#hp and the half blood prince

[toorumlk]

silver and gold!

[saurilashen]

[sneppu]

Shh... He's Sneepin' 💤

Lucius looked everywhere for this tiny, missing Sneep! He was starting to worry.. but it seems the Sneep fell asleep while hiding away in a little cupboard.

one can only assume he was hiding from unscrupulous individuals

[horcrux-sketches]

Small Half-Blood Prince.

[rogata453]

I love how Harry saw Draco acting weird in 6th year and thought „oh, so he’s a death eater now” and he was 100% correct

edit: he really said „I KNOW HIM BETTER THAN YOU”

[jamyleebrown]

Sketching this was like an itch that I had to scratch.

[wookiecookiesfactory]

Grandpas and their thing for dying

[hpseeker99]

Ginny: I love murder mysteries Harry, trying to impress Ginny: I've been a suspect in four murder cases

[chanchansthings]

I just can't do shading properly but well

[frenchydelacour]

How could anybody hate these three?

[toorumlk]

best friends to lovers? no, best friends AND lovers!

[saurilashen]

[sneppu]

The Reasons Why Severus Snape is Secretly a Cat, Actually.

I'm saying he's a neglected and abused stray little black cat and here is why

He's very meow meow. VERY kitten.

Black cats are vilified and assumed by some to be evil. Coincidentally, both of these things happen to Snape as well.

Difficult to befriend. Cats are already picky about who they like, and Cats who have had it rough are even more difficult. One cannot just waltz up to a cat like that expect friendliness, or even indifference for that matter.

Extremely bad, no good, very bad luck with dogs. Seriously, the man MUST have dog trauma by now. Werewolves? Sirius, one of his biggest haters and tormentors, a dog animagus? even Fluffy mauling his leg?? The first two were marauders, yes, but that's not a good thing when it comes to Snape. (not all dogs and cats dont get along, but its certainly interesting. Personally, I headcanon him as a definite cat person who has a bad associations with dogs but thats a whole other post.)

Very hissy and snarly and unpleasant when threatened - and sometimes, even when YOU think there's no apparent threat! This is premium Gato™ Behavior. An abused little shelter cat, horribly unsocialized, becoming hyper defensive anytime anything happens to him, even if the thing that is happening is kind.

it fits with the idea that hes "mean for no reason" because there IS a reason - cats are complicated little guys! Where you see a nonissue, He might see a threat. Where you see kindness, he might see mockery. Where you see playfulness he might see cruelty, and so on. After all, he's been on the receiving end of it all too often.

Cats like this usually end up stuck in shelters - not a home - because no one will take them. They're too offputting, they're too mean, they're too much trouble. One could argue that Hogwarts itself IS that shelter in this scenario; a place to be, but not a home. Not really.

Worth noting: maybe to Harry, Hogwarts can be considered a sort-of Home, but he actually found kindness and friends there. Severus lost his only friend and was tormented there. Better than his incredibly shitty situation with his family? Certainly! but Shelters often are.

SWM fits as well; A moment of extreme distress from being humiliated, afraid, and overwhelmed? all those jeering laughing faces while he is vulnerable and unsafe, defenseless at the hands of people who have continuously hurt him for years?? and to see and know that his friend - his BEST friend - the only friend; the only PERSON, he has, is there holding back a smile as it is happening too? Have you ever met a cat in distress? of course he lashed out. It's honestly astounding that he didnt lash out MORE.

and while on the subject of SWM, him lashing out at Lily applies here too. A cornered, distressed cat (especially one with a history of abuse) sees everything as a threat , even people it is normally friendly to, if it's distressed enough. Have you tried to bathe a cat? or maybe tried to coax one to get into a cat carrier for the vet? these things are very difficult but manageable at the best of times but "vulnerable, afraid, humiliated, and threatened" are NOT the best of times, I fear.

it even works with his occlumency and the way he deals with vulnerability as well. Cats, when in pain, do their best to hide that pain. This is because to be outwardly hurt is to be vulnerable, and that can lead to predation by bigger animals. Severus too, hides his vulnerability. The things that truly matter to him, his worries, his soft and squishy bits, and loyalties all carefully locked away.

Rivalry with Minerva?? that's just good ol' unserious cat drama. Have u ever seen an indoor cat staring down a stray through the window? silly little creatures. They'll grumble about it and act like its on sight (and maybe it is!) but when you're not looking, there'll be sniffing through the glass and pretending they dont care while they nap suspiciously close by.

Starved for affection and touch. An abused stray, past all the hissing and the fear and violence, once they're finally given a chance and finally understand that they are safe, just wants to be loved. They usually end up being the most affectionate and loyal cats of all! only to those they feel safe with, of course.

