#largely because he himself is muggle-born

[dreamcubed]

it's nice to have a friend | theodore nott x reader

song; it's nice to have a friend [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x fem!wallflower!muggle-born!reader genre; s2l, angst, hurt comfort, fluff word count; 7,8k timeline; subsidiary 8th year warnings; swearing, reference to incestual rape, anxiety, nightmares, daddy issues, mommy issues, smoking, abusive mother, abusive grandfather, attachment issues, references to theo's mum's death, references to sex summary; elusive and unknown, you slunk along the walls of hogwarts without ever being noticed. that was, until, a boy who everybody knew spotted you

sorry i'm just so obsessed with the idea of a muggle-born who comes back to hogwarts after being in hiding atm

masterlist

"feels like home, stay in bed the whole weekend."

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Who was Y/N L/N?

Many would frown at that question, saying that they had no idea who that was, even if they had shared a vast number of classes with you throughout the years. Some others would pause, and ponder, as the name rung a bell but they just could not put a face to it. The rare few would answer, "Oh, I know her! Never heard her talk though." And that was all there was to it, really.

You had flown under the radar for many years— which had been enormously useful when you had to go into hiding as a muggle-born— but you weren't exactly a nobody. You were the girl at the back of class, who always had a hood over your head, always had dark circles around your eyes: a mixture of eye bags and your smudged days-old black eyeliner. The girl who disappeared after class for a cigarette out of the window of an abandoned part of the castle. The girl who was almost never at meals— at least not at the typical times.

You were an enigma to anyone who actually knew you, which essentially only included your dorm mates. They had tried to befriend you initially, but you were distant and asocial: they were still friendly with you, but they had learned not to push or pry. Thankfully, none of them had taken it personally.

But being so unknown had been incredibly useful while you were in hiding from Voldemort. It was unlikely he knew you existed— nor would anyone he interrogated about existing muggle-borns and their whereabouts. Thus, you returned to Hogwarts after his defeat for the subsidiary eighth year completely unharmed. You hadn't changed at all in the time, apart from a few more piercings, tattoos and freshly dyed hair.

It felt surreal being able to sit on the window sill of your favourite castle smoke spot again, as no matter how little friends you had at Hogwarts, you felt peaceful there. You had missed it sorely.

Taking a drag from your cigarette, you held the harsh smoke within your lungs and gazed at the cloudy view of Scotland, feeling tranquil. That was, until, you heard footsteps, which made you freeze. You internally prayed that it was neither a professor nor a prefect— but this part of the castle was abandoned, and it wasn't even close to curfew yet, so you didn't see how it could be. Cautiously, you peered around as the footsteps came to a halt, to see a Slytherin boy from your year pausing as he caught sight of you with a cigarette in hand.

Theodore Nott. Everyone knew who he was, including you, and because of that you let relief wash over you: he wouldn't snitch, you were pretty sure that he smoked himself.

He tilted his head at you, clearly with no recognition in his eyes.

"This is my smoke spot," he said simply, hands in his pockets. He had discovered the spot the year prior, when his smoking had become a serious habit, partially due to the depressing atmosphere that the war created.

You stared at him, not saying a word.

"Who are you?"

Releasing a sigh, you turned back to face the view, "Y/N L/N. And I came here long before you, Nott."

You felt the burn of his gaze on your back, and then heard him move closer to you until he sat next to you on the large windowsill. "You know who I am."

"We only had classes together for six years."

He seemed to mull over those words for a few moments. "I've never seen you before."

"Not many have," you shrugged, taking another long toke of your cigarette.

Nott didn't have a response for that, instead pulling out his baccy pouch and beginning to roll. You weren't necessarily happy about the intrusion on your alone time, but you didn't own that windowsill, and you weren't about to waste the rest of your cigarette.

Eventually, once he had lit up his own, he spoke again, "You're a muggle-born."

You quirked an eyebrow, which he probably couldn't see under your hood, but he explained how he knew regardless.

"That's why I never saw you here- at this spot- last year."

Nodding in confirmation, you breathed out smoke, watching as it dissipated into the breeze. The two of you settled into silence as you smoked, which you found to be an immense relief. You didn't like talking, you didn't like people knowing things about you. You weren't shy, like your dorm mates thought, you had just learned throughout your life that saying too much had negative consequences.

Finally, your cigarette burned to the filter, and you put it out next to you before flicking it out the window. You stood up and looked at Nott, who was still smoking, unsure of how to end the peculiar interaction.

"I would say you'll see me around, but no one ever does," you finally said, shoving your hands in your pockets and leaving without waiting for a reply. You hadn't said it in an attention-seeking self-pitying way— you had stated it nonchalantly, as it was a fact.

Nott watched you curiously as you disappeared.

***

The next morning, instead of going to breakfast, you went straight to your smoke spot. You never ate in the mornings, it didn't sit right with your stomach. Only, when you climbed the last step to the abandoned tower, you saw that it was already occupied by the same Slytherin from yesterday. His gaze flicked to you as he heard your approach.

As much as you wanted to just turn around and find another smoke spot, you didn't have enough time before your first lesson, and your nicotine addiction needed satiating. So, reluctantly, you took a seat on the windowsill and began rolling as Nott puffed away next to you.

"Good morning," he said as you glided your tongue along the paper.

You glanced up, muttering a, "Morning," before focusing on your cigarette again.

"Are you in my DADA?" he asked.

You gave a curt nod: it was your first lesson back that day.

He hummed absently, putting his cigarette out, but not moving from where he was sat. You said nothing on the matter, hoping to Merlin that he wasn't waiting for you in order to walk to the lesson together.

You began reaching around in your pockets for your lighter, cursing when you couldn't find it. Just as you were about to pull out your wand as a substitute, Nott was holding a lighter out towards you. You narrowed your eyes at him: you used a lighter out of the habit you had developed while living as a muggle the last year, but why would he use one?

As if sensing your confusion, he supplied your answer, "It's more satisfying."

It was strange to see a pure-blood who wasn't against anything and everything muggle, but you accepted his lighter, a strange sensation washing over you as you did so. It felt like you had just made an oath of some sort, agreed to something you didn't know the terms of— like something had now been sealed between the two of you. Pushing that thought aside, you took your first drag, letting the familiar contentment that nicotine provided take over you.

"Thanks," you murmured, handing the lighter back to him.

There was nothing but silence as you smoked, not another word said even as you finished and went to stand up. He stood up, too, and it was then that your fears were confirmed: he was going to walk with you to the lesson. You supposed it was probably just politeness, but Nott had never struck you as someone who cared about that sort of thing. He, like the other Slytherin boys, was known for his quick temper and rude disposition. But for all you knew he could have changed in the year that you were gone.

You didn't ask— you seldom asked questions, no matter how curious you were. Instead, you allowed him to walk alongside you without complaint, subconsciously adjusting the bag strap on your shoulder.

When you reached the classroom without having exchanged a word, Nott's friends— Riddle and Zabini— approached and greeted him. They didn't notice you, which was expected, so you took the opportunity to slink away to your seat at the back of class. You felt Nott's eyes linger on you as you went, but paid no mind to it, refusing to turn around and look at him.

The professor called attention to the room.

"From what I understand, you all made contact with a boggart back in third year," she began, "Obviously it has been sometime, and in order to ease you back into Defence Against the Dark Arts after learning the Dark Arts, I think it would be a good idea to revisit some basics."

There were murmurs of fear and excitement as she pulled forward a cupboard, much like the one from third year.

"Everyone, form a queue," she said, "Do you remember the charm to counteract a boggart?"

Hermione Granger's hand instantly shot up, and the professor gestured for her to answer.

"Riddikulus."

"Excellent!" she smiled, "Let's begin, shall we?"

You had taken a position in the middle of the queue, and watched as the first people faced their fears and turned them into something ridiculous. Laughter began rippling throughout the classroom, and you even felt your lips curving up ever so slightly. But, when it came to your turn, your face went completely solemn.

You watched as what had been a massive snake from the previous person morphed into a reflection of yourself: only, it wasn't you. You would never wear such a glamorous and expensive dress, and you would never have such a wide smile on your face as flashing cameras surrounded you. Clenching your jaw, you watched as boggart-you waved and posed for the cameras, and raised your wand.

"Riddikulus," you murmured, and the scene before you unfolded with boggart-you slipping on a banana peel and tearing her dress. Laughter boomed from behind you, and you quickly walked away to the back of the classroom as the next student had their go.

It wasn't long before it was Nott's turn, and for some reason you found yourself paying more attention than you had before. Your eyes followed his movements as the boggart took the form of an older man, who had a stern look on his face. He seemed familiar, and it only took you a few moments to realise that you had seen him in the Daily Prophet after the war. It was Tiberius Nott, a death eater who had been sent to Azkaban for life after Voldemort's defeat— also Theodore Nott's father.

Nott remained emotionless as he faced his father, refusing to react as he raised his wand and muttered the spell. Then, Tiberius Nott was suddenly wearing clown attire, quickly becoming the next laughingstock of the class. Theodore Nott left the front of the queue and came around to the back where you were while Riddle faced the boggart.

"You're afraid of being popular," he stated as he stood beside you.

"You're afraid of your father," you replied— not as an insult, just as a fact.

"Fathers are terrifying when they're death eaters."

You shrugged, "I don't know mine."

Nott eyed you curiously, as he didn't know what to make of you. Not that anyone really did. Before he could say anything else, Riddle was walking towards the both of you. It was of no surprise that he didn't acknowledge you, likely not even noticing you stood there beside his best friend. That was how you liked it, so you moved your attention away from their conversation and watched as Zabini approached the boggart.

When he finished and joined his friends, you heard Riddle ask, "Wanna go for a fag after this?"

Nott agreed easily, whereas Zabini declined.

"L/N," your eyes widened, and you snapped your head in Nott's direction, "You coming?"

"Coming where?" you knew what they were talking about.

"For a smoke," Nott tilted his head towards the door, "After this lesson."

You watched in horror as Riddle and Zabini's eyes settled on you in confusion and lack of recognition, despite the fact a celebrity version of you had just been displayed to the whole class. But, you supposed, celebrity you didn't resemble your natural state all that much.

"No, thanks."

He raised an eyebrow at you, as if he believed that you would definitely be going for a cigarette after the lesson, just not with the Slytherin boys.

The professor called for everyone to sit down as the last person finished with the boggart, and as the three boys walked away from you, you heard Riddle mutter, "Who the fuck is that?" to his friends. With a sigh, you took your seat and got out some parchment, hoping that the interaction wouldn't be the trigger for everyone in the school knowing who you were.

But, had you ever been lucky?

***

It horrified you how easily Nott could spot you in a crowd, as it wasn't something you were used to— in fact, it was something that you had purposefully avoided. But that was no more, as when you entered the Great Hall for dinner, at the usual time as everyone else for once (your hunger had dictated that), he had made eye contact with you and gestured for you to come sit with him. Immediately, you shook your head: you weren't there to make friends, and you weren't about to sit on the Slytherin table as a muggle-born.

When his friends turned to see who he was beckoning over, they scanned the area you were in without their eyes ever landing on you. Not even Zabini or Riddle, who had seen you the other day, noticed you stood by the entrance. So, why was Nott different?

You took the opportunity to take a seat at the Ravenclaw table with your back to the Slytherins, not wanting to further engage. You had experienced more than enough socialisation for a lifetime in the last week, in your opinion. It was probably at least once every couple of days that you happened to venture to the tower smoke spot at the same time as Nott, and part of you wanted to find a new place. Alas, you had developed an attachment to that tower, and the views were remarkably soothing, so you hadn't.

It was why you didn't bother to move when Nott arrived to see you sat on the window sill that evening, after you had disregarded him at dinner.

"Are you really so scared of making friends?" he asked from behind you.

"Why do you care?" you scoffed.

"You intrigue me."

"Forget about me, Nott. I prefer it that way."

He chuckled, "I think forgetting you is impossible."

You clenched your fist, "Why would you want to associate with a mudblood?"

"I don't give a shit about blood purity, L/N," he said, accidentally dropping his lighter. You heard him curse under his breath in Italian, before looking at you again. "Can I ask why?"

"Why what?" you grumbled, taking a puff from your cigarette.

"Why do you keep to yourself?"

You assessed his intentions cautiously, debating how much information you should give him. Eventually, all you said was, "Saying too much has consequences. If people know too much about you, they use it against you."

"Who's they?"

"Everyone."

He shook his head, "But, it's not, though, is it? Who gave you such a warped perception of reality?"

"It may not be your reality, but it's mine."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Why should I tell you?"

Nott shrugged, "I'm just trying to understand you."

"Well, stop trying."

"I won't," he said simply, "But if you're worried about me having something on you, I'll tell you about me so we're even."

"Please don't."

"My mother died when I was quite young," he began, against your will, "Which left me to my father, who you are familiar with."

"Are you looking for pity?"

"No, I don't want your pity," he scowled, "I told you why I'm telling you. Stop being dense."

You frowned at his words.

"Where my mother was sweet and loving, my father was anything but," he explained, "Physically abusive, literally a death eater, punished me if I ever cried."

You focused your eyes on to your cigarette, ashing it with a tap of your finger.

"I won't let him dictate my life. No matter how much I feel like I'm just as bad as him, I can't let it get in the way of having friends and a decent life."

"You're not your father," you said quietly, unsure as to why you were still entertaining this conversation.

"How would you know?"

"Because you're talking to me."

He hummed softly, "So, there, you know about me. You know something I hardly even talk about with my closest friends. Tell me about you."

You thought about it for a couple minutes, mulling over whether or not you should finally share what has hung over you your entire life. Nott remained silent as you finished your cigarette and fought an internal war within yourself. Eventually, you spoke.

"My grandfather abused me when I was young," you said quietly, "Whenever he visited, whenever I went 'round to his. In the night, he would come into my room and-" you cut yourself off.

Nott said nothing, regarding you cautiously.

"He told me not to tell. Not to say a word," you finally continued, "But I told my mum one day, because I was bleeding..." you gestured down to your crotch.

"She didn't believe you?" he asked, his tone gentle.

You chuckled, "Of course not. I tried to ask her to look, to prove that I was bleeding. She wouldn't. Said her father would never do such a thing."

"Sounds like denial."

"I'd bet my life he did the same to her when she was young, and she's blocked it out. That seeing it on me would have brought back memories that she's so desperately shut out."

He nodded.

"She told my grandfather what I'd accused him of, and my life became hell right until I got the letter inviting me to Hogwarts."

"And that's why you think telling people anything is a bad idea."

With a sigh, you stood up, "All honesty and closeness brought me was pain and suffering."

"You've just been honest with me."

"Rowena knows why," you muttered.

"You can't let him haunt you forever."

"He's still alive," you said simply, pinning your eyes on to his face, "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

And, strangely, you believed him.

***

After trusting Nott with your life story, you had found a new smoke spot: it didn't have the views or tranquility of the abandoned tower, but it didn't have anyone else either. You saw him in class, and occasionally at meals, and he would always lock eyes with you and give a nod as greeting. Sometimes you returned it, sometimes you didn't. But before long, a couple months had passed, and you were quite secure in the knowledge that he hadn't told anyone your secret nor was he going to use it against you.

You didn't hesitate in signing up to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas, not wanting to face your family. When Voldemort's return had been confirmed, both your mother and grandfather— as your apparent two closest relatives— had been obliviated and sent abroad. Once he was defeated, they were found and given back their memories of you, but you hadn't gone to see them. Instead, you had stayed at Hogwarts over the Summer, helping to rebuild what had been destroyed during the battle. And now, you weren't sure if you could ever go back home. You hadn't seen either of them in years, and had become quite content with the lack of danger over the Summer holidays.

It was the first day of the castle being almost empty, and you made your way down to the Great Hall for lunch. Only one of the house tables was laid with food: the Gryffindor one. It would have been a waste to lay any more tables with so few students present.

You noticed that Nott was sat at the table, and when he saw you enter (the only one who saw you, that was), he gestured for you to sit near him. Maybe it was because he wasn't surrounded by his friends this time, or maybe it was because the food was only on one small section of the table, but you sat opposite him.

"How've you been?" he immediately asked.

Shrugging, you put some sandwiches on your plate, "Same as always."

"You stopped coming to the tower."

You sighed, "I like to smoke alone."

He pursed his lips, but changed the subject, "What are you doing on Christmas day?"

An incredulous look swept across your face, "Same as everyone here."

Nott rolled his eyes, "Even the people who are here open gifts with each other."

"I doubt I'll get any gifts."

"That makes two of us," he replied, "Do you want to do something on Christmas day together?"

"Why?" you frowned at him, "Surely Riddle is here."

He shook his head, "He spends Christmas with the Malfoys. They're cousins, y'know." At your raised eyebrow, he added, "On his mum's side."

"Regardless, I told you I'm not interested in friends."

"There is no obligation of friendship here," he raised his hands up in mock surrender, "You can never talk to me again after these holidays."

Taking in a deep breath, you said, "Fine."

He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice how soft and non-threatening he looked with such an expression. It was a rare sight on him.

***

Apparently he had taken your agreement to spend Christmas day with him as an agreement to spend the entire holidays together. Nott joined you for studying in the library, and followed you to your new smoke spot, making you sigh and decide at that point you might as well return to your preferred abandoned tower. He didn't talk a lot of the time, just sat in companionship with you, and you found yourself getting irritated. Not at him, but at the fact you were beginning to feel comfortable in his presence, and experience the urge to seek him out on occasion. It was a foreign feeling: one that you had never allowed yourself to come close to.

But you weren't sure if you wanted to stop it any longer.

The bubble you had become wrapped up in shattered one day when Professor McGonagall, the headmistress, found you in the library and informed you that you had visitors. You looked worriedly over at Nott, realising that for the first time in your life, you didn't want to face a situation alone. Because you had a sneaking suspicion of who it might be.

You stood up, and Nott did too. For once, you were grateful that he was following you around without your permission. McGonagall assessed that you were okay with him coming along, and led the both of you to her office, where you found yourself fidgeting with your fingers as the stairs rose up. Nott placed his hand on yours and squeezed gently before pulling away again, an action so soft and without malice that you damn near broke down on the spot.

Moments later, your fears were confirmed: your mother and grandfather stood before you. They had smiles on their faces, but they looked so forced that you felt sick to your stomach. Subconsciously, you shifted closer to Nott, who had straightened his back and let his typical resting bitch face fall upon him— one of arrogance and threat. McGonagall hadn't come in with you, saying that they wanted to speak with you alone. That was when you had said that Nott was going in with you or you weren't going in.

"Y/N, it's been so long, darling," your mother spoke, making bile rise to your mouth. You swallowed quickly, not returning her smile.

"Why didn't you come home for Christmas?" your grandfather asked, taking a step towards you. Instinctively, you stepped back. He paused and frowned, "We haven't seen you in years, but it's finally safe, is it not?"

It's never safe with you. That's what you wanted to scream, but no words came out.

"We've missed you," your mother added, also taking a step forward. You felt so small in front of them, like you were once again that heartbroken six year old who had just discovered that no one was there for her.

"And who's this?" your grandfather asked, surveying Nott cautiously.

"Theodore Nott," the boy replied through gritted teeth.

"Is this your-?"

You cut your mother off by asking, "Why are you here?"

"We've come to take you home," your grandfather said with a grin that was clearly meant to appear jovial, but to you symbolised the devil's incarnate.

"No," you said as firmly as you could, but your tone held a quiver.

The smile dropped from your grandfather's face, and he turned to Nott once more, "May we have a moment alone?"

"Not a chance," the boy instantly replied, crossing his arms. He was a lot taller than your grandfather.

That was when the eyes of your grandfather darkened to their usual state, and your mother's mouth settled into a grim line.

"I don't know what she's told you," the former spoke, "But none of it is true, she was a very imaginative child-"

Nott cut him off with a scoff, "No child who's had a normal childhood imagines such fucked up things."

Your eyes widened in disbelief at Theo's (when had you started thinking of him as Theo?) bluntness.

"My father would never do such a thing," your mother immediately cut in, "These allegations are extreme and unjust."

"I'm not coming home with you," you said, changing the subject.

"I am your mother," she said curtly, "And you are my child."

"I am an adult now."

You watched as she took a deep breath, "Y/N, we are family. Christmas is for family."

"I never want to see either of you again," you said quietly, your voice feeling separate from your body.

