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drcomttheo · 10 days ago

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Amidst the Chaos

Amidst the Chaos— ML

A/N: Please mind the tags and warnings. This chapter contains non-con elements between a minor and an adult.

EIGHTEEN:

"Let us toast to the glorious triumphs of our Great Lord!"

An unfathomable stretch of time had slipped away since Voldemort unleashed his relentless torment, his dark magic slithering into the very depths of Allie's mind, while his menacing presence loomed like a shadow, a dire warning to anyone foolish enough to dare interrupt him.

His frustration was growing, and with each cruel twist of his methods, he would erupt in guttural grunts and sharp sighs, echoing through the dimly lit chamber.

After countless hours of tireless effort, his discoveries remained frustratingly few.

Allie found herself engulfed in a sea of confusion, her mind a tangled web of chaotic thoughts.

Each wave of agony crashed over her, relentless and unforgiving, pushing her to the brink of consciousness.

She felt herself slipping away, dissociating from the pain that threatened to consume her completely.

As she was kneeling before him, a deep sigh of surrender escaped Voldemort's lips, and at that moment, he relinquished his hold, pushing Allie aside and compelling her to rise.

Her knees trembled, a fragile testament to the exhaustion that threatened to pull her under. With every ounce of willpower, she fought against the urge to collapse, determined to stand despite the heavy burden of fatigue that clung to her like a shadow.

"Dispose of her," Voldemort commanded, his voice cold and unwavering. "And prepare her," he instructed, a dark glint in his eyes as he turned to exit the room.

Allie fought to steady her racing thoughts, desperately seeking control over the chaos that surrounded her, but before she could fully comprehend Voldemort's chilling words, she felt a powerful grip on her arm.

A Death Eater loomed over her, his expression twisted into a menacing sneer, a sight that had become all too familiar in her harrowing reality.

He pulled her from the opulent chamber, her exhaustion rendering her too weary to resist as she surrendered to his grip, allowing her body to be drawn along with a sense of reluctant acceptance.

He led her through the dimly lit corridors of the manor, finally arriving at a quaint washroom tucked away at its far end.

Though it was small, it held an undeniable grandeur.

The shower gleamed with opulent marble, its surfaces reflecting light like a polished jewel, adorned with exquisite gold fixtures that whispered of luxury and elegance.

Allie's mind raced with questions, a whirlwind of confusion swirling within her as she found herself ushered into a bathroom.

Just as she began trying to piece together the fragments, she was gently but firmly seated in a chair, the world around her fading into a blur of uncertainty.

"Wait here," Dolohov commanded, his voice firm as he stepped out of the room, leaving her in a silence that felt both heavy and charged.

Allie pondered quietly; she could run, she could, but the manacles that clamped her ankles together held her fast; escape was a distant dream, especially in the absence of her magic.

She could scream, but what good would it do?

Her voice would be barely a whisper, and it would be swallowed by the shadows of a house teeming with Death Eaters.

She struggled to maintain her balance in the chair, her frail bones seeming to protest against the weight of her own existence.

Just as she felt herself teetering on the edge of collapse, a sudden pop echoed through the air, startling her from her reverie.

"Ah, hello, miss," a diminutive elf chimed, her delicate footsteps echoing softly as she drew near to Allie. "Oh, misses don't look well. Dinky fixes miss," the small elf declared, her voice quiet and calm, but before she could take one more step, Dolohov re-entered the bathroom.

"Dinky!" Dolohov shouted; his voice was commanding, and Dinky fell silent, her words caught in her throat, and with a sense of urgency, she turned her attention to the task at hand, obeying his every instruction without hesitation.

Dinky was a devoted nursing elf who had spent her entire life within the opulent walls of Malfoy Manor.

She was one hundred and fifteen years old and was once a humble kitchen elf, but her fate took a turn when Narcissa fell gravely ill one fateful summer, leading her to embrace the role of a nurse elf.

"Misses must take potion, Master says—" Dinky's words faltered, her voice caught in surprise as Dolohov silenced her with a quick, decisive tap on her head.

Allie squinted, her brow furrowing as she struggled to hone in on the conversation circulating around her.

Dinky carefully uncorked a small vial, revealing a clear, shimmering liquid that sparkled like starlight.

"Dinky helps, misses," she whispered, her voice soft and inviting as she approached Allie, standing on her tiptoes, gently coaxing the liquid past her lips.

Allie struggled against the unyielding grip of Dolohov as his fingers dug into her jaw with an ironclad determination.

Desperation surged within her as the acrid liquid of the muffling draught began to seep past her lips, its bitter taste invading her senses and stealing away her voice.

They repeated the same steps two more times, administering a calming draught and a deficiency potion, and after Allie had reluctantly consumed both, Dinky popped back out in a flash while Yaxley lingered, his hands gently lifting Allie from the chair.

All the potions had left her in a state of eerie stillness as if the very essence of her life had slipped away.

It felt as though she had stepped outside herself, a silent observer of the whirlwind of events that were unfolding around her; her own body was moving, but it was as if she wasn't in control.

She existed in a realm between consciousness and oblivion, a ghost of herself; thoughts flickered like distant stars, yet her mind felt dulled, trapped in a haze where movement and sensation were mere echoes of a life once lived.

She found herself with no choice left now, unable to resist.

She found herself frozen, her body unresponsive.

Dolohov stepped toward the shower, the steam curling around him like a whisper of secrets waiting to be uncovered.

"You look simply dreadful, my dear flower," he murmured, lifting her gently from the chair, his fingers deftly peeling away the last remnants of her clothing.

They had offered her clothes the first time they had brought her food.

It was days after they had first confined her, and until that moment, she had been clad in her gala dress, but as soon as the new garments were presented, she changed, repurposing her elegant dress into a makeshift blanket.

She sought comfort in its soft embrace.

Allie remained motionless, surrendering to the gentle ministrations of Dolohov as he carefully peeled away her layers.

She found herself powerless to resist the unfolding events.

He gently peeled away her garments, casting them aside with a flick of his wrist.

The second they touched the floor, they vanished into thin air, leaving only the warmth of the moment lingering between them.

Dolohov held her tightly as he guided her into the shower, where the warm steam transformed the space into a cocoon of heat.

He laid her gently upon an elegant marble floor, her form surrendering as the scalding water cascaded over her skin.

He left her lying there while he undressed himself.

As he shed his garments, each piece fell to the ground and vanished upon impact. A new set of clothes appeared, neatly folded on the vanity for both of them.

Allie was to be bathed and attired suitably for the evening's anticipated events, and Voldemort had designated Dolohov to oversee her well-being for the night.

Allie was sprawled on the shower floor, the relentless fall of water crashing against her face.

Each droplet felt like a weight, pressing down on her, making it difficult to catch her breath as the torrent enveloped her.

Every vial they had administered left her powerless, forcing her to lie there, helplessly enduring the relentless torment.

Dolohov shed his garments, the fabric pooling at his feet, before he made his way to the shower, the promise of warmth beckoning him closer.

He lifted her effortlessly, their bodies glistening as the water cascaded down and pressed her against him, the warmth of their connection igniting the air around them.

Allie struggled to maintain her composure, her body swaying as Dolohov's arm draped possessively across her chest while his other hand explored the contours of her stomach.

Her heart raced as she felt his hand explore her form, descending lower and lower, leaving her breathless and powerless to resist.

His breath ghosted over her neck, and she swore that she could almost hear a low, sinister snicker escape his lips as his hand journeyed further down her torso, his fingers brushing against the soft curls at her pelvis.

"Soft," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear as his hand glided lower, seeking her hidden warmth, and Allie felt a tightness form in her throat, a desperate longing to escape the confines of her current reality.

She shut her eyes gently and drew in a deep breath, allowing the air to fill her lungs as she sought to calm her racing thoughts.

She held it for a moment as she steadied her mind, trying to embrace the stillness that enveloped her.

She envisioned the gentle caress of the wind against her cheeks anytime he whispered, and as she nestled into the soft grass, she gazed at the clouds, and with every thrust of his fingers, she pictured the clouds shifting forms, and his nails that pressed into her skin were like the sharp edges of autumn leaves.

She transformed the horror of her current reality into the comforting visions of her mind, trying to weave a tapestry of distraction; her only companion was her subconscious as it guided her through the labyrinth of her current horrors.

The harrow persisted until the water in the shower turned icy, signaling the end of the ordeal, and the torture of the shower had ended, and with a firm hand, Dolohov returned Allie to the chair and began to dress.

The fabric of the formal attire whispered against his skin as he donned the meticulously prepared garments.

He wore a sleek black waistcoat, while the unmistakable Death Eater boots completed his ensemble with an air of dark elegance.

