#august ollivander

[slitherpuffinstories]

Drarry AU microfic, feat. Florean Fortescue x August Ollivander ~ Ice-cream

Florean had noticed it very quickly.

“Hey, Auggie. August! That boy over there, sitting with Harry, has he always been there?”

His boyfriend August approached him, grinning while rolling his eyes. His pierced eyebrow was relaxed, which meant that he was in a good mood. That didn’t stop him from being an arse, though.

“Of bloody course he hasn’t always been there, Florie.”

“Oh, you know what I meant!”

“No, he certainly hasn’t, now that you mention.” August came closer and took a look out the little window to the ice-cream bar. He put a hand on Florean’s shoulder and looked excited as he turned around to smile at him. “They’re sitting really close, don’t you think?”

“That boy looks like you, August!” Florian chuckled. “The blond hair, the eyes… although you only have one.”

August did, in fact, have two eyes. But only one eye that was blue. He blinked slowly at the sun, like a cat, and peeked out again. Only his brown eye was visible to Florean from this angle.

“You’re right. He does look a little like me! Only sixteen, and Harry already has good taste in men!”

Florean scoffed, nudging his boyfriend’s shoulder. “We have ice-cream to sell.”

“We have no customers except those two lovebirds anyway!”

Florean rolled his eyes and leaned onto August’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

“If I’m right and that is the Malfoy boy that Harry has been talking about, he surely has a lot more in common with me than just looks”, said August softly.

“Florean! Get over here! Harry just dropped his ice-cream!”

“Did he catch it in time?” Florean rushed over to the window, looking worried.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point, get over here now!”

“I am here!”

“Look, then!”

Harry, the boy Florean had grown to treasure the most after his boyfriend, had just straightened his back and leaned against the bench he was sitting on, holding the cup of ice-cream in his palm. Florean let out a sigh of relief, but he quickly breathed in again as Harry turned to face the blond boy, Draco, and smiled at him. Lo and behold, the other boy smiled back. Just a quick smile, then he turned his face down.

Florean was reached by a distant “Are you… laughing, Malfoy?”, and he saw the blond boy shake his head a few times, still laughing.

It was a drastic change to what Florean had witnessed a few weeks ago, when a grumpy blond boy he’d never seen but heard a lot about sat down in front of Harry at his favourite table, slamming his hand next to Harry’s open schoolbook.

“Am I imagining this, or does that look exactly like when you and I became friends years and years ago?”, Florian teased, and August’s head snapped up.

“I did not blush like that. Ever.”

“Well, my memory must be playing tricks on me then.”

Harry and Draco were blissfully unaware that anyone was watching them. So they kept meeting up at the ice-cream bar, day after day.

“Oh Merlin, this is the best one yet!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s an ice-cream, Potter. Why so excited?”

“This flavour is the best. I don’t even know what I took, I just snatched something from the van. I love the colour!”

Draco watched him in silence as he kept talking.

“… here, do you want to taste it?” Harry held up a spoonful of his ice-cream to Draco’s face. Draco wrinkled his nose.

“That’s your spoon, Harry. I’m not exchanging germs with you.”

“Suit yourself. You’ll have to offer me your own spoon, then.”

“Well then my germs will still be in your ice-cream.”

“Don’t be such a wuss”, Harry said dramatically, snatching Draco’s spoon from his own cup of vanilla ice-cream. “It’s some sort of fruit. I don’t know which one. Go on”, ha said as he took a scoop and held up the spoon again. “Taste it! I swear it’s worth it!”

Draco leaned back a bit. “I’ll take the spoon myself, thanks. You don’t need to feed me.”

Harry grimaced. “You’re so grumpy today. You’re no fun.” Then he tilted his head, and his grin widened. He reached forward, still holding the spoon full of colourful ice-cream in his hand. Draco stared, not sure what to do.

Harry glanced down at the spoon and up again, scooting across the bench to be even closer to Draco than before. Draco still didn’t move, just kept his eyes locked on Harry’s own. When Harry’s hand with the spoon were close enough for Draco to reach out and eat the ice-cream, he suddenly reached out and steered it aside. Harry’s eyes widened.

They were both quiet, so quiet, and Harry was just about to ask what was going on when Draco suddenly snatched the spoon from his grip and put one hand behind his head to hold Harry still as he shoved ice-cream into his face.

“Draco!” Harry spluttered, letting out a shocked laugh. “What was that for?”

“Because you’re a git!” Draco seemed delighted by the sight of Harry’s nose and cheek covered in ice-cream. He laughed until he barely could breathe anymore. Harry laughed too, and scooped up more ice-cream.

“I’m going to make you do it if it’s the last thing I ever do! Got me?”

Draco raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, staying still and completely silent again as Harry came even closer and nudged the corner of his lips with the spoon. Then he moved again, lifted two pale, slender fingers and moved the spoon aside. Harry sighed, but the sigh got caught in his throat when Draco whispered:

“Aren’t you going to stop me?”

Harry blinked at him, and swallowed.

“I’d rather just let you. See where it leads to.”

“See where it leads to, huh?” Draco suddenly seemed to lose his composure, his eyes flickering as he took hold of the spoon and put it aside. He held his head low as he reached for a napkin, lifted his head again, only slightly, to dry off the ice-cream from Harry’s face. Harry let him.

When he was done, he dropped the napkin and looked back into Harry’s eyes. They were still very, very close.

“Hey”, Harry mumbled. “I’m nervous too.”

Draco didn’t know what to respond to that. All he could do was cup Harry’s check in his hand, and lean forward.

Harry’s lips grazed his, and Draco stiffened and closed his eyes, his heart almost beating out of his chest. He couldn’t manage to do anything more at the moment. Harry had closed his eyes, Draco felt his eyelashes on his cheek, and he smiled.

And then…

“Shit”, Harry cursed before pulling away. “Draco, they-“

Draco’s head snapped towards the little van that was the ice-cream bar, and he groaned and hid his face in his hands.

“Has he been watching the whole time?”

“I think so”, Harry said, his voice strained. “Oh, and his boyfriend too.”

As if the happy smile on Florean Fortescue’s face wasn’t enough, another head appeared behind him. A blond guy Harry knew very well. Harry groaned and turned to face Draco, letting him hide his face in the crook of his neck.

“Embarrassing”, Draco hissed.

“At least they’re not even close to being homophobes”, Harry chuckled, his face hot.

“But still embarrassing”, Draco choked out.

“Okay, er”, Harry said quickly, standing up. “Let’s just go. Like. Right now.”

“Right.” Draco stood up too, sliding his hand into Harry’s and turning around to grimace at the two men in the van. The two were smiling even wider now, and Florean looked excited as ever.

Harry and Draco started running, but when they were out of sight from the van, Harry couldn’t wait anymore. He tugged at Draco’s waist and pulled him back again, trapping his lips in a kiss, a real one this time. And Draco kissed him back, letting himself relax against the arm Harry had wrapped around his lower back.

They couldn’t contain themselves for long. Harry started laughing first, Draco shortly after. They soon collapsed against each other, and Harry leaned his chin against Draco’s shoulder and whispered: “I’m sorry it turned out like that.”

“It was perfect, you git. Don’t apologise.” Draco paused for a moment, pulling away to look at the other boy. He smiled warmly. “That ice-cream must have tasted pretty nice. I doubt your lips taste of…” He leaned in and whispered in Harry’s ear. “… naturally.”

Harry blinked. “So that’s what it was, then.”

Draco had to kiss him again because of that stupid look on his face.

“I knew it!” Florean placed a kiss on August’s lips. “I knew that there was something between those two!”

“I think we embarrassed them. Did we embarrass them?”

“Only a little. It’s fine!” Florean grinned widely.

[floreanfortescuetruther]

Autumnflower/Florean x August microfic ~ Red gloves

My main account is @yourlocalbadgerscales, I post microfics on @slitherpuffinstories! :3

Florean loved summer. And he hated autumn with a passion. He loved eating ice-cream in the warmth of the sun, he loved feeling the hotness from it on his cheeks as he tilted his head to face the endless blue sky. He loved the coolness of his father’s homemade ice-cream on his tongue as he sat and enjoyed the summer while it lasted.

But when July passed and autumn came, and the cold was on his skin all of a sudden, making his cheeks hurt if he sat outside for too long… when autumn came and made the world dull and grey and wet and cold, cold… ugh, how Florean hated it. The cold weather in the UK was torture for him.

