#ins: barty

[unconventional-lawnchair]

In the Space Between {Chapter One}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

Wc: 4264

Masterlist

Summary: Reader wakes up from a dream that she can't quite remember, only for the day to unfold into more confusion.

<--Prev/Next-->

The morning sun filtered softly through the high windows of the Gryffindor dormitory, casting a warm glow over the scarlet and gold-draped room. You blinked awake, feeling an odd, heavy warmth in your chest, like you’d left something important behind in a dream you couldn’t quite remember. The feeling lingered just out of reach, fading the longer you stayed awake.

Hermione’s voice called out from the other side of the room. “Come on, rise and shine! Breakfast’s starting soon, and I promised we’d all go together. You too, no skiving off!” She grinned, looking far too awake already.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and letting a smile tug at your lips despite the weight of that strange, forgotten feeling. “Alright, alright, I’m up!” You mumbled, tossing back your blankets.

Hermione laughed, flicking through her books as she hummed to herself. “You and your lie-ins. Just try to look halfway prepared today, yeah? Double Potions isn’t exactly forgiving.”

Ron poked his head around the doorway, his hair a mess as he blinked at you all. “Did someone say Potions? Blimey, it’s too early to be thinking about Snape.”

Just then, Luna drifted in from the direction of Hermione’s bed, her dreamy smile widening when she saw you all together. “Good morning,” she greeted in her usual soft voice, moving over and flopping onto your bed without any hesitation. She curled up beside you, her blue pajamas a sharp contrast against the red bedspread, her expression blissful as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “There is a new lesson in herbology today. There’s supposed to be a new herb that clears out lingering dreams- should be done by the end of the week,” she added, her voice almost a whisper. “It’s lovely for anyone who’s just woken from a long journey.”

You felt a strange pang at her words, a hint of something forgotten. You glanced at her, only to see her looking right through you, as if she understood something no one else could.

Harry’s voice came from the hall. “You lot coming, or are we leaving you behind till lunch?” He sounded exasperated, though you could imagine the half-smile on his face as he teased.

“Like we’d let that happen.” Draco’s cool tone followed as he appeared behind Ron, a smirk on his face. “Already enough to be late for breakfast once a week thanks to this lot.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, nudging you with a grin. “Alright, get a move on! Merlin knows we’ve got to keep you lot on schedule.”

Luna let out a soft laugh, stretching as she finally slid off your bed, though she didn’t look in any hurry. “It’s much too early to be moving this fast, isn’t it?” She said dreamily, though she let Hermione guide her towards the door.

Ron gave a lazy salute. “Right, let’s get this over with. Though if anyone’s got a plan to dodge Snape today, I’m all ears.”

You grinned, sliding out of bed and joining the group as you headed down the staircase, feeling the warmth of their banter easing that odd feeling from earlier. It felt good to be here, surrounded by friends, an affection bubbling in your chest- like seeing the school after a summer vacation. And though you couldn’t shake the faint ache of something missing, their voices wrapped around you, bringing you fully back into the present.

~~~

Potions was, without a doubt, your Achilles’ heel. So when you stepped into the chilly dungeon classroom, early morning fog still clinging to your mind, and saw Amortentia scrawled across the board in Snape’s distinctive, sharp handwriting, your heart sank. Great. The one potion you were least equipped to tackle, first thing in the morning.

You slid into a seat between Harry and Hermione, noticing that the class was buzzing with a mix of excitement and unease. Even Ron looked a bit apprehensive, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the board.

“Brilliant. Love potion on a Monday morning,” Harry muttered, casting a wary glance at the other students who seemed to be eyeing the cauldron at the front with barely contained curiosity.

“Snape must be having a laugh,” Ron grumbled, eyeing the cauldron suspiciously, as though it might explode at any moment.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shot you a sympathetic look. “Amortentia is only tricky if you don’t follow the instructions precisely,” She mused, her tone reassuring. “Just…don’t rush it. It’s all about control.”

You gave her a faint smile, but your stomach was twisting. Potions required precision, focus- qualities that always seemed to elude you in this particular subject. Especially today. But it wasn’t just the potion itself that unsettled you; it was the idea of smelling what you were drawn to, what you loved. What if it revealed something you weren’t ready to confront?

Luna, who had seated herself across from you, gave you an encouraging smile. “I think it will be fascinating.” She said airily. “They say you’ll smell exactly what your heart desires, even things you didn’t know yourself.”

Draco, leaning back in his seat with a smirk, raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s the bit that worries me, actually.”

Snape swept into the room then, his robes billowing as he moved to the front, dark eyes surveying the class with his usual disdain. “Today, we’ll be brewing Amortentia.” He began, his tone cold. “The most powerful love potion in existence. When complete, the potion should smell unique to each of you, revealing what it is that draws you most. But be warned: missteps will not be tolerated.”

A ripple of nervous energy moved through the room, and you felt Hermione nudge you encouragingly. “You’ve got this.”

Taking a steadying breath, you leaned over your cauldron and began measuring out ingredients, keeping Snape’s warning firmly in mind. Then, a sudden odd calm overtook you. The smell of the iron cast cauldron and sterile humidity was, for once, a comfort.

As if on autopilot, you moved with a confidence that felt foreign, almost like muscle memory. You didn’t look at the instructions on the board or consult your textbook; instead, your hands worked instinctively, as if you’d done this a hundred times before. You reached for the vial of rose thorns and added them with a precise flick of your wrist.

Harry shot you a bewildered look. “Rose thorns? Isn’t that step five?”

You barely heard him, pouring a measured amount of moonstone dust with a steady hand. Your movements felt natural, even practiced. You added a few crushed lavender blossoms, a pinch of asphodel root- ingredients you hadn’t even seen listed on the board.

Hermione watched with wide eyes, glancing between your cauldron and her textbook. “That’s…that’s not in the instructions.” She whispered, sounding half-intrigued and half-concerned. “Where did you learn this?”

You blinked, as if coming out of a trance, but the recipe seemed to be etched into your mind. “I… don’t know. It just feels right.”

Draco, a few seats down, had been watching with narrowed eyes, his usual calm demeanor wavering. “Not that I’m questioning your creative interpretation.” He drawled, though his tone was edged with unease, “but are you sure about that?”

Your hands paused only for a moment before you stirred the mixture counterclockwise, then clockwise, creating a swirl of shimmering, mother-of-pearl liquid that looked strikingly different from everyone else’s.

“It just… makes sense,” You said softly, your voice trailing off as you realized how strange it sounded. You didn’t know why, but every step had felt so certain, like a memory lodged deep within you.

The room filled with the faint scent of your potion, unique and heady, drawing a few curious glances from the tables around you. Hermione bit her lip, clearly trying to hide her fascination. “It’s… actually perfect,” She murmured, looking both impressed and mystified.

Snape drifted past, eyeing your potion with an inscrutable look as he paused, his dark gaze flicking between the shimmering liquid and your expression. He gave no comment, but the faintest crease in his brow hinted at surprise.

As he moved on, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of pride and bewilderment. How could you possibly know the recipe by heart?

“Someone's got a hidden talent.” Luna murmured with a smile, her voice soft but carrying a hint of admiration.

“You think so, Panda?” You blinked, the name slipping out of your mouth before you’d even realized it. Panda? Pandora. The word hung between you and Luna, as if plucked from somewhere deep in your mind, an old memory that didn't belong. Your heart clenched painfully, and for a moment, you could almost picture another face across from you, one that looked strangely like Luna's but… different.

Luna’s gaze softened, her dreamy smile unwavering. She seemed unfazed, as if she knew something you didn’t, or perhaps as if she was used to these strange slips from you. Her voice was as gentle as ever. “I do. What's it smell like?”

You inhaled, leaning closer to the shimmering surface of the potion, and the scents wafted up, filling the air around you with an overwhelming warmth. Familiar, somehow- a mix of crisp parchment, wild lavender, and something else, something faintly smoky and musky, like an autumn bonfire on a cold night. The scents tugged at your heart, achingly familiar, even though you couldn’t place why.

“It’s…” You started, trailing off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “It smells like… Ron’s mums biscuits. Like wet grass.” You started, furrowing your brow. “Rain water. Cedar and.. cancer sticks- Cologne?” You scoffed and rubbed your temple. You didn't know a single soul who smoked. “Maybe I didn't do it right. I don't know anyone who wears cologne like that.”

Luna tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with that familiar, knowing look. “Perhaps it’s not about who you know now, but who your heart remembers,” She murmured softly, her voice laced with a kind of wisdom that always seemed far beyond her years. “Amortentia doesn’t lie, you know. Sometimes it just shows us what we haven’t quite found yet.”

You frowned, trying to make sense of the scents that seemed so contradictory yet so vivid. Ron’s mum’s biscuits you could understand- home, warmth, safety. But the rain water and cedar, the smokes and old cologne… they felt like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit.

Hermione leaned over, her curiosity evident. “Rainwater and cedar? That’s… peculiar, isn’t it? And who even smokes anymore?”

You shrugged, feeling a strange frustration bubble up, though you couldn’t place why. “Yeah, maybe my mind’s just making things up. Such strong cologne. Ive never even smelled it in my life.”

Harry gave you a gentle nudge, trying to bring back some lightness. “Or maybe there’s some mysterious figure out there just waiting for you. A dashing, smoke-scented wizard, who knows?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing it off, but the strange ache lingered. The scents tugged at you, like a half-forgotten melody that you couldn’t shake. And though you forced a smile, that smoky cologne and cedar clung to your senses, leaving an imprint in your mind that felt more like a memory than a fantasy.

~~~

The Great Hall buzzed with the familiar chatter of students, the clinking of silverware, and the smell of roast chicken and pumpkin pasties. You sat wedged between Hermione and Ron, laughter bubbling up as they recounted the day’s ridiculousness in Herbology. Across from you, Harry leaned in, a small grin tugging at his lips as he listened, his gaze shifting between his friends, glowing with that easy warmth you’d come to rely on.

You joined in, laughing as Hermione teased Ron about his haphazard attempt to repot a Fanged Geranium. But as you glanced over at Harry, something felt… off. Your vision blurred, just for a second, as if the flickering candlelight was casting strange shadows across his face.

And then, as quickly as it began, the scene shifted. Harry was no longer the boy you knew- the easygoing smile vanished, replaced by a solemn expression. You blinked, and there it was: a lightning-shaped scar, faint yet unmistakable, cutting across his forehead. His eyes looked haunted, shadowed by something dark, something hollow.

The room around you faded, and suddenly, the cheerful laughter of your friends seemed distant, muffled, like hearing them from underwater. You could only see Harry’s face, that scar, as vivid and strange as if he’d been marked by something terrible.

“Oi, you alright?” Ron’s voice cut through the haze, grounding you. He was staring at you with a furrowed brow, his expression tinged with worry. “You’ve gone all pale.”

You blinked, shaking your head to clear the fog, and the scar was gone. Harry was back to himself, looking at you with a hint of concern now.

“I’m fine,” you managed, forcing a smile that felt oddly heavy. “Just… zoned out for a moment.”

Hermione leaned closer, her hand resting on your arm. “You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Or about to become one.” Draco murmured from beside Harry.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off, but the image of Harry with that scar lingered in your mind, like an imprint. “Yeah, I… I guess I’m just tired.”

As the others returned to their conversation, you found yourself stealing glances at Harry, half-expecting the scar to reappear, to catch a glimpse of that haunted look in his eyes. But he was back to being Harry, your friend, the same boy who always had your back.

You tried to shake off the lingering discomfort, focusing instead on the familiar warmth of the Great Hall. The laughter, the clinking of goblets, the buzz of students- all the sounds you’d come to know by heart, grounding you in the present. But the nagging feeling wouldn’t let go, clawing at the back of your mind, as though something crucial was slipping further away with each passing second.

Your gaze drifted back to Luna, who sat with her usual serene smile, as if the world and all its mysteries were an open book to her. She was laughing at something Cho said, a light, airy sound that echoed in your ears. And just as you looked over, she tilted her head, catching your eye like she’d been waiting for you to notice her.

There was a strange intensity in her gaze, a knowing spark that made your heart stutter. Luna’s smile softened, almost as if she could sense the disquiet settling around you, the confusion clouding your thoughts. It was a simple gesture, that small smile, but it held a kind of understanding you couldn’t quite place.

You returned her smile, though yours was thin, forced, as if the very act of smiling felt wrong in that moment. There was a voice in your mind, faint but persistent, whispering that this wasn’t right- that there was something more you needed to remember, something hidden just beyond the edges of your thoughts.

“What’s up with you?” Hermione’s voice broke through the fog, snapping you back to the present. She was watching you with a mix of curiosity and concern, her hand hovering near yours.

“Nothing, just… thinking, I guess.” You forced a chuckle, shrugging it off, but even you could hear the tremor in your voice.

Hermione studied you, her brows furrowing. “You’re acting a bit strange, you know. More than usual.”

Before you could answer, Harry leaned in, trying to catch your eye. “You sure you’re alright? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m fine.” You replied quickly, perhaps too quickly. The words felt hollow, the lie brittle on your tongue.

But even as they returned to their conversation, you could still feel Luna’s gaze from across the room, watching you, patient and knowing, as if she understood something about you that you didn’t. And that look of hers sent a shiver through you- a sense that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone in this feeling, that someone else sensed the fractured pieces of a memory slipping through your fingers.

“I think I'm going to go to sleep.” You muttered as you stood. Your friends saying their goodbyes but you felt further from their muffling voices then ever before.

