#Snape costume

[severus-simp]

This is for chapter two of my Hogwarts Kinktober 2024 fic, inspired by a comment from the lovely lone amaryllis 💚💚💚 I'm counting this as Harrie Potter's Halloween Costume (Since I'm a Snarriet Girly and a Severus Simp of course). It's also a smidge of cheat since this counts as my third day post for Snapetober which is what I'm calling my art challenge this month 💚🐍💚

If y'all are curious chapter 3 of my AO3 fic is up and out.💚 Severus's Every Flavor of Smuts 💚by SeverusSimp (me/moi/myself lol)

[souryam]

you'll have to drag the snape dog lover hc out of my cold dead hands in my head he has one of those bad boys. irish wolfhounds (pun intended) one of the biggest dogs out there. somehow lives in his quarters and nobody knows he's there

[daniiduna86]

Halloween

The plague doctor and I were on tour again. We love to scare people. But a little girl thought it would be funny to laugh. I asked her, if she had any idea who I am, she said no.

I am, I said and came closer to her, Severus Snape!

She wasn't scared at all. 😅

📸 By @bodoniyambo

With @notexistingtoday143

[factual-flittermouse]

I feel like the Joker is the DC version of Snape (or maybe Voldemort) from Harry Potter. If you’ve read the books or comics, he’s a terrible person but it you’ve watched the movies or just like the actor, then he’s the kind of person people are weirdly into

[sevsnapesbitch]

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

Marauders Halloween Costumes

James - Steve Harrington

Sirius - Sidney Prescott

Peter - Minion

Remus - Gru

Lily - Merida

Mary - Tiana

Marlene - Robin Buckley

Barty - Billy Loomis

Regulus - Devil

Evan - Angel

Pandora - Elsa

Dorcas - Ariel

Severus - Vampire

[nonameart28]

[its-elvie-innit]

I love not knowing about what's been going on in qsmp lore for the last 3-4 days (downloaded tiktok is watching the marauders fandom like a rat in a zoo)

[mirathewarlock]

Most honest representation of Severus Snape

[severussnapemylove]

Can we just appreciate the combined genius of Alan and the costume designers.  Starting with, the million buttons and how his sleeves start to cover his hands and his throat is covered. It’s like a physical representation of his occlumency and just in general how much of himself, his mind and heart, he keeps hidden and secured.  The white shirt under the black coat that just peaks out at the edges. It reminds me of Luke Skywalker’s costume in Return of the Jedi. How his black costume has a white lining to show he was on the light side the whole time.  And lastly, the gather and cut of the cloak, so it billows and swishes with maximum drama as he walks. It’s got to be one of the best movie costumes. It just fits so nicely and it’s simple yet complicated, sleek yet dramatic. Perfection. 

Snape Appreciation Month - Day 19:  Costume Appreciation 

[floswife]

“MAKE ME”- H.J.P x READER

Warnings: fluff, rivals to lovers, idiots in denial that they’re in love, Harry being stupid bc why not

Pairing: Harry James Potter x reader

Author’s Notes: idk I just felt a little silly 🤷‍♀️

Summary: Harry can’t seem to keep his mouth shut around Y/n

Harry and Y/n never really got along. Why? Godric knows. It’s been going on for as long as anybody could remember to the point that the origins often varied amongst everybody.

“Oh! It was because Harry accidentally hexed her hair to be snakes.”

“It’s because she struck him by lightning to match his scar.”

“He got a bludger thrown at her during one of their quidditch practices!”

“She dressed up as you know who for a costume party once!”

None of those reasons were the actual origin of their feud, though they were actual events that had occurred.

The irony was that they should’ve gotten along perfectly well together on paper, both being in Gryffindor, both on the quidditch team, both hated by Snape (though Snape hated almost everybody except for green eyes redhead Gryffindor girls) and they both had many mutual friends between them.

They were just constantly at each others throats, it was like it was a game for the two. They definitely did always argue with a wide smile on their face.

Take today for example, it was quidditch practice and like usual, they were arguing.