"We should have never let her go here," your grandfather said to your mother, "Her delusions have only been fed."

"The only delusions around here are yours," Theo said sternly, "I think it's best that you leave."

"This is none of your business, boy," the old man before you growled, taking strides towards him. In a flash, Theo had pulled out his wand and held it towards him, causing him to back up out of fear.

"I'd watch your mouth, if I were you. Y/N's welfare is every bit my business as it was meant to be yours."

Your relatives said nothing.

"I believe that everything that needed to be said has been said," he continued, "So we will be leaving. If you try to contact her in any way, shape or form again, I won't hesitate to use dark magic on you."

And with that, Theo wrapped his free arm around you and guided you back to the exit. Only once the door behind you was closed and the stairs were lowering did you realise that your entire body was trembling. All you could think to do was murmur a "thank you" towards Theo, who stroked your arm gently.

Once you reached the bottom, you were faced with McGonagall, who had a deathly serious look about her. You broke down, collapsing to the floor as tears and sobs that you had suppressed for years bubbled to the surface and shook your body violently.

"Get them out of here," Theo said to her, crouching down beside you and taking you into his arms. You accepted the embrace, having not felt one in years, and cried into his chest.

The headmistress nodded, scanning over you one last time.

"I'll take care of her," Theo muttered, and that was all the woman needed to head up the stairs with a look of fury that could ignite nations. You didn't know what she had made of the situation, but she had evidently decided that she didn't like your family. "C'mon," he murmured, helping you up and guiding you in a direction you were too bleary-eyed to register.

Your sobs escalated as the two of you walked, and finally you realised that you were heading down to the dungeons. You heard him say the password to the door before you were led into the Slytherin common room of black and green. He didn't stop there, however, instead taking you down further stairs to where the dormitories were.

It wasn't long before you found yourself curled up on his bed, the other beds in the dorm vacant for Christmas. You rocked back and forth, gripping your knees tightly.

Theo shushed you softly, sitting next to you and pulling you into his side.

"It's okay, angel, you're safe now," he whispered, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"You-" you hiccuped, "-promise?"

"I promise. You never have to see them again."

"P- Pinkie promise?" you held up your pinkie to him, and that was when Theo saw in your eyes that a part of you had never grown out of infancy.

He kissed your head, hooking his finger around yours, "Pinkie promise."

***

Numerous nightmares followed after that day— flashbacks and memories that you had blocked out catching up to you and forcing you to re-live it all. The first night, you pushed through, staying awake after waking yourself up and sobbing under your sheets until the sun came up. You didn't tell Theo why you were so exhausted when he questioned it, showing concern for you, as you didn't want to worry him. But, the second night, when you nervously drifted off and your demons returned, you snapped awake only wanting Theo.

With tears streaming down your face, you crawled out of bed and pulled on your Ravenclaw jersey, before creeping down the dormitory stairs and into the common room. There weren't many people that you could have woken up, but you really didn't want anyone seeing you in your current state. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the tower door and left, ignoring the statue's questions of where you were headed.

It was a long trip to the Slytherin dungeons from the Ravenclaw tower, and you almost ran into Filch— luckily, you heard him from around the corner and hurriedly went a different direction. Since you were only wearing socks, your footsteps were soundless.

When you reached the portrait into Slytherin, you paused for a moment as you prayed that the password hadn't changed since he took you there two days prior. "Sonoros," you murmured to the painting, which gave you a disapproving look but reluctantly opened the door for you to enter. You scurried in, relieved to see no one was in the common room, and made your way up to the boys' dormitories. When you landed on the eighth years' floor, you pushed open the door and padded over to Theo's bed.

He was sleeping deeply, his remarkably attractive face almost glowing in the moonlight. The sight of someone sleeping reminded you of your night terrors, and more sobs choked out of you, causing you to lurch forward and shake Theo.

"Hmmph?" he grumbled, forcing his eyes open. When he saw you stood beside his bed with puffy cheeks and shaking limbs, he jolted awake. "Principessa, what happened?"

"I had a-" you hiccuped, "-a nightmare."

His gaze softened, and he lifted up the forest green bedsheets to beckon you in. Obliging, you curled up against his warmth and nuzzled your face into his neck. He didn't ask what you dreamt of, instead asking, "Is this why you didn't sleep last night?"

You nodded against him, and he sighed.

"You should have told me," he mumbled, stroking his hand through your hair. And then he talked you softly into a sweet dreamless sleep wrapped in his embrace, feeling safer than you had ever before felt.

***

At dinner the next day, Theo observed you as you picked at your food, clearly nervous about what that night had in store for you.

"Do you want to stay with me again tonight?" he asked, a question which made your eyes open wide.

"Uh..."

"You can stay with me all holiday, if you'd like."

"I..." your instinctive response was to put up your defences, and distance yourself from proximity with any individual. But, you felt the words of rejection get caught in your throat, and realised that there was a new instinct within you fighting with the old one. The part that was attaching itself to Theo, and firming itself into an iron grip that wouldn't let go now that it had finally found something to grasp on to. As the man in question gazed into your eyes, trying to read your body language, you realised that a suppressed part of you had surfaced— and you weren't sure that it could be locked away ever again. "Yes, please," were the words that finally came out: they were quiet, and felt foreign, but they were all you had to offer.

He gave you a soft smile: not the devilish smirk you had seen him give other girls from a distance, seen him use whenever he won a fight. No, it was genuine, with teeth and all. You were smiling back before you could stop yourself.

Theo eyed you curiously, "I've never seen you smile before."

Your breath hitched, "I'm not sure I've ever smiled before."

***

What commenced was a domestic routine. You kept pyjamas and some clothes in Theo's dorm, and you would brush your teeth together. Then, you would get into his bed, waiting until he beckoned for you to curl up to him. At first, you had been awkward about it, but it quickly became an instantaneous act of muscle memory. Theo felt and smelt like home— home. You had never felt at home before, and you certainly had never expected it to be with a person rather than a place. For the longest time, you had assumed that home would be the place you got for yourself after finishing Hogwarts.

Christmas Day started with a snowstorm in the middle of the night, one that had you waking up at dawn to see the layers of white outside the window. The holiday had never been a good day for you: mainly one of loneliness and a lack of gifts. You weren't materialistic, you didn't care about the presents, but that didn't mean you weren't envious of everyone going home to loving families.

But, that Christmas, you awoke in the warmth of Theo's arms, with a sense of peacefulness fulfilling you. His gentle breathing soothed you as he hugged you from behind, and for a while you remained like that, looking out the window at the snow and relishing in Theo's presence. When had he crept his way through your barriers? When had you started allowing it to happen?

"Buon Natale, principessa," you eventually heard him say from behind you, his deep morning voice sending a shiver up your spine.

"Buon Natale," you mimicked, making him smile into your neck.

"That means Merry Christmas," he murmured.

You chuckled softly, "I figured."

"I got something for you," he said, rolling on to his back, which made you turn over to face him.

"You did?"

He hummed, "It's nothing big."

"I got something for you too," you replied, knowing that there was a vinyl sat in your satchel across the room, which you had put in there on an offhand thought that Theo might like it.

"Should we exchange presents before or after Christmas dinner?"

"Before," you said immediately, "I haven't opened a present in years. I'm not waiting any longer."

"Okay, but can we stay in bed a little longer? È così caldo."

Those terms you could easily agree to— even finding yourself smiling fondly at his Italian. It always slipped out more when he was sleepy.

When had you come to know his habits so well?

***

"Merry Christmas," Theo grinned, handing a large velvet box to you as you sat cross-legged on his bed.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously, carefully popping open the lid only to have your breath taken away. A white gold necklace rested before you, with blue sapphires shining on the pendant that hung from it.

At your speechlessness, Theo explained, "It was my mother's. I thought you should have it."

"I can't take this," you said quickly, "It's a family heirloom."

He shrugged, "Then consider yourself as keeping it safe until I have a daughter."

"Is this your way of ensuring I stick around?" you chuckled.

"Maybe. Is that bad?"

You shook your head, "Thank you. It's so pretty— puts my gift to shame."

"Cara mia, it is not about the cost."

With a sigh, you got up and went over to your satchel, pulling out the vinyl that you had treasured and loved for so many years. "It's not much, but I thought you might like it."

You handed the album to him.

"What is it?"

"It is a vinyl. What muggles play music from."

His lips parted in understanding. "You will have to teach me how to use it."

"I will," you agreed, feeling like what you had actually agreed to was being around forever.

"Thank you," he said, "Would you like to try the necklace on?"

"When I'm dressed. I must do it justice."

Theo chuckled.

***

One thing you had to admit was that Theo's dead eyes sent a shiver up your spine: you felt it as he put the necklace on you, his warm hands a contrast to the cold of the metal as he did up the clasp. You were dressed up for Christmas dinner— not impressively so, but nicer than you normally did. For once, you had foregone your hoodie, and properly cleansed your face of your makeup before doing it again. Maybe the motivation for it had been Theo in the room, but ultimately, you felt quite calm.

"Sei bella," he murmured, and you knew enough Italian to know what bella meant.

You suppressed a smile, admiring his attire of dress trousers and a shirt. He lacked a tie, and the top buttons were undone— topped with his rolled up sleeves, he looked divine.

"Let's hope the dinner isn't too boring," he chuckled, "But, either way, we can have a smoke after."

"Sounds like heaven," you said, turning around to look up at his gorgeous face. A few weeks ago, you would never have let yourself find someone attractive: in your head that was as good as an attachment to someone. Yet, here you were, knowing that your soul had grasped on to Theo's and would never let go. You still had your hesitancies, but they were being overrode by your intense craving for affection.

"Should we go down?" you asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

He hummed, "Just one more thing."

"What?"

His thumb and pointer finger delicately touched your chin, and your blood pressure skyrocketed when he leant down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "I couldn't resist."

You were rendered speechless— was that what a kiss was supposed to feel like? Magical, willing, heart-fluttering?

"Shall we, amore mio?"

"We shall," you smiled, accepting his extended hand.

***

The dinner was as boring as Theo had predicted, with the expected speech from McGonagall and then everyone falling into separate conversations. However, the delicious food was the saving grace, and you ate more than your stomach could handle, as well as drank a few glasses of red wine which had been provided for the professors and the adult students.

But, the highlight of your day was when you and Theo smoked in the usual tower spot, remaining in a soothing silence as you watched the snow fall.

"Can we build a snowman?" you asked, putting out your butt on the stone wall.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, "Why?"

"I've never built one," you muttered, wanting to rekindle the childhood joy that you had never truly experienced.

"Well, then, I hope you've got thick gloves."

***

"He's so ugly," you commented, staring at the snowman before you. He had a carrot on his face, courtesy of the kitchen, and a variety of stones creating a disturbingly fake happy expression. You turned around to where Theo had been stood next to you, only to see that he was gone. "Theo?" you called out, spinning around to find him when you felt a thud of something against your back.

When you looked in the direction of the throw, you saw the man you had been looking for laughing and gathering up snow into a ball.

"You son of a bitch," you cursed, leaning down and accumulating some snow of your own. Immediately you let fire, hitting him right in the chest.

"Oh, it's on!" he shouted back— the trigger for ten minutes running around and hurtling snow at each other until you tripped. Only, you found yourself laughing as you hit the ground, flopping into a starfish position as Theo dashed over to you. "Are you okay, principessa?"

You sat up and tugged on his leg, making him topple over too. "I'm perfectly okay."

"Clearly," he groaned, propping himself up on one arm to gaze at you.

"I think I won this one."

Theo rolled his eyes, "If my lips weren't so numb, I'd kiss you right now."

Your lips parted in shock, making him laugh.

"And I won that one," he said, "Can we go inside before we freeze, please?"

And when you and Theo were cuddled up in front of the fire with hot cups of tea, you knew that your isolated life was no more, and you had almost fully let go of your reservations about forming attachments.

***

Bliss can only last so long, of course, and the horde of students returned early January with their trunks and chatter in tow. You reluctantly returned to your Ravenclaw dormitory, knowing sleep would be difficult after growing accustomed to the comfort of Theo's arms.

But you had no choice.

Still, as you walked down the hallways alone for the first time in two weeks, your hood over your head and eyes cast down, you felt lonely. You had never felt lonely before— well, maybe in part. But your fear of knowing someone and being close had overrode the loneliness: your phobia of being hurt again had made you view loneliness as a comfort. It didn't feel like a comfort any longer, not now that you had tasted Theodore Nott and all that came with him. Not now that he had shown you good intentions and security.

"Y/N!" you heard a call from behind you.

You spun around, feeling a smile tug on your lips as you recognised the voice. That was another thing Theo had brought you: smiles that came naturally, like a flower blooming because it had been nurtured and nourished to perfection, not in spite of its environment.

"There you are, principessa," he murmured, pulling you into his embrace, "I haven't seen you since last night."

"It's not that long," you shrugged, but you had missed him too.

"Too long," he said, taking your hand in his, "I could hardly sleep without you. Kept worrying about your nightmares."

Your face dropped, and that told Theo everything he needed to know.

"You had one, didn't you?"

With a dismissive nod, you turned and began walking down the corridor with him, "It was nothing. I'm fine."

"You promise you'd tell me if you weren't?"

"I'm always fine when I'm with you," you said quietly, "I wasn't fine last night, or this morning, but now you're here— I'm fine."

His eyes softened at your words, and he squeezed your hand. "Let's get some lunch."

***

When you entered the Great Hall, you felt Theo tugging you over to the Slytherin table where his friends were gathered. You swallowed your anxiety and shifted closer to him, deciding that as long as you had Theo as protection, these people couldn't hurt you.

They didn't notice either of you until you sat down.

"Theo! Where have you been?" Mattheo Riddle asked, his eyes then flicking to you, "Oh, it's you again... L/N, right?"

You nodded the affirmative.

"Who?" the girl next to him, Pansy Parkinson, asked.

"The girl Theo's been courting."

"I didn't know Theo was courting anyone," Lorenzo Berkshire frowned.

"Are you in the year below?" Pansy turned to you.

"No. I'm in your year."

Her eyes widened, "Salazar, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," you said. And, really, it was. You were used to it.

"Are you official, then?" Mattheo questioned, changing the subject effectively.

"Yes," Theo replied, before you could even process what Mattheo had just asked.

"Never thought I'd see the day where you settled down," Blaise Zabini chuckled.

"Just hadn't met the right girl yet."

Your heart flipped.

***

"Sorry about that earlier," Theo said to you later at the smoke spot, "I figured it was the only way to not make the situation awkward."

"Sorry about what?"

"Saying we're official."

"Oh."

Theo quirked an eyebrow, "Unless you're not sorry?"

You pursed your lips, "Maybe I'm not."

He grinned, "Then allow me to ask you officially, cara mia, will you be my girlfriend?"

"I want to," you took a deep breath, "But, I just— certain things are going to take some time for me. I— I will need easing into things like, uh..."

"Sex?" he finished for you.

Shamefully, you bobbed your head.

"Of course, we will take all the time you need," he smiled, moving closer to you to place a hand on your cheek, "I'm not in it for the sex. I'm in it because ti amo."

"I think I love you too."

"I'm here for you always, amore mio. I promise."

"Pinkie promise?"

"Pinkie promise."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 04/05/2024 —> 22/05/2024 published; 26/05/2024 edited; —/—/——

[yrluvjane]

A Perfect Fit

James Potter x lawyer! muggle reader / Part 2

Note: (Mature sexual content in bold!)

Tired and exhausted, James Potter returned back to his house with the mind to peacefully fall asleep in his lover's arms. It was way past midnight and there wasn't a sound in the air. While normal jobs allowed you to return home at a decent hour being an Auror didn't.

He softly unlocked the door of the fairly large, two story house, hoping that the sound didn't wake any of the inhabitants.

He walked into the house, quietly slipping off his shoes and placing them by the door. He squinted his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness in the room before feeling his way for the light switch on the wall.

With a soft click a soft, yellow lamp illuminated the room, making his dress change much quicker and convenient. James took off his Auror robes and hid them in a secret compartment behind the fireplace after using a quick cleaning spell.

James didn't like secrets, he didn't like lying to the person he loves but he couldn't exactly tell his muggle girlfriend about magic or about the Wizarding world without breaking The International Statute of Secrecy.

The lies and the secrets tore him apart, from secret missions and fumbled up excuses, he knew that Y/n knew they were lies but still trusted him enough to not ask. And the amount of trust she had in him is what made it horrible and heart-breaking.

This is why he and Lily broke up, they fell out of love and lied to each other trying to make their relationship work, they were too young and Lily didn't want to have a child at 21.

A few months after Harry was born he and Lily signed their divorce and she had gave him full custody over Harry, she now lives on the other side of the country with some Artist with a weird French name.

James would be lying if he said taking care of Harry was easy; he was eternally grateful for his friends and parents and all their help. It was hard and exhausting, he stressed and worried over every little thing, balancing life and work and there were moments were he felt like he was being pulled in so many different direction he didn't know which way to turn.

It was on the one blessed day, that he met Y/n on, did he truly felt at peace.

Harry was two and James had a day off at work, so he had decided to take Harry out to a park a little further than the local one.

One moment Harry was in front of him throwing sand everywhere and giggling with the other kids, the next he was panicking all over the park desperate to find the little raven-haired boy.

He was running around like a bird, lettering his parents, screaming and shouting. He almost gave them a heart attack considering the fact all he wrote to them was 'I lost Harry' making them assume the worst of things.

He only calmed down and took a deep, thankful breath, when he heard his young son's adorable little laugh, he immediately rushed towards its direction only to see the boy on a beautiful woman's lap, coloring on a blank piece of paper.

James had sighed and walked over to the two, ready to take Harry home and apologies to the lady. Though when the lady had looked at him, it was as if his brain froze.

She was utterly gorgeous, her hair was slightly disheveled from the breezy air and she didn't have much make up on but the mascara and liner she did have on on was slightly smudged under her eyes.

He remembered her putting her hand out and introducing herself, him stuttering, making a fool of himself and her apologizing for worrying him about Harry.

She had invited him to sit over and just like that all of James's plans were thrown out if the window. They couldn't talk long because she had a busy schedule and swamped for the day. It was by sheer luck did he manage to man up and ask her out by the end of their meeting.

And James has been thankful for that day ever since.

James slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a loose sweater that were folded with the rest of the laundry on the couch.

He softly walked up the stairs to the main bedrooms, avoiding any creaking steps and checked Harry's first. "Hey Prongslet." He whispered, smiling as he kneeled down at his son's sleeping figure.

When Harry had officially turned four, James allowed Harry to completely remodel his room to his liking. It had red walls (thanks to his dad and uncle's) and had golden snitches painted on, which Y/n didn't understand but still admitted was cute.

He's bed had blue sheets and was decorated with four animal-shaped pillows that were made after the four infamous animagi.

Harry was wearing little red pj's with small deer’s imprinted on it, that was a gift from Y/n, and it melted James's heart more than it should. Harry had absolutely loved them and refused to take them off; Y/n had actually bought two more pairs just so Harry could be happy and wear them again.

He adjusted the blanket the small toddler slept with before bending down and kissing the boy's forehead and ruffling his messy hair.

He tipped-toed out the door and softly closed the door, making his way to the master bedroom, where Y/n would be asleep

The master bedroom was huge, almost three times bigger than Harry’s; it had its own bathroom. a walk in closet and its own balcony.

It was decorated in soft grey, black and streaks of good ‘ol Gryffindor gold. Some of the windows were opened, letting in some cool air as Y/n slept soundlessly, unlike James, on the large bed. All of her - except her head - was covered under the duvet, giving James an adorable view.

He quietly slipped under the covers, immediately enveloped by warmth and comfort and raised Y/n head into a comfortable angle. As if sensing his presence, she turned around so that she could lie on side.

He took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand not before seeing her eyes flutter for a moment, still heavy with sleep.

“Good day?” She asked her voice hoarse and quiet. James hummed, wrapping his arm under her waist pulling her into his chest. “You?” He questioned, brushing her hair out of her face.

She sleepily nodded; she raised her head and kissed his throat, “Sweet dreams, James.” She whispered before falling asleep once more and it was small things like this that turned the Gryffindor into a puddle of love. He wished her a good night and kissed her head before drifting into darkness.

The next morning James woke up at around eight, which meant he had around an two and a half hours to get to his work meeting. He turned to his side, wishing to find his girlfriend but it was empty causing him to groan.

