#headmaster ritual

[archivist-crow]

Radiohead - “Headmaster Ritual”

Performed live for the Thumbs Down webcast (2007)

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

The Smiths - The Headmaster Ritual

[presumablystrange]

The Smiths performing The Headmaster Ritual in Madrid, 1987

[skitskatdacat63]

I think T.E. Lawrence would love The Smiths

[maneateration]

Him: what do u liked to be called in bed?

me: call me morbid call me pale

[spareham]

i can't believe i'm saying this but i found a mormor (sebastian moran x james moriarity, for the uninitiated) fic that i remember reading and really loving in high school and im rereading it, it is..... amazing.. i am just as enthralled as i was at 15, it's marvelous. it's a ballet au. it's not even an au really, just andrew scott jim moriarty doing ballet pre bbc sherlock. i havent even watched s3 of bbc sherlock i am the definition of a fake fan.

[misskanda]

today I just decided to translate a bunch of The Smiths songs into Portuguese on Lyrics Translate. oh the places I go when I'm procrastinating

[rorytunes]

Open E tuning I love you...

[thevellaunderground]

The Smiths: Bridging Music and Social Activism

The Smiths, an indie band that defied conventions and left an indelible mark on music, were known for their introspective lyrics, subversion of social norms, and synth-pop sounds. Their music often carried weighty themes, and one of their songs, in particular, stands out in relation to the concept of peace. “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” is a poignant track…

[musicandoldmovies]

For the wonderful @kink12

Don't let anyone get you down. Be who you want to be. Stay true to yourself. ❤

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Good morning, Trein-sensei. Can you explain how your time as a Noble Bell College student was? Here is a box of vichyssoise and a hair brush for Lucius. Have a good day.

I know that Trein says he met his wife at NBC, but I don't think that confirms he's a student there? 🤔 (Cuz he could have been visiting from another school or something!) Just because we don't have clarification, I'm going to treat this as though Trein was asked about the school itself rather than his time at it.

A Storied Past.

You slid into the seat across from him, setting your lunch tray down. All your favorites from the cafeteria buffet were plated along with a carton of your drink of choice. The best time of the school day was here: Trein's story time.

The older gentleman dipped his spoon into the bowl of vichyssoise you had provided. It was so thick, so creamy, that it entirely coated his implement and stuck there, refusing to dribble. The odor was strong--potatoes, leeks, onions, and a medley of fresh herbs. He closed his thin, papery lips around the fragrant spoonful and swallowed, nodding with satisfaction.

(Beside him, Lucius pawed at the hairbrush's bristles. After classes finished for the day, Trein had promised to thoroughly groom his familiar.)

"Noble Bell College is a school much smaller in scale than our Night Raven College. However, the quality of the education it provides is by no means lacking," Trein explained--the start of a very long lecture, you suspected. "Following in the footsteps of the Righteous Judge, Noble Bell has mandatory courses in theology, law, and ethics. Graduates are to have integrity, good judgment, and, above all else, are willing to ask questions of even commonly regarded truths. There are extracurriculars unique to Noble Bell as well... Hand Bell Club, Choir Club, and more.

"The student population is not large enough to justify several dormitories or the implementation of dorm leaders. Instead, Noble Bell has a student council. In addition to governance, they also serve as the go-between for students and staff, relaying any issues from peers and working with administration to resolve those issues. It is a very different system than Night Raven, but it has proven quite efficient for their needs.

"It is not only the student council with their share of duties to fulfill. Every student is expected to participate in the daily ritual of cleaning the campus. There is a rotating schedule, with students assuming new chores each day. Even the gargoyles at the top of the bell tower are carefully tended to. Many students engage in charity and volunteer work too—Noble Bell is very involved in its local community.”

“Wow, the culture of NBC sounds so different from NRC,” you marveled. “Every arcane academy has its own quirks!”

“Indeed.” Trein went for another sip of soup. “Perhaps someday you will have the opportunity to visit more of them. There are a number of institutions beyond Night Raven College, and many insights to glean from each of them. Why, Royal Sword Academy is just on the other end of Sage’s Island.”

Your heart fluttered with newfound excitement.

“You really think the headmaster would let me go over there?”

“I don’t see why not. We instructors should encourage our students’ curiosity, not stifle it—and it seems to me that you’ve plenty of curiosity to spare.”

“Mrrrow.”

Trein’s eyes flicked to his familiar. “You see? Lucius agrees. You have potential as a scholar. Noble Bell College would have happily welcomed you among its ranks.”