“Potter, I swear to Merlin I’ll bat this bludger at you!” Y/n pointed her bat threateningly at him. The rest of the team had learnt to ignore them at that point, learning that they just work better motivated by their frustration at each other.

Harry just threw his arms up, “do it, l/n, we all know it’s an empty threat anyways because you’ll miss my face again.”

She gave him a scandalised look, “again?! Who said I ever missed your face, scarhead?”

“Ron! The last time I went to the hospital wing.” Harry grinned triumphantly as she glared at Ron at his spot by the goal to which he just observed the sky with mild interest.

“Do you know how vague that is? You’re in the hospital every other day, attention whore.” She huffed and crossed her arms.

It was then that they got shouted at by Wood to actually partake in practice to which they finally listened.

After practice where everyone was going to the changing rooms, Harry trailed after her and spoke in a sing song voice behind Y/n, “you missed me.”

She turned around with a light scowl on her face, “shut it Harold.”

He had his stupid smirk on his face that often found it’s way there when he was around there as he stepped closer to her, she stayed still, “oh yeah? Make me.”

His emerald eyes flitted to her lips and she felt her heartbeat pick up at the decreasing amount of personal space between them, “bet.”

His smile widened at her response but not for long as she pulled out her wand and wordlessly did a spell to seal his mouth shut.

In a moment of pure panic she just rushed into the changing room, did i seriously just hex a boy after almost kissing him?

As anybody would after hexing a persons mouth shut after almost kissing them, Y/n avoided Harry. Dodging him in hallways, quite literally jumping into random classrooms (though that was a one time thing after seeing a couple of seventh years exchanging spit in there).

Later in the common room, she was curled up in the corner with her knees to her chest, reading a book to calm her nerves, while also covering her face with said book.

This half assed disguise clearly did nothing for her because Ron sat right on the chair next to her.

“Y/n! My dorm now!”

She gave him an indignant look, “Ronnil Wazlib! Me and you need to have words about what you spilled to Harold you little rat!”

Ron just shook his head at her exasperatedly.

“Don’t shake your head at me like I’m your nan with dementia, I will tell ‘mione about your undying love for her!”

His eyes widened and he clasped a hand over her mouth, “just shut up and go up to my dorm.”

She threw her hands up in surrender and got up to go to his dorm, she walked into his dorm first and as soon as she turned to ask him what he wanted to talk about, the door shut in her face, she tried to open it but it was locked. She tried to magically unlock it, but it didn’t work.

Her blood ran cold when she realised her mistake, Harold.

She turned to see him sitting on his bed and he wordlessly patted the spot next to him.

She furrowed her brows but listened all the same as she sat down next to him, “that’s a little too much effort to just talk to me, Potter, just say you love me at this point.”

He gave her a deadpan stare and she then realised he was still hexed so she pulled out her wand and undid it. She gave him an apologetic look.

“Why did he try so hard to get me in here with you?” She asked curiously.

Harry seemed to contemplate what he was gonna say before he finally said, “well I’m not gonna say I’m in love with you but I can say that I like you. A lot actually.”

She gave him an incredulous look, “Excusé moi?”

He just nodded, “you’re brilliant and beautiful and smart and funny and I like you. And I think- no I know you like me too.”

She furrowed her brows, “how can you be so sure about that?”

He pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face and kept his hand cupping the side of her face, “because I know you.”

For once she didn’t argue against him and when he leaned in this time, she let their lips touch and she melted into the kiss. His lips were soft against hers and although they spent years with such animosity towards each other, it seemed to now just turn into blind affection as they naturally sank into each others arms.

When they pulled away with soft smiles still on each others faces, she spoke, “and you tried to get on my case for missing you in the hospital wing?”

Harry’s face lit up even more if that was possible, “so you did miss me!”

She rolled her eyes, “that was not new knowledge, get over it!”

He laughed and she decided to shut him up for the second time that day, except not with magic this time, but with another kiss.

It was then that Ron decided to burst in to the room, “have you guys killed each other ye- Merlin!”

He gasped at them as they jumped apart from each other. Harry looking proud while y/n looked slightly ashamed.

She threw a pillow at him as he ran off shouting for everyone saying he had money to collect.