What was happening?

~~~

You padded quietly back to your dorm, your steps slow, each one feeling heavier than the last. The dimly lit corridor was unusually silent, the only sound a faint, echoing drip from a nearby leaky drain. The hum of the Great Hall still buzzed faintly in your ears, but there was something unsettling about how disconnected it all felt- as if you’d been watching it from the outside.

Finally reaching your dorm, you pushed open the door, the familiar space greeting you like a sterile vacuum. The room was quiet, bathed in the cool silver light spilling through the window. You let out a sigh, pressing your back against the door as you shut your eyes, hoping to push away the lingering strangeness that had followed you all day.

But before you could sink further into your thoughts, a loud thud at the door jolted you upright. You jumped back just in time as Draco, Luna, and Hermione stumbled into the room, each with their own mixture of determination and curiosity painted across their faces.

“Hope you weren’t planning on sulking alone tonight.” Draco smirked, recovering his balance and straightening his robes as though he hadn’t just practically broken down your door.

Hermione shook her head, smiling softly as she crossed her arms. “We thought maybe you could use some company. You’ve been… well, distant. And I know you, you never just ‘need sleep,’” she added with a knowing glance.

Luna drifted in last, her serene expression as dreamy as ever. “I think it’s perfectly alright to feel a bit lost sometimes. But it’s even better to have friends to help find you again.” Her voice was soft, like a whisper of comfort.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Alright, alright,” you relented, moving to sit on your bed. “I suppose I can let you all hover over me for a bit. I didn’t realize I was acting that strange.” The lie came off more naturally then you were used to. You typically never did, seeing as Hermione and Luna could typically see through you like a window.

Draco made himself comfortable on the edge of your bed, quirking an eyebrow as he nudged you. “You’re always strange, but today you seemed even stranger. And that’s saying something. Not quite Luna, though.”

You smacked his arm and laughed. “Coming from you, that’s practically a compliment.”

Luna seated herself on the rug, looking around the room as if she might find hidden secrets in the shadows. Hermione settled next to you, casting a sympathetic glance in your direction.

“So,” Hermione began, drumming her hands against her legs, her tone gentle, “Are you going to tell us what’s really going on?”

You hesitated, glancing around at each of them. “I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. Today… everything just felt… off.”

“Off how?��� Draco asked, his gaze sharpening, his usual air of detachment replaced by genuine curiosity.

“I’m not sure.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair, earning a chort from Draco and an almost fond sigh from Luna. “It’s like I can’t shake the feeling that… that I’ve forgotten something. Or someone. I keep seeing things that don’t make sense. I keep seeing…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “It’s silly.”

Luna tilted her head, watching you with that intense, knowing gaze of hers. “Sometimes, the heart wants us to remember things the mind has forgotten.” She said softly, her voice almost a murmur. “And memories… they have a way of slipping through when they’re needed most.”

You gave a small, wavering smile. “You always say the strangest things, Panda.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth opening in surprise as he turned to you. “Panda?”

You froze, blinking as the name slipped from your mouth. “I-I mean, Luna. Sorry. I don’t know why I keep saying that.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking at you as if he’d just uncovered some hidden secret. “Panda?” He echoed, his tone half-amused, half-puzzled.

Luna only smiled, unbothered, as if the name felt perfectly natural. “I don’t mind. I just think you miss her.”

All eyes snapped to her momentarily. Luna was still smiling up at you three listlessly, your expressions varying levels of alarm.

Hermione was the first to finally ask, her voice hesitant. “... who, Luna?”

“Well, Panda, of course. Not quite sure who she is, but your Wackspurts are rather discombobulated. Confused, whispering names I'm not familiar with.”

There was a long pause before you leaned forward on your seat, holding onto this small sense of clarity like a lifeline. “What.. what are the names, Luna?”

“I don't know..” She mumbled. “But I think you do. Right?”

The room fell into a still silence as everyone absorbed Luna’s observation. It was clear, that you knew names of people you had never met. You could see it, her calm gaze drifting from one of you to the next. Her usual dreamy demeanor was laced with a startling clarity, like she saw beyond the obvious, into something hidden just beneath the surface.

“Discombobulated wackspurts…” Draco repeated slowly, his eyes narrowing as he shot you a look. “Leave it to Lovegood to make a mystery even more confusing.”

Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully, her hand drifting to rest on your shoulder. “It’s not like you to say things that don’t make sense- not to yourself, anyway. Maybe… maybe this ‘Panda’ is someone you’re forgetting?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come. Instead, a sense of longing tugged at your chest, like a half-remembered dream slipping through your fingers.

Luna tilted her head, watching you with soft eyes. “It’s alright if you can’t remember right now. Sometimes, memories hide until we’re ready to see them again. They’re like stars,” She murmured, gesturing up as if she could see constellations above. “Not always visible, but always there. Even when they flicker.”

Flickering stars?

You managed a smile, feeling oddly comforted by her words. “So, what do I do then? Just… wait until it comes back?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he nudged you lightly. “Or, you know, you could take an approach much more suited to us. Hunt down whatever’s lurking in that head of yours until it coughs up some answers.”

Hermione smiled, giving you an encouraging look. “Maybe a bit of both? Luna might be right; perhaps you just need time. But if you’re really curious, there might be a way to bring it back a bit sooner.”

Luna’s eyes sparkled with a quiet excitement. “Yes! There’s a potion for that, actually. My mum used to talk about it, said I'd do good to remember it. A memory draught, something to coax out memories hidden by time or… even by magic. It's quite a handful to brew.”

Draco smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Well, then, sounds like we have ourselves a little project. You game, mystery girl?”

You looked around at the three of them, feeling a warmth spread through you despite the lingering confusion. It was as if you weren’t alone in this- like whatever secrets hid in your heart, you had friends willing to help uncover them.

“Alright,” You said softly, nodding. “Let’s find out what- or who- I’m missing. Just.. let's not tell Harry or Ron yet, yeah?”

“Why not?” Draco furrowed his brow, a flash of defensiveness crossing his eyes at the mention of Harry. You should've known he'd question you, him and Draco were practically brothers. What could you tell him? The truth? The image of him in the Great Hall that was burned into the back of your mind? Such intense sorrow?

"Because I don’t want them to worry- not yet, anyway," You muttered, trying to keep your voice steady, though even you could feel the underlying tremor. "Ron'll just hover and ask a million questions, and right now, I just… I just need to understand what’s happening before they get involved. Harry.. oh, he may turn over the whole school; he's not exactly subtle. He means well, but..."

"You know how he is about us." Hermione finished with a small smile, putting her hand over yours. "He'd sooner see the school crumble than know we were aching."

Draco didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded, glancing over at Hermione, who offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll keep it to ourselves, at least for now. But we’ll be here for whatever you need.”

Luna reached out, resting a gentle hand on yours. “If memories are hidden, then perhaps we’re meant to find them together.” Her eyes sparkled with her usual dreaminess but held a warmth that was grounding. Together. Something about the way she said that made your heart ache. “Maybe it’s no accident that you have us to help.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, filling you with a strange comfort. This wasn’t a journey you were taking alone. Whatever lay hidden in the corners of your mind, whatever was flickering just beyond reach, you had friends who would walk that path with you.

"So, when do we start?" Draco asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was more than ready to unravel.

Hermione grinned, the academic excitement brightening her face. “We’ll have to brew the memory draught first, which means gathering a few… shall we say… less-than-common ingredients.”

Draco leaned in closer, smirking. “Sounds like a Slytherin's specialty. Snape won't ever know we were there."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound breaking through the tension. “Alright, looks like we’ve got ourselves a plan.” You looked around at them all, feeling an unspoken promise hanging in the air. Whatever secrets your heart and mind held, you’d face them together, one hidden memory at a time.

Taglist: @bmyva1entine

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@rosekillermicrofic june 11 — memory — 860words — aka baby rosekiller in canon universe 🪄

The first memory Barty has of Evan is from second year.

Looking back Barty knows he’s noticed Evan before, in their first year. A blurry morsel of a sequenze, hazy moving pictures of white blonde curls—two heads more often than not—and smooth tan skin disappearing under violet shimmering robes and crisp dress shirts. He’d known from his father where to sort in the name Rosier, one of the Sacred 28, after all.

But the first distinct memory is from DADA class, second year.

It had been sometime late spring, early summer. June, maybe.

A sharp breeze filtered in through the open window of their tower classroom but the air had been warm, tousling Barty’s hair as he levitated his chair to the side of the room as they’d all been asked to by their Professor. Today’s topic: dueling practice.

Barty’s grin had been razor sharp.

Their Professor makes the Slytherins and the Gryffindors have a go at each other first, which is as much entertaining to watch as it is boring as Barty stands to the side and fiddles with his blue tie, waiting for his turn. In retrospect, he should have tried observing the classmates that were soon to be his opponents but for a 12 year old Barty it had been much more fun messing with the Professor’s talking raven.

Once it was his turn, Barty won the first few rounds easily. Even back then he’d already had a fair ensemble of mean jinxes and curses memorized. Bones were turned back to solid, students were picked off the ground, stiff like Honeyduke’s teeth breaking candy and deposited on the tables and classroom equipment was fixed from being shattered only moments prior.

Then Barty was faced with Evan Rosier.

And while Barty was pretty bloody good, Evan was offensive. The second the Professor gave the go Evan was firing something at him. Barty deflected the spell just in time but he was so stunned for a moment that he almost forgot to start attacking as well. Though Evan taking another step forward and waving his wand had done the trick. Barty jumped into action. He fired off two in a row and then another at Evan’s feet. Evan spelled a protection shield and then returned with three curses as well.

A laugh tumbled out of Barty when he recognized the spells. Impressive. Evan Rosier really doesn’t hold back, huh?

Barty twisted, dodging the spell. But Evan was quick and he managed to fire off another that grazed Barty’s shoulder. Something hot and stinging. His aim was incredible—still is, of course. Barty hissed in pain but he managed to hurl two more jinxes in Evan’s direction nonetheless. Evan deflected and then he caught Barty, hitting him square in the chest with something that threw him back several feet.

Barty landed on the floor with a dull thud and he groaned. He was about to scramble back up when Evan hit him with something that made Barty’s body spasm, the muscles in his limbs seize.

It was like electricity shooting through Barty’s veins and for a moment he couldn’t do anything but laugh, stars dancing in his vision.

Barty managed to prop himself up on his elbows, arms still shaking, just in time to see Evan move his wand again, and what rendered Barty immobile then wasn’t the result of another spell but rather the sharp grin on Evan’s face.

And Evan always smacks him when Barty says it but, well, if that wasn’t love at first sight what else is?

Whatever foul curse Evan was hurling his way though gets redirected away and to the side, hitting the stone wall with a green spark. Barty didn’t know why a slight wave of disappointment washed over him.

“That’s quite enough, Mister Rosier,” their Professor said.

Evan nodded once, giving a curt hum in response before pocketing his wand.

Barty stood up and shook his arms out, shuffling around on the spot to get rid of the tingling feeling in his body.

Their Professor called out two names and Evan walked to stand on the side. Barty followed.

“You’re good,” Barty stated, inspecting Rosier’s side profile. His nose is small and upturned, like a doll. And his lashes are dark and long.

“I am,” is all Evan replied.

“You gotta teach me that last spell you hit me with sometime,” Barty said, nudging their elbows together.

Evan turned and simply scowled at him.

Barty’s grin widened, “I feel like I’ve been bitten by a Swedish electric Grindylow.”

“A Finnish electric Grindylow, you mean,” a high voice chimed behind him. Barty turned and stared into the same face. The same button nose, the same brown eyes, only framed by longer, wavy hair. Pandora Rosier. She’s pretty. She looks just like her brother.

“But I like your comparison.” The girl tipped her head sideways, blinking at Barty, before breaking out into a big, close lipped smile, eyes crinkling. “He’ll show you,” she announced in her twin’s stead.

Evan had only grumbled but he hadn’t denied it. And a few days later (after some relentless bugging from Barty and more fauxly sweet nettling from Pandora) he’d taught Barty the spell.

[major-toast]

Rosekiller Band AU // nsfw

Currently thinking about a rosekiller band AU, but they've recently broken up and are rather petty about it.

Evan has shaved off his blonde locks, knowing fully well how much Barty had liked them, but he doesn't much care. Especially not when Barty is standing only a few feet away from him, belting into the microphone with his pale skin and wretched tattoos gleaming ominously in the harsh green light of the spotlight above.

He's shirtless - because, of course, he is -, and sporting a new set of hickeys Evan cannot remember placing there. And how can he? After all, it hasn't been him, who made out with their lead singer only minutes before their gig. Looking at them alone makes his stomach churn in anger.

He really is a massive cunt, that Crouch. There is no denying that.

For the duration of their entire set, they are shooting hateful glances at one another; the tension palpable on everyone's tongue and skin. 

Smirking at him deviously, Barty doesn't refrain from playing with the crowd, hyping them up and flirting with everyone that catches his bastard-blue eyes. Evan wants to look away, but he can't. And Barty knows it too.

He leans down, grabs Sirius fucking Black out of all people by the chin, and shoves his tongue deep down his throat. Evan almost breaks his drumstick then.

Moron.

In retaliation, he starts messing with the rhythm, going sometimes faster and sometimes slower. Usually, the two of them are in cadence, being able to rely on one another, but no more. Growing bolder and much more creative with his fill-ins, he draws attention to himself, something he is sure Barty would hate. 

His head whipping around, he glares at Evan, a muscle feathering in his jaw. Evan shrugs it off, a mocking smile on his lips as he crashes the cymbals even louder. Barty picks up on his game rather quickly. Gripping into the neck of his guitar, he starts up a riff, one that wasn't planned. Scoffing, Evan matches him.

They build up on one another, trying to one-up each other, until their is no rhythm left. Regardless, the crowd still eats it up. Cheering and hollering, they urge them on. The adrenaline rush Evan feels then, it almost makes him forget about the need to punch that cocky fuck squarely across the face - or pierce his idiot skull with one of his sticks.

Inside the dressing room is where the tension comes crashing down on them like the outer shell of a volcano exploding. A hate-fuck long overdue.

"What the hell were you playing at, huh?" Barty snarls, shoving Evan into the door as he's just closed it.

"Oh, don't come crying to me now", Evan returns with a sneer, his blood already boiling inside his veins. "If it weren't for you and your constant need to stick your cock in-between someone's legs, we wouldn't have started late, and none of this would have happened!"

