#just typical lucius things

[goldandglittersblog]

Blaise: If you had to pick any gryffindor to date who would you choose?

Theo: I don't know.

Blaise: Me neither.

Draco: Granger

Blaise:

Theo:

Narcissa:

Lucius:

Voldemort:

White Peacocks from the Malfoy estate:

Crookshanks:

Harry:

Ron:

Draco: IDONTKNOWMENEITHER!!

[whosscruffylooking]

Militiae Species Amor Est

Militiae species amor est - "Love is a kind of war."

Part II Is Up Now!

This is a story based on an original character, Iris. She has no description in regards to hair, skin color, eye color, etc. It doesn't follow any particular timeline and the events in this story extend longer than the events of the movie. I saw the movie last night and wrote this today in between appointments, so please don't judge if it's slightly messy haha. Please enjoy!

warnings:// some mentions of blood and weapons. time period typical violence.

word count: 6.7k

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The air in the colosseum was thick with noise—cheers, jeers, and the distant clang of swords meeting shields. You sat stiffly in the patrician’s box beside your fiancé, Caius, his hand possessively resting on the arm of your chair. He was absorbed in the spectacle, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement every time the sand turned red. You barely heard him as he leaned close, muttering about the skill of one gladiator. Your attention, however, was elsewhere.

“Hanno,” the announcer’s voice boomed over the crowd, and the colosseum erupted into a frenzy. “The Eagle of the Arena!”

The title was grand, but it wasn’t the name that sent a shiver down your spine. It was the description whispered about him in every corner of Rome: a fighter with unmatched presence, defiance in his eyes, and a grace that reminded you of someone you thought you’d lost forever.

Lucius.

The boy who had once been your entire world.

Your heart raced as the gates creaked open, and Hanno stepped into the sunlight. The sight of him stole your breath. He was older now, broader, his body honed by years of struggle, but there was no mistaking him. His hair, still curling the way you remembered, caught the light, and his eyes—those stormy blue eyes that had once looked at you as though you were the only thing that mattered—swept over the crowd.

Lucius.

He moved like the wind, his steps steady, his posture unshaken. The arena seemed to bend to him, the crowd hanging on his every movement. He raised his sword, saluting the emperor, but you knew him too well to miss the flicker of contempt in his gaze. That small defiance confirmed it.

You didn’t realize you were staring until Caius’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“You seem unusually captivated, my dear,” he said, his tone light but edged with suspicion.

You blinked, dragging your gaze away from the arena. “It’s… he’s remarkable,” you managed, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

Caius smirked, his pride swelling as if he were responsible for the spectacle before you. “Hanno is Rome’s finest now. A true warrior.”

Your eyes drifted back to Lucius—Hanno—before you could stop yourself. Memories of your childhood together flooded your mind: running through the gardens of Lucilla’s villa, the way his laughter had filled the air like music, the nights you whispered your dreams to each other under the stars.

He had been everything to you, even though the world told you he couldn’t be. You were a servant, an invisible presence in the household of his mother, Lucilla. But to Lucius, you had been more. He’d promised you, one night under the moon, that he would find a way for you to be together.

That promise had been shattered the day Maximus died. Lucius was sent away, his mother’s grief consuming everything in its path. You were left behind, forced to grow up in silence, betrothed to Caius—a man you didn’t love, who saw you as nothing more than a beautiful possession.

Now, years later, here he was. The boy who had held your hand in secret was now a man commanding the attention of thousands, and yet he was still fighting. Not just for survival, but for something greater. For freedom.

You couldn’t look away.

As the match began, Lucius moved with the precision and grace of someone born to the sword. Every strike, every parry, every step was measured and deliberate. He fought like a man who had nothing to lose and everything to prove.

When the fight ended—his opponent crumpled in the sand, and the crowd screamed his name—Lucius raised his head. For a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours, and you saw recognition spark there, sharp and immediate.

He knew you.

Your breath caught, your hands gripping the edge of your chair. He didn’t look away, his chest heaving as he stared up at you. The distance between you felt both vast and nonexistent.

“Are you unwell?” Caius’s voice jolted you back to reality, his brows furrowed in irritation.

You forced a smile, your heart pounding. “No. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was him.

Lucius.

And you would find him again. No matter what it took.

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The roar of the crowd surged like a wave, crashing against the walls of the colosseum, but Lucius barely heard it. He stood in the center of the arena, the weight of his sword steady in his hand, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of the fight. The sand beneath his feet was stained red, the air thick with heat and blood.

Another victory. Another step toward survival.

He turned to acknowledge the emperor with a sharp salute, but his movements were mechanical. His body obeyed out of habit, but his mind was elsewhere, as it always was after a fight. Somewhere far from Rome, far from the sand and the chains. Somewhere warm and quiet, where he wasn’t a gladiator, wasn’t the Eagle of the Arena.

Then he looked up at the crowd, scanning the patrician’s box with a glance he’d perfected—casual enough not to attract suspicion, sharp enough to note every detail.

And he saw her.

At first, he thought his exhaustion was playing tricks on him. He blinked, his grip tightening on his sword as he stared at the woman seated high above. The sun caught her hair, and though she was dressed in the fine silks of a noblewoman, there was no mistaking her.

It was her.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. The world around him blurred—the cheers of the crowd, the stink of the arena, even the pain radiating from his bruised ribs. None of it mattered. All that mattered was the woman in front of him.

She was older now, more poised, her features sharper, but it was still her. The same eyes he used to stare into when they were children, the same curve of her lips that had whispered his name in the dark corners of his mother’s villa. The servant girl who had once been his whole world.

The girl he had loved.

Her eyes widened as they locked on his, a mix of shock and disbelief crossing her face. He wondered if she thought him a ghost, just as he had often imagined her face in dreams, only to wake and find himself alone. But this wasn’t a dream. She was here.

His chest tightened as a thousand memories flooded back. Running barefoot through the gardens together, laughing as they dodged his tutors and stole food from the kitchens. Her small, warm hands brushing his as they sat by the fountain, sharing secrets no one else could know.

And then the promises. He had been so sure, so determined, swearing under a sky full of stars that he would always protect her, always come back for her. But life had taken that choice from him. His father’s death, his mother’s grief—it had torn him from her side and thrown him into a world where love had no place.

Yet here she was, staring at him as though no time had passed at all.

The man beside her shifted in his seat, leaning close to speak to her. Lucius’s jaw clenched as the man’s hand brushed hers, the gesture small but possessive. So, she was engaged. Of course, she was. A woman like her, even a servant, could be bartered into a match that served some Roman noble’s ambitions.

But when she looked at her betrothed, there was no warmth in her eyes. None of the light he remembered.

She turned back to him, and for a moment, it felt as though the years melted away. The noise of the arena faded, the weight of his chains forgotten. It was just her and him, as it had always been.

Lucius felt something stir inside him, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.

Hope.

His salute lingered a moment longer than it should have, his gaze unwavering. He saw the way her breath hitched, the way her fingers gripped the edge of her chair as if grounding herself against the storm inside her.

And then the guards called for him to return to the cells. The gate creaked open behind him. He forced himself to turn, to walk away, but every step felt heavier than the last.

She was here. She had found him.

And now, no matter the cost, he would find her again.

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The barracks were dark and quiet, save for the faint crackle of the brazier in the corner. Lucius sat on the edge of the wooden bench, his head bowed, his hands idly tracing the grooves of the blade across his lap. Around him, the other gladiators had fallen into a tense silence, their usual jests and muttered complaints subdued after the day’s bloodshed.

He’d been Hanno for so long now, the name sliding easily from the lips of the guards, the crowd, the men who fought and bled beside him. Hanno, the invincible gladiator, the Eagle of the Arena. No one questioned where he had come from, why his skills surpassed so many others. They only saw what they wanted—a spectacle, a story to worship or envy.

But tonight, none of that mattered.

Her face had been burned into his mind since he’d seen her, her wide eyes locking with his in the colosseum. Every move he made since had been automatic, his body fighting and surviving on instinct, while his mind reeled with the impossible truth: she was alive.

He gritted his teeth, clenching the blade harder. For years, he’d allowed himself to believe she was lost to him, married off to some faceless noble, her life swallowed by the world of the Roman elite. He’d tried to bury the ache of it, the guilt that he hadn’t fought harder to keep her, the memories of her laugh, her touch, her whispered promises in the moonlight.

But now she was here, close enough to reach, yet still out of his grasp.

“Oi, Hanno,” a gruff voice broke the silence. One of the older gladiators, Gaius, sat sharpening his sword in the corner, his one good eye glinting in the firelight. “You’ve been starin’ at that blade like it owes you coin. What’s on your mind?”

Lucius glanced up, his expression carefully neutral. “Nothing.”

Gaius snorted, unconvinced. “You’re a terrible liar. You’ve been off since the games today. Can’t say I blame you—crowds like that, they’ll rattle anyone.” He leaned forward, a sly grin spreading across his scarred face. “Or maybe it was someone in the crowd?”

Lucius froze, but only for a moment. Long enough for Gaius’s grin to widen.

“Thought so,” Gaius said. “Some patrician woman caught your eye, eh? Happens to the best of us. Those fine silks and soft hands… nothin’ like the sand and blood we’re used to.”

Lucius forced a smirk, playing along. “Maybe. She looked familiar, that’s all.”

“Familiar?” Gaius raised a brow. “A patrician you’d know? From before?” He lowered his voice, his tone suddenly serious. “Careful, lad. That kind of thinking’ll get you killed. We’re gladiators now, not men with pasts.”

Lucius ignored the warning, leaning back and keeping his voice casual. “You’ve been here longer than most. You hear things. You know people. If I wanted to find out about someone—just out of curiosity—how would I go about it?”

Gaius squinted at him, suspicious now. “Depends who you’re asking about.”

“Her,” Lucius said, his tone sharper than he intended. “She was in the patrician’s box today. y/h/c, y/e/c. Engaged to some nobleman.”

Gaius let out a low whistle. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Hanno. Asking about a patrician’s bride-to-be? What, you think you’ll sweep her off her feet, carry her out of here on your shield?” He laughed, but when Lucius didn’t respond, the humor faded from his face.

“You’re serious,” Gaius muttered.

Lucius didn’t answer, his jaw set in a way that made it clear he wasn’t going to let this go.

Gaius sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. But you didn’t hear this from me. There’s a steward who works the colosseum, handles the guests in the noble galleries. Quintus is his name. He’s got loose lips when he’s had a bit to drink. You might learn something from him.”

Lucius nodded, already planning his next move. He would find this Quintus, he would learn what he could, and he would find a way to see her.

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The barracks were suffocating, the air heavy with the stench of sweat and blood. Lucius sat on the stone bench, his head bowed, hands clasped as though in prayer. But he wasn’t praying. Not to the gods, at least. If they had ever cared for him, they had long since turned their backs.

Her face haunted him—the moment he’d locked eyes with her in the patrician’s box. Everything about that instant had shattered his focus, his purpose. The games, the crowd, the blood—they had all faded in that one heartbeat when he saw her again. Iris.

The name stirred something deep within him—something he had buried long ago. She shouldn’t have been there. In this place, with him, after all this time. But there she was, sitting among the nobles, looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and recognition, as though she, too, had never forgotten their past. The girl he had loved. The girl he had lost.

He had to know who she was with now—who held her heart.

He caught Titus, one of the younger gladiators, in the corridor late that night when the air had cooled and the others were lost in their rest. The torchlight cast shadows that made everything feel like a dream.

“I need you to send a message,” Lucius said, his voice quiet but firm.

Titus hesitated, glancing nervously at the hallway. “A message? To who?”

“Quintus. The steward,” Lucius said. “Tell him Hanno requests an audience.”

Titus frowned, confused. “Quintus? Why him?”

“Just do it,” Lucius ordered, his tone hardening. “Tell him the Eagle wants to speak to him.”

Reluctantly, Titus nodded and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Lucius alone again with his racing thoughts.

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It wasn’t long before Quintus arrived, stepping into the dim light of the corridor with a casual air that belied his sharp eyes. He stopped just outside the bars of Lucius’s cell, arms crossed, his usual smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

“To what do I owe the honor, Hanno?” Quintus asked, his voice thick with mockery.

Lucius moved to the bars, his grip tight. “I need information.”

Quintus’s eyebrow arched. “Information? About what?”

“Her,” Lucius said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The woman who was in the patrician’s box today. Iris.” He said her name with a careful hesitation, as though he had spoken it too many times in his head already. “I want to know who she’s engaged to.”

Quintus’s smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly masked his surprise. “Caius Livius, if you must know,” he replied, his tone as indifferent as ever. “She’s promised to him. A senator’s son.”

Lucius’s jaw tightened, anger rising like a fire within him. Caius. The name tasted bitter on his tongue. He had no claim on Iris anymore, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“And where do I find her?” Lucius asked, his voice colder than before.

Quintus leaned closer, his expression unreadable. “You think you can just walk into their life and take what’s already promised?”

“I didn’t ask for your judgment,” Lucius shot back, gripping the bars so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I asked for information.“

Quintus held his gaze for a long moment, as though weighing the consequences of giving away more than he should. “Fine ,” he said finally, his voice lowering. “The wedding is planned for the Saturnalia, and he’ll be parading around the city like any nobleman would. But you, Hanno, are nothing but a gladiator. You’re not in their world anymore.”

Lucius’s eyes hardened, his resolve set. He didn’t care. He would find a way.

Quintus sighed, seeing the determination in Lucius’s eyes. “Be careful. Men like Caius do not take kindly to those who try to steal what they believe belongs to them.”

“I don’t care about their world,” Lucius muttered, his grip still tight on the bars. 

Quintus chuckled softly, backing away. “As you wish, Hanno. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And with that, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving Lucius standing alone in the darkened cell.

Iris. She was still here, still within his reach. But now he had to find a way to cross the divide between the life she lived and the life he had been forced into. It would take time, cunning, and risks—he knew that.

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The days dragged on in the darkened confines of his cell, but Lucius’s mind was sharp, focused on one singular goal. Iris. Her name burned in his chest like a flame, and every passing hour only fueled his determination to find a way to see her again.

The opportunity finally came in the form of a pre-wedding celebration, a lavish event that would be held in honor of Caius Livius and Iris’s upcoming union. Lucius had learned the details from his fleeting conversation with Quintus. The nobles would gather, music would fill the air, and the festivities would overflow with rich food and wine. And what better place to make a grand appearance, to show his worth and cement his place in the arena, than there?

It was a risky move, but Lucius had long learned that risks were the only path to getting what he wanted. And he wanted Iris back in his life—somehow.

He had been pacing in his cell for days, his mind spinning with ways to gain Macrinus’s approval. The man who oversaw the gladiators was a hard man to impress, focused only on profit and spectacle. But Lucius knew something that could sway him—something that could make Macrinus see the value in letting him appear outside the arena.

When the time came, Lucius finally approached Macrinus after training. The large man stood by the door to the gladiator barracks, as usual, his eyes calculating, a permanent frown etched across his face.

“You’ve got something on your mind, Hanno?” Macrinus’s voice was rough, like gravel scraping against stone.

“I want to fight at the pre-wedding celebration,” Lucius said boldly, stepping forward, meeting Macrinus’s gaze without flinching.

Macrinus’s frown deepened, his brow furrowing as he studied Lucius with suspicion. “What do you mean? You’re already booked for the next game.”

Lucius’s voice remained calm, confident. “A demonstration. A show for the nobles. Not just a fight. A spectacle—something more than just the blood and sand they’re used to. I am worth more than that. My name is already known. They’ll talk about this for weeks. It’ll bring attention to the arena.”

Macrinus scoffed. “I’m not here to pander to noble whims. They want to see blood, Hanno, not performances.”

Lucius leaned in, dropping his voice to a low, convincing tone. “What if you gave them both? The fight, the blood, and the spectacle? You know how the rich love their games, their entertainment. They’ll throw more coin at you than you’ve seen in months. You think I’m just a tool for the sand? No. I’m a showman, too. I can be both your champion and your attraction, Macrinus.”

Macrinus studied him for a long moment, a trace of hesitation on his face. Lucius knew he had his attention. It was all about playing to the man’s greed.

“You think they’ll pay for that?” Macrinus asked skeptically.

“I know they will,” Lucius replied confidently. “You know they will.”

There was a long pause, the silence thick with the weight of the decision. Finally, Macrinus spoke, his tone begrudging. “Fine. But don’t disappoint me, Hanno. If you fail to deliver, you’ll never see the light of day again. Understood?”

Lucius gave him a single, sharp nod. “Understood.”

The deal was struck. He would appear at the celebration—not as a mere gladiator, but as an entertainer, a spectacle that would tantalize the nobles and remind them of the fierce warriors they had come to worship. But Lucius’s true goal wasn’t just to perform. It was to find Iris again.

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The night of the pre-wedding celebration arrived, and the grand estate was alive with opulence. Torches lined the paths, casting flickering shadows over the marble columns that held up the towering structure. The air was thick with the sound of music, the chatter of guests, the clinking of goblets filled with wine. Lucius stood in the center of the courtyard, wearing a costume not meant for battle but for spectacle—a fighter’s attire mixed with elaborate decorations meant to draw the eye.

The moment he stepped into the midst of the crowd, all eyes were on him. His reputation had already preceded him, and now, in the midst of this rich, noble gathering, the anticipation of the fight—his performance—was palpable.

Lucius’s heart pounded in his chest, but not because of the crowd’s gaze. He was searching for her. Iris.

It didn’t take long before his eyes found her, seated at the edge of the grand table, surrounded by the high-ranking men and women of Rome. She was seated next to Caius, her fiancé, but it was her presence that caught Lucius’s attention, her graceful posture, the way she held herself with a quiet elegance that made his heart ache.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, but Lucius knew this was his chance. He had to speak with her. He had to know if she remembered what they had shared. If she felt the same pull he did.