Allie looked at the suit before her; it was the most expensive suit she had ever laid eyes on, and a whirlwind of curiosity swirled around her as she wondered what grand event could possibly warrant such exquisite attire.

As she remained in the chair, her posture slumped and weary, droplets cascaded from her skin, collecting in a shimmering pool at her feet, and for a fleeting moment, her gaze caught the reflection staring back at her, and an involuntary wince of recognition flickered across her face.

She found herself a stranger in her own reflection, no matter how fervently she sought to reclaim the familiar contours of her identity. Before she could linger on the thought any further, she found herself pulled from the chair, his hands guiding her with an unsettling familiarity.

Each touch felt both unwanted and inevitable, leaving her with no option but to surrender to the moment once more.

She squeezed her eyes and braced herself, and before she knew it, the moment had passed.

He gently began to cover her with the luxurious silks that had been laid out; it was a sleek black silk dress that flirted with her thighs, its hem teasingly resting just above the midpoint.

She was acutely aware that even the slightest shift could send the delicate fabric of the dress tearing apart, leaving her exposed, so perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that she was confined to stillness and not trapped in a moment where every breath felt like a risk.

She stood there, enveloped in the delicate fabric of the dress, the absence of undergarments leaving her feeling exposed, and as he completed the task of dressing her, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over her form, a slight tsk escaping his lips as he admired the sight before him.

"Dreadful," he murmured, his fingers gently tracing her cheek, and then he quickly drew his wand, a glimmer of determination in his eyes, and cast a glamour spell, and instantly, she was enveloped in a glowing light, and her transformation was complete.

Her long brown hair cascaded in vibrant ringlets, no longer dull but shimmering with life, while a delicate blush graced her cheeks, bringing a soft warmth back to her visage.

"Ah, much better now," he murmured, his fingers deftly twisting a strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear, and a shiver coursed down Allie's spine at his touch as he lifted her effortlessly, draping her over his shoulder.

The hem of her short dress rode up, hiking it higher and revealing her bare bottom to the world.

Allie felt as though she were a mere plaything, a delicate doll in someone else's hands, uncertain of the fate that awaited her in this unpredictable game.

Dolohov traversed the seemingly endless, shadowy corridors of Malfoy Manor with Allie over his shoulder, each step echoing with the weight of time, until he finally arrived at the opulent dining room that awaited him.

The table stretched across the room, a magnificent centerpiece beneath the shimmering chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.

Their soft, warm glow enveloped the space, casting a gentle light that danced across the polished surfaces, creating an atmosphere of elegance and allure.

The walls stood stark and unadorned, save for the imposing fireplace that cradled a magnificent painting above it, capturing the sprawling beauty of Malfoy Manor's grounds in exquisite detail.

Dolohov strode confidently to the head of the table, a mischievous glint in his eye as he walked with her and placed her into a chair at the end after he delivered a sharp slap to her backside, the sound echoing in the charged atmosphere.

As soon as she hit the chair, she sank down, the heaviness of her body pressing against her as if the very world conspired to pull her into its depths.

The room thrummed with a familiar sense of anticipation as more individuals entered.

The energy was reminiscent of that first moment she stepped into the manor alongside Mattheo.

"Where have you been keeping this delicate flower?" Walden Macnair inquired, his presence filling the room as he glided in behind Allie, his gaze lingering on her with a mix of admiration and intrigue.

Allie felt a tinge of confusion pique her once again.

It was the second time she had caught the whisper of the word "flower," which was directed at her, and it only made her more curious than the last about the significance behind it.

In Allie's mind, a flower was more than just a plant; it was a symbol of beauty and elegance, a delicate masterpiece of nature.

She had always held a deep fondness for flowers, until now, their vibrant colors and enchanting scents captivating her heart.

"Don't touch her," Dolohov declared, his voice low and steady as he raised a glass to his lips, a glint of warning in his eyes.

Macnair, sensing the tension, slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, the air thick with unspoken threats.

"I didn't, yet," Walden replied with a smirk, settling into his chair at the far end of the table, his gaze sharp and challenging.

"And besides, she's not yours," he remarked, taking a slow sip from his glass, the tension hanging thick in the air between them.

Allie was swept away in a tempest of emotions as the conversation swirled around her, her attention honing in on the single word that stuck in the air: "Yet."

She lingered at that moment, the threads of conversation weaving together with the unfolding events, a realization came upon her like the first light of dawn breaking through the shadows.

She was in the Malfoy Manor.

Surrounded by Death Eaters.

Drugged and incapacitated.

She was their flower.

Their beloved plaything.

Allie was pulled back into the brutal reality of her surroundings, the clinking of glasses and the soft shuffle of feet echoing as everyone settled around the table.

Dolohov took his place beside her on the left, the three empty seats before her and the one at the head of the table standing as quiet witnesses to the gathering that was yet to come.

Her gaze swept across the room, searching for the source of the clanking sound, and at last, her eyes landed on a familiar figure, clad in his unyielding uniform, his unmistakable blonde hair catching the light.

"Thank you all for coming to this gathering," Lucius declared, raising his glass high, his voice resonating with a fervor that filled the room.

"Let us toast to the glorious triumphs of our magnificent Lord!" Lucius said as he lifted his glass, and just as he opened his mouth to speak once more, the heavy door creaked open, and the Dark Lord entered, flanked by the formidable presence of the rest of the Malfoys and the ever-loyal Bellatrix.

"You are too kind, Lucius," Voldemort intoned, his presence filling the room as he glided in, and instantly, they all bowed, murmuring, "My Lord," in perfect unison.

With a decisive wave of his hand, he dismissed them, and one by one, they settled into their seats, the air thick with reverence.

Voldemort, cloaked in shadows and malice, strode forward with an air of dark authority, his loyal followers trailing behind him like a sinister procession.

They took their seats, each one a testament to their unwavering allegiance to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort reclined at the head of the table, his gaze fixated on his latest acquisition seated diagonally across from him, and a wicked smile curled upon his lips as he savored the thrill of the moment, his tongue teasingly sweeping across his lips.

"I see you prepared my pet," Voldemort said, his voice smooth and chilling as he reached over, fingers gliding through her hair.

Draco lifted his gaze from the floor to the figure Voldemort was addressing, and his heart plummeted, the weight of dread anchoring him as his eyes fell upon Allie, and he couldn't help but flinch at the sight that lay before him.

Allie looked as if she were a zombie.

His heart shattered at the sight, but he steeled himself, sitting up with an air of indignation. She was reduced to mere skin and bone, her eyes burdened by an indescribable exhaustion, perilously close to unconsciousness.

He couldn't let his facade slip in front of the Dark Lord, even though every fiber of his being screamed to leap across the table and cradle her in his arms.

"Yes, my Lord," Dolohov intoned, his voice dripping with feigned reverence as he gestured toward Allie.

Voldemort's fingers wove through her hair, a sinister caress before he feigned a look of utter revulsion.

Draco averted his gaze as Voldemort's fingers brushed through her hair, desperately trying to anchor his thoughts elsewhere.

Yet the distraction was fleeting.

"Thank you all, my ever-loyal servants, for gathering tonight to celebrate..." Voldemort halted, his gaze lingering on Allie as his fingers, dark and deliberate, traced the contours of her face once more.

"In honor of a modest triumph... We have seized their purpose, and soon enough, they will come searching for her," Voldemort declared, rising from his chair with an air of ominous certainty.

"And—and when they do, we will be ready," he declared, his voice rising with passion.

The rest of the table erupted into maniacal laughter and applause, the sound echoing like a wild symphony of anticipation.

Draco quickly followed suit as he joined in with the rest of them, but his gaze never strayed too far from Allie as she sat there like an empty vessel.

Allie felt the weight of exhaustion settle deeper into her bones as the night stretched on, her eyelids growing heavy with each passing moment, until she finally succumbed to the pull of sleep.

As Allie surrendered to the embrace of sleep, her body slumped and her head bowed forward, and a soft knock echoed in the stillness as it rested gently against the table, drawing Voldemort's gaze away from his words.

He halted mid-sentence, his attention captured by the small girl before him.

An unexpected pull urged him forward, compelling him to stride toward her, his thoughts momentarily forgotten in the moment.

He approached her with a fluid elegance, his hand finding its way into a fistful of her hair, gently lifting her head.

Laughter erupted around them.

Her face bore no trace of emotion, and in mere seconds, he relinquished his hold, causing her visage to collide forcefully with the table once more.

Draco clenched his fists under the table, his tension coiling within him like a tightly wound spring, each muscle straining as if he might break through his own skin's barrier.