And speaking of loyalty, that applies here too. He was loyal to Lily, the first and only person to show him kindness (though my feelings for her are very complicated) and he was later loyal to Dumbledore. Unfortunately, neither of these people ever truly took in the stray, not really. And so the Stray was never actually socialized, and never completely safe, and never actually given a home.

and finally.. his death. Cats have a tendency to hide when nearing death, or dying.. and as such, often die in solitude. Severus may not have exactly had a direct hand in this of course, but.. there's something about him dying in this shitty little shack, far away from the action, presumably alone (or so he thought until Harry and his friends materialized out of nowhere under the cloak.). He wasn't actually alone in his actual final moments, but in the time leading up to it? Very lonely.

In a way, one could say that Lily came closest to adopting the stray Sev cat. And maybe she would have! maybe she wanted to take in the stray at one point - had planned to, even! But her friends told her he was dirty and gross, "who knows where that things been! he's probably diseased". and The marauders kept tormenting him, making him increasingly defensive and hissy and violent, as cats often are in that situation and then it was also "look how cruel and mean he is! he'll only hurt you". and maybe when the time finally came and that defensiveness finally WAS aimed at her it only confirmed what she had already begun to believe. And then she decided she wasnt a cat person after all. Who knows? One could make an argument for all of that. Do i see things that way? maybe, maybe not. My feelings toward every character who is not Snape are largely indifferent for the most part.

Verdict: Severus Snape is a Cat. He is a little kitten meow meow. Give this man a little cauldron to curl up in asap

[horcrux-sketches]

For the record, he is not an angel. However, he is forced into the (albeit bullying) guardian angel position.

Don't judge. I just wanted to doodle wings.

[dreamcubed]

the archer | lorenzo berkshire x reader

song; the archer [taylor swift] pairing; lorenzo berkshire x fem!non-slytherin!reader genre; s2l, comedy, fluff word count; 5,8k timeline; half-blood prince warnings; swearing, alcohol, drunkenness, suggestive comments, blood and injury (bc of his cat) summary; lorenzo's cat hates everybody but you

masterlist

"who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay?"

——————————————

Lorenzo Berkshire had no idea why his cat was such a hateful being, but she had always been that way, ever since she was a kitten. He would have understood if she had been a rescue from the streets or something, but, alas, she wasn't. She had always been feisty, and only docile with him, which was why his aunt (who owned the mother) had just sent her his way. Not that he minded, he often joked how his cat, who he had fondly named Midnight, was just like him: very selective with who he let close to him.

He had brought her with him to Hogwarts, naturally, and she had secluded herself exclusively within his dorm room— she hated being at the castle, but he knew that she would hate being at home without him even more. And, when he had graduated into sixth year, he had been blessed with his own dorm room, allowing her to finally settle down.

Only, the current problem was that she was missing. Lorenzo had returned from Saturday breakfast in hopes of a bit of downtime with his feline friend, but he instead found a frown forming on his face as he frantically searched his entire bedroom and then down the corridors and all the other Slytherin dormitories. She was definitely gone, he realised, beginning to feel an itching sense of worry as he loved that cat more than anything. Why would she have left? Did the privacy of a solitary bedroom meant she finally felt comfortable enough to explore the rest of the castle? He didn't know, and it didn't matter, he just knew that he had to find her.

"Have you seen Midnight?" he asked, hurrying up to Mattheo in the common room.

"No."

"She's missing."

"She's a cat, she's probably just wandering," his friend shrugged, "They do that, y'know."

"Not Midnight," he ran his hand through his hair, "Never Midnight."

Mattheo observed his friend carefully, "Relax, mate, she'll come back."

"I can't relax," he cursed under his breath, "I'm going to look for her."

What if she attacked someone who tried to pet her? Dumbledore might ban Midnight from the castle and send her home. Or, even worse, she would get put down. He couldn't bear that thought, but after searching all the rooms down in the dungeons, he quickly realised that he had no idea where to look from there.

***

Meanwhile, you had been enjoying a perfectly pleasant afternoon in the courtyard with a book, the last rays of Summer shining down on you before the chilliness of Autumn struck. You went to turn the page, when you noticed a commotion going on across the expanse of flagstones. With furrowed eyebrows, you let curiosity get the better of you and shut your book.

Upon arriving at the scene, you quickly realised that the centre of attention was a pitch-black cat who was hissing ferociously. Some second year boys were tormenting the poor thing who was clearly terrified— reaching their hands out to get a reaction, and then pulling away before it could swipe them with its claws.

"What are you doing?" you asked disapprovingly, normally willing to let younger years have their mischievous fun, but not at the expense of a poor innocent animal.

"It attacked Gareth out of nowhere," one of the boys gestured towards his friend, who was nursing a bleeding arm, "We're just getting our revenge."

You shook your head, "I can't allow that, I'm afraid, it's obviously terrified."

Crouching down, you placed your book on the floor and delicately held a hand out a safe distance from the cat. You made cooing noises to attract it over, hoping that it wouldn't see you as a threat.

