#narcissa malfoy x Bellatrix lestrange

[cissyenthusiast010155]

I figured you might like it given ur pfp and user:

https://www.tumblr.com/grumpyheartbear/719396286170890240/narcissa-talking-to-her-therapist-dont-get-me

Hello there, anon 🙃

Why thank you for this marvelous Cissy!Imagine… Suggestions for content are always appreciated, especially ones for the one and only Narcissa Malfoy nee. Black! 😏💞👀

Here’s the link for anyone else who wants to check it out:

[vidalswife]

Witches Are My Weakness

[not-rab]

u know how narcissa doesn’t have a star-related name like the rest of the blacks

what if her middle name began with an e

so her initials would spell out neb like the nebula

[outromoony]

"You cannot love her," Bella whispers. "For it is a sin."

Narcissa only smiles at her words, knowing that she has not knelt at Alice's altar nor tasted the divinity staining her lips. She has not heard Alice's giggles murmured between every kiss.

"So be it then," she says. "I will walk into hell gladly knowing I've held heaven in my hands."

[bey0nd-1he-stars]

I know Snape was the only death eater that was able to produce a patrons and I’d just like to beg your pardon.

Snape conjured a patrons based on an obsession. What he had for Lily might have been love once but let be real, we’ve surpassed that phase. Now it feels like it’s just an obsession over her.

Other than Lily, his life was fucking miserable. His father was a prat and his mother was weird. He got bullied at school and he doesn’t really seem to enjoy his teaching life very much.

It’s also portrayed that his patronus is conjured from love and not happiness.

So excuse me if I feel like any other death eater has happier memories than Severus Snape.

Lucius Malfoy, he’s respected at the ministry and has a wife, a son that he at least cares about, a nice ass mansion. He’s wealthy and grew up in a famous, rich family, why can’t he conjure a patronus?

Bellatrix Lestrange, like the only death eater who really enjoys what she’s doing with Voldemort. She straight up laughs when killing Sirius. Why can’t she conjure a patronus?

Regulus Black, whose love for his god damn house elf got himself killed. Why can’t he conjure a patronus?

Narcissa Malfoy, who loves her son more than anything, so much that she straight up lied to Voldemort who can read minds just because there’s a chance her son is still alive. Why can’t she conjure a patronus?

Why can’t any of the death eaters conjure a patronus especially since Harry, at 13 years old, could do it based on a made up memory.

It’s a shit excuse to get people to like Snape more.

[wordsarelife]

—the black dog

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: the war awakes something in theo you hadn't thought was even there. you battle with your feelings of heartbreak, while you try to forget his everlasting presence in your life

warnings: mentions of death, grief, pain and torture. canon typical violence. this is very much heartbreak through and through

note: this isn't exactly what you asked for but your request inspired me to write this. i feel like it was important to highlight the complicated relationship that theo and reader resulted in because of the war.

theo and draco are cousins in this.

"would you please just talk to me?" you screamed. he had been acting weird for a few days now. 

at first you hadn't thought anything of it, not at the beginning. it had started with draco, who had been strange since the school year started, staying behind when the rest of you would go somewhere or disappearing in the middle of dinner. 

you had tried talking to him, you had grown closer over the time you and theo were together. you had quickly realized that it was hard for draco to build relationships, partly because he wasn't sure how and partly because he was scared of being left. 

you had done a pretty good job at showing him that you were going nowhere and that he, even if theo and you should break up one day, would still be your friend. 

you had thought that it had something to do with his parents. he didn't mention them often and you had only met them once, during a visit to the manor for a festivity during the winter break of the fifth year. you admitted that you didn't know them well, but it was easy enough for you to judge narcissa malfoy and the connection she had to her son. the love that kept her from ever risking something happening to him.

whatever was going on with him, his mother was well informed and probably already searching for a solution.

but draco had made it clear to you that he wanted to be left alone and you didn't push him to tell you more, just comforted him whenever he would let you or pansy. 

his weird behavior had been a constant throughout the entire year, until the point where it had influenced mattheo and enzo to act just as suspiciously and if you thought it couldn't get worse, you had been wrong. 

"i can't" theo muttered between clenched teeth, and you tried to look at his face as he frantically turned away from you. 

"is it about harry? is it about something he said to draco? did he say something to you?"

harry and the rest of your gryffindor friends were normally a topic you strictly avoided when in company of the slytherins and especially draco. you didn't agree on the childish rivalry they had going on and rather just kept out of that. but now that you thought about it, harry had been acting just as strange as draco had since the beginning of the year.

"potter doesn't matter, y/n" theo pressed his hands on both your shoulders, scaring you with the look on his face. 

"let me help you, love" you tried to not let it affect you, to not let the fear shine through your voice and honestly, you weren't scared of him, but of what would happen to the boy you loved so desperately it felt like breathing. 

"you can't" theo shook his head. "but you have to get ouf of the castle immediately, promise it to me"

"what? why should i--"

"you have to promise it" theo repeated louder, desperate and teary eyed as he stared at you like you had already died. 

the threatening war had made it harder to overlook the differences between you and the slytherins. you were a pureblooded witch, but definitely didn't share the same views about blood purity your friends did. 

"okay" you cooed, taking him into your arms. "i promise, i promise anything you want" 

theo didn't leave much room for questions when he told you to get off the hogwarts grounds and apparate home to your parents a few minutes later. you were scared and confused, as you watched the fear in his eyes flame up at whatever was coming. there was something he was not telling you and it simply broke your heart, knowing that he had to go through it alone. 

you weren't sure what took over you, when you heard a familar laugh, one that was so earth shattering and haunting, you couldn't help but dash back into the castle, despite what you had promised your boyfriend, his name repeating over and over again in your mind. 

you took two stairs at once, sprinting up the tower, wand in hand and ready to jump to theo's defense. 

"you made mummy so proud, boys" bellatrix said and you wanted to throw up at the tone in her voice. you could just imagine enzo and mattheo, or what was left of them, looking at their mother, not one bit of love or familiarity on their face. just fear. 

before you could climb the rest of the stairs, a hand grabbed you, pulling you to the side, behind old school supplies. the persons other hand was pressed onto your mouth and your eyes grew big until you noticed harry, stoic expression, not amused at seeing you. 

"harry" you muttered relieved. 

"what are you doing here?" harry whispered, not caring for the fear in your voice or the intent you had had coming up here in the first place. 

before you could answer, bellatrix spoke once again. 

"your boy has surely made you proud too, nott" she giggled. "just like our draco will make his parents in just a few minutes"

your eyes went up to the floor above you like your own name had been called. it wasn't even theo she had called by the name and still you could just imagine his slumped down shoulders and sickly expression. the same he had been spotting these past few days.

harry watched you closely, as if to make sure you would keep quiet, before his eyes turned back up too. 

“do it” bellaxtrix hissed at draco, who had raised his wand at dumbledore.

harry and you exchanged glances, before he too, raised his wand. you gripped on his arms tightly, shaking your head at him. 

“we can’t” you mouthed. 

“dumbledore” harry whispered. you shook your head again, tears spilling over your cheeks. 

your eyes left harry and wandered back through the floorboards. you couldn’t see theo, enzo, and mattheo, but draco was clearly shaking in fear and you couldn’t help but be worried about him. 

“draco” bellaxtrix encouraged once more “do it!”

“he’s not brave enough, bellatrix” notts voice rang out sounding as triumphantly as possible. you heard movement on the floor, a pair of dark shoes stepping forward and you wondered what nott was planning to do, when your heart suddenly stopped beating. 

“avada kedavra” a voice muttered, wand raised and aimed at dumbledore, who fell backwards so slowly as if time had stopped.  

harry gripped your arm, your body still frozen, as your eyes stayed focused on notts shoes. theodore notts shoes. not his father. theo, your theo. 

theo had just killed dumbledore. 

one part of you wanted to scream, jump into the open and scream at him or bellatrix or all the people a few steps above you, but the other part, the unstoppable dread, was aching to hide away from all of it, to just go and never come back.

how could you ever look at him again after what you had just witnessed? would he still be the same after he had done something like this? you couldn’t. he wouldn’t. your heart ripped open. 

“y/n” harry whispered, pushing you back to hide the both of you behind some old astronomy maps. footsteps descended down the stairs and out of the tower and you felt like you could breathe again once he had left. 

you sank to your knees immediately. harry still watched the space around you, not sure if you were entirely safe yet. 

someone ran up the stairs. harry tried grabbing you to push you back behind the old things, to shield you from whoever was coming back and trying to finish the job. 

it was snape and harry felt relieved for the first time upon seeing the teacher. he didn’t fully trust him, but dumbledore did. also, snape was a far better option than any of the death eaters. 

snapes eyes jumped between harry and you on the ground, before they turned to look up the stairs. 

“they’re gone” harry said, voice raised to drown out your sobbing, before he bent down once more and helped you back onto your feet. he pulled you close, to bring you comfort and shield your tear spilled face from snape's penetrating gaze.

harry wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he could almost see a bit of pity in snape’s eyes, when the man watched you stand on your shivering legs, only held up by harry, as if your body was too heavy to stand on it’s own.

it was just suddenly that the meaning of snape's presence painted a clear picture in your mind. narcissa malfoy hadn't found a solution, no she had found something that was even better: a substitute, someone to step in, when draco would ultimately fail upon the task he had been given.

and tiberius nott had done the same, only that he had proudly sold out his son instead of sparing his life.

you threw off harry’s arms, walking across the room, step by step, until you were standing in front of the teacher, ready to bash his head in.

“you are too late” you cried, not caring if spit or tears or anything else fell onto his robes. you stabbed a finger to his chest. “it’s your job to help. why didn’t you help him?” you cried.

snape furrowed his brows in confusion. “draco?” he asked in his normal tone, but a little bit of surprise broke through. just like you had thought. not even snape had held draco for capable of fulfilling his task.

you shook your head. slowly, bitterly. It was unfair that you had to say his name, that you had to recapture the event like a missed quidditch game, that snape had been late enough to miss it, but perfectly on time to watch your life fall apart.

you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. couldn’t even mutter the name that had been the most beautiful thing to you these past years, there was nothing left. no meaning behind those letters and still you couldn’t do it. ��nott” you said. 

it was over. 

“nott?” snape repeated, as if he was daring you to finally say what you had been dreading. 

