#bellatrix x you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miryum · 1 year ago

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A Green and Silver Ring (Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

An arranged marriage between you and Mattheo, one that might lead to something beautiful

Word Count: 10.3k

I know I haven't posted in a long time but I have a plan trust the process. Also, this is me coming out and saying that I love Mattheo Riddle and he's amazing

Warnings: Swearing, bad and manipulative parenting from both Mattheo and reader’s parents, a lot of misogyny (a bit from Mattheo but he gets better by a lot and it’s not that bad), arguments, Tom isn’t Mattheo’s brother and Tom is a creep, arranged marriage, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, greek mythology reference, talk of kids, needing kids to carry on family lines, and kids. Mistress is the feminine term for master (so reader isn’t Mattheo’s side piece when I refer to her as mistress), old timey talk a bit, reader is a bookworm

From the desk of Ginevra

My dearest friend,

My parents have informed me of your engagement. I was ecstatic, yet surprised, when I heard the news. I was of the assumption that your parents were allowing you to choose your husband as your family line is secure in your brother and his wife. Yet, once I learned who your husband-to-be is, I was trepidatious.

My thoughts are with you, my darling friend, and I pray for you to write to me the moment you get my letter.

I hate to break the news, but you and your fiancé are the talk of high society. Never before have two such families been intertwined. Even I have had to scold my brothers for their gossip. They seem to forget that our families are close friends.

I do not ask why your parents have made such a decision. I know they are intelligent adults and surely must have a motive, but I admit that I am blind in that regard. Your engagement seems sudden and unwarranted to me. When questioned, my mother sighed and said I would understand when I grew older. My mother continues to baffle me. I have borne two children and a third on the way! If I am not mature now, I better gain some knowledge quickly.

Always remember that I am by your side. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you. I am sure Harry will agree.

I love you, my friend.

Ginny

From the office of Lorenzo

Miss. L/n,

I believe we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m saddened to say that this letter is as formal as we’ll get - at least until your wedding. I am sure you must be taciturn and mercurial as of now. My father has told me much about you and I believe we’ll make excellent friends and confidants in our hectic world.

You’re to be my new half-sister, aren’t you? My relatives and friends are petulant to meet you.

Before any rumours (either about myself or your fiancé) hit your ears, I’ll put a rest to them. Bellatrix, your fiancé’s mother, had an affair with my father. They produced me and in return, I have the privilege of being your fiancé’s half-brother.

Being a bastard child, I’m no stranger to being ostracised and ridiculed. To be blunt, I’m sure that you will be ostracised alongside me and I believe that is one reason we can connect.

For rumours of my half-brother, I simply say this: do not fear him. He relishes in the consternation he places in other people, yet when he heard he was to marry you, I saw panic in his eyes like no other. It seems the tables have turned. He is hesitant to be wed, but you are not the problem. He simply doesn’t want to have the responsibility of another’s life on his. Your fiancé is used to belittling people - not supporting them as a husband should.

Any questions you have about your fiancé and my half-brother (whom in case I didn’t make clear, are one and the same), refer to me without any qualms. I am eager to meet you and hopefully make your transition into the Riddle family smoother.

I am well aware you have also lived your life in the upper echelons of society. But, as I’m sure you know, there are multiple circles in our complicated community. The L/ns, the Weasleys, and the Potters, for example, have grown their fortunes truthfully and innocently. They have earned the respect of their people and those whom they employ. The Riddles, Blacks, and Berkshires, on the other hand, have climbed the ranks in unconventional means and by skipping a few rungs on the ladder. They thrive and make their living on the terror and duress they cause those under them.

I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Lorenzo Berkshire

P.S. I hope I haven’t scared you off.

From the office of L/n

Daughter,

You’ll be pleased to hear the engagement has gone through. Your mother and I met your fiancé last night. He seems like a nice man. He will be able to provide for you. His family is influential.

We will return home late tomorrow evening. You will depart for Riddle Estate in a week. Begin packing.

Your father

From the desk of Ginevra

Y/n,

You worry me with your lack of communication. Usually, you can’t wait to gossip with me. We have such fun at dinners and balls, yet with the most important aspect of yourself, you don’t respond. I’m simply worried, my friend. Are you alright? I can envision you curled in your bed, not letting anyone, even your nursemaid, into your room. Please do not let your impending marriage affect your state of health. It will turn out alright. Everyone I know (even me!) had apprehensions about their marriage. And with everyone I know, it turned out alright.

Misters Sirius and Remus visited Harry and I the day before last. They came to see James and Albus, but I know there was a hidden reason as well. They know of our friendship and came to ask if the rumours are true. As much as my husband adores them, Sirius in particular can be prone to gossip. The pair tittered and tsked when I told them of your fiancé. Sirius wishes to distance himself from his family, and I know he has pre-existing thoughts of the Black family, and by extension, the Riddles.

Sometimes I take a moment to gaze at the family tree upon my drawing room wall. It is full of interconnected lines and squiggles that sometimes, it makes my head hurt! The web of family ties is complicated and if we’re not somehow related already, I know that we will be once your marriage takes place. It seems the Black family spreads its roots into the Weasley family and the Riddle family- the latter of which you’ll soon be synonymous with.

Give yourself some grace. Your fiancé falls far from the tree; I am sure of it.

Please write to me. I need to make sure my closest friend is doing well.

Best wishes,

Ginny

P.S. Hermione wishes to inform you that, from what she’s heard, your Mr. Riddle is quite attractive. I have yet to hear any of the rumours myself, but at least your husband will be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it will make the marriage more bearable.

***

Mattheo strode leisurely through Riddle Manor. It was one of the many estates his family owned, and it was soon to be officially his. Just as soon as he married the L/n girl.

The manor was spacious, which Mattheo couldn’t help but detest. How was he and a wife supposed to fill this void of empty rooms and dark halls? He knew servants and cooks would move in, but they wouldn’t occupy the dozens of upper rooms that were vacated.

For a brief moment, Mattheo couldn’t help but envision a set of children running around the halls. One of the children would run up to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!” Mattheo would scoop the child up, grinning, and would carry them to their room. The room would be bright and cheerful, and maybe, just maybe, you would be sitting on a settee, cradling a newborn or helping an older child with their school work.

But for now, the room was dark and uninviting and he had yet to meet his future wife. He had seen a portrait of the L/n family and while they were in lavish, colourful clothing, Mr. and Mrs. L/n seemed cold and stoic - just like his parents. The children, an older son and younger daughter (whom he presumed to be you), seemed kinder and by their body language, Mattheo could tell that the two siblings were close.

Mattheo slowly made his way down the hall. There were three wings of the manor; two were residential and the other was designed for taking guests. The East Wing - in which he and Miss. L/n would stay - was also fit with an office for him. He was expected to take over half of the family business once he got married. The West Wing would remain empty for now, sans for a large library and the furniture in the bedrooms.

The boy knew that his bride was to arrive later that day. She would stay at Riddle Estate until the end of the week. Just three short days before they were to be wed in name. Mattheo would move into Riddle Manor tonight, giving servants time to wipe the dust off of tables, shine the silverware, and fluff the pillows.

Mattheo walked the halls of his new home. His mind was devoid of any thoughts. Perhaps it was simply because he was always numb. Even when he heard of his engagement, Mattheo didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t remember thinking anything. Nothing such as ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her!’ or even, ‘I can’t believe mother and father are arranging my marriage! She better be obedient.’

No, Mattheo had thought nothing of the sort. He had spent his childhood quietly observing his father and mother, noticing the amount of fear they could inflict on people just by silence. You didn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be powerful. You simply couldn’t be afraid to follow up on your promises - however deadly they were.

The only question Mattheo had asked when Bellatrix informed him of his engagement was, “and what do we gain from the L/n’s?”

Bellatrix had shot him an callous and apathetic look. “Do not ask questions you needn’t the answers to, boy.”

Mattheo had glowered, but shut his mouth.

As he neared the foyer, Mattheo couldn’t help but think how marriage was a component in all aspects of his life. When he got married to the L/n girl, he would inherit a portion of his father’s estates, company, and wealth. Mattheo chucked to himself. Maybe he should’ve gotten married sooner.

***

“Pray tell, why weren’t you here when she arrived?” Bellatrix snarled as she gripped Mattheo’s arm. Her nails dug into his suit as she dragged him towards the drawing room.

“I was busy,” Mattheo replied harshly. Love was not a thing that came instinctively to his family.

“Doing what? Planning your suidide?” Bellatrix scoffed. “I would march to the Underworld and choke Hades to bring you back.” Mattheo glanced down at his mother, hesitantly surprised. But he knew better than to raise his hopes and dreams. “We need this contract with the L/n’s,” Bellatrix continued and Mattheo’s jaw ticked. Of course. She didn’t love him; she never had. Her son was purely business. He should’ve known better.

“Maybe if you would tell me what the L/n’s provide for us,” Mattheo pulled Bellatrix back before she threw open the door to where you were. “Then I would be more complacent.”

Bellatrix sneered. “You think you’re smart, boy. You think you have everything figured out in that pretty little head of yours. But remember: you’re nothing without the Riddle family name backing you up.” She paused and licked her lips. “But if you must know,” Bellatrix sighed, giving into Mattheo. “The L/n’s just came into some very… lucrative land that we could gain from if you marry Miss. Y/n L/n.”

Mattheo’s eyes flickered to the drawing room door. After a moment, he asked, “is that her name? Y/n?”

Bellatrix stared at him, aghast. “You didn’t bother to learn her name?!” She scoffed. “With a son like you…”

She pushed open the drawing room doors and Mattheo trudged after her, muttering, “at least I know her name now.”

You had been waiting for seven minutes and thirty nine seconds in the drawing room of Riddle Estate, the trackage of time dependent on the old grandfather clock standing ominously in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth continuously as its second hand ticked by. Mrs. Riddle had left seven minutes and thirty nine seconds ago to fetch her son.

While the room was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust on even the highest chandelier, it was still a cold and morose room, yet oddly epochal. The wood was the darkest mahogany you had ever seen and the lights cast odd shadows on the dark green wallpaper that had inlays of gold.

Your teacup that you were trying to hold steady was filled with a sad excuse for tea. There was a ring of gold around the mouth of the teacup. On the table beside you, a notch that looked as if someone dug a knife into the surface caught your attention. It was the little things like this that you noticed when you had nothing else to do. Your mind was trying to distract you.

The door then swung open and there stood your fiancé, his stare daring you to oppose him.

“Uh,” you stood, your teacup and saucer still in hand. You quickly placed them on the table, right over the knife nick. “Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself. You bowed your head in an informal curtsy.

Mattheo’s eyes flickered over your face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he said coldly. His voice was practically velvet. You didn’t mean to look him up and down, but you couldn’t help it. He was to be your husband, after all.

Mattheo’s hair coiled at the end and his eyes were just as dark as his curls. His nose had a scarred cut on it that looked as if it was just beginning to heal. Your fiancés cheekbones were practically sculpted from marble and for a moment, you believed that the gods had simply breathed life into a statue. Did this make you Pygmalion and Mattheo Galatea?

If it weren’t for their lethal eyes and stern posture, perhaps more would be friendly to the Riddles.

Mattheo spoke, “you’re to be my fiancée.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” You had the urge to add ‘sir’ at the end, but you bit your tongue.

Bellatrix hissed something to Mattheo and thrust a small object into his hands. Mattheo rolled his eyes and stalked towards you. “My family ring,” he grumbled. He held out an intricate silver ring with three bands interweaving. A green jewel cut into a thin diamond shape sat steadily in the middle. “It has been in the Riddle family for generations. It’s tradition to pass it down to the wife of the firstborn son. And now that is you…”

He trailed off and handed the ring to you, it laying flat on his palm. You took it from him, trying to minimise contact with Mattheo. You nodded in thanks and slid it into your ring finger.

It seemed too concrete to fathom.

Mattheo stared at the ring on your finger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My… wife,” he murmured halfheartedly.

***

Three weeks had passed since the wedding and it was as if you had never gotten married in the first place. Yes, it was unsettling to wake up in a bed that wasn’t your own next to a man that you were supposed to call your own. But other than necessary, Mattheo had hardly uttered a word to you.

In the three weeks you had stayed there, you had seen Mattheo a total of twenty eight times, including mornings and nights when you were forced to sleep in the same bed.

Your mornings, afternoons, and nights were all incredibly boring. You took long meals, pushing your food around. Sometimes you just sat by the window and watched the wind blow bits of grass and dirt past the window. The servants were still extracting the dust between the couch cushions and you tried to stay out of the way, but it only made you feel more isolated.

Mattheo was holed up in his office day in and day out. He had now inherited a large portion of his father’s company and Mattheo was determined to uphold the honour bestowed upon him. He had drafted contracts, sold and bought land, and even hosted a few dinner parties for his associates.

You detested the dinner parties. Thankfully, Mattheo had yet to invite you to one - hell, he had yet to speak to you about the dinner parties. You had learned of the first dinner party when you had wandered downstairs one late evening because you were thirsty. You had stared at the group of strangers, all dressed in elegance, as they stared back at you in your night clothes. Not saying a word, you had sighed and returned upstairs.

You hadn’t been eager for the marriage, but wouldn't it befit Mattheo to show some affection? Or at least acknowledge your presence?

While you had continuously tried to get your husband to open up to you, his answers had been short and venomous.

It had been a long, monotonous day for you. You had returned to the master bedroom about two hours earlier than you normally would have if you were at home.

With the wealth that you came from, the opulence was sure to be evident, but you had underestimated the Riddle family’s prestige. When Mattheo had first shown you your shared bedroom, you had to allow a flicker of surprise break through your facade. The bedroom was larger than any room in your old home and had a large bed in the middle. The lamps on the bedside table were always dimly lit and the design of the room was the same as the rest of the house - dark and bereft of love and care.

Your hair had been brushed enough, but you kept brushing simply for something to do while Mattheo finished up in the bathroom. Mattheo walked out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. His curls were plastered to his forehead and a bead of water ran down his sternum.

Your eyes flickered to his figure through the mirror, taking in the dips and curves of Mattheo’s muscles as he silently got ready for bed. You tore your gaze away, berating yourself.

You built up your courage and tried to think of a conversation starter. You commented, “my parents wrote to me today.” After no reply from Mattheo, you continued, “they asked me when we would give them grandchildren.” You set your hairbrush down and stared at Mattheo through the mirror, looking for some sort of reaction.

Mattheo hummed noncommittally and put on some sleep pants. He used his towel to begin drying his hair. “It would be behoove us to produce some heirs,” he spoke. His tone was dismissive, as if children were nothing more than an obligation or duty to fulfil.

“Right,” you muttered, knowing that an uninterested reaction was all you were going to get out of him.

You stood and moved towards the bed. “Goodnight,” you whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking yourself into bed. Mattheo was still putting on his nightclothes and had yet to get into bed.

As you turned off the light and got into bed, Mattheo finished drying himself off and slid into his own pyjamas. He sat down beside you, but didn't bother turning off his own lamp. Instead, he laid against the headboard, reading a book. "Goodnight," he finally mumbled, not even looking at you.

You curled into your blanket. After a moment, you asked quietly, “what book are you reading?”

He looked at you over the top of his book. "None of your business," he replied curtly.

You simply uttered, “okay.”

Mattheo felt an unwanted and unusual feeling root itself deep in his stomach. He scoffed and said sarcastically, "fine. Go ahead and keep asking questions all night long if it amuses you so." He opened his book again and pretended to read.

A longing and lonely pang resonated in your chest at his harsh words. You didn’t respond and instead turned your face into your pillow. You had known that your marriage was to be loveless, but it still hurt at every unspoken word. Perhaps, if you had been five years younger when you married Mattheo, your spirit would still be alive with the juvenile belief that you could stand up to him.

Mattheo huffed and his gaze turned up to stare at the wall ahead of him. “If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just leave?” he snapped, not even bothering to hide his bitterness. “I am sure your family would simply love to have you back.” He flipped another page in his book, not even bothering to look at the printed words.

“I never said I was miserable,” you answered quietly, even though Mattheo knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps, though, you believed it to be true. You took a steadying breath, closing your eyes.

Your husband smirked and leaned against the headboard. “What do you call your attitude, then? Why are you so downtrodden and defeated? Surely, you can’t blame me for being frustrated by it.” He knew that he should be taking account of making you feel this way, but he still tried to justify his behaviour.

“Goodnight,” you reiterated.

Mattheo sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” he grunted. He closed his book, threw it on the nightstand, and turned off his lamp. The room was encased in darkness except for the dim moonlight coming through the window. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure a noticeable gap was between the two of you.

He thought back to your conversation. “Why don’t you just leave?”

It was too late now to apologise.

***

Mattheo let the door swing shut behind him, returning to Riddle Manor after an outing with friends. He glanced around, waiting for a servant to take his coat, but no one answered. An eyebrow cocked, Mattheo slowly walked up the stairs, hearing you instruct the servants on something, every other sentence of yours either containing, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Up on the landing, he found you directing a servant who was pulling a rack of your clothing. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your damn mind? Are you trying to send a message or something?”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in me, so I’m trying to make this marriage as civilised as possible,” you said diplomatically. “I believe that if I move to the West Wing and leave you in the East Wing, it will benefit our marriage.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this piteous attempt at attention?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you think it’ll make me want you more?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning incredulously. “You’re delusional if you think that’s even remotely possible.” He stepped closer to you, towering over you with anger in his eyes. “This is not some game, L/n. This is marriage. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

“I’m aware that we’re married, Riddle,” you retorted. “And don’t refer to me by L/n anymore. I am now a Riddle - just like you. However, I am not going to live in a state of constant sorrow and dejection. Having a wing of the mansion to myself may help.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, irritated by your resistance. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t expect me to come running after you when you decide you want attention. You’re on your own now.” He turned away from you and walked into his now solo bedroom. “Just remember - this is your choice.”

You felt your anger inflate. “I thought you would like this!” Your voice rose and you tugged a hand through your hair. It was the first time in your marriage that you had fought back. “I have done everything I can to please you, yet nothing is enough for you!” Your voice turned desperate. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around with surprise and disgust on his face. “Dammit, Y/n! Don’t yell at me like that!” His voice thundered, stepping towards you. “I never asked for any of this! I didn’t ask for a wife or for you to try so hard to please me! All of this is ridiculous.” His hand slashed through the air to make a point. “All I want is some space. Space to figure out what the hell I want. But let’s make one thing clear: I don’t care about you.”

“Am I not giving you space?” Your fists clenched at your sides. “I am moving out of the bedroom and out of your way. Yet, you erupt at me and get angry over nothing! You send me mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”

Mattheo took a breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. “I am not erupting! Lord, you are so sensitive!” he snapped, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you listen for once? I am not sending you mixed signals. I am trying to figure out my place in this unorthodox situation we’re in.”

After a beat of silence, you asked firmly, “did you talk about me?” After seeing a flicker of confusion on his face, you clarified, “when you were out with your friends, did you talk about me? Did you rant about how annoying I was? Did you complain about marriage?”

His lips parted before taking a breath. “Yes, I talked about you,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I complained about how frustrating I find you and how frustrated I am with my parents for arranging this senseless marriage.”

“What did they say?” you insisted. “Did they sympathise? Did they laugh at me? Did they add fuel to your fire by commenting about how… how ‘needy’ and ‘sensitive’ I am?”

Mattheo made a low sound in his chest and rubbed his temples, frustrated by your persistence. “They agreed with me, yes. A few believed that you are too emotionally attached and sentimental. Others chalked it up to the pains of an average marriage.”

Your anger flared up and you said, “Let me tell you this: I never wanted marriage either. But I at least tried. I tried to be a nice and loving wife and a kind human.” You turned on your heel, marching out of the bedroom and towards the West Wing.

Mattheo watched you go, an unwanted feeling of guilt washing over him. He sighed and walked over to the window. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is everything so damn complicated?”

For the next couple of weeks, you stayed true to your word. You avoided Mattheo and his office and stayed in your wing of the mansion. After a week or two, you decided to explore the mansion, stumbling upon a magnificent library. You inhaled in veneration when someone cleared their throat. Mattheo stood behind you, raising an brow. After a silence, you said recalcitrantly, “you never told me that Riddle Manor had a library.”

He smirked at your thinly veiled hatred, amused despite himself. “Well, now you know,” he said dryly. “It’s a perk of living in a Riddle household.” He walked over to a bookshelf and began browsing for a book he required for a contract that was being drafting. He showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort at your presence. “You may use it whenever you want. But don’t expect me to join a book club or anything juvenile.”

“I would never dream of it,” you said sarcastically. You step further into the library and can’t help but gape at the vastness. You trailed your fingers over the book spines, breathing in the smell of old books. You crouched down to examine a series of poetry titles. “I can read any of these?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded and leaned against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feel free to read whatever you would like. They’re here for the entire household. Well, the servants don’t have time to read books, so in a Riddle household, the parents and children use the library the most.” Your hand faltered over the titles. “If you find something that catches your eye, go ahead and take it. I won’t stop you.” There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, as if he wished to know what topics and books piqued your interest. You hummed quietly, not fully acknowledging his words. You were already picking up a book and leafing through it. Mattheo watched you for a moment, his eyes softening briefly.

Everyday, you returned to the library. It was an escape from the walls of your room and the walls that Mattheo had put up around his heart.

Eventually, the servants recognised your routine and began to start a fire in the fireplace to keep you warm. They moved a loveseat in front of the fire that you gratefully used. You devoured the poetry collection, including Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and started on the classics. Every once in a while, Mattheo would come into the library, but he wouldn’t talk. He simply took a book and returned to his study. Sometimes, you wondered if he remembered you lived in the mansion with him.

Mattheo found himself frequenting the library more often, looking for books he had never needed before. A swell of pride filled him whenever he saw you by the fire, knowing that something in his home brought you such comfort. He still refused to speak to you, maintaining distance and ignoring your existence, but he found himself increasingly drawn to your presence.

One day, on a whim, he decided to take a risk and left a stack of his favourite books on the table next to your chair. That afternoon, you found the stack of books. You smiled despite yourself, though you didn't make any comment to Mattheo. You picked up the first book, sat down in the chair, and began to read.

A week later, Mattheo was hosting a dinner party for his associates. He didn’t say a word about it to you, though you heard the servants preparing for it. You decided not to go, opting to stay in your safe haven of the library.

