#You save him from Dementors | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muiitoloko · 3 months ago

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

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

Title: Alchemy of the Heart

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

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut.

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

Also read on Ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snape, however, was anything but cheerful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Severus didn’t do that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #severus snape x reader #severus snape #harry potter

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aethon-recs · 11 months ago

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23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 (Longfic Edition)

Happy New Year! 🤍 Here is a round-up of some of the most engaging multi-chaptered works/longfics that I came across in this ship in 2023.

I found each of these fics, in their depiction of the ship, to be a fresh or surprising take on our familiar beloved characters of Harry and Tom|Voldemort, truly groundbreaking in some way in their approach to the ship. It's amazing to me that even after 20+ years of this ship existing, there's still new themes / tropes / dynamics to explore, and the authors are all so talented in making me think about the ship in some new way — just incredible examples of what it means to be a transformative work of fanfiction.

Criteria for this list: multi-chaptered, Tomarrymort-centric, with at least 1 update published in 2023. As with a previous longfic rec list, I tried to find longer fics that were relatively under-rated (which is hard to define, but below 2K kudos for the most part).

See here for Part 1 (2023 Tomarrymort one-shots), and hope you lose many many happy hours to the unbridled joy of immersing yourself in one or more of these incredibly addictive, lovely longer fics!

23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 — Multi-Chaptered Fics

A Darkness by Any Other Name by river_marrow (M, 30k, WIP)

Decades after the war ends, Harry is thrown through the Veil, and finds himself in an alternate reality where the leader of the Muggleborn uprising is the Dark Lord Voldemort.

A Dead God's Faith by @selfishrot (M, 35k, WIP)

Blood and spittle rush to follow Riddle’s words that are dragged out through a wrecked throat. “I will consume you.” Harry felt a thrill run up his spine, along with the usual fear and anger that accompanied Voldemort's threats. “Be gentle, I can feel your soul ripping its stitches.”

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 81k, WIP)

When Harry looks at Tom, he feels overwhelmed. There is a spark that makes him hopeful, the fear that nothing he does will save Tom from himself, and the horror at what his lies might lead to. When Tom looks at Harry, he feels nothing. Until he does, and then Harry’s world starts drowning in blood.

At the expense of the world by @itsevanffs (E, 24k, WIP)

"He had a lover, you know," Jenkins says to Remus once Harry's behind a wall and out of sight again. "A boy, and a gorgeous one at that. Nobody really knew where he came from, and Tom didn't seem to favour him either, at first, but by the end, he was besotted."

Bitumen by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 32k, WIP)

Harry finds out the hard way that Dementors can’t digest Horcruxes. Now separated from his body, his best option is to seek out a similar soul for help. A love story about immortals with too much time to kill.

Creatures of the Dark we are by @hikarimeroperiddle (M, 25k, WIP)

Banished to his cupboard at age 4, Harry learns to listen only to the Voice in his head. Its teachings wrap all around Harry until no more than dark magic and devotion remains, along with visions of a wraith with red eyes.

Exceeding Expectations by @mosiva (E, 56k, complete)

Harry Potter’s life ran along very different lines than Tom Riddle’s. He knew nothing more of the man than he read in the Daily Prophet. Then they get stuck in a lift together.

Exegesis by liquoricepantomime (M, 38k, WIP)

In exchange for peace, Voldemort asks for Harry Potter. And so, there is a new legacy that forms — of The-Boy-Who-Was-Sold, and his childhood spent in a castle, with a man who has killed his parents. A man who is mad, and whose ire reigns fiery hell. A man he will marry, and yet knows nothing about.

found by @honbug (E, 112k, WIP)

Tom knows from the beginning that he is destined for greatness. Nothing and no one will stop him from achieving his goals. (And then, of course, there are the dreams.)

hook, line, and sinker by @purplemineralwater (E, 21k, WIP)

Harry asks Professor Riddle for help in killing Voldemort. Riddle is endlessly amused.

if we were lovers by @reggieblk (E, 277k, complete)

When Harry arrives at the most prestigious theatrical school in the country, he doesn't have many expectations. The most unexpected thing he encounters is Tom Riddle, and subsequently, falling in love with the only other person who deals with feelings as well as him. But maybe, just maybe, he and Tom will find out that not all love stories have to end in tragedy.

Lover's Spit by @blogalinda & @k3uuu (E, 123k, WIP)

Following his father's arrest on a dull hot Sunday in North Yorkshire, 10-year-old Tom Riddle becomes a dark internet sensation. If Harry Potter listened to his father, he would never speak to Riddle again. But eight years after the arrest, an unexpected and painful encounter leads Harry to reconsider events — and arrive at a conclusion all his own.

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 189k, WIP)

A decade after the final battle, a serial killer emerges, with a message that proclaims the Dark Lord has risen again. Harry is assigned to the case.

Oversight by @dividawrites (E, 21k, WIP)

Voldemort’s resurrection ritual doesn’t go as smoothly as he’d planned. He requires assistance and there’s only one person he can ask—the boy tied to his father’s gravestone.

Paved With the Best Intentions by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 113k, WIP)

Instead of dying during the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort de-ages into an infant. Until he becomes old enough to be legally executed, he will be magically bound to Harry.

Prison Blues by @metalomagnetic (E, 68k, WIP)

Harry and Voldemort find themselves locked up in a mysterious prison in an A/B/O alternate universe setting.

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells (E, 110k, WIP)

In a Voldemort Wins AU, Harry Potter was spared, and enters his seventh year at Hogwarts wanting to do Arithmancy research and keep his head down. However, after a chance encounter, it looks like it may not be so simple. Marvolo Gaunt seems to have his eye on Harry. The trouble is, Harry has no idea why.

Tender Reigns Our Night by @noumena-writes (M, 93k, WIP)

Sent on a Ministry mission to fight for magic's survival, Harry goes back in time with two simple objectives: find and destroy any existing Horcruxes, and stop Tom Riddle ever evolving into Voldemort — using any means necessary. Harry thus finds himself working alongside Riddle at Borgin and Burke's, examining dark artefacts and desperately trying to fulfil his orders.

the demiurge, the leontoeides by @ramabear (E, 125k, WIP)

Thomas Gaunt reaches through the dimensions and plucks an eleven-year-old Harry Potter from his world and brings him home again.

the eternal flame by @duplicitywrites (E, 25k, WIP)

There’s a well-dressed older man who enters the orphanage asking after Tom Riddle. The man’s green eyes fix on Tom’s face, searching and searching. “My name is Harry Gaunt,” the man says, the tenor of his voice soft and faltering, a reflection of Tom's deepest, most secret anxieties, “and I’m here to adopt you.”

the righteous dead by @aspengray (T, 23k, WIP)

Harry is resurrected, sewn together with thread and magic. He remembers nothing except that he loves his savior, a man named Voldemort.

The Longing by @aglassroseneverfades (M, 33k, WIP)

Harry is not thinking of his parents right now as he trudges up to Voldemort’s eerie castle. He is thinking instead, as he often does, of a name that burns too brightly on his wrist in the pre-dawn light. He is wondering if somehow the fruitless tugging on his heart means that somewhere, some way, Tom is watching over him.

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 157k, WIP)

A Hunger Games-AU featuring Harry and Tom as competing champions. Harry has a saving people thing. It’s not conducive to surviving a battle royale. He doesn’t fancy his chances. Especially against Tom Riddle.

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #harrymort recs #2023 reads #2023 recs

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engie-ivy · 1 month ago

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(If it's three prompts, can it be three times as long?😋 Fix-It Halloween fic! Happy ending, promise!)

@wolfstarmicrofic 23rd, 24th, 25th: Fidelius Charm, Skeleton, Spooky

792 words

Remus hates Halloween, but maybe it's time to get over that hatred...

All's Well That Ends Well

“Uncle Moony, uncle Moony!” Harry comes rushing into the living room.

Remus puts away his book. “What is it, lad?”

