confusion etched across his features. The moment stretched, the bustling market fading into silence. YN’s breath hitched in her throat, a mix of joy and agony tearing her apart. She wanted to rush into his arms, to feel his warmth envelop her again, but the sight of the other woman kept her rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the pain of betrayal.

“Severus?” The word slipped from her lips like a prayer, a desperate plea for him to explain, to make sense of the scene before her.

The smile faded from his face, replaced by a flicker of guilt. “YN… I—”

But she couldn’t hear him. The world felt as if it were collapsing around her. She had spent years believing he was dead, clinging to the hope that he would one day return to her, and now here he was, a living ghost of her past, with another woman at his side. The anger bubbled within her, mingling with the heartbreak that consumed her.

“Is this why you never came back?” YN’s voice trembled, laced with a hurt that cut deeper than any spell. “You were alive all this time and didn't even come back to me, you wife? Did you choose to leave me behind?”

Severus’s eyes darkened with regret, but YN couldn’t bear to see it. The anguish she felt was all-consuming, a tidal wave of emotions crashing against the fragile dam she had built around her heart. “I waited for you, Severus. I never stopped believing you were out there, that you would come back to me. And now… this?”

“YN, please, it’s not what you think,” he said, stepping toward her, but she recoiled, the distance between them stretching like an unbridgeable chasm.

“Not what I think?” The bitterness in her voice cut through the air, sharp and biting. “You were supposed to be dead! I mourned you! I grieved for the life we could have had, for the love we shared. And now you’re here, holding her hand like I never existed?”

The woman beside him looked between them, confusion evident in her eyes, but YN couldn’t spare her a glance. Her world had narrowed to just Severus, the man she had loved with every fiber of her being, the man who had shattered her heart without a word.

“YN, I had my reasons—”

“Reasons?” She interrupted, her anger boiling over. “Was it worth it? Was it worth leaving me in the dark while you built a new life without me? I thought you loved me.”

“I did love you!” Severus’s voice rose, desperation lacing his words. “And I never stopped loving you or thinking about you, but I had to survive. The war… it changed everything. I thought you were safe, that you could move on without me.”

“Move on?” YN’s laugh was hollow, devoid of humor. “You think I could just forget? You think I could just pretend that you didn’t mean the world to me? You left me with nothing but the ghosts of what we could have been, and now you stand here, alive, with someone else?”

The bitterness spilled from her lips, a torrent of pain that had been building for years. She felt raw and exposed, like a wound that had never healed, and now it was laid bare for him to see. The anguish in her heart felt like a physical weight, pressing down on her chest, suffocating her.

Severus’s expression twisted with regret, his dark eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought you’d be better off without me. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” YN’s voice cracked, the pain evident in every syllable. “You didn’t protect me; you abandoned me. I was left to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart while you… you moved on.You found someone else...”

The silence that followed was deafening. Around them, the world continued to buzz with life—laughter, music, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore—but for YN, everything had come to a standstill. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice, staring down into an abyss of despair.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the noise. “I thought I had lost you forever.”

“And I thought you moved on,” Severus replied, his voice heavy with regret. “I never meant for this to happen.”

“But it did happen, Severus.” The tears she had held back for so long began to spill over, a torrent of grief and rage. “You’re here, with.... her, while I was left to drown in my sorrow. You can’t just waltz back into my life and expect me to forget the pain you caused.”

Severus’s expression faltered, a mixture of guilt and longing etched across his features. The woman beside him shifted uncomfortably, the weight of the moment pressing down on them. YN felt the heat of anger mixing with the chill of betrayal, a volatile concoction that threatened to consume her.

“I can’t change the past,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “But please, YN, don’t push me away. I still care for you. I always have.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises and memories that felt like a lifetime ago. YN looked at him, at the man she had loved fiercely, and felt the ache in her heart deepen. She wanted to believe him, to reach out and bridge the gap that had grown between them. But the reality was too painful, too raw.

“And what about her?” YN’s voice trembled, the bitterness creeping back in. “What am I supposed to do with that? You’ve built a life without me, Severus. It feels impossible to reconcile that with the love we once shared.”

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” he said, anguish etched in every line of his face. “I was lost, and I thought I was doing what was best for you and me.”

YN shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You think abandoning me was what was best? You think I wanted to live in a world where you weren’t there? I was lost too, Severus. I was lost without you.We made a vow, we promised to laways be there for each other, but apparently it meant nothing to you”

The hurt between them was palpable, a chasm that felt insurmountable. YN’s heart ached with the weight of memories that threatened to drown her. She wanted to scream, to rage against the universe that had torn them apart, but all she could do was stand there, feeling the walls close in around her.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the cobblestones, YN felt the flicker of hope extinguish. The world around her was beautiful, but in that moment, it felt like a cruel joke. She had come to Italy seeking solace, but instead, she found herself face-to-face with the man who had become both her salvation and her tormentor.

“I can’t do this,” YN whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t pretend that everything’s okay when it’s not. I loved you more than anything, but I have to let you go. I have to move on, even if it breaks me... I wish you a really happy life... perhaps better than the one you once had with me....”

With that, she turned away, an instinctive reaction to shield herself from the pain. She couldn’t bear to see him with her, the woman who had become the embodiment of all her fears. It felt like a betrayal—a cruel twist of fate that had stolen her love and replaced it with a bitter reminder of what she had lost.

As she walked away, the tears streamed down her face, each step feeling heavier than the last. The streets of Positano, once vibrant and full of life, felt suffocating, closing in around her as she retreated from the scene that had shattered her world anew.

Behind her, Severus called her name, desperation lacing his voice, but YN didn’t look back. She couldn’t. She had given him everything, only to be left with nothing but the echoes of what once was. The colors of Italy faded into a blur, and as she walked away from the man she had loved, she felt the weight of her heart breaking all over again.

As she reached the edge of the market, the sounds of laughter and joy faded away, replaced by the haunting silence that had become her constant companion. YN had come to Italy to escape her pain, to find a semblance of peace, but instead, she was reminded of the love she had lost and the life that would never be.

In that moment, as she stood alone in a foreign land, she realized that some shadows lingered long after the light had faded. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world into darkness, YN felt the weight of her despair settle heavily upon her shoulders, an unshakeable burden that would follow her wherever she went. She was lost, and the echoes of Severus Snape would forever haunt her heart, a bittersweet reminder of a love that had been both her greatest joy and her deepest sorrow.

[imagines--galore]

||Masterlist||

Please read rules before sending requests.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED FOR THE MOMENT.

(Always Uploading new Fics)

Avatar The Last Airbender

Pairing: Zuko x Orora

The Thread of Fate - Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

It Was Nothing

Theatrics

I’m Here Beside You

Big Hero 6

Pairing: Tadashi Hamada x Sakura Kamiya

Light 'em Up -  Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, 

Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson

Mind Over Matter - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen,

(Companion piece to Mind Over Matter)

A Slight Frustration

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Hold Me Closer

First Kiss

Don’t Go!