“junior” harry muttered. you turned your head at him and he looked down on his shoes, as if he was ashamed you had heard him. 

“surprisingly unexpected” snape noted, like you had been discussing the weather.

“what?” you muttered, your voice strained. 

“y/n” harry said softly and you could hear him coming closer. you broke apart from snape, slapping his hand away when he tried reaching for your arm in an unusual caring manner. 

“you failed him” you spit at him, before you stormed out of the tower, harry hot on your heels.

bellaxtrix and the rest of the deatheaters, were jumping down the grass path to hagrids hut. following behind them were draco, enzo, mattheo and finally theo, who stepped out of the castle as last.

they had probably strolled through the halls, bringing their inevitable destruction into the home you had grown to love and cherish.

harry and you had watched them from the side of the entryway, dried tears on your cheeks and the anger taking over the pain that had tightened your chest. you loved him, but you couldn't believe that he had had no choice.

killing someone was not debatable.

you had watched in susprise when theo had not been there with them, but your surprise had been quickly taken over by even more anger, when he finally strolled through the door, hands in his pockets, like he was talking a late evening stroll.

your hand wept forward without so much as a thought, gripping the material of his tie and yanking him back.

theo made a gurgling sound, briefly breathless, and it was only his surprise that allowed you to measure up enough strength to effectively pull him back. that and your anger.

harry helped you as he pushed theo against the wall, wand at his throat.

theo took a big breath as soon as you let go of his tie, his eyes widened in surprise as he completely ignored harry and only looked at you, your face cast with shadows of the darkness in the creeping night and the regret that was so evident it only pained him further.

"didn't i tell you to go home?" it didn't surprise you that there was still a hint of superiority in his voice, even if it had faltered tremendously.

"you knew about all of it, didn't you?" you asked instead.

"y/n" theo sighed, in a tone as if he was inspecting a failed task for a homework you hadn't been able to finish. "i can explain"

"i don't think you should" you muttered and you were doing your best to not let the look of helplessness that now entered his face break your heart any further. "i just think i speak for the both of us, when i say that it's over"

"y/n" theo pleaded, pushing against harry's hold to try and reach for you. you stepped back and harry pushed the tip of his wand deeper into theo's neck.

you shook your head, not having it in you to look at him, before you turned around. "do what you have to do" you left the two of them alone, knowing that harry was just waiting to punish theo for killing one of the most important people to him.

you couldn't muster up the courage to even care about what would happen to him. your anger at snape had evaporated as fast as it had come. theo had it in him to kill and snape's late arrival changed nothing about that.

the person you had loved died together with the headmaster.

everything had been lost the moment he had muttered the curse, leaving behind a hurricane of feelings in your heart, but no one left to love in this world.

you did not waste another thought for him, pushing his name so far away from your mind, you almost forgot about him completely.

but a three-year relationship wasn't just consisting of memories, but of habits too and you found yourself thinking about possibilities in the dead of night.

possibilities that you had thought to be endless before, but of which was only one left now.

what if theo hadn't killed dumbledore?

your friends were clearly worried about you. hermione and ginny never left you alone during your stay in the burrow or during the nights, which had to have been the most haunting. the time were you most experienced his loss, as nightmares were plaguing your mind and fear was taking over your senses, feeling like you had made a mistake with theo. even if your friends and the weasleys said something different.

it was the same restlessness that lead to you following hermione, ron and harry on an adventure that was trying to fulfill an impossible task.

but there was no hope left if you didn't at least try what had been asked of you and you were smart enough to realize that.

even though you were always together, the time you were on the road seemed to be the most lonely you had ever felt and you found yourself thinking more about theo than you had wanted to.

none of your friends dared to say anything to you the next morning, when you would call out his name in your dream, always asking yourself what had happened, and if he was even still alive.

your question was answered in a different way than you had liked, when your group was discovered by deatheaters and brought back to malfoy manor, where not only draco and the malfoys, but theo was staying too.

you hadn't seen him at first, down in the dungeon. but surely they had come to get hermione, bringing her back a few hours later, scarred and crying for mercy as she fell into ron's arms.

it took another hour to call for the other female friend of harry potter.

"the other?" you could draco's voice ask when you were dragged up the stairs and through the halls.

"what other?" it was theo's voice that was now speaking, fear and dread overweighing the curiosity.

the door flew open and five people turned around to gain a look at you.

narcissa and lucius malfoy were sitting in obnoxious chairs, spotting similiar looks of surprise and interest.

bellatrix was hanging over the back of narcissa's chair. her hands pressing down on her younger sister's shoulders, squeezing them as if she was excited.

narcissa suddenly seemed less content, as she heard the similar gasps coming from her sons and nephew's mouths.

draco and theo were staring at you wide-eyed. their faces pale and painfully twisted as they recalled what had happened with harry potter's other friend just hours before.

"oh" bellatrix quirked up when the unknown death eater threw you to the floor and theo and draco dashed forward at the same time to try and catch you, before they were held back by the black haired witch. "do you happen to know her?"

your eyes were fixated on the doors behind you, which fell close with a loud thud as the deatheater who had brought you disappeared.

"no" draco and theo mustered up to stutter at the same time.

you send a glare across the room. it meant nothing, those two were only shells of the boys you had once known. but the innocence had been drained from them like a well run dry in a relentless drought.

"what are we going to do with you?" bellatrix smiled, stepping away from the chair and walking around your body on the floor.

narcissa reached for theo's arm, when he was about to drag bellatrix away from you.

you averted your eyes. not giving her the satisfaction to see the fear in them.

bellatrix looked through your act immediately. "she's a tough one" she noted and her expression of admiration changed to a malicious grin as she saw theo close his eyes.

"you do it" she laughed excitedly, stepping forward and pulling theo into the middle of the room.

"bellatrix, please" narcissa said, not even bothering to stand up and stop her sister from her attempt.

"what, cissy?" bellatrix asked. "you don't think she should be punished for stealing?"

"stealing what?" your voice made bellatrix turn around dramatically.

"would you look at that!" she gushed "the girl can speak!"

"yes" you nodded "and the girl can even tell you that she stole nothing"

"lie" bellatrix giggled and you had to admire her persistence, while the playful tone in her voice kept you on edge, always waiting for the moment she would break into an insanely loud scream.

you had heard not only hermione's cries, but bellatrix' screams from the dungeon. that gave a measure to how loud she was able to scream. and how she could torture until there was nothing left of the person you had once been.

"atta boy!" bellatrix encouraged theo, as she pushed him closer, until he was standing just a few feet from your body.

you wouldn't beg for their mercy. you would die without feigning any regret. if bellatrix really thought you stole something from her, you were glad she was torturing you instead of harry, who was much more important for everything coming after.

you could afford to die so early into the war. you were of no importance for the safety of the wizarding world.

you looked up at theo. the blue of his eyes mixed together with the tears that were already spilling over the edges.

"it shouldn't be hard" you said, voice hoarse and strained. you had been apart for almost ten months and he was still creating a lump in your throat, he was standing for everything that had been lost.

theo exchanged a glance with draco, almost as if begging him to take his place.

"bellatrix, this is madness" narcissa said, a bit stricter now, as if her simple words could really change the mind of someone who had already decided to embrace the madness her sould had been corrupted by.

"oh, cissy" bellatrix giggled "how will he learn? just another step on the path he must take to be granted the honour of the dark lord"

"do it" you said to theo, ignoring what bellatrix was babbling about.

"i can't—“ theo looked back at narcissa, talking to her rather than you.

"do it!" you repeated, louder this time.

"she even wants him to" bellatrix noted, clear amusement in her voice. she was almost excited to find out more about the conflict between you and her nephew.

"she's a pureblooded witch" theo turned to bellatrix, now trying to convince her himself. "she's one of us"

"i'm not" you protested, but bellatrix ignored you, stepping forward and touching theo's cheek softly with the pocket knife that she had taken from her robes, dripping in blood. hermione's blood probably.

"i thought you didn't know her" bellatrix mused "but the knowledge about her blood status suggests otherwise" theo gulped and before he was ready to say something, bellatrix has dragged the weapon across his cheek with one quick gesture, leaving a bleeding cut.

theo looked down quickly, as if to hide his injury from you, but he hadn't missed the gasp of air you had taken, scared that the woman had planned to kill him.

bellatrix stepped back next to her sister. "go on boy, don't make auntie bella angry" she threatened, playing with the knife in her hand.

not even narcissa dared to say something.

"just kill me" you told theo, when he raised his eyes to look at you once more, wand still losely hanging to the side. "you know how to"

"y/n" theo muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

"it doesn't matter" you shook your head. "just do it" you closed your eyes, ready for the stream of the green curse to take over your body and future.

theo did not raise his wand.

"kill me" you said loudly, unforgiving, almost screaming. you opened your eyes to look at your tormentors. apart from bellatrix none of them looked like they were particularly enjoying what was happening.

bellatrix’s eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as if she was savoring the power she held over theo. narcissa’s face was a portrait of conflicted emotions, torn between her loyalty to her sister and her love for her son and nephew. lucius’s gaze darted nervously between the scene unfolding before him, as if hoping for some resolution to the madness. draco was crying and trying to swallow the breaths that were tempting him to throw up right on his aunt's feet.

and theo? theo was rather keen on killing himself than doing you any harm.

you were less forgiving. "kill me like you killed dumbledore!" you screamed, tears falling on the floor in front of you, as your voice echoed off the cold stone walls. the anger in your voice was raw, pure, and unfiltered. theo flinched at the words, his face paling further, if that was even possible. the weight of your demand seemed to crush him, making it even harder for him to act.

you were so indescribably angry. but not at what he had done to you, but rather what he had done to himself. and that in it alone was the reason you would never forgive him.

he had ruined what you had loved. he had killed the person you had loved the most and you had nothing left to care about what would happen to you.

maybe it was his punishment that he had to be the one to kill or torture you.

theo’s grip on his wand faltered as he looked at you with a mixture of horror and heartbreak. he seemed to be struggling not just with what he was being asked to do, but with the shattered remnants of the person he used to be.

bellatrix’s patience wore thin, her frustration evident as she waved her wand dismissively. “enough of this pathetic display,” she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. “the boy is clearly too weak for this task.”

