#for him to turn around and do the same thing to albus

[lilithofpenandbook]

Okay but that scene in Snape's memories in DH?

The one where Dumbledore's telling him to go take the sword and he was like I Know and then Albus was like "what are you gonna do"

And Snape didn't explain

All he did was say "I have a plan"

That scene is so powerful to me

[zeke-fanfucs]

I may have rewatched a lot of horror and creepy films and now my brain is going crazy over fear and adrenaline. Sooo how should I cope? By writing fanfic! Yall know they drill, it’s the Gang! I’ll list the warning!

Warning: Graphic violence, body horror, intense fear, trauma, psychological distress, disturbing imagery, and unsettling themes. This fanfic contains scenes of extreme danger, creature attacks, and emotional turmoil. Reader discretion is advised.

For the love of whatever, please understand this warnings.

Blood Price:

A Bounty in the Dark

༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻

The sun burned the top of Kamor’s head as he winced at the bumpy road. The gang rode across the cracked dirt path on robotic horses, their metal hooves clanking with each step. Kamor shifted uncomfortably—these things weren’t built for comfort. Worse, he was riding with Hipswitch, his arms locked around the man’s waist. He swore his heart rate was louder than the damn horses.

Ahead, Attila, sat straight-backed, reading from a crumpled file. “Linton Graves. Robbed three banks. Killed two tellers, a sheriff, and a bounty hunter. Shot ‘em all in the head, so he’s efficient. Last spotted near Black Hollow.”

Albus snorted. “Black Hollow. Of course it’s called something ominous.”

Kamor shuddered. He knew that name. He just wasn’t sure why.

“Speaking of ominous,” Albus added, turning in his saddle with a grin. “Kamor, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe you’re just terrified of being this close to Hipswitch?”

Kamor scowled, glaring daggers at him. Hipswitch, ever gentle, chuckled. “Don’t be shy, partner. I don’t bite.”

Kamor wasn’t convinced.

The sun dipped lower, bleeding into the horizon, and the road ahead twisted into a narrow trail flanked by skeletal trees. The warmth faded fast. The wind shifted. And as they rode deeper, Kamor felt it—something watching.

Something waiting.

Kamor jumped at the sharp caw of a crow, his grip tightening around Hipswitch’s waist before he realized what he was doing. He quickly loosened his hold, grimacing. Damn birds.

It wasn’t just any crow that made his skin crawl—it was what they reminded him of. The Mad Crow.

His pulse pounded in his ears as the memory threatened to surface, but he shoved it down. Now wasn’t the time. He forced his gaze forward, ignoring the way the crow perched on a dead branch, its beady black eyes locked onto him. Watching.

Albus noticed his reaction, of course. The bastard always did. “What’s wrong, Kamor?” His grin was all teeth. “Bird got your tongue?”

Kamor shot him a glare so sharp it could’ve sliced his throat, but Albus only laughed.

The road ahead darkened as the skeletal trees pressed in closer. Mahatma clicked his tongue, scanning the horizon. “Black Hollow ain’t far now.”

The crow let out another shriek and took off into the sky. Kamor couldn’t shake the feeling that it was delivering a message. Or a warning.

…

The town was dead.

Not just abandoned—dead.

Buildings slumped like broken ribs, their windows hollow and black. The wind whispered through the streets, kicking up dust that danced in the dying light. The only sound was the creak of a rusted sign swaying above what used to be a saloon.

Kamor slid off the robotic horse, boots crunching against dry earth. His gut twisted as he scanned the empty town. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Albus dropped down beside him, his usual cocky smirk nowhere to be found. His fingers twitched toward his gun before he yanked Kamor close, gripping his sleeve tight.

“Stay close,” Albus muttered.

Kamor blinked. Albus? Taking something seriously?

This was the same man who laughed when they were being chased by a horde of zombies, who cracked jokes even when some bounty was swinging an axe at his head. But now, in this empty town, his jaw was tight, eyes sharp as he scanned the shadows between buildings.

Kamor nodded slowly. He didn’t like this either.

Hipswitch and Mahatma dismounted, both tense as they took in the eerie silence. Hipswitch adjusted his hat, eyes narrowing. “Something ain’t right. Should be bodies. Signs of a struggle. But this place ain’t just abandoned.”

“It’s emptied,” Mahatma murmured.

A soft tap echoed from an alleyway. Kamor stiffened.

Then another. Tap. Tap.

Like footsteps. But wrong.

Too light. Too slow.

Albus’s grip on Kamor’s sleeve tightened.

From the shadows, something moved.

The moment Kamor heard that laugh—a low, rasping chuckle curling like smoke in his skull—his blood turned to ice.

The Mad Crow.

Not here. Not now.

His body moved before his mind could catch up. His instincts screamed. Move. Now.

He grabbed Albus and Hipswitch’s wrists, yanking them toward him with a strength that surprised even himself. At the same time, he shoved Mahatma backward, forcing him into the nearest building just as—

SCREEEEEEEECH. (I tried be scary)

The sound ripped through the town, warping the air around them. It was wrong—too high, too deep, too hungry. It didn’t belong to any alien known, any animal. It was something else.

The tapping stopped.

Silence.

Then, slow, deliberate scraping, like claws dragging along rotted wood. Kamor didn’t dare move. His heart pounded as he turned his head, inch by inch, toward the alley.

Something was there.

Just beyond the shadows.

Watching.

Waiting.

…..

Kamor’s breath hitched as he slapped a hand over his mouth and nose, forcing himself to stay silent. He didn’t know why—just that he had to.

Mahatma, quick to pick up on the danger, followed suit, covering his own mouth. Albus and Hipswitch, still crouched by the doorway, slowly peeked out.

And then—they froze.

Kamor didn’t want to look. He really didn’t.

But he had to.

His head turned, slow and stiff like rusted gears grinding together.

And there it was.

The thing.

It stood in the center of the street, impossibly still, impossibly tall. 8’10 at least. Its body was black—no, not black. Empty. Like a void carved into the world, devouring all light.

But the face. The face.

White as bone. Wide, lidless eyes that burned like pale moons. And that smile—stretched too far, too wide, jagged like broken glass.

It didn’t blink. It didn’t breathe.

It just watched.

Then—

It twitched.

A single, unnatural jerk of the head.

Albus sucked in a sharp breath, and Kamor knew—if he made a sound, they were dead.

……

Kamor’s stomach churned, the overwhelming sense of dread tightening around his chest. He wanted to vomit, but his body wouldn’t let him move. His mouth went dry, his throat closing as the terror threatened to swallow him whole.

His heart hammered, each beat a drum of panic.

He knew.

He knew what it was.

He didn’t understand how or why—he just knew. That thing, standing in the street, twisting the air with its unholy presence…

It was a Mimic.

A terror from the depths of his own nightmares. Things that copied, things that became the ones you feared most, the ones you hunted.

The Mimic—it had a taste for flesh, yes, but what it truly craved was something darker.

The thing in front of them let out another screech, but this time it changed.

The distorted sound morphed, bending and twisting until it was no longer an otherworldly wail, but a voice.

The voice of Linton Graves.

The bounty they were after.

“Help me.” The voice was pained, guttural. “You have to help me…”

Kamor’s breath hitched. His vision blurred, and his body trembled. He tried to step back but couldn’t—the terror had rooted him in place.

It was the Mimic.

It was using Graves’ voice to lure them. To deceive them. And they were so close to walking right into its trap.

Tears welled up in Kamor’s eyes, not just from fear, but from a deep, gnawing knowledge—that he had seen this before. That he had known this would happen.

It was too late.

——

The world around Kamor turned into a blur. His head rang with the chaotic buzzing of his own thoughts, drowned in the maddening laughter of Mad Crow. The laugh echoed through his mind, dark and mocking. He could practically hear the ghostly smile of the Crow, taunting him.

“Come play, Kamor. A game of tag, don’t you think?”

The words twisted like daggers in his chest. Tag? No, this wasn’t a game. It was his death sentence. Kamor knew all too well the Mimic’s power—it could end him in an instant. The thought sent a chill through his spine. He wasn’t afraid for himself, though. What terrified him was what would happen if it got his family.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Kamor wobbled as he tried to steady himself. He could feel the weight of his fear pulling him down, but he wouldn’t be a coward. Not now. Not when they were all in danger.

He looked at Hipswitch, his eyes filled with desperation. Hipswitch whispered something, but Kamor couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in his mind. He had to act.

Albus hissed at him to sit down. Kamor could barely register the words before his instinct kicked in. No. He couldn’t sit back and wait.

With a shaky breath, Kamor bolted toward the opposite door, throwing his body through it with all the force he could muster. He crashed into the dirt, scrambling to make noise—anything to grab the Mimic’s attention.

A loud, sharp clatter rang through the air as he kicked over a metal barrel, sending it tumbling across the street.

Kamor’s chest heaved as he turned, looking over his shoulder at the others. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t shout, but his eyes—his eyes screamed at them to run.

He couldn’t speak, but his body was screaming it. The panic in his gaze was the only warning they needed.

His heart raced as the Mimic’s head snapped toward him. Its eyes locked onto Kamor with a hunger that made his blood run cold.

The game was on.

And Kamor had just become the prize.

———

Kamor’s legs burned as he ran, every footstep a frantic thud against the cracked earth beneath him. The Mimic’s presence loomed behind him like a nightmare come to life, its distorted screeches cutting through the silence. It wasn’t chasing him—no, it was playing with him.

It knew.

The thing was toying with him, mocking his every move. Kamor could feel it in his bones—the way it let him think he had a chance, only to let him get just far enough before it slowed down, its unnatural movements dragging like it was savoring the chase.

Every now and then, he’d glance over his shoulder. It wasn’t rushing, wasn’t even truly running. It was drifting, its long, lanky form swaying unnervingly as it followed behind, too slow to catch him, but fast enough to make Kamor’s pulse race.

Kamor knew this game—he knew it all too well.

This was the Mimic’s way of playing. It was a predator, savoring the fear, the panic, the chase. It wanted him to feel hopeless, to feel that crushing weight of inevitability.

But Kamor wasn’t going to give it the satisfaction.

He couldn’t stop.

Kamor’s heart slammed against his ribs as he pushed himself harder, faster, ignoring the fatigue, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to drag him under. He had to stay ahead, had to keep the Mimic at bay, because if it caught him…

Kamor refused to let it catch him. He couldn’t let the others suffer because of his failure.

The Mimic let out another laugh—a low, sickening chuckle—and for a split second, Kamor’s blood ran cold. It was mocking him. Mocking him for thinking he could run, mocking him for thinking he could survive this.

He glanced over his shoulder again.

The Mimic was still there, but now, it was gaining—its head tilted, that inhuman smile stretching wider as it took a more aggressive step forward.

Kamor felt a sickening chill crawl up his spine.

The world seemed to stop as Kamor’s foot caught on something hard, and he stumbled, falling forward onto the ground. His breath hitched in his throat, his pulse pounding in his ears.

He barely registered what had tripped him, too consumed with panic, but as his hands hit the dirt, he felt it—the cold, slippery texture beneath his fingertips.

He turned his head—and the world seemed to collapse.

A corpse. Half-eaten, torn apart. Its face was barely recognizable, skin stretched and shredded. Blood and sinew were exposed, a grotesque mess of broken bones and gaping wounds. Kamor’s stomach churned as his eyes locked on the remains of Linton Graves—the bounty they had been hunting.

But this… this wasn’t just a corpse. This was a warning.

Kamor’s vision blurred. His stomach twisted violently, and before he could stop it, he bent forward, his body convulsing as he vomited onto the ground. The rancid sight of the mutilated body, the jagged teeth marks, the hollow eyes—it was too much. Too horrible.

But it wasn’t just the body. It was the thing behind him.

The Mimic was there.

Leaning down, its grotesque white face hovering just inches from Kamor’s. Its eyes were wide, unblinking, and that sick, twisted smile stretched impossibly far across its face.

And then, to Kamor’s utter horror, it began to sing.

At first, it was soft—a distorted, warbling voice that was eerily familiar. Kamor’s blood turned cold as he recognized the tune.

“Run, rabbit, run…”

The words were stretched, mangled, the melody twisted and warped beyond recognition. The voice was deep, guttural, like something scraping against the very fabric of reality.

The Mimic’s eyes never left Kamor as it continued, the tune growing louder, more distorted. “Run, rabbit, run!” It was like a sickening lullaby, the kind of thing that made the hairs on the back of Kamor’s neck stand on end.

Kamor’s heart dropped.

The thing was mocking him. It was toying with him, and in that moment, Kamor knew. It wasn’t just playing the game anymore.

It was telling him he had no way out.

——

Kamor’s breath caught in his throat as the Mimic’s voice was abruptly cut off by a guttural thud. His heart stopped as he whipped his head around.

Something else—some new horror—had entered the fray.

A creature, or several of them, crashed into the Mimic, sending it tumbling backward. Kamor’s pulse throbbed in his temples as the sight before him shifted into something even more nightmarish.

These creatures were human-looking, but their faces were wrong. Their eyes were too wide, their mouths stretched unnaturally large, with jagged teeth that snapped and gnawed at the air. Their skin was a sickly shade of grey, fur like coarse bristles running along their arms and backs, making them look like twisted, monstrous dogs.

But dogs that laughed.

The creatures giggled in an eerie, high-pitched cackle, like a hyena with a twisted sense of humor. The sound made Kamor’s stomach turn, like nails scraping across glass. They were circling the Mimic, tearing into it, gnashing their teeth. But it wasn’t the violence of the attack that made Kamor freeze—no, it was the fact that they laughed as they did it.

The sick, twisted sound of joy mixed with violence made Kamor’s blood run cold.

As they tore into the Mimic’s black, void-like body, the creature screeched in distorted agony, but the dog-like things just laughed harder. Their eyes glinted with madness, their mouths splitting wide as they savored the chaos.

Kamor’s heart pounded in his chest, but he couldn’t look away. His body was paralyzed with fear. He had thought the Mimic was the worst thing here. But now, these things—these sick, twisted creatures—were showing him just how much worse things could get.

He wanted to run.

But his legs refused to move.