He pushed himself off the bed, put on his glasses and made his way to his son’s room, where he expected Y/n to be; trying to get the toddler to wake up.

The door to the room was ajar giving James the opportunity to peek and spy. Y/n lied on Harry’s bed, the latter snuggled into her side as she tried to wake him up with a story. “…And then your dad spilled the tea all over the table!” She said as Harry giggled.

A very embarrassing story, James noted. “Daddy’s clumsy.” Commented Harry.

“Yes he is.”

“I thought you were on my team! Way to sell me out buddy.” James said as he pushed the door and revealed himself. “Daddy! Were you spying on us?” Harry questioned as he sat up and narrowed his eyes at James, glasses slightly askew.

“I’m going to have to second young Mr. Potter’s question, James. Were you spying on us?” Y/n joined in her professional voice with a raise of her brow.

“Me? Never!” James defended as he walked over to his son and sat next to him on the bed. James grabbed the giggling boy an attacked him with tickles. “No! S-t-oo-p!” Harry pleaded between hysterical laughter. James let the small boy go. And Harry didn't waste a second grabbing his stuffed dog and burying himself into Y/n’s side.

"Traitor." James whispered.

The elder man got up and walked around the bed towards Y/n, leaning down and bringing her lips into a sweet kiss. “Eww..” Harry commented. James pulled out mirroring Y/n’s smile, “You need to brush your teeth.” She said.

“And to take a shower.” Harry added, his voice muffled. Y/n let out a laugh as James gaped at them. “I can’t believe this.”

“You go and get ready, while me and Harry make breakfast.” Y/n said, running her hand up and down the four-year old's back. Harry raised his head and stared at Y/n with big, green, hopeful eyes. ”Can we make waffles?”

“What’s the magic word?” James asked.

“Please?” Harry added, sheepishly.

Y/n chuckled as she ruffled the boy’s already messy hair, “We can make whatever you want.”  She said. Harry stood up and pulled Y/n’s hand, “C’mon!”

“Why don’t you take out the ingredients and I’ll follow you in a sec?” Y/n suggested as Harry nodded adorably and frantically, his stuffed dog still in his arms as dashed out the room. “Don’t run down the stairs!” Y/n shouted warning the boy.

“Okay!” Harry yelled back.

Y/n nodded and got up, robe falling all the way down to her ankles. She faced James and smiled, “Morning.” She greeted.

“It’s a great morning.” James whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning down and kissing her neck.

Y/n chuckled, running her fingers in his hair making James groan. "I don't have to go to work day, all I need to do is review some transaction documents; so I can stay and watch Harry till Sirius and Remus pick him up."

James hummed into her neck as one of his hand's slipped into her robe and slid up her thigh, pushing up her slip nightdress.

Y/n's fingers comb through the mess of James’ brown hair, getting thick curls out of his face as he tucks his head into the crook between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her scent deeply and leaving open-mouthed kisses on her skin; allowing her to let out a breathy moan.

"Y/n! Dad!" Harry's voice shouts as James groans into Y/n's neck, forcing his hand away and back to his side. "Sometimes I can't wait till he leaves for school." James jokes, standing up, arms still wrapped around Y/n's waist.

"I'll meet you downstairs." Y/n said leaning in and giving him a small peck on the lips before the two departed into different areas of the house.

Walking down the stairs, Y/n heard Harry's incoming patter of feet. She chuckled, when he stopped right in front of her, panting, his stuffed animal in one arm.

Knowing what he wants, she knelt down and grabbed from under his arms, picking him up and hoisting him at her side.

"Got everything?" She asked as she walked to the kitchen, one arm holding Harry and the other picking up her bag.

"Couldn’t reach the flowers."

"It's 'flour' not 'flowers'. Same way of pronouncing but different meaning."

"Flour." Harry said with a big smile, showing his baby teeth.

She placed her bag on a far away counter to avoid it getting dirty and sat the boy on the counter, opening the higher cupboards to get the missing ingredients.

"What's that?" Harry asked from behind.

Y/n turned to face him, his finger pointed at a hidden object. "That is a gift." She said with a grin placing down the bag of flour and watching as the toddler's eyes widened behind his glasses.

"Is it for me?"

"Maybe..." Y/n teased, she grabbed a bowl and began cracking the eggs.

"Can I see it, please?" Harry pleaded, pouting.

"Well you have to do somethings first: brush your teeth, wash your hands, comb your hair, have breakfast and do your homework. Then I'll give it to you." Y/n said, looking at the boy, who stared back with narrowed eyes then crossed his arms and pouted.

"But I don't want homework."

"I have homework too, and the trick is to not think about homework. Think about getting to open the present later on; we can even bake cookies if you finish early." She tempted with a raise of her brow.

The younger boy, bribed with cookies and presents, ran out of the kitchen with lightening speed eager to finish his part of the bargain.

One cold shower later, James slipped on a pair of trousers, red shirt and a black leather jacket (Gifted from Sirius). He shook the towel through his hair trying to dry it out enough to stop dripping. He ran his finger through the curly locks, watching as they fell and stuck to his forehead.

He gathered his worn clothes and threw them into the laundry basket before jogging down to the kitchen. There he saw Y/n with Harry on one hip and a whisk in the other, teaching him how to make waffles.

James let a smile tug on his lips as he walked over to the duo, wrapping his arm around Y/n’s waist. “Daddy, Y/n got me a pre-pra-”

“Pre-sent.” Y/n said breaking down the words, so that Harry could pronounce it correctly. “Oh, do I get a present?” The elder, male, brunet asked looking down at woman. “But daddy, you’re too old for presents.”

“Old? You’re never too old for presents. I’ll have you know, Prongslet, Y/n gives me a present every night;  just after you go to sleep.” James said, winking and ducked when Y/n made way to hit him with a whisk causing Harry to giggle.

“You don’t get waffles.”

“I’m sorry, love. It was just a joke. I’m sure I can make it up to you in other ways.” James teased.

Y/n placed Harry down on the counter and chased James around the kitchen island with a drying cloth.

Harry giggled watching the two, he leaned over, opening a drawer and grabbing a hidden camera that his father stashed after a failed camping trip with his uncles that ended with Sirius drunkenly threatening a bear.

Harry raised the camera and snapped pictures of his dad and Y/n and some of him and ‘stuffed Padfoot’.

“Okay, you got me, I surrender, your honor.” James said swiveling around last minute and trapping Y/n in his embrace. “You don’t sound as though you feel guilty.” Y/n said narrowing her eyes, she turned her head to face Harry, who seemed to be playing with a drawer.

“Harry, do you think daddy feels sorry about his actions?”

James smirked at the nickname before giving his son a pouting look. “No presents!” Harry declared, Y/n let out a laugh that grew once met with James’ shocked one.

“I object.” James began, "Overruled!" Harry shouted.

Y/n let out a suprised laugh, turning and grabbing Harry's face in her hand, shaking it as she peppered his face in kisses; the smaller boy giggled.

“You heard him.” Y/n teased and in that moment James couldn’t feel anything but happiness and love. Seeing Y/n and Harry laugh together, it made James think of what a family looked like.

Harry, Y/n, Remus, Sirius, Peter and his parents, that was his family. This was his family.

Waking to Y/n in his arms, reading Harry a story to sleep, making breakfast together (Even if James almost never helped due to his rushed work) and laughing with eachother.

James let a large smile take on his face, he walked over to Y/n and hugged her from the back. “Hey! You can't try and butter up the judge. That’s illegal y’know.” Y/n joked.

He buried his face in her neck and inhaled the floral smell of her hair. “I love you.” He said, his voice muffled.

“It would be quite awkward and weird if you didn’t.”

“Dad, Y/n, I finished, can I play for a little, please?” Harry asked, eyes wide and green. His mouth smeared with cream and crumbs.

“Sure, just wash your hands first and get ready for your uncles today, they should be here in an hour or two.” James replied.

Not a second later, Harry disappeared out the room. Y/n chuckled holding onto James’ hands that were wrapped around her waist.

“Something wrong, James?” she asked, after a moment of silence rang.

“Y/n...” James moaned against her neck, turned around and pushed her against the kitchen island.

He moved his hand under her thighs and sat her on the table, silencing her gasps with a heated kiss; pushing his tongue through her lips and parting her thighs with his hands.

In quick motions he undid the robe, letting it slide down Y/n’ shoulder, revealing her red slip. James groaned at the sight, one of his hands cupping her breast, the other rubbing her thigh. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer.

Breaking the kiss, Y/n moved her lips to his jaw and trailed her kisses up to his ear, sucking spots behind it, granted to leave marks.

"So wet..." James teased, as he lightly bit her bottom lip. His fingers made their way to her clit, causing her to moan into his mouth as he started to move his fingers.

“James.” Y/n warned.

"We should stop .." She said as she trailied down kisses on the unbuttoned spot of James' neck.

His only show of response was thrusting a finger into the muggle, eliciting a moan out of her.

James kissed her one last time before he got down on the marble floor, getting down on his knees and placing Y/n's legs over his shoulders; spreading her open for him.

His tongue ran up and down her soaking cunt making her moan and run her hands through his hair pushing it out of his face.

James’ lips suctioned around her clit as she tugged at his hair, making him groan. The vibrations sent waves of intense pleasure through Y/n, making .

"Jamie...so good." She praised as he let off her clit with a pop before removing his finger and fucking her with his tongue as his free hand, started circling her clit.

"Fuck, James!" she huffed out, her eyes closing and back arching; the hand in his hair slipping to the back of his neck, rubbing delicate circles and pulling at the small hairs.

James’ lips sucked on her clit once again moaning against it, he moved his hand once again, his middle and ring finger moving in and out of her as he lapped at her clit.

"James, please- James!" She cried tugging on his hair with one hand while the other clenched the tablecloth, scrunching it in her palm.

James raised his hand, playfully pinching Y/n's nipple causing her to moan and buck her hips against his mouth making him groan.

"Let go, love." He said pulling away, before sucking on her clit again. He could feel her clenching around his fingers.

"James! I'm-I'm gonna-" She cried out, pressing her cunt against him trying to make him go deeper before releasing into his mouth and on his hand.

After a minute he let off her clit and gently pulled his fingers out of her, as tried to catch her breath while staring down at him with hazed eyes.

James teased her one last time before getting up and licking his fingers clean. She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

"When will you be back?" She asked, watching James as he walked to the storage closet and got a towel, running water over it.

He spread her thighs and wiped them gently, "Around one, maybe two." After he cleaned her up, he threw the towel into the washing machine and stood between her legs, his arms wrapped around he waist as her hands layed around his neck.

"I love you." She said, flicking one of James's dark locks back and running her fingers through his hair.

"I love you too."

.

@morwap

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry 2024 Round-Up Post | Week 2

On Sundays during our posting period, we won't post a new work, instead you have time to catch up with the works that posted during the week and hopefully leave lovely comments for our creators.

Happy reading, commenting and sharing! ;)

~Your LCDrarry Mods

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information. Thank you!

PPS: Please share far and wide! Thank you!!

***

Podfic

***

"As You Wish" by Pineau_noir

Prompt: "The Princess Bride", 1987, Rob Reiner Written by: Pineau_noir Narrated by: Anonymous Podfic Length: 02:31:28 Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead.

Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

Listen to it now on AO3.

***

Fic

***

first, she fell

Prompt: "Anatomy of a Fall", 2023, Justine Triet Prompted by: @wolfpants Author: Anonymous Word Count: 1,648 words Rating: Mature Warnings: angst, referenced character death, open ending, referenced adultery, speculated murder

Summary: Harry's wife is dead. No one knows quite what that means.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Caribou Garden

Prompt: Nature Documentaries (genre, any year) Prompted by: @meandminniemcg Author: Anonymous Word Count: 2,641 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Alone with his swotty, posh, nemesis-turned-colleague on an uninhabited island in the far north, cinematographer Harry Potter grapples with his inconvenient crush. A nature documentary-inspired fic with magical caribou migrations, dramatic landscapes, and only one tent.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Twin Blades

Prompt: “Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith”, 2005, George Lucas Author: Anonymous Word Count: 3,525 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: lightsaber combat, nightmares

Summary: Harry advances a few steps toward Draco, who doesn’t move, only watches him approach with narrowed eyes. “If you’re so sure the Jedi have no power, duel me. If you win, your master will be proud of you.” Draco’s eyes glitter. “And if you win?” “We’ll find out, won’t we?” Harry raises his lightsaber, readies himself. “Come on.” Without another word, Draco lunges at him.

Or, a Drarry-flavored reskin of the battle on Mustafar.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Prompt: "Mamma Mia", 2008, Phyllida Lloyd Prompted by: @Azulaschild Author: Anonymous Word Count: 11,378 words Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: sex while on drugs, drinking

Summary: Recently-divorced Harry returns to Serenity Commune, site of his wildest youthful romps and the beginning of his recovery from trauma, to get out of a rut (and because Hermione made him). Unfortunately, sex, drugs, and dancing aren't all that await - he'll have to confront his past and what life might have been.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Leap Year

Prompt: "Leap Year", 2010, Anand Tucker Prompted by: @DrarryMyHeart Author: Anonymous Word Count: 29,064 words Rating: Mature Warnings: None apply.

Summary: Draco Malfoy has come a long way. He has a successful business and a muggle-born high-flyer boyfriend.

One tiny thing - it's been four years and he has no ring. No matter, he'll take things into his own hands. Feb 29th is an Irish muggle tradition that he'll happily jump on. Archie (boyfriend) is in Ireland - he'll simply portkey over and pop the question.

One (LARGE) problem. The portkey office messed up and he's landed outside Harry Potter's pub.

The same Harry Potter that hasn't been seen for ten years.

*Big sigh.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Runaway Groom

Prompt: "Runaway Bride," 1999, Garry Marshall Prompted by: @elskanellis Author: Anonymous Word Count: 30,044 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Arranged marriage (not between Harry and Draco), Infidelity if you squint (not between Harry and Draco)

Summary: OK, so Draco's feeling so nervous about his upcoming wedding to his fiancée Astoria Greengrass that he could faint. That's one of the pitfalls of an arranged marriage, right? Just because he's run out of his past three weddings, doesn't mean this one won't go ahead. He just has to keep his eyes on the finishing line, and ignore the sudden reappearance of Harry Potter, who seems to be determined to turn his world upside down. Again.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

Prompt: "Thelma and Louise", 1991, Ridley Scott Author: Anonymous Word Count: 33,335 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator chose not to use Archive Warnings

Summary: Harry is disillusioned with the Aurors, his relationship with Ginny, and is tired of all the hero worship but feels trapped. Draco, still hated by the Wizarding world, decides to get away and shares his plan with Harry, his only friend. Harry jumps at the chance to go with him.

They share in the freedom of their adventure, but things don’t go according to plan. Amidst their misfortunes, they discover new talents, courage in the face of tragedy, and above all, love.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Romancing the Dragon

Prompt: "Romancing the Stone", 1984, Robert Zemeckis Prompted by: Anonymous Author: Anonymous Word Count: 34,382 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Action movie typical violence

Summary: Harry Potter writes romance novels from the comfort of his London townhouse, with the assistance of his beloved cat, Juliet. He does not engage in rescue missions, talk to dragons, or develop feelings for Draco Malfoy. That would be absurd.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

Creator reveals are on 15 June.

[soleilnewspaper]

James Fleamont Potter 𐂂 °⋆.

A collection of headcannons about Bambi :)

 𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"Summer Night City - ABBA" 

01:27 ━━●──────  03:34

            ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻    

Dividers: @the scandalorian

Remus version

Background 𖤓°⋆

His mother Euphemia, affectionately known as Effie came from a large wizarding family in Pakistan, born the youngest daughter of seven. During her later years at Hogwarts, she began working under the matron as an apprentice which aided her in securing a job as a healer of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's after Hogwarts.

His father, Fleamont was born into a wealthy yet small wizarding family, growing up as an only child. Fleamont achieved excellent grades for his O.W.LS giving him the opportunity to many career options however he decided to explore his love for potions. Using his family heritage, Fleamont brought a shop in Diagon Alley and began his potions business straight out of Hogwarts.

The two both attended Hogwarts but didn’t meet until after they had both graduated due to their age gap. Fleamont had accidently injured himself while trying out one of his new potion recipes and Euphemia, a newly employed healer had taken the night shift. He fell in love with the way she carried herself and waited patiently until her shift was over to take her out for a coffee.

Fleamont and Effie despite both originating from pureblood wizarding families they actively stood up for both muggle born and muggle rights in the Wizarding World. Alongside this they further took on activism by advocating for the well treatment of magical creatures.

Both of Jame’s parents shared aspirations for having multiple children. Euphemia having come from a large family combined with Fleamont's own wishes for siblings as an only child, lead them to want multiple children. However, the couple struggled for years to finally fall pregnant in Effie’s 50s and Fleamont’s 60s. They had assumed they were unable to have children but then they were given a miracle. His birth was difficult and left Euphemia barren and had an extended recovering period.

Despite this James was still their miracle so they decided to pour all their love into him and spoiled him rotten.

James was raised to treat everyone with kindness and respect. His mother taught him how to be a gentleman which made her often scold him when she heard about his patronising of Lily in his early Hogwarts Years.  

His love of Quidditch comes from his mother as she played on the Gryffindor team throughout her Hogwarts Years. From a young age, his mother had him on a broom soaring through the sky.

James would play in the meadow near his house during the spring and bring flowers for his mother which she liked to press and would often make bookmarks with her dried flowers. Euphemia kept every gift that James had made her. James didn’t learn this until after his parents had died and he was cleaning up their house with the marauders.

Fleamont used to take James to his potions store when he was younger because James loved watching his father work.

James is a mama’s boy through and through. 

Even in his teen years if James has a nightmare while at home he will cry into mother’s shoulder. She will comfort him the same way she did when he was a little boy.

James grew up as a bilingual child speaking both Urdu and English in his household. Due to this, like many bilingual children, his speech was delayed. Both his parents cried when he said his first word because they had been worried about his delayed communication milestones. As a toddler he would mix up the two languages confusing his father and Euphemia had to translate for him.

However, after starting Hogwarts he was surrounded by English, majority British, so he spoke less of his mother’s tongue resulting in him forgetting some of it. Every few summers he tells himself he’ll learn urdu properly, and every few summers, he forgets about this resolution entirely. After Euphemia died he relearned the language in time for her funeral.

Bollywood movies and dvds were a staple in the Potter house.

Fleamont liked to watch old dvds for nostalgia’s sake, and as a result, James grew up watching them as well.

Physical Appearance 𖤓°⋆

His big growth spurt in maturity happened after winter break of 5th year.

Sirius and him are practically the same height, with only an inch or two difference.

His skin takes on a wheatish tone, his skin almost like the sun radiates. Manifesting the colour tone from yellow to light brown with warm undertones.

James’s eyes are the type of eyes which make you feel safe and warm inside.

Possesses comforting brown iries like the colour of aged roots alongside the green of the springtime bubs make his eyes resemble a hazel tree. The hues of green in his eyes remind him of his time spent in his childhood running on the forest floor among gentle flowers.

He has a prominent Adam’s apple.

Curls adorn his face in a shade of black with hues of brown adding a natural highlight to his hair.

According to cannon

“James was a tall, thin man who wore glasses, with hazel eyes and untidy black hair that stuck up at the back.” 

Personality 𖤓°⋆

Constantly ruffing or running his hands through his hair.

This leads to the neglecting of making sure he was keeping his glasses on securely while flying, and they'd fall off.

James can and will sleep through almost anything.

Much to the annoyance of the maunders, James is a very loud snorer.

More often than most you will find Prongs happily eating leaves and grass on full moons.

James was so in love with Lily he never bothered to plan what to do if she ever accepted his offer. So, when she did, he became a stuttering mess.

He was incredibly smart but at the same time the token dumbass

Something changed in James when his beaten and bruised brother walked into his home on that rainy Christmas Eve.

When he returned to school the following term everyone thought he was trying to impress Lily after she called him ‘an arrogant wanker’. In truth he had changed for Sirius’s sake.

Nothing comes before his friends

This man is the most loving one you will ever meet

Not only that but he loved hard and deeply, more so than anyone

James is very much a mother-hen. The marauders cannot avoid his fussing, making sure they’re alright well-fed and watered. Almost like they’re his houseplants.