“no!” theo shouted, his voice cracking. “i can’t— i won’t—” his wand dropped to the floor, clattering against the stone with a finality that seemed to reverberate through the room.

the room erupted into chaos as bellatrix’s fury reached its peak. she turned on theo with a rage that was almost as palpable as your own pain. narcissa tried to intervene, her voice pleading, but it was clear that the darkness had already taken hold.

but before she was able to mutter a curse, to torture or kill theo right in front of your eyes, harry, ron and hermione came running in the room, wands raised they started firing spells.

it took you a moment longer to get up. you and theo held eye contact, the boy just a crumpled mess on the floor in front of you. you reached out your hand and took his wand, disarming bellatrix, who began screaming.

the fight was short and unforgiving as the malfoys were throwing spells. draco was struggling to keep up with harry's quick movements and theo did not even make an attempt to stand up. instead he kept his eyes trained on you.

dobby appeared suddenly, calling you to him to bring you to safety, after he had let a chandelier fall onto bellatrix who had held a knife to hermione's throat.

you stepped forward once more, kneeling in front of theo, who looked up at you with curiosity, just hoping you would be taking him with you.

"i will never forgive you" you muttered instead and all hope left his face and heart. you healed the cut on his cheek with a move of his own wand. "you should've killed me and maybe i could've been able to"

you did not look back again as you ran across the room to your friends. you just left him there, on the ground in malfoy manor, as you took dobby's hand and followed your friends into the uncertain.

one heart shattering realisation left with you that day.

theo's gaze would haunt your nightmares. but the possibility of his death would haunt your dreams, as you could only forgive him if he didn't survive.

[seriousaboutsiriusblack]

Andromeda: Everybody has a gay cousin

Sirius: I don’t have a gay cousin!

Bellatrix: …

Narcissa: …

Andromeda: …

Regulus: …

Sirius: o wait, I AM the gay cousin

Bellatrix: no kidding, Sherlock!

[rockongolddustw]

The brilliantly talented guine_evere on IG drew this commission for The Black Prophecy - beautifully capturing the Black Sisters hearing a prophecy in the first scene. Fic can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57587314/chapters/146531797

[aidens-ocean-galaxy]

marauders as random memes

[lenaswritingandstuff]

All I had • Mattheo Riddle x f!reader (Part 2 & END)

Requested: No well I lowkey did

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: After his girlfriend y/n is killed, Mattheo has to deal not only with pain and sorrow, but also cruel accusations (complete original prompt here), and asks someone for help.

Word count: 4.7K

Warnings: mentions of death, lost and grief; cursing ;

A/N: Thank you guys a lot for the good feedback the first part got! Here Mattheo and Tom are also Bellatrix' sons, and Mattheo is older than Harry by one year (so this takes place during Harry's sixth year) and younger than Tom by one year too. There will be two povs in this part, and I might do a bonus scene if (a lot of) people ask. This is my first time writing for Tom (and Voldemort) so I really hope it's alright. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy it!

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @arlxtoa

GIF IS NOT MINE.

PART I

The two Aurors got up and left, and Mattheo blinked. When he opened his eyes again, the  cold metallic table and the chairs disappeared, and he was back into the small room with the bed and the floating candles. Weakly, he laid on the bed and crossed his hands on his stomach. He didn’t know how long he had been here, in this room which was more magical than he thought as the bed, the sink and the table that were here when he arrived disappeared every time the Aurors came in, with a metallic table and three chairs surrounded by simple darkness which disappeared when the two men did. However, it must have been at least two days, spent refusing anything he was proposed to eat or drink - strangely enough, though, he wasn’t feeling hungry or thirsty at all - and refusing to say what those two fuckers demanded. Everytime they came in, Mattheo asked if they contacted Tom so he could come, but they refused to answer, insisting with their dumb questions instead. 

At first, his brother not coming to his aid had gave Mattheo great anxiety, as he saw it as the only way to prove he didn’t do what they accused him of - his mind refused to use the real words - but now, as time passed and without an answer, all anxiety - which was the only thing he was able to feel besides his pain and empty chest - had left him, leaving only resignation. If he was sent to Azkaban, so be it. After all, even if he didn’t do it, didn’t he deserve it for not being able to protect y/n? He was her boyfriend, who vowed while looking into her eyes, her eyes he was crazy about, to always protect her and save her if needed, and he couldn’t fucking do that. And again, even if he didn’t do it, it was his fault she was gone. If he hadn’t gone out for a stupid cigarette with Theo, maybe y/n wouldn’t have left her room and she would still be here, holding his hand and kissing him. Some part of him knew that maybe she left to go help a friend in need - typical y/n - and didn’t actually go out to look after him after he took a while to come back, but the biggest part of him refused to think about that theory, refusing to admit that it wasn’t his fault somehow. 

It had been too good to be true, he thought. He had managed to escape both his parents ever since his father came back and his mother escaped Azkaban, Tom and Dumbledore helping him hide during the summer holidays - y/n had asked him countless time to come to live in her parents’ house, but despite wanting nothing more than to say yes and spend the summer by her side, Mattheo had refused to put her and her family, who had already been kind enough to let someone like him date their daughter, in danger. He had also managed the anxiety and stress his father’s coming back had brought, mostly due to y/n’s love and care, and had even managed to plan on becoming an Auror once he would leave school, which he knew had worried y/n, but now, all the good things he had managed to do and the overall good - or at least; bearable - life he had built around his friends and y/n not only meant nothing, but it had died with her. Because even if I manage to not go to Azkaban, what would I do? I might as well join my father. 

But Mattheo had that thought, y/n’s sad, disappointed face appeared to him, and he hated himself even more. y/n wouldn’t want that, he forced himself to think, slightly shaking his head. y/n would want him to fight, and most importantly, would want him to remain the boy she had loved. His only option, if he managed to not go to prison, would be to hide until his death - which now he didn’t care when it would come. The door suddenly opened, bringing Mattheo out of his thoughts, and had half expected the Aurors to come back and, letting out a long sigh and closing his eyes, he prepared himself to insult them this time, but it wasn’t one of their voices he heard. 

“Brother.”

Fuck. Mattheo’s eyes snapped open, and he jumped on his bed, and at the same time turning his head so quickly he could have hurt himself. Taller and of stronger structure, Tom was standing near the door, his dark curls perfectly styled contrasting with Mattheo’s messy hair, and dressed in an all black suit. 

As if he was waking up from a long, deep sleep, Mattheo’s mind was not perfectly aware, and got used to the idea of Tom actually being here. Looking up at him, Mattheo noticed his elder brother looked paler than usual, and there was something strange about his eyes. 

“They called you,” Mattheo managed to say.

“They did. Their message came late, however, as I was…busy, in the north.” 

In other circumstances, Mattheo might have asked Tom what he meant by that - he never really knew what his brother was up to ever since the latter left Hogwarts last year - but, now, he just slightly nodded in answer. 

“Dumbledore told me,” Tom continued, his tone now sounding more febrile and softer, “that y/n was… dead.”

The last three words hit Mattheo like a thousand knives in the heart, but they also for some reason finished to convince his mind that it really did happen. 

“The two Aurors told me you did it.” 

“I didn’t,” Mattheo answered immediately, the defensive tone and behavior he had been having for the last two days around the Aurors coming back. 

“I know. Though I wish to know what really happened.” 

Sighing and his eyes on the ground, Mattheo explained everything that happened that night, from spending an usual night with y/n in her room - he saw a small grimace on Tom’s face for a small second - to going for a smoke with Theo.

“Then on my way back, I was walking by the courtyard when I saw her…her, I…I saw her body.”

Mattheo then raised his gaze, and saw that Tom’s body and face had stiffen, and one of his fists was now closed. A year ago, this reaction from Tom upon hearing about y/n would have angered Mattheo deeply, but now, he only felt some annoyance which surprisingly disappeared quickly.  

“There was no round around?” Tom asked. “No sign of anybody?” 

Mattheo shook his head negatively. 

“Who do you think might have done it?” Tom questioned in a sharper tone. 

“I don’t know. She only had friends. Teachers liked her. Her family is normal…” 

“Try to think, Mattheo,” Tom cut off coldly, growing impatient, “try to remember a detail, a conversation y/n had with someone…”

“I don’t know!” Mattheo said louder. “I haven’t been able to think ever since I had her corpse in my arms!” 

Tom had a very small sigh. “Then maybe y/n didn’t tell you about it. Do you think her friends might know something?" 

“Her friends never liked me much,” Mattheo had a bitter small laugh. “Well, except for Pansy.” 

“I see. I’ll have to ask them some questions, then.” Tom said. And I could as well have searched her dorm for a clue, but I heard her family already took her belongings and cleared her room,” he added in annoyance.

Mattheo frowned. “Her family? Her family is already here?”

“Yes. It’s been two days, they had to take her body,” Tom answered, his voice a bit febrile. “I suppose the… funeral will be held soon.”  

It was already unbearably hard enough for his mind to understand the idea that y/n was dead and would never come back, but to imagine her immobile body in a casket, alone in the darkness and the coldness of the silent underneath the ground…No, fucking no, that was something he could not and could never handle. When he looked at Tom again, Mattheo saw him as lost in thought, as if he felt the same way. And he knew he did. 

“Do you believe she could have had some sort of stalker or admirer?” Tom questioned after a moment of silence. 

“You mean, other than you?”

Tom looked at him, now angered but a bit surprised as well. 

“Unbelievable. y/n is dead and you’re still thinking about this?” 

Mattheo didn’t answer. Of course that was stupid to think about what happened last year, especially now. Last year, between Umbridge’s tyranny and the suspicion that had raised around Mattheo and Tom now that their father was back, something Mattheo never imagined happened: Tom, the cold and quiet Tom who had never looked at a girl before, had fallen in love. Mattheo had been amused at the idea, and had been curious to know who the lucky girl was, despite the whole thing happening in front of his eyes. One day, a very surprised y/n had come to him, saying Tom had asked to talk to her in private and had confessed to her that his heart, which all thought cold and frozen, had fallen for her. Angry as he never had been in his life and only listening to the part of himself which was telling him that his brother wanted to steal everything from him, Mattheo had immediately went to see Tom and a big fight had followed, and it would have probably became physical if Tom hadn’t remain his calm self, although greatly annoyed at Mattheo’s shouting, and his friends holding him back just in case. y/n , sweet, innocent y/n had felt guilty despite not being at fault, and later Mattheo had realized that it was likely her fondness and compassion for Tom, who was “always so alone” which had made his older brother think he and y/n might have a chance. Mattheo had never been mad at y/n, but, unable to not be angry at Tom and unable to not think that Tom wanted y/n just because she was with him, his cordial relationship with Tom had been broken, and they never had any contact after Tom graduated. But with time, Mattheo had realized he understood Tom. After all, y/n was beautiful and had a heart of gold, and people were drawn to her and her warmness, kindness and natural charm. It wasn’t even a surprise that someone like Tom, cold and silent, would fall for her despite being as different as can be. But while also thinking about this, he had then remembered all the times he had seen Tom and y/n speaking, studying, or just the kind things he would sometimes tell her, and it had made sense.