[professorsnape394]

Day 4: "Me or Her?"

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating:😠🥰

Prompt: Torn

Summary: Severus must chose between his old life and his new life, or risk losing those closest to him.

A/N: Can't resist a good angsty moment. Writing this broke me a little bit in the best possible way. My heart was aching.

Warnings: alcohol.

Word Count: 2184

Credits to Gif Creator

Halloween had always been a difficult day for Severus. While the rest of the world gathered their friends to dress up in ridiculous costumes and gallivant around from door to door, Severus opted to stay at home, mourning the loss of his first love and childhood best friend.

He remembered that night like it was yesterday. It was the height of the First Wizarding War; The Dark Lord had learned of the prophecy and was setting out to murder any new parents with a son born at the end of July. Severus had begged Voldemort not to hurt her. Dumbledore had promised to keep her safe. At that point Lily Evans was the only person in his life who had ever saw the good in him. He needed her to be kept alive.

As it turned out neither wizard kept their promise to their most loyal subject, and Lily Potter was murdered on the 31st of October 1981 Severus was the one to find her; lying lifeless on the floor of her son’s nursery. Her son, who infuriatingly had survived the Unforgivable Curse that was meant to end his life, remained unharmed and wailing in his crib. Lily had not been so fortunate.

Snape fell to his knees beside her limp body, cradling her in his arms. Sobbing openly for the loss of his best friend.

Halloween marked this occasion every year serving as a cruel reminder of everything he had lost that day. So instead of celebrating like everyone else, he chose to drink.

The potions master kept an old photograph of himself and the young witch hidden away in the drawers of his desk. It depicted a moving image of the two of them side by side as young teens, posing and giggling hysterically at the camera. It was his tradition to set the picture on his desk once a year and drink himself numb on a bottle of Firewhiskey.

This year he had thought would be no different. The picture lay flat on his desktop, the uncorked bottle of alcohol stood beside it. Yet, he hesitated.

Without warning his office door swung open, revealing a stunning young witch dressed in a deep red velvet gown with flared sleeves stretching almost to the floor.

“Are you nearly ready honey, if we don’t leave now we’ll be late the party.” Her temporary vampire teeth peaked out through her blood red lips.

While his enchantingly beautiful wife was hard to resist looking at as she relaxed against the doorframe, a party on this night just felt wrong.

“I’m not coming.” He muttered, his hand automatically reaching for the bottle.

“But you promised…” She whispered, the grin dropping from her face.

“I’ve changed my mind, I think I’d prefer to be alone this evening.”

The hurt on his wife’s face could not be clearer; this wasn’t the first time he had let her down at the last minute.

“It’s time to move on Severus.” She removed her fake teeth, not wanting her next words to be slurred.  “If you always insist on living in the past, those here in the present will get tired of waiting on you.”

While she had always been sympathetic to her husband’s emotions, she couldn’t help but feel rejected by him. That if Lily had somehow survived that night, she would be the one standing in her place instead.

Severus stared down at the old photograph, not daring to meet his wife’s watering eyes.

“Answer me this, Severus, because I’m only going to ask it once. If she were here. If it was me or her. Who would you choose?”

The question shouldn’t have come as a shock to the man, he had always suspected it had been on his wife’s mind. But hearing it out loud came as a blow to his chest. He knew the answer but it would hurt him deeply to say it aloud. So instead, he loosened the cap of his whiskey, poured himself a large glass and drank until only a few droplets remained.

A frustrated sigh filled the room.

“I’ll be back around 11. If your still conscious enough, feel free to join me in bed.” She snapped, slamming the door behind her.

Severus buried his head in his hands. Of course, he knew his ritual was unhealthy, and now that he was married it was well past time that he stopped it. But still, he worried that by giving up this day that he dedicated to his young love, he was somehow letting her down yet again. That it was his fault she died and by letting this routine go, she was somehow dying all over again. He worried that his memory of her might be forgotten if he didn’t spend at least one day a year wallowing in his grief for her.

He drained a second glass of whiskey.