Voldemort's fingers wove through her hair again, drawing her face closer as he leaned in, his breath warm against her neck as he inhaled deeply, savoring her scent, before letting out a soft, clicking sound with his tongue.

"What a pity..." Voldemort's voice slithered through the air, a dark whisper that hinted at the depths of his malevolence.

With chilling precision, Macnair, the loyal servant, seized the moment and seamlessly wove his words into their sinister conversation, completing the Dark Lord's ominous intent.

"Alas, my Lord, it is truly a pity that such a delicate beauty occupies a chair when she could effortlessly grace my lap instead."

Voldemort lifted his gaze from her to him.

"Now, Macnair, that's no way to speak in front of a child," Voldemort remarked, his voice smooth yet laced with an underlying menace as he glided toward Draco.

"I'm certain he wouldn't object to getting a feel as well, My Lord," Nott Senior taunted, taking a leisurely sip from his glass, and his remark almost caused Draco to spring from his seat in shock.

He abhorred the way they spoke about her, their words brimming with contempt, yet he was acutely aware of the peril posed by disclosing even the smallest hint of disloyalty to the Dark Lord.

The threat of death loomed over him, a dark shadow that stifled his voice and bound his heart in chains of fear.

Voldemort raised his hand, commanding silence throughout the chamber as his piercing gaze fixed on Draco, who shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his master's scrutiny.

"I believe it's time for the child to retire for the night," Voldemort remarked, casting a pointed glance at Draco.

"And I'm certain that his dear mother..." Voldemort continued his fingers gently weaving through Narcissa's hair. "...Would adore reading him a bedtime story," he said, in a sarcastic air, before casting them a casual, dismissive wave.

Lucius cleared his throat, the sound echoing softly in the charged atmosphere, before he leaned in slightly, giving Narcissa's hand a quick, reassuring squeeze beneath the table.

"Indeed, I am certain, my Lord," Lucius affirmed, his voice steady, and with a graceful nod, Draco and Narcissa rose, their movements fluid and deliberate, before they exited the room, casting a fleeting bow towards Voldemort.

"You too, Bella," Voldemort hissed, his voice dripping with disdain, and in an instant, she shot him a defiant glare, her spirit unyielding.

With a flourish, she snatched the bottle of wine from the table, her confidence radiating as she gracefully exited the room, leaving a lingering tension in the air.

As the trio stepped out of the chamber, an eerie silence enveloped the Death Eaters.

"Now, my loyal servants, let us indulge in some delightful revelry and savor our hard-won prize," Voldemort declared, his voice smooth and commanding as he approached Allie, who lay still and unaware of the dark intentions swirling around her.

When she awoke, she found herself once again ensnared in her cage.

The manacles still clung tightly to her ankles, a cruel reminder of her captivity, and the black slip dress she wore hung precariously on her frame, torn along the side; the straps slipped carelessly down her shoulders, whispering of her struggles and the darkness that surrounded her.

Time had slipped away from her, leaving her in a sense of uncertainty about how long she had been sleeping.

A haze of confusion enveloped her, the potions' remnants fading, and a sharp wave of pain surged over her, each throb a reminder of her vulnerability, echoing through her body in a symphony of discomfort that left her breathless.

A sharp pang of discomfort pierced through her mind, sending ripples of an ache that coursed through her thoughts.

It was all too probable that Voldemort had once more delved into her mind with his insidious Legilimency when she was unconscious.

She sensed a muted ache in her pubic bones, a clear indication that she had likely been deflowered once more...

A series of tiny stings danced across her skin as she traced her fingers along her collarbone and shoulders, and upon further inspection, she discovered delicate teeth marks etched into her flesh.

#amidst the chaos #allie hesper #antonin dolohov #dark fantasy #draco malfoy #draco x oc #fanfic #angst #wattpad #fanfiction

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sailtomarina · 1 month ago

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Days 1 & 2

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carewyncromwell · 4 months ago

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"Day after day, Fickle visions, messing with your head... Fickle, vicious! Sleeping in your bed -- messing with your head -- Fickle visions...fickle, vicious...!

Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in -- Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within... Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in And carry you over to a new morning..."

~"Sleep" by Poets of the Fall

x~x~x~x

Monday nights were always busy for Carewyn. She'd arranged her usual days off to be Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so as to ensure she'd be available to speak to her clients on Monday holidays, Friday nights, and weekends (when they'd most likely be off). This meant, though, that Mondays were Carewyn's "Fridays," so to speak, but because she was a workaholic, this meant Carewyn would be working triple-time to make sure all of her I's were dotted and T's were crossed on Monday nights so that she hopefully wouldn't have to worry about work at all for the next two days. (Key word being "hopefully.")

Monday the 30th of June 1997, however, was not usual for Carewyn. For very late that night, right around midnight as she was finally getting off to bed, the Ministry lawyer was startled by an owl pecking at her bedroom window. Rushing to open it before any of her Muggle neighbors could notice, Carewyn moved out of the way as the owl flapped into the room, dropping a letter off on the bed before taking roost on top of her dresser.

Carewyn bent down quickly and picked it up. The address scribbled on the front was in Tonks's handwriting.

Tonks was one of the few friends Carewyn had been able to maintain contact with, as of late. Carewyn had become something of a mole at the Ministry of Magic since the start of the Second Wizarding War, keeping her association with the Order of the Phoenix under wraps so as to covertly smuggle them intelligence and monitor first Fudge and now Scrimgeour, and this meant having to distance herself from many old friends associated with Dumbledore, including Mad-Eye Moody and Minerva McGonagall. Tonks and Carewyn, however, most commonly stayed in touch through work -- for her to write something with this kind of scrawl, and to send it this late at night...

Carewyn ripped open the envelope at once and tossed it aside so she could unfold the parchment inside. Tonks's writing was very slanted and messy -- clearly she'd written this in a hurry.

Carey, The Death Eaters got into Hogwarts.

Carewyn's heart stopped. No -- no, no -- !

They had a mole inside the school -- Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco -- who smuggled them in through a pair of Vanishing Cabinets in both Hogwarts's Room of Requirement and the Knockturn Alley shop Borgin and Burkes. No students were hurt, fortunately, but the castle's been all smashed up, and even if we and some of the older students fought them off, the Death Eaters all escaped before more help from the Ministry could arrive. As for casualties... Oh, Carey...it's Dumbledore, Carey. Dumbledore is dead.

Carewyn paused. She read the line a second time, then a third.

Many people learning this news would've been horrified -- shocked. Carewyn, however, found herself oddly numb, reading it. Dumbledore had been an old man for a very long time, and the last time Carewyn had seen him, he had seemed a bit frailer than before. She'd also condemned him for being "shady as ever," which Dumbledore regarded with predictable amusement...

There was no grief in Carewyn's chest -- it was too hollow, for that. Uneasy and almost adrift. It felt like what she'd just read had been etched out in sky-writing a couple dozen miles away, and not right before her eyes on a letter clutched in her hands. It felt like the news was too far away to fully touch her and yet its impact sent unpleasant tremors through her.

Finally, pushing down the sickening ball churning in her stomach, she pressed on.

But that's not even the worst part, Carey. It wasn't Bellatrix Lestrange or Antonin Dolohov or anyone you'd expect who did it. It was Snape.

Carewyn had felt so weightless, but all of a sudden, like that, it felt like she was falling: spinning slowly and sickeningly through icy water, drowning. Her brain and breath were moving so slowly, and yet her body had chilled, unable to feel even the letter in her hands anymore.

Snape? Severus Snape? Her Head of House, who had always been so loyal to Dumbledore? Why would he...how could it be...?

Snape killed Dumbledore, betrayed the Order -- even after Dumbledore had so much faith in him, even after how much he defended him to everyone! After Snape helped save all our lives, back in the Sunken Vault, with the other teachers! After all the times he helped save our lives as part of the Order...my life, Harry's life, Remus's life! Carey, I don't know how we could've been so taken in! How could Snape DO THIS?! I'm sorry...I just don't know how to deal with this. None of us do. I'm sure you're having trouble with it too...but even so, I wish you were here now with us, being brave with us... Oh, but Carey, that's the other thing I need to tell you -- Bill's been hurt really bad.

All of the cold in Carewyn's body seemed to vanish. All of a sudden she'd straightened up and gasped for air, her eyes wide and her nerves hyper-vigilant.