"I wouldn't do that," the boy who had been scratched said, "A seventh year girl tried already, and now she's in the hospital wing."

"I'm not scared of a little blood," you replied, before saying to the cat, "I'm not gonna hurt you, baby, I'll get you away from these scary boys, yeah?"

Maybe it sensed your gentle nature, or maybe you simply seemed like the lesser evil next to the boys, but it ceased its hissing and started cautiously padding towards you. Eventually, its soft face rubbed against your palm, and you began soft pets until you could feel purring.

"There we are, you're safe," you murmured, delicately positioning yourself to pick it up, hoping it wouldn't freak out too much. Thankfully, it didn't, and settled into one of your arms as you picked up your book and stood up. "Your owner is probably looking for you."

A soft mewl came in response. You decided that it would be easier for the owner to find their cat if you stayed in the same place, so you returned to your reading spot and sat the cat down on your lap. It curled up instantly, closing its eyes as it entered a light slumber, while you reopened your book and continued where you left off.

***

Rumours spread like wildfire within the walls of Hogwarts, so it wasn't long before Lorenzo heard that a girl had been attacked so badly by a cat that she had ended up in the hospital wing. He immediately sprinted in that direction, ignoring scoldings from teachers and prefects, until he burst into the polished white room.

"Whatever do you think you're doing, young man?" Madam Pomfrey snapped.

"The girl. Cat attack," he panted out, "Where is she?"

The nurse pointed towards the end bed of the ward, "Just there— although I must ask you to-"

Lorenzo didn't listen to the rest of her words, running over to the girl's bed. She had a bandage on her cheek and right arm, and she didn't seem all that pleased.

"What colour was the cat?" he asked quickly.

The girl frowned, "I'm guessing that beast is yours then."

He nodded.

She rolled her eyes, "Black. You ought to get it put down."

Lorenzo let out a sound that bordered on a growl.

"It scratched me so deep it hit an important artery. There was blood everywhere— my favourite shirt is ruined."

"I don't care," he bit off, "Where did it happen?"

She scowled at him, "The courtyard. Go deal with it before someone else gets hurt."

He didn't even give her a response before he was running off again, praying to all the Hogwarts founders that Midnight was still in the courtyard and completely unharmed.

***

Approximately twenty minutes had passed by with the adorable feline curled up in your lap when the sound of a door bursting open echoed throughout the courtyard. You watched as an angry Lorenzo Berkshire, a Slytherin boy in your year, made a beeline towards the group of second year boys that were still gathered. He must have seen the blood on one of the boys' arms, because he went to him first. You observed curiously as Berkshire spoke angrily, and then the evidently now scared boy pointed in your direction.

Berkshire looked over, and then his eyes locked on to yours. He was storming over to you with a fury that could destroy nations.

You raised an eyebrow at him, "Can I help you?"

He didn't reply, the anger not leaving his face, but he seemed to be contemplating something.

"Hello? Berkshire?"

"That can't be her," you heard him mutter. At the sound of his voice, the cat perked up, and instantly meowed at him. "It is you," he said disbelievingly.

"Your cat, I presume?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, holding out his hand to beckon it over.

"What's its name?" you realised that this was the first conversation that you were having with the boy despite sharing classes for over five years.

"Midnight," he said, his voice sounding oddly strained, "She's called Midnight."

You smiled, scratching her neck in a way that made her mewl. "It's very fitting."

Lorenzo stared at you interacting with his cat, having never before seen Midnight so friendly with anyone except him. "She hates people," he said without thinking.

You hummed, "Yeah, I heard about the girl in the hospital wing."

He grimaced.

"She's quite sweet with me though."

"I've never seen her like that with anyone but me."

"Guess I'm special," you beamed, continuing to stroke Midnight.

"Uh, can I have her back now?" he asked, seeming almost unsure of himself. While Lorenzo was generally considered one of the nicer Slytherin boys, he still held himself with a terrifying confidence, and didn't have a completely scot-free track record either— refer to his behaviour when it comes to his cat going missing. However, now, stood before you as said cat had elected you as the second likeable person she had met, the confidence had been knocked out of him.

"Oh, of course," you said easily, picking Midnight up and handing her over. "Bye, cutie," you cooed, as the black cat reluctantly accepted her fate in Lorenzo's arms.

"Thanks," he said stiffly, turning on his heel and walking away. You couldn't help but watch his behaviour with an air of amusement.

***

"Fuckin' Azkaban," Lorenzo cursed, so loudly that Mattheo popped his head through the door.

"What are you shouting about?"

"Midnight's missing. Again."

Mattheo chuckled, "Maybe that girl who took a liking to your cat took her."

Lorenzo looked at him disbelievingly, "I highly doubt that. L/N isn't the type to sneak into another house."

With a shrug, his friend fully entered the room. "I'd say maybe don't freak out as much this time. We lost a lot of points for you being a dick to that girl in the hospital."