___

Kamor’s world tilted as he felt cold hands grasp him, yanking him upward with frightening strength. He gasped, his vision spinning as he was hoisted into the air, disoriented. His heart raced, but then—he recognized the hands.

Hipswitch.

Before Kamor could register what was happening, Hipswitch had him settled onto the robotic horse with a speed that left him breathless. The metal steed hissed beneath him, the low mechanical hum vibrating through his body, but Kamor barely noticed. His mind was still reeling from what he’d just witnessed.

The sound of monsterous screams echoed through the air—distorted, savage cries from the Mimic and its new, sickening attackers. Kamor’s chest tightened as they faded into the distance. The chaos was still unfolding behind them, but Kamor didn’t dare look back. He was still trying to process what had happened, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“We’ve got to move, now,” Hipswitch said, his voice calm but laced with urgency.

Kamor barely had time to register the words before the robotic horse lurched forward, galloping into the distance. The landscape blurred around them as the air whipped past, but Kamor barely felt the rush of wind against his face. His mind was consumed by what he’d just escaped.

As they neared the edge of the bridge, Kamor spotted Albus and Mahatma waiting for them, standing at the ready. Albus’s face was tight with concern, his eyes sharp as he watched Kamor approach.

“What the hell?” Albus demanded, his voice low but urgent.

Kamor’s breath caught, but he didn’t speak. His mind was a whirlwind of images—the Mimic’s face, the creatures’ laughter, the corpse… Linton Graves.

He wasn’t sure how to explain. How could he?

But as they neared the others, Kamor felt something deep in his gut. Something far worse than the fear.

They weren’t out of danger yet.

Kamor’s body convulsed as the tension finally cracked, and he fell from the robotic horse, landing in a crumpled heap on the cold stone of the bridge. His stomach churned violently, and he couldn’t stop the rush of bile that surged up his throat, spilling out as he vomited again. His whole body trembled, the aftershock of fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Albus’s voice rang out, harsh and angry. “You idiot!” His words were sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “What the hell were you thinking, running off like that?! You don’t just throw yourself into danger like that!”

Kamor’s hands shook as he tried to push himself up, his head spinning. The world around him felt distant, muffled by the ringing in his ears. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t get his body to cooperate.

Mahatma was the first to reach him, kneeling beside Kamor with quick hands. His eyes scanned Kamor’s trembling form, quickly noting the bruises and cuts, the way his body was still shaking violently from the shock. Kamor’s breath came in shallow gasps as Mahatma gently placed a hand on his shoulder, his touch gentle.

“Hipswitch,” Mahatma said, his voice calm, but urgent. “Help him up.”

Hipswitch immediately moved to Kamor’s side, lifting him carefully, holding him steady. Kamor’s head lolled against Hipswitch’s chest, his body too weak to do anything but let himself be supported.

“Easy, partner,” Hipswitch muttered, his voice low and steady as he helped Kamor back to his feet. Kamor didn’t even have the energy to glance up at him—he just closed his eyes, too drained to protest.

The others were still talking—Albus’s voice was full of frustration, Mahatma’s mumbling, but Kamor couldn’t focus. He could only hear the rush of his heartbeat and feel the burn of bile still rising in his throat. The fear, the terror, was still clawing at him, lingering like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

They were safe—for now. But Kamor knew that wasn’t the end. The Mimic and those things were still out there, waiting.

Kamor stood under the hot water, feeling the stream wash over him, soothing the tension in his muscles. The dirt and blood from the day’s chaos spiraled down the drain, a visual reminder of just how close he’d come to losing everything. His body was sore, bruised in places he couldn’t even remember, and the trembling hadn’t quite stopped.

The memories of the Mimic’s face, the sickening laughter of those creatures, still clung to him like a second skin. Kamor wanted to scrub that fear away, but no matter how much water he let run, it was still there, deep inside of him.

When Hipswitch had offered to help him, Kamor had shaken his head, a silent plea for space. He didn’t want Hipswitch to see just how shaken he was. He didn’t want anyone to see the cracks forming beneath his usual mask.

He didn’t want to seem weak.

But he couldn’t help it. As the water pounded against him, Kamor felt the weight of what he’d done—what he’d almost caused. He’d been reckless, using himself as bait. He’d acted out of fear, but now, in the silence of the bathroom, he realized how much danger he’d put them all in.

Albus had been pissed—furious—when he’d watched Kamor run away from the group, drawing the Mimic toward him. Kamor hadn’t said much after the explosion of anger from Albus. The words had stung, sure, but they’d been deserved. He couldn’t argue.

But Kamor didn’t want to think about that now. The guilt weighed heavily on him, sure, but he needed to pull himself together. He couldn’t keep dwelling on it.

With a deep sigh, Kamor finished the shower, letting the last of the water cascade down his body, feeling it trickle off of him as if it could wash away the lingering fear. He grabbed a towel, drying himself off slowly, the soreness in his body reminding him of how close he’d come to death. His hands shook as he wiped his face, the image of the Mimic still flashing in his mind. He wasn’t ready to face the others—not yet. They were waiting for him outside, waiting for answers, but Kamor wasn’t sure if he could explain himself.

He pulled on fresh clothes, still feeling the weight of the events in his chest. As he stepped out of the bathroom, Kamor steeled himself for whatever Albus was going to say.

Kamor’s heart stopped when he saw Albus standing by the bathroom door, his posture stiff, his eyes unreadable. The weight of Albus’s presence felt like a mountain pressing down on him. Kamor lowered his head, his mind still buzzing with guilt, unsure how to face the anger or disappointment he expected. But Albus didn’t yell.

Instead, Albus’s hand came down gently on Kamor’s head, ruffling his hair in a way that almost felt… too gentle. It was the same hand that had swung at him in frustration not long ago.

“I can’t lose another family member,” Albus muttered, the words so soft, Kamor almost didn’t hear them.

Kamor felt a lump form in his throat, a sharp, painful knot. He never wanted to make Albus feel that way. He didn’t want anyone to fear losing him, especially not Albus. He wasn’t strong enough for that responsibility.

He wasn’t strong enough for anyone.

But he didn’t argue. Instead, Kamor gave a quiet nod, swallowing the sudden wave of emotions threatening to rise. He couldn’t say the words out loud—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you—but his nod was his way of acknowledging the weight of what Albus had said. He didn’t want to make things worse.

Kamor turned away, feeling like he was moving on autopilot, heading toward Mahatma for a check-up as planned.

Hipswitch hovered close by, his usual calm demeanor cracked with a visible sense of worry. He didn’t say anything, but the way he kept a few steps behind Kamor told him everything.

“You okay?” Hipswitch asked quietly, though it was clear he was more concerned than he let on.

Kamor didn’t have the energy to lie. “I will be.”

It was all he could offer in that moment. As he approached Mahatma, he could feel Hipswitch’s eyes on him, following him as if making sure Kamor wouldn’t break apart again. Kamor didn’t want to show how fragile he felt, but the truth was, everything had been too close. He could still feel the cold of the Mimic’s eyes, still hear the laugh of those twisted creatures.

[hirukochan]

Ambushed

A Severus SnapexFem!Reader Oneshot

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader

Summary: After your former Professor murdered Albus Dumbledore a few weeks after your one-nightstand you never expected to see him again.

Warnings: Smut, catcalling, blood, injury

Wordcount: 5000

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

Life has become significantly darker since the death of Albus Dumbledore. You hear rumours of the Ministry falling, about Death Eaters taking over and You-Know-Who rising. From the perspective of the public all that hasn’t happened. Everybody can feel the change and taste the misery hanging in the air between abandoned and destroyed shops in Diagon Alley.

The rich fuck you work for is paying you extra because you decided to stay. You aren’t going to let yourself be scared into running away! 

You started evening courses at a small university in Aberdeen a few months ago. Enchanted Art. For what? Hell if you know, but art sounded good. You however aren’t…good. Not at all, but it’s fun. You enrolled a few days after what you now call ‘the worst mistake of your life’. 

Severus Snape.

Death Eater.

Murderer.

Newly appointed headmaster of Hogwarts.

And you fucked him. Just three weeks before he killed Albus Dumbledore, a man who trusted him. 

The Daily Prophet and the Ministry are framing Harry Potter for it. There is a large manhunt going on with a bounty on Potter’s head. The boy has disappeared from the face of the earth. 

You saw him at the funeral in Hogwarts. Many former students came to say their goodbyes to Dumbledore. You went out of shame and guilt. It doesn’t make any sense for you to feel like that. Neither did you know what Snape was planning nor did you support him in any way. And yet, just knowing you had that man in your bed is eating at you.

You sway and stumble but can catch yourself on the side of an abandoned building. Death Eaters have been attacking Diagon Alley for months, even before You-Know-Who came to power, but never your shop. You guess it’s because a second-hand bookshop is absolutely useless. You don’t even have many customers! The shop is not profitable whatsoever.

You rub your eyes and push yourself off the wall to continue your less than straight way back to your flat. You’ve been drinking with the Weasley twins who run the joke shop a few streets away from yours. They are one of the few shops still open like you. They were three years under you and always good for a laugh though you were never friends with them. Now out of school and in the same boat you get along well.

And drinking alone is pathetic.

You are pathetic, but not that pathetic. 

Not yet.

You squeeze through an alley. Just another corner and you’d be there. You’re too drunk to apparate and apparition can suck it anyway.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out all alone?” A male voice calls out to you. You ignore it. You are really not in the mood to be accosted now and your wand might just slip.

You grip it tighter in your pocket. One could not be careful enough these days. Perhaps you should have taken Georges’ offer of walking you home.

“I’m talking to you!” He sounds angry now. Just fuck off. Just turn around and fuck off or better come here and give me something to let my aggressions out on. “Stuck up cunt!” You are whirled around by your shoulder and thrown against a wall. The air is pressed out of your lungs and your back aches. 

The blurry face of a sleazy looking man comes into view but in the next second he’s gone. You blink. Your alcohol drenched brain needs some time to catch up. Then a scream rips through the night and you recoil. Everything in you screams to run. To turn around and take off, to save yourself, but your eyes are glued to the man on the ground, writhing and screaming, his body shaken by endless, never-ending agony. 

Steps echo through the night and your head snaps up. A tall, dark figure moves towards you. Black robes, dark hair- for a second you think it’s Snape and you don’t know how to feel at that and even less how to deal with the sting of treacherous disappointment when you notice he’s too slim and too short to be Snape. 

Moonlight reflects off a silver mask. You grip your wand tighter, terrified of what’s going to happen next. 

A Death Eater.

A real fucking Death Eater right in front of you! And you’re still not running. Why the fuck are you not running?

“Tsk tsk tsk.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his hand. The man’s screams have stopped, replaced by a strangled, gurgling sound that somehow sounds so much worse. Your blood freezes in your veins and you start shivering. This is it. This is how you die. Drunk and on your way home. Just a street away! Away from safety, though you suspect that it’s a false feeling. A lie.

There is no safety left in Britain.

“Has your mummy never taught you, you mustn’t touch what isn’t yours?” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue again. A green light illuminates the alley. It paints grotesque shadows onto the silver mask and the wall behind him.

You scream. Shock and pain are ripping the sound out of the wall of your throat and haul it into the night. You cover your mouth with your hands. Tears sting in your eyes. You don’t want to die here.

Your heart pounds in your chest, strong and fast, declaring it has many good years still left, refusing to back down but also trapped by a rich net, woven from terror and dread.

“You shouldn’t be out so late.” The Death Eater says. His voice is slightly muffled by the mask, but he sounds young. So terribly young. Perhaps around the twins’ age? Did he go to school with you? You don’t recognise his voice, but you are in shock. Right? Yes, shock. He just killed someone! Like it’s nothing! To think you might have sat next to him in the Great Hall or the library…

“It’s not safe. Best run along now.”

You blink. Confused. He is letting you go? Why would he let you go? He rips his sleeve up, revealing a jet-black tattoo on his underarm, one that you’ve never seen before but recognise regardless.

“That’s a fucking order!” You flinch. And then you’re running. Running down the street and not stopping until you’ve reached the door to your flat. Your fingers tremble so much you struggle to get the key into the keyhole. You use every single protection charm you know on the door after you’ve closed behind yourself. You’ve gotten good at casting them. You had to.

“What the fuck.” You whisper to yourself, back leaned against the wall and wand clutched to your chest. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!” A Death Eater just fucking let you go! He tortured someone for attempting to assault you and then killed him. 

He fucking killed him.

You watched someone die. 

What the fuck.

Oh Merlin and Grímhildr and god and Jesus fucking Christ!

‘Mustn’t touch what isn’t yours’ What does that mean? You’re not some object to be owned!

“Maybe he has a crush on me?” You think out loud. Yeah…maybe that guy really did use to go to school with you? Maybe he- you have no idea but what other reason would there be? Would a Death Eater disapprove of assaulting women? Somehow you find that hard to believe.

The incident does not leave your mind. You become paranoid. Always checking your steps and looking around for that glimmer of light catching on a silver mask. Often you’d look out of your windows, watching the empty street but you don’t see the young Death Eater again. You expect him to come back any day to finish you off

One day you arrive at the Leaky Cauldron after your evening classes tired and hungry. It’s a little after ten and you decide to eat in the pub instead of cooking. An hour later you step outside and apparate onto the steps in front of the door to your flat. You secure the door with your usual spells and kick off your shoes before hurrying up the stairs. You want nothing more than to collapse into your bed-

Something isn’t right. It’s the faintest difference. A smell that is not quite right. A whisper of magic in the air that does not belong to you. The small hairs on your nape stand and your stomach clenches. You grip your wand tighter.

There is something on your floor. A large black something.

“What the fuck?” You mutter and drop your hand to your side. “What the fuck? No no no- get the fuck up, Snape!” He doesn’t move. He is lying face down in a puddle of blood in the middle of your flat. Where did he come from? How did he get in? Why is he here?

You kick him. 

It sounds like a logical choice in your head.

He doesn’t move.

“I have a Death Eater in my flat, on my floor. I have a dying Death Eater on my floor!” You panic. You are panicking. You kick him again. Nothing changes. “Shit shit shit!” You could just…kick him down the stairs and lock the door? How did he get in here?!

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-” What do you do? What can you do? Why is he here? 