"You know as well as I do, that's not what I fucking meant, Rosier! If you got a problem with me, don't be such a pussy and spit it right out!"

Then, Barty huffs, his eyes narrowing as his lips curl into a sardonic smile. "Of course, you don't have the balls to do it."

"SHUT UP!"

Pushing him back, Evan is now the one to pin him towards the lockers, his expression one of blistering fury. Still, the smile doesn't leave Barty's lips. Evan wants to kiss that stupid grin right off him.

So, that's what he does.

It's harsh, ungentle. Teeth crashing and tongues curling. Barty's hands find his hips, fisting the loose fabric hanging there. Knowing no better, Evan grips the back of his neck until his nails start drawing blood. He wants him to hurt.

"Knew you wanted me", Barty pants as they part briefly.

His hair is dishevelled and his eyes half-lidded. Flushed and heaving with desire, the blood running down his neck mixes beautifully with red splotches of his skin. Evan hates him.

Before he can snark something back, Barty has already pushed him onto one of the benches, his head hitting the wood with a dull thump. Without hesitation, he crawls on top of him, sneering down at him as his hands pin his bare throat to the seat.

Trapped, Evan can only stare back in defiance, too angry to say anything. But as Barty's hand ghost over his body, lower and lower, until they've slipped underneath his pants, an involuntary shiver escapes him.

Barty smiles cruelly. "I could smell you're dripping cunt all night. What, Rosie? So wet and just for me?"

"You probably mistook it for your own cock, Crouch!" Evan bites back, fighting a moan as the other one presses down his finger on his clit already sore from want. "You're such a fucking whore, you cannot last a minute without fucking someone. That's how desperate you are!"

"Oh, I am desperate", Barty agrees easily. "Always desperate. Especially, for you. I can never not be hard when you're around. Now spread your legs, angel. You've been empty for too long, and it shows."

"I-" But the snarky remark dies within his throat.

He really is a massive cunt. But as long as it's Evan, whose legs he's in between, he doesn't much care.

[the-cinematic-collective]

Headmates in the Collective

~* Harley - Age 15 to 26 / Bi butch lesbian / She/her/he

~* Evan - Age 16 to 24 / Genderfluid transgirl demiboy / he/she pronouns, will usually be referred to with he/him tho

~* Regulus - Age 14 to 23 / Bisexual Demiboy / he/him

~* Mary - Age 14 to 24 / Bi lesbian demigirl / she/her/they/them

~* Nya - Age 13 to 23/24 / Non-Binary Pansexual woman-ish / they/she

~* Vienna - Age 16 to 26 / Bisexual Butch Lesbian woman / She/her/he

~* Barty - Age 24 to 36 / Gay Cis-ish guy / He/him / The Father Figure

This list will be expanded if any other of my paras become walk-ins, these are just the ones who are currently in my head and saying stuff.

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

Regulus is mostly blocking out his friends if he’s being honest, after a while you get used to Barty’s nonsense and block him out. Today he’s gotten Evan riled up and they’re bouncing stupidity off of each other. Regulus wants to strangle them both.

He voices this out loud, and Barty just grins and says “Kinky.”

Evan chortles, looking delighted and Regulus briefly wonder’s if he’s high. But alas, that’s just Evan for you. Regulus has been stuck on Barty-and-Evan duty because Pandora has been missing since last night and Dorcas is in a class of her own. 

Regulus shepherds them towards their charms class, making it just a minute before class starts. He’s good at doing it, they’d probably all be late if he wasn’t. 

The three of them sit in their usual row, in the back of the class. Evan and Barty are sharing a desk, but they push it up against Regulus’. Usually Pandora sits on Regulus’ right but she’s not here.

Regulus puts his bag on her seat to save it for her anyway. 

Last night the five of them were relaxing in the boys’ dorm and Barty was explaining the ins and outs of his fling with Peter Pettigrew of all people, when a third year knocked on their door and said that Minerva needed Pandora, but they didn’t know what for. Pandora had gone without complaint, and they hadn’t seen her since.

Charms comes and goes without any sign of her, so they head to the Great Hall for lunch. As Regulus sits, he scans the Gryffindor table, searching for who knows. He’s hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother, or a particular Quidditch Captain who’s looking very mouthwatering lately, or perhaps Pandora.

He only finds one of those three, and he’s the second option. James is sitting next to Pettigrew, and their heads are bent close together as they talk. Regulus can’t make out their words but they both look distressed, and as if they hadn’t slept.

This is concerning for a multitude of reasons; for one, Sirius and James are always together. Always. For two, both boys look like they’d rather not be noticed, which is unusual and not on brand for either of them, especially for James Potter. And third, none of the Marauders ever look less than perfect, and currently they both look like shit.

Suspicious.

Regulus turns his attention to Barty, who’s trying to see how many grapes he can fit in his mouth while Evan rants and absentmindedly keeps track of the grapes on his fingers.

“I’m getting worried about Dora.” Regulus tells them.

“Regulus Black? Outwardly caring about one of his friends? Scandalous.” Evan says, clutching his heart. Barty tries not to laugh so he doesn’t accidentally choke, which ends up him spitting grapes all over the table. 

Regulus scrunches his nose in disgust and turns back to Evan. “You’re an ass, and aren’t you worried? At all?”

Evan shrugs. “Pandora is Pandora, she’ll turn up eventually.”

[polifandom]

my ao3 | my spotify | art blog

i take asks! <3

Current wips

zombie apocalypse au (clegan)

jealousy au (clegan + buck/rosie)

best friend's dad au (gale is brady's dad, bucky is in love with him)

Masters of the Air

all is fair in love and war - buck/bucky

not rated, oneshot, 1.9k words

The one where Bucky can't take hiding his feelings anymore, so he does something about it.

tags: pining, angst, rough kissing

i bleed for you and now i'm gushing - buck/bucky

rated M, oneshot, 4.4k words

The one where it's Buck's wedding, and John is in love with the groom.

tags: hurt no comfort, heavy pining, post-war

additional stuff: spotify playlist

i see my reflection in your eyes - buck/bucky

rated E, multichapter, 13.5k words

continuation of 'i bleed for you'

The one where Gale sends John letters after he breaks his heart by marrying Marge. And John falls even more in love.

tags: letters, mutual pining, post-war

additional stuff: spotify playlist, moodboard

me and you, baby - buck/bucky

rated M, multichapter, 9.7k words

The one where Buck is a porstar and John has no fucking idea (but he'd like to).

tags: texting, porn au, sexual tension

additional stuff: spotify playlist, moodboard #1, #2, #3

505 - curt/buck/bucky

rated M, oneshot, 1.1k words

The one where Gale decides to join on John and Curt's smoking.

tags: shotgunning, sexual tension, kissing

drabbles and headcanons:

buck x bucky failed sex attempt

buck x bucky nsfw headcanons

scotty doesn't know au

the purge au

other fandoms below the cut! <3

high school musical

chad is no troy - chad/ryan

rated M, oneshot, 3.1k words

In which Ryan joins the East High baseball team after summer vacation, making what was left of the status quo fall apart, and, in turn, making Chad realize he has a lot more in common with Ryan than he thinks.

tags: canon divergence, baseball player ryan, horny teenagers

it's not fair - chad/ryan

rated M, threeshot, 13.9k words

In which Chad and Ryan are Formula One drivers, and Chad really hates Evans' guts (and is also severly attracted to him)

tags: formula one au, enemies to lovers, coming out

additional stuff: fanart

challengers

this is what happiness feels like - art/patrick/tashi

rated M, oneshot, 2.7k words

The one where Patrick convinces his girlfriend and best friend to kiss.

tags: pining, making out, set during college

marauders era

fuck you (for making me feel like this) - remus/sirius

rated M, oneshot, 2.9k words

In which Remus is Regulus' best friend, and Sirius hates his fucking guts because he's always around. The feeling is not mutual.

tags: modern setting, enemies to lovers, sexual tension

you broke me first - remus/sirius, remus/james

rated E, twoshot, 6.6k words

In which Sirius breaks Remus' heart, and the Slytherin seeks revenge on him.

tags: slytherin remus, morally grey characters, unhappy ending

precious - remus/regulus

rated T, oneshot, 3.1k words

In which Regulus has a crush on his brother's boyfriend, but that's partly due to Remus being the only gay person he knows other than himself. And it all builds up to his first kiss.

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, coming out

three make a couple - remus/sirius/james

rated T, oneshot, 2.1k words

In which Remus, James and Sirius are all completely smitten by one another, but they each take a little while to realize.

tags: polyamory, idiots in love, fluff

it's not hell if you like how it burns - remus/barty

rated M, oneshot, 3.2k words

In which Remus and Barty bring out the worse in each other and relish in it.

tags: morally grey characters, drug use, consensual violence

with every start, this is how it ends - remus/james

rated M, oneshot, 5.3k words

In which Remus, James, Regulus and Sirius decide to go to the club and, because Remus and James are the only uncomplicated relationship lasting among them, they of course end up complicating it.

tags: modern setting, fluff, friends to lovers

the ins and outs of remus lupin's childhood bedroom - remus/other(s)

rated M, short fic, 5.5k words

Remus Lupin's flings and the damage they've caused to his childhood bedroom.

tags: modern setting, remus lupin is a slut

Merlin (tv)

arthur pendragon is perfect - merlin/arthur

rated T, oneshot, 1.2k words

The one in which Arthur is a little brat and Merlin can't help but love him anyway.

tags: modern setting, trans merlin, making out

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

The Only Evans Girl [A Change of Circumstance]

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauder’s Era]

Pairing: Sirius Black x Original Female Character, Sirius Black x Daisy Evans, James Potter x Lily Evans

Characters: Sirius Black, Original Female Character, Daisy Evans, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, Marlene McKinnon, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix LeStrange, Walburga Black, Orion Black, Jasper Thicknesse, Barty Crouch Jr, Mulciber, Walden McNair, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley

Word Count: 5571

Rating: Teen

Notes: Only a couple of chapters left of this <3

LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST // LINK TO ALL PARTS

It was quiet as Daisy unlocked the door, the eerie silence lingering down the long hallway as she listened for signs of life. When she heard nothing she sighed and closed it gently behind her before she headed down to the kitchen. It was deserted which didn’t surprise her considering she’d been the one to ban everyone from headquarters for twenty-four hours. It was Halloween and she had been anticipating tensions to be running high and therefore pop ins from order members, Snape in particular, were not going to be welcome. She barely had patience for him at the best of times but definitely not today.

As her stomach gurgled she went to the fridge though as she scanned the shelves she found them mostly bare and with another sigh she decided to have some toast if only to line her stomach for the bottle of red wine she’d bought at the corner shop on the way home.

Her day had gone as it usually did, visiting Marlene’s grave and then Alice and Frank at the hospital. When she’d gone back to St Mungoes she had still stuck to her once-a-year visit, still finding it hard to bear, but since the pressures of war had started to mount she’d found herself dropping by the memory ward more often. Alice had always been a good sounding board and even now when she couldn’t offer solutions Daisy found it comforting to have someone listen to all of her problems. After all, it wasn't like she had anyone else. Order members wanted to speak about order business and she didn’t dare lay her burdens on Harry. Remus had been sequestered away for the past few weeks on a mission involving members of Greyback's pack so the normal comfort she had on this day had been cruelly snatched away from her.

The only person she had was Sirius and to be honest she had been looking forward to having him close today. It was their first anniversary together, their first chance to share in their grief.

Or it would’ve been if he dared to come out of his room.

Daisy wasn’t surprised. When she had first landed at Grimmauld place they’d been overjoyed to see each other, their longing finally satiated after months of only being able to speak by phone. Even with the stress of Harry’s trial they’d made the best of things and Daisy had been so happy just being with the pair of them she’d managed to push the worries she’d been having from her mind most of the time. Only when Harry had returned to school and the Weasley’s had moved back to the Burrow things had started to take a turn. Order pressures had started to mount and now that it was just the three of them living there it was easy to feel the absence of one person. And Sirius had started to become sullen and moody. Daisy tried to believe it wasn’t her, that he was frustrated with not being able to help, especially when he was subjected to being mocked by Snape at order meetings or having to hear how Dumbledore was forcing Harry to be under his tutelage, but as time went on she started to worry it was more than that.

Because when Remus was around he made himself present. He came out of his room and joined them, sometimes it was even like they were teenagers again. Sometimes they'd spend the evening in the drawing room, Remus reading by the fire and Daisy and Sirius chatting quietly as the gramophone echoed quietly through the air. But when Remus was out he barely surfaced. Since he had been away on this mission she’d seen him a handful of times and each time he’d looked as though he couldn’t wait to get out of her presence, every reply he gave her was quiet and curt.

In recent days she had taken to not saying anything at all whenever he appeared which was just as well considering once he’d noticed she was in the room he’d made some flippant excuse and left. It was agonising and she felt utterly alone.

As her toast popped up from the toaster she found tears slipping down her face and she was forced to brush them aside so that she could butter it. She ate it over the sink. It tasted bland and it didn’t pair well with the large glass of red wine she’d made herself but it stopped the alcohol from rushing to her head too quickly which she figured was wise seeing as it was the first thing she’d eaten all day.

Once done and the wine bottle and glass in each hand she headed upstairs to her room. Or rather Regulus’ room. Sirius had picked it out the night she had arrived. It was at the very top of the house and he had cited it being a prime location seeing as the Weasley clan were soon to descend and it would be out of the way of everyone. She had pretended not to realise that it just so happened to have the benefit of being just across the way from his own room because in the start that had been a good thing, she felt happy to know he was nearby, that he was safe. But now it was torture, to have him so close and yet so far away.

As she got to the top stair she hesitated, leaning to see if she could hear him knocking around in his room but it was deathly silent. She wondered if he was downstairs with Buckbeak, the only other place he could be found these days, but she hadn't heard him in there as she had passed either. For all she knew he was standing stock still to ensure he didn’t lure her in, like he was a gazelle and she was a lion ready to attack. Daisy sighed and headed into her room, pushing the door too.

The room wasn’t overly large but the ceilings were high which made it feel grand and luxurious as did the green canopied four poster and dark wooden furniture that made up the décor. Green seemed to be the chosen colour scheme though it wasn’t the emerald of Slytherin house as she might expect from a teens bedroom, rather a dark forest colour. It felt dower and depressing. And as Daisy sunk down onto the floor Daisy felt for its former inhabitant. Had it had this effect on him, a teenager stuck in this dark and gloomy room?

Was this how Sirius felt? It wasn’t as though the rest of the house was bright and cheery despite all the restorations they'd been doing. Did he feel boxed in? From one prison to another?

But if so why pull away? What good was that surely he would know that she could help him, that she would want to help him? Didn’t he trust her? Or had he realised that without Harry here he didn’t feel the way he thought he did.

The thoughts were suffocating, swirling around her brain without landing and yet still managing to make the wine and toast she had downed churn around inside her. So she decided to clear her head. With music. 

When she had moved in she had brought her CD player with her and since then had been trying to jinx it into paying without electricity. It had been difficult but soon enough she had managed to get it up and running and so she flipped up the lid and slotted in a new CD she’d picked up at the market the other day.