[writingpandagoth]

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

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

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

Mask and Flames

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

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

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

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

“The only vibe I feel is lung damage.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seth blinked. “Is that... magical?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The other two nodded. No jokes. No hesitation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A small smirk ghosted across Severus’s face.

“I’m tolerating it,” he muttered.

Seth laughed and threw a drumstick towards him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The grin that split your face nearly made him smile.

—

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

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

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

Whispers. Murmurs. Snatches of lyrics.

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

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

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

“Sit. Down.”

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

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

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

Nocturne Ashes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Professor Snape?”

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

“I—I left my notes behind.”

“Then retrieve them and leave.”

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

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

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

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

Her breath hitched.

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

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

Her eyes darted to the journal… then to Severus.

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

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

Anna turned and bolted.

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

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

The castle buzzed.

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

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

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

And Severus?

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

He said nothing.

But that smug little flicker in his chest?

It burned brighter than ever.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonks choked on her tea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sirius perked up like a Crup hearing a treat bag.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dark, broody poetry,” Tonks agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

During the whole conversation there was no reaction from Severus. 

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

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

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

And none of them had the faintest idea.

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

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

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

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

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

Every head in the room snapped toward it.

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

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

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

The room went dead silent.

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

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

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

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

Sirius made a confused noise. You ignored him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one spoke. No one moved.

And then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you pushed him toward the door before stopping again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[macabreafterparty]

Harry is the only one who can make Vee laugh. Not in the cruel way that has been heard in taunt or cruelty. In a baritone bliss that has people blushing. (Warning: suggestive themes nothing too explicit)

It was finally peaceful. The treaty signed. The wedding went through without a hitch (not even by the twins, much to Harry's dismay. He wanted to humble his egomaniac "husband"). There was just one huge tiny problem.

Dumbledore. That man found any loophole, any excuse to interrupt the tentative camaraderie that the chosen one and dark lord have tried to build with each other. The arranged marriage did nothing to ease the tension but Lord Voldemort was a politician and Harry has once stated (much to Voldemort chagrin) "I'm the chosen one. Not a bitch." They will learn to deal with each other for eternity. They must.

The two wizards felt his presence before he announced his arrival. Voldemort gripped his tea cup with such a force that it nearly shattered. Harry merely sighed with a mumbled "There goes my weekend, thanks professor." As he got up to answer the door that would inevitably be knocked upon.

"Professor, what can I do for you?" Harry asked with over exaggerated sugar coated sweetness.

"Harry, my boy. Wonderful to see you. I wish to speak to both you and your...husband if the timing is alright with you?"

Harry sighed for what he felt was the millionth time since the signing of the peace agreement. He looked back to the dark lord who was on the verge of one of his tantrums.

"There is never a time for this supercilious old fool. I wish not to partake in his antiquated views of our agreement. Tell him to leave." Voldmort hissed without looked away from the fireplace.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course professor, please come in." ("Insufferable brat.")

"Thank you, dear boy" Dumbledore said with a slight smile and twinkle in his eye "it shall not take long."

"See that it does not, Albus. My husband and I have blocked this day in hopes of gaining a more stable rapport with one another. Past history, your presence included, muddles that goal." stated the Dark Lord who is nearly vibrating at the idea of his space invaded.

"Your marriage is the reason I am here, Tom." The Headmaster spoke calmly. "It has come to my intention the ritualistic marriage you had required for the treaty has a fault on your end."

"Oh? Do tell." Voldemort said with a tilt of his head and a squint to his eyes.

"Simply putting it, you were to consummate the marriage within 77 hours of the rituals completion. If it is not, it is null. With the treaty already signed I see no rea-"

"Who are you to say we have not coupled in the giving time, Albus?" Harry hears his husband state. Which is then followed with him choking on his tea with a deep blush.

Dumbledore stills. "I beg your pardon?"

"Harry was notified of this footnote prior to our wedding. He agreed to it much to my own surprise. We consummated our marriage 16 hours after the wedding. It was completed with about 2 hours to spare. If you understand my meaning." Voldemort says with a wicked grin.

Harry could die of embarrassment. "Vee. Stop it. No one needs to know the details." Harry glares at the snake like man. He turns to Dumbledore who has gone pale. "He's telling the truth professor. We both consented and the ritual was finished. Our marriage is magically and legally binding."

"I...see," Dumbledore says slowly. "I must say I am surprised but Tom, I'm sure you are aware if I hear of any cruelty done to dear Harry I will have no choice-"

"Enough. I have done nothing that Harry did not agree to or in some cases beg for. So if you kindly leave our home I will not have to eviscerate you where you sta-"

"Would both of you quit it? Vee, inappropriate. Professor, too involved. We finished the marriage requirements and now I would like you to leave so I can storm to my room and be angry at my husband in peace. I will show you to the door." Harry states in a mortified tone.