He played his part well, engaging in a mock duel with one of the other gladiators, performing for the crowd, his movements sharp and exaggerated. He could hear the gasps of excitement, the laughter, and the murmurs of approval. But his gaze never left her.

When the crowd finally began to thin out, when the festivities had moved inside to the banquet hall, Lucius saw his opportunity. He took a deep breath, stepping away from the cheering spectators and weaving through the courtyard, making his way toward the quiet area where Iris had slipped away from the crowd.

His pulse quickened as he neared her, and when he saw her alone for the briefest of moments, he stepped forward, his heart pounding with urgency. But just as his hand reached for the veil of the moment, a shadow fell across his path, and he froze.

“Iris.”

Her name, spoken with the weight of ownership, cut through the air. Lucius’s breath caught in his throat as Caius Livius stepped into view, his posture commanding and his eyes sharp with the kind of possessive authority that had always made Lucius’s skin crawl.

Iris’s face faltered for a split second, the mask she had been wearing slipping just enough to reveal the turmoil beneath. She turned, her eyes wide with shock at Caius’s sudden appearance.

“I was about to—” Iris began, but Caius stepped closer, his presence towering over her, blocking Lucius’s approach.

“You were about to what?” Caius’s voice was calm, but there was a hard edge to it. His gaze flicked briefly to Lucius, a look of recognition passing between them before he returned his attention to Iris, his hand subtly resting possessively on her arm. “You should be with your guests, Iris. This isn’t the time for wandering off.”

Iris stiffened at his touch, but she said nothing, her eyes darting briefly toward Lucius.

“I just… needed a moment,” Iris murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She pulled her arm away from Caius’s grasp, the coldness of the gesture unnoticed by him, though Lucius felt the tension between them all the same.

Caius, however, didn’t miss the unspoken exchange. His eyes narrowed, and his tone sharpened. “I’ll take her back inside. It’s better that way.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he placed a firm hand at the small of her back and guided her away, leaving Lucius standing frozen in the shadows of the courtyard, the words he longed to say locked behind his teeth.

As they disappeared into the throng of nobles, Lucius’s gaze remained on Iris, heart sinking as the distance between them grew. He had come so close—too close—and yet fate had thrown him back into the same endless fight.

This was far from over.

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The atmosphere in the grand hall was suffocating. Candles flickered in golden sconces, casting long shadows along the marble floor. The chatter of the guests—nobles and dignitaries alike—filled the air, but Iris barely heard any of it. Her mind was elsewhere, her heart somewhere far from the lavish feast unfolding before her.

Tonight was supposed to be a celebration—a night to honor the union of herself and Caius Livius. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped. She had played her part in the arrangements, had donned the gown of a bride and smiled for the guests, but everything felt like a dream she couldn’t wake from. Caius, standing at her side, had not noticed the distance growing between them. His attention was fixed on the guests, on his own image as a future senator, as a man who had already secured his place in Roman society. But for Iris, it was all just a gilded cage, and she was desperate to escape it.

Her gaze drifted toward the center of the room, where the gladiators—Lucius among them, disguised as Hanno—stood, their presence an odd contrast to the aristocratic crowd. They had been invited for spectacle, for entertainment, to make the celebration more “authentic” in the eyes of the nobles. But Iris only saw the man she had once known—Lucius.

There, in the corner of the hall, he stood with his fellow gladiators, their grim faces betraying nothing of what Iris felt in her chest. The way he moved—like a predator, every inch a warrior, but still, something about him seemed so familiar, so painfully alive.

Her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met. It was brief, a moment suspended in time, but it was enough. He hadn’t seen her as a noblewoman. He hadn’t seen her as the fiancée of Caius Livius. He saw her, Iris, the girl who had once run barefoot through the gardens of Lucilla’s estate with him, the girl who had watched him train and fought by his side in secret. And in that instant, she could see the same longing in his eyes—the same recognition that told her he had never forgotten her, either.

Her heart raced, and she felt the familiar tug of old emotions threatening to pull her back to him. The years apart, the choices they had made, all seemed so distant now. But standing there, in the same room, everything she had tried to bury came flooding back.

“Iris?” Caius’s voice interrupted her thoughts, pulling her back to the reality of the celebration. She turned to face her fiancé, whose eyes were sharp with suspicion. “You’re not listening.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, offering him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I was… distracted.” She forced her gaze away from Lucius and back to Caius, though the effort felt like a betrayal. “I need to step outside for a moment,” she added, the words tumbling from her lips before she could think better of it.

“Outside?” Caius raised an eyebrow, his face hardening. “Why?”

“I just… need air,” Iris said, her voice trembling. She couldn’t explain it to him—not in this moment, not in front of the guests. She didn’t even fully understand herself.

Caius’ frown deepened. “We’re in the middle of a celebration, Iris. You can’t just—”

“I must go,” she interrupted, her tone sharper than she intended. She could feel the weight of the room, the pressure of everyone watching, and it made her skin crawl. “I’ll return shortly.” She didn’t wait for his response, turning away and heading toward the door before he could say another word.

She had already rehearsed this moment in her mind a hundred times—slipping away unnoticed, making her way to the stables where the gladiators were kept. She wasn’t supposed to be there, but the pull of Lucius—the pull of him—was stronger than any duty she had.

Tonight, of all nights, he would be transported separately from the others. She had learned of his arrival through whispers, and she knew the gladiators would be kept in the cages, awaiting transport to the barracks after the night’s festivities.

But Iris didn’t want to wait. She needed to see him again, to know if it was truly him.

She had paid off a guard earlier, sliding him a small pouch of gold, instructing him to turn a blind eye to her movements. He had agreed, eyes gleaming with greed. She knew it was risky, but she had no choice.

She made her way to the small courtyard behind the villa, where the cages awaited the gladiators. It was dark here, the shadows stretching long and deep, and Iris felt the safety of being hidden, away from the scrutiny of the celebration. The night was still, save for the sound of distant chatter from the main hall.

Iris crouched low behind one of the larger cages, her heart hammering in her chest. She knew they’d arrive soon, and she had one chance—just one. The cage was meant to carry the gladiators back to their quarters, but Iris had found a way to be there first. She slid inside one of the empty cages, curling into the corner where the shadows would hide her. She had to remain out of sight. If anyone saw her, if anyone knew she was here, it would be over.

The cage door creaked open, and the sound of boots on stone grew louder. She held her breath, knowing who it was. When Lucius—or Hanno—finally stepped inside, his form battered, bloodied, and worn from the fight, he stopped, pausing in the doorway. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling, his posture slightly hunched from exhaustion. But even in this broken state, there was no mistaking him.

He didn’t see her at first, his gaze on the floor, but then his eyes flicked up, and they locked. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Iris…” His voice was low, hoarse, almost disbelieving, as if he had to convince himself that she was real.

She swallowed, heart in her throat, and stepped forward. The air between them was thick with unsaid words, but neither of them moved. Not at first. “It’s me,” she said softly, almost in a whisper, afraid to break the fragile spell between them.

Lucius’s gaze softened as he took in the sight of her. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, but still, there was something holding him back. He paused, just a few feet away, as if trying to process the impossible truth of the moment. His eyes searched hers, as if looking for something—some reassurance that this wasn’t just a dream.

“What are you doing here, Iris?” he asked quietly, his voice rough. “You shouldn’t be here. You—” He glanced toward the entrance, where the guards had started moving around, no doubt expecting him to leave soon. “You should be with your fiancé. This is no place for you.”

Her heart stung at the mention of her betrothed. But she couldn’t turn away now, not when he was standing here in front of her, so close and yet so far. She took a tentative step toward him, her fingers brushing the cold bars of the cage, wanting to feel him, to know that he was still the same.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I just needed to see you. To know that you’re still here. That you’re still alive.”

Lucius’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away from her. His eyes were filled with something she couldn’t quite place—sorrow, regret, and something deeper, something that made her heart ache with a longing she knew she couldn’t act on.

“I’m not who I was,” he said, his voice quieter now, filled with a mixture of pain and something more. “I’m not that boy anymore, Iris.”

Iris closed her eyes for a moment, her hand still gripping the bars, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside her. She knew the truth of his words. They both knew that nothing had changed—except everything had. The life she had once known with him was long gone. She was promised to another. Lucius was a gladiator, shackled by the life he had been forced into.

“I don’t need anything from you,” she said, her voice breaking as she opened her eyes to meet his. “I just wanted to see you. To know you’re still fighting. To remind myself that you’re real.” Her hand trembled slightly, reaching out. She could barely make herself do it—touch him, feel the reality of him. She just needed to know he wasn’t a memory.

He stood still, watching her, his own hand coming up as if he reached for her, but he didn’t. There was an unspoken understanding between them now—one that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. They couldn’t change what had happened, couldn’t undo the time that had passed. The distance between them now was unbridgeable.

“You have to keep fighting,” Iris said softly, her voice full of quiet desperation. “You have to win these battles, Lucius. Not just for your freedom—but for yourself.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling in his chest. “I’ll keep fighting,” he said, but his voice was strained. “But what if I don’t win? What if there’s nothing left for me once this is over?”

“You have to try,” she said, shaking her head. She felt her throat tighten, but she held it together, taking a deep breath. “For you. For the chance to have something more than this. I can’t change what’s already been decided. But you…” Her voice faltered for a moment. “You can still change your life. You can change Rome. The emperor’s reign terror over us all. The very thing Maximus fought to destroy has been reborn. This…this could be Rome’s second coming. You could change everything!” 

He stood still, eyes narrowed as she spoke, her voice growing more urgent, more pleading. The hope in her words was thick, almost suffocating. The weight of her expectations settled onto his shoulders, heavier than any armor he had ever worn in the arena. She was asking him to be a symbol, to be something more than just the man who had been torn apart by the brutal hands of fate. To rise up, to fight—not for his life, not for his freedom—but for something else, something bigger than them both.

The bitterness swirled inside him, bitterness he couldn’t quite shake, even though he knew it wasn’t fair. He wanted to pull her close and ask if she had really come here for him—or if she had come because she needed him to be more than the gladiator she saw. Was she still seeing the boy she once knew? Or had the weight of Rome’s problems and the brutality of their world transformed that image into something else?

“You think I’m here to save Rome?” His voice was low, thick with disbelief, and maybe something sharper, something closer to anger. He took a step closer, his breath quickening. “Have you really come to ask me to fix a city that’s rotting from the inside? To fight in the name of some grand idea, as if that would change anything?”

He could see the shock in her eyes, the way she stiffened at his words, but the feeling that burned inside him wouldn’t let him soften his tone. “I was a boy who used to laugh with you. Who dreamed of something better. And now, I’m here, in chains, fighting for my life like some beast in a cage—and you expect me to change the world? To fight for a cause that wasn’t mine? To be your hero? What do you even want from me, Iris?”

The sharpness of his words hung in the air, and he regretted them almost immediately. He knew it wasn’t her fault. He knew the weight of everything she had said came from a place of fear, of wanting him to be the person he used to be—the person she wanted him to be. But something inside him twisted in frustration, the lingering taste of his own disillusionment clouding his thoughts.

“You don’t even know what it’s like in here,” he continued, his voice quieter now, but still edged with that underlying anger. “What it takes to survive. I’m not some gladiator who can just rise up and change the world, Iris. I’m just a man trying to get through the next fight. And if I die in the arena tomorrow, what’s left of me? What good does it do Rome?”

His fists clenched at his sides, but his gaze softened just a little, though he didn’t allow himself to look away from her. “I know what your life is supposed to be. I know you’ve got your future planned out, with your betrothed and your family. You don’t need me. You don’t need this.” He gestured toward the cage, the arena that held him captive. “You don’t need someone like me anymore.”

There was silence between them now, and for a long moment, Lucius simply stared at her, the weight of his words still hanging between them. It wasn’t anger he felt—not entirely—but frustration, confusion, and something deeper that he couldn’t put into words.

"You do not get to ask me to be someone I’m not anymore.”

Iris stood there, her hand still gripping the bars, her body trembling slightly under the weight of his words. She hadn’t come here to convince him to save the empire. She had come to see him, to remind herself of who he was before he became Hanno—the gladiator. But Lucius, had taken it another way.

Maybe it was too much for him to hear. Maybe he didn’t know what to do with her presence here, what she expected from him, what he was still capable of giving. And maybe he was right to be angry, right to wonder what had brought her here tonight.

But Iris, standing in the cold dark of the cage with him, wanted to say that she didn’t care about all the politics, the battles, the blood. She didn’t care about Rome or her betrothed or the life that had been set out for her. She just wanted him. The boy she had known, the one who had made her laugh and dreamed of a future together. The man standing in front of her now, in chains, so far from the man he had once been.

But she didn’t know how to tell him that. Instead, she stepped back, slowly, her heart breaking with each movement. She had come here to see him, to remind herself of who he was—but now, as he stood there, unable to see past the fight that consumed him, it felt like all of that was slipping away again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. She turned away, the weight of his words still echoing in her ears. “I didn’t mean to ask you to be someone you’re not.”

And with that, she walked away, the door of the cage closing behind her with a final, resounding thud. Lucius watched her go, his chest heavy with regret, but no words came. The cage was cold. The night outside was full of laughter and light, and yet, it felt impossibly far away.

[clockwayswrites]

Cosmas Coffee Break

“Thanks for the excuse to take a break,” Danny said. He had his hands wrapped around his coffee cup, soaking in the warmth.

“I hope you don’t actually need the excuse. I know we try not to work anyone that hard,” Bruce said with a chuckle, though the words were sincere.

“Don’t worry, Lucius would be on me if I wasn’t getting enough rest. He’s done it before and I’m sure that he’ll do it again,” Danny said with a smile. “I am pushing it just a little right now, but I really am behind with parental leave Lucius made me take.”

“Parental leave?” Bruce asked, surprised despite himself. While all the Wayne Enterprises employees went through a background check, Bruce tried to stay out of digging deeper into them. In Danny’s case, Lucius trusted Danny and that was enough for Bruce. Lucius was reliable like that.

And would have Bruce’s head if he chased off his favorite employee by snooping.

Still, Bruce couldn’t help but notice the things he did and Danny wore no jewelry beyond a WE smart watch. The only bends in his fingers were from overuse of a pencil and a rather old break typical of teenage sports or antics.

Danny ducked his head bashfully and for some reason Bruce felt just a little disappointed.

“I adopted recently and very, very suddenly,” Danny said as he scratched at the back of his neck. “I think that maybe might be why Lucius actually kicked us out to go get coffee. One kid is overwhelming enough, I don’t know you did it several times.”

“That bad?”

“What? No, Cos is wonderful. I don’t regret my decision for a moment,” Danny corrected quickly. “I just… it really changes everything, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Bruce said, perhaps a little wistfully. “When Dick, my oldest, first came to live with us— well, let’s just say I was very lucky to have Alfred around to keep setting me straight because I had no damn clue what to do with a very active, very charismatic, and very traumatized boy suddenly being my responsibility.”

[maxdibert]

hi! i saw in one of your posts you wrote about how Sirius Black had no reason to bully Snape and i thought about it…..i mean doesn't his hatred seem too personal? we have Lupin who has no contact with Snape after book 3 but Sirius goes crazy when Snape is around and they are alone so he can attack him (kitchen scene in book 5). and he knows so much about him: who he hung out with at school, his relationship with Lucius; at the same time he doesn't know about the mark, about how Severus was the one who brought the prophecy to voldemort that led to Lily and James death. and yes he is stuck at age 21 but even then they graduated school and as he says they never heard of Snape in those years. It seems a bit odd: don't bullies usually try to downplay their role in what they did to the victim, or even try to make it look like nothing happened? And he and Remus try to do that with Harry, but at the same time he seems incredibly proud and pleased with himself when he talks about the prank. One moment confused me when I was reading book 3: when Sirius has Peter at gunpoint with his wand, he is extremely focused on him. He doesn't take his eyes off him, because it was for this moment, the act of revenge, that he escaped from prison. As far as I remember, Harry describes it as "nothing could distract him at that moment" or something like that. But as soon as Remus even mentions Snape, Sirius' attention suddenly switches: he turns away from Peter and asks about him again. Or when he watches Snape during the OWL exams??? Especially when Rowling describes his reaction after the exam, when he sees him under the tree, as the reaction of a dog to a rabbit. He seems so obsessed and like something happened between them that really got to him. Or he's just as intolerant of half-bloods as his family. I completely agree with you that Sirius bullied Snape simply because James did it and he found it funny. But his hatred seems excessive, he has no reason to hate Snape so much. James has his excuse about Lily, but Sirius has none of that. But he still tries to kill him and it doesn't really matter hides, lol. I've read an opinion that he hates him because of his unrequited feelings for James, where Severus is the reason James even noticed Lily, which I don't really agree with, to be honest. Sorry, it got too long, ahaha. What I want to ask is: do you have any thoughts on this?

Well, the explanation for his relationships at school is quite simple because Sirius doesn’t leave home until he’s 16. Considering that his brother goes to Slytherin and that Narcissa is his cousin, it’s not strange to deduce that Snape’s name, along with other Slytherin students, probably came up at some family dinner/lunch/meeting. Like, talking about who in Regulus and Sirius’ year might have ‘potential,’ for example. It seems coherent to me that, considering Sirius’ environment until he leaves to live with the Potters, he’d be aware of certain things.

Leaving that aside, let’s talk about Sirius Black, because I think in recent years the Marauders fandom has ruined this character, and he’s actually a character with a lot of depth. Or at least more than many others in the saga.

(This is gonna ne so fucking long lol)

Sirius is a posh kid. He’s a posh kid who is embarrassed about being posh and feels guilty about it. He’s the typical rich kid from a conservative family who’s had issues with his mom (in this case) and his way of getting back at everything he felt was missing from his childhood is to vehemently oppose everything he thinks she represents. And the funniest part is that (as is often the case) his problem with his mom is that they both have a terrible character, which is why they clash. Because Sirius has the kind of terrible character that is incompatible with anyone else who has the same terrible character. But despite everything, he’s still a posh kid. Because he comes from an aristocratic family and was raised with those values of superiority. Because he’s never had to fend for himself (he leaves home but goes to another rich family, the Potters, and on top of that, his uncle Alphard leaves him his entire inheritance, so he has plenty of money) and he has always enjoyed the privilege of his surname, his blood status, and the fact that he’s (according to Rowling) super handsome. In other words, Sirius belongs to the ruling class and behaves with the same arrogance, entitlement, and lack of empathy that is typical of that class. No matter how much he tries to deny it and distance himself from it, he can only do so on a superficial level (Muggle posters, being a Gryffindor, enchanting a Muggle motorcycle) because when it comes down to it, he has no idea how to deconstruct himself, nor is he interested in giving up or losing his privileges, because he’s quite comfortable with them. He’s like the typical aristocratic kid from an Opus Dei family who thinks he’s better than everyone around him because he votes for the left and has been to four protests, but at the end of the day, he still lives a bourgeois life and doesn’t understand the root of social problems.

That said, let’s move on to James.

I think James was everything Sirius wanted to be. No, not be, I think James had everything Sirius wanted to have: loving parents, a family that wasn’t involved in a cult, a pleasant environment that allowed him to do whatever he wanted instead of being constrained by traditions and social norms, liberal and progressive ideals… James had the life Sirius had always wanted, but with one key detail: he was also rich and from an old, prestigious family. This is super important because when Sirius chooses his rebellion partner, he doesn’t pick some random Muggle-born, or a half-blood, or someone from the middle or lower class. Sirius chooses as his best friend someone who embodies everything he wants to be/have, but who at the same time belongs to his same social stratum, both economically and in blood status. Sirius chooses a future Gryffindor rebel with very different ideas from his family, but ironically he chooses like anyone from his family would: someone with money, status, and power. And I find this super amusing because it’s so coherent with his character. I mean, if Sirius were a real person, he would’ve done the same thing because guys like him are like that: the kings of cognitive dissonance and double standards.

Sirius always wanted James’ validation, or at least that’s how I see it. I think for him, feeling that James approved of what he did was a way to legitimize himself as someone different from his family. James represented the “progressive” social elite that Sirius aspired to by rejecting the traditional values imposed on him. So, unconsciously, he understood that if he did everything James wanted, and I’ll go further, everything he thought James would like, then he would distance himself from that Black image and gain validation as something entirely opposite. The problem is that Sirius, unlike James, was raised in an environment where ethical and moral values were very different, and where it was clearly established that certain people were “the other,” an “other” sociologically understood as the idea that some humans are inherently less than others. And although Sirius consciously rejected this idea, unconsciously he had been raised with it. Therefore, consciously, he didn’t reject people based on their blood status because he could identify that as something his family would do, and family = bad. But unconsciously, he was conditioned to see other people as non-people, and this is where Severus comes into play.

James dislikes Severus because he sees him as an obstacle/threat/nuisance in his crush on Lily. By default, and because of that constant need for validation from James, Sirius also focuses on him as a hostile element. And if he’s hostile to James, who in a way is his moral compass, then that guy must be trash because, of course, it’s obvious. But not only that, this guy is also a half-blood and poor, so poor he wears old clothes. And on top of that, he’s ugly. And not very masculine. So he has all the elements for Sirius, the aristocrat raised in luxury under the premise that he’s better than others because of his origins, to see him as “the other” and exercise all his power and privilege to oppress him without remorse, because for him, it’s justified. Justified unconsciously by the education he received, and consciously because if James hates him, there must be a good reason to hate him, so everything is justified. If we add to that the fact that Severus desires everything Sirius has always tried to reject: more social status, more recognition, power, belonging to Slytherin, rubbing shoulders with important wizards, forgetting the Muggle world he grew up in… well, we have a molotov cocktail for him to make Severus’ life unbearable. And Severus is an easy target for someone like school-age Sirius Black: he has no friends, no surname, no parents to protect him, and no stable socio-economic situation. Sirius can project all his frustrations onto him without any consequences. He can completely dehumanize him and stop seeing him as a person. He can behave like a Black.

I think the Prank is a good example to see the difference in upbringing between Sirius and James. Both are bullies, both are abusers, both have zero remorse when it comes to using their status and power to make life impossible for those they believe deserve it. But James was raised in an environment where he knows that actions have consequences, that you can’t cross “certain lines,” such as murder, for example. Sirius was taught the opposite—he was raised to think that the life of “the other” holds no value, and that is something that in his story with Severus goes too far. James understands that death is something serious and can bring terrible consequences, while Sirius does not. For the Black family, death is nothing if there is a reason for the person to die, and Sirius has his own reasons for playing with Severus’ life the way Bellatrix would play with the life of any Muggle-born.

(This is something I really like as well—the way Sirius and Bellatrix are fundamentally alike, and how little that’s discussed. But I’ll leave that for another time, otherwise I won’t finish.)

I don’t think it’s a matter of Sirius being obsessed with Snape, but rather that, for all the reasons I’ve explained, he uses Severus as a catalyst for his repressed anger and that sadism he inherited from his family. He can’t channel it toward anyone else because that would lead to absolute rejection from James. Since James hates and despises Severus, he’s never going to question Sirius for channeling all his pent-up rage on him, so it’s a free pass. If he had reached that level of sadism with someone who didn’t provoke the same level of animosity in James as Severus did, he would have risked confronting his biggest fear: that James would see him as a Black, not as Sirius. Losing his validation as the black sheep to become just another one of them. So he focuses on Severus because it’s a safe bet.

Moving on to their relationship during the book canon…

We don’t really see a proper confrontation until the fifth book. I mean, in the third, it shows that Sirius still sees Severus as “other” by dragging him along while unconsciously banging his head. In the fourth, there’s that scene where Dumbledore forces them to shake hands, and it’s clear they still hate each other. But it’s not until the fifth book that we get a real confrontation, where Sirius loses his temper. I think this has a lot to do with (drumroll) once again that cognitive dissonance between what Sirius always wanted to be and what he actually is, especially given the role he plays on the chessboard at that point in the story.

Sirius did everything he could to distance himself from his family, and the climax of that was joining the Order of the Phoenix and actively fighting against that same family, several members of whom were “soldiers” for the opposite side. Sirius is finally achieving what he wants—to be a hero. To stop being part of the elite dark villains and instead be part of the heroic elite. The noble of high birth who fights valiantly for the good of the realm, just as James was destined to be. It’s the climax, the absolute fulfillment of his adolescent desire. But then he’s thrown into Azkaban, and when he gets out, he finds that the poor, weird kid addicted to dark arts, who sucked up to future dark wizards, who hung out with purists and even joined the “bad side”—the side of Sirius’ family, the villains—is now the most important member of the Order. He’s none other than Dumbledore’s right hand. He’s a double agent risking his neck every day and has more responsibility than anyone else. That kid Sirius called Snivellus for being a crybaby has more guts and more endurance than most people. The one who always wanted to be part of the elite Sirius hated is now the one playing them all, making them look like idiots. The one who looked frail and effeminate turns out to be more “manly.” And that hurts. That hurts a lot. You go to prison, and when you get out, the person you didn’t even consider a person not only ranks above you, but is playing in a league you can’t aspire to. And the best part is, Sirius can’t fully accept it because he’s still Sirius—a classist, privileged aristocrat incapable of accepting that (as is only logical) the poor working-class kid turned out to be far more useful than him in both politics and war.

To me, it’s poetic justice.

[myers-meadow]

Lucius Malfoy x fem! reader: That which isn't taught in books

Title: That which isn't taught in books

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x female librarian reader

Summary: Draco complains about you, the Hogwarts librarian, to his father. This results in the beautiful Lucius Malfoy paying you an unexpected visit. He is rather taken with you, and he shows you things you can't simply learn from books: your place.

Warnings: smut, blowjob, cum, spit, vaginal fingering, degradation, rough kissing, use of 'slut', praise, gloves, Lucius is Lucius and a that's a warning on it's own, consent isn't discussed but reader is into it, manhandling, (suspected) cheating, hair pulling (assumed reader has hair that can be pulled).

Wordcount: 3699

Dividers by by animated-glitter-graphics-n-more and delishlydelightfuldividers.

“Miss __, you must to lend me this book. I need it for class.” Draco Malfoy ordered, pointing to the book on top of the stack on your right.  Third years aren’t typically allowed to borrow advanced books on dark magic, so it wasn’t on the shelves for him to take with a reason.

“No,” you simply replied, removing book from the stack and sending it to the topmost shelf with a wave of your wand. “That’s a restricted book and you need a permission slip from the headmaster before borrowing it.”

Draco scoffed. “I know you let Granger use the library outside the allowed hours.”

How could the damned kid know about that? What a menace.

“The book is still restricted.”

“Do you know who my family is?” Draco said, tapping the desk impatiently.

“Yes, I know your parents quite well. We are old friends, in fact,” you said, which was a lie. The Malfoys are well-known, and you’ve run into them before. Unpleasant was the best word for it, and you were glad the moment you didn’t have to deal with them anymore. Narcissa was alright, perfectly poised and therefore polite – but still raised rich and pureblood. Lucius, on the other hand, gave you nightmares that night. Even worse that you woke up wet between your thighs.

Draco scoffed, sending you a nasty look. “We will see about that, miss __.”

You sighed as he turned around and marched away.

It was later that week that the Hogwarts library had a surprise visit from a tall, white-haired man that reminded you so very much of the pest that was Draco Malfoy.

“So this is where the students are expected to borrow their books from,” said the cold voice, heavy with poorly veiled contempt. “Hogwarts seems to spend their funds… otherwise.”

“Good evening, sir,” you started, tone flat. “Have you come here to take a look around? I assure you our collection is larger than it seems here at the front desk.”

He raised an eyebrow, only now looking at you. “Miss __,” and even that alone sounds like he chastised you, “I’ve come here because of what my son told me of your behaviour. You pick on him and single him out, while the rest of the students are allowed to break school rules at will.”

Your shoulders tensed. So he was really here because of that small ordeal. And above all, it pissed you off that he didn’t even feel the need to introduce himself properly. Of course you knew who he was, but that he expected you to still remember him was infuriating.

“I see. Then you should be pleased to know that I don’t allow any student to break the rules, which includes your son. I do not play favourites.”

An amused smile played at the corner of his lip. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.” Your tone remained flat. Despite that, it was difficult not to let your eyes wander. Gods, did he dress up this fancy just to give you a stern talking to? He was delicious. With the snake tie pin mirroring the glittering of his cold gaze, the full three piece suit that wouldn’t look out of place at a funeral, and the leather gloves he wore even though he had to cross half the castle to get here.

You continued, taking a deep breath to steel yourself – he noticed, his gaze flickering to your chest. “You may be under the impression, Mr. Malfoy, that professors of this school are easily pressured by empty threats, to give your son a leniency that I refuse to show him. This visit won’t change that, so I’d suggest you save yourself the time.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you past his nose. You were glad for the library desk separating the two of you, or you’d back away from him like a scared animal.

“I do not appreciate your tone,” he said, each word perfectly measured, low and menacing. Your adrenaline spiked, and your knees trembled. He leaned forward, and you fought the urge to take a step back. Even just that thought, of backing of, of yielding to him, he must’ve seen it cross your face, and smirked in response, clearly enjoying the hold he had on you.

A group of Hufflepuffs entered the library, giggling to themselves, until they saw the standoff you were in. “Let’s just come again later,” one suggested, and they left quickly, whispering to each other. You nodded at them, and moved your gaze back to the imposing man in front of you. From this close, you could smell the perfume he wore. Something warm like sandalwood mixed with citrus. Fuck, he was insanely attractive. Touching him would feel like the most luxurious velvet.

“I suggest,” he leaned in even closer over the desk, you felt the warmth of his breath fan your face, “that from now on, you make sure you assist in Draco’s education and let him borrow whatever books he wants.”

“If he has the right permission slip from the headmaster, Draco can borrow any book he likes. Without it, he can’t.” You could barely focus on his words with how close he was. “If you knew the book in question, you’d agree with my approach and be glad that I didn’t have a conversation about Draco’s interest of late.”

“And what book may that be, miss?”

“Forbidden hexes and curses. And he’s practiced some too, already. One may think he’s… a bit too interested in the Dark Arts.” You clacked your tongue and pushed yourself off of the desk, trying to clear your head. “It wasn’t a beginner’s book either.”

Lucius quirked an eyebrow and looked you up and down. “Perhaps we should discuss this matter somewhere more… private.”

His velvety voice made your insides flip in nervous anticipation, which you attempted to calm with little success. So, that approached worked. The value purebloods place on image was such an easy win, but it felt good to hear his tone soften.

“My office is there.”

He moved around the desk and went first, waiting for you to move around him and open the door for him. Once inside, he shut and locked the door, and with a quick wave of his wand, the blinds shut themselves. His small smirk as he looked at you then was nothing short of predatory.

“Draco told me so much about you,” his voice was even more hypnotising than before, and he knew the effect he had on you as you breathed in sharply. He walked around you slowly, taking you in completely. Surely this was another intimidation technique of his, so you force yourself to stand your ground.

“He has?” you echo, not seeing the point of it, but wanting to delay the threats and the fight – and that deliciously wrong feeling of anticipation was building steadily inside your lower belly.

“The librarian,” his voice was smooth as silk, “who is so attractive that it keeps the students from their studies. A Slytherin, but surprisingly, you don’t know who or what is good for you.”

It sounds like he’s insulting you again. He stood still right in front of you, a finger coming to rest on your cheek. The contempt has returned to his expression, along with something else.

“You dress… well. Draco said you looked inappropriate, but he is just a boy. He gets silly ideas too quickly.” Lucius’ voice has softened considerably. The way you looked up at him made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing whether to fight, flight or fawn – and the result is that you did nothing.

“Your concern for my appearance is noted, sir,” you managed to say. “Is that why you really came all this way? To make sure your son’s librarian dresses appropriately?”

A small chuckle broke the silence. “I must admit, you are more alluring than he said you were. Perhaps we can solve this disagreement in a more pleasurable manner. If you can learn your place, that is.”

You stared at him. The gloved finger tapping your cheek moved to your lips, slipping between them. The smell of the leather was strong and made your head swim.

“Or should I make it clearer for you? On your knees.” His condescending tone was unlike anything you’ve heard before: alluring, yet cruel. The velvet softness of his voice contrasted with the way he looked down at you past his nose. Such a regal face…

When you didn’t immediately obey, he pushed you down by your shoulders. The floor was cold even through the fabric of your skirt. The tip of his cane tapped your cheek lightly, but it was threat enough.

You gulped. Looking up at him from this angle was a sight to see, his amused expression, the smell of him, the texture of his glove in your hair were as intimidating as they were arousing.

“What’s the matter? I’m sure a big girl like you knows what to do.” His leather clad hand tugged open his belt and ripped open the buttons without a second of hesitation. His eyes glinted darkly with lust. Only when he tugged his cock free from his underwear, did you look away from his eyes. He was gorgeous, pulsing, rigid, the head flushed with blood, with just one teardrop of precum at the slit. Doubting your actions, you reached a hand up to grip him. Warm. Thick, too.

“Are you just going to sit there? Open.”

You obeyed, instinctively, and he groaned lowly as he slid his cock in your waiting mouth. Wetting the underside of his cock with your tongue, you teased the bit of skin just under the head, making it bounce against the roof of your mouth. His breaths came sharply, slowly turning to soft sounds of pleasure. He slid in and out as you sucked him, moving your lips along his shaft. Clearly he held back in showing just how good you made him feel – and your determination grew. You teased the head with vigour, and before you could settle on a rhythm, he forced himself in deep. Gagging and trying to swallow around him, he groaned, and the sound went straight to your core. Shifting your thighs together to relieve the throbbing ache wasn’t close to enough. Lucius set a punishing pace for himself, deep and fast. In and out, and his length grew wetter and wetter with saliva and precum.

“What a pretty girl you are,” praised Lucius, in between hissed breaths and stifled groans. He held your head back by the hair then, and pulled your lips from his cock.

“You were made for this. Know just how to please your superior.”

A cruel gleam shone in his eye as he looked down on you, and he rubbed his cock over your face, coating it in your spit. His words rang true in a way that made you whimper pathetically. The humiliation burned. You broke out in a heated sweat, but the terrible empty throbbing of your cunt was enough for you to stay put. He pulls your head back on his cock, immediately pushing into your throat again.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans. The satisfied sadism in his expression has you dripping. “What great things even you can accomplish if you receive the right guidance.”

His ‘guidance’ came in the form of an insistent hand fisted in your hair as he fucked your face, without any care for your comfort. Now that his length was wet and slimy, it went in easier, but it still made you gag. You tried your best to hollow your cheeks, wanting to prove to him how good you could be. A small part of you, at the back of your mind, was disgusted by your actions and more so by how easily Lucius exploited your submissive streak. Yet, when you glanced up and saw the pleasure etched into his face, that voice quieted down. He looked sinfully good from this angle, and you enjoyed it through tearful eyes as he pushed at your gag reflex once again. In, out, slower, feeling the drag of your tongue on the underside of his cock, and moaning filth behind clenched teeth. Then, having enough of your tongue, his pace increased, pushing into your deeper and without mercy.

Eventually he let out a satisfied groan, and he pulled out from your mouth, drool spilling onto your blouse, and he stroked himself to completion, groaning harshly as he came. Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted your face. You gasped at how unexpected of and end it was, face burning at how degrading it was to sit there and take it, stunned at the audacity of this man. It may be true that you craved this from the moment you first met him, but that didn’t change that it made you feel both disgusting and desired like nothing else could.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, filthy girl?” His gloved hand twisted in your hair, angling your face so he could admire you. “You will leave this as it is. Merlin, you enjoy this, don’t you? Made such a mess of yourself. Filthy fucking slut.”

His words came through gritted teeth, and you feel the strength he’s holding back as he forced you to stand by your hair. You yelped. The cum left a nasty pulling sensation on the skin as it started to dry. You felt used, so used, and his disgust showed clearly on his face. Nevertheless, he pulled you close, forcing your head to his and he kissed you, with open mouth against your cum covered lips. Without a care that his cum smeared his face as well as yours, and the bitter aftertaste that it left in his mouth, he devoured you hungrily.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, voice rough. You obeyed. The moan he let out as he pressed his lips to yours again was the most lewd sound you’d ever heard. Your tongues entwined, the taste of his seed mingling with saliva. It was gross, but in the best way. You made him like this, was the thought that shot through your mind, you made him gross and lose control. And you did all of that just by being you.

Teeth clashed and you winced, but he barely seemed to notice. He was so rough, so uncoordinated, yet it was the hottest thing you ever felt. Spirals and sparks of heat radiated in your belly. The hand in your hair let go, to great relief, and wrapped around your throat instead. The kiss grew fiercer still. He consumed you. All of you. His teeth tugged at your lips, nipping harshly enough for small stings of pain, but they were soothed over with the warmth of his tongue. His nose pressed against your face with how far he leant into you, how harshly he pulled your face against his.

This hunger was a world away from his earlier disgust.

When he let go, his pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, passionate and heated. He wiped the cum from his nose and lips, and licked it from his gloved fingers. Your eyes fluttered just at the sight of him. And it was you who caused this, who brought out this side of him, all dishevelled, messy, stained… All for you.

“It seems you do know your place well, dear librarian. How about a reward, then? Do you think you deserve one?”

All you could do was nod.

He pushed you back until your ass hit your desk, and he lifted you up until you were seated. “Legs wide. Good girl.” He spread your thighs as he stood between them. His gloved fingers dragged over the sensitive skin of your innermost thigh. You were positively throbbing. Have you ever felt arousal this strong while completely untouched? You hated him for it.

“Please, Mr. Malfoy,” you whimpered, already growing impatient.

Tugging at the cotton of your panties, he said, not a question, but an order: “Why don’t you take those off for me.”

You stumbled to comply. Before you could say anything, he silenced you by sliding two fingers in your mouth, and you wet them without being prompted to. The leather tasted like his cum, bitter. The texture was pleasant on your tongue. He hummed, pleased, as he slid his fingers out.

“Who knew you’d be such a quick student? But then again, they do say librarians have a wide variety of knowledge.” And his finger found your clit. “How’s that?”

You whined sharply as he increased the pressure, but didn’t move his fingers, still depriving me of the friction I craved.

“Or rather here?” and he slid his fingers to your slit, dipping in, before moving back up, bringing the slick with them. “Aren’t you a wet little slut.”

His middle finger slid in to the knuckle, with embarrassing ease. You moaned softly, brow furrowing. It felt right. So right. So perfect. This is what you were made for, for such a feeling, of being filled, of being used by a man as beautiful as Lucius Malfoy. Your eyes locked and your heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his stare.

“What a sensitive young woman you are,” he said, voice soft, yet with a darkness to it. “No one’s touched you this good before. And no one will, after.”

He pulled his finger almost out, then pushed it back in, setting himself a slow and deep rhythm, curling it deep inside. Each time he hit that spot inside, your gasps and moans became a little higher, a little more desperate. You clung onto his shoulders, and he leaned so close your noses touched.

“You look quite beautiful like this… Who knew it would be this fun to put a librarian in her place?” it almost seemed he talked to himself moreso than to you. One finger became two, but his pace remained the same. Steady, in, out, in, curling, out. The drag of his gloves made it even better, and when you looked down, they were wet and creamy from how wet you were. You whimpered as he followed your line of sight, and slammed back in harder. And harder. Now that his pace was steadily increasing, so were the sensations, growing hotter quick. He tipped you over the edge and you nearly screeched – but he kept going, the orgasm prolonging itself until you reached a second high, so high it was painful - and he moaned along with you, slowing but not pulling out. When he finally stilled, both of your breaths were sharp, as though you’d just ran up five flights of stairs. He kissed you again, messily, as he pumped in and out just a few more times, enjoying the twitches of your aftershocks.

“What a good girl,” he purred, and he pulled out. The feeling of emptiness was jarring and you clenched around nothing. His fingers slipped past your lips, and you sucked them clean obediently. “What a good girl,” he repeated, with emphasis and a fond undertone. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

Even after coming down from the orgasm, the hazy feeling stayed, making your head swim as you looked at the man in front of you. He kissed you again, and it was borderline uncomfortable with the drying cum still on your face. He was softer, a wet kiss, he was savouring you.

“I dearly hope this isn’t the last I’ll see of you, my sweet librarian,” he said, and before he left, with a wave of his wand, he grabbed your panties and left with a last, lingering look over his shoulder. “Although I expect you to behave from now on.”

Before you went to sleep that night, you replayed what happened over and over again, and despite the unsatisfiable desire, there was also anger. This man has a wife! You were livid. How could he do this? Not even the degradation – but that you let yourself be treated like that by a man who has a wife!

The next day, during your lunchbreak, the largest bouquet of roses you had ever seen was delivered to the library. There must’ve been more flowers in it than in the entire flower shop in Hogsmeade. The ridiculous arrangement sat on the desk, crowding over all the books. The delivery witch had you sign for them, but refused to tell you who they were from. You shook your head, as you sank down on your chair, staring at them. You didn’t have a vase big enough.

While you were preparing and cutting the stems, you found a note. ‘L. M.’ Was all it said and it filled you with annoyance.

Lucius. Your eyes shot fire at the mention of his name. How dare he play this off in this way. What a condescending gesture, to buy you roses just to stake some sort of claim on you. To remind you of what the two of you did the day before, to keep you in line. Resolutely, you throw the note in the paper bin. Perhaps you should send him a note too, and tell him to save those roses for his wife.

Now what? This many wouldn’t even fit in any garbage bin - not without attracting a horrible amount of attention. Perfectly pristine flowers thrown away would cause enough drama, more than keeping them would. So you, sigh, and continue trimming the stems, getting your anger out with each snip. There was enough to set a few flowers in small vases, or mugs, when those ran out, on each table in the library. The anger had faded by the time it was done, and you looked out over the suddenly very colourful library. Who will water them each morning? You’d never get around to your actual job like this.

What was left of the encounter, was that nagging feeling, of being special. Special enough to have watched such a powerful man as Lucius Malfoy become undone. You smiled softly as you stacked several returned books in your arms. Perhaps this wasn’t over yet.

[rainydayathogwarts]

When we were young - Sirius Black

saw a post about Sirius x slytherin!reader's relationship drifting apart from when they were childhood best friends and wanted to add my own thoughts. If anyone finds the author of that blurb, please tag them in the comments! Warnings: SMUT, cheating (r cheats on bf), semi-public sex 2.7k wc

Sirius had immediately stopped speaking to you the second you got sorted into Slytherin, set on building himself a reputation as the odd one out of the family, wanting to break all ties with the Black family. Ties that included you. You're no different, of course. Once you've pieced the puzzle together, noticing how Sirius's gaze always drifts away just as you look his way, you decide not to self-sabotage your relationship with your family, instead going along with their expectations of you. You become close friends with the other Slytherins in your year group, never missing an occasion to flirt with the older boys either. A new lifestyle has been adapted by both of you.

You soon become the type that the younger Slytherin girls aspire to be, strutting down the corridors without a care of what Gryffindors might say, shooting a snarky comment at them if they try causing problems with your friends. Sirius, on the other hand, becomes a typical Gryffindor prankster, set on getting everyone's eyes on him if it's ever possible. He seems particularly keen on targeting your housemates, though you never find yourself being a victim of his pranks.

In the summers, Sirius seems to have disappeared from the mansion, and you find yourself in Regulus' company more than you would have liked, the younger boy constantly going on random tangents. You listen to him as he was once your best friend too, but slowly stop going over when you realise Sirius won't come down to save you, preferring the tight friends you've made in the past few years over Regulus's company. With rich parents who are constantly on business trips, just like yours, your new friends' mansions are often empty, allowing more time spent there.

Sirius notices your absence; he can't hear your voice through the wall of his and Regulus's bedroom, but he pushes the thought to the back of his mind, occupying himself with his best mates, planning new pranks on the man who has you wrapped in his muscular arms. The relationship was unexpected. You'd been with all your friends, sitting on a couch with Narcissa while Barty, Lucius, Avery and Evan played a competitive game of Wizard's chest in teams of two. Evan had done a little triumphant dance, and claimed he wanted to go out for a celebratory smoke. You stretched your legs out in front of you, stating you'd wanted to go for a walk, and one thing led to another.

Sitting in the middle of his parents' giant hedge maze, Evan held his cigarette in one hand, the other cradling your cheek softly, guiding you into a passionate kiss. Feelings had been confessed, and before you knew it, your parents had found out about the relationship, strongly encouraging it to go on. So when the new school year started, you had become the talk of Hogwarts. Sirius hadn't taken the news well, complaints of how different you had become made common appearances in his daily conversations with the other marauders, who started shooting each other concerned looks for their best friend.

Sirius watched with distaste across the courtyard as Evan pressed kisses across your neck, arms wrapped around your waist while you sat in front of him, leaning back into his chest as you carried out casual conversation with Narcissa, who sat across from you. You turned briefly to face Evan, and Sirius perked up, expecting you to scold Evan, or at least shoot him and annoyed look, but instead you leaned further into him, connecting your lips with his, arms wrapping over his shoulders as he pulled you onto his lap. Sirius almost did a double take, his lip curling in disgust as he gathered his things, leaving the courtyard in a hurry.

Sirius had only ever known you as a little girl, disgusted by relationships and kissing, not as a grown woman who had gone past puberty, building relationships of her own, unafraid of her sexual nature. The same went your way too, always averting your gaze when you spotted Sirius making out with a different girl at parties, shoving away the thought that maybe it should have been you instead of whoever she was. You had discovered everything together, until you got to the age of puberty and relationships, splitting down different paths, arguably when you needed each other the most.

The first time you briefly reconnected in almost seven years, Lucius, Avery and Barty had barged into the Great Hall, late for breakfast, their hair dyed bright red, uniforms replaced with Gryffindor jumpers and red trousers - victims of another prank. They trudged up to the Gryffindor table, but before anyone opened their mouth, Evan appeared at the entrance of the Great Hall, having endured the worst of it all.

A collection of gasps was heard and you couldn't help but laughing in shock. His hair and trousers matched in colour, but he also had red stripes drawn on his face, as though he was supporting the Gryffindor quidditch team in a game. Worst of all, his shirt was off, exposing his beautiful abs, but when he turned around, red glitter spelled out "MY GIRLFRIEND HAS THE HOTS FOR LIONS" all over his back.

"Do you think this is fucking funny!? It doesn't fucking come off!" He yelled, pushing his friends out of the way to loom over the four marauders sat at the Gryffindor table, throwing the red jumper he held at them, causing a clatter of glass cups, and loud laughs. You couldn't help the grin on your face, a hand covering your mouth, trying to silence your giggles. You glanced up to look at the Gryffindor table, and for the first time in years, made solid eye contact with Sirius Black, who in that moment was your best friend again, both of you eleven years old without a care in the world. He smiled at you, looking up at your boyfriend, and though you couldn't hear what he said, when his mouth moved, your boyfriend's head instantly snapped in your direction.

"You think this is funny? Do you have the hots for Gryffindors?" This time you couldn't help the laugh from bubbling in your chest, even as the entire hall went silent. "No baby, you just look amazing in red." You insisted through laughs, not even convincing yourself. He stormed out of the hall, but you didn't bother following him, too busy collecting yourself. Somehow, that had caused you to be late to Slughorn's potion class, earning yourself a detention, despite many others being late to his lesson too.

You swung your feet from where you sat on the high stool in detention, glancing up at Slughorn, who made no move to give you any instructions. The door creaked, and you turned back to see who was entering. A flash of curly black hair and you knew exactly who it was, snapping your head forward again. "Mr. Black! Professor McGonagall told you to be here at 5 sharp! It is now 5:08!" Slughorn exclaimed, walking towards you. "Sit with Ms. L/N, you need to make me a few batches of the cure for boils. You can leave when you've filled up 50 bottles." You couldn't help the annoyed "What!?" that escaped from your mouth at the instructions. "Do you have a problem with that Ms. L/N?" You shook your head at the old man, looking back down at the desk.

The door slammed shut again, a clear sign of the Professor's absence, and you groaned, hitting your head on the desk. "I know exactly how you feel." Your head shot back up at the comment, having forgotten you weren't alone. "Sirius." The boy stared at you with a soft smile and you pursed your lips awkwardly. His name felt familiar coming out of your mouth, but it had been so long since you'd said it last that it felt almost alien at the same time. A long silence filled the room, causing chills to run up your arms.

"Hey, sorry about your boyfriend by the way." He started, making you look up at him. You scoffed, a smile tugging the corners of your lips up "Are you really?" Sirius shook his head, grinning. "No, but you don't seem sorry either." You shrugged, "Well, I need some excitement with him. He's..." You trailed off with a huff, biting your bottom lip, afraid you had said too much to the wrong person. "Someone looks like they're about to break up with their boyfriend." Your eyes went wide, and you shook your head, snapping "You can't say anything Sirius. I'll get to it when I get to it." He made a move of zipping his mouth and throwing a key away, and you sighed.

"Best friends always keep each others' secrets." You scoffed, replying with "What best friends? You haven't been able to look me in the eye since I got sorted into Slytherin. I hung out with Regulus during the Christmas holidays for the first two years of life at Hogwarts." You complained, your eyebrows furrowing. "Why the change all of a sudden?" You remarked, hopping up on the desk, dangling your legs over its side and leaning forward. Sirius stepped closer to you so you were barely a foot away from each other, wiping his palms on his trousers and biting his lip. "Because I-I... Just let me help you break up with him." He begged, looking at you hopefully.

"Sirius, wha-" You gasped when two calloused hands cupped your face, bringing it forwards so that Sirius could kiss you desperately. Your hands came up to Sirius's chest, pushing him away from you. Panting, you observed the boy in front of you, completely bewildered. Sirius stood, a grimace on his face as though he knew this would happen. "You can't just! You can't-" You breathed, hands gripping his jumper, pulling his body back to yours urgently. You pressed your lips back to his the second he was close enough, his arms wrapping around your waist just as Evan had done the day before.

Sirius bit your lip down making you gasp, and slipped his tongue into your mouth, battling with you for dominance. You moaned loudly, hugging him closer to you. Sirius deepened the kiss, hands sliding down your back until he was groping your ass, massaging the fat between his big hands. You went on your tip-toes, trying to get impossibly closer to him, hips grinding into his, causing the both of you to moan loudly, breaking the kiss momentarily. You panted, catching your breath before grabbing both of Sirius's hands and dragging him into the ingredients cupboard to finish your business, desperately grinding against each other until you were hoisted up against the wall, panties falling down to your ankles while Sirius shimmied out of his pants, finally stuffing your tight cunt with his big cock.

Your lips never separated while Sirius fucked you, all the pent up frustration from the last few years being taken out of you in that moment. Your arm slipped under the back of his collar, nails scratching at the sensitive skin on his back, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Your orgasm hit you like a wave and you shuddered in Sirius's arms, moaning his name so loudly he had to slap a hand over your mouth to cover your sounds, eyes worriedly glancing at the closed door. After catching your breath, you had pushed Sirius away from you, falling to your knees to finish him off, making doe eyes at him as he gripped your hair, pushing you onto his dick. Sirius's thighs started shaking and he cussed your name out before he was pulling you back up to his level, slamming his lips against yours once more, tasting his own pleasure as he mumbled "Break up with him, break up with him."

That night, when Evan approached you trying to apologise, pressing kisses on your neck while hugging you from the back, his hips grinding against yours, you brushed him off, insisting "It was a dick move Evan. You didn't have to embarrass me in front of the whole school." Even when you knew very well that you were the one who had made fun of your boyfriend, humiliating him when he was just angry with another boy.

You and Sirius continued to meet after that, set on talking things out before things got serious between you, but you couldn't help the stolen kisses and wandering hands, even as Evan waited for you relentlessly in the common room as you had promised. Discovering that the other was still passionate about things you had loved as children brought you closer, as though you were uncovering your best friend all over again. You met the marauders, who instantly loved you, but it was really Lily who took you in, telling you more about herself than Narcissa had ever opened up to you about. You truly found your people, unafraid of what your parents had to say to you, or who pureblooded families thought you should make relations with.

"What the fuck is this?" Spat Evan one night, when you'd all been hanging out in you and Narcissa's dorm. You had been quiet all day, guilt-ridden, trying to figure out a way to finally break things with Evan. Four heads turned to face you and Evan, sat with his arm around your shoulder. The tall boy stood up, walking over to your open closet, and you immediately followed in horror of what he'd found. A red and yellow quidditch jumper laying under a pile of clothes. You'd forgotten it was there, having thrown it in your closet after you and Sirius had gone for a walk by the black lake late at night, giving you his jumper after feeling your cold skin.

Evan gripped the jumper in his hand and you tried cooly playing it off "Oh, that's probably from that prank, when they swapped-" "Don't fuck with me Y/N. Do you have the fucking hots for Gryffindors, is this was that is?" Evan yelled, stepping closer to your threateningly as you shuffled backwards. Narcissa stood up, walking towards you. "Calm it Evan, that's mine." "No it's fucking not!" Evan aggressively pushed you back and you squealed, tripping over your feet and slipping on the carpet, hitting your forehead head on the four poster bed as you fell, blood immediately beginning to drip down your face. Through teary eyes, you could see the four figures of your friends standing up and pulling Evan away from you protectively.

He was dragged out of the room, the door slamming shut behind them and Narcissa immediately crouched by you, bringing you into a tight hug, whispering comforting words into your ear. "I know, I know, it's okay." By the next day, not only had all the students found out what happened, but your parents did too, and everything you had done for seven years to meet the standards of being accepted by Slytherin pureblooded families had gone straight into the trash.

You had gotten an angry letter from your parents by breakfast, and all of Hogwarts witnessed the angry red cut on your face from Evan's outburst. Sides were made, people had opinions. 'It was wrong to cheat; worse to physically hurt someone because you were mad. It was cute that you and Sirius made up, but you should have told Evan. You were friends with the marauders, so everyone who preferred them over the Slytherins automatically liked you but that meant all the Slytherins who didn't personally know you now hated you.'

Sirius had worriedly ran over to you when he saw you in the hallway, bringing you into a hug that had you succumbing to tears in his arms. You weren't welcome back home, you told him, and he apologised for giving you the same reputation he worked so hard to get as the rebel of the family. Months later, when you graduated, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, Pettigrew and Evans all cheered for you because your parents hadn't shown up for their traitorous daughter.

Now, years later, living in your own house facing your best friends' house, you realised that the pain was all worth it because you had a wicked story to tell your children.

[iamnmbr3]

Draco's Motivations in the Book 7 Room of Requirement Confrontation

I just reread the Fiendfyre sequence and based on a close reading Draco's motivations and actions are a lot more complex and sympathetic than I remembered. Not to mention, once again, here there be drarry.

First, the context:

After the incident at Malfoy Manor, we know from Harry's psychic connection to Voldemort and from the Carrows' overheard discussion that Voldemort's wrath was exceptionally terrible. The Malfoy family became virtual prisoners in their own homes for months and were subjected to especially brutal (even by Voldemort's standards) torture that was also likely quite protracted. Lucius has visible marks on him months later - which, given what we know about magic in that world, really speaks to the level of what has been going on. While he probably got the worst of it, it's certain that none of his family members escaped unscathed. After their other failings they have at this point probably permanently fallen out of favor and have nothing but a (likely short) life of misery to look forward to.

Draco bears a lot of responsibility for this state of affairs since it was he who chose not to identify Harry. This likely adds to his sense of conflict as his conscience tells him one thing and everything he has ever been taught tells him something else. He presumably feels responsible for the suffering his family (we know from book 6 that he does genuinely care about them) has to endure.

Not to mention that he himself is suffering along with them. It would be unsurprising therefore if he felt tempted to "rectify" his earlier moment of what he probably perceived as weakness and made a last ditch attempt to save his parents' (and his own) lives and prestige. While Harry has been taught that love and mercy are noble and valuable impulses, Draco has not. In his world love and mercy are called weakness.

Quite possibly as he suffered and faced death alongside his family, part of him must have felt ashamed of the impulses that led to his choices when Harry was a prisoner at the Manor. Everything he has been taught tells him that Voldemort's victory is inevitable and that his moment of shameful weakness has accomplished nothing except to fail his own family and condemn them (and himself) to a likely short life filled with suffering.

At most what we see in the Room of Requirement is a replay of what we saw on the Astronomy Tower - where Draco is deeply conflicted and when confronted with the reality of violence in support of Voldemort cannot go through with it even under tremendous pressure and even though his failure to carry out these acts of violence will inflict danger and suffering on himself and his loved ones.

But, is that even what actually happens? In my opinion, the answer is "no."

The scene in question:

If we actually look at the text it's not even clear that's what's going on at all. Draco's motives are ambiguous at best here. The scene starts when Harry is stretching out his hand to take the diadem. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle come up behind him and he is completely unaware of them. Draco then announces their presence, alerting Harry that he is being watched. He could've very easy simply stunned Harry or attempted to put the Imperius Curse on him (or killed him) while his back was turned. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead he talks, thereby ruining the element of surprise.

And that's not typical of Draco at all when he actually wants to attack Harry. He's never beaten Harry in a face-to-face confrontation. (In fact, the last time he tried - in 6th year - he almost ended up dead.) The two times he has managed to incapacitate Harry - when he petrified him on the train in 6th year and when he hid and caught Harry for Umbridge with a tripping jinx in 5th year - he did so by using the element of surprise to his advantage.

Given that Draco knows that Harry is a very formidable opponent (AND that Harry's friends are nearby) if he truly simply wanted to capture or kill him, announcing his presence is the last thing he would ever do. Then he says "That's my wand you're holding." He still doesn't cast any spells - not even to try to disarm Harry. He also doesn't say he wants to hand him over to Voldemort. He doesn't even tell Harry to drop his own wand, attempt to take him prisoner, or even threaten him.

It is Crabbe, not Draco who says "We're gonna be rewarded...We decided to bring you to 'im." Draco doesn't say anything about his own intentions other than that he wants his wand back - and we certainly know that even in 6th year he didn't trust Crabbe and Goyle, much less now, and thus is unlikely to speak openly in front of them. 

At this point Ron comes to investigate and Crabbe tries to use magic to cause a mountain of debris to fall on Ron and crush him. Harry counters the spell and Draco then grabs Crabbe's arm when he tries to repeat the spell. He gives as his justification the need to avoid the diadem being crushed but since we know he doesn't trust Crabbe it's likely this isn't truthful. Especially since Voldemort has not said anything about wanting the diadem (and even if it wasn't a Horcrux it likely wouldn't be damaged in any case).

Crabbe points out this very thing and Draco argues with him at which point Crabbe says "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished." So arguably he was not even including Draco in the "We" he imagined would be rewarded. Crabbe then tries to use Crucio on Harry.

Draco then again intervenes and tries to stop him. 

"STOP" Malfoy shouted at Crabbe, his voice echoing through the enormous room. "The Dark Lord wants him alive--"  

He doesn't even just say it. He shouts. We rarely see Draco shout. He is someone who generally keeps his deeper emotions hidden - it's why he's so naturally gifted at Occlumency to the point that he is powerful enough at a young age to lie to both Snape and Voldemort.

What he says here doesn't really even make sense because Goyle isn't even trying to kill Harry; he's just trying to hurt him. However Draco is so distressed by this that he actually starts yelling, something we NEVER see him do at ANY other point in the book. "The Dark Lord wants him alive" is also exactly what Snape says to Bellatrix as they flee in book 6, and we know that Snape's real intent was to protect Harry with a believable excuse. It's the only thing Draco could reasonably say in that moment as a justification. 

Crabbe (rather sensibly) points out that 1) he didn't even try to kill Harry and 2) Voldemort ultimately wants Harry dead so it probably doesn't matter that much. This makes perfect sense. And yet Draco is inordinately concerned with preventing harm to Harry & Co rather than with taking any action to capture or even disarm any of them.

Clearly he did not expect to lose control of Crabbe and Goyle like this and as a result is now losing control of the situation (and himself). (Unlike Harry, Draco is more of a planner and is not as good at reacting in the moment.) Also the possibility that Harry could be killed seems to drive him nearly to the point of hysteria - rather like how Ron reacted to Hermione being in mortal peril at the Manor. This is not just a general aversion to killing. This is something more. He finds the idea of Harry dying truly unbearable. (I don't need my ships to be canon; this one just happens to be.)

At this point they start fighting and Draco loses Narcissa's wand. Wandless, he STILL tries to intervene. Crabbe and Goyle are both aiming their wands at Harry and Draco once again starts yelling -  "Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!" and is obviously in significant distress and is not at all happy with what is going on. 

After that the Fiendfyre gets loose and the rest of the scene goes down without much dialogue.

At NO POINT does Draco 1) actually say he wants to hand Harry to Voldemort OR  2) attempt to attack Harry or Ron or Hermione at all OR 3) use his Dark Mark to call Voldemort OR 4) tell anyone he's seen Harry after they get out of the Room of Requirement - even in a later scene when he's been cornered by a Death Eater who is considering killing him he doesn't reveal this information even though that probably would've proven his loyalty or at the very least distracted the Death Eater.

Conclusions about Draco's motivations:

So, where does that leave us? What went down there and what was Draco trying to do?

We really have 3 options.

Option 1: Draco tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort in order to save himself and his family, got cold feet and couldn't really go through with it, and then lost control of the situation due to Crabbe and Goyle's changing loyalties. 

Verdict: Possible but unlikely given the remarkably bad job he does of it and how inconsistent his approach is with his usual MO. Even if we assume his heart wasn't in it you'd think he'd at least have got as far as disarming Harry before announcing his presence. Especially since Harry almost killed him last time they fought (and Draco probably doesn't know Harry didn't know what the Sectum Sempra curse would do.)

And if his heart WAS in it then then this makes even less sense since he not only didn't attack Harry while his back was turned but also didn't call Voldemort or even inform anyone that he'd seen Harry. 

Option 2:  Draco wanted to get himself captured in a way that looked convincing so that he could take the chance Dumbledore offered in 6th year, only it went quite badly wrong.

Verdict: This would be an interesting possibility but I think it's also unlikely as it's simply too risky. He doesn't know Harry was there on the astronomy tower or that Harry would make the same offer. His family would also likely be murdered if Voldemort realized this had happened.  

Option 3: Draco wanted to cut a deal in order to improve his family's situation without actually handing Harry over - perhaps he hoped for some kind of exchange where he could get his wand back and bring Voldemort the diadem as some kind of consolation prize - but overestimated his control over his cronies and lost control of the situation. 

Verdict: I actually think this works best given his behavior during the scene. He initiates a conversation because he wants information about what and where the diadem is (and what value it would have to Voldemort) and because he wants to make some offer along the lines of 'give me my wand and the diadem and we'll let you go.' This could get him what he wants and help his family without actually harming anyone.

Also it hedges his bets a bit because if Harry wins he will owe Draco. The problem of course is that Crabbe and Goyle aren't happy to just take orders anymore and have their own goals. At that point, instead of caving and going along with what Crabbe and Goyle want to do instead, Draco actually tries to intervene, albeit in a way that doesn't actually expose him as questioning Voldemort.  

Draco made his choice at the Manor. If he wanted to hand Harry over he would have. But he couldn't. He cares about him too much. But he also feels tremendous guilt and fear over the price he and his family are still paying for that decision. This is his attempt to try to fix things - to try to find a middle ground between the conflicting imperatives that are tearing him apart. The reality though, as he shortly discovers, is that there is no middle ground. And when he sees that, once again he chooses Harry.

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Trick or treat!! 🍬

i'm late by several days, but you get a treat(?) it depends on if you think my writing is a treat 😂 that was a bold thing for me to claim--

-

“Oh no,” Pansy Parkinson bemoaned with a disdain she only saved for two things in this world. One: a new Witch Weekly fashion trend that simply wouldn’t do. And two: Harry Potter.

Considering there was no trashy magazine spread out on her lap, Tom could only presume Potter was within eye line. So, subtle as a herd of hippogriffs, Tom turned to see if he could also spot Potter in the courtyard. And after merely a moment of careful searching, lo and behold, there he was.

Standing beneath the shade of a sprawling oak tree, Potter held his Firebolt casually across his shoulders. Of course, he was surrounded by his typical Gryffindor entourage—and given their propensity for boisterously annoying laughter and chatter—Tom was surprised to see they were all sitting relaxed and quiet. No wonder he hadn’t heard them long before now.  

Potter’s head was tilted back as though he were admiring the warm afternoon sun through the tree’s dense leaves. And with the way the shadows and light were casting flickering patterns on the smooth plains of his face, Tom was ready to believe that. What an idyllic little picture the boy wonder was presenting. Disgusting.

“Seriously,” Pansy continued, “we can’t have a moment to ourselves? Where do they get off sitting that close to us? It’s like they’re trying to give me a migraine—everyone knows the colour red makes me nauseous from the hours of ten to eight!”

Tom thought that was a bit dramatic. However, he could agree with the overall sentiment: must Potter and his little groupies be everywhere?

Draco coughed, poorly concealing a laugh, and Theo sighed softly, shaking his head behind the book he was reading. “Here’s a radical thought: Don’t look at them,” Theo sarcastically suggested and pointedly turned to the next page.

“Come now, Theo,” Draco smiled. Something wicked and mischievous built in his tone, “Can you blame her? That is the Harry Potter. That is the Boy-Who-Lived, Ender of Grindelwald, Hero of the Wizarding World, known Dark Lord Defeater—“

Theo slammed his book shut and hissed, “Can you just get on to bloody punchline already?”

“—And close personal associate of Pansy’s long-time infatuation: Hermione Granger.”

Pansy spluttered, seemingly appalled but turning slowly the colour she proclaimed to hate so very much. “I DO NOT—“

“Oh please,” Draco rolled his eyes, “at least you aren’t as bad as Tom.”

Tom, who had been listening with a close ear and had half an eye on his fellow Slytherins, was still mostly distracted by the annoying way Potter seemed to be enjoying this perfectly fine afternoon. And how the light reflected off Potter’s eyes, making them glow like the polar night sky Professor Sinistra had shown them several classes ago. And how, even half put together in his quidditch uniform, Potter looked far too comfortable in his skin—really, no one should be that at ease wearing those tight-fitted trousers. Tom hates him.

Draco leant forward, ready to wave a hand over Tom’s face. “I mean, look at him. He’s not even listening to us,” but as Draco stretched his hand near enough, Tom grabbed his wrist. 

“And what,” Tom asked voice low and words slow, his eyes turned to meet Draco’s head-on, “do you mean by that, Malfoy?”

Draco flinched back, but because he was literally caught in Tom’s grasp, there wasn’t much space regained. “Well - I mean - surely you’ve - I thought -“ Draco stuttered.

Theo graciously decided to step in, “What this idiot is trying to say is: we know you like him.”

Like him? 

“Like who?” Tom asked, perplexed. Like Draco? Theo had said it well enough; the boy is an idiot. His older brother Lucius was helpful to a point, and his father Abraxas showed some promise in Tom’s carefully laid plans. Still, overall, the only reason Tom bothered to associate with Draco was his well-known and depressingly well-respected name. The Malfoys carried far too much weight in the upper echelons of wizarding society. So it would be foolish not to capitalise on the Malfoys’ most glaring weakness: their beloved youngest child.

Pansy searched Tom’s face, bewildered, and said, “You’re kidding?”

“Oh. Wow, no, he’s quite serious.” Theo’s brows crept high up his forehead, and he whistled, “I never thought I’d see the day our very own Tom Riddle was daft about someone. And blind to it, too? This must be one of the rarest magical phenomena ever witnessed.” 

Tom frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Draco cleared his throat and carefully twisted his wrist from left to right until he could easily slip free in Tom’s distracted state. “As I was saying, you’re worse than Pansy. She at least bullies Granger to the point of loud confrontations,” —Pansy murmured a disgruntled ‘quiet, you’— “but you don’t even talk to Potter. You just make gaga eyes at him from a distance.”

Tom blinked once. Gaga eyes? Him? At Potter? “I do no such thing. That’s ridiculous.”

Pansy scoffed, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Theo sighed. “Tom, at first we thought it was part of your 15-year plan, or whatever you keep calling it, to be the youngest Minister in history. After all, Potter is a good political match, and he’s Magical Britain’s sweet summer child. If you were to capture his affection and work your way through the ministry, even your darker leanings would get a pass because ‘how could our darling saviour romantically involve himself with a dark, evil, and immoral wizard?’”

Pansy and Draco both nod their heads sagely. 

Theo continues, “But when you never tried to speak with Potter, ask him out to Hogsmeade weekends, or even just offer to study with him, we realised you actually may simply like him. No strings attached.”

Tom was blindsided, and he was never blindsided. How did these three fools jump to this conclusion? Sure, Potter wasn’t unattractive, and, fine, Tom could admit that Potter’s family background coupled with his new found status was appealing and a good match for his political schemes, and, with a wand to his head, maybe he could acquiesce that Potter did have a magical aptitude that possibly rivalled Tom’s own, and, again, those damn trousers…

Oh Merlin. Was he crushing on Harry Potter?

Tom’s face scrunched up in disgust. 

“Ah - I think he’s just sorted it out,” Theo nodded. He stood up and dusted off his robes. “Well, my work here is done. See you all in Charms.”

Pansy and Draco both watched, horrified, as Theo ambled away. He walked towards the group of lounging Gryffindors and even offered them a small smile and a wave, which was more than he had ever offered to anyone in his own house. 

Tom swore he could feel his eye twitch when Potter caught sight of Theo and, with that ridiculous natural charm of his, waved back and grinned like they‘d always been good friends.

-

(to be continued...?)

[lilbeanz]

hello beanz, hope you're doing well! do you have any useless worldbuilding headcanons or jodt facts which are utterly useless or very mildly useful to the plot?

Hello lovely💗 I'm doing well, and I hope the same for you!

And gah! This is such a good ask! Definitely a thinker, too 🤭

The Useful Headcanons:

• The Wizarding World is called the Wixen World because fuck the patriarchy. (And yes, I realise both "wizard" and "witch" can be perceived as gender neutral, but typically, wizards are male, and witches are female (ugh👎))

• There are more magical schools than just eLEvEn, because as a wise man once said:

Take it from Hermione and Draco in GS,ch4:

“There’s around fifty in all of Europe,” Hermione began.

“Another fifty in Asia,” Draco carried on.

“Several in the Americas.”

“A handful of smaller schools scattered across the Pacific Islands.”

“And near a hundred in Africa.”

• Generally, wix are not homophobic, transphobic, or racist. Their prejudice problems revolve around blood and magical creatures.

Historically speaking, the Victorian era really fucked up Muggle society. And, yes, there was homophobic/racist ideology pre-Victorian era (1600s - 1700s), but by then, the magic and muggle world was already at odds with each other (Statute of Secrecy was eatablished in 1692) -- why would purebloods concern themselves with such trivial Muggle bigotry?

• Which leads me to my next worldbuilding point; Paganism. Traditional witchcraft and its influences on both the Wixen and Muggle worlds. Pureblood families are known to celebrate the Wheel of the Year -- equinoxes and solstices etc... Paganism existed before the statute and still exists into the Muggle world of course, which is how Muggles have wicca and the craft. Why Wiccan Muggles gather at Stone Henge for the summer solstice and all sorts. It just makes sense 🤌✨️

• Wolfstar. That's it. That's the whole bullet point. Just. Wolfstar.

• In Pureblood society, there is an unspoken hierarchy. The Malfoys' circle consisted of the Goyles, the Crabbes, and the Notts (and other notable Death Eater names), as well as the Parkinsons, the Greengrasses, and many other blood purist sympathisers.

Draco grew up with Greg, Vince, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo. The coming war will surely test the strength of childhood bonds...

• The divide between Draco and his father means Draco is becoming his own person as opposed to following in his father's footsteps. Draco finds himself striving to be a little more like his mother, and a lot more like himself.

The fire of rebellion flourishes inside him, but how far can he go before the flames grow out of his control?

The Not So Useful & Sort of Silly Headcanons:

• Crabbe and Goyle are not as thick as some people (*cough* Harry *cough*) perceive. Vince is a Transfiguration whizz-kid & Greg enjoys art.

• Pansy Parkinson falls in love very easily, but also very quickly moves onto her next meal -- ah, her next fixation.

• Mad-Eye Moody enjoyed a very relaxed year of his retirement from 1994 to 1995, with absolutely no home intrusions or attacks from dark wix.

• Lucius Malfoy has an unhealthy obsession with white peacocks. Especially his prized darling, Bartholomew Armand Malfoy the Third.

• Dobby has a cupboard specifically for storing all of his socks at Hogwarts.

• Professor Burbage had a groovy flower-power phase in the 70s.

• Harry sometimes finds himself talking to Draco's embroidered portrait on the Black family tapestry at Grimmauld Place.

• Erik, Nikolaj, and Katrina embark on a journey across America after graduating from Durmstrang. In their travels, they may discover many things...

I'm sure there's more! But here's what I can think of off the top of my head! 🥰💕

[keepmycandleburning]

Who are the Lestrange brothers?

The first time we see them is at their trial. Rodolphus and Rabastan are mentioned together three times in the series; the two times they're mentioned by name, Rodolphus is mentioned first. Therefore, since there's no other way to make a guess, I might guess that Rodolphus is the first man mentioned in the trial scene and Rabastan is the second.

Neither of them get much of a physical description: Harry doesn't note their hair color, their skin color, or any defining facial features, even though he does note these for Bellatrix and Barty (and before either of them start speaking, so it's not that).

Harry sees them again in the newspaper when they escape from Azkaban, and again he does not give them any physical description, or even really seem to notice them at all. Same with their photos that are on the shops at Hogsmeade. They're at the Department of Mysteries, but Harry doesn't recognize them and/or bother to note who they are.

Rodolphus is of much more interest to me than Rabastan because of his relationship with Bellatrix, so I'm just going to talk about him but you can apply certain things to Rabastan too.

The trial is the only time in the entire series that Bellatrix verbally acknowledges Rodolphus's existence, when she refers to the four of them as 'we' and 'us,' and implies that Rodolphus (and Rabastan and Barty) is in Voldemort's high favor and that Voldemort will rescue all of them together:

Bellatrix does not mention Rodolphus when she's in Spinner's End, nor do either of the other characters—on the contrary, she spends much of the chapter talking about Voldemort. Rodolphus doesn't come up any of the times Narcissa mentions her own husband (like being angry at Bellatrix for blaming Lucius), he doesn't come up when Bellatrix speaks of her hypothetical sons (and she says if I had sons, as if Rodolphus doesn't even exist), Snape doesn't bring up Rodolphus's imprisonment or failure at the DoM to mock Bellatrix. Narcissa defends Lucius, references her helplessness with Lucius in Azkaban, references Lucius's opinions to convince Snape to help her; Bellatrix does not reference Rodolphus once. Lucius's name is mentioned eight times in this chapter; not once do any of the characters even allude to Bellatrix being married. Rodolphus is treated by all three characters like he does not exist.

The combination of Bellatrix not even acknowledging Rodolphus's existence, and then proceeding to, presumably in front of Rodolphus both times, tell another man he is her highest pleasure and speak to him as if to a lover, is really telling of how she sees Rodolphus. Does Bellatrix not mention Rodolphus perhaps because she's just really private, or just not an affectionate person? No, because of how she interacts with Voldemort.

Rodolphus is not mentioned at the Death Eater meeting in The Dark Lord Ascending. I hadn't thought about this until I saw Lady_Escapist write about it on AO3, but Tonks is also Rodolphus's niece, yet Voldemort ignores him completely like he's not there. I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa... AND RODOLPHUS! And Rodolphus failed to get the prophecy; Voldemort would have every reason to mock and humiliate him too. But he doesn't. Or, perhaps, does he, when he responds to Bellatrix's initial statement? Maybe, but I don't see how that would excuse him from the Tonks comment. It doesn't seem to me like Voldemort is interested in humiliating Rodolphus, which makes me think the 'no higher pleasure' exchange is not something that would offend Rodolphus.

We know Rodolphus is at the Battle of the Seven Potters, since Tonks mentions him:

He was fighting alongside Bellatrix, the same as in the Department of Mysteries. It seems they typically work together, since Lucius automatically pairs them together, and then they work together in a second unrelated situation where Lucius is not in charge. One could conclude from this that Rodolphus is a very strong duelist—Bellatrix would not do this otherwise (ie out of obligation), since we see that she does not seem to consider them a unit outside of DE work. It could also be that he is weaker, and the DEs get assigned with one strong fighter in each pair/group. But since Voldemort speaks very highly of 'the Lestranges' in the graveyard, and Rodolphus had a high ranking place in the DE circle (more below), I would guess that it's the former, and he's a very competent DE.

I've seen some people interpret that 1. Rodolphus intentionally took a curse for Bellatrix, and 2. that the quote below is about Rodolphus. There's no evidence for either of these, I don't think. But either is plausible, if you like to believe it—the second one less so, since we know that Tonks identifies Rodolphus by name when she speaks of him. Also given that the Death Eaters were consistently stopping to save each other when they fell off their brooms, getting Stunned is not necessarily a sign of an injury. These read to me like two different people.

It's of note that Rodolphus doesn't directly appear anywhere in the Deathly Hallows. He's not one of the DEs at the cafe, at Xenophilius Lovegood's; he's not the one who almost catches them going to Gringotts; he doesn't get named or described at the Battle of Hogwarts. He doesn't have a presence in Harry's life.

Similarly, he doesn't have a presence in the lives of the other Death Eaters or Voldemort. When the trio is captured at Malfoy Manor, Rodolphus does not seem to be there, even though we know his wife lives there. Maybe they don't live together, or maybe Rodolphus doesn't go insert himself into situations he's not part of and was simply somewhere else in the house, or maybe he was just not home. Who knows.

At Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix refers to 'my vault.' We learn later from Griphook—and from the goblin that comes to speak to Voldemort—that it's actually 'the Lestranges' vault.' Again, Bellatrix speaks as if her husband does not exist.

If Rodolphus is present when Voldemort finds out the cup was stolen, he doesn't note him. In fact, he doesn't seem to think he had anything to do with it:

A grave mistake to trust Bellatrix and Malfoy... AND RODOLPHUS!

Voldemort only speaks of Rodolphus once, in the graveyard:

He speaks of him positively, in terms of both past and future. Again, Rodolphus has a high rank in the DE circle; the Lestranges are right next to Lucius. Well I guess this is just my interpretation, but it seems like Wormtail gets placed at the very end of the circle (back beside Lucius) and then Lucius is by Bellatrix, I just think it makes sense that this is a ranking system. It may not be. The fact that it's specified in what order they're standing clues to me that there's a reason for it.

Anyway, Voldemort speaks positively about Rodolphus the one time he speaks of him. Rodolphus has—perhaps indirectly, but nonetheless—been entrusted with a horcrux. Voldemort breaks Rodolphus out of Azkaban twice (and the first time Rodolphus is broken out, Voldemort feels the happiest he's been in 14 years—I don't read these as related, as I read this being about Bellatrix, just a note because technically it could be). Voldemort does not mock Rodolphus at the DE meeting, he does not blame him when the cup is stolen. Their relationship feels somewhere on the spectrum of 'Voldemort likes Rodolphus a lot' to 'Voldemort considers Rodolphus irrelevant and forgets he exists.'

How does Rodolphus feel about Voldemort? He tortures the Longbottoms for information; he goes to Azkaban quietly and willingly. Voldemort—a very powerful Legilimens—leaves the cup in Rodolphus's access throughout the entirety of Deathly Hallows. He trusts him. I conclude from this that Rodolphus is not offended at how Bellatrix interacts with Voldemort, or at whatever relationship they have. Perhaps he simply doesn't have a relationship with Bellatrix that would provoke him to be offended; perhaps he is even proud of having a close relation be so close to Voldemort and feels it brings him honor.

The combination of this and that Bellatrix doesn't seem to consider them a unit leads me to guess that Bellatrix and Rodolphus don't function as a partnership outside of DE work.

This is supported by the fact that Bellatrix refers to her 'family' only once in the series (though she does acknowledge individual blood relations like Narcissa and Sirius), in The Dark Lord Ascending ('our family's house'), and this is not about Rodolphus, just the Malfoys (and, it indirectly ropes Voldemort sort of into this category by his presence there). If Bellatrix considers Rodolphus her family, we never see her acknowledge it.

However, they probably have ongoing, established, and stable trust and respect between them, considering they choose to fight together against people who are trying to kill them (Tonks). I see no evidence of bad blood, but rather a positive professional relationship, and likely separate personal lives (whether somewhat or entirely). Whether or not they are friends is ambiguous.

Compare this also to the established and stable trust that Voldemort has for Rodolphus. Rodolphus is a noble and trustworthy person who is unwavering in his loyalty to his wife (she allows him in a position where he may have to defend her life) and to his master.

There are a number of explanations for all these things, anything from Rodolphus is so madly in love with Bellatrix (who barely remembers he exists) that nothing else matters, to Rodolphus being so loyal to Voldemort that whatever Voldemort and Bellatrix are doing doesn't matter in comparison, or they were never a romantic couple, or many other things. Rodolphus can be reasonably written in fics in many many different ways.

In summary, Rodolphus (and Rabastan, as applies):

-was loyal enough to Voldemort in the First War to seek him out after his disappearance (Who among the Lestranges and Barty, if anyone, knew about the horcrux(es)? Did Rodolphus know, as Bellatrix seems to at Malfoy Manor? If so, a huge sign that Voldemort trusts him very much), and to go to Azkaban quietly and without protest. He is spoken about positively but minimally by Voldemort, and is ranked highly among the DEs.

-is a competent enough duelist to fight with Bellatrix multiple times, though not at the level of Bellatrix, as he doesn't avoid capture or injury.

-has a quiet, missable presence; has no real physical features or mannerisms of great note beyond being thickset and blank, or thin and nervous; doesn't speak or make himself noticeable; doesn't appear in any direct action (though this is partly just coincidence that Harry doesn't run into him in the DoM or somewhere in DH, because clearly he is present and an active DE).

-is not offended by the way Bellatrix speaks and acts with Voldemort, even when it's in front of him and public.

When I've written Rodolphus, I characterize him as calm, quiet, and having a very high tolerance for unpleasantness (as we see at his trial) and low reactivity. He simultaneously keeps himself a bit in the background while still being a high ranking Death Eater. There's something interesting about the combination of these character traits with someone who has tortured multiple people until they lost their minds. I write him as having a pretty much entirely positive relationship with Voldemort, but being less relevant in each other's lives than much of the rest of the DE inner circle are to each other. And I write Rodolphus and Bellatrix as having a good relationship, but not being romantically involved.

I characterize Rabastan mostly based on the description of being thinner and more nervous-looking than his brother, because there's not much to work with. But similarly to Rodolphus, Rabastan keeps himself a little out of the action, and has substantially less of a relationship with Voldemort than DEs like Bellatrix or Lucius do—and yet, he still has so much faith in Voldemort that he wants to find him when he disappears even at great personal cost. Despite being visibly nervous at his trial, he keeps himself together, and he rises quietly from his chair to go to Azkaban.

For a character we never really see, Rodolphus in particular really does have a lot of information on him in the series, you just have to look for it.

[bougiebutchbitch]

I saw so many of your OFMD rbs today that it reignited my OFMD/izzy/steddyhands hyper fixation lol. Not that I’m upset abt it!! What r ur fav headcanons abt them?

jgfhfjf I was on a roll this morning! I like the idea that Izzy survived, but it was covered up by the crew (and Izzy!) to get Izzy away from Ed and Stede. Frenchie, Jim, Fang and Archie were still very wary of Ed, for obvious reasons. Plus, everyone was worried about their unicorn and thought he deserved better than to be the eternal third wheel!

So Stede and Ed legitimately grieve him, and bury a 'body' (actually a mop with two coconuts attached to it, though they're unaware of this skjldsdg - IF YOU KNOW THE FANART, YOU KNOW) all while Izzy is healing and happy with his family on the Revenge, under Frenchie's captainhood! Stede and Ed are repairing their relationship, coming to terms with everything that happened to them and everything they did, good and bad alike. Ditto for Izzy and his crew! It's a perfect happy ending for everyone!

But.

But.

Stede and Ed never quite feel 'whole', by themselves on a little desert island, trying to start a business, every day bogged down with routine and basic hard work that neither of them are used to.

And Izzy loves his crew so much, but he doesn't quite feel 'whole' either. He wants so desperately to see how Stede and Ed are doing. He misses them a lot, and though he holds everything together for Frenchie and the others' sake, Frenchie has caught him a dozen times sat in the crows' nest at night, looking out in the direction of Ed and Stede's island and sighing...

They pass by the island one time, and Izzy is obviously SO fucking forlorn, though he's doing his utmost to pretend otherwise. Frenchie, Jim, Archie and Fang can't bear it. They thought they were doing the right thing by giving Izzy a life away from his captains. And they were! It was what Izzy needed! He's grown in himself, and seems far more grounded and happy!

But he wants to go back to them anyway.

And Frenchie knows it would be wrong to stop him. Plus, who's to say Ed and Stede haven't done some GrowthTM of their own?

So, he wakes Izzy from his cabin and gives him a big hug, before leading him out onto the deck. The whole crew have gathered. Cue hugs all around, and they each give him a little present - a clumsy wooden sculpture from Lucius, a far better one from Pete (he's teaching his husband how to whittle!), a garlic knot necklace from Oluwande and Archie and Jim for luck, etc. etc. etc.

Izzy is gruffly trying not to cry (because he loves them so much and he'll miss them so much, but he has felt like a fucking burden lately (even though he absolutely isn't; after Zheng set off to rebuild her armada, he was in charge of teaching the crew how to Pirate Right, and he did a damn good job!) And he's in a lot of pain trying to keep up with life on the ship with all his old injuries. He knows he's not the best swordsman in the Caribbean anymore, and deep down, he feels, it's time ot pack it in.) He gives each of them a tight hug and a rough-voiced compliment (small and genuine and kinda backhanded in typical Izzy fashion; telling Lucius he's not fucking useless; telling Oluwande he's far too nice to be a quartermaster but he makes it fucking work and that's good, Izzy figures; telling Frenchie he's far from the worst captain Izzy's sailed under). Then he quietly strips his glove off, and hands it to Jim. They don't hug. They just nod at each other, one guard dog to another.

As Izzy rows to shore, to where Ed and Stede's little inn stands, a candle in the window burning like a lighthouse in the night... He hears the music blossom out from the ship, La Vie En Rose, playing him towards his retirement. And he finds himself smiling, so hard it hurts.

...Then he walks into the inn like 'sup twats. Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.' and Ed and Stede start screaming lskdfhkjsdgf

[goldandglittersblog]

Draco: This is such a great party!

Hermione: It's your dad's funeral!!

Narcissa: *sips wine* More like FUNeral🎉

[storiesfromafan]

Traitor

A/N: its been a little while. Back with some more angst haha. This will be a 2 part, maybe even a 3 part 🙂

Pairing: Mattheo x Fem! Raventclaw Reader

Warnings: angst

Ooh-ooh-ooh

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah

It’s funny how you can go from happily in a relationship one minute and then sour, almost bitter from the ending of it, the next. That is what happened to you. Blissfully happy with Mattheo Riddle during your fifth year. You had spent your Easter holidays at home, accompanying your father to a Ministry party. You had been at your father’s side to start before finding yourself sitting alone. Sometime later your father had returned to you with two  familiar Slytherin boys in tow, Draco Malfoy and Mattheo Riddle. Your father had business with Lucius Malfoy and had said you and the two males could keep each other company. It was a start to a budding friendship for the three of you. By the time you returned to Hogwarts you and Mattheo had a flirtatious thing going on. Soon it led to dating and by the end of May you were his girlfriend.

The rest of the year was learning about each other and learning how to function in a relationship. For the most of it, it was good. But slowly you started to see how possessive Mattheo could get, or his jealous tendencies. Though you learned it was due to his home life and up bringing. You talked it out with him as best you could, as he gave vague answers to your questions. You were satisfied with what you learnt. What would be red flags, were more pink after your talk. You didn’t push him more then needed, you didn’t want to cause him to shut off from you or end your relationship. So, fifth year ended with your relationship being solid, and happy.

After a decent summer holiday, the 1st of September returned and off to Hogwarts came around marking your sixth year. You returned with Mattheo at your side, hands locked together. Your relationship strong and seeming to only get stronger. Unfortunately, you didn’t foresee you’d make it to the New Year before Mattheo broke up with you. You asked him all the typically questions to why he was breaking up with you, and you got a typical answer from the brunet with the deepest brown eyes.

Brown guilty eyes and little white lies

Yeah, I played dumb but I always knew

That you'd talk to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

You recall the 2nd of January; you were enjoying the afternoon sun in the courtyard when Mattheo approached you. You were all smiles when seeing him, greeting him before starting to talk about your upcoming classes in a few days. It wasn’t long before he cut you off, his tone harsh and a tad formal. It was unlike him to be like that. For the Mattheo you knew was considerate, patient and an attentive listener. This Mattheo was someone you didn’t know. Looking at him in confusion he took that as his cue to speak.

“Y/N, I have been thinking during Christmas break” he started looking down at his feet. “I have found the last almost seven months to have been a wonderful time together” he looked up at you with those deep brown eyes of his, they shone with guilt.

You felt a sudden cold sensation wash over you. “Theo, you’re…you’re not saying what I think your saying” you said shakily, scared eyes looking back at him.

He nodded his head once, “yes, it is Y/N”.

You felt sick with every word he said. You hadn’t even known there was a problem with your relationship. You thought you were both happy, and in love. But here he was, breaking up with you. And the first thing you thought of was her. The Slytherin girl named Anna Frost, blonde long locks, green eyes and petite form. Mattheo had over the last three months became close to the girl, his friend as he called her. But you always thought there was something there. Before telling yourself, you were just being silly, a little jealous.

“We have had so many amazing times together” a small sad smile forming on his lips before he went back to a blank expression. “But we’ve run our course Y/N/N. I hope we can still be friends”.

Friends. That was a slap to the face, adding salt to an exposed wound. How could he say that to you? It was like the Mattheo you knew was dead, and the person before you were an imposter. Or was this who he really was? Had he played you the whole time? No, he hadn’t. You had shared so many personal and private things together.

“I-I don’t understand” you sputtered, trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighed. “I had wanted to be as nice as possible about this” his tone cold. “Us, we are over. We are done”. And without waiting for your reply, Mattheo walked off. Leaving you alone, cold, mind reeling and uncomfortable with the eyes currently on you.

So, you gathered your belongings before rushing back to your Ravenclaw dorm room. Where you finally cried as it sunk in. Mattheo dumped you. Your whimsical romance was over. Your heart ripped out and stomped on by the Slytherin Devil himself.

And ain't it funny

How you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny

How you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

Gossip in the few days after your breakup told you that as soon as Mattheo broke up with you, he was running off to his blonde Slytherin friend. They were seen hanging out together, along with Draco, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire. All chatting and laughing away, like only ten minutes before, when he broke up with you, didn’t happen. He acted like nothing transpired, you hadn’t existed, or he’d been in a relationship with you. It hurt to hear that. The girls in your Ravenclaw dorm were there for you and told you before you heard it from anyone else.

But as your mind started to think everything over, you thought it funny how he ran off after breaking up with you to her. Now it sure as hell didn’t look like friends with them. Who goes from the girl they broke up with, to their female friend and act like their ex didn’t exist? The times you had thought you were being silly, and jealous, over the Slytherin girl were now not a laughing matter. His actions spoke loud and clear.

You betrayed me

And I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

You'd talk to her

When we were together

Loved you at your worst

But that didn't matter

It took you two weeks

To go off and date her

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still a traitor

Betrayal. The best word to describe what Mattheo had done to you. You had been there for him, for the good times and the bad. But also, the worst moments, which usually involved his home life. He would get letters, which he never showed you and you respected his privacy, but they would leave him almost a shell of himself. So, you would be the one to drag him somewhere you both could be alone. You’d hold him and tell him all the great things about him. Slowly building him back up till he was almost himself again. He had been so grateful for those moments. And the way he’d repay you was giving you all his attention when he could or taking you to Hogsmeade and making those dates so special. Mattheo treated you like a Princess for all the kindness you gave him.

Finally processing what had happened, you were left feeling sour, bitter from how it ended. And those feelings only got worse as after two weeks Mattheo and Anna started dating. It was the hot gossip Monday morning, as they walked into the Great Hall together holding hands. That had been how you both had entered the hall every mealtime, before parting ways to sit at respected tables, though your eyes were always watching the other. Mattheo and Anna sat side by side at the Slytherin table, that was on display to you. As you unconsciously sat where you had always sat. You looked away from them as you picked at your food, occasionally eating. But every now and then you would look to them. Anna fussed over Mattheo and laughed at whatever was said. Or there was the time you looked, and they were talking with Draco and Pansy, he smiled softly at their conversation while Anna held onto Mattheo’s arm.

Now you bring her around

Just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

With every encounter you had with the two; either shared classes, mealtimes, hallways, etc. Your mixed emotions grew. Seeing them together was a constant slap in the face. Such as Potions class. They were partners, Anna always making goo-goo eyes at Mattheo and doing anything to get close to him. It made you sick, you wanted to throw up. Thankfully your Potions partner and fellow Ravenclaw, Hugo Andrews, could see how it was effecting you. He was sweet, doing everything to distract you, getting you to focus on the potion Snape had you brewing.

But every now and then you would hear Anna’s stupid laugh. And you would wince, another hit to your crumbling resolve. When you would sneak a look, you would see Mattheo close to her, playing around and looking happy, almost in love. That was it. You turned away, focused on the potion and told yourself it was done.

Ain't it funny

All the twisted games

All the questions you used to avoid?

Ain't it funny?

Remember I brought her up

And you told me I was paranoid

Over time, as much as you pushed Mattheo from your mind, everything would resurface. Even more so when people would talk to you, either fishing for gossip or genuinely confused to what happened. And at random times you would go over everything in your head, trying to work out what happened.

But then one night, while laying awake in bed, you once again began to mull it all over. It was funny that over the three months of his new friendship you started out with subtle questions, before them getting more blunt. He would either tip toe around them, give short vague answers, or plain out tell you that you were over thinking it all. Yet part of you knew something hadn’t been right. And them getting together confirmed that.

You betrayed me

And I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

You'd talk to her

When we were together

Loved you at your worst

But that didn't matter

It took you two weeks

To go off and date her

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still a traitor

God, I wish that you had thought this through

Before I went and fell in love with you

(Ah-ah-ah)

Saturday afternoon was a lazy one. You had taken to going for a walk, to clear your head and escape from the castle of gossip and your ex. The fresh air was nice, it was still cold but it was mid February. Which meant winter was almost over, and spring (your favourite season) was coming. Looking around the grounds, which still had some white covering it, green patches here and there. You couldn’t wait for the grass to be a vibrant green, and wild flowers to cover patches of the land.

You could already picture laying in the wild flowers, warm sun beaming down on you. You’d pick dandelions and blow the white sprouts from the stem, watching the wind carry off the seeds. But then you remembered how you would do that with Mattheo. How you would lounge together in the flowers, soaking up the sun. You would talk about school or random things while watching the sky. The sweet moments you both shared sent your heart aching.

The peace and quiet didn’t last, as you heard the faint crunch of snow under feet. Upon turning around you found the person you were just thinking about. You felt a rush of anger, how dare he walk where you usually went. How dare he have done many things to you, or to hurt you. Glaring at the approaching figure, you wanted him to know he was unwelcome. Hoping he would see your state, turn around & scurry off back to the dungeons of the castle, never to be seen again. But nope, you were wrong.

Mattheo had seen you leave the castle, he had watched you leave the front doors of the school, walk around the side of the building, past the turn off for the Quidditch area and down the familiar path you’d both taken. He knew you wanted to be alone, but he had to talk to you. Yes, he wasn’t stupid, he’d seen your reaction to everything that had been going on since your break up. He had even heard the gossip students were saying, majority of it being all lies. Part of him felt bad, responsible for your state.

The glare on your face told him he wasn’t welcome, but he wouldn’t back down. Sporting a blank face, Mattheo stared at you. “Y/N” he said with a nod of his head. “How are you?”

That was it. Hearing those words pass Mattheo Riddles lips opened up the floodgate of your emotions and thoughts. He would regret those words after you’re done with him. Your nostrils flared as you took in a sharp breath.

“You want to know how I am?” You asked a little too calmly, to which he nodded his head. “Well I don’t know. Maybe I am upset, maybe I am angry. Maybe I am confused. Or maybe I am all that and more Riddle” you spat out his surname.

Mattheo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought you would be like this. He thought you would say you were sad and angry, you’d both talk it out and you’d both move on. He didn’t expect you would be furious, possibly wanting his blood. As the saying goes: Hell hath no furry like a woman scorned.

When she's sleeping in the bed we made

Don't you dare forget about the way

“Do you expect me to be fine? Happy for your new relationship?” You asked, spitting out the word relationship. “Do you expect me to act like the time we were together meant nothing? Like it never happened? I can’t, because it meant something to me...”

Mattheo moved from foot to foot, his calm and uncaring image starting to slip. “Y/N, I’m sorry you feel like this” he started, and you scoffed rolling your eyes. “I genuinely didn’t know you were taking it this hard-“

“Seriously!? Everyone with functioning eyes can see how I have been” you cut him off. “Oh I’m sorry, I forgot if it doesn’t involve you, it wasn’t important”.

His eyes darker and focused on you. “No, that is not true”.

“Huh, it is. Its always about you. After all you got to know your knew girlfriend before ending it with me, and jumped into a relationship with her not long after we ended. Hence why it’s all about you, or else you’d have considered me and my feelings before doing what you did”.

Mattheo was silent for a moment, trying to keep calm. “I did think about you...I ended it because we ran our course. I didn’t want to string you along”.

You laughed bitterly. “Sure, tell yourself what you have to Riddle. You betrayed me. 'Cause I know that you'll never feel sorry, for the way I hurt, yeah?” it was a rhetorical question. “You'd talk to her, when we were together. You gave me your word, but that didn't matter”.

“That’s not fair” Mattheo argued, but you weren’t having it.

“It took you two weeks, to go off and date her. Guess you didn't cheat. But you're still... you're still a traitor” you said it all in a rush, letting everything you’d been holding back out. “Yeah, you're still a traitor!”

Getting the words and feelings out released a weight you’d been carrying around. He needed to see how hurt you were, how furious you were, how frantic you were. Mattheo needed to know he had broken you, but now you were going to build yourself back up. You were done with him, done with how you felt.

Mattheo stood there like a deer in headlights. He hadn’t expected you to say what you said, or really unload all you had. Nor did he blame you. He deserved what he got. He figured you would be hurt but not to this extent. Mattheo Riddle had hurt you deeply, and now you were done with him for good. And he didn’t like that. If only he hadn’t had to do what he did. If only it could have been different.

Ooh-ooh-ooh

Seeing as he wasn’t going to say anything you decided it was time to leave. Turning from the boy before you, you didn’t bother to look at him. Or else you’d have seen the hurt in his eyes, along with unshed tears. Or how his shoulders slumped, or how weak he was right then.

After taking a few steps you stopped, but not looking back you said; “God, I wish that you had thought this through...before I went and fell in love with you”.

With those final words, the final goodbye, you left Mattheo alone. He watched your retreating form, with each step his heart cracking. And then when you were gone from sight, his heart shattered. For he had not wanted to break up with you, he didn’t want to jump into a relationship with Anna, he didn’t want to hurt you, and he didn’t want you to walk away from him for good.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this to you Y/N/N...” Mattheo said softly to the silence around him. “But if I didn’t, he would have hurt you. And I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t let you get hurt”. The tears in his eyes slowly fell. “It hurts to have you hate me...but if it saves you from my father, I will carry this pain...”

A/N: hope you enjoyed. & part 2 will be up soon 🙂

[theshippirate22]

I have a theory

listen up bitches (gender neutral) (affectionate) i’ve been cooking this for an incredibly long time and i’m very very excited to share it but it is gonna be long so i’m putting it under a cut

my theory is that there has been a new set of archetypes created by popular m/m media either in canon or coding and i would love if it was more widely recognized by a distinct name so here we go:

I present to you: The Mirrorball x Running Up That Hill Boyfriends™️ Theory

i need to preface this by saying that i am absolutely not an english major or expert but i have done so much analysis that i’m 98% positive i’m on to something here

so usually mlm ships- at least in my experience- get boiled down into typical Grumpy x Sunshine, Golden Retriever x Black Cat, or like. Babygirl x Badass. and i hate that because those are like really watered down hetero romance stereotypes and i think queer people deserve to get our own archetypes instead of trying to force queer characters into prepaid boxes but that’s a story for another day so:

basically, all content with widely accepted mlm ships (even if they are more in coding than in canon) has this pattern with the ship that fits into Mirrorball x Running Up That Hill

(name pending- open to suggestions)

Boyfriend No.1 of course is the epitome of Mirrorball by Taylor Swift (i know, i know. bear with me here). He’s constantly trying to prove himself and his worth and usually he’s driven to hide or overcome 1-3 specific and intense insecurities/character flaws. He often has innate loyalty to a system or person who has repeatedly abused/neglected/abandoned him and thinks that this treatment is a result of his own character rather than a reflection of the abuser. In relation to the plot and audience, this is the “more dangerous” of the two because he’s so desperate to hold onto the status quo that he’ll often act in a way that makes things more difficult for himself, often by leaving Boyfriend No. 2, sacrificing himself, or doing “the wrong thing.” He also commonly has an older male figure that is breathing down his neck constantly, haunting his perceived inadequacies, and fueling his self-loathing. He’s constantly mischaracterized because he’s either boiled down to “the silly one” or a visage of his trauma and the people that relate to love these characters are usually extremely sad people. Usually this character is also the “mean girl” of the couple.

Examples of the Mirrorball boyfriend: Dean Winchester, Aziraphale, Stede Bonnet, Lucius Spriggs, Sherlock Holmes, Eddie Munson, Mike Wheeler, Prince Rupert, etc.

Boyfriend No. 2 then, is the Running Up That Hill Boyfriend, based of course, on the song by the same name by the perfect Kate Bush. He’s the one that’s seen The Horrors™️ and gained a layer of cynicism that Mirrorball doesn’t have. He was once loyal to something that used/hurt him but he rejected it and used his newfound freedom to restructure his entire personality and reach his much higher potential. Usually, he has passed so far from having a few insecurities to perceiving himself as utterly worthless and unlovable but he’s so convinced that it doesn’t even haunt him, he just goes with it and usually comes off looking overly-confident or cocky. This is The Bitch (affectionate)™️. There’s probably a scene of him covered in blood. This is The Girls’ favorite blorbo and ultimate whump. He tends to be really good with kids and he’s the kind of character that would and often has to CLAW a life out for himself by his fingernails.

Examples of the Running Up That Hill Boyfriend: Castiel, Crowley, Ed Teach, Black Pete, John Watson, Steve Harrington, Will Byers, Prince Amir, etc.

unfortunately i haven’t seen a lot of popular queer stuff so if you can think of other mlm or mlm shaped characters that fit into these archetypes please please please tell me

i’m specifically curious about:

-Hannigram (Hannibal)

-Buddy (911) (@criminally-obsessed if you would mind weighing in but obviously no pressure)

-Lokius (Loki) (@henderdads same thing)

-Any of the marauders but specifically WolfStar

-Stucky (MCU)

-RWRB (i’m so sorry i don’t remember the guys’ names)

-Nick and Charlie (Heartstopper)

-What We Do In the Shadows has one I think?

-literally anyone else please and thank you 🙏🙏 love you all

if you want like explicit examples of each piece for a character lmk for sure because i could talk about this all day long

[dracoxsworld]

ARRANGED - Draco M. x Reader | PART 3

“Morning sleeping beauty.” You said to the blonde-haired boy

“What- what the hell?!” Draco exclaimed when he noticed the handcuff on his wrist.

“Yeah I’m pretty sure they don’t trust us anymore to be escapees.” You replied, looking down at your handcuff.

“Do you even remember what happened?” You asked him. He looked you and shook his head.

“They sent dementors after us.” You said. Draco all of a sudden noticed the change in your tone, it was a lot more monotone than before, you spoke in an almost concerning level of calm. Like you were asleep.

“Dementors? Father isn’t supposed to be able to do that,” He said “After the war… He.. they shouldn’t have access-“

“Draco, your family has proven that they can have access to anything they please at this point.” You said irritability. “I’m sorry.” You apologized, your head was pounding, you weren’t sure what the plan was going to be, and neither did he.

“You have a fair point. Father always had a way with things.” He said, focusing on his pale hands.

Your hands rubbed your eyes and then dragged down your face. You were stressed. “So what now?” You asked him. He was silent.

There was a knock at the door, it opened and it was Lucius. Draco’s body froze completely, seemingly in fear. You’ve never seen Draco Malfoy so scared. “Well you two, that was quite the scene.” He started.

He came up to you, as you sat at the edge of the bed. His wand tilted your chin upwards. “I’m guessing you convinced my son to run away from your fate.” He said, his tone reminded you of a poisonous, lethal snake. “You’re correct.” You said, matter of factly. Honestly, it was your idea. But also to cover up for Draco, who still was frozen in fear but at the same time, sitting up straighter once Lucius pointed his wand at you.

“Father, leave her alone, please.” Draco said, voice shaking. “

“Shut it, Draco.” Lucius spat, his dark eyes shooting at his son.

He looked back down at you. “You, my darling, are a bad bad influence.” Lucius “Your family doesn’t exactly hold the spotless reputation, either.” You commented. Lucius gained a devilish grin, he grabbed your shirt by its collar.

“You’re just as twisted as the rest of us, Y/N. Don’t you understand? It’s in your blood.”

“Father!” Draco yelled. Lucius dropped your shirt immediately from shock. You fell back into the bed, rubbing the back of your neck from the shirt digging into your skin. “Before I go. You’re both husband and wife.” Lucius said, walking towards the door, seemingly forgetting what he had just done to you. You and Draco looked at each other. He looked apologetic. “We decided to finish the job since you both decided to take a run for it.” Lucius added. “Happy honeymoon.”

Lucius left the room, leaving you and Draco alone. “Shit.” He said under his breath. You sighed, absolutely nothing went according to plan. You weren't exactly surprised it had gone to a complete shit show, it was rather typical compared to the rest of your life.

-

You and Draco were released about an hour later. Maggie, the worker who had helped you get ready for your wedding yesterday, released you both.

"That was quite the wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy." Maggie said, leading you out of the bedroom. You turned her head in confusion, but then remembered you were both married. "Yes, well, we love the element of surprise, Maggie." Draco said sarcastically. "I suppose so, anyhow, Mrs. Franchies has made you both a breakfast. Mr. Malfoy, I was told to warn you both, and I plead you to actually listen; that the Manor has high security outside. Please, for both of your safety, behave." Maggie said calmly. She looked over at you with pleading eyes. "Please, Mrs. and Mr. Malfoy. Do as you are told." You both reluctantly nodded.

You and Draco both quietly sat at the dining table. It was elegant and could seat probably 40 people. It was black, and the chairs matched with velvet dark green cushions. "Mrs. Franchies is a lovely chef." Draco said quietly. "She'll bring us our breakfast any minute. Eggs, toast, everything you can think of." He said, a bit more confidently. "With orange juice, of course. Freshly squeezed-" "What are we going to do?" I interrupted him. He just stared. I started to tear up. "Stop crying, we'll find a way." Draco said with a bit of a stern tone. You looked up at him.

"We are in a heavily guarded manor. We couldn't even escape with our magic." You said to him, with confusion. "How do you expect we-" "Maybe we should just accept our fate." Draco sneered. "Maybe it's your fate to marry someone you don't love, but it's not mine." You snapped back.

"We are married, Y/N." Draco stressed. "You'll never marry your precious Nicholas." You could feel steam bursting out of your ears. You stood up at the table. Draco's eyes widened "I am done with this conversation, if you won't find a way, I'll leave on my own." You left the dining room, tears falling down your cheeks, you heard Draco calling after you, something about blowing this out of proportion.

-

You laid in your elegant bed, sobbing quietly to yourself when you heard a knock at your door. "What?" you called out. You heard the door open and you looked up. Draco stepped into the room with a plate of breakfast. "You're not supposed to have food in here!" you whispered. "Well I can't just let you starve." Draco said, sounding annoyed with you already. He sat at the end of the bed on your side, handing you the plate. You sat up. "Listen. I know we aren't the biggest fan of each other, but we should make the best of the situation, Y/N." Draco said after a moment, he was looking at his knuckles, trying to avoid eye contact. You ate some food, waiting for him to continue. "I was impressed by you, ya know." Draco admitted. He looked at his ring finger, and perked up. "I completely forgot!" He said, getting up from the bed. You watched him with curiosity. He opened his bedside table drawer and pulled out a dark green velvet box. He went in front of you and gave you the box. You took it in your hand and ran your thumb over the soft velvet. "Open it." Draco said softly.

You opened the box and your eyes widened. Two rings sat in the box, your initials above your ring, a round cut ring with an emerald. It looked beautiful, you must admit. Draco's initials were above his, a black ring with a snake engraved. Typical.

"You don't have to wear yours, at least when you're here." Draco said, taking his and putting it on. "Just.. when we're out, so people don't question anything. People should probably have the impression we're happy." He said.

You looked up at him. "I'll wear mine." You decided, Draco looked surprise. You picked up the delicate looking ring and slipping it on your finger. "You're lucky I am sympathetic." You said to him. He gave you a faint smile, and sat next to you on the bed. "I must admit, you did amazing in that battle." He complimented. You felt your face go hot, but you shoved food in your mouth before he noticed. You nodded, chewing your eggs and toast. "I'm not surprised, though. You were amazing in Hogwarts." You swallowed your food, and smiled faintly. "I suppose you're good too, you protected me quite a bit. Even afterwards, you defended me from your dad." You said. "You're my wife now, I have to. Even if we don't particularly like each other."

"I think we can eventually like each other." You admitted. Draco raised his eyebrows at you. "I suppose for the time being.. we have to, right?" You suggested. He nodded. Draco looked into your eyes, he didn't say anything, he just stared. His face moved closer to yours, and as almost as if you two were magnets, you connected. You felt his lips on yours. They were gentler than you thought they'd be, caring, almost. His hands naturally went up to your face and gently cupped it in his hands, your hands then landed on his biceps, wanting to keep them where they were.

You both pulled away and looked at each other.

"Effective start, Mrs. Malfoy." Draco teased.

[mercillery]

➜ ZOGRATIS SIBLINGS AS TYPICAL COLLEGE STUDENTS WHO HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU

I gave up on Dante’s part oops sorry.. anyways, this was really cute and fun to write <3

WARNINGS: SFW + GENDER NEUTRAL READER + MODERN AU + HEADCANONS

CHARACTERS: Dante Zogratis + Vanica Zogratis + Zenon Zogratis + Lucius Zogratis (only mentioned)

Out of all his siblings, you'd never have expected him to have a crush on you. Zenon stands as the least popular among his siblings—well, he's still popular, but just a notch below the rest, you know? This is largely due to his tendency to avoid interactions with others. Overall, Zenon remains the same, even as a typical college student—quiet, intimidating, and stoic. He often gives off the impression that he'd rather be anywhere else, and at times, it seems like he simply hates everyone around him.

You, however, are the exception to Zenon's usual demeanor. Despite his typical aloofness, you hold a special place in his gaze. Always seated at the back of the class where he can remain unseen, Zenon steals glances at you discreetly, ensuring no one catches on to his actions. Even if you were to sit beside him instead of somewhere at the front of the class, he'd still manage to steal glances at you without anyone, including yourself, noticing. Zenon's ability to remain covert in his admiration for you is uncanny—he may even attend class solely because you're there.

Zenon's gentlemanly demeanor is reserved exclusively for you. Whether it's holding doors open for you, carrying your belongings, or coming to your defense, he goes above and beyond to ensure your comfort and safety. However, there's a quirk to his chivalry—oftentimes, he'll open the door for you and let it slam shut on the person behind you, ignoring the glares and comments that follow. In Zenon's eyes, your well-being outweighs any inconvenience to others.

The only ones who ever catch onto Zenon's crush on you are his siblings, with Lucius being the first to notice. Dante and Vanica catch on a bit later. Once the whole group is aware, the teasing becomes endless and is followed almost everywhere by none other than Vanica and Dante themselves. Lucius joins in with some teasing but acts more as Zenon's hypeman. Whenever the three are present while you and Zenon are together, Zenon notices Dante and Vanica exchanging smirks and mischievous glances, which makes him want to roll his eyes at their nosiness. He suggests that you both go elsewhere, not wanting to alarm you by mentioning his siblings watchful eyes. As he leaves the area with you, he spots Lucius in the crowd, wearing a smug smirk, clearly being nosey too, adding to Zenon's frustration.

Zenon's way of expressing his interest is through subtle gestures that might go unnoticed unless you're paying very close attention. If you happen to get glasses, squint, and observe his actions with keen eyes, you might start to piece together his crush on you. However, on the surface, you might just think he's being nice and considers you a close friend. Some of these subtle gestures include leaving helpful notes to assist you with studying, leaving thoughtful bookmarks in your locker or textbooks, and bringing up topics he knows you're passionate about.

ﾟ｡ ₍ ꙳⸌ ♡ CONFESSION TIME ♡⸍ ꙳ ₎ ｡ﾟ

It's a serene afternoon, the gentle sunlight filtering through the library windows as you gather your things. The study session with Zenon has come to an end, and as you glance at him briefly, you notice that he seems lost in thought.

"Are you okay?" you ask, breaking the quietude.

Zenon snaps out of his reverie, his gaze meeting yours. If you just squinted just a bit, you would’ve notice how his normally stoic eyes seem to soften at the sight of you.

"I'm okay," he responds, his voice calm but perhaps carrying a hint of something more beneath the surface. You give Zenon a small nod, trusting that he's being truthful about being okay.

Just as you're about to slide your textbook into your backpack, Zenon's voice pierces through the tranquil atmosphere. "I have something to tell you."

Zenon's gaze locks onto yours, the intensity in his eyes palpable as he holds a strong and unwavering eye contact. There's no doubt now—whatever he has to say is significant. The room feels charged with an intensity you can't quite put into words. It's as if the air has shifted, and you can feel a nervous energy creeping up your spine. Something important is about to happen, and the anticipation leaves you on edge, your heart beating a little faster in your chest.

“I’m listening,” you say hesitantly.

Zenon inhales deeply, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he gathers his thoughts, steeling himself for what he's about to say. Despite the rapid thud of his heart against his chest, he's determined to be straightforward and direct. With a steadying breath, he opens his eyes, meeting yours with unwavering resolve.

"I like you," he declares, his voice steady and confident. Each word is enunciated with deliberate care, ensuring that you hear him loud and clear. In this moment, there's no room for ambiguity or hesitation—Zenon is making his feelings known with absolute clarity.

As Zenon's confession hangs in the air, it's now your turn to speak. Your heart races in your chest, the moment feeling almost surreal. It's just the two of you in the library, the sunlight filtering through the windows at a perfect angle, casting a warm glow around you both. It's a scene straight out of a cheesy romance movie, and yet, here you are, faced with a real-life confession. Now it's your turn to respond, and the gravity of the decision weighs heavily on your mind.

Will you accept the confession of a stoic heart that's clearly deeply in love with you? Or will you play the role of the oblivious friend?

Vanica holds second place for the most popular Zogratis sibling. Wherever she goes, she becomes the vibrant center of attention, known for her enthusiastic nature and fearless personality. Despite her picky and selective demeanor when it comes to choosing friends, she's always surrounded by a circle of admirers and companions. So if this lively girl has a crush on you, it must mean you’re reeeaaalll special.

With Vanica, it's like being under a constant spotlight, her gaze fixed on you like you're the most precious gem in existence—a gem that she deserves to be the guardian of. You could be going about your day, engrossed in your work, when you suddenly feel the weight of someone's stare. You turn your head and see Vanica's eyes locked on you with an intensity that's almost unnerving. If anyone calls her out on her staring, she'll respond with a fierce scowl and a sharp retort, firmly asserting that it's none of their business.

Vanica shares some similarities with Zenon in the gentlemanly department—or should I say gentlewomanly? However, there's a twist to her approach. Instead of personally assisting you with tasks like carrying your belongings, holding doors, or helping you study, she leaves these duties to her friends, treating them almost like her personal assistants. For instance, if you need help carrying your heavy backpack, she'll eagerly snatch it away from you and assign one of her friends to carry it. If you mention needing to study, she'll dismiss the idea entirely—no need to study when she and her friends can just help you cheat! And if your hands are full and you can't open a door, fear not—Vanica will simply command another one of her friends to open it for you. Yes, she can be bossy with her friends, but it’s all in the name of ensuring your comfort and convenience.

Vanica would absolutely love it if you met her siblings—all three of them! So, don't be too surprised if you're just chilling in the field, minding your own business, and suddenly Vanica enthusiastically shows up with Lucius, Dante, and Zenon in tow to introduce you to them. Lucius maintains an amused but calm expression throughout the encounter, always polite and composed. Dante, on the other hand, wears a mysterious smirk that hints at hidden knowledge, but he remains friendly toward you. Meanwhile, Zenon appears utterly bored, his demeanor dry and uninterested. It's natural to feel a bit intimidated in their presence, but rest assured—Vanica will make sure her brothers play nice with you!

It doesn't take a keen eye for anyone to notice Vanica's unmistakable obsession with you—everyone knows, including yourself. She goes to great lengths to keep tabs on you, often sending a couple of her friends to discreetly stalk you during lectures. They'll message her updates and send photos of what you're doing, with Dante possibly being in on this as well. In the end, there's no denying it—everyone is well aware of Vanica's infatuation with you.

ﾟ｡ ₍ ꙳⸌ ♡ CONFESSION TIME ♡⸍ ꙳ ₎ ｡ﾟ

Alone in the dimly lit hallway, frustration mounts as the vending machine stubbornly refuses to dispense the water bottle you desperately need after a long day of classes. You scowl at the machine, wondering why this inconvenience seems to happen to you of all people.

The thought crosses your mind that you've heard more people die from vending machines than from sharks—was it true? Well, you're about to find out. Steeling yourself, you prepare to give the machine a good kick, risking life and limb for that elusive water bottle you crave. Just as you're about to deliver the kick, a sudden voice startles you from behind, causing you to jump.

"Having trouble there, sweetheart?" The voice is unmistakably Vanica's, laced with amusement and a hint of mischief.

Whipping around, you come face-to-face with Vanica, standing there with a playful smirk, her eyes glinting with amusement at your startled expression.

"Vanica!" you exclaim, your heart still racing from the unexpected encounter. "What are you doing here?"

She chuckles, stepping closer with a twinkle in her eyes. "I’ve been here, cutie. Here, let me help you." Without waiting for your response, she confidently presses a few buttons on the vending machine. And just like that, almost as if she was the chosen one, the vending machine miraculously springs back to life. The sound of the bottle dropping into the dispenser echoes in the hallway as Vanica retrieves it for you.

With a teasing smile, she holds the water bottle out towards you, a playful glint in her eyes. But just as you reach out to take it, she swiftly pulls it back with a mischievous grin on her face, her playful demeanor evident. It seems Vanica has other plans in mind, enjoying the moment of suspense as she holds the water bottle just out of your reach.

"Ah, ah, ah," she taunts, her voice laced with amusement. "What’s the magic word, darling?” she teases, wiggling the water bottle enticingly. "Or perhaps," she adds, leaning in closer, "there's another way you can convince me to give you what you want." Her gaze holds a challenge.

You narrow your eyes at her, both in suspicion and annoyance. Whatever she had in mind, it sounded sketchy. A part of you knew where she was going with this, but you could never be too sure. Especially with someone as unpredictable as her.

You sigh, placing a hand on your hip and tilting your head at her, “well, what is it?”

Closing the distance between you, Vanica leans in even closer, her presence practically enveloping you. If she wasn't close enough before, she's certainly close enough now.

"Be mine," she says, her voice carrying a mix of affection and intensity. You can feel a small blush creeping onto your cheeks, the proximity of her deep red eyes gazing into yours both lovingly and intensely. In that moment, it almost feels like she's not asking you to be hers, but rather declaring that you already belong to her.

It's decision time, and the choice is yours.

Do you deny both the chance to experience the chaotic yet exhilarating journey of being in a relationship with Vanica and the simple pleasure of quenching your thirst with the water bottle? Or do you open your heart to her, allowing her into your life while also satisfying your immediate need for refreshment?

As the charismatic and charming type, Dante is the epitome of popularity. He effortlessly navigates through various social circles, known for his charm, confidence, and even leadership roles in student organizations. Every girl wants him, and every guy wants to emulate his charisma and charm. This means he's never really had to chase after women—instead, they chase after him. Once he senses they've fallen hard, he confidently makes his move, to which they eagerly accept. However, the reality is often different—his approach ends up being more of a game, leaving them played and disappointed. So, for him to genuinely have a crush on someone is a literal shocker.

Despite the numerous admirers vying for his attention, Dante's eyes remain solely fixed on you whenever you're in the same vicinity. Whether you're in the lecture hall or the campus cafe, his gaze is unwavering, intense, yet oddly inviting. Amidst the chatter and laughter of those around you, it's as if you're the only two people in the room. Sometimes, just to mess with you, Dante winks at you from afar, even if other people are around, causing you to blush. The man truly has no shame.

A true gentleman through and through, Dante embodies chivalry in its finest form. He'll hold doors open for you with a polite smile, offer to carry your books without a second thought, and always be attentive to your needs.

In Dante’s world, where he’s used to being the one pursued, his interest in you speaks volumes about the depth of his feelings.

ﾟ｡ ₍ ꙳⸌ ♡ CONFESSION TIME ♡⸍ ꙳ ₎ ｡ﾟ

As you organize your locker, a nagging sensation of being watched persists, causing you to glance over your shoulder multiple times, feeling a bit paranoid. Shaking off the unease, you focus on arranging your belongings until a subtle clearing of the throat catches your attention from the left. Startled, you realize that your open locker had been obstructing your view, concealing someone who had been waiting patiently behind it. With a quick closing of the locker door, you come face to face with the one and only—Dante!

"Oh, hey—" you begin, but before you can finish your sentence, a bouquet of roses is suddenly shoved in your face, catching you completely off guard.

The vibrant colors and sweet fragrance momentarily stun you, causing everything to click into place. Suddenly, it all makes sense—the feeling of being watched while organizing your locker, the eyes seemingly locked on you. As you gaze at the roses, it dawns on you that they must be the reason for the attention. Everything seems to fall into place, like pieces of a puzzle coming together, and you find yourself understanding why all eyes were on you earlier. You hesitantly take the roses.

"I hope you find the roses to your liking," he begins, his voice smooth as silk. "They pale in comparison to your beauty, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to express my admiration for you." He meets your gaze with unwavering sincerity, a faint smile playing on his lips. "If you'd allow me, I would be honored to accompany you to dinner this evening, where I can properly convey the depth of my feelings.” His tone had a hint of seductiveness to it.

Dante's confession leaves you utterly speechless, the bouquet of roses still in your hands as the weight of his words sinks in. In the midst of processing his unexpected declaration, you fail to notice the gathering crowd that has formed around you and Dante. He's put you on the spot, and all eyes are on the two of you. Although he was simply confessing his feelings to you, it felt like a life-or-death situation. You had no option, really—he wasn’t giving you one. You’re the first one he’s bothering to actually chase for, there’s no way he’s letting you go—so what other way than to corner you in a crowd of people? You’re the first one he’s bothering to actually chase for, there’s no way he’s letting you go—so what other way than to corner you in a crowd of people? Trust, it’s in your best interest to accept his feelings for you.

Either you reciprocate his feelings or you destroy your life by declining them.