#drawing wizards in muggle places

[rottenherbs]

Love on the Silver Screen

Pairing: D.M x Actress! Reader Summary: After the war, Draco Malfoy secretly falls for a Muggle actress whose films become his only escape from the hollow life he’s trapped in. When he’s forced to attend a wizarding convention, he’s stunned to discover that you’re not only real but a witch, throwing his carefully built walls into chaos. W/C: 1.8k A/N: NEW SERIES ALERT! I have 3 written so far for this story line and may write more if people like <3 [masterlist] Much Love, Saige

Malfoy Manor was stiflingly silent after dark.

Draco liked it that way. It meant there was no one around to see how low he’d sunk.

The great drawing room — once a place for stiff parties and bloodline boasts — had become his hiding place. A battered armchair sat crookedly before a small television he’d smuggled in under a Disillusionment Charm. Next to it, a messy pile of Muggle films and a half-broken DVD player he’d barely learned to operate.

His wand was abandoned on the side table, useless here.

Tonight, all he needed was this small, flickering escape.

The screen buzzed to life, bathing the room in warm, golden light.

And then you appeared.

Y/N Y/L/N.

The name blazed across the credits of some old Muggle movie he’d found tucked between the sofa cushions at a secondhand shop. He hadn’t even meant to watch it — just needed something to drown out the silence — but when you appeared, laughing, wild and alive in a way no one in his world seemed to be anymore, he was lost.

He should have stopped watching. It was pathetic — a Malfoy, obsessed with a Muggle actress.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Draco found himself drawn deeper with each film you starred in: a fierce-hearted detective, a sharp-tongued musician, a stubborn dreamer running through a rainstorm barefoot and laughing like magic itself.

You had a way of biting your lip when you were nervous. Tucking loose hair behind your ear when you were thinking. Smiling so brightly it hurt to look at.

“You’re a fool,” Draco muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his pale hair. “Absolutely mental.”

Still, he watched you.

When you cried on screen, something cold and sharp twisted in his chest.

When you smiled, he smiled too — without even realizing it.

It was ridiculous. You didn’t know he existed.

You lived in a world where magic was a fairytale, where his name meant nothing at all.

And yet, in this forgotten room filled with dusty furniture and fading memories, you were the only thing that felt real.

The film ended too soon. Credits rolled. Your name — Y/N Y/L/N — floated across the screen in soft, white letters. Draco sat motionless, staring at the empty glow, the silence in the manor swallowing everything once more.

He thought of your laugh, of the way you had thrown yourself into love and danger with the kind of reckless courage he had never dared.

He thought of how different you were from the world he knew — pureblood masks, Ministry lies, cold handshakes.

He thought, briefly and madly, that maybe he wasn’t beyond saving after all.

Not if someone like you existed.

The television buzzed, the screen fading into darkness.

Still, Draco didn’t move.

Sitting there alone, heart aching with something sharp and unfamiliar, he whispered to no one,

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And for the first time in months, he almost meant it.

———

The next morning, the manor felt even colder.

Draco stood in front of one of the tall, cracked windows, watching mist snake its way across the grounds. He hated mornings like this — when the sun never quite broke through and everything hung heavy and grey.

It gave him too much time to think.

With a sharp breath, he tore his gaze away and crossed the room, kicking aside a stack of old newspapers. His stomach twisted as his eyes landed on the television, still sitting crookedly on the ornate table, cables tangled like vines.

Pathetic.

He was pathetic.

Somewhere out there, you — Y/N — were living a real life. Smiling at real people. Loving real people. Not hiding behind broken televisions and walls heavy with old magic and regret.

He rubbed the heel of his palm against his chest as if he could physically wipe away the ache there. As if it could be that easy.

It wasn’t.

Draco raked a hand through his hair again — a restless, angry gesture — and turned sharply, pacing across the room like a caged thing.

He shouldn’t feel this way. It was reckless. It was stupid. Falling for a face on a screen, for a voice trapped inside plastic discs.

He didn’t even know you.

Not really.

Not your favorite color. Not the way your voice softened when you said someone’s name. Not what your laugh sounded like when it wasn’t scripted.

And yet he did know you — somehow, someway — better than he knew himself these days.

He knew the crinkle at the corner of your eyes when you smiled.

The way you spoke like you meant every word, even when it was fiction.

The way your sadness didn’t come in neat, pretty tears but in fierce, silent moments that broke his heart a little more every time.

“You’re a bloody idiot,” Draco snarled under his breath, slamming his hand against the wall harder than necessary. Dust rained down from the ceiling.

He had survived a war.

He had faced down monsters — inside and out — and lived to tell the tale.

And now, here he was:

Broken, aimless, pining after a Muggle actress who didn’t even know he existed.

What would his father say, if he could see him now?

Pathetic. Weak. Disgraceful.

Good, Draco thought viciously. Let him be disgusted.

He wanted nothing to do with the man who had shaped his childhood in cold, sharp hands. Nothing to do with the name that still burned like a brand on his skin.

But wanting to escape that legacy was one thing.

Letting himself fall into a daydream about you — beautiful, brilliant you — was something else entirely.

It was dangerous. It was impossible.

And yet…

And yet.

When Draco closed his eyes, it wasn’t war or guilt or blood he saw.

It was your smile.

Your laugh.

The way you looked like you could change the world with nothing but stubbornness and a spark in your eyes.

He hated it.

He craved it.

With a low, frustrated growl, Draco yanked open the heavy curtains, letting the grey light flood the room. He needed air. He needed distance.

He needed to stop believing, even for a moment, that he could have something so far beyond him.

Without a backward glance at the television, Draco grabbed his coat and stalked toward the manor’s front doors.

Maybe today, the cold would finally freeze whatever was left of the stupid, traitorous hope growing in his chest.

Maybe.

But even as the heavy doors slammed shut behind him, even as the chill bit into his skin, he knew:

It was already too late.

——-

Draco adjusted the stiff collar of his dress robes, biting back a scowl as he stepped through the grand marble archway of the Ministry’s event hall.

It smelled like old parchment and false pleasantries.

The “Preservation of Wizardkind” Convention — an annual event meant to showcase the resilience of magical culture after the war — was the kind of thing he normally avoided like the plague.

But the Malfoy name still carried obligations, even when it was whispered with more suspicion than reverence.

His presence had been requested.

Draco glanced around with thinly veiled disdain.

Everywhere he looked: wizards and witches milling about in ornate robes, grand banners declaring things like “Unity Through Tradition” and “Honoring Magical Bloodlines.”

It was unbearable.

He ducked toward the side hall, pretending interest in a series of dusty exhibits about ancient broom designs. Maybe he could survive the afternoon with minimal conversation, make an appearance at one of the mandatory talks, and leave unnoticed.

‘You just have to endure it’, he told himself grimly.

‘Just smile politely. Nod. Pretend you care.’

A voice crackled through the enchanted speakers overhead:

“The Art of Magic: A Modern Panel on Magical Expression will begin in ten minutes in Hall B.”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Art?

That sounded… different.

At the very least, it would be less painful than another lecture on goblin treaties or blood purity statistics. With a resigned sigh, he made his way down the polished corridor, weaving between clusters of witches chattering about cauldron innovations.

The “Art” panel was tucked away in one of the smaller halls, a modest stage set up with several chairs.

Draco leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, thoroughly disinterested.

Until he saw you.

You were perched at the far end of the panel — wearing simple robes, nothing flashy, but there was a brightness about you that made the entire room dull by comparison.

It hit him like a Bludger to the ribs.

Y/N.

He blinked once. Twice.

But you didn’t disappear.

It was you — the girl he had watched for endless nights through the cold, flickering light of his stolen television. The girl he had memorized without meaning to. The girl he had cursed himself for dreaming about.

And you were here.

In the wizarding world.

Real.

For a wild, unsteady moment, he thought he might actually be hallucinating.

But then you leaned forward to adjust your microphone, your mouth curling into a soft, familiar smile as you glanced toward the audience.

And Draco knew, with gut-sick certainty, that you were no fantasy.

You cleared your throat, your voice steady and clear.

“I’m honored to be here today to speak about how art — magical and Muggle alike — bridges the past and future. After the war, I think it’s important we don’t just preserve traditions blindly, but learn from them. Grow.”

The audience shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Muggles.

Draco’s heart kicked against his ribs.

You were a witch.

Maybe not one tied to the old names or the old ways, but a witch all the same.

His world and yours weren’t so far apart after all.

He felt dizzy.

You spoke passionately about your work — weaving Muggle methods with magical materials, painting spells into tapestries that moved and breathed, using creativity as rebellion and healing.

Draco couldn’t look away.

You were everything the convention claimed to celebrate but quietly feared:

Change.

Hope.

Defiance.

And he — Draco Malfoy, son of the coldest traditions — stood rooted to the spot, completely undone by the simple truth of your existence.

It was stupid.

It was dangerous.

It was already too late.

The panel continued, voices rising and falling, polite applause filling the small room.

Draco barely heard any of it.

He only heard you.

And for the first time in years, something inside him — something buried deep and bruised and aching — stirred awake.

He didn’t know your favorite color.

He didn’t know what you smelled like up close, or how your laugh sounded when it wasn’t wrapped in scripted dialogue.

But he would.

He had to.

Because you were real.

And sitting on a stage less than thirty feet away.

And Draco Malfoy, fool that he was, was already yours.

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think a wizarding wedding would look like, and what do you think Lucius' and Narcissa's specifically looked like?

The book does show us Fleur and Bill's wedding, but that was a wartime shotgun-ish wedding in the peripherals of the story's focus. I'm also not ever sure how much of the details there are things joanne really thought about and decided to include in her representation of a Magical wedding, and how much of it are just modern social customs she might have considered the forever universal default and put in the book.

Narcissa and Lucius also seem to be the rare fictional couple who'd actually enjoy all the pedantry and tradition and specificities in a wedding to me. Seeing as you're writing a fic with them in it, I thought you'd probably already thought about this aspect of worldbuilding/character writing, so I hope you don't mind me asking abt it. Thanks and have a great day!!

Okay, I love this ask, and I'm going to lay it all out, but first I want to lay out my Reasoning.

Here are my rules, when it comes to expanding on/filling in the Harry Potter world building:

ONE: If we’re dealing with any sort of political or social structure, my reference is England, year 1700. 

This does make sense with the backstory we get: the Wizarding World split away from the Muggle world in the late 1600s, wizards live a really long time, and wizards also didn’t need an industrial revolution (because magic filled the place of tech) so they wouldn’t have gotten any of the social changes that happened because of the industrial revolution. 

Also, this particular time period generally fits with what we see on the page. Education, politics, the police force, mental health care - it all seems to work in a very 1700s way. We don’t have any electricity, there’s no industrialization. (Like, Umbridge’s pamphlets are made by hand. I mean obviously they’re made by magic, but an individual’s magic, they’re not assembled in a magical factory.) So when Draco brings up a “museum”...  it makes sense to me that he’s not not thinking of a modern museum with a ticketing department running off grants and public funding, full of typed-out little plaques written by scientists and historians, telling you the provenance of whatever you’re looking at. If we went to a museum in Wizarding World, I would expect the type of museum you saw in 1700: a cabinet of curiosities assembled by one single wealthy collector, arranged in some eccentric way, handwritten labels or no labels at all, very probably in a wing of a private house. That feels correct and in-universe to me. So… whenever someone asks me something like ‘how do taxes work in the Harry Potter universe,’ I take 1700 England as a starting place, and go from there. 

TWO: If we’re dealing with aesthetic details or inventions, I draw from England 1700 - 1880

There isn’t much that’s Victorian in the world building… but there’s plenty in the set dressing. We see lots of 1800s fashion: women wearing hats with birds and flowers on them, men wearing bowler hats and top hats. There are 1800s hedge mazes, most of the holiday decorations are from the late 1800s, we’ve got radios and trains… and I’m completely fine with all that. It seems to me that if you’re a wizard walking through the Muggle world, it’s a lot easier to see someone wearing a cool hat, and say ‘I would like a hat like that’  - versus walking around and picking up the concept of, idk unions. So cameras are okay: they’re 1800s. Note that Rita Skeeter’s photographer Bozo has a magical version of a 1850s camera

while Muggle born Colin Creevey has… a modded 1930s camera? To communicate that he’s got a foot in both worlds. 

My point is, if you saw someone riding a bicycle in Harry Potter, you would assume they brought it in from the Muggle world. Bicycles showed up in England in the 1880s, so that’s slightly too late. It’s important to the feel of the world to keep up a good chunk of separation between the aesthetics of the Wizarding World, and the aesthetics of the muggle world.

THREE: Gender politics/gendered customs basically don’t exist

This is one of the things that makes Harry Potter a J. K. Rowling fantasy world. Obviously, JKR the person has a lot to unpack about gender politics, and there are all kinds of Doylist differences between the way male and female characters are treated in the Harry Potter books. But in universe, there is no Watsonian benefit to being a guy or being a girl in any particular situation. We get gendered bathrooms (although the prefects’ bathroom and the locker rooms seem co-ed), gendered fashions, gendered dorms… and that’s basically it.  

Of course there are some very old and baked in gendered things I doubt JKR even thought about… a woman taking her husband’s last name for instance. (Honestly - I would have loved a posh doubled-barreled name for Draco. Draco Malfoy-Black sounds quite sharp and public schooly.) There’s a thing where Dumbledore mentions that the Blacks prefer it when a guy inherits… but in the same breath, he’s completely convinced Bellatrix is about to inherit, so clearly that isn’t that important.

The only other example I can think of is the way we’re told the unicorns prefer the female students. But, the boys in Professor Grubbly-Plank’s class unanimously think this is bullshit, and I would argue that the framing of the book supports this read. We haven’t seen magic work like this before, so did Professor G-P get it wrong? And/or just doesn’t want to deal with the boys? Presumably this is why we are happy Hagrid is coming back

FOUR: There is basically no organized religion/spirituality in the Wizarding World. 

The narrative does a lot of work to not tell us who the random officiant at Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur‘s wedding is. Who is he? Who does he represent? How do you find him? How does he have authority to do this? Not important, doesn’t matter, keep moving along. We are definitely in a world where there is a holiday named Christmas… but it’s like the women taking their husband's name thing, that seems too baked into JKR’s worldview to question. But there is no mention of any religious dimension, it’s just presents and feasts and balls. 

If I’m writing something that’s interested in what these guys consider to be the sacred underpinnings of their world (like something focusing on a wedding, for instance…) then I think I would end up expanding on important magical rituals. I’m thinking Fidelius, Unbreakable Vow, sacrificial magic. Not for nothing, but considering how much importance the moment where Severus and Narcissa make an Unbreakable Vow is given by both the narrative and the characters… it feels more like a wedding than the wedding does, and I’m not even a Severus/Narcissa shipper. 

*

So when it comes to weddings… I’ve honestly found it uniquely difficult to research the history there, because a lot of people are very motivated to suggest that every wedding tradition has some deep, meaningful ancient origin - or that it was just kind of always that way. Take the concept of a “best man” and the term “best man" for instance. That starts showing up in the 1780s (so it’s a social custom that doesn’t make my 1700 deadline.) Harry is of course filtering everything through his POV, but if I were writing a wedding thing, I’d want to say that Sirius is filling a different position. Like “godfather” seems a very legally important role in the wizarding society, so lean into that.  Maybe the “best man” equivalent at a wizard wedding is the person who you’ve picked to get custody of your kids if you die. 

We also see things like white wedding dresses and matching bridesmaid dresses being treated as an absolute given at Fleur’s wedding, when both of those things pretty much only exist because Queen Victoria did them in 1840. One interesting thing is that JKR doesn’t seem to do an exchange of rings, and she’s changed up that moment to make it more reminiscent of (I think) a handfasting ceremony? Which is fine, I can work with that. (Also rings are just treated very negatively across the board in the Harry Potter books. No idea why.)

But, in-universe, the Bill/Fleur wedding is really hard to use as a model for what a typical pureblood Wizarding wedding looks like. For all the reasons Anon mentions: It’s war time, it was put together very quickly, Harry is not paying the most attention, we don’t get to see the whole thing. I would also add in the fact that the Weasleys are political radicals, and at that point especially would be very politically motivated to have a wedding that looks more Muggle. 

Okay.  If I were writing a pureblood wedding… like Lucius and Narcissa’s wedding… what would I do.

First, I don’t think I want a typical wedding from the year 1700. I want 1700 does renaissance/medieval. (Kind of Sir Walter Scott.) I like this because it brings in/explains the Merlin thing - the purebloods all use ‘Merlin’ as an oath, so I guess Merlin (and Arthur, and that kind of romanticized middle ages) is important to them culturally. Also, medieval influences are going to make your wedding feel impressive and established… which is exactly what the Malfoys are after. Make sure everyone knows what an old family they are. All these pureblood families have crests, so put them everywhere, front and center. The decorations should be banners and flags with the crests of everyone attending, no florals.

I also love the idea of fossilized fashions, old-fashioned clothes that don’t come out except during a very ceremonial, traditional occasion. (Think of the ways that veils used to be a pretty normal part of a lady's wardrobe, but now you only see them during weddings.) I’d have it so that during a wizard wedding… all the ladies bring out their long, draping, evil enchantress sleeves and the guys are supposed to wear half-capes and swords. It’s also a good excuse to bring out all the really old family jewelry, of which I am sure the Malfoys have buckets.