"Of course Harry. Do excuse the intrusion." Dumbledore says while walking alongside the blushing wizard. "I wish not to have to threaten you of all people on what would happen if this was to fall apart."

Harry scoffs "Threaten me? I feel like we would both find that embarrassing Dumbledore."

The air stilled once more. The two older wizards stunned at the sudden jab at Dumbledores ego. Voldemort moves to cover his mouth. His shoulders shaking in what one would mistaken as anger until a deep laugh erupts from his lungs. He laughs and laughs with his hand covering his eyes.

Harry opens the door for the Headmaster who leaves without another word, quite literally laughed out of the house.

Harry turns to his husband who is still laughing. "Are you done yet?" He says with his arms crossed. Voldemorts laugh dies down to a chuckle. He holds his hand out as a gesture to come closer. Harry takes it and is then pulled into the lap of the older man. "Oh my darling, you are a delight." Voldmort chuckles into his husband's hair. He then leans lower to whisper into his neck. "I wish to have a repeat of our first night together."

"Why? So you can use it to give Dumbledore a heart attack?" Harry says shoving the man's face away from him.

"As much as I would love to send that fool a memory of our bed room activities, the idea of anyone seeing you bound and flushed under me as you beg for me to be inside you makes me homicidal my soul." Voldemort purrs.

"Okay, okay thank you for reminding me how needy I am Vee. Now stop. All this blood rushing to my head is not good for my health."

"Very well. I will just have to will that blood further down." Voldemort states matter of factly lifting the boy bridal style from the chair they were on. "Vee, no put me down right now I'm still angry with you." The boy says struggling in his husband's arms.

He was silenced with a kiss. Harry gasps in surprise, not used to the sudden affection from the standoffish man. Voldemort wastes no time pushing his tongue into the others mouth as Harry moans into the kiss. Harry pulls away first.

"..fine. You win. Just...watch your teeth this time. I still have bruises on my neck." Harry grumbles.

"Very well, my darling soul. I will do my best to devour other parts of you instead."

"I hate you."

"Oh, how I adore you." Voldemort says as he sends the bedroom door to close and lock.

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

Everything to Me

sum: Leonora seems to have gained interest in a certain Ever Professor

based on: the song She by Dodie

WARNINGS: fluff, slight hint of angst, forbidden love, happy ending!, soft!lesso, mentions of jealousy, Dovey being a little matchmaker :), gentle!reader, shy!reader

(Not proof read)

Lesso watched as Y/n walked into the dining hall, every morning, she’s show up on time always looking flawless. Sometimes a Pep in her step appeared when she’d walk in after a night out with a suitor, though, they never seemed to work out, much to Lesso’s delight.

Am I allowed to look at her like that? Could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at

Leonora smiled at the Princess as she sat next to her with her plate filled with pancakes and other breakfast foods. Leonora found herself looking at her with a softness and adoration that would’ve surely confused the head Master as to why he placed the Dean into the School For Evil.

The Redhead enjoyed watching her smile and snort at jokes made at the table. She was the most prim and proper Princess but, In Lesso’s eyes, she was surely the most gorgeous. She wondered how a woman could look so ethereal and authentic at the same time.

After breakfast with the staff, Lesso and Y/n had a ritual of going on a morning walk, slowly making their way through the garden. Their arms linked as they took in the sight of sweet Magnolia’s and the warm gaze of the sun.

Leonora swore that she could smell the Lemongrass from where she stood, but knew it was from the woman next to her who still complained about wanting to take a nap. “Ooh! Remember when we took a photo here, it was so peaceful with the stars just sparkling above us” She exclaimed, sitting on the stone bench with that bright grin on her face, “I do remember, Princess, I still have the polaroid in my office if you’d ever like to see it.”

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep She tastes like apple juice and peach Oh, you would find her in a polaroid picture

——

Clarissa made Leonora stay behind at a meeting that evening, nothing how the woman had been spending so much time with the Princess. She could sense the pure love radiating from the two. No one could deny what was happening, not even the headmaster. “You must tell her how you feel, Leonora! You need to tell her before it’s too late!” The golden haired woman exclaimed, flailing her arms about knowing that Lesso would lose the girl sooner or later if she didn’t make a move.

“There’s nothing to tell her, Clarissa..” She whispered lowly, knowing that if she did confess she’s ruin y/n’s chance at a happliy ever after. She couldn’t take that away from her, no she couldn’t do that.