After an hour or so of faint music, you heard the door to the library squeak open and your head whipped up. You saw one of Mattheo’s friends, Tom, enter and look around. He spotted you and his lips curled up into a smirk. “So you’re the wife we’ve heard so much about?”

Your stomach clenched and you replied, “I guess so.”

Tom’s smirk grew wider as he took in your terse response, enjoying your obvious discomfort. He approached you with a lecherous gaze in his eyes before asking, “and how do you find life as Mrs. Riddle? Are you enjoying your… arrangement?” His words dripped with sarcasm, not believing for a moment that you and Mattheo were married for love.

You stared at him. “It has its perks,” you said simply.

Tom laughed derisively at your response, not convinced by your nonchalance. “And what are those perks?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Extravagant gifts? Luxurious vacations? Or simply the privilege of being married to such a powerful man?”

You squared your shoulders. “I am powerful without a man,” you said sharply. “I do not need a man to determine my worth and prowess.”

Tom scoffed. “Really? How exactly did you become powerful on your own?” he asked, challenging you. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever achieve anything significant without the backing of a powerful husband behind you.” He leaned in closer, grinning.

You closed your book with a snap. “The L/n family,” you said, talking of your maiden lineage, “has had control over many estates and affairs for decades. Without Mattheo Riddle, I would’ve inherited half of it, second only to my brother. I would’ve had four auspicious companies at my ready disposal, capable of doing most anything. So, yes, sir, I would have been momentous without him.”

Tom’s smirk faded as he recognised your family name. He remained undeterred, however, stating, “that explains why your husband was so eager to marry you. He must see you as a valuable asset to his business empire.”

As you opened your mouth to retort, the door banged open and Mattheo strode into the library.

Mattheo had noticed Tom’s absence from his party, but when it became too long to be excused as a restroom break, Mattheo had asked his brother, Enzo, if he had seen where he had gone. Enzo had smiled a small smile and whispered, “Tom went to the library. Where your darling wife stays hidden.”

Mattheo saw red.

He barged into the library, a deadly, lethal, and borderline possessive look deep in his eyes. When he saw Tom flanking you, Mattheo’s expression darkened and his hands clenched into a ready fist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Mattheo demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is a private wing of my home - not some place for you to bother my wife.”

Mattheo moved closer to you, placing himself between you and Tom as if to protect you from further harm.

Tom quickly stepped back and placed a confident demeanour on his face. “I was simply having a conversation with your lovely wife here,” Tom gritted his teeth.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, showing clearly that Tom was lying and intruding. You saw Mattheo’s eyes flicker down to you, his eyes softening reassuringly before snapping back to Tom, malice in his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mattheo snapped at Tom. “There’s no need for any sort of interaction or conversation with my wife unless I am present.” Mattheo placed a hand on the top of your chair, his fingers gripping it and his bicep flexing slightly to warn Tom.

Tom’s eyes flicked with something you hadn’t seen before: fear. Fear commonly associated with the Riddle name. He adjusted his collar and straightened his posture. “Of course, Mr. Riddle,” he said bitterly.

You raised a brow. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” you said, your face stoic. Tom bowed his head slightly before exiting the library. You didn’t look up to meet Mattheo’s eye. You murmured, “you didn’t have to do that. I had it covered.”

Mattheo watched Tom until he completely left the room before turning to look down on you. His voice was threatening, “you may have been able to handle Tom, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or harassing you while you’re under my roof. Consider this a warning - if anyone tries to cross you again, they will regret it.”

“Perhaps you should tell your coworkers that. Not me,” you replied.

Mattheo’s expression was cold. “Fine. I will,” he growled. “I will not sit idly by and allow anyone to disrespect my wife.” He let go of your chair and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. As if in a business meeting, he said, “And consider this another warning: if you continue to act so stubbornly, I won’t hesitate to remind you of your place in this marriage.”

“My place in this marriage is your wife!” you cried out, finally standing up. “Your equal! Something you seem to forget until it’s convenient for you. Or until another man threatens your… your property! I doubt you see me any differently than this house or your assets.”

Mattheo grabbed onto your arm tightly, pulling you close and leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Do not ever speak to me like that. You are not my equal - you are my wife and I decide what is best for both of us. If you cannot accept that, then you should reconsider your place in this marriage.” He released your arm and turned away from you, striding towards the door. “I suggest you reflect on your behaviour,” he added icily, leaving the room without looking back.

After he left the library, you let out a scream of frustration. You shoved the pile of books that Mattheo had carefully curated to the floor. They tumbled down, book after book, covers opening and pages bending. Tears pricked at your eyes as you examined the scene.

You slumped into your chair, the fire in front of your crackling softly, emitting a calming warmth.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the chair, tear stains on your cheeks. In the morning, you woke to the serene morning light filtering into the room - a vast contrast to your mood. The fire had dissolved into crackling embers. Tucked on top of you was a thick blanket and the stack of books that you had pushed over had been re-piled and stood majestically atop the table.

You sighed, knowing you should thank the servants for taking care of you and cleaning up.

After you walked to the kitchen, your footfalls heavy, you thanked the servants, who were finishing preparing breakfast. They exchanged glances and one piped up, “Ma’am, while we appreciate the sentiment, we didn’t do that. We weren’t aware that you were still in the library. We believed you had retired to bed before the social last night.” They paused and then added, “however, Mr. Riddle didn’t go to bed. He was in his study until morning light.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bid them an awkward goodbye before entering the dining hall.

Mattheo was already seated at the head of the table, his expression exhausted and distant. He didn’t acknowledge you when you approached, focusing instead on the uneaten plate of food in front of him.

You sat down opposite him and muttered, “the servants informed me that you blanketed me last night and cleaned up the books.” You hesitated and finally said, “thank you.”

Mattheo looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t respond directly. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You should not be cold and uncomfortable in your own home.” He doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation beyond that. Something was weighing heavily on his mind and he seemed preoccupied by it.

You hummed in response. Eventually, you stood and whispered to your husband before walking out, “you are not as cold as you want to seem. You needn’t keep the facade up with me.”

Mattheo looked up briefly before returning to his food. His expression relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

***

Later that day, Mattheo sat in his study as he always did. A knock came from the door and he glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for lunch to be delivered, but he announced, “come in.”

The door creaked open and your head peeked into the room. Mattheo’s brows furrowed - not with malice, but with scrutiny. You entered and sat in one of the two seats next to his fireplace. Silently, you cracked open a book you had brought and began to read.

Mattheo watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he took in every detail of your face. He tried to find any acrimonious intent behind your actions, but you looked so peaceful. He found himself noticing the details of your face and your beauty as the fire cast warm highlights on your eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked eventually, his voice holding an armour of needed suspicion.

“Reading,” you said simply.

Mattheo frowned, not convinced by your answer. Why would you read in his study after the way he had been treating you? He leaned back in his chair, his work forgotten. “Isn’t there something more important that you could be occupying your time with?” he challenged.

“Not particularly,” you responded. “You’re in charge of the companies and estates. I have nothing to do. I thought I would accompany you. You must get lonely in a study by yourself.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, but ultimately nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But don’t think I will stop working simply because my wife is here.” His posture grew taut as he began looking over documents again. “This is still my office and I expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I’m simply reading,” you murmured, a smile inching its way up your lips.

Henceforth, a routine was established. Every morning, you would knock on Mattheo’s study door, usually an hour or so after he began working. There was rarely conversation, the silence being broken by Mattheo’s scratch of a quill or you turning pages, occasionally being disrupted by the loud crack of a log in the fire.

One day, you had finished your book (it was an excellent book, one from the pile Mattheo had recommended) and stood to go retrieve another one. At the sound of your footsteps leaving his office, Mattheo’s head darted up and he suddenly asked, “where are you going?”

You paused and turned back to him. “I’m to get a new book. Unfortunately, as wonderful as this one was, it had an ending like all books do.”

Mattheo frowned and a hint of vulnerability broke through his exterior. “Get a servant to do it,” he offered.

“Well, I don’t know which one I want,” you counted, raising a brow in a smirk.

He huffed and shook his head, returning his eyes to his documents. He grumbled, “I will commission the servants to build you a small bookshelf for my office. You can keep your books there.” You stood, watching him for a moment, admiring him until his gaze snapped up. “Well, go get your book,” he said sharply. “… but hurry back,” he added in a mumble.

You finally smiled at him before exiting and Mattheo gazed at the place you once stood, trying to memorise how your lips curled up and your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

He rather liked it when you smiled.

***

“Are you alright?”

You sniffed and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m being foolish.” You wiped some tears from your eyes. “My book is very good.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly. “And what made you cry, hm?”

“A daughter and father interaction,” you replied quietly.

“Was the father cruel to the daughter?” Mattheo laughed tersely, shaking his head at his documents. “Are your feelings not strong enough to withstand their wrath?”

You frowned at Mattheo, setting the book down. “No,” you corrected slowly. “The father was being kind to his daughter. He was supporting her and loving her; as a father should.” There was a pause as Mattheo looked up at you. “I know that the Riddles are a harsher family - I’ve known ever since I knew I was to marry you. But… but are you alright?”

You felt absurd asking the question. Yet, when Mattheo couldn’t meet your eye, a wistful sadness blanketing the room, you felt as if you should’ve asked the simple question weeks earlier.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then Mattheo turned in his chair so his back was facing you. "I'm fine," he finally answered, his voice rough and strained. "I am used to dealing with it, I suppose." Despite his insistence that he didn't need anyone's pity or concern, your words seem to have affected him more deeply than he wanted to admit.

“May I ask a question?” you asked softly.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes never leaving the window as he spoke. "Ask away," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then cleared his throat and said, "but I won’t give a warm and fuzzy answer."

There was a pregnant pause in the air as you gathered your courage up and suddenly thrust your fears upon your husband. “If we ever have children, which we’re somewhat expected to,” you added hurriedly. “I don’t want them to grow up in a household where they feel as if they have to vie for love or attention. And I don’t want me to be the only one giving them attention.” Mattheo turned his head so his face was angled toward you, but his eyes could still stray to the window if need be. “If we have kids, can you promise that you’ll love them? Even if you don’t love me?”

Even though your voice was steady, Mattheo knew of the vulnerability deeply rooted within you.

He nodded cautiously, his expression serious. "I promise," he said firmly. "I may not love you, but I will love our children unconditionally. They will never have to compete for my affection or feel neglected. I may not be a fond father, but I will provide for them and protect them as best I can." A protectiveness filled his veins just at the thought of something happening to his future children.

You nodded once, a sad smile on your face. “Perhaps we’ll have a big family. Enough children to start a sports team.” You smiled at the thought, laughing lightly.

Mattheo smiled, despite himself, imagining a large brood of children running around the manor. It was an oddly appealing idea, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. "We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'd rather have lots of sons; they'll carry on the family name and ensure my legacy continues." He turned back around and attempted to focus on his work.

“And daughters too.” You frowned, staring at your husband, even if he wouldn’t spare you a glance. “Daughters can carry on the family name just as well as sons.” A muscle in your jaw ticked.

Mattheo scowled at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why hadn’t you just fallen into line? "Fine, daughters too," he reluctantly agrees. "But make no mistake, they will be raised to be strong and capable like their brothers. The Riddle name demands nothing less."

“And the sons can be soft and caring and sensitive,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have to vie for affection. I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have needless competition in their life. I don’t want them to grow up… like, well… you.” You finally uttered the words that had been hanging off your tongue dangerously.

Mattheo’s expression hardened as he clenched his fist tightly. "Fine!" he snapped. "They can be whatever the hell you want them to be! But don't expect me to sit back and watch while they become weaklings and failures. We need to teach them to be strong and ruthless like I am." He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process.

You jump up after him, crossing towards him. You whirled to a stop in front of him, jabbing a finger towards his chest. “Listen here, Riddle. Just because someone is kind and vulnerable doesn’t mean they’re weak!” You growled, “and just because you grew up like that, does not mean that’s the type of household I am going to have.”

Mattheo stepped forward and his hand flew up to grip your wrist. His eyes blazed with anger, but then something changed in his expression and he took a step back, looking surprised at his own reaction. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I shouldn't have assumed that being vulnerable meant being weak." He ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed, yet resolute in his decision. "But don't expect me to be a pushover either. I'll still teach them to be strong and independent."

“Strong and independent are good qualities,” you conceded. “Both for the boys and girls.”

"Agreed," he said. Mattheo straightened his cuffs and cleared his throat. "Our children will be taught to be strong and independent, regardless of gender. They will know that they are loved and valued by both of us, equally." He held out his hand to you, indicating that the argument was over - for now at least. "Deal?"

“Deal.” You shook his hand defiantly. It was a business deal, but a good deal at least.

Mattheo exhaled and brushed past you. “I’m to a meeting,” he informed you. It was a simple comment , one that was an offhand remark, but to you, Mattheo had just let you into his life. It was something he had never done before. Even if it was just a response to where he was off to, it was a window into his life. A life that now may have enough room to hold you.

Mattheo paused when he reached the door. “I never knew the way I grew up was wrong until I saw other families. I saw the parents bending down to listen to their children instead of hushing them. I saw parents comforting their children after scraped knees, not pushing them to the kitchen for some rubbing alcohol. I saw parents beaming when their child could plunk out the simplest of tunes on the piano. No one else got berated for being out of rhythm or playing a D instead of an E. I never saw another child get slapped by their parents or scolded as harshly as I was. It was around then I realised that something was wrong. But what was I to do about it?”

Words dried in your throat. You wanted to cry at his words, but you felt dried out. How could someone treat their child like that? It explained so much…

Your husband was a fragile man, you were just realising. And he was trying to pick up the pieces and present them to you in the only way he knew how.

"The stars remind me of you,” he said quietly, the change in conversation sudden. “I mean that in the best possible way.” His voice was the softest and most tender as you had ever heard it. You hoped he would keep speaking the melodies that made your heart sing in tune.

“How so?” you asked, afraid to break the plane of existence that you and Mattheo were carefully standing on.

"They are so beautiful, yet so far away. I may see them, but I can never touch them."

***

The servants didn’t know what to do. The master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, seemed to be at a ceasefire. The cooks lamented at how they had seemed to be doing so well. The maids thought they were destined to doom from the start. The butlers gossiped about Mr. Riddle’s letters to a Mr. Tom, terminating their long-term partnership. The scullery maid still had hope that the husband and wife would come to their senses and live a happy life.

It perplexed the servants when the mistress requested to move her belongings back into the master bedroom and the master looked on, a soft smile on his lips. It confused the servants when the Mr and Mrs began taking meals together and talking in hushed tones late into the night. And it bamboozled the servants when, one summer afternoon, the Lord of the household stood from his desk, cautiously moved to his Lady that was reading by the open window, and asked her to accompany him on a walk. She had accepted.

There was to be a dinner party, this time hosted at Mr. Draco Malfoy’s manor, that Mr. Riddle was expected to attend. Per usual, the master didn’t invite the mistress, but she was content to stay home. A maid briefly heard the madam whisper to her husband, “hurry home, please? I don’t like it when you’re away.” The maid had scurried away before she could hear the reply.

Mattheo returned home that night, just before the sun was setting. He climbed the steps, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie. The soft glow of light was still shining under your shared bedroom - something he still hadn’t gotten used to - and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you still up?” he asked quietly when he entered the room.

“You promised to be home early and I wanted to see you before I go to bed,” you reminded him, a small book in your hands.

“Right, right.” Mattheo chuckled and shook his head, slinging off his tie and jacket.

“How was the dinner?”

Mattheo hummed noncommittally. “Not the worst. A couple of my good friends, Theo and Pansy, were there to help alleviate the pain of socialising. But… I found something odd happening.”

“And what was that, husband?” Mattheo took a moment to relish in the way that word curled off your tongue effortlessly.

“I found myself wishing you were there. Nay,” he quickly corrected himself. “I wished I was here with you.”

“Oh?” Your eyes flickered up towards Mattheo, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. “Why… what do you mean by that?”

Mattheo began to unbutton his shirt and moved towards his closet. “Well,” he admitted, mumbling to himself. “I simply mean that instead of having to socialise with people who are too tightly wound and whose only intent is to take my money,” he chucked his belt into his closet and rolled up his sleeves, “I would rather be at home with my darling wife.”

A smile inched up your lips. “Really? Tell me more about this darling wife of yours.”

Mattheo hummed, stepping towards the bed. He crawled down on the bed, leaning on his forearms to lean up towards you. “My wife… I’ve come to care deeply about her. She is a beautiful, elegant woman, one who has a fiery tongue about her and an intelligent brain that even I cannot rival. She always seems to get her way, even when I try to fight back. It’s as if my wife has a command over me that I have willingly submitted to. And I am not ashamed to say so.” He lightly caressed your arm, sending a trail of goosebumps up your skin.

“You must be careful, Mattheo,” you uttered. “That sounds an awful lot like love.”

Mattheo brought his eyes up to meet yours, the sting of tears building up behind them. His voice cracked as he said, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, Y/n.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I- I didn’t realise. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Mattheo demanded before reaching up to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were soft and meaningful against yours, hungrily trying to gather every ounce of love from you. His kisses were feverish at first, his strong hand coming up to cup your jawline, his fingers just teasing behind your ear, before his lips slowed. Mattheo was a starved man and he wouldn’t let anyone take away his only solace. He shifted so he could be closer to you, gently taking the book from your hands as you surrendered yourself to him. Your hands found his silk shirt, gripping it in your fists. He placed the book on the nightstand and moved so he was hovering over you, never once letting a second go by without feeling your skin against his.

Mattheo slowly, achingly pulled away from you and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. “My darling, my love, my life,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your cheek. “I apologise for everything I have ever done or said that made you feel inferior. I would be happy to kneel for you in front of my associates and family members - just to show them how much power you have over me.” He took a breath before persisting, “I was foolish. I was incompetent. I didn’t realise how much love I held for you. It is, and always will be, only you. I will promise you this: you will be the only woman I ever touch, the only voice I ever want to hear, the only skin I will ever caress, and the only eyes I ever want to see. I will wake and fall, every morning and night, thinking of you. You are the other half of my heart, for it is you who I love. I will place the galaxies and stars in the night sky for you. If you are ever unhappy, my love, I will not rest until I see you smile again. If you are ever mad, my love, I shall smite whatever upsets you, even if it is I. And I would die a happy man if you could give me only an ounce of what I give you.”

Your breath shook and you swore Mattheo had injected ambrosia into your veins for you were sure your blood was singing with the love that was filling your soul. “I wrote a letter to your mother today,” you offered quietly, as if your mere words could ever compare to the love poem Mattheo had just gifted to you. “And I thanked her.” Mattheo’s eyes flashed with confusion. You continued, “I thanked her for birthing such a wonderful husband and for raising him. I know you u wish to renounce your family, but as of now, I want to thank them with all my heart. Mattheo, I love you.”

“And I you,” Mattheo whispered, bringing his forehead down to rest on yours. His nose bumped against your cheek and he couldn’t contain his grin anymore. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he mumbled.

You laughed lightly. “Luck? Fate?”

Mattheo shook his head and his nose brushed light curves over your skin. “No, my wife. Simply love. Pure, unconditional love.”

***

The house was bright, the curtains pulled as far open as they could be. Some servants scuttled around, holding laundry or preparing for dinner. Meanwhile, Mattheo strode leisurely through the halls, smiling lovingly as his nephews chased each other through the halls. “What do I say, boys?” he called after them.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t get caught!” they yelled back before running around a corner.

Enzo jogged after them and grumbled to Mattheo, “it’s not your duty to rule them up.”

“As their favourite uncle, yes, it is.”

“Your wife is in Andromeda’s room,” Enzo told his brother before sprinting off after his sons. Enzo wasn’t usually at Riddle Manor, but today was a special day. It was Orion’s birthday.

Mattheo chuckled to himself before Orion raced up the steps, panting. “Papa! Papa!”

Mattheo grinned widely and scooped Orion up. “Are you alright, hm? What’ve you been up to?”

“Aunt Pansy’s carriage just pulled up!” Orion bounced in Mattheo’s arms, beaming.

“And you’re not even dressed,” Mattheo stared at Orion, pretending to be stunned. “Where’s your mother, Ori?”

“She’s helping Andy get dressed,” Orion announced. Mattheo nodded and carried his son to his daughter’s room. “Mum!” Orion cried out, seeing Y/n standing behind Andromeda, knotting her hair into a braid.

“Oh, my darling,” Y/n tied Andy’s hair up before crossing to Mattheo and taking Orion from his arms. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

Orion hummed excitedly and wiggled down from Y/n’s arms. He darted to Andromeda and wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Andromeda grumbled, but allowed him to cling to her as she finished her hair and rouge.

Mattheo took Y/n’s hand and pulled her back toward him, nudging his nose against hers. “Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to play with the silver and green ring on your finger. “Mine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion from your children, he backed you up and caged you against the wall in his arms. “Seven years with you and two beautiful children to show for it.”

“Hey, mum? Where’s my- eugh!” Andromeda turned around and reeled back from the scene in front of her. “For the love of Salazar, please get a room!”

“We are in a room.” Mattheo smirked, glancing up from the crook of your neck.

“Aren’t you two, if I'm doing my calculations correctly, nearing thirty years old?” Andromeda tsked and rolled her eyes.

“You believe that simply because we’re getting older, I’m going to stop loving your mother?” Mattheo chuckled before pressing a light kiss to your jawline.

You shivered and tucked your face into your husband’s chest. “Matty, spare the poor children,” you chastised lightly. “What do you need, darling?” you turned towards Andromeda.

“You used to call me that,” Mattheo whined. He stepped back from you, letting you out of his embrace.

Andromeda sighed and asked, “where is my white shawl? It’ll go well with the dress I’m planning to wear to Orion’s party.”

“Why does it matter what you wear to Orion’s party?” Mattheo asked, puzzled.

“Because Albus Potter is going to be here,” you said as if it were obvious.

“Harry Potter’s son?” Mattheo asked incredulously. “That scumbag?”

Both you and Andromeda ignored Mattheo and Orion left the room at the sound of Aunt Pansy entering the foyer and shouting out for her favourite nephew.

“Your shawl should be in the library,” you answered. “Ori was using it as a blanket yesterday.”

Andromeda sighed and turned towards the door. “He needs to stop taking my things. Just last week he stole my candelabra so he could read in the dark. Perhaps you should accelerate his schooling. He’s getting bored, you know.”