For lack of a better plan, you kick him again, but despite how gratifying it feels to let your aggression out on him you have to come up with a better idea. You can’t just keep kicking him!

Wary of the Death Eater on your floor you kneel down and press two fingers to the pulse point on his neck, ready to jump backwards at any point. His skin is burning up. What happened? 

You can’t just kick him down the stairs. It’s tempting. He’d deserve it- but that isn’t you. Besides it would take the Death Eaters not even two seconds to figure out who left him there to die and they might come back to hurt you.

You heave him into your bed and peel the blood-soaked clothes from his chest. There is a deep gash across his side. Blood steadily runs down his pale skin. What happened to him?

“He’s a Death Eater that’s what fucking happened to him.” You scold yourself. “And you are fucking helping him- fuck! Why did you choose my flat to die in, Snape?!” You flick your wand at him, and his own wand comes flying through the air, landing in your hand. You shove it into your pocket.

Snape looks like shit. He’s thinner than a few months ago, his skin paler and dark, deep shadows have seemingly permanently attached themselves to the skin under his eyes.

The glorious Death Eater that defeated Albus Dumbledore. 

You scoff.

“Good- that is that…disarming the Death Eater that is twice your size and can probably do wandless magic…or simply snatch them back from you because let’s be honest here - we aren’t a fighter!” You have no idea who you are talking to, but you feel hysteric and talking to oneself is what hysteric people do. Right? Right?

“Please don’t die here and start haunting me!”

“I’m not dying.” Snape grunts and you scream. 

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck- you scared the living shit out of me! What the fuck are you doing here?” Without bothering to answer you, he examines the wound on his side. He grimaces. 

“I advise you against attempting that.” The deep, velvety rumble of voice makes you shudder in all the wrong ways. You keep your wand trained on him anyway.

“Get the fuck out of my flat!” You hiss, raising your wand higher, keeping it aimed at him.

“So hostile.” He tuts. “Did I leave you unsatisfied last time?” 

“You’re a murderer!” Your voice is shaking, tears pool in your eyes and you have no fucking idea why you feel betrayed. You hadn’t spoken to Snape in five years before your one-night stand. But had you known…had you known he is a Death Eater you would have never let him into your bed.

“Yes.” Snape says and he somehow sounds bitter. What right has he to be bitter? “I heard you ran into some…trouble.” You shove your wand in his face and perhaps he sees in your eyes how serious you are, a faint promise of hexing him or something else, but he raises his bloodied hands slightly as if to tell you he isn’t a danger.

“Do you have a first-aid-kit? So I can get out of your hair.” You look at him, considering. You could make him leave. “I’m not a danger to you.” To you. To others, yes, but not you. You have no idea how to feel about that thinly veiled confession. You flick your wand towards your bathroom. Snape rummages through your first-aid-kit.

“Who the fuck doesn’t stock dittany?” He asks, glaring up at you while aggressively opening the fuckton of buttons on his robes. Who needs so many buttons?

“Why would I have fucking dittany? Sorry I did not expect you would choose my home to almost fucking die in!”

“I wouldn’t have died!” He sneers.

“Tell that to the puddle of blood on my floor. Why are you here?” He hesitates. His shoulders droop and he stops messing with his clothes. Something profoundly vulnerable flashes through his eyes.

“Where else would I go?” And that is that apparently. He peels back layers of blood-soaked clothes, and you try not to ogle him. He hadn’t taken off much of his clothes when he fucked you… 

The moonlight hides the currently sickish undertones of his pale skin, making him look like one of those marble statues you’ve seen in a muggle museum once. His skin is littered with scars, a visual reminder that this man is a Death Eater - a fact your body is more than willing to ignore judging by the uncomfortable, damp spot in your knickers. 

You watch him patch himself up from a safe distance, your wand pointed at him at all times. His fingers tremble, his skin is chalky pale and beads of sweat cling to his forehead, but his movements are precise and purposeful.

And yet-

You have never seen him like this.

Small somehow.

Vulnerable.

“I was told you were assaulted.” His voice is quiet, he usually speaks soft and quiet - a man like he never has any trouble getting a classroom full of hormonal teenagers to shut it. But today it’s different. There is something…inherently broken about the way he says the words and it gives you pause.

“So what? You decided to break in? Who do you think you are that you get to check up on me?” You spit the words at him because if you don’t, you might do other things and you really can’t afford that.

“That wasn’t-” He inhales sharply and impossibly enough pales even more. You summon a glass of water. “Thank you.” He whispers and downs the whole thing in one go.

“Wouldn’t want your cult friends to show up here because I let you die.”

“You should be careful what you say.” He doesn’t say it as a threat. He says it softly, with dread mixing into his worry.

“I thought you weren't a danger to me.”

“Plenty of people are.”

“Right…then. You know where the door is.” You nod towards it. Snape rises to his feet - far more graceful and steady than he has any right to with how shit he looks. He comes closer and you bite the inside of your cheek to resist the urge of stepping back. He comes closer still, his much larger frame hovering above you and any sliver of thinking Snape is small evaporates into thin air.

His silky hair falls into his face and hides it in the shadows of your flat, with only the moon illuminating the small space.

You take a shaky breath and attempt to ignore the heat between your bodies or the way your heart beats all wrong. His eyes have an intensity to them that makes you shudder and involuntarily recall how his hands felt on you…his breath dancing across your skin…the way he tastes-

“You still have my wand.” He says, his voice impossibly deeper and smokey and his eyes- these damn stunning stupid eyes that burn into yours, whispering promises of things you can’t even begin to wrap your mind around. 

You automatically close your fingers tighter around your own wand. He is so close now the tip of it digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. Like the threat of a curse does not even affect him, like he doesn’t give a shit that you could simply kill him right now or perhaps it’s arrogance. He believes you incapable of it - which is the truth but still! Is it asking too much to want him to be at least a little afraid? 

Snape reaches out and his hand brushes over your side and you inhale sharply.

There must have been a lapse in the fabric of time - in the universe itself because suddenly you are kissing. You don’t know why or how but the wands clatter to the ground and Snape’s hands are on you and your body scream fuck the universe because this feels right.

Snape’s arms wrap around your smaller form and press you to his chest and you let him, weaving your hands into his hair while he claims your mouth with a feral hunger. You moan into the kiss and lean into his touch and try to smother the whisper in your head repeating the last two words you’d want to hear right now over and over.

Death Eater

You slide your tongue over his. There is a faint taste of iron in the kiss but it doesn’t matter. Snape’s fingers dig into your flesh like he is trying to devise a way to never have to let you go again.

He clings to you like a dying man to life.

Death Eater

He stumbles backwards and takes you with him, plopping down on the bed and pulling you into his lap. It feels natural. Your bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces and something somewhere in the universe just clicks.

You run your hands down his neck and over his shoulder, noting how much thinner he feels now compared to last time. You shove his frock and dress shirt down his shoulders. The feeling of his naked skin against your hands feels electrifying. A buzzing prickle seeping into your body through the pad of your fingers and spreading throughout your very being like blazing wildfire, pooling deep in your belly.

Death Eater

You moan into the kiss and grind against Snape, feeling his hard cock against your core through your knickers.

Death Eater

Two pairs of hands drop to his fly at one, frantically fumbling with buttons and stumbling over each other. Snape retreats and returns to thoroughly groping your arse under your skirt. You manage to free his cock and Snape helps lift your hips. You push your soaked knickers away and align his cock with your entrance.

“Fuck I forgot how big you are-” You hiss at the stretch. Snape kisses your neck and nibbles on your collarbone.

“Have you been with someone since-?” He leaves the question open. Further specifications aren’t needed. You are still slowly lowering yourself on his prick, until the delicious kind of stretch turns to a stinging stretch where you pause to give yourself time to adjust.

“-no.” You pant. Snape groans against your sternum and wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close. He kisses down your chest and over your breasts. Nuzzling you through the fabric of your blouse.

“Fucking hell-” You mutter once he is finally sheathed inside you. You’re out of breath and sweaty and so so full. His cock is throbbing against your inner walls, hot and thick and you need a moment to collect yourself.

“So good.” Snape groans and continues peppering kisses over your chest. You whimper in response. “You take my cock so fucking good-” He rips your blouse open and shoves your bra up, locking his lips around your nipple instantly. You moan and cling to his shoulders. Snape licks broad strokes over your nipple, alternates between sucking and kissing and grazing you with his teeth. 

His lust-drenched sounds make you squirm in his arms and arousal leak over his cock, soiling his trousers. 

It takes a little moment for you to get a hang of how to move on top of him, but once you’ve figured it out, you earn approving groans from Snape.

“Fucking missed you.” He murmurs against your skin.

“Did you now?” You raise a brow.

“I’m talking to your tits, dear.”

“You have issues.” You moan and sink back down on his cock.

“I thought we had already established that.”

“Yeah, when you decided my floor was the proper place to die!”

“Wouldn’t have died.” He groans and locks his lips around your nipple again. You cradle his head with your arms and rest your cheek against the crow of his head while bobbing up and down his length in an unsteady, unrefined rhythm.

Snape doesn’t seem to care.

And neither do you really.

The voice in your head shut up a while ago and you bid farewell to it, telling it to never come back.

Snape inhales sharply and you stop instantly.

“Did I hurt you?” You ask, unable to keep the worry out of your voice. Snape’s face is contorted in pain. He reaches for the footboard of your bed and his knuckles turn white under the force with which he holds onto it.

“Lie down.” You murmur and push against his shoulders gently. Snape looks at you both irritated and untrusting, but he eventually (less than gracefully) lowers his back onto the mattress.

You reposition yourself above him and lean back to brace your hands against his thighs right above his knees. Slowly you begin moving again. It feels awkward for a while but then you find the right angle and Snape presses his fingers against your clit, stroking tender circles over the throbbing bundle of nerves and pleasure overshadows any feeling of awkwardness.

“You’ve always been a fast learner.” Snape groans. “Such a studious girl.”

“When the subject interests me.” You chuckle and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Am I an interesting subject?”

“Hmm…Certainly one I can’t seem to escape.” You raise your hips and sink back down, moaning in tune with the delicious stretch of his girth.

“Do you plan on almost dying on my floor in the future?”

Snape laughs, an uneasy sound accompanied by a concerning rattling sound coming from his lungs. “Are you planning on stocking Dittany in the future?”

“Nah, but I was thinking about getting a runner and- ow!” He slaps your thigh, not hard, but a pleasant sting runs through your flesh and the sudden slapping sound startled you. “Bastard.” You hiss and push yourself up, planting your hands on either side of his head, careful to avoid the dark strands of hair spread out around his head.

“Is that the thanks I get?”

“Thanks?” He hums. An expression of raw pleasure flickers over his face and it pulls you in, captures you like a fly in a sticky trap - and like a fly in a sticky trap you realise the danger you are in just by associating with Snape, not to mention by fucking him.

You never thought yourself to be a morally depraved woman but here you are, with the enemy quite literally in your bed.

An injured, weakened enemy. 

As if you’d have a chance against Severus Snape no matter how weak he is! No, leave the heroism to other people, people that value their lives less or think the world will be grateful for their heroism. 

You close your eyes and lean down to meet Snape’s lips, to get lost in the feeling of a warm body against yours, the mechanical workings of what a romance would feel like, to draw some comfort from a man that is willingly giving it to you when all other male specimens on this earth seem to not give a shit about you.

“Started University.” You murmur against his lips. Snape has put his hands on your arse and is helping your movement, pulling you and down on his cock, guiding your cunt or using it for his own pleasure or revelling in having a former student of his so messed up she lets him fuck her. 

“I heard. I’m glad.” He mutters back and takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Keeping taps on me?”

“Only a little.” And it’s back to kissing. Wet, heated, burning kisses. And passion or maybe erratic obsession but if obsession feels this good what does it matter?

The heat of his tongue against yours, his hands squeezing your arse, his breath dancing over your face, his cock spearing open your cunt repeatedly, it collects inside you, runs through your limbs and veins and fills your whole body. You can feel it rushing alongside your blood, feel your body respond to it by picking up the pace of your heartbeat, sweet clinging to your skin, especially on your thighs that straddle Snape’s. It floats through your body and eventually pools in your lower belly and deep inside your cunt, welcoming Snape’s prick on each thrust by splitting into two and regenerating like cell division-

Heat grows and morphs and hardens into a brooding mass that threatens to rip free of you. It scratches against your insides, searching desperately for a way out, a way to release this pressure and then Snape presses his thumb down on your clit and it rips free of you. Snape thrust up into you in one hard stroke and he groans, his grip on your arse tightening and you collapse above him and he pulls you down by putting his arms around your torso - his wound long forgotten by both of you.

His cock throbs as he spills inside you, splatters of warm, sticky cum painting your inner walls and with a content hum you rock against his softening cock to relish the last flickers of your orgasm.

Snape grunts - a pained one this time - and you push your trembling body up and lift your hips to sit down on the bed next to him. His now limp cock slips out of you and you hate that you miss the feeling of it, hate the emptiness left behind. You pull your knees to your chest and lean against the headboard of your bed, staring at the window just to not look at Snape.

“I-” Snape begins but stops himself. With another pained grunt he sits up and does the many buttons of his clothes back up. He sighs and rubs his hands over his face, raking through his hair. “I will try to not almost die on your floor again.”

“Good.” You want to sound stern, but it comes out sounding exhausted and confused.

“Good.” He murmurs. A knock on your door rips you from your thoughts. Who would knock so late? Perhaps it’s your elderly neighbour…

You pick your wand up from the floor and fix your skirt and blouse and walk towards the door.

Still caught in a whirlwind of confusing and contradicting feelings and perhaps Snape’s presence has led you to let down your guard a little, whatever it is you forget to cast your detection charms before opening the door-

Silver glimmers in the moonlight. You recognise the mask. It’s the young Death Eater that killed the man who wanted to assault you. He is flanked by two taller Death Eaters. Whatever you had wanted to say gets stuck in your throat as it swells shut. Just out of their sight you grip your wand tighter.

“Miss.” The young one says. “Apologies for the interruption.” Why the fuck is a Death Eater addressing you so polite? Movement behind you catches your attention but you don’t dare move.

“Was I not clear enough when I said this shop is not to be disturbed.” Snape drawls and all hints of pain or injury have left his voice. He looms behind you, tall and menacing and you can actually see the taller Death Eaters shrink back.

“My mistake. Again, apologies, Miss. Your presence is requested, Sir.” The younger one says to Snape.

“Do not repeat it in the future.” Snape scoffs. He ignores them and closes the door.

You can’t seem to find your voice again.

“This all will be over soon.”

“How do you know?” You whisper, uncertain what Snape means. What will be over? The resistance? You-Know-Who? His presence in your life?

“I hope you won’t have to see me again.” His lips brush your forehead ever so slightly, his fingertips dancing over your arms.

He turns to leave.

“Snape-” You don’t know what to say. His eyes linger on you for a moment, you think to see something flash in them, a hint of some deeply buried emotion but then he turns, opens the door again and he is gone.

You lean your forehead against the smooth wood. You can still feel his touch lingering-

A sob tears through the silence and you press your hand to your mouth as you sink to the floor and you don’t even know why. You kneel on the floor in front of your door and sob and cry.

When you eventually regain your composure and return to your flat you are met with the sight of drying blood…

The next day you go to the apothecary down the street and buy a bottle of Dittany.

| Part 3 |

[lemonagrios]

I've been thinking of an Au like this for a couple of months, so I made some shitty drawings to get some of it out of my system, lol

Me yapping about this Au ⬇️

So when I say "Logan" or "Runaways" Au I don't mean like literally swapping the characters and putting NextGen characters in the existing story, it's more like the general idea of the movie/comics with some plotpoints but not the exact same(?) I hope what I said makes sense lmao 😭

In this Au mutants are still relatively unknown and hidden from the population, but the Malfoys, who are very known and loved for their contributions to medicine and all of the other businesses they own, have known about mutants for a very long time now, and they actually are part of a big anti-mutant organization where they test possible "cures" and weapons for when mutants decide to "rebel" against humanity, even more now that some mutant called Harry Potter has been making some noise they have already tried and failed to silence.

17 year old Scorpius Malfoy, oblivious to all this tries to be the perfect son for his father while also grieving the (suspicious) death of his mother, he's been feeling weird lately, and he also has a big interest in genetics, not only because he knows he'd have to work in Transigen when he grows up like the rest of his family, but because of some weird sightings of interesting people in the past year.

Some stuff happens, and he discovers the truth about his family's business, the inhuman experiments tried on mutant kids, and a deadly weapon called X-19 that they created and actually have been using for a couple of years to kill important people like politicians and mafia lords while earning enormous amounts of money with it.

This "weapon" is actually a teen around the same age as Scorpius, and somehow he ends up running away with him, albeit kinda not on purpose, on top of all that he also very recently discovered that he himself is a mutant, so things are not looking good.

Some more things I've thought about 🥸

Albus and Scorpius are both 17, and their bond is definitely going to turn romantic at some point in the future bc I love them, they're boyfriends in every universe, I don't make the rules.

Albus name is X-19 as a reference to the epilogue begging with "19 years later" lmao.

Also, since his name was X-19, someone in Transigen who was part of the crew in charge of him and felt bad for him started calling him "Severus" in an attempt to give him a real name, I won't give too much details about this but that's the reason Scorpius says "Severus" in my fanart, "Albus" is a name he'd get later.

Albus was created in a lab, BUT I want him to have both Harry and Ginnys genes, I want Ginny to be the one who has the same mutation as him, so since this is kinda a gender reversal, she has claws like Laura's while Albus has Logan's, and we all know Albus looks a lot like Harry, so I like the idea that he was made specifically to resemble him, just to fuck with their heads when a teen that looks just like Harry and has Ginnys mutation is used against them.

As for Scorpius powers, I mostly made them up lol, it's a pretty basic teleportation with the fact that his skin becomes white the more he uses his powers bc I really wanted him to develop a physical mutation that would eventually (propably) out him as a mutant, also he can only teleport to places he has already been to before, if he hasn't been to a place he cannot go there, but since he's so new to his powers he can't control where he's going yet lol.

I think that's it 🤓 I still have nothing set since this is just for silly fun and I could change my mind at anytime, tbh I doubt anyone would read all that, but I had to let it out, I do want to write a fic someday, but if I draw slow, I write even slower 😭 I hope my English didn't fail me cause lately I haven't been Englishing very well lmao, byeee.

[imissnanami]

T.T. | Ch. 1 | Back to Hogwarts

Teacher! Teacher! | m.list

S. Snape x F!Reader x R. Lupin | past S. Black x Reader 

Reader is in the same year as them, use of Y/N, takes place during Prisoner of Azkaban. Contains swearing & angst. In which you become the new part time Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. You’d never thought you’d be back in these halls, and with Lupin and Snape to boot. Not to mention Sirius Black is on the loose. Great. Enjoy! :)

Ch. 1 Back to Hogwarts

White knuckling the handlebar of the trolley, Y/N pushed it through the bustling Kings Cross station. Why was she, an adult witch, pushing a trolley full of her belongings like a student? Well, because apparition was kind of like driving. She could do it, well at that, but it was also kind of scary and honestly the rules around apparition and Hogwarts still kind of confused her. 

Oh, that and the fact that she’s been living as a muggle since her graduation. Between the deaths of her friends and the incompetent nuisance that the ministry of magic is, taking a step back was the only thing that kept her sane. At least, thats what she’s been telling herself. 

Forcing the wonky wheels of the trolley to roll straight, she sent a dirty look to the group of tourists that blocked the path. Continuing to march through the crowds, she bee-lines to the wall between platforms 9 and 10. Taking a quick look around, she picks up her pace and runs into the wall- or through it, to be more accurate. 

Billowing steam and the familiar crimson of the Hogwart’s Express met her as she slowed her pace and moved to the side. Platform 9 and 3/4. It wasn’t nearly as busy as she remembers, mainly because her childhood trips to Kings Cross took place exactly three minutes before the train departed. In fact, there were maybe a handful of people meandering about. Realizing there was no point in just standing there, she approached the first train car’s door. After one of the trolley men helped magic her bags into the cargo hold, she thanked him and shuffled into the Professors cart. Unsurprisingly, it was empty. 

Plopping herself down on the harder-than-she-remebered benches, Y/N drops her tote bag and pulls out her pseudo Hogwarts letter. Looking over Professor McGonagall’s neat writing, she thinks back. 

⁂

When Harry Potter, the boy who lived, first resurfaced in the wizarding world, Y/N had expected a lot of things to change. The ministry would overreact. Hogwarts would have a very special student. It would giver her a headache. The likes. What she did not expect, was a mere two years later, for a one Professor McGonagall to send her an owl in the middle of spring. 

Dear Y/N L/N 

I think you and I would both prefer if I skipped the pleasantries with what I’m about to proposition.

‘Well that sounds promising’ Y/N thought to herself, already having a sinking feeling of where this was going. Yes, she wasn’t part of the wizarding world anymore, but that didn’t mean she lived under a rock.

As you’ve been away since graduation, I’m unsure how caught up you are with the current news and events. 

Sighing Y/N closed her eyes and flipped the letter over. Of course she knew. How could she not know one of her ex-best-friends-turned-alledged-criminal was supposedly on the loose. When she had first found out Sirius escaped Azkaban, her initial thought was ‘Good job Siri,’ before going back to her writing. Glaring at the back of the paper, she crossed her arms as if that would do something. Heaving another dramatic sigh, Y/N picks up the letter and begins to read it again. 

Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban. (Duh) The Ministry has contacted us as a courtesy and informed us they will be passing the order for the detainment of Y/N L/N: for previous collusion with the dangerous criminal, Sirius Black. 

“Alleged collusion, you old fart,” Y/N mumbled sourly, the minister’s dumb face popping into her head. 

Knowing this would not go over...smoothly with you, Albus had managed to offer an alternative. With everything going on this year I’ll have my attention split between aiding Albus and teaching the students. 

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry herby offers Y/N L/N the position of Assistant Transfiguration Professor. 

That way we can guarantee your whereabouts-

Not bothering to read any more of the letter, Y/N heaved yet another sigh, much bigger than the last. She felt that she’s been sighing an abnormal amount today. Reading the last few sentences again, she rolled her eyes. Be detained in a magic cell. Or be watched 24/7 at Hogwarts? What a choice. 

“Like I have a fucking choice.” Y/N said flatly to the empty room, before getting up and grabbing a pen and paper. 

⁂

Which, after much stress and doing more magic in 4 months than she’s done in the past 10 years, it brought us to now. Zoning back in, Y/N realized the platform was much busier. Students greeted one another excitedly and parents said tearful goodbyes. If she had looked a little closer, she’d have caught a hauntingly familiar head of messy black curls.

Pressing her face into the glass, she spied the clock on the platform, 10:50. Finally. Deciding get some sleep in preparation for the inevitable stress that this year will bring, Y/N, using her bag as a pillow stretched out and closed her eyes. 

⁂

“So cold.” Y/N mumbled, cracking an eye open.

She then noticed two things. One, that the train was stopped. And two, that it was completely dark. 

Her brain having finally caught up, Y/N sat up rubbing her arms, much more alert. Grabbing a cloak from her tote bag, she stood. Something was clearly wrong. Other than there not being another professor in the cart – McGonagall has said that there would be – they were no where near Scotland. 

Clutching her cloak tighter she made her way to the door. Carefully sliding it open she peaked out, seeing that the students were doing the same, some of them even standing in the corridor. Wondering if someone was going to do something about the situation she smacked her face. 

“Me, I’m the fucking adult” She whispered to herself. Groaning Y/N stepped out before immediately doubling back. Her wand. Having not had it on her person for the past decade was really biting her in the ass right now. 

With her wand in her hand and her cloak secured, she stepped out. Making her way through the students, some of them parted while others looked at her in confusion. She stopped by a group blocking the hallway. A small crowd of students were pressed up around the windows excitedly talking. 

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked. No one answered or even looked in her direction. Gathering her courage, and her elbows, she simply pushed through the crowd. 

“What’s everyone looking at?” She asked much louder this time, her breath fogging up in the air. 

Finally getting their attention, a young boy pointed to the glass

“The windows are all frosting up Miss.” 

Sure enough frost was crawling up the glass, and even into the cabin. Feeling dread pit in her stomach Y/N bolted out of the cabin before pushing into the next one. Frost. And the cabin across from that one. Frosty too. Well shit. 

Cold temperatures, frost, and a feeling of dread. Dementors. 

“Stay in the cabin and don’t open the door for anyone” Y/N instructed, before exiting and closing the door behind her. As she made her way down the train cars, she pushed students into rooms and locked the doors. The dread and fear getting stronger as she moved further back towards the end. She curses as she walks, she could have sworn McGonagall had said they’d be at the school, not on the fucking train. 

At least the dementor was stopping her from remembering that she was approaching the cart her and the marauders shared going to Hogwarts. Well damn, I guess not. Huffing a mirthless laugh she shoved a particularly stubborn 7th year into his cabin. A sudden piercing scream cut through the air. Y/N felt as if she was gonna suffocate. As her teeth started to chatter, and she felt fear grip her ribcage, she pushed forwards. 

Y/N reached for the door, separating this cart and the next. Her hand began to freeze to the metal handle the second it made contact. Yanking it back she wrapped her cloak around her fingers before pulling hard, the screaming child kept her body moving. With a final yank, the ice that sealed the door broke. Rushing to the sound of the scream, her feet carried her to the open door. Her brain snuggled to process what she was seeing.

The dementor was sucking the soul of a screaming child. And the screaming child was, ...James? 

Before Y/N could properly react, a strong pale blue light burst froth. A silver wolf barrelled into the chest of the dementor, driving it out. Ducking out of their way, Y/N clung to the door as the wolf pushed the dementor back and out of the train. 

Sat flat on her ass, Y/N was staring at the place the wolf ran off to. That was a patronus. A corporeal wolf patronus. Y/N only knew one person who had a wolf as a patronus. But it couldn’t be. It shouldn't be.

“-ssor? Professor?” Feeling like her world had momentarily stopped Y/N looked dazedly up at the girl calling to her. Two sets of concerned eyes stared at her. A ginger boy and a girl with frizzy brown hair. Quickly remembering the screaming boy, Y/N scrambled to her knees frantically scanning the cabin, for James. 

“Ja-” his name caught in her throat the moment she actually saw the boy. Once the dementor had left, the power had flickered back on. Now illuminated by the warm cabin light, Y/N saw that it was not in fact James, but a tiny James with Lily’s eyes. Feeling her eyes well up she quickly looked away, blinking rapidly. 

“Professor? Are you alright?” The girl's calm voice called to you again. Before quieter and directed to your right;

“Do you think she needs some chocolate too, Professor Lupin?”

Professor Lupin? Professor. Lupin?

Slowly standing and keeping her head down, Y/N could feel herself shaking. This had to be a joke. 

She held her breath as she looked to the 4th person in the cabin. The one she’s conveniently ignored this entire time. The one who cast the patronous. 

Her eyes took in the man hunched in on himself. He was wearing an old, tattered suit. His knees brought up to his chest as he sat on the ground. His scuffed briefcase lay beside him along with a half eaten bar of chocolate. He wrung his hands, before stopping and fiddling with his fingers, picking at his skin – a habit he hadn't seemed to have outgrown. 

Shyly looking up at her, Remus looked almost guilty for being there. 

Y/N’s breath caught before a lump quickly replaced it. She took in his face. A large scar ran down his left cheek. That's new. Smaller ones littered his face, where the skin was previously unmarred. Barely there wrinkles on his face were deeper now, more pronounced. Though she remembers him having a few grey hairs, there were many more now. Not yet salt and pepper, but far from brown. Though he looked older, the same kind green eyes stared back at her. 

Nervously bringing his hand up in a half-wave, Remus offered a tentative;

“Hi Y/N,”

Though she’d have loved to be more eloquent, the only thing that Y/N was able to get out was a curt nod before turning tail and running back to her cabin.

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next

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[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

The Holidays are Better With You - S.Snape

Summary - The potions master and the muggle studies professor are missing during dinner on Christmas Eve. A certain cat animagus takes it upon herself to find the pair, only to find the two of them enjoying some quality time in the Astronomy Tower.

Word Count - 617

Warnings - female reader, use of Y/N, Minerva is the last one to find out a secret

Author's Note - This is a little later than I wanted but welcome to day Twelve! All of my classwork is done so I am free from college until my winter class starts. I have 8 days of freedom to try and write as much as I can so stay tuned and enjoy!

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not my gif

Severus Snape, even just the name of the man would send a shiver down any students’ spine. However, these students never knew the man he was deep down, the man he buried because of countless trauma and heartache. The other professors knew who he actually was because most of them taught him when he was at Hogwarts himself. What they never realized was the fact that he was absolutely smitten with the muggle studies professor.

The two had grown up together, they used to do everything together, even at Hogwarts. Both of them had been sorted into Slytherin, their housemates seeing them in the same corner of the common room more often than not. The two of them still found a way to isolate themselves in a different area, spending time together in the astronomy tower. 

As most of the students had returned home, Severus and Y/N had stayed at Hogwarts with the other professors. At dinner on Christmas Eve, Minerva had noticed that the two older Slytherins were missing, so she took it upon herself to go find them. She searched everywhere, her final spot to search was the Astronomy tower. She thought that it was a good time to transform herself into a cat so that way she could be a little more stealthy. Due to her new found stealth, she could walk quieter into the tower where she heard the voices of the two missing professors.

“It’s beautiful up here, with all the snow,” Y/N had said, turning to the man beside her.

“I hate the snow,” He had said, winding his arms around her waist, pulling her body closer to his.

“I know you do.”

Minerva quietly approached the pair watching as their lips met. She almost jumped in surprise. “I love you, Severus Snape. Happy Christmas.”

“I love you, Y/N Snape. The holidays are so much better with you,” Severus responded, taking note of a certain cat lurking by their feet, “Minerva, if you wanted to join us, you could have just asked.”

The Gryffindor transformed herself back with a grin on her face. “You’re married! I thought you had a thing for Lily Potter. I would have never guessed that you were infatuated with Y/N,” Minerva exclaimed in surprise.

“It’s always been Y/N. She knows me better than myself," he admitted.

“And he knows me better than myself,” She added in a chipper tone, just happy to be in the arms of her love and chatting with a dear friend. They stood in the tower for hours just talking, more like Minerva asking them questions about their relationship and then answering.

They talked until the moon was high in the sky, the time officially reaching midnight. “I think it’s time to call it a night. Minerva, if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend the start of the holiday with my husband. Happy Christmas and goodnight,” Y/N excused herself and her husband as they went off to his quarters. Minerva left at the top of the tower with a gentle smile on her face, feeling a sense of pride for the couple. 

The sneaky professor had too decided to turn in for the night, not before mentioning the couple to Sybil and Albus.

“I had predicted and knew about this years ago. Where have you been?” Sybil asked her friend.

“I was their witness when they got married, they needed one and asked me. I’m surprised you didn’t know Minerva. You do tend to know everything and all of the gossip,” Albus chimed in. 

“Was I the last to find out? How did I not know about them?”

“You aren’t the last, the students are.”

[goodd4yss]

snippet from a snulciber fic where severus has just been turned into a vampire following the shrieking shack incident, and has to hide his new state whilst discovering himself and the person who turned him. i will probably never write so please let me know if you decide to.

CHAPTER ONE

Severus awoke to searing pain.

It felt as though his very skin was being torn apart from the inside out, an unbearable pressure building in his chest, constricting his lungs until they ached for air. His throat was raw, a tightness burning where it shouldn't. The hunger—an insatiable, feral hunger—clawed at him from deep inside, urging him to drink, to feed, but all he could do was writhe in the agonizing pain that ripped through his body. His hands reached for his throat instinctively, desperate to stop the fire from consuming him, but they were seized and pulled away with surprising strength.

"Severus, you must hold still!" Madam Pomfrey’s voice came to him, frantic, but a strange edge of fear tinged her usual calm. "Please, just... stay with me."

His vision blurred in and out of focus, the world around him spinning, the dim light of the room flickering and then fading. A murmur of voices surrounded him—distant, muffled. He barely registered them, too consumed by the terror and pain to comprehend the words.

"Albus... What do we do? I can't..." Madam Pomfrey’s voice faltered.

The world tilted once more, and then he felt the cold, merciless void take him.

---

The next time Severus came to, he didn’t know where he was.

He didn’t know if it was day or night. He didn’t know if his body was even his own anymore. The room was dark, but there was something... different about it. It was as though the darkness pressed against him, suffocating and omnipresent. His senses were sharper—he could smell the faintest trace of something metallic in the air, could feel the cool stone floor beneath him even without touching it.

His throat burned—no, itched—with a hunger that he couldn’t quite place, something deeper than any craving he'd ever known before. He tried to move but his limbs felt stiff, uncoordinated, as if they weren’t fully his own. The hunger gnawed at him again, and he realized, with growing horror, that it wasn’t just physical pain. It was a deep, gnawing emptiness inside of him—something vital missing, something essential.

He forced himself to sit up, his head swimming, everything feeling wrong in ways he couldn't describe. His eyes stung in the dark, but as he blinked, the room began to take shape around him.

A small sink in the corner, a wooden shelf stacked with unfamiliar objects. He turned, his gaze snapping to a bedside table—a simple, unadorned thing, with a single, limp lily flower resting in a vase that seemed so strangely mundane for the strangeness of this moment. His mind recoiled, his thoughts frantically spinning, trying to make sense of where he was, why he was here.

And then—it came.

The memory—the incident—flooded him. The Shrieking Shack. The werewolf. The horrible, unthinkable pain. Lupin. Lupin, and then—there was someone else. Someone who had been there.

Someone who had saved him.

But no—no. It couldn’t be. Not a werewolf—he had been saved by something else. Something... darker. He felt the strange, foreign awareness creeping under his skin, making him tremble. His body. His mind. All of it felt wrong now. He was no longer human, not truly. Something had changed him, and in this moment, he realized he might never be the same again.

[sevinagreatergood]

Focus on: james.bell996

Snaters have this unique excuse: Snape also went hexing people.

Which is basically a garbage reason. I could wipe myself with that like toilet paper. And the funny thing is, those fugly snaters will chalk that excuse to "Common sense" which is far from "common sense". You couldn't go further from "common sense" than they do.

Let's start with how Lily perceives DA being used on her friend Mary.

🛑“…thought we were sup­posed to be friends?” Snape was say­ing, “Best friends?”

“We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the peo­ple you’re hang­ing round with! I’m sor­ry, but I de­test Av­ery and Mul­ciber! Mul­ciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Mary Mac­don­ald the oth­er day?” Lily had reached a pil­lar and leaned against it, look­ing up in­to the thin, sal­low face.

“That was noth­ing,” said Snape. “It was a laugh, that’s all – ”

“It was Dark Mag­ic, and if you think that’s fun­ny "

“What about the stuff Pot­ter and his mates get up to?” de­mand­ed Snape. His col­or rose again as he said it, un­able, it seemed, to hold in his re­sentment.

“What’s Pot­ter got to do with any­thing?” said Lily.

“They sneak out at night. There’s some­thing weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep go­ing?”

(Book: The Deathly Hollows/ ch33, page 581)

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See? Does she react calmly about it or completely goes on a venting rant simply for DA being used? Mind you, this is only Mulciber. Imagine, if she knew Snape went around hexing her friends because they were muggleborns. See? She wouldn't be still friends then with Snape.

Not to mention, books never specifically give away that Snape used it on others, marauders copied it and used it on him. It's just a convenient excuse for snaters fandom to chalk it up to "common sense"

Also, people confuse the 3 unforgivables with Dark arts. These spells are all DA spells:

Anteoculatia: sprouting antlers on a target (hex)

Babbling curse: make a target babble (curse)

Bat bogey hex: targets bogey turn into bats (hex)

Bedazzling hex: blind a target temporarily (hex)

Calvario: remove a targets hairdress (curse)

Confringo: explosion (curse)

Colloshoo: tie shoes together (hex)

Cantis: make one sing (jinx)

Cracker jinx: conjure exploding crackers (jinx)

Engorgio skullus: swell a target's head (hex)

Ducklifors: turn a target into a duck (jinx)

Jelly fingers curse: to make target's fingers become jelly like (curse)

Langlock: make a target's tongue stick to the roof of their mouth (jinx: see? Severus didn't only invent curses as people assume he did.)

Levicorpus: Hoist a target in the air by their ankle (jinx: made by none other than Snape)

Mucus Ad Nauseam: give a target a cold and runny nose (curse)

Petrificus Totalus: paralyze a target (curse)

Reducto: blast an object into mist/fine ash (curse)

A few unforgivables are also jinxes and hexes. But people don't do their research and blabber nonsense, hoping it catches on, or a fellow snater sees this and thinks "oh wow, makes sense, it must be common sense what I found" like an imbecile. God dammit. It's garbage, it's all and all garbage. Was then, is now, always will be, don't insult the majestic words ✨common sense✨ with the literal epitome of trashy excuse.

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Let's look at who and where it was used:

Book 1

Ch 17: Albus uses blinding curse

Book 3

Ch 22: Albus urges time manipulation to Hermione.

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Book 4

Ch 5: skiving snack boxes, rely on advanced charm and transfiguration magic, that could bring harm if snacks are missed.

Book 5

Ch 19: hexing Montague. Later montageus injury also explains the danger of that advanced hex

Ch 27: Albus uses silencing jinx

Ch 28: James uses levicorpus

Ch 33: ginny uses bat bogey hex which is advanced hexing and falls under dark magic.

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Book 6

Ch 5: uses the same dark powder that DE uses

Ch 7: uses bat bogey hex again

Ch 27: their inventions can be used in war. Showing that even their inventions meant as jokes and giggles was used as an aggressive thing.

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Book 7

Ch 31: they use all kinds of advanced jinxes and advanced hexes on the battlefield. Now, it may sound crazy but memories don't suddenly spawn because it's wartime. They were taught and used those spells often to get used to the wand movement and incantation.

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Result: Are these people suddenly the same thing as Snape as people make it out to be? Or is studying DA reasoning, simply an excuse for Snape haters?

And the spell he created? Sectumsempra? Fans hate that. But it's like getting angry at a woman for walking around with a knife after she was attacked multiple times.

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Now that we've got the DA spells behind us. Let's focus on the theory of how it got out. They seem awfully all up for the idea of Snape using it on students so marauders got their hands on it. Multiple things wrong:

- as you read in the first quote by the red dot, lily goes ballistic of simply MULCIBER using it on her friend. Imagine if she knew Snape was the one that began using it.

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- I suppose they'll say, people kept it a secret, gryffindors will keep it a secret from lily? Her friends already despised Snape and hers relationship, that would simply be more fuel to break it... which is what they wanted:

🛑“It’s too late. I’ve made ex­cus­es for you for years. None of my friends can un­der­stand why I even talk to you. You and your pre­cious lit­tle Death Eater friends – you see, you don’t even de­ny it! You don’t even de­ny that’s what you’re all aim­ing to be! You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?”]

(Book: The Deathly Hollows/ ch33, page 583)

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Now I shall give them my theory on how those spells give even more of a victimised air to Severus and we shall start with Sectumsempra.

**Sectumsempra** is a spell that has a variations of meanings but they all are synonyms of 'Always cutting' in other words a continuous laceration. It was created in Hogwarts. A spell clearly unknown by Harry and Hermione, indicating the spell clearly didn't exist yet in the wizarding world. Severus created that spell for a reason other than the "muggles" (theory) that so often is thrown around.

Nobody knows for what is it created, it leans more to the offensive side than the defensive side. Yet such a dangerous spell was hidden with a purpose. If he, Snape truly hated muggles, he would use that spell. If Snape truly loved his fellow DE, he would share his ideas and showcase this spell to them. It wouldn't be long before it would end up on the Daily Prophet either with people like the Lestrange and Carrow on DE that were sadistic.

Yet it didn't. Meaning, Snape didn't trust his people, never liked them, nor wanted them to be in his business and certainly not get their hands on such a dangerous spell. I believe he tried getting that book from Harry Potter because of that spell but Harry gave him a fake one. Not to mention that as soon as Draco is on the floor. Bleeding from that spell, Snape rushed over to him, kneels down in that puddle of blood and depserately began humming the counter spell. To either aid Draco or keep the spell hidden or keep Harry out of trouble. Maybe even all three, which is beautiful no matter how one twists or turns this.

In short, this extremely dangerous spell was hidden for the betterment of judgement. Snape's judgement.

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Now on to the next spell which is Levcorpus

**Levicorpus** is a spell that makes a body incredibly light, allowing it to float. Someone told me that if James is SA'er then Severus is too because he created that spell. That Snape must've used it beforehand for them to have seen it being used and they copied it. Levicorpus must've at least been a 4th year and 5th year spell. Why? Because of this:

- Height of cool. If we know teens, a "height of cool"  doesn't truly last long. I'll use this piece more often too. By the way, "height of cool' is what Remus said.

Reasons why Snape's Levicorpus wasn't used for evil is because it WAS a height of cool. Do people honestly think that if a Mulciber, Regulus or Severus BEGAN using this spell to bully muggleborns/halfbloods, they (student other than Slytherins) would love it so much to use it themselves? No, whenever Slytherins did something horrendous, the whole school frowns upon them and act similar to Lily. That spell would certainly NOT have become famous because SNAPE or any other Slytherin began using it first. Marauders that bothered him when he wasn't even doing a thing against them, would certainly steal his bag and look through it, accidentally stumbling upon that spell. So it wouldn't be popular if Slytherins were the first to use it.

Second reason would be Lily. I do not think Lily would be psyched to know her best friend was abusing muggles with his own crafted spells. Snape did cuss others as mudbloods, true. But cussing and actually bringing harm to muggleborns are two different things. Lily would not be friends with him so he obviously wouldn't search for that friendship severance either. He never used it himself either in the Harry Potter series. So in short, he created this spell, it got in the hands of Marauders that used it against him because it was popular and he couldn't be the first showcaser with so much proof showing, it wouldn't be favourable for him.

In other words, both spells were created by Snape. Sectumsempra more offensive and Levicorpus is defensive. Ironically, James used Snape's own spell against him. So did Harry use the other spell against its own creator aka Snape. Which in both cases show how sensitive he is about them. He doesn't use levicorpus spell himself even though DE used Levicorpus like they were house elf shopping. Also, the cut on james his face could be any cut spell, doesn't have to be sectumsempra. And the one moment he used it later was to protect a child.

They were created with a purpose other than inflicting pain and torment on muggles. As we all know, Snape had a rough childhood. These spells were the definition of hiding a knife or gun under one's pillow after traumatic events. He wants to feel safe. That's all.

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So no, Snape could not have used it first to torment muggleborns. And DA itself isn't bad or you might as well call Weasley family budding DE. And Slytherins were overall too hated for them to begin using any spell (people would react like lily at the Mulciber incident) and for it to become popular.

[wingedhallows]

traitor - ch. three ; sirius black

pairing: sirius black (golden trio era) x fem! oc | 2.1k words warning: dark themes, death, torture plot: Fourteen years ago, Hecate Hunt, a valuable member of the Order and once a Death Eater gave her life for her friends and the man she loved, at least that's what was believed. Now she's done hiding, ready to fight alongside her old friends and her godson. Ready to return to the life she once had, ready to once again be a traitor. authors note: hi, hi! thank you for reading :)

navigation | chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four

“Your godson.” Albus spoke but paused, his hand rummaging through his pocket. “Harry?” He nodded and held a picture for you to take.

The picture showed a young boy, not older than fifteen with a broom in his hand. His friends next to him, cheering because of what you guessed was a win in Quidditch.

“He’s in grave danger, you see.” Your eyes were still glued to the picture, the way the boy resembled his parents.

You knew the broom, it looked familiar. In a matter of seconds it came to you, Sirius had bought his godson a broom when he was hardly a few months old.

He had claimed to teach him how to fly the stick and become just as great as his father. Remus and You had laughed at him, the thought of Sirius with his infant godson on a broom amused you.

“This was taken a few months back, I thought you might want to have it.” You nodded and gave Albus a small smile.

“Ron Weasly and Hermoine Granger, the kids to his left and right, are his friends. Both of them face the same danger.” You nodded and put the picture in your pocket.

“The Order will be reinstated, now that Sirius Black is proven innocent, to us at least.” He placed a parchment in Fawkes’ peak and sent him flying.

“Fudge is still in denial but there is something coming, something worse than last time.” 

You nodded and pushed a cigarette between your lips.

“We will bring you back, strengthen the Order and resume with our activities.” “I see.” You answered, as you blew some smoke.

“Come to Grimmauld Place tomorrow afternoon, you’ll have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Hecate?” You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes staring ahead.

“I knew it was too good to be true.”

You knew that voice, how could you not. “Snape.” You turned around, hands in your pockets. His face didn’t move, the same stoic look as ever.

“You’re alive.” You didn’t move a muscle, face cold as ice.

“You were hiding.”-”I was hiding, because Albus asked me to.” You took a step towards him, eyes boring holes in his.

“I was hiding because people like you wanted me dead.” He swallowed and took a step back, nose held high. “Good to see you haven’t changed.” You nodded and took a step back as well.

“Neither have you.” He didn’t answer. “Black escaped, I heard.” You frowned at him, at his trying to talk to you like you had before.

“And?” He clasped his hand behind his back, greasy hair flying in the slight breeze.

“Thought it might interest you.” You nodded, not answering. You pulled your pack of cigarettes from your pocket and lit a stick for yourself, you wouldn’t share, not with Snivellus.

It felt almost the same, the corridors of the castle you had wandered year after year without a care in the world. The breeze, the owls, but something was off. Of course, things have changed. Fifteen years went by, you were believed dead and Sirius wasn’t by your side, nor were any of your friends. 

“Can’t believe they let you teach.” You said, his gaze now on you. “Why?” Your lips formed into a cruel grin, the smoke filling your lungs once again.

“We both know why.” You said, air growing colder by the minute. He didn’t answer and kept his eyes away from you. “I’ll see you, Hecate.” You looked at him once again, your eyes in slits.

“I hope not.” You spoke before you watched him leave you behind. His dark hair and robes flying with each step dramatically. You hadn’t missed the sight of Severus, not since he had hurt you that night.

“Let’s get inside, it’s awfully cold out here.” Albus spoke, his wand extended to tap on the door. You knew this spell, he had used it before. The building started to rumble and within a few moments Sirius’ parents house appeared in front of you two.

Your hands were sweaty, your chest tight.

“The children are here too.” He said, opening the door. He let you in first and you took your scarf off, hanging it on the coat rack like you had done years before. The house hadn’t changed. It was still dark, cold and unwelcoming. You hated it when Sirius introduced you to his parents, when you got him out of that house when things got hard and you hated it now as well.

 Albus pushed past you and was welcomed with hello’s and big smiles. You heard his voice and your feet stopped working. You hid your hands in your pockets and took another step forward, Albus was waiting for you after all. The kitchen was lifely, filled with people and warm with all the buzz.

“I got someone to introduce.” Albus spoke, his hand extended to point at you.

You took another step and your frame came into light through the doorstep. The room stilled, not a word or movement. Your eyes found Remus’ first, who stared at you in disbelief. The kids, Harry and his friends stepped away from the table, watching the adults in wonder.

“I believe some of you know each other.” Dumbledore spoke as he sat himself down, a cup in front of him.

You tried to calm your heart, the adrenaline which rushed through your veins like speed. Minerva clasped a hand in front of her mouth and Moody huffed in disbelief.

“Hecate.”

You closed your eyes, desperate to get a grip, to not lose it. 

You took a breath and looked at him. It hit you like a truck. He looked older, broken. Azkaban does that to people, losing the woman you love does that, losing your friends does that. You gripped the lighter inside of your pocket for dear life, to keep you calm.

“Sirius.”

You said, voice merely a whisper. The cool demeanor has left you, all the masking of emotion has left you. He slowly lifted himself off the chair, the wood squeaking in the process. Harry stepped out of his godfather's way and watched you with wide eyes.

His hands found your elbows, his eyes stayed glued on your face. “Thank Merlin.” He whispered before he engulfed you in a bone crushing hug. One hand stayed on your back, the other cradled your head.

Soft sobs left your mouth as you hugged him back, hand on the back of his neck. His face hid in the crook of your neck, unsteady breaths hitting your skin. Albus cleared his throat and you tried to pull away but his hold on you didn’t budge, you couldn’t blame him.

“Love.” You said, only for him to be heard.

His eyes found yours as he lifted his hands to your face, rough thumbs caressing the skin beneath.

“Hecate.” You nodded and took a hold of his hands, guiding to the chair he had sat on before. Harry moves one chair over and let you sit down with Sirius in hand.

He didn’t let go and something about the way he stared at you, held your hand in an iron grip, told you that he would never let you out of his sight ever again. You didn’t mind, you thought.

“You have got to explain this, Albus.” Minerva spoke after she had sent a small smile your way. You’ve always liked Minnie the most, no other teacher was like her. After being a great teacher she became a friend, you had cherished your relationship with Minerva a lot.

“Of course.” Your hand found the goblet, which a red haired woman had placed in front of you. Sirius eyed you every other second and the others kept their gazes on you as well, not believing their eyes.

“Hecate was in grave danger, fifteen years ago.” He paused as you lowered your head, remembering the many weeks you had fought for your life. “As some of you know, there were several attempts of murdering her, to get rid of her.” You took a sip of your drink, the memories still hurtful.

“I had offered her help to go into hiding, to get away before anything could happen but Hecate was adamant to stay, to be by her friend's side. That night, when I had sent her on a mission I had a hunch, that one of us was talking to the dark side but I wasn’t sure-”You sent her out there, knowing that Peter would rat her out?” Sirius slammed his palm on the dark table, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the old wizard.

“Sirius.” You tried, your hand on his shoulder. He briefly looked at you before his back connected with the rest of his chair with a huff.

“That was my mistake, I admit.” He paused, looking at you. You opened your mouth, ready to continue.

“Peter had indeed given the information to his little friends and I was ambushed.” You took the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and lit yourself one, desperate for nicotine.

“They kidnapped me and held me in a place I didn’t recognize. I don’t know how long I was there, nor do I remember everything that happened to me. I was tortured for information but I held through.” You took a drag, your eyes connecting with Sirius’. His hand found yours as he gave you a sorry look. You didn’t know how to react.

“Regulus Black helped me escape.” Sirius eyes widened, his hand retreated as he stared at you.

“What?” You nodded and took another drag. “Reggie felt sorry for me, he told me that he never wanted this for me. He had contacted Albus and helped me escape. I believe he paid a hefty price for that, I’ll forever be thankful for Regulus’ braveness.” Sirius rubbed his hands over his face. You took another sip from your cup and looked at the kid next to you. It was outright terrifying how much he looked like his parents.

He looked at you, face nervous and unsure. You knew Harry, of course you did. You were by Lily’s side when she gave birth to him. You held him more times than you could ever count, changed his diapers and fed him.

You watched his first steps and heard his first words. You were his godmother for fucks sake. So why did you feel so nervous?

“After my escape Albus sent me somewhere far away, I didn’t know where this place was and I didn’t make it very easy for anybody involved. I wanted out, I needed to be by your side, by Remus’, Lily’s and James’ side. I needed to know if you guys were alright. I rebelled, even though Albus wanted me to be safe.” You put your cigarette out and leaned back.

“Though I believe that things would’ve worked out better if I would’ve been there. Lily and James would still be alive.” Every person in the room seemed to flinch at the dead wizards' names.

“You don’t know that.” Minerva tried but you shook your head. You put your hand on the table as you looked at Albus. “I know you meant well, but you had no right to make that decision. I’ll hold this grudge till the day I take my last breath.” Albus nodded but didn’t speak a word.

“So you kept her away from us? Like a joker, to be played when you see fit?” Sirius spoke again, hands crossed. You eyed Dumbledore, the cigarette in your hand burning further and further. The smoke filled your lungs, a sip of firewhiskey followed.

“Hecate is still alive, that’s what’s more important.” He tried but Sirius shook his head, a chuckle left his mouth as he narrowed his eyes at the old wizard.

“She’s still alive because you have something planned, isn’t it?” Your hand found his arm and he calmed down, chest deflating with a flex of his jaw.

“Fact is that I’m alive because Albus saved me, which I’m thankful for, of course. However, that decision, to keep me hidden from my friends and you, was unrightful and I won’t forgive him for that.” He eyed you and let his fingers slip between yours. Albus didn’t argue and started to talk about the topics at hand.

The air was cold, the dark coat kept you from freezing. The cigarette in your hand burned with an almost inaudible sound as your eyes skimmed the dark night. The backyard was still the same. Sirius’ parents had mowed it all down and plastered the lawn with tiles, claiming that upkeep was too much work.

The door closed with a click and you turned around, cigarette still clasped between your fingers. There stood Harry, his arms in the pockets of his jacket.

“So, you’re my godmother?” Your lips formed into a smirk.

“And you’re my godson.”

( taglist: @caramelandvenus )

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Match

Written for @hinnymicrofic November 2023 - Prompt 6

“Explain to me again why we can’t just send up sparks with our wands?” asked Harry, exasperated.

It was the 5th of November, 2011, a cold, soggy, late-autumn evening, the sort of evening where the damp saturates the air and feels like it will seep into your bones. Frankly, after a week squatting in bushes staking out a suspected illegal redcap fighting ring, the last thing he wanted to be doing was messing about in the bushes of his own back garden, setting out Muggle fireworks.

“No!” called Ginny, from the warmth of the kitchen. “This is a Muggle thing! I want the full Muggle experience!”

He twisted around to shoot her an irritated glance, but the sight of her, framed in the doorway, with James to her left, Albus to her right, and Lily balanced her hip, chased his annoyance away. 

“Will they go bang, Dad,” asked James, practically bouncing with excitement. 

“Yeah, they’ll go bang.”

Albus looked worried. “But not too loud, right?”

“You can stay behind the silencing charm with me and Lily, if you like,” offered Ginny. 

“No!” The word spilt quickly from Albus’s mouth, but not quickly enough to stop James turning to laugh at him. 

“Silencing charms are for babies!” he giggled. 

“I’m not a baby,” pouted Albus. But, Harry noticed, he hugged himself tighter into Ginny's side. 

“Don’t tease your brother!” she told James, reaching down to put her arm around her younger son.

But James wasn’t listening. “Tell us again about that guy called Fawkes, Dad,” he shouted, venturing a few paces down the garden.

Harry smiled. “Guy Fawkes, mate. It’s called Guy Fawkes night. He tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament, with his friends,” he explained, as he finished laying the last of the fireworks. “But he got caught. And now, every year on the 5th of November, Muggles in Britain set off fireworks to remember it. Sometimes they light big bonfires too.”

James’s eyes widened. “Muggles are mental.”

“What’s the Houses of Parliament?” asked Albus, from the safety of Ginny’s side.

“It’s basically the Ministry of Magic, but for Muggles.” Harry stood up, and surveyed his handiwork, hands on his hips.

“Silencing charm?” asked Ginny, drawing her wand.

“Yep!” he told her, pulling a box of matches from his pocket. “We’re ready! James, stand back please.” But when he went to strike a match against the box, nothing happened. He tried another match, and another, but the same thing happened.

Ginny frowned. “What’s going on?” 

“Erm. Slight technical hitch.” Harry looked a bit sheepish as he walked back up to the house. “The matches are damp.”

“So?” she gave him a quizzical look, lips quirking into a hint of a smile.

“So… it might not be quite the full Muggle experience,” he told her, ruefully. “That okay?”

“I reckon I’ll live.” She reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips.

James made a retching noise. “Yuck! Smooching!” 

Ignoring him, Ginny pulled back and grinned wickedly at her husband. “What?” he asked, immediately suspicious.

“You know, it occurred to me, that if Guy Fawkes tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament, and the Houses of Parliament are basically the Muggle Ministry of Magic, does that make you the Wizarding Guy Fawkes?”

“Hey!” he protested, with a laugh. “I accept that I caused quite a bit of damage, but I never tried to actually blow it up! And, y’know, I didn’t exactly get caught as such either.”

“True,” she conceded, still grinning. “So come on then, Potter - are you going to get the show on the road? Or do I have to do everything around here?”

Harry shook his head in amusement and drew his wand, while Ginny and Lily retreated behind the silencing charm, closely followed (Harry noticed) by not just Albus but James too.

“Inflamare!” 

Casting the ignition spell at the first firework with Auror-honed accuracy, Harry watched as moments later, the first rocket soared into the air and burst high above the garden in a burst of coloured sparks. Again and again, he sent the little fireballs down the garden, striking each firework in turn, but after that first explosion, Harry stopped watching them. Instead, he turned to his family, drinking in the wide-eyed wonder on the face of his children.

He was so intent on it that at first, he didn’t notice that Ginny wasn’t watching the fireworks either, but eventually, he looked up, and saw that she was focused entirely on him, watching him, watching them. Now, her smile was broad and warm, and her eyes blazed as she spoke to him. He couldn’t hear her words from behind the silencing charm, but he didn’t need to to know what she was saying.

Instead, he sent another tiny fireball down the garden, and returned her smile. 

“I love you too, Gin.”

[wixenforever]

Burning of the Library Deleted Scenes: Sirius and the Secret

❗Spoilers ahead for everything after Chapter 23❗(Below the line break)

Before I wrote the scene where Harry overhears Bill in the kitchen, originally it was SIRIUS who learned that Bill may be involved in the destruction of Nott Tower, and I had this big long sequence where he started trying to put stuff together, went to talk to Snape, etc.

But in the end, once I wrote forward in the plot, I found it was too chaotic to have a reveal for Sirius about Bill being suspicious, and then he has to tell Harry, Harry has to tell Theo, yadda yadda. So I cut like, all of it, and changed Sirius's part significantly.

This piece below is a part I cut where Sirius goes to John, naturally. I just think it's a good piece where John shines a little bit and wanted to share!

More and more thoughts rushed to surface. Traitorous thoughts. Things that felt very much like a neon fucking sign pointing him to one conclusion.

Nott's strange trance the day he had tea with Albus.

Snape's modified forgetfulness potion.

The way Bill turned ghost-white when he told him, "Theodore Nott is alive."

Without thinking, he turned around and barreled through the door into Reggie's room. Nott was still asleep. Harry flinched hard and drew his wand.

"Sirius?" he whispered. It was startling to be drenched in sunlight after spending so long in the windowless kitchen. Sirius blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Did you talk to Lady, er, Malfoy already?"

For a second, Sirius's brain did something really, really wrong. He looked at Harry, and with the light behind him, he could just see his hair and the edge of glasses, for a second he thought he was James.

"John," he managed to mutter, turning his head away. "I need John. Right now."

"Be patient, dog-man," the cat stretched casually before pacing across the bedroom to stand at his feet.

"Sorry, Harry, I'll bring him back in a second," Sirius said, hoping that they had enough trust built up over the last few weeks that Harry would not start to panic. He scooped the cat up and carried him into the hallway and then entered his childhood bedroom.

Sirius warded the door.

"What crawled up your butt?" John asked, giving him the sink-eye. "You look like you're about to do something crazy, or stupid, or maybe both at the same time. Let me remind you that I am not responsible for you, so I will not stop it from happening, but think of the children before you do something unfixable, alright?"

"I am thinking of the children," he groaned. "John, will you keep a secret?"

"From Harry? No." John's eyes were steady, and Sirius didn't know if he was relieved or exasperated.

"Didn't think so," he rolled his eyes. "Then I'll just say this - I need you to help me keep them safe. Nott, specifically."

John cocked his head, "Am I not already doing that?"

"I need you to specifically protect him from…" Sirius's eyes wandered up to the ceiling, in disbelief of what he was about to say. "From Albus Dumbledore, and Bill Weasley."

If John had visible eyebrows, they'd probably be as tall as his ears. "Pardon me? Protect him? In what sense?"

"Every sense," Sirius said gravely, hoping the cat would not ask him why. "I have to go do some…fact-finding. I need you to watch them both while I'm gone, well - Harry I'm not worried about, it's mostly him."

"And what if we need to bug out before you return?"

"Then Harry needs to take him to Roebuck Falls."

John's ears twitched, but he did not react outwardly. His eyes seemed to go a little unfocused for a moment.

And then he said, "Do you think Albus Dumbledore cares about any of these children?"

Sirius felt that question hit him like a gut punch. The words it was an accident was right on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back.

Sirius could not imagine Albus ever intentionally letting a child come to harm, and yet the evidence was right in front of him. The evidence was written on Harry's back in thin, silvery scars, older than Sirius could even fathom.

"Voldemort is worse," he said, though he honestly could not understand why he said it.

[metalomagnetic]

What is Voldemort's favorite and least favorite thing about each of his partners?

Sirius: Voldemort would have a very hard time picking one favourite thing. He values Sirius' loyalty, his bravery, his wild nature; he is fascinated by the dual nature of Sirius, how he can be a perfect, well mannered, high society man, yet he can also be a cruel, vicious dog (and not just when he transforms into Padfoot). How Sirius can be kind and selfless one moment, and then turn around and bully someone just because he can. He likes Sirius' sense of humour, and he is blown away by how fearless he is, how reckless, even in the face of death, something Voldemort fears so much. Sirius is the type to live in the moment, make the most of it, something Voldemort never learned how to do. I think what gets to Voldemort the most is that Sirius is, at his core, a good man (at least by Voldemort's standards) but he's not 'stupidly' good or kind, he's not preachy about it, he's not self righteous. Voldemort can experience being around a good man, probably for the first time...ever, but not as 'good' as to hate Voldemort on principle alone. Voldemort is made of darkness, and he's attracted to Sirius' light, and yet he's also in understanding with Sirius' darker side, which allows them to at least have some morals, or lack of morals, in common, enough to have a foundation for a relationship.

His least favourite thing about Sirius is that he cares too much about people that aren't Voldemort, has strong, impossible to break bonds to so many other people.

Albus: Voldemort's favourite thing about Albus is his genius and nerdiness. He is not one to be easily impressed by intelligence, since Voldemort himself is a genius, but Albus is his equal in this regard. Same goes for his magical skill. They truly are equals, and no one else can match them. And they both experience a type of loneliness that only men like them would know, because they are so different from everyone around them, no one can possible relate to such---beings made of big brains and magic.

His least favourite thing about Albus is what he perceives as hypocrisy. That, and Albus' determination to do the right thing, to protect everyone he can.

Gellert: His ambition and willingness to do whatever it takes to get ahead. The 'eyes on the prize' mentality. He's also attracted by Gellert's power and understanding of dark magic.

His least favourite thing is the regret Gellert sometimes exhibits.

Abraxas: he's beautiful and rich, and a young Tom Riddle likes both those things. He's fascinated with Abraxas' inherited status, with the power and influence he carries just because he was born with the right name. Tom hates Abraxas for it, is deeply jealous, but at the same time, having Abraxas is like touching those things himself, in a way. He likes that Abraxas, who could have anyone, who could have a pureblood with a name as ancient as his own, wants no-one Tom Riddle, obsessively so.

He detests Abraxas' cowardice most of all.

Bella: While she's pretty much perfect all around, Voldemort values her unflinching loyalty, her complete devotion to him, her lack of fear and her extreme bravery.

He finds no fault in her.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Map

@wolfstarmicrofic September 28, word count 865

Previous part First Wolfstar part

They didn’t have time to sit around doing nothing just yet, they needed to tell the wizarding world what they had done. 

“Who do we go to first?” Sirius asked, looking around their little group. Their little family, he realised, even Marcus. 

“Dumbledore,” James said straight away. “He knows who to talk to and how to spread the news. He’ll want to know everything, though,” James turned to Regulus. “Are you ready to come back from the dead, love?” Regulus chewed his bottom lip as he stared up into his boyfriend's eyes and nodded. James’s face split into a grin, and he bent down to steal a kiss. Sirius grimaced, he didn't think he’d ever get used to seeing them do that. 

***

Hogwarts loomed before them. They’d walked straight through the main gates from Hogsmeade. Who did they have to fear any more, really? Sirius walked close to Remus, enjoying the freedom they had after so many months of being in hiding. Remus seemed to be thinking the same thing. He bumped Sirius’s shoulder with his own and smiled happily at him. Regulus didn’t seem quite as happy about walking across the grounds to the castle, but everyone thought he was a dead death eater, so Sirius let him off. James was happy enough for the pair of them. 

They reached the huge wooden entrance doors and pushed them open. Remus pulled the marauder's map from his robes and, tapping it with his wand, recited. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Thin black lines sprouted from where Remus’s wand touched the parchment and spread across, revealing the map. Remus scanned it for a few moments, trying to track down Dumbledore. “He’s in his office,” He said finally, folding the map up again and replacing it in robes after wiping it. 

The stone gargoyle moved aside the moment they stood before it, even without saying the password. Albus Dumbledore waited for them behind his desk. 

“Ah, Mr Potter, you found Mr Black and Mr Lupin, well done,” Dumbledore clapped his hands together, his blue eyes twinkling as he took in the scars that snaked up from Sirius’s collar, the only visible mark of what he now was. He watched as Dumbledore realised that there was another person in the room with them. He instinctively raised his wand at Regulus. 

There was a shoving match between the three marauders over who stood in front of Regulus. James won, and Sirius and Remus flanked him, blocking Regulus from Dumbledore’s view. 

“Lower your wand, Albus,” Sirius growled, his gravely second tone coming through, even though there was only Remus with him that it meant anything to. But Dumbledore still did as Sirius ordered, sensing the danger before him, Sirius and Remus were still strong with wild magic from the full moon. 

“Let’s start again,” Remus said, trying to bring order to the meeting. 

“I am listening, Mr Lupin,” Dumbledore nodded towards him before sitting back down at his desk. 

“Regulus was caught by Voldemort stealing Slytherin's locket from a hidden cave where Voldemort had hidden it because of what he’d made it into. He then kept Regulus in the dungeon below Lestrange Castle, where Sirius and I were taken after we were captured…” Remus went on to describe their entire ordeal. He looked to Sirius to check if he had permission to out him as a werewolf and, on receiving Sirius’s blessing, continued. “All culminated in the final part of our plan, which occurred last night,” Remus paused for breath, he’d been talking for half an hour already. 

“And what was your final plan?” Albus asked, his fingers steepled before his thoughtful face. 

“Last night, Lord Voldemort met us in a field close to the previous camp of Fenrir Greybacks and was attacked by our wolf pack. He did not survive.” Remus ended, finally. Dumbledore opened his mouth, but no words came out, they had completely dumbfounded him.  

“We have also collected vital memories from Peter Pettigrew that show he was a spy for Voldemort and also the majority of the death eaters in Voldemort's ranks,” Regulus stepped forward and carefully deposited the vials on the wide desk. “I shall also supply memories of those involved with the death eaters if needed,” He drew himself up to his proud aristocratic persona and dared Dumbledore to say anything about it. 

“Thank you, Mr Black, that would be exceedingly helpful,” Dumbledore said as he ran his fingers over the collection of stoppered memories. “I would also like to add a thank you on behalf of the wizarding world of Great Britain for the work you and your friends here for defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort,” 

Their story told, the four men left the still slightly dazed headmaster and exited the castle to warm sunlight beating down on them. Sirius took Remus’s hand in his, squeezing it gently as they headed towards the main gate. He wanted to fall into bed with Remus and not leave it for at least three days, but he and Regulus needed to take a trip to see their parents. He couldn’t wait to see his mother's face when they walked back in.  

Next part

[miraclewoozi]

(TEASER) HIGH FIDELITY. - c.hs

getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time?

pair ; vernon x fem reader. ( also starring: besties!seungkwan + chan. ) content ; strangers to lovers. up-and-coming musician!vernon x record store owner!reader.  fluff, angst, smut. (MINORS DNI). slow burn.  warnings ; drinking + alcohol is a theme throughout. mentions of a past relationship breakdown. reader experiences a lot of stress, anxiety and feelings of doubt. reader is the monarch of self sabotage. wc ; teaser, 1.5k. full fic, est. 40k. note ; if you saw any of my posts about the show high fidelity… you’ll know where this came from. ( it doesn't stick to rob + liam's plot too closely with the exception of the first few encounters. )

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

“It’s just my opinion!” 

From your perch on top of the store’s counter, you raise both of your palms in a display of your innocence. Chan stands in the middle of the R&B aisle, looking personally offended, fingers curled around the top of one of the wooden crates holding your stock. 

“Me saying ‘I don’t think Welcome to the Black Parade is the best track on that album’ is not me saying that it’s a bad song.”

“But how can you say that?” Chan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who’s hearing the opening note to Famous Last Words and feeling the same way as they do with the Black Parade?”

“Most iconic doesn’t mean the best,” you counter. “Besides – I never said you weren’t allowed to have it as your favourite. It’d be a boring game if we all had the same answer.”

“I cannot cope with you anymore,” Chan whines. “You know what? No. I don’t even believe you. You’re just being a contrarian.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask. 

“Because it’s the best song on the goddamn albu–”

The bell above the door chimes loud and clear through the store and both of your squabbling voices fall silent. Your head turns in the direction of the entrance, an autopilot greeting already forming on your lips, but you feel them fall slack the moment you realise who it is that’s just walked in.

It’s been five days. Though it would be a mistruth to claim you hadn’t thought about the singer since the night of his gig, it’s not one to say you didn’t think he would ever actually come into your place of work. 

Much less at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. On a Thursday.

He pops his wrists as he walks a little further into the store, glancing around. Barring one of your regulars who walks about with his earphones in all the time, the store is completely empty; an adrenaline spike prickles the hairs on your arms, all the tiny muscles beneath your skin pulling them to stand upright. 

“Hi,” he says once he deems himself to be close enough, stopping in his tracks and bumping the toe of his shoe against the floor.

“Hey,” you greet him in return. 

“I’m-... Vernon. We met at the show, the other night?” 

“Yeah — yeah, I remember you,” you smile. “I’m-... well. I’m still y/n.”

“Still y/n,” he says on a relieved exhale, grinning and glancing away from you. “I uh… I just had some free time. Thought I’d swing by and see what you guys had going on here.” Vernon adjusts the collar of his t-shirt, the silver of his rings glinting under the flickering yellow light overhead.

(It was definitely somewhere on your list of things to get fixed. Honest.)

“Sure, yeah,” you nod, swallowing hard and trying your best not to stare at him. It’s hard, though – in broad daylight, the way the flannel tied around his waist floats down over his hips and the way his jeans hug at his thighs is… you don't even have the words. “Let me know if you need help finding anything, okay?” 

“I will.” He starts to thumb through one of the wooden boxes, offering a small smile your way. “Thank you.”

You’re holding your breath a little as he pulls a few 80’s rock albums out, his lips downturned in surprised approval at some of the records you carry. He holds onto a couple as he moves around the store and the entire time, you can feel Chan and Seungkwan staring at you. If there wasn’t a very real danger of Vernon looking your way again at a moment’s notice, you know you would be showing them your middle finger.

Really, they come away lucky.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been trying to find some of these,” Vernon says after a few minutes, sauntering toward the desk – you’re still sitting on top of it, your legs swinging in the air beneath you. “Might have to make this my new stop.”

And displayed beside you on the counter – right by the cash register – are a few of his albums. The ones Seungkwan picked up after the show; until about two seconds ago, you had forgotten they were even there.

Vernon’s face lights up when he notices, turning to Seungkwan. “Come on, no way. Dude, I thought you were kidding.”

“We love our locals in here, man,” Chan chimes quickly, seeing you start to freeze up. You nod to agree, biting on the inside of your cheek. “It was on the speakers yesterday. Four people asked us about you.”

“For real?” Vernon asks, but when all three of you nod your heads, you see the beginnings of a blush start to creep up his neck. “Wow. Thank you – um. That’s really cool of you guys.”

“It’s good music,” Seungkwan shrugs. “You’re super talented.”

Vernon doesn’t seem to know what to do with all the compliments he’s receiving. Even so, he thanks your friends again with a stomach-twisting sincerity before he turns back to you. 

“I’ll take these,” he says a little breathlessly. You find yourself a tiny bit lost in the warmth of his eyes and it takes you a moment to remember to swivel around and slip off the other side of the countertop. You do, though. Eventually. 

“Nice,” you say softly as you shuffle through them, ringing each one through. He’s got pretty decent taste, even if less than a week ago you were actively cringing at his choice of cover song. (It’s okay. That was before you knew better.) “Do you– need sleeves, or…?”

“I’m good. Thank you, though.” Vernon rests his hands against the edge of the counter and drums a quiet rhythm out with his thumbs as you tap away at the register. “Are-... you guys busy tonight, by the way?”

You look up from placing the records into a paper bag, glancing over to your colleagues who both rush to shake their heads. Vernon looks from them, to you, and you mirror their motions. Even if I was, you start to think wistfully. I’d make time.

“I’m down at the Velvet Lounge later on. Across town? It starts at eight thirty; I could get you guys on the list, if-... um…”

“That’d be awesome,” Chan says, nodding so hard you’re surprised his head doesn’t roll off his shoulders and start bouncing across the floor. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Seungkwan adds. 

Vernon grins at them both, humming softly, before turning back to you and fumbling with his wallet to take out his card to pay for his purchases. You turn the machine around to face him; he hovers with his hand just above it. 

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” He says.

You can’t help the delight that rises inside you, as if it’s been injected straight into your bloodstream. It’s everywhere, all of a sudden. In your brain and your heart and your bones and in your lungs.

Yet, you somehow manage to keep your composure when you say, “yeah. Maybe you will.”

The payment goes through and you slide the bag over towards Vernon, your eyes never leaving his and his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers brush over yours as he takes it from you, the bite of the cold ring on his index finger a shocking contrast to the warmth the rest of his hand radiates. You hope your little gasp isn’t too audible, but… the way Chan whirls around to face away from the scene in front of him (presumably to poorly conceal his laughter), you know you haven’t gotten away with it.

“Cool,” he says, hesitating another second before finally pulling himself away. He bows his head in the direction of your friends, sending another of those irresistibly sweet smiles at you, and then he starts off towards the door. “See you, then.”

You feel your pulse finally start to slow as you grip the counter for dear life, setting out a long, drawn-out breath. What just happened? Why do you feel all… fuzzy?

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” Chan asks in the deepest voice he can muster, snapping you out of your own head none too pleasantly. You turn in their direction as your other favourite moron feigns tucking hair behind his ear and flutters his eyelashes across at Chan.

“Yeah… Maybe you will.” And Seungkwan’s imitation of you is a little too accurate. Creepily so, and you want to curse him out for it. Instead, you scrunch up a bag to throw towards the pair of them, grinning despite yourself as they both swerve to dodge it.

“Oh my God, shut up,” you chastise them. You don’t have any bite, though, your brain still tingly and positively reeling and seeing Vernon’s dazzling smile every time you so much as blink.  And when Seungkwan takes a running start and launches himself, full-force, into Chan’s unsuspecting arms? When Chan lifts him up and spins him around, and when they start making kissy-noises at each other between unearthly cackles? 

You know that the next few hours are going to be the longest of your entire life.

thank u for reading!! i hope you liked this lil snippet!! i got kind of impatient with myself and needed to post something about this, so if you're interested in the full fic please feel free to drop a like, an ask, a reblog or a comment to tell me your thoughts! this piece has become sort of my passion project the last six months or so and i'm really excited to share the whole thing with you guys when it's done.<3

[t1oui]

the first room draco malfoy sleeps in after inheriting malfoy manor is the one he shares with astoria.

it's further from scorpius's room than he likes, but it's the biggest and has the nicest windows, and they make do. it's the room with the big walk-in closet and the window seat where astoria spends hours reading, both to herself and out loud for her family.

it's the room where draco finds his wife and son playing board games - both magical and muggle - together at the end of the day. he doesn't know much about the muggle things, and neither does astoria, but it's always fun to figure them out.

this room is the one with the big king-sized bed that holds all three malfoys on nights when scorpius has bad dreams, or even those where he simply wanted more time with his parents.

it's the room that draco takes for granted.

the second room, the one he moves to after astoria's death, is across the hall from his son. it's small and cramped, previously more of a closet than a bedroom. it's a perfect place for a broken heart.

the bed is smaller, a queen, but it still fits scorpius on the nights when they need to have a cry together. the wardrobe in the corner is tiny, but draco's clothes never took up much space anyway. the floor doesn't have enough space for draco and scorpius to stretch out on the infrequent nights scorpius pokes his head in with a chess board, so instead of games, all the room sees is tears. that's okay, draco thinks. he deserves it.

beginning in their eighth year, blaise and pansy had some sort of friends with benefits arrangement. draco never truly understood it, nor did he try to, but the whole thing came crashing down when scorpius was ten and pansy arrived at the manor in a state after finding out she was pregnant.

leilani grows up alongside scorpius, a younger sister of sorts who adores her "older brother" more than anything. pansy and blaise are both busy with work at the ministry, but pansy - a journalist - has far less structure than office worker blaise, which leaves him as the one to bring leliani over the most often.

draco can't pinpoint the moment their friendship turns into something more. he can only remember not feeling anything other than joy the first time they kissed, underneath a mistletoe during scorpius's seventh year. he can also remember pansy storming into the room right after and yelling "i knew it" before tackling them into a hug.

the third and final bedroom draco sleeps in is the one with blaise in it. it's just next door to his first room, where his first bed is collecting dust as it has been since astoria's final night in it. this room is slightly smaller, and its closet took a bit of charming to fit all of their clothes, but it feels perfect. not better than his room with astoria, not worse, just different. draco wouldn't want it any other way.

leilani gets the room across the hall, which is huge - almost bigger than scorpius's - and very fancy and perfect for spoiling her in. scorpius is twenty by the time there's a new ring on draco's left hand, and he drags albus potter all around his childhood home by one hand while a ten-year-old leilani takes hold of the other.

"i bet she's a gryffindor," draco whisper-shouts as he stands between blaise and pansy to watch. pansy gags.

"she was raised by three slytherins," pansy says. "there's no way, right?"

"scorp was a ravenclaw," blaise points out.

a year later, two weeks after scorpius's wedding and the night of leilani's first day at hogwarts, they get their answer.

"they have always been close," pansy says with a frown.

"i told you so," blaise replies, grinning as he pulls draco in with one arm and pansy in with the other.

the bed in draco and blaise's room is still a queen, the same size as the one in draco's second bedroom, but it fits three adults just fine.

[shrimpalbuspotter]

Cc dark world au stuff yet again

The relationship between Delphi (whos full name will be Delphini Black) and Albus.

I said In a previous post that Delphi views Albus as a pet. This still stands.

Delphi, unlike her father, was born without any love potion to affect her. She is shown to feel genuine want for a loving father in the play

Delphi IS capable of love! But the love she has for Albus is unlike one you'd have for a child or even a sibling. She sees Albus as a cute little thing, who she can teach to perform tricks and do her bidding. But she does love him, its just more similar to how you'd love a dog you've had since you were just a little kid.

She buys him gifts, I've also mentioned this before, things like expensive jewelry and robes, so that she is seen as more wealthy when she is strutting around on meetings with him (or he is away giving someone a message for her). This is still something reserved for only the richest purebloods who can afford a mudblood (although usually an imprisoned halfblood, as a lot of blood purists hate the idea of a mudblood even being in their sacred home) to have as a servant. Its incredibly expensive and the best job a halfblood slash muggleborn can have. The only difference between them and Albus is that Albus isn't really a servant, and was free

Then, she makes sure he's well groomed. When she was still a teenager she'd sit and prune him for hours, cutting his hair, filing his nails, and making sure he looks clean. To her it was just a bit of fun, but Albus was grateful to even get bathed. From ages 7-10, Albus actually had his hair dyed a bright cyan colour at the tips, but when Delphi turned 18 and "matured" as she called it, she decided it looked stupid and turned it black again. Similarly, she taught him some basic etiquette so as to not look like her pet didn't know how to behave, so he walks and talks like a pureblood when he isn't half way to a panic attack (which is almost all the time)

And there's the fact she dotes on his every move. It had gotten better now she's 22, but when she was 15 she'd make him do all sorts of silly tricks and would instantly order all the human servants to come and look and berate them for not being as talented as her little Munin (the name Albus is given). It got to the point Voldemort had to punish her for continously disrupting them from their work and she threw such a teen Bellatrix esque tantrum Albus had to do 10 whole hours of damage control. Now that she's older she'll mostly just dote on him in private, but she feels all the same. If she's at a ball or its voldemort day, she'll have him do a few tricks on stage for the people.

She tells him everything and doesn't even stop to think "maybe this is a bad idea". Like, you know how you have a long day and you just come home and vent to your dog even though it doesn't understand you? That's what Delphi does. "You wouldn't believe it, Munin. How dare they speak to me like that? Right? It was as if they forgot who I was! I sorted their behaviour out easily, ofcourse, but it still made me angry. Stupid kids... Anywho, i need you to go to Hogwarts and hand this to my Headmaster, Umbridge. Off you go." It's so fucking stupid but Albus is bored out of his mind and just happy to get the gossip, even if Delphi is known for being slightly dramatic.

Speaking of, Delphi is prone to temper tantrums that often lead to something or someone being thrown against a wall or out of a window. Delphi usually crucios people atleast 30 times a day, yet she has only used crucio on Albus around 20 times in the 7 years she has had him. All spread out. But Albus has been physically Injured by her, accident or not. Sometimes he'll simply be standing there and she will go into a huff, throwing a vase at the wall that just so happens to smash against his face. All of his injuries are dealt with almost immediately after. But even then, she usually just resorts to yelling or shouting as a reprimand, grabbing him by the scruff of his feathery cloak and screaming in his ear.

If something were to happen to Albus, like he was greatly injured by another or was given punishment by another, she'd freak out. They'd be avada kedavrad before you knew it. Once, whilst both Albus and Delphi were at Hogwarts, Delphi told Albus he had her permission to go explore. He was caught wandering the school by Umbrdige, and was petrified. He had tried to explain that he had been allowed by Delphi but she simply said "tch tch,I always knew you were a bad sort, child" before going to reprimand him with her wand. That was, until she was spotted by Delphi with her wand to Albus' chest, and by god was she lucky she was useful to the cause or else Delphi wouldn't have let her off with a mere crucio (which she then got punished for by her father. Ugh, take a hint dad!)

On that note- Voldemort and Delphis relationship leans more into the funny haha crack universe this was supposed to be. Because yes, it was originally just Albus being a deadpan dick to everyone and Delphi experiencing lesbianidm.

Delphi acts rather spoiled as a teenager, and takes her role as The Augurey more seriously when she is in her twenties. Delphi was prone to fits of anger where she'd want her fathers attention, and would get it in ways she didn't particularly enjoy, such as crucios. But alas, she was spoiled silly. If Delphi wanted some snot faced preschooler halfblood gone, they'd be found face down in the Black Lake not a day later. If she wanted her very own dungeon to keep Mudbloods in to play with, she'd get that too. And if she wanted to take in the 7 year old son of his newly dead arch nemesis as her pet, he wouldn't be able to think of a reason to oppose. Besides, his daughter would get bored quick as, and he could reunite the boy with his family soon enough.

That day obviously never came. Not that he was upset by the outcome, Albus- or "Munin" as his daughter named him- was a very useful tool indeed. He was incredibly pliant, willing, even when it came to things morally dark. Ofcourse, Voldemort was able to see the boy was truly terrified, but he could applaud the lack of expression on his face that would only slip away when Delphini was around, were the boy would begin jittering and fidgeting much more often than usual. Nevermind that, he was glad his daughter had a confidant as compliant as Munin. They were very rather useful! (Momentarily, he wonders if he would have been able to turn Harry Potter into something similar, but knew the boy was much too stubborn and morally righteous for that. He supposes the apple toppled from the tree and rolled straight down into a well at the bottom of the hill.)

On ANOTHER note... I've been thinking of giving Albus the Augurey skull mask from another au of mine, and rather add a feathered hood to his cloak or make a feathered neck piece similar to a ruff but smaller. Just any type of ruffled collar that protrudes below the chin really. This would make me redo his design as the collar would attach together at a bolo tie then turn into his cape at the back. The skull would be black, because Delphi is extra, and she isnt a fan of the yellowish white colour.