Afterall, Lesso was a Never and Y/n was an Ever. It was forbidden, no way they could pass the trial by tale, right?

I'd never tell No I'd never say a word

Clarissa pouted with a huff before exiting the room most likely plotting some other scheme, but Leonora was okay, admiring the other woman across the room even if it was for a moment. She enjoyed watching her hair perfectly fall on her shoulders and cascading down her back. Her warm and lovable smile, that laugh that was inviting. Not to mention her face was nothing less of perfection.

Lesso was comfortable, standing next to her while she greeted her students with a smile, which they returned and shyed away once they noticed the intimidating Dean next to her. They were fools not to see what they had, everyone did, even the more up tight Evers.

Though, the uneasy feeling in Lesso’s stomach never changed when she saw Y/n talking with an Ever prince that seemed to take a liking to her. Everytime her concerns were proved wrong, that was because y/n never liked any of them she said.

And oh it aches But it feels oddly good to hurt

———

“Leo! Leo! Look at what I found in the garden!” Y/n exclaimed, carefully holding something in her soft hands, as she stopped in front of the redhead, she smiled brightly holding out the delicate flower. It looked as tough as it did peaceful. “Hm, Black Dahlia, my favorite, you remembered?” Leonora smiled subtly, taking the flower in her own hands and admiring it.

“Of course I did! How could I forget my favorite person’s favorite flower?” Y/n felt a blush creep onto her cheeks, the ache in her neck from looking up at Lesso, seemed to disappear. The woman infront of her held back a wide grin, “You are very thoughtful, princess” she complimented, running her thumb across the Ever professor’s cheek. Gathering what ever courage she had left and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you, sweet thing”

Even though, y/n y/l/n would always love Leonora Lesso, she could never verbalize it. As for Leonora, she would never feel the warmth of love from the person she truly loved. And that was the true Evil.

So there they were again, another gala another night that they longed for each other. Stolen glances and subtle flirting seemed to tempt even the Headmaster into matchmaking the two.

and I'll be okay Admiring from afar

As the night fell, the more people retired to their respective rooms. Lesso was left to walk y/n back, the moon and stars lighting the way. It seemed like it was only last night that it was y/n’s first day teaching at The School for Good. They walked hand in hand as the Castle sat in the darkness the lights inside now putting the moon to shame. Lesso wished this was forever, she never allowed herself to think that way especially about people things that aren’t hers. But for now, she allowed herself to think about it even for a moment. Cause even when she's next to me We could not be more far apart

”That was nice, I always enjoy our time together!” She beamed, any traces of sleepiness leaving her. “I do too, sweet girl”

They stood there for a few minutes sitting in comforting silence, “Now that I think of it, I don’t want you walking in that cold. You’ll stay with me” Y/n stated, pulling her in by the jacket sleeve, “Woah, I haven’t even asked you out yet” Leo joked, chuckling to herself, though, y/n’s remained still her face now shying from Lesso’s gaze. “Don’t go all turtle on me now, Princess” she cooed, pulling her closer on for the Professor to tuck her face in Lesso’s jacket.

“Why haven’t you asked me out yet, Leo?” Y/n seriously questioned, looking up at the redhead with tears. It now came as a realization to the Dean that her preception of reality was not the same as y/n’s. “I‘ve dropped countless hints, I followed Dovey’s advice, I did everything I could think of! Do you not like me? Are you just leading me on?” She asked, already sniffling from the anticipation of the answer.

“What? No!” Lesso responded, clutching the Princess close, “No, you don’t like me?” Y/n let out a sob that could’ve woken up half of the castle if Lesso hadn’t shut her mouth. “I mean that I’m not leading you on, Yes, of course I like you, I think I might…love you” Lesso confessed, a weight leaving her shoulders as she held her close.

“I love you, Leonora Lesso” y/n choked out, pulling Lesso down for a long awaited kiss, “I love you most, y/n y/l/n” she replied with that wicked smile she loved.

Yes she means everything to me She means everything to me.

Lesso would feel the Love of the one she truly wanted and this time it meant a Happily Ever After for both of them.

———

first Lesso fic. Idk how I feel about it.

NOT PROOFREAD :)

[novankenn]

So another idea. The ship would be Pyrrha x Jaune x Salem. So in the future Salem's oldest son and Pyrrha's oldest daughter (both fathered by Jaune and were rasied by all three parents) take the Beacon Initiation.

Thats the idea.