So to be completely honest, he had no idea what had possessed him to step out the door today. He stood next to the road outside of his house, staring gloomily at the cloudy sky, indecisive of where to go. When he looked to his left, he saw a red glove on the empty, lifeless branch of a bush. He tilted his head and went to grab it. Florean held it in his own gloved hands, not sure what to do with it. So he pocketed it for now.

Suddenly, a voice was calling for him. Or someone, at least. He didn’t hear his name, just a slight panting and a “Hey! Hey, you over there!”. He turned around and was met by the sight of a boy his age, running towards him.

“Hey… I’m so sorry to bother you…” The boy seemed out of breath. Florean blinked and smiled carefully at him, letting him take his time. He hadn’t seen this boy before, or at least he couldn’t recall ever meeting him. Would probably remember if I had, he caught himself thinking.

The boy was wearing a red hat with a knitted little ball on top of it, under which a few strands of sandy blond hair poked out, stuck to his forehead. When the boy looked up, Florean noted that his eyes were a greyish shade of blue, like the darkest of clouds that had formed on the sky just now. The owner of said eyes flashed a tiny smile at him, revealing a little gap between his front teeth. The words Florean had meant to utter were caught in his throat, and suddenly he himself seemed short of breath.

“Er, I was wondering, since you stood here… have you seen a red glove lying around? I must have dropped it as I stood here earlier today, and now I can’t find it.” The boy looked past Florean’s shoulder. “Ah, I can’t see it… darn it. I’m really freezing.” He held up the hands that he had kept in his pocket until now, showing off the one gloved hand and a bare one. “It’s so cold today, isn’t it? I usually love autumn, I love the colours of the leaves and how they crunch when I walk on them, and summer is way too hot for me anyways. Oh, am I ranting again? Mum always say I do. I’m August, by the way. August Ollivander. Did you say your name yet? I seem to have forgotten it already, if you did.”

Florean had never felt more warm and fuzzy, not even in summertime. He smiled. For a boy who usually used to rant just as much as any kid, he was awfully quiet. He licked his lips and blinked a few times.

“I’m… I’m Florean. Fortescue.” He smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you, August.”

He was suddenly aware of the red glove he had in his pocket. He clutched his hand around it, but for some reason, he didn’t feel like giving it back just yet. So he pulled his hand out again and held it out for August to shake.

“I like Autumn too”, he lied. “Especially August.” That didn’t feel like a lie.

August smiled even bigger and took his hand, shaking it using his bare hand. It was pale but red at his fingertips.

“We could keep looking for your glove, if you like?”, Florean asked. “Or… we could go home to my place and get you warm again. My mum wouldn’t mind at all, she’ll be thrilled! I was just going home anyways, to eat ice-cream. I live right here.” He nodded towards the house right next to them. August’s eyes flickered over to the house and then back to Florean.

“Yeah, sure!” He laughed softly. “But ice-cream? In this weather? I usually only eat ice-cream in the summer, you know.”

“Oh, well”, Florean shrugged. “My dad says that you can eat ice-cream whenever, and I agree with him. At least you can eat the ice-cream he makes whenever. It’s so good! I promise you.”

August’s eyes widened.

“I knew that I recognised the name Fortescue!”

The two boys made their way towards the house as they spoke. August told Florean about the one time when he was eleven and his dad, a famous wandmaker, had made him find himself his own wand from the shop and had trashed the whole place while trying, and as Florean laughed his heart out, August took his hand and pulled him towards the house more eagerly. It wasn’t what Florean was used to when it came to friends, but he didn’t have the heart to pull away, not even as they entered the house and called for his mom to come to the door.

The rest of the day, Florean caught himself sighing softly, a big grin plastered across his face, every time August looked over at him and smiled at him, his freckly nose all wrinkled up.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

A screenshot of a microfic I might just wanna post on my sideblog <//3

[purple-phesh-and-cheps]

florean and august headcanons bc why not

currently brainrotting abt them (not even as a ship just as characters lol) so here you go ig

florean:

his father (a muggle) lived most of his life in italy, working class background, immigrated to england in the 50s and opened a shop (maybe gelato im not sure). met his wife (a witch) in london, they got together and had their first child, alice. the whole magic thing was quite a lot to handle at first (when alice started showing signs of it, and the mother had to explain everything) but the father loved his wife and wanted to have a family so he accepted it eventually. ~a year later they had florean.

he always wanted to open an gelateria because he liked making people happy, especially children. it was his dream to own a shop in diagon alley

i imagine his personality as sort of a mixture between james, remus, and frank tbh (although i would really like to establish him as an independent character instead of just comparing him to others)

he loves his sister alice very much, she looks out for him, and although she might tease him a bit she also loves him <3

he loves life at hogwarts, and he loves routines !!! he hates unpredictability in his life, prefers to have a familiar schedule that he can stick to. he finds change extremely stressful and can sometimes appear to have mood swings because of this

august:

august grew up on a farm in the lake district (northern england). both his parents were magical, although neither were pure bloods. his bloodline has witches and wizards in it, going back many generations, but also muggles as well. he doesn't have any siblings.

after his mother died, when he was ~8, they moved off the farm (which they gave to his aunt and uncle) to london. ollivander started up his wandmaking business, and they lived together in a flat above the shop in diagon alley. he looks back very fondly on the time he spent in the country growing up, he loves to be in nature, and is comfortable in solitude. he's very much a wild spirit (sort of reminding me of anne of green gables)

every summer holidays he spends time on the farm with his aunt and uncle.

i imagine his personality as sort of a mixture between lily, regulus, and ANNE OF GREEN GABLES (although - again - i would really like to establish him as an independent character instead of just comparing him to others)

he does love his father, although he can get on his nerves a little because it's just the two of them living together, and he's very sporadic and sometimes reclusive.

he loves living at hogwarts, and spends a lot of his free time outside, walking on the grounds or even venturing to the edges of the forbidden forest. the scottish countryside sort of reminds him of the moors where he grew up.

tagging the truther (@floreanfortescuetruther)

[sunnysaystuff]

Florean Fortescue being colour blind, which means that every single ice cream he makes is a whole ass colour explosion. And August knows Florean likes it, so he never complains. Yay 👍 or nay 👎❓

YAY

I love color blind Florean

[atokirina-tsuki]

Florean Fortescue being colour blind, which means that every single ice cream he makes is a whole ass colour explosion. And August knows Florean likes it, so he never complains. Yay 👍 or nay 👎❓

YAYYYY

OMG THIS IS SO CUTE

ELLA THIS IS AMAZING

AGHHHH

[earlyautumnflowermicrofics]

Welcome to this blog!

I hope you’ll have a wonderful time here! This is a safe space for people of colour, for every religion, for the whole LGBTQIA+ community (yes, also for you who are intersex, therians, people who use neopronouns etc. You shall not be forgotten!) etc.

This is a place to read fanfiction and enjoy yourself! While you’re here, drink some water (it’s what Florean and August would have wanted if they knew you <3), and follow my other sideblog @floreanfortescuetruther, where this whole journey begun!

With love, Ella xx

[batsybaz]

Day at Diagon Part 1

@earlyautumnflowermicrofics @ravenwordss Beginning of Sixth Year, features August as a Squib.

“‘Advanced Potion Making by Libacius Borange’: that’ll be near the stairs in the ‘B’ section, right?” Florean looks up from the lengthy scroll he’s reading aloud -positively ginormous if you ask him, the Hogwarts shopping list seems to grow every year- to peer triumphantly at his boyfriend.

August meets his gaze with raised eyebrows, perfectly framing multi-coloured eyes that sparkle with humour as he shakes his head. “Wrong again, Flo. We have NEWTs this year, remember? There’s a specific section up the back for those textbooks.”

Florean whines. “Remind me why I’m doing NEWTs again?”

His sulking elicits a low giggle from August, who rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s dramatics. His own trolley is piled with teetering stacks of NEWT editions, likely covering every subject Florean can possibly name.

“Because all renowned magical ice cream connoisseurs excelled at potions which means it’s an important subject for your future endeavours. Besides, you love potions.”

“But I hate studying!” Florean whirls around, searching Flourish & Blotts until he spots the required section and heads towards it.