Lorenzo scowled, "You're one to talk. You've lost ten times as many points as me."

"Do you want to go look for her? It's almost curfew."

"I have to. Can't have another hospital case."

"Put a tracking charm on her when you find her."

Lorenzo agreed that it was a good idea.

***

Whenever there was a cacophony of meows coming from outside a common room door, it was customary to open it. Often times a cat would be returning to its owner, and it wouldn't do to leave it stranded out there. Today was no exception.

You were, as usual, curled up on a sofa doing some homework when you heard faint meows from the other side. Perking your head up, you watched as the boy nearest to the door went to open it, letting in a black cat. It didn't seem like anything strange: you knew a couple black cats who belonged to your house members. Only, they were sweet and friendly, and you watched as the cat tried to scratch the poor boy. Thankfully, he dodged it, and you quickly ran over as you suspected whose cat it might be.

Immediately, it meowed softly at you and went to rub against your legs— and that's when you knew that it was definitely Midnight.

"Get your cat under control," the boy said.

"Oh, she's not mi-" but he had already walked away.

With a sigh, you picked up the feline and moved back to the sofa, knowing that it was just past curfew so you couldn't return her right at that second. Unless she elected to leave herself, she would have to stay with you for the night. Not that you were complaining, but you could only imagine how worried Lorenzo must be. Those thoughts quickly slipped away, however, when she curled up in your lap and began purring.

***

Walking down the darkened corridor with nothing but his wand as light, Lorenzo found his feet leading in one particular direction. He had already checked the Great Hall, and the kitchens, and peeked out the window into the courtyard, but to no avail. Only one more idea of where she might have wandered off to lingered in his mind: he knew what house you were in, and that was where he was headed. He just hoped to Salazar that he wouldn't run into a professor.

"Mr Berkshire."

Fuck.

"Yes, professor?" he said slowly, turning around to face Professor Snape.

"It's past curfew."

"I know, professor."

"How disappointing to see one of my own Slytherins disregarding the rules of Hogwarts."

"It's my cat," he said, hoping Snape would show some amount of heart, "She's missing."

Snape quirked an eyebrow, "Cats are prone to wandering. This is hardly a cause for concern."

"Yes, but not Midnight."

"Regardless of the nature of your cat, do you really think you will find her considering the size of this castle?"

Lorenzo said nothing.

"I understand she was responsible for the attack the other day. However, that is hardly a risk as it is night time, when students should be in bed," he drawled the last part, his arms firmly crossed.

"Yes, professor."

"Five points from Slytherin." Lorenzo knew the punishment would have been harsher if he wasn't of the house he was.

"I know where she is, though."

"How is she considered missing, then?"

Lorenzo didn't have an answer for that.

"If you know where she is, you will have no trouble finding her in the morning. I will escort you back to the dungeons."

The boy let out a sigh.

***

Having not slept a wink that night, Lorenzo was up bright and early just after sunrise, ready to resume his journey to your house. He walked up to where he had heard that the door was— having never seen it in person— and thought about how he was going to enter. To his luck, it swung open, to reveal a prefect from your house. She immediately gave him a sceptical look.

"What do you want, Berkshire?"

"I need to see L/N."

"At this hour?" she sighed.

"She has my cat. I think."

"The black one?"

He nodded.

"Okay, fine— you can go in," she said, stepping out the way, "But don't tell anyone I let you in."

"Of course, thank you."

Mattheo had always told him that she was one of the softer prefects, having had a lot of experience with them on his late night antics.

He entered the common room to find that it was empty, and he didn't waste anytime heading up the girls' dormitory stairs. Thankfully, the layout was quite simple: each year had their own floor, and it went upwards chronologically. The first few floors had rooms that were shared, but when he reached the sixth floor, he found a number of doors that seemed to align with the number of sixth year girls in your house.

Only, which one was yours? He couldn't very well walk in on an unsuspecting sleeping girl: Salazar knows how she would react.

So, he decided to knock on the first door, waiting patiently as he heard a groggy, "What?" in response. He felt a little bad for waking someone up, but Midnight was more important to him than anything.

"Uh, which room is L/N's?"

"Berkshire?" the voice replied. He was surprised at how calm she seemed to be taking the news that a Slytherin boy had invaded the girls' dormitories.

"Uh, yes."

"Last room on the left. Your cat is fine."

He concluded that you must be friends with her, and informed her that the cat you were in possession of belonged to him.

"Thank you," he said, adding a, "Sorry for waking you," to which he heard no response.

Choosing to leave her be, he made his way to your room and once again knocked. Only, this time, he didn't get a response. He knocked again, and he still received no human response, but he did hear a familiar meow sound out. Praying that you would forgive him, he opened the door and peeked in carefully, to see that you were curled up within your pillows with Midnight lying down beside your head.