“There are skeletons next door!” Harry exclaims.

Remus chuckles. “They're not real, Harry. They're Halloween decoration.”

“Decoration,” Harry repeats. “But decoration is fun, like flags and balloons. Skeletons aren't fun.”

“No,” Remus agrees, pulling Harry onto his lap. “But for Halloween, the decoration is supposed to be spooky.” He tickles Harry's sides and the boy giggles as he squirms. “Halloween is the scary holiday.”

“Scary,” Harry mumbles. “Uncle Moony, what is the scariest Halloween you ever had?”

Remus’ breath halts.

1981

“They can't be, they can't be…”

“The whole house is blown to bits. They're gone, Remus.”

“No. No. The Fidelius Charm, and Sirius, he…”

“He betrayed them, Remus.”

“No. No, he wouldn't. Not James. Never James.”

“There's no other explanation.”

“Just let me talk to him. I'm sure he can explain. Somehow. Just let me talk to him. Please.”

“He's on the run. Which just confirms his guilt. The Auror department as well as the Muggle police are all searching for him.”

“Muggle police…”

“Peter bravely went after him once he realized Sirius betrayed Lily and James. However, once cornered, Sirius blew up an entire street, killing Peter and nine Muggles.”

“Peter? Peter’s gone too?”

“I'm so sorry, Remus.”

“No. No. Sirius is not a… not a… Sirius is not a murderer.”

“We didn't think he was a traitor either.”

Remus swallows. “I'll have to think about that, Harry,” he replies, somehow managing to force a smile.

Harry pouts for a moment, but then he pipes up. “Can we put up Halloween decoration?”

“Oh, I don't know. I'm actually not such a fan of…”

“Pleaseeeee, uncle Moony, pleaseeeee.”

“Oh, alright then.”

1981

There's a knock on the door.

Almost in a trance, Remus goes to open. Whatever is on the other side of that door can't possibly make tonight any worse. He freezes once he sees who's on the doorstep.

“Sirius.”

“Moony, I-”

“No, don't call me that! You were the Secret Keeper, Sirius. How are they dead then, Sirius? How?”

“Moony, I can explain.”

“No. No, you can't. You can't explain betrayal and you can't explain murder!”

“It's not like that, Remus.”

Remus pulls out his wand. “I should hand you over to the Dementors right now!”

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” another voice suddenly says.

“What's this then? Halloween decoration? I thought you hated Halloween?”

Remus looks up from where he's reading his book on the couch. “Well, apparently, I hate saying no to Harry even more.”

“Ha, I know what that's like. At least I can play the indulgent godfather-card.”

1981

“J-James? You're… You're… You're alive?”

“Peter was the Secret Keeper,” James wastes no time in saying. “At least of Godric’s Hollow. But we had our suspicions about Peter, so Harry, Lily and I were actually staying at another safe house, of which Sirius was the Secret Keeper.”

“When Peter indeed went and betrayed Godric’s Hollow to You Know Who,” Sirius continues. “Instead of James, Lily and Harry, he found an ambush waiting on him, set by Dumbledore and the most powerful members of the Order.”

“So when the house blew up, it was only He who got hurt,” James concludes.

Stunned, Remus looks from James to Sirius to James and back to Sirius. “And the Muggles, the murders…?”

A dark look appears on Sirius’ face. “Unfortunately, in my anger, I made the mistake of going after Peter. He blew up a street and disappeared into the sewer as the rat he is. I wish I could've saved those Muggles…”

A clattering sound brings Sirius back to the present, and he looks at Remus who has just dropped his wand on the floor.

Remus flings himself forward and wraps his arms around his two friends, relief flooding his body. Whatever is to come, they have each other.

Sirius gives Remus a kiss and sits down on the couch next to him, letting his head rest in Remus’ lap.

Remus kisses him again, just because he can. “How was the game?”

“Great. The Harpies won. Though James and I are still a little scared of how fanatic Lily gets,” he shudders. “Thank you for watching Harry. The Potters’ insist we come over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Ah, good. No offense, but I'd pick James’ cooking over yours any day.”

Sirius barks a laugh. “None taken, and same. Hey,” he then says, reaching out and cupping Remus’ cheek. “If you're really getting over your aversion for Halloween, maybe we could take Harry trick-or-treating?”

“Yeah,” Remus replies. “We could do that. I think I really am getting over my hatred for Halloween. After all, all’s well that ends well.”

#wolfstar fix it #halloween wolfstar #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius

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exhaslo · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 12- Miguel x Reader (Oral/Suit On)

*Requested by a Reader ;) *

There was a small list of things that Miguel liked. Of course, you were on top of his list and sex; but, if there was one thing your boyfriend, Miguel, loved more than sex, it was eating you out. It was his best 'stress reliever' as he told you one night. Sometimes, you could not tell which was better. Miguel was just so satisfied with his face between your legs and you were head over heels with the overstimulation he gave you. Miguel had talent.

You knew you were going to be on your back for hours when Miguel came home stressed. Sometimes you had to beg your boyfriend to ease up due to you needing to go back to work. Sometimes he listened to you and finished the night with his dick in your pussy, and sometimes he would make you cry his name as he licked your folds. Miguel would have you drench the bed with your juices and gloat in his accomplishments.

"Lyla, can you give me the run down?" You asked, sitting in your shared apartment. The AI appeared before you, humming,

"Rundown. Let's see, three anomalies that Miguel had to personally take care of....Aaaaaand one butt joke."

"Haha, he hates it when those Spiders talk about the assets." You teased.

You knew about Miguel being Spiderman since the beginning. All it took was him saving you once. Miguel tried his best to pretend that you were wrong, but you were persistent. That night was the first night he ate you out. Complaining about you stressing him out about his secret identity. Of course, that was a lie. He just wanted an excuse to devour your pussy. Miguel was so easy to read sometimes, despite his hard looking dementor.

"Oh no." Lyla said suddenly, grabbing your attention.

"Oh no? What happened?" You asked. Lyla was glitching around, working on something,

"Something big is happening. I'll have to report to Miguel."

Before you could ask anything, Lyla disappeared. She said something big happened. You knew what Miguel did for a living. You knew how important it was for him to keep everything in order. How important it was to keep the multiverse at bay. So when Lyla says that something big happened, it made you worried. Miguel worked way harder than anyone else. Hopefully, it was nothing that can't be fixed.

--------------

It was getting late and you were starting to get worried. Miguel had not contacted you yet and you were struggling to get ahold of Lyla. You were pacing around the apartment, wondering if Miguel was okay. You turned the television on, wanting to distract your brain. Miguel was going to come home. He was going to be okay-

"No like, I was freaked out. There was Spiderman and another Spiderman and a pregnant Spiderwoman!? I was freaked out man. They were all chasing after another Spiderman!"

You shut the television off. Well, that helped explain somethings. So Miguel had the whole Spider Society chase one Spiderman. Trying to think, you needed to understand what your boyfriend was doing. You vaguely remembered Miguel venting to you once while he was pounding your pussy. Something about an anomaly and holes in the multiverse because of it. You weren't really paying too much attention because you were so overstimulated that night, but it would make sense.

"But chasing him throughout the city, I wonder..."

You flinched as you heard the door slam shut. You were so lost in thought that you hadn't heard Miguel cussing. You hurried back to the living room, staring at Miguel. He was still wearing his suit, cussing under his breathe. He looked angry, even with the mask on. You hurried to him, hugging him tightly from behind. His muscles were so stiff.

"Miguel! I was so worried! Are you okay, what happened?!" You asked, tightening your grip. Miguel let out a heavy sigh, calming down under your touch,

"Too fucking much. I need to destress."

"Hm? Okay," You said with a pout, knowing that he was going to tell you when your brain was fucked out, "Why don't you take off the su-"

"The suit stays on."

"But-"

"It stays on." Miguel hissed lowly.