It's not fatal -- Bill will live, he's just unconscious. But his face was slashed and bitten really bad by Fenrir Greyback. Thank Merlin it wasn't a full moon, so Greyback wasn't transformed at the time, but Remus says that since Bill's injuries are cursed wounds, they're likely to never fully heal and that Bill could still take on some "wolfish traits." Molly was absolutely distraught as you can expect. Fleur has been helping her with Bill's treatments, and I actually think this of all things has finally softened Molly to her. She even offered to let Fleur use her great-aunt's old tiara in the wedding. I can't believe I'm talking about weddings at a time like this...my mood is all out-of-sorts right now, I feel like each emotion I feel is a Bertie Bott's Bean and I don't know which one I'll get next... Carey...I know I can't just swoop over to you right now. And truthfully, I'm all right: I'm with Remus, and we're coping, the both of us. But part of me still wishes you'd been here with us the whole time -- hell, even that you were here now! Even if I know your whole role for the Order requires you to distance yourself from us, even if you're as miserable as I am right now...well, you've always been so good at giving people hope. I know you would know just what to say to help Molly stop crying, or support McGonagall and Remus...to comfort all the Weasleys, really. I reckon you'd be able to help Harry especially -- I know he feels responsible for what happened to Dumbledore and feels like he should've been able to do more, just like he did after Sirius died...and well, I remember Bill saying you felt the same way, after what happened to Rowan. Knowing you, I'm sure you probably did after what happened to Cedric and Madam Bones too. I know you can't be with us, Carey. But I wish you were. We love you. Tonks

Carewyn's hands were shaking as she put down Tonks's letter. Her shadowed, almond-shaped blue eyes flitted quickly across the room, from the owl on the dresser, to the window, and then to her closed bedroom door. Making up her mind, she swept over to the owl, patting him once on the head before flourishing her hand toward the window.

"Shoo," she said as softly and yet firmly as she could.

The owl, looking a little disappointed that there was to be no response, gave a low chirp and flew away back out the window and out of sight. Once he was gone, Carewyn yanked the window shut again and hurriedly got re-dressed in the red shoes, purple collared shirt, and gray suit jacket and pants she'd worn earlier that day on her way home from work. Then she dashed over to her fireplace, snatching up a handful of sparking Floo Powder off a dish on the mantle as she went.

"Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade village!" she shouted.

Chucking the powder down at her feet, the red-haired lawyer disappeared in a large flare of emerald green flames.

x~x~x~x

Once she'd arrived in Hogsmeade, Carewyn made her way to Hogwarts itself. She knew as a non-faculty member she couldn't just strut on in, and as someone trying to be covert with her loyalties, she shouldn't been seen doing so either. And so, thinking of what she'd heard from Jacob about Sirius Black, Carewyn transformed into her robin Animagus form and flew out of the Three Broomsticks and toward the school grounds.

It was incredible to Carewyn how truly easy it was to enter Hogwarts grounds, once she was an animal. It kind of frightened her, actually, when she thought back on it later. In that moment, however, she hadn't been able to focus on it. All she could think about was reaching the Hospital Wing and getting to Bill.

Because no matter what role she'd decided to play for the Order...no matter what might get in her way...Carewyn was not going to abandon her best friend.

When Carewyn found the window of the Hospital Wing, she poked one of her claws through the panes to flip open the interior latch and then shoved her whole body against the left pane to push it open.

It was only once Carewyn flapped into the room that she first heard the sound of hushed moans.

On the far side of the abandoned Hospital Wing, one figure was resting fitfully. His face was almost completely covered in bandages, but it didn't matter -- his long-fingered, freckled hands clutching the sheets were familiar enough that Carewyn would've recognized who it was even if she didn't know he was badly hurt.

Carewyn transformed mid-flight as she reached his bed.

"Bill...!"

Her voice came out very hushed. When she reached out a hand as if to touch him, though, a flare of what felt like terror washed over the air -- an image of slashing claws --

Carewyn flinched back. What made her blood chill, though, was the realization that the sleeping Bill had also crumpled in on himself, his moans more desperate and pained than ever.

Carewyn's eyes widened.

"Bill..."

Carewyn brought a hand down onto the top of his head, trying to stroke his hair. Even with all of the bandages in the way, she could see two very thick and deep gashes across his face. Even with Bill's eyes closed, Carewyn could sense muted flashes of emotions from him thanks to her Legilimency -- fear -- anguish -- grief -- despair --

Whatever he was dreaming about, it had to be the absolute worst kind of nightmare...

Without a second thought, Carewyn reached into the pocket of her suit jacket and took out her wand. Sitting down beside Bill on the bed, she pointed the laurel wand at her best friend's temple and closed her eyes.

"Legilimens."

No matter how inbred her talent in Legilimency was, Carewyn had much less practice purposefully seeking something out in someone's mind. She usually only ever sensed people's emotions and intentions most of the time, rather than try to violate anyone's boundaries by fully penetrating their memories. That was what her twisted grandfather Charles Cromwell had been best at: using his Legilimency to hurt others, by forcing someone to reveal their deepest, darkest secrets to them and even pushing his own demented thoughts into their minds himself. The last time Carewyn could actually remember actively casting Legilimens was seven years ago, when she forced Rakepick to let her into her mind to assess her intentions, back in the Sunken Vault...

Even so, as Carewyn felt herself pushing through Bill's thoughts, she tried hard to be gentle. She didn't try to grab onto anything, letting the memories of fighting Greyback and kissing Fleur for the first time wash over her, and instead tried to just reach Bill where he was. Just find his consciousness, in whatever nightmare he was currently trapped in...

"No -- no, no -- "

Bill!

Carewyn latched onto Bill's voice like it was a lifeline. Following it, she could see the Hogwarts grounds at night. It surrounded her so well that for a moment, she felt like she was once again 16, sneaking out of the school at night and toward the Forbidden Forest -- where Patricia Rakepick was waiting --

No. Carewyn shut down these memories right fast. She didn't want to risk that any negative thought she had would penetrate Bill's mind. Especially not of that night...that night where she lost Rowan had been the worst in her life, she would never inflict that on Bill --

"Nooooo..."

Carewyn turned, seeking out Bill's consciousness. What she found instead, though, was a hairy, hulking mass, bearing down on her -- white-fanged and snarling --

Carewyn nearly shot out of Bill's mind, she was so taken aback and frightened. She could feel the wolf's jaws snapping down on the air to her left -- Carewyn tried to evade the negative thought, once again seeking out Bill --

"NO!" she heard Bill's voice scream. "NOOOO!"

Carewyn pushed through Bill's dream, trying to follow her friend's voice, but it was proving impossible. Bill's voice was echoing from all sides of her -- seemingly from everywhere, and out of everything. Out of the trees, the full moon overhead...the bodies...

Carewyn felt like her heart had leapt up into her throat. She hadn't taken note of the many bloodstained bodies on the ground until she'd tried pushing through this dream, but now they were starkly, horrifically apparent. And when Carewyn actually dared to look at the one closest to her, her blood ran cold when she realized she recognized her from one of the photographs Tonks had passed along to her, from Bill...

Fleur. This was Fleur Delacour, Bill's fiancee --

Carewyn's blue eyes were wide with alarm as she looked around at the other bodies scattered around.

Dumbledore. Rowan. Cedric. Charlie, Ben, Merula, Penny, and Tonks -- McGonagall and Flitwick, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Mad-Eye Moody -- Arthur and Molly Weasley, Fred, George, Ron, Percy --

Everyone was there. All of her and Bill's old school friends in the Circle of Khanna -- all of their favorite teachers -- Bill's entire family -- they were all dead, slashed and bitten open with blood sprayed everywhere --

Bill's worst nightmare. His worst fear, from the time he was a student: losing everyone he'd ever loved --

"NO! CAREY!"

And Carewyn realized. Her eyes wider than ever, she whirled around as the werewolf lunged at her, just barely avoiding his massive jaws a second time. His eyes were pure white and monstrous, lacking any awareness or humanity -- but even so, the beast's fur was a dark, bloodstained ginger-red.

"Bill," Carewyn breathed.

The werewolf lunged.

"NO!" Bill's voice screamed around her.

Dodging the werewolf's claws as he slashed at her, Carewyn took out her wand, holding both it and her hand up.

"Bill -- " she said urgently, "Bill, listen to me. This isn't real -- none of this is real -- "

The werewolf snapped at the air just short of her hair. Carewyn could hear Bill's voice echoing around her.

"NO! Run, Carey! RUN! PLEASE!"

"I'm not leaving you!" Carewyn told Bill fiercely.

She looked around, thinking quickly. She could feel Bill's fear as her own -- logic wasn't going to work in breaking him out of this bad dream. She'd need to influence his mind with her own thoughts -- her own feelings --

Carewyn's eyes lingered on the full moon before they quickly snapped back to the werewolf with fresh resolve. As the werewolf lunged, Carewyn -- instead of flinching back -- moved with all of the courage she could and seized both of his shoulders, holding Bill back away from her enough that he couldn't bite her.