He entered the room fully and quietly closed the door behind him. His cat meowed again, louder this time, which caused you to stir in your sleep. When your eyes finally peeled open and caught sight of Lorenzo through your blurry vision, you jumped out of bed.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you whisper-yelled.

"My cat," he said simply.

"Is perfectly safe and healthy as you can see— that's no reason to break into girls' dormitories!"

Once again, Lorenzo found himself speechless. All you were wearing was a skimpy pair of shorts and a cropped top which had your nipples peeking through. Not much was left to the imagination.

"Berkshire! What if I'd been naked?"

That's when a smirk crept on to his face, as he felt his usual level of confidence oozing through his veins. "What if, hm?"

"Keep it in your pants," you grumbled, grabbing a jumper from the floor and pulling it over your head. You tried to ignore the way his gaze made you feel.

He shrugged, changing the subject, "I had to make sure Midnight was safe."

"Well, you clearly knew where she was."

He couldn't argue that point, causing an awkward silence to fall upon the room. Awkward until he involuntarily let out a yawn.

"That's what you get for being up so early," you mumbled, climbing back into your bed and under the sheets. Midnight immediately began cosying up to you.

"I couldn't sleep."

You regarded him carefully: it was strange to see a Slytherin boy so evidently worried about another living being.

"Here she is, then," you said, gesturing towards the feline, "Take her and go sleep before people see you were here."

"Embarrassed of me?" he chuckled, moving to pick up Midnight.

"I'd rather not get called a slut," you snapped.

He didn't reply to that comment, wrapping his hands around his cat who did not take kindly to the action: not that she tried to scratch him or anything, but she immediately wriggled out of his arms to return to you.

"Midnight, you're my cat, you can't stay here," he grumbled, trying to pick her up again. You watched the scene play out through half-shut eyes, feeling quite amused by the whole ordeal.

Once again, she escaped his grasp.

"This is unbelievable."

"What? Unbelievable that she likes me so much?" you chuckled sleepily.

Lorenzo scowled, "I'm not leaving until she comes with me."

You sighed, realising that you may not be able to escape any slut rumours at this rate. "Fine. But I'm going back to sleep."

Lorenzo watched as your breathing became slower and more laboured, unable to process the absurdity of the situation that he was in. However, he could process how peaceful and adorable you looked while sleeping, all while his furry feline cuddled up next to you with deep purrs. Eventually, he felt his lack of sleep catch up to him, his body finally allowing itself to relax now that he knew Midnight was definitely safe and sound. He sat down on your bed, reaching his hand out to stroke his cat. She mewled at the action, making him feel relieved that she hadn't started to hate him all of a sudden.

"Am I not enough for you, hm?" he murmured softly, sitting up against the headboard. His head began to lull back as he felt sleep overcome him.

***

You woke up properly at around nine o'clock, safe in the knowledge that you didn't have a lesson until eleven that day. With a soft yawn and a stretch of your limbs, you only remembered the events of earlier when you rolled over to see a sleeping Lorenzo slouched against your headboard, and Midnight sprawled across his lap.

Merlin, your usually mundane and repetitive life had really taken a turn. Unfortunately, despite the insanity of everything he had done, you didn't have the heart to wake him. You couldn't help but think that you would have done the same if Midnight was your cat. Plus, Lorenzo was very physically attractive— you knew that, everyone knew that. Yet, it was your bed that he was asleep on.

Sighing, you sat up, reaching over to scratch Midnight's head affectionally, causing her to wake up and start stretching. The action made Lorenzo stir in his sleep, and once his cat let out a soft mewl, he finally woke up fully. Immediately, you quirked an eyebrow at him, and he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Comfortable?"

He grumbled, "No."

You chuckled softly, "Your friends will be wondering where you are."

The proximity between the two of you was quite close: you were sat cross-legged with a mere inch between your limbs. It didn't feel strange, though, in fact it felt quite natural.

"Anyway," you tried to ignore the closeness, "As much as this has been fun, you can't come in here every time Midnight does."

"Why not?"

"I told you earlier. I don't need people making assumptions about me."

His eyes met yours, and you felt your stomach flip. "What if we made the assumptions true?"

You froze, then relaxed, "You don't mean that."

He shrugged.

***

Despite your hopes and dreams, people saw Lorenzo Berkshire leaving your dormitory, and the rumours spread throughout Hogwarts at a rapid speed. And, of course, as he was one of the Slytherin boys who were notorious for sleeping around— albeit less so than the others— you had been dubbed as his next conquest. It was a nuisance, but you weren't insecure, and knew that it would pass before long.

"If you didn't fuck, why was he in your dorm?" Iris, your friend from another house, asked. You were sat at a table in the library together, doing homework. Well, you were doing homework, Iris was borderline interrogating you instead.

"I had his cat," you replied simply.

"You stole his cat?"