You rolled your lips inward, staring at your boyfriend. He was really stressed out. Honestly, you found it kind of hot. He stood tall in his Spiderman suit. You let out a small 'yelp' as Miguel threw you over his shoulder. You were too busy staring at his muscles and ass to notice him getting closer to you. Arriving in the bedroom, you yelped again as Miguel tossed you on the bed. You whined towards him as he brought his talon against your chest. He ignored your complaints and tore through your pajamas.

"I'll buy you a new set." He grumbled.

You stopped complaining since it just made Miguel more irritated. Though, that wouldn't be the worst thing. You gasped lowly as Miguel spread your legs with force. The bottom half of his face already without his mask. You weren't sure why, but watching your boyfriend stay in his Spiderman suit to eat you out was making you horny. Your own personal superhero.

"Ni siquiera he empezado y ya estás así de mojada. (I haven't even started and you're already this wet.)"

Ohhhh, there was the Spanish. You loved it when Miguel spoke to you in his mother tongue. You turned to putty whenever he does. Hearing his low chuckle, you tried to hide your embarrassment. Your body shivered in delight as you let out a soft moan to Miguel's tongue. He started to lick your clit, wanting to give you the stimulation first. He did this whenever he was going to be between your thighs for hours on end.

Your hips started to move as you felt Miguel's tongue twirl around your sensitive bud. His fingers just teasing your entrance, causing your body to burn hotter. You cried out as Miguel finally set himself to your hole. His tongue licking between your folds to taste you before having his main course. Miguel held your hips down, not wanting you to chase your high. He was going to give that to you.

Miguel closed his eyes as he enjoyed the taste of your juices on his mouth. Your sweetness calming him down. The way your body trembled under his touch made him feel in control. Miguel placed your legs over his shoulders and gently bite the inside of your thighs with his fangs. He needed to feel in control. After everything that happened today, something had to give. You were going to be that for him. His delicious stress reliever.

Lapping up your juices with his tongue, Miguel inhaled at the sound of your moans. Your body desperately trying to move, trying to ride his face. Normally, Miguel would let you, enjoying how easily he could make you break with just his tongue, but not today. Pressing his thumb against your clit, Miguel inserted his tongue into your already throbbing hole. Your whimpers turning him on more as he swirled his tongue around inside you.

You whimpered as you held onto the bedframe. You couldn't reach for Miguel's hair since he was still wearing the mask. Moaning loudly, you twitched as you felt Miguel's tongue inside your pussy. You could feel the knot in your stomach burning hotter as he swirled around inside you. His thumb just toying with your clit. It was always too much for you, but never enough for Miguel.

"M-Mig...G-Gonna....S-So c-close," You cried out.

Miguel continued to hold you still as he ravished your pussy with his tongue. You cried out, reaching your first of many orgasms to come. You could hear Miguel's joy as he lapped up the mess you made. Your body trembled as Miguel moaned to your taste, sending a vibration up your body. If only you could see his face! It wasn't fair how he got to watch you get fucked out, but you couldn't see his. You tried to voice your complaints, but Miguel responded with long licks.

"Shhh. Déjame disfrutar esto. Sabes tan jodidamente bien ahora mismo. Sé mi buena chica y quédate ahí y déjate follar por mi lengua. (Let me enjoy this. You taste so fucking good right now. Be my good girl and just lay there and get fucked by my tongue.)" He said from your pussy.

You whined quietly, listening to your boyfriend. Miguel continued to eat you out, drawing out more orgasms from you within the next thirty minutes. He raised his head, his bottom face covered in your juices. Miguel chuckled as he watched you pant. Sweat rolling down your body with your face all blissed out for the night. He licked his lips, pumping two of his fingers into your soaked pussy. Your hips riding against his hand despite your overstimulation,

"Had a long day, baby. It isn't over yet either, so I'm gonna reward you for being so good for me," Miguel groaned.

You reached out for your boyfriend, whining for his touch. Miguel removed his fingers, licking them clean before entering your poor pussy with his cock. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a passionate kiss as you slammed his cock deep inside you. He swallowed each of your mouths, allowing you to taste yourself with his kisses.

"Volveré más tarde. Asegúrate de tener tu coño listo para que lo devore nuevamente. (I'll be back again later. Make sure you have your pussy ready for me to devour again.)" He groaned.

You agreed, of course, unable to think straight. Miguel pounded you until the both of you reached your high. Holding your hips in place, Miguel watched as a mixture of his cum and your juices soak the bedsheets. Oh how he wished he could clean you up, but not now. He grabbed a warm towel and cleaned up you, kissing the top of your head before heading out. He needed to finish this mess to come back to you. To make sure that you were still here when he came home.

---------

You kept your part of the bargain. Whenever Miguel returned, you were on the couch with your legs spread wide. A cute embarrassed pout on your face as you watch Miguel lit up like it was Christmas. This time, without the suit, Miguel ate you out for the rest of that night. ;)

#kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman

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dufferpuffer · 6 months ago

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The idea that Remus Lupin was trying to be CIVIL with Severus... MORE than Snape was trying to be civil with HIM... That... is hilarious.

Remus had one goal in POA: Look Good. Look good to Dumbledore - which meant not sharing useful information he had about Sirius Black, and likely outright LIED about things when asked. (he was his friend - and nobody asked 'is there anything you know to help with the search?' not even a stressed McGonagall...?) Look good to the Students - which meant not only being the bestest, nicest teacher possible, but to help them squash their fears. Their problems. To fearlessly walk all over Snape. I don't know if there is a single thing Remus said to Snape that wasn't passive aggressive and demeaning. Yet Snape, Mr Insults, Mr Witty Comebacks, Mr Explosive Temper - never once clapped back. He was always polite, always saying things sweetly... through gritted teeth, sure - but through gritted teeth is very much not his style when someone disrespects him.

"Severus was only being nice/putting up with it because Dumbledore told him to!" Yeah. Severus is a good boy, making an expensive and difficult potion every month, personally coming to serve it like a House Elf (Master Remus is in the habit of missing doses) Putting up with Remus' blatant lies about the map - even allowing him to take it away to his own office - because he knew snatching it back without proof would probably be against his orders.

I would call that being EXTREMELY civil. I'd call Remus' actions 'using him like a tool'. A social stepping stone. Not a good colleague.

"Snape only outed Remus' Lycanthropy because he was sore about not getting a medal!" When did Severus EVER do ANYTHING for positive attention...? If he wanted that medal so badly he could have killed Sirius Black while he was unconscious. Claimed he saved Harry Potter, dispelled the dementors himself... It would have been revenge for Lily, too! But no, he carefully lifted him onto a stretcher and took him to get medical help, despite thinking him a murderer set for execution.

"I think it is clear that Mr. Lupin is unfit to teach, due not only to the nature of his illness - but his behaviour regarding it. Having to teach his classes every month alongside my own was exhausting, as was brewing the difficult Wolfsbane potion in my spare time and delivering it by hand to ensure it was consumed... as he has proven himself indisputably irresponsible. That is not to mention the recent facts that have come to light about Sirius Black - information he never thought to mention. Worst of all, it is due entirely to his own negligence that I was forced to use my own body to shield three students from becoming infected with his illness... or worse, mauled to death."

Honestly I think that is a pretty reasonable formal complaint. But he didn't get Remus fired. Remus, now outed as disabled, could have used his LEGENDARILY RARE position as a beloved teacher with the personal backing of Albus Dumbledore to fight for better rights for and remain teaching. Albus did not fire him. The Ministry nor the Board of Governors had called for his firing. Remus quit of his own accord the MOMENT he got bad press.

It will be a long time before another werewolf will have the chance to advocate for their rights from such a supported position.

"I only missed my dose due to the emergency of realizing Sirius Black was on school grounds! I had a clean record the rest of the year, curled safely in my office - and despite it being my first year as a teacher taught my classes admirably. Any of the students and staff will vouch for my care towards my students and my subject... ...And the only one I harmed as a Werewolf was Black himself."