"Listen to me," she said urgently, "It's not real, Bill. That full moon up there? It isn't real. Look."

In her mind's eye, Carewyn tried to imagine the sun. She tried to feel its warm in her own body, and then tried to push the memory out -- out toward Bill, toward the werewolf he dreamt he was --

Feel the sun. Feel the warmth -- feel it burn --

Little by little, miraculously, the full moon seemed to brighten. In response, the whole sky also seemed to lighten, becoming blue and clear, with white clouds. As the sky brightened, the bodies slowly vanished, leaving nothing but a wide, open, green hill.

The werewolf crumpled in on himself. Slowly his reddish fur was receding -- soon too did his teeth and claws -- the blood was dissolving away, and his clothes were reforming...becoming handsome burgundy dress robes, adorned with gold...

Bill was shaking from head to toe as Carewyn held his shoulders. He breathed hard, his freckled face very pale, as he raised his head, his wide blue eyes bleary with tears.

"...Carey..."

Carewyn smiled in relief. "Come on, Bill. You don't want to be late."

Bill blinked, disoriented. "Late?"

Carewyn indicated where they now were, nodding. "Don't you know what day it is? Everyone's waiting for you..."

Bill and Carewyn both looked down the hill, below which rested the beautiful, familiarly cozy Burrow. There was a beautiful gazebo set up, around which Fred, George, and Ginny were all flying on broomsticks. Charlie had just landed astride a tamed Welsh Green dragon, on which also rode Barnaby and Liz -- Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were greeting Lane Cromwell, Jacob, and McGonagall, while Lupin and Tonks were in active conversation with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. And approaching the hill, dressed in angelic white robes and a veil and holding a bouquet of gold and white flowers, was Fleur, her porcelain face alight with joy at the sight of him.

Carewyn felt Bill falter in her hands.

"Fleur..." he breathed.

Carewyn let go of his shoulders at once. Bill's elation swirled off of him and all around her as he ran, all the way down the hill, with his arms thrown open.

"Fleur -- FLEUR!"

Fleur's arms opened for him. When he reached her, the entire dream seemed to quake with a small explosion of joy. It rushed Carewyn backward like a leisurely wave, and she let it carry her, back through Bill's dreams and out of his mind altogether.

Carewyn could hear Bill exhale as she opened her eyes. Her eyes flooded with relieved tears at the sight of Bill lying still, his freckled hand open and relaxed on the sheets.

His nightmare was over.

Breathing shakily, Carewyn tucked her wand back into her interior jacket pocket. Trying to will down her heart rate and breath, she bent down over Bill, sensing his thoughts as best she could.

His emotions were calm. They were quiet. ...Peaceful...

A sigh of relief fell from Carewyn's lips as she bowed her head and closed her eyes. She sat there for a moment, her forehead lightly resting beside Bill's, and monitored his calmer feelings -- making sure they stayed happy. Then she slowly opened her eyes again, looked over Bill's sleeping, bandaged face, and smiled gently.

"...Sleep well, Bill," she whispered.

She placed a light kiss to the top of her best friend's head. Then Carewyn got up off the bed and crossed the room, over to the window.

It was mere seconds later that Bill opened his eyes. He blinked and looked up and around blearily.

"...Carey...?"

Bill heard only sounds of nature. He inched himself up and out of bed with difficulty, and when he did, he saw the window of the Hospital Wing left ajar, with a robin standing on the sill. The plump little bird looked back at him, the red spot around her beak glinting in the moonlight, before she took flight, flapping away into the night.

Bill gradually fell back against the pillows propped up on the back of his bed, his eyes filling with tears too as he squinted out at the tiny bird flying away.

From the time he and Carewyn first became friends at Hogwarts, they'd saved each other multiple times, both while dealing with the Cursed Vaults and while facing off against R. In the Sunken Vault Bill had refused to leave Carewyn's side, even when death had been a near certainty.

And now -- even while having to play her part and distance herself from him for the sake of the fight against Voldemort...Carewyn had done it again. She had come to his rescue.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #my fanfiction #carewyn cromwell #nymphadora tonks #bill weasley #remus lupin #albus dumbledore #severus snape #fleur delacour

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mayblelayla · 2 months ago

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It Will Come Back

It WIll Come Back- Hozier

Pansy Parkinson x Antonin Dolohov

Smut, sex, smoking, oral, choking, hair pulling, degradation, praise, (talks of abandonment)

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Pansy Parkinson regretted many things in her life, but the one thing she did not regret was the man lying passed out next to her. The moonlight cast a soft glow on his back, illuminating the scars littered across it, some large, some small. Her green eyes raked up to the head of messy chocolate hair, a short beard peeking out around the corner of his face. This was not the first time she had fallen into bed with him; it had become a recurrence in the past few months. And every time she found herself sitting in her bed, a lit cigarette held between her lips as she took in the image of the man peacefully sleeping. In the years since the war, Pansy had rebuilt her life, leaving behind the cold halls and glares of her family and their home and settling in an apartment on the outskirts of London. It definitely wasn’t a place she wanted to call home; the wallpaper was on the verge of peeling, and the windows were drafty, but the rent was cheap, there was a fire escape to smoke on, and it was not far from the entrance to the Ministry. When she cut off her family she expected that to be it, but she was approached by Draco Malfoy after his trial had ended, offering friendship and family.

A rustling in the blankets pulled her from her thoughts, and she watched the man roll over to face her, his blue eyes slowly fluttering open. He gave her a lazy smile as he pushed himself up, reaching a hand out for the cigarette. She let him take it from her, his calloused fingers brushing against her hand as he drew it to his lips.

“You know these will kill you,” he muttered, passing it back to her. There was still a slight hint of his Russian accent peaking through despite the time he had spent in England.

Pansy rolled her eyes at his words, tapping the ash off the embers in the ashtray she had on her bedside table. “Says the one who just took a hit.” His dark eyebrows raised at her words, making her swallow thickly. She could see the few gray hairs that had started to grow in his neatly trimmed beard. Taking another draw, she offered it to him, but he refused, rolling onto his back and running a hand through his dark hair. She glanced over at his chest, focusing on the long scar that ran diagonally across his chest, remembering all the times she had raked her nails across it during sex, eliciting the most delicious moans from the man’s lips.

“What’s got you up, Pchelka,” she tried to brush him off, muttering that she was just having trouble sleeping, but he reached over, took the cigarette from her hand, and put it out next to her, slinking his arm around her waist. “I can help you try to go to sleep if you like,” he offered, rubbing his thumb along the skin of her thigh, brushing lightly against the black slip she had thrown on. At first, she didn’t respond, feeling his hand start to inch up to her hips, lightly gripping it as his lips began to move up her arm. With a hum of approval, he shifted around, pulling her under him in one swift movement.

The skirt of her slip was pushed up around her waist as his lips grazed the plush skin of her thighs, the scruff of his beard scratching delightfully against them as he drew closer to her core. “I could get used to this,” he whispered, his fingers ghosting over the arousal that had immediately pooled between her thighs at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hands. “The way your body reacts to me, Lyubov,” the hum of his voice sent shivers down her spine and a whine to grow in her throat. Her fingers tangled into the soft waves of his hair, twisting them into her grasp, dragging him directly to the heat of her core, moaning as his lips pressed against her bud. “Chert voz’mi, Pchelka” he groaned, tasting the sickeningly sweet taste of their fluids that had mixed together earlier that evening, images of the raven-haired woman falling apart with him inside of her sent blood rushing down him again, awakening his arousal once more.

In all the years he had been alive, which was more than double the woman’s, he had never been able to go more than one or two rounds. Tonight, this had to be their third or fourth, and he would savor every moment of it like it would be his last. It likely would. Though he had been released from Azkaban, he was still forced to walk the streets with stares and whispers, which caused him to avoid almost everywhere in the wizarding world if he could help it. Pansy Parkinson had just turned twenty-six, held a stable job at the Ministry, and had a small group of friends she considered family. Antonin Dolohov knew that the woman he held under him could never stay there, he would inevitably have to let her go, she didn’t deserve the whispers, stares, or gossip like he did. He had done many regretful things, including the woman who had her fingers tangled in his hair scraping her nails against his scalp, eliciting a guttural moan from his lips. No, he did not regret the nights they shared a bed and their bodies; he would likely think about it until the day he died, but he regretted the way she enticed him and gave in to the sweet honey of this venomous woman. It was not fair for him to continue knowing that whatever was between them could not continue for her sake.