Once he’s located and snatched up his advanced edition, he looks around for August, who has clearly gotten distracted along the way and now seems to be whispering earnestly to a low-hanging chandelier.

He simply glows in magical shops, comes to life in such a way that someone who didn’t know better would say magic was infused in his very bones. It was, Florean would argue, just not in the way most close-minded wizards could even begin to understand.

Even now there are a couple of patrons snickering in his direction, moreso parents than any fellow Hogwarts students. Luckily August is usually too caught up with other things to notice, preventing the looks from having any effect and giving Florean the chance to glare at the perpetrators without his boyfriend scolding him about ‘fighting useless battles’.

August concludes his conversation with the chandelier, nodding vehemently in agreement and whispering farewell as he hurries to catch up with Florean.

He seems to float inexplicably across the floor, robes fluttering behind him as if commanded by a levitating charm. Florean knows its not just his infatuation with his boyfriend either; young witches and wizards with no concept of prejudice look up at him in awe as he glides by.

Luckily, waiting in line and purchasing their book brings no extra trouble and soon the two boys find themselves stumbling out onto the bustling street. Every inch of cobblestone is packed with people, from first-years bubbling with unbridled enthusiasm to overwhelmed seniors hurrying to fulfil their surely overwhelming list of supplies.

The atmosphere in Diagon Alley is identical to the years before: eager shop owners promoting their wares with charmed megaphones, parents yelling in vain for children to stay close as they inevitably get swallowed up by the crowds, delighted shouts as eager friends find themselves reunited, and a gaggle of frazzled seventeen year olds practising their newly permitted public magic with alarmingly varied results.

Florean ducks as a stray Giggling Firework hisses past his ear and explodes against the wall in a shower of sparks and disembodied laughter.

Luckily their next destination is only sixty metres down the street, and the pair bravely dive into the sea of pointy elbows and rustling robes. Only a few steps on Florean halts at the shopfront of Sugarplum’s Sweets, enticed by the sugary scent wafting from its displays as his eyes eagerly peruse the colourful array of sweets.

Licorice Wands, Sugar Quills, Fizzing Whi- wait, Fizzing Whizzbees! Florean freezes before breaking into an excited grin. Who wouldn’t want to taste that on an ice cream cone?

“August!” He runs to catch up to his boyfriend, who has wandered a few shops onwards and is lingering in front of an ornately decorated window.

Ollivander’s.

Florean’s excitement is doused instantly as he slows to a tentative walk, reaching August’s side just in time to see Ollivander look up from where he’s helping a young boy choose what is likely his very first wand.

When his gaze lands on August Ollivander’s glowing smile fades in an instant, sparkling eyes freezing over to level his son with a piercing stare filled with icy disappointment. Florean hears a sharp intake of air next to him, followed by a shuddering exhale as August resolutely holds his father’s gaze.

“August.” It’s said quietly now, barely a whisper as Florean rests a gentle hand on his shoulder and pulls him away into the crowd. “Come on.” He guides August out of the hustle and into one of the many alleyways, where he folds the lightly trembling boy into a tight hug.

When he pulls away August’s eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, reflecting from the pale silver of his left eye that’s identical but so different to the icy gaze from before.

“You okay?”

August nods, scrubbing at his face in a quick motion. “Yeah. Just unexpected, you know?” He hurriedly continues at Florean’s worried frown. “I’ll be fine. I just need something to get my mind off it, I think.”

“Of course.” Florean thinks for a moment. “Fancy a visit to Gambol & Japes?”

August’s face lights up immediately at the mention of the famous joke shop. “Always.”

“One more hug first!” The alleyway is filled with delighted giggles as Florean quickly pulls his lovely boyfriend into his chest.

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER TWO

02 : SHOPPING (1/2)

CHPT. SUM. : life isn't easy in the Black Family household, you need to get out, you also need a new wand. Sirius does too as well as a few other things; time to go shopping.

LENGTH : 5.8k

TAGS. : hurt/comfort ; tantrums ; fluff ; sirius needs a hug ; regulus needs a hug ; original walburga can eat shit ; orion can eat shit too ; reader being an amazing mother ; walburga deserves to get bullied ; floo powder travels ; diagon alley shopping time~ ; stupid wands ; arson ; goblin OC ; sirius being a sneaky baby ; regulus follows in his older brother's footsteps ; misbehaving things ; Ollivander cameo~ ; please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes for now, this wasn't really proofread (╥﹏╥) i'll go back over things later on!

← PREV. | 01 : ARRIVAL | SERIES M.LIST

7th August 1971 

It didn’t take you long to uncover the upsetting affairs of the ever proud Black Family. 

There was nothing to be proud of. It sickened you to witness the blatant disdain Orion had for his own two sons, neglecting them by leaving for work early and returning only to lock himself up in his home office. The bastard even overlooked his sons when he was present at home on the weekends and the few words he spoke when addressing them dripped with cruelty and ignorance. The only positive thing you could take from his absence, however, is the fact that the boys didn’t have to tolerate his silent callousness for long periods of time. 

But that meant seeing the effects of Walburga’s despicable conditioning of the two boys, which was far worse. 

It was clear that Regulus wanted to be favoured and compiled to his mother’s whims, desperately seeking her approval. Whenever his small, pale hands reached out for you, no matter how miniscule, you accepted with open arms and a warm smile. His precious look of surprise, and shy happiness at your unexpected acceptance, never failed to make your heart shatter, even more so that his reaction never seemed to let up. 

Before every apology, before every small request, before every word he breathed in your direction, there was an evident hesitance, a slight fear in his motions that made him freeze up for a moment. It was a consistent action that you hoped, with time, would disappear for good. You love having Regulus for your son but you don’t want him to do things just because you said so. In your previous life and before your dreams were shattered, the one thing you looked forward to about having children was the development of their own personality, the becoming of their own individual person. That’s what you want for Regulus, and Sirius too. But you know that Regulus was the main son who was deprived of that pleasure in the original timeline so you wanted to give him that extra bit of care. It was your responsibility, now, to give him that happiness.   

Sirius was the same. He wanted approval too, you could see it so very clearly in his piercing grey eyes – it’s an innocence he shares with his younger brother. There’s a glimmer of hope in his grey pools, hidden behind the need to protect Regulus and the mix of anger and sadness fostered by the horrendous parents he had the ill-fate of having. You want to bring down those walls but you know it’ll take some time. Nevertheless, you clung onto the hope present in his eyes and used it to cultivate your firm resolution, like a garden to the foundation of a new life and a new future. It was needed, especially when Sirius lashed out, his fury, dangerously ablaze like a forest fire set on destroying everything in its wake. 

It was no secret that the original Walburga expected nothing but excellence from her only two sons, so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that she had hired private tutors for them leading up to their official education in Hogwarts. They were to study French, Etiquette, Literature, Cursive/Calligraphy, Maths and all of the wizarding basics. All taught by private tutors that delivered material like stale bread on a plate and leaving them with the terribly tedious assignments in the most ridiculous amounts. You understood why Sirius worked himself up to such a tantrum. However, he was not setting a good example for his younger brother, who clung onto the long flowing skirt of your black dress and pressed himself against your legs for comfort. 

Tenderly, you combed your fingers through Regulus’ neatly permed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp while the two of you waited for Sirius to lose energy and simmer down enough for you to finally get a word in. It only took a few minutes but Sirius was soon left heavily panting, his expulsion of rage gone but still evident in his harsh glare and aggressive stance.

 Silence took over the room as you continued to hold his gaze, determined to handle the situation calmly but firmly and without any interruptions – you hope to God that your amateur imperturbable charm worked on the door of the room; it was the weekend, meaning that Orion was at home and he wouldn’t take too kindly to his equally hateful wife being screamed at by his disobedient son.

“...it’s not fair…” Sirius grumbles under his breath, pouting defiantly as his small hands ball up into clenched fists by his sides. 

“I know it’s not fair, Sirius,”

“Then—!” Sirius cuts himself off when you raise a brow at him, your mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. 

Some part of you understands why Sirius would lash out so aggressively; he was practically drowning under the workload he was set by his individual tutors, drowning under the expectations the original Walburga had set on him and he didn’t know how to express his frustrations. Along the way, you’re sure he’s bottled up his emotions and tried to get on with things, evident by the littered chaos of papers at his feet, marked by his neat handwriting. Such beautiful handwriting for such a young and troubled boy. With his deadline fast approaching and his assignments piled up to his ears, Sirius lashed out in the violent and wrathful way he’s been exposed to since birth. You want to be soft and comply with his demands but you know that’ll foster bad habits in him. Conceding now will only teach him that it’s okay to become violent when he’s frustrated and that it’ll work to help him get what he wants. But that is a false reality. And you will not perpetuate the illusion for him.  