You rolled your eyes, "No, Iris, his cat came to me."

"Isn't his cat the really vicious one who hates everyone?"

You hummed absent-mindedly, running your finger down the contents page of a book you were using for your essay.

"Why did it go to you then?"

"She likes me," you murmured, finding the page that you wanted and turning to it.

"That doesn't explain why he was in your dorm so long though."

"No, it doesn't."

Iris huffed, clearly irritated that you were giving her little to no information. You loved her dearly, but she was a bit of a gossip. Suddenly, she gasped. "Are you courting?"

"Who even uses that word anymore?" you scrunched up your nose, "And, no, we're not." Although, you couldn't help but think back to his suggestive comments.

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want to believe."

"You're no fun," she pouted.

"Meow."

You looked down to your side in surprise, to see that the familiar black feline was stood by your chair with her tail raised indignantly. "Speak of the devil," you muttered, leaning down to pick her up.

"Midnight!" you heard a yell as the library doors swung upon. You watched as Lorenzo was quickly shushed by the librarian. He apologised to her whilst scanning the room, soon spotting you with his cat sat on your lap. He hurried over.

"You need to stop freaking out whenever she goes wandering," you chastised when he was within a few feet of your table.

He scoffed, "You try not to freak out when you have an incredibly hostile cat who could be banned from Hogwarts."

"I think I do, in a way," you raised Midnight up into the air above you, examining her carefully.

"She's still my cat."

"Relax," you said, "I was just joking."

He glared at you, but there was no real threat in it.

"At least this means you get to see me so much," you grinned cheekily, making him shake his head with a sigh.

"How unfortunate for me."

"Wow, that hurts, Lorenzo." Since when did you feel like you could call him by his first name?"

"Well, Y/N, sorry for not enjoying running like a madman after my little terror."

"Then start thinking of it as running like a madman straight towards me."

He seemed surprised at that comment, and went silent for a few moments. These few moments were when Iris decided to cut in, having been observing silently until then.

"Seems like flirting to me."

You scowled at her.

"I'm just saying, would it not make sense to date the one other person who your cat likes?" she said this more towards Lorenzo than you.

He stared blankly at your friend, a finger on his right hand twitching ever so slightly. You didn't know what to make of that reaction, but decided that you wanted to learn more about what Lorenzo's body language said.

"Can I have my cat back?" he finally spoke.

"Can I please just keep her for a little bit?" you pleaded, "I can't have a cat because my mum's allergic."

Lorenzo surveyed you carefully: your half-hearted attempt at puppy dog eyes and the way Midnight nuzzled her head into your chest. He felt a pang of jealousy: strange and twisting. Weirdly, he didn't think he felt that envious of his cat's affections for you, so he didn't know why he felt jealous. A flashback of the skimpy pyjamas you had been wearing the other night crossed through his mind.

Shit.

"Yeah, uh, sure," he said all too quickly, "Only an hour though."

You hadn't expected him to agree so easily. Nonetheless, you beamed, and said, "Thank you, Enzo."

Enzo. He only let his friends use that nickname. Scratch that: he generally only tolerated when his friends used that nickname. But from you, it sounded sweet, and soft. He knew that he was a more civil and selfless person than the rest of the Slytherin boys, but he doubted many people would go as far as to say his name with such gentleness.

Gulping, he turned and walked away without another word.

***

A little over an hour later, you found Lorenzo in the Great Hall with his friends. They appeared to be enjoying a late lunch, as the tables were sparsely populated and only a few dishes remained. Just the sight of food made your stomach grumble, so you made your way over to him with Midnight curled up in your arms.

"Hello," you smiled, standing next to Lorenzo.

"Hi," he replied, before cooing at his cat who mewled happily.

Your stomach grumbled again, louder this time, and you shrugged sheepishly. "Haven't eaten yet."

"Then eat," Mattheo Riddle said from across the table, gesturing to the food.

You handed the cat over to her owner, and questioned, "Here?" You had never sat at the Slytherin table before.

Riddle shrugged, "Why not?"

You couldn't argue with that, and took a seat beside Lorenzo, dishing food on to your plate in a hurry.

"Where's Arachwood?" Enzo asked, referring to Iris.

"Got distracted by the boy she likes."

"Who does she like?" Riddle asked, clearly a lover of gossip and rumours— much like Iris.

You quirked an eyebrow, "Why should I divulge my friend's secrets?"

"She doesn't seem to have much regard for yours," Lorenzo piped in.

"Yeah, she does run her mouth a bit, but she's my friend," you scooped a large mouthful on to your fork, "I just take care not to tell her my most personal secrets." You then finally allowed yourself to taste the mouth-watering nourishment.

"So? Who does she like?" Riddle asked.

You stared at him incredulously as your mouth was full.

"I think the bigger question is who does L/N like," Theodore Nott added, smirking as he watched the eyes of you and Enzo widen.