I also want this to be a very magical wedding. Like, there are parts of it you straight-up could not participate in as muggle, because I think (sadly) that would be the vibe during the timeline of the main books. Weddings are for showing off, and part of that would be showing off your magical prowess. I’m thinking - light the dance floor on fire before the first dance, and then the couple has to perform a Flame Freezing charm. This tradition started as a screw-you to the Muggles after the witch trials… but now everybody just kinda does it because it looks really cool when the newlyweds dance on a bed of flame. Oh, and we’re definitely doing medieval-style palm-touching dances. No waltzing for the first dance at a traditional Malfoy wedding.

And they’ll go all out for the wedding feast, which will be long. The 1700s and middle ages were both really into food that did stuff - food that transformed, or food that looked like other food, or food that had birds flying out of it. So  just lean into that times a million with magic.

I am also such a sucker for slightly sentient magical houses, and Harry Potter absolutely has some of that, with the way Hogwarts (the building) has various ways to fight back against enemies and infiltrators. So I think a Malfoy wedding would definitely be taking place at Malfoy Manor, and that the house itself would be a part of the proceedings in some way. Like it’s got to accept the new family member (we know, from little moments like Umbridge being barred from Dumbledore‘s office… that sometimes magical buildings just reject you.) Integrating a new person into the new space would be a multi-step process. Maybe there’s a ceremony where they present the new person with the family spell books, and another one where they present them with keys to various parts of the house, etc.

You could tie this in with the idea of a bedding ceremony (which also hits my medieval + 1700s markers.) Maybe the house changes in some way when the couple first sleeps together, like it redecorates with the belongings of the person moving in, or grows them a rose garden or observatory so they feel more at home. I bet it’s fun for the guests to stick around and watch this change happen. (A trope like this might be especially fun in an arranged marriage or marriage-law type story.)

I’m thinking this would also be a very long wedding, and the wedding party is probably staying at the house for a week or so beforehand. That’s part of the flex, the family’s ability to adequately pay host to so many people for such a long period of time. Like that’s what a house like Malfoy Manor is for, there’s a reason those places were functionally small hotels. If at the end my old-school pureblood wedding feels like a modern muggle wedding... I don’t think I’ve done my job. A Muggleborn who’s been invited ought to have culture shock.

And yes. It goes without saying that Lucius and Narcissa would have eaten up all this pomp and circumstance, with a spoon.

[thusspoketrish]

Hiya, I'm Trish! Below you'll find a list of my completed Drarry fics + a gist of the story + a handful of tags. All of my stories are postwar, EWE, and rated E or M. I will update this list as I complete more stories! Wooo!!!

MOST RECENT FIC:

Netflix and Chills | E | 20K Halloween might be over, but the tricks, treats, and heat between the sheets are just beginning for our favorite dynamic duo! Humor. Post-Second Wizarding War. EWE. Drarry in the Muggle World. Established Relationship. Snarky Draco Malfoy. Muggle Technology. Slice of Life. Humor. Romance. Domestic Fluff. Pop Culture References. Shenanigans. Halloween Night. Netflix and Chill. Banter. Mystery. Idiots in Love. Light Dom/Sub Elements. Dirty Talk. Blue Ball Hell.

Summary: When Draco innocently asks what "Netflix and Chill" means, Harry simply can't pass up the opportunity to impart some knowledge while demonstrating a masterclass in the art of seduction. Now, if only those plans weren't constantly interrupted by trick-or-treaters—some of them far more trick than treat.

The Art of Getting By | E | 149K Recovery fic set in a psychiatric hospital. Mental health Issues. Trauma/Traumatic Experiences. Heavy Angst. Harry and Draco admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Therapy. Fastburn. Co-dependency. Falling in love. Draco's + Harry's POV. Please read warnings. Dead Dove.

This Year's Love| E | 84K. A Drarry slowburn inspired by When Harry Met Sally! Humor. Light Angst. Draco in the Muggle world. Lovable Disaster!Harry. Enemies to Best Friends. Modern Dating. Layabout!Harry. Medical Student!Draco. Draco Dates Zaddies. Harry Is Living His Best Heaux Life. Sex (or no sex!) Positivity. Idiots In Love. So Much Pining. Harry's POV.

Everything That Happens Is From Now On | E | 42K. A sensitive story that explores the aftermath and recovery from a stranger SA. Established relationship. Secrets. Supportive/Loving Partner. RTS. Living Together. Body Positivity. Enthusiastic Consent. Hope. Draco's POV. Please read warnings.

Lemon Colour, Honey Glow | E | 67K. A love story that takes place over a series of unfortunate nights at the Leaky Cauldron. Enemies to Lovers. Falling in Love. Auror!Harry. Potion Master!Draco. Secret Relationship. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Possessive Harry. Flangst. Beer Gardens. The Leaky Cauldron. The Slytherin Trio. Bullying/Violence. Spoilers Left Untagged.

Super Rich Kids | E | 81K. True crime meets wild government conspiracies when Draco becomes a twisted sort-of Robin Hood, robbing the badly behaving rich to give to...well...you'll have to read the story to find out! Angst. Murders. Coverups. Enemies to Friends to Lovers. Bisexual Draco. Lush descriptions of glamour. Humor. The ULTIMATE Slytherin ensemble. Mental Health Issues. Drug Usage/Addiction. Pureblood Elitism. Social Season. Angst with a Happy Ending. Draco's POV.

On The Last Day | E | 53K. Draco's role as an Unspeakable, Harry's untimely death and ghostly return, and conspiracies bind them in a quest for truth and redemption. Mystery. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Grief/Mourning. Horror Elements. Science. Neurology/Neuroscience. Slowburn. Memory Loss. Draco's POV.

My Best Friend, the Serial Killer | E | 37K. Ride or Die BFFL Draco finds he's tired of moonlighting as a serial killer's accomplice. No matter how much he loves Pansy, he draws the line at helping her dispose of a sexy, flirty Harry Potter. Dark Humor. Campy/Kitsch Elements. Serial Killer!Pansy. Healer!Draco. Femme Fatale Trope. Falling in Love. Self-Love. Jealousy. Everyone is seriously morally grey. Draco's POV.

A Ferret, a ScarHead, a Weasel, & a Baby | E | 91K. The ultimate bromance takes centre stage (alongside a sweet and tender Drarry romance) in this Three Men & a Baby inspired story! BAMF Auror Draco. Protective Draco. Healer Harry. Capable and Emotionally Intelligent Ron. Illegal Potions Ring. Orphaned Baby. Roommates. Nothing to Something to Everything. Draco's POV.

Seven Days | E | 8K. It takes seven days for the Malfoy-Potter family to unravel. Grief/Mourning. Child Abduction. Death of a Child. Implied Mpreg. Alcohol Relapse. Coming to Terms. Harry's POV. Please Read the Warnings.

Portrait of a Young Girl | M | 8K. Navigating the complexities of love, marriage, and child-rearing, Harry and Draco face a new challenge when they suspect that four-year-old Teddy might be transgender. Married Drarry. Young Couple. Inexperienced Parents. Marital Problems/Disagreements. Stay-at-Home Dad Draco. Fluff. Acceptance. Love. Family. Happy Ending. Harry's POV.

A Day at the Park | M | 6K. Draco discovers that love has its own timing, and sometimes, that means returning to the place where he once lost it all. Estranged couple. Flashbacks. Pining. Postman's Park. Exiled Draco. Draco's POV.

Long for Bliss! | E | 9K. A random night out takes a dark and thrilling turn when Harry, after taking MDMA, encounters Draco Malfoy, looking like something straight out of his wildest dreams – or nightmares. First Time Drug Use. Nightclubs. The Perils of Ennui. Mildly Dubious Consent. Rooftop Sex. Light Dom/Sub Elements. Harry's POV.

Idiot Boys In Love & More | Various Ratings | 18K. Here you'll find a collection of one-shots, drabbles, and poems about Harry and Draco that are all standalone pieces! Each story is centered on a prompt provided by @drarrymicrofic and said prompt will be listed in the summary of each story (Series I completed). Harry + Draco's POV.

[badgers-and-cats]

My Dirty Girl. (Sirius Black x fem!reader)

Masterlist

Synopsis: you hide some very suggestive photos for Sirius to find. 18+!!!

Warnings; age-gap. Reader is in early to mid 20’s. Unprotected PiV (wrap it before you tap it!!) Smut. Not proof read. I think that’s it.

I wasn’t sure how to end this… so apologies in advance!!

@postazkabansiriussupremacy I knew you particularly liked this when I sent it to you👀

A prison escapee, who was more than a decade older than yourself, and once known as the most wanted wizard was never somebody you thought you’d be so attracted to.

And you especially didn’t expect to be hiding your nudes for him to find. Hoping that the fact that the photos were just ordinary muggle photos that didn’t move, you used your mother’s old Polaroid camera to take them, every photo you took was more suggestive than the last.

You knew they were working. You saw and felt the lingering gazes during Order meetings, and the fact that he clearly found it a lot harder to talk to you, especially alone, knowing he’d seen your bare body.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for you to be hiding these photos for him for a month, and he has yet to make a move, you start to get impatient. So, after one Order meeting, you offer to stay over at 12 Grimmauld Place.

“You don’t have to,” he said to you, saying that he wouldn’t be alone in his childhood house, Remus and Tonks were staying over, he tried to argue.

He stopped arguing with the idea of you staying after you suggested to just talk over a bottle of wine. Sitting in the drawing room, your talking soon changes to flirting.

He knows you’re not exactly being subtle about your attraction to him - your suggestive photos in his room that are now covered in his cum prove that. But he cannot help but allow the age gap cause him a little bit of anxiety. Is somebody like him really somebody you’d like to spend your time with? Somebody you’d be attracted to?

His thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your fingers softly on his thigh, it’s subtle enough for him to wonder if it’s intentional, but enough for him to notice it.

“So, what do I need to do get you to touch me?” You ask, after you both finish the bottle of wine.

“You shouldn’t want me,” he managed to get out, trying to ignore his cock hardening in his pants.

“But I do. Please, Sirius. Touch me.” You’re begging now, and he can sense the desperation in your voice, and how can he deny you such a request when he’s been longing for you for so long?

His lips are suddenly on yours. They taste of a mix of the wine you’ve just been sharing and a musky taste that you can’t quite place. They’re rough, his facial hair tickling your face.

His hands make their way to your hair, tugging gently as you make your way to sit on his lap - feeling his hard on instantly. You move your hips slowly and sensually, enjoying the feeling of his pants and his hard cock as you grind against him.

“Darling, you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he groaned, pulling away from your lips, his cock now painfully hard.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you say, starting to unbutton his shirt, the moan he let out when the words left your mouth along with the feeling of your hips moving against somehow made you wetter than you were.

Once his shirt was unbuttoned, you helped him get it off, and a few short seconds later, he had taken your shirt off, groaning at the sight of your breasts right there in front of his eyes.

After your bra has been discarded of, his hands almost instantly make their way to touch them, squeezing them with his rough, large hands.

“They’re so much better in person,” he groaned before replacing his hands with his mouth, kissing and sucking eagrly, earning a high pitched moan from your mouth as your hands make their way to his hair - tugging gently.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this, but I’m desperate to feel you inside me,” you manage to get out, way too focused on the feeling of his mouth on your body.

“You’ve taken the words right out of my mouth, darling. I’ve imagined what it would feel like to fuck you for longer than you imagined,” he said, allowing you to get up to strip the rest of your clothes off, as he takes his off, freeing his cock, begging to be inside you.

“Then do it, I want you to fuck me Sirius. Claim me as yours,” you request, lying down on the couch, spreading your legs for the older, attractive wizard in front of you.

He swore he could cum just at the sight of you there in front of him. Legs spread, pussy glistening and begging him for attention.

Usually, he’d be embarrassed at how desperate he feels. But the combination of over a decade of being alone in Azkaban, the shameless flirting, and the drawer full of cum covered Polaroids of the very body in front of him, means he just doesn’t care. He wants to, in your words, claim you as his.

“You are truly magnificent. So beautiful. And all for me,” he compliments, his body now towering over yours, as he lines his cock up with your wet heat, giving it a few pumps first.

Usually, he’d tease, but he’s way too eager to feel your pussy welcome his cock, to feel its heat around him. He pushes the tip in at first to get a taste. And now that he has, he knows he won’t ever be the same again.

The next thrust that followed, he pushed his entire cock into your heat, so that he was now balls deep inside you. He groans at how tight and warm you feel, and you moan at how well he stretches you, you can feel every inch of his cock inside of you.

“Merlin, this is far better than I could’ve ever imagined. You’re going to be the death of me, I swear. You feel so good, gonna let me fuck you, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Sirius, please,” you’re begging now, you’d feel embarrassed at how desperate you sound, but you’re unable to focus on anything other than his cock pushing against your cervix.

Then, it’s like all hell let’s loose. He’s thrusting into you at an almost brutal pace - nothing but the sound of your moans, his hips against yours, and the wet sound of his cock in your pussy can be heard.

“My dirty girl. My dirty, dirty girl. All this time, this is what you wanted? Wanted me to fuck you senseless?” He manages to get out, before he starts his attack on your neck. Kisses, and bites all over, there’s certain to be marks once he’s done.

“I won’t last any longer, sweet girl. I'm going to fill your pretty pussy with my cum,” he says as you beg him to fill you up, with a string of pathetic moans and “please’s,” as you feel your own release coming.

“Let it go for me, pretty girl. Show me how much you’ve craved me this past month. Soak my cock and milk me dry,”

And with that, you let go with a high pitched moan, your pussy spasms around his cock, as he stills his hips against yours. His sweet cum painting your walls, filling you up nicely.

For the next minute or two, you stay in that position. His softening cock still inside of your cum-filled pussy, the sounds of you both catching your breath, and you playing with his hair. Both feeling more than content.

“I cannot tell you how long I’ve waiting for that. How much it exceeded my expectations,” you tell him, and he agrees, looking up at you and smiling, kissing your lips - a lot more softly than last time.

“There is one, small problem though,” he says.

“Which is?” You worry.

“I fear that Remus and Tonks may have heard us,” he says. Your face drops. You forgot they were staying over also.

“Though, I suppose it makes a change from them hearing me jerking off to your photos,” he jokes, as he winks, and before pecking your lips again and pulling out of you.

This new relationship is going to be an adventure, to say the least.

[bweeeb]

HATED

Theodore Nott x reader ( Whispered as last name )

Enemies to lovers

Notes: When I wrote this, I didn't realize how dirty it was, I apologize for the shitty writing.

Summary: When the new girl causes Slytherin to lose the House Cup, Theo becomes much more interested in getting her attention—even after acting like a jerk. But maybe with Voldemort's return, it might be too late to make something last.

Warnings: Smut, Theodore being an asshole like every man on earth, reader being a proud slut.🤘❤️‍🔥

Being competitive was always one of Theodore Nott's characteristics that almost no one knew about, and as one of the smartest students in Slytherin, Theodore never had trouble keeping his competitiveness to himself. By the end of the third year, the vast majority of Slytherin's points were consistently earned by Theodore, leading Slytherin to take the top spot in the House Cup every year, until Y/n Whispered transferred from Ilvermorny at the beginning of the fourth year and secured the House Cup for Hufflepuff. Theodore couldn't help but feel intense hatred spread through him from head to toe upon seeing that the person who had taken his place was a new, blonde, five-foot-three Hufflepuff girl, which irritated him even more because the attraction he felt towards her was stronger than the instant hatred that surged in his chest. The first time he saw her celebrating with her peers at the end of the year, Theodore decided he would make Y/n's life much more complicated from the moment she looked at him from across the Great Hall, at the Slytherin table, and sent a gentle smile his way. Theodore didn't understand the reason behind her beautiful smile but interpreted it as mockery; he preferred to imagine that Y/n was mocking him rather than smiling amiably due to the stories she had heard about him, ultimately ending up liking a Muggle-born Hufflepuff.

In the fifth year, Y/n endured a series of provocations from Theodore until she reacted, turning it into a personal game that went beyond the House Cup. In the fifth year, Slytherin once again won the House Cup, and Theodore made sure to send a card to her room with the message 'What can you do if Muggle-borns only get lucky once in a lifetime, dolcezza,' and on the back of the card, probably the phrase that made Y/n cry with anger for the rest of the night, 'Maybe you should go cry to your parents, little baby.' The next day, Y/n put on her tough mask and threw the paper into Nott's plate at breakfast, saying loudly and clearly, 'My parents are dead, so if you tried to offend me, you failed with both the Muggle-born insult and the part about parents, Stupid Nott.' From that day on, Y/n began to hate Theo for being so stupid, and Theo began to observe Y/n more delicately, and partially the provocations decreased. However, with the decrease in provocations, Y/n's approval and visibility over him also decreased. Nott had to find another way to get her attention, even if it meant returning to taunting.

— You smell that? Oh wait, it's just Y/n walking into the hall.

Y/n heard Nott say loudly as she passed by him during breakfast.

— Must be coming from that mouth of yours that only spews garbage, Theodore.

The girl retorted as she walked past him without even looking at him and sat down at her table nearby.

— You should watch what you say to him, Y/n.