Remus would have SUCH an easy time explaining his negligence - and if he was willing to also use Sirius as a tool, as a social stepping stone, he could spin himself as a sort of hero, too. It would be a battle for sure. One he might lose, ultimately, and be forced to step down as a teacher. But he had the chance to be a POSITIVE face for those suffering Lycanthropy - in a world where most of them feel the only option is to turn to Fenrir Greyback. A fact he knows well, as a spy. The werewolf that was a teacher. That was PROUD of being a teacher. Whose students loved him. Who fought a murderer!

But he ran. Before anything. He would rather save face than fight for what he believes in - just like when he stayed quiet and didn't support Sirius in an argument, despite agreeing with him.

#severus snape #remus lupin #love you remus #remus my beloved #hp

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noxxytocin · 1 month ago

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Day 30 of Gaunting Salloween - Dementor

• Ominis Gaunt's POV - Sebastian's POV near the end

Art by: @wrengaunt 🫰✨ thank you mate! I hold our collabs so dear!

CW: major character death (ending is subjective), attempted suicide, abuse

No one emerges unchanged from the shadow of wicked deeds. We are never the same twice, yet we cloak ourselves in the hollow pretence of who we once were, only to suffocate beneath the weight of it.

Each sin, each brush with darkness, leaves a hole—forcibly carved into one’s soul. A wound that time cannot mend.

I lost my dearest friend to this very darkness. It twisted the very essence of who he was. How I fought to save him…yet, in the end, it was I who surrendered him to Azkaban’s frozen arms instead of my own. It was I who cast him into the iron maw of despair, sealing his fate behind those bars.

For five long years, Sebastian has suffered in that wretched place, while I am left to decay, slowly corroding beneath the guilt. His voice haunts me, in every corner of my chamber each evening. His weight is there just on the right side of my bed. With each sunlit morning, I hear his smile as golden warmth touches my skin.

His melancholic tears, only imagined, seize me from my sleep, drawing me from nightmare into a reality that feels no less harrowing. And his screams—silenced, perhaps, yet vivid in my mind—shatter me. They remain an agony only I am cursed to endure. I sacrificed his life at the altar of virtue, bartering it for a semblance of righteousness, and the cost has been nothing less than the damnation of my own soul.

His name—well, I had thought it forever consigned to the silence of memory, never to be uttered again by any living person. Yet there it was, resurrected, and the tremor that overtook my hands, the shattering of my teacup upon the floor, spoke more clearly than any words could. Not that it should have fallen from my elder brother’s lips.

“What did you just say?” I demanded, hardly believing my ears. Surely, I had misheard. Such a notion was simply inconceivable.

“There was hardly any need to disgrace a fine cup of Earl Grey over mere mention of your… paramour,” Marvolo drawled, flicking his wand to remedy the mess that, truth be told, offended him more than the matter at hand. He sighed, exaggeratedly so, before restoring the teacup to its rightful place and erasing the offending spill from the carpet as though it were a trifling nuisance. “It appears you heard me quite well. That peculiar pet of yours has made his escape. Remarkable, really.” He allowed a mocking smile to play upon his lips. “I must admit, I am rather impressed—given his apparent lack of mental faculties. Perhaps he has deceived us all. Even you, little brother.”

I could scarcely believe it. Not a single wizard or witch had ever escaped that godforsaken place—or so it was thought. And yet Sebastian, of all people, had managed to flee Azkaban? Something felt amiss. Surely, he would not dare to repeat his past folly.

“Is that all you know of it? You must tell me more,” I insisted, stepping closer to Marvolo. My hands trembled with barely restrained fury, longing to seize him by the neck—to madly wring it.

“Now, now. Why such a flutter of feathers?” Marvolo chuckled, his tone maddeningly calm as he placed a hand upon my shoulder. I recoiled instinctively at the contact. “You’re trembling, dear brother. Tell me—are you afraid he’s coming for you?”

My heart plummeted at the very notion. Never once had I entertained the thought that Sebastian might escape with vengeance in his heart, seeking retribution for my betrayal in turning him in. Could it truly be possible…? No—surely not...

“Sebastian would never—!” I began, my voice faltering as a sting crept into my eyes. “He would never…”

“Oh, do come off it,” Marvolo sneered. “I wouldn’t let him deprive me of my most cherished fantasy. What sort of brother would I be if I allowed that?” With a dismissive scoff, he pressed a folded piece of parchment into my hand. “Here. I’d rather not have your unsightly tears ruining my suit.”

He paused only long enough to mutter, “This was left on our doorstep today. It’s for you.” And with a twisted smile, he turned on his heel, calling over his shoulder as he departed, “My condolences.”

The door shut with a decisive thud, leaving me in silence.

Condolences?

With shaking hands, Ominis hastily broke the seal of the parchment, his wand poised as he cast the charm to pull the inked words into his mind.

Ominis,

Please, forgive me. All I ever wanted was to protect Anne. All I ever wanted was what was best for us. I hold no resentment for the silence, for the absence of letters, for the visits that never came. I do not fault you for turning me in. I know, perhaps better than anyone, the toll this has taken upon you.

I do not wish for you to suffer on my account any longer.

You’ll find my body by the Black Lake.

The Black Lake? His...body? What—what was happening? Surely he didn't mean to… no! Such a thing could not be. It simply could not! My fingers clenched around the parchment, crushing it as tears traced paths down my face. And then, with chilling clarity, the realization struck: if Sebastian had indeed escaped, they would send the Dementors after him. They would find him. And they would…

“Damn it!” I spat, wasting no more time, apparating to the nearest point by the Lake. I would save him. This time, I would truly save him. He couldn’t slip away like this! Not after all we had endured, all we had been to one another. The memories, the laughter, the joy shared between us—I would not allow him to erase it all. I would not let him be taken. Not like this. “Please…no…”

Sebastian's POV

Surely, this wouldn’t be too painful. All I had to do was lie here and wait. It was no different from Azkaban, really. I only wished it could be swifter. The Black Lake stretched before me, as beautiful and haunting as it had been in my school days. Still and silent tonight, fogged in a biting chill that somehow seemed less oppressive now—perhaps softened by the numbness of what I had endured. Nothing could match the icy ache of losing everyone I ever cherished. This would be simpler, far gentler than facing Ominis’s look of disappointment, that quiet agony in those sparkling, teary eyes. I was certain I’d already heard his heart shatter when we had said our farewells in the headmaster’s office, his arms clinging to me as if he would never let go.

But Ominis would never have to endure such sorrow again. And at last, I would receive the punishment I deserved. I did not merit life, not after all that I had failed to protect. I had failed my uncle, my sister, my friends, my parents. And with the Dementor’s Kiss, I would be stripped of this darkness within me, even if my wand lay broken and powerless. I would become little more than a faint memory—a ghost to haunt their thoughts but never in life.

Leaving that letter behind was absolute torment. To be mere steps from Ominis—close enough to knock, close enough to cross the threshold and fall into his arms—was a temptation almost maddening. But such a reunion was no longer within my grasp, not after all I had done. The life we shared, the trust between us, lay shattered beyond repair. I knew, with agonising certainty, that I would find no welcome in his gaze. Nor from Anne, had she survived.

Yet, in that brief moment, I caught sight of him through the tall, glass window. The sight was both a gift and a curse, a vision so achingly beautiful it rooted me in place. His skin, pale as alabaster, gleamed softly beneath the golden light. He wore his finest attire, perfectly tailored to his now slender, tall frame—a frame that time had carved with subtle grace. His face, angled and sharp, bore the same familiar beauty marks on his cheeks, delicate as though painted by careful hand. Golden hair, fine as silk, was slicked back as usual and those alluring eyes were still a set of gemstones.

“Ominis…” I muttered, tears dropping onto my cheek.

But even this vision, this fleeting glance of all I yearned for, could not compel me to reach out. Instead, gripped by fear, I let the letter slip from my trembling fingers and turned away, fleeing as if the very wind urged me onward, far from the sight that both healed and broke my heart.