“Fuck Antonin,” he was drawn from his wandering thoughts, right back to the witch that was writhing beneath his hands, subjected to the flicks and swirls of his tongue that lashed against her bundle of nerves. Pulling a hand from her thighs he brushed his calloused fingers across her folds before slowly pressing only one in, earning a whine from his witch. I must not refer to her as mine, she never will be, he thought, almost losing track of the work he was doing, pulling her apart thread by thread. He knew he would leave Pansy Parkinson completely frayed, and utterly ruined for any other man, or woman.

Her nails scraped against his scalp and he couldn’t resist bucking his hips into the bed, groaning against her core. This witch had him humping the bed like a damn boy, utterly unacceptable. He added another finger, curling the two to press again that perfect velvet patch, making her legs tighten around his head.

She would undeniably be the death of him, and yet, if that were to be true? He would die happily between the thighs of Pansy Parkinson.

Her walls began to clench around his fingers, legs softly shaking as the wave of her orgasm flooded over her in a blanket of warmth. Fingers tugging his head of chocolate hair closer to bring her crashing to a close, lapping with his tongue every last bit of her arousal like a dog, a hungry dog whose feast never seemed to cease, its hunger never satiated.

When they would first stumble into the bedroom, or really anywhere in the apartment their tongues would lash at each other, verbally fighting for dominance. But, as the night continues, and morning draws near, their words become little, settling to speak through actions and mumbled words, followed by heavy breaths where they both ached to fill the silence.

“Moya ved'ma, ya mog by sozhrat' tebya” his voice was barely a whisper, but he knew she could barely understand a word he was speaking, especially with his mouth working its way back up to her throat. She moaned, either way, he knew she loved it when he spoke Russian, remembering what she had told him on their second-midnight ren de vous. Say it again, she had whined, pulling his head up to her ear, I want to hear it again. She came to his words that night, not understanding a word he had whispered, and the power that flowed through him from the mere clenching of her core almost brought him to his own orgasm.

Reaching her lips he pulled her in for a lazy kiss, nibbling on her bottom lip. The taste of her cigarette still lingered on her tongue as he pushed into her mouth. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles and pulling him in, he knew he was done for, there was no way in hell he was escaping her hold without a third orgasm.

Pansy’s small fingers reached between them and took hold of his length, guiding it to the same spot he had curled his fingers into only moments ago. Slowly pushing in her hands made claim to his back, raking her blood-red nails from his shoulders to his hips. Pushing in and out at an excruciating pace, Antonin could feel her tight, slick walls ready to swallow him whole, and god, he would never stop craving her.

Bottoming out inside of her, his head fell to the sweat-slicked skin of her shoulder, pants falling from his swollen lips. He tried not to focus on the faint moans she breathed out as they drove him closer to the edge. Trying to grip his sanity, which frankly, he didn’t have much of, he grabbed her throat and squeezed, much like she was squeezing him. Her petite hand came up to grip his wrist, pushing it tighter against the skin, muttering words he could not hear. Again her walls began fluttering around him, and he cried out at the feeling, just barely able to keep his own pleasure at bay. Short gasps pulled him back from the brink, drawing his attention to the way her green eyes had rolled back in her head and the other hand that wasn’t wrapped around his wrist had balled up the sheets in her fist.

“Bozhe moy, ty menya ub'yesh', malen'kaya pchelka” She fell limp below him, a heavy whine filling his ears, spurring him on. “You dirty little witch,” he growled, picking up the speed of his hips, listening to her moans crescendo. “Rile me up every time just to get more.” She reacted just how he wished, fists beating into his chest.

He tisked, removing his hand from her throat to capture her wrists, tugging them above her head and pinning them in place. “Don’t move,” his words bit at her, but she couldn’t help the moan that slipped through. Antonin lifted her legs to his shoulders, pushing deeper into her core, earning a deep and heavenly moan from the dark-haired woman. The way she pulled him in, welcoming and warm, he could feel himself running to the edge so he returned his hand to her throat, squeezing tighter than before. “Come for me, pchelka,” he whispered next to her ear. The whines she spilled spurred him on. “What a fucking slut, pulling me into you for the third time tonight, downright criminal, vse zhe tak krasivo, Pchelka."

She squeezed him and he could feel her juices flood over him, he squeezed harder around her throat, watching her eyes roll back again, soft thank you’s falling from her pretty lips as he continued through her orgasm, and then letting himself fall over the edge. His eyes squeezed shut and his grip on her throat fell away as his thrusts became sloppy. Pure please spread throughout him and it felt as though he was teetering on the edge of his sanity, the fingers tangled back in his hair keeping him from disregarding that last sliver he had left.

Rolling off of her he waved his hand with the mutter of a quick cleaning spell and pulled her back into him. She rested her head on his chest and peered up at him with bliss-filled green eyes. He gave her a soft smile before leaning his head back against the pillows. This would be the last time he saw her, he’d be leaving on a trip to America with Thorfinn for the next few months. In the morning he would go home, write her a note, and leave it under the door of her apartment then walk right out of her life and try his damnedest to leave her behind.

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Translations:

Pchelka: bee

Lyubov: Love

Chert voz’mi, Pchelka: Damn it, bee

Moya ved'ma, ya mog by sozhrat' tebya: my witch, I could absolutely devour you

Bozhe moy, ty menya ub'yesh', malen'kaya pchelka: Oh my god, you're killing me, bee

vse zhe tak krasivo, Pchelka,: yet so beautiful, bee

#smut #pansy parkinson #antonin dolohov #pansy x antonin #antonin dolohov smut

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nauticalparamour · 4 years ago

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June 2021 Writing Update :)

The French Press | Antonin/Hermione | One-Shot | Complete Sequel to The Danube Incident. Hermione has been confined to desk duty after what happened in Vienna, but even an order from M couldn't keep her away from Paris for the Weasley Wedding. With Harry as her chaperone, will there be a chance for her to cross paths with a familiar stranger? James Bond AU

Might Be Mine | Marcus/Hermione | 20 chapters, 3k each | Complete When Ron and Harry try to rescind Hermione's plus one to their respective weddings, Hermione surprises the boys by insisting that she's actually been dating someone for a year. The only problem is she has no boyfriend to speak of. Enter Marcus Flint. With a little bit of convincing, he agrees to be her fake boyfriend...but is the relationship really fake?

The Nassau Escape | Antonin/Hermione | One-Shot | Complete Sequel to The French Press. Hermione hasn't seen Antonin since Paris, but she knows he's keeping an eye on her. The only question is: why? He's playing a dangerous game, undermining Voldemort. James Bond AU

All Too Soon | Salazar/Hermione | Long One-Shot | Never?????? Hermione returns to Hogwarts to help repair damage done during the war. Somehow, she finds a portal into the time of the Founders. Inspiration from Midnight in Paris.

Sour Candy | Theo/Hermione | 26 chapters, 3k each | July Hermione thought that she'd left the seedy underworld aside when she was taken from her parents, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. After over a decade of living with police officer Sirius, she is thrust back into the world of Tom Riddle's criminal enterprise. Pursued by an old friend, how long can she live between the two worlds?

I’ll Hold My Breath | Remus/Hermione | 16 chapters, 2k each | September Major Expansion and Rewrite of Short Story. Hermione is reading a romance novel, and is embarrassed to let anyone else see what she's reading. Unfortunately, Remus's curiosity gets the better of him. When they both touch the book, they get sucked into it's pages, forced to live through the plot.

Undercovers | Fenrir/Hermione | 15 chapters, 3k each | October Expansion of Undercovers one-shot. It had been an easy decision to join up with the financial crimes division, investigating money laundering and the like. But, she was meant to be kept tucked behind a desk, not trying to infiltrate a notorious gang to help them launder their money. Hermione goes undercover in Fenrir Greyback's gang to catch him doing something illegal, not to catch feelings.

Informants | Fenrir/Hermione | 15 chapters, 3k each | January Expansion of Informants one-shot. "We've got someone in who's agreed to be a confidential informant for us," Sirius explained, all hints of his previously playful persona vanished now that he was in serious talk mode. "But, he's only agreed to do it on the condition that he be able to pick his handler." Hermione had thought she'd seen the last of Fenrir, but he was back, asking for her specifically.

Unnamed | Viktor/Hermione | Multi-Chapter | 2022 Modern AU.

Season of the Witch | Draco/Hermione | Multi-Chapter | 2022 Reverse Magic AU.

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jada-lockwood · 1 year ago

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MORE FIC RECS SINCE I LAST POSTED

1- The Auction by LovesBitca8 on ao3

Dramione post war fic

Harry dies in the forest after he goes to Voldemort in the battle.

Many people are taken into death eaters custody to be sold for a high price in an auction including Hermione.

Draco buys her.