Snape had fucked up big this time, and now his worry was he was at risk of losing his wife, the only woman who had ever truly loved him back. 

Looking down the barrel of his third drink, Severus heard a faint knock on his office door.

“Come in.” He called out.

In bounded a girl no higher than his thigh, clad in shades of pink and purple tulle, paired with a set of translucent net wings and topped with a silver plastic tiara.

“Hi Daddy.” She beamed up at him.

“Hello sweetheart.” Severus picked the girl up by her armpits, placing her gently on his lap. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Eh, I’m a fairy princess, duh?” She mumbled, brandishing her pretend wand at him.

“Of course, you are.” He nodded in understanding. “And the most beautiful one at that.”

His daughter blushed appreciatively, but almost immediately fell into a look of disappointment.

“Mummy said you’re not coming to the party again.”

“That’s true, darling. Daddy has to stay home this year.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid I have things I need to do at home. But you and Mummy can still go to the party and have so much fun.”

“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “Mummy is always sad when you don’t come places. I don’t think she knows how to have fun without you Daddy.” The girl pouted.

Severus heart dropped in his chest. He knew his wife was disappointed in him staying at home, but he had always assumed she was out enjoying her time with her friends while he stewed in his self-pity.

“Doesn’t she dance with anyone at the party? I’ve never known your mother to miss out on an opportunity to frolic around a dancefloor.”

His daughter shook her head again, dark ringlet curls swishing through the air.

“She doesn’t even take part in the costume contests, which is rubbish because I bet she’d win every time. She just sits at a table all night watching everyone else have fun, it so boooooring.”

Severus’ mouth turned dry and he struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe that the vibrant woman he had married would sit on the side-lines, dimming her light because of him. She was the life of the party, the one who went all in on everything she does, the one who makes everyone smile just by simply being in the same room them. She was everything he was not, which is why he loved her so much. He couldn’t bare the thought of her losing everything that makes her special because she always felt second best to a dead woman.

“Come with me.”

Severus took his daughter by her tiny warm hand and led her out of his office, but not before grabbing one last thing on his way out.

Yet another crack opened in his chest at the sight he stumbled upon in the kitchen.

His wife sat hunched over their dining table, sobbing into the palm on her hand, while tears poured down her cheeks, streaking her makeup as they fell.

“Y/N.” He croaked, laying his palm flat on her back.

The woman stiffened at this touch, quickly wiping away her tears and composing herself once more. She never let her husband see her cry.

“Oh, would you look at the time, sweetie.” Y/N gulped. “We better get going or else we’ll miss our chance to enter the costume contest, I really think we have a good chance at winning this year.” Her tone was unusually high pitched and alarmingly positive, but Severus could still hear the small sniffles she couldn’t repress every time she took a deep breath.

Y/N turned her back on Snape, rushing to the hooks by the door to grab her daughters coat and shoes.

“Y/N.” Severus repeated, his voice now full of pity.

“Like I said; we should be no later than 11, possibly earlier if this one has a sugar crash, but no need to wait up, I know you have more important things to do.” She didn’t dare even look in his direction.

Doing up the final button on her daughter’s coat, Y/N took her child by the hand and ushered her out the door.

“Y/N!” Snape said a final time, his tone firmer this time. “Look at me.” The woman froze on the spot but hesitated to face him.

Whispering in Delphine’s ear to go play, Y/N knew she couldn’t run from this conversation any longer.

Y/N forced her posture ramrod straight, tilted her chin up, took a long but shaky deep breath and finally turned to face her husband. It was obvious to him that she was trying her best to remain stoic, not wanting to show any weakness in front of the man who had none.

“You’ve made your choice, Severus. I can’t claim to understand it, but I’ll respect it. I know now that I’ll never be able to live up to the woman you first loved. I used to think that maybe if we were together long enough and I tried hard enough that I could be enough for you. I just wish I knew when I married you that would never be a possibility. I have always loved you, with every fibre of my being. I was foolish to think I deserved the same in return.”

“Y/N.”