Crossover - Frozen x Rise of the Guardians

Pairing: Jack Frost x Elsa (Jelsa)

One Step Closer - Part One, Part Two (InProgress)

Digimon

Pairing: Taichi Yagami x Hidemi Senshi

The Next Adventure

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Pairing: Alphonse Elric x Willow Hawkeye(OC)

The Ties That Bind - Prologue, Part One,

Pairing: Edward Elric x Reader

Homecoming

The Language of Flowers

Pairing: Roy Mustang x Reader

I Will Always Choose You

Harry Potter

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Reluctant Friendship

Justice League DC Universe

Pairing: Superman x Lucky Penny aka Clark Kent x Penelope Pennyworth

Lucky Break

Pairing: Superman aka Clark Kent x Reader

Part One - Convince Me, Part Two - I’m Convinced

Wedding Drama

Pairing: (Platonic) Superman aka Clark Kent x 12-year-old reader

A New Life

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Rachel

Kiss It Away

Stolen Kisses, Stolen Moments - Part One, Part Two

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Confessions

Last Night

Empowering

Distraction

Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Clea

Love, A Kind of Magic - Part One, Part Two

Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Reader

Bleeding Love - Part One & Part Two

Perfection

A Surprising Twist

Sleep Deprived

What the Wife Says Goes

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Nothing But a Burden

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A Pact Renewed

Because You’re Mine

Not a Waste of Space

Just Hold Me

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Never Leave Me

Pirates of the Caribbean

Pairing: Will Turner x Reader

My Heart Calls Your Name

Tavern Brawls

Rise of the Guardians

Pairing: Jack Frost x Evening Star aka The Blue Fairy

Two Spirits Meet - Wishing on a Snowflake I,

Sherlock (BBC)

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Serendipity

The Consulting Detective and the Serial Killer

His Love for Her

Your Hand in Mine

Drunken Comfort

Its All Been Arranged

An Unconventional Love Story (Victorian Era AU)

Star Trek(2009)

Pairing: Spock x Kealoha

The Roommate Experiment - Prologue, Part One

Pairing: Spock x Reader

The Little Green Monster

Chasing Away The Darkness

Here For You (InProgress)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Pairing: Leonardo x Amal

Heaven’s Light

A Comforting Embrace

The Amazing Spiderman

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A Nonverbal Confession

Falling For Him

Heal Together

Drunk on Pheromones

Take All The Time You Need

Falling for the Enemy

The Chronicles of Narnia

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader

An Unexpected Turn

We Face It Together

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Reader

The King and the Commoner

The Hobbit

Creepy Crawlies (No Pairing)

Pairing: Kili x Reader

You Are Safe

The Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Legolas x Annúneth

Love Happens

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

We Meet Again A Confession Years In The Making

My Prayer, My Light, My Fëa

A Little Introduction to Rock Music

A Promise

Written In The Stars

Treasure Planet

Pairing: Jim Hawkins x Reader

A Little Competition Goes a Long Way

[happypotato48]

Century of Love EP 1 Unhinged Tangent Thoughts

Well well well what we do have here, a BL about a homopobic century old granddwink and his long quest to find the reincarnation of the woman he lost. but too bad for him cause the heaven is a genre savvy BL writer and they know what's up. they says "you know what this bitch just ate our magic rock, let's fuck with him for a little bit and make this shit gay. it's better that way baby!"

History time, welp didn't want to start with this but here. tldr during this period it's very much sucked to be non central thai person and it's also extra sucked to be a chinese or indian person during this time. i never hear first hand account from my grandparents because they both passed before i was born, but the long lasting effect of it still very much present in my mom.

He's so beautiful and without the bad wig too, i'm so happy.

I will support heterosexuality this one time and one time only cause i liked the way this lady girl bossed her way through those pigs.

Magic gay rock! and thank you show for letting Daou take his shirt off this early.

Ok i'm not that emotional invested cause we just got here but damn, Daou is very good in this scene.

Severus motherfucking snape! ya'll can call me backy with the good ears cause just from this one line i instantly recognized him as a prolific voice actor whose dubbed a lot of C-dramas/movies and many hollywood movies without googling him. and yeah the first role of his that came up for me was snape lol

I love this family already.

He's cute and a ซินแส too. this is a kind of boy that i can take to show off to my chinese side of the family and they would be all over him.

You leave my future husband alone old man! he just a cute little candid man.

this dorky family is everything 😭

literal red herring.

Perfection 🤞

Ok show stop it this is too cute. god i love red thread of fate in my romance!

Awwww he so cute! nobody can resit this smile. mark my word this smile will be the dead of that old man.

Ok plz don't have another kinky sex in the supermarket cause that is nasty and i'm pretty sure a health code violation.

👀 i'm looking respectfully

Someone better BE!

ok that was a cute first ep. grumpy old man in denial vs the cutest sunshine that ever live, i'm seated. this show is more camp than initially what i thought it was going to be but hey it seems fun so i'm not complaining.

[xsinistraxlowex]

Sinistra knew how to make an appearance and play a role. Skills developed over the years, especially when it came to book signings and radio shows. It was giving the audience what they wanted, when deep down she would rather prefer to show them the world that would best suit the wizarding one.

Stood amongst her, a traitor, and part of her wished to remind him of that, but surrounded with all these people, it was best served for another time. "I do have to say, if I had my way, the crowd would be different." Her tone nonchalant, taking a sip of her drink. "Have you seen Rabastan? I am looking for him." Sinistra knew the two did not get along.

He turned slightly, inclining his head in greeting to Sinistra, although her words made a small frown appear at the edges of his lips. "Indeed." He agreed sourly, not looking forward to the place getting any more rowdy.

Severus' gaze followed her own down to the glowing foot print on his cloak and he muttered a curse, but before he could pull out his own wand, she had taken care of it. "Thank you." He said curtly, pulling his cloak just a bit closer to his body afterward. "Not particularly. Although it is not quite as boring as I had imagined. You?"

[dykeulous]

about me.

hello! i am apollo and i am aspiring to be an author and an activist someday. i come from a small, underdeveloped “post-socialist” country. i hope my blog will be helpful to everyone, and i try to be as open-minded on most topics as i can be. this is how i would describe myself:

i am a butch lesbian with heavy sex (& social) dysphoria. i would refer to myself as transmasc, and i am still very much trans-identified, as dysphoria has caused me much trouble over my formative years, and it has been making my life a true agonizing hell :)). i approach trans issues with sensitivity and criticism. i try my best not to be black-and-white about things; and i always try to be well-informed before speaking on anything. i love gender acceleration, and i would describe my views as gender critical. i am explicitly anti-racist, anti-capitalist & anti-imperialist. my views align with marxist feminism/proletarian feminism & radical feminism– which is why i would describe myself as a dual system feminist. my analysis & beliefs come from dialectical materialism, rather than idealism, which is why i’ve found myself in opposition with most trans rights activists. i am for abolishing the prison system, and i believe rehabilitation should be the goal, rather than punishment. drug addicts & recovering addicts have a special place in my heart ❤️‍🩹. i’m not vegan, but i appreciate & love all my ecofeminist sisters: i try my best to be vocal about animal liberation & climate activism. i believe the bpd diagnosis is being hyper-sold to female people, and this is because of medical misogyny & institutional sexism– it is being used as new age female hysteria. oh, and i’m also autistic. i love autistic women, and i wholeheartedly want to smash medical misogyny whenever i see how my neurodivergent sisters are being treated. 🇵🇸 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA PALESTINE WILL BE FREE!!!

my special interest is gender abolition (i’m very very passionate about this!!!) and marxist politics. my current hyperfixations are harry potter (i’m a slytherin 🐍), greek mythology & mlp. i unironically use the word kinnie; my highest kins are severus snape, twilight sparkle and diane nguyen. i love punk rock music, and i love riot grrrl. ask me about ww2, i used to be very hyperfixated on it last year– i reviewed a lot of ww2-themed movies critically & pointed their historical revisionism out. i am a slavic patriot by heart, and will punch a westerner who chooses to ignore our beautiful history. tito, lenin, che guevara, rosa luxemburg apologist. also i’m very interested in soviet history (the night witches are so fascinating!!), north korean culture & cuban cuisine.

if you wish to block me, go ahead. if you don’t, cool. i don’t block people, i allow a wide range of people to interact, and quite frankly, i think dni lists are useless. won’t hold back if you’re going to attack me. will engage in respectful arguments, and also will engage in disrespectful arguments, with the same energy you give me.

check out @pokegyns! it’s a group blog modded by nuancefem discord server members, owned by our precious pikalay @tirfpikachu.

links to some of the posts of mine i find quite useful for people who are going to hate-scroll through my blog, and also for people who are interested in radical feminism, but are scared we’re a hate group.