Kinda HEA/implied HEA

Angst

Smut

Good Pansy Parkinson

Good narcissa malfoy

Secret spies

Trigger warnings: mention of drugging, forced slavery, rape and sexual assault mentioned in detail throughout, drugged sex (mentioned), death of many major and minor characters, hospitalization, depressing thoughts and implications to suicide.

THIS IS A DARK FIC PEOPLE. NOT FOR ANYONE WHO IS TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THE ABOVE.

personally this was one of my favourites because the twists and the world building is so good. Also read from Hermione pov so that was new for me tbh. Draco in this fic would do anything for Hermione. The character arcs and the evidence of war fucking up peoples sense of morality is so well written. Also I love the gradual info release throughout the fic so we can try to piece the story together as you read.

10/10 can and will read again.

Remain nameless by HeyJude19 on ao3

Dramione post war

Draco is struggling post war with his mental health and general well being. He grabs coffee at this muggle cafe near him as per his therapist’s recommendation. Hermione also frequents the coffee shop. He expects her to hate him but she doesn’t. The begin talking and getting to know each other. Hermione wants to set up a fund to help integrate muggleborn children into the magical work but doesn’t have the funds to do so, nor the time. Draco has both and becomes an anonymous benefactor for this charity.

Fluff fic

Little bit of angst but mostly fluff

Smut

Hurt/comfort

Jealousy and arguments

Descriptions of panic attacks

Miscommunication but it’s fine

HEA

Draco sees a therapist (as he should)

This fic is one for a rainy day. Really fluffy and cute. Mentions of almost dying but like they’re fine kinda. Narcissa is a bitch tho highkey. Molly and Arthur Weasley are always supportive and ginny and Draco’s banter is great. Overall a really easy read and I’m pretty sure I read it in one sitting. Not too intense with the angst but def there.

9/10 good fic would read again

Draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare on ao3.

Dramione post war

Tonks is alive and well thank god

Auror Malfoy

Healer Hermione

Shes working on something that could change the world. However it’s quite controversial and therefore dangerous for her. Draco is assigned the bodyguard duty and is very reluctant. He figures out her days off correlate with something (not telling you what). He helps her along the way and tries to keep them alive lol. He’s a wicked fighter and she needs that lmao.

Angst

Fighting and descriptions of violence

Fluff

Bad humour

Reluctant teamwork

Not much on warnings

Scary nuns if that’s a warning? (They are quite something lol)

Talking skull? Not for long tho :/

Werewolves (specifically greyback and mentions of his specific violent tendencies)

They both fall and it’s beautiful.

I think this fic is again an easy read. It’s not too difficult with the world building. Draco would do many violent things to people if it means that she is safe. But I’m okay with it.

9/10 fic. Can’t read in one sitting but would dedicate a few days for this.

To a better end by gm_flowers on ao3(let’s be real they are all ao3)

5 years post war

Multiple pairings but Hermione centric

Unspeakable Draco helps Hermione to go back in time to try to reduce the effects of the war.

Past Hermione and Theo nott relationship.

Hermione x Tom riddle

Hermione x Antonin dolohov

Hermione x Draco malfoy

Young Bellatrix is sweet.

Saving people I guess

Fix it fic

Draco pines all the time

Hermione is confused on her feelings. Like always. Until the start of the end I guess

Arranged marriages

Dark themes

Smut

Angst and fluff

Overall 9/10. I love this fic because it was the first I read of Dramione and basically kickstarted this whole vibe. They are both willing to do so much for each other. It’s so fluffy.

Also I apologise if it’s hard to read these recs lol. I’m drunk and bored. As always dm for links

Hey so I’m coming on here for some fic recs. these are some of my favourite fanfics and most are completed (will specify down below). There are from multiple fandoms so I will be sure to mention which they are in and what the general tropes are.

Private message me for links, I will be happy to send them over :)

HARRY POTTER:

Marauders era:

dirty old town by WizardGod

Regulus Black x muggle reader

Alastair Moody’s niece takes in regulus after he defects from the deatheaters

Angst >> arguing and yelling

Posh prick regulus

Fake dating

Enemies to lovers

Smut

Trauma > hurt regulus > hurt/comfort

Happy ending

Fluff

Evan Rosier being a golden retriever

Complete>> 38 chapters and 286,984 words

Golden trio era:

Oh God Not Again! by Sarah1281

Harry gets sent back in time

Decides to fuck shit up while he can

Saving some people who would have died

Running gag that his scar is psychic

Marketing off of himself

Humour

Harry and Draco are friends

Complete>> 50 chapters and 150,710 words

The Black Sparrow by TheIdeaOfSarcasm

Regulus raising Harry

Angst

Jegulus

Wolfstar

Jily (not at same time as jegulus)

No lily bashing

Dumbledore bashing

Drarry

Fluff and smut

Badass Regulus

Badass Harry

Running on air by eleventy7

Drarry

Draco has been missing for 3 years

Harry is assigned to his case

Harry falls in love with Draco through memories

Slow burn

Happy ending

Complete

Veiled by 60coyote

Dramione

Post war

Ron Weasley bashing

Met at a masquerade event

She knows who he is but he doesn’t know who she is.

She asks him to find out who she is

8th year

Brief mention of spiking and description of spiking but no one is taken advantage of

Sub!Draco / Dom!Hermione

In progress

The Trouble With Wanting by WrathOfMacy

Hermione granger x Fred Weasley

Ron Weasley bashing

Molly Weasley bashing

Cute stolen moments

Smut

Fluff

Secretly dating

In progress

As long as I am here by Sehnsucht88

Harry Potter x sister!oc

Bill Weasley x oc

Dumbledore bashing

Molly Weasley bashing

Ron Weasley bashing

Theo Nott x Harry Potter

Dramione

Harry saved from dursleys

LGBT+ friendly

Badass oc

Adopted/taken in hermione

In progress updates regularly

LUCIFER:

Our Bodies, Possessed by Light by lilaestheticsnhope

Lucifer x reader

Friends with benefits

Fake dating / undercover work

Hurt lucifer

Hurt reader

Angst

Smut

Fluff

Complete>>45 chapters and 263,535 words

MARVEL:

Harmless by shurisneakers

Bucky barnes x reader

Dr doofensmirtz and Perry vibes

She’s the inventor, he’s instructed to keep an eye on her

She’s mildly dangerous, mostly harmless

Shameless flirting

Enemies/rivals to friends to lovers

Not wanting to admit feelings

Lighthearted

Fun to read

Enjoyable to reread

Complete>> 23 chapters and 118,356 words

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darkangelofsorrow · 4 years ago

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This is what happens when I decide to procrastinate in the middle of the night 💁🏾‍♀️

2 Dramione edits, 2 Antomione edits, and 1 Tomione edit 🖤

#aesthetic #harry potter #pairing #my edit #hermione granger #my manip #rare pair #draco malfoy #hermione x tom #tomione #dramione #antomione #antonin dolohov #hermione x antonin #tom riddle jr #deathmione #death eaters #hermione x draco

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kittenshift-17 · 3 years ago

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Hi! I hope you live your most beautiful life! I can't wait for the new updates! Can you give me some tiny little clues about what you'll be writing soon? 🥺 I adore yoouu!!

Hello love ❤

Thank you so much. I hope you're living your best life 🥰 as for for clues.... well.... in no particular order, the newest chapters for the below fics are all underway:

♡ Tip of My Tongue

♡ A Promise Unspoken

♡ Brightest Nights or Darkest Days

♡ Tethered

♡ The Silver Dragon

♡ Darkness and Silence

♡ Relligo Spiritus

♡ That Damn Purple Vial

♡ Embracing the Madness

♡ Devil's Angels

♡ Howl for Me

♡ A Veronica Mars/Weevil one-shot

♡ A Maddy Smith/Rhydian Morris one-shot

Hopefully I can get something out this weekend for you to read, and try to push out some more in the coming week.

Xx-Kitten

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fangroyal · 5 years ago

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FIC REC: Take It In Trade (Antonin/Draco, NC-17)

Title: Take It In Trade Author: @gracerene09 Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing(s): Antonin/Draco Rating: NC-17 Warning(s): Dub-Con, Power Imbalance Word Count: 3.1k Summary: Without a wand, and with his family out of favour with the Dark Lord, Draco finds himself in need of protection. Draco is fairly certain Antonin Dolohov will provide it, but he's not going to do it for free.

Okay, look...don’t look at me. I know how wrong it is for me to love this fic as much as I do, okay?! xD Like, I get it!! BUT. IT’S. SO. GOOD???? I mean, gracerene has literally never written anything that WASN’T good, I swear, but. Yeah. Just...look. Give it a chance, alright? Alright.