He’s your son now, he’s your responsibility and you’re going to teach him well. So you stand firm but composed. You’re setting an example. It isn’t until you sense the fear of what may happen slowly seeping into Sirius’ much smaller frame, that you step forward and take action. 

In your slow approach, Sirius flinches and snaps his eyes tightly shut. His clenched fists slowly come up to shield his chest as his shoulders tense despite the visible shiver that runs up his frame.

A small voice calls out behind you, “Mother–”

“Regulus, this is between me and your brother. Please don’t interfere,” Regulus bites his lip into silence but watches on with fearful eyes. He wants to step in and hold his brother close, the same way Sirius has done to help comfort him many times before but, no matter how strong his will, Regulus didn’t move. Why? Was it the fear or… was it something else?  

Once close enough, you kneel down and gently grasp Sirius’ small shoulders. You try not to wince when he falters from your touch and tries to withdraw but your grip keeps him securely in place. Inhaling deeply and slowly, you begin to speak in a stable voice and with strength. It’s best to start from the beginning. 

“Sirius…” you wait until he meets your eyes, hesitant and afraid but stubbornly brave, “what’s wrong?” he sends you a look of exasperation, you can read him easily ‘why are you asking him that when he’s been screaming at you about it?’, “I will not listen or engage in any conversation with you if you ever speak to me that way,” you set the boundary and pause to make sure he processes your words clearly before continuing, “I will only listen if you talk to me like a normal person, if you just scream at me like that then I can’t help you,” 

Sirius wants to scoff at your words; how could he possibly trust you to help him if you’ve never been worthy of his trust? But he glimpses the image of his worried, younger brother over your shoulder and bites down on his sharp tongue. Regulus has grown a small but reluctant trust for you ever since the day you fainted. It was naive of him but Sirius could never fault his younger brother for anything. He’s always been the one with the softer heart between them so it was natural for Regulus to be more trusting. Deep down, Sirius wants to have that same level of give within him too. 

But it was hard. It’s hard to trust…

…that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, however. One prolonged look at his brother was all he needed to have the courage to put that trust forward. 

“It’s unfair,” he repeats, clearly this time.

“What’s not fair?” you prompt, your features softening along with your tone as Sirius wills himself to continue. You haven’t lashed out at him yet, you haven’t even threatened to launch a curse at him, that was a good sign. 

“All this work…” he gestures to the scattered papers he had thrown to the floor in defiance. Now, he looks towards them in shame and quickly diverts his gaze from the mess. 

“I see,” you hum as he looks onto you with eyes of wonderment, unable to comprehend that you were taking in his complaint so graciously – he isn’t used to this type of gentleness but he likes it…  “I’m sorry you’re under so much pressure to do this much work,” Sirius holds his breath as hope builds up within him, its light is radiant but he tries to ignore it, “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you–”

“––I tried to do well!” Sirius defends, his eyes desperately searching your own for some form of understanding. It was your warm smile that eased his panicked heart… in some sense, he’s beginning to understand his younger brother; his mother looks far prettier when she’s smiling. 

“I know,” you cup his face with one hand and lovingly caress the skin of his cheek with your thumb, “you’ve worked so hard. Thank you for trying, Sirius,” you watch tears pool at his eyes and coo comfortingly as you bring him into your arms and tuck his face into your shoulder, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I promise to talk to your tutors about the workload,” your gentle assurance and unfaltering promise eases his worries and Sirius allows himself to melt into your embrace. You’ve never called him that before. And never in such a loving or warm tone. It makes his heart feel lighter and his breath stutters in disbelief. 

Can he keep you like this? He wants you to be like this forever. 

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stays wrapped up in your kind embrace but he’s brought back to his senses when he hears shuffling and quickly feels his younger brother being brought into the hug too. Lighthearted and optimistic about the world’s goodness, Sirius brings an arm around his brother, who reciprocates his actions, and the three of you stay there, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. This is nice. 

“Regulus,” Sirius feels his brother stiffen up beside him, but only for a moment, it almost goes unnoticed before Regulus tucks himself further into your arms, “I’m sorry for the burden of work on you too,” 

“I-It’s okay, mother,” alas, his younger brother is too forgiving but Sirius knows it’s a trait that he loves his brother for. 

“Do you like the amount of work you’re doing?” you question, doing your best to keep your tone neutral and only slightly peaking in curiosity. 

Regulus pauses for a moment, contemplating his answer, “I wouldn’t mind less work…”

His answer makes you laugh, the sound feathery and light, it makes the two brothers stare at each other in wide-eyed disbelief. They’ve never heard their mother laugh before. It was obscure and strange but a pleasant sound, something that they want to hear more often from you. 

“Then it’s settled, I’ll be having a word with your tutors,” the two boys release a sigh of relief and you feel Sirius melt a little more into your arms, “so you can leave your work alone for next week entirely,” their shock doesn’t go unnoticed but you continue, “I’m so proud of both of you for working so hard,” you didn’t want to rush things but you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly and gently and with all the love you could muster, you lean forward and press a kiss to Sirius’ forehead and then do the same to Regulus. 

They were stunned into silence as a pink hue rose to their cheeks, their wide, unbelieving eyes staring up at you in the most precious way. They look so adorable; you want to capture this image of them in a photo to keep forever. You can practically hear their racing hearts trying to beat out of their chests as their eyes swim with a child-like astonishment and wonder. They’re just two precious little boys who deserved better than the miserable, tragic fate J.K fucking Rowling wrote for them. And you were going to stop at nothing to make sure their futures were happy. 

Warm with happiness, your soft smile remains as you gently usher the two into the living room to settle down and relax for the evening. However, the little bubble of merriment you had cultivated with the two boys was promptly ruptured by the sour, disgruntled face you happened upon as soon as you opened the door.

Tucking the boys’ suddenly tense frames into the folds of your skirt, you address the intruder, “Orion–” 

“What was all that racket?” he demanded, his voice booming and frightening enough for Regulus to begin shaking faintly against you. It made anger spike in your chest but, thankfully, Sirius was there to reach out and immediately begin comforting his younger brother. You made sure to keep the boys out of Orion’s gaze but it was no use, “Sirius! I know it was you! HOW DARE—!”

“We’ve already settled the issue so there’s no need to talk about it further!” you interrupt through clenched teeth, chest puffed out angrily as you hold the boys’ tense but trembling figures into your legs, hoping to calm them as best as you can. Curse that imperturbable charm! And curse that stupid wand! You haven’t been able to cast a single, functioning spell with it and your excitement for the world of magic had quickly dwindled into abhorrence, stemming solely from the stubbornly disobedient wand, “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do so excuse us!” 

You hurriedly lead the boys away from Orion and to the living room as Orion snarls, outraged at being dismissed so flippantly but confused over your sudden change in demeanour. For now, he settles on observing the changes no matter how subtle and returns back to his office. 

“THAT WAND ISN’T WORKING FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT IT’S TRUE MASTER!” Walburga screams in your head and instantly makes you clutch your temple in distress. Settled in the living room sofas, Sirius and Regulus observe you with worry. Walburga doesn’t seem to know any other way of communicating than screaming and it has led to multiple black outs and fainting spells. It also meant that you kept having to drink the same disgusting healing potion over and over again and you were sick of it!

Seeing the same symptoms again, the two boys fidget in their seats, wondering what to do to help, “Are you okay mother?” Regulus asks as you muster a small smile. 

“I’ll be alright, Regulus, thank you,” your response isn’t enough to convince Sirius and he whispers something in his younger brother’s ear as you set to deal with the annoying bitch stuck in your head. 

‘Shut up you insufferable bitch, is inducing a headache your only talent?’ Your words and foul language make her sputter pathetically and it makes you laugh under your breath. Your moment of joy and satisfaction is short lived, however, as Regulus summons Kreacher just as you fall into darkness once more. 

The fucking bitch… 

8th August 1971

Because of that evil bitch stuck in your head, you had to ingest another phial-full of that horrendous healing potion. Not only that but the stupid wand still isn’t working for you. 