1. Intersex People, Transitioned Trans Women & Transitioned Trans Men

Are Trans Women Privileged?; Gender Socialization & Transmisogyny

Intersectionality Is Key: Our Issues Intersect, but They Differ

2. Feminist Praxis & Tactics: Separatism VS Proletarian Feminism; My Personal Critique of Radical Feminism

3. Transmedicalists VS Queer Theorists; Transmedicalism: The Sexism, Racism, and Classism

4. Listen to Dysphoric Voices

5. What Is Gender?; Gender Acceleration

6. The Word “Cis”

*Thread: Transness and Radical Feminism Can Coexist*

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]

Part 11

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship} mentions of Snape x Reader.

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

Only a few more chapters left to go now. This one hurt my Severus loving heart🖤

It's cold and dark in your mind but your body feels like it's on fire, trapped in an inferno that won't end. You'd scream if you could but you're trapped, rendered silent and frozen as your insides blaze without reprieve. Your suffering continues though you fight through it, ploughing on even with a pain-clouded mind and blurry vision as the blood continues to pour from your body.

You try and focus your eyes upon your opponent, forcing yourself to look harder and be stronger, using what little power you have left to continue to fight.

Nagini is hissing wildly, her huge, thick body roiling on the floor as if she's under the cruciatus curse, pain consuming her. There's a sound emitting from her that sounds ungodly, a mixture between a hiss and a scream that makes you feel as if your own throat is burning through the awful sound. Her body vibrates, continuing to convulse on the floor and you take a moment to back away, stumbling backwards as you slide across the floor, not realising until that moment that you'd fallen to your knees. The sharp rubble slices at your hands but you don't feel it, your mind screaming at you knowing you needed to get a safe distance away.

You fix your wand upon the multiple, horrifying gashes in Nagini's body, leaking both blood and black liquid which had mixed together to form the most grotesque sight you could fathom. The skin around her wounds was quickly turning black and your consciousness was fading in and out though you fought to pull every ounce of strength from yourself to focus. Taking steadying breaths, you think of Severus, the dear friend you had lost, feeling more than ever that you needed him right now.

"Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur."

You drag your wand across her skin, watching at the lines on her body heal but not completely. It draws the black liquid out of her slowly, like pulling an invisible thread out and you watch in relief as the wounds begin to lose their black hue.

You were weak, much weaker than you hoped to be and you knew with little consolation that you might not be able to get out of this, your own blood still dripping onto the floor by your feet. Your eyes were closing on their own accord, exhaustion overcoming you no matter how hard you fought.

You dragged your wand over your own skin now, trying desperately to stop the blood flow, seeing the black venom infecting the deep gashes on your arm. The incantation was weak but you managed to draw the black venom out of your arm, just. The wounds were far from closed but the blood flow had slowed and that was all you could do.

It hadn't worked. Nagini was still a snake, not the woman you'd had seen in your mind; nothing you had done had worked. You forced yourself in your last moments to think of your boyfriends, their infectious laughter and gorgeous smiles. A loop of memories played in your mind, a montage of favourite moments together throughout the years. The first time you met, the first kisses, the last kisses and everything in between. They had each other, you reasoned, feeling a slither of peace at that very fact, knowing that whatever happened to you, they wouldn't be alone.

Your eyes briefly opened again upon hearing a haunting sound, a hissing that only increases with volume and intensity, immediately causing you to enter an internal fight or flight reaction though your body was still paralysed with exhaustion. Your mind takes a few moments to realise exactly what is happening as you register the figures of two people nearby, their outlines becoming clearer with each passing moment as your vision cleared, though you couldn't hold your eyes open for long.

Ron and Hermione.

You were encased around the large, wrapped trunk of Nagini's body, though you felt no pressure on your limbs, no constriction. The snake was wildly hissing at Ron and Hermione who were trying to approach you with horrified eyes, their wands fixed upon the snake with conviction. She was protecting you.

"Ron no! If you miss, you'll hit y/n!" Hermione wailes, tugging on his arm which had his wand aimed at Nagini. He looked furious, more angry than you'd ever seen him, a look in his eyes which showed he was out for revenge. The snake hisses in fury at Ron, sensing his intentions and gives a warning snap of it's head, showing the vicious fangs to warn them away. You can only see the side profile but even from your limited view, the blood covered fangs and healed but visible gashes across her body were a terror inducing sight.

Closing your eyes, you tried to connect to Nagini, finding nothing in the darkness behind your eyes. You're exhausted, both mentally and physically but you push harder, searching deeper and further in your mind for any sign of the snake, but there's nothing, the connection had been broken.

You open your eyes, feeling it easier now as the light no longer hurts your eyes, finding strength in the knowledge that something had changed, something must have worked.

You shift slightly, attempting to think of ways to get out of Nagini's hold and almost instantly she senses your movement. You reach blindly for your wand but feel nothing, preparing yourself for the imminent attack, but nothing comes. Instead, she unfurls herself from around you and with one last vicious hiss in Ron and Hermione's direction, she turns to you, watching you carefully as she peels her body away from yours, shifting to lie between you and your friends. You don't break her gaze, eyeing her carefully with the knowledge that she might attack the second you looked away.

You look into her eyes and see the woman staring back at you in your mind, looking frightened and lost, her eyes drawing you in. You feel compelled to explain, though she may not understand and there's no denying that the truth could cause her to attack, the uncertain nature of the serpentine creature only making you more afraid.

"You know don't you, what needs to be done," you say gently, still looking into her eyes. She continues to look at you and there's a momentary pause that passes where she doesn't respond in anyway, making you feel foolish for trying to communicate with the snake. She suddenly shifts her head and you immediately throw up your hand to stop Ron from moving forward as he prepares to lurch towards you, wand still aimed at the snake threateningly, his grip so tight you can see that his fingers have turned white. Her head slowly nods, though it's minuscule in movement.

There's a brief flash of embarrassment you feel at connecting this way with a creature but you sense that she can understand you completely.

"If there was another way," you begin to say but the rest of the words catch in your throat. Truthfully, you didn't know any other way of how to save her, of how to kill the Horcrux inside her without her perishing. Her head sinks to the floor, near your leg and suddenly she doesn't feel like a threat anymore. You sit there for some time, not knowing how to proceed, feeling like you'd reached an impasse.

All it took was a large bang out in the courtyard for the temporary armistice to be broken. Ron ran to the main doors just around the corner to look at what had caused the crash and he looked horrified as he explained with difficulty that Harry and Voldemort were duelling. It had to be now.

You turned to Nagini and noticed almost instantly how her demeanour had changed, her eyes no longer conveying any of the sadness or understanding, but instead looked cold and hardened. Her body had tensed and her tail had curled into her body tighter, all signs of alarming defensiveness. You understood immediately; the Horcrux within her was sensing her master only metres away. She could sense his danger, the treat to his life, which meant that the Horcrux within her, the slither of Voldemort's soul was also in danger.

Time seemed to slow as you realised too late the danger you were in, your proximity to the seemingly possessed snake putting you in imminent peril, especially without a wand. You ran, scrambling away until you backed up towards the wall, looking for some way of hiding, dragging Hermione with you so that she would be safe. It was like the predator in her had awoken, the last semblance of humanity drained from her mind as her body tenses, her body stiffening as she prepared to attack. You were defenceless and Hermione only had mere seconds to adjust to you throwing her back, as Ron leapt forward to protect her before Nagini lunged.

You watched at the snake flew through the air, her mouth wide open and blood soaked mouth hurtling towards you with an unstoppable force. You force yourself to think of your beloved boyfriends a s of your lost friend, desperately clinging to the love you'd received throughout your life as you waited for the attack.

But no pain came. Your eyes had closed on their own accord and you opened them tentatively to see a billowing cloud of black smoke rising in the air, clearing slowly to show the figure of Neville, bloodied and panting hard, the sword of Gryffindor in his hands. He'd done it, the very last Horcrux was dead.

Ron and Hermione held on to each other for the longest time, the near death experience pulling them closer together. You looked at Neville and leapt to your feet, throwing your arms around him. He stumbled briefly having not anticipated your embrace but held strong, wrapping his spare arm around you as you hugged him in both celebration and appreciation.