“Stop saying my name. Please.” She squeezed her eyes shut tight, like it physically pained her to hear his voice. “Delphi deserves to have a stable home, so I’ll stay. But I can’t promise I’ll be the same woman I was. I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough for you.” A tear escaped Y/N’s eye, this time she let it fall. There was no need to be strong for a man who loved someone else.

“Shut up, you foolish woman.” Severus scorned.

“Excuse me? Don’t you dare talk to me like that I-”

“I made my choice a long time ago. I fell in love with an incredible woman. She was uncommonly kind, remarkably clever and surprisingly very funny. She had this ability to draw the attention of any crowd but somehow never made it about herself. Her smile could light up any room, turn any sad man happy. She would dance until her feet hurt, and then get up and do it again, even if it meant she had to go barefoot. She is singularly the most strikingly beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I made my choice a very long time ago, Y/N.”

“I appreciate your honesty but I don’t want to hear it.” Another tear fell.

Snape slowly stepped towards his wife. He could see her shoulders tensing with every tap of his heel on the hardwood floor.

Severus wipes away her stray tears with his thumb, cupping Y/N’s face between two hands.

“The woman I fell in love with is so stubbornly strong, she has spent the last five years hiding away her tears from me. And it hurts me deeply that she thinks she could ever be second best to anyone. The day I met you was the day I realised I had never truly felt love before.  There is no second place in my eyes, you have always been the only one for me.”

“But what about- “

“She was my friend.” He interjected. “And I failed her in the worst possible way. Just as I have done with you; by not showing you how much you mean to me, that changes today. I’m coming to the party.”

“You don’t have to.” She tried to escape his embrace.

“I want to.” He pulled her closer. “For you and for Delphine; the only two girls who have ever mattered to me.”

Reaching into his pocket, Severus revealed the old photograph of him as a teen. He felt his wife’s breath hitch at the sight of it. The source of all her anguish, one silly little picture he had obsessed over his whole life. He wouldn’t subject her to that anymore.

With one singular rip, Severus tore the portrait right through the centre, severing himself from the past.

“No more.” He promised. “I love you, Y/N. No one else.”

[severussnapemylove]

Alan rehearsing the scene out of costume just doesn't get old. I'd love if there were video of this. Snape in a jean-jacket.

[ruinofchimera]

Hi, I really like your posts, just out of curiosity, what do you think about Sirius Black?

Your curiosity could very well unintentionally land me in a Flynn Rider situation—cornered with a dozen sharp knives pointed at my throat, and for that, I’m more than ready to kiss you on both cheeks, anon. My recklessness be damned; let’s unfold this matter.

Sirius is an entitled arse, no two ways about it. He’s got that privileged, arrogant swagger of someone who’s always had things handed to him, even if he spent half his life rejecting it. He’s all rough edges and volatile intensity, the kind of man who’s survived more by luck and sheer defiance than by any real plan or sense of caution. Characters like him, they’ve got a way of sinking their claws in me, whether I want to or not. Because here’s the thing: Sirius’s short appearances in the books pack more emotional depth than some characters got in entire arcs. In just a few scenes, I saw a man constantly wrestling with his own worst instincts, fiercely loyal but destructively so, and trapped in a past he cannot—will not—let go of.

But let’s get something clear from the outset: I refuse to acknowledge the fever dream version of Sirius that certain corners of the internet have conjured up. You know, the one where he’s some delicate, ethereal twink who twirls his hair and faints at the sight of Lupin. What even is that? That’s not Sirius Black—that’s like trying to shove a feral dog into a tea party dress. It’s laughable, but more than that, it’s a betrayal of who he really is.

His bite, his bike, his relentless defiance—it’s not a costume or an aesthetic; it’s who he is, deep down to his bones. That raw, untamed energy, that edge—it’s woven into the very marrow of his bones. The Sirius Black from the books exuded raw masculinity. He was all bruised knuckles and fiery glares, a man who looked like he could break you in half but might settle for a well-placed punch instead. Unpolished, angry, and unapologetic to his last breath. Stripping all that away to turn him into some hysterical femboy with fluttering lashes doesn’t just miss the point—it actively distorts the very essence of the character.