“We’ll raise our own son, thank you, Andromeda,” Mattheo raised a brow. Andy huffed and and flicked her dress out behind her dramatically, exiting the room. Mattheo turned to you and said, “they get that from you. The love of reading.”

“Yes, but they get their flair for the dramatics from you. And lest us not forget, you keep fuelling our love of literature by buying more books and expanding our library,” you countered.

Mattheo hummed. “‘Tis true. But how could I live without spoiling my wife and children?” He whirled you around in his arms and pressed a long kiss to your lips. “Speaking of children, what would you think of expanding our family?”

You let out a laugh. “You simply like the act of making a bigger family.”

“I love my children too,” Mattheo defended.

You reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face. “Yes you do,” you smiled up at him. “You love your family very much.”

“Always.”

2K notes · View notes

btsbabe7 · 28 days ago

Text

Safe Haven

Word Count: 6.9k

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x reader, Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings!: 18+, unprotected, age gap, intoxication, infidelity

Synopsis: After a long night out with friends, things take a drastic turn when you show up unexpectedly at the Malfoy Manor and your best friend isn’t the one who lets you in.

You find yourself on the doorstep of the Malfoy manor, lightheaded and nauseous, clothes soaked in rain, liver swimming in poison, and entirely too nervous and embarrassed to knock. You curse yourself for not sending for Draco, your best friend of a solid decade, to come rescue you from your recklessness. You’d insisted to your other friends that you could make it safely, that you knew your way home. And while you did arrive safely, you can’t bring yourself to lift your fist to ask for permission to enter.

The Malfoy Manor has always been a safe place for you throughout your childhood and granted you the same safety as an adult. You’d practically grown up here under the care of the house elf, Dobby, and the companionship of Draco Malfoy. Narcissa saw to things like taking you shopping for clothes and catering to your other womanly needs as you grew older. On the other hand, Lucius Malfoy was hardly present. He remained the breadwinner of the home and that came with the sacrifice of working long days and nights at the Ministry, and in his spare time, he’d used it to meet with friends.

When he was at home, he could be quite demanding. He constantly lectured Draco about slipping grades and the importance of putting his best foot forward instead of indulging in useless shenanigans.

One night, after his wife and son had long trailed off to bed, Lucius had stayed in the entertainment room with you to finish a movie. The both of you remained long after the movie ended, speaking about school, work, and life. He confided in you just as you had with him. You’d always known Lucius Malfoy to lack nothing, not of confidence, not of power, and certainly not control. Yet, that night he’d told you that he didn’t want Draco stuck at the Ministry like himself. He wanted a powerful son that would be able to take his place if the situation ever arose, to be prepared for anything, and be able to step up when his family needed him the most. Most of all, he just wanted someone, something that came from him, to be proud of.

You’d spent several years listening to Draco’s complaints about his father over breaks and in the courtyard at Hogwarts when you two would sneak out to meet late in the night. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to spill Lucius’ wishes. It felt as if you were overstepping every time his words echoed in your mind: someone to be proud of. When you were around, Lucius was a completely different man—tolerant, caring, even nice at times, and you knew Lucius needed to be the one to tell Draco himself.

Now, as an adult, you can recall the moments where he tried caring for Draco in the best way he knew how. You realized that being tough had become his default to shield himself from disappointment, to keep Draco on track. He’d tried to raise him to become a man of power with nothing but confidence and control in his arsenal. He hadn’t failed, but he also hadn’t let his guard down, never liberated himself from the need of being in control.

And part of being in control meant Lucius always remained aware of anything going on inside of and around the Malfoy property, so it’s no surprise that he’s the one that opens the door to your shivering body without you lifting a single finger.

“Look what the storm washed in,” he muses and motions you inside to take shelter from the pouring rain and lightening rolling in through distant black clouds. “You’ve been drinking.”

He doesn’t ask, just states it matter-of-factly.

Anyone with a nose can smell the bitterness seeping off your clothes, your body, your mouth. You smell of whisky and sweat and body odor that isn’t yours. You aren’t sure what you were attempting to drink away, but perhaps it was the searing that burns in your chest when his eyes meet yours.

The look is one you’ve seen him give many, but never to you, and it’s now spread over his hardened features. Disappointment is what lingers in those angry pale grey eyes.

“I… I came to s— I came to see D-drac—“ You let out a scoff, now utterly disappointed in yourself as you slur and stumble over the raised threshold. It’s truly a miracle that you’d made it here at all.

Had you truly allowed yourself to get this wasted?

That answer comes when Lucius uses his own body to shield you from tumbling onto the frigid tiles of the foyer. You cling to the silky sleeve of his robe as he hisses something vulgar under his breath.

“You can’t possibly be this drunk,” he snorts and locks the front door behind you both in a fury. “Who’ve you been with? You graduated years ago and this is how you choose to life? The life of a—a drunk? I expected more from a brilliant witch like yourself. I thought you incapable of falling this low. Does your father know you’re here?”

You rub into the sultry velvet and focus on the way it clings to his body. It’s a black so deep against his pale skin that it makes your eyes feel as if you’re staring into a void.

You hiccup and a soft smile plays at the corners of your mouth as you take in the tart apple and spicy woodsy scent that only the Malfoy men have. It reminds you of all the nights you’d sneak into Draco’s room as a kid and cuddle against his side when you couldn’t sleep, and in your current drunken state, it’s completely intoxicating.

“What’re you doing, Y/n?” Lucius demands as your hand travels up the length of his arm.

You give his biceps a squeeze and chuckle in response. He has such a strong body and he’s adorned it in such a delicious feeling fabric. One you can’t seem to keep your hands off of and want to crawl into.

The truth is that you don’t know what you’re doing and with every blink of your weary eyes, you see Draco’s iced silver ones in waves. You see glimpses of blonde hair in your grasp, lush, silky and soft. You imagined it countless times in the past, pale white hips rutting against your backside while you both watch in the silver ornate mirror that hangs over his dresser just beside his bed. You’d wished it happened as it had in the privacy of your dreams and daydreams.

You see flashes of books in Lucius’ study. The two of you would sneak inside while his father and mother were out and the elves were busy. You’d make out there near the fireplace. Other times, you’d be propped up on the desk with Draco’s erection pressed hard against the delicate folds of your clothed, aching sex.

You lean back on the familiar desk, wet ass gliding against the smooth mahogany. Lucius led you here into the study, which means you’ve truly fucked up.

The study is just the way you remember it. The backside is filled from floor to ceiling with books and skulls and trinkets, all meaning something to Lucius, or simply nothing at all. Lucius’ desk remains in the center, facing the fireplace, and placed firmly on a fancy rug with a huge velvet chair behind it. He has other knickknacks here and there, but the study remains fairly simple and serves its purpose.

You turn to your right and see a family photo nestled in a silver gilded frame. Draco stands in the middle, posed with his chin up, his parent’s stand as far away as they possibly can with their hands resting on either side of his shoulders. No one smiled, save for the small tug at the corners of Narcissa’s lips, though it didn’t meet her dim eyes.

When you’d snuck down here with Draco, he’d turn it face down on the desk before delving into you. It sits upright now, yet piles of marked scrolls threaten to bury it. A box of limited edition quill inks sit in a box beside them and a semi-wet quill lies on an open scroll just beside you. You come to the conclusion that he must have been working when he sensed someone’s presence, your presence, outside.

Lucky for him.

It’s so late that you begin to wonder where Narcissa might be, where Draco might be since you’d come for him. Asleep upstairs maybe. Or perhaps somewhere else entirely. As for Narcissa, you’d noted her absence shortly after graduation and she only seemed to grow more distant now that you and Draco are of proper age. Draco himself had always remained distant and found solitude in being alone when you weren’t around to keep him company. Just like his mother, his interest in his father had diminished over the years while yours had grown.

Lucius huffs and the springs in the chair squeak lightly underneath his weight. The sound pulls you away from your memories and the weight of your own thoughts settle in the center of your core with a wave of nostalgia. The chair had made the same noise in all those times Draco plopped down there and it knocks you back to a time many years ago.

Draco’s mother had left with her sister, Bellatrix, and you both knew his father would be out later. Narcissa had left you both to the mercy of the house elves, who treated you with much more respect than you cared for.

When silence had fallen over the manor, Draco had waltzed down the hallway and placed a knock on your door. You’d been half asleep in the room given to you since the moment you’d decided this home suited you more than your own. The door had squeaked open, sending golden light cascading over the bright yellow walls they’d let you paint.

You’d hissed at Draco for interrupting your sleep, but somehow he’d managed to coax you out of bed and down into his father’s study. You remember the taste of his lips, so sweet and delicate against yours after the door had been closed. Somehow that had led to him splaying your legs wide and planting your feet firmly on the sturdy wooden surface of his father’s desk.

All you remember afterwards is the fire roaring to life and warming your entire being as Draco pumped you hard with his skilled fingers for the very first time.

You bite into your lip and let out a soft moan as your brain caresses and savors every inch of that memory.

“Y/n!” Lucius demands.

“Lucius,” you mewl softly in a taunting, singsong tone that sends his eyes rolling.

He groans as you kick your muddy heels off and clicks his tongue in disgust when they clatter on his rug.

He curses himself for not remembering to make you take them off at the door. Though, he reminds himself that you don’t usually show up in such a pathetic state where your manners are long forgotten. He also reminds himself that he’s not usually in a position underneath your taunting gaze. You sit there like a queen on her throne. Unfortunately for him, the throne just so happens to be his desk.

Lucius fights the urge to take control of the situation, though his body aches for him to do so. He wants you off his desk, off your ass, sobered up, and sinking down his cock. He caresses his chin and bites into his bottom lip before flinching away from that final realization, away from you and the way your nipples grow hard against the thin fabric of that skimpy dress you’d slipped on hours ago to meet with friends in. Had he been here, he wouldn’t have let you step a foot outside in such scandalous attire. He curses your father for being so absentminded and so uninvolved in your life.

Despite that truth, Lucius had watched you bloom into a brilliant witch and beautiful woman. Over the years, he’d listened to Narcissa’s comments on the way your body had practically become a woman’s overnight—large breasts and curves that had been flaunted too well in your robes and skirts. Lucius forked over more money for your new robes and uniform without hesitation. He couldn’t stand the idea of boys at Hogwarts gawking at you, targeting you with their useless, impure minds. And selfishly, he’d always seen you more fit for a Malfoy, even though you went against everything they stood for.

You have half-blood friends, you were sorted into a house other than Slytherin, you were curious about muggles. Lucius had pushed all those details to the back of his mind when he took you in. You were strong, opinionated even when he disagreed with you, and best of all, you never backed down from a challenge. You weren’t weak and he appreciated that quality about you.

Now, you appear stronger than ever, though your judgement is obviously skewed.

“I’m disappointed in you,” he begins. He knows he has to scold you like a child, but he also knows you’ll do it again if he doesn’t. He hates that he has to be the one to do it. “I think y—“

“Deserve to be punished, don’t I?” You whimper and pick at your nails with a firm pout of your pink lips.

Lucius rolls his eyes and ignores the ache daring to tear him apart at the seam if he allows you to open your mouth again. He comes off the chair and turns to face the endlessly shelving of books. He crosses his arms and stares mindlessly at the first row that meets his eyes, far away from you.

Sickness, much like bile, collects at the base of his throat and he swallows it down. He knows he cannot touch you, it’d be crossing the line on so many levels. Worst, it’d go against his morals. He’s married. His son is one of your better best friends. He’s friends with your useless excuse of a father, he’s looked your mother in the eyes over countless meetings decades ago where he vowed to take care of you to the best of his ability before he took you in for good. Yet, every civilized thought escapes his mind when he hears your breathing hitch behind him. A soft shuffling follows and he swallows dryly. He knows the sound all too well—wet clothes being removed, peeling away from damp skin, and plopping against the floor.

You’re a sopping mess in the neatness of his study. His rug will suffer, but so will he.

He clenches his teeth and sneers as be whips his wand out and sends a charm towards his study door. It closes and locks quietly, but the near silent sound echoes loudly in his eardrums.

You let out a soft whimper as you bristle against the cool rush of the closing door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. The men of this manor never could, and with the close of his door, you’d just become Lucius Malfoy’s seductress.

You roll your head back and stare at the way the ceiling curves to a point above the desk. You’ve stared at it many times when Draco pleased you while he remained completely oblivious to your true desires. Thoughts of Lucius had plagued your mind while Draco’s fingers and mouth did all the work. His father’s name had clung to the edge of your tongue while you forced Draco’s out with careful skill. You knew it was wrong, but it’d almost become a game during those long nights. You’d always wondered if you’d slip up and what Draco would do if you did.

You splay your thighs wide and run your feet along the arms of the emerald green chair. With heavy eyes, you watch the fabric’s color distort slightly from light emerald to a darker shade of the same color with each stroke of your flesh. While you do this, you take notice that Lucius hasn’t turned around since he’s left the chair. Denying his own primal needs as a male, you’re sure. You’d just waltzed, well, stumbled right in and threatened all order, seized all his control with minimal effort, and he hates it. You know he does. Yet, your own need for warmth begins to overtake your own motives and you shiver against the cool air circulating in the darkened room.

“C-could you start up a fire?” You blurt through clenched teeth as you hug into your shivering body.

Lucius’ head snaps back as if he’s been in a trance the entire time. His senses slowly return and he follows the needy plead of your voice. He regrets it the very moment your nude body comes into view. Your lacy black underwear are all that remain of the clothes you’d stripped off and Lucius is suffering indeed.

Hardened grey eyes glaze over the length of your being. He takes in the way your dark hair is now chopped at your shoulders, the length of your short, delicate limbs, the perfect curvature of your breasts and hips. It’s all more proportional and more appealing than he cares to admit.

His eyes snap away from your shivering body and he forces himself to focus on the dead fireplace alongside the wall. The door is sealed shut behind you, beyond you. He should open it, the door. He should summon Draco or call for an elf to help you, cloth you. If you’re this comfortable around him, daring really, then he has no doubt that his son has seen you just the same and would have no qualms about helping.

Cunning as you are, you should have been sorted into during your school years. A true shame that the Slytherin house missed out on such brilliance due to a wrinkly old hat and a fool of a headmaster.

He thinks to himself.

Lucius kindles the firewood in the fireplace with a sharp snap of his fingers and watches the fire spark. As the wood crackles, the flame catches another piece and begins dancing to life as he attempts to choose his next words as carefully as he can.

“How long?”

You cannot admit that your liking for Lucius had begun at the ripe age of fifteen. You were young, impressionable, and Lucius had shown you how real men care for their families. While Draco complained about his father, you saw a hardworking man who needed to put food on the table for his family, a provider. You seen him as the man who’d step in when your real father chose not, and you admired that too.

You swallow and keep your eyes on your fingertips which are coming more and more into focus with each pick of your nails.

“It’s been awhile,” is all you manage.

Lucius continues staring into the fire, still upset with himself for closing the door while trying to work out how long a while consists of. His heart races with both fear and excitement, but he isn’t sure which one will win this battle.

After a while, Lucius brings a blanket over from the corner of the room. He dusts it off and wraps it around your warming body. He doesn’t dare look you over again. He can’t. Not when your eyes watch his every move, from his pacing to the way he strokes his chin across the room when he’s deep in thought. He hadn’t planned for you to show up like this and hadn’t planned for you to strip everything off and be so confidently naked in front of him.

He stares at another book on the shelf, hardly registering the title as he slips a delicate stripe down the spine. He needs something else to focus on, but he isn’t prepared for the sound that comes out of you next. A sound that ripples through his very being and has him on edge like a wild beast.

The fingertips of your right hand run down the plain of your belly, relishing the feeling of your warming body before slipping underneath the hem of your lace. The blanket shifts off your shoulders as you spread your legs wide and allow your fingertips to trickle just below the dampened folds. The thought of Lucius, as always, overtakes your senses, and you graze right between the folds with a low moan. You tease your arousal before bringing it back up to the little protrusion between your lips. You give your clitoris a generous rub and you melt right where you sit.

Lucius’ head whips in your direction and all color leaves his face. His body goes still like a statue.

“You… Y—“

His name finally slips off your tongue and it tastes absolutely delicious. You’re exhausted with holding back, holding it in. You’d spent years doing so and you weren’t going to give up this opportunity that’s presented itself. It was supposed to be Draco that let you in, that came to your rescue as always, but when the long, white-haired Malfoy, the patriarch of this manor opened that door, you knew the stars had aligned that very moment.

“I command you to stop,” Lucius orders, but you shake your head in protest and circle harder.

Lucius feels as if he’s the one that’s been drinking. The way your moans and soft pants make his head spin is intoxicating. He can’t help the way his cock twitches underneath his pajama pants. He’s glad the robe does the job of covering the sudden reaction. He doesn’t want you to have the satisfaction of knowing what you do to him.

He bites into his lip once more and shuts his eyes. No, he reopens them because the memory of you naked is now engrained behind his eyes and also right in front of him. You’re everywhere he looks, your moans are all he can hear. He cannot escape you. Perhaps if he just opened the damned door. But he’s sealed it shut with a charm not even his own son could get through on the other side. It sealed off all sound and no one would come bothering the two of you. He knows this, even with the sickness rising in his throat again.

Lucius’ eyes cower towards you, watching the way your hips rock softly against your circling fingers. You hadn’t slipped inside yourself, just gathered your arousal enough to keep the rubbing lubricated. His cock aches and he cannot remember the last time he had sex, let alone the last time a female had grazed him with such vulgar imagery. He turns way from you and wishes for the pulsing in his veins to stop. He wishes away the heat centering between his legs, but it remains. Your panting grows louder and he fears he will erupt right where he stands. So, what would be the harm if he were standing in front of you instead? What would be the harm if he simply gave in? Stopped fighting and resisting?

He lets out a shaky breath and faces you. You watch determination settle in his eyes and you let out a squeaky moan. Lucius makes his way towards the desk and kicks the chair to the right side. When he finally faces you, his face goes pale. He flinches at the sight of you spread open and so beautifully aroused. He’d missed the fact that you’d now removed the lace, which he’d hardly call underwear as they’d probably hid nothing from the skimpy look of them on his rug. But now, your sex is glistening at the folds, reddened and swollen with heat, and he almost collapses.

“Help me, Lucius,” you hum and trace your wet fingers upwards in a smooth motion.

His grey eyes follow the wet trail up to your navel, over the soft skin of your belly, over your sternum, and now the way you lazily circle around each of your nipples. His chest tightens, but he can no longer force himself to look away. This entire situation is scandalous and if he were to take this risk, how would anyone other than the two of you know? He knows you brilliant enough to keep your mouth shut about something like this. It would ruin you just as much as himself if word got around.

Lucius whips his robe open and your eyes go wide in amusement. Creamy white skin with dark hairs covering the expanse of his chest and navel before leading a trail underneath the hem of his velvet pajama pants. You cock your head and smile weakly at the protrusion in the center. He’d been hiding it, the way you turn him on, and a deep satisfaction steeps in your belly.

You place your palm on your sex. Excited by the sight of him hardened for you, you feel the need to release yourself; however, Lucius quickly throws a wrench in those plans. He takes your sopping fingers and tosses them away from your mound, and you watch as he kneels on the floor in front of you and pushes your legs further apart.

You can’t hide the amazement in your eyes as he pulls you to the very edge of the desk.

Lucius Malfoy kneeling.

Your mouth waters. So does his.

His eyes devour the glistening between your thighs and his heartbeat quickens with each passing breath. If he does this, there’s no going back. If he doesn’t do this, you’ll both be completely unsatisfied and the awkwardness would linger in the air much longer than the realization of your actions if he were to give in. With your eyes plastered on him, he can’t stop himself from licking his lips. Your body is so intriguing, so divine, and he wants to explore every inch. With quivering lips and unsure thoughts, Lucius’ breath shutters against your warmth before licking a stripe up the wet folds of your cunt. Your head falls back and a rumbling moan escapes your throat. You know this will be so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced in this room.

Your fingers caress his scalp and gingerly gather this long platinum hair into your fists. Your hips buck forward to meet each flip of his tongue. You feel hot all over. Your head, your cheeks, your throat, chest and belly, your thighs and ass pressed hard against the wood, and your very core. Lucius suckles at your clit and it almost sends you overboard. You attempt to pull him away, but he clamps hard enough to earn a yelp before settling back. He lets out a rough chuckle and toys his thumb over the reddened protrusion before slipping down and pressing through your entrance.

You fall back on your elbows and shut your eyes to the ceiling.

“Lucius…”

Remarkable. Is all that come to mind at the way your cunt squeezes around his thumb. With the sound of your ravenous moans in response to this little action, he can hardly imagine what you’d sound like with his cock buried inside of you.

“Fuck me,” you snarl. “Please fuck me, Lucius.”

He knows he can’t ignore your commands any longer. He would be mad if he did. He stands to attention, slipping right out of his garments as he does. His cock pulses as he sucks your juices off his thumb, then uses the same hand to stroke his own ache. He sighs in relief and you watch him align himself. He wastes no time thrusting through your folds and you howl in pain and pleasure.

Perhaps you should have warned him of the truth, but it’s much too late. His cock is tight inside of you, running along the fresh, untouched walls with so much precision. Your breasts ache and your chests burns. Your entrance burns, but you don’t care. You’ve needed this for years, craved it, and now you’ll relish every inch of him.

Something flickers in his eyes when they find yours, shame and lust reflect in them. He can’t believe he’s inside of you, can’t believe he gave in so easily. He hadn’t bothered asking of your prior experience. Truthfully, he didn’t want to know how many men had buried themselves inside this glorious, tight hole of yours. The ridges of your walls had swallowed him whole and he didn’t need to think of any competition because he was already determined to be your best.

Lucius watches you like a hawk, catching the way your hand finds your curls and massages into your scalp. He watches the way your breasts jiggle with each movement of your body against his. He closes his eyes, hoping it’s just a dream. When he opens them again and you’re still there like the delectable woman he now knows you to be.

It’s not long before your chest begins to tighten and the squeeze in your core contracts softly. You know this feeling all too well, Draco had taught you all you knew about the feelings of an orgasm, and you won’t last much longer. Not with Lucius hitting all the right spots and his rutting cock buried so deep inside your very core. Your head spins and the point on the ceiling distorts as you falter back onto your elbows. You feel as if you’re floating and he feels like perfection.