Then, you saw the translucent figure of a woman before you . It was the very same woman you'd seen in your mind, through the connection with Nagini. She was beautiful, the contrast of her dark hair and pale skin looked vibrant once again. The spirit's connection was brief, lingering just long enough for her to nod once at you, bowing her hair before she disappeared. You had done it, her spirit had been freed. The spell, your blood, mixed with hers and the venom really had worked.

You turned to Hermione and Ron, pulling away from Neville and found them to be staring at the exact spot where she hovered only moments ago, clearly having seen exactly what you had.

"Harry."

That one word prompted you all to run around the corridor and out into the courtyard, reminded that Harry was duelling the dark Lord with no assistance. You expected to see a myriad of lights and colour, the two powerful figures mid combat as each opponent fought for what they thought was right. Instead, you found Harry alone, stood in the crumbled courtyard clutching both his wand and the elder wand, staring down at the mythical hallow in amazement. He'd done it. He'd won. You'd all won.

Ron and Hermione ran towards him, embracing with triumphant glory, each of them pleased to be alive after facing their opponent head on. Neville fist bumped the air in celebration and limped quickly off back towards the main building, no doubt alerting the others that Voldemort had been defeated.

You stood alone, feeling suddenly overcome with emotions that you hadn't anticipated, conflicted to your very core. You felt a massive surge of relief of course, wanting nothing more than to celebrate alongside the trio and everyone else. But you felt sad and a little lost. You felt for everyone that had lost their lives in the battle, the damage that had been caused, for little teddy who had lost both of his loving parents in a single night and for Severus, who had died in your arms, a spoil of war.

But then you remembered the tear. The memory he had given you in his last moments. You looked upon the trio once more, seeing them rightfully still embracing and celebrating their win and with one last glance, you slipped back inside the castle and walked straight towards the headmasters office before anyone could stop you. You couldn't wait to get back to Fred and George, to be wrapped in their arms and back with everyone you loved, no longer having to feel fear or doom but this had to be done first, you needed answers and closure from the only person that could give you that.

Approaching the gargoyle staircase, you thought of that night so long ago when you'd slipped in to the castle and confronted Severus about George's injury. You thought of your anger, your resentment and your confusion that your friend and mentor could have done this to the man you loved, particularly as you approached the main doors, remembering how you had barged in the last time.

The office was largely undamaged, with only a few books and glass cases smashed on the floor from the attack. The pensieve pulled out automatically s you stepped further into the room, crossing the threshold with a nervous trepidation that made you pause, pulling the vial out of your pocket and holding it out with shaky hands.

You poured in the tear and watched as it swirled down, a bright white cloud of billowing smoke within the water, drawing you in. You took a deep breath and submerged your face into the tepid water,  watching as the cloud parted and dispersed, forming into figures that you recognised immediately. Severus and Dumbledore. They were in the very office your body was suspended in, Dumbledore sat at his desk with Severus stood before him, attempting to walk out.

"Don't ignore me, Severus," Dumbledore says, causing the potions master to pause in the doorway. "We both know Lord Voldemort has ordered the Malfoy boy to murder me. But should he fail, one should presume the dark Lord will turn to you."

Severus stands resolute, looking upon Dumbledore with a blank expression. "You must be the one to kill me, Severus. It's the only way. Only then will the dark Lord trust you completely."

You watch as Snape's face drops subtly, his eyes expressing a hesitancy and pain that is almost palpable. The vision flickers and you see Snape shushing Harry in what you know to be the astronomy tower before the image of Dumbledore's falling body briefly flickers across your vision, the killing curse uttered by Snape ringing in your ears. The vision then flickers back to their meeting in the office, Dumbledore's weak and tired eyes imploring Severus.

"There will come a time when Harry Potter must be told something. But you must wait until Voldemort is at his most vulnerable."

"Must be told what?" Severus' deep baritone voice calls out, a frustration and element of concern in his tone.

The vision suddenly changes again and you watch as Severus enters the broken house you'd recognised from your trip to Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve. You watched as he walked across the debris covered landing and caught sight of Lily dead on the floor, the infant Harry wailing in his cot only yards away.

"On the night Lord Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow to kill Harry, and Lily Potter cast herself between them, the curse rebounded."

You can feel the affection he felt for Lily with the sound of her name, and then the devastation and pain at discovering her body on the floor in the nursery. It's gut wrenching and crippling to feel everything he felt and you now understood that he had loved her, he had loved Lily Potter.

"When that happened, a part of Voldemort's soul latched itself onto the only living thing it could find, Harry himself." Dumbledore has begun walking down the platform steps in his office, his legs weak and his frame looking frailer than ever as you see his blackened hand, the curse from a Horcrux.

"There's a reason Harry can speak with snakes. There's a reason he can look into Lord Voldemort's mind. A part of Voldemort lives inside him."

"So when the time comes," Severus says, squinting at Albus who has reared closer to him now, the tension in the room growing increasingly denser and thick. "The boy must die?"

"Yes."

"You've kept him alive so that he can die at the proper moment," Severus accuses, his tone suddenly much harsher, "you've been raising him like a pig for slaughter."

"Don't tell me now you've grown to care for the boy?"

Then you see him look out of the window, the darkness in the sky only further proof that this was conversation had late at night, in complete secrecy. You watch as Severus casts the patronus charm and a familiar glowing doe whips around the room before exiting through the glass, the illuminated spot fading as it disappears further into the sky.

"And y/n, you have grown to care for her too?" Albus asks. You watch as Severus becomes instantly more defensive, his eyes squinting and mouth opening before closing rather harshly, his chest puffing.

"That is none of your concern," he answers in a deadpan way, his eyes averted to a spot on the wall where the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black hangs.

"But Severus it is, do you not see that she is involved?"

Snape's head whips round quicker than a flash until he's staring back into Albus' eyes with a fierce glare, though beneath the stare is concern and worry.

Flashes of yourself appear in Snape's memory, a strange thing to have seen memories you yourself had but from the other perspective. You see yourself in your sixth year, singled out in his vision as he watches you work, creating a batch of what you remember to be Sleeping Draught in class. The next memory shows the following week, your meeting in his office, seeing you smile and laugh as his deep chuckle fills your ears. You see as different memories merge together of you working together, annotating his books and transcribing his notes, the visions of you shifting to memories you had never known, of Severus watching you and glancing at you when you weren't paying attention. You can feel a warmth again to these memories, feeling the affection he felt for you, as if you were able to experience it exactly how he had, much like the memories of Lily.

"You said that you would protect her! You said by making her my apprentice it would shield her from his notice!"

"The dark Lord may be unaware of her prowess but I fear her connection to the Weasley's will have attracted the attention of her peers." There's a flash of you, Fred and George sat in the great hall from Snape's perspective at the top table, he sees you laughing and resting your head on Fred's shoulder, though the memory is brief.

"There's little I can do, Severus. They will need her," Albus says with conviction.

The memory shifts again before your eyes and you see Severus sat alone in his office, his corporeal patronus dancing wildly around the room as he binds together pieces of what you recognise to be the Lebetum, the misted glass opened as he summons the doe inside. He thinks of you, your laughter playing like a melody in your own ears and there's a brief moment where you can smell the scent of your hair as you watch the words 'Expecto Dominum Meum' appear across the black device just as you had experienced many times before.

There's a brief memory that flashes and you watch as Severus pulls a book from his bookshelf in what you assume to be his home, followed by him using the book as a glossary as he translates his words whilst writing. The next memory cuts in of you receiving the book from him, his deep voice speaking over the memory that you will need this to translate and transcribe his newest paper, handing you the book of Latin phrases and texts.

"You love her," Albus' voice cuts through and you watch as Dumbledore and Snape are stood on a cliff top somewhere, the exchange between the pair is rife with tension.

"Yes," he says, his deep voice speaking matter of factly.

"You've protected her all you can," Albus says, perhaps slightly gentler now.