You can find more recs in my tag and on my shelf.

#antonin x draco #antonin dolohov #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fangqueen recs fics

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thelastlynx · 6 years ago

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Someone... needs to stop creating manips for completed fics, and start redirecting their focus towards these opened, unfinished documents

But since you’re already here... well.. here’s the link:

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16288667/chapters/38094539

Summary: A fortnight before Halloween, Hermione Granger receives two letters, one invites her to the famously exclusive Hallowe'en Dinner at Malfoy Manor, the other is a death threat saying she will die on Halloween at the stroke of midnight. Naturally, Hermione Granger does whatever she damn well pleases, and at first, the Malfoy Hallowe'en celebrations seem to go according to plan. But then something goes horribly awry...

#dramione #manip #aesthetic #dhr #draco x hermione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #crime fiction #detective fiction #dramione fanfic #draco malfoy #Hermione Granger #antonin dolohov #narcissa malfoy #murder mystery

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deifiliaa · 4 years ago

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I'm going down a Cho rabbit hole rn!! Do you have any Cho fic recs?? I'd love to read more Cho

hello anon, welcome to the rabbit hole, just wanted to let you know that this is one of those asks i dream about getting because cho chang? oft-overlooked-and-underappreciated-in-fandom cho chang?? why yes i would LOVE to stand on this soapbox and talk endlessly about her and my favorite writings that feature her <3

i get that a lot of the pairings featured in these fics/drabbles are very not mainstream lol but please don’t let that scare you off because honestly?? these are all a mix of fun, brilliant, stunning, transcendent stories and i have spent approximately a million hours thinking about each one of these because the character building and emotional payoff and dimensional portrayal of cho is overwhelmingly just so satisfying. so capable of filling that void canon left. so chef’s kiss.

gonna do my best to pick a line from each fic/drabble that i think does a good job of capturing its ✨ essence ✨ so. here we gooo. (mature/explicit fics noted with an asterisk * ).

record scratch * by @provocative-envy — modern, best man and maid of honor au (cho x marcus flint)

“You and Cho—my best and dearest and most precious friend in the world, Cho—you know each other, don’t you?” Marietta asks, just a bit too sweetly.

There’s a beat of awkward silence, then, and Cho very responsibly avoids the heavy, frantic weight of Marcus’s gaze, which has suddenly—coolly—intently—snapped over to her.

“so it starts at the tail end of the war...” by @provocative-envy — canon divergent au (cho x marcus flint)

“i don’t want to get away,” she tells him, wincing at the strain on her vocal chords. “this is–this is it, can’t you feel it? this is how it ends.”

good behavior by @provocative-envy — canon divergent, postwar au, also the sequel to the above drabble (cho x marcus flint)

Well, his “muggle integration counselor” needs to be able to find him.

“marcus flint knows a lot about destruction...” by @provocative-envy — high school au (cho x marcus flint)

“I’m bad at math,” he blurts out, jaw working as he folds his arms over his chest. He feels defensive. Frustration prickles a familiar dance across his scalp. “This is, like, my third time taking trig. They always—I get lost when that fucking—when the circle thing with the dotted lines shows up.”

tick tick boom by @provocative-envy — superhero au (cho x marcus flint)

Cho Chang now works for the nonprofit across the street, a legal defense fund for superheroes who aren’t lucky enough to have corporate sponsors or full-fledged PR teams.

Marcus sees her, occasionally.

heads or tails * by @provocative-envy — thief acquaintances au (cho x marcus flint)

“We aren’t jack shit, sweetheart,” she mimics obnoxiously. “Yes, I know.”

His nostrils flare. “What’s the fucking problem, then?”

flying before falling by andtheyfightcrime — canon compliant (cho x cedric diggory)

Cho sniffs, "Maybe we just think there's more to hello than sticking your tongue down someone's throat." Cedric groans at that and says, "You shatter my illusions, Chang. We could have been in Hufflepuff together."

fifty ways by andtheyfightcrime — canon compliant (cho x cedric diggory)

Being in like with Cedric is a lot like being friends with him, only with more private smiles and demure nods.

big head boy by @cocoartistwrites — university au (cho x percy weasley)

She makes him nervous, with her shiny hair and her firm, straight brows and her piercing dark eyes and the haughty way she argues with him, and how she slams everything he says, how she sounds like his sister, Ginny, sometimes, when Ginny hears him talking, how assured she is, how angry, how sometimes she argues with their tutor – their brilliant, famous tutor – once, memorably, calling him an outdated sexist pig and –

“the thing about cho chang...” by @provocative-envy — zombie survival au (cho x cormac mclaggen)

Out of everyone? Back at camp? That he could’ve gotten trapped in a fucking abandoned Bass Pro Shop with? While a horde of fucking razor-talon zombies mashed their rotting gray faces up against the tastefully organized display windows?

Cho Chang would not have been Cormac’s first choice.

the sweet spot by @provocative-envy — modern, celebrity au (cho x cormac mclaggen)

His smile is authentic in ways that she doubts he’s aware of, in ways that she doubts he’s even capable of understanding, and it unnerves her a little bit, having all that energy, all that intensity, all that smug, self-fulfilling excitement directed right at her, totally unfiltered.

hiding in plain sight by @mxrcusflint — high school au (cho x cormac mclaggen)

Cormac McLaggen, she thinks, has probably broken more hearts than earned A’s.

descent (or how to stop being a national hero) by watername — canon divergent au (cho x viktor krum if you squint, but also not really)

At the second task, when the competitors dive beneath the lake, he drums his fingers against the railing and wonders what kind of person inspires such loyalty.

when the lights go out by thatdarkhairedgirl — second war resistance au (cho x viktor krum)

He missed her. He’s known her for less than a year and he missed her.

flights of fancy by namelessamelie — canon divergent au (cho x draco malfoy)

“You don’t have to defend him,” he interrupted, cutting her off. “Potter’s not as wonderful as he’d have everyone believe, and you know that better than anyone.” Then, before he’d fully thought it through, he added impulsively, “One hero isn’t a replacement for another.”

caught by blood sugar love — canon divergent, postwar, rebellion au (cho x draco malfoy)

Cho blinks. "I mean... I-I sit, and I think about it. How much you've ruined everything. It's really amazing, when I tally it all up. How much you owe. Especially if your father dies."

the sporting life * by blythely — canon divergent au (cho x pansy parkinson)

Cho wins but it's probably because on the last match point Pansy is looking at Cho rather than at the ball.

seeking * by Gelsey — postwar, ministry au (cho x charlie weasley)

“Fucker,” she said, righting her clothes in quick, economical movements, though her hands were trembling. She tossed her hair.

a moment’s silence (happens grace, happens sweet) by disinclinant — second war order au (cho x charlie weasley)

“I’ve no idea who you are,” Charlie replies, amused and vaguely charmed by this explanation of how she knows him through the process of elimination.

moon walk * by @provocative-envy — modern au (cho x antonin dolohov)

She stares at him for a minute, blatantly astonished and visibly apprehensive, and then she blushes. Hard. Gnaws on her lower lip and sweeps her eyes from his face to his chest and—very, very quickly—even lower.

even the score * by themidnightguardian — olympics au (cho x ginny weasley)

It’s a tepid rivalry at best—something that’s fierce on the field and almost entirely absent off it—and they’ve only spoken a handful of words to each other since their college days, but when it comes to women’s soccer, the Chang-Weasley rivalry is the hot gossip because it’s the only gossip.

Which is why twitter loses its shit when they both make the Olympic team.

that’s what she said by @provocative-envy — hockey au (cho x ginny weasley)

“Hey, why don’t you like me?”

Cho’s face twitches oddly. Defensively. “Why don’t I—excuse me?”

playing favourites by Slumber — postwar, healer au (cho x oliver wood)

The first time Cho catches Oliver Wood wandering St Mungo's ward nowhere near his own, he at least has the grace to look embarrassed.

#cho chang #hp #deifiliaa recs #this is a very long post and i'm probably gonna realize two hours after posting this that i've left out one or two other cho fics i adore 🤷#oh well i'll take the L when the time comes but for now!!! enjoy all of these friends!!!! each of these have made me feel *things*#at some point in time and i want to hear all of your thoughts about them!! <3 #additionally lmao this truly is also just a campaign for me to get more people on the marcho ship looool rip that #some of these are very significant to me not necessarily because of the cho portrayal but because of how much it's stuck with me #and the SETTING and the GUT PUNCH some of these give are just. 👁👄👁 ouch man.#anyway yeah let it be known i love her your honor!!! thank u to all writers who explore her as a deep and complex character!!

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