Fleamont drilled tidy habits into Jame’s mind leaving him somewhat of a neat freak. Every month he’s doing deep cleaning because of the dirtiness of sharing a room with three other teenage boys.

Personal space does not exist, he is extremely touchy. It's his love language.

On the surface he likes to pretend everything comes easy to him but secretly he still must work hard to get good grades even if it’s at the last minute. He thinks it makes him cooler if he keeps a certain level of nonchalance but 50% of the time, he’s faking it till he makes it. 

 He feels everything deeply. When he loves, it’s like a tidal wave of emotion, he feels like he would go to the moon for the person. 

Notes and Trivia 𖤓°⋆

His boggart is each of his friends crying alone, his biggest fear was not being able to help the people he loves when they need him most 

Before Sirius and Remus start dating, James would carry Remus to the hospital wing after particularly rough full moons

All snuggles are initiated by him

He holds Remus’s hand after a rough moon

He’s the matchmaker of Hogwarts

Jumped at the chance to spend time with Lily when she asked him to help her get Dorcas and Marlene together

Tried to call Sirius snuffles before they came up with padfoot 

He knows Lily’s cycle better than she does

So, when that time of the month comes, he’s the most dotting boyfriend you ever did see

Surprise hugs are his speciality

He is the best transfiguration student that McGonagall ever taught 

He ruffles his friend’s hair,

kisses them on the check, and holds their hands to make them smile or when they’re upset

His father gifted him a calligraphy set for his fourteenth birthday which was the start of his love for writing letters

James always has his camera with him and has collections dedicated to all his friends

He is also a mother-hen with the younger Gryffindor students especially when he’s head boy.

He felt lonely growing up as an only child, but his wish was fulfilled when his parents practically adopted Sirius.

@h3arts4strs This is for you babes >3

[simplifiedemotions]

Dreams

His love for her was a sharp-edged knife he had to learn to breathe around.

**

First, a seven-year war. A turncoat after his parents were killed. Little reason to live but too much of a coward to die. 

Draco joined the Order. He’d traded in finely-barbed insults for a med kit because they had seemed to know that his greatest torture apart from dying was having to endure the presence of Hermione Granger.

Their great bloody healer with her manic schedules and biting instructions. She’d made it clear she hated him when he showed up to the dingy room she used for potion brewing.

It came as no surprise that he’d fallen in love with her.

It came as no surprise that she’d broken his heart.

**

They had no choice but to keep him on as healer after the war. His skills made him indispensable. Even if they hated him, they needed him.

He looked down at his clipboard, shock stuttering his heart to a stop before it started pounding against his chest.

Patient: Hermione Granger. His eyes skimmed past information he already knew, before they landed on the reason she was there.

It had happened a year before the war ended.

**

She was a Healer and Curse-Breaker. She was never meant to be caught in a skirmish, but she was foolishly soft-hearted and had responded to an urgent call for backup.

He had been in another safe house treating injured Order members when she’d gone.

He returned to see her convulsing on the ground, her throat torn from a precise-impact bombarda.

His hands shook as he healed her ravaged throat, as he directed his wand over sinew and bone, over ruptured veins.

He was the one who took care of her, who took on her workload whilst she recovered. Who shoved potions down her throat when the pain overroad her coherency. 

It wasn’t the first time they’d known intimacy through hurt.

**  

It hurt to look at her now. Sitting primly on the hospital bed, she met his gaze with a shrewd assessment. 

She opened her mouth as if to speak, and he hoped against hope that sound would come out; that she’d somehow reveal to him that her brilliant brain had found a way to heal her ravaged throat. 

Nothing. He watched her take in a heavy breath before exhaling in frustration. 

“If this is some joke, Granger, I’ve not the time nor the energy for you.” He knew he sounded cold. He told himself he didn’t care, even as her face fell, her large brown eyes a spark of hurt.

She rose, untucking her wand from her sleeve and turned her back to him, and he watched the shift of her shoulders as she straightened her spine and raised her wand. He knew what the spell was almost immediately. The flagrante curse, used to make objects searing at first touch. It could also be used to write out words, which she was currently doing.

She’d learned to do a charm known for draining magical energy at an incredible speed—and she’d done it without incanting it.

Anger moved through him suddenly and sharply. He moved quick as a flash, taking Granger by the shoulders and pivoting her towards him before taking both her hands in his, her wand clattering to the ground but he barely noticed because—his eyes widened in horror—there were scorch marks patterning most of her hands.

“You idiot!” he snarled at her. He felt cold with rage. “Have you been using this as your method of communication this entire time? Do I really need to remind the Muggle-born that paper would suffice?”

Hermione shook one of her hands out of his and pointed up and to her side. Realising that he didn’t read what she’d said earlier, he turned his head to see the words outlined in a red-gold hue.

I tried to fix my voice for five years on my own. I’m sorry I hadn’t contacted you. I—

But it ended off there from when he’d grabbed her.

What was the rest of her sentence going to be?

His heart wrenched inside his chest. He turned back and demanded, “why?”

She picked up her wand from the ground, drew out new words. There was something sad and resigned to her face as she turned back to him.

I’ll explain.

**

Granger explained all her attempts at getting her voice back. Potions, spells, even—horrifically—performing surgery on herself.

Draco stood, horrified at what she was telling him, staring at the raised scars on her throat as she took off the scarf she was wearing.

More words, more explanations on procedures they could do if Draco was willing to help her, inspiring in him a maelstrom of emotions: rage, fierce protection. But it was mostly unbearable longing that he felt as he looked at her, remembering the soft moments they’d had, the sound of her voice in his ear as they made love, at the bite in her arguments whenever they would fight, at how she looked softer in sleep, made better by the way she would cling to him, as if he were her only anchor in a desolate sea.

“Why didn’t you ask me, Granger?” He could hear raw pain in his voice, and she seemed to notice because she gave him a wan smile and shook her head.

She didn’t think she needed to consider Draco in her after. He felt as if she’d punched him in the stomach. 

She was softer without the war. It hurt him that he couldn’t have experienced it with her.

He straightened his shoulders. “If you think there is something I can do to help you, Herm-Granger, I will.” 

He gave her a bitter smile. Best not get too vulnerable.

He looked away when she smiled at him again.

**

Bloody weeks spent on every single thing Draco could think of. Potions. Modified spells. He was sure he’d burned through the manor library on every single Charms book just to find a working revitalisation spell.

Tests, speech therapy. He’d even in a fit of mania researched if he could somehow purchase a new voice box for her. It wasn’t an option, but he also realised how much he didn’t want to hear any voice but hers.

There was absolutely nothing he could do. Still, he wouldn’t give up.

I have something to tell you.

Draco looked at her from his crouched position on the small table he’d transfigured for himself to write on. He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Granger fidgeted with her wand. She raised it again to write.

I don’t want you to be angry with me.

Still, that didn’t stop her from giving him the truth.

**

Draco stood for long minutes, just staring at her. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to parse out her words into something that made sense.

His throat was dry as he finally said, “If you knew all this time that you couldn’t fix your voice, why did you come to me?”

She drew her wand up, writing, I didn’t know if you’d forgive me. 

Something burned behind his eyelids. He was losing his control. He had to leave before she decided to rip his heart into further shreds. The knife slid deeper. “Forgive you for what, Hermione?” he said, voice cracking on her name.

Tears welled in her eyes. She made slashing movements with her wand, her normally clean letters changed by her emotions as she wrote out another sentence.

I loved you—still love you, but I didn’t want you to be stuck to this broken version of me. I didn’t think you could love me unless I was whole—so I left.

Draco crossed the room in three long strides and crushed her in his trembling arms, ignoring the spark of pain that hit him as he crossed right through her searing words.

Words do hurt, he thought ruefully as he breathed hard against her hair, taking in her flowery scent, feeling at home in the circle of her arms as she pressed herself against him and drew her hands up his shoulders to clutch at his robes.

“You could have told me. I would never have stayed angry with you.”

He just wanted her to stay. Even if it was only as friends. Even if the knife tore at him each time she smiled.

He let her go long enough to meet her unamused expression.

“You can’t love me, though. I know you don’t.” He didn’t know if it was anger, or a bone-deep sadness, that prevailed against his calmer emotions. He’d gotten so good at hiding it all, until the storm of her stepped back into his life. “I know what we had—it was a distraction. You wouldn’t have chosen me in other circumstances.”

He knew he sounded self-loathing. Couldn’t help it. There was a quake of emotion rising in his chest, bypassing all reason and logic.

A raised brow, Granger stepped out of his arms and lifted her wand again.

His eyes widened when he saw the word legilimency in red.

“You can’t be serious.”

She only gave him a nod. He imagined she'd say something like of course, you idiot, if she could speak.

“Hermione, I’m not—” he was interrupted by her stepping right up to him, taking him by the collar and pulling him down to her level. Her eyes were fierce, and in them he saw her demand—and her permission.

She wanted to show him something that he wouldn’t believe with words.

He looked up, meeting her steady gaze, pressing forward as his wand met her temple and uttering the spell, spilling himself inside her head.

What he saw—oh what he saw. He almost called her cruel for the images she gave him, before realising the truth of them.

Him, through her eyes, seven years ago. 

He felt the way she peeled him apart in her mind, that day that was defined by several dust motes in the rickety library where she sat to watch his interview with Harry and Lupin. He expected the riling energy of looking at your enemy, but there was also inquisitiveness there. A curiosity.

Flash forward, one month later and they were screaming at each other. Draco accidentally knocked into her, sending a new batch of healing potions crashing to the floor. Her screams of accusation turned to waves of anger turned to pointing fingers and cruel words.

The next day, he’d brought her a new batch. Ignored her indignation that he’d stolen into her potions stores and demanded he come back as he walked out the door. He watched her as she stared at his younger self’s back, surprised to see her frowning. Still, that feeling of curiosity that went over all other things. 

A rare empty night at the main safe house. They were the only occupants in an otherwise quiet house. A surprise shared drink, but even more was the surprisingly pleasant conversations. He felt the pleasantness between them; he remembered how tense he felt because he was so sure they were about to fight again. But it was only a tentative conversation that was their third guest of the evening.

He still remembered the small smile she’d given him, at how it prompted something in his heart to go wild. Now, he was hit with the force of her emotions, too: a pounding heart, a nervousness she was confused by and didn’t know how to name, a lingering feeling of heightened emotion. 

Was it his or hers?

Later, their first kiss. The boy who had made all the wrong choices never felt more right than in the moment he had grabbed Hermione’s face, stalling her argument about a jealousy she’d insisted she didn’t feel over Susan Bones touching his arm in a flirtatious way.

What she felt for him was nothing soothing. Pure horniness. He’d felt the same.

More scenes flashed. Their first time together, which Granger of the present nudged him to move on from. He could feel her embarrassment through their connection and couldn’t help his grin. 

He loved that night. Loved how she responded to him. Loved how much she could say with her body. He kept moving on, finding more like them. They spoke so often through sex at first. Anger, curiosity, resentment, all wound up as tightly as her legs around his waist.

He didn’t understand what she was showing him.

The scenes slowed down. It was the fifth year of war. She had still looked at him a lot. He’d never realised how much. 

Year six: a sick yearning he would call his own if he wasn’t so aware he was seeing all this through her mind—her heart.

Year seven, near the end: she, watching him as he slept beside her. She’d already lost her voice. It was only days from now that the war would end, and she would disappear from his life for five years. 

He normally slept fitfully. They all did. So he was surprised to see he didn’t wake as Granger tenderly traced his face. As she swept gentle thumbs across his cheekbones and over his closed eyelids, as she used her hand to cup his face and kiss him sweetly, so so sweetly, on his forehead.

She was looking at him—she was feeling something he could never fully put into words. The same as he felt—the same.

it was—

He realised why he couldn’t name the difference. He was looking for something to discern her feelings from his, only to realise they were one and the same.

He pulled out of her mind, wanting—needing to see her face. He knew with certainty her first words to him in the hospital—the words he’d interrupted before she could finish them.

I tried to fix my voice for five years. I’m sorry I hadn’t contacted you. I—

I love you.

He pushed her hair out of her face.

He knew her heart. Her dreams. He knew her.  

They kissed for a long time under the bright hospital lights. Tears stained their cheeks and their teeth clacked as they kissed clumsily, as they slid onto the floor and made a mess of the neat tiles.

There was nothing clean about their coming together. There were no words to carry out the breadth of feeling that passed between them.

Maybe that was the whole point all along.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Lifeaters (II.5)

V. The Dueling Club

MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: You find a… “allowed” way to… use magic on people you don’t like 

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Cursing, magical objects, Mugglephobia, people getting petrified, classism, taking joy on the prospect of muggleborns being petrified/killed, you know what this is about

Wordcount: 2,3 k 

Notes: I will keep going with this fic, because I know it will take off, and I know in the future this is going to be AMAZING

You could feel it in class, or in your free periods…

The fear

The uncertainty

You couldn’t when you were in the common room, or surrounded by your friends, because they acted like nothing is happening, in fact, they took pride on it 

Everyone was teasing Draco, about him being the heir of Slytherin, and he only smirked proudly, you wanted to feel the same, you wanted to feel the same thing they were feeling but, something stopped you from doing so, your belly felt heavy.

So as you were hanging around the common room, you looked up at Draco, and all your friends gathered there

“Who do you think is the heir of Slytherin?”, you asked, and to your surprise, he looked back at you and squinted, like really looking into you

“I don’t know”, he confessed, which did surprised you, Matthew chuckled, taking your attention far from your friend

“I don’t know, but that is someone worth befriending”, he said, imitating what Draco said about Potter on the first year, “a great job he is pulling”

You didn't think petrifying innocent people is a “Great job”, but you didn’t dare to say anything 

But a little boy, a first year, had been petrified, he was lucky he wasn’t dead, but he was a muggle born, so the threat was actually becoming a reality.. and it was scary

An “heir”, and by the looks of it, a Slytherin heir, had come back to the school and decided to purge it from muggle born students. 

The next class of defense against the dark arts came around, and to your delight, this wasn’t going to be a normal class like the rest, actually Lockheart made you walk all the way to a big hall on the first floor, where he gathered the rest of the students of second year

There was a large, long platform in the middle, drawings of the cycles of the moon beautifully painted atop a blue fabric. as you all second years students were standing around it, Professor Lockheart showed his face, walking along it

“Can you all hear me?”, he asked as we were his raging fanclub, “Excellent! In light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this dueling club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves, as I myself has done in countless occasions, for full details... see my published works”, you rolled your eyes at him, and Draco snickered

“Maybe we can finally learn something useful”, you mocked to him, and he laughed 

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape”, you all looked, entertained how your teacher climbed to the platform, with his common serious face, “He has sportingly agreed to help with a short demonstration, now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry, you’ll still have your potions master when I’m through with him. Never fear”, you snickered, not thinking for a second that clown could best the had of your house 

They both got in font of the other, moving their wands in a traditional, dueling manner, then they turned around and gave short paces, to then turn to each other again several steps away

“1…2…3!”, counted Lockheart, but Snape was quicker, throwing him a quick expelliarmus charm to disarm him. You laughed when the blonde teacher flew back several feet and landed on his butt. He came out of his stupor and raised himself from the ground trying to demonstrate the little dignity he had left, just chuckling

“An excellent idea to show them that professor Snape… but if you don’t mind me saying, it was pretty obvious what you were about to do, if I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy”, you looked at your teacher expectantly for what he was about to answer

“Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells professor”, he tried then

“An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape! Let’s have a volunteer pair, Potter, Weasley, how about you?”

“Weasley’s wand causes devastation with the simplest spells, he is going to send Potter to the hospital wing in a match box, may I suggest someone from my own house, Malfoy, perhaps?”, you could see the excitement behind your friend’s eyes, especially when Snape commanded him to get up in the platform, he did without hesitation

“Good luck!”, you said quickly

“Like I will need it”, he mocked back, standing on the platform, on the other side, Potter did the same.

They walked until they were face to face, you exchanged excited looks with Pansy who was smiling widely 

“Wands at the ready!”, demanded Lockheart

“Scared Potter?”, you heard your friend ask

“You wish”, he responded rather quickly. They walked away from each other, just like Snape and Lockheart had done

“In the count of three”, the professor chanted, “cast your charms to disarm your opponent, ONLY TO DISARM!”, he warned, “we don’t want any accidents here. One! Two!...”, but Draco didn’t wait on three, he cast the first spell

“Everte Statum!”, Potter flied backwards and fell on his face, which was hilarious, all of Sytherin laughed at him, even some Ravenclaws, but he stood up quickly

“Rictusempra!”, Potter cursed, and it was time for Draco to fly through the air and fall on his behind, the room filled with gasps and a few snickers. Snape grabbed him roughly and rigid him to stand 

“I said disarm only!”, whined Lockheart

“Serpensortia!”, called Draco, clearly not hearing him, a snake was created from thin air and wheezing in front of Potter.

There was an uncomfortable silence, Potter seemed really, really surprised, and in the room you could hear even a pin drop. 

“Don’t move Potter, I’ll get rid of her for you”, mocked Snape, walking in front of Draco, redying his wand. Draco seemed only too pleased with himself, as he saw how people looked at him amazed and some even frightened, conjuring snakes would indicate he was.. 

“Allow me professor Snape, Alarte Ascendare!”, Lockheart interrupted your thoughts, but the snake was only pushed into the air, and landed right back where she was, ready to attack, now, even angrier .

And Potter… he looked at the snake and started walking towards it, and to your surprise, he started chanting in parseltongue, talking to the snake.

nobody could move as Potter made the snake stop as it was directing itself towards another student. 

The entire room was quiet, they were all in shock, you did too, so much, you missed Matthew right by your side, whispering in parseltongue as well. 

“Vipera Evanesca”, interrupted Professor Snape, getting rid of the snake 

Draco looked at me surprised, but they were all looking at Potter

He ran out of the room, and Lokcheart took a while to come out of his stupor, clearing his throat

“Pair up”, he said, Snapped has also vanished, “let’s practice some more”

You were really looking forward to the dueling club, but not as it was directed by Lockheart, at the end, after pairing up with Daphne, you learned nothing, except by a tickling charm Daph hit you with because she didn’t want to hurt you, you instead hit her with the dancing legs spell you learned last year and was the final exam for charms.

it was all good fun until Milicent and Granger actually came to physical blows, forgetting about their wands, you and daphne wanted to help your friend, so you punched on the both of them, and the Parvati twins stepped in to help Granger and you all ended up throwing spells at one another. You actually landed one that made her hair grow quickly, it catched her eyebrows, it was really funny, but Snape returned only to grab you by your robes and un-chant Patil. 

You were actually kind of proud of it. 

The very next week was even more eventful. 

A huge Blizzard had hit Hogwarts with all its might, Herbology classes were canceled because of it, and you were so relieved, last class you had touched a plant and it had died on you, even Professor Sprout seemed concerned about it

You did not like Herbology at all

You didn’t know where the other common rooms were, but you were somehow lucky, yours was underground and under the Black Lake, so the temperature was somewhat even, even though you wished you had sunlight sometimes to read or study, your common room was beautiful. And now with all those attacks, you were… encouraged… to stay in your common rooms and not go about alone 

“Have you heard what they are all saying?”, asked Matthew, entering the room really crossed, you looked up from the book you were reading on taking care of plants for dummies

“What?”, had asked Draco, who you were leaning against. Matthew frowned at the both of you but shook his head angrily

“They are saying Potter is the heir of slytherin”, he growled, “I heard some Hufflepuffs talking”

“That half-blood? it’s ridiculous”, mocked Draco.

“Maybe he is”, you threw in, gaining shocked looks from all of them

“Don’t be silly”, wanted Draco

“He can speak in parseltongue”, you reasoned

“How do you know what that is?”, asked Matthew, frowning

“Because…”, you didn’t really have a good explanation, “don’t we all?”, you tried to salvage yourself, “you all know what a parseltongue is, don’t you?”, and they got quiet

“Harry Potter is not the heir to Slytherin”, Matthew growled 

“Are you?”, you asked him, he smirked, but didn't say anything, you looked back at Draco, and he didn't say anything either, only smiling slyly.

“Of course not”, he said then, more quietly, Theo at his side chuckled darkly, pretending to keep reading his tome on potions mastery for beginners, you hoped he still wouldn’t understand a thing, after the stunt he pulled last year, you had refused to partner up with him again, even though he even asked you a couple of times, you preferred to partner up with Draco so Snape wouldn’t criticize you as much, and you ALWAYS got a perfect grade, sharing the podium with Granger.