“I know they found your wand. You mentioned you lost it,” Tom said suddenly. “Do you have any idea where that might have happened?”

“No,” Mattheo said, looking at the ground. “I just know I lost it after class.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“y/n.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember any details? Anything that could help?” 

“I already told you no,” Mattheo said with annoyance. 

He tried to think hard about it, though, trying to remember his walk from y/n’s dorm to the dark corner of the castle where he met Theo, and remembered it overall - the empty corridors, making sure nobody, especially a teacher, wouldn’t see him. He then tried to remember every detail of the way back. He tried hard, forcing his mind to bring itself back to this moment, but to his great confusion, he didn’t remember anything. It was as if, one moment, he was walking away from Theo, and the other, he was walking by the courtyard, seeing his biggest nightmare coming true. 

“I don’t remember anything from my way back to her dorm,” Mattheo simply said. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, I don’t remember anything between leaving Theo and seeing h…her body.” The last two words still had a hard time leaving his mouth. Suddenly, he had a thought, maybe the most clever and useful thought he had ever since he had been brought here. 

“Maybe you losing your wand and your memory somehow disappearing are linked,” Tom stated, and Mattheo nodded. “Did anybody here do some strange things or had a strange behavior this year?” 

Mattheo thought, and quickly had an idea.

“I heard Harry speaking with his friends once. He said Draco was up to something, and, well, I noticed he’s been acting strangely since september.”

Tom remained silent, and acquiesced. 

“Then I shall have a conversation with our cousin.”

They opened the door after Tom knocked once, and the two Aurors were still here waiting for him when he left the room. He ignored them and started walking down the small corridor, but they apparently were not willing to do the same. 

“Did he tell you anything?” one of the Aurors asked, full of curiosity, trying to keep up with Tom’s quick and long footsteps. 

Not bothered, Tom did not even give him an answer. 

“Well?” the other insisted. 

“No, he did not,” Tom answered this time, but only to get rid of them. “He already told you he was innocent. There was no more he had to say. Just like I have nothing to say to you.”

It worked, and the Auroras stopped following him. He left their outraged and suspicious gazes behind his back, but to say he didn’t care was an understatement. It was already the end of the afternoon, and classes just finished. Tom, ignoring the surprised looks of the crowds of students, walked to Snape’s class, and found him here sitting behind his desk. His former professor raised his eyes, and though he didn’t show it, Tom knew Snape was surprised to see him at Hogwarts. 

“Snape.”

“Mr. Riddle.” 

“I wish to talk with a few of your students. Be kind to bring them here.”

“And may I ask why you wish to talk to them?”

“If I thought it concerned you, I would willingly tell you,” Tom responded. “Now, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkison and Daphne Greengrass.”

Snape looked at him, but did not say a word. Minutes later, only two silhouettes entered Snape’s dark greenish class. The two girls exchanged a curious look upon seeing Tom.

“Tom?” Pansy Parkinson asked. She had always been somehow unafraid of him, and Tom respected that fact. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m here to help my brother.” 

Parkison raised her eyebrows with genuine surprise. “You think he’s innocent?” 

Tom nodded. “I know you two ladies were y/n’s closest friends. I need you to tell me if she had anyone who wished to do her harm.” 

Pansy shook her head and had a slight sigh, “we already told the Aurors everything.”

Daphne nodded, “y/n had no enemies. Well,” she added with a false smile, “at least that’s what we thought until her own boyfriend turned out to be one..” 

“Mattheo is innocent,” Tom retorted right away. 

Pansy chuckled bitterly, “Don’t make me laugh, Riddle. Everyone in school knows how they found his wand near her body, and how the last spell it cast was the killing curse. He did kill our friend, and I hope he will rot in Azkaban for the rest of his days.”

Tom remained silent, ignoring his growing annoyance, and instead focused his mind on entering Parkison’s. He saw her in Daphne’s arms, probably crying over y/n’s death, and going back to before that event, he saw her this time laughing with Daphne and y/n, and his heart - if it was still there - skipped a beat. Seeing her full of life, laughing, when he knew she would never laugh again was almost too much to bear. He continued inspecting Parkison’s memory, and when he couldn’t find anything, did the same thing to Greengrass. He didn’t find anything new inside her mind, and had a hard time not showing his displeasure. He had entered their minds and saw their memories so quickly that they didn’t even notice what he did. 

“Where is my cousin?” Tom finally asked, quickly looking at Snape.

“Draco?” Parkinson asked. “Well, we saw him in class, but…”

“He left right after the last one. Maybe he’s in the common room, or maybe his dorm?” 

Tom wanted to ask if, like Mattheo, they thought Draco had been acting weirdly, but wouldn’t do that in Snape’s presence. He gestured for the two girls to go, and turned back towards Snape. 

“If I don’t find who murdered y/n and exonerate my brother before I leave Hogwarts, I suggest you continue looking for the murderer. Because, as you well know, Severus, my wrath is nothing compared to his.”

Not waiting for Snape’s answer, Tom left the room. He directly went for the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was. Some friends of Mattheo were here, sitting on some of the couches - Berkshire with his innocent face, Nott always acting as if he had no care in the world and Zabini who never smiled - and they immediately came to him when they saw him. 

“Tom?” Nott asked. “You’re here to help Mattheo, right?” 

“Did you find anything?” Berkshire asked. 

“I need to speak to my cousin. Where is he?”

“We don’t know,” Zabini shrugged. “I looked in our dorm, he’s not here.”

Tom decided to go check the room himself, and walked in its direction. As Zabini said, there was no one here. The room was well ordered, full of expensive things both Zabini and Draco’s parents had bought and of Slytherin decoration, but Tom looked into it, he didn’t find anything. His patience growing thin, Tom quickly left the room, and, ignoring Mattheo’s friends and their questions, left the common room. Walking through the corridors, he only met a few much younger students who did not dare to look at him for too long until he saw three silhouettes talking softly.

“Potter.”

The latter turned immediately, but didn’t seem that surprised to see him, and they walked closer to each other.

“My brother told me you found Draco’s behavior strange. Why?”

“We saw him at Borgin & Burke with his mother. They seemed like they didn’t want people to know they were here. Sometimes, he disappears and doesn’t come to class. He’s always quiet, and you never see him outside of class.”

“And pray tell, what’s your theory?”

Potter stared at him, and as Tom expected, didn’t say anything.

“Come on, Potter. You’re smarter than most people give you credit for.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t be smart if I told you what I thought.”

Tom inclined his head, squinting his eyes. “So it has to do with my father. You believe he’s a Death Eater, don’t you?”

Potter’s eyes hardening was enough for Tom to know he was right.

It wasn’t common for Tom’s father to pick followers that young, but if it was indeed true, Tom was not surprised. Either his father had expected Draco to replace Tom’s uncle Lucius, or he was forced to. I know my cousin. He may be arrogant and spoiled, but he doesn’t have the stomach to be a Death Eater. Not for long, anyway.

“I see,” Tom continued. “And where do you think he goes when he disappears?”

Potter looked at him, hesitating before giving an answer. “I can’t be sure, but…the Room of Requirement makes sense.” 

And with that, Tom turned his heels and went to the seventh floor of the castle. He knew it was going to be hard, as that room could appear anywhere, but he wasn’t going to give in. In a long, empty corridor, he closed his eyes, and walked past a large naked wall three times. I need to find what Draco has been up to. I need to find who killed y/n. Doing his best to shut the pain that thinking about y/n brought him, he walked past the wall for several minutes, but when he stopped his pace and opened his eyes, the wall was still naked. Growing angry, he all of a sudden heard footsteps breaking the silence. He focused, and almost instantly knew who it was. Draco. Putting himself against the wall, Tom waited barely a minute, and immediately grabbed Draco, who, as expected, tried to resist.

“Let me go!”

“Quiet.”

Draco immediately stopped moving, and, upon seeing who had grabbed his arm, frowned.

“Tom?” 

Tom immediately saw that Draco’s face was paler, looking even a bit gray, and thinner than usual, and that he had dark bags under his eyes. 

“Greetings, cousin.” Tom said with calm and a smile. “I have a few questions to ask you, if you don’t mind.” 

Draco started to struggle again, but Tom took out his wand, pointing it on his cousin’s chin. 

“Do not make me do something I will not regret. It is really simple, cousin. You either answer my questions, or I will get them out of you. Do we understand each other?” 

Draco remained silent, but Tom knew he understood. 

“Do you know who killed y/n?” 

“No!”

“Do you know who might have done it?”

“No! Let me go, now, or I’ll-”

“Do what?” Tom said, amused. “Please, pray tell.”

Draco again didn’t say a word, only giving him a death stare. Despite allegations of Draco acting weirdly and his weaker look, Tom knew it didn’t mean Draco had anything to do with y/n’s murder - the word was enough to almost wreck havoc. However, despite Draco’s denial, Tom felt something was off. Just like he did with y/n’s friends, Tom entered Draco’s mind, but found it way harder. Immediately understanding why, Tom smiled.

“I see my mother taught you Legilimency. I expected better, though.”

Not wasting another second, Tom pointed at Draco’s forehead. At first, he was shown memories from Draco’s first years here, bullying students with his friends, then darker, unhappier memories with his parents and Tom and Mattheo’s mother at Malfoy Manor, succeeded at last by what really interested Tom. He suddenly saw his father, probably furious after Uncle Lucius failed the disaster at the Ministry, and then had a memory of Draco inside the Room of Requirement - as Potter had guessed - standing in front of what Tom knew was a Vanishing Cabinet. The whole scenery disappeared, and instead there was the boys’ restroom, with Draco sitting on the ground with his face in his hands, crying. Next, he was back to Malfoy Manor, standing in front of both Tom’s parents.