And now, here I lay, alone and resolved to free him from me forever. With my soul surrendered, I would no longer have the power to bring him pain. No longer would I be the burden he clung to in silent suffering. In the void I would leave behind, he could finally find happiness. At last, he would be free.

A sigh escaped me, my breath rising in the night air, ghostly white against the pitch black—pale as the moon above. I turned my gaze towards the Lake, watching as a thin sheet of ice began to form along the shore, creeping outward until the entire surface lay frozen in solemn stillness. This was it. The end I had chosen.

Tilting my head back, I took in the brilliant glow of the moon. So bright, so achingly familiar; it reminded me of Ominis’s eyes, wide and glistening, capturing light like a silvery mirror. But the sight was shattered as a shadow crossed my vision—a figure cloaked in darkness, hovering before the moon’s face. And then another. And yet another. They were here. The Dementors had come.

“I’m ready,” I whispered, my breath shallow and weak, the bitter cold already robbing me of its warmth.

The Dementors gathered close, circling like crows, hovering just above me. Then one descended, its gaping mouth drawing out the very essence of my being. At first, I could see it—a misty blur of myself slipping from my body. Another Dementor swept down, stealing even more, and slowly, steadily, the world around me faded with each kiss of oblivion until there was only darkness.

Or so I thought. Until I saw him. Ominis—smiling.

The image bloomed with a vividness I had almost forgotten. It was the first time I had ever seen him smile, truly smile. I remembered it clearly: I had just taught him Confringo, and we’d singed our eyebrows in the Undercroft while practicing that cursed spell. I’d made some jest, something so absurd it had him laughing, his smile radiant, his laughter spilling out in waves around us. I’d often wondered why that spell had held such fascination for me. Now, it was plain as day—the memory bound to it, the warmth of his smile. And here it was again, unfolding before me as though I had been swept back in time.

The memory shifted, blurring into another scene—Feldcroft. I was back in my childhood home. Ominis and I were alone; Anne was fast asleep, and Solomon was away for work. We lay side by side in my bed—a rare and precious thing. Ominis had escaped from his own home that evening, seizing a moment of rebellion to apparate to Feldcroft the moment he’d “turned in.” I remembered the surge of pride I’d felt, seeing him stand against the grip of his family, even for a single night.

We lay there, laughing and talking in the stillness, sharing secrets and dreams. I remembered our hands, the way they moved—gliding, grasping. We pressed close, warm against one another, needing no blanket to shield us from the chill. It was, I believe, the first night Ominis truly slept. I could see him now, peaceful, his breath slow and soft, and I could feel the weight of my own heart as I realized then, in that precious moment, the depth of my feelings for him. I couldn’t look away from his lips as he lay there, utterly still, and the truth of it settled over me that next morning.

Another memory surfaced—the Sorting Ceremony. I had just been placed in Slytherin, nerves prickling at me despite Anne’s reassuring presence nearby. And then, a boy sat beside me. I didn’t know him yet; I only knew of him. The name Gaunt carried a certain weight—whispered, feared. And here he was: Ominis Gaunt, their youngest, sitting quietly at my side, as silent as a mouse.

No one dared to breathe in his presence. Students stole glances, wary, as if expecting something dark or strange from him. I was no different—I half expected Parseltongue to slip from his lips the moment he spoke. But what came instead was a soft voice, timid and gentle. “Would you mind… telling me what each food item is before me?” he asked, his hand tugging slightly at my sleeve, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. It surprised me—and endeared him to me in a way I couldn’t have understood at the time. But in that moment, I unknowingly found the truest friend I would ever have.

Then came memories of comfort, tender and bittersweet, unfolding before me. After the horrors of the Scriptorium, I saw myself holding him, his grief raw from the loss of his aunt and the fright of the Unforgivable curse used against me. He was fractured then, torn, yet I held him close, wrapping him in all the love I could offer at the time.

Now, rushing forth, the memory I cherished above all others—the moment of my first confession, however clumsy it was. It was just before Anne’s curse. I had managed to sneak a few spiked Butterbeers from The Three Broomsticks under the cover of a disillusionment charm and brought them back to the Undercroft without spilling a single drop. Ominis and I had our fill that night, laughing and emptying every last mug.

In my drunkenness, I blurted out a thought that had been buried for far too long: how I’d never kissed a boy, but if I ever did, it would be him. Of course, the both of us were stunned by my suddenness. I could still remember the look in his eyes, wide and wobbling. And then, without a word, he leaned in, his lips pressing gently against mine.

The warmth of that kiss burned hotter than the Butterbeer. I melted into its sweetness, kissing him back with nothing but my longing. When Ominis pulled away, I nearly whimpered, wanting to press back into him. We said nothing of it afterward, slipping back into our usual banter, yet we both knew it had changed us. It gave hope. Hope that perhaps in the future, we could be more than what we were.

So many memories flickered before me, so vivid and consuming that I barely noticed as I drew my final breath. I didn’t feel the chill settling in, nor the tears slipping down my cheeks. The joy of those memories held me fast, but then, I was before the Dementors once more. And faintly, I heard his voice, calling out from the distance, growing nearer with each second.

“Sebastian!” he cried.

The sound felt so real, so achingly real. I closed my eyes, letting go, feeling the pull as my soul began to slip from my body. I could see it then—a glow, bright and pure, emerging before me, filling the sky with such brilliance it blinded even the Dementors. And in my final moment, I saw him—Ominis. His face hovered above mine, his own tears falling, warm against my skin, his eyes shining with a light that outshone the moon, outshone even my soul’s glow.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered with my last breath, letting those words carry my love and my regret.

#sebinis #sebastian x ominis #ominis x sebastian #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #gauntingsalloween #hogwarts legacy

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hollowed-theory-hall · 28 days ago

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Hey there! I woud realy like to know what do you think about Harry's and Dudley's relationship

Rereading the books I figured that they have a resemblance of a sibling dinamic. A fucked up one for that mater, but they where still raised together

What's your opinion about this, basead on the books

Like, a very fucked up sibling dynamic where the parents have clear favorites. Though, I don't know if I'd personally call their dynamic sibling-like. Yeah, they were raised together, but their dynamic lacks a lot of the aspects sibling dynamics usually come with — and I'm not sure what's the word for it, bit it's a sense of belonging, of sorts.

Like, siblings, even ones that have a crap relationship, feel a certain affinity and responsibility for each other. Harry and Dudley don't really have that. They don't consider each other under the 'family' category in their own minds.

Like, Harry saves Dudley from the Dementors, not because he's supposedly 'family', but because he isn't. Harry doesn't really think of the Dursleys as family. He saves Dudley because it's the right thing to do. Because as awful as Dudley is, he doesn't deserve to get his soul sucked out by a dementor. Harry saves him because he's a good person, not because he cares for Dudley.

And Dudley only starts the process of thinking of Harry as family really after the dementor attack. He doesn't really see Harry as family as they grow up, I think.

They see each other more like a roommate you don't like but have to live with rather than a sibling.

Just, like, think of Fred and George, they play mean pranks on Rom, and they're incredibly rude & mean to Percy, who is rude right back when he can. There is animosity, there are fucked up elements in the dynamic (Molly constantly compares F & G to their older brothers in an incredibly unfair way) — and yet, they care. Percy cares for his siblings so much. Fred and George may have their cruel moments, but they don't actually want any of their siblings hurt. There is an undercurrent of love and loyalty and belonging — a sense of a family unit, even if it's a messed up one. Harry & Dudley don't really have that unit aspect of it. Their dynamic is much more simple growing up. There isn't the complexity that comes with a messed up sibling dynamic where they truly care against their better judgment. That's how I see it, at least.

Like, Dudley and Harry only have the fucked up aspects without the parts that make a sibling dynamic feel like a sibling dynamic. They don't really feel like family. They don't even know each other well enough to register as overly familiar with each other the way siblings do, especially once Harry starts going to Hogwarts.