So, no, I won’t acknowledge this fanon revisionism—or more accurately, fanon distortion. That’s not Sirius Black. And with that out of the way, we can return to the real Sirius Black—the one built from book flesh and bones, the man we actually know.

What intrigues me about Sirius is that he’s constantly at war with himself. The guy stormed out of his aristocratic, silk-sheeted home and straight into the muck and grime of rebellion. And rebellion is a funny thing—it’s loud, it’s violent, but it’s not always about breaking free; sometimes it’s just a different way to cage yourself. He chose to reject his family’s ideals, but the methods, the temperament, the sheer ferocity—that stayed with him. In his desperate attempt to be their opposite, he becomes just as volatile, just as dangerous. He’s trying to kill the part of himself that was shaped by his family, and yet, you can see it, can’t you? That same cruel streak, the same hunger for superiority. Only now it’s turned against anyone who dares remind him of where he comes from. It’s a brutal thing to watch, someone trying so hard to break the chains, only to forge new ones from their own fury.

Then there’s Severus Snape. If there’s anyone who can drag Sirius’s demons out into the open and force them to dance, it’s him. Sirius looks at Snape and sees everything he despises, everything he’s spent his life trying to drown, smother, burn out—the shadows of his family’s poison. Snape is like a living relic of the Black family’s cursed bloodline, a walking monument to what Sirius could have been, should have been, if he’d just bent the knee and stayed in line like a good Black boy. There’s no escaping it. Snape is a mirror that shows Sirius all the worst parts of himself, twisted into something cold, bitter, and unrelenting.

And Severus? Every time Snape looks at Sirius, it’s like staring into a mirror reflecting everything he’s ever wanted but never had. There’s that deep, gnawing resentment—the kind that comes from watching someone like Sirius, a privileged boy born into power and status, toss it all aside like it meant nothing. Sirius had everything Severus spent his entire life yearning for: a sense of belonging, the kind of respect that comes with a name, the freedom to be reckless without consequence. To see someone carelessly discard what he, Severus, would have fought tooth and nail to possess—it’s like being taunted by the very life he’s always dreamed of, but could never reach. Every time their paths cross, it’s not just personal hatred fueling that rivalry—it’s the bitterness of watching someone waste a treasure Snape has been denied his whole life.

They despise each other because, at their core, they’re fighting the same battle. They both want to escape their pasts, their pain, but they’re both trapped by it. Observing their dynamic is like watching two men rage against the same storm from opposite directions, and both of them lose in the end.

For all of Sirius’s darkness, there’s one light that never flickers: his absolute, unwavering loyalty to James Potter. James wasn’t just a friend—he was the family Sirius chose for himself, the anchor Sirius wrapped his entire identity around. Black would’ve followed James into the jaws of hell without a second thought, no questions asked, no hesitation. Sirius’s rebellion wasn’t just against his family’s twisted values; it was a revolt in the name of the bond he shared with James, a bond stronger than blood.

So when he finally clawed his way out of Azkaban, broken and ragged, it wasn’t just freedom he sought—it was the ghost of the only person he’d ever truly cared about. James was dead, but in Sirius’s mind, that bond was still alive, and he clung to it like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. But the world had moved on, and Sirius—stubborn, proud Sirius—hadn’t. He was trapped in the past, unable to let go of the life he had lost. He smothered Harry with his expectations and projected James’s image onto him. In Sirius’s eyes, he wasn’t just mourning James—he was still trying to save him. Still trying to fight a battle that had ended long ago. Shackled to a memory, a ghost, Sirius was living on borrowed time. His desperate need to relive those days with James blinded him to the truth—that Harry wasn’t James, and the past couldn’t be resurrected. And in the end, Sirius’s death wasn’t a tragic loss; it was inevitable. A man like him, still fighting ghosts, still raging against a world that had moved on without him, was always destined to fall. His death wasn’t the end of a life—it was the final note in a song that had been playing since the day he lost James Potter.