“My sons have both been a disappointment, a great disappointment,” Tom’s father said calmly. “I still hold hope for Tom, but as for Mattheo…If I don’t act quickly, he will be out of reach forever. You said there was a girl at Hogwarts that he ‘loves’.”

Tom felt his heart beat faster, and his breath became short. 

“Well,” his father continued, “along with the other task you have been given, Draco, you will kill that girl. If you don’t, I’ll kill your mother and then you.” 

If he thought Dumbledore telling him of y/n’s death broke his heart, learning it was his father who ordered it broke his soul. But he had barely time to process that memory that another came, bringing him back to Hogwarts. Draco was standing against a wall in an empty corridor. Tom heard voices from afar, and after a moment, saw his own brother. Jumping behind him, Draco pointed his wand at the back of Mattheo’s head.

“Impero.”

Mattheo took his wand out of his robe and Draco grabbed it. Mattheo didn’t move as Draco went back to the spot he was hiding it, and pointed once again his wand at Mattheo.

“Obliviate.”

A few seconds later, Mattheo slightly shook his head and continued walking, eventually disappearing. The next memory happened at night, and Draco was once again hiding, this time in a corridor which led to the courtyard, apparently waiting for someone. But Tom didn’t even have to guess who, because it was as if his whole being knew who was coming and what was going to happen. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to hear, but his eyes refused to look away or to close themselves. He heard familiar footsteps, and suddenly, y/n appeared; walking rather quickly, and she took a glance at the darkness of the courtyard. Tom saw Draco’s hand shaking as he pointed Mattheo’s wand at y/n and, after hesitating for a short moment, opened his mouth.

“Avada Kedavra.”

Despite his whole being screaming at him to look away, Tom turned to y/n and saw her looking at the green light coming to her right and gasping before the spell hit her, and her body hit the ground. Draco closed his eyes, and a tear ran down his cheek. Taking his own hand, Draco moved it, and y/n body started levitating, heading for the courtyard, before eventually lowering itself to the ground. Tom stayed here, looking at her corpse, wanting to scream for the first time in his life. He didn’t know how long he stared at him, his very soul in pain, but it must not have been for long, because when he pulled himself together, Draco was still here, and he heard a familiar voice.

“y/n?”

Mattheo was here now, close to her body. He kneeled near her, taking her into his arms, calling for her, asking her if she could hear him, eventually crying, screaming for her to come back. Draco once again shed a tear, and took out both his wand and Mattheo’s. He made Mattheo’s wand float to fall down near Mattheo. Wiping away his tears, Draco tried to look normal, started walking away, and thus his memory was over. Tom was brought back to reality, to the corridor where he was holding Draco - y/n’s murderer, the one who had taken his only chance of happiness from him. If it was another person who had been killed, Tom might have understood why the murderer did it and even maybe felt compassion as he knew how his father was, but it was y/n, and it took everything in Tom to not torture Draco in ways that would have make his father happy. Draco tried to fight Tom’s grasp again, but this time, Tom took the opportunity to answer the last question he had on his mind. He rolled up Draco’s left sleeve, and saw the Dark Mark. Potter was right, after all, was all that he thought.

“It was Draco.”

Mattheo looked at his brother, confused.

“What? Draco did what?”

Tom looked back at him. “He killed y/n. I saw it. In his mind. Our father told him to.  He put you under the Imperius curse to take your wand, used it to kill her, and put it next to you after killing her.”

Mattheo tried to grasp the idea, but simply couldn’t. Draco, his vain cousin, spoiled and loved by his parents like neither him or Tom had been? 

“He’s a Death Eater,” Tom added with no emotion. “He has the mark. He killed her to save both his and his mother’s lives. I do think he didn’t want to do it. He cried a bit.” 

Mattheo gulped. “Did she…Did she see him? 

But Tom knew what his real questions were: did y/n see death coming? Was she scared? Did she scream for help, for anyone - for him, to come and save her? 

Tom became pale, and for the second time in his life, Mattheo saw that his brother’s eyes were sad. 

“No. She only saw the spell for a quick second before she…”

Mattheo closed his eyes, and nodded. One half of him wanted to see it with his own eyes, wanted to see her last moments, where he should have been here to save her, but the other half refused to, convinced he would turn into a mad man if he saw her dying. Mattheo felt warm tears leave his eyes and roll down his cheeks. 

“She was all I had,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“I know,” Tom said, staring at the wall on his left. “She was all I had, too.”

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Masterlist

[leighbaye]

🖤 ₊˚⊹ — eldest daughter of the malfoy family (1) #DISCONTINUED

parring ➵ draco malfoy x sibling f!reader

summary ➵ family portraits with your little shit of a younger brother.

age of parring ➵ 16 - 18

warnings ➵ fluff

extra ➵ might become a multi - part series, but don’t take my word for it. reader’s middle name is named after bellatrix. thanks to @cafekitsune for banners! second chapter here.

here you were in the manor, in your large but dull gloomy dark room. subtle touches of your personal belongings scattered all about.

you’ve gotten news from your father, lucius, that the family was gonna retake yet another family portrait, it would’ve bugged you then but it happened every year. so what could’ve you done?

you were touching up your hair, defining your blowout and pining it up in a nice up - do, as your mother, narcissa, requested. you applied your favorite lipstick/lipgloss before you heard footsteps approaching.

you looked through the reflection of the mirror on your vanity as you added your desired pair of earrings, some bracelets, and layering some necklaces. the final touch being a matching ring you had with draco.

it was a simple stacking ring, engraved with your full first name, middle inital, following with the complete last name on it. you had a matching one with draco.

DRACO L. MALFOY — Y/N B. MALFOY

the baby of the family, who has grown to a young man, walked in without knocking. you clicked your tongue in annoyance, draco got the memo.

❝ m-may i come in? ❞

❝ you are already in. ❞ you scoffed softly, noticing the scowl on his face.

❝ sorry. ❞ he said blandly, you replied saying ❝ don’t worry about it dray, i need your help anyway. ❞

you sat up, walking up to a full length mirror in the left corner of your bedroom, draco following behind.

you fixed any sort of crimple and wrinkle on your dress whatsoever with a whip of your wand.

you presented yourself with a elongated black maxi dress, with a slit on the left side revealing your leg, the bust lined with black lace detailing, the same detailing of the thin straps.

you sported a pair of black crystal covered pointy toe high heels, a beautiful glamorous black cluster crystal on top of it. it was from a muggle high - end store, something along the lines of jimmy choo.

you ran your hands every curve, admiring yourself and catching a glimpse of your dark mark on your left arm, running your hand up and down the same arm.

as you did so, you were unaware of what draco was thinking.

draco malfoy, disliked by his fellow peers in the same year, most in a complete different house, known for his undeniable prejudice toward blood status.

one thing he was also known for was you, and he knew that of course.

anytime anyone would look, speak, or even breathe around you, he would always and constantly eye them.

he would clench his fist anytime someone would utter a bad mouth about you and disregard you as a person. no matter who it was, he would walk past and shove them so hard on purpose with no hesitation.

he absolutely hated people who would do so, cause you usually never did anything to anyone. back when he was a second year, you being in your third year, when the heir of slytherin was petrifying muggle borns, he never heard the end of it with the accusations of you being the heir.

reconnecting with the present, he looked at you lovingly with his hands in his blazer pockets. how he blazingly loved his older sister. every little thing you did, he always and never thought you weren’t the best at.

❝ you look beautiful sister. ❞ he said softly.

❝ you really think so? don’t you think its too much? ❞

he chuckled responding spontaneously with, ❝ too much or too little, you always look gorgeous. ❞

❝ oh i love you so much brother. ❞ you sighed placing you hands on his face kissing his forehead, being able to easier because of the shoes you were wearing.

you grabbed you favorite purfume, spritzing some on your wrists, collarbones, behind your ears. then spraying some near draco, giggling as he waved his arms coughing trying to prevent getting a feminine fragrance from attaching to his clothing.

❝ let’s be on our way now, mother and father have been holding up long enough. ❞ you ordered.

he enterwined his arm with yours eyeing down at your shoes, being patient with you as you have a disadvantage of walking quickly.

the both of you reached the hallway, sounds of clicking and clacking shoes echoed throughout the halls. draco was talking about the new school year at hogwarts approaching, to say he was displeased would be understatement.

the both of you kept walking til you guys reached the wall full with frames of family pictures. from the moment lucius and narcissa were engaged, their wedding ceremony, your birth, draco’s birth, both of you and draco’s first year at hogwarts ; and so on.

one picture caught your attention, you grimaced.

it was when you were starting in your fifth year and draco in his forth. the thing that bothered you so much was you short hair phase and short your dress was. it was way to provocative for a sixteen year old.

listen your hair would’ve been so adorable if you have gotten layers but oh well.

❝ oh my god. i looked ghastly! ❞ you almost shrieked.

❝ i cannot believe you let your little brother walk out like that. ❞ uttered draco disapprovingly.

it then turned into a five minute rambling of you calling your younger brother cute and squealing at his undefined face back when he was eleven.

draco only flushed and continued letting his older sister call him names he hasn’t been called in years, he was pulling on your dress mumbling for you to quit it.

unknowingly to the both of you, narcissa was watching her eldest daughter and baby son holding hands and giggling at each other’s portraits, telling stories of the days each portrait was taken.

how it made her happy knowing draco had you watching over him and growing up with a role model, regardless of the both of you growing up, you and draco will always be her children.

❝ draco, y/n, it’s time to get going. your father and aunt bellatrix are getting impatient. ❞

❝ sorry mother.❞ the both of you said in unison, quickly walking to in front of her.

narcissa stood on his tip toes, even with heels on, and kissed draco and you on the cheek, caressing her towering children as she smiled at.

❝ cmon now, run along! ❞

draco quickly ran to narcissa’s left side as you stayed on her right, both of you simultaneously wrapping your arms around hers and made your way out to the center of the manor.

lucius checked his watch groaning at the fact that his children are almost twenty minutes late to the shoot.

bellatrix cleared her throat impatiently, she had to meet with the dark lord in an hour, she wouldn’t be able to unless her niece and nephew were aware of the time.

nacrissa came in with a smile, one that both her sister and husband noticed in a heartbeat.