It was the muggle band Oasis. She liked them though admittedly her penchant for following music had dwindled since she’d got rid of the shop. But their lyrics were good and the beat was loud enough to get the questions out of her head which she couldn’t turn her nose up at. Instead she allowed the songs to take hold, resting back against the bed frame and closing her eyes as she tried to calm herself. Not that that happened.

She didn’t know why she had thought it would. Music had always been a release for her, of both happy and sad emotions, and given the upheaval she had been feeling for the past few days, or rather weeks, she wasn’t surprised when it all became too much and tears started to pour from her eyes. She let them come, not even bothering to wipe where they gathered under her chin. In fact she only opened her reddened eyes as the song started to skip, the words becoming warbled as they played through the air. When it didn’t stop she pushed herself up with a groan, wiping her face with her shirt before she attempted to fix the problem. But not even a wipe of the disc or blowing into the player itself could make the track stop skipping, the scratches mocking her every time she pressed the play button. 

‘Oh come on you stupid thing,’ she grunted, hitting play once more only to be taunted by a screech and click, the Gallagher brothers voices garbled as they tried to sing.

‘Just play it!’ she snapped, smacking the CD player hard though that only caused it to stutter more before it ceased playing any music at all. At that Daisy lost her temper, hastily pressing the eject button before she yanked the CD from where it was still spinning and launched it across the room. It hit the painted wall with a dull crack before bouncing onto the wooden floor, mocking her still as it spun on its edges before landing.

As she had flopped back onto the floor Daisy had been watching it intently so when she looked up she was surprised to find she wasn’t alone with Sirius standing in the door frame looking awkward.

‘What are you doing?” she snapped, feeling her cheeks tinge red once she realised he’d seen her entire outburst. Sirius looked just as awkward as she felt, loitering by the door as if he didn’t know whether to come in or flee as he answered, ‘I, er, I heard the noise, I thought there was something wrong.’

‘It’s the CD player,’ she explained pointing at the now abandoned hunk of plastic in the corner angrily, ‘it doesn’t like magic.’

‘Oh,’ Sirius said, looking at the machine as if he didn’t know what it was.

‘It plays music,’ Daisy said, ‘I just, I just wanted to listen to some songs but well it has other ideas.’

‘Well you can always use my record player if you want,’ Sirius said though as she looked surprised he cleared his throat and said, ‘I mean it's in my room so you couldn’t listen in here so I understand if you don't want to.’

‘I do,’ Daisy said, finding the answer coming quicker than she had expected.

‘Right then,’ Sirius said awkwardly before he disappeared from the door and across the hall.

Daisy stifled a sigh and climbed up from the floor before she padded across the hall and to his room. He was dumping some pillows onto the floor when she entered, gesturing for her to sit amongst them next to the table which held the record player. She took a seat on one of the red velvet cushions and leant back against the chest of drawers, watching him as he moved around. He was rifling under the bed, for what she didn’t know, so she soon lost interest, her gaze moving his room. When they’d been more communicative he’d stayed out of his room so she’d rarely been in here but her surprise at just how much it contrasted Regulus’ always got to her. Of course it still had the staples of black décor in ebony furnishings and drab grey wallpaper but the extras were all light. Rich scarlet bedding, tapestries in Gryffindor colours, posters of muggle rock bands and quidditch teams glued to the wall indefinitely. Rebellion, brightness, warmth. Teenage Sirius was built into every inch of this room. And as he turned to her on his knees she looked up at him. His eyes were dull today, dark grey with even darker circles underneath them. Eyes that didn’t match the décor of this room but rather his brother’s. 

She was so busy watching him she hadn't even noticed he was holding a small stack of records until he cleared his throat self-consciously, clocking her gaze boring into his face as he said, ‘I don’t have much of a collection anymore.’

Daisy looked at the five or so albums in his tattooed hands, ‘Mum chucked whatever she got her hands on but I have these if there’s one you want-’

‘Queen,’ Daisy said looking back at him with a smile. He’d been handing them over for her to peruse so they were stacked against one another but she could see the album she wanted sticking out. She couldn’t even see the entire cover but she knew what it was, she’d listened to it enough times. Mostly with Sirius, in their little London flat.

‘You sure?’ Sirius asked, leaning back onto his heels as he thumbed the record out the stack.

‘Yeah,’ Daisy said, ‘it's been a while since I’ve listened to that album.’

Of course she’d listened to it since she’d left their little flat. Owning a record shop kind of meant it was hard to avoid listening to the songs they’d used to enjoy together though admittedly she tended to skirt around certain eras of her favourite bands, keeping up with their new stuff just enough of a link to her past that didn’t overwhelm her with grief. As Sirius moved to set up the record player she felt her eyes wandering, to his pile of dirty washing on a chair in the corner, to the stack of plates on the desk next to it. To the whiskey bottle on his bedside table sitting there half empty. 

As the hammering of piano keys started to echo around the room Sirius sat back, closing his eyes as the screeching of guitars started to fill his mind, removing every last thought from it as he focused on the music. The song was cutting and sharp, venom laced into each word. It was good. It scratched an itch in his brain, the sadness that had been pooling in his chest all day switching to anger and only ebbing as he heard Daisy speak.

When he opened his eyes she was watching him, then again it felt as though she was always watching him these days, but this was more than normal, it was expectant and Sirius realised whatever she had spoken he’d missed and so he asked, ‘huh?’

‘I said you’ve been drinking,’ she said, jutting her head to the whiskey bottle on his bedside table. Sirius watched her, wondering how to gauge his answer. The booze in his system was urging him to say something sarcastic and cutting, like how observant she was, but the way she was looking at him didn’t feel the way he expected it to. It wasn’t judgemental or worried, it was understanding.

‘Yeah,’ he said non-committally.

‘Can I have some?’ she asked.

‘Sure,’ Sirius said, grabbing the bottle and handing it to her.

Daisy pulled the top off in haste before she placed the bottle to her lips and chugged. It was sour and it burned her throat as it rushed to her stomach but it was enough to silence the thoughts in her head for a moment. Because even though she was here, in Sirius’ room, listening to records like they were so accustomed to doing it still all felt odd. Foreign. The silence felt unnerving and strange. It made her feel as though she needed to fill each gap when years ago they would’ve happily sat in silence just near one another. So she needed something to stop that urge. Especially if he wasn’t going to do much talking.

When she was done she wiped the back of her mouth with her sleeve before recapping it and placing the bottle by her knee where her legs crossed. Sirius was watching her, a smile twitching at his lips.

‘What?’ she asked self-consciously.

‘I was going to ask if you wanted me to conjure you a glass but that’s my answer I guess,’ he ribbed.

‘What can I say it’s been a long day,’ Daisy replied teasingly only as she said it the spark that had been growing in his eyes seemed to dim, as if the thoughts that had been shut out by the music had flooded back in, reminding him why he had the bottle by his bed in the first place. Sirius shifted and said, ‘you went out right?’

‘Yeah,’ she said quietly.

‘Order business?’ he asked.

‘Oh, uh, no…personal,’ Daisy said, feeling her cheeks heat up even more so Sirius offered nothing more than a nod. Daisy grabbed the bottle and took another long swig hoping he’d try and divert the conversation away from this sticking point but he didn’t, he just watched her instead so by the time she’d brought the bottle away from her mouth she found the awkwardness too much to bear and the words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them, ‘it's Halloween.’

‘Yeah I know,’ Sirius said quietly.

‘I…I erm,’ Daisy shifted the weight of his gaze crippling, ‘I sort of have a process.’

‘A process?’ he questioned, his brows knitting together.

‘A ritual I guess,’ she said, her throat thick with spittle, ‘I visit them. All of them.’

Sirius said nothing but watched her, she was picking at the skin around her nails, something she did when she was nervous which he could tell by the fast way in which she spoke as if she needed to tell him everything as if he couldn’t understand, ‘Mar’s grave, Alice and Frank at the hospital, Godric’s Hollow…’

He was quiet, watching as she tucked golden locks behind her ear, ‘used to visit Pete too, his grave, but in the past couple of years I’ve knocked that on the head.’

‘Wonder why,’ Sirius said sarcastically. She offered him a weak smile and then busied herself with taking another swig. Sirius thought about it. About her diligently visiting all those they'd lost as though cold stone would make the grief feel any better. As if it wouldn’t consume her the way it did him most days. But he was curious. His grieving had always been done alone, he’d never had the chance to do something like that, in fact he wondered if he hadn't gone to prison would they have gone together, and as curiosity struck he found himself asking, ‘you do it every year?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘me and Moony. It’s the first one he’s missed actually.’

‘Why?’ he asked, a tad more sardonic than he intended but Daisy didn’t seem to get embarrassed but rather indignant as she said, ‘it was my escape.’

‘Escape?’ Sirius asked.

‘Yeah,’ she said firmly, ‘I was a muggle. Fifty-one weeks of the year I lived as boring old Daisy Evans. Me and Harry lived in our boring little town with no contact to our world. For most of the year I had to tell lies, misremember my family and my friends so that Harry wouldn’t get suspicious. And I did. But I allowed myself a week. One week to be me, to remember, to feel.’

‘But you’re back in our world now. Why carry on?’ he probed. Daisy sighed.

‘I don’t know. When Harry went to school I thought I'd stop but I didn’t…it felt right. Actually the only time I thought I wouldn’t was this year,’ she admitted, picking at the foil around the top of the bottle with her nail.

‘But you still went today,’ Sirius challenged.

‘Yeah,’ she said, looking up at him, ‘I guess I needed to not feel alone today.’

Sirius got what she meant, what she’d been expecting. When she’d come to live at Grimmauld place he’d been hoping things would be different too, they’d been building their relationship back up for over a year, but now faced with being near her he was struggling. With Harry with them it wasn’t as hard. Around other people he could be himself, he felt more himself or rather what they expected from him. Harry expected that fun uncle, his dad’s best friend, the stories he’d heard. Even Remus was easy to fall into routine around because he just let him be. 

But Daisy, Daisy he couldn’t fool. Daisy he couldn’t have an off day around or feel out of sorts because she’d know, she’d always know. And what was worse she would want to help, to fix it when he wasn't sure he could ever be fixed. That was why he'd been avoiding her, pulling away and hoping she wouldn’t get too close. But he missed her. And he hated the thought of her feeling alone as much as he hated to be alone himself.

‘Todays not easy for me Dais,’ he said gently, hoping to make her see that he hadn't withdrawn to be spiteful.

‘And it is for me?’ Daisy scoffed.

‘I didn’t say that,’ he sighed.

‘This is our first one together,’ she said, ‘I thought we could-‘

‘What sit and cry and look at how our lives when to shit?’ he said, anger bubbling within him though not at her but at himself, ‘how I fucked everything up?’

‘You didn’t,’ she mumbled.

‘We both know that’s not true,’ he scoffed, ‘and I’ve had years of going over it. Every year, every day for twelve years. So forgive me if I don’t want to do it all over again.’

‘But it helps!’ she protested.

‘It helps you. It doesn’t help me,’ he countered, stormy grey eyes watching her face fall as she asked, ‘is that why you’re avoiding me? Holed up away in here.’

‘Dais,’ he sighed.

‘Is that why you don’t want to speak to me?’ she pressed.

‘Can we not,’ he snapped, his jaw tightening. He knew it wasn’t her fault, that she was bound to have her own way of coping and that it wasn’t unreasonable for her to want to grieve with him now that they had the chance. But talking about it only reminded him of what he’d ruined, how it had gone from bad to worse. How he’d let her down when she needed him. In fact that was something he’d been thinking about a lot recently. Whenever she met him with a happy smile or sounded excited to speak to him, he wondered how she didn’t hate him for leaving her like he did. Leaving when they needed each other.  

Actually it was better when she was angry at him, like she was now, a scowl on her face and her arms folded across her as she said, ‘fine.’

Sirius fell quiet, closing his eyes as he rested his head back against the bed. Daisy looked away, still scowling. She could feel her eyes stinging with tears; at being pushed away or snapped at she didn’t know. She felt as though she didn’t know anything when it came to him anymore though that couldn’t have been true because the beginning hadn't been like this. He hadn't been hesitant with her when they’d been calling on another every week. He hadn't been reserved from being himself when they were in front of Harry and even with a million people in the house they'd started to feel like a proper family unit. So why was he pushing her away? It wasn’t as though she didn’t know he was hurting, that he’d been hurting for the past decade, but so had she. And now they had a chance to heal that hurting, to have a somewhat happy ending, or at least she had hoped for that. Though now it just seemed like a pipe dream.

As the end of ‘I’m In Love With My Car’ started to play, the revving of engines bouncing off the grey papered wall Daisy listened as the needle continued to move to allow the next song to play. It was the only thing that could be heard besides their breathing which was probably why it felt like a knife to the gut as those familiar notes started to play. It was ‘You’re My Best Friend,’ hands down her favourite Queen song if only because of the memories it gave her, two kids singing at the top of their lungs at a gig or dancing away in their flat. It almost felt mocking, to have words of adoration of longstanding love shoved in her face when the pair of them had never felt further away from each other whilst in the same room.

In fact as the chorus started to play she rolled her eyes and huffed a laugh which grew as she found Sirius watching her curiously. Soon enough she was laughing away to herself and before he could stop himself he found himself joining in, her giggling infectious. When it died down he leant up, gesturing for her to give him the bottle which she did, watching as he down a deep glug, barely wincing at the burn as it ran down his throat.

Then he leant forward, watching her closely. Daisy dropped her gaze feeling awkward, seeing as she thought he was going to offer up something deep and meaningful but he didn’t, merely saying, ‘we could play a game.’

‘A game?’ Daisy asked, her head snapping up as she looked at him confused.

‘Yeah a game,’ Sirius replied.

‘Why?’ she said incredulously.

‘Why not?’ he shrugged, leaning back against the bed.

‘What game?’ Daisy asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. Sirius looked as though he was thinking but it took him all of two seconds before replied, ‘truth or dare.’

‘Truth or dare?’ she scoffed.

‘We have booze,’ he countered by offering up the half-drunk bottle.

‘And we can get drunk without going through the rigmarole of it all,’ she said, yanking it from his hands, ’besides it’s pointless.’

‘Is not,’ he retorted.

‘You always pick dare,’ she countered.

‘And you always pick truth,’ he replied as if he’d proven his point. When Daisy rolled her eyes he said, ‘oh come on what else are we going to do? Sit here and be maudlin?’

Daisy didn’t particularly feel up to answering silly questions or doing ridiculous dares in fact she was pretty sure that silly little dares were only able to be thought up in the brains of teenage boys and that they would both struggle to even come up with anything but she was still irritated by being snapped at and didn’t want to prove his point about wallowing. 

‘Fine,’ she grumbled, ‘but I’m going first because I can’t think of a dare yet.’

‘Okay, truth or dare?’ Sirius asked.

‘Truth,’ Daisy said, earning a smug smile as she confirmed the cliché. Sirius thought for a minute, tapping his finger on his chin exaggeratedly and making her roll her eyes.

‘Oh I’ve got one,’ he said amusedly, Daisy braced herself wondering what could put such a glint in his eye, ‘do you think Snivellys ever…y’know?’

‘What are you twelve?’ Daisy chuckled at the way he gestured the insinuation.

‘It’s a fair question,’ Sirius said proudly.

‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly.

‘But do you think? I mean I thought age might have improved him but the way he still stalks into order meetings I doubt he’d have much pull,’ Sirius reasoned, as if he’d been thinking about it more than anticipated. She supposed she didn’t blame him, Snape was rather cutting in every interaction they had, pointing out how Sirius couldn’t do much of anything to help out with the order whilst he was sitting pretty beside Dumbledore.

‘I don’t know but I suppose it must’ve happened at some point,’ she reasoned. Of course she’d never known him to have someone, in fact she wasn’t entirely sure he hadn't still held a candle for Lily well into her marriage, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t. After all, sometimes loneliness was just too much, she was sure Sirius could understand that, she did.

‘Poor girl,’ Sirius chuckled.

‘There’s a lid for every pot as my mum used to say,’ she chuckled but as she said it a thought popped into her head and she said, ‘okay your turn?’

‘Truth,’ Sirius replied, smiling at her surprise.

‘Okay, speaking of lids and pots…do you think Moony has realised Tonks is gaga over him?’ she asked. Sirius laughed loudly.

‘Oh not a chance!’ he laughed.

‘You should tell him,’ Daisy giggled.

‘And get my head bitten off?’ Sirius laughed, ‘no thanks

‘You should! They make a good couple,’ Daisy reasoned, ‘besides it’d be payback for all the grief he gave us two.’

As soon as the words came out of her mouth she wished she could take them back because Sirius seemed to freeze, it was miniscule but she sensed it all the same. And again that knife to the gut was back, a sadness that he seemed to be unable to face the happy memories along with the sad ones. Daisy watched as he busied himself with taking another drink before she looked away only looking back as she heard him say, ‘your turn. Truth or dare?’ 

‘Truth,’ she murmured.

‘Has there, I mean I can see how Snivellys never but you’re hardly,’ Sirius said, stumbling over his word in a manner unlike him before he looked at her properly and said, ‘has there been anyone, anyone else?’

‘No, not really,’ she said quietly, hastening to explain as he looked confused, ‘I mean I’m not going to say I’ve been a nun but there’s never been anyone like…that, like us.’

‘Why not?’ he asked, his voice so deeply curious she thought she might cry.

‘It’s not exactly easy when you’ve no babysitters about,’ she joked.

‘Right, yeah,’ he said flatly.

‘But I suppose that was only a small part of it,’ she added, ‘most of it was that I didn’t want it…if it wasn’t us. I mean call it delusion but I guess I figured love like that was one and done. Didn’t really see the point at trying to find cheap imitations.’

Sirius nodded but said nothing and now that there were now words in her throat she felt the urge to replace their weight with alcohol, taking another deep swig from the bottle. They were teetering on the edge of sharing, admittedly more on her that she would've liked and whether they'd become more comfortable or the alcohol was heightening her confidence she decided to change that one sidedness.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ she probed gently, her nail scratching at the foil again with nerves.

‘Yeah,’ Sirius replied quietly.

‘Did you hate me?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Hate you?’ Sirius frowned.

‘For not believing you,’ she explained.

‘No,’ Sirius said firmly and one look in his eyes made her believe him.

‘But I knew,’ she said thickly, ‘I knew there was no way you could have and I didn’t fight.’

‘You did what you had to to keep Harry,’ Sirius said.

‘Yeah you know that now but then?’ she said looking at him as if he was mad to be at peace with it, ‘you're telling me you weren’t angry that you were rotting in that prison? That it doesn’t bother you I was out with Harry. That I could have fought but chose to stay out-’

‘I wasn’t angry at you,’ Sirius said firmly, ‘I was angry at myself. I was angry for not thinking, for rushing into some stupid vengeance without thinking of you. I was angry at Pettigrew. But the moment I was caught I knew I only had myself to blame. And that’s why I can't spend my time hashing it all out. I can't spend days agonising over everything because at the end of the day I brought it on myself.’

‘That’s not true,’ Daisy said angrily.

‘I trusted him!’ Sirius reasoned.

‘We all did!’ she replied.

‘I made him secret keeper!’ he said, bouncing her argument back.

‘James and Lily did that,’ she said firmly, holding up a hand to silence him as she continued, ‘we all trusted him, Pads. And one rash decision shouldn’t have cost you everything.’

‘I should’ve thought about you and Harry,’ Sirius said sadly.

‘It’s easy to think that,’ she said, moving till she was sitting beside him. They were no longer facing one another but they didn’t really need to, the way she interlaced her fingers through his speaking loud and clear.

‘But we don’t know what we’re going to do in the moment. How grief will make us feel. I mean you stopped me running into that house wandless and distraught,’ she said, trying not to the think of the decimated home she’d arrived at all those Halloweens ago even though she was sure she could still smell that stench of burning wood and death, ‘you did think. You thought about me and Harry but you were angry, understandably so.’

‘If I had just told you-’

‘But that’s done. We can't change that and punishing yourself isn’t helping anyone,’ she said.

‘Punishing myself?’ he asked. She could feel him looking at her and as she looked up at him his brows were fused together in confusion.

‘Squirrelling yourself away in here-’

‘I’m not punishing myself,’ he said quietly.

‘Oh,’ Daisy said. Though as the words settled in embarrassment started to flood through her, her cheeks christening pink as she realised their hands were still intertwined, ‘oh.’

‘What?’ Sirius asked, muddled as he felt her unlace her hand from his and watched as she pushed herself up from where she had been sitting.

‘Nothing,’ Daisy lied, smoothing out her outfit as she stood though admittedly the height she was now at made the booze in her body rush to her head causing the room to spin.

‘Dais what is it?’ he asked worriedly. She could have ignored him, spared herself the embarrassment but she found her words coming out, sad and pathetic as she said, ‘then it’s me isn’t it?’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, standing himself as he could see how flustered she was becoming. Her hair was all over the place from where she’d brushed it away, her cheeks red and her eyes glossy from the threat of oncoming tears.

‘This, you avoiding me,’ she said, gesturing at him vaguely, ‘I thought it was because you were upset about order stuff but it’s me innit. The reason you’re staying out the way.’

‘Dais,’ Sirius said sadly.

‘I thought after the last year we might,’ she sniffled, ‘but you don’t…you didn’t want to tell me right?’

‘Dais it’s not-’

‘I’ve got the wrong end of the stick right?’ she whispered, hiccupping a sob as he looked at her sadly, ‘oh god! And here's me thinking we could have another go. I mean I didn’t think it would be easy but I thought we could try-’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ he said, placing a hand on her arm reassuringly, begging for those green eyes to look at him.

‘It’s not you it’s me right?’ she scoffed, shaking her head.

‘As a matter of fact, yeah,’ he said angrily, finally making glassy green eyes look his way. Sirius swallowed, willing himself to be brave enough to explain, ‘Dais it's not that I don’t want…that okay. I just…I don’t know if I know how to anymore. I thought I would, after last year with us getting reacquainted I just figured it’d be like falling back into place but it’s not. It feels clunky and weird.’

‘But not around Moony?’ she challenged.

‘He helps for some reason,’ Sirius admitted, ‘like there’s no pressure to get it right with him.’

‘And here is with me?’ she said.

‘Sometimes but not because you pressure me,’ he said honestly, his hand going to her jaw so that he could sweep his thumb along it, ‘Moony has his own problems. Harry is just learning who I am so he doesn’t expect anything. But you, you know me Dais, better than anyone else. The only problem is I don’t feel like I know me anymore. Everyday it’s like I have to try and remember who I am and when it’s just us I always feel like I’m mis stepping, like we’re in a conversation and I’m speaking a different language or something. And that’s not us. And it scares me.’

‘So let me help you,’ she pleaded. Sirius dropped his gaze.

‘What if I’m not…what if I’m not the person you remember,’ he asked.

‘I’m not asking you to be,’ she said, moving his chin to make him look at her, ‘you think I’m chasing that twenty-year-old but I’m not. I know you, the real you and yeah there might be differences now but that bit, in here that’s not changed.’

Her hand was over his heart now and he clasped at it, holding her to him as it started to thump against his ribs.

‘We’re both different Pads,’ she said, ‘but I’m not asking for you to fit into some old role. For us to play parts we used to because newsflash, I’m not some twenty-year-old either. We’re both different. We knew that when you came back but did you really think I wouldn’t want you?’

‘Dais,’ he said, unsure of what he was asking from her.

‘We’ve missed years Pads and I don’t want to put off any more,’ she said firmly.

‘I know but what if it doesn’t work out? What if we can't be what we want? What if-’

‘All we can do is try. I’d rather try and fail than not try at all,’ she whispered, pulling him down until his forehead rested against hers, ‘because I know what it’s like to love you Sirius Black and I refuse to deny myself that privilege.’

‘Yeah?’ he whispered.

But she didn’t answer him, instead her lips brushed against his tentatively as if seeking agreement which he returned with gusto, pulling her flush against him as they kissed. The restraint lasted all of two seconds before want and need took over, Sirius moving them to the bed. Daisy flopped down on it, never letting go of his shirt so that he was pulled with her, their movements clunky as he landed haphazardly on top of her.

Daisy giggled and pushed him off, moving herself up the bed as he returned in an instant, lying beside her and looking down on her with a beaming smile.

‘Hi,’ she said, her fingers trailing along stubbled skin.

‘Hi,’ he replied, turning his face to kiss her palm.

‘So…’ she said.

‘So,’ he replied.

‘We’re trying?’ she asked tentatively, her finger dipping into the creases of his eyes as he smiled.

‘We’re trying,’ he confirmed before leaning down to kiss her once more.

SIRIUS BLACK/SERIES TAGS

@mysteriouslydelicateface @caitlin1996 @imthebadguyyy @maeisafangirl

[marvol0]

OUTSIDER (2)|| Rabastan Lestrange WTM

Series Synopsis: When the truth comes out about the future inside the walls of Hogwarts, on the first night back in 1977, what will happen for those involved with the chaos that ensued?

Secrets outed, Lies revealed and true intentions determined.

Pairing: Rabastan Lestrange x Fem!Regulus Black

Notes: Introduction’s, second chapter.

𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐂���𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒, only few people knew what hid behind her stone cold façade. Those included were her family and closest friends, Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr and her boyfriend Rabastan Lestrange.

Rabanstan and Regulus had been dating since their fourth year of Hogwarts, their family's had thought them to be only close friends, as they wanted to hide their relationship from others as they were soon to be wed off to other Pureblood families.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑, the Hufflepuff's were telling each other about their holidays, the Ravenclaw's discussing book recommendations  and as always the loudest and proudest table of the Lions were shouting at each other from across the table, while the regal House of the Snakes were quietly informing each other of the ins and outs of the rising Dark Lord.

Soon the familiarity was disturbed by a small pop that seemed to echo around the hall, following the sound came a fluttering parchment landing softly in front of the Slytherin Princess. Not expressing her shock, she carefully examined the yellowed parchment with narrowed eyes not yet touching it, she could feel something different radiating from the ink etched inside.

Deeming it safe enough to touch Regulus reached out unfolding it, cold stormy eyes glared at the missive after they had scanned the cursive writing. She let out a scoff handing it carelessly to the outstretched hand of Evan Rosier.

The sound didn't seem to capture anyone's attention for long as everyone went back to doing their own thing once more, that was until the heavy doors of the Great Hall swung open with a force that one was only capable with the help magic.

Heads turned, some quick enough that they could have gotten whiplash others at a relaxed pace, the students eyes, ranging in colours and sizes, all landed on the unusual sight. A group ranging from disgraced families to the most politically powerful all stood together in the wide doorway.

Albus Dumbledore, some would say he was a born leader that would help you through all your troubles others world say he was a dictator who strived for power and manipulated people around him to get what he wanted, stood up from his throne like chare that was placed at the centre of the Professors table. 

"My wonderful guests what could possibly be the reasoning for this delightful visit?" The old man asked, power radiated from his voice, some watchful eyes could see trough his carefully crafted façade of a grandfather, they could see he was irritated of the interruption from his tight jaw and suspicious eyes.

"The members of my family and I received missives just after nightfall informing us to attend a meeting at Hogwarts." Lord Arcturus Black was the first to answer.

"As did I and some Aurors in my department." The head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones who had graduated Hogwarts a few years ago and done well for herself, added.

"A letter fell on the Slytherin table a second ago, Professor." Informed Lily Evans, an oddly bright witch for a mudblood.

Dumbledore turned his attention to the aforementioned table, gesturing for someone to read the note aloud.

Evan dramatically flipped the parchment to straighten it and cleared his throat. 

Witches and Wizards of the past,

The future is in need of your help, the second Wizarding War ended just one year ago and too much magical blood ran through our streets. 

We hope you can change the paths you had previously chosen to go down for the better, we from the future know most of you can change.

No violence, Magical or muggle, will be tolerated.

To the Future!

A.C.L  H.J.P  D.C.G  R.B.W  D.L.M  H.J.G  T.T.N.

When Rosier has finished reading the students of Hogwarts expressed their disbelief in many ways, a small firework display lit up the headmasters face gaining the halls attention.

"That sounds familiar to the one I received this evening." Arthur Weasley announced breaking the silence, little Bill and Charlie swarming his feet while his wife, Molly Weasley, held small Percy close to her chest.

The elderly Headmaster went to speak once more when a flash of light that momentarily blinded the occupance of the hall shone from in front of the Professors table, a dull thud echoed around the hall while everyone was trying clear their vision of white dots. Another was heard then another and another, two more following after.

All of the adults and older students had their wands drawn, the tips pointing toward the mound of flailing limbs suspiciously. Groans and pained moans littered throughout the hill of bodies, insults flying like spells on a battlefield.

"Get your arse out of my face Ronald!" Once voice muffled.

"I would if the ferret moved his bloody foot out of my belly." A male voice replied.

"Hullo Daph, didn't know you had freckles." 

"Stop staring into my soul Atlas." Another female voice countered.

A dark hared male lifted himself from the top of the pile hobbling slightly, he bent down next to the others picking something off of the floor and placing it on his face. Familiar rounded glasses greeted them once he turned around, vibrant green eyes hidden behind the glass.

The boys eyes widened at the sight in front of him, his jaw dropped slightly before he turned to the still arguing group. He pulled the second person off, a freckled ginger male that leaned on the first boy to stabilize himself.

He to followed the actions of the first boy revealing a brunette female with chocolate coloured eyes, after her came three boys a bleach blond, sandy blond and raven haired. The sandy haired male outstretched his hand for a blond female that was still situated on the floor, taking his had she hoisted herself up, flattening down her pleated skirt.

The brunette female lifted her hands as a means of surrender, the others following her lead, she stepped forward from the unusual group.

"Did you not receive our letter?" she asked, brows furrowing in confusion. After the question a few wands dropped from their targets. 

Dumbledore let out an 'ah' sound. "So you would be our friends from the future." 

"Yes Professor Dumbledore, we have compiled eight muggle like films using our memories to show you all your future." The brunette explained.

"Wonderful! How about you introduce yourselves, full names, ages and parents perhaps." Albus suggested.

"oh um- yeah of course." She stutters before continuing. " I'm Hermione jean Granger, I am seventeen years old, I was a Gryffindor and you wouldn't know my parents." 

The ginger went next.

"Ron Weasley, seventeen, I was a Gryffindor as well and my parents are Arthur and Molly Weasley." He concluded, Fabian and Gideon Prewitt started teasing there sister about having more children before the Ron boy spoke up once more.

"There are three more of us, not including me, at home." Laughter rung from the people who knew the blushing couple. 

Next up was the blond girl.

"Merry Meet, I am Heir Daphne Clarity Greengrass of the Noble house of Greengrass, I'm seventeen years old, Slytherin and my parents are Aden and Clarity Greengrass. I also have a younger sister at home called Astoria"

 Clarity Selwyn cooed at the sight of her beautiful, eldest daughter while Aden wrapped his arm around his girlfriends shoulder.

 Continuing the introductions was the sandy blond male.

"Merry Meet, I am Heir Theodore Taddius Nott, Seventeen, Slytherin and my parents are Taddius and Ashlyn Nott." 

Taddius nodded slightly at the boy, the corners of his lips twitching, while Ashlyn Flint gave the boy a warm smile.

"Merry Meet, I am Heir Draco Lucius Malfoy of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, I am Seventeen and was a Slytherin at Hogwarts, my parents are Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy."

Narcissa Black clasped a hand to her mouth to cover her shock, Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black shaking her shoulders in excitement. Lucius gained a pat on the shoulder from his father Abraxas Malfoy.

"Hello, I'm Harry James Potter, I was in Gryffindor, I am seventeen and my parents are James and Lily Potter."

A group of four boys were on the edge of their seats waiting, after finding out his sons mother was his long time crush James leaned over the table pecking Lily's cheek. The girl in question was stunned but gave her son a small welcoming wave.

The last boy was the tallest of the group, he had an intimidating aura but the boyish smile on his face made most girls and some boys swoon. 

"Merry Meet, I am Atlas Corvus Lestrange of the most Ancient and Noble House of Lestrange, I am a seventeen year old Slytherin and my Parents are..." He patted his knees in a drum roll causing laughter around the hall. "Rabastan Lestrange and Regulus Black."

You could hear a pin drop, Regulus' eyes widened slightly before Barty Crouch Jr jumped from his seat. "You owe me fifty Galleons Rosier!"

Walburga Black walked over to her daughter, at the sight of her mother Regulus lowered her head hoping she didn't punish her for choosing her own partner, she was pleasantly surprised by the pat on her shoulders

"Good choice Regulus." Walburga said before leaving back to sand next to her husband Orion Black. 

Regulus was shocked by the affection but she wasn't left in her thoughts long as she was pulled into a tight hug by her boyfriend.

"I love you Reg." Rabastan whispered affectionately in her ear, she countered it before letting go and giving her son a motherly smile that made him tear up behind his mask.

"Now why don't we get some sleep so we can watch these films when we are refreshed tomorrow." The Headmaster announced to the mass of the Great Hall.

[strwbi-laces]

Happy pandalily

@achilleslikespeas here are the sunny lesbians!!

“I should have listened to Evan,” Pandora thought as she fought her way through the crowd at Camden station. There was no chance she got a walk-in appointment right now. She’d planned this trip down to the last detail, all apart from calling a tattoo parlour to book a session. Ah well, no harm in exploring.

She walked past the market and kept going until the extravagant fronts turned into smaller shops. One caught her eye; Valerie’s. Something about the place pulled at her core.

The first thing she saw was a head of blindingly red hair. Suddenly the name made sense. Then the head looked up and Pandora stopped breathing. The woman was gorgeous. A smattering of multi coloured freckles covered her cheeks. They kinda looked like stars. Or confetti. Pandora’s brain felt like confetti.

“Hey, can I help you?” Yes, please.

“Ah, um, do you take walk-ins?” she stuttered.

She checked her book for a second before smiling at her. That smile could start and end wars. “Oh you’re lucky,” I know, “I’ve got time for a small one. Can you tell me what you want to do?”

So, so much, you don’t even know. “Just a small sun on my stomach. Here, I have a photo.”

While she checked the photo Pandora glanced at her tag. Lily.

“Yeah sure, come on back.”

“So why a sun?” Lily had a hand flat on her stomach which was making it very hard to think. Pandora felt her skin burning at the contact, hot enough to leave a mark. The thought put her in a headrush. Luckily the pain from the needle grounded her enough to answer.

“My twin has a moon and we wanted to match.” She missed one night out and suddenly Barty had 2 new piercings, Dorcas got alcohol poisoning and Evan had a tattoo.

“Oh that’s sweet, I wish I got on with my sister enough to get matching tattoos.” A wistful look crossed her face and Pandora thought that Lily’s sister must be awful to cause her such pain.

“Her loss, you seem amazing.”

“Sweet.”

Lily moved onto the detailing around the sun, focusing more intently. She was biting her tongue, poking the tip past her lips and making Pandora want to die. Her tongue, her lips, her hair. Everything about her was so very red and if Pandora kept thinking these thoughts her face was going to match.

“How’s the pain?” Lily’s voice dropped slightly lower and more sultry than it was before.

“Fine, ah,” she gasped as the needle went over bone.

“You sure? You’re very tense.” She stroked her hand down Pandora’s stomach, “We can take a break.”

“No.” The steady pricks of the needle were the only things keeping her mind tethered and if Lily took her hands off her she might genuinely start crying. “I’m alright.”

“Ok. Not long now.”

Even after Lily had finished, Pandora lay on the bench remembering how to breathe for a minute. It wasn’t until Lily returned to check on her, did she get up.

“So you have the aftercare balm and my number’s on the receipt if you have any questions.” Lily was walking her through the aftercare but Pandora could barely listen. She was too busy staring at the number in wonder while also hating the fact that it didn’t mean to Lily what it meant to her.

“Feel free to call if you ever want any other ink,” Lily paused before saying “or you know… some less permanent marks.”

Pandora snapped her head up so fast she nearly got whiplash. Did she mean…? From the shine in Lily’s eyes they were on the same page.

“Yes! I mean- yeah, I um,” Goddamn it. “Yeah, I’ll call you.”

She spun round before she could embarrass herself anymore. Lily barely managed to yell goodbye before she was out the door. It’s fine though, they could talk later.

[rollercoasterwords]

Hey rae! So, I have a topic that I’d like to hear your opinion about because I feel like it’s been talked about a lot (at least from the media I consume) and that is saying that liking DE characters makes you anti-Semitic/ ‘support’ Nazis. I know how you feel about rosekiller, which I totally support, if you wanna be a hater, please do, but…hmmm I don’t know how I feel about people calling each other every name in the book for liking a DE. I mean that’s the same with regulus, I’ve seen quite a few people talk about how they hate him because he’s DE and liking him/any other DE makes u anti-Semitic. This has me questioning my morality and my pov because I refuse to be associated with people as horrible as Nazis, and I think that you always give a good perspective on things and so if you also think that liking these characters associates a person with them then I seriously need to sit down and have a 1:1 with myself, y’know?

Also, on the same topic i feel like there’s a huge controversy with liking Barty and hating Snape, which I see how that could be wrong, but we know more about Snape and he’s done things to characters that we really know and love so I kinda feel like not being fond of him but liking Barty is valid-ish?? Because yes, if we can erase huge parts of Barty’s character to make him more likeable&redeemable why wont we do that with Snape? I still don’t know how to feel about this whole thing because I think questioning things about yourself is a good thing and it helps you learn&grow so I’d just like to hear your thoughts (rosekiller hatred put aside). Like, if you think rosekiller is the most boring ship in the universe and if you wanna hate on it, please please do!!! Express your opinion!!!! But it kinda rubs me the wrong way to hate on the people liking DE and associating them with a hateful group. If you don’t wanna answer, that’s more than fine, you can totally ignore my ask!!! I understand if you don’t wanna share your opinion on this topic. Have a good day!!

hi! i appreciate that u value my opinion + i'm happy 2 talk thru my thoughts with u, but before i do i wanna make it clear that i am not any kind of expert in antisemitism + am not jewish myself, so you should not be taking my thoughts as like. The Ultimate Opinion on this issue at all--like, i'm happy to discuss, but i do not by any means have the authority to just deem something Good or Bad for u, y'know? nor would i ever want to! i don't really think issues like this can be boiled down to a simple "it's totally okay and no one should ever get upset about it!" vs "it's morally evil and no one should ever like these characters!" (also - if any jewish mutuals or followers wanna weigh in + let me know if there's anything i'm missing/overlooking/etc please do!)

so, i've seen at least some of the discourse you're talking about floating around online. i've seen some jewish people saying that blorbo-ifying death eater characters ignores the nazi allegory and makes nazi-allegory characters sympathetic, which is antisemitic. i've seen other jewish people saying that it's offensive to simplify naziism, a much larger, real political issue, down to calling fictional characters "wizard nazis," and that it belittles the actual historical significance to use antisemitism as a talking point in this discourse about which characters it is or isn't okay to like. that's why i say that i don't think you're gonna find One Cohesive Position on like....what's okay or not okay; it's just something you're gonna have to parse for yourself, and while i do think you should be giving particular weight to the perspectives of jewish people on this issue, that obviously doesn't mean that every single jewish person is going to agree.

anyway, i've mostly stayed out of this discourse partially bc i don't really care about most death eater characters and partially bc, as i said, i do not feel like i am any sort of expert who is like. qualified to discuss the ins and outs of antisemitism in hp fandom spaces. so again, this is just gonna be a conversation about my thoughts as they currently stand--not a lecture where i'm telling you what's right or wrong, and not a set-in-stone Stance on the Ultimate Truth of this matter or anything.

currently, my feeling on this whole quagmire of discourse basically boils down to: i think it's reductive to broadly state that anyone who likes/engages with death eater characters in fandom in any way is automatically antisemitic; i think there is more nuance to the situation and boiling down the issue to an overarching generalization is not necessarily the most useful way to address antisemitism in this particular fandom space.

and there are various reasons that i feel that way, which i'll try to break down below:

death eaters are not a 1:1 allegory for nazis

this is something that i think gets lost in translation a bit when we just say "oh the death eaters were wizard nazis." while, yes, i think jkr was definitely making some allegorical nods to naziism + hitler, particularly with the blood purity aspect of death eater-ism, personally i think that had less to do with jkr actually having a good grasp on the politics of nazi fascism and more to do with jkr being the kind of liberal who just goes "hmmm who's the Worst Person in history??" and then just cherry-picking bits and pieces of like. naziism to give her Bad Guys an easily recognizable cultural referrant to associate with their Badness. (i mean--from the critiques i have seen regarding jkr's own antisemitism that is embedded in the hp text, she clearly was not writing the death eaters as like. a disavowal of antisemitism.)

something that concerns me is that treating death eaters as a 1:1 allegory for nazis sort of obscures some very important, very fundamental differences in the fascism of actual nazis. in hp, death eaters are positioned as a fringe "terrorist" group, in that they are opposed to the wizarding State. they obtain power through largely "illegitimate" (again, by the metrics of State power) means by way of a coup; in this way, a fundamental aspect of the death eaters as Bad Guys is that they are not legitimated by the State--something that very clearly speaks to jkr's own liberal politics when it comes to defining Good versus Bad.

but real-life nazis rose to power specifically by using legitimated State power. this is really fucking important to understand!!!! historically, fascism is often perpetuated by the logics of State power, and that's part of what allows it to take hold--people think, "oh, it can't be that bad, after all, we elected this fascist leader." etc. while hitler did attempt to gain power through a coup in 1923, that specifically failed and led to him pivoting and seeking control by becoming a legitimate part of the German government. he solidified his power using completely legal means, from within the State. this is very, very different to how voldemort + the death eaters take power in hp, and also very opposed to jkr's State-centered politics about Good vs. Bad. while i think it's important + useful to recognize the ways in which death eaters draw allegorical connections to nazis and how that can perpetuate antisemitism if we're not aware of it, i think to simply paint death eaters as nazis can actually lead into the trap of thinking fascism is something that is opposed to the State, when it is more often something that grows out of the State.

liking a death eater character is not always gonna translate to liking death eaters

so, aside from the whole sticky situation with nazis as an allegory for death eaters in the first place--what's more important to me when thinking about how someone likes/engages with death eater characters is gonna be the way they engage with those characters, and what that reflects about their own politics.

if someone likes a death eater character because they like death eaters and think that like...there are no issues with the death eaters' beliefs or positions, then....yeah that's a major red flag. but most of the people who like these characters, from what i've seen, tend to do one of two things:

1 - explore the character because the character broke away from the death eaters in some way (regulus, snape, etc). this usually requires an exploration of how the death eaters are bad, because it requires an exploration of why the character turned away from them. i'm gonna be interested in how someone explores that issue and what that says about their own politics, but that's a case-by-case basis, y'know? and even if i personally think someone is still missing the heart of the issue in their "death eaters bad" story, it is still a "death eaters bad" story--i don't really think a person is aligning themselves with the death eaters if they're specifically writing about how they are bad and why someone initially taken in by their beliefs would later turn away from them.

2 - explore a character who hasn't broken away, looking at why a person might align themselves with death eaters and how someone might buy into that sort of political rhetoric. again, this is a case-by-case basis for me in terms of looking at what sort of politics is reflected, but generally speaking i do not think that writing stories about why or how someone might become a fascist is Always Morally Wrong. in fact, i think these stories are very necessary in helping us understand how fascism takes root in real life.

if someone is just writing "death eaters ra-ra!" fanfiction then. yeah i might take that as a red flag. but the death eaters are so clearly Bad Guys that i personally have not come across any examples of someone doing that, even if i have come across stories where i don't entirely agree with the politics of how someone is writing the death eaters as Bad.

liking a character in the context of fanfiction is not always going to translate to liking that character as a death eater

a lot of people write aus and stories where the death eaters don't even exist. in those situations, i struggle to understand how liking the characters, in and of itself, would be antisemitic, as the character has specifically been turned into not-a-death-eater and is oftentimes basically an oc.

liking a fictional character is not a simple moral reflection of how someone actually thinks - what i'd be more wary of is someone absorbing the neoliberal politics of hp without question

this is kind of getting back into repeating some of the points above--but again, for me personally, this is an issue that i evaluate much more on a case-by-case basis rather than trying to broadly apply One Rule. since i can't automatically know someone's reasons for liking a character, the context in which they like the character, etc, what i tend to judge more is the specific way i actually see them interacting with that character--how they write them, what stories they like to read, their hcs, etc. again, i am not an expert when it comes to judging antisemitism, so i do also try to make it a point to see what my jewish mutuals are saying when this sort of discourse comes up. but for myself, i tend to be more wary about the politics underlying specific pieces of writing rather than which characters someone is choosing to write about.

all that being said, i do still think it's fair if someone views liking death eaters as a red flag, y'know? like, everyone is allowed to judge for themselves what they see as red flags in this fandom space, and if someone is saying "i think it's antisemitic to like death eaters," i personally don't really think i have a right to go and argue with that person, for obvious reasons. since i do sometimes write about death eater characters, i try to be very aware of what kinds of politics are underlying my work and what sort of messages someone might take away. but if someone needs to block me, avoid my work, etc, i obviously don't have an issue with that--everyone is allowed and encouraged to curate their fandom space in a way that's best for them, and if someone has a boundary regarding interaction with death eater characters, that's their boundary to keep, y'know? i don't think it's productive (unless maybe you yourself experience antisemitism and it's a conversation you want to have) to go to that person and argue about why they're wrong, as if they need to tell you your actions are actually morally okay with them. sometimes people are going to have issues with the things you write or read in fandom, which is why you need to develop the ability to reflect + weigh these sorts of issues for yourself, and grow comfortable with the idea that there is not always going to be an ultimate Right and Wrong answer for How To Behave.

as for the snape vs barty [or insert whatever other death eater character here] - my thoughts on that are essentially. i truly do not think it matters which characters you like or dislike. you can like one death eater character or not another. it's fine. you don't have to like one character over another. this is fanfiction. the moral stakes are not that high.

the only instance in which i would say liking one character over another gets hypocrticial is if you are saying that people shouldn't like a character. for example -- if you are running around the internet saying that snape is a disgusting character and nobody is allowed to like him, but at the same time you're blorbo-ifying barty crouch jr. then, yeah, that's annyoing and hypocritical. but if you're just chilling in peace, reading + writing ur fic and not policing the things that other people are allowed to like or dislike, then i truly do not think it matters if you like barty crouch jr. but not snape. i'm all for self-reflection and thinking about why you personally might like one character over another, but at the end of the day writing + reading fic is not any kind of activism; it's a hobby, it's for enjoyment. i promise that u do not need to have a moral crisis about disliking severus snape from harry potter lmao

[justmoreocs-writing]

Hannah barely paid attention to the phone as she picked it up, her eyes still skimming the page of information before her. This current investigation was piling leads and red herrings on top of each other, making it infuriatingly difficult to sort fact from fiction. Not that she was hating the task, but it was making everything that little bit slower.

‘Good evening, this is -’

‘Han?’

Hannah’s blood ran cold. The voice was hollow, as if all emotion had been utterly carved from it. Even without the familiar teasing, the constant laugh at the very edge of speech, she’d recognise Alfred Pennyworth’s voice anywhere. Only now did the lateness of the hour fully come to focus.

‘Alfie?’ she asked, already putting her things away, preparing to go where he needed her to be. ‘What happened?’

The phone was quiet. For one horrifying second she thought he’d disappeared, thought whatever had got him into such a state finally got him as well. Fear crept up her back; every nerve alight with the need to move, to do something.

And then he sniffed, and somehow that was worse than the lingering silence. ‘Es, she’s… Oh, fuck.’

‘Where are you?’

‘They killed her,’ he said, as if he couldn’t hear her. ‘The bastards killed her.’ Rage was replacing hollowness. Before long it would engulf him, grief spurring it on, smothering logic.

‘Alfred,’ she snapped, standing up and awkwardly shrugging on her jacket, ‘where are you?’ Her mind flitted back to her first conversation with his fiancée, the earnestness behind her eyes as she vowed not to break his heart. But Hannah quelled it, refused to think on that right now. Alfred needed her.

‘Doesn’t -’

‘Don’t,’ she cut across him quickly. ‘Where?’

Silence, the briefest of pauses as he contemplated lying, as he tried to cope alone, before he finally told her where the flat was.

 Five minutes. That’s all it took for Hannah to arrive, to make sure Barty was getting the boys. Alfie might not want them now, but he’d need them eventually. She didn’t explain the ins and outs of everything to her brother, just that they needed to be on standby.

‘Alfie?’ she asked tentatively, pushing the door open, the sleeve of her jacket pulled carefully over her hand. Her training refused to be ignored, even though concern was threatening to dull ever other sense. The wood gave an eerie creak, sending cold all over her.

There, on the floor, Alfred cradled Esme. In the dim light his face looked paler than ever. Tear tracks cut glittering lines down his cheeks.

‘I couldn’t - I tried…’ Alfred whispered, not looking up from the body. As if somehow he might be able to will Esme into being all right.

‘Sshh,’ soothed Hannah, taking a cautious step forwards. She refused to tell him it was going to be OK, because it wasn’t. Lies wouldn’t help anyone right now. ‘The police are on their way.’

Alfred nodded, but she wasn’t entirely sure he’d even heard her. His attention was fully on Esme, grief and anger and hopelessness all warring behind his eyes. Right now, she had no fear that he’d go on a rampage, try and catch whoever had done this. He needed to be with Esme, to protect what he had left of her.

‘Alfie,’ she said softly, ‘you need to stand up.’

His attention slipped to her, and for a moment she wondered if he was seeing her or the people that had done this.

And then his expression shattered. The grief took over once more. Without thinking, she was there, cradling his head against the crook of her neck, letting him cry tears he probably didn’t think he had left.

[miidnighters]

"Oh. Yeah, sorry about that." He does not sound particularly sorry. "But if I had some other way to reach you, y'know," Barty shrugs, miming typing on a phone. "I'd leave you to your business and suggest we catch up later over pizza but."

Could cloaked spectres hang onto cell phones? Maybe the glamour would send the electrics haywire.

No, run-ins with The Witness were sporadic, and by chance. Which was partially why Barty liked them so much - there was nothing like a pleasant surprise on an otherwise ordinary day. There was also the fact that Barty understood he probably wasn't supposed to be able to see or interact with it - a few minutes spent thinking about how potentially lonely of an existence that might be meant that whenever the opportunity arose, he took it.

"I could actually go wait around the corner? And you can do your thing and then we can chat?" As much as Barty wanted to catch up, he didn't actually want it to not be able to do its job - or have no reason to be here anymore.

The Witness was here to see something. That was its job. It saw, and if need be, it reported what it saw. But generally, it was not needed for such matters.

It sees Barty, and it turns, the cloak it wears hiding its face almost entirely, but Barty can tell it is looking at him. There's a long few moments of silence, The Witness has always been a bit... Awkward, to say the least. It was not used to interacting with those outside its brothers, or with those he came to See.

But... Barty was different. Different than anyone The Witness knew besides itself and its brothers. Barty could see it, Barty could interact with it freely, unaffected by the glamour it's generally cloaked in. It was strange. It had always been strange in The Witness's opinion. But they'd grown to... Maybe not like Barty, but tolerate him.

"You are changing fate by being here, you understand." They say quietly, "I cannot do my job. I have no reason to be here."

[incorrect-shadows]

Barty: Are you going to drink that entire bottle of wine?

Alecto: You didn’t marry no quitter.

Barty: My Queen

[fieriframes]

[Whether you come for a macaroni-and-cheese, burger, or anything in between, it's awesome. MAN: I still think Barty must be a crook]

[random-imagines-blog]

Deal with my Pain {Barty Crouch x Female!Reader x Severus Snape One Shot}

Requested by: @passionkillerphil Wordcount: 3389 Summary: Just as things seem to be going well, a ghost from your past starts to haunt you, bringing up unpleasant memories. Notes: Emotional abuse trigger.

You had been more than a little confused as to why Moody was staring at you all of the time. You had met him a couple of times before. Had some run ins when you were being accused of being a death eater. Those accusations never came to fruition for them. There was no proof. No mark. You were part of the Order. Just like Severus was, your current partner. But unlike him, you had nothing to do with Voldemort. Your biggest flaw was that you always fell for the bad boys. Not the leather-wearing, motorcycle types like Sirius Black but the ones that really were bad. The criminals. Your friends used to think that you had a ‘I can change him’ complex, and maybe there was something to that after all. So perhaps - perhaps that was why the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was looking at you. You were on security detail during the Tournament, standing by the doors which lead into the Great Hall. Wand in hand, pointed downwards, safely towards the ground. Staring at Moody as he stared at you.

There was something familiar about it. You couldn���t quite pick up on what it was. His mannerisms seemed the same. Other than maybe the flask, but given what had been happening with the world, you couldn’t blame him for having a few sips of spirits every now and again. You were known to do it too. Make a late night trip into the dungeons and share in a bottle of wine with Severus. He never was the firewhiskey type, it wasn’t sophisticated enough for his tastes.

You found yourself thinking about the past. You weren’t sure exactly why it was. But there you were. Maybe it was the fact that your ex-boyfriend’s father was here as part of the tournament. Barty Crouch Sr. It was triggering a lot of memories of his son, of the rough relationship that had happened between the two of you. Four years of your life, spent with that man. He had been so sweet at first. Handsome as well. The dark hair, the dark eyes, the stubble that was always there, the thick accent. You had fallen for him so hard.

But he had never been one of the good guys. There were definitely signs there from the beginning. At first, you had thought that the resentment for his father was - well, just that. And you couldn’t blame him for that. The first time that you had been invited around to meet the parents, at their request not yours, there had been a shouting match over dinner. The table had been thrown down upon the ground. Things had gone flying through the air. Senior had grabbed junior by the collar of his coat and thrown him down onto the ground. You had your wand at his throat, threatening him if he ever touched your Barty again. Father or not, that was unacceptable.

Yes, you would attribute it to Crouch Sr who still avoided looking at you. You had bested him in his own home. A woman! He took that as a great insult. One that he was not going to give you the chance to repeat.

You looked away from the staring moody towards another man who was giving you equal interest. Your boyfriend, though he claimed to hate the word because it sounded so juvenile, his mouth going upwards ever so slightly as you caught his eye.  You did constantly make fun of him for it. He preferred the word partner, but you sprinkled Boyfriend in as much as you could. ‘This is my BOYFRIEND Severus’ you would say whenever you saw someone that you knew. Your friends knew you well, they knew what you were doing and they’d giggle and introduce themselves. Severus would be standing stiff but his pale, translucent skin gave away his blushing quickly.

He was a fair bit older than you, but that never seemed to matter. He didn’t have the grin and Scottish cuteness of Barty, but he did have the dark hair and the dark eyes that you were attracted to. And being a bad boy. A very bad boy. You met him through working in the order, and caught him looking at you a couple of times. You were bold enough not to let that slide. You found a reason to be alone together, offering to wash the dishes for Molly since she cooked and coerced Severus into drying them with a dish towel the muggle way because using magic tends to leave spots. And it isn’t quite as anti-bacterial. His deep voice combined with the accent made your heart race. You showed him. You took his hand and pressed it right up against his chest to show him what he did to you. The effect that he had on a woman that he didn’t even know about. That was the first time that you had ever seen a man blush like that - and of course, he blamed it on the heat of the oven which had been off for over an hour now.

You kept it low key for a while. You didn’t want there to be any discomfort in the Order. You told your friends outside of it, your group of girls and guys from Hogwarts. They weren’t that surprised that you had fallen for a spy, it seemed right up your alley. They were just surprised that he had fallen for you in return. Severus goddamn Snape. The grumpy Potions master at Hogwarts, the gothic warlock, the man who took his fashion advice from dementors. There were all fair judgements. But he was still so much more than all of that.

Things started to grow. You went from finding him attractive, sexy, fascinating to - to falling in love. Something you hadn’t anticipated. You thought that after you had your heart broken by Barty, you would never feel that way again. It had ended so badly, you felt as if your heart had been wrenched into pieces. It had started off, as such things did, with sarcastic little comments. Making you feel bad about your weight, your profession, asking when the last time you had gotten your hair done was. You thought it might just be his father speaking through him somehow, the way that he was raised, he didn’t actually think you were ugly, did he? You weren’t exactly the type to go gracing the cover of Witch Weekly but - he still got under your skin. You put in a lot more effort for Barty. You tried to be better for him. The pressure was causing you to crack.

“What is this, dog slop?” “They feed the prisoners better in Azkaban than this.” “Bloody hell, what is that you’re wearing? The curtains?” “You need to change your perfume, you reek.” It was bad. But then they turned into even worse digs. “Why are you so useless?” “All that magic and you’re still pitiful.” “Knew I should have shacked up with that wench from the pub last night, why did I bother coming home to you?”

All of that pressure made you feel like Atlas with the world on your shoulders. Your friends had noticed all of the digs, because he did them even when you were in public with them. They tried to help you lift that weight but the most that they could really do was tell you that you were better than all of this and you should leave him. They would help you. They would shield you away from any payback that he might try to get.

But do you know what pressure also creates?

Diamonds.

And how you shone that night when you realized what you were worth. When you told him that you deserved better, plain and simple. And that you were not going to put up with his shit any longer. You stood up for yourself. You wore your comfortable outfit, the one that he said made you look like a slob. You had your hair tied back and you had no make up on and you just had a dinner of burgers and fries rather than steak and potatoes. You improved by regressing to the person that you liked being.

“I never needed you, Barty. I wanted you. I wanted you bad. But it was never a need, do you understand me? I don’t need your shit pulling me down. I don’t need a child to take care of like you, or a father to criticize me the way that you do, I don’t even need a boyfriend, which is great because you haven’t been acting like one in ages.”

Barty had gotten up from the table, pushed it away from him with a force that you hadn’t known his skinny arms had. He had his wand in hand. He lifted it, pointing it straight at you, his mouth a second away from saying who knows what words. But you were quicker. You had been anticipating an attack.

“Protego,” You muttered, your hand clasped around your wand. The shiny shield spell surrounded you, keeping you protected from whatever he might try to throw at you. Whether it was the Killing Curse or - you just hoped with the small flame inside of you that had burned for what the two of you had, that he wouldn’t dare try that one. He seethed. He licked his lips in one fluid motion. It was getting to be a new and worsening habit of his. Maybe all of those insults that he threw around were drying him out.

“If you so much as shoot one spell at me, Barty, I’ll make sure that even your father can’t protect you from the consequences,” You said, keeping the spell  around you as you picked up the bags that you had hastily packed. You only needed a moment. A moment to get out of the room and dissaparate from the house that you had shared with him for years. “Don’t follow me.”

“Y/N!” He yelled, his anger overtaking any sadness that he might have had. And you hated to see it. You had hoped, you had - you had really damn hoped that he would straighten himself up when he realized that he was losing you. That he would see the error of his ways. Begging you wasn’t going to do anything, you were going to leave no matter his reaction but some remorse would have been nice. Even an apology would have been ideal. But instead, you could see that all that you were going to get if you stayed was more threats. So you left. You left, you stayed with friends for a while until things seemed to die down. You got your own place when you heard that Barty Crouch Jr was arrested on suspicion of being a Death Eater. He was put away. He couldn’t bother you. You were safe.

And time passed. As it does. And then came Severus Snape, setting your heart aflame once again.

You blew him a kiss. People around Hogwarts new, there weren’t many secrets that could be held here, especially when it came to gossip. You heard a few disgusted sounds coming from people who had caught you making the action but that just made you grin all the more.

-

You hadn’t been doing your job properly. You should have known. There was the Sirius Black fiasco the year before. There was Barty Crouch Sr being murdered in the woods. And now there was a dead student. And something else - something else was there. All year long, a feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something dangerous was close. Something familiar. It hadn’t died with Barty’s father.

But there was no time to mourn. Severus was moving, along with Dumbledore and Minerva. There was no way that you were sitting out of that action. You had your wand in hand and you ran to catch up, meeting up with the much older Minerva without much difficulty. “What is it?” You asked, watching Severus’s back. “Where are we going?”

“There’s no time to explain,” Minerva said, putting a hand on your arm.

“Well alright then,” You mumbled, but followed along. Heading to - The Defense Against the Dark Arts room. And up the stairs, up to the door which lead to Mad-Eye Moody’s chambers. Mad-Eye Moody. Things had not really improved there. Whenever you were in the same room together, one of his eyes would follow you. Watch you. Normally, you wouldn’t put up with such things but - he was meant to be a friend, wasn’t he? He was a fellow Auror at least. Maybe he just suspected you of being dangerous because of your relationship with Severus. You let it slide. He never tried to actually talk to you, or to get close to you, thankfully. Just - watched.

It was disconcerting. But you could deal with it.

“Expelliamus!” Dumbledore said, wand blasting down the door, hitting Moody square in the chest. It took you a second to see that he had been ready to attack - Harry Potter. Moody fell down upon a chair, which went flying backwards into the wall. Harry got up from where he had been hiding, evidently, and you went to him while everyone else focused on Moody.

“Are you alright, Harry?” You asked, checking the boy over.

“-m alright,” He muttered. You stayed with him while seeing a new side of Albus, the bearded old Professor going up to the Auror, pointing his wand directly at his chin. The old man called for your boyfriend who stepped forward with a small bottle of potion, pouring it into Alastor’s mouth. You were beyond confused. And it didn’t seem like you were the only one either.

“Do you know who I am?” Albus asked. Moody was struggling something fierce.

“Albus Dumbledore,” He snarled.

“Are you Alastar Moody? Are you?”

Your own mouth dropped. You never even thought. Never suspected. You were hanging onto his every word.

“No.”

“Is he in this room? IS HE IN THIS ROOM?”

His eyes. They seemed to hint towards the large trunk that you and Harry were standing behind. Before Dumbledore could say a word, Severus moved swiftly to come between you, Harry and the trunk. His arms wrapped around you. You noticed this as you always did, his warmth was impossible to ignore - but as was the look that the Alastar imposter was giving you at that moment. Such a cold, unforgiving eye. You could almost place it - but no, no, you couldn’t believe that it would be - not him, of all people, not him -

Severus shuffled you, and you in return held onto Harry, away from the trunk. With a quick snap of his wand, all of the locks started to open, revealing layer after layer popping up until the top opened. You assumed that the real Moody was in there. You were not looking away from the imposter.

They figured it was Alastar. They figured that it was Polyjuice potion that was in the flask that he was always drinking from. Not firewhisky, nor some other brand of spirit you thought it might have been. No wonder his face always screwed up afterwards. Nasty stuff. And his face was screwing up, even now. His eye was drooping. His skin looked like wax that a candle had been lit underneath. Strange sounds. It drew the rest of the group’s attention to it but your eyes had not left. Not now. Not with your suspicions.

Which came true. You were proven right. Never have you hated it so much. The features became more and more clear, and then the voice, and there he was sitting right there in front of you.

Snape knew about him. You had opened up about your rough past. And he had opened up about his. And together, you had found a way to work on healing. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t above trembling at the familiar features. He was so - handsome still. Despite looking like a wreck.

“Barty Crouch Jr,” Albus said, his voice with a twinge of surprise.

“Hey sweetheart,” Barty said, looking at you. An atrocious lick of his lips. He wasn’t paying attention to Severus, Minerva, Albus or Harry. Even if his focus had been Harry all along. He’d been watching you. He’d been so close to you and you didn’t even know it. It felt as if you were just waking from a dream of insects and could feel them all over you, crawling over your skin, nearly making you crumple, if it hadn’t been for Severus, Severus keeping you from falling over, Severus keeping his wand pointed at the wizard. “You’re looking good.”

“The fact that you look at me at all makes me sick,” You said, fighting back the urge to spit on him.

“Oh, fiery as ever,” He said, tauntingly. “I’ve always liked that about you. I’ve missed you, love.”

“You don’t call her that,” Severus said, sharply.

“No, you do that now, don’t you?” Barty said, his tone just as dangerous as Severus’s. “But we all know that I’m still the face in your heart, aren’t I, love? Am I still your last thought before you go to bed?”

What you had told him in confidence years ago. That he was such a part of your world, that you fell asleep to the comforting thought of him. To his scent on the pillow, even on nights when he was gone. Now used against you. Now being used against Severus. The room was filled with energy; disgusted, anticipatory, confusion.

“We’re not doing this,” You said, shaking your head. “I’m not letting you do this, Barty. You know you fucked up and I’m not giving you the littlest bit of help over it.”

“Perhaps you should leave the room, Miss y/l/n,” Minerva said. And you agreed. She gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder while you glared at Barty and backed up out of the room. Down the stairs. Into the corridor. Even the classroom felt too full of him. Full of Barty. And it was out there that you fell down onto the ground, all of the familiar feelings rushing in after seeing his sweaty little face. Not good enough. Him trying to get inside of your head with just a couple of words. Him lashing out as Severus.

Severus.

His shadow fell over you as he took the couple of steps away from the door. He had a look on his face that you couldn’t quite read. He was just as stone cold on the outside as his skill in Occlumency made him on the inside. “He’s a death eater. He has the mark,” Severus said. He didn’t lower himself down to you but he did lean against the wall beside you, his cloak nearly making a blanket for you. “Voldemort is back.”

“But you knew that, didn’t you?” You said, looking up at his arm where his own mark lay hidden. Had to lay hidden. “Did you know that he was here?”

“Of course not,” Severus said, his tone still like a knife. “I wouldn’t have let him anywhere near the school.”

“Okay, okay,” You said, taking a deep breath. You felt bad for even asking. Of course Severus wouldn’t let Barty come anywhere near you. “What’s going to happen now?”

“He’ll be taken to Azkaban. And will never come near you again.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being perfect.”

Having grown up without any sort of compliment, Severus did not take them well. He had to look away from you, down the hall, see if anyone was looking at him, but everyone was still caught in the commotion of poor Cedric. There was no one to notice the redness that came across his face.

“I need to stay here. Make sure there’s no trouble when the aurors come to get him.”

“I’ll go wait in your office. I don’t want to see him again.”

“Okay. I love you.” ‘ Now it was your turn to flush. He so rarely initiated those words, but things were changing now. A ghost of your past was influencing him to be better. You stood back up, and kissed his soft cheek. “And I love you.”

[witchywomanrunningupthathill]

Of Quidditch Cups and Crystal Caves

Pairing: Regulus x Female!OC

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: swearing, angst

Description: Slytherin has won the Quidditch Cup. Regulus is thrilled. Iris is worried. Everyone else is celebrating.

No other house did parties quite like Slytherin. Winning the Quidditch Cup over Ravenclaw was both a new opportunity for the snakes to claim their superiority and for everybody to get absolutely smashed.

Regulus Black’s eyes were beautiful. Fucking mesmerizing, as Iris Avery would put it. Jade green with just the right infusion of blue and speckling of brown. Iris gazed at her boyfriend from across the Slytherin common room as he bantered and laughed just a little too loud with Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch, Jr., and a number of his other teammates. Even in his inebriated state, Regulus still managed to look like a prince. He had to have been royalty in a past life, Iris mused. Or perhaps it was just the Black family’s genes. The lot of them may be entitled blood supremacists with a proclivity for practicing dark magic, but no one could lie that they were all gorgeous.

            “You alright?” Pandora Lovegood asks, waving her hands in front of Iris’ face and pulling the girl from her daze. Next to Pandora is Ariadne Greengrass, who giggles at Iris.

            “What? Oh…yep. Cracking!” Iris replies.

            “That’s very convincing,” Pandora retorts.

            “Leave it to you to zone out at a party,” Ariadne taunts. Iris rolls her eyes

            “Guys, I’m great. Besides, we just won the bloody Quidditch Cup!” Iris exclaims. She raises her cup, as do the other two witches. A clumsy attempt at a toast. They all throw back their drinks. Just as Iris gulps down the rest of her firewhiskey, briefly relishing the burn, a warm hand grabs her hand, pulling her away from her friends.

            “Dance with me, love!” Regulus pleads, drawing out his words.

            “Stop stealing her away from us, Black!” Laura yells. Regulus ignores the girl as he sweeps his witch into his arms, attempting to get her to dance with him.  As he spins her around playfully, Iris spots a small, white, furry mass dart across the back wall. Merlin, that cat will be the death of me, she thought. Iris’ cat Jed seemed to find interest everywhere except for the Slytherin girls’ dormitories, having frequent run-ins with the Bloody Baron on her way out of the dungeons. Iris runs after the energetic feline, leaving Regulus confused. She scoops her up and walks to her dormitory. 

            “Hah, of course,” Iris scoffs. The door to the girls’ side of the dormitories was left ajar. Iris walks down the corridor to her shared room, opens the door and heads straight for the bed set against the far wall. She plops down on the mattress with Jed. “You choose now to make your great escape?” she asks the cat, who just looks up at her with its blue eyes. “What’s so interesting out there, huh?” Jed lets out a lengthy mrooow as she headbutts Iris. Iris rubs her hand across the cat’s back. “The giant squid not company enough for you? Or no…maybe it’s the merpeople—” Iris is interrupted by a deep mrow. “Ah I knew it! It’s always the merpeople. Maybe you should have a chat with them, baby,” Iris suggests before kissing the top of the cat’s head before the animal jumps out of her lap.

            “Where’s my kiss?” Regulus asks from the doorway.

            “You sound exactly like Sirius…” Iris says.

            “I’ll have you know that me and my brother…are noth-nothing alike,” Regulus declares before he hiccups.

            “Right…” Iris retorts.

Regulus wraps his arms around the witch, dropping his head to her shoulder. “I love you, Iris,” he slurs. She can smell the firewhiskey on his breath. If you loved me you wouldn’t go to that cave, she thought. He didn’t know that she knew, of course. And she hadn’t read his mind either. She had seen it during Divination the other day. For once, her crystal ball had actually worked. Or maybe there was nothing wrong with the crystal ball; maybe she was just too distracted. “You must focus, Miss Avery,” Professor Trelawney would tell her. Iris believed she may have focused a bit too hard that day for her to witness the horrifying sight that played out in that crystal sphere set before her.

The imposing cliffs on England’s coast, raging waves, a dark and ominous cave. Hands, no—she supposed they had been hands at some point, but they were inhuman and they grabbed at clothing and flesh. She gasped when she saw Regulus’ pale, pained face manifest in the crystal ball, bringing her hand to her mouth. Her face started to warm, eyes prickling with tears. She was so confused. Iris clawed at her shirt collar, fingers desperately working to loosen her emerald and silver tie. It was always warm in Trelawney’s classroom, but Iris was burning up. She tried to convince herself that what she saw was in fact not real. Her thoughts raced. This is one of many possible outcomes. Nothing’s set in stone. This hasn’t even happened yet. Who says it will in the first place? Bloody divination, as if a fucking rock would be able to tell me the future, ha! I never liked this class anyway. Reg would tell me about something like this. But it was all she could think about. So much for not letting a fucking rock rule her life.

She’s brought back to reality as Regulus plays with the pendant on her necklace. “You ready to go back out? Your teammates probably miss their captain” she offers.

            “Nope,” Regulus says resolutely as he cuddles into her further. He was so clingy when he was drunk. Iris pulls Regulus’ arms from around her and gets up. She holds out her hands to the boy.

            “Up,” Iris commands. Regulus groans, closing his eyes for a moment before letting out an exasperated huff. He’s cute when he’s like this. All moody and effusive, compared to his usual smug and mysterious way. Then again, it’s not like he grew up in a very emotionally demonstrative household. He weakly reaches out and grabs Iris’ hand. She flinches back as an image of the boy’s thin hand losing hold of the cave’s clear crystal island flashes in her mind.

            “You alright?” Regulus asks.

            “Hm? Oh! Yep…Let’s get back to the party, Reg” Iris resolves. She helps him off of her bed and they exit the girls’ dormitories, re-entering the sea of drunk, hyperactive teenagers. Iris watches as Regulus’ teammates crowd him, Evan’s arm wraps around the boy’s shoulders as everyone begins to chant. She sees the shift in his eyes. The way his face drops, only for a second. Iris rejoins Pandora and Ariadne who are giggling over who they saw the older Avery, Iris’ brother, take back to his dormitory. Their chatter falls on deaf ears as Iris still looks on at the life of the party. She frowns, recalling Regulus’ growing collage of photos and news clippings from the Daily Prophet of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t he?