"It's not enough," he says, his black sleeved arms wrapping around himself, turning to look out into the distance. You know he's thinking about you, and of Lily, the two women he felt he'd lost, slipping between their fingertips. "It will never be enough." He reaches into his pocket and thrusts the black device of his own creation that he'd pulled from within the folds of his cloak into the older man's wrinkled hands, who gapes at it for a moment, a frown pulling between his eyebrows.

"Severus, you can't possibly," Albus begins speaking but he's cut off when Snape looks up from the Lebetum with an expression you had so often seen, the fixed, harsh stare that told whomever he was speaking to that he would answer no questions nor explain further, his word absolute.

"Until my heart stops beating. With hope, even after."

The memory fades and the smoke like memory disappears into the water until it's no longer visible. You pull out of the water and sink to your knees, sitting on the bottom stone step of the desk platform, gathering your thoughts.

You sobbed uncontrollably, chest and shoulders heaving with the effort as you let every bit of pain consume you, every emotion you'd tried to hold back from the moment you left Bill's wedding and everyone behind in your hunt for the Horcruxes, realising that you had been played like a pawn in a game of wizards chess. You cried for your lost friend, knowing now that he loved you. You cried for everything that could have been, for how he'd protected you the whole way through without knowing, for the pain you felt at being so close but so far away from Fred and George, for the months spent pining for them, for the horrors you'd seen and what you'd been through.

You gasped for breath between your sobs, clutching your arms around yourself as you rocked gently, feeling entirely consumed by pain. You should feel victorious and triumphant, celebrating with everyone else in the castle but you couldn't face it, not when you felt so far away from yourself.

Your thoughts were consumed with Severus and what you'd seen in his memories and you wondered if you'd loved him too. You loved Fred and George, that was evident to everyone around you and to yourself but you'd never considered the piece of your heart that had remained with Severus, realising much too late that you had loved him too. Maybe not in the same way that you did the twins but it was undeniable that there was something there much stronger than friendship alone.

Your sobs had subsided eventually and you sat on the cold stone with a vacant expression, gaze fixed upon an uninteresting spot on the floor. You felt drained in every sense of the word; your mind was slowly going blank, unable to string two solid thoughts together as the mental and emotional strain took its toll on you. Your body felt weak and broken, pain and soreness now evident in your injured body, feeling the full effects of your shoulder injury and the cuts on your arm. You look down at the deep gashes on your arm and begin to slowly peel your jacket away, cringing and wincing as the dried blood around the cuts rips away having connected your jacket to the broken skin.

You cast a healing spell on the cuts but it's weak, knowing that you couldn't perform the correct incantation as much as you wanted to, your body too exhausted and drained. You pondered, just for a moment, the irony of the cuts on your arm. The spell created by your mentor intended to inflict pain for those he hated, but instead inflicted upon the woman he loved to free her from her torment.

You sat for a while thinking of the memories he'd shown you, realising now that all his words had made sense. He'd asked you to forgive him, telling you that one day you'd understand. He'd protected you when you needed it most, provided you with his own guardian in the form of a patronus and saved your life multiple times even from afar. He'd given you all the clues, the biggest of all being the book of Latin phrases, somehow knowing that it would be the key to surviving, putting his faith in your ability to decode it. He'd loved you. He was never a true destheater but had been the bravest man alive to act as a spy for the order, for the sake of everyone who seemingly hated him.

One thing had always bothered you, once singular piece of knowledge that had plagued you since the moment you'd been bequeathed with the Lebetum.

You stood slowly, throwing your jacket back over you to cover the scars and the wounds that littered your body and dusted yourself off, though it was a pointless effort as your clothes and skin were still stained with Severus' blood. You stepped towards the littering of books on the bookcase and tried to find the off-white leather book amongst the rows of text, hoping it was there. It wasn't. It was, however, laid on the desk, already open.

You searched through the glossary of words, alphabetically listed as you turned to the section you needed.

Lebetem, or Lebetum (noun) translates to Cauldron. A large metal pot used for brewing potions over an open fire. Can also refer to a situation characterised by strong emotions.

You felt gobsmacked by the revelation, realising that it was most likely a joke played by Severus, a little twist of humour he'd integrated in the the situation.

You then thought of the translation Mr Ollivander had given you of the text on the device, Expecto Dominum Meum, and his little chuckle when you explained that it was a Lebetum, realising now that it all made sense. He’d recognised you as Snape’s apprentice and had only chuckled when he pieced it all together.

Lebetum, Cauldron, a necessity of brewing potions.

Expecto Dominum Meum, I await my master.

I await my potions master.

You laughed out loud; an honest and very real laugh that you felt hadn't happened in such a long time. You'd been blind to it all this time, his intricacies never failing to amuse and astound you. You felt an immense sense of gratitude erupt from you and though you were naturally devastated that he was no longer here, nor were you able to thank him for everything he'd done, the Lebetum had done the trick to make you feel a little better, giving you humour in a time of sheer upset.

You wanted a shower desperately, a hot cup of tea and the comfort of your loved ones around you. You looked down at the book of Latin translations and smiled, touching your hand to the old pages before you walked away, feeling calmed.

You closed the doors to the office as you exited, casting one last glance at the intricacy of the wood and walked down the staircase, back towards the great hall where you hoped everyone was still gathered.

Bill spotted you first and leapt up from his seat to close the distance between you, pulling you into his chest. The unlikely friendship you'd forged during your time at shell cottage was entirely unexpected but welcome, his ability to make you feel at ease and protected was unparalleled, his role of big brother extending to you.

"Stop scaring me like that," he mutters and you can hear the slight smirk in his voice, making you chuckle. "Told you you were tough, wouldn't find me dead near a snake." You chuckle again and start to snark that Werewolves were fine but not snakes, but you're stopped as you see two near identical and very welcome faces waiting anxiously behind Bill. You pull apart, giving him one last smile before he slips back to sit beside Fleur at the table, allowing you to properly reunite with his brothers.

There's a singular beat that passes where you stand still, looking at them with a trepidation to your gaze. You felt guilty for leaving them alone, to fight your own battles without considering theirs. They both looked disheveled and dirty, eyes dark and tired and for the first time that night you no longer thought of your own exhaustion or torment.

Fred moves first and pulls you in for the tightest embrace he'd ever given, his hand holding your waist close to his body and his left hand cradling your head. He kisses you without abandon, uncaring and unashamed of anyone nearby as your emotion pours into the kiss, a thousand apologies and comforting words said silently between you. A tear falls from your left eye, overwhelmed by your official reconnection but he doesn't miss it, moving his thumb to swipe it away as he pulls his lips away from yours reluctantly, savouring the feel of your lips against his.

"I love you so much," he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead as he begins to rock you gently side to side. "You're never leaving again, you hear me? I can't ever be apart from you again." Another tear slips at his words and all you can do is nod in agreement, blindsided by the emotion and conviction of his words.

"Never again," you reply, reaching out to grab the material of his jacket, feeling as if he'd slip away if you let go. He senses this and presses one last kiss to your lips before pulling away and stepping aside, allowing George to scoop you up.

Fred and George were different in many ways but it was never more obvious to you than when you were in their arms. George always seemed taller somehow, your head not reaching as far up onto his shoulder as it did with Fred but it was equally as comforting to be pressed into the centre of his chest. His arms caged you and held you tightly, shoulders and breasts smushed against the hard plains of his body but you didn't care.

"Tell me it's over, Angel, please don't leave again."

His voice sounds broken and like a little boys, lost and afraid, a sound that breaks your heart. You pull away firmly, looking up into his gorgeous face.

"I'm staying right here, forever," you say, reaching up to touch his cheek as you lean up, making it clear that you want a kiss. He obliges immediately and kisses you with a passion and intensity you hadn't quite anticipated. His hand find yours and he holds on to you tightly, one large hand grabbed around your back as your right hand stays on his face.

Once the kiss ends, Fred steps back to join you both as both twins grab for you, your small frame between their much larger once's making you feel safe and secure. Eventually you are pulled away by Molly who can't wait any longer and you're smothered by her fussing until Arthur pulls her away with a knowing smile before he embraces you. Each person embraces you as you're passed around the group, feeling every ounce of love they give.