But Theodore Nott was still really cute, to your own frustration, Daphne, Pansy, even Milicent and Tracy would almost swoon when he asked them something directly, you found it annoying. He even had followers amongst first years, so… you wanted to keep away from him, refusing to be a member of his fan club.

You looked at Matthew from the corner of your eye, and he was still looking back at you, he even winked at you, like the fact he was the heir to Slytherin should make you swoon instead of feeling terrified

Was he really the heir to Slytherin?

You felt something besides the fear… you felt relief, because if that was truly Slytherin’s monster, and the one who opened the chamber was really a Slytherin heir, you had to admit, you felt relieved.

You would not get attacked, or any of your friends

Furthermore, you didn’t believe any of your friends could actually command a monster to do something like this, most of them were only twelve! Who could do that? it had to be one of the oldest pupils of your house, maybe Flint had a more accepted idea of who that might be 

But he was also pure blood, one of the sacred 28 even…

Maybe he was the heir…

As you looked around at your class, you realized you didn’t have anyone else to share your deductions with, Draco seemed so different from before the summer

The very next day you found yourself taking notes in the History of Magic class, the class itself was boring, Professor Beams, even though he was a ghost, which you thought was pretty cool, couldn’t write on the board or make presentations, so he just limited himself to dictate from memory all he could on a particular subject. And most of your friends would snooze off, Pansy was the only one you could rely on when it came to good notes and paying attention in class, and Draco also seemed determined since he told you Lucius was very disappointed in his performance at school, even thought he had almost perfect scores, he was always second in class…

Maybe that is why Lucius was so crossed

The first one was Granger…

When class was finally over and you had awakened all of your dormant friends, you go out of the classroom and you stopped in your tracks as Potter was standing against the wall, on the floor in front of him, was an annoying hufflepuff boy, whose name you couldn’t remember right now, petrified with a shocked look on his face

And there floating above him, was nearly headless nick, Gryffindor’s ghost, with a wide-eyed horrified expression on his face, completely unmovable

He had been petrified too

How did they manage that? he was a ghost!

Peeves, the Hogwarts poltergeist, was screaming at the top of his lungs

“ANOTHER ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK!”, Professor Mcgonaggal was already on the scene, and it was general mayhem

You took a second to thank the Bloody Baron for keeping Peeves away from all of you Slytherins, you really disliked him, and he seemed to be the only thing that could somewhat “control” Peeves. 

You were quickly removed from the scene, even though Draco was smiling almost brightly

He might not be heir of Slytherin, but Potter was going to get in sirius trouble

“This is even better”, he said, “he is not getting expelled… he is getting sent to Azkaban!”, he laughed, and he and Matt high-fived each other. As you were walking away, all you could hear above all the murmurs and scared whispers of the students… was Peeves singing. 

“Oh Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done? You are killing off students, you think it's good fun”

[carewyncromwell]

"There's a bond that exists between mother and child --

Ah, but then again...how would you know?"

~"After All" from Ever After (musical)

x~x~x~x

Tristan Cromwell never knew his mother. She’d died bringing him into the world. Even so, he’d heard all about her from his father, Blaise, from the time he was very small. An objective witness of the young woman’s life, however, could’ve noted a few discrepancies.

“That’s Marianne. That’s your mother.” “That’s your mother there, on the right. She was the youngest in her family, same as you and me.”

Marianne Fudge-Cromwell was actually the second youngest. Her youngest brother Frederick is a Squib, living alone happily in Suffolk with a Saint Bernard named George.

“…I was sure to mention to your great-uncle Cornelius how much you've grown -- how much you resemble your mother…”

If one were to simply describe Tristan and Marianne, then they would think they looked very alike. They both had dark hair, slender builds, delicate features, and long-fingered hands. If Marianne’s uncle Cornelius Fudge had ever actually met Tristan, however, he wouldn’t have thought they resembled each other much at all — his youngest niece had never been as gaunt and pale as her son. However thin she may have been, Marianne had always had youthful chubbiness in her face, and however porcelain her skin may have been, her cheeks were always pink and sweet. She was also quite small at 5'6", while Tristan was tall and gangling. As an adult the boy even ended up an inch taller than his own father. On top of all this, the stiff, proud way Tristan held himself mirrored his father Blaise completely. Marianne had always been the sort to keep her shoulders and head down and generally make herself seem even smaller than she was.

“You’ll be staying inside where it’s safe. Now take your workbook and go sit in your mother’s armchair. She loved reading by that window; I daresay you will as well.”

Marianne placed her reading chair in that spot because the window neighbored her real favorite place at Cromwell Manor: the garden. Blaise had encouraged her to read indoors more while she was pregnant out of concern for her health, so this was the best way she could keep an eye on her white rose bushes while staying indoors.

“Of course your mother loved music. She had a beautiful singing voice…like a songbird in May. And she was proud of it — she would only ever share it with the most deserving. And she only ever sang duets with me.”

Marianne was so deathly shy that she only sang for people she felt comfortable with. The first time Blaise heard her sing, it was because he’d overheard her when she thought she was alone, tending to some flowers. On the flip side, Marianne was incredibly fond of Blaise’s voice, when they were first courting — she even in some letters rambled romantically about his heavenly Tenor serenades.

“You have no other ‘grandfather,’ son. Your mother’s parents passed when she was quite little — even younger than you.”

This is one of the few things Blaise told Tristan that is entirely true. Marianne and her sisters were largely passed around to various family members, including their uncle Cornelius and his wife, when they were not away at Hogwarts. Poor Frederick was shunted to the side, left mainly in the custody of their grandparents when outside of Muggle grade school and then kind of cut loose after graduating. Perhaps this is why Marianne was so desperate for some sort of stability and comfort…

“Your mother’s sisters grew…distant, after your mother’s death. They stopped coming to see you, not long after you were born. Quite frankly, I’d say you’re better off without them in your life.”

Emma and Elizabeth Fudge had never liked Blaise, even when their sister Marianne was most charmed by him. This was in part due to the age and therefore maturity difference between them and Marianne -- Elizabeth had been seven when Marianne was born, and Emma had already started at Hogwarts by the time their brother Frederick was born a year later. They stopped coming to see Tristan because it required them to make arrangements with Blaise ahead of time to come to the Cromwell Manor. And considering Blaise thought the two women would be a bad influence on his son, since they would inevitably try to “challenge his parenting,” he gave them almost no openings to come and visit. Eventually the two witches sadly gave up trying.

“There would be no point in me marrying again. Marianne was my other half and soulmate, and her final gift to me was you, my son and heir. I would not disgrace her memory by marrying a second time.”

Marianne married Blaise after just turning 18, while he was 37. Blaise had not married sooner because he’d been too picky about potential matches, so he'd only started actively searching after his father Charles finally put his foot down and demanded that Blaise marry and produce an heir. Blaise selected Marianne in large part because of her innocence, which made him want to “protect” her from the evils of the world and treat her like his own precious treasure to cherish and keep under lock and key. At first Marianne was enthralled by this, loving the idea of a wealthy man who would provide for her, care for her, and be completely loyal and devoted to her. Plus his dashing good looks was a plus. These favorable points of Blaise's soured in Marianne’s mind, though, after she became pregnant with Tristan right after her and Blaise's honeymoon.

"Your mother was in very poor health long before she gave birth to you. She stayed alive just long enough to make sure she saw your face, even if it was just the once."

Disregarding the usual childhood illnesses of Black Cat Flu and the like, Marianne's health had been fine prior to moving to the Cromwell estate. The decline really seemed to come about after her move and the suffocating isolation that ensued from it. She began to eat less, even while having to eat for two, and she often ate superficially, leaning more on salty, sugary things that could offer her some small bit of cheer, far more than anything that would give her any real strength. Over time the stress of dealing with Blaise's obsessive control and flashes of rage took its toll as well. Marianne's high blood pressure, when combined with her young age, was ultimately what helped contribute to the excessive bleeding that accompanied Tristan's birth and led to Marianne's death. However much Blaise may have seen how unhappy and unwell his wife was and however much he may have truly wanted to help, the only way he'd ever learned how to love someone else was through micromanagement and possessiveness. And so the more he tried to love Marianne, the more he only served to hurt her.

"Your mother was an angel long before she left us." "I will not hear you complain a moment longer. I never complained, when my father told me to stay at home, and your mother likewise minded me. She knew her duty to me and to this family, and so do you." “Your mother was a saint, Tristan. Don’t you dare let anyone ever insinuate otherwise.”

Oh, far from it. Marianne was a rather stupid and immature person, quite truthfully. She'd never had great marks at Hogwarts, not just because of her distinctly average magical talent, but because of her flightiness about studying and her tendency to tune out in class when her stuffy old professors didn't maintain her interest. She'd had little intellectual curiosity aside from superficial homely matters, such as maintaining a garden or embroidery. Her favorite aspect of Hogwarts weren't the spells or classes or group activities, but instead the way everything was cooked and cleaned for her, so she could focus on other (and, to her view, more important) things. She'd been rather lonely growing up, since her sisters had been so much older than her, so she never became versed in making friends or reading people overall. She was even a bit eccentric, giving all of her flowers names and talking to them the way many people would their pets. She'd named the Fanged Geranium in the Hufflepuff commonroom Audrey.

Most of all, though, Marianne was naive. She never could've predicted just how many strings would be attached to Blaise's love, nor how quickly they would tangle around her and leave her feeling helpless, isolated, and depressed in this place that should've been a home, but now felt more like a prison. She'd made excuses for Blaise to her family while they were courting with the thought that any of his rougher edges would smooth themselves out once they were married, but soon it became clear they never would. If she'd lived longer, it's not improbable that Marianne might've turned to the bottle or some other method of escaping her worries. Had she not been so trapped inside the Cromwell estate, perhaps she might've tried having an affair while her husband was out, just as something to cheer her up. Maybe that affair could've led her to another man who would've "rescued" her from this marriage she'd so hastily agreed to. Maybe she could've taken her son with her. Maybe she wouldn't have -- after all, Blaise and the rest of the Cromwells wouldn't have rested until they'd gotten him back. She didn't know how good of a mother she'd even be anyway -- maybe her son would be better off at least being provided for. Or maybe he'd be better off with some other family, living a normal, happy life somewhere else -- with one of her sisters, hell, maybe even her brother! Frederick had always been a natural with younger children. Honestly, it's doubtful Marianne had ever thought that far ahead, considering she'd given up any real hope of finding anything better.

Perhaps this is why Marianne didn't stay behind as a ghost, even after dying so young and tragically. If she hadn't gone on when she did, she would've been stuck haunting the prison that was Cromwell Manor for the remainder of her days. At least if she had to go...when she finally saw her son again, it would be in freedom.

"Fafa...did Mama love me too?" "Yes, my son. With all her heart, son."

The other rare thing Blaise told Tristan that was completely true.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Screamfest

Screamfest 2023:

in the name of redemption by palomab1anca - E, one-shot - “I’m saving lives! That was a person. An innocent person and we can save them. This is what the Phoenix Serum is for!" “You are playing god!” “If it’s between that and being a monster, then so be it.” - Years after the war, Draco turned to healing as a way to redeem his family's name. An experiment gone wrong could jeopardize it all.

Forgive Me, Father by Wanderingxfae - not rated, WIP - For Screamfest, we have a porn with plot. Prompt was abandoned church, we went with a corruption kink. PLEASE NOTE: this involves essentially, blasphemy. you read this after reading the tags. thanks.

The Fall of The House of Malfoy by Edna_whatoopshelp - E, 3 chapters - no summary

To Purge and Protect by RandomVirgoWrites - E, 6 chapters - 7th Year AU where Hermione goes back to Hogwarts instead of hunting for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron. As Voldemort now controls the Ministry, he allows muggle-born students to return to Hogwarts if they were previously enrolled. Why? For sport. The Purge is enacted on All Hallows' Eve, permitting all manner of crime from midnight till sunrise (with a special focus on Mudbloods). Will Hermione survive the night?

Dead is Better by vannminner - E, 7 chapters - Draco told himself to stand. To reach for her. To say something, anything. Instead he watched her disappear into the room with the large bay window.

day 666 by riddikulus_puff - M, one-shot - On what had been declared as Day 567, Draco Malfoy had abandoned St Mungo’s hospital, leaving behind the numerous amounts of infected and Death Eaters, who were storming the building, and Nurse Hermione Granger, who had made him aware that they were soulmates. He had the mark on his back to prove the connection between the two of them. She had been abandoned. He disappeared from sight. Nowhere to be found. And Hermione was pushing her luck to try and find him for one final goodbye

Hogwarts Psycho by hermionejean99 - T, one-shot - There was an idea of Hermione Granger, a kind of bemusing intellection. But there was no Hermione Granger. Only a being, something sinister. Though you could pass her in the library and feel her hair brush over your arm, and maybe think she was like you, just another student working to get good grades, you’d be wrong. Something was entirely off about Hermione Granger.

The Hunt by caruciatus - not rated, one-shot - Hermione races through the forest, pursued by something far more sinister than Death Eaters.

As Above, So Below by megiswritingsomething - E, 5 chapters - “If you wanted to play hide and seek, little witch, all you had to do was ask...” If he was the devil, then his voice was the apple, beckoning her to take a bite. He was so close; the subtle smell of firewhiskey and parchment curled around her nostrils like a vise. “No…” his breath left gooseflesh in its wake, “I think the Golden Girl has outgrown childish games, haven’t you?”.

Bond by spicyxpisces - E, one-shot - When her best friend convinces Hermione that a simple ritual will help her heats, she agrees eagerly. Because Draco Malfoy would never trick her.

Cinnamon by tamsynsw - E, one-shot - Hermione realises just how much she likes blood.

Chainsaws and Curses by ereneefics - E, one-shot - Questionable donations and brown-nosing don't go unnoticed. You can escape Azkaban, but actions have consequences and they will catch up to you.

The Sanguine Cure by sin_and_tonic - T, one-shot - Sanguine adjective 1.optimistic or positive, especially in an apparently bad or difficult situation. 2.blood-red. Astoria Malfoy has been prescribed the country air and plenty of rest to recover from her blood curse, so like any dutiful wife she doesn't complain and she finds herself swept away to Malfoy Manor. Under the care of her husband Draco and Healer Granger she is sure to recover quickly isn't she? However the manor isn't what it seems. Inside the green room Astoria starts to unravel the mysteries of the pattern in the wall-paper and the women that live inside it. Inspired by The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

The Silver Serpent by DarkCloud190 - E, 3 chapters - *If you were uncomfortable watching a movie like Sinister – this fic is probably not for you. Some of the deaths depicted in those films ring true through this story – so just keep that in mind. This is meant to be a horror fic with a bit of humor, smut and characterization thrown in *READ ALL TAGS before proceeding! “The Weasel was always weak and spineless. Wherever he is he won’t be alone, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to hide behind his mother’s skirts,” Draco snorted. A deep voice reverberated out of the floo. This is not a test, this is your warning. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the Ministry of Magic. Ministry officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including unforgivables) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Auror, and Healer services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m. When the purge concludes. May Merlin be with you all. A loud ear curdling siren blared out of the floo indicating the start of the first annual purge. “Showtime,” Theo chuckled, tossing his wand in the air before snatching it again.

[kingofsummer93]

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 18: The Hall of Prophecy

Ao3 Masterlist

The weeks following the werewolf attacks were some of the worst Lucien had ever experienced at Hogwarts. It was all people could talk about- the breakouts, the attacks, the ministry’s promise to crack down on dangerous individuals.

“We will not rest until our streets are safe once more,” his father had declared on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

It made Lucien sick. The fact that ministry members were allegedly resigning as an act of solidarity and defiance did not raise his spirits, and neither did Professor Spell-Cleaver’s impassioned speeches.

It didn't matter, none of it. The harm had already been done. His father understood the power of mistrust and prejudice, and he was wielding them masterfully. Besides, Aurors abandoning their posts wouldn't achieve anything. The only thing that would ever begin to put an end to it would be for someone to put a stop to his father.

Not just to his career and political machinations, but to him. Lucien had never particularly felt any affection for his father, but the rage he now felt whenever he so much as thought of the man who had sired him surprised even himself. Sometimes he pictured himself lunging at the man and digging his teeth into his flesh until his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood and his screaming filled his ears. Not during the full moon, but in broad daylight, like those convicts had done - like they had been forced to do, Lucien was sure of it. The thought of doing such a thing (of accidentally hurting someone because of what he was) made him sick- but if anyone deserved it was Beron. What would happen, if he somehow managed to bite him? The humans had been so badly beaten in the attack that they hadn’t survived their injuries.

But Lucien would make sure that Beron survived. Just one bite- just enough to draw blood, just long enough to make sure he was never the same. It would be a sick, twisted form of poetic justice.

These twisted thoughts being at the front of his mind was why, when the next full moon rolled around, he made his friends swear to not come to the Shrieking Shack. His thoughts were too dark, his mental state too unstable to risk their safety.

Convincing them had not been easy, but in the end they had relented. He had regretted it the second he had laid down on that musty four-poster on the second floor of the Shrieking Shack and felt his muscles tense with the incoming agony of his transformation, but it was too late.

He spent hours raging- howling at the moon, biting and scratching himself. He was transported back to those miserable years before his friends had given him the greatest gift he could ever have asked for. The scent of his own blood only enraged him even more.

And then, a few hours before dawn, another scent caught his attention. Something animal and vaguely familiar, even in his current state.

A large, smoke-grey hound stared at him coolly. A snarl ripped from Lucien’s throat, even as something registered at the back of his mind. But the hound only snarled back, holding its ground. Lucien bounded at him and the hound turned and bolted down the underground tunnel that led back to the whomping willow.

He chased the hound for hours through the Forbidden Forest, but he could never catch up. The hound was too swift, quick and graceful, leaping through the dense forest like a shadow.

When the sky started lightening with the promise of dawn his prey finally slowed. But instead of pouncing on him, Lucien only pawed at him playfully. The dog swiped back at him before running again, letting Lucien chase him. And on the chase went, but differently- no more than two animals, play-fighting in the woods.

When Lucien finally opened his eyes, splayed on his back in the Shrieking Shack, the hound was hovering over him, panting heavily. Lucien’s entire body was screaming with exhaustion and pain, his self-inflicted wounds stinging smartly. But his mind was mercifully clear, groggy with sleep but free of the spiraling anger that had taken a hold of him since Skeeter’s article.

The hound’s glowing amber eyes glittered as Lucien sat up gingerly. There was a flash of light, a faint crack, and then his brother appeared next to him. Before Lucien could say anything Eris’ fist collided with his face and pain exploded from his nose.

“Ow!” He clutched his nose and felt blood dripping between his fingers. “Fuck. What was that for?”

Eris leveled a long look at him. “For being a prick to your friends.”

Ah. So that was how Eris had known to be here. “I deserved that,” he mumbled ruefully, wiping the blood from his face.

His brother lifted his hand again and scuffed him at the back of the head. “Ow! I get it, stop hitting me!”

“That’s for chasing me all night,” his brother said simply.

“Yeah, fair enough…” Lucien agreed sheepishly.

He winced as his brother helped him to his feet but didn’t protest as Eris helped him clean his wounds.

“You really did a number on yourself, little brother.”

Lucien’s gut clenched with guilt. “I’m sorry.”

“There it is,” Eris said with a tight smile. “The magic words. I wasn’t sure you knew what they were.”

Lucien loosed a laugh and winced at the pain in his ribs. He’d need to stop by Madam Majda’s for an extra strong dose of pain tonic. “Ass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eris drawled, throwing him a set of robes. “Get dressed, we don’t have much time. I need to talk to you about something.”

The words sent his gut spinning, sending him dangerously close to vomiting as he remembered why he had been in such a rage in the first place.

“What’s he doing, Eris?” Lucien asked, gingerly slipping the robes over his head. “Those werewolves-“

“Helion thinks he’s building an army,” Eris said flatly. “He thinks Koschei’s somehow been coerced into commanding them with the Imperious charm. He was famous for it, you know, during the war with Grindelwald.”

“Helion? What…how…” Lucien’s groggy brain was struggling to keep up.

“Helion’s had members of the ministry secretly loyal to him for decades. I always suspected he must, and, well.” He grinned wickedly. “Not sure what I did, but it would appear I’ve finally made the cut.