As I said, Sirius Black’s depth far exceeds the number of pages he’s given. He’s the kind of character who burns bright and brief, leaving just enough of a mark to haunt you long after he’s gone. His short appearances were cut off far too soon, but twisted enough to make me take notice. And I’m nothing if not an admirer of the twisted. He’s the kind of man who’s always teetering on the edge of something dangerous, dragging his demons behind him like shadows that never quite leave his side. For all his flaws—his recklessness, his impulsiveness, his Peter Pan syndrome—he makes me feel something—whether it’s anger, sympathy, or that strange, grudging admiration you have for someone who keeps charging headlong into the storm, even when it’s bound to destroy him. The kind of character that makes me want to punch him square in the face and then buy him a drink right after. That’s a rare kind of magic, if you ask me.

[saintsenara]

Trick or treat!

thank you very much for hammering on my door, anon. i didn't love the costume, though, so you're getting the scariest thing i can think of...

in defence of won-won and lav-lav

the inspiration for which came from the following anon:

obviously, ron and lavender are not, in the eyes of the text, a ship we are supposed to root for.

the doylist text treats the relationship as a semi-punishment for ron - something intended to chastise him [notice, for example, how he and lavender are frequently described in the narrative as being laughed at by other students] for the crime of being so rude to hermione [and dismissive of her desire for him] in the opening half of the book.

and, specifically, to chastise him for being immature - and for being unable to express his feelings for hermione in any sort of sophisticated way. his relationship with lavender is the final stage of the arc which begins in goblet of fire when he fails to ask hermione to the yule ball - in which his approach towards his attraction to her is petulant and childish and he doesn't "deserve" to be with her until he's resolved it.

ron being poisoned - and calling out for hermione on his sickbed - begins a different narrative arc which continues throughout deathly hallows, in which ron is shown to be attentive, compassionate, chivalrous, and so on, until he proves himself worthy of hermione by remembering that slaves exist and gets his girl.

lavender serves - then - as the anti-hermione. she's the final boss of ron's flop era, stopping him from moving on to his true love. and he knows it - hence him getting the ick when lavender does such unreasonable things as "call snape a cunt" - and longs to extract himself from her clutches, but she's such a powerful force of teenage cringe that he can't.

until harry adds a little liquid luck to the mix, that is.

the watsonian text lacks the overt sense that ron and lavender's relationship is a punishment, but its view on the two of them as a couple is broadly aligned with the doylist narrative.

harry is aware that ron and hermione fancy each other, and he doesn't deviate from this opinion even after ron and lavender start going out - his view [which ron does nothing to disabuse him of] is that ron's attraction to lavender is purely physical, that they have nothing in common and don't really talk to each other, and that ron wants to break up with lavender but doesn't know how. he also makes no effort to include lavender in his friendship group [instead, he regards her as something which prevents him from enjoying hanging out with ron] or to get to know anything about her beyond "likes divination" and "parvati's friend".

ron and lavender's relationship also serves the secondary purpose - in both the doylist and watsonian texts - of laying the groundwork for harry and ginny getting together in the latter stages of half-blood prince.

[which some readers might otherwise feel had come out of nowhere... although i do actually disagree with that assessment.]

the emphatic presentation of ron and lavender as embarrassing, superficial, horny teenagers is a narrative device which enables both harry and the text to insist that his attraction to ginny is the complete opposite: not just a flash-in-the-pan teenage romance, but a mature, profound, passionate, sophisticated, end-game love story. the text has locked in on ginny as mrs potter the second she's rude about ron and lavender's kissing technique.

and so the fact that lavender brings something very important - and very positive - to ron's character development is often overlooked.

ron's defining character trait is that he's someone who feels a great need to prove himself. this contributes both to his positive and negative characteristics - it's why he's daring, loyal, and brave, but it's also why he's disinclined to take initiative, prone to sulking, and a bit of a show-off.

and it's also why he feels jealousy very profoundly.

ron's jealousy - like most people's - is rooted in a sense of insecurity. he's jealous of the attention harry gets because he's worried that nobody will ever think he's so impressive [which also connects to him being worried that he's the least-loved of his siblings]. he's jealous of hermione's relationship with viktor krum because he's worried that he could never command hermione's attention in such a way. he's so easy for the locket-horcrux to manipulate because he thinks it's self-evident that - as the apparition of hermione says - nobody would ever prefer him over the boy-who-lived.