There's a moment where you and Harry look at each other before you embrace, a wordless question about your shared connections to darkness. You shake your head with a smile, telling him that your connection had been severed and he nods his head with the same mirrored look, both of you smiling widely as you realise that it was now just you, no longer plagued by another's emotions or memories. You throw your arms around his neck, both laughing as you finally feel the celebratory mood everyone else felt, now that you were back with the people you loved.

Ginny brought you a hot cup of tea from one of the little reserves that had been set up and you thanked her kindly, taking a seat in between Fred and George, in your rightful place. Instantly, their arms lock you into place with George's arm extending around your back and Fred's large hand covering your thigh, keeping you anchored to them. Everyone was laughing and joking, telling their own stories and as you looked around at your loved ones, though missing one important person; you felt happy.

Next

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[physalian]

Color in Fiction! (Once You See it, You Cannot Unsee it)

White versus black, red versus blue, Gatsby’s green light, Dorothy’s ruby red slippers, Belle’s blue dress.

Color is perhaps the most ubiquitous motif used across both fiction and reality to thread people or objects through a common theme, or to pit two ideologies against each other beyond their verbal spats. Color is also perhaps the simplest motif, but that doesn’t make it any lesser in its potency.

In fiction, color is an easy way for the audience to learn as fast as possible who’s on whose side, and who their opponents are, and today, we’re going to look at a few.

But first: Crash course into color theory:

Warmer colors evoke passion or uncertainty, movement and excitement, happiness and warmth, but also rage, aggression, love, and lust. The cooler colors evoke sadness and serenity, but also youth and spring and winter and death.

Most of the time when a creator wants to juxtapose color in a narrative or other work, they’re going to use inverses, just google one of the hundreds of teal and orange movie posters. Inverses are whatever colors lie at opposite sides of the wheel. Blue and Orange, Red and Green, Purple and Yellow. These pairs show up either in opposition, or as an ensemble of one character or a group or team.

Part 1: Black and White

Yes it has grounds in racism, but black and white are also accepted to mean chaos and order, good and evil, death and life.

In a show like Lost, themes of black and white are constant. The black and white backgammon pieces, the colors of the Dharma station logos, the show’s main title card, God stand-in Jacob (Lucifer from Supernatural), and his unnamed brother, the Man in Black.

Black and white show up *everywhere,* in some places subtler than others. In fiction with a male and female lead, if they are coded in black and white, the man is almost always the one in black. Black means strength and mystery and this deep, almost corrupted darkness. White is purity, femininity, youth, and nurturing, when a woman wears it, unless she's the villain.

Villains in white are very often surprise villains:

The White Witch (Chronicles of Narnia)

Saruman (Lord of the Rings)

President Coin (Hunger Games)

Hans (Frozen), Mayor Bellweather (Zootopia), Auto (Wall-E)

Elizabeth from Pirates of the Caribbean is an interesting case. She begins the first movie wearing light colors and being trapped in the pure and lawful life of the governor’s daughter. She ends her arc in the third movie in solid black (through several costumes) a badass Pirate King and wife of the new Captain of the Flying Dutchman.

Men in black are chivalrous, dark knights, or morally grey vigilantes, silent badasses, or edgy badboys. Black is also of course reserved for villains a la Darth Vader, or Severus Snape and Voldemort and a million others. The "Black Knight" is his own trope, whether he's in a fantasy setting or not.

Women in black are temptresses, or seductive badasses. Black is the color of corruption, sin, and angst in western media 9 times out of 10 unless a narrative wants to subvert it.

I could do an entire essay on black and white in Lord of the Rings alone but here's a few other contrasts: The white Tower of Ecthelion, Minas Tirith, the "White City", the White Tree, Gandalf the White. The Black Riders, Black Speech, Black Land of Mordor, Orthanc (Saruman's Tower).

But you don’t have to make your character’s entire costumes black and white, no, you can just make their hair light and dark.

Part 2: Hair

**Possibly also because racism but we don’t have time to unpack all that right now**

When you have your male protagonist and his male foil, love interest, competition, companion, lancer, or villain, most of the time (in western media where blonds are in abundance) the more noble or “good” character of the two will be blond, the other brunet, especially in a love triangle. If two male characters have opposing ideologies on any level, they will often have opposing hair. A male and female lead duo will also tend to have opposing hair, but it’s most obvious what they’re doing when it’s two dudes and not just coincidence.

Here’s a nonexhaustive list, with the brunet first (ignoring if the adaptation was faithful):

Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamnee (LoTR)

Aragorn and Boromir (LoTR)

Aragorn and Theoden (LoTR)

Denethor and Faramir (LoTR)

Thorin and Bilbo (Hobbit)

Jack Shephard and James “Sawyer” Ford (Lost)

Jack Twist and Ennis Del Mar (Brokeback Mountain) *Also have opposing hats*

Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent (The Dark Knight)

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers (Marvel)

Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (Marvel)

Loki and Thor (Marvel)

Nico di Angelo and Will Solace (Percy Jackson)

Percy Jackson and Jason Grace (Percy Jackson)

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson (the Cumberbatch one)

Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Edmund Pevensie and Peter Pevensie (Chronicles of Narnia)

Gale Hawthorne and Peeta Mellark (Hunger Games)

Damon Salvatore and Stefan Salvatore (Vampire Diaries)

Tom Buchanan and Jay Gatsby (2013 Gatsby)

Caledon Hockley and Jack Dawson (Titanic)

Notable nonexhaustive exceptions:

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter)

Percy Jackson and Luke Castellan (Percy Jackson)

Jacob Black and Edward Cullen (Twilight)

Batman and Superman (DC Comics)

Luke Skywalker and Han Solo (Star Wars)

Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars) *wardrobe makes up for it*

*Feel free to tag the ones I missed

Not every brunet on the list is a “bad” guy, nor is every blond the “good” guy, but compared to each other, the brunet tends to be the more morally grey, the more corrupted, the one who’s ideologies end up getting them hurt or killed or proving them wrong. Or, the brunet faces more demons, has a darker personality, or tends to have a “shoot first ask questions later” philosophy.

This of course goes out the window if the media is set in a region or with a cast of characters who are meant to share similar features, like how there’s no blondes at all in Last Airbender (otherwise Aang would absolutely fit the pattern).

Whether that’s Frodo getting corrupted by the Ring and Sam being his rock, Jack Twist getting murdered while Ennis lives on, or the beloved Dark Knight and his bat-black demons while Harvey’s White legacy saves Gotham, next time you write a brunet and his blond competition, ask yourself just why you’re doing it.

*Side note, I’m pretty sure Harvey Dent, when he’s animated, is usually a brunet, but he’s also usually Two-Face by then and no longer a hero*

I don’t even have time for black and white in anime or the trope of the white-haired anime boy and since natural hair colors are kind of moot, I don’t think the same rules apply. But outside of the westernized “black knight vs white knight” I do want to dig deeper into color motifs in anime at some point.

Here's some notable dark and light dichotomies nonetheless in wardrobe and/or hair:

Kirito and Asuna (Sword Art Online)

Lelouch and Suzaku (Code Geass)

Midoriya and Bakugo (My Hero Academia)

L and Light (Death Note)

Medusa and Stein (Soul Eater)

Sasuke and Naruto (Naruto)

Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Eiji and Ash (Banana Fish)

Kyoya and Tamaki (OHSHC)

Yuri and Viktor (Yuri!!! On Ice)

Dracula and Alucard (Castlevania)

Part 3: Red v. Blue and everything in between

The megalith that is the color motif extends past the white/black dichotomy.

It’s also red and blue.

If red is pitted against blue in any story, red is always the team the audience is supposed to root against, unless this is sports. Red is the color of the Sith, the Fire Nation, red eyes are seen as evil, red is blood and rage and wrath and fire. Red is the color of evil empires. Blue is the color of heroes. It’s water and healing and camaraderie, serenity. Blue is the color of rebels and underdogs.