So, I don't really see their dynamic as being sibling-like.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #asks #anonymous #hollowedtheory #harry james potter #dudley dursley

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mairon-goth-minion · 2 months ago

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(Note: this follows my previous post with Evan)

Once more, please hear me out:

Barty Crouch who hated the world

Barty Crouch who, despite his famous bravado, couldn't even look his father in the eye

Barty Crouch who preferred to be hated than loved, because that's all he ever knew

Barty Crouch who was terrified of losing himself to drugs yet who took them anyway, because they blurred everything

Barty Crouch whose heart skipped a beat the instant he saw that tall, blond and haughty looking boy from across the common room

Barty Crouch who became obsessed with that boy, to the point where he knew every detail of his life

Barty Crouch who would've burned the world down for a kiss

Barty Crouch who, when he finally receives that kiss, at a Halloween party, both of them drunk out of their minds, feels like someone's lit a brazier within him

Barty Crouch who begins to realize that this boy might be just as insane as him

Barty Crouch who falls in love with that boy a bit more every passing day, feeling love for the first time instead of hatred

Barty Crouch who died the day he learned that his love had been killed, becoming only a husk of his formal self, losing all that made him him, not to drugs, as he'd feared, but to heartbreak

Barty Crouch whose last thought as the dementor sucked his soul out was that he'd welcome death because it meant he'd see Evan Rosier again

"My love, my only one. I miss you so, so much. You left me all alone. I forgive you, love. Fuck. Maybe if I’d been there, I could’ve saved you. Too late. For both of us. I miss you so, so much. At least I’ll get to see you again. See you in hell, Evan."

#rosekiller #barty crouch x evan rosier #barty crouch jr #barty x evan #dead gay wizards #marauders era #my angsty babies #those feral bastards #I would die for them #gaaaahhhhh #they deserved so much more #I hope that there’s somewhere a universe where they both survived and lived happily ever after #aka pretending to investigate murders they committed #Idk that sounds like something they’d like

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awxum · 3 months ago

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A collection of the best Severus fanfictions

I feel like there are quite a few fanfictions that don't have enough recognition in the fandom, so here they are- my personal favorite fanfictions that I have read throughout the years.

I mostly read angst/hurt-comfort fics, all of them has Snape as main character.

Some of them aren't completed, but still- I think they are worth reading. I will mark them "incomplete" or "ongoing"

Your Turn... by tr00per

Remus Lupin/Severus Snape

Words: 38,494 - incomplete

"The war is over and life is starting to settle back into some form of normality but for Severus Snape and Remus Lupin, so much has changed and so much has been left damaged, will they ever find peace?

When both return to teach at Hogwarts, a bit of meddling from Minerva McGonagall and a helping hand from Hermione leads to a tentative friendship that they both clearly need..."

Waves (will help us hide) by Hamlette

Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape

Words: 86,526

"The year is 1981. On the night of the Dark Lord’s disappearance in Godric’s Hollow, His second-in-command comes to inform his friend and fellow Death Eater about what happened. But Severus is not dismayed – he barely seems to register what he’s told… Or the story of an ‘old friendship’ between two wizards, which would only be called such by historians."

The Black Hawk by Hamlette

Remus Lupin/Severus Snape

Words: 224,826

"Remus Lupin didn’t have the slightest idea how he had survived the Battle of Hogwarts. All he knew, was that he woke up safe and sound underneath a black duvet and apparently – cared for. What he was most shocked to find out, however, was that the battle did not take the victorious turn he had hoped it to and that he was saved by the most unexpected person to do so."

Smoke by Fayet

Remus Lupin/Severus Snape

Words: 25,498

"Remus had a firm idea what Snape meant when he talked of business. Death Eater contacts, probably. Well, nobody had ever seen their spy in action, and Remus would be the last one to turn down a good show."

In which Remus finds himself in intense pain and follows Severus on a journey into a dark place to find a cure. Instead he finds pictures in the smoke and more than Severus has ever planned to show."

This is part of a series- Those Who Favour Fire- and I recommend reading the entire series. Not all parts are translated into English, so if you are fluent in German, you can read it on ff.net.

Smoke (German version is called "Opium")

Fire (German version is called "Earl Grey") Words: 189,554

Honig (which is only available in German on ff.net) Words: 122,406

The last part is unfortunately incomplete, but I think it ends in such a moment that it can easily be considered an ending (but definitely not the one I was hoping for). I recommend reading all of the work of Fayet.

With Soul of Light and Dark by CrimsonMyriad

Snape-centric

Words: 104,491- incomplete (but I still have hope!)

"As the Order knows full-well, only the pure of heart can cast a Patronus. When Snape saves Harry from the dementors and reveals his doe Patronus, the Order have reason to trust their spy. Snape knows that he could aid the war effort with his logic and ingenuity, but will the Order trust him enough to accept it?"

And Thou Shalt Be First by saiyanwizard

Snape-centric, Severus Snape & Albus Dumbledore & Minerva McGonagall

Words: 35,320 - incomplete (but last update was in Dec. 2023)

"The war for the wizarding world has ended, but one wizard has slunk back into the shadows, still broken and in pain. He who was considered last in everything must now be put first, not only for his sake, but also for the sake of those who still care."

Under The Water by Selly_Blackbird

Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Words: 21,890

"The lake was dark, cold, quiet, and it made him calm down, The castle was bright, noisy, crowded, and it made him panic, The panics took away his strength, made him weak and almost choked him, And the middle of this chaos there was He, and his warm and soft body."

Odysseus's Last Days by Amand_r

Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Words: 17,406

"He certainly hadn't predicted that the happy ending he'd dug out of the dirt, the blackness of his own self, the one he'd compromised so much for, would have dissipated with something as harmless as a plunge from a low bridge. Because it's not the fall that would have killed him. It would have been the sudden stop, or the rushing water, or a sharp stone to the skull, things that any wizard worth his salt could have got out of, if he'd wanted to."

Nocturne by Tira Nog

Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Words: 93,699 (it is complete!)

"Auror Harry Potter makes a life altering discovery during an interview with a prisoner."

Darkness Visible by plutoplex

Snape-centric

Words: 181,884

"AU after GoF. Trelawney makes a new prophecy about a mysterious Half-Blood Prince, and Dumbledore struggles to find out who it's about. Already walking a tightrope between two masters, Severus Snape feigns ignorance while making his own plans."

It is unavailable on ff.net, but you can download it here. (I'm not sure if author is okay with it, but it would be such a shame to ignore this fanfiction while making my personal best list)

Making Do by ravenkira

Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Words: 56,802

"After the war, Severus Snape tries to find another way to deal with his abominable life."

It has second part, but it's not translated into English and it's ongoing. So if you can read Russian it's available here.

Self-Preservation by coffeeonthepatio

Harry Potter & Severus Snape

Words: 35,128 - ongoing, it's a repost and the last update was in 2022

"Mrs Figg has enough. 7-year-old Harry Potter cannot stay with the Dursleys any more. Severus Snape thinks everyone is better suited to raise the future Saviour of the Wizarding World. Harry dreams of being taken away by a tall man who scares even Dudley. REPOST"

The author took down the old version of this fanfiction and from what I understand she is not okay with sharing the old version.

Nothing To Lose by SINclair54

Snape-centric, Harry Potter & Severus Snape

Words: 14,766 - incomplete (edit: new chapter! 05.09.24)

"Severus Snape has decided he has nothing left to live for. He is only going on so the war can be finished and then he can die in peace. His spying for the light is continued but not willingly."

Grease & Lightning by Mothboss

Harry Potter & Severus Snape

Words: 43,114

"The year was 1988, and on one quiet Sunday morning in the early days of a blisteringly hot July, the Dursleys departed from Number Four Privet Drive. This, by itself, was of little consequence. They habitually went to church most Sunday mornings. Except... this time they simply didn't return."

and the sequel Acid Reigns which is ongoing and has weekly updates.

𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙿𝙾𝙽𝚄𝙼 by shiterature

Remus Lupin/Severus Snape

Words: 188,359

"𝐝𝐞•𝐥𝐨•𝐜𝐚•𝐩𝐨•𝐧𝐮𝐦: 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯 - 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍.

»»»»

“Why is it connecting us?” asks Remus, his voice safe and demure in Snape’s ear, his gold eyes bright with adventurous urgency.

“It can be difficult to discern,” replies Severus as he relays the same breed of oddity back to him — although copiously subdued — “but it’s doing an irritatingly thorough job of carrying through.”

»»»»

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏. A new acquaintance to the territory of teaching, an old friend to grief and misfortune, and entirely off on the wrong foot, twenty-one-year-old Professor Severus Snape reverts to an old charm of his — a charm for things that are lost — in attempt to find the one book in which he wrote it. But when the spell starts working against him and mysterious things start happening to his own students, it seems he has no choice but to form an alliance with an old schoolyard enemy in order to find a culprit, a book, and his own identity. And one thing is for certain: the irritating charm of Remus Lupin is nearly impossible to refuse."

And the sequel 𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙽𝙸𝙰 (ongoing, last update was in may 2024)

Godfathers by Lazlisz

Sirius Black/Severus Snape, Severus Snape & Harry Potter

Words: 95,869 - ongoing (regular updates)

"Severus Snape has traded what might be one of his last peaceful summers for a tumultuous few months housing the Boy Who Lived after Hogwarts' student registry notified him of a potential abuse case at Number Four Privet Drive. If that wasn't bad enough, he finds himself revealing far more than he ever should have—and far more than Albus Dumbledore ever would have allowed—to the boy about his past, and his mother. When Sirius Black reveals himself with the intent of saving his godson from Snape, the three of them end up standing begrudgingly together to find Peter Pettigrew and clear Black's name before the proper authorities can be involved.

Harry finds solace in the unexpected care of an unjustly convicted man and an ex-death eater; meanwhile Black grapples with repressed attraction to the man he'd spent his childhood tormenting."

Sacrifices Arc by Lightning on the Wave

A massive work, it consists of 7 parts, which are longer than the original Harry Potter series. It's AU in which Harry has a twin, eventual Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter & Severus Snape. Mostly Harry-centric, but I include it here because Snape is an important character in this story.

Saving Connor

No Mouth But Some Serpent's

Comes Out of Darkness Morn

Freedom And Not Peace

Wind That Shakes The Seas and Stars

A Song In Time of Revolution

I Am Also Thy Brother

Cat, Bat and Dog by fromtheskytoyou

Sirius Black & Severus Snape

Words: 62,061

"Severus survives the war but finds himself limited as he recovers from his injuries - a mixture of the snakebite and lasting nerve/mental damage from the Cruciatus Curse. Unable to be as solitary as he once was, he finds himself opening to people that his former self would have been disgusted at. And also he has a cat - which would be enough to draw me in."

This fic is inspired by Moonstone, which is also a great fanfiction!

#snapeloveposts #severus snape #pro snape #professor snape #snarry #snupin #snack/snirius #fanfic rec #fanfic list

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mybutcheredtongue · 10 months ago

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I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWELVE (see full series list here)

1993

"Oh, look, I see Harry coming this way," you say, pointing to the pair of footsteps with the label 'Harry Potter' moving in the direction of Remus' office.

Remus looks over from where he was fiddling with his suitcase.

Sure enough, Harry then knocks on Remus' open office door and you wave at him from your seat on his desk.

"Saw you coming, Harry," you say with a smile, pointing at the map.

"I just saw Hagrid," Harry says, looking at Remus. "And he said you'd resigned. It's not true, is it?"

"I'm afraid it is," Remus replies. He starts opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents. You pick up some of the papers, tapping them against the table to align them up, before handing them to Remus.

"Why?" says Harry. "The Ministry of Magic don't think you were helping Sirius, do they?"

Remus swiftly crosses the room and closes the door behind Harry.

"No, Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives." He sighs. "That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he — er — accidentally let it slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

You cough loudly, poorly concealing a muttered "Prick".

"You're not leaving just because of that!" Harry exclaims.

Remus shares a glance with you, smiling wryly.

"This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents — they will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you...that must never happen again."

"You're the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" says Harry. "Don't go!"

Remus shakes his head and doesn't speak, continuing to empty his drawers.

"Believe me, Harry, I've already tried," you say with a sigh. "Can't change his mind."

Remus gives you a look, before returning to Harry. "From what the Headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything, it's how much you've learned. Tell me about your Patronus."

"How d'you know about that?" Harry says, distracted.

"What else could have driven the Dementors back?"

Harry relays his tale of the Dementors and how he cast his Patronus to save himself and Sirius, and you beam proudly at him.

"Wicked."

"Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed," Remus says to Harry with a smile. "You guessed right...that's why we called him Prongs."

Remus throws his last few books into his case, closes the desk drawers and turns to look at Harry.

"Here — I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night," he says, handing Harry his Invisibility Cloak. "And..." he hesitates, then shoves the Marauder's Map into your hands. "I'm not your teacher anymore, Harry, so I'll leave the map in better hands."

You glance down at it, scoffing, before handing it out to Harry. "I couldn't care less what you do with it, Harry. I've no use for it, anyway. I doubt I'll be doing half as much sneaking around as yourself, Ron, and Hermione."

Harry takes the map and grins.

"You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would've wanted to put me in danger."

"Danger is a strong word," you say with a slight chuckle. "Perhaps get you into trouble is a better way to say it. I'm sure James would've been highly disappointed if his son never got up to a few rule-breaking antics."

"Seconded," Remus agrees.

There's a knock at the door, and you see Harry hastily stuff the map and the cloak into his pocket. It's Dumbledore. He doesn't seem surprised to see you nor Harry there.

"Your carriage is at the gates, Remus," he says.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Remus picks up his old suitcase and empty Grindylow tank. You hop off the desk, dusting off your trousers with the palm of your hands.

"Well, goodbye, Harry," Remus says, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again some time. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, I can manage..."

He glances back at you, as if to say the same thing, and you immediately roll your eyes. "Can't shake me that easily, Moony."

He sighs knowingly.

"Goodbye then, Remus," Dumbledore says soberly. Remus shifts the Grindylow tank slightly so that he and Dumbledore can shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry, he leaves the office and you grin, heading out after him. You turn quickly, placing a hand on the edge of the doorframe and peek your head in through the door.

"Harry, would you come to my office later? I'd like to talk to you about a few things."

He nods, and you grin, turning back to catch up with Remus.

"Oh, Moony, give me that," you scold, grabbing the Grindylow tank and shifting it up to be able to carry it comfortably. "Why have four hands if two aren't being used?"

He chuckles, your footsteps clicking in sync against the stone floor.

"Merlin, school'll be so boring without you," you groan. "I'll miss you."

He gives you a small smile. "I'll miss you too. I'll miss Hogwarts — I really did quite like teaching here."

"It is nice, isn't it?" You agree. "It's nice to have a routine every day."

He hums in agreement.

"I wonder who'll replace you next year," you say thoughtfully. "Hopefully someone who can hold a conversation. I'm getting sick of getting caught in a chat with Professor Binns. It is actual torture — I mean, how can you be a ghost and still be boring?"

Remus chuckles. "You're acting as if you don't remember his classes when we were kids."

You groan. "Don't remind me! Merlin, if I had to go through another one of those I think I'd actually jump off the Astronomy Tower..."

A few students give a parting wave to Remus and he smiles sadly back at them. You finally arrive outside at his carriage, and he turns to you.

"Goodbye," he says, smiling forlornly. "I truly think this past year has been one of the best in a long time. It was nice to spend my evenings with a good friend."

You grin at him, placing the Grindylow tank on the ground and throwing your arms around him. He has to drop his suitcase to be able to return the hug.