Swallowing your food, you turned the topic back to Iris, "She likes Boot."

"Terry Boot?" Riddle clarified, and you nodded.

"I'm only saying that because she makes no effort to keep it private."

"But what about you?" Nott pushed again.

You paused, as in truth, you hadn't really fancied anyone for a while— that was, until, you remembered how gorgeous Lorenzo had looked sleeping on your bed. You felt your face burn.

"No one," you murmured, but your tone was anything but believable. You scooped more food into your mouth so you couldn't answer any further questions, but none were asked.

"We're having a party tonight," Riddle said, "You should come."

You were unable to reply as you chewed.

"It's really just Slytherins," he continued, "But we're all allowed a plus one. You can be Enzo's."

Cautiously, you looked at Lorenzo to gauge his reaction to that suggestion, but he didn't seem to have one as he mindlessly stroked Midnight.

"Yeah, if you want," he said, clearing his throat.

Finally, you swallowed, "That sounds fun. Should I bring alcohol?"

"I would recommend it," Riddle replied.

You were a mix of nervous and excited.

***

When you arrived at the Slytherin dungeons that evening, you were greeted by two fourth years at the door who seemed to be taking the job of security guard very seriously.

"Name?" one of them asked.

"Y/N L/N."

"And who are you here with?"

"Lorenzo Berkshire."

One of them wandered off into the party as the other turned to you, "We just have to validate this. Standard procedure."

You suppressed a giggle.

Not too long later, the other fourth year returned with Lorenzo by his side. With a nod to his friend, you were beckoned in and went over to Enzo.

"Very formal," you finally let out the giggle as the two of you began walking into the main party.

He shrugged, "Riddle insists on it. Salazar knows why."

You gazed around the Slytherin common room, taking in the green and black decor that you had never had the chance to lay eyes on before. There was music playing quite loudly, but you hadn't been able to hear it from outside— likely thanks to a sound-proofing charm.

"Have you started drinking yet?" he asked you.

"I had one while I was getting ready, you?"

"I've had a couple," he shrugged, stopping in his tracks for a few moments to properly look at you, "You look very pretty."

A blush crept on to your cheeks, "Thank you."

You could have sworn a small smirk graced his lips.

"L/N! You made it," the booming voice of Riddle thundered from nearby, and you turned to see him approaching with a bottle in his hand.

"Yeah," you chuckled, "Don't know how I'm gonna make it back without getting caught though."

"Just stay in Enzo's room," he said, clearly already too drunk to think over his words.

Before you could respond to his statement, he had spotted someone else and hurried over to them.

"You can if you want," Lorenzo said quietly, "I've crashed your room before."

You chuckled at the strangely fond memory, "Scared the shit out of me."

He grimaced, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, just give me a little more warning next time."

"Next time?" he repeated, a suggestive lilt to his tone.

"Where's Midnight?" you changed the subject.

"Up in my room, probably."

You hummed, "Right, I need to get more alcohol in me." And with that comment, you wandered off, not wanting Lorenzo to feel like you were following him around like a lost puppy— despite how much you had realised you wanted to be around him. It was a strange realisation: it was the first time a crush had snuck up on you rather than you more or less picking someone you found attractive to fancy.

And with that thought lingering, you poured yourself a shot, downed it, and then made a mixed drink to join the party with.

***

The increasing amount of alcohol danced through your bloodstream as the night went on and you found yourself dancing with some Slytherin girls, and having a full blown debate with a Ravenclaw guy who was there with his Slytherin girlfriend. You were having a lot of fun, but you found your drunken self wanting to go search for Lorenzo. So, you did just that, scanning the large room for any sight of him. Finally, your eyes locked on to the familiar tuft of brown hair sat on a sofa, with his friends all sat around him.

You walked over, somewhat clumsily, and immediately beamed widely, "Hi, Enzo," you said.

His gaze flicked to you and a small smile crept on to his face, "How are you doing?"

"I missed you," you said without thinking, sitting down next to him and bringing your legs up on to the sofa to curl into his side. His arm was spread out, resting behind you on the back of the settee.

"Did you?" he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink, which he held in his other hand.

You nodded, "Did you miss me? Wait, don't answer that."

His lips stretched into a full grin, "I might have missed you."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Don't play with my feelings, Berkshire. I know you're not as much of a player as the others, but I'm still suspicious."

"Never," he said, leaning closer to you so he could say in a husky quiet voice, "Call me Berkshire."

You raised an eyebrow, "Don't think I won't leave if you show signs of leading me on." How had this turned into a full blown confession? Wasn't it a bit premature for that?

"Who could ever leave me, darling?" The alcohol had clearly inflated his already radiant confidence.

"But who could stay?" you whispered in his ear, before stumbling to your feet, only to feel his hand grasp around your wrist. You turned back, to see that he was looking at you with his mouth folded in a thin line.