Y/n's friend, Violet, said, glancing quickly at the Slytherin table.

— It's just Nott, Vic. If he wants to hate me, I'll hate him back.

The girl shrugged, drawing Penny's gaze from across the table.

— No, Y/n. I heard they know who's back.

— What?

Y/n's eyes widened slightly, her body trembling. Her parents died in a suspicious and brutal manner while on a trip to the Ministry of Magic in London through dark magic, her uncles, born with pure blood, confirmed that probably some attacks on half-blood wizards are happening all of a result of among them

A week passed, and the news of Voldemort's return turned out to be true, making the seventh year more unsettling than ever. Gradually, half-blood students began disappearing, the common room grew emptier, classrooms quieter and less lively. Y/n had lost all focus on her studies. Dark days were casting a shadow over the wizarding world, and while all her classmates fled to safety with their families, she remained at Hogwarts, surrounded mostly by Slytherins who seemed unaffected.

On a rainy night, Y/n lingered longer than usual in the library, finishing her assignments. As she hurried back to her dorm, she noticed Draco Malfoy, Mattheo Riddle, and Theodore Nott standing casually against a wall, engaged in conversation. She lowered her head, bit her lip, and rolled her eyes, her heart racing. "Stupid, stop being silly, Y/n," she scolded herself silently, trying to slip by unnoticed. But Theodore, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette, chuckled and began to follow her. — No house to go back to, Y/n? Theodore's voice was mocking, prompting laughter from the three Slytherins echoing down the corridor. Theo couldn't help but wish Y/n would turn around, march over with that cute angry expression he secretly admired, and look him in the eye. — Your family didn't want you because you're a Mudblood?He taunted again, not bothering to face her.

— Fuck you, Theodore. Y/n muttered, stung by his words for the first time because deep down, she knew there was truth in them. Her pureblood uncles' allegiance to Voldemort left her with no safe haven at Hogwarts, just the hope of avoiding a grim fate. Without looking back, Whispered strode on, leaving Theodore to stew in his irritation at her avoidance. It had been over a month since she last met his gaze, and he hated how much he missed their confrontations.

— What did you say?

— What's this bablood still doing here?

Y/n heard Draco ask, his laughter joining Matteo's teasing remark: — Maybe the little lioness needs a cigarette to calm down. Meanwhile, she still heard Theodore's footsteps behind her.

— Hey, I'm talking to you, Mudblood. Theodore quickened his pace, grabbing her wrist, the first time their skin touched and it felt like she was burning against his.

— I said, FUCK YOU, NOTT, and don't fucking touch me. Y/n spun around so forcefully that her ponytail whipped across his face. In that instant, regret surged through her chest. Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting moment, she glimpsed a different side of him. — I'm sorry.

Her voice was barely a whisper as Y/n stumbled backwards, fleeing from the sight of the Slytherins as swiftly as the wind. She was scared, and Theodore saw it in her eyes, as clear as day. What Y/n didn't realize was that he was scared too.

In the days that passed, the school's security changed, which meant there was no security at all, not for her. This meant she felt safer inside her room than walking the corridors. Dumbledore was dead, teachers were as concerned as the remaining students at the school, and all this meant Y/n no longer appreciated meals, only eating when necessary. Theodore had noticed this minimal frequency, and the girl's tired appearance, who seemed not to sleep, began to worry him. He yelled at himself that he shouldn't be concerned.

One night, the Hufflepuff common room was completely deserted, doors wide open, and as Y/n repeated in her letters to her friends far away, there was no security at all. A strange noise from the other side of Whispered's room door made her rise from the bed where she was sitting and grip her wand tightly. When she was sure no one was there, she opened the door and looked at the plate of food on the floor, grabbed it, and placed it on her desk. She picked up the card beside it and read, 'I noticed you haven't been eating properly. It's important that you eat, bella.' Y/n stared at the plate for a few long minutes, afraid it might be poisoned, but when her stomach rumbled at the smell emanating from the food, her resistance was broken, and she quickly devoured the plate.

Over the next two weeks, similar things happened with several meals feeding Y/n when she didn't show up in the main hall. Over thirty cards accumulated in her drawer, and Y/n couldn't decipher all the Italian nicknames at the end of the notes, wondering who could be doing this.

Late one night, three days since Y/n had eaten anything, a knock on her door echoed, and without fear, Y/n opened it quickly, eager to see who was entering the Hufflepuff common room at such an hour. To her surprise, she saw Theodore Nott's figure quickly disappearing down the corridor.

— Hey! She shouted, running after him and grabbing his wrist just as he had done to her on several previous occasions. Her gaze fell upon him, looking unsure there.

— What are you doing? Y/n asked suspiciously.

— I can't be seen here — he murmured. Y/n stood still briefly until Nott pushed her back into the room.

— So what are you doing here? she asked again.

— You haven't been eating...

Theo said, pointing to the untouched food.

— That's not true. It was, but she didn't want to admit it to him.

— I know it is, dolcezza. Theo said, almost desperate, leaving Y/n confused.

— What are you still doing here, Y/n? Theodore asked, concerned, moving closer to Y/n, who for the first time didn't pull away from him in fear.

— I should be asking you what you were doing in my room. She said, ignoring his question. Theodore moved closer again, almost touching their noses.

— I'm serious, Y/n.

— I have nowhere else to go, Theodore. You were right, my family doesn't want me, so I'll stay. Is that okay with you? Y/n turned away from his gaze, walking away. — Thanks for the food, but you can go now.

— You have to leave. He whispered. Y/n shook her head, briefly glancing towards him without really meeting his eyes.

— Why are you worried?

— Because... because, I... He stuttered, unsure of what to say. — I... I want you to be okay, Y/n.

— Why? I'm a badblood,' as you all say, why does it matter? You never liked me, Theodore, I don't understand.

— Don't call yourself that way.

— Theodore.

The girl moaned and Theodore sighed worried.

— If they find you, they'll kill you. I...I...

— Theodore, you're not answering what I'm asking. Why are you worried?

— I don't know, Y/n. — Theo sat on the bed with his hands on his head and his arms on his knees, his eyes closed, and Y/n stood still in front of him. — I shouldn't, but I care about you.

— That doesn't make sense, you hate me, Theodore...

— No! I don't hate you. Theodore stood up quickly and approached her, almost touching their noses.

— But you always...

— I've always been an idiot because I wanted to get your attention. I wanted you to look at me. Theo said, closing his eyes and sighing in frustration.

— That makes no sense, Nott.

— No! It doesn't, but I don't know a better way to do it...

— Maybe act like a normal person?

— My mother would hate me for what I did to you and say I'm foolish. Theo muttered more to himself and ran his hands through his now longer hair.

— I think I've loved you since the first day you smiled at me, Bella. You have this thing, that pulls me to you. Theo whispered, and Y/n widened her eyes, expecting to find a prank.

— But you ran away...that's nonsense, how? Me and you, Theodore? What the hell are you talking about, my God. She laughed humorlessly and rushed away from the Italian's body, agitated. — Where's Matheo and Malfoy? Okay, YOU CAN COME IN NOW! I UNDERSTAND. She shouted at the door, desperate, and Theodore pulled her by the shoulders to look at him again.

— It's not a prank, Whispered. There's no one there, they know that, and it was them who told me to talk to you.

— You were about to run when I saw you, Theodore. She repeated. — I can't believe you could ever love a 'mudblood. She made air quotes with her fingers, and Theodore closed his eyes, groaning. — H-h-how could y-you love me, Theodore? She stuttered, feeling vulnerable, and suddenly Theodore's lips pressed against hers, the girl from her first day at Hogwarts was enchanted by Theo's beauty and intelligence, but when she realized he would never feel the same besides the eternal teasing resolved to slap her in chest of, now, doesn't

— Believe me, bella. Y/n nodded, getting lost in those deep blue eyes, and leaned in to kiss him once again, more harder. Their size difference didn't help at all, so Theo grabbed the girl's waist and set her on the desk in a way that she opened her legs to accommodate his body between them.

— The world is going to end, isn't it? — Y/n asked, placing kisses on Theodore's neck and fighting for the dominance he had previously taken, starting to distribute kisses along her neck.

— If no one stop this crazy wizard, yes, my princess. He said, giving wet kisses on Y/n's skin, making her moan and tilt her hips closer to his, seeking some friction against his pants.

— Fuck — she moaned once more, and Theodore found her lips again. His hand on her waist pulled her body closer to his, and Theodore groaned as he rubbed against the wet fabric of Y/n's panties with his hard erection.

— Shit, Y/n, you're so wet — He groaned this time, and Y/n nodded, clinging to him.

— Do you want to fuck me? Please do it, Teddy. She whimpered into Theodore's neck, who opened his mouth in ecstasy at the girl's words begging for him.

— Mia bellissima principessa, ti scoperò così bene. The Italian in Theo's voice made Y/n spread her legs wider in anticipation, seeking some friction against her clitoris.

— Please. — With that, Theo removed the girl's green lace panties, his provocative gaze falling on her form.

— Green panties? I think someone was longing for me. He said, biting the girl's shoulder, making her laugh.

— What can I do if... — Before she could finish her sentence, Theodore inserted two fingers inside her.

— So wet for me. — He groaned as he moved his fingers against her. — Such a good girl.

He repeated as she reached her peak, knowing she was close because he felt her tighten around his fingers. Just before she came, Theodore pulled his fingers out, provoking a frustrated moan from her, and removed his pants, revealing his erect cock with a red tip. Y/n's eyes shone in anticipation, and without him noticing, she got on her knees, grabbing his cock and pumping it before taking it into her mouth like a lollipop. After a few sucks, he pulled her back up, kissing her lips and smiling at her shiny lips. — I want to be inside you, principessa.

— Do it. — With that, Theodore spread her legs on the desk and plunged his cock into her.

— Damn, so tight. He moaned together with her as she smiled. Theo began to move at a fast pace, but not fast enough, making Y/n move her hips forward, trying to go faster. — So impatient. He said, then started to fuck her at a much quicker pace.

— Such a tight pussy for me. Theo moaned into her ear as the wet sounds filled the room.

— Fuck, Teddy, yes, uh-huh, fuck me like that. — She moaned loudly, and Theodore smiled with his neck buried in her neck, feeling her walls tighten around him.

— Are you going to cum for me, princess? Nott asked, and Y/n grunted, nodding. — Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock, I know you want to.

As he said those words, Y/n reached her climax, moaning loudly and panting, smiling, still feeling Theodore's release above her as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm. Y/n leaned into his ear and did what he did to her.

— Cum inside me, Teddy. — She moaned, and Theodore opened his mouth, obsessed with this girl. — Cum inside my pussy. Please. Put your babies inside me. She said, and with that, Theodore pushed in several times with erratic but deep thrusts, spilling all his cum inside the girl who was now drenched.

— Why did i never admit what i want, fuck Y/n. Theo groaned and hugged Y/n's tired body, pulling her close.

— You're an idiot.

— Totally, come on, let's clean you up.

As days went by, Y/n and Theo's secret rendezvous became more frequent: stolen kisses, clandestine meetings in their room unnoticed by Professor Snape. Y/n brought calm to Theo, and he brought solace to her. Until today.

A chilling laugh echoed through the Slytherin common room, and Blaise burst in, his face grave.

— They're here... Death Eaters have arrived at Hogwarts, and that spells trouble for Y/n.

—They're looking for her, Theo. Blaise added, and Theodore pushed the girl behind him protectively. — You need to hide, Y/n.

— WHO'S GOING TO CATCH THAT LITTLE RAT WHO WAS RUNNING AROUND? Bellatrix's voice boomed from the stairs, and Blaise shook his head before departing.

— I'll try to stall them. Figure out your next move, Theodore. With that, he left the room.

— Theo... Y/n called to him, but his focus was on strategizing how to save her.

— Theodore Nott. They'll kill you if they find out I'm here. Y/n placed her hands on his shoulders as he hyperventilated.

— They'll kill you, Y/n.

— They know I'm here, Theo. They want me because of my family's history.

— I can't let them take you. Theo shook his head, pulling the blonde into a tight embrace.

— It's going to be okay. She murmured, looking into his eyes.

— Apparate with me to my room and take me as if you found me. It'll be suspicious if they find you up here. She said resolutely until Theo looked at her face, realizing too late how much he loved her, and apparated to the ruined Hufflepuff common room.

They walked to the dungeons, and before proceeding, Theo turned to her, kissing her, resting his forehead against hers, and sighed.

— I'm sorry for being foolish for so long.

— I love you, Theodore Nott. I spent six weeks with you and it was enough to know that you have a much bigger heart than everyone said, And I know I was right when I fell in love with you since the day I first saw you at fourteen years old. It's going to be okay.

Those were her last words before being handed over to the Death Eaters.

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

Requests are open💞

[almmoon006]

You gently knocked on the office door, opening the dark door. It was quite cool inside, the cold winter wind was making its way into the room through the wide-open window. You clicked your tongue briefly, went to the window, and carefully closed it, making sure that not a drop of cold air could escape inside. No matter how much you wanted to light a fireplace right now, you knew perfectly well that the things in this room were subject exclusively to its owner.

Your lips curved into a slight smile.

Severus was sitting on a chair at his desk, head cocked to one side, and... asleep. His chest rose and fell steadily, and the fine wrinkles on his face twitched from time to time.

You went to a small closet in the corner of the room and took out a fluffy warm blanket, now carefully covering the man with it. Your fingers gently touched the wizard's face, removing especially long dark strands of hair from his face. Exposing your pale forehead, you leaned closer and placed a short kiss on his face.

***

Candles played softly with their yellow flames on the dark walls, drawing chaotic shadows. Your hands carefully placed various fruits and herbs into a small glass teapot. No matter how much you love magic, the good old Muggle habits remain the same. And food and drinks taste better when you make them with your own hands, with your soul and love, right? Soon, pieces of cinnamon and cloves were added to the sea buckthorn and orange slices, and you poured a generous portion of boiling water over the black tea, inhaling the intoxicating aroma with pleasure. A warming healthy drink, just what you need on a cold winter evening.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, gently pressing you to your broad chest. You immediately smiled, leaning back against the body of your beloved man, your consciousness was filled with your favorite smell of books, wormwood and light notes of smoke. His movements were gentle and sleepy, like a little kitten just waking up. My thumb traced simple patterns on your skin through the thin fabric.

"You saw me fall asleep, but you didn't wake me up," he said in a sleep-hoarse voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"Students can be exhausting, so I thought you could take a well-deserved weekend off.

Severus just grunted, burying his nose in your neck. “Thanks."

"You should stop relying only on warming charms, silly," you said with a slight smirk on your lips, turning around in a tight embrace.

You gently wrapped your arms around the man's neck and kissed his cheek. The muscles of his shoulders and back were still very tense after sleeping in an uncomfortable sitting position for a long time.

"Tea? Massage? Me?" You purred, running your fingers through your long dark hair and lightly scratching your sensitive skin. The man closed his eyes blissfully, letting out a long mumble.

“Yeah. I wouldn't mind. All of that. But first, tea. And I'm hungry.." in response to the last words, his stomach rumbled softly, causing a slight blush to appear on the man's pale cheeks.

"Of course. Chicken with vegetables," you winked and reluctantly left your beloved embrace, heading for the still hot oven.

[sevinagreatergood]

I hate it when people compare the n-word with mudblood. I don't know if black people feel that way but I feel extremely offended as a person whose country is based on black folk slavery.

Like that n-word has such a deep rooted hatred of a history to the point it is basically still going on. People were yanked out of their homes by their own people (majority) and white people (sometimes), or hunted down. Brought to the shores then sold to the white folks for items to hunt more black people down.

Meanwhile white people began sharing the continent, drawing lines through homes, uncaring for the cultures within their self-proclaimed assigned country thus not caring if they clash or not. That until today, there are the tribes Hutus and tutsis that had a genocidal war not more than 30 years ago because white people back then shoved them together, apparently loved one tribe more than the other that the resentment was still deeply rooted.

On the shores their families got separated often. On the way to the other continents, many slaves were raped, starved and simply thrown overboard if they died due to horrid shipment conditions whilst surviving being packed like sardines in the bottom part of the boat without any bathroom. So blood, sperm, piss and shit was what they slept on.

When the survivors eventually do get on the other side, they are sold at an auction. Then branded by owners like cattle to be recognized by them easier. Older and sick folks were treated like the trash of the batch. Once the slaves eventually get on the plantation their work is harsh. Because they work in hot areas, such as tropicals or southern part of USA.

Children as young as possible (3yrs old) are placed into work. Slaves worked tirelessly for 6 days and if they worked with certain items such as sugarcane crusher/grinder and a limb is caught into it. An arm I lost or amputated. They get beaten to death for mistakes, orphaning their kids. They were raped if their master felt like it.

If the master was even more shallow, they would force two slaves copulate to make more free slaves for them. They saw the slaves as shed tool, treated them like cattle and so many more atrocities. Those same people gave slaves the n-word. To state the slaves as matter of factly as the n-word. The "cattle" is the n-word. The "tools" are the n-word.

That is the history of the n-word. Centuries of suffering, racism, pain, genocide, dehumanization and rape. So what in fuck's name does n-word have to be compared to a goddamn mudblood.

Were mudbloods hunted by witches/wizards?

Were mudbloods raped by witches/wizards?