Red versus blue is in everything from the color of lightsabers in Star Wars to the color of cybertronian eyes in Transformers, to the color of the Water Tribes and Fire Nations (with some exceptions a la Azula’s blue fire) to the colors of the pills in the Matrix. Red is the ‘dangerous’ choice, blue is the ‘safe’ choice. Unless your character is patriotically sporting the red, white and blue of the UK, USA, or France.

Villains usually only wear blue if they're ice-coded, or belong to a faction wearing navy blue uniforms.

Red versus blue also shows up between leaders and their lancers. The first one I can think up off the top of my head is Robin and Raven from Teen Titans.

Purple is also usually lumped in with the bad guys and green with the good guys, but purple and green also show up a ton as contrasting colors of the same character like the Hulk or the Joker. But both can swing either way. The Decepticons in the early cartoons for Transformers had purple everywhere and reclaimed it in Transformers: Prime. Megatron, Soundwave, Shockwave, the Vehicons, Airachnid, and the Dark Star Saber, and some G1s]. Prime also has three sets of red-blue dichotomies within their factions: [Arcee/Cliffjumper, Optimus/Ratchet, and Knockout/Breakdown].

Green is the color of more Jedi, and the Green Lanterns, but green also represents sickness or disease or generic evil energy a la Loki, Dr. Facilier (Princess and the Frog) or the Hyenas and Scar in the Lion King.

Pink is really up in the air, as is orange and yellow, especially when it comes to female characters, especially female anime characters.

But enough about color dichotomy.

Part 4: Color Singularity

Color singularly is either meant to evoke a specific emotion, like using blue everywhere to represent sadness, or it’s meant to be a bold statement in an otherwise grayscale world.

I mentioned a few at the top of the post and I’ll elaborate on them here:

In Great Gatsby, green and yellow are very important colors. The “green light” is this real object at the end of the titular character’s love interest’s dock. This light and this color are motifs that represent Gatsby’s longing for Daisy and to return to a glorious past he can never have again (it’s also the color of American money). Yellow is also everywhere in this book. It’s the color of his chekov’s car and several dresses at his extravagant party. Yellow is the color of his current life of glitz and glam and riches (and is also the color of gold). If you listen to one of the accompanying songs to the 2013 film, Florence and the Machine’s “Over the Love” recognizes the importance of yellow in the narrative.

Dorothy’s red slippers in the Wizard of Oz are hyperbolically bold, especially since the movie starts out in black and white. Color is a huge piece of this film- the Emerald City, the Yellow Brick Road, the horse of many colors. Red scientifically is the color humans tend to notice first, those shoes were made to be remembered. Color in Wizard of Oz is the symbol of the fantastical, which was really helped by the time the film was made and simply seeing so much color on screen dazzled audiences.

Red catches your eye faster than any other color, and red in a world of black and white sticks in your mind, just look at Schindler’s List.

Belle from Beauty and the Beast, along with a lot of fictional women wear blue. Blue is biblically Mary’s color, and at one time was the color marketed to women before the shift to “blue for boys”. In the original Beauty and the Beast, Belle was the only character who wore blue, because she was an outsider, and outlier, a free-thinker. Or at least, Belle is the only one who wears blue until she dances with the Beast. The live-action remake didn’t maintain this extra level of the narrative and that’s a shame.

I didn't mention eye color much above (also maybe because racism) but blue eyes, especially animated blue and green eyes, go to characters who are more hopeful, heroic, nurturing, morally just, honest, or brave than their brown-eyed counterparts, unless he's a blue-eyed Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Blue-eyed people tend to be blond, so the traits go hand in hand for the "good" character.

Weirdly enough, this also applies to blue-eyed animal characters -- your animated anthropomorphised villain is rarely going to be drawn with eyes that aren't brown, black, green, red, orange, or yellow.

Because color is also a subliminal or overt way of foreshadowing in both written and visual media as much as any other motif and recurring symbol. You can foreshadow death, or impending doom, or an eventual identity reveal, whatever you want.

You can also subvert the usual associations with specific colors. Black doesn’t have to mean evil in your world. Black can be life, too. White doesn’t have to be pure, white can be clinical and sterile and lifeless (but please no more lady villains in white pantsuits, that's its own cliche at this point). Shake it up a bit every once in a while.

So whether it’s dueling ideologies or the very forces of good and evil, a harbinger of doom or a secret tell, or community and camaraderie, or an enduring hope, you can represent it all with a careful dose of color.

[dementrd]

he  recalls  a  time  in  which  albus  dumbledore  had  been  nothing  less  than  the  greatest  headmaster  which  hogwarts  had  ever  seen  —  a  time  in  which  he  had  admired  that  man  with  such  a  deep  respect  unexpected  of  a  boy  like  him  .  he  had  been  a  messy  little  scribble  of  a  thing  ,  so  furious  at  the  world  around  him  despite  the  lavishness  of  wealth  thrust  upon  him  ,  the  having  of  anything  he  might  want  besides  the  unconditional  and  expected  love  of  his  parents  .  now  that  he  has  grown  up  ,  sirius  sees  that  he'd  had  every  reason  to  be  as  angry  as  he  had  been  ,  and  that  he  was  foolish  to  believe  dumbledore  to  be  a  man  without  faults  of  his  own  .  still  ,  how  dare  he  keep  harry  from  him  as  though  he  cannot  possibly  keep  him  safe  ?  how  dare  he  thrust  his  godson  into  the  danger  he  had  only  a  year  before  ?

that  moment  he  had  stood  next  to  harry's  bed  in  the  infirmary  ,  he  had  known  better  than  to  trust  albus  dumbledore  with  his  godson's  life  .  not  that  he  has  any  say  —  as  far  as  the  rest  of  the  world  is  aware  ,  sirius  black  is  hidden  away  somewhere  warm  ,  tanning  under  a  distant  sun  whilst  he  throws  his  head  back  ,  laughs  at  the  murders  of  his  closest  friends  and  all  those  he  took  with  them  .  look  at  what  the  world  believes  him  capable  of  .  is  he  not  just  another  mad  black  to  the  sorry  lot  of  them  ?  sometimes  he  looks  in  the  mirror  and  he  sees  all  that  the  world  expects  him  to  be  .

“  i  know  —  it  sounds  as  though  i  care  more  about  harry  than  i  do  the  rest  of  the  world  and  what  his  return  means  for  it  .  but  i  suppose  it's  the  truth  .  i  care  about  nothing  else  than  keeping  that  boy  safe  ,  happy  ,  feeling  like  he  at  least  has  a  chance  at  something  resembling  a  normal  life  .  ”  the  admission  is  spoken  blankly  into  the  grey  ,  stifling  air  of  this  horrible  place  .  since  when  did  he  feel  he  could  speak  to  severus  snape  ,  let  alone  share  with  him  the  terrible  things  he  thinks  ?  perhaps  he  is  so  devastatingly  lonely  ,  or  perhaps  he  has  simply  grown  up  and  discovered  that  there  is  a  person  behind  that  emotionless  shell  he  had  once  seen  as  entirely  feelingless  ,  as  hateful  . 

when  their  eyes  meet  ,  he  finds  that  he  does  not  feel  the  sheer  and  visceral  hatred  he  had  once  offered  to  severus  .  in  fact  ,  he  just  feels  exhausted  by  all  that  the  following  years  had  taken  from  him  .  he  was  a  wretched  person  ,  but  hasn't  he  given  enough  ?  hasn't  james  been  ripped  from  him  ,  taking  some  of  his  soul  with  him  into  the  ground  ?  he  thinks  often  of  him  ,  of  his  bones  turned  to  dust  under  the  earth  ,  of  it  taking  back  from  him  .  sirius  is  still  that  snarling  thing  ,  he  would  fight  the  very  dirt  james  lies  in  to  take  him  back  ;  to  lie  down  beside  him  and  let  the  world  claim  him  ,  too  .  hasn't  his  punishment  been  long  enough  ?  perhaps  not  —  not  when  he  considers  the  fact  that  severus  could  have  been  mauled  to  death  because  of  him  ,  and  remus  could  be  chained  up  somewhere  on  his  behalf  .  no  ,  he  has  done  so  much  bad  .  he  looks  at  his  hands  now  ,  the  inked  skin  so  dangerous  looking  and  all  he  feels  is  weak  .  did  he  ever  have  it  in  him  to  survive  azkaban  ?