❝ narcissa, where is y/n and draco? ❞ asked lucius asked blandly, bellatrix glanced wanting to know.

before narcissa could answer, you and draco came in, making unnecessary fixes to your hair and outfits, holding out a compact mirror in front of the both of you.

❝ oh, my beautiful niece! you really outdid yourself, come here my sweet! ❞ bellatrix cooed as you smiled and closed the compact, walking up to her.

kisses were being plastered all over your face, lucius signaling draco to come up to his father.

draco went up and watched as his father fixed his tie silently chuckling at the sight of his beautiful daughter all dolled up.

❝ sorry father, it was my fault draco was late. i would’ve been at lot earlier if i hadn’t kicked him out of my room. ❞ you exclaimed softly.

❝ that’s quiet alright y/n, i should’ve known it takes young ladies a quite amount of time to prepare themselves. ❞ he grabbed your arm reassuringly.

❝ you know where to go, take the lead draco, y/n. ❞

you and draco obliged and went down to the living room and sat together in a forest green velvet vintage lounge chair holding hands, as the adults stood behind.

a couple of pictures, mixing it up quite often, it was finally the malfoy children portraits.

sitting down, standing up, backsides, and many serious and some smiling pictures later, the both of you hugged and you reminded draco how much you appreciated him.

the both of you snapped back into reality facing the wizarding world equivalent of a camera in surprise as a flash blinded the both of you, laughing at the moment that would make this yearly family portrait tradition memorable.

୨⎯ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡 ⎯୧

[marylily-my-beloved]

Narcissa who was so happy for Bellatrix on her wedding day, only to burst out crying the day after because this means Bellatrix is moving, Bellatrix is leaving her. Narcissa feeling so overjoyed for Bellatrix because she seems happy (idk if she is) and she looks so happy she’s leaving the house but Narcissa realising this means she’ll be on her own and she won’t have anyone to ever go to. 

It doesn’t even matter that Bellatrix will only be a apparation away, she’s gone. She’s not in that house anymore, it’s only Narcissa now, and god does Narcissa feel alone. 

[btsbabe7]

Safe Haven

Word Count: 6.9k

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x reader, Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings!: 18+, unprotected, age gap, intoxication, infidelity

Synopsis: After a long night out with friends, things take a drastic turn when you show up unexpectedly at the Malfoy Manor and your best friend isn’t the one who lets you in.

You find yourself on the doorstep of the Malfoy manor, lightheaded and nauseous, clothes soaked in rain, liver swimming in poison, and entirely too nervous and embarrassed to knock. You curse yourself for not sending for Draco, your best friend of a solid decade, to come rescue you from your recklessness. You’d insisted to your other friends that you could make it safely, that you knew your way home. And while you did arrive safely, you can’t bring yourself to lift your fist to ask for permission to enter.

The Malfoy Manor has always been a safe place for you throughout your childhood and granted you the same safety as an adult. You’d practically grown up here under the care of the house elf, Dobby, and the companionship of Draco Malfoy. Narcissa saw to things like taking you shopping for clothes and catering to your other womanly needs as you grew older. On the other hand, Lucius Malfoy was hardly present. He remained the breadwinner of the home and that came with the sacrifice of working long days and nights at the Ministry, and in his spare time, he’d used it to meet with friends.

When he was at home, he could be quite demanding. He constantly lectured Draco about slipping grades and the importance of putting his best foot forward instead of indulging in useless shenanigans.

One night, after his wife and son had long trailed off to bed, Lucius had stayed in the entertainment room with you to finish a movie. The both of you remained long after the movie ended, speaking about school, work, and life. He confided in you just as you had with him. You’d always known Lucius Malfoy to lack nothing, not of confidence, not of power, and certainly not control. Yet, that night he’d told you that he didn’t want Draco stuck at the Ministry like himself. He wanted a powerful son that would be able to take his place if the situation ever arose, to be prepared for anything, and be able to step up when his family needed him the most. Most of all, he just wanted someone, something that came from him, to be proud of.

You’d spent several years listening to Draco’s complaints about his father over breaks and in the courtyard at Hogwarts when you two would sneak out to meet late in the night. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to spill Lucius’ wishes. It felt as if you were overstepping every time his words echoed in your mind: someone to be proud of. When you were around, Lucius was a completely different man—tolerant, caring, even nice at times, and you knew Lucius needed to be the one to tell Draco himself.

Now, as an adult, you can recall the moments where he tried caring for Draco in the best way he knew how. You realized that being tough had become his default to shield himself from disappointment, to keep Draco on track. He’d tried to raise him to become a man of power with nothing but confidence and control in his arsenal. He hadn’t failed, but he also hadn’t let his guard down, never liberated himself from the need of being in control.

And part of being in control meant Lucius always remained aware of anything going on inside of and around the Malfoy property, so it’s no surprise that he’s the one that opens the door to your shivering body without you lifting a single finger.

“Look what the storm washed in,” he muses and motions you inside to take shelter from the pouring rain and lightening rolling in through distant black clouds. “You’ve been drinking.”

He doesn’t ask, just states it matter-of-factly.

Anyone with a nose can smell the bitterness seeping off your clothes, your body, your mouth. You smell of whisky and sweat and body odor that isn’t yours. You aren’t sure what you were attempting to drink away, but perhaps it was the searing that burns in your chest when his eyes meet yours.

The look is one you’ve seen him give many, but never to you, and it’s now spread over his hardened features. Disappointment is what lingers in those angry pale grey eyes.

“I… I came to s— I came to see D-drac—“ You let out a scoff, now utterly disappointed in yourself as you slur and stumble over the raised threshold. It’s truly a miracle that you’d made it here at all.

Had you truly allowed yourself to get this wasted?

That answer comes when Lucius uses his own body to shield you from tumbling onto the frigid tiles of the foyer. You cling to the silky sleeve of his robe as he hisses something vulgar under his breath.

“You can’t possibly be this drunk,” he snorts and locks the front door behind you both in a fury. “Who’ve you been with? You graduated years ago and this is how you choose to life? The life of a—a drunk? I expected more from a brilliant witch like yourself. I thought you incapable of falling this low. Does your father know you’re here?”

You rub into the sultry velvet and focus on the way it clings to his body. It’s a black so deep against his pale skin that it makes your eyes feel as if you’re staring into a void.

You hiccup and a soft smile plays at the corners of your mouth as you take in the tart apple and spicy woodsy scent that only the Malfoy men have. It reminds you of all the nights you’d sneak into Draco’s room as a kid and cuddle against his side when you couldn’t sleep, and in your current drunken state, it’s completely intoxicating.

“What’re you doing, Y/n?” Lucius demands as your hand travels up the length of his arm.

You give his biceps a squeeze and chuckle in response. He has such a strong body and he’s adorned it in such a delicious feeling fabric. One you can’t seem to keep your hands off of and want to crawl into.

The truth is that you don’t know what you’re doing and with every blink of your weary eyes, you see Draco’s iced silver ones in waves. You see glimpses of blonde hair in your grasp, lush, silky and soft. You imagined it countless times in the past, pale white hips rutting against your backside while you both watch in the silver ornate mirror that hangs over his dresser just beside his bed. You’d wished it happened as it had in the privacy of your dreams and daydreams.

You see flashes of books in Lucius’ study. The two of you would sneak inside while his father and mother were out and the elves were busy. You’d make out there near the fireplace. Other times, you’d be propped up on the desk with Draco’s erection pressed hard against the delicate folds of your clothed, aching sex.

You lean back on the familiar desk, wet ass gliding against the smooth mahogany. Lucius led you here into the study, which means you’ve truly fucked up.

The study is just the way you remember it. The backside is filled from floor to ceiling with books and skulls and trinkets, all meaning something to Lucius, or simply nothing at all. Lucius’ desk remains in the center, facing the fireplace, and placed firmly on a fancy rug with a huge velvet chair behind it. He has other knickknacks here and there, but the study remains fairly simple and serves its purpose.

You turn to your right and see a family photo nestled in a silver gilded frame. Draco stands in the middle, posed with his chin up, his parent’s stand as far away as they possibly can with their hands resting on either side of his shoulders. No one smiled, save for the small tug at the corners of Narcissa’s lips, though it didn’t meet her dim eyes.

When you’d snuck down here with Draco, he’d turn it face down on the desk before delving into you. It sits upright now, yet piles of marked scrolls threaten to bury it. A box of limited edition quill inks sit in a box beside them and a semi-wet quill lies on an open scroll just beside you. You come to the conclusion that he must have been working when he sensed someone’s presence, your presence, outside.

Lucky for him.

It’s so late that you begin to wonder where Narcissa might be, where Draco might be since you’d come for him. Asleep upstairs maybe. Or perhaps somewhere else entirely. As for Narcissa, you’d noted her absence shortly after graduation and she only seemed to grow more distant now that you and Draco are of proper age. Draco himself had always remained distant and found solitude in being alone when you weren’t around to keep him company. Just like his mother, his interest in his father had diminished over the years while yours had grown.

Lucius huffs and the springs in the chair squeak lightly underneath his weight. The sound pulls you away from your memories and the weight of your own thoughts settle in the center of your core with a wave of nostalgia. The chair had made the same noise in all those times Draco plopped down there and it knocks you back to a time many years ago.

Draco’s mother had left with her sister, Bellatrix, and you both knew his father would be out later. Narcissa had left you both to the mercy of the house elves, who treated you with much more respect than you cared for.

When silence had fallen over the manor, Draco had waltzed down the hallway and placed a knock on your door. You’d been half asleep in the room given to you since the moment you’d decided this home suited you more than your own. The door had squeaked open, sending golden light cascading over the bright yellow walls they’d let you paint.

You’d hissed at Draco for interrupting your sleep, but somehow he’d managed to coax you out of bed and down into his father’s study. You remember the taste of his lips, so sweet and delicate against yours after the door had been closed. Somehow that had led to him splaying your legs wide and planting your feet firmly on the sturdy wooden surface of his father’s desk.

All you remember afterwards is the fire roaring to life and warming your entire being as Draco pumped you hard with his skilled fingers for the very first time.

You bite into your lip and let out a soft moan as your brain caresses and savors every inch of that memory.

“Y/n!” Lucius demands.