Were mudbloods put to work tirelessly by witches/wizards?

Were mudbloods their children taken by witches/wizards?

Were mudbloods shipped by witches/wizards?

Were mudbloods their countries taken over by witches/wizards?

Were mudbloods branded by witches/wizards?

Were mudbloods whipped until death by witches/wizards?

Were mudbloods amputated by witches/wizards?

Were mudbloods their children placed on the working field by witches/wizards?

No, on the contrary witches/wizards kept their identity save from the muggles. Voldemort may or may not have been planning to do this. Because he wishes to rid muggles but maybe he didn't want to take all the extra steps white folks took back then. Also, Voldemort didn't care about ridding the world of muggles eventually. Becoming absorbed in attaining immortality.

So how about not comparing an actual event of genocide that lies on that word, with a fictional world that didn't even go through half as much as actual slaves did and get on with the day. Next time someone says "Severus said mudblood, same as saying the n-word. Would you accept the n-word?" I'll slap them across with this list.

First it's Nazi now n-word. Just shut the fuck up and let me do the reasonable talking here, fucking brat.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: None Prompt: Time to wrap it all up, and perhaps receive one or two surprises. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 42: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Wednesday, December 23rd

The art store was small, but filled with colours all around. Small little black cabinets with golden numbers on top behind the counter, and walls lined with different paint pots and colours, a wall with wooden frames and delicately separated boxes that held paint brushes of all different sizes and shapes and, by the bits you’d read, also materials. 

At the top of the cabinets there was a small display of colourful markers and pens and other things that you knew muggles used but you weren’t too familiar with. Apparently, they used stick glue instead of sticking spells to adhere stuff. You wondered how much of this stuff Sirius actually knew about and vowed to bring him to this place with you one day. 

And while you did appreciate art, thoroughly – you’d gone to multiple museums, both muggle and wizarding through your trips – you had no idea what the difference was between gouache and acrylic, or why the “Rembrandt” that claimed to be made out of oil, where much more expensive than the “Winsor & Newton” ones that claimed the same. It had to be because of the quality, right? 

“Good evening, may I help you?” a young man, probably in his late twenties asked as he approached you. He was dressed in rather formal clothes and had a pair of thin-rimmed golden glasses. You would have probably considered him attractive if you hadn’t been accustomed to Sirius’ dashing looks or Remus’ lovely smile. You really were lucky to be surrounded by handsome and pretty humans, you thought, thinking of the rest of your friends. 

You must have looked as lost as a Bowtruckle in the middle of New York since he looked like he would try to be overly polite. 

“I’m looking for a gift, my boyfriend loves to draw, but I’m… not really good with all the supplies and stuff, I was thinking perhaps a nice set of pencils and a sketchbook. I’ve been looking through the paints as well, but I don’t think he’s the kind to do the whole canvas thing, at least not while we’re in school.” 

“Well, does he colour his drawings?” 

You thought about it for a moment, what he’d shown you were mostly sketches done in pencil, though there were some with an underlayer of red and or blue. “I think he uses some for the base of the drawings.” 

“Does he overline them?” The expression you gave him when he asked made him clarify it. “After the pencil sketch is done, does he add a pen or marker to finish up the details?” 

Sirius did not do that, but you also thought how complicated it would be to do such a thing with a quill instead of the pens and trinkets the muggles had invented so you nodded in response. “Yeah… not that often but I’m sure he’d like something to be able to do it.” 

“All right, follow me,” he said as he motioned to one of the furthest walls. “This is where we keep all of our sketchbooks, the thicker the grammage the stronger pens and markers it will hold. Also, some can even hold watercolour, not sure if he’s into that too.” 

“Do you have like – a book on the basics of watercoloring? I feel like he might actually be interested in that.” 

“We do,” he said with a nod and moved to the other side of the store bringing you a few options. You picked one of them and then looked through the sketchbooks. There were different sizes and colours and the pages felt really different on most of them. Some were especially made for watercolours and some were for drawing. You took one with about 100 pages for watercolour and one with the same amount of pages but with a bit less grammage for sketches. 

They both had a black cover with golden elegant trims that you thought would definitely go with Sirius’ look, although one opened from the side, making it more of a panoramic view while the other one stayed horizontal. You handed them in to the guy and he took them to the counter as you continued looking around. You leaned into the watercolour section and started to look at all the different options available. 

“If this is the first time he’ll do watercolour, may I recommend you buy a set?” he asked politely as he showed you a small wooden case, when he opened it there were all sorts of small blocks with different colours on them. “These are my favourite brand, but really gentle with beginners, they also come with this interesting thing,” he added as he handed you a small brush with a clear section at the top. “It comes with water, you don’t have to dip your brush that often, really useful once you get the hang of it.” 

“You have more of those?” you asked and he nodded, showing you the different sizes of brush ends. After a while, and with a lot of his help, you ended up selecting about 5 different brushes and the colours that you’d fill the small wooden box with as well, which you thought was fantastic since you could fill it up with whatever colours you chose and not a set palette. 

“You’ll also take the marker set, the watercolour book and the sketchbooks, correct? Anything else?” 

“Uhh… Am I missing anything that he might need?

“Does he draw portraits or landscapes?” 

You thought back of the Remus drawing he’d shown you, and then of the one you had chosen not to see. “He draws portraits and anatomy studies. Though I’m sure I’ve seen him doodle other stuff too.” 

“He might like this book then,” he told you as he handed over another book. It was about proportions and hand drawing and a lot of very advanced-looking stuff, you smiled. 

“This one as well, please…” he was about to finish the bill when you stopped him, looking down through the glass display and pointing towards something, “Is that a penknife?” 

“Well, yes,” he replied, “Although sharpeners are used more often nowadays, some people still prefer them.” 

“I’d like one of those as well,” you added with a smile. 

“Excellent.” The man gave you your total and then handed every single thing in a thick paper bag. “You said it was for a gift, right?” 

“Yes,” you nodded and he walked to the back of the shop, pulling a very elegant and sturdy black box, he eyed the bag as if calculating if everything would fit and then handed it over to you along with a black and gold ribbon with the name of the store repeated over and over. 

As he handed it over he pulled it back for a second and gave you a smile. “That young gentleman is very lucky to have you as a girlfriend.” 

“I think I’m just as lucky as he is,” you responded with a small smirk as you took the box. 

“Would you like me to call you a cab?” 

You thought about it for a second. Your house wasn’t that far, and with a short levitating spell you wouldn’t have to carry much stuff either, but the Knight Bus did mention they’d be very busy and you had been walking all day. “Yes, thank you.”

The man called for one and you waited inside the store until the cabbie arrived. You gave him your address and he took you straight there. You took the lift of your building, using your wand to unlock the secret –magical- floor your parents had purchased in London and waited. 

When the two, golden doors of the lift opened to your drawing room, you sighed. Leaning down to take off your shoes. “Mom? Dad?” 

No answer. “What time is it?” you whispered to yourself as you looked at the clock, quarter past ten? That art store surely has late closing times, you thought as you leaned back down to pull your bags up and drag them to your room. 

There was a note on the table along with what looked like a delightfully looking salad and steak. 

We’ll be home late, serve yourself. See you tomorrow darling.

You sighed and after placing the bags on the table, and using a warming spell on the food, you ate. Once you were done, the plate disappeared from the table and instead, a chocolate cake showed up. You smiled, at least they knew you liked sweets. You took a few bites from that and took it, along with your gifts, to your room. 

That’s when you remembered you had promised to tell your friends when you arrived here so you quickly scribbled a few notes. Sending your owl –Resse– back to the Potter’s and Barnaby –the family’s owl��� to Beth. Then you took some Floo powder and leaned over the fire. 

“Tom?” You asked as you peeked through his chimney. 

“Sly sprite?” He asked as he leaned over. “I was starting to worry,” he said as he left a book on the side. “You got home, all right?” 

“Yeah!” you said with a smile. “And I got a bunch of good stuff at the store too, it was worth it.” 

“It better have been! Beth is home too, we stopped by hers first.” 

You chatted with Tom for a little while more and ended the call when you started to yawn and he followed right after. With that, you went for a quick and warm shower and then back to bed. 

Thursday, December 24th

There was a soft knock on the door, you stirred on your bed but didn’t wake and then there was another one. “Sweetheart? Breakfast’s ready, come eat.” 

“On my way,” you said as you sat on your bed and rubbed your eyes a couple of times. The day was bright, you’d forgotten to shut your windows at night and now you had the perfect view of the Thames through your window. You thought back to Hogwarts and how all the splendour of it had been made by magic, while the splendour of London had mostly been made by muggles. 

The high skyscrapers, the Ferris Wheel across the river, the towers, palaces and bridges, all muggle-made, and without magic, it was fascinating. You didn’t understand why wizards had so many prejudices against them –aside from the whole burning on steak part, muggles seemed to be quite incredible and determined people.  Perhaps you should have taken that muggle studies optative. 

“Sweetheart?” you heard your father’s voice, a bit more stern than your mother’s. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you said as you shook your covers off and grabbed your wand from the nightstand. “As if they hadn’t been home hours after I got here,” you mumbled as you fished for a pair of slippers under your bed. 

By the time you got out of your room both your mom and dad were sitting on the living room table. Your mom was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress while your dad had a perfectly fitting black suit on with a small cape, draped elegantly behind his chair. You were still wearing a band shirt you had stolen from Sirius a while ago, and that you had been wearing under Remus’ jumper before the trip. “Lovely to see you,” you said with an awkward smile, “it’s been a while.” 

Your father looked up from his newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand only for a second, nodded and then went back to read. Your mom gave you a sympathetic look and nodded for you to sit down. After a couple of minutes, your dad bent the newspaper and placed it on the side of the table.  

“We’ve heard plenty of your Hogwarts Adventures,” your father said looking at you. “You’ve been doing a masterful job at maintaining our house’s name relevant.”  

You frowned at that, that had never been your intention. 

“You were incredible in the broom race though you lost,” your father said. “And you’ve won two quidditch matches–” 

“That was a team effort…” you said, your voice growing smaller as his hand dismissed you. 

“You’ve kept your grades high and you’ve even entered the duelling club…”

“Not to mention her Theoretical Magic grades,” your mom added with a smile. 

“And you’re dating one of the Black kids.” 

You swallowed. You had mentioned in your letters that you and Sirius had gotten along now that you were in the same house, but you hadn’t specifically mentioned you were dating him.

“The disowned Black kid,” your father continued. 

You straightened a little, you had discussed with your dad the things that happened back in your vacations with the Blacks. It hadn’t been particularly nice talk, but you weren’t going to back down, his political means could not be worth more than his morals. And things had been rather tense between the two since then.

When two people had such intense ideological differences and desires, they were bound to clash against each other, especially when those ideologies juxtaposed against the other often, being only furthered by the fact that you were –at least on breaks– living under the same roof. 

Your priorities had been wildly different and you weren’t shy about letting him know, which caused your relationship to deteriorate quickly. Not to say you –or him– had been particularly rude to each other, but you were much colder. It was almost Christmas, and you didn’t want to start a fight with him, let alone over something that you were most definitely not going to yield on. 

“I think it’s all right. He might have been disowned by his family but he still stays in contact with some of the other Blacks like Alphard and the other disowned child… whatever her name is…” Andromeda, you thought as you tried to process the fact that he had just said it was fine. “Just try to avoid mentioning him in tomorrow’s dinner. I’m sure Walburga wouldn’t be particularly pleased.” 

“Tomorrow’s dinn– Walburga will be coming?” 

“Of course not, they have invited us to their Christmas dinner,” he said. “It’ll be hosted in Rosier Manor, I believe.” 

“Whose manor?” You asked, your breath going short along with your question. 

“Mr. Rosier,” your mom repeated. “All important wizards will be there.” 

“I’d rather skip Christmas altogether.” 

“I’m sorry, darling. This isn’t a matter of preferences. You will go and then we’ll let you do whatever you please for the rest of the break. Visit muggle London as much as you want or dally with your friends, I really don’t care as long as you maintain your composure during tomorrow’s dinner.”

Your leg was bouncing slightly under the table. “I don’t believe I will be welcomed in that house.” 

“You will be welcomed because you are my daughter and I’m me,” he said with an air of finality. “We need to present a strong family front, play your part and you’ll be rewarded.” 

“Right, my part,” you said bitterly. You wondered if your mother was playing her part too, they were in love, that wasn’t questionable, but sometimes it felt like she became nothing more than an addition to his recollection of what a perfect life should look like. Did he marry her because of the love he felt for her or because she’d look like a delightful trophy wife by his side on political dinners? Had she not been as beautiful as she was, had she not been well educated, would he have married her either way? 

You wondered, when had Silas become the man he is now? When did his greed for power become so intense he would sacrifice his morals to achieve it? When you were smaller, you thought they loved each other, even now, you saw when they looked at each other with those adoring eyes, but… there was a tale of sacrifice weaved in between their story, and with one party constantly bending to the other’s wishes, you weren’t sure you could still call it love. 

When devotion became toxic, was it still something that came from love, or had it become something else altogether? 

“Indeed darling, we ask for nothing more than one night. Then you will not be bothered, free to go wherever you want and with whomever you please. Does that sound like a fair deal?” 

You sighed and nodded, “One dinner.”

Your mother smiled at that, letting out a nervous breath and then reached for your hand. “Your clothes for tomorrow are already in your closet, I also got you some nice potions and make-up.” 

“Thanks, Mum,” you said with a short smile and looked at your food. It looked delicious, it was French toast with berries and fruit on top –probably there to appeal to your sweet tooth and convince you to go– but you didn’t feel hungry at all. Especially not at the thought of having to go to Rosier Manor. As if you didn’t see enough of Evan at school, now you had to go see him on the break as well, bIoody brilliant. “Breakfast was great,” you said as you stood up. Both of them decided to ignore your almost intact plate, “I’ll be in my room in case you need anything else, you know like me playing the role of the perfect child of the politician if your friends come around or whatever.”

Your mom gave you a reproachful look while your dad gave you an impassive one, you raised your eyebrows at the two of them, almost tauntingly before you turned around, walking back to your room and letting the door close behind you gently –it was not the inanimate objects fault that your parents were acting like pricks. 

You sat on your bed and took a deep breath before you saw a small owl by one of your windows, you let him in and took the rolled parchment from his feet before feeding him some water. 

Dear Vix, Hope this letter finds you all right, Sirius was moaning about you going along Beth and Tom and not inviting him to buy Christmas stuff it was draining! Now I was not going to write to you about it because he said he would punch me in the face but I had to write anyway since mum and dad wanted you to have our address so you could come here through floo anytime.  Hope you’re having a great time, Sirius and I went flying with Pete today (he lives a few houses from us, did we tell you?), and while it was nice not having to worry about Sirius distracting himself from snogging you, we missed you still.  Mum and Dad send greetings to your parents, hope you’re also having a blast.  Your bestest friend, James P.  PS. Mum sent this tea for you, she said she thinks you’d like it with how much sweet stuff you eat and stuff.  PS 2. Love you, but I bet you’re missing me more <– That was Sirius. 

James’ stupid letter made you chuckle, especially the last bit, as if it had been necessary to point out that Sirius had been the one to write it. You placed the letter into a small box in your bag and smiled as you walked to pick up some of the stuff you’d be giving your friends as their gifts.  

You picked up some wrapping paper and started wrapping all of their gifts, the owls would have to do a couple of trips to take them all to their place, but you’d make sure to leave them plenty of food throughout the night, so they could continue their trips and the presents would be at your friend’s beds in the morning. 

You had gone through most of the smaller gifts first, writing small, and neatly written Christmas cards on them. Then you went for the bigger ones, the books you’d gotten for Lily, some of the stuff for Mary and Marlene, James’ pack, and of course, Remus and Sirius’. 

It wasn’t until then, that you realised how overboard you had gone with your gifts. You’d gotten Remus so many books, both magical and muggle, that you almost felt guilty you hadn’t gotten Lily and James more stuff. And then you tried telling yourself it was because Remus would spend Christmas alone and he deserved at least a bit of happiness, you weren’t deliberately playing favourites. 

And then Sirius’ pile was clearly a mess, you had all the music you’d gotten, the shirts, the penknife that you wanted to engrave with his name (you were researching for the right spell to do it) and a bunch of other stuff for him. Besides, you still wanted to make the playlists, so before you finished packing the bigger boxes, you started testing the recorder. Now there wasn’t exactly a step by step guide on how to record music, but there was a small booklet that showed you how the thing worked and you spend the rest of the day figuring it out, listening to music and making a playlist for each of your friends. Using all the songs you thought they might like.

When you were done with that, you continued packing all the stuff. Deciding to send all the music back to the boys’ room at Hogwarts so they could leave it on Sirius’ stash. Well, all of them except for the David Bowie tape you had specifically gotten for Sirius and that would look great with his shirt and the rest of the gifts you’d gotten him. 

You went out to get some food at some point during the day, and there was another note from your parents telling you they were off at an event. Well, good riddance, you thought as you went back to your room with a sandwich in your hands. You picked one of the books you’d gotten for yourself and you spent almost the rest of the day reading it while jamming to one of the playlists you’d made. A copy of the one you’d made for Remus since you thought it went well with the book you’d chosen to read. 

You fell asleep before your parents got home, with the book still in your hands and the music playing softly in the background until the cassette ran out of tape and was softly ejected by the machine. The sound it made had been so soft it didn’t wake you at all. 

Thankfully, you had remembered to leave enough water and food for the owls, since they had spent all night doing trips back and forth to your house and your friends’. 

Friday, December 25th

You woke up by being pecked in the face by a very big and very angry owl. 

“Oi!” you complained. “What’s wrong with you?” The owl chirped and picked you again, this time on the ear. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you pushed him back lightly, only for him to pick you in the finger again. 

You gave him an upset look and he pulled back just a little, tilting his head towards the window, and the lack of food and refreshments. 

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been attacking me non-stop?” you asked as you stood up from the bed, failing to see the pile of wrapped gifts at the end of it. The owl chirped in response, a scowl that you weren’t sure was his natural face shape or an actual scowl directed towards you. “I���m sorry,” you added, “Barnaby and Reese must have eaten them all. They did many trips last night, you know?” 

The owl chirped again, a little angry as he flew towards the window, as if saying «I too flew many trips last night» looking as indignant as a Towny Owl could. You added a few of the special snacks you kept for Reese just to keep him from biting you again. You looked at the name tag and realised who the owner of the owl had been. 

Eun-ji, Minho had told you about her, she was his family’s owl and apparently, the name meant something like “kind”. So much for a kind owl, you thought as you looked at her, gobbling up Reese’s treats. You leaned over when you noticed there was a small letter attached to his feet and took it in your hands before the owl flapped his wings and left. 

Merry Christmas Star Seeker,  Hope you’re having a great time. Thought of giving you a special thanks for that one time you –quite literally– pushed me towards my crush and got us to start a conversation, that, well, you know how great it ended!  Even for a Gryffindor, you’re really nice, so I thought of getting you something for you to get some more hate from your fellow Gryffindor, Eun-ji must have left the gift near your bed.

You turned to the side in the middle of reading and stood agape, there was not only a green and silver wrapped gift in what looked suspiciously like the shape of a snake, but there were also a bunch of other gifts wrapped in all sorts of colours. 

Anyway thanks for everything, hope you have fun and all. I’m looking forward to beating you all next time we play,   Love,  The one and only, and your favourite Slytherin, Minho Cha. 

You rolled your eyes at the last bit, it had been very Slytherin of him, but since you knew Minho, you also knew he was playing it off as a joke on his own house, which made a joke inside a joke and you thought it was actually kind of funny. 

You took a deep breath and walked over to your bed. There were all sorts of gifts prompted there and you decided to unwrap Minho’s first. There was a small, green snake plushie with a bow on it that had a small pendant with something written on it:  “From the snakes that love you dearly,” and then it had the names of all of your Slytherin friends: Minho, Comet, Nox, Reggie, and even some you weren’t expecting like Dorcas and Solacis. You thought it was an adorable little thing, even if –and you were certain of this– your friends would absolutely hate it. Well, not Lily, she’d also think it was adorable. 

And thinking of her, was that you picked the next gift, wrapped in pink and yellow paper, and with her a small dedicatory on the corner, you instantly knew it was from her, her neat and perfect handwriting being the dеad giveaway. You smile as you read her small dedication. She wished you a very, merry Christmas and promised to tell you everything about the train with James as soon as you saw each other in person. She wrote something along the lines of not being able to put it on paper, which made you laugh. 

When you opened the present you were thrilled, it was a small leather notebook, dark red with golden trims and your name on the cover. Not Vixen, not Starshine, or any of the other nicknames that you had come to own and love since you arrived at Hogwarts, but your name. You smiled as you traced your fingers over the letters. There was a pen on the side, golden and apparently of some interesting muggle technology that wasn’t that popular in the wizarding world. You thought it was fascinating. When you opened the notebook you realised there was something written, again in her handwriting. 

You’ve had more adventures this year than I’ve had in my lifetime. I think it’s time for you to start writing down some of them, in case you ever want to revisit them. If journaling is not your thing (which I feel like it would be because I know you), you can just use this notebook however you want. You know grocery lists, songs for mixtapes, your favourite lyrics, poems, quotes, Sirius’ doodles, your doodles,  dried flowers, stickers, whatever you want, it’s your space, and you may use it as you wish! Love, Lily

You thought the idea of having your own journal was brilliant, you always admired her for keeping hers so incredibly neat looking, and perhaps being able to let some of your feelings go on a blank page would be better than keeping them bottled up. You doubted you would be nearly as consistent as her, but you decided to add your first couple of words in there, detailing the gifts you’d gotten and the few you still had yet to open. 

You’d gotten a box of your favourite candies from Mary and some incredible quidditch trading cards from Marlene, but she had also added some makeup to her gift because if not you and James would have gotten the exact same thing and you were her favourite between the two. You got a spellbook and a muggle prank book from Tom “to further your career” according to him. There was a large, embossed book from Nina, which you discovered was an annotated version of one of your favourite books and a small set of runes from Sybil. You had gotten her a deck of cards and a book about premonitions. 

There were candies from Nox and a muggle book lantern from Neil Perry, you had both complained at some point about reading with your wand and you thought the solution he’d found was adorable. Peter had gotten you a book about canines, packed along with a small fox-themed bookmarker and a note that said “Thank you for not busting my make-out session and Merry Christmas.” He also added, “PS. maybe with this one you’ll be able to tame Pads.” Which had you wheezing with laughter for a while. 

It took at least a minute to go for the next gift, it was a small box that said to be handled carefully. You opened it according to the instructions. “Shut the fuck up!” you said the moment you realized what was inside. A small Felix Felicis vial. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you repeated over and over again. “How did he even get his hands on it?” 

You picked up the paper from behind it, there was a small note. 

Okay say it: aside from Sirius, I AM your favourite Marauder.  You might be wondering, “How the hell did James get his hands on this?”. Well dear, I must say, I have contacts.  AKA my parents are expert potioneers and I somehow convinced Mum to brew one and that’s how I got my hands on it.  Now, I could have given it to any of my friends but I get the feeling you might be needing some of this soon enough. You know, from things I’ve seen and such (please don’t waste it on a quidditch match, though). Anyway, I know you’ll use it well, hope you have a very Merry Christmas!  Your favourite marauder AND bestest friend,  Prongs. 

You chuckled when you finished reading and went back to look at the vial with incredulity. Brewing one of these potions was arduous work, and it took weeks, which meant James must have had convinced Effie to do it even before she’d met you. Never underestimate James Potter, you thought as you grabbed onto the vial and placed it around your neck with a chain, casting a disillusionment charm on it so it wouldn’t be so obvious you had it with you. You thought the gift was brilliant. 

After that, there were only 2 gifts left. You picked the one with a silver bow first. It was a square box, about 12” wide, and had been wrapped in the same paper as James’, which made you guess who it might be from. There were chocolates and a small letter on top, neatly closed and with your name written on the back with Sirius’ almost perfect calligraphy. There was also a paper covering something, but you picked the letter up first. 

You know, I tried writing a love letter, but James wouldn’t stop making ridiculous comments about it not being profound enough and I feared I’d end up writing something close to the painfully ridiculous letters he used to write to Lily so I had to stop myself.  Who would have thought it would be that hard to put thoughts into words? I suppose if I were like Remus it would come out much easier but, unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. Actually no, fortunately you’re stuck with me, I’m delightful.

You laughed, he’s not wrong. 

Anyway, I suppose what I wanted to express in those dreadful attempts of being a poet was that I’m incredibly thankful that you came to Hogwarts and that you came back to me. I’m grateful that you tolerate me and my moods and that you love me for who I am, flaws and all. I wasn’t sure I’d ever found that kind of love, one that I even doubted it existed, and yet you’re always there to tease and make me laugh and– I already sound like James, but you know what I mean. You always know what I mean.  As you see, I am far from a poet, but there is something I like to do and I thought that perhaps, you’d enjoy it more than this terrible love letter.  You know, you and Remus were the first to ever see a sketch from my book, and I was feeling all sorts of things after I offered, and yet, you were there, reassuring me and telling me I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. You know Walburga, it wasn’t much of a choice for me, so it truly meant the world, and fed me the courage I needed to let you see that part of me. And when you two finally saw it and praised me for my skills, for what I did with my own hands… You make me so incredibly gleeful, it’s almost scary how much power you could hold over me. But frankly, I’ll let you hold it all you want.  All right, enough of the sappy stuff, Merry Christmas Starshine, you know you shine brighter than my own star. Hope you like your gift.  Love,  Sirius 

See the letter here

You read the letter a few more times, smiling at the little details and jokes Sirius had sprinkled all over. And then you pulled on the bit of tissue paper covering the very last thing in the box and when you finally saw its content you couldn’t help but swear again, “Son of a bitch!” you whispered. 

There were still some small pieces of paper over the small portrait, and you carefully brushed them out to be able to lift it from the box. The image was a hand-drawn portrait of you. You had a big smile and were looking at what would be the camera if it were an image. It looked like it might have been from one of the pictures from Marlene’s party although Sirius had changed the outfit, you were wearing an oversized sweater and his leather jacket. You could tell it was his because it had one of the enamel pins you had gotten him as a gift on the lapel. 

There were touches of colours in the strokes, not quite painting the drawing but rather giving it relatively bright edges that made it look special, unlike any other doodle. And of course, he had framed it, it was a simple yet elegant frame, dark oak and with small carved details on the sides. On the left bottom corner of the drawing, there was something written in French: 

À l'étoile la plus brillante.  Amour, 

And then, instead of his name, he signed with a small and elegant star doodle. You smiled again, it was one of the loveliest things you’d ever gotten, even if it was a portrait of yourself, the fact that Sirius had been the one to draw it, made it the most special of things. There were portraits upon portraits of you in your house, with magic that allowed you to move and smile, and even talk sometimes, but none of them held as much value as the frozen drawing Sirius had given you. 

Eventually, you placed it on your night table and picked up the last gift still sitting in your bed. His box was smaller than Sirius’, about the size of a book, which had you assumed he had gotten you something along the lines of that. 

You opened the book and found a small, pocket-sized book. It was a Sreath Bàrdachd, according to the golden script at the top. You hadn’t quite realised as you pulled it from the box, but it was handmade. You looked at it in shock as you flipped to the 50+ pages, all in carefully and methodically written cursive, his handwriting. 

Later you realised it was something between a book of poems and a compilation of quotes from different books. You admired the booklet for a few more minutes when you spotted that there was a small letter, still waiting for you inside the box. You pulled it off and broke the seal with a small sword letter opener Nox had given you as a gift. 

As you did, a small chain fell from the letter and you picked it up. It was small and dainty, just long enough to wrap around your wrist, which made you wonder how he’d guessed the size. The chain was simple, and it broke off into two different sections, one with a small crescent moon and then another one with a small star. It also had one small gemstone in between the bigger charms. You looked at it with a smile and held it in your hand as you read the letter. 

Hey there, Little Witch,  Hope you’re having an incredible Christmas. By the time you read this, you’ve probably seen the Sreath Bàrdachd, and knowing how clever you are, you probably already know what that could mean. Yes, It’s a book of poems, but also a bit more than that.  I knew Sirius was making you that incredible gift of his, and I didn’t want to fall behind. Prongs didn’t tell us what he got you but he seemed pretty confident he’d have the best gift of all. Did he?  Never mind, don’t tell me, it’s a silly competition. Either way, I thought you might like having one of these. Mum used to have one, which is why I know they exist. She told me a good friend gave it to her and she has kept it ever since then. I remembered borrowing it from her once when I was little, and she taught me how to carefully flip through the pages as she read to me. She also mentioned it was a silly girl’s thing but I thought it was amazing, and went on to make my own.  Although wonky and, with quotes from children’s books, she thought I was quite a mastermind for making it by myself. Of course, I put a lot more effort into the one you have with you now. Or perhaps the same effort but with better skills. If you’ve flipped through the pages, which I assume you have, since you’re incredibly curious, you’ve probably seen some familiar quotes.  There’s stuff from books we’ve both read and stuff that only I have read but that I thought you might like. Some of my favourite poems too, and some quotes from movies that only you’d be able to get. There are even lyrics from songs, some that we really like, some that Sirius has heard so many times that I already knew them by memory, and since the two of you like similar music, I assumed you’d know them too.  Also, there’s a small bracelet in the letter. I’ve cross-charmed it, in case you ever lose the Sreath Bàrdachd (I truly hope you never do), the gemstone will shine as you approach it. I’ve also added a few luck charms that, while they won’t keep you away from trouble –I don’t think anything could– they may give you some luck while navigating it.  Don’t hit me for saying that, you know it’s true.  Love,  Moony.  PS. Prongs told me about your little quarrel with Sirius on the platform, Sirius definitely misses you more.

See the letter here

By the time you finished Remus’ letter, you were smiling as brightly as you had when you read Sirius’. You were so lucky you had found such incredible people in Hogwarts. Your bedsheets filled with torn wrapping paper were a testament to that. You spend the rest of the afternoon listening to some more music and reading through the book Remus had made. 

He had been especially careful with his handwriting which you thought was adorable, and there were a lot of quotes from Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Grey. He had written in pencil –so you could erase it if you wanted, not that you would– that it was your fault he was obsessed with his writing now. Taking poems and quotations from both, the book aforementioned and The Ghost of Canterville. You hadn’t read the latter yet, but you were almost counting the days to go back to school and ask him to lend you his copy. 

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and you had to leave the warm comfort of reading and listening to music in favour of changing into the clothes your mom had chosen for you. You sighed as the alarm clock you’d set earlier went off, and then went straight towards your closet. The dress she had picked was simple, yet elegant. It wasn’t a long dress like the one she’d probably wear, but a more youthful one with clever intricate details on the sleeves and a midi skirt.  

“Thank god it has sleeves,” you whispered to yourself as you pulled the edge of the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt up. While your skin looked almost smooth, the lighter (almost silvery) shapes where the new skin was growing over the gush Moony had made were pretty evident. You supposed makeup and a spell could make them less visible, at least for a while, but that would have probably taken you a lot more time to achieve. 

You plopped the black dress on, smoothing the sides as walking towards your vanity where your mum had left all the potions and make-up. You sighed, remembering how much more fun it had been to dress for the Gryffindor parties than it was to dress for this one. With the black dress and the pearls on your neck, you felt a lot more like you were about to walk into a funeral rather than a party. My own funeral, you thought with a laugh when you remembered whose house you’d actually be going to. 

You grabbed a pair of red, not-too-high heels, put them on, and took another look in the large mirror by the window. You looked lovely, at least there would be no complaints from your parents on that aspect. What they might complain about was the fact that you took a bag with an undetectable extension charm and filled it with a few of the books you’d gotten as a Christmas gift. You also took the journal Lily had given you and Remus’ Sreath Bàrdachd. And you weren’t sure who’d be attending that party but you sure hoped you’d be able to sneak into a corner and read a book rather than having to interact with some of the most disagreeable friends of your parents. 

“Sweetheart, are you ready?” your mom asked from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, coming,” you said as you grabbed a few more trinkets and dumped them in your bag, just in case. 

You were about to leave the room when you saw a small glistening thing in your bed and you went straight to grab it. It was the bracelet Remus had given you, and even if it took you a while to put it on, and you continued looking between your wrist and the door as you tried to get the clasp to do its job, you thought it was worth it. I could really use that extra luck. You thought. You accommodated the necklace Sirius had given you and that you never took off and then took off James’ potion and placed it on your bag since it might be safer there than around your neck. 

One last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order and you walked out towards the living room. 

“You look delightful, darling,” your father said as he spotted you walking out of the room. 

You gave him a half shrug in response and then managed to mutter a “thanks” that you hoped didn’t sound as bitter as it felt. After another moment of silence, your mom grabbed her bag and finished clipping on one of her earrings. 

“We’ll take the floo?” you asked. 

Your father shook his head, “They’ve sent over a Portkey,” your mom explained and motioned to the table, there was a small, fancy-looking invitation right in the middle. 

“Nice,” you said as you used your wand to levitate the object and move it right in between your parents. Perhaps if it had been floo, you could have sneakily said James’ address instead of Evan’s and escaped the party altogether. Once there, your parents wouldn’t make a fuss about it in order to not make your insubordination evident. But of course, you weren’t that lucky, and you’d have to take the portkey and you’d have to go to the party. 

“In three,” your father said as he moved his hand towards the invitation, “two… one… go.” 

The three of you placed your hands on the invitation at the same time and you felt the very familiar pull on your lower back, in less than a second, the entire world distorted around you, and then, you weren’t in your house anymore.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Aww that was so cute wasn't it? Now it's time to strap on, we're about to dive head-first into the darkest side of the story, and it's going to be fun and sad and just a rollercoaster of emotions in general. Love, Lils xx

Read more Marauders Fiction

[writingpandagoth]

I have an obsession with Snape as a singer, but there are little to no fics about that, so can you write a fic where Snape is in a rock band (Muggle but also slowly becoming famous in the wizarding world) and one day one of the muggle-born students realise he is THE lead singer and freak out and somehow all the other students find out. His band know about him being a wizard and is super chill about it because, hey, there is no need to pay for a special effects team when you have magic. Purely platonic though. And bonus if it's situated in the order of the Phoenix era and Sirius likes to listen to them but doesn't know it's Snape but when the order finds out he loses his mind.

This was so much fun to write! (especially Sirius reaction)

I hope this is what you somehow envisioned and hoped for.

Mask and Flames

The studio reeked of sandalwood and burnt espresso. It was Seth’s fault. He’d lit one of his cursed incense sticks again—something with a name like “Ritual Smoke” that made the place feel like a potion lab after a nervous third-year's exam.

Severus sat on the aging leather sofa, tuning his guitar with long, practiced fingers. The mask lay beside him on the table—black, angular, simple. The persona he wore on stage. The version of himself that didn’t answer to Headmasters or Dark Lords. Just chords, rhythm, and the electricity of a live crowd.

"Could we not suffocate in fake mysticism for five bloody minutes?" he muttered.

Seth grinned from behind the drum kit. “It’s part of the vibe, man.”

“The only vibe I feel is lung damage.”

Before another argument could begin, the studio door creaked open—and you entered with a stack of magazines, music charts, and something that looked suspiciously like a folded-up wizarding newspaper shoved into your coat.

You kicked the door shut with your boot, already smirking. “Well, well, guess who finally blew up?”

Nate looked up from his bass with a slow grin. “What, we’re famous now?”

You dropped the papers onto the coffee table. “Nocturne Ashes – Ashes to Ashes just hit number seven on the UK rock charts.”

Seth let out a triumphant yell. “Holy hell, we did it!”

“Not just ‘did it,’” you said, flipping open a magazine to show a full-page spread. “They’re calling you the Kings of the underground scene. The stage tricks, your sound, the whole ‘mystery frontman in a mask’ angle? They’re obsessed.”

Severus said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely.

Nate leaned over the table, skimming the article. “Okay, this is insane. A few months ago we were playing in grimy pubs, and now—?”

“We’re about to sell out venues. You’re officially on the map,” you said, crossing your arms, the glint of victory in your eye. “And…” You pulled out the last clipping, slightly crumpled and faintly glowing. “We’re starting to get… attention elsewhere, too.”

You didn’t elaborate. Just slid the folded page of the Daily Prophet forward. The title shimmered faintly under the studio lights:

“Muggle Band with mysterious Masked singer Draws Curious Wizarding Fans – Who Is the Voice of Nocturne Ashes?”

Seth blinked. “Is that... magical?”

“It’s a newspaper,” Severus said, voice low. “From the Wizarding world.”

“Wicked,” Nate whispered. “That’s actual magic. Like, wizard magic... Oh! the picture moves!”

“It’s... more underground right now,” you explained. “A few of the muggle born wizard teens brought some cassette copies, a wireless DJ enchanted a live bootleg into our side and now you’ve got fans in both worlds. Just a whisper in the wizarding scene—nothing official yet. But it’s starting and it's only getting bigger.”

Severus’s eyes met yours. You didn’t need words. You’d had this conversation a dozen times behind closed doors—late nights after gigs, whispered over tea and unraveling tour schedules. You knew the risk. The cost of exposure. And you also knew how close they all were to finding him.

“The mask stays on,” you said, voice firm. “Always. And when the tour’s over, it stays with me. I’m not risking it sitting in your quarters or your bag for some student or Professor to find. I’m not letting this blow up your life.”

Severus didn’t argue. He just gave you that quiet, unreadable look that said he understood you.

The other two nodded. No jokes. No hesitation.

Seth set down his drumsticks with a soft clack. “Agreed,” he said. “We’ve all got skin in this now. I don’t know the full story, but I know enough. And I’m not about to let your job or your... situation get wrecked because of something stupid like being found out because of a mask.”

“If keeping that mask locked up means you stay safe and we keep playing? Then that’s what we do. No question.” Nate added with his signature grin.

You exhaled slowly, letting the tension in your shoulders ease just a little.

“They’re already asking questions,” you murmured. “Whispers in both worlds. That Prophet article... It’s only going to get worse. We need to stay ten steps ahead and make sure that Severus’s mask is really on gigs whenever someone is around that isn’t us.”

“We’re not idiots. The mask is iconic and the ladies dig it. Besides, it’s not like we wanna have our top-secret wizard James Bond to get hurt. I mean this whole thing is like we are spies too now!”

“You’d be the worst spies,” Severus muttered.

“Yeah maybe but we’re great musicians,” Nate said with a grin.

A small smirk ghosted across Severus’s face.

“I’m tolerating it,” he muttered.

Seth laughed and threw a drumstick towards him. 

“Tolerate it all you want. We’ve got your back”

Severus caught the stick with no effort before throwing it back with a rare smile.

„Just try to leave some chicks for the rest of us!“ Nate called in making the room fill with laughter.

You let them celebrate—laughing, teasing, riding the high. But you were already thinking ahead, scanning timelines, sketching plans in your mind.

“The next album,” you said, shifting back into manager mode, “needs to be bigger. We’ve got the attention of both worlds now. Wizard teens are making knock-off shirts. Some bloke in Hogsmeade is selling bootleg tapes of our gigs. If we don’t outdo ourselves, they’ll move on.”

“But we’re not even done with the tour,” Seth groaned.

“Then be grateful,” you shot back. “Because it means you're doing something right. And Severus—” You turned to him, eyes sharp and sure. “This band doesn’t work without you. I know you have duties but please keep me updated on every free chance you have.”

He hated how much that meant to him. How your voice cut through the noise, grounded him. How your loyalty burned brighter than anything he’d earned.

He looked at you, mask untouched beside him, and gave the smallest of nods.

“I’ll start writing tomorrow and keep you updated.” he said.

The grin that split your face nearly made him smile.

—

Severus returned to Hogwarts under the cover of night, the train from London cold and quiet. The halls of the castle greeted him with their usual haunted whispers, stone archways bending under the weight of age and secrets. He was back in his robes, his mask tucked away with the stage lights, his guitar swapped again for cauldrons and curriculum.

He slipped into routine as if nothing had changed. But it had.

Because everywhere he walked—down corridors, into classrooms, across the Great Hall—he heard it.

Whispers. Murmurs. Snatches of lyrics.

“…ashes to ashes, we burn in silence…”

Severus paused mid-stride outside his classroom one morning, just long enough to catch the tail end of two Hufflepuff girls humming under their breath. One was even air-drumming a beat he knew too well—his beat. Seth’s beat.

He stepped into the classroom silently, let the door slam shut behind him.

“Sit. Down.”

The students scrambled into their seats like startled rats, wide-eyed.

“This is Potions, not a bloody pub concert,” he snapped, sweeping to the front of the room, robes flaring behind him. “If I hear so much as a hum, you’ll be identifying ingredients blindfolded for the rest of the term.”

They nodded, cowed—but some couldn’t help the sideways glances. The subtle tapping of fingers. A few even wore handmade pins: a small black flame drawn in enchanted ink, flickering softly on their robes.

Nocturne Ashes.

He said nothing. But inside—somewhere deep beneath the layers of bitterness and exhaustion—he felt it.

He’d built something. Something powerful. Something his.

And they were eating it up. The obsession spread quickly.

Within weeks, students were trading photo cards and talked about the concerts they have been to. Enchanted parchment posters of the masked lead singer passed hands in secret. Even Professors got curious—Flitwick was caught humming a chorus under his breath. Sprout played a song in her greenhouse once, “just to see what the fuss was about.”

Severus pretended not to notice. He kept quiet. He listened. He watched.

It was a Wednesday. Late afternoon. Dungeon light low and flickering. He’d dismissed class early due to a cauldron mishap—idiots, all of them—but he’d stayed behind to grade.

The classroom was quiet, until a hesitant voice called from the door.

“Professor Snape?”

He didn’t look up. “If you’re here to beg for points, turn around.”

“I—I left my notes behind.”

“Then retrieve them and leave.”

He returned to his marking, flipping a page with sharp precision. The girl—Anna Thompkins, Muggle-born, third-year Hufflepuff—tiptoed in and grabbed her notebook from the front table.

But as she turned to leave, her eyes caught on something resting on his desk.

A black leather-bound journal, half-tucked under a stack of essays.

Dangling from the spine, woven through the closure cord, was a simple handmade bracelet—thin, braided cord in red and black, with a tiny charm shaped like a flame and a small black mask next to it.

Her breath hitched.

She knew that bracelet. She had made that bracelet. She’d handed it over, flushed and starstruck, to the singer of Nocturne Ashes after one of their London gigs. He’d taken it without a word ruffling her hair fondly before slipping it onto the journal he always carried.

The same journal that is lying on her cold and unapproachable Potion Professors desk. 

Her eyes darted to the journal… then to Severus.

Then the voice. The voice. That deep, cutting, gravel-drenched tone.

“Are you waiting for an invitation to breathe?” he asked, still not looking at her.

Anna turned and bolted.

By the next morning, Ravenclaw had diagrams trying to connect Snape’s voice pitch to the band’s recordings.

By the end of the week, a group of fifth-year Gryffindors were caught trying to sneak into the dungeons with enchanted mirrors to “get a glimpse if the mask is truly in his possession”

The castle buzzed.

Some students were asking him non stop questions. Some were obsessed and sent him gifts. Some—particularly the Slytherins—acted like this elevated him to god-status and.

But there were also doubtful ones who could not believe that Severus Snape ever would go close to anything that was fun.

“I dont think it’s him,” a sixth-year whispered to her friend in the corridor. “It’s the vibes. The man’s got tragic poetry aura.”

And Severus?

He sat in his office, journal safely locked away now, listening to the echoes of Nocturne Ashes hummed through the walls of the castle he’d once loathed.

He said nothing.

But that smug little flicker in his chest?

It burned brighter than ever.

—

Order meetings were supposed to be about strategy and sharing informations.

This one, however, was mostly Sirius Black pacing the drawing room like a storm in dog form, growling about the Ministry, security breaches, and how he wasn’t allowed to do anything except rot inside his dead family’s house.

Severus sat in the far corner, cloak still dusted with frost from the walk in, expression schooled into something between boredom and murder.

“Why don’t you write a letter, Black?” he drawled. “I am sure The Ministry would be thrilled to hear your opinions about their incompetence of their Denial.”

Sirius’s head snapped around. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, I apologize,” Severus said smoothly, flipping through the latest Daily Prophet. “Was your crying about the whole situation too nuanced for you to understand me?”

Remus let out a soft, resigned sigh. “Here we go…”

Sirius bristled. “At least I don’t slither in here like I’m better than anyone else.”

“No,” Severus replied, voice silk and venom, “you rather whine like a shaggy, undercooked conspiracy theorist with mommy and daddy issues.”

Tonks choked on her tea.

Sirius stepped up to him like a lit fuse. “You know what, Snivellus—”

“Boys,” Remus interjected tiredly from his chair. “Can we not?”

Sirius scowled but resumed pacing, muttering under his breath. Severus calmly flicked the page like none of them existed.

Across from him, Tonks tilted her chair back, feet propped on a crate of Order supplies. “So,” she said cheerfully, “has anyone else heard of that band all the kids are obsessed with?”

Severus didn’t look up, but his grip on the paper eased into something a touch more attentive.

“Which one?” Remus asked, sipping his tea.

“Nocturne Ashes,” Tonks said, digging into her pocket. “I snagged one of their cassettes. It’s intense. Like… dark magic set to a beat. The singer’s got this voice, right? Gives you goosebumps. Low, growly, broody as hell.”

Sirius perked up like a Crup hearing a treat bag.

Tonks pointed to the front page of the Prophet Severus was holding. “They’re saying the band’s about to sell out both worlds. Even the Weird Sisters are worried.”

Sirius turned toward the paper in Severus’s hands, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

Severus slowly lowered the paper just enough to glare over the top.

Sirius, undeterred, launched into full rave mode. “I love their music. There’s something so dark and gritty about it—it’s like... musical brooding. The lead singer? Total mystery. Wears a mask. Never speaks offstage. No one knows who he is. It's brilliant.”

He let out a low whistle. “God, I love this band.”

“I’m telling you,” Sirius continued, pointing at the cover photo of the masked figure bathed in stage fog, “this guy knows how to make an entrance. Bet even Snivellus could learn a thing or two from him.”

Severus folded the paper in half and laid it in his lap. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes locked on Sirius with a look that could have melted stone.

Sirius practically snatched the paper from him, eyes lighting up the moment they landed on the headline:

Who Is the Voice Behind Nocturne Ashes that steals the hearts of hundreds witches and wizards in a storm?

“I mean, listen to this,” Sirius said, flipping the paper around and reading with way too much enthusiasm. “‘Their sound is like dark magic colliding with raw emotion—layered vocals, haunting lyrics and the power is like a spell woven through each chord.’ It’s art but who is the Man behind the voice and why is he hiding his identity.”

Tonks laughed. “You sound like a first-year with a crush.”

„You dont understand!“ Sirius declared. “The voice? It’s not even just music—it’s like being dragged into a memory you never had and left there with a cigarette and a good dragon brandy.”

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “You okay, mate?”

Sirius ignored him completely. “And don’t even get me started on the lyrics. That one track, Hollow Crown he sings‘I built a kingdom in silence, and crowned myself in flame’—COME ON. That’s poetry.”

“Dark, broody poetry,” Tonks agreed.

“Exactly! You can feel the words,” Sirius said with absolute sincerity. “You can hear his past. The regret of life. I bet this guy’s been through some serious stuff and he made art out of it.“ 

He leaned back dramatically “But the biggest question of all who is he? Any theories? I for myself believe he is a runaway Muggle who started to make music to cope with his past.”

“Some think he’s an Unspeakable,” Kingsley said. “Others think he’s a former Azkaban inmate.”

“I heard someone suggest he’s not even human. Just… a magical projection of someone’s grief” Tonks added gleefully.

“Or a vampire who gave up blood for music,” Remus said „It would explain the voice.“

“Or a cursed Half-Veela raised in a graveyard by goblins,” Sirius muttered into his tea like it was gospel.

 “But that’s the mystery. The voice. The fact that no one knows who or what he is. He could be a Muggle. Hell, Muggle-borns think he’s some underground spellcaster with a cursed past.”

“They’ve got presence,” Kingsley added. “Powerful energy. The way the lights sync with the sound—it’s got to be enchanted. There is no way there is no magic involved.”

During the whole conversation there was no reaction from Severus. 

He didn’t speak. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t even breathe differently.

But on the inside he was Absolutely basking in the absurdity.

These people—these so-called war-hardened witches and wizards—were sitting here, debating whether he was a mythical creature, a magical accident, or some tragic anti-hero with a guitar.

And none of them had the faintest idea.

He simply sipped his lukewarm tea, as Sirius leaned back with a dreamy sigh.

“Whoever he is, he’s got style. Real style. I’d kill to meet him.”

After that the Order meeting had dissolved into more pointless speculation about Nocturne Ashes or Which song was the best. Severus had stopped listening somewhere around the third time Kingsley mentioned how ‚protective wards for concert crowds’ would be a great idea. 

He kept looking at the clock even trying to leave more than once but was pushed back into his seat by Tonks.

He was just about to check the watch for the fifth time when the door slammed open like a bomb had gone off.

Every head in the room snapped toward it.

Tonks jolted so hard she sloshed tea all over her lap. Remus looked like someone had just hexed his soul out of his body. Kingsley instinctively reached for his wand.

Sirius froze mid-rant, his mouth still open, expression twisted somewhere between ‚ready to argue’ and ‚what the actual hell?‘

Only Severus remained still, sitting calmly like he’d been expecting the storm.

The room went dead silent.

You stood in the doorway, wild-eyed and furious, still in your long black coat, hair wind-tossed and boots echoing ominously across the floor.

“Severus Snape,” you said through gritted teeth. “You were supposed to be at soundcheck twenty-seven minutes ago!”

Severus stood slowly, utterly unbothered. “My sincerest apologies. I would’ve left sooner, but the sound of fifteen conspiracy theories drowning in hot air was… difficult to escape.”

“I understand,” you said, gesturing toward the room, “that saving the world is important, really, I do, but you told me—you told me—that you’d be there on time. You said 'don’t worry, it’s just a short meeting, I’ll be there before setup.’”

Sirius made a confused noise. You ignored him.

„Seth is threatening to start without you, Nate is thinking about using glitter to distract the crowd if you don’t show up and I’ve had to fend off three enchanted fan letters from different people who swear you are their soulmate and want to marry you” you snapped, stalking into the room. 

You let out a sharp huff, reaching into your coat and pulling something out—sleek, black, unmistakable and held it out to him. 

“Put it on and move your arse. We are way behind. You still have to get changed and styled up then you have fans to meet and there is still the soundcheck, so unless you plan to split yourself apart I suggest you get your moody self in gear now.”

Severus just stood in the corner like a smug gargoyle, perfectly composed only a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you enjoy shouting at me but I suppose that’s part of the manager contract—terrifying wrath and all.”

You sticked your tongue out at him before tossing him his mask over. He caught it mid-air with a practiced hand his smirk more visible by the gesture.

It wasn’t until that very moment that the rest of the room processed exactly what Severus was holding

Tonks dropped her teacup. Remus, mid-biscuit, inhaled crumbs and started coughing violently. Kingsley looked back and forth between the mask and Severus like his brain was buffering.

No one spoke. No one moved.

And then—

“YOU’RE THE SINGER?” Sirius screamed, eyes bulging, pointing dramatically like a man who’d just realized his owl had been a dragon in disguise.

Severus tilted his head as he faces Sirius. “Yes, Black. It’s been delightful watching you fawn over me without realizing it. I suppose it’s fitting even behind a mask, I manage to haunt you.”

“I WAS FANBOYING OVER YOU?!” Sirius wailed, grabbing at his hair. “I SAID YOU HAD STYLE!”

“You did,” Severus replied smoothly, slipping the mask on. “Multiple times, actually. Turns out your tastes aren’t as terrible as your personality after all. Want me to perform Hollow Crown just for you, Black, since you found it—what was the word—ah, yes… ‚poetry.’ Or would you like me to sign your wand?”

Tonks wheezed, Kingsley still looked like he needed to sit down, and Remus just leaned back in his chair, muttering, “It’s Severus…”

You, for your part, looked thoroughly unbothered—arms crossed, a smirk tugging at your mouth like this was better than front-row seats at a duel. But time was still ticking, and while you were never above letting Severus indulge in a little well-earned public humiliation, you had a show to run.

You stepped up beside him, hand closing around his arm with just enough force to make your point, and leaned in with a low, wicked whisper only he could hear:

“I adore this…banter, truly, but we’ve got to go we are late already and I will hex your boots off if the others caused chaos.”

Then you pushed him toward the door before stopping again.

You glanced back at the stunned, speechless faces and gave a sweet, deadly smile.

“Not. A. Word. To anyone.” you said, voice sugar-sweet and full of knives. “If this gets out, I’ll find you. I’ll haunt you. And if I’m feeling particularly inspired, I’ll let Severus write your obituaries in verse and sing about it on the New Album.”

The room collectively nodded like schoolchildren facing a particularly vicious Headmistress.

You turned back to Severus and pointed firmly toward the door.

He sighed—long, dramatic, theatric—and said, “Yes, yes, I’m coming.”

But there was a ghost of a smile under the edge of his mask.

As the two of you swept from the room, Sirius could be heard whispering hoarsely behind you:

“...I have a poster of him in my room…”

[reagan-is-tired]

Reagan Meris — Muggle born wizard — autistic

16yrs — Ravenclaw — he/him — gay — trans

Likes: Drawing, reading, herbology, plants, quiet

Dislikes: Loud people, loud places

other people:

@james-the-amazing-potter @thebr1ghteststar @looneymoonyy @wormy-loves-ch33se @mystical-magical-me @king-ofthe-crop @xeno-graphical @malfoy-lu @rodolphus-le-strange @averykissableguy @fire-allayer @poison-penmanship @whokilledevanrosier @pandoras-nox @little-king-official @cas-not-the-band @marls-mckinn0n @hjonesworld @mary-mcdeal @emmelineandhervans @alicethekindone @flowers-of-narcissus @andromedashoax @the-queen-bellatrix @severusprince-snape @fabian-with-an-f @mollberryshortcake @fawningamos @k1ndest-keeper @aelius-with-a-quill @annajohn-silvae @adam-lukas-morningstar @imogenmorningstar @oxxen--free @camille-laurier @luciagraham @your-favourite-callie @addison-caddel @daughter-of-spring @magandang-kaluluwa @kingalexanderthegreat @flyasaphoenix @veronica-davis @tjsinclairofficial @vidiadelafairy @devsmagicalblog @secretlifeof-asher

[perciverthoughts]

The thing about Percy is, he’s really not half as perfect as he pretends to be.

“Fuck,” Penny says, wrenching open the window because she’s also not as perfect as she pretends to be, “give me that, will you?”

She snatches the freshly lit cigarette out of his hand before he can even take a puff, sucking on it desperately.

“Oi,” he protests, and she rolls her eyes but hands it back to him as she blows the lungful of smoke out the open window.

He places it between his lips, ignoring the slight oily taste from Penny’s lipgloss on it, just as desperate for the nicotine as she is. 

They really shouldn’t be doing this, and there will be hell to pay if Flitwick or the heads catch them- they’re prefects after all, and he had to give Danny Maslow detention just last week for doing the very same thing- but he also doesn’t care. He needs this. Merlin, nicotine is half the reason he gets through rounds some days without committing murder or having a breakdown, and after the meeting they just had he feels close to both.

Besides, Penny’s muggle cigarettes are so much smoother than any wizarding smoking device he’s ever tried.

“Fuck,” Penny repeats, because she swears like a goddamn sailor anytime she isn’t in front of the professors or busy being a prefect, “that was brutal.”

“Yeah.” Percy agrees, because holy shit it was.

She makes a grab for the cig and he dances out of reach, knowing what most people don’t: that underneath her carefully arranged curls and polished facade Penelope Clearwater is an absolute menace. 

“Get your own!”

“Who gave you that in the first place, hm?” Penny demands acerbically, but takes out her own pack all the same, along with a muggle lighter because she never quite got used to using a fire charm. “Fucking ingrate.”

“I resent that.” Percy informs her loftily.

“You should.”

He holds his nose up a second longer before he relaxes into a grin, the kind only a few people can draw out of him.

“Seriously though,” She returns to the matter at hand, done feigning her annoyance, “If I have to sit through another fucking meeting listening to Lucretia Hammond prattle on about ‘team unity’ and ‘presenting a united front’ I’m gonna be unified from azkaban when I kill her.”

Lucretia Hammond was the manically bubbly head girl, a seventh year ravenclaw whose caffeine intake could rival that of a healer working double shifts. With the rumours of the chamber of secrets floating around and the fact that half the school seemed ready to duel at a moments notice, she, along with her head boy sidekick Brodie Sangton, felt the need to remind the prefects to be good role models. Apparently, that meant doing an hour and half of team building exercises and messing up the rounds schedules so no one could patrol with their friends. 

“Maybe that was her actual plan all along,” Percy muses, “unite us all in our hatred for her.”

If that was actually the motivation behind it, even Percy has to admit it was kind of brilliant. He’s pretty sure if he asked anyone right now who’d sat through that bloody seminar to help him murder Lucretia and get away with it, they’d accept- and that was saying something considering Zafrina Rosier hadn’t even pretended that dropping him during trust falls was an accident.

“I wish I could believe that,” Penny sighs, “but she’s really not that smart.”

“Penelope Clearwater,” he gasps mockingly, “how could you say something so cruel? After what we just learned about kindness and unity going hand in hand-”

He jumps out of the way before she can smack him, cackling. 

“Bastard,” she grins, “you know I’m right.”

She is, is the problem. Lucretia Hammond could not be less suited to her job if she tried, and most days Percy is convinced she is trying. He has yet to figure out why Dumbledore appointed the Head Girl he did, because he’s sure there must have been a reason. There has to be, because no one in their right mind would put Lucretia Hammond in charge of anything unless they knew something about her most people don’t.

“Unfortunately, yes. Maybe if we hold a vote of no confidence we could impeach her.”

“This early in the term?” Penny blows a smoke ring, hopping up on the windowsill and kicking her legs like a child, “As first year prefects? McGonagall would say we haven’t given her a chance, and we’d be the ones with targets on our backs. Besides, something tells me Lucretia will hang herself soon enough without us needing to do anything.”

She blows another smoke ring, flicking her wand until the grey cloud twists into the shape of a jellyfish.

“Y’know, the whole point of opening the window was so that the whole room wouldn’t smell like smoke.”

Penny rolls her eyes. 

“Unlike you, I know how to do a refreshment charm so I don’t really need to worry about that.”

“Damn. Low blow.”

“Boo hoo, get over it.”

“Whatever,” he huffs, stubbing out his cigarette and vanishing it, “I gotta go, I’ve got an appointment.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling snogging your boyfriend in the library now?”

Percy blushes. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“No comeback for the snogging thing, huh?”

“Oliver,” he grits, “is-”

“-the love of your poor gay life, yes, we’re aware.”

“Oliver,” he repeats, purposely ignoring his best friend’s untrue insinuations, “is just a friend.”

“Right, of course,” Penny schools her face into something almost neutral, “just a friend.”

“Precisely.”

“...a friend you really want to snog senseless though. Like, you’re aware that you very much want to do that, right?”

“Oh fuck off!” 

He starts towards the door and Penny cackles.

“You didn’t deny it!” She calls after his retreating back, and he offers her a two finger salute before he steps into the hallway, smoothing his robes and straightening his hair.

After all, he needs to look his best for his study session with Oliver, because he isn’t as perfect as he pretends he is and because Penny is right.

He really does want to snog Oliver Wood senseless. 

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Sharp March 2025 - 25. Amortentia

Aesop Sharp teaches the lesson on the strongest Love Potion known to wizardkind.

After yesterday's sadness, I decided to have this fun full of longing and gently torturing Aesop. What fun! 🤣

25. Amortentia (1.8k)

This lesson wasn’t a good idea…

That is, Aesop knew that he couldn’t quite just skip over this particular lesson, it was, after all, a part of the seventh years’ NEWT class curriculum, and while brewing and using a potion such as Amortentia was dubious at best and criminal at worst, it was his firm belief that the students should, at the very least, know how to recognise it and how to remove its effects should they ever encounter someone on whom this potion was used.

Still, every single year he taught this particular lesson, he made sure to keep his eyes peeled for any potential troublemaker who might try to pinch a vial of the finished potion, for whatever reason - he really didn’t need even more work on his hands, and brewing a antidote for this potion was more work indeed, as the students would find out the very next lesson as well.

Besides, it could be plain dangerous as well. He heard stories of people under the influence of this particular love potion becoming so lovesick, they turned violent against those who tried to keep them away from the object of their obsession. There were even cases of people dying, because in an attempt to get to their target, they put themselves into a dangerous situation. A particularly grisly case was that of a wizard from London, who, as a way to locate the person the potion made him believe he loved, climbed atop a balcony of a tall building. And then, once he saw them, he just… he just jumped. 

Aesop cringed - that was before his time as an Auror, but from what he heard, it was not pretty. To cover it up wasn’t that much of a problem, he heard, as the Muggles who witnessed it (as well as the Bobbies who were called there) wrote it off as a suicide. Not the Aurors - they saw it as murder, seeing as the man would have never taken his own life had it not been for the potion. Apparently, the Daily Prophet spoke of little else than the dangers of Love Potions for weeks following the nasty incident.

Therefore, he felt it was his duty as not only a teacher, but also as a former Auror, to instill into the students just how dangerous love potions can be, and Amortentia most of all.

What never crossed his mind, however, at least until he was face-to-face with the situation, was the fact that he’d suddenly be surrounded by the smell of what he found the most attractive. And, well, any other year before it wouldn’t have exactly been a problem - yes, it could be slightly distracting, but he was old and experienced enough to be able to mostly ignore the incredible blend of smells. 

Well, not this year.

He, of course, brewed a batch of the potion in advance, just to be able to show the students how a correctly brewed Amortentia looked, and how different its smell could be for every individual. The brewing itself went without a hitch, obviously, but once Aesop bent over his cauldron for the last time for one final stir, he very nearly froze in place. 

Frankly, he should have expected it. Should have, but didn’t, and that was on him. For whatever reason, he presumed the potion would smell to him like it always did - this sort of pleasant light soapy smell, like freshly washed laundry that’s been left outside to dry in the warm summer sun, coupled with the scent of good quality drawing paper, and the smell of earth after a rain. He had been mistaken.

Because the moment he bent over the cauldron, the smell that hit his nose was one he couldn’t fully take apart and explain, but he very much knew where he knew the smell from.

It was her. Of bloody course it was.

There was something floral, though he couldn’t identify which flower gave off such a scent, floral and powdery, and there was a hint of something wild and sweet in the undertone of it, kind of like sour cherries. He breathed in deeply, his eyes closing subconsciously. It was only when a particularly large bubble burst upon the potion’s surface did he remember himself, and stirred the mixture before turning off the burner below his cauldron.

Bloody hell.

He knew that smell, and he knew it well. He encountered it in both his waking moments and in his dreams, and it drove him absolutely mad.

He allowed himself to close his eyes once more and again inhale the vapours from the potion deeply. And, at that moment, it was almost as if she herself stood there, right before him, her and her irresistibly addictive smell, and he was getting completely high on it. Oftentimes he only caught a whiff of it, when he walked by her, or stood next to her to see her progress in class. Sometimes, he was able to indulge in it for a little longer, like when she had tea with him in his chambers, their armchairs close to one another, so that they were able to talk quietly. Sometimes the smell lingered, and it drove Aesop to fantasies about her still being there with him, rather than heading to sleep in her dormitory.

Now, however, the smell was stronger than he ever had the chance to smell it, and it was, frankly, turning his conscious brain into utter mush. It was like she stood very, very close to him, closer than ever. In fact, it was like she was standing so close, not a leaf of paper would fit between the flush press of their bodies against one another, so close, Aesop could almost feel the softness and the warmth of the delicate skin of her neck, where he’d buried his face, like he was a man starved and only her sweet smell could sustain him.

He could very nearly feel the phantom of her fingers in his hair, could feel his own hands closing tightly around her hips, attempting to pull her closer and closer.

Aesop opened his eyes.

Merlin’s bloody beard…

Sweat appeared at his brow, and his breathing was nearly laboured. He was leaning over the cauldron as if he truly was embracing the object of his admiration and affection just now, and yes indeed, he did feel a little confused as to how was she not there…

Shaking his head, he stepped away from the cauldron, though his legs felt like they were made of lead, and he immediately missed the scent that filled his nose so beautifully just moments prior. He put the cauldron under a stasis spell, to keep the smell contained until the potion was needed for the actual lesson, and used his wand to clear the air in the Dungeons of any remains of the potion’s vapours. Slowly, he hobbled to his desk and sat upon his chair rather heavily. Blindly, he reached into his robes for a vial of Wiggenweld potion, which he uncorked and drank its contents in a single swallow.  

It was going to be an interesting lesson indeed, Aesop presumed.

— 

He had not been wrong in his original assessment. The part of the lesson in which explained the origins, effects and dangers of the Amortentia potion went by alright. Aesop kept his distance from the cauldron, just to be able to clearly see everyone and insure nobody secretly took any of it. That’s what he told himself, at least, in reality, he was really steeling himself for soon having the entire room filled with the smell of the young Ravenclaw.

Speaking of her, he chanced a quick look at her, and it almost made him stutter in his speech - she was looking at the cauldron, ever so slightly leaning closer to it, her eyes half-lidded, and a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

He wondered what it was that she smelled, what scent it was that was alluring her like so…

The potions master cleared his throat: “You will find the instructions on the blackboard, additional information about the ingredients' preparation process can be found in your books, provided all of you actually brought them with you this time.” And with that, he turned around and went to sit down. 

Soon, the room was filled with sounds of daggers clicking against cutting boards, book pages being turned, the instructions being copied from the blackboard, and ingredients being prepared. He watched the seventh years in near silence, for once having no essays or pop-quizzes to grade, which he was rather glad for - he presumed he soon wouldn’t be able to focus on any sort of grading anyway.

And he was correct - as the lesson progressed, he forced himself into a standing position, and made a little lap around the classroom, peeking at the students’ cauldrons over their shoulder, occasionally making small comments and recommendations when he saw someone was a little lost. However, it would seem most of the NEWT students were being meticulous in their efforts, as the air in the room was slowly becoming sweeter for Aesop’s nose, mellower.

He made his way over to the young Ravenclaw. She was visibly focused on her work, something he always deeply appreciated about her - her work ethic could be greater than that of a Hufflepuff. He stood behind her, perhaps just a little bit closer than he stood to the other students, peeking down his nose at the contents of her cauldron. He saw her tense for a moment but then relax again, gracefully stirring her potion.

“Good colour,” he praised slowly. Then, as if on its own accord, his hand reached forward and closed around her stirrer (and partially her hand). He led her hand for a few stirs, then opened his mouth to speak again: “and the consistency appears to be fine as well.”

He had to force himself to let go of her and step back, immediately missing the warmth of her body so close to his. However, even as he stepped back, he felt that sweet scent of hers lingering, tickling his nose and making him try very hard not to breathe too, well, obviously.

“You’re doing a good job, Miss (L/N). Do keep at it,” he said finally and walked (fled) back to his desk, to rest his leg (calm down) again.

Little did he know that the young woman breathed a small sigh of relief. For even as the professor stepped away from her, the smell of him remained in the air around her. A very lovely blend of sandalwood from the cologne he wore, a hint of Firewhisky, and a mix of various herbs that he used as ingredients. She didn’t know when she started finding the smell so appealing, but once she did, she got positively high on it every time her nose caught a trace of it.

And now she was surrounded by it…

Her cheeks were flushed, her neck a bit too warm, and whenever a pair of dark eyes landed on her from across the classroom, she felt like she was in heaven, and she felt like she was in hell.

Oh, Merlin, give her strength that the lesson today won’t make her lose her mind…

---

Hello! I hope you enjoyed this little story. You can check out all of my other stories over on AO3 ❤️

[choccy-milky]

(SPOILER WARNING to people who haven't read your story) I SWEAR to GOD!!!! This is borderline anon-hate with my current state of mind after finishing The Raven and The Snake over this weekend. I finished it in two days. I'm a mess. I've even started making a playlist because I feel like I can't properly enter reality again. I'm supposed to be writing my bachelors thesis right now,,,, what have you done to me!!!!

I loved it so so so much, and I am very mad I cannot have a collectors edition hardback version of it on my shelf. There are many many moments that keep replaying in my head, and scenes that I saw so vividly when reading through it. The first imperio moment and Sebs shadow and imperio-green eyes as Clora was held captive, and the entire scene in the repository and how I was physically shaking as I slowly realised that Seb had made a fucking horcrux, and when it was CONFIRMED the GASP i GUSPED. It was so perfect, and so very Sebastian; because OF COURSE he made a horcrux (lowkey hot, sue me).

And the scene where Clive realised Seb straight up just died for his daughter without knowing he would be back, oh my dear lord.

And the idea of Seb being seen as a 'Ruffian' and that little mamas boi bitch of a Henry thinking his hand-me-down-riches, muggle ass would be preferable to a powerful wizard. I secretly wished they didn't have to keep magic a secret so Henry could have known just how inferior he was. AND SEB APPARATING SO FAR UMPH the skilllll.

I could go on and on and on, and maybe I will some other time in your inbox when I have another mental breakdown.

And now I'm also almost done with the small sequel. Just taking a break to bombard you with this unhinged message of mine. And how you draw Sebastian is so fucking good. It's actually what got me reading in the first place. I see your version as being in a completely separate universe from the game, cause the way you draw him just has that something, and it's not the same anywhere else. It certainly doesn't help my obsession that my own boyfriend has the same features and colour palette as him, now I think I might even use your art as inspo for next time we need wardrobe additions.

I love you and I hate you.

Ps. Of course I added Sarah Smiles to the playlist and also Far too young to Die, and Just One Yesterday. If you've any other songs you think match please let me knowww~~

BRUHHHHH I ALMOST FEEL NARCISSISTIC FOR POSTING/RESPONDING TO THIS ASK BC ITS JUST PRAISE BUT DAMN THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭😭😭IM HAPPY YOU LIKED IT SO MUCH!! FORGET WRITING YOUR BACHELORS THESIS, TY FOR WRITING A THESIS ON WHY U LOVED MY FIC SO MUCH AND ALL THE LIL THINGS U ENJOYED BAHAHAHA (love the henry slander) im also glad u like how i draw seb too, and i love how thats what made u start reading it in the first place BAHAH but fr, sometimes i try drawing seb more accurately to his ACTUAL appearance and then im like... Who The Hell is this... and it may sound arrogant since im the artist but my seb is MY seb, yknow...its why i dont like drawing him with other mc's romantically. bc even tho its like, oh look, that's Sebastian Sallow™ from the hit game Hogwarts Legacy™! in my style if i draw him with another MC, its like, NO!!! THATS NOT SEBASTIAN SALLOW™, THATS CLORA'S HUSBAND🤺🤺THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING BOI??🤺🤺🤺 LMAOO but rly TY AGAIN💖💖💖 not only for reading but also taking the time to write all this and let me know how much you enjoyed it🥹🥹i (and all writers, really) always love getting stuff like this!! it also brings me back to when i was writing it, especially now that ive been finished with my fic for a few months, listening to u react to all the diff scenes is making me miss it and giving me nostalgia for my own damn fic FRRR😩 also i love that youre making a playlist LMAOO thats how u know the brainrot truly has a hold on you IM SO SORRY🙏🙏 i actually made a seb and clora playlist like last year and its somewhere in my ask tag if you look through that?? but one song that i can recommend off the top of my head (which i almost made their anthem in that OTP chart) is arms tonite by mother mother...whenever i listen to it i cant help but laugh to myself bc its SO perfect for the chap where seb sacrifices himself....YOULL SEE WHEN U LISTEN😇💖

[maluceh]

Top Lily variants? I've seen so many "[random hp character #10] variants" online, with various degrees of accuracy, but I don't remember ever seeing one for lily. Your Jily ones were so accurate (the only pair I'm not super familiar with was peraltiago, and I know enough about them to know they fit), so I was curious if you had any just for her as a character. You basically wrote the Lily (& Jily) gospel so I trust your takes <3

*cracks knuckles*

I'm about to give you a full detailed dive into Lily's character and personality that you absolutely did not ask for. I’d have to say the ones I had already picked for Jily variants (since I always look for couples where they both have James/Lily’s personalities). I’ll try and make it to ten but there’s only so many characters that truly fit Lily for me. Mostly the characters that I see as Lily, are sarcastic, witty, overachievers, intelligent, charismatic, and snarky…

Amy Santiago (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)

I know you said you haven’t seen it, but TRUST ME. Amy is a control freak know it all, she finds comfort in order and structure. Although she’s a bit more uptight than I imagine Lily to be. Her constant need for reassurance and approval from figures of authority is something I can definitely see in Lily. Her relationship with Holt is kinda what I imagine Lily to be like with Minerva/Alastor. Also, the fact that she is deeply loyal (as most characters in this list).

Over the course of the show she loses up a bit, and learns to have more fun and I think this could be applied to Lily in her Hogwarts years. Lily being a muggleborn is a very VERY important part of her character, as well as her morals and political standing with blood purity.

We can draw certain parallels between her and Hermione (overachievers, Head Girls, prefects), you don’t get those badges by simply passing by through school. So from this we can deduce that Lily was an excellent student that focused on exceeding at school, because there’s an extra need to prove herself among not just her teachers but her peers as well. To make them see that she’s just as much magic as they are.

So, like Amy, she's constantly trying to prove that she is smart and qualified (Amy in a field mostly male, Lily in a world mostly pureblood).

Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson)

Annabeth too is a smart character that wants approval —in this case, from her mother—. She is more arrogant and snarky, a little sharper around the edges, which is so Lily!!

Her upbringing has made her become more guarded with her feelings and who she puts her trust in, also her reluctance to accept Luke’s betrayal. These are things that I see in Lily’s canon descriptions and appearances. From growing up with a sister that does not accept her and being betrayed by her best friend. In canon, after SWM (Snape’s Worst Memory), when Snape camps outside her common room waiting for her to ask her for her forgiveness she says that she has been making excuses on his behalf for a while. A lot of people call Lily a hypocrite for only ending her friendship with Snape after she was personally affected by his views, but personally I think that’s part of what makes her such an interesting character.

She’s at war with herself, not really there or here, having to be in the middle of two worlds that do not fully accept her (Annabeth with her father and Camp Half Blood/ Lily with the muggle and wizarding world). And after losing one of the people connecting her to a place of security (Thalia/Petunia), she refuses to see that the last person connecting her to that safe place is also going to leave her to join a side of the war opposite to hers (Luke/Snape).

Kate Sharma/Sheffield (Bridgerton TV/Books)

Kate is funny, closed off and witty. She rushes to judge people and decide for herself whether they are worthy of her time or not, sometimes without even bothering to actually know them. Sometimes (specifically in the books), she’s so ridiculous and funny, not really forcing herself to fit in societal norms, which is something I can definitely see in Lily.

Also, her on the show with Anthony in S3, is just how I imagine married Jily, just perfect.

Dana Scully (The X Files)

In Dana I see Lily’s fierce loyalty and sense of right and wrong. The hiding of her emotions, and also how determined she is, that even though she wants to believe she doesn’t, not even after seeing hundreds of crazy things happen in front of her, she still clings to her own truth.

Tiana (The Princess and the Frog)/Cinderella (1950)

Tiana and Cinderella remind me of Lily in the sense of a hardworking woman, also really headstrong and married to her own way of thinking. A shell hard to break, because of all the walls she’s put up in order to survive. Like Lily, Tiana doesn’t take kindly to outsiders and people who come off as standoffish (Naveen/James and Sirius), but eventually ends up getting to know them and treasuring them as life companions. And you might think me crazy for adding Cinderella, but her unwavering kindness and optimism in the face of hardship is undoubtedly Lily, she’s not all sunshine and rainbows tho —yes the 1950’s version—, she hates the situation that she’s in and wastes no time (alone with her friends) to complain about it, she bites back and only “behaves” out of survival, she’s nice and warm but also angry and headstrong.

Yoon Jin-myung (Hello, My Twenties)

Here is another hard worker female character that I can’t help but see a little bit of Lily in. Although Jin-myung is much MUCH more shy and introverted than Lily, still, she has a complicated relationship with her family and tries really hard to do a million things at the time, forgetting to care for herself and diving into routines of work/school that are almost self destructive.

Honourable mentions.

Chili (Bluey) Morticia Addams (The Addams Family Values)

Mostly how I imagine Lily as a mom/ her married life (along with Kate too). Morticia might seem like a stretch but aside from her dark interests and aesthetic, she's a loving mom and partner and she puts her family first, she’s also a bit of a freak, like Lily.

Sloane (Ferris Buller’s Day Off) Pam Beesley (The Office)

Only on the prankster side of Lily, more chill and easy going, losing up a bit to have fun with Sirius and James.

[bitch-potatoes]

New obsession with these two

Prompt: muggle 06/11/24 @moonwater-microfic

Word count: 536

Regulus stared down at his textbook with his hands in his hair. It wasn't supposed to be a difficult subject, but this homework was impossible. Barty was working on the same peice, breezing through the essay to the point where he'd broken his first quill from writing too fast.

"Bab," Regulus kicked Remus' shin under the table they were sitting at in the library. Remus looked up from his work, a history of magic essay he'd drafted 3 times already. He cocked his head and placed his biro down gently. Regulus found it odd that he refused to use quills anymore, something his friend Lily Evans had taken up after Snape had called her a mudblood. He supposed it was just a way of supporting her, and it had really taken off with other muggleborn students.

"Yeh Reg," he muttered, stifling a yawn and scrubbing his eyes with his hands.

"You're friends with Evans, the muggleborn... can you help me with my muggle studies work" Regulus asked timidly, he wasn't used to needing help with his work and it was easier to ask Remus over Barty who'd loom it over him for the rest of forever.

"My mums a muggle..." Remus said, slowly like it was something bad to reveal to Regulus. He was taken a bit aback, the Lupin name despite not being one the sacred 28 was still a pureblood name. An oversight on Regulus' behalf for not asking, but he didn't really like prying into home lives because Merlin knew he didn't want to answer questions about his.

Remus clicked the top of the pen, and a small spring made the tip of it pop out. He clicked it again, and it went back in. Regulus thought someone ought to recruit more muggle intelligence into the wizarding world because quills and ink wells seemed ancient compared to this. Most of the wizarding world was still stuck in the mid-1600s. Hence, Regulus is struggling so much with the homework;

"Explain three methods of muggle transportation, including at least one method of flight." Regulus read the set task aloud and looked at Remus expectantly.

"Ummmmm.... trains, planes, and busses. " Remus shrugged, offering a small smile as he read the textbook upside down. It wasn't fair him and all his weird friends were so effortlessly smart.

"I actually wanted to do hot air balloons instead of planes," Regulus muttered sheepishly, half prepared for a lecture on how that was stupid.

"I've been in a hot air balloon once" Remus replied thoughtfully "the way they work is easy, just uses the concept of hot air rises essentially. There's a flame that heats the air in the balloon bit and that makes it take off, less flame to go down and more flame to go up" Remus explained softly, scribbling down a few bullet points and drawing a small sketch of a hot air balloon.

It was the small things like that, things that reminded Regulus that love could be soft and kind and warm. Love wasn't harsh words and unbearable punishment to ensure the perfect heir. Love was milk chocolate, parchment notes, and fiction books; sugar mice, secret smiles, and clicky pens. Love to Regulus was Remus Lupin.

[cupid3clipse]

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 — EP. 1

draco malfoy || cupid3clipse

ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ

10 years ago

A Ravenclaw, the Draco Malfoy was dating a Ravenclaw. They were known for being one of the houses Slytherin tolerated but that was just it, tolerating. You were the most popular of the Ravenclaw house considering you were related to one the most richest, and noble Ravenclaw family of all the Wizarding world. Well next to the Malfoy’s. At first you weren’t the most fond of the boy, he was mean and ugly to any of those who “wronged” him but for some odd reason he was kind to you. You didn’t know if it was because of your family’s status or if he actually had a heart. When Malfoy first met you he was amazed by your dazzling beauty, your hair that he didn’t even have to touch; only look to know it was soft, your scent, everything about you.

You’re relationship started out when he asked you to the Yule Ball in year 4, it was unexpected but you accepted since nobody else had gained up the courage to ask you yet. Boy the night you had with him, dancing around with your friends and him like nothing mattered— never in your life did you think you could have this much fun with Draco Malfoy of all people.

Eventually you gained feelings for him, he fell first and rather quickly at that, to him you were just the perfect woman to ever exist; besides his mother. Who by the way loved you almost as much as he could, his father not so much who was upset he wasn’t dating a Slytherin but Draco wasn’t going to let his fathers cruel, ungrateful words change his love for you. Even when Draco got the Dark Mark you stuck by his side and despite becoming distant from everyone else he was in love with you and he couldn’t escape it even if he tried.

Things took a turn for the worse during The Battle of Hogwarts, you knew Draco was apart of the reason why it started because he was stuck with Voldemort no matter what. He didn’t have a choice but when he saved Harry from the fire you thought maybe just maybe he would finally stand up to his parents. But you were oh so wrong

When Voldemort was calling people to come over he was stood next to you holding your hand tightly, when his Mother and Father called for him. “Draco..” his mother called out so lovingly you could hear his breathing change as it hitched nervously.

“Please Dray.” You practically begged him holding his arm lightly squeezing it, he let his head fall looking straight at the floor, you could tell he was fighting which decision to make. You were only hoping he would make the right one.

He didn’t, he took a step forward but you’re connected hands and your grip on his arm stopped him mid way, you knew the pressure he had on his shoulders with this decision but if he seriously chose Voldemort over you, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself

“Draco. If you do this… I can’t be with you.” You spoke firmly and he turned his body sideways to look at you, his disheveled appearance and the mix of fear written all over broke you. “Don’t be stupid.” You added hoping your words would draw him back into your arms but instead without a word he placed a kiss to your hand lovingly before he headed towards the group of Death Eaters two of those being his parents.

Present Day

For years Draco didn’t know if you died during the battle, he and his family beside him walked away from the fight cowardly, it was only when he saw your picture while out in Diagon Alley buying a new suit that was almost similar to the ones he already owned. He remembered you telling him about how you modeled and you wanted to go more professionally so when he saw you modeling for a perfume ad looking as stunning as ever he couldn’t help but feel proud for you. He caught himself staring at it before one of the workers in the store asked him if he needed help with anything which broke him out of his trance.

That was years ago now, Draco was successful he’d have pure bloods, mudbloods and muggles at his feet anytime anywhere. He hadn’t gone further than just a simple hook up not after you, you basically ruined him leaving a burn etched into him, you were his first and only love and the fact that he fucked up everything haunted him. Voldemort was dead now, if he chose to stay at your side he still would’ve been fine but now he just had to live with the decision he chose.

There was a party being thrown by Blaise Zabini it was sort of formal. Blaise was Draco’s best friend so he went just to support him, the last person he expected to see was you. He felt as if he saw a ghost he stopped talking to whoever was in front of him the moment his eyes landed on you, he could hardly breath. You looked so beautiful, you aged well from the school girl he knew.

Draco had been avoiding you since he saw you, but Blaise being as conniving as he was had managed to pull you over to Draco before he had to go off to his own wife. Draco was stuck in place at the sigh of you, he wondered if you hated him, he did leave you after all, he wouldn’t even blame you, hell he’d let you take your anger out on him if you so desired to.

“It’s good to see you Draco.” You spoke so professionally and not mad at all? Draco was almost confident you would’ve hexed him the moment you saw him but instead you were polite

“I agree..” Draco somehow managed to let out. His heart was pounding in his chest it almost hurt with how fast it was beating. “How have you been?” Draco questioned trying to make some sort of conversation

“I’ve been great, have something in New York coming up.” You smiled at the mention of it, Draco could barley register a word coming out of your beautiful mouth he was just so stunned that you were standing right in front of him

“That’s amazing! I’m proud of you.” Draco kept his cool while speaking, you could see right through it though, he’d been in newspapers for scandals you knew he was spiraling but you decided to let him suffer in silence, for you didn’t owe him anything not after he left you.

“You know, we should get dinner sometime. Catch up in a better environment.” Draco suggested obviously he had still been deeply in love with you, and obviously he didn’t know you were married.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You turned him down which made his whole demeanor break he kept a poker face but his eyes betrayed him. “Draco, I know you. You don’t want it to be just us catching up.” You called him out

“Please, Y/N just one dinner.” He practically begged he was so blinded by his love for you that he failed to notice the big sparkling ring on your finger. He clearly wasn’t getting the hint, so you lifted your hand by your face showing off the ring which made his heart stop. You were married, he couldn’t believe it.

Of course he knew you were gorgeous and that men or woman around you wouldn’t fail to see that. He never thought that you would get married to someone that wasn’t him, he was burning with jealousy and heartbreak.

“If you thought I was gonna wait for you, you’d be delusional.” You stated simply allowing your hand to fall back at your side, he couldn’t believe it. He wished he was dreaming, and this was all some cruel nightmare, and he’d wake up with you by his side but this was reality. He screwed up everything and now you were married, taken from him by another man.

a/n : hope this is good!! i’ll be working on getting e.p 2 out as soon as possible so i don’t keep u guys waiting! lmk if you want to be tagged in the next part xx