1 in 14 million

Eighteen years ago, two talented... well okay one talented applicant and one loveable goof vanished from the face of Remnant. They were on route from Argus to Vale when a murder of nevermores assaulted the craft. Amazingly, or miraculously everyone survived the attack... though Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos both could not be found.

The Arc clan mourned the loss of their beloved brother, while all of Remnant bemoaned the end of the Invincible Girl's growing legacy.

Little did they know that deep with in the GrimLands, sequestered away in EverNight Castle, the pair survived and flourished. For Salem had delved into the mists of time using an esoteric ritual old even by her immortal existence. Out of all the futures she glimpsed, all 14,000,605 of them... only in a single one was she truly happy and satisfied.

Jade Arc, eldest daughter of Jaune and Pyrrha Arc and her half brother Keiran Arc, eldest son of Jaune and Salem Arc sat near one another on the airship bound for Beacon Academy. Neither felt too well, and were doing their absolute best to suppress the hereditary air-sickness they got from their father. The shudder of the ship docking made the pair turn even more green than the flight had done.

Without consideration for the other passengers, Keiran used his impressive height and frame to clear and path for him and Jade to reach the closest garbage can. After emptying the little that was in their stomachs the pair found a convenient wall to sit against. Looking up Jade notice a nevermore sitting in a nearby tree watching them.

"Mama Salem is still worried." Jade commented as she pointed out the watchful beast to Keiran.

"Well she wasn't really happy about us choosing to attend Beacon... for reasons."

"Yeah I know, dad wasn't much better."

"I think he was worse."

"I think he was." Jade agreed.

With their nausea having abated, the pair of half-siblings rose to their feet picked up their bags and made their way into the auditorium.

"It's sort of strange that there is still a need for huntsmen and huntresses considering how Mama Salem has pulled back all the grimm." Keiran commented as the pair made their way through the vaunted halls of Beacon.

"Yeah, well there are still the ancient grimm and the rouges that are ignoring her commands, so it still makes sense."

"You have a point." Jade conceded, before adding, "DO think we'll get a chance to see Adrian?"

"Maybe. He'd be a fourth year, though so... it's possible, though not likely."

"Well I hope we do. It's been like forever since the last visit."

"True. but we'll have to get though initiation first to get that chance." Keiran commented as the pair of half-siblings entered the auditorium, just in time to catch the end of Headmaster Ozpin's speech.

"Like we can fail. Between my semblance, your magic and Mom's training... we're guaranteed. No question."

"What you think would happen if we introduced ourselves to the Headmaster?" Keiran let a wicked grin cross his boyishly handsome face.

"He'd freak, IF he even put two and two together without us spelling it out for him."

"Yeah you're right. Mom has mentioned he hasn't been the sharpest tool in the shed for more than a few years now." Keiran's grin faded, replaced with a look of disappointment.

"Let's go find Adrian."

"I think we're supposed to...

"Wait sleep in here with all these plebs?"

"Well..."

"You want to see him just as much as I do."

"That's true."

"So why wait around here bored when we could have a mini family reunion?"

"Okay."

[runeruinrequiem]

aether & ash [ jjk masterpost ]

"Where knowledge is power, and power is eternal."

Aether & Ash follows the reader, a transfer student to Erythraen Academy, whose family's sudden disappearance seemingly ties into the academy’s hidden past and a long-buried ritual with dangerous implications.

Structured similar to interactive fiction, the story branches into six routes - Sukuna, Gojo, Toji, Geto, Choso, and Nanami - each revealing different aspects of the academy’s secrets. While the overarching plot remains constant, each route offers unique conflicts, revelations, and character dynamics, leading to both a good end and a bad end. Each route will be a mix of SMAU-based fics and written word.

Don't fret - there may be no choices beyond selecting a route, but key events (such as major confrontations, looming threats, and academy-wide upheavals) occur across all paths.

A Letter from the Headmaster

THE HOUSES

House Solara - Radiant Flame

House Nocturne - Veil of Shadows

House Lumen - Eternal Light

House Umbra - Eclipsed Wisdom

House Ignis - Infernal Will

House Aether - Celestial Harmony

WORLDBUILDING

Asks expanding on worldbuilding & characters will be tagged with #🪶 - AAWorldBuilding - Click Here for the full page.

Erythraen Academy History - World

PLAYLISTS

Main Playlist | Gojo's Playlist | Geto's Playlist | Sukuna's Playlist | Choso's Playlist | Nanami's Playlist | Toji's Playlist

ROUTE MASTERLISTS

Satoru Gojo

Suguru Geto

Ryomen Sukuna

Choso Kamo

Kento Nanami

Toji Fushiguro