this narrative arc concludes with ron learning to move beyond his insecurity - something the epilogue lampshades by having him quip that the crowds gawking at harry are really there for him. he stabs the locket, banishing the physical manifestation of his insecurities, becomes proactive about communicating his feelings for hermione, and acknowledges that his belief that harry's life is cool and swashbuckling is a fantasy, and that true heroism is often hard and boring.

harry and hermione are - unsurprisingly - key figures in this journey of self-discovery.

but so is lavender.

there seems to be a common view in this fandom that hermione is the most emotionally literate and most mature of the trio. this former view is plainly nonsensical [if any of them have the emotional range of a teaspoon, it's little miss "why are you upset your rabbit's dead?"...] and the latter always seems, to me, to be based in essentialist stereotypes about girls being more sensible and maturing faster than boys, instead of the idea that hermione - specifically - has a more diligent and rule-oriented personality than harry and ron.

[i'm always struck by how hermione is - in many ways - the most child-like of the trio. deathly hallows begins with harry clearing his trunk of the ephemera of childhood so he can pack for his mission. hermione's packing involves taking her schoolbooks along as comfort items...]

as a result, the fact that hermione and ron behave equally as petulantly towards each other before their end-game arc begins is often overlooked. he tends to cope with feeling insecure by lashing out at other people's insecurities [i.e. when he does the impression of her bouncing up and down in her chair and makes her cry because she laughs at him] and so does she [i.e. her zeroing in on ron's lack of confidence in his quidditch abilities when she says she's attracted to "really good quidditch players"]. he acquits himself badly when it comes to krum, she reacts in exactly the same way [scoffing, sulking, giving the silent treatment, casting aspersions on the object of his affection's character etc.] to his crush on fleur.

lavender - in contrast - just likes ron. there's nothing deeper going on. she just thinks he's hot and funny and she wants to be around him. harry may see her attraction to ron as ridiculous and embarrassing, but she doesn't. she wants to snog him in the middle of the dining hall - fuck what anyone else thinks!

and this experience - of being uncomplicatedly adored, of being thought wonderful without "wonderful for the average person, of course, not wonderful by the standards of harry potter/international quidditch superstar viktor krum/the slug club" being tacked on the end - is good for ron. it improves his self-esteem [harry takes the piss out of him looking pleased with himself when lavender laughs at his jokes etc., but part of why harry is so gagged is that these moments don't conform to the standard of harry being the person people notice first - or, indeed, exclusively] and allows him to begin to see himself as someone who's worthy of being desired as he is.

and this helps him move beyond expressing his jealousy through sulking and cruelty - at bill and fleur's wedding, for example, he is still jealous of the idea that krum is attracted to hermione, but he responds to this proactively by asking her to dance with him, instead of [as he does at the yule ball] doing nothing to express that he wants to spend time with her and then blaming her for not reading his mind - which then leads into his arc across deathly hallows of moving beyond jealousy entirely.

i don't - though - see ron and lavender lasting if the canon end-game pairings are deviated from. harry's observation that ron and lavender don't have anything in common beyond physical attraction is demonstrably correct. harry's view that lavender wouldn't mesh well with the trio [or with him and ginny as a couple] is harsher, but also true.

but nor do i think we should want them to last.

this is something i say a lot, but fandoms in general are really bad at thinking about romantic relationships which aren't epic love stories - which is unsurprising, since the media from which fandoms spring is exactly the same.

we're bad at recognising that one night stands which don't turn into anything, or second love, or friends-to-lovers-to-friends-again, or "this lasted six weeks and neither of us were sad when it ended", or "i'm sixteen and i want to kiss this fit boy, i'm not going to marry him!" still trigger character growth. a high-school relationship which makes everyone in a ten-foot radius cringe might not last - and nor should it! - but it can still be transformative.

lavender transforms ron's life. there is no romione without her.

[and nor is there any of the locket getting stabbed, so take note, ronmort nation.]

and she deserves our respect.

[sevsnapesbitch]