Lucius tries to avoid your eyes, your low and seductive features that have his mind reeling and tethering on the edge of reality. He knows he shouldn’t have given in and that he’ll pay for it every time he sees you going forward. He’ll think about it when his wife returns home, whenever she returns home. He’ll think about it when he sees his son and he’ll scowl at idea that he may have had you in this very position before but never had the balls to go any further. Or maybe he has and Lucius should’ve triple-guessed before delving balls deep into your tight little cunt.

He snarls at the thought and at the sight of your arousal glistening under the golden light along his full length with every pull of his hips. He’s growing sloppier in his thrusts, failing miserably in keeping his groans and grunts at bay as he wished. He can’t have you thinking he’s enjoying himself or that he will be allowing this to happen again. He can’t allow you to bring out this side of him again, messy and bending at your will. Yet, if this will be the last time, he plans to make it memorable for the both of you.

Lucius glides his hand over the plain of your stomach and watches the way your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his thrusting. He’d give anything to be properly buried there, right in the softness of your skin, but he knows this is wrong. But how can it be wrong when his name slipping off your lips sounds as if an angel is calling out for him?

He sneers and squeezes his eyes shut. He tries to imagine a time when his wife loved him enough for this, not from a place of dedication or duty, but just a desperate need to be touched by him. A need for hot, raging, glorious sex. And he almost goes limp at the thought of her.

He opens his eyes and yours are right there, hungry and focused solely on him. Whatever alcohol had dared to poison your liver, dared to overtake your senses has vanished very quickly. Though, he knows you’ve been aware from the moment you’d grasped his robe in the entryway. He knows from the way something like golden fire sparkled in your eyes in all the times you’ve glanced at him when no one was watching over the years.

Something flutters deep in Lucius’ core and he pants loudly at that realization. It drives himself to take a fistful of your hair without thinking it over, and he almost melts when you flash a bright smile that sends him swooning.

Fuck me, Lucius.

The line rings like an echo in his mind.

“Lucius… Kiss me.”

Lucius’ eyes blaze and he rushes his mouth against your plump pink lips on command. Your tongue sweeps over his and his eyes grow wide as yours flutter to a close. The bitterness of whisky and the sweetness of butterscotch that lingers after too many Butterbeers is heavy on your tongue, but you taste just as sweet against him like strawberries underneath. He imagines you downing goblets, tossing them back like a champ. Perhaps the sway of your hips if music were playing throughout the tavern. He knew you to be confident in that way, somehow always socially adept and always the center of attention, even though you denied it.

You sweep your arms around his neck and pull him closer, and just as his thrusts begin to falter, you bring your heels up to his muscled cheeks and drive him in further. A shakily groan floods into the cavern of your mouth and his eyes glow with something you’ve never seen before. Desire? Lust? You don’t know. All you know is that you don’t want him stopping until your orgasm is pulsing all around his long, slender length. You want to feel his warm seed coating your inner thighs and stomach. And as much as you wish to feel him spilling inside of you, his milky semen dripping out of you and growing sticky between your thighs as the night grows to day, you know you can’t allow that. Not now.

With your lips hot against his, Lucius can hardly contain himself. His grip in your curls tighten as he holds your lips to his, swallowing each of your pressing moans whole. He gives you the satisfaction of guiding him deeper until he’s had enough. When he does, he withdraws entirely.

He could explode from the way you appear in front of him, eyes blown, pussy swollen and glimmering at the folds, breasts supple and nipples harder than his cock. Your arousal is all over his length and groin and he can’t take it easy anymore. He grasps your arm and yanks you off the desk. You yelp as he twists you around in one quick motion and ropes one of your knees in his hands to press up against the desk.

A chill runs down your spine and your nipples ache against the coolness of the wood. They’re begging to be relieved, but neither of you can be bothered to do so when the pleasure of Lucius’ cock being buried inside you is much more vital.

He knows the fireplace had done nothing to warm the desk and he relished the sight of you shivering against the chill. He watches the way goosebumps prickle over your skin and the way your ass has become discolored from being pressed against his desk for so long. He gives it a firm smack, which earns yet another whimper from your lips.

He smirks while collecting himself and driving back into you.

With a deafening grunt, he takes your hair back into his fist and places the other on your hip. His own plow against your ass and you whine at the new depths of his cock.

Your cheeks burn at the thought of how wet you are in front of him, for him. Unbelievably pathetic.

Knowing this will end soon feels like absolutely torture and Lucius struggles with that reality with each contraction of your walls. His thrusts remain erratic, but he stopped caring. His hand loosens in your hair and squeezes harder against your hip when your back arches. He catches you taking glimpses of him over your shoulder and chuckles at your desperation. Though, his is just as bad. He’s never known how desperately he needed this from you.

“Perhaps I should’ve left you on your ass.”

“Maybe,” you pant nonchalantly. “At least I would’ve been granted the pleasure of seeing your face when you release.”

He tugs you closer and uses the chair to prop his own leg up before dropping his hand from your hair entirely and lowering it to your jawline. He grasps it hard and you groan against the touch.

“You want to see my face when I release?” He laughs coldly. “Well, here I am.”

He stares into your lidded eyes and smirks at how fucked out and beautiful you look taking his cock.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

It’s a backhanded compliment, but he lets you let it out an exasperated giggle. It rumbles in your throat underneath his hand and drives him mad.

“How many cocks have you taken?”

You blink blankly, surprised by the question, the forwardness. You’re prepared to force out an answer, but his hand tightens around the base of your throat, squeezes just enough to cut off air.

“The truth,” he adds. “Only the truth.”

He loosens his grip a smidge and you gasp the words, “Only yours.”

Lucius’ eyes go grim and he squeezes your throat again. Your cheeks burn hot in embarrassment.

“The truth, Y/n!”

Your core aches at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue and you shiver against him.

“Just yours, Lucius.”

His heartbeat quickens and he draws your lips back to his, forcing himself deeper with the twist. You squirm under the pressure and grasp the edge of the desk for stability as your back arches with each thrust of his hips and his breathing draws shakily against your mouth.

“Y/n,” he grunts. “I… You—your first?”

His eyebrows twitch and his body shivers. A low hum leaves your mouth, completely in tune with the way his body quivers against yours. You focus on the way your own heart begins to race in your chest, a deep thrumming that has you gasping with the tightening inside your core. Your core burns as you hold back your orgasm. You know he’s earned it, but he isn’t there just yet.

Lucius squeezes tighter and you rock your hips back to meet his. His eyes go wide, then roll with a hiss slipping from him mouth simultaneously.

“Shit!”

“Lucius…”

He sneers and slips behind you again, completely withdrawing from your view. He can’t look you in the eyes right now or his load will be buried so deep inside of you that he’ll have a new set of problems on his plate. His wife, his son. He already feels that he isn’t a good enough husband or father. His job at the Ministry is demanding, and you… Merlin, you are going to be the absolute end of him.

He ruts his hips forward in long, hard motions until the only noises filling the study are the sounds of your ass clapping against his groin, the sloppiness of your arousal sticking to his shaft, and your moans drowning out his own. He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts, sinking you down to his balls with each sweep. And your cries…

“Fuck,” he whimpers and shakes at the knees.

He plants both hands on your hips and stares at anything else but your body leaned over his desk, obeying his every command, and rewarding him with its own sweetness.

“Cum for me,” he growls lowly.

Your moans are so loud that you can barely hear the order. You’ve been teetering on the edge for minutes now, barely able to hold your own release back any longer.

“Cum for me now,” he demands. “Or I.. I’ll….”

You rock your hips and Lucius lets out a deafening groan that sends you overboard. Your walls tense around him and your body flushes hot as you milk him dry. He sputters and grasps your ass, your hips, your waist, then with agonizing discipline, he slips out of your squelching warmth and explodes all over you with a roar. Warmth explodes all over your backside, your thighs, your ass, and you collapse on your arms against the desk. Your legs shake terribly and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to stand much longer.

Lucius’s groans stifle into breathy pants and the familiar squeaking of chair behind you fills your ears as he pulls you down into his lap. Your legs almost give out with the action and his eyes are full of nothing but hot rage. He splays your legs apart and clamps his hand over your cunt, feeling the stickiness of your own orgasm between your thighs. He watches you intently, studies you and the way your body shutters softly with his touch. Then, his own need for control returns, washes over him in a powerful wave.

He swirls his fingers just as he’d watched you do, just the way you like it. Your head snaps back, nipples peaking once more and your moan filling his ears with that sweet melody he’ll never forget. He hates how pretty you look when you cry, but he loves how responsive your body is to his every touch.

“Lucius… please…” you pant softly, eyes already rolling.

“I don’t recall saying we were done,” he muses.

His fingers run between your trembling folds and you jerk forward with a breathy howl.

You catch sight of his vile smile as you tremble in overstimulating pleasure and you bite back a demanding moan knowing this is now his own form of torture.

Lucius’ brows raise as he watches you struggle to regain your own control. Just when you think you have it, he lets out a soft sigh. Something along the lines of, “Happy Christmas,” fills your ears in a deep groan just before he plunges his fingers into your needy cunt and takes you all over again, completely reminding you who is always, truly in control.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fanfics:

⚡︎ Keep Me (In the Shadows) (m.) - Draco Malfoy x reader

⚡︎ Lost Love (m.) - Lucien Vanserra x Rhysand x reader

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Perfect Storm (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

December 2024

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bey0nd-1he-stars · 1 year ago

Text

I know Snape was the only death eater that was able to produce a patrons and I’d just like to beg your pardon.

Snape conjured a patrons based on an obsession. What he had for Lily might have been love once but let be real, we’ve surpassed that phase. Now it feels like it’s just an obsession over her.

Other than Lily, his life was fucking miserable. His father was a prat and his mother was weird. He got bullied at school and he doesn’t really seem to enjoy his teaching life very much.

It’s also portrayed that his patronus is conjured from love and not happiness.

So excuse me if I feel like any other death eater has happier memories than Severus Snape.

Lucius Malfoy, he’s respected at the ministry and has a wife, a son that he at least cares about, a nice ass mansion. He’s wealthy and grew up in a famous, rich family, why can’t he conjure a patronus?

Bellatrix Lestrange, like the only death eater who really enjoys what she’s doing with Voldemort. She straight up laughs when killing Sirius. Why can’t she conjure a patronus?

Regulus Black, whose love for his god damn house elf got himself killed. Why can’t he conjure a patronus?

Narcissa Malfoy, who loves her son more than anything, so much that she straight up lied to Voldemort who can read minds just because there’s a chance her son is still alive. Why can’t she conjure a patronus?

Why can’t any of the death eaters conjure a patronus especially since Harry, at 13 years old, could do it based on a made up memory.

It’s a shit excuse to get people to like Snape more.

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evermoreness · 4 days ago

Text

meeting the family | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x reader!

summary: your boyfriend invites you to be his plus one in the wedding of his cousin, Narcissa, and now you have to meet the whole family.

obs: reader is james potter's sister!

obs2: i'm taking requests so feel free to send me any ideas!

Meeting everyone

The day of the wedding arrived, and as you stood beside Regulus at the entrance to the sprawling Malfoy estate, your heart raced. The grandeur of the event was overwhelming. The massive, immaculately manicured yard stretched endlessly before them, lined with silk-draped tables, gold accents, and enchanted chandeliers floating in midair. Peacocks roamed the grounds, their iridescent feathers gleaming in the sunlight. It was ostentatious to a fault—just as one would expect from the Blacks and Malfoys.

Regulus, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit with a silver trim, placed a reassuring hand on the small of your back. You glanced up at him, your nervousness clear despite your polished exterior. You wore an elegant dark green gown, subtly matching his attire, with your hair styled neatly to showcase the delicate silver necklace he had gifted you months ago.

“You look breathtaking, ma chérie,” Regulus whispered as he leaned down slightly, his lips brushing your ear. “They’ll all be jealous.”

You managed a small smile, your voice barely above a whisper. “Reggie, they’ll all be judging. I’m a Potter, remember?”

Regulus smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let them. None of them could ever dream of being as remarkable as you.”

His words steadied your nerves, and you straightened your posture, slipping your hand into his. Together, you walked onto the grounds, where the most elite members of the wizarding world mingled in clusters. Heads turned as you approached.

The first to notice them was Bellatrix Lestrange, her piercing dark eyes narrowing at the sight of you. She was clad in a flowing black gown, her wild curls framing her pale face like a chaotic halo. “Well, well,” she drawled, stepping closer. “Regulus, darling, I didn’t know you’d be bringing… company.”

“Bellatrix,” Regulus said coolly, his tone polite but distant. “This is y/n Potter, my girlfriend.”

You extended your hand, forcing yourself to smile despite the intensity of Bellatrix’s gaze. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Bellatrix didn’t take the hand. Instead, she smirked, her eyes scanning you from head to toe. “A Potter? How… unexpected. Tell me, Regulus, how did you manage to… tame one?”

Regulus’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, but his expression remained neutral. “She is unlike anyone you’ve ever met,” he said simply. “And she’s far from tame.”

You bit back a laugh at his subtle jab, and Bellatrix’s smirk faltered for a moment before she let out a low chuckle. “Interesting. Let’s hope she doesn’t disappoint.”

Before Bellatrix could say more, Narcissa Malfoy appeared, radiant in her bridal gown. Her platinum blonde hair was pinned up in an elegant twist, and her expression was far warmer than Bellatrix’s. “Regulus,” she greeted warmly, her sharp blue eyes flicking to you. “And you must be y/n. Lucius told me you’d be attending.”

You exhaled in relief, extending your hand again. This time, it was taken. “It’s lovely to meet you. Congratulations on your wedding, Narcissa.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa said, smiling faintly. “I must say, it’s… refreshing to see someone new among us. You carry yourself well.”

“She carries herself better than most,” Regulus said softly, his pride evident.

You continued to make their way around, meeting the extended Black family and their associates. You kept your composure, maintaining a perfect balance of politeness and confidence, though inside, your nerves were on fire. You were not being yourself, you knew that you had to maintain certain posture around the Black family. Each encounter was another test, another judgment, but Regulus stayed firmly by your side, his hand never leaving yours.

When you finally reached Lucius Malfoy, you were greeted with a calculating smile. Lucius, with his long blond hair and tailored silver robes, exuded the air of someone who always got what he wanted.

“Regulus,” Lucius said smoothly. “And Miss Potter. It’s an honor to meet you.”

You nodded, returning his smile with one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “The honor is mine.”

“Tell me,” Lucius continued, his tone laced with curiosity, “what’s it like, being a Potter in such… unique company?”

“It’s an adjustment,” You replied evenly. “But I’m fortunate to have someone like Regulus to guide me.”

Lucius glanced at Regulus, who met his gaze without flinching. “You’ve chosen well, cousin,” Lucius said finally.

As the conversation dwindled and the ceremony neared, Regulus led you to a quieter corner of the yard. He turned to you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

“You’re incredible, mon amour,” he said, his voice low and full of admiration.

You sighed, leaning into him. “I was terrified. Did I pass their tests?”

“You didn’t just pass—you outshone them all,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You smiled, your confidence returning. “Well, I do have an excellent coach.”

Regulus chuckled. “That you do, ma chérie.”

As you stood there, a moment of calm amidst the chaos, you realized just how much you loved him—not just for his quiet strength, but for the way he made you feel like you could conquer anything. And for Regulus, seeing you hold your own in the lion’s den of his family only deepened his admiration for you.

Regulus and you had just found a moment to yourselves, tucked in a quieter corner of the Malfoy’s grand yard, when the sound of familiar, measured footsteps made you both turn. Walburga and Orion Black approached, their presence immediately commanding attention. Both carried an air of stern elegance: Walburga in a dark green gown adorned with intricate silver embroidery, her expression sharp and calculating, and Orion in his traditional black robes, his face as impassive as stone.

Regulus subtly straightened his posture, his usual cool demeanor firmly in place, though you could feel the slight tension in the way his hand pressed against your back.

“Regulus,” Walburga greeted curtly, her piercing gaze sweeping over him before settling on you. “And this must be… the Potter girl.”

“Mother. Father,” Regulus said, his tone polite but distant. “This is y/n Potter. My girlfriend.”

You stepped forward, your heart racing but her expression composed. You extended your hand to Walburga first, offering a poised smile. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Black.”

Walburga’s lips curled into a faint, approving smile as she accepted the handshake, her grip surprisingly firm. “Hmm. You carry yourself well,” she remarked, her tone laced with curiosity. “Not what I expected from a Potter.”

Your smile didn’t falter. “I can imagine my family has quite the reputation, but I assure you, I value decorum and tradition as much as anyone here.”

Orion’s deep, gravelly voice cut in as he extended his hand to you. “And what of your brother? James Potter is hardly known for his… restraint.”

You shook his hand with the same composed grace. “James and I are quite different, Mr. Black. He’s bold and extroverted, whereas I’ve always preferred a quieter, more thoughtful approach. Perhaps that’s why Regulus and I understand each other so well.”

Orion’s dark eyes flicked to Regulus, who met his father’s gaze with a steady calm. “Indeed,” Orion said after a moment, his voice betraying a hint of approval.

Walburga tilted her head, her sharp eyes studying you as if searching for flaws. “And you both are from different houses. An unconventional match.”

You inclined your head slightly, your smile unwavering. “Perhaps, but I believe intelligence and ambition aren’t confined to any one house. Regulus and I complement each other.”

Regulus’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, his pride in her unmistakable. “She excels in everything she does,” he added, his tone carrying just enough warmth to soften his usual stoicism. “She’s the most brilliant person I know.”

You shot him a subtle, grateful glance before turning back to his parents. “Regulus has always spoken highly of you both,” she said smoothly. “He values his family deeply, and it’s clear where his refinement and discipline come from.” You never lied so much in such little time, but you were doing this for Regulus. He wanted his parents to approve you.

Walburga’s expression shifted, a hint of pride creeping into her features. “You’ve been taught well,” she said, almost grudgingly. “And you’re perceptive. A valuable trait.”

You inclined your head again, your smile just the right mix of humility and confidence. “Thank you, Mrs. Black.”

Orion nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting between you and Regulus. “It’s clear you’ve chosen wisely, Regulus. A woman who understands the importance of poise and intellect.”

Regulus’s voice was steady, but there was an underlying warmth as he responded, “I wouldn’t be with anyone less.”

Walburga regarded you for another long moment before finally saying, “Well, Miss Potter, I trust you’ll conduct yourself appropriately during tonight’s events. The Black family values appearances, and as someone… associated with us, your behavior reflects on Regulus.”

“Of course,” You replied smoothly, your tone respectful but firm. “I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Walburga gave a curt nod, seemingly satisfied. “Very well.”

Orion’s expression softened ever so slightly as he looked at you. “Enjoy the evening. And... welcome.”

As they walked away, Regulus exhaled quietly, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since the encounter began.

“You were perfect, mon amour,” he murmured, turning to you with a small, genuine smile.

You let out a soft laugh, relief flooding you. “I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest.”

Regulus chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You handled them better than most people ever could. I’ve never seen my mother warm up to someone so quickly.”

“Well,” You teased, leaning closer, “I had to impress them. You’re worth it.”

Regulus’s eyes softened, and he cupped your cheek gently. “You don’t have to try to impress anyone, ma chérie. You’re already more than enough.”

You smiled up at him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. “Thank you, love. But let’s just say I’m glad that’s over.”

“For now,” Regulus said, his voice laced with dry humor. “The rest of the night will likely be filled with more questions and judgmental stares.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “As long as you’re by my side, I can handle anything.”

“And I’ll always be by your side,” he promised softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The two lingered for a moment, savoring the quiet victory of the encounter before returning to the bustling crowd, ready to face whatever the evening held—together.

After the ceremony

The grand dining hall of the Malfoy mansion was nothing short of spectacular. Long tables adorned with shimmering silver tablecloths stretched across the room, illuminated by floating crystal chandeliers. Plates were intricately decorated, and the posh food ranged from delicate appetizers to decadent main courses. Despite the grandeur, you felt at ease as long as you were with Regulus. You sat at a small table near the edge of the room, away from the center of attention, which suited you both perfectly.

Regulus, as usual, maintained his calm, composed demeanor, though you could sense his subtle pride as he glanced at you every now and then. You two were deeply engrossed in conversation, your quiet laughter and shared smiles creating a little bubble that seemed impenetrable.

“Regulus, you’re not going to try the duck confit?” You teased, pointing at the untouched dish on his plate. “It’s delicious.”

He smirked faintly, his fork idly pushing at the food. “I’ll take your word for it, mon amour. I’m more interested in hearing about the new book you started.”

Before you could respond, the sound of chairs shifting nearby caught their attention. Regulus’s cousins, Bellatrix and Andromeda, approached your table, their contrasting energies immediately filling the space. Bellatrix’s dark, piercing eyes locked onto yours with curiosity, while Andromeda’s softer gaze held a friendly warmth.

“Regulus,” Bellatrix drawled, her voice sharp and commanding as she took a seat uninvited. “And the infamous Potter.”

“Andromeda,” Regulus greeted coolly, his tone polite but distant. “Bellatrix.”

Thaís straightened in her seat, offering a poised smile. “It’s lovely to meet you both.”

Bellatrix tilted her head, her dark curls framing her intense expression. “A Potter at a Black family event. Now that’s a sight I never thought I’d see.”

Andromeda smiled kindly. “Don’t mind Bella; she’s always dramatic. Y/n, I’ve been curious about you. Reg speaks highly of you.”

You glanced at Regulus, whose expression remained unreadable, though you caught the faintest twitch of smile at the corner of his lips. “Well, I hope I live up to the expectations,” you said lightly, your tone disarming.

Bellatrix leaned forward, her sharp gaze fixed on you. “So, tell me, little Potter, what is it about my dear cousin that caught your attention? Surely you’ve noticed he’s not the most… forthcoming person.”

Regulus’s jaw tightened, but you placed a reassuring hand on his arm before responding with a gentle smile. “Regulus doesn’t need to be forthcoming. His actions speak volumes. He’s kind, intelligent, and steadfast, and I admire that deeply.”

Andromeda raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You’re quite eloquent. I imagine that comes in handy with your family.”

You nodded, your smile never faltering. “It does. Growing up with James taught me how to handle strong personalities.”

Bellatrix smirked, leaning back in her chair. “You’re sharp, I’ll give you that. But tell me, how do you feel about the Black family’s… reputation?”