Lucien had to laugh at that. “What a terrible mistake.”

Another scuff to the back of his head. Lucien groaned in pain and closed his eyes against a dizzy spell. “Ow! Fuck, Eris, stop hitting me.”

Immediately his brother’s arm was around his waist, holding him upright. “Sorry, shit, let me help you back up to the school-“

Lucien pushed him off with a half-hearted eye roll. “Quit your fussing. Helion- he thinks those people are being trained to fight? But for what?”

“I don’t know,” Eris said darkly. “But I’m going to find out. And I think we can perhaps kill two birds with one stone.”

Eris’ amber eyes were shining in a way that meant he was in the mood to get into some trouble.

“I’m listening,” Lucien said, sitting up straighter.

“Does Elain still want to get inside the Hall of Prophecy?”

Lucien immediately forgot about his aching body. “Yes!” He’d almost given up hope that Eris would find a way in. “But isn’t it chaos at the Ministry these days? How are we supposed to sneak in through that?”

Eris grinned wickedly. “We’re not. If my plan works we’re not going to need to sneak in at all.”

“That’s…Merlin, why do I have a bad feeling I’m not going to like this idea of yours?”

“You probably won’t,” Eris agreed with a wince. “Elain even less, actually. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

Lucien’s dread grew as his brother explained his plan. When he was done he simply gaped at him, his jaw hanging open in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

---

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Lucien asked gently.

Elain kept looking over her shoulder as they crept down the silent, deserted hallways, her eyes wide. She looked so tightly wound that she jumped at every little sound- every creak of a suit of armor adjusting their stance, every murmuring of the occupants of paintings they passed.

They had just slipped behind the tapestry that led to the secret tunnel that would take them all the way to the basement of Honeyduke’s in Hogsmeade. From there, they were to sneak out and make their way to the edge of town, where Eris would be waiting for them. It was reckless to sneak out of the castle like this, but it was hardly the most dangerous part of the plan.

And besides, it wasn’t that reckless for him. But for Elain…

Her fingers tightened around his so hard he almost winced. “Yes,” she said, taking a deep, shaky inhale. “Eris said it has to be tonight. Besides, he’ll be waiting for us.”

“If we get caught…”

“We won’t,” she said, her lips twitching despite the nerves and trepidation he could feel radiating off her. “And if we do, I’ll be embarrassed for your reputation as a trouble maker.”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “You know what, that’s fair. Still, if we get caught…”

“No word about the ministry and Hall of Prophecy,” she intoned, suddenly serious again. “We simply snuck out to Hogsmeade for a nighttime stroll. And if we get caught in London…”

“We won’t,” Lucien declared, as much to convince herself as to convince her. “Eris’ plan is fool-proof.” Foolish, dangerous, definitely idiotic, but, Lucien had to admit, also quite ingenious.

“Then let’s go,” she said with a grin. She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before turning to the dark passageway. “Lumos.”

A silvery beam of light illuminated the damp stone, and they set off down the passageway. It became narrower and narrower the further they walked, until Elain had to let go of his hand to walk in front of him and Lucien had to crouch to avoid bumping his head on the ceiling.

Eventually the path turned into little more than a crawl space. Elain looked at him over her shoulder with a stern look.

“Sorry,” he whispered with a cringe. “We’re almost there, I promise. It’s the safest way out of the castle…”

Elain shook her head. “It’s not that.” He couldn't see her eyes in the gloom but he could hear the humor in her voice, and he could picture the exact way her eyes would be glittering. “Keep your hands to yourself, mister.”

With that she stuck her wand between her teeth and dropped to her hands and knees to crawl towards the end of the tunnel. Lucien chuckled as he followed suit, indeed appreciating the view. When they reached the end of the passageway Lucien shouldered open a trapdoor camouflaged in the ceiling, trying not to make a racket as he dislodged the heavy, dusty boxes that had been sitting on top of the trapdoor. He helped Elain climb out of the tunnel and felt her breathe a sigh of relief.

“I did not like that,” she declared, taking in great gulps of air. “I didn’t like that one bit.”

“Thankfully, actually getting to London won’t include any more tunnels,” Lucien reassured her.

“And is there a reason you haven’t told me how we’re actually getting there?”

Lucien grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll like this. Come on, there’s a door somewhere around here…”

They felt their way through the dark basement, the air thick and sweet from the boxes of candies and toffees piled all around them.

The back alley was deserted when they excited the shop, but they still kept to the shadows, dark cloaks lifted over their heads. If anyone spotted them they would simply look like two lovers out for a stroll.

The shops and little houses of Main Street were thinning out, and soon they were walking down the dusty road that led to the mountains in the distance. Lucien kept his gaze firmly away from the Shrieking Shack, sitting on a lonely patch of grass on the outskirts of town.

“Lucien,” Elain whispered. “Do you think this is a very stupid idea?”

“Well,” he mused. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean it’s not fun.”

Elain shook her head at him affectionately. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

The village fell away behind them, and they quickened their step as they spotted a familiar figure, leaning against a dark object. As they got closer Elain gasped.

“Told you,” Lucien said with a smirk. “I wasn’t sure how comfortable you’d be flying on a broom the whole way…”

“Baby brother,” Eris drawled as they approached. “Ms Archeron.” He tipped his head in a mock bow. “I believe you requested a ride?”

Lucien’s flying motorbike gleamed in the moonlight, two helmets and leather jackets resting on the seat. Eris’ broom was leaning against the side, and his brother wasted no time in grabbing it and zipping up his own jacket.

“Ready? We’ll go over the plan when we get to London. I want to get going now while we still have some cloud cover.”

Lucien glanced at Elain, who hesitated for only a moment before donning the helmet and jacket and climbing onto the bike. “Ready.”

Eris chuckled appreciatively. “You know, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the rule breaking type.”

“And I would have pegged you as a stuck-up daddy’s boy, but we all make mistakes,” she quipped back.

Lucien howled with laughter as Eris sputtered indignantly. With a tap of his wand the engine roared to life, and then they were rising, up, up, up into the night sky. Elain’s arms wrapped tightly around his middle as the country lane fell away until it was no more than a scratch cutting through the landscape. Hogwarts glittered in the distance, its hundreds of windows glittering like a beacon in the night.

Eris led the way, cutting a straight line south towards London. After a few minutes Lucien relaxed into the familiar rhythm of being high up in the sky, the wind howling in his ears and the scenery below blurring into a dark patchwork. Any lingering anxiety lifted off his shoulders, disappearing into the night around them.

They slipped higher still, until they were level with the wispy, dark clouds moving in from the West. The temperature went from cool to freezing, the air so damp Lucien could feel it in his bones.

“Remember the last time you took me for a ride on your bike?” Elain screamed over the howling wind.

Lucien laughed. “How could I forget?” He’d been an entirely different person then. Or- perhaps not different, but simply going about things the wrong way entirely. “I’m still surprised you said yes.”

He felt Elain shrug against his back. “I wasn’t blind, you know. Even if you were an ass.”

He flipped up the visor on his helmet and shot her a self-satisfacted grin over his shoulder, laughing again as she only shook her head at him.

On they flew, until his limbs started to feel numb with cold. They passed over muggle towns, the golden lights mockingly warm and inviting as they flew through the cold night. Just when Lucien was starting to dread the prospect of having to fly back, Eris pressed his nose to his broom and shifted into a dive.

London beckoned in the distance, tiny golden pinpricks eventually turning into houses, buildings, parcs. They kept to the cloud cover as long as possible, and then Eris flicked his wand on them to disguise them with a concealment charm. It wouldn’t last, but it was better than having muggle witnesses claiming to have seen a man on a broom and two teenagers on a flying motorcycle.

They landed in a dark alley that would have been nondescript were it not for the telephone booth at one end.

“Right,” Eris said, rubbing his hands together to bring some warmth back to his frozen fingers. “So. Like I said, Father travels to Azkaban every two weeks on routine inspections- or whatever the hell it is he’s doing there.” His amber eyes turned cold and scornful. “He’s there tonight, which means if he’s somehow alerted to a disturbance, we’ll have plenty of time to get out before he’s back in London. With that said, let’s try to avoid getting caught, yeah? It’s one thing to break in, but breaking out is another thing altogether.”

Lucien and Elain both nodded mutely. Lucien had conveyed the plan to Elain in a whispered conversation inside the Room of Requirements, at his brother’s suggestion. Eris hadn’t wanted any part of it written down anywhere, under any circumstances. He hadn’t even been honest with Tamlin, Jurian and Vassa about where he was going tonight. They’d be livid when they eventually find out, but more at having missed out on an adventure than at his dishonesty.

“The effects of the Polyjuice Potion will last exactly one hour. We go in, we do what we have to do, and we get the hell out before the effects wear off. If someone sees us, act like you belong there. And if we get separated or someone starts asking too many questions…” He trailed off, looking at them expectantly.

“We run for the fireplaces in the Atrium and take the Floo Network back to Hogsmeade,” Lucien said, repeating the instructions Eris had given him in the Shrieking Shack.

“Correct. Take the Floo Network back to the Three Broomstick, and if anyone sees you, just say you broke into the teacher’s lounge and took the Network from there. You’ll get detention but nobody will check the Network- not for two kids having a laugh.”

He reached into his cloak and took out a bottle of thick, murky liquid, and three smaller vials. “This won’t be pleasant, I’m afraid.” From the smirk on his face Lucien knew his brother didn’t feel bad for them at all. “Elain, you’ll be impersonating my friend from the Department of Mysteries. If we’re caught going in or out of the department, nobody should ask any questions. But if they do- remember that you have the right to be there, and whatever business you have down there doesn't concern anyone else.”

“Right…” Elain said, looking at the vile liquid in Eris’ hand uncertainly.

Eris uncorked the bottle and poured a third of it into one of the smaller vials before dropping in what looked like a single, long blonde hair. The potion bubbled slightly and started to froth, before settling into a murkish green shade.

“Here you go. Bottoms up!”

Elain grabbed the vial gingerly and sniffed the contents with a cringe.

“Cheers!” With that she tipped the liquid into her throat, gagging slightly at the taste.

For a moment nothing happened. And then Elain’s eyes went wide, and the empty vial shattered on the cobblestones as she clutched her stomach and doubled over, groaning in pain.

“Elain! Are you-”

Lucien reached for her in alarm but Eris held him back. “Just let it happen. It doesn’t feel pleasant but it only takes a minute.”

Lucien was strongly reminded of another transformation that only took a minute, but was even less pleasant. He watched with growing dread as Elain’s body shook with tremors, and then started to morph before his eyes. Her hair straightened and receded into her head until the tips brushed her shoulders, her body swelled in some places and shrank in others. It stopped as abruptly as it had begun, and then she looked up.

The effect was so bizarre that Lucien stumbled a step back. Looking back at him was a woman he’d never seen before, with a sleek blond bob and piercing sky-blue eyes. Eris nodded appreciatively and chuckled as Elain looked down at herself, touching her hair, her new, foreign body.

“It worked!” she exclaimed. “This is so bizarre.”

“You have no idea,” Lucien agreed.

“Right! No time to waste. One for me, and one for you.” Eris split the rest of the potion into the remaining two vials, dropping in a single hair to both. One seemed to boil for a moment before turning a vibrant, unnatural shade of red, while the other thickened into what looked like molasses.

“I still don’t understand why I have to be you,” Lucien grumbled as Eris handed him the vial with the red liquid. “Why can’t I be the Auror?”

“Because people have seen me and Lara together.” He inclined his head towards Elain-Lara-who was now holding her hands in front of her face in awe. “So if you two have to make a run for it, it won’t look that suspicious that you’re together. As for this guy…” he held up the vial with the thick black-brown liquid. “Let’s hope nobody is stupid enough to question an Auror’s motives.”

Lucien sighed. “Fine.”

Eris clinked his vials and lifted it in mock cheers, and then downed the liquid. Lucien followed suit, immediately choking on the smoky, spicy liquid. He felt it burn all the way down his throat, worse than straight Firewhiskey. The next moment he was doubled over in pain, resisting the urge to vomit as the burning sensation spread to his limbs. It felt foreign and yet horribly familiar, and for a wild second it was the full moon, and the wolf was taking over. His bones were melting, his blood sizzling, his skin stretching until it split.

After what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes the pain faded, like a tap being turned off. Lucien looked down at himself and breathed a sigh of relief, shaking his head at his irrational thoughts. He hadn’t turned into the wolf-of course not. He was still himself, and yet not. His skin was fair and freckled, and when he went to run his hands through his long all his fingers found was empty air. Strangest of all, though, was his metallic eye, clicking and whirring away on the cobblestones at his feet where it had fallen straight out of his head. His hand immediately lifted to his face, feeling smooth skin where his scar should have been, and a squishy, decidedly natural eye where he should have felt metal.

“Huh!”

“Hmm. I’m pretty good looking,” Eris said with a grin.

His brother had morphed into an intimidating looking man with a shaved head and scruffy beard. Tattoos were inked into his shaved head, running down into his neck and chest, which was the approximate shape and size of a barrel. Lucien had to admit that if the goal was to look like someone who people would stay away from, it had been a good choice. He pocketed his golden eye, still clicking away in his pocket, as if it had been offended to be discarded in such a manner.

“Let’s go,” his brother said, in a voice that was deep and menacing and definitely not Eris’. “Stand up straighter, I don’t slouch like that.”

“Yes, brother,” Lucien replied, adopting Eris’ lazy drawl.

“This is so bizarre…” Elain repeated, looking at him warily.

They followed Eris into the telephone box at the end of the alley and watched curiously as he punched in a number. “Visitor’s entrance,” he explained. “We would have to prove our identity if we went by the employee’s entrance.”

A cool female voice filled the box. “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“John Dawlish, Lara Goldstein, and Eris Vanserra, on a…research mission,” Eris sad in Dawlish’s unfamiliar, rumbling voice.

“Thank you,” the voice said. “Visitors, please take your badges and pin them to the front of your robes.”

Three metal badges fell from a metal chute attached to the telephone. Lucien picked up the top one and snickered. Eris Vanserra- Research Mission.

“Visitors to the ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

“Too bad we’re visiting after hours,” Eris muttered under his breath.

The floor of the telephone box started vibrating, and then the ground was rising up to meet them as they descended underground. Darkness enveloped them, and then a moment later a soft, golden light filtered into their telephone box. The lift smoothly hit the ground and the door slammed open.

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,” the disembodied voice said.

The Atrium was deserted, the lights dimmed lower than Lucien had ever seen them during the day. The midnight-blue ceiling was painted with golden symbols that twisted and swirled, bathing the lobby in an ethereal, warm light. The only sound was the gurgling of the water from the fountain in the center- jets of water fell from the upraised wands of a witch and wizard, the point of a goblin’s hat, and the pointy tips of a house elf’s ears.

Eris silently indicated the row of lifts on the other side of the lobby, and Lucien cringed as their footsteps echoed against the marble floor. It had all seemed easy enough when Eris was describing the plan, but here, now- it was starting to seem like an incredibly stupid thing to do.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to split up?” Elain asked, looking around the deserted lobby uncertainly.

“We don’t have much time,” Eris said. “Besides, this way if I get caught I can just say the Minister asked me to fetch a report for him.”

“How will you even know where to look?” Lucien asked doubtfully. If Eris got caught snooping into their father’s office…it was madness.

“I’ll be quick, and then I’ll come join you. Look for the door with the gold marking. Don’t go into any other doors, under any circumstances. Do you hear me?”

Lucien and Elain both nodded mutely, neither of them particularly inclined to disagree. Eris pressed the down button set into the wall, and instantly a lift clattered into place. Lucien winced as the golden gate slid open, causing such a racket that he was surprised nobody had come running yet. The gate shut between them and Eris, and Lucien looked at Elain expectantly.

“Oh, right.” She cleared her throat. “Department of Mysteries,” she said, looking up at the ceiling. “Please.”

The lift shot down, so quickly that Lucien’s stomach lurched. And then sideways, and up, then down again, until he couldn’t be sure if they were above or below the Atrium. It reminded him of the maze of railways at Gringotts, designed to discourage potential thieves.

The lift hit the ground with a clang. “Department of Mysteries,” it announced, in the same cool female voice from the telephone box.

They were in a long, dark hallway, lit with torches flickering on the stone walls. It reminded Lucien strongly of the dungeon classrooms at Hogwarts, and something about that was not comforting. There was a single door at the end of the hall, and it swung open on silent hinges as they neared it. The room beyond was circular, its walls lined with smooth black doors with no handles. In between each door was a torch of flickering blue flames, which gave the space an eerie atmosphere, almost like being underwater.

The door clicked shut behind them, and all at once the walls started spinning. Faster and faster, until the flame from the torches was nothing but a streak of blue light. Lucien heard Elain inhale sharply as she reached for his hand.

The walls slowed, and then stopped. The doors were identical and unmarked, but Eris’ friend had done them a favor- the door to the Hall of Prophecy would be marked by a small gold marking near the bottom.

Lucien lit his wand with a whispered Lumos and crouched, inching around the circular wall until they stood in front of a door with a tiny golden mark near the bottom, no bigger than a thumbprint.

“This one.” He glanced over his shoulder to the door that led back to the hall, wondering how Eris was getting on with his ransacking of their father’s office, and froze. The doors all looked identical- including the door that led back to the hallway.

---

Elain gaped at the doors, suddenly feeling ill. A dozen of them, all identical. And, judging from Eris’ warning, some containing things they definitely did not want to find out about.

“Shit,” Lucien swore under his breath.

“It’s ok,” she said, her voice strangely high-pitched. “Eris will come join us, he’ll know the way out.”

She didn’t know whether she was saying it to reassure Lucien, or herself, and from the look on his face he didn’t seem at all convinced.

“We made it this far,” she continued. “We might as well go in. I just want to look. I just…want to see them.”

Lucien’s face (Eris’ face) softened, and it looked so wrong and so absurd that she almost laughed. “Of course. Lead the way, Lara.”

Elain laughed, her voice deeper and huskier than usual. “After tonight I never want to take polyjuice potion ever again.”

“What, you mean you don’t like seeing me as Eris?”

“I mean,” she shrugged. “He is pretty handsome.”

She laughed again at the pure horror on his face, and turned to face the door. “How do we…” She pressed a palm to the cool stone, and the door swung open easily.

As soon as they stepped into the hall beyond, the door swung shut behind them. Elain heard Lucien curse under his breath as they stood there, taking in the space with mute awe. The hall was cavernous, with rows upon rows of shelves, all lined with glass orbs filled with swirling, foggy mist. Exactly as it had been when she had seen it in the Pensieve.

“Holy shit,” Lucien said, sounding slightly stunned. “Holy shit.”

“Yup,” was all she could reply.

“These are all…”

“Prophecies,” she finished for him. “Visions, whatever.”

“Merlin. No wonder this place is kept a secret.”

They started down the main corridor, Lucien still gazing up at the stacks with open-mouthed awe. Elain could hear faint whispers coming from the prophecies, and even though she was prepared for it this time it still raised the hair on the back of her neck. She knew better than to ask if Lucien could hear them, too.

The whispering grew louder the further they walked, until their echoing footsteps were dulled, and the only sound she could truly hear were those voices. They seemed to beckon her, deeper into the stacks. She followed the call- it was like something was pulling her, a thread of something warm and bright tugging her forward.

“Elain?”

She heard his voice as if he was very far away and not directly behind her, but didn’t stop. A turn to the left, further into the stacks, and then she lurched to a stop. She heard a gasp behind her, felt Lucien’s fingers squeeze hers almost painfully.

There, in front of her, were dozens of glass orbs, all marked with her name and various dates. All filled with shimmering, swirling mist. All whispering to her, taunting her.

Do you see? they asked. Look, and you will see.

Her fingers were lifting of their own accord, until they hovered near the closest prophecy. Something tingled in her fingers, and then her hand, up her arm, like a current of electricity.

And then- footsteps, loud and hurried and insistent. Too loud. Whatever daze she had been in was broken, and she jerked her hand back, stumbling away from those prophecies. From that gap on the shelf, where one had indeed been taken. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but seeing it in a memory was one thing, and seeing it in person was another.

“Elain! Are you-Merlin, you went into some kind of trance…You were just standing there.”

Eris (no, not Eris-Lucien) was staring at her, amber eyes wide. The genuine concern in his gaze was so unlike Eris that the effect was comical.