"For me, too," you say. "I'm so thankful that you're in my life, Remus."

"And I am thankful you're in mine."

You pat his shoulder, smiling. "I love you, Moony. Safe home — and make sure you write to me in the next few days, yeah?"

He smiles. "Of course. I love you too. And before you say it — I'll find him. Shouldn't be too hard."

"You're an absolute gem, Moony," you say genuinely. "Now, get going!"

He chuckles, picking up the suitcase and putting it onto the back of the carriage. You hoist the tank up and place it beside it, patting the top.

"Bye!"

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"Come in, come in..." you say with a smile as Harry enters your office, taking a seat in the chair in front of you. You sit down behind the desk, removing Dubh from her sleeping spot on your chair, who lets out an agitated meow. She quickly settles on your lap instead, curling up again. She really does nothing but sleep.

"Well, Harry. Remus told me everything up until he transformed, so you don't have to worry about telling that tale to me again. I'm sure you're tired of telling it."

You were livid when you found out about Peter. That slimy, disgusting, selfish little traitor. He was your friend! To think you let him into your home, to think you ever had faith in him!

Truth is, you always just thought he was a little...socially inept. He was never very good at talking to girls, and perhaps that was for the best. Bit of an odd bloke. But he was Sirius' good friend, so you had faith in his character.

What a fucking waste.

That pathetic man threw away everything for himself.

He ruined James' and Lily's lives.

He ruined Harry's life.

Sirius.

Remus.

Your life.

You could've had a happy life with your husband and your best friends if he hasn't spoiled it all.

You were so angry. It took quite some time for Remus to calm you down.

He nods. "Professor...if you knew Sirius was innocent this whole time, why didn't you tell anyone?"

You give a bitter chuckle. "I did, Harry. Of course I did. But what proof had I? I wasn't there. All I had was a strong belief in my husband. That counts for nothing in the judicial system. I mean — everyone believed he was guilty. Half of 'em thought I was just as mad as him."

"Sirius asked me how you were," Harry says thoughtfully. You furrow your eyebrows and he continues, "He thought I would have been living with you, not with the Dursleys...'cause you're my godmother. So why didn't you raise me instead?"

You sigh, giving him an apologetic smile. "I...couldn't, Harry. Well — not at the beginning anyway, I was a right mess then — but also because I wasn't allowed. The Ministry reckoned I'd try and kill you — which is like, I know my cooking's not great but it's not lethal — "

Harry snorts and you smile.

I just made my godson laugh!

"Not to mention Petunia totally hates me," you add. "With a passion. Couldn't visit, 'cause she'd have an absolute conniption if I stepped foot in her lovely, pristine home. Didn't write, either. Thought it'd be weird if you only got letters and never actually met me..."

Harry nods, though he's clearly not entirely satisfied yet. "Why didn't you tell me once I started school?"

"Wasn't allowed to do that either," you sigh. "You were already adjusting to so many new things...Dumbledore told me to wait. So I did, I waited a whole year, and then last year he again told me you weren't old enough yet. I was a bit angry at that, honestly...I'd already had to deal with eleven years of no contact with my own godson...but Dumbledore is much wiser than I, and I trust his judgement. And well, this year —of course — would have been a bad time to reveal I married Sirius..."

Harry doesn't say anything and you sigh. "Harry, dear, I really am quite sorry. I wish I could've properly watched you grow up."

Harry just shrugs awkwardly, looking away from you. "What...what were my parents like?"

You smile reminiscently. "Oh, Harry, just the best. Like the best people you'd ever meet — and I know they'd be so proud of you. They'd be so proud of you, Harry, so proud. And I'm very proud of you too."

Harry struggles to contain the smile stretching his lips.

"Lily was my best friend growing up. She was practically my sister. You wouldn't meet a kinder person, and she was also hilarious. I can't count the amount of times I genuinely thought my chest was going to explode from laughter with her," you tell him with a big grin. "And — and James, Merlin, now we used to fight like siblings. I remember one time, he decided to give himself frosted tips without telling anyone, and they were horrendous. Like, actually atrocious and he was so adamant that they were cool and they weren't. I honestly think I passed out from laughing. Oh, wait, hold on — I have a photo here somewhere — "

You pull out the key from your pocket, unlocking the bottom drawer of your desk and pulling it open. You grab a small stack of photos from inside and start to shuffle through them.

"Aha!" You exclaim, pulling a particular one out and grinning at it. There in the photo, is James Potter, his hair tousled and with the most horrendous frosted tips you've ever seen. He's grinning proudly though, and in the corner you can see a red-faced Sirius, doubled over in laughter.

You hold it out to Harry, and he takes it very gently, as thought it's more delicate and precious than glass. He beams at the photo, grinning just like his dad.

"Ah, Harry, you are the image of your father," you say happily. "Would not recommend frosted tips for you."

Harry chuckles, still looking at the photo happily. He gazes at it for a bit longer, before reluctantly handing it back towards you and you quickly shake your head.

"Keep it, keep it! I probably have a copy at home somewhere," you tell him, pushing back the photo. You lean down again and pick up the rest of the photos, handing them all to Harry. "Keep them all. I have loads more at home, I should bring the rest of them in to you."

The look on Harry's face warms your heart. He looks so happy, excitedly taking the photos and rifling through them. You crane your neck to see which ones he's looking at and begin to explain each one.

"Remus and Lily with their Prefects' badges...if you look close, you can actually see James ogling Lily in the background."

"Prank gone wrong..."

"Ooh, prank gone right!"

"My sixteenth birthday, that is. There's everyone...including my then-boyfriend, Alan. You don't have to squint to see the scowl on Sirius' face."

"Everyone spent a week at James's over the summer..."

"Oh, yeah, there's your godfather."

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asks.

You snort, looking back at the photo of Sirius stumbling around and pretending to use his wand as a microphone. "Drank too much firewhiskey. Don't even think about copying anything he does, by the way! Sirius is an idiot."

"I...wasn't planning on it," Harry says sheepishly. He flips the next photo, revealing a happy Sirius kissing a woman wearing a wedding dress —

"Oh, I'll take that one!" You say quickly, grabbing it and laying it face down on the desk.

Harry's cheeks redden slightly and he lands on the final photo. Your graduation photo.

You don't say anything for a second, gazing at it fondly. "Our graduation," you say softly.

Harry looks at it curiously, eyes wandering over the faces in the photo. He points at Alice, asking, "Who's she?"

You smile. "Alice Longbottom. Neville's mother."

Harry raises his eyebrows, looking back at you in surprise. "You knew her?"

"Very well," you say. "Alice, Lily, and I were the greatest friends. And Frank, Neville's dad, too...we were all like a little family." You point to Frank with your pinky finger.

Harry's eyes then focus on Wormtail, and you can see his jaw visibly clench. "Is that..."

"Yep. Wormtail."

He looks like he's nearly about to rip the photograph, so you gently take it from him, picking up a quill off your desk and dipping it in your ink well. You scribble out his face. Some small part of you knows you shouldn't do that. That this is someone who was once your friend. Someone you trusted. Someone Sirius trusted.

But you do it anyway, and hand it back to him.

"There...no reminders now," you say softly. He nods, taking the photo again and giving you a small smile.

You glance down at your watch, sighing. "You better get going if you want dinner. Come chat to me anytime, alright, Harry? I'd love the company."

He smiles, standing up from his chair.

"And take all those photos! I'm sure Ron and Hermione would like to see them too."

"Thank you, Professor," he says gratefully, carefully gathering up the photographs and leaving the room.

You flip over the photo once he leaves, gazing over the wedding photo again. You smile wistfully.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→⁠→ read chapter thirteen here!

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hello lovelies! sorry that it's been so long since the last upload — the past week or two has been like a bit hectic haha. I really hope you like this chapter, and thank you all so much for the overwhelming support I've been getting recently. I love you all!! 💌

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