"You could," he eventually muttered, "Midnight would miss you too much."

"Just Midnight?" you teased, finding that your drunkenness was filling you with reckless abandon.

He sighed, "I would, too."

You grinned, sitting back down next to him.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade next weekend?" he asked.

"I thought you'd never ask."

And, when you woke up the next morning cuddled up with Lorenzo and Midnight in his bed, you smiled despite your pounding headache— and slight urge to throw up. Scratch that: huge urge to throw up. But when you stumbled to the bathroom, waking up Lorenzo in the process, he followed you and held back your hair, talking you through it.

It was peculiar, really, how everything was still so new, but you didn't feel the least bit embarrassed about him seeing you in such an ugly state.

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 26/04/2024 —> 09/05/2024 published; 12/05/2024 edited; —/—/——

[lines-in-limbo]

Harry and Snape’s Clashing Communication Styles

It's interesting to think that Harry and Snape don’t have longer conversations in the series, but when they do, their communication styles are so different that they often clash.

Harry’s way of communicating is practical and straightforward. He tends to break down complex ideas into simpler terms that he can easily understand. This makes sense, given his upbringing in a non-magical world and his tendency to rely more on gut instinct than deep theoretical knowledge. For Harry, things are usually black and white, and his directness shows his desire to cut through the confusion and get straight to the point.

Snape, on the other hand, has a more complex and layered way of speaking. His language is precise and often sarcastic, which reflects not just his intelligence but also his disdain for what he sees as Harry’s lack of subtlety. Snape’s use of imagery and metaphor, especially when he describes consepts, gives his speech a poetic, almost philosophical quality. He takes pleasure in showing off his superior knowledge and uses this as a way to belittle Harry.

We see this clash clearly in OOTP during Harry’s first Occlumency lesson:

Snape looked back at him for a moment and then said contemptuously, “Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency —” “What’s that? Sir?” “It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person’s mind —” “He can read minds?” said Harry quickly, his worst fears confirmed. “You have no subtlety, Potter,” said Snape, his dark eyes glittering. “You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker.” Snape paused for a moment, apparently to savor the pleasure of insulting Harry, before continuing, “Only Muggles talk of ‘mind reading.’ The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter . . . or at least, most minds are. . . .” He smirked. Whatever Snape said, Legilimency sounded like mind reading to Harry and he did not like the sound of it at all.

For Harry, when Snape mentions Legilimency, it immediately sounds like “mind reading,” which is a reasonable but overly simple way to understand such a complex concept. His quick jump to this conclusion shows his need to make sense of something that feels threatening, but it also reveals his limited grasp of the deeper nuances.

Snape, however, can’t resist mocking Harry’s lack of subtlety. His response is laced with condescension as he insists on the complexity of the mind and dismisses the idea of “mind reading” as something only muggles would think of. Snape’s explanation is detailed and philosophical, contrasting sharply with Harry’s desire for a straightforward answer.

Another great example of their different communication styles comes in HBP when Snape puts Harry on the spot, asking him to explain the difference between an inferius and a ghost:

“Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost.” The whole class looked around at Harry, who hastily tried to recall what Dumbledore had told him the night that they had gone to visit Slughorn. “Er — well — ghosts are transparent —” he said. “Oh, very good,” interrupted Snape, his lip curling. “Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. ‘Ghosts are transparent.’ ” Harry took a deep breath and continued calmly, though his insides were boiling, “Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren’t they? So they’d be solid —” “A five-year-old could have told us as much,” sneered Snape. “The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard’s spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard’s bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth . . . and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent.” “Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we’re trying to tell them apart!” said Ron. “When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we’re going to be having a shufti to see if it’s solid, aren’t we, we’re not going to be asking, ‘Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?’

Once again, Harry demonstrates his practical and straightforward approach. He gives a simple, clear distinction based on what would be most useful in a real-life situation—whether the entity is solid or transparent. This shows how Harry tends to focus on what’s immediately relevant and actionable, and Ron’s defense of Harry’s answer highlights this practicality. Ron even points out that in a real-world scenario, Harry’s answer is actually the most helpful, contrasting it with Snape’s more academic approach.

Snape, though, dismisses Harry’s answer as too simplistic and mocks him for stating what he sees as the obvious. Snape’s communication is more about the theoretical and precise understanding of magical concepts. He emphasizes the deeper, more complex nature of an Inferius, which, while academically accurate, is less practical in the context that Harry is thinking of. Snape’s disdain shows that he values this deeper, nuanced understanding more than the direct, practical knowledge that Harry offers.

These moments really bring out the deeper divide between Harry and Snape. Harry approaches things with instinct and a straightforward mindset, while Snape is all about nuance, precision, and seeing the layers in everything. Because they see the world so differently, they struggle to communicate, which only adds to the distrust and misunderstanding between them—a tension that echoes throughout the entire series.