Or, it would have been, were it not for the footsteps currently thundering towards them. Lucien grabbed her hand and turned, running back towards the door.

“What happened?” she whispered as they ran.

“I don’t know, someone must have spotted us.”

“Lara!” A voice boomed across the space. “Eris!”

“Shit!”

They cut to the left, and Elain slipped, bumping into the nearest shelf. Glass orbs fell to the floor with a crash, the mist within them releasing into the air. Whispers filled the space around them, words and phrases Elain couldn’t quite understand. The prophecies, she realized. She jerked to a stop and spun. There were images floating in the mist, a jumble of shapes and colors. And then, too quickly, the mist was gone, taking with it the prophecies it had contained.

And a figure was standing at the end of the row, wand out, face so menacing that Elain didn’t recognize him at first.

“Why were you running?” he demanded, panting heavily.

“Eris! Oh thank god!”

“Why didn’t you call our real names?” Lucien demanded. “You gave me a heart attack…”

“Don’t you know the meaning of being in disguise?”

Lucien opened his mouth to retort but Elain held up a hand before full-on squabbling took over.

“What happened? Why were you running?” she asked.

“We have to go,” he said simply. “Now.”

“What do you mean? Did you find the information you were looking for?”

Eris shook his head. “No. And honestly I’d be surprised if he even keeps that kind of information written down. But I did find this.”

He reached into a pocket of his cloak, and brought out a bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. Wordlessly he peeled back the cloth to reveal a crystal ball, filled with swirling mist. A prophecy.

“Why did he have a….” Lucien trailed off as he surely realized what Elain already had.

“The stolen prophecy?”

Eris shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but the fact that it was locked in a hidden compartment at the back of a cabinet in his office makes me think it might very well be.”

He wrapped the cloth around it again and handed it to her. Elain cradled it to her chest, feeling the slight electric buzzing of it even through the fabric.

“We have to leave,” Eris said again. “I must have triggered some sort of security system in father’s office.”

Elain’s stomach lurched in horror. If they were caught- by the Minister himself, no less…

“You’ll have to take the Floo Network back,” Eris called over his shoulder as they ran back towards the door. “Take a lift up to the Atrium, hurry to the nearest fireplace, and get the hell out.”

“And you?” Lucien asked. They reached the door and hurtled through it and into the chamber beyond.

Eris grimaced. “I’m going to lock myself in a toilet stall until the potion wears off, and then claim that I was burning the midnight oil and started feeling unwell.”

The door to the hall clicked shut, and before they could take another step the walls started spinning.

“Shit!” Eris swore.

The wall slowed to a stop, a dozen identical doors staring back at them.

“Yeah,” Lucien agreed. “Shit indeed.”

“Only one way to find out,” Eris said grimly.

He strode to the nearest door and pressed his palm against it. It swung open, revealing not a hallway lined with torches, but another room. It was dark inside, the only light coming from what looked like tanks filled with green water. There were things bobbing in the water, glowing strangely white.

Eris took a step back and slammed the door shut. “No! Definitely not that one.” He took out his wand and slashed through the air, and a glittering red X appeared on the door.

“What were those things?” Elain asked as the wall spun again. “Jellyfish?”

“Brains,” Eris said simply.

The wall stopped again, but this time one of the doors was marked off by a fiery mark, indicating the one they had already tried. Elain picked the next door, choosing the one closest to her.

When she opened it she almost stumbled backwards. She was standing at the top of what looked like stadium seats, facing a sunken platform. In the middle of the platform was an arch resting atop a dais, with a ragged black veil hanging from it.

“Do you hear that?” Elain asked, walking down a step. Whispers seem to come from the other side of the veil, which fluttered on a phantom wind. Like the whispers in the Hall of Prophecy, but darker- more menacing. Still, they reached out to her, and she took another step towards it.

Firm hands clasped on her upper arms and yanked her back into the antechamber, the archway and veil disappearing behind a firmly shut door. Once again it was like waking up from a vague sleep, or emerging from underwater. She shuddered violently as another red X appeared on the door, and the wall spun once more.

“Sorry,” she gasped, shaking her head as if to clear water from her ears. “Sorry.”

“Note to self,” Eris said in the Auror’s deep voice, “do not let a Seer into the Department of Mysteries by themselves.”

After trying three more doors in rapid succession they finally found the hall lined with torches. They hurried to the lifts, Eris tapping his foot impatiently with every second it took for the lift to appear.

“Remember,” he said as the lift twisted its way back up to the Atrium, “straight to the nearest fireplace. Don’t pause for anything or anyone. Just get the hell out and don’t worry about me. I’ll send word when I can.”

“Atrium,” the cool female voice said.

The lift doors opened onto a flurry of activity. Wizards (Aurors, if Elain had to guess) were stalking down the length of the lobby, waving their wands towards the fireplaces that lined the walls. Sealing off the exits, she realized.

“Go!” Eris mumbled through gritted teeth. “Go, now!”

Elain went to grab Lucien’s hand, but he wasn’t moving. He was standing stock-still, staring at Eris in horror.

“Eris…the potion…”

Elain saw it at the same time he did. Auburn hair was sprouting from Eris’ scalp, the tattoos disappearing from skin that was turning fair and freckled. She had taken the potion first, which meant…

The look on Lucien’s face (now a golden tan, his short hair lengthening) said it all.

“GO!” Eris roared.

They didn’t need to be told twice. Lucien grabbed her hand and hurtled towards the closest fireplace, lifting his leather jacket to hide his face. Elain held tightly onto the prophecy, cradling it to her chest like a small child.

“Hey! You there! What are you-“

The Aurors were halfway down the Atrium, but they halted at the sound of their footsteps.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Elain almost lost her footing, struggling to keep up with Lucien’s long strides, but he hauled her upright before she could sprawl to the floor. A wind was blowing at their backs, propelling them faster, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who had cast the spell.

A heartbeat later they had reached the fireplace, and Lucien scooped up a handful of Floo powder from the jar hanging on a sconce next to the hearth. A gate slammed down over the fireplace next to them, but merry green flames had already burst to life in front of them.

“Hogwarts!” Lucien gasped breathlessly, and then they stepped into the flames.

For one desperate moment Elain thought it hadn’t worked, that Aurors had managed to seal their fireplace. But then the Atrium became a blur as they spun through the fire. Before the Ministry disappeared Elain had a last glimpse of the lifts, and of a figure disappeared behind a golden grill.

Just when she was beginning to feel nauseous from spinning the world slowed around them, and then stopped. They stumbled out of the gate, brushing soot from their clothes.

“Are you alright?” Lucien asked. The voice that spoke was the deep, rich one she knew so well, and when she looked up at him it was his face that looked back at her. Elain breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m fine. Are you- what’s wrong?”

Lucien’s hand was clasped over his left eye as he winced uncomfortably. “Remind me never to take polyjuice potion again.” His eye was clicking loudly, whirring as Lucien blinked rapidly, clearly trying to get the metal eye back into focus.

Elain looked around the room, and then froze. “Lucien,” she whispered. “Did you say Hogwarts?”

Lucien froze, his metal eye quieting as it finally focused. “Oh, fuck.”

They had taken the Floo Network directly into the teachers’ lounge. The room was blissfully empty, given the late hour- save for a lone, pearly figure hovering near the ceiling.

“Well well well,” the Poltergeist jeered, swooping down to peer at them. “What do we have here? Ickle students out of bed, in the middle of the night? Snooping through the teacher’s lounge?”

Elain and Lucien shared a glance. Had the poltergeist not seen them coming out of the flames?

“Peeves,” Lucien said, his tone carefully neutral. “We weren’t doing anything…”

But the Poltergeist was already swooping towards the door, cackling madly. “Students out of bed! Students out of bed!”

Elain winced as Peeves’ voice echoed around the empty room.

“Peeves, I swear to Merlin, you-” Lucien trailed off as the Poltergeist disappeared through the wall.

Elain glanced at Lucien again, and then they simultaneously bolted for the door. Halfway down the corridor Elain stopped short.

“Wait!”

Lucien whirled, alarmed. “What is it? We have to go, Peeves is going to wake up half the castle…”

She glanced at the prophecy in her hands, and then back at Lucien. Understanding flashed in his eyes.

“I need a place to hide this.” If the teachers found her with a prophecy belonging to the Ministry of Magic, they would have a lot more explaining to do beyond simply being out of bed after hours.

“Come with me,” Lucien said simply, and then turned and ran.

They ran down the hall and then up two flights of stairs, and down another, until Elain was beginning to wonder if Lucien had a plan at all. And then she saw the familiar tapestry of Sir Cadogan, who blinked at them sleepily as they hurtled past.

“Oy!” he cried. “Who goes there?” The trolls in tutus snored around him, some of them grumbling at the sudden noise.

Lucien ignored the painted knight, shut his eyes, and walked back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall that faced the tapestry. After the third pass a door appeared, and Elain didn’t waste any time before reaching for the knob and hurrying inside. Lucien followed her, shutting the door behind them.

“Why-“ Her question evaporated as she looked around them.

They were standing in some kind of cavernous hall, not unlike the Hall of Prophecy. But instead of shelves filled with glass orbs, the stacks stretching out in front of them were made of a wild variety of objects. Broken bits of furniture, books, paintings, boxes stacked ceiling-high. In a stack nearby Elain spotted a marble bust sporting a diadem, what looked suspiciously like an ordinary muggle lawnmower, and a wizard radio. A veritable graveyard of objects, lost or hidden or forgotten about. Generations of contraband, or treasures, or broken bits of detritus with no home. The perfect place to hide her own stolen treasure.

“How did you find this place?” She asked, looking around in wonder. If they hadn’t been in such a hurry she could have spent hours walking around, poking through the random collection of objects.

“We, ahh…discovered it when looking for a place to hide something,” he answered cagily. Elain rolled her eyes at him. “Turned out we clearly weren’t the first to require such a place. We can come back,” he added, as if reading her thoughts. “There’s some wild things in here. Rumor is there’s a Boggart somewhere…”

Elain froze with her hand halfway outstretched to an ancient-looking chest. “Really?”

Lucien’s eyes were glittering when she turned to look at him, and she shook her head at him. “Ass.”

Still, she no longer felt so confident poking around. She took a step back as Lucien pushed the lid open, peering inside. “Just some old moldy robes.”

Elain flipped back the fabric from the prophecy, taking one last glance at the murky, swirling mist inside. What knowledge did it contain?

Look, it urged her. See.

Another time. She covered it with the cloth and gently lowered it into the chest, covering it with a few robes for good measure.

“Let’s go. I’ve had enough adventures for one night.”

“Tapped out so soon?” Lucien asked in dismay. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Elain opened her mouth to retort as they stepped back into the hallway, but then fell quiet. Professor Amren was standing with her arms crossed, wearing a thick wool robe and slippers and looking more than a little annoyed.

“Mr Vanserra,” she ground out ominously, “why is it that when something happens, it is always you?”

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @labellefleur-sauvage @headcanonheadcase @separatist-apologist @velidewrites @c-e-d-dreamer @queercontrarian @hallway5 @areyoudreaminof @tuzna-pesma-snova @corcracrow @vulpes-fennec @octobers-veryown @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @asnowfern

[teaforthotxxx]

My marauders post-hogwarts career HC is:

(Gryffindor Edition)

James becomes a professional quidditch player. He’s a legend at Hogwarts and almost every student (YES! Even slytherins because he’s married to one) absolutely adores him. He still comes back to Hogwarts every once in a while just to scout for prospective recruits (and check up on his family) and hosts a quidditch mini-league every year. He loves to shout out his friends and his son (Harry hates this because he gets embarrassed). He also comes back to Hogwarts to make sure Regulus isn’t overworking himself and occasionally sneaks a prank or two at Snape (even though Reg and Remus will chastise him after).

Remus is obviously DADA professor. However, he doesn’t live on campus. Instead, he has a cottage that he bought near Hogsmeade. He spends his weekends there making tea and hanging out with Sirius. They have a portkey to the forbidden forest where they spend full moons with the rest of the marauders. He is also working in a dissertation about wolfsbane and how to make it more readily available. He also looks out for students being picked on and maybe not so secretly implies a prank idea or two. When he started teaching, the first thing he did was look for the confiscated Marauders map in Filch’s cupboard (HE WANTED IT BACK HE SPENT A LOT OF TIME ON IT) but realised it was missing. It didn’t take long though for him to realise that it was in the crafty hands of Fred and George Weasley. He couldn’t wait to tell the other the other three marauders when he found out!!

Sirius is a philanthropist explorer who goes around supporting new medicine and exploring new unique places. He probably turned grimmauld house into a orphanage (specialising in helping werewolf children and muggleborns). It may seem like he has a flexible schedule but his job keeps him really busy and he never knows when his next break is. So, he is always stumbling into Remus’ cottage at random times or making surprise visits to Hogwarts. When he’s there, he brokers deals with Dumbledore to allow more werewolf students in. He even renovated the shrieking shack so its more comfortable for them during the full.

Peter (he was a triple spy for the order! He had to because Voldemort was threatening his already sick mother) grew out of his shell more and became the head of publishing at the Prophet. Since he was such a gossip in school, he came into the job with a pre-existing network of information. It doesn’t hurt that his besties are all war heroes. When the war ended and he realised that people were picking on young deatheaters (those forced into the cause by their parents), he was the only newspaper brave enough to publish an exclusive with war heroes Regulus Black and Evan Rosier about how family can shape your choices and how to break out of it. Of course, he is also the only one that can get Sirius Black to sit down for an interview (no one realises these articles always suspiciously get published after a full moon aka the only time Peter can get Sirius to SIT THE FUCK DOWN). He

As the one who sent the finishing blow to the Dark Lord, Lily BAMF Evans was immediately indicted into the Auror Hall of Fame. She has since risen up the ranks and is basically Moody’s second in command. She was originally apprehensive about taking on such a challenging job so close after the war (esp cause her son was still a baby) but was convinced by Mary (her then Fiancee now wife). And, even then, she only said yes because Harry’s other parents: Mary (a model), Regulus (a potions teacher) and James (a quidditch player) had large chunks of the year off and would be able to take care of him. She is campaigning for more muggle borns to be allowed into Auror training (since most of them are still purebloods) and has been working hard with Regulus to make appeals to the Wizengmot.

No one was surprised that Marlene Mckinnon became a professional Quidditch player too. But everyone was shocked when they found out that she purposefully picked a different team from Potter! It had something to do with the fact that she always wanted to properly play against him but never had the chance to. But, also she picked her team because it was her wife, Dorcas’, favourite team! She loves taunting James because she happens to be in Reg’s favourite team (and well, Regulus sits with Dorcas in her stands during their games). As a proud Gryffindor, she still likes to dunk on Slytherins (esp when she is near the Slytherin Skittles) and makes a show of only hugging “the only bearable one” Pandora. Everyone just rolls their eyes because not only did she marry the Slytherin Head Girl, she was also the first to propose (she did it half an hour after Lily vanquished the dark lord and she was still in bandages).

[auromelt]

i’m relieved we have you not enough people talk about suzaki 😭 do you have hcs for suzaki and amagai as hogwarts students?

firstly, thank you ❤️ i’m happy to be here as someone who seems to have fixated on ryo and kohei and has significantly less interest in everything else, though i was a fan of the series before the worst x haha. anyways into the question. i’ll discuss them romantically because i feel like a bit of a sucker today hahaha

disclaimer: rowling can actually eat my ass like this br*tish woman is a menace and idgaf what anyone else says about her. i'm genderfluid so i do wish she would evaporate. but i did grow up adoring some parts of hp so i have thought about szam in a hogwarts setting before!

szam hogwarts headcanons:

i’m a believer in pureblood slytherin kohei and halfblood hufflepuff ryo! i also see them as members of their house quidditch teams

speaking of quidditch, kohei gifted ryo his broom! i imagine that kohei always ensures to keep his broom up to date, the latest and best model, his family is of old money pureblood wealth so expenses are not even close to being a problem for him. and ryo is his best friend so he keeps ryo’s broom updated too even if ryo doesn’t actually see the need to change his broom.

kohei’s excuse for buying ryo brooms is that he needs ryo to have all the same equipment as him so that when he crushes hufflepuff in the inter house quidditch cup ryo can’t blame it on his equipment being shit (hufflepuff wins 3 cups while szam attend hogwarts, gryffindor wins 2 and ravenclaw and slytherin 1 each so kohei basically shot himself in the foot)

i envision ryo having a wizard father and a muggle mother and that he was largely raised in the muggle world but he did have knowledge of his father’s wizard blood so he wasn’t in the dark about it when he got his letter.

meanwhile kohei is pureblood. but since they were born after the second wizarding war, he doesn’t really hold any of the blood purity beliefs that older pureblood wizards hold. he does, however, laugh at people for being broke. ryo is an exception (a pattern for me, if u guys have noticed. ryo is always kohei’s exception)

i like to think that they met shortly before enrolling in school, like in diagon alley or on the hogwarts train. before they got sorted, and that kohei was disappointed when his first friend didn’t get sorted into the same house as him

kohei’s grades are way better than ryo’s, perhaps because his family placed more emphasis on success than ryo’s did. but ryo is better at casting spells and brewing potions and the actual practical parts of being a wizard lol, it’s natural talent. he’s just not good at written exams bc frankly he dgaf. (“if i can do it then the exam doesn’t actually matter right?” and kohei seethes)

on that note, ryo is a genius. there’s not a single spell or potion that’s deemed to difficult for him and it doesn’t take much work at all for him to perfect them. but he refuses any sort of opportunities presented to him by aurors who have taken an interest in him and the likes because he wants to be with kohei

kohei has had a sickening an obvious crush on ryo since the start of second year after he spent the whole summer at home thinking about ryo and realising how much shittier everything is without his hufflepuff friend every day lol. ryo likes him a ton too but is way more poker about it and is also so oblivious so their relationship goes nowhere for years. EVERYONE knows, even fujio from gryffindor knows and he never knows anything. everyone knows except ryo, who literally does not even consider that kohei could like him too until his fellow hufflepuffs directly confront him about his “relationship” with the slytherin quidditch captain in year 5

they’re each other’s date to the yule ball. kohei stumbles over the most embarrassing asking of the century and ryo never mentions it to anyone to save his reputation, but ryo is really happy about it

speaking of the yule ball, since they’re not actually together and the two other schools come to visit hogwarts. and of course, students from the other school mingle with them and flirt with them and ryo is a bit dejected watching kohei being polite (he’s convinced kohei likes them) to the people flirting with him, but moves on with it because he never really expected kohei to like him at all anyway. meanwhile, kohei’s wand starts sparking when he sees ryo cluelessly interacting with the people flirting with him.

kohei cant cast a patronus for shit. ryo got it on his first attempt, ryo’s patronus takes the form of a wolf and he’s more than willing to use it to defend himself and kohei since kohei’s patronus won’t take form

ryo’s probably really into the creatures of the wizarding world and follows that newt book like it’s the bible. on that note, because of his mother, he can see thestrals

yeah that’s kinda all i got for now. i haven’t consumed hp in years because well… like i said she can eat my ass. but this is what i remember of it! i hope it’s satisfying enough :3

[zafarxtravers]

BASICS:

Name: Zafar Azzam Travers Age & Birthday: 29, 25th of November Gender & Pronouns: Cis-male & he/him Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: Hit Wizard Blood Status: Pureblood House: Slytherin Affiliation: Death Eaters Family: two younger brother, one younger sister and an older sister. Languages: English, French- Creole & Spanish Residence: London townhouse, hidden from Muggles (staff: 1x house-elf named Spark) Former Residence: Shafiq Manor

MAGICAL:

Boggart: Dying himself. Patronus: Was a black bear Amortenia: tbd. OWLs: Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration. NEWTs: Ancient Runes, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration

PERSONALITY: 

+ intelligent, loyal & bold - blunt, hot-tempered & reckless

BIOGRAPHY:

Zafar comes from a large family. His mother a sibling of eight and his father a sibling of nine. He has three younger siblings, two brothers and a sister, and one older sister. They were all born in Dominica, moving over when he was seven years old.

This father had always done business in London, which had him travelling until the whole family made the move. Coming from a pureblood family, they found a society that suited their beliefs and locked his future in a certain direction.

At the age of eleven, he went to Hogwarts, sorted into Slytherin, following after his sister sister. He excelled in his studies, but built a reputation as being a bully, but was one that didn't back down when challenged. It didn't help that at the age of thirteen he was already six foot one, maxing out at six foot three, and built.

Upon graduation, he found his passion as being a hit wizard, and he wasn't going to complain about the money. He liked the adrenaline rush that came with the job.

Being the eldest male heir, he knew it was a matter of time when duty would be placed on him and such the day came that he could no longer run from it. It has been announced that he will be the next husband to Evelyn Zabini. This left the wizard conflicted, because he has always suspected foul play, but there was no denying how attractive she was. Was he tempted to play with the black widow? Given no choice, this is fate.

[gwenlovesreggie]

Jaxxsin Thicass Headcanons:

He was born in Boston, USA, but he moved to Britain after he became a fan of the Harry Potter series, which caused him to move there so he can attend Hogwarts.

He owns pugs as pets, but he barely pays any attention to him, so when he and Percy Weasley get married Percy has to do all the work to taking care of all these stupid pugs that he doesn't even like.

He doesn't even actually have a thick ass despite his name, but due to jealousy of Regulus's fat ass he either uses magic to obtain a large rectum or he gets plastic surgery in a muggle AU

His favorite Kpop groups are Itzy and 2NE1. Well that was a kind of mean thing for me to say about Itzy, they have some good songs......

He loves misunderstanding media and starting arguements online about it,

He also uses magic to make himself look super strong and buff, but yeah, he is not even strong at all because he is too entitled to work out, he thinks he doesn't need to do work outs so he just uses magic or Takes Drugs in Muggle AU.

If he existed in my Japanese Fashion AU stories that I write he woulnd't even wear jfashion instead he would be just like that man that works in the post office that one day when I went to the post office wearing Little Bunny JSK in Yellow by angleic pretty with a red short coat over it as it was winter with agnelic pretty socks and headbow and red tea party shoes everything, looking so good and kawaii, this man who works at the post office started laughing when i walked in in a cruel and crude manor, where you could tell he was making fun of me, then, he tried to pretend he wasn't laughing, then he whipsered to one of the coworkers and pointed at me??? in my BEAUTIFUL COORD THAT PROBABLY COST MORE THAN HIS ENTIRE BELONGINGS, and he LAUGHED AT ME SOME MORE WITH THAT GUY and then after I left the room because I finished shipping out my package, I was in the lobby where he could no longer see me, and then he started laughing with the coworkers about how weird my outfit was, WHEN I COULD HEAR HIM, basiaclly, this guy I am certain is a Jaxxsin Thicass Incidence, a individual whom has Jaxxsin Thicass's disgusting wet soul incested into his body, that's why he laughed at me, despite my fashion being too cute, and later that day an old lady asked if i was a Model so I KNOW I WAS SLAYING, IT WAS JUST JAXXSIN THICASS'S EVIL SOUL WHICH CAUSED THIS AWFUL MAN TO LAUGH AT ME

He probably headcanons Regulus to look like Thimothee Chalement

[grimmplacehq]

CHARACTER INFO:

Character name: Severus Snape Age & Birthday: 22 & January 9th Gender & Pronouns: Cismale & He/Him Occupation: Owner, Potent Potables Blood Status: Halfblood Previous House: Slytherin Previous Affiliation: Double Agent Face Claim: Alexander Koch

Severus is taken by Charlie

BIOGRAPHY:

His childhood was far from ideal - it was really no surprise that the dimly lit rooms and surly grounds of his early home in Cokeworth produced a man that was in many ways a reflection. But as a child, Severus knew little more than the sharp tongue of his mother, and the wicked backhand of his father. He kept his nose to his books, helping his mother, Eileen and avoiding Tobias when he could, and for a while, it wasn’t so bad. His father only lashed out when he made mistakes, or when he misbehaved - although both were few and far between - the boy was smarter than that. But it all took a turn for the worse when he started showing his magic in earnest, and that was when he started to come to loathe his father. After all, Severus couldn’t help what he was - he had been born this way, whether he’d wanted to be or not. If Tobias wanted to blame someone, he should have blamed his wife - or himself, for marrying a witch in the first place. But even taking his father into account, he wouldn’t trade his magic for anything, relishing the small moments where his mother would show him more magic, teaching him tricks as they did the chores before Tobias came back home, although those moments were rare. His mother seemed to largely ignore Severus because it was what Tobias expected of her - but it didn’t keep them from fighting regardless, and their misplaced anger and unhappiness often found itself aimed at their son. Magic was Severus' escape - it was what made him unlike his father. It was what made him better. 

So, when he found Lily Evans, it wasn’t hard to imagine his excitement. She was like him. She was magical, and not only did she understand, but she was actually interested in what he had to say. She listened to him, actually wanted to spend time with him - not like the other kids in town that called him names and made fun of him for being poor. Lily was different, and Severus quickly came to care for her a great deal. In truth, she was the first person in his life to give him the time of day. He spent as much time with her as he could, even though largely it meant having to deal with her annoying, non-magical older sister Petunia. Her sister who treated Severus exactly how the other muggle children did. Her sister who was like his father - not understanding, and cruel. She would never understand, she wasn’t like them - and Severus doubted even then that she would ever treat any of them any better. None of them did, why should she be any different?

The boy thought it might get better when he got his Hogwarts letter, but if anything, it got worse as his father tried to keep him in submission in spite of his growing power - his fear coming out in the same usual ways. But it didn’t matter - because come September 1st, he was gone. From the moment he sat down at the long Slytherin table, Hogwarts was more than he could have ever imagined. Finally, he was home. A place he wouldn’t have to hide who he was - where there were nothing but his own kind, people who understood him. His clothes might still be more worn than the rest, but they were always clean and his meals were always hot, and he thought there couldn’t possibly be any place better than here, and just the thought of coming back every year helped him make it through the long summers with his parents back at Spinner’s End. He was finally able to use his intelligence in a way he had yearned to for years, and from the very beginning he was one of the best in his class, excelling in particular in Potions and the Dark Arts - the latter being of particular interest to him. 

But being in Slytherin had started to drive a wedge between Lily and himself, at first simply because their time together was now much more limited. But as she became closer to her housemates, and him to his, they drifted further and further apart, a fact that weighed heavily on Severus. It was clear that she wasn't a fan of his new friends, and he, in turn, would never understand her tolerance of her own housemates - especially the annoying boy James Potter who played ringleader, along with Sirius Black and his ragtag team of idiots. They treated him as poorly as the muggles had - if not worse - and his hatred toward them was nearly even stronger, but it only thickened the tension between himself and Lily, until finally, he lashed out at the one person he'd promised himself he would never hurt. Mudblood. He'd never said it before, and it slipped through his lips in misplaced anger - perhaps he was more like his father than he thought. As he watched Lily turn from him, he knew he had cast the last shadow onto their friendship. A desperate and angry Severus took the Dark Mark not long into his seventh year, shedding the last remnants of the man he once could have been. 

Once graduated, he decided to start in on perfecting his craft, relishing the feeling of being better than almost everyone in the subject of potions. He quickly grew the business of the small shop in Knockturn Alley, and his reputation allowed him to drop the pleasant facade when dealing with customers (not that he was ever very good at it to begin with), as they would come to him regardless, since his product wasn't easily rivaled. But still, he spent as much time away from people as he could, and when Dumbledore himself showed up one day to offer him a post of Potions Master, he surprised both of them by conceding. He had never had a huge desire to work with children, let alone teach them for that matter, but he knew the post would bring great joy to his master, and Severus wanted to be worthy.

He found himself in a dark spiral, growing more and more secluded, bitter, angry and separated from the world as he was - and then somehow, he still couldn't quite pin exactly how - Dumbledore wormed his way into his mind. If Severus hadn’t already taught himself Occlumency he would have sworn it was some underhanded trick. Leave it to the old fool to prey on the one shred of decency the man had never been able to give up. But suddenly, there he was, working for the Order. At first, he had told himself it was to spy and feed back to the Death Eaters - but even he couldn’t hide from the fact that what he was actually doing was the opposite: he was leaking information back to the Order. He was helping them fight against Voldemort - and what was even more shocking was that it gave Severus back a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in a very long time. And with that, he found himself fighting harder and harder, willing to give his life for his cause (which was not saying very much, if you asked Severus: purpose or not, he still didn’t think very much of his own value).

And it seemed as if he had somehow, maybe, become one of Dumbledore’s most trusted allies - to the point where when Severus saw an odd looking diary on a shelf in Lucius Malfoy's home, he stole it. And when he discovered all the secrets this diary held, putting it together with the knowledge he'd gained from Dumbledore and Regulus about the locket - he handed it over to be destroyed. Severus Snape, a war hero. He'd have cursed you for just suggesting it before.

When the war ended, however, it was hard to convince people of what had really happened - especially with Dumbledore and Voldemort gone. There was no one to vouch for him but his friends, and though they tried, they didn’t have much sway.  People would see the mark on his arm, and figured they knew everything they needed to know about him, and that was fine with Severus. Even the ones he had fought alongside in the Order didn’t trust him, and he didn’t do anything to change their mind. He put in a letter of resignation for his post at Hogwarts, and waited for the Aurors to come collect him - but they never came. Either way, he was content to purchase a small flat and live out his life in the seclusion of his own home with a mail order Potions business under someone else’s name.

However, Severus surprisingly grew bored after a while, and decided to open a small shop in the furthest reaches of Hogsmeade village. After all, the castle had been his home for so long - his first real home, and even for someone like him that was hard to give up. He opened his doors right next to Aberforth, and while the foot traffic is slow, it’s enough. And that’s all he ever wanted: enough.

[bridgertonbabe]

Are Violet’s brothers still overprotective over her relationship with Edgar in the HP AU? And does Alex still ends up with Eliza in this AU?

No Charlie, Alex, and William are far more lax in this AU. When Charlie first learnt she had a boyfriend he was initially skeptical purely because she's still his little sister and knew she had been left disappointed by previous love interests during her time at Hogwarts and didn't want her to end up brokenhearted - but once he learnt she was seeing Bernadette's older brother his concerns were instantly alleviated. Edgar Bertrand had been in the year above him at school and Charlie had thought very highly of the Gryffindor prefect and goalkeeper, having never heard a bad word spoken about him and knowing him to be an overall great guy; he honestly couldn't think of anyone else worthier to date Violet than Edgar.

Benedict on the other hand struggled more with the idea of his only daughter having a boyfriend she was utterly besotted with. For several weeks he naively thought Violet was hanging out with her friends all the time and crashing round theirs instead of coming home most nights, until Sophie sat him down and broke the news to him that their daughter was out all the time because she had met someone. At first he tried insisting that it wasn't healthy for Violet to be spending so much time with her beau so early on, though Sophie quickly pointed out how hypocritical he was being since they had been virtually inseparable and holed up in his bed for the best part of six weeks at the start of their relationship. He then voiced his concerns when he learnt that Violet's boyfriend was seven years older than her, feeling as though he could have the potential to be controlling of Violet because of the age gap; however his sons assured him that Edgar was sound and that as Bernadette's older brother he wouldn't mistreat Violet in any possible way. Benedict still stubbornly has his reservations about the young man until Violet brought him home to meet them and once he had met Edgar, Benedict had to admit that his daughter couldn't have brought home anyone more perfect for her .

And as for Alex and Eliza, they too still get together in this AU. Eliza is a muggle-born who is daunted by the wizarding world she has suddenly been thrust into and on her very first day as she nervously makes her way along the Hogwarts Express trying to find a compartment she bumps into Alexander Bridgerton; a good-looking boy she knows from the next village over where her grandparents live. She had played with him and his siblings in the local park on a few occasions and she can't believe her eyes to see him on the train to the same wizarding school she'll be attending. He recognises her immediately and cheerfully invites her to join him and his brothers and cousins in their compartment, and when he introduces her to his relatives they all welcome her with open arms and she feels a lot better knowing she's not as terrifyingly alone as she had once thought. Alex had even been generous enough to purchase her some sweets from the food trolley when it rolled around when he noticed she had left her wizard currency in her trunk, an act of kindness which does nothing to stop Lizzie's blossoming feelings for him. Once at Hogwarts she ends up as the voice of sensible (yet largely ignored) reason in her friendship trio with Charlotte and William, and she has Alex and the rest of the Bridgerton cousins always checking in on her and keeping her company whenever her mischievous pals end up in regularly scheduled detention. Much like his father before him Alex is largely oblivious to the crush Lizzie harbours for him, and he doesn't recognise his own feelings for her until the summer before his seventh year when she starts dating a local muggle boy; and suddenly Alex is infuriated with himself for not realising his feelings for her sooner.

[s-sn4ps]

" but then a simple phrase comes to my brain and makes it all feel better - someday I'm gonna be dead " LINKS | WILL | BE | HERE | WHEN | I | HAVE | SOME

/| SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE |\ Gender/Pronouns: he / him Sexual/Romantic Orientation: cis-male / bisexual / heteroromantic Age: 22 Birthdate: January 9th Star Sign: Capricorn Blood Status: Halfblood Previous House: Slytherin Occupation: Potions Master at Hogwarts

Height: 6'2" Build: slim Skin Tone: pale / sallow Hair: black Eyes: very dark brown Identifying Marks: various burn marks from potions / scars from scrapes on his fingers / dark mark / scattered scars across his chest and back / birthmark on the back of his left hip Appearance: tidy / controlled / tired / overbearing Positive Traits: loyal / intelligent / creative / responsible Negative Traits: grumpy / impatient / harsh / unforgiving Motivations: spite, mostly Current Goal: to make it through the day / avoid public attention Life Goal: retire and open a mail-order Potions business / fade into obscurity Best Quality: ease and willingness to learn Worst Quality: a short temper Fears: ignorance / that no one will ever love himHobbies: herblore / reading / puzzles / collecting Talents: potions / dark arts / dueling Skills: occlumency / legilimency Alignment: Lawful Neutral Group/Organizational Affiliations: Death Eaters / Order of the Phoenix / International Society of Brewers / Potions Monthly subscriber Influential Memory: the day he met Lily / his father threatening him with broken bottles / seeing his mother cry at the dinner table / the day he lost Lily Source of Embarrassment: his childhood / mistakes, present or pastSource of Pride: his superior skills

Backstory: His childhood was far from ideal - it was really no surprise that the dimly lit rooms and surly grounds of his early home in Cokeworth produced a man that was in many ways a reflection. But as a child, Severus knew little more than the sharp tongue of his mother, and the wicked backhand of his father. He kept his nose to his books, helping his mother, Eileen and avoiding Tobias when he could, and for a while, it wasn’t so bad. His father only lashed out when he made mistakes, or when he misbehaved - although both were few and far between - the boy was smarter than that. But it all took a turn for the worse when he started showing his magic in earnest, and that was when he started to come to loathe his father. After all, Severus couldn’t help what he was - he had been born this way, whether he’d wanted to be or not. If Tobias wanted to blame someone, he should have blamed his wife - or himself, for marrying a witch in the first place. But even taking his father into account, he wouldn’t trade his magic for anything, relishing the small moments where his mother would show him more magic, teaching him tricks as they did the chores before Tobias came back home, although those moments were rare. His mother seemed to largely ignore Severus because it was what Tobias expected of her - but it didn’t keep them from fighting regardless, and their misplaced anger and unhappiness often found itself aimed at their son. Magic was Severus' escape - it was what made him unlike his father. It was what made him better. 

So, when he found Lily Evans, it wasn’t hard to imagine his excitement. She was like him. She was magical, and not only did she understand, but she was actually interested in what he had to say. She listened to him, actually wanted to spend time with him - not like the other kids in town that called him names and made fun of him for being poor. Lily was different, and Severus quickly came to care for her a great deal. In truth, she was the first person in his life to give him the time of day. He spent as much time with her as he could, even though largely it meant having to deal with her annoying, non-magical older sister Petunia. Her sister who treated Severus exactly how the other muggle children did. Her sister who was like his father - not understanding, and cruel. She would never understand, she wasn’t like them - and Severus doubted even then that she would ever treat any of them any better. None of them did, why should she be any different? 

The boy thought it might get better when he got his Hogwarts letter, but if anything, it got worse as his father tried to keep him in submission in spite of his growing power - his fear coming out in the same usual ways. But it didn’t matter - because come September 1st, he was gone. From the moment he sat down at the long Slytherin table, Hogwarts was more than he could have ever imagined. Finally, he was home. A place he wouldn’t have to hide who he was - where there were nothing but his own kind, people who understood him. His clothes might still be more worn than the rest, but they were always clean and his meals were always hot, and he thought there couldn’t possibly be any place better than here, and just the thought of coming back every year helped him make it through the long summers with his parents back at Spinner’s End. He was finally able to use his intelligence in a way he had yearned to for years, and from the very beginning he was one of the best in his class, excelling in particular in Potions and the Dark Arts - the latter being of particular interest to him. 

But being in Slytherin had started to drive a wedge between Lily and himself, at first simply because their time together was now much more limited. But as she became closer to her housemates, and him to his, they drifted further and further apart, a fact that weighed heavily on Severus. It was clear that she wasn't a fan of his new friends, and he, in turn, would never understand her tolerance of her own housemates - especially the annoying boy James Potter who played ringleader, along with Sirius Black and his ragtag team of idiots. They treated him as poorly as the muggles had - if not worse- and his hatred toward them was nearly even stronger, but it only thickened the tension between himself and Lily, until finally, he lashed out at the one person he'd promised himself he would never hurt. Mudblood. He'd never said it before, and it slipped through his lips in misplaced anger - perhaps he was more like his father than he thought. As he watched Lily turn from him, he knew he had cast the last shadow onto their friendship. A desperate and angry Severus took the Dark Mark not long into his seventh year, shedding the last remnants of the man he once could have been. 

Once graduated, he decided to start in on perfecting his craft, relishing the feeling of being better than almost everyone in the subject of potions. He quickly grew the business of the small shop in Knockturn Alley, and his reputation allowed him to drop the pleasant facade when dealing with customers (not that he was ever very good at it to begin with), as they would come to him regardless, since his product wasn't easily rivaled. But still, he spent as much time away from people as he could, and when Dumbledore himself showed up one day to offer him a post of Potions Master, he surprised both of them by conceding. He had never had a huge desire to work with children, let alone teach them for that matter, but he knew the post would bring great joy to his master, and Severus wanted to be worthy.

He found himself in a dark spiral, growing more and more secluded, bitter, angry and separated from the world as he was - and then somehow, he still couldn't quite pin exactly how - Dumbledore wormed his way into his mind. If Severus hadn’t already taught himself Occlumency he would have sworn it was some underhanded trick. Leave it to the old fool to prey on the one shred of decency the man had never been able to give up. But suddenly, there he was, working for the Order. At first, he had told himself it was to spy and feed back to the Death Eaters - but even he couldn’t hide from the fact that what he was actually doing was the opposite: he was leaking information back to the Order. He was helping them fight against Voldemort - and what was even more shocking was that it gave Severus back a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in a very long time. And with that, he found himself fighting harder and harder, willing to give his life for his cause (which was not saying very much, if you asked Severus: purpose or not, he still didn’t think very much of his own value). And it seemed as if he had somehow, maybe, become one of Dumbledore’s most trusted allies.

When the war ended, however, it was hard to convince people of what had really happened - not that he tried very hard. But they would see the mark on his arm, and figured they knew everything they needed to know about him, and that was fine with Severus. Even the ones he had fought alongside in the Order didn’t trust him, and he didn’t do anything to change their mind. He put in a letter of resignation for his post at Hogwarts, and waited for the Aurors to come collect him - but they never came. Either way, he was content to return to Spinner’s End and live out his life in the seclusion of his own home with a mail order Potions business under someone else’s name

But then, one unseasonably warm night in late August, Dumbledore showed up again. This time, he had Severus’ letter of resignation in his hand, and as he stood on the doorstep (Severus would not allow him in), he watched as it burst into flame. It was with a heavy sigh that he pushed the door open, and over a very strong cup of Bourbon the two talked all night - about how Dumbledore had managed to not exactly clear his name, but set the records straight about him, and of course how he expected him back on September first.

Even though he agreed, rather more reluctantly this time, Severus was now a very polarizing figure. Lots of people still hated him, but others (the ones who hadn’t known him before, it seemed) thought him a hero of sorts. He wasn’t sure which was worse. But he couldn’t deny that at least until things settled, Hogwarts would be the best, safest place for him - the place where the least amount of people would bother him. And for right now, that was enough.