“  they  are  not  insufferable  ,  severus  .  they're  teenagers  .  ”  he  laughs  again  ,  his  head  tilting  back  for  he  can  never  contain  his  humour  ,  nor  those  rare  moments  of  sheer  laughter  .  he  has  always  felt  the  need  to  be  larger  than  life  ,  or  perhaps  it  is  simply  that  this  is  who  he  is  .  “  even  you  were  a  child  once  .  i'm  certain  it  didn't  last  long  ,  though  .  ”  he  arches  a  brow  ,  and  it  feels  strange  to  tease  him  as  he  might  have  done  james  or  remus  ,  even  peter  when  he  had  been  his  friend  .  like  a  little  brother  he  had  wanted  so  desperately  to  protect  until  he  took  the  very  life  out  of  him  .  can  he  see  it  now  ?  can  severus  see  that  he  is  better  than  who  he  had  once  been  ?  “  i  don't  trust  me  .  good  of  him  to  do  so  on  my  behalf  .  i  recall  my  friends  being  picked  off  one  by  one  back  then  .  he  doesn't  know  what's  coming  for  him  ,  does  he  ?  ”

when  he  thinks  of  james  ,  he  feels  he  might  sink  further  into  the  despair  .  so  he  busies  himself  as  severus  cleans  those  dishes  ,  stretching  out  his  tired  limbs  .  he  had  once  held  so  much  grace  ,  trained  in  all  of  the  dancing  an  aristocratic  family  should  be  ,  elegant  and  beautiful  —  now  his  bones  crack  and  pop  ,  his  eyes  crinkle  when  he  smiles  and  grey  hair  peppers  his  temples  thanks  to  the  years  spent  in  hell  ,  dementors  ripping  everything  they  could  from  him  and  feeding  so  hideously  on  him  .

his  eyes  trail  towards  severus  as  he  speaks  again  ,  a  surprised  bark  of  a  laugh  when  he  actually  injects  some  humour  into  his  words  .  perhaps  he  had  misjudged  him  all  those  years  ago  ,  or  maybe  the  two  of  them  had  simply  grown  up  ,  and  lost  too  much  in  the  process  to  hold  any  more  hatred  .  “  you're  welcome  to  it  .  the  old  cow  could  do  with  some  lessons  in  manners  .  ”  he  spits  out  the  words  ,  quickly  shaking  himself  free  of  the  hatred  he  feels  for  his  mother  .  “  you're  a  good  teacher  ,  even  if  he  does  absolutely  despise  you  .  which  ,  he  does  .  he'll  learn  from  you  .  ” 

Sirius' words had Severus thinking back to the events of the tournament and all the conversations that led up to the moment Harry's name spilled from that cup. Severus was fairly certain no one had planned for it to happen, for Albus had been pretty adamant about supporting the underaged rule. It was almost a fool proof way to guarantee Harry wouldn't feel the need to represent Hogwarts in any manner. The tournament was dangerous and Severus had a feeling once the students all got back to the common room the first night, Granger wasted no time giving them the gruesome details of fallen students from years past. If anyone could have talked Potter and Weasley out of participating, it was certainly Ms. Granger.

But then the UNEXPECTED happened, although truth be told, Severus had predicted things were not going to go as planned. Maybe he didn't predict Potter would be competing, but had Severus been headmaster of Hogwarts instead of Albus, Igor Karkaroff NEVER would have been allowed into the school. There were other wizarding schools out there. As long as a former death eater was in charge of one, Severus never would have allowed it and that likely made him a hypocrite given his own history as a death eater. Still…

Severus remained quiet for a spell trying to choose his words carefully. Potter's name was spit from the cup and it left all of the adults in the castle on high alert. Minerva had been downright irate while the other headmasters were pretty angry as well.

"Albus you're a cheat!"

"You cannot have zeez two champions!"

And on and on it went with Alastor making matters worse with all of his goading of Igor. Meanwhile, Albus had been calm the whole time, carefully gauging Potter's answer when he inquired about the cup. Severus recalled leering at Potter that night, but it was moreso to save face. He too thought it highly unlikely Potter possessed the skills to bewitch the old cup and from the start he had suspected Igor. They all pondered what to do about it despite Barty insisting Potter compete. In the end though, he and Albus agreed that in order to figure out what was really going on, Potter had to compete. They had NO OTHER LEADS other than someone was after Potter and they were likely to reveal themselves by the tournament's end.

But how was he to explain this to Sirius without him losing his mind? Potter could have died that night yet he and Albus allowed the boy to compete. It was just one of many things Severus felt horrible about. Had Potter not been in that maze, maybe Voldemort would have delayed his return.

Severus' eyes downcast, for he had no answer. There were so many 'what ifs' that it was enough to drive anyone mad if they pondered them too much. All he could do was look past that night and focus on the future. If he and all of the rest of the order did their job well, Tom would fall on his ass once more and hopefully for good this time.

Severus could feel Sirius' eyes trained on him and it prompted him to look up. This was, perhaps, one of the first times they've ever made eye contact without Severus feeling a wave of anxiety washing over him. At one time, it was always the wait for the inevitable curse to hit him from behind. Or insulting words that left him hiding within secret rooms until it was safe to creep back into his dorm. Those eyes were full of malice and mischief back then but right now? Severus sensed only longing and determination from Sirius. It was still jarring to say the least.

"I think… one of the reasons Potter carries on is because he has a lot more to live for." He paused. "You keep him going --- you and those insufferable friends of his. I have seen you in his memories; the promise of a family reconnecting and thriving. He trusts you to stay alive while he will continue doing what he must to get back to his only family."

In other words, he didn't think Black needed to worry too much, and he certainly didn't need him thinking he should start leaving the house and keeping tabs on Potter. It wasn't safe for either of them but more importantly, Harry would likely fall into despair if he lost yet another thread of hope.

He chose to keep that to himself however, as he was no parent. He could not definitively say one way or the other about Potter even though most of his inferences had been right so far. Still, he had no intention of intruding too much within the subject of parenting. Severus looked at all the Hogwarts professors as 'co-parents' to Mr. Potter, but he knew it wasn't the same when Harry had a godfather more than capable of being 'dad' to him.

Severus had a feeling Black's words about death were alluding to James or Remus except… well, James had actually died leaving his second in command behind. Severus heard all sorts of stories about the night Lily and James died and just like Black whose anger boiled to the surface with every thought of it, Severus let his own fester inside. They were both angry; both full of regret that they hadn't gotten there in time. Severus chose to swallow the lump in his throat but even now those feelings were as intense as ever.

He ignored Black, choosing to continue washing the dishes. The water flowing over slender fingers as he rinsed and washed dishes offered their own form of comforting distraction from the intense feelings he felt just a moment ago. Having his back to Black allowed for him to save face. Because if the man could only see within those deep, dark eyes, he'd see a lot more than the usual impassive, colorless look. He'd see something that hinted more at emotion pooling behind thick lashes. But of course he blinked it all away though the fatigue in his posture was a lot more telling than he could know in the moment.

He cut eyes to Black briefly as he reached for another cup. After a moment, he finally spoke up in an attempt to inject some humor into the moment. Being alone with Black and having such an intense conversation had opened the door to an odd tension he was about ready to escape. And so in his usual, caustic tone, he offered a derisive snort as he spoke quietly in case someone was lurking at this hour.

"I'd likely have better luck teaching your mother's portrait than Potter. He's absolutely dreadful, but if it will put your mind at ease, I will continue trying… at least until we both grow weary of each other. I'm certain he would respond a lot better if the expert at mind prisons was someone other than me."