“How can I survive this hell hole if I can’t even use magic?” you grumble into the open air as the evil bitch cackles resembled the sputtering and coughing of a broken-down car, mixed with the discordance of an off-tune violin, erratic, grating and screeching. 

‘Can you shut up?!’ you shout in your head, already fuming, ‘Your laugh sounds like it could kill someone! No wonder you’re so miserable and your only sons hate you!’ that finally got her to shut up and you could think clearly again. Even though the situation was annoying, It made you snicker. Being able to bully Walburga into silence made those awful healing potions worth it. You’d drink a hundred healing potions if it meant delivering justice for you two boys. 

Now that she’s silent, you observe your desk. Thankfully, you also had your ownhome office. The previous Walburga had a planner specific for Sirius and Regulus’ studying plans, diet and calendars full of ‘X’s with small notes beside them on disobedience and the subsequent punishments. It was sickening and you wanted to burn the thing but you resisted. If you want to act convincingly in front of Orion and plan slyly, you need to know as much about the original Walburga as possible so you keep all her planners, journals and  scraps of paper intact. You’ll study their contents thoroughly in due time. You still have some major planning to do and you need to note down important dates to keep track of before you forget them. The start you’ve made has been decent, however, you know you need to rely on magic at some points and you wouldn’t be able to succeed in the current state of your wand. And it isn’t as though you weren’t able to cast magic; the first time you tried to cast a simple spell – the well-renowned ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ – you had set the flowers in the vase on fire.  

You need an excuse to go out. As the Patriach of the Black family, Orion had the key to the Gringotts Black Family vault so you can’t just go out haphazardly. You also weren’t comfortable with leaving the boys home alone so you need them to come with you if you can. 

With a sigh, you slump into the rigid desk chair and set about occupying yourself with mundane tasks. Perhaps if you indulge yourself in other, simple activities, you can come up with something creative. Stacking your messily scrawled notations of future plans, you begin to rummage through the desk drawers for a stapler or paper clip but come up unproductive. Nothing. Did wizards and witches not use basic stationary?... They had magic, yes, but surely… 

Your internal ramblings come to an abrupt stop when you spot a famed crest sitting above a deep red seal. The crest features four familiar beasts, a lion, a badger, a raven and a serpent; at the very centre was an ostentatious ‘H’ — it’s a letter from Hogwarts. And you were just beginning to suspect its potential contents. The seal has already been broken and the letter slips out easily. 

Words on the page read with nostalgia, it was as if you were watching the first Harry Potter film all over again and cheering at Harry’s liberation from his toxic aunt, uncle and cousin.  

‘Dear Sirius Black,’ it reads and your heart stutters in both excitement and anxiety, ‘We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.’

“Term starts on September 1st,” your eyes snapt to the desk calendar, which had automatically crossed off the days. It’s a little early but that just means you’ll beat the academic year rush. With a smile, you take out the separate list of necessary school supplies and pair it with a small list of your own. 

Perfect, you have your reason. 

9th August 1971 

Before travelling by floo, Kreacher came up to you and cast a simple dirt-repellent spell on you and your two sons. You were grateful for his foresight and thanked him graciously for doing so. Much like all the times before, your unexpected kindness makes the grumpy house elf falter clumsily but adorably as Regulus grins at your side and Sirius huffs with an exaggerated pout on his lips. He’s still ever so stubborn about the house elf but you’ve observed how Regulus has put in the effort to push the two together. You join in the gentle prodding through leading by example, treating Kreacher kindly and with respect. Bit by bit, Sirius has been following yours and Regulus’ lead. He’s not fully there but you smile at the little progress he’s made. It’s only been a few days after all and the results are optimistic, it makes your heart flutter and you look forward to the future with brighter eyes. Sirius had been buzzing with silent excitement all morning and Regulus was quick to join his older brother’s enthusiasm when you informed him that he was welcome to come and join you. 

You set off to travel by floo first so you can wait for the boys on the other side and so they’re not on their own not for too long. “Diagon Alley,” you announce clearly and without a shake of nervousness in your voice, only feverish anticipation. In moments, you’re engulfed by green flames. The world whirls around you in a dizzying blur of colours and sounds, the sensation both exhilarating and disorienting.

Unlike Harry and the Weasleys, you appear out of the subsequent fireplace without a spec of dirt on you and smile as you stumble out to await your two sons. The adrenaline rush of it all makes your fingers tingle and your head feel light headed but your smile only brightens. You still can’t believe you’re really here, sometimes.

Sirius came next and then Regulus. However, despite their earlier excitement, it appears as though their spirits were dampened just before travelling. Now, they stand before you with pouting lips and downcast eyes. 

“What’s wrong boys?” you ask softly, kneeling down to their level, it was purely out of instinct now. You meet them at their comfort as an equal rather than the other way around. It usually does the trick of consoling them enough to speak to you but this time is different. Their lips are tightly sealed. 

“We’re okay,” Sirius says in a tone that makes it seem as if he was trying to convince himself that. You want to press further but relent with a nod. It would be better for you to let them talk at their own time. Hopefully, being outside with so many charming shops dotted around, they’ll ease up and smile again. Pressing a brief kiss to their temples, you lead them out to the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley. 

The street was bustling with magic and mystery as you observe the scene with bright eyes. The atmosphere of the wizarding alley didn’t compare to the movie adaptations. It was much more charming and wondrous to observe in real life. And wasn’t nearly as claustrophobic as it was depicted to you. However, that may be due to the fact that you hadn’t left the school shopping too late and so the streets weren’t as congested as when Harry went school shopping for the first time. Nevertheless, your heart didn’t stop pounding in elation as you held hands with your two sons and set forth to your first destination.  

“Our first stop is at a very important place, okay?” on either side of you, Sirius and Regulus nod, still silent as you lead them through the streets. The air was thick with the scent of potion ingredients and freshly baked treats from the nearby shops, a symphony of sounds and smells, it was a little overwhelming but you couldn’t complain, the tenor of the climate was still very addictive.

As if summoning your first destination, your eyes were drawn to the towering structure of Gringotts, the goblins' bank. Its grandeur was a stark contrast to the quaint shops lining the street, making it stand out like a uniquely different gem amongst a cluster of little treasures. 

You walk forward with purpose now but still keep your strides short for the boys. Looking down you observe how they take in the environment around them, dressed like little princes with perfectly permed hair and glittering diamond eyes. Sirius had familiarised himself with the routine of the day, the first stop would be Gringotts to withdraw money to buy all of his school supplies, the second stop would be to retrieve his wand and after that, it would just be a matter of going down the list. It was a different plan to the usual fixed outline his parents were strict to follow in usual outings. Sirius would have been more enthusiastic if his father hadn’t forcibly pulled him and Regulus aside after you’d first disappeared by floo. 

‘Don’t even think about dirtying the Black family name while outside. If I even hear a single word of your misbehaviour, it’ll be an entire day spent in the vault!’

His father’s threatening words echoed menacingly in his head, his mind like an empty cave except for the haunting remarks that bounced off its despondent walls. The only way for his father to hear of any misbehaving is if his mother told on them but… Sirius chances a brief glance up at you, only to be met by your kind smile. Quick as lightning, Sirius looks away with a clench of his hand around yours. His mother isn’t like that now, though…right?

As the three of you pass windows displaying cauldrons, brooms, and a myriad of magical trinkets, Sirius’ mind raced with possibilities. What spells would he learn? Who would he meet? And would he make good friends with them? What house would he be sorted into?  He hopes not Slytherin, it was what his entire family had been sorted into but he doesn’t want to be like them – never like them. Would he be able to play Quidditch, his mother always used to say that it was too violent and rambunctious of a sport to be associated with. Will he like his teachers? Will he enjoy his classes? The future was a mysterious, unopened book, and Sirius, although slightly hesitant, still bound to expectations, was ready to turn the first page.

As you step through the towering bronze doors of Gringotts, a shiver of awe runs down your spine. The splendour of the entrance hall was breathtaking, with gleaming marble floors and towering pillars that seemed to reach up into the heavens – as opulent a building should be that holds secure a multitude of treasures and ancient artefacts whilst being guarded by a ferocious dragon. 

Goblins, sharp-eyed and meticulous, worked behind large, ornate desks – tall and domineering. Their long, dexterous fingers moved swiftly as they counted coins and scribbled in large ledgers, busy but happily so when surrounded by so much gold. The air was filled with the clinks of coins and the soft murmur of transactions, bank-speak, typical and not too far from the banks of ‘muggles’. High above, the cavernous ceiling was illuminated by shimmering crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow over everything, fitting for the amount of gold glittering beneath it. It was a complimentary union, one that oozed lavishness. Even the air smelled rich and you wondered if gold dust was dancing in it too. The atmosphere was one of ancient power and impenetrable security, safe and anchored. As you walked further in, you could feel the weight of centuries of wizarding history envelope you, it was unmistakably a place where secrets and fortunes were both hidden and revealed. 

Approaching a vacant desk, you steady your breath and quickly recite your introduction in your head before elegantly performing it. You first drop into a low but graceful bow and repeat your greeting from memory, “Greetings Master Goblin, may your gold prosper and your enemies fail against your blade, I am Madam Black,” with bated breath, you wait for his reply, hoping that uttering your family name was enough. 

“Madame Black, I am Filgus. What can I do for you today?” the goblin hid his surprise well. It was unusual to receive such a polite and formal greeting from the Matriarch of the infamous Black family. The surprise was pleasant but also carried with it a fair share of warning. Odd behaviour never bode well. Filgus was determined to not let anything pass, his pride as a Goblin demanded it be so.  

“I would like to withdraw from the family vault,” you explain and hand over the key Orion had 

“Very well,” Filgus accepts the key and moves to dismount his desk, “follow me to the carts,” you’re immediately reminded of the movie scene, where the speed and twisting passage of the cart made Hagrid sick, even as a half giant. 

“Is it safe for the children?” you fret instinctively. Maternal instincts, a previously dormant part of your nature now expressed in the most spontaneous but opportune ways. 

Filgus snarls in offence but bites his tongue as best he could, “I assure you Madame Black that Gringotts is one of the safest establishments to exist in the wizarding world,” 

Not wanting to offend the goblin further, you nod with some hesitancy and keep your boys close. The fact that you worried for them made their little hearts flutter as their cheeks heated into a delicate pink hue. It was unusual for them to experience such care and worry but it still made them feel good. Turning to each other, they observe their identical reactions and bite their lips to keep from grinning too widely. 

The journey to the vault was as winding and twisting as you remembered in the films. It was equal parts frightening and thrilling. The experience was exactly like that of a rollercoaster but without as strict of a regard to safety. If only the path was better lit, maybe that would have made the journey a little more pleasant. 

“Here we are,” Filgus announces, stepping off the cart and politely asking for the lamp. You oblige and slowly follow him out of the cart, steadying yourself before you help Sirius and Regulus out too, “your key, Madam Black?” Filgus sets about opening your vault door as you turn to the boys and check their welfare. 

“Are you alright, my darlings?” you ask in a soft whisper, kneeling before them. 

In all honesty, Sirius had enjoyed the ride down, the twists and turns and perilous speed made his head spin in the most delightful sense but he’s grown to like you worrying for him more than that temporary thrill. So, with a pitiful look on his face, he shakes his head ‘no’ and slowly begins to stretch his arms open. 

“It was scary…” Sirius whispers, taking advantage of the cold underground temperature to make his voice shake in ‘fear’.

“Oh darling,” you coo softly and bring him into your arms, “it’s okay, you’re okay,” Sirius smiles into your shoulder and allows himself to cling onto you like he’s always secretly dreamed of doing. This feeling of safety and security was one he didn’t ever want to let go of. Over your shoulder, Regulus gapes at the affectionate scene and, although it goes against his moral code of lying, he musters up the sly courage his older brother so easily displayed. 

“M-me too, mother,” Regulus calls for your attention in a bashful whisper, “I was scared too,” your kind, understanding smile eases his nerves Regulus jumps into your arms as soon as you open up to accommodate his small frame. 

This didn’t count as misbehaving, right? Only they knew whether or not they were truly scared or not…

The bell above the door tinkled softly, happily announcing your arrival as you pushed open the creaky, unassuming entrance into Ollivander’s, the most renowned wand shop in all of Diagon Alley. It made you giddy just thinking about getting to meet the whimsical shop owner and wand artisan. 

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wood and magic, a combination that seemed to tickle the very edges of your senses. Your fingers itched to grasp at wand, your nose scrunched up at the pleasantly ancient scent permeating the air and your eyes surveyed the room with an eager gleam. The shop was narrow and cramped, yet it felt infinitely deep, with towering shelves that stretched up into the shadows. Each floor to ceiling shelving unit was crammed with thousands of slender boxes, their organisation questionable but fitting for such an antiquated establishment. Dim light filtered through the dusty windows, casting a mystical glow over everything. The walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient trees and magical cores, each wand holding the promise of a unique bond, waiting to be discovered and pledged to its chosen master. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could hear Sirius’ heart pounding with the thrilling but nervous realisation that among the wondrous collection of boxes, one held a wand that was meant solely for him. It would be special and unequalled to anything else – an incomparable affiliation

Mr. Ollivander, with his pale, incisive eyes emerged from the shadows like a wisp of memory, his movements as silent and fluid as a ghost, a jolly ghost supporting a fanciful smile. His gaze takes in your sons, to which he gives a thoughtful hum before fixing his stare onto you.

“Madame Black…” Mr. Ollivander observes you with open curiosity, peaking the interest of your two boys, their diamond grey eyes watching the interaction silently and with overflowing intrigue, “having trouble with your wand?” his quick deduction makes your breath hitch and your shoulders tense. The impish gleam in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you, “it’s very peculiar for a wand that has already chosen its master to change its mind, especially from a wand that’s so loyal,” he ponders aloud as Sirius and Regulus inch closer to your sides, clinging onto the fabric of your dress skirt as they heed Ollivander’s nebulous words with a hint of caution, “curious, very curious indeed... I could only think of one reason, an abstruse but entirely possible reason for such a contingency in a world of magic…” Ollivander leans forward and looks deeply into your eyes, his own dancing about in their search, for what, you don’t have a clue. But it feels as though he can see into your soul, the flicker in his eyes detecting the presence of another. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief but laughs merrily, easing the tension built up in the air, “not one, but two, I see…” 

Your heart shudders in your chest. Did he know? 

NEXT. | 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : i would like to say that i was planning to delay this chapter update for a day or two since i was an absolute muppet to myself and decided to switch up events in the plot and oc introductions last minute but, thanks to @urmomw4ntsme (amazing username btw (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )) and their message about being excited for the update, i was lovingly and innocently pushed into getting the update out on time ৻(  •̀ ᗜ •́  ৻) so thank you, my darling haha! i appreciate your perfectly timed, kind message. i hope you darlings enjoyed the read and forgive me for splitting this chapter up into 2 parts - i suppose i planned for too much in one chapter hehe~

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[soursturniolo]

introducing…

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

- a wizarding world!au ft the sturniolo triplets

main pairing: unspeakable!slytherin!nick x tea shop owner!hufflepuff!ex-quidditch player!oc

tags: fluff, humor, misunderstandings, angst, hurt/comfort

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜

thomas avery (oc)

- 24, born October 27th

- hufflepuff

- his patronus is a dog, specifically a st. bernard

- ex quidditch player, played professionally for Appleby Arrows as a beater for two seasons

- now owns Teatering Teas and Apothecary, a coffee shop known for their teas, coffees, pastries, herbs, and common potion ingredients for the everyday witch or wizard

nicolas sturniolo

- 21, born August 1st

- from Boston, Massachusetts, but his whole family moved to england when he and his brothers were 9

-sorted into slytherin, excelled in defense against the dark arts and potion making

- has a fox as his patronus

- works as an unspeakable for the department of mysteries

matthew sturniolo

- 21, born August 1st

- his patronus is a cat

- sorted into ravenclaw, quiet and interested in learning as much as he could during his years at hogwarts. enjoyed herbology, and care of magical creatures, but truly excelled in history based courses

- owns a small bookstore in Hogsmeade near Ollivanders, and enjoys back to school season the most; seeing all the young witches and wizards coming in to his store so excited for what the school year will bring. reminds him of himself and his brothers when they were younger.

chris sturniolo

- 21, born August 1st

- his patronus is a stag

- sorted into gryffindor; independent and brave and stuck strongly to his morals all through their hogwarts years, even when classmates tried to peer pressure him to join them on some less-than-kind pranks on fellow houses or wild parties in the dormitories. he was always a kind role model for younger students.

- much like nick, he excelled most at defense against the dark arts.

- played quidditch all throughout school, was the gryffindor team seeker his last two years.

- when he got out of school he immediately began training to become an auror

[slitherpuffinstories]

Deamus microfic feat. Florean Fortescue x August Ollivander ~ Obvious

Seamus didn’t dare to look up. He couldn’t. And his mother’s voice only grew louder and louder.

“- I will not tolerate such sick behaviour, and here of our places, in Diagon Alley! You should be ashamed of yourself, my good sir. There are kids here, and you exposing them all to such disgusting acts- it’s a violation! I can’t believe-“

And so it went, on and on, and for every time her voice grew louder, Seamus’s face grew redder and his posture more slouched as he tried desperately to make himself as small as possible. He clutched his ice-cream tighter in his hand.

Every word she said hurt as if they were spoken directly to him. And in a way, maybe they were. They were directed to people like him, and it hurt.

“We didn’t do anything wrong”, came the sharp response when his mother finally took a break in her lecturing to breathe. Seamus looked up at the older man in the ice-cream shop. He looked furious, his dark eyebrows knitted together under a swoop of black hair.

“Yeah”, another voice chimed in, and Seamus heard the other man’s scoff before he saw him reappear from behind Fortescue, the owner of the shop who apparently had a boyfriend. Said boyfriend was looking just as furious as Fortescue, a stark contrast to how he had looked only minutes before.

When the two men, unaware of the danger, had kissed so everyone in the shop could see. Right when Seamus and his family were about to leave the shop.

Kissed. Just like that. Apparently you could do that? Not in front of Seamus’s mother, though, which these two had learnt the hard way.

“I don’t see what the problem is. Why would you have issues with me kissing my boyfriend?” Fortescue’s boyfriend, a very tall man with striking, multicoloured eyes and elegantly styled blond hair, was staring at Seamus’s mother with a new intensity.

“You and your partner can kiss as much as you wish. End up in Hell where you belong, I don’t care!” His mother’s face grew redder for every word she spat. “But don’t you dare do it in front of my son and ruin him!”

“Oh. I see.” The blond man raised a sharp eyebrow and shook his head, slowly, looking as if he was genuinely sorry for the woman in front of him. “You’re one of those… religious people?”

“Yes.” She straightened her back, looking proud of herself as she put a firm hand on Seamus’s shoulder. He couldn’t stop himself from shuddering slightly. Fortescue’s gaze sharpened, and Seamus froze. Had the man noticed his uneasiness?

“Hm. Best we leave you and your son alone then.” Fortescue turned around to give his boyfriend another small peck on the lips. “Don’t you think so too, Gus?”

Seamus felt his mother’s grip tighten on his shoulder.

“How dare you?”, she spluttered furiously, and Seamus flinched as she turned around and tried to block his view of the two men. “That is nothing but disrespectful!”

“Oi!” The blond man stopped smiling instantly. “Watch it with your son! Can’t you see he’s uncomfortable by you making a scene?”

“Don’t you tell me how to behave around my own son!” She pointed a finger at his chest. “He’s uncomfortable seeing you two being inappropriate in public! Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Seamus tried to hide how terrified he was. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t mind, mum.”

There was silence. Fortescue smiled at him.

“He’s- he’s being ridiculous”, was all his mother could manage at first. When she inhaled loudly to keep yelling, Seamus spoke up again.

“I said, I don’t mind, mother.”

“Sea, darling, I know you’re shaken-“

“Stop it!” His words made his mother shut up, only for a moment, but that was all he needed. “I’m tired of you speaking about gay people like that! Leave them alone, mom. They did nothing to you. I did nothing to you!”

“Excuse me.” Another voice cut through the silence after Seamus was done shouting. “I didn’t expect meeting you here. And certainly not like this.”

“Oh my- Diana!” Seamus saw his mother turn around and lift her hands to her chest. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“Wish I could say the same.” His mother’s old friend, Diana Thomas, was standing behind them. She looked absolutely furious, but Seamus paid no attention to her as soon as he saw who was standing next to her.

“Dean.” His voice was a bit hoarse after yelling so much.

“Sea…” Oh, his voice was still soft as ever. Before he knew what he was doing, Seamus was standing next to his friend, holding his head low again. Dean put an arm wound his shoulders, and as their mothers continued a heated discussion, Dean whispered in his ear:

“Are you okay?”

No, no he wasn’t. But maybe he would be.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Seamus swallowed. “When she’s talking like that about… about gay people, I know she’s talking about you too. Even though you like girls as well as boys. It’s kind of the same thing.”

“It’s worse for you”, Dean whispered, his breath on Seamus’s neck. “She’s talking about you too, isn’t she? Bet she doesn’t know though.”

Seamus’s head snapped up. He didn’t know what to say, so all he did was put his arms around Dean and bury his face in his friend’s shoulder.

“How- how did you…” The words came out before he could even think about what to say. “How did you know? I didn’t tell you. I was scared, Dean, I was scared, I couldn’t tell you and I’m sorry because out of all people I know you’d be understanding-“

“Shut up, arsehole.” Dean chuckled lightly, still with his mouth next to Seamus’s ear. “I’ve known for a while. It was quite obvious. Why didn’t you tell me your mom was homophobic?”

“My dad too.” Seamus swallowed again.

“Should probably have guessed this, considering they’re both Christian. Oh Merlin.”

“I don’t want to go back home.”

“You won’t.”

And he didn’t. Because minutes later, Mrs Finnigan had left the ice-cream shop, still fuming after being told off by both the owner of the shop and her best friend for scaring her own child like that.

“Hey, kiddo.” The blond man who Fortescue had called Gus put a hand on Seamus’s shoulder a few minutes later. “I took your ice-cream from you when you were busy with your… friend over here. It was melting, so I got you a new one. Or, Florean did.” He handed over a new ice-cream to Seamus, and one for Dean too. “It’s on the house.”

“I’m sorry for what my mom said.”

“Don’t be, kiddo.” The man smiled at him. “She doesn’t understand love the way I, Florean and you do.”

Seamus gaped.

“And me”, Dean said, sounding slightly offended.

“Yeah, kiddo number two, I figured.” The man chuckled. “I counted you both into that “we”. People like us come in packages of two, if we’re lucky enough.”

Seamus frowned, slightly confused. Dean rolled his eyes at the look on his best friend’s face.

“Even luckier if we both live in the same house, which we’ll do from now on!” Dean laughed. “You hear that, Sea? We’ll live together all year now! We’ll have to get another bed to my room, or, or I can sleep on a mattress. Mum, can I sleep on a mattress?”

“Not so fast, young man.” Mrs Thomas looked at him with her arms crossed. “No boys in your room, especially not behind closed doors.”

“Mum!”

While Dean and his mum discussed, Fortescue, or Florean as his boyfriend had called him, came to join Seamus and Gus. He winked at Seamus.

“He likes you back, kid”, he said, as if he knew exactly how confused Seamus was. Wait, was he that obvious?

Wait, what had the man even said to him?

“He… what?” Seamus felt his cheeks turn red.

Both men chuckled.

“You’re both welcome back to our shop for free ice-cream any time, isn’t that right, August?” Florean leaned closer and whispered: “Don’t kiss too much, though. Not in public. It’s gross.”

Seamus nodded silently, still flushed. He looked over at Dean, and Dean looked back at him with a wide smile. His dimples showed, like they only did when he was really happy, and his eyes sparkled in a way that made Seamus’s brain go fuzzy.

“Eat your ice-cream now, kiddo, and stop staring. It’s very obvious.”

Seamus didn’t know if he should thank the man or slap him, but to be honest, slapping a complete stranger who just offered you free ice-cream whenever you wished to have it didn’t seem like a very good idea.

[floreanfortescuetruther]

THIS IS NOT THE FINAL DECISION, FEEL NO STRESS WHATSOEVER!

We have FOREVER to come up with new names and decide which one is the best, I’m just checking rn because I’m impatient!

If you see this post and have no idea what I’m yapping about, AND you’re a Marauders Era fan, consider looking at the pinned post on @yourlocalbadgerscales and its reblogs, and check out this blog as well! ;)

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

My thoughts while making this post:

First I just did a bunch of random stuff for myself that I know I’ll NEVER use again (🥲), but then when I was making this post for my Regulus Black roleplay blog, I realised that I could as well make this about the Marauders since I make everything else in my life about the Marauders anyways 😼

So I looked at the pictures I’d made and picked out about 3/4 of them that I could make about the Marauders somehow. Here are the pictures that made the cut!

Yes, I’m a Swiftie so of course I hc almost ALL of them as Swifties too. It makes sense to me, okay? But brat is an album I feel like is SO MARAUDERS CODED, who tf can even disagree with that??

The most Remus Lupin coded lyric ever.

Lily Evans is SUCH a Sour girlie!!!

Regulus Black, the drama queen.

Superache reference 👀 (THE black brothers album, Regulus likes it the most while Sirius would choose Found Heaven any day of the week)

…

Here are a few pictures I have no idea why I made but I couldn’t associate with Marauders and gang:

[purple-phesh-and-cheps]

@floreanfortescuetruther @yourlocalbadgerscales ok i made moodboards for florean and august (im addicted lol)

[saintsenara]

Penny for your thoughts on:

Aberforth / Voldemort

Griphook / Ollivander

Xenophilius Lovegood / Rita Skeeter

thank you very much for the ask, anon! a top-tier selection of unhinged ships!

aberforth dumbledore/lord voldemort

an incidental detail about voldemort's life which i find perpetually amusing is the fact that - much like hermione does when organising the da - he gets caught out when he turns up with the death eaters in tow prior to his job interview by going to the hog's head rather than the three broomsticks.

[another incidental detail i love is the idea of dumbledore being wrong when he dismisses voldemort referring to these men as "friends", and that dolohov genuinely was thrilled to be getting the pints in with the lads.]

aberforth being the perfect combination of a messy gossip and sufficiently lacking in business sense to go out of his way never to retain a single customer is funny enough on its own.

but it's all the better if we imagine that he decides to be a petty little bitch about voldemort turning up in his pub [after all, he doesn't get along with albus, so the only reason he'd go running to his brother is if he hated voldemort more] because this is the first time they've seen each other since august 1945, after the newly-graduated riddle was forced to stay at the hog's head during his post-hogwarts job search because he didn't yet have the capital to secure a lease on a flat and the two ended up in a begrudging month-long situationship [which aberforth would loathe because of its similarity to what happened with albus and grindelwald...], which ended in a spectacular argument when voldemort complained about the bedbugs, the fact the lines are never cleaned, and the goat-fucking.

[he'd tolerate two, but not all three.]

griphook/garrick ollivander

ollivander is one hundred percent the sort of wizard who vehemently believes that non-human magical creatures shouldn't have the right to carry wands.

[i will always be obsessed with his exquisitely creepy vibe in the books - especially the fact he still finds the idea of voldemort possessing the elder wand exciting after the man has spent a year literally torturing him.]

he undoubtedly thinks griphook's an untermensch. griphook thinks he's a fascist. maybe they are forced into a bit of hurt/comfort in the malfoy cellars, but i think it's more likely that griphook is passing his time in captivity thinking about how he'll murder ollivander and ollivander is hitting on luna.

xenophilius lovegood/rita skeeter

canon.

this, for example, is very much giving "i'm not still hung up on xenophilius! he didn't have a bed! he slept on a mattress on the floor! he's a jobless stoner and i'm a luxury bitch with a master's degree!"...

“I’m guessing your father runs some stupid little village newsletter?” she said. “Twenty-five Ways to Mingle with Muggles and the dates of the next Bring- and-Fly Sale?” “No,” said Luna, dipping her onion back into her gillywater, “he’s the editor of The Quibbler.” Rita snorted so loudly that people at a nearby table looked around in alarm. “‘Important stories he thinks the public needs to know’?” she said witheringly. “I could manure my garden with the contents of that rag.” 

sure, babe. sure.

[gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley]

Letters to G. Weasley. [g.w. x reader]

Inspired by Letters to Milena.

You left me in that beautiful heap of dazzles and brilliance; your recalcitrance with your brother— just to send a message.

Do you know how I felt when I saw what you left in the sky on the morning of my NEWTS; your farewell to Hogwarts while we were all stuck under the authoritarian regime of that daft pink woman.

I was so, so, so devastated.

I spent my nights crying, you git. You didn't tell me you were leaving.

- Y/N, May 14, 1996.

***

Dear George,

I've come to peace with you after ignoring all your owls. Yes, I'm writing back to you. Yes, I've decided to address you, unlike my last letter, if you still have it.

Even though I dearly, passionately, and remarkably hate you; I still miss your voice.

I've graduated from Hogwarts and I'm joining the Ministry. Has your shop been doing well? Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, was it? Never mind that I'll get straight to the point. No more preamble.

I'd like to see you, if you'd wish to, of course. I've moved on from that undesirable spring.

I fully understand if you wish not to. You can be a man of deep-seated grudges, after all.

I'll leave it up to you, and I most favourably look forward to your reply.

Yours,

Y/N, June 21, 1997

***

George.

It's been a rough month. I know it's been tougher for you, too. Is your ear, or lack thereof, okay? From what I understand from your letter, you're currently hiding in Sirius Black's family's manor with The Order, and the Burrow's gone? I cannot fathom this.

The Dark Lord, Cedric's death in 6th year, I thought it was all a nightmare. Now it's very much real. Please, take care of yourself. It's been hectic here in the Ministry. I've been drinking Pepper-Up potions every two days just to feel alive.

Please, please, please, I cannot stress this enough, take care of yourself.

I love you.

Yours,

Y/N, August 2, 1997.

***

George.

Please, let me join The Order. I know I can handle it. I want to, I need to, join the battle against Voldemort. Let me help.

He took away everything we've loved dearly. It's only a matter of time until he strikes all of us down.

Please, reply as soon as you can.

I love you dearly.

Yours,

Y/N, August 14, 1997.

***

George Weasley.

With your lack of response, I'm going to assume you're not letting me join The Order. Or are you dead?

For the love of Merlin, let me in. I need to know you're okay. I spent nights thinking of the worst possible scenarios; what if you've all been found by Voldemort? What if I never get to see you again?

Please, at least reply. Even one single word. Anything, just to know you're alive.

I know the Ministry's hot on Potter's tail right now, so if you ever read this, please send my regards to him. I've seen the way Fudge hides away in his office. The man's out of his mind, rambling about how Voldemort isn't back.

Diagon Alley shut down. Ollivander's gone. Your shop's... Seen better days.

Oh, how I wish to go back to halcyon days. Reply, please.

I love you.

Yours,

Y/N, August 29, 1997.

***

My dearest, George,

As soon as Errol came swooping by my window, I got up, drank my milk, and wrote to you.

I understand why you won't let me join, it's dangerous. I understand completely. But please, don't leave me in the dark. It's been two months since I last saw you, don't you think I at least deserve to know what's happening?

Merlin, you lost an ear. You're just like that Muggle painter, don't you know? I don't want to lose you spiralling in the raging sea of war.

It isn't easy for anyone right now, and I understand you're just trying to get by. Apropos of your nightmares, I'll send you Dreamless Sleep potions by Owl soon. I've brewed them a few months prior because I, too, have been plagued with nightmares.

The world's in a dark place right now. Please, take care of yourself.

I love you.

Yours,

Y/N, September 2, 1997.

***

Dearest George,

Amidst the never-ending darkness, I got myself a cat. She's a chubby ginger tabby cat, and in the envelope is a picture of us together. I've recently taken up Muggle photography to get my mind off things; though Muggle cameras aren't as capable as magical cameras, they have this certain charm to them. They remind me a lot of you, actually.

The cat's still unnamed, so I'm leaving the task of naming her to you.

How are the potions? Are they helping? You didn't mention them in your letter, so I thought to ask you.

I miss you, dearly. Come home soon.

Yours,

Y/N, October 14, 1997.

***

George.

Please, for the love of fuck, tell me you're alive.

News of Death Eater attacks are all over the Prophet. I'm still safe and sound, but where are you?

Word is going around in the Ministry that a second wizarding war may break out any time soon.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Write back.

Y/N, April 29, 1998.

***

George.

I'm fighting in the war.

Wait for me, my love.

Yours,

Y/N, May 2, 1998

***