“Lucius,” you mewl softly in a taunting, singsong tone that sends his eyes rolling.

He groans as you kick your muddy heels off and clicks his tongue in disgust when they clatter on his rug.

He curses himself for not remembering to make you take them off at the door. Though, he reminds himself that you don’t usually show up in such a pathetic state where your manners are long forgotten. He also reminds himself that he’s not usually in a position underneath your taunting gaze. You sit there like a queen on her throne. Unfortunately for him, the throne just so happens to be his desk.

Lucius fights the urge to take control of the situation, though his body aches for him to do so. He wants you off his desk, off your ass, sobered up, and sinking down his cock. He caresses his chin and bites into his bottom lip before flinching away from that final realization, away from you and the way your nipples grow hard against the thin fabric of that skimpy dress you’d slipped on hours ago to meet with friends in. Had he been here, he wouldn’t have let you step a foot outside in such scandalous attire. He curses your father for being so absentminded and so uninvolved in your life.

Despite that truth, Lucius had watched you bloom into a brilliant witch and beautiful woman. Over the years, he’d listened to Narcissa’s comments on the way your body had practically become a woman’s overnight—large breasts and curves that had been flaunted too well in your robes and skirts. Lucius forked over more money for your new robes and uniform without hesitation. He couldn’t stand the idea of boys at Hogwarts gawking at you, targeting you with their useless, impure minds. And selfishly, he’d always seen you more fit for a Malfoy, even though you went against everything they stood for.

You have half-blood friends, you were sorted into a house other than Slytherin, you were curious about muggles. Lucius had pushed all those details to the back of his mind when he took you in. You were strong, opinionated even when he disagreed with you, and best of all, you never backed down from a challenge. You weren’t weak and he appreciated that quality about you.

Now, you appear stronger than ever, though your judgement is obviously skewed.

“I’m disappointed in you,” he begins. He knows he has to scold you like a child, but he also knows you’ll do it again if he doesn’t. He hates that he has to be the one to do it. “I think y—“

“Deserve to be punished, don’t I?” You whimper and pick at your nails with a firm pout of your pink lips.

Lucius rolls his eyes and ignores the ache daring to tear him apart at the seam if he allows you to open your mouth again. He comes off the chair and turns to face the endlessly shelving of books. He crosses his arms and stares mindlessly at the first row that meets his eyes, far away from you.

Sickness, much like bile, collects at the base of his throat and he swallows it down. He knows he cannot touch you, it’d be crossing the line on so many levels. Worst, it’d go against his morals. He’s married. His son is one of your better best friends. He’s friends with your useless excuse of a father, he’s looked your mother in the eyes over countless meetings decades ago where he vowed to take care of you to the best of his ability before he took you in for good. Yet, every civilized thought escapes his mind when he hears your breathing hitch behind him. A soft shuffling follows and he swallows dryly. He knows the sound all too well—wet clothes being removed, peeling away from damp skin, and plopping against the floor.

You’re a sopping mess in the neatness of his study. His rug will suffer, but so will he.

He clenches his teeth and sneers as be whips his wand out and sends a charm towards his study door. It closes and locks quietly, but the near silent sound echoes loudly in his eardrums.

You let out a soft whimper as you bristle against the cool rush of the closing door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. The men of this manor never could, and with the close of his door, you’d just become Lucius Malfoy’s seductress.

You roll your head back and stare at the way the ceiling curves to a point above the desk. You’ve stared at it many times when Draco pleased you while he remained completely oblivious to your true desires. Thoughts of Lucius had plagued your mind while Draco’s fingers and mouth did all the work. His father’s name had clung to the edge of your tongue while you forced Draco’s out with careful skill. You knew it was wrong, but it’d almost become a game during those long nights. You’d always wondered if you’d slip up and what Draco would do if you did.

You splay your thighs wide and run your feet along the arms of the emerald green chair. With heavy eyes, you watch the fabric’s color distort slightly from light emerald to a darker shade of the same color with each stroke of your flesh. While you do this, you take notice that Lucius hasn’t turned around since he’s left the chair. Denying his own primal needs as a male, you’re sure. You’d just waltzed, well, stumbled right in and threatened all order, seized all his control with minimal effort, and he hates it. You know he does. Yet, your own need for warmth begins to overtake your own motives and you shiver against the cool air circulating in the darkened room.

“C-could you start up a fire?” You blurt through clenched teeth as you hug into your shivering body.

Lucius’ head snaps back as if he’s been in a trance the entire time. His senses slowly return and he follows the needy plead of your voice. He regrets it the very moment your nude body comes into view. Your lacy black underwear are all that remain of the clothes you’d stripped off and Lucius is suffering indeed.

Hardened grey eyes glaze over the length of your being. He takes in the way your dark hair is now chopped at your shoulders, the length of your short, delicate limbs, the perfect curvature of your breasts and hips. It’s all more proportional and more appealing than he cares to admit.

His eyes snap away from your shivering body and he forces himself to focus on the dead fireplace alongside the wall. The door is sealed shut behind you, beyond you. He should open it, the door. He should summon Draco or call for an elf to help you, cloth you. If you’re this comfortable around him, daring really, then he has no doubt that his son has seen you just the same and would have no qualms about helping.

Cunning as you are, you should have been sorted into during your school years. A true shame that the Slytherin house missed out on such brilliance due to a wrinkly old hat and a fool of a headmaster.

He thinks to himself.

Lucius kindles the firewood in the fireplace with a sharp snap of his fingers and watches the fire spark. As the wood crackles, the flame catches another piece and begins dancing to life as he attempts to choose his next words as carefully as he can.

“How long?”

You cannot admit that your liking for Lucius had begun at the ripe age of fifteen. You were young, impressionable, and Lucius had shown you how real men care for their families. While Draco complained about his father, you saw a hardworking man who needed to put food on the table for his family, a provider. You seen him as the man who’d step in when your real father chose not, and you admired that too.

You swallow and keep your eyes on your fingertips which are coming more and more into focus with each pick of your nails.

“It’s been awhile,” is all you manage.

Lucius continues staring into the fire, still upset with himself for closing the door while trying to work out how long a while consists of. His heart races with both fear and excitement, but he isn’t sure which one will win this battle.

After a while, Lucius brings a blanket over from the corner of the room. He dusts it off and wraps it around your warming body. He doesn’t dare look you over again. He can’t. Not when your eyes watch his every move, from his pacing to the way he strokes his chin across the room when he’s deep in thought. He hadn’t planned for you to show up like this and hadn’t planned for you to strip everything off and be so confidently naked in front of him.

He stares at another book on the shelf, hardly registering the title as he slips a delicate stripe down the spine. He needs something else to focus on, but he isn’t prepared for the sound that comes out of you next. A sound that ripples through his very being and has him on edge like a wild beast.

The fingertips of your right hand run down the plain of your belly, relishing the feeling of your warming body before slipping underneath the hem of your lace. The blanket shifts off your shoulders as you spread your legs wide and allow your fingertips to trickle just below the dampened folds. The thought of Lucius, as always, overtakes your senses, and you graze right between the folds with a low moan. You tease your arousal before bringing it back up to the little protrusion between your lips. You give your clitoris a generous rub and you melt right where you sit.

Lucius’ head whips in your direction and all color leaves his face. His body goes still like a statue.

“You… Y—“

His name finally slips off your tongue and it tastes absolutely delicious. You’re exhausted with holding back, holding it in. You’d spent years doing so and you weren’t going to give up this opportunity that’s presented itself. It was supposed to be Draco that let you in, that came to your rescue as always, but when the long, white-haired Malfoy, the patriarch of this manor opened that door, you knew the stars had aligned that very moment.

“I command you to stop,” Lucius orders, but you shake your head in protest and circle harder.

Lucius feels as if he’s the one that’s been drinking. The way your moans and soft pants make his head spin is intoxicating. He can’t help the way his cock twitches underneath his pajama pants. He’s glad the robe does the job of covering the sudden reaction. He doesn’t want you to have the satisfaction of knowing what you do to him.

He bites into his lip once more and shuts his eyes. No, he reopens them because the memory of you naked is now engrained behind his eyes and also right in front of him. You’re everywhere he looks, your moans are all he can hear. He cannot escape you. Perhaps if he just opened the damned door. But he’s sealed it shut with a charm not even his own son could get through on the other side. It sealed off all sound and no one would come bothering the two of you. He knows this, even with the sickness rising in his throat again.

Lucius’ eyes cower towards you, watching the way your hips rock softly against your circling fingers. You hadn’t slipped inside yourself, just gathered your arousal enough to keep the rubbing lubricated. His cock aches and he cannot remember the last time he had sex, let alone the last time a female had grazed him with such vulgar imagery. He turns way from you and wishes for the pulsing in his veins to stop. He wishes away the heat centering between his legs, but it remains. Your panting grows louder and he fears he will erupt right where he stands. So, what would be the harm if he were standing in front of you instead? What would be the harm if he simply gave in? Stopped fighting and resisting?

He lets out a shaky breath and faces you. You watch determination settle in his eyes and you let out a squeaky moan. Lucius makes his way towards the desk and kicks the chair to the right side. When he finally faces you, his face goes pale. He flinches at the sight of you spread open and so beautifully aroused. He’d missed the fact that you’d now removed the lace, which he’d hardly call underwear as they’d probably hid nothing from the skimpy look of them on his rug. But now, your sex is glistening at the folds, reddened and swollen with heat, and he almost collapses.

“Help me, Lucius,” you hum and trace your wet fingers upwards in a smooth motion.

His grey eyes follow the wet trail up to your navel, over the soft skin of your belly, over your sternum, and now the way you lazily circle around each of your nipples. His chest tightens, but he can no longer force himself to look away. This entire situation is scandalous and if he were to take this risk, how would anyone other than the two of you know? He knows you brilliant enough to keep your mouth shut about something like this. It would ruin you just as much as himself if word got around.

Lucius whips his robe open and your eyes go wide in amusement. Creamy white skin with dark hairs covering the expanse of his chest and navel before leading a trail underneath the hem of his velvet pajama pants. You cock your head and smile weakly at the protrusion in the center. He’d been hiding it, the way you turn him on, and a deep satisfaction steeps in your belly.