You met Bellatrix’s gaze head-on, your voice steady. “Reputations are just that—reputations. I believe in judging people based on my interactions with them. So far, I’ve found that Regulus and I share values that matter to us both.”

Bellatrix’s smirk softened into something almost approving. “Hmph. You’ve got nerve. I like that.”

Andromeda’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. Regulus, I think you’ve found someone who can keep up with you.”

Regulus’s voice was calm as he responded, trying to hide a little smile “She is the only one who can, i think."

You looked at Regulus with a smile, Bellatrix rolled her eyes and just walked away. Bellatrix didn't have time for those romantic things.

Andromeda rolled her eyes but smiled at you. “It was lovely meeting you. If you ever tire of Bella’s dramatics, find me. I’d love to chat more.”

“Thank you, Andromeda,” you replied warmly, watching as she walked away.

As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned to Regulus, your expression a mix of amusement and relief. “Your family certainly knows how to put someone through their paces.”

Regulus smirked, his hand brushing yours under the table. “You handled them flawlessly, ma chérie. I’m proud of you.”

You leaned closer, your voice soft and teasing. “You know, love, if I can survive Bellatrix’s interrogation, I think I can handle anything.”

Regulus chuckled, his cold exterior melting away as he looked at you with pure affection. “I have no doubt, mon cœur. You’re extraordinary.”

You sat there for a moment longer, your little bubble intact once again, oblivious to the curious glances from the rest of the room. It didn’t matter what anyone thought—as long as you had each other, they were unstoppable.

The first dance

The grand hall transformed into a scene of elegance as the newlyweds took to the center of the floor. Narcissa and Lucius moved gracefully, their movements perfectly synchronized, and all eyes were on them. The orchestra played a soft waltz that echoed through the room, and soon the floor was open for the other guests to join in.

Regulus turned to you, his expression softening as the music filled the air. With a slight bow, he extended his hand to you, his movements impossibly graceful and refined. “Mon amour,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “May I have this dance?”

You blinked in surprise, glancing around nervously at the other couples already gliding across the floor. “Reggie, I don’t know how to—”

“I’ll teach you,” he interrupted, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Trust me, ma chérie. You’ll be perfect.”

You hesitated for a moment before slipping your hand into his, his warmth immediately soothing your nerves. “Alright,” you said with a small laugh. “Just don’t let me step on your toes.”

“Even if you do, I’d gladly endure it,” he teased, guiding you onto the dance floor.

As you found a spot among the other couples, Regulus positioned your hands carefully—one resting on his shoulder, the other clasped gently in his. His own hand settled lightly on your waist, and he looked down at you with an expression of calm assurance.

“Now,” he said softly, his voice low enough for only you to hear, “follow my lead. It’s all about trusting the rhythm and letting me guide you.”

You laughed nervously, glancing at your feet. “Easy for you to say. You’ve probably been doing this since you could walk.”

Regulus chuckled, his breath warm against your temple. “True, but that just means you’re learning from the best.”

With that, he began to move, taking slow, deliberate steps to match the music’s rhythm. You stumbled slightly at first, your movements awkward and uncertain, but Regulus steadied you each time with a firm yet gentle hold.

“You’re doing wonderfully, mon cœur,” he said, his tone encouraging.

“You’re just saying that because you love me,” you replied with a mock pout, though your cheeks were flushed with both effort and delight.

He smirked, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “That’s true. But it doesn’t make it any less genuine.”

As the song continued, you began to find your footing, your movements becoming more fluid with each step. Regulus’s guidance was unwavering, his focus entirely on you.

“You’re a natural,” he said after a moment, his voice filled with quiet pride.

You laughed, your eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ll take the compliment.”

He spun you gently, your laughter ringing out as you twirled back into his arms. “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“I might be,” you admitted, smiling up at him. “You’re not a bad teacher, Reggie.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Not bad? I’ll have you know, I’m the best dance partner you’ll ever have.”

You grinned, leaning in closer as you swayed. “You might be right about that.”

You two moved in perfect harmony now, your steps light and effortless. The rest of the room seemed to fade away as you focused entirely on each other. You felt as though you were floating, your earlier nervousness replaced by a sense of pure joy.

As the song came to an end, Regulus dipped you gracefully, his dark eyes locking with yours. “See?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I told you you’d be perfect.”

Your heart swelled at the tenderness in his gaze, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Only because I have you.”

Straightening you up, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “And you’ll always have me,” he promised.

The next song began, but neither of you noticed. You remained in their little bubble, completely absorbed in each other. Around you, members of the Black family exchanged glances, their curiosity and surprise evident. But Regulus didn’t care about anyone else. He had you, and that was all that mattered.

After the dance

Regulus and you sat on a small stone bench tucked away in the corner of the vast Malfoy estate gardens. The soft hum of the wedding festivities filled the air, but you were blissfully removed from the noise, your world narrowed down to just the two of you. You leaned back against the bench, a soft smile playing on your lips as you nudged Regulus playfully with your elbow.

"Two dances, Reggie. I’m impressed. I didn’t know you had such stamina," you teased, your brown eyes twinkling.

Regulus smirked, leaning slightly closer to you. “If you behave, I’ll let you see more of them.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “Behave? Have you met me?”

“Good point,” he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. “You’re lucky I adore your rebellious streak.”

Before you could respond, a soft voice interrupted you. “Well, don’t you two look cozy?”

You turned to see Narcissa standing before you, her elegant figure framed by the soft glow of the lanterns dotting the garden. Her silvery-blonde hair was styled to perfection, and her pale blue gown shimmered in the evening light. She smiled warmly at you, though there was an unmistakable glint of curiosity in her sharp eyes.

“Cissy,” Regulus greeted her politely, rising to his feet out of habit. He offered a slight nod before gesturing to the bench. “Would you like to join us?”

“I’d love to,” she said gracefully, taking the spot next to you. Her gaze flicked between the two of you, her expression thoughtful. “I wanted to thank you both for coming tonight. It means a great deal to me.”

You smiled, sitting up straighter. “Thank you for inviting us. It’s a beautiful wedding, truly.”

Narcissa’s lips curved into a small smile, though her eyes lingered on Regulus. “You know, tonight is the first time I’ve ever seen my dear cousin smile.”

You blinked in surprise, glancing at Regulus, whose expression remained unreadable. “Really?”

“Really,” Narcissa confirmed, her tone light but sincere. “In all his sixteen years, not once have I seen him look as content as he does tonight.” She tilted her head slightly, her sharp gaze softening as it landed on you. “And I think I know why.”

You felt your cheeks warm under the compliment, but you managed a small laugh. “Well, he doesn’t make it easy. I have to work for those smiles.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Don’t let her fool you, Cissy. She’s the one who’s impossible to resist.”

Narcissa’s smile widened, and she reached over to lightly squeeze your hand. “You’ve done something remarkable, y/n. Regulus has always been so...serious. And cold.” She paused, glancing at her cousin. “You’re still serious and cold, but not with her. She’s your exception, isn’t she?”

You glanced at Regulus, your heart swelling at the way he looked at you—soft and unguarded, his icy exterior melting in your presence.

“She is,” Regulus admitted quietly, his voice low but firm.

Narcissa’s expression softened, and she leaned back slightly. “I’m glad. You deserve someone like her, Regulus. Someone who makes you happy.”

There was a beat of silence before Narcissa added, her tone light and teasing, “I suppose I should start preparing for another wedding in a few years.”

You and Regulus both froze, exchanging a wide-eyed glance. You quickly recovered, laughing nervously. “That’s a bit ahead of schedule, don’t you think?”

Narcissa shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. “Perhaps. But it’s clear to everyone here that you two are something special.”

Regulus cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “We’re taking things one step at a time, Cissy.”

Sensing his unease, you quickly shifted the conversation. “So, Cissy, do you want to have kids someday?”

Narcissa’s expression softened, and she smiled. “Yes, very much. I’ve always dreamed of having a family. Lucius and I are both excited about the idea.”

You nodded, your curiosity genuine. “I think you’d be a wonderful mother.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa said, her voice warm. She glanced at Regulus, her expression turning thoughtful. “You’ll make a wonderful father someday, too.”

Regulus stiffened slightly, but you reached over to squeeze his hand, grounding him. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” you said lightly, giving him a reassuring smile.

Narcissa chuckled, rising gracefully from the bench. “Fair enough. I’ll leave you two to enjoy the rest of the evening.” She gave them one last smile before walking away, her elegant figure disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as she was gone, you turned to Regulus, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, that was...unexpected.”

Regulus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Cissy means well, but sometimes she has a knack for making things uncomfortable.”

You laughed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “You handled it perfectly, Love.”

He glanced down at you, his expression softening. “You’re the only one who makes any of this bearable, mon amour.”

You smiled, your heart full as she looked up at him. “And you’re the only one who makes me feel this way, Reggie.”

For a moment, you sat in silence, your connection stronger than ever. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you would face them together.

Regulus and you remained on the stone bench, the distant hum of the wedding festivities growing faint around you as you slipped deeper into their little world. You rested your head on Regulus’s shoulder, your fingers interlocked with his, and the peace of the moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

After a few moments of silence, you tilted your head up to look at him, your voice soft. “So...marriage and kids, huh? That’s a big topic for a wedding night.”

Regulus chuckled, a rare, quiet sound that made your heart flutter. “Blame Narcissa for bringing it up.” He turned to face you, his green eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip. “Although...if it were up to me, I’d marry you right now.”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in surprise. “Regulus!”

“I mean it,” he said, his tone unwavering. “If I could, I’d marry you tonight. Right here, right now.”

You stared at him, your heart racing. “You’re serious.”

“Completely.” He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight. "I can’t imagine a future without you in it. It doesn’t matter where we are, what’s happening around us...you’re the only constant I need.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and you blinked rapidly to keep your tears at bay. “Reggie, I...I feel the same way. I can’t picture my life without you. But…” you hesitated, biting your lip. “Your family, this name—being a Black. It’s a lot to think about.”

Regulus’s gaze softened, and he cupped your cheek with one hand. “I know it’s overwhelming, mon cœur. But you’re not just marrying the name. You’d be marrying me.”

You leaned into his touch, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s the only part I care about.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Good. Because I don’t care about anything else, either.”

You chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, if your family’s anything to go by, I suppose we only have two years to prepare. Isn’t that the Black tradition? Get married as soon as you graduate?”

Regulus smirked, his hand slipping down to take yours again. “Probably. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already planning the guest list.”

You laughed, though a nervous edge crept into your voice. “It’s a little terrifying, honestly. But also…” you glanced at him, your cheeks warming. “Kind of exciting?”

His smirk softened into a gentle smile. “I’ll make sure it’s everything you’ve ever wanted, y/n. I promise.”

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Alright, future husband. Let’s talk about the other part of this—kids.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, a trace of amusement in his expression. “Kids, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” You said, your tone teasing. “How many are we having, Reggie? Ten?”

He laughed softly, the sound rare and warm. “Ten? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

You shrugged, your eyes glinting with mischief. “I think we’d be great parents. Why not a big family?”

Regulus played along, leaning back slightly. “Fine. Ten it is. Whatever you want, ma chérie.”

You burst out laughing, swatting his arm lightly. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, tilting his head to the side. “Alright, since we’re apparently having a brood, we’ll need names. Black family tradition dictates celestial names, of course.”

You giggled. “Of course. Can’t break tradition, can we?”

Regulus pretended to think deeply, his fingers drumming against his knee. “How about Cygnus? Or Lyra? Or Cassiopeia?”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Lyra's nice. Cassiopeia’s a bit much, though. What about something softer? Like Nova?”

Regulus nodded, his eyes lighting up. “Nova’s beautiful. What about Vega? Or Altair?”

You smiled, leaning closer to him. “I like Vega. Altair’s nice, too. You’re pretty good at this.”

He smirked, his gray eyes twinkling. “I’ll let you pick the names, mon cœur. As long as they make you happy, I’ll be happy.”

Your heart swelled, and you squeezed his hand. “Reggie...I never thought I’d be sitting here talking about baby names with you, but I love it. I love that you care about this, about us.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I love you, y/n. And I’ll do whatever it takes to give us the future we deserve.”

You turned your head to look at him, your smile radiant. “I love you too, Reggie. More than anything.”

For the rest of the evening, you stayed in your little corner of the garden, dreaming about the future you would build together. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, you knew you could face anything as long as you had each other.

#harry potter #regulus black x reader #fanfic #marauders era #regulus black #regulus black x you #x reader #x yn #narcissa malfoy #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #the black brothers #james potter

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wordsarelife · 5 months ago

Text

—the black dog

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: the war awakes something in theo you hadn't thought was even there. you battle with your feelings of heartbreak, while you try to forget his everlasting presence in your life

warnings: mentions of death, grief, pain and torture. canon typical violence. this is very much heartbreak through and through

note: this isn't exactly what you asked for but your request inspired me to write this. i feel like it was important to highlight the complicated relationship that theo and reader resulted in because of the war.

theo and draco are cousins in this.

"would you please just talk to me?" you screamed. he had been acting weird for a few days now.

at first you hadn't thought anything of it, not at the beginning. it had started with draco, who had been strange since the school year started, staying behind when the rest of you would go somewhere or disappearing in the middle of dinner.

you had tried talking to him, you had grown closer over the time you and theo were together. you had quickly realized that it was hard for draco to build relationships, partly because he wasn't sure how and partly because he was scared of being left.

you had done a pretty good job at showing him that you were going nowhere and that he, even if theo and you should break up one day, would still be your friend.

you had thought that it had something to do with his parents. he didn't mention them often and you had only met them once, during a visit to the manor for a festivity during the winter break of the fifth year. you admitted that you didn't know them well, but it was easy enough for you to judge narcissa malfoy and the connection she had to her son. the love that kept her from ever risking something happening to him.

whatever was going on with him, his mother was well informed and probably already searching for a solution.

but draco had made it clear to you that he wanted to be left alone and you didn't push him to tell you more, just comforted him whenever he would let you or pansy.

his weird behavior had been a constant throughout the entire year, until the point where it had influenced mattheo and enzo to act just as suspiciously and if you thought it couldn't get worse, you had been wrong.

"i can't" theo muttered between clenched teeth, and you tried to look at his face as he frantically turned away from you.

"is it about harry? is it about something he said to draco? did he say something to you?"

harry and the rest of your gryffindor friends were normally a topic you strictly avoided when in company of the slytherins and especially draco. you didn't agree on the childish rivalry they had going on and rather just kept out of that. but now that you thought about it, harry had been acting just as strange as draco had since the beginning of the year.

"potter doesn't matter, y/n" theo pressed his hands on both your shoulders, scaring you with the look on his face.

"let me help you, love" you tried to not let it affect you, to not let the fear shine through your voice and honestly, you weren't scared of him, but of what would happen to the boy you loved so desperately it felt like breathing.

"you can't" theo shook his head. "but you have to get ouf of the castle immediately, promise it to me"

"what? why should i--"

"you have to promise it" theo repeated louder, desperate and teary eyed as he stared at you like you had already died.

the threatening war had made it harder to overlook the differences between you and the slytherins. you were a pureblooded witch, but definitely didn't share the same views about blood purity your friends did.

"okay" you cooed, taking him into your arms. "i promise, i promise anything you want"

theo didn't leave much room for questions when he told you to get off the hogwarts grounds and apparate home to your parents a few minutes later. you were scared and confused, as you watched the fear in his eyes flame up at whatever was coming. there was something he was not telling you and it simply broke your heart, knowing that he had to go through it alone.

you weren't sure what took over you, when you heard a familar laugh, one that was so earth shattering and haunting, you couldn't help but dash back into the castle, despite what you had promised your boyfriend, his name repeating over and over again in your mind.

you took two stairs at once, sprinting up the tower, wand in hand and ready to jump to theo's defense.

"you made mummy so proud, boys" bellatrix said and you wanted to throw up at the tone in her voice. you could just imagine enzo and mattheo, or what was left of them, looking at their mother, not one bit of love or familiarity on their face. just fear.

before you could climb the rest of the stairs, a hand grabbed you, pulling you to the side, behind old school supplies. the persons other hand was pressed onto your mouth and your eyes grew big until you noticed harry, stoic expression, not amused at seeing you.

"harry" you muttered relieved.

"what are you doing here?" harry whispered, not caring for the fear in your voice or the intent you had had coming up here in the first place.

before you could answer, bellatrix spoke once again.

"your boy has surely made you proud too, nott" she giggled. "just like our draco will make his parents in just a few minutes"

your eyes went up to the floor above you like your own name had been called. it wasn't even theo she had called by the name and still you could just imagine his slumped down shoulders and sickly expression. the same he had been spotting these past few days.

harry watched you closely, as if to make sure you would keep quiet, before his eyes turned back up too.

“do it” bellaxtrix hissed at draco, who had raised his wand at dumbledore.

harry and you exchanged glances, before he too, raised his wand. you gripped on his arms tightly, shaking your head at him.

“we can’t” you mouthed.

“dumbledore” harry whispered. you shook your head again, tears spilling over your cheeks.

your eyes left harry and wandered back through the floorboards. you couldn’t see theo, enzo, and mattheo, but draco was clearly shaking in fear and you couldn’t help but be worried about him.

“draco” bellaxtrix encouraged once more “do it!”

“he’s not brave enough, bellatrix” notts voice rang out sounding as triumphantly as possible. you heard movement on the floor, a pair of dark shoes stepping forward and you wondered what nott was planning to do, when your heart suddenly stopped beating.

“avada kedavra” a voice muttered, wand raised and aimed at dumbledore, who fell backwards so slowly as if time had stopped.

harry gripped your arm, your body still frozen, as your eyes stayed focused on notts shoes. theodore notts shoes. not his father. theo, your theo.

theo had just killed dumbledore.

one part of you wanted to scream, jump into the open and scream at him or bellatrix or all the people a few steps above you, but the other part, the unstoppable dread, was aching to hide away from all of it, to just go and never come back.

how could you ever look at him again after what you had just witnessed? would he still be the same after he had done something like this? you couldn’t. he wouldn’t. your heart ripped open.

“y/n” harry whispered, pushing you back to hide the both of you behind some old astronomy maps. footsteps descended down the stairs and out of the tower and you felt like you could breathe again once he had left.

you sank to your knees immediately. harry still watched the space around you, not sure if you were entirely safe yet.

someone ran up the stairs. harry tried grabbing you to push you back behind the old things, to shield you from whoever was coming back and trying to finish the job.

it was snape and harry felt relieved for the first time upon seeing the teacher. he didn’t fully trust him, but dumbledore did. also, snape was a far better option than any of the death eaters.

snapes eyes jumped between harry and you on the ground, before they turned to look up the stairs.

“they’re gone” harry said, voice raised to drown out your sobbing, before he bent down once more and helped you back onto your feet. he pulled you close, to bring you comfort and shield your tear spilled face from snape's penetrating gaze.

harry wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he could almost see a bit of pity in snape’s eyes, when the man watched you stand on your shivering legs, only held up by harry, as if your body was too heavy to stand on it’s own.

it was just suddenly that the meaning of snape's presence painted a clear picture in your mind. narcissa malfoy hadn't found a solution, no she had found something that was even better: a substitute, someone to step in, when draco would ultimately fail upon the task he had been given.

and tiberius nott had done the same, only that he had proudly sold out his son instead of sparing his life.

you threw off harry’s arms, walking across the room, step by step, until you were standing in front of the teacher, ready to bash his head in.

“you are too late” you cried, not caring if spit or tears or anything else fell onto his robes. you stabbed a finger to his chest. “it’s your job to help. why didn’t you help him?” you cried.

snape furrowed his brows in confusion. “draco?” he asked in his normal tone, but a little bit of surprise broke through. just like you had thought. not even snape had held draco for capable of fulfilling his task.

you shook your head. slowly, bitterly. It was unfair that you had to say his name, that you had to recapture the event like a missed quidditch game, that snape had been late enough to miss it, but perfectly on time to watch your life fall apart.

you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. couldn’t even mutter the name that had been the most beautiful thing to you these past years, there was nothing left. no meaning behind those letters and still you couldn’t do it. “nott” you said.

it was over.

“nott?” snape repeated, as if he was daring you to finally say what you had been dreading.

“junior” harry muttered. you turned your head at him and he looked down on his shoes, as if he was ashamed you had heard him.

“surprisingly unexpected” snape noted, like you had been discussing the weather.

“what?” you muttered, your voice strained.

“y/n” harry said softly and you could hear him coming closer. you broke apart from snape, slapping his hand away when he tried reaching for your arm in an unusual caring manner.

“you failed him” you spit at him, before you stormed out of the tower, harry hot on your heels.

bellaxtrix and the rest of the deatheaters, were jumping down the grass path to hagrids hut. following behind them were draco, enzo, mattheo and finally theo, who stepped out of the castle as last.

they had probably strolled through the halls, bringing their inevitable destruction into the home you had grown to love and cherish.

harry and you had watched them from the side of the entryway, dried tears on your cheeks and the anger taking over the pain that had tightened your chest. you loved him, but you couldn't believe that he had had no choice.

killing someone was not debatable.

you had watched in susprise when theo had not been there with them, but your surprise had been quickly taken over by even more anger, when he finally strolled through the door, hands in his pockets, like he was talking a late evening stroll.

your hand wept forward without so much as a thought, gripping the material of his tie and yanking him back.

theo made a gurgling sound, briefly breathless, and it was only his surprise that allowed you to measure up enough strength to effectively pull him back. that and your anger.

harry helped you as he pushed theo against the wall, wand at his throat.

theo took a big breath as soon as you let go of his tie, his eyes widened in surprise as he completely ignored harry and only looked at you, your face cast with shadows of the darkness in the creeping night and the regret that was so evident it only pained him further.

"didn't i tell you to go home?" it didn't surprise you that there was still a hint of superiority in his voice, even if it had faltered tremendously.

"you knew about all of it, didn't you?" you asked instead.

"y/n" theo sighed, in a tone as if he was inspecting a failed task for a homework you hadn't been able to finish. "i can explain"

"i don't think you should" you muttered and you were doing your best to not let the look of helplessness that now entered his face break your heart any further. "i just think i speak for the both of us, when i say that it's over"

"y/n" theo pleaded, pushing against harry's hold to try and reach for you. you stepped back and harry pushed the tip of his wand deeper into theo's neck.

you shook your head, not having it in you to look at him, before you turned around. "do what you have to do" you left the two of them alone, knowing that harry was just waiting to punish theo for killing one of the most important people to him.

you couldn't muster up the courage to even care about what would happen to him. your anger at snape had evaporated as fast as it had come. theo had it in him to kill and snape's late arrival changed nothing about that.

the person you had loved died together with the headmaster.

everything had been lost the moment he had muttered the curse, leaving behind a hurricane of feelings in your heart, but no one left to love in this world.

you did not waste another thought for him, pushing his name so far away from your mind, you almost forgot about him completely.

but a three-year relationship wasn't just consisting of memories, but of habits too and you found yourself thinking about possibilities in the dead of night.

possibilities that you had thought to be endless before, but of which was only one left now.

what if theo hadn't killed dumbledore?

your friends were clearly worried about you. hermione and ginny never left you alone during your stay in the burrow or during the nights, which had to have been the most haunting. the time were you most experienced his loss, as nightmares were plaguing your mind and fear was taking over your senses, feeling like you had made a mistake with theo. even if your friends and the weasleys said something different.

it was the same restlessness that lead to you following hermione, ron and harry on an adventure that was trying to fulfill an impossible task.

but there was no hope left if you didn't at least try what had been asked of you and you were smart enough to realize that.

even though you were always together, the time you were on the road seemed to be the most lonely you had ever felt and you found yourself thinking more about theo than you had wanted to.

none of your friends dared to say anything to you the next morning, when you would call out his name in your dream, always asking yourself what had happened, and if he was even still alive.

your question was answered in a different way than you had liked, when your group was discovered by deatheaters and brought back to malfoy manor, where not only draco and the malfoys, but theo was staying too.

you hadn't seen him at first, down in the dungeon. but surely they had come to get hermione, bringing her back a few hours later, scarred and crying for mercy as she fell into ron's arms.

it took another hour to call for the other female friend of harry potter.

"the other?" you could draco's voice ask when you were dragged up the stairs and through the halls.

"what other?" it was theo's voice that was now speaking, fear and dread overweighing the curiosity.

the door flew open and five people turned around to gain a look at you.

narcissa and lucius malfoy were sitting in obnoxious chairs, spotting similiar looks of surprise and interest.

bellatrix was hanging over the back of narcissa's chair. her hands pressing down on her younger sister's shoulders, squeezing them as if she was excited.

narcissa suddenly seemed less content, as she heard the similar gasps coming from her sons and nephew's mouths.

draco and theo were staring at you wide-eyed. their faces pale and painfully twisted as they recalled what had happened with harry potter's other friend just hours before.

"oh" bellatrix quirked up when the unknown death eater threw you to the floor and theo and draco dashed forward at the same time to try and catch you, before they were held back by the black haired witch. "do you happen to know her?"

your eyes were fixated on the doors behind you, which fell close with a loud thud as the deatheater who had brought you disappeared.

"no" draco and theo mustered up to stutter at the same time.

you send a glare across the room. it meant nothing, those two were only shells of the boys you had once known. but the innocence had been drained from them like a well run dry in a relentless drought.

"what are we going to do with you?" bellatrix smiled, stepping away from the chair and walking around your body on the floor.

narcissa reached for theo's arm, when he was about to drag bellatrix away from you.

you averted your eyes. not giving her the satisfaction to see the fear in them.

bellatrix looked through your act immediately. "she's a tough one" she noted and her expression of admiration changed to a malicious grin as she saw theo close his eyes.

"you do it" she laughed excitedly, stepping forward and pulling theo into the middle of the room.

"bellatrix, please" narcissa said, not even bothering to stand up and stop her sister from her attempt.

"what, cissy?" bellatrix asked. "you don't think she should be punished for stealing?"

"stealing what?" your voice made bellatrix turn around dramatically.

"would you look at that!" she gushed "the girl can speak!"

"yes" you nodded "and the girl can even tell you that she stole nothing"

"lie" bellatrix giggled and you had to admire her persistence, while the playful tone in her voice kept you on edge, always waiting for the moment she would break into an insanely loud scream.

you had heard not only hermione's cries, but bellatrix' screams from the dungeon. that gave a measure to how loud she was able to scream. and how she could torture until there was nothing left of the person you had once been.

"atta boy!" bellatrix encouraged theo, as she pushed him closer, until he was standing just a few feet from your body.

you wouldn't beg for their mercy. you would die without feigning any regret. if bellatrix really thought you stole something from her, you were glad she was torturing you instead of harry, who was much more important for everything coming after.

you could afford to die so early into the war. you were of no importance for the safety of the wizarding world.

you looked up at theo. the blue of his eyes mixed together with the tears that were already spilling over the edges.

"it shouldn't be hard" you said, voice hoarse and strained. you had been apart for almost ten months and he was still creating a lump in your throat, he was standing for everything that had been lost.

theo exchanged a glance with draco, almost as if begging him to take his place.

"bellatrix, this is madness" narcissa said, a bit stricter now, as if her simple words could really change the mind of someone who had already decided to embrace the madness her sould had been corrupted by.

"oh, cissy" bellatrix giggled "how will he learn? just another step on the path he must take to be granted the honour of the dark lord"

"do it" you said to theo, ignoring what bellatrix was babbling about.

"i can't—“ theo looked back at narcissa, talking to her rather than you.

"do it!" you repeated, louder this time.

"she even wants him to" bellatrix noted, clear amusement in her voice. she was almost excited to find out more about the conflict between you and her nephew.

"she's a pureblooded witch" theo turned to bellatrix, now trying to convince her himself. "she's one of us"

"i'm not" you protested, but bellatrix ignored you, stepping forward and touching theo's cheek softly with the pocket knife that she had taken from her robes, dripping in blood. hermione's blood probably.

"i thought you didn't know her" bellatrix mused "but the knowledge about her blood status suggests otherwise" theo gulped and before he was ready to say something, bellatrix has dragged the weapon across his cheek with one quick gesture, leaving a bleeding cut.

theo looked down quickly, as if to hide his injury from you, but he hadn't missed the gasp of air you had taken, scared that the woman had planned to kill him.

bellatrix stepped back next to her sister. "go on boy, don't make auntie bella angry" she threatened, playing with the knife in her hand.

not even narcissa dared to say something.

"just kill me" you told theo, when he raised his eyes to look at you once more, wand still losely hanging to the side. "you know how to"

"y/n" theo muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

"it doesn't matter" you shook your head. "just do it" you closed your eyes, ready for the stream of the green curse to take over your body and future.

theo did not raise his wand.

"kill me" you said loudly, unforgiving, almost screaming. you opened your eyes to look at your tormentors. apart from bellatrix none of them looked like they were particularly enjoying what was happening.

bellatrix’s eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as if she was savoring the power she held over theo. narcissa’s face was a portrait of conflicted emotions, torn between her loyalty to her sister and her love for her son and nephew. lucius’s gaze darted nervously between the scene unfolding before him, as if hoping for some resolution to the madness. draco was crying and trying to swallow the breaths that were tempting him to throw up right on his aunt's feet.

and theo? theo was rather keen on killing himself than doing you any harm.

you were less forgiving. "kill me like you killed dumbledore!" you screamed, tears falling on the floor in front of you, as your voice echoed off the cold stone walls. the anger in your voice was raw, pure, and unfiltered. theo flinched at the words, his face paling further, if that was even possible. the weight of your demand seemed to crush him, making it even harder for him to act.

you were so indescribably angry. but not at what he had done to you, but rather what he had done to himself. and that in it alone was the reason you would never forgive him.

he had ruined what you had loved. he had killed the person you had loved the most and you had nothing left to care about what would happen to you.

maybe it was his punishment that he had to be the one to kill or torture you.

theo’s grip on his wand faltered as he looked at you with a mixture of horror and heartbreak. he seemed to be struggling not just with what he was being asked to do, but with the shattered remnants of the person he used to be.

bellatrix’s patience wore thin, her frustration evident as she waved her wand dismissively. “enough of this pathetic display,” she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. “the boy is clearly too weak for this task.”

“no!” theo shouted, his voice cracking. “i can’t— i won’t—” his wand dropped to the floor, clattering against the stone with a finality that seemed to reverberate through the room.

the room erupted into chaos as bellatrix’s fury reached its peak. she turned on theo with a rage that was almost as palpable as your own pain. narcissa tried to intervene, her voice pleading, but it was clear that the darkness had already taken hold.

but before she was able to mutter a curse, to torture or kill theo right in front of your eyes, harry, ron and hermione came running in the room, wands raised they started firing spells.

it took you a moment longer to get up. you and theo held eye contact, the boy just a crumpled mess on the floor in front of you. you reached out your hand and took his wand, disarming bellatrix, who began screaming.

the fight was short and unforgiving as the malfoys were throwing spells. draco was struggling to keep up with harry's quick movements and theo did not even make an attempt to stand up. instead he kept his eyes trained on you.

dobby appeared suddenly, calling you to him to bring you to safety, after he had let a chandelier fall onto bellatrix who had held a knife to hermione's throat.

you stepped forward once more, kneeling in front of theo, who looked up at you with curiosity, just hoping you would be taking him with you.

"i will never forgive you" you muttered instead and all hope left his face and heart. you healed the cut on his cheek with a move of his own wand. "you should've killed me and maybe i could've been able to"

you did not look back again as you ran across the room to your friends. you just left him there, on the ground in malfoy manor, as you took dobby's hand and followed your friends into the uncertain.

one heart shattering realisation left with you that day.

theo's gaze would haunt your nightmares. but the possibility of his death would haunt your dreams, as you could only forgive him if he didn't survive.

217 notes · View notes

seriousaboutsiriusblack · 4 months ago

Text

Andromeda: Everybody has a gay cousin

Sirius: I don’t have a gay cousin!

Bellatrix: …

Narcissa: …

Andromeda: …

Regulus: …

Sirius: o wait, I AM the gay cousin

Bellatrix: no kidding, Sherlock!

207 notes · View notes

lenaswritingandstuff · 4 months ago

Text

All I had • Mattheo Riddle x f!reader (Part 2 & END)

Requested: No well I lowkey did

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: After his girlfriend y/n is killed, Mattheo has to deal not only with pain and sorrow, but also cruel accusations (complete original prompt here), and asks someone for help.

Word count: 4.7K

Warnings: mentions of death, lost and grief; cursing ;

A/N: Thank you guys a lot for the good feedback the first part got! Here Mattheo and Tom are also Bellatrix' sons, and Mattheo is older than Harry by one year (so this takes place during Harry's sixth year) and younger than Tom by one year too. There will be two povs in this part, and I might do a bonus scene if (a lot of) people ask. This is my first time writing for Tom (and Voldemort) so I really hope it's alright. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy it!

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @arlxtoa

GIF IS NOT MINE.

PART I

The two Aurors got up and left, and Mattheo blinked. When he opened his eyes again, the cold metallic table and the chairs disappeared, and he was back into the small room with the bed and the floating candles. Weakly, he laid on the bed and crossed his hands on his stomach. He didn’t know how long he had been here, in this room which was more magical than he thought as the bed, the sink and the table that were here when he arrived disappeared every time the Aurors came in, with a metallic table and three chairs surrounded by simple darkness which disappeared when the two men did. However, it must have been at least two days, spent refusing anything he was proposed to eat or drink - strangely enough, though, he wasn’t feeling hungry or thirsty at all - and refusing to say what those two fuckers demanded. Everytime they came in, Mattheo asked if they contacted Tom so he could come, but they refused to answer, insisting with their dumb questions instead.

At first, his brother not coming to his aid had gave Mattheo great anxiety, as he saw it as the only way to prove he didn’t do what they accused him of - his mind refused to use the real words - but now, as time passed and without an answer, all anxiety - which was the only thing he was able to feel besides his pain and empty chest - had left him, leaving only resignation. If he was sent to Azkaban, so be it. After all, even if he didn’t do it, didn’t he deserve it for not being able to protect y/n? He was her boyfriend, who vowed while looking into her eyes, her eyes he was crazy about, to always protect her and save her if needed, and he couldn’t fucking do that. And again, even if he didn’t do it, it was his fault she was gone. If he hadn’t gone out for a stupid cigarette with Theo, maybe y/n wouldn’t have left her room and she would still be here, holding his hand and kissing him. Some part of him knew that maybe she left to go help a friend in need - typical y/n - and didn’t actually go out to look after him after he took a while to come back, but the biggest part of him refused to think about that theory, refusing to admit that it wasn’t his fault somehow.

It had been too good to be true, he thought. He had managed to escape both his parents ever since his father came back and his mother escaped Azkaban, Tom and Dumbledore helping him hide during the summer holidays - y/n had asked him countless time to come to live in her parents’ house, but despite wanting nothing more than to say yes and spend the summer by her side, Mattheo had refused to put her and her family, who had already been kind enough to let someone like him date their daughter, in danger. He had also managed the anxiety and stress his father’s coming back had brought, mostly due to y/n’s love and care, and had even managed to plan on becoming an Auror once he would leave school, which he knew had worried y/n, but now, all the good things he had managed to do and the overall good - or at least; bearable - life he had built around his friends and y/n not only meant nothing, but it had died with her. Because even if I manage to not go to Azkaban, what would I do? I might as well join my father.

But Mattheo had that thought, y/n’s sad, disappointed face appeared to him, and he hated himself even more. y/n wouldn’t want that, he forced himself to think, slightly shaking his head. y/n would want him to fight, and most importantly, would want him to remain the boy she had loved. His only option, if he managed to not go to prison, would be to hide until his death - which now he didn’t care when it would come. The door suddenly opened, bringing Mattheo out of his thoughts, and had half expected the Aurors to come back and, letting out a long sigh and closing his eyes, he prepared himself to insult them this time, but it wasn’t one of their voices he heard.

“Brother.”

Fuck. Mattheo’s eyes snapped open, and he jumped on his bed, and at the same time turning his head so quickly he could have hurt himself. Taller and of stronger structure, Tom was standing near the door, his dark curls perfectly styled contrasting with Mattheo’s messy hair, and dressed in an all black suit.

As if he was waking up from a long, deep sleep, Mattheo’s mind was not perfectly aware, and got used to the idea of Tom actually being here. Looking up at him, Mattheo noticed his elder brother looked paler than usual, and there was something strange about his eyes.

“They called you,” Mattheo managed to say.

“They did. Their message came late, however, as I was…busy, in the north.”

In other circumstances, Mattheo might have asked Tom what he meant by that - he never really knew what his brother was up to ever since the latter left Hogwarts last year - but, now, he just slightly nodded in answer.

“Dumbledore told me,” Tom continued, his tone now sounding more febrile and softer, “that y/n was… dead.”

The last three words hit Mattheo like a thousand knives in the heart, but they also for some reason finished to convince his mind that it really did happen.

“The two Aurors told me you did it.”

“I didn’t,” Mattheo answered immediately, the defensive tone and behavior he had been having for the last two days around the Aurors coming back.

“I know. Though I wish to know what really happened.”

Sighing and his eyes on the ground, Mattheo explained everything that happened that night, from spending an usual night with y/n in her room - he saw a small grimace on Tom’s face for a small second - to going for a smoke with Theo.

“Then on my way back, I was walking by the courtyard when I saw her…her, I…I saw her body.”

Mattheo then raised his gaze, and saw that Tom’s body and face had stiffen, and one of his fists was now closed. A year ago, this reaction from Tom upon hearing about y/n would have angered Mattheo deeply, but now, he only felt some annoyance which surprisingly disappeared quickly.

“There was no round around?” Tom asked. “No sign of anybody?”

Mattheo shook his head negatively.

“Who do you think might have done it?” Tom questioned in a sharper tone.

“I don’t know. She only had friends. Teachers liked her. Her family is normal…”

“Try to think, Mattheo,” Tom cut off coldly, growing impatient, “try to remember a detail, a conversation y/n had with someone…”

“I don’t know!” Mattheo said louder. “I haven’t been able to think ever since I had her corpse in my arms!”

Tom had a very small sigh. “Then maybe y/n didn’t tell you about it. Do you think her friends might know something?"

“Her friends never liked me much,” Mattheo had a bitter small laugh. “Well, except for Pansy.”

“I see. I’ll have to ask them some questions, then.” Tom said. And I could as well have searched her dorm for a clue, but I heard her family already took her belongings and cleared her room,” he added in annoyance.

Mattheo frowned. “Her family? Her family is already here?”

“Yes. It’s been two days, they had to take her body,” Tom answered, his voice a bit febrile. “I suppose the… funeral will be held soon.”

It was already unbearably hard enough for his mind to understand the idea that y/n was dead and would never come back, but to imagine her immobile body in a casket, alone in the darkness and the coldness of the silent underneath the ground…No, fucking no, that was something he could not and could never handle. When he looked at Tom again, Mattheo saw him as lost in thought, as if he felt the same way. And he knew he did.

“Do you believe she could have had some sort of stalker or admirer?” Tom questioned after a moment of silence.

“You mean, other than you?”

Tom looked at him, now angered but a bit surprised as well.

“Unbelievable. y/n is dead and you’re still thinking about this?”

Mattheo didn’t answer. Of course that was stupid to think about what happened last year, especially now. Last year, between Umbridge’s tyranny and the suspicion that had raised around Mattheo and Tom now that their father was back, something Mattheo never imagined happened: Tom, the cold and quiet Tom who had never looked at a girl before, had fallen in love. Mattheo had been amused at the idea, and had been curious to know who the lucky girl was, despite the whole thing happening in front of his eyes. One day, a very surprised y/n had come to him, saying Tom had asked to talk to her in private and had confessed to her that his heart, which all thought cold and frozen, had fallen for her. Angry as he never had been in his life and only listening to the part of himself which was telling him that his brother wanted to steal everything from him, Mattheo had immediately went to see Tom and a big fight had followed, and it would have probably became physical if Tom hadn’t remain his calm self, although greatly annoyed at Mattheo’s shouting, and his friends holding him back just in case. y/n , sweet, innocent y/n had felt guilty despite not being at fault, and later Mattheo had realized that it was likely her fondness and compassion for Tom, who was “always so alone” which had made his older brother think he and y/n might have a chance. Mattheo had never been mad at y/n, but, unable to not be angry at Tom and unable to not think that Tom wanted y/n just because she was with him, his cordial relationship with Tom had been broken, and they never had any contact after Tom graduated. But with time, Mattheo had realized he understood Tom. After all, y/n was beautiful and had a heart of gold, and people were drawn to her and her warmness, kindness and natural charm. It wasn’t even a surprise that someone like Tom, cold and silent, would fall for her despite being as different as can be. But while also thinking about this, he had then remembered all the times he had seen Tom and y/n speaking, studying, or just the kind things he would sometimes tell her, and it had made sense.

“I know they found your wand. You mentioned you lost it,” Tom said suddenly. “Do you have any idea where that might have happened?”

“No,” Mattheo said, looking at the ground. “I just know I lost it after class.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“y/n.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember any details? Anything that could help?”

“I already told you no,” Mattheo said with annoyance.

He tried to think hard about it, though, trying to remember his walk from y/n’s dorm to the dark corner of the castle where he met Theo, and remembered it overall - the empty corridors, making sure nobody, especially a teacher, wouldn’t see him. He then tried to remember every detail of the way back. He tried hard, forcing his mind to bring itself back to this moment, but to his great confusion, he didn’t remember anything. It was as if, one moment, he was walking away from Theo, and the other, he was walking by the courtyard, seeing his biggest nightmare coming true.

“I don’t remember anything from my way back to her dorm,” Mattheo simply said.

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, I don’t remember anything between leaving Theo and seeing h…her body.” The last two words still had a hard time leaving his mouth. Suddenly, he had a thought, maybe the most clever and useful thought he had ever since he had been brought here.

“Maybe you losing your wand and your memory somehow disappearing are linked,” Tom stated, and Mattheo nodded. “Did anybody here do some strange things or had a strange behavior this year?”

Mattheo thought, and quickly had an idea.

“I heard Harry speaking with his friends once. He said Draco was up to something, and, well, I noticed he’s been acting strangely since september.”

Tom remained silent, and acquiesced.

“Then I shall have a conversation with our cousin.”

They opened the door after Tom knocked once, and the two Aurors were still here waiting for him when he left the room. He ignored them and started walking down the small corridor, but they apparently were not willing to do the same.

“Did he tell you anything?” one of the Aurors asked, full of curiosity, trying to keep up with Tom’s quick and long footsteps.

Not bothered, Tom did not even give him an answer.

“Well?” the other insisted.

“No, he did not,” Tom answered this time, but only to get rid of them. “He already told you he was innocent. There was no more he had to say. Just like I have nothing to say to you.”

It worked, and the Auroras stopped following him. He left their outraged and suspicious gazes behind his back, but to say he didn’t care was an understatement. It was already the end of the afternoon, and classes just finished. Tom, ignoring the surprised looks of the crowds of students, walked to Snape’s class, and found him here sitting behind his desk. His former professor raised his eyes, and though he didn’t show it, Tom knew Snape was surprised to see him at Hogwarts.

“Snape.”

“Mr. Riddle.”

“I wish to talk with a few of your students. Be kind to bring them here.”

“And may I ask why you wish to talk to them?”

“If I thought it concerned you, I would willingly tell you,” Tom responded. “Now, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkison and Daphne Greengrass.”

Snape looked at him, but did not say a word. Minutes later, only two silhouettes entered Snape’s dark greenish class. The two girls exchanged a curious look upon seeing Tom.

“Tom?” Pansy Parkinson asked. She had always been somehow unafraid of him, and Tom respected that fact. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help my brother.”

Parkison raised her eyebrows with genuine surprise. “You think he’s innocent?”

Tom nodded. “I know you two ladies were y/n’s closest friends. I need you to tell me if she had anyone who wished to do her harm.”

Pansy shook her head and had a slight sigh, “we already told the Aurors everything.”

Daphne nodded, “y/n had no enemies. Well,” she added with a false smile, “at least that’s what we thought until her own boyfriend turned out to be one..”

“Mattheo is innocent,” Tom retorted right away.

Pansy chuckled bitterly, “Don’t make me laugh, Riddle. Everyone in school knows how they found his wand near her body, and how the last spell it cast was the killing curse. He did kill our friend, and I hope he will rot in Azkaban for the rest of his days.”

Tom remained silent, ignoring his growing annoyance, and instead focused his mind on entering Parkison’s. He saw her in Daphne’s arms, probably crying over y/n’s death, and going back to before that event, he saw her this time laughing with Daphne and y/n, and his heart - if it was still there - skipped a beat. Seeing her full of life, laughing, when he knew she would never laugh again was almost too much to bear. He continued inspecting Parkison’s memory, and when he couldn’t find anything, did the same thing to Greengrass. He didn’t find anything new inside her mind, and had a hard time not showing his displeasure. He had entered their minds and saw their memories so quickly that they didn’t even notice what he did.

“Where is my cousin?” Tom finally asked, quickly looking at Snape.

“Draco?” Parkinson asked. “Well, we saw him in class, but…”

“He left right after the last one. Maybe he’s in the common room, or maybe his dorm?”

Tom wanted to ask if, like Mattheo, they thought Draco had been acting weirdly, but wouldn’t do that in Snape’s presence. He gestured for the two girls to go, and turned back towards Snape.

“If I don’t find who murdered y/n and exonerate my brother before I leave Hogwarts, I suggest you continue looking for the murderer. Because, as you well know, Severus, my wrath is nothing compared to his.”

Not waiting for Snape’s answer, Tom left the room. He directly went for the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was. Some friends of Mattheo were here, sitting on some of the couches - Berkshire with his innocent face, Nott always acting as if he had no care in the world and Zabini who never smiled - and they immediately came to him when they saw him.

“Tom?” Nott asked. “You’re here to help Mattheo, right?”

“Did you find anything?” Berkshire asked.

“I need to speak to my cousin. Where is he?”

“We don’t know,” Zabini shrugged. “I looked in our dorm, he’s not here.”

Tom decided to go check the room himself, and walked in its direction. As Zabini said, there was no one here. The room was well ordered, full of expensive things both Zabini and Draco’s parents had bought and of Slytherin decoration, but Tom looked into it, he didn’t find anything. His patience growing thin, Tom quickly left the room, and, ignoring Mattheo’s friends and their questions, left the common room. Walking through the corridors, he only met a few much younger students who did not dare to look at him for too long until he saw three silhouettes talking softly.

“Potter.”

The latter turned immediately, but didn’t seem that surprised to see him, and they walked closer to each other.

“My brother told me you found Draco’s behavior strange. Why?”

“We saw him at Borgin & Burke with his mother. They seemed like they didn’t want people to know they were here. Sometimes, he disappears and doesn’t come to class. He’s always quiet, and you never see him outside of class.”

“And pray tell, what’s your theory?”

Potter stared at him, and as Tom expected, didn’t say anything.

“Come on, Potter. You’re smarter than most people give you credit for.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t be smart if I told you what I thought.”

Tom inclined his head, squinting his eyes. “So it has to do with my father. You believe he’s a Death Eater, don’t you?”

Potter’s eyes hardening was enough for Tom to know he was right.

It wasn’t common for Tom’s father to pick followers that young, but if it was indeed true, Tom was not surprised. Either his father had expected Draco to replace Tom’s uncle Lucius, or he was forced to. I know my cousin. He may be arrogant and spoiled, but he doesn’t have the stomach to be a Death Eater. Not for long, anyway.

“I see,” Tom continued. “And where do you think he goes when he disappears?”

Potter looked at him, hesitating before giving an answer. “I can’t be sure, but…the Room of Requirement makes sense.”

And with that, Tom turned his heels and went to the seventh floor of the castle. He knew it was going to be hard, as that room could appear anywhere, but he wasn’t going to give in. In a long, empty corridor, he closed his eyes, and walked past a large naked wall three times. I need to find what Draco has been up to. I need to find who killed y/n. Doing his best to shut the pain that thinking about y/n brought him, he walked past the wall for several minutes, but when he stopped his pace and opened his eyes, the wall was still naked. Growing angry, he all of a sudden heard footsteps breaking the silence. He focused, and almost instantly knew who it was. Draco. Putting himself against the wall, Tom waited barely a minute, and immediately grabbed Draco, who, as expected, tried to resist.

“Let me go!”

“Quiet.”

Draco immediately stopped moving, and, upon seeing who had grabbed his arm, frowned.

“Tom?”

Tom immediately saw that Draco’s face was paler, looking even a bit gray, and thinner than usual, and that he had dark bags under his eyes.

“Greetings, cousin.” Tom said with calm and a smile. “I have a few questions to ask you, if you don’t mind.”

Draco started to struggle again, but Tom took out his wand, pointing it on his cousin’s chin.

“Do not make me do something I will not regret. It is really simple, cousin. You either answer my questions, or I will get them out of you. Do we understand each other?”

Draco remained silent, but Tom knew he understood.

“Do you know who killed y/n?”

“No!”

“Do you know who might have done it?”

“No! Let me go, now, or I’ll-”

“Do what?” Tom said, amused. “Please, pray tell.”

Draco again didn’t say a word, only giving him a death stare. Despite allegations of Draco acting weirdly and his weaker look, Tom knew it didn’t mean Draco had anything to do with y/n’s murder - the word was enough to almost wreck havoc. However, despite Draco’s denial, Tom felt something was off. Just like he did with y/n’s friends, Tom entered Draco’s mind, but found it way harder. Immediately understanding why, Tom smiled.

“I see my mother taught you Legilimency. I expected better, though.”

Not wasting another second, Tom pointed at Draco’s forehead. At first, he was shown memories from Draco’s first years here, bullying students with his friends, then darker, unhappier memories with his parents and Tom and Mattheo’s mother at Malfoy Manor, succeeded at last by what really interested Tom. He suddenly saw his father, probably furious after Uncle Lucius failed the disaster at the Ministry, and then had a memory of Draco inside the Room of Requirement - as Potter had guessed - standing in front of what Tom knew was a Vanishing Cabinet. The whole scenery disappeared, and instead there was the boys’ restroom, with Draco sitting on the ground with his face in his hands, crying. Next, he was back to Malfoy Manor, standing in front of both Tom’s parents.

“My sons have both been a disappointment, a great disappointment,” Tom’s father said calmly. “I still hold hope for Tom, but as for Mattheo…If I don’t act quickly, he will be out of reach forever. You said there was a girl at Hogwarts that he ‘loves’.”

Tom felt his heart beat faster, and his breath became short.

“Well,” his father continued, “along with the other task you have been given, Draco, you will kill that girl. If you don’t, I’ll kill your mother and then you.”

If he thought Dumbledore telling him of y/n’s death broke his heart, learning it was his father who ordered it broke his soul. But he had barely time to process that memory that another came, bringing him back to Hogwarts. Draco was standing against a wall in an empty corridor. Tom heard voices from afar, and after a moment, saw his own brother. Jumping behind him, Draco pointed his wand at the back of Mattheo’s head.

“Impero.”

Mattheo took his wand out of his robe and Draco grabbed it. Mattheo didn’t move as Draco went back to the spot he was hiding it, and pointed once again his wand at Mattheo.

“Obliviate.”

A few seconds later, Mattheo slightly shook his head and continued walking, eventually disappearing. The next memory happened at night, and Draco was once again hiding, this time in a corridor which led to the courtyard, apparently waiting for someone. But Tom didn’t even have to guess who, because it was as if his whole being knew who was coming and what was going to happen. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to hear, but his eyes refused to look away or to close themselves. He heard familiar footsteps, and suddenly, y/n appeared; walking rather quickly, and she took a glance at the darkness of the courtyard. Tom saw Draco’s hand shaking as he pointed Mattheo’s wand at y/n and, after hesitating for a short moment, opened his mouth.

“Avada Kedavra.”

Despite his whole being screaming at him to look away, Tom turned to y/n and saw her looking at the green light coming to her right and gasping before the spell hit her, and her body hit the ground. Draco closed his eyes, and a tear ran down his cheek. Taking his own hand, Draco moved it, and y/n body started levitating, heading for the courtyard, before eventually lowering itself to the ground. Tom stayed here, looking at her corpse, wanting to scream for the first time in his life. He didn’t know how long he stared at him, his very soul in pain, but it must not have been for long, because when he pulled himself together, Draco was still here, and he heard a familiar voice.

“y/n?”

Mattheo was here now, close to her body. He kneeled near her, taking her into his arms, calling for her, asking her if she could hear him, eventually crying, screaming for her to come back. Draco once again shed a tear, and took out both his wand and Mattheo’s. He made Mattheo’s wand float to fall down near Mattheo. Wiping away his tears, Draco tried to look normal, started walking away, and thus his memory was over. Tom was brought back to reality, to the corridor where he was holding Draco - y/n’s murderer, the one who had taken his only chance of happiness from him. If it was another person who had been killed, Tom might have understood why the murderer did it and even maybe felt compassion as he knew how his father was, but it was y/n, and it took everything in Tom to not torture Draco in ways that would have make his father happy. Draco tried to fight Tom’s grasp again, but this time, Tom took the opportunity to answer the last question he had on his mind. He rolled up Draco’s left sleeve, and saw the Dark Mark. Potter was right, after all, was all that he thought.

“It was Draco.”

Mattheo looked at his brother, confused.

“What? Draco did what?”

Tom looked back at him. “He killed y/n. I saw it. In his mind. Our father told him to. He put you under the Imperius curse to take your wand, used it to kill her, and put it next to you after killing her.”

Mattheo tried to grasp the idea, but simply couldn’t. Draco, his vain cousin, spoiled and loved by his parents like neither him or Tom had been?

“He’s a Death Eater,” Tom added with no emotion. “He has the mark. He killed her to save both his and his mother’s lives. I do think he didn’t want to do it. He cried a bit.”

Mattheo gulped. “Did she…Did she see him?

But Tom knew what his real questions were: did y/n see death coming? Was she scared? Did she scream for help, for anyone - for him, to come and save her?

Tom became pale, and for the second time in his life, Mattheo saw that his brother’s eyes were sad.

“No. She only saw the spell for a quick second before she…”

Mattheo closed his eyes, and nodded. One half of him wanted to see it with his own eyes, wanted to see her last moments, where he should have been here to save her, but the other half refused to, convinced he would turn into a mad man if he saw her dying. Mattheo felt warm tears leave his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

“She was all I had,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I know,” Tom said, staring at the wall on his left. “She was all I had, too.”

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aidens-ocean-galaxy · 1 month ago

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rita loves drag makeup and bellatrix loves over the top goth makeup

#rita is giving chappell roan #she is a drag queen #Idc what you think or have to say #aidens headcanons #quillkiller #rita skeeter #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix x rita #rita x bellatrix #rita headcanon #bellatrix headcanon #marauders headcanon #headcanon #marauders era #fuck jkr #dead gay wizards #harry potter

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whisperingn1ghts · 8 months ago

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Toxic Yuri.... Save me

Reference below!!!

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keanusbabydoll · 4 months ago

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make up sex

paring: bellatrix lestrange x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, toxic relationship, smut, soft!bella, mentions of torture, fingering, slight overstimulation, cunnilingus, mommy kink, age gap relationship (reader is 18, bella is in her late 30s), softdom!bella

——————

and again you’re sitting in your room at the malfoy manor, balling out your eyes because of her. bellatrix lestrange. your girlfriend.

by now you’re not only crying because you’re sad, no. it’s the frustration and anger you feel towards her already. this is the fourth time now she completely ignored, taunted and even hurt you during a meeting with the death eaters and the dark lord of course. you simply can’t describe how angry all that makes you, neither do you understand her sick behavior.

in your opinion she’s too blended by the dark lord. it doesn’t matter what he asks of her, she won’t spend a single thought before doing it immediately. she practically follows him around like a fucking dog. and today it definitely went too far.

you became a death eater a few weeks ago and that not by wish. you were forced and it not only broke you but also affects your mental health badly. however, the dark lord has given you a task, which required to murder your best friends, ron and hermione, because they’re destroying his plan to kill harry potter. and obviously he chose you to act out the deed as you’re still attending hogwarts and you’re the closest to them from all death eaters.

but of course you couldn’t do it. you didn’t have the heart to kill your best friends. they’re practically like siblings to you and if you would have done it, you would have never recovered from that.

so, you didn’t follow the dark lords commands, and of course you knew that he would find out about it very quickly and that this wouldn’t end good. every death eater that doesn’t oblige the dark lord’s wishes, serves a harsh punishment. and today you were the one.

you begged him for forgiveness, promised him that something like that would never happen again. but he didn’t show mercy. and to make it even worse for you, he chose bellatrix to be the one to torture you. unfortunately he knows about your relationship and he knew that it would hurt you even more if bellatrix punishes you.

and you can’t explain how you felt in that moment. the betrayal, angst, anger, everything just came crashing down. the tears that were prickling in your eyes when bella stood up from her seat, went over to you and roughly threw you on the floor and cursed you with the torture spell, crucio, in front of everyone. and all that without hesitation. even narcissa, her sister, was shocked and tried to talk her out of it. but nothing made her change her mind, not even your cry’s and begs.

that really broke you. merlin, she’s your own fucking girlfriend. and it’s not like she doesn’t know that you hate the way she behaves towards you when you’re around voldemort. you guys had multiple arguments about that topic, where you told her how you felt and what you expect from her. but it seems like she never really took it seriously and just didn’t give a fuck about your opinion.

soft sobs leave your mouth and you hug your thighs tighter. you really don’t want to continue this way. you can’t bear all that any longer.

a loud knock on your door, pulls you out of your thoughts and look up. “what?” you ask with a shaky but annoyed voice. you honestly just want to be alone right now.

“baby, it’s me. i’m really sorry, can i please come in?” the sound of your girlfriends voice rings through your ears.

“no bella, go away.” you mumble before you burry your face in your knees again.

a frustrated sigh slips past your lips when you hear your door open. what does she not understand? you do not have the power to see her or speak to her right now.

you lift your head and start to cry again when you see her standing in front of you.

“just leave bella. i don’t want to talk to you.” you whisper, eyes pleading her to just listen to you once. but of course she doesn’t give you this satisfaction.

as she sees your red puffy eyes and swollen trembling lips, she immediately walks over to your side of the bed, sitting down next to you. even if it doesn’t seem like it, but seeing you in such a state breaks her. bella loves you more than anything, even when she doesn’t act like it directly.

“y/n, listen, i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have done that.” she states, sadness latching from her voice. you just look at her with a blank stare, a chuckle almost threatening to leave your mouth.

“that’s what you always say bella.”

“no y/n, i mean it. really.” she places her wand down and scoots closer to you but before she can touch you, you shift further away from her. bella frowns in reply and looks at you with soft eyes.

you shake your head in disbelief, wipe your tears forcefully away and sit up straight. does she actually think you’re stupid? it’s always the same. she hurts you in any way possible, then she crawls back to you, apologizing and you idiot always forgive her. and then everything starts again. but not this time. you can’t and won’t put up with that any longer, simply because of the sake of your mental health.

with gritted teeth and hate filled eyes you turn your head to look at her. “do you really think that i’ll continue like this? don’t you notice that it’s always the same? and merlin, what the fuck have you thought bella. torturing me in front of everyone without any hesitation? me, your girlfriend? do you have any idea how i’m feeling?” you hiss at her sharply, not being able to contain your anger and frustration anymore.

you catch her face dropping at your words, a sad expression covers it now. she nervously fiddles with her fingers and looks down to her lap.

as she remains silent you huff out and turn to face the wall next to you. “just as i thought.” you whisper.

your brows furrow when you hear quiet sniffs next you. once again you turn around and are almost shocked when you see bellatrix crying. this is the first time ever you witness her crying. she was never one to show her feelings or her soft side, not even in your presence.

but nevertheless, she shouldn’t be the one who’s crying. you didn’t hurt her in any way. it was just her who failed to be a good girlfriend.

her glossy eyes wander up to yours and she pouts. “please y/n i beg you. forgive me one more time. i promise you, i’ll never do something like that again. see, i talked with narcissa because i didn’t know what to do. i feel so fucking awful for how i treated you and i realize that all just now. how much you really mean to me. you’re the only person i ever truly loved and i hate myself for being such a bitch towards you. please, i’ll make it up to you.” the witch pours out her heart, completely vulnerable right now.

when you don’t reply she shoots up and grabs your hand before you can snatch it away.

“please say something baby. i love you.” her voice is barley above a whisper and you close your eyes for a second. seeing her in such a form and hearing her talking in that way kind of shocks you. as mentioned before, you never saw her in that manner before. and to be honest you think that she actually means it this time. or else she wouldn’t be acting like this.

“it’s okay bella, i get it. but please, don’t you ever do something like that again. i’m serious.” you finally answer her, voice much softer and understanding now.

bellatrix’s eyes lighten up in happiness and relief and she almost squeals out.

“thank you baby. i can’t tell you how sorry i am.” the witch pulls you into a hug and squeezes you tightly. you smile in reply and hug her back. doesn’t matter what she does, she’ll always make you happy and smile. she’s the woman you love.

bella pulls away from your embrace and stares at you with sparkling eyes. “but let me make it up to you. please.”

you smirk at her, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “yes… mommy.” is all you have to say before she almost jumps on top of you and gets herself comfortable on your lap. she brushes a few strands of your hair behind your ears and puts her hands on your cheeks before smashing her lips on yours. your hands grip her waist as you return each of her kisses with equal favor. as a moan slips past your lips, bella doesn’t hesitate and sticks her tongue into your mouth, exploring every bit of it with her tongue.

the both of you fight for dominance, which bella wins with no question. a muffled whine comes from her as he starts to grind her hips against yours, your clothed clits rubbing against each other deliciously. your core starts to ache already, needing to feel more of her. with a moan you break the kiss and breath out. “i need you bella, please.”

she grins at you wickedly and leans over to grab her wand from the bedside table. with a wave of her wrist, all your clothes are gone in a blink of an eye. “whatever you want kitten.” she purrs before she tosses her wand away again and bends down to suck on your neck. you quietly whimper out as she licks on your soft skin. slowly, her lips wander down to your collarbone and to the swell of your breasts, leaving a trail of purple turning hickies. when her mouth finally wraps around your right nipple and her hands roam over your whole body, your heart skips a beat.

it doesn’t matter how many times you have sex, you always get excited at the thought of her pleasuring you and feeling her cold hands on you.

your fingers tangle in her hair and you slightly lift your hips trying to sign her that you need to feel her on your pussy. obviously she gets it, but she takes her time with you, worshipping your whole body. bella’s hands caress your curves, memorizing every inch of her beloved’s body.

the witch releases your hardened bud before she focuses her attention on your other one, gently licking it, then biting down on it harshly, eliciting a sharp hiss from you. “bellaaa! please.”

she pulls away from your nipple and looks up at you with a smirk. “my little impatient pet.” she chirps. her hands start to knead and squeeze your tits harshly while she gets off your lap and settles in right between your plush thighs. her tongue licks its way down your belly, loving the taste of your skin. her hands follow her tongue and they wrap around the inside of your thighs, pushing them open as wide as possible.

you let out a frustrated sigh and throw your head back. if she doesn’t fuck you now any minute you’ll go insane, your walls are already clenching around nothing, desperately wanting to feel her long fingers pushing them open.

without you knowing, bellatrix just read your thoughts and chuckles darkly to herself. before even completely realizing it -too lost in your own thoughts- , the witch lines up two of her fingers with your already wet dripping entrance and pushes them knuckle deep inside of you with ease. a surprised whine falls from your lips as you finally get to feel her. the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them and the overwhelming lust they're feeling.

“you’re so wet baby.” she almost groans out, as she scissors her fingers against your warm, velvety walls, just loving the feeling of them.

“just for you mommy.” you reply breathlessly and prop up on your elbows, making eye contact with your girlfriend.

without breaking your intense stare, bella begins to slowly pump her fingers in and out of your hole, not daring to give any attention to that special spot, intentionally teasing you. you huff out and throw your head back in annoyance. “i thought you wanted to make it up to me.”

“who said i didn’t?” she taunts you with an evil grin.

you look back down at her, opening your mouth to say something but before you are able to let out a single word, she suddenly curls up her fingers, pressing them hard into your sweet spot. your breathing stocks at the jolts of pleasure this is sending through your body and you whimper out.

bella smirks to herself proudly as she starts to roughly thrust up her fingers against that spot that makes you see stars. a loud whine rings in bella's ears, making her go just faster in reply. she looks up at you with hungry eyes, loosing herself completely as she watches you fall to pieces just because of her. there's nothing else she loves more than pleasing you and seeing you quiver under her. you are hers and only hers.

the squelching sounds and the intense smell of hot passionate sex that fills the room, makes your mind spinning, loosing yourself in the pleasure she's giving to you.

"look at you, taking it so good for mommy." your girlfriend moans out as she starts to kiss up and down the inside of your thigh, her aggressive pace never stopping. you barely nod your head in reply, as your eyes wander further down to where she's pounding your poor cunt in an inhuman way.

her face distances from your plush flesh and she sends you one last mischievous look before she dips down her head for her tongue to lick a slow strip up your folds to your sensitive bud with a small hum. that simple contact on your clit makes your whole body shudder and you have to lay back down. you feel her smile against your pussy because of your reaction and lets the tip of her tongue flick expertly over your small bundle of nerves. you press your eyes tightly shut and whimper out at the intense sensation.

with the intense thrusting of her fingers and the indescribable feeling on your clit, you can feel your orgasm slowly build up. bella notices this as well, simply because of your body language and how hard your walls are clamping down on her digits. your whines and cry’s rattle against the black colored moans and your left hand grips the duvets beneath you tightly, needing something to hold onto.

the witch lifts her head from your in spit glistening cunt and admires her work for a second. the loss of contact makes you look up to her and your breath stocks a for a moment when you see her spitting on your pussy, before capturing your clit again.

“oh my god, bella!” a scream leaves you mouth as you’re on the verge of cumming, your abdomen tickling deliciously. bella hums feverishly against your cunt in reply, sending shock waves through your whole body.

“i’m gonna cum!” you sharply spit out, arching your back off the bed in ecstasy. again, she hums approvingly and with her free hand, bellatrix holds one of your thighs spread open, before she suddenly starts to suck on your clit uncontrollably, sending you straight over the edge. a deafening noise falls from your lips as you feel your orgasm crash through your whole form.

your girlfriend fucks you roughly through your orgasm, letting you ride it out to its highest. you let out a string of whimpers in discomfort as bella continues to stimulate you, even after your orgasm already faded, the intense feeling being too much.

“please stop bella.” you choke out and begin to trash around uncomfortably.

she lets out a muffled chuckle before she finally pulls away from your shaking form, sliding her fingers out of you slowly.

you close your eyes, trying hard to catch your breath while you lay there completely still, body aching from your intense fuck.

“oh you did so good my little pet. so, so good.” bella praises you in a high pitched voice, planting kisses on your lower belly and thighs. you smile at her being such a sweetheart with you, usually she wouldn’t be that soft, but you’re her exception. only you.

bella removes herself from your thighs and crawls up to you, pressing her body to yours. you turn to your side to take a proper look at her, admiring her beautiful features.

you both lay there in comfortable silence, her hand caressing your exposed skin lovingly and she whispers sweet little nothings into your ear. "I love you y/n. I promise that we'll get through all this. together."

"I know. I love you too." you whisper, snuggling closer to her.

a soft hum leaves her, before the both of you drift off in a deep slumber.

#bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix lestrange x reader #bellatrix lestrange x you #helena bonham carter #harry potter #narcissa malfoy #harry potter fandom #bellatrix lestrange smut #bellatrix lestrange fic #fanfiction #fiction #bellatrix lestrange imagine

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lulublack90 · 10 months ago

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Prompt 31 - Body Hair

@jegulus-microfic March 31 Word count 1435

Here we go guys. I hope it doesn't disappoint.💜💜

Previous part First part

Something was wrong. Regulus, Barty and Evan had all been summoned, but not to Malfoy Manor. They’d been summoned to a field in Devon.

They’d only just all returned to Rosier House to start planning the best way to defeat Voldemort.

“We’re coming with you,” James told him. “The rest of us will hide. But at least we’ll be there if anything goes wrong.” Regulus argued, but Sirius moved to James’s side and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

“We’re coming, Reggie.” He said firmly. Regulus stopped trying to change their minds.

They apparated together a safe distance from the field into a small wooded area. Regulus’s dark mark was searing with pain as Voldemort summoned him over and over again.

“I love you,” He said, grasping James’s robes and dragging him down for a final kiss. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the others doing much the same.

He let go of James and took Remus’s arm as Voldemort summoned him again. They spun and landed beside Barty and Evan in the centre of a field of long grass.

“My Lord,” They spoke together, bowing low as one.

“What took you?” Voldemort hissed, his anger not hidden at all.

He stood before his entire congregation of Death Eaters. Regulus was pleased to see the werewolves hadn’t been summoned as well. He must think they aren’t that much of a threat. Perhaps he was right.

“We were hunting down my brother as you demanded, my Lord. We were hot on his trail and had hoped to capture him before we answered your call.” Regulus said using his best penitent Lord voice.

“Liar!” Voldemort hissed at them so fiercely that they half expected him to transform into a snake.

With a crack, Bellatrix and three masked Death Eaters appeared beside Voldemort. James, Sirius, Lily and Pandora with them, bound tightly. They shoved their captives forward towards Regulus.

“Pan-Pandora, what are you doing here?” One of the masked Death Eaters spluttered, breaking rank. Lord Rosier was quickly forced back into line by Voldemort’s deadly stare.

“Mr Potter and Mr Black were caught leaving Rosier House last night with our spy in chains. We have put two and two together and assume you are all working together. You have all turned spy for Albus Dumbledore.” Voldemort spat the name as he revealed why they’d been summoned. “Did it start when you were captured?” He asked Regulus.

Regulus set his jaw and nodded stiffly. Voldemort narrowed his eyes. “You have betrayed Lord Voldemort. What an incredibly foolish thing to do.” While Voldemort had been distracted, Barty and Evan had removed the ropes from their friends. The Thestrals raised their wands in unison.

In her haste, Bellatrix had bound her captives but not unarmed them. She realised her mistake and looked in horror at her master. Luckily for her, his attention lay elsewhere.

“Now, now, children. Lord Voldemort is merciful.” Voldemort raised his hands as though to calm them. “Lord Voldemort will forgive your deceitful ways.” He turned to James, Sirius and Pandora, pointedly leaving Lily out of his offer. “Join me, and all will be forgiven. You shall all have a place at my side as we rule wizarding society as it was meant to be.” Voldemort’s attempted benevolence fell short. Their silence gave him their answer.

The line of Death Eaters moved forward, closing the gap between themselves and their master, standing just behind him, all but one. Orion Black reached up and removed his hood and mask. Unseen by everyone but the Thestrals. He raised his wand and, in one graceful swoop, stunned every Death Eater in the back, taking them all out.

Orion managed to bind and gag the Death Eaters before he was hit by Voldemort’s curse. He fell to the ground screaming and then lay still.

“PAPA!!!” Regulus and Sirius screamed together. Regulus saw the murderous rage in his brother’s eyes and knew his own reflected the same. As one, they turned and pointed their wands directly at Voldemort.

They started blasting off spells one after the other. Voldemort may be mortal now, but he was still more than a formidable foe. They dodged and parried and stuck up shields, sending as many spells as possible at Voldemort, hoping to catch him just once so they could get the upper hand.

Evan caught a spell on the left side of his body. Evan’s face contorted in pain as Regulus watched his friend fall to the ground in slow motion. Barty rushed forward and was struck as he tried in vain to get to Evan.

They were dropping like flies. Voldemort was so powerful. Regulus began to panic that none of them would make it out alive.

Pandora and Lily collapsed simultaneously into the sopping grass next after they successfully cast a slicing charm together, leaving deep slashes across Voldemort’s torso. Voldemort fired off curses in quick succession at them.

Sirius dove in front of Remus as another spell went sailing across them. It clipped Sirius and struck Remus.

“REMUS!!!” He screamed, forgetting about the battle and leaving himself open for Voldemort to take out. He landed on Remus’s chest, both of them deathly still. Regulus pushed the tears away as he forced himself to concentrate on the battle.

His magic had begun to crackle beneath his skin with the anger he felt. He tried to ignore it.

Regulus and James were the only ones left. They defended themselves well, but Voldemort was so powerful.

Regulus heard the guff of air leave James's lungs. He turned just in time to see him crumple to the ground, unmoving.

Regulus’s world stopped. A screeching noise blasted his ears. It took him a while to realise it was his own voice screaming in grief. He turned his attention back to the cackling form before him.

“Just us now, little Lord Black. Are you prepared for the afterlife, I wonder?”

“Are you?!” Regulus felt his magic scorching his body as it fought to get out to avenge the ones he loved. Voldemort threw his head back, cackling louder than ever, still believing himself to be immortal.

The magic swirled around Regulus like the ancient magic of the forest had, ruffling his hair and casting a gloom around him that made him look deadly. Voldemort took an uncertain step backwards as Regulus raged towards him, all semblance of fear gone.

There wasn’t much left of Tom Riddle once Regulus was done with him. He fell to his knees, feeling drained. He’d used more of his magic than he’d ever used before. It left him weak.

He snorted with derision as he looked down at the pieces of wizard in the grass and realised the man had absolutely no body hair. It was an odd thing to realise about the person you’d just murdered, but his brain wasn’t exactly working at full capacity. It probably had to do with not wanting anyone to use Polyjuice Potion in his image. He reasoned as things slowly clicked together.

He turned his head, tears beginning to cascade down his face as he remembered his friends and brother lying around him on the ground. And James. Oh, James. He crawled over to him and dropped his head onto his chest as he fell apart, sobbing into his robes.

A hand came up and rested on the back of his neck.

“Hey, love, don’t cry. It’s alright.” James croaked at him. Regulus snapped his head up and watched as James slowly blinked his eyes open.

His mouth found James’s, and the relief at seeing him, feeling him alive, made his jaw quiver with unshed emotion. He could not have survived without James Potter in this world.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him pull away from James, but he still held on for dear life. The others were all groaning in the grass, but they were all moving. They were all alive!

“Fuck you, Mouldy Voldy.” Barty spat into the grass as Evan hauled him shakily to his feet.

Sirius was clinging to Remus much like Regulus was to James. Somehow, Remus managed to pull him over to where they were standing. James wrapped them in a hug. They were all shaking as the effects of the adrenaline wore off. Lily and Pandora came over next, adding themselves to the group hug, and then Evan and Barty joined in, not wanting to be left out.

They just stood there holding each other. Relief and disbelief flooded through each of them.

“We won,” Regulus whispered as he watched his father get up. “We won.”

Thank you all so much for reading I really hope you enjoyed it.

Lulu xxx

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oldfashioned-lovergirl · 3 months ago

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deathnguts · 5 months ago

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Spare some rabastan lestrange for the needy pls🤲 (i’m the needy and i’d like to know what you think about his dynamic with his brothers)

Sigh, fine I’ll guess I’ll spare some pennies. Thank you for the ask! This is kinda scatter brained and kinda focused on Rodolphus to like parallel/paint how the brothers are together with they are separate and yeah I dunno I threw up

So usually I internalize whatever @florsial (formal apology to you pookie, Im about to act out of line 🫶) says about Rabastan because we tend to agree on things surrounding him but I think we definitely view Rodolphus differently. Which is fine, he barely exists as a character and I think it’s just representative of how we fundamentally view sibling relationships differently. Like I don’t know what it is with me, but I feel the need ti make every sibling relationship I write for either fanfiction or my own work complicated as hell.

So Rodolphus Lestrange. I think he’s a lot like Orion Black. Like he probably even looked up to him kind of when he grew up, (which is kinda funny because Rodolphus probably isn’t much younger than him if at all considering my headcanon that both walburga and Orion were young when they had both their children to kind of get it out of the way) and you can see that in like a lot of how he just is. Hes ‘stoic’ but actually just doesn’t feel a lot of emotions and doesn’t pretend he does, he’s probably like a hair away from being an alcoholic but he doesn’t drink because he knows that (unlike Orion who is very much an alcoholic), hes antisocial and physically annoyed around people because he doesn’t understand why they are as ‘efficient’ as he is and looks down on all of them.

He’s very work oriented, so much so that he doesn’t really have a life outside of it at all. He’s always been the twin the family knew to count on and he always liked having the title so he never had a rebellious stage or any real anger towards his expectations beyond being tired at the end of a particularly grueling work day. I think the only work hes expected to do that he actively doesn’t work towards doing is producing heirs. He doesn’t like kids, he thinks they’re loud and messy and they get in the way of a schedule. It’s like the only thing him and Bellatrix agree on since she also wants nothing to do with kids. (Also quick note on their marriage, I think they pretty much ignore each other and that’s their idea of what they’ll be like forever. When in public together they put on the ‘better than you’ couple mask but in every other scenario they live completely separate lives and actively avoid each other or they’ll find something to fight about.) like the general vibe I could sum him up with is, yes he’s Rabastan’s twin, but everyone who’s ever talked with him assumes he’s like a decade older and just aged well.

So to contrast that with Rabastan, who was never really expected to be anything and never proved anyone wrong, he’s the sort of kid his mother defends no matter what but he father actively tries to forget about. The exact sort Rodolphus looks down on. He can’t help it’s his brother, he’s still below him. And that would be easier to accept if Rabastan stopped proving it over and over. He had to act out in school, he had to move where mother couldn’t find at seventeen, he had to preach to the family that they were ‘immoral’ or whatever, and then he had to preach it to a child, and then he had to marry the child. Like, Rodolphus isn’t a good man by many means, but his lack of feeling or empathy towards people gives him a more head on view of them. And his head on view of his brother is that he’s useless, dramatic, and so desperate to be anything he’ll lie to a little girl to get her to view him that way. And not to say Rodolphus is any better since he witnessed first hand what his brother was doing, he literally walked in on the two hiding away to make out in a corner when regulus was still fifteen and his brother was the same age as himself and just turned back around and never mentioned it to anyone. A truly good person probably would’ve done something. Good thing that’s not what he’s trying to be.

(Also unrelated but I wanna circle back to a point @florsial has that I love about how Rabastan and Regulus are a couple who tries to nuclear and domestic but fails, I feel like that’s a joke on its own especially in this context. The idea that Rodolphus is the nuclear working man so Rabastan must parallel him by being a family man, he just isn’t. Yes he’s closer with his wife than his brother is, and yes that could be something he has over Rodolphus but pretty much no one in their family is proud of Rabastan for his teenage wife and it’s not like their perfect or anything.)

Rodolphus has probably told Rabastan he thinks this only once since he’s usually content to be quiet about it. He probably broke and yelled about how Rabastan will never be anything ro even get his shit together and it won’t matter because no one has hope he will and it hurts because Rodolphus was never given that leeway and it must be fucking nice to have. Rabastan probably doubles back with how much it must be nice for anyone to give a shit about you, to not only exoect things from you but love you even more when you deliver. They probably kept fighting until Rodolphus, as always, gets tired and shuts it down and goes home.

Because even a man who feels nothing has breaking points, especially when Rabastan keeps fucking pushing for one. And that was their relationship a lot of their life, I think. Rabastan desperately wanting to be seen and Rodolphus who is willingly blind. When they were younger that was ok, little kids before hogwarts just played together until father came to take Rodolphus away, growing boys at hogwarts who slowly drift apart when one doubles down on academics and the other found there’s more to do (and not for lack of desperate trying on the seconds behalf.) and then they’re grown up and neither can place what really happened. They’re sure they used to love each other, at least they think so. And they don’t know what happened, because something must have happened. Right?

Yeah I dunno it’s hard to continuously explain but I think what’s tragic about them is that it’s needless. Rabastan could try ti be better and it would not only help his relationships but himself, Rodolphus could try ti be more and he same would happen to him. If either brother were better at being human then they would be better at loving each other. But they’re not, so they can’t.

#sorry to tag you twice florsial you’re just so inspirational #they’re both such failures damn #rabastan lestrange #rodolphus lestrange #Lestrange twins #bellatrix lestrange #trans regulus #regulus black #regulus arcturus black #orion black #the soldier and the violinist #rabastan x regulus #regulus x rabastan

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starrysillhoutte · 3 months ago

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bellatrix goes to all the fancy pureblood dinners and high society galas and then reports back all the latest news to rita’s gossip column in the school newspaper, ‘Sacred Scandals’

#they definitely had a gossip column #you can’t convince me otherwise #marauders era #quillkiller #bellatrix black #rita skeeter #bellatrix x rita

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pascaloverx · 9 months ago

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To Begin Again

FOUR

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic.

THREE FIVE

You had a date with two men, two men who stood you up, didn't even bother to send a smoke signal to cancel everything. The worst part is that you got all dressed up, put on a nice dress and everything. How infuriating. And just as you're about to lie down on the bed and turn on the TV to try to forget the pathetic situation you find yourself in, someone knocks on your door.

"So, the idiot here and I are going to the bar on the other side of the forest to have some beers. As uninteresting as you may seem, it's worth giving you a chance to at least do something fun. What do you think?" Bellatrix asks as she leans abruptly against the corridor wall. Peter is standing beside her, looking uncomfortable at being called an idiot but much more focused on looking at you as if he wants to uncover your secrets.

"I think that's a rather rude way to ask someone if they want to go have a beer with you, but at the moment, my options are either to go with you or put on my pajamas, and I think it's worth giving you guys a chance." You say, grabbing your bag and then locking the door to your room. When you turn around, Peter looks at you as if you were some kind of different creature. A look that seems to mix curiosity with a sort of dread.

"Deep down, I know you want to go out with us because you don't want to be in the middle of what's going on between Remus and Sirius. Believe me, I know how you feel. Hogwarts doesn't offer many options for relationships, so sometimes I tried to have something casual with Remus or even with my boring cousin, but Sirius is simply… nothing is more important to those two than their relationship. So my advice is to stay away from them. Or at least don't have feelings for them. But if you do, be prepared." Bellatrix speaks as if she just wants to gossip about something or influence you even a little bit. You, who are walking beside her while Peter walks ahead of the two, don't know what to think. After all, you're a stranger. You can't demand anything from anyone.

"Danger, danger is all you'll get with Lupin. If you survive, you'll come out marked forever." Peter turns to you and says this. His body language seems to indicate that he's nervous, as if he's warning you of an impending attack. Bellatrix looks at him with a disapproving and almost furious look. You don't understand anything, but something inside you tells you to be more cautious.

"What Peter means is that getting involved with Remus can be dangerous, but not in a real sense. More like a romantic danger. You know how love triangles are, and if you manage to win one of them over, you'll have to deal with the other. But our friend Peter here is a bit too dramatic. He's a literature professor and has lost track of what's fiction and what's reality. Stay at Hogwarts for longer, and maybe you'll end up like that too." Bellatrix speaks as if she's trying to convince you of something, and you admit that she could easily persuade you to believe her, but something in you said that Peter wasn't exaggerating.

"My intention is not to meddle in the relationship between Black and Lupin. In fact, I don't even know how that relationship works. I just happened to meet them by chance and get closer." You speak as you walk through the forest. You look up, unable to see the moon and wondering if tonight you would see the hairy creature again. For a moment, you even think it could be a plan of Bellatrix and Peter to bring you into the middle of the forest and get rid of you, but then you start to think that you're being a bit paranoid. After all, why would they want to get rid of you?

"And finally, we've arrived at the quaintest local bar you'll find around here. I'll warn you upfront that not all patrons are good folks, but the beer is good and it's our only option." Bellatrix informs you as the three of you enter the establishment. The design of the place is cozy and simple, like Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother's house. There's a fireplace right at the entrance, near an old and somewhat tattered-looking sofa. Some people are sitting on the sofa, drinking, while others are standing. Most are just having drinks and chatting. Others are smoking while playing pool in a part of the bar that seems to have a door. You imagine it must be the exit.

"I'll have a beer. Actually, make that two beers." You tell the bartender. He's an incredibly tall man with a long beard and hair. Despite not being sure if he heard your order, he nods. Bellatrix is placing her order while Peter seems to have gone to the restroom. He's so quiet, he could be mistaken for a mouse sneaking around.

"Would you like to dance?" Bellatrix asks as she grabs her drink. The bartender apparently didn't hear you, as he passed you a glass of whiskey and then went to serve another customer. You wonder how she plans to dance without music until you see a jukebox near where the smokers are. Bellatrix promptly goes over there and selects a song. "Kill of the Night" is the song she chooses, and she starts dancing with a certain rhythm towards you. You take your whiskey shot and then take Bellatrix's hand as you try to keep up with her pace. It's a dance that mainly involves the feet and hips. You're not the most coordinated person in the world, but you manage to keep up with her, even though she's holding a bottle of beer while dancing.

"Thank you for inviting me to come here. It was kind of you." You say as you're close to her. Then she pulls you closer and gives you a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, catching you by surprise. You quickly push her away, not quite understanding. Not that she isn't attractive, but you just met her. Well, not that you're a prude.

"If you're interested in spending more time with more fun people, now you know where to find me." Bellatrix winks in your direction and heads towards where Peter went. You're not quite sure what to do, but suddenly you feel short of breath. You then head towards the exit of the bar. Bad idea. The more you walk in the same direction you came from, the more you feel lost. Going back would be an option, but you're a bit embarrassed. So you walk even further until you see someone approaching you at some speed. You clench your fists in a defensive position, preparing yourself. When you feel the person's body collide with yours, and you both roll into the forest. You get lost in the moment, feeling some rocks and branches touching your skin as you and the person roll on the ground.

"What the hell are you doing? Trying to kill us both?" You say as soon as you stop rolling after hitting a tree. Your body already shows signs of feeling the impact, but your anger speaks louder. Especially when you realize who it is. Sirius, who is currently positioned right on top of you, says nothing. He just lightly presses his fingers over your mouth and shushes you. His hand smells nice, like vanilla. But you're itching to kick him where it would hurt most and get him off of you. Then you hear a loud, pained howl, as if from a wounded animal. You also notice that Sirius's arm is injured. And it's like a puzzle assembling itself right in front of you.

"Where's Lupin?" You ask, concerned. Sirius looks at you with a serious expression as if he's annoyed that you didn't shut up.

"I'd like to explain, but it'll be better if we stay quiet." Sirius says, almost against your mouth due to how close he is. You stare at him, feeling his blood touch your skin. He's losing a lot of blood. You need to help him.

"I'll distract whatever's coming. You try to find someone to help you. Don't try to be a hero. You'll die if you keep bleeding like this. Just run in a different direction from mine and try to stay alive." You say, gently pushing Sirius's body off of you and then figuring out how to get the creature's attention. Your only option was to do what the creature does best. So you let out a loud howl, trying to mimic the creature's noise. Soon, the sounds of the creature approaching can be heard. Sirius must have noticed that you were truly determined to attract the creature's attention, because he disappeared once you howled. You then started running as if your life depended on it. But before you left, you grabbed a branch. Your feet pound the ground at an unprecedented speed as you flee from the creature. But it's not enough, as somehow the shaggy creature appears in front of you. You have no doubt it's a werewolf. And the creature looks at you as if it knows who you are. It moves as if it's about to come towards you, and you grip the branch as if to attack the creature. And then it occurs to you that perhaps you can speak to the werewolf, especially if it's who you suspect it is.

"Remus, don't make me attack you. I… don't know you as well as I'd like, but I don't want to hurt you. I know. Deep down, you know it too. You don't want to hurt me, just like you didn't want to hurt Sirius. Just try to stay calm. I know it might seem silly, but focus on what's around you. Your home is nearby. Where your students study. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Luna, and many others. They need you." You speak, trying to appeal to the human inside the creature. And for a few seconds, you think you succeeded, until you hear footsteps that distract both you and the creature. And just when it seems like the werewolf is going to attack you, you see four small bodies throwing stones at it. You can bet that Potter, Granger, Weasley, and Malfoy are the students daring enough to venture out of Hogwarts at this hour. Even though Draco might have only come with them because Harry did. You don't have time to think. When you realize that your students might be in danger, you throw your entire body against the werewolf's. You close your eyes tightly to avoid seeing the damage, but you manage to bring the creature down, causing both of you to fall near a stream. Or something like it; you can only hear the sound of water as you begin to lose consciousness.

When dawn breaks, you're unsure if you're alive or how you survived. All you know is that your body is racked with pain. Looking around, you realize that yesterday's events weren't just a dream. Your eyes settle on another person nearby. Despite feeling a bit dizzy, you muster the determination to get up and confirm what you already suspected. The naked man lying unconscious by the stream is Lupin. He's covered in bruises and has a cut near his mouth. So, Remus Lupin is a werewolf, and last night he nearly caused quite a problem. And to top it all off, you'll need to figure out how to carry him somewhere.

To be continued...

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