You place your palm on your sex. Excited by the sight of him hardened for you, you feel the need to release yourself; however, Lucius quickly throws a wrench in those plans. He takes your sopping fingers and tosses them away from your mound, and you watch as he kneels on the floor in front of you and pushes your legs further apart.

You can’t hide the amazement in your eyes as he pulls you to the very edge of the desk.

Lucius Malfoy kneeling.

Your mouth waters. So does his.

His eyes devour the glistening between your thighs and his heartbeat quickens with each passing breath. If he does this, there’s no going back. If he doesn’t do this, you’ll both be completely unsatisfied and the awkwardness would linger in the air much longer than the realization of your actions if he were to give in. With your eyes plastered on him, he can’t stop himself from licking his lips. Your body is so intriguing, so divine, and he wants to explore every inch. With quivering lips and unsure thoughts, Lucius’ breath shutters against your warmth before licking a stripe up the wet folds of your cunt. Your head falls back and a rumbling moan escapes your throat. You know this will be so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced in this room.

Your fingers caress his scalp and gingerly gather this long platinum hair into your fists. Your hips buck forward to meet each flip of his tongue. You feel hot all over. Your head, your cheeks, your throat, chest and belly, your thighs and ass pressed hard against the wood, and your very core. Lucius suckles at your clit and it almost sends you overboard. You attempt to pull him away, but he clamps hard enough to earn a yelp before settling back. He lets out a rough chuckle and toys his thumb over the reddened protrusion before slipping down and pressing through your entrance.

You fall back on your elbows and shut your eyes to the ceiling.

“Lucius…”

Remarkable. Is all that come to mind at the way your cunt squeezes around his thumb. With the sound of your ravenous moans in response to this little action, he can hardly imagine what you’d sound like with his cock buried inside of you.

“Fuck me,” you snarl. “Please fuck me, Lucius.”

He knows he can’t ignore your commands any longer. He would be mad if he did. He stands to attention, slipping right out of his garments as he does. His cock pulses as he sucks your juices off his thumb, then uses the same hand to stroke his own ache. He sighs in relief and you watch him align himself. He wastes no time thrusting through your folds and you howl in pain and pleasure.

Perhaps you should have warned him of the truth, but it’s much too late. His cock is tight inside of you, running along the fresh, untouched walls with so much precision. Your breasts ache and your chests burns. Your entrance burns, but you don’t care. You’ve needed this for years, craved it, and now you’ll relish every inch of him.

Something flickers in his eyes when they find yours, shame and lust reflect in them. He can’t believe he’s inside of you, can’t believe he gave in so easily. He hadn’t bothered asking of your prior experience. Truthfully, he didn’t want to know how many men had buried themselves inside this glorious, tight hole of yours. The ridges of your walls had swallowed him whole and he didn’t need to think of any competition because he was already determined to be your best.

Lucius watches you like a hawk, catching the way your hand finds your curls and massages into your scalp. He watches the way your breasts jiggle with each movement of your body against his. He closes his eyes, hoping it’s just a dream. When he opens them again and you’re still there like the delectable woman he now knows you to be.

It’s not long before your chest begins to tighten and the squeeze in your core contracts softly. You know this feeling all too well, Draco had taught you all you knew about the feelings of an orgasm, and you won’t last much longer. Not with Lucius hitting all the right spots and his rutting cock buried so deep inside your very core. Your head spins and the point on the ceiling distorts as you falter back onto your elbows. You feel as if you’re floating and he feels like perfection.

Lucius tries to avoid your eyes, your low and seductive features that have his mind reeling and tethering on the edge of reality. He knows he shouldn’t have given in and that he’ll pay for it every time he sees you going forward. He’ll think about it when his wife returns home, whenever she returns home. He’ll think about it when he sees his son and he’ll scowl at idea that he may have had you in this very position before but never had the balls to go any further. Or maybe he has and Lucius should’ve triple-guessed before delving balls deep into your tight little cunt.

He snarls at the thought and at the sight of your arousal glistening under the golden light along his full length with every pull of his hips. He’s growing sloppier in his thrusts, failing miserably in keeping his groans and grunts at bay as he wished. He can’t have you thinking he’s enjoying himself or that he will be allowing this to happen again. He can’t allow you to bring out this side of him again, messy and bending at your will. Yet, if this will be the last time, he plans to make it memorable for the both of you.

Lucius glides his hand over the plain of your stomach and watches the way your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his thrusting. He’d give anything to be properly buried there, right in the softness of your skin, but he knows this is wrong. But how can it be wrong when his name slipping off your lips sounds as if an angel is calling out for him?

He sneers and squeezes his eyes shut. He tries to imagine a time when his wife loved him enough for this, not from a place of dedication or duty, but just a desperate need to be touched by him. A need for hot, raging, glorious sex. And he almost goes limp at the thought of her.

He opens his eyes and yours are right there, hungry and focused solely on him. Whatever alcohol had dared to poison your liver, dared to overtake your senses has vanished very quickly. Though, he knows you’ve been aware from the moment you’d grasped his robe in the entryway. He knows from the way something like golden fire sparkled in your eyes in all the times you’ve glanced at him when no one was watching over the years.

Something flutters deep in Lucius’ core and he pants loudly at that realization. It drives himself to take a fistful of your hair without thinking it over, and he almost melts when you flash a bright smile that sends him swooning.

Fuck me, Lucius.

The line rings like an echo in his mind.

“Lucius… Kiss me.”

Lucius’ eyes blaze and he rushes his mouth against your plump pink lips on command. Your tongue sweeps over his and his eyes grow wide as yours flutter to a close. The bitterness of whisky and the sweetness of butterscotch that lingers after too many Butterbeers is heavy on your tongue, but you taste just as sweet against him like strawberries underneath. He imagines you downing goblets, tossing them back like a champ. Perhaps the sway of your hips if music were playing throughout the tavern. He knew you to be confident in that way, somehow always socially adept and always the center of attention, even though you denied it.

You sweep your arms around his neck and pull him closer, and just as his thrusts begin to falter, you bring your heels up to his muscled cheeks and drive him in further. A shakily groan floods into the cavern of your mouth and his eyes glow with something you’ve never seen before. Desire? Lust? You don’t know. All you know is that you don’t want him stopping until your orgasm is pulsing all around his long, slender length. You want to feel his warm seed coating your inner thighs and stomach. And as much as you wish to feel him spilling inside of you, his milky semen dripping out of you and growing sticky between your thighs as the night grows to day, you know you can’t allow that. Not now.

With your lips hot against his, Lucius can hardly contain himself. His grip in your curls tighten as he holds your lips to his, swallowing each of your pressing moans whole. He gives you the satisfaction of guiding him deeper until he’s had enough. When he does, he withdraws entirely.

He could explode from the way you appear in front of him, eyes blown, pussy swollen and glimmering at the folds, breasts supple and nipples harder than his cock. Your arousal is all over his length and groin and he can’t take it easy anymore. He grasps your arm and yanks you off the desk. You yelp as he twists you around in one quick motion and ropes one of your knees in his hands to press up against the desk.

A chill runs down your spine and your nipples ache against the coolness of the wood. They’re begging to be relieved, but neither of you can be bothered to do so when the pleasure of Lucius’ cock being buried inside you is much more vital.

He knows the fireplace had done nothing to warm the desk and he relished the sight of you shivering against the chill. He watches the way goosebumps prickle over your skin and the way your ass has become discolored from being pressed against his desk for so long. He gives it a firm smack, which earns yet another whimper from your lips.

He smirks while collecting himself and driving back into you.

With a deafening grunt, he takes your hair back into his fist and places the other on your hip. His own plow against your ass and you whine at the new depths of his cock.

Your cheeks burn at the thought of how wet you are in front of him, for him. Unbelievably pathetic.

Knowing this will end soon feels like absolutely torture and Lucius struggles with that reality with each contraction of your walls. His thrusts remain erratic, but he stopped caring. His hand loosens in your hair and squeezes harder against your hip when your back arches. He catches you taking glimpses of him over your shoulder and chuckles at your desperation. Though, his is just as bad. He’s never known how desperately he needed this from you.

“Perhaps I should’ve left you on your ass.”

“Maybe,” you pant nonchalantly. “At least I would’ve been granted the pleasure of seeing your face when you release.”

He tugs you closer and uses the chair to prop his own leg up before dropping his hand from your hair entirely and lowering it to your jawline. He grasps it hard and you groan against the touch.

“You want to see my face when I release?” He laughs coldly. “Well, here I am.”

He stares into your lidded eyes and smirks at how fucked out and beautiful you look taking his cock.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

It’s a backhanded compliment, but he lets you let it out an exasperated giggle. It rumbles in your throat underneath his hand and drives him mad.

“How many cocks have you taken?”

You blink blankly, surprised by the question, the forwardness. You’re prepared to force out an answer, but his hand tightens around the base of your throat, squeezes just enough to cut off air.

“The truth,” he adds. “Only the truth.”

He loosens his grip a smidge and you gasp the words, “Only yours.”

Lucius’ eyes go grim and he squeezes your throat again. Your cheeks burn hot in embarrassment.

“The truth, Y/n!”

Your core aches at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue and you shiver against him.

“Just yours, Lucius.”

His heartbeat quickens and he draws your lips back to his, forcing himself deeper with the twist. You squirm under the pressure and grasp the edge of the desk for stability as your back arches with each thrust of his hips and his breathing draws shakily against your mouth.

“Y/n,” he grunts. “I… You—your first?”

His eyebrows twitch and his body shivers. A low hum leaves your mouth, completely in tune with the way his body quivers against yours. You focus on the way your own heart begins to race in your chest, a deep thrumming that has you gasping with the tightening inside your core. Your core burns as you hold back your orgasm. You know he’s earned it, but he isn’t there just yet.

Lucius squeezes tighter and you rock your hips back to meet his. His eyes go wide, then roll with a hiss slipping from him mouth simultaneously.

“Shit!”

“Lucius…”

He sneers and slips behind you again, completely withdrawing from your view. He can’t look you in the eyes right now or his load will be buried so deep inside of you that he’ll have a new set of problems on his plate. His wife, his son. He already feels that he isn’t a good enough husband or father. His job at the Ministry is demanding, and you… Merlin, you are going to be the absolute end of him.

He ruts his hips forward in long, hard motions until the only noises filling the study are the sounds of your ass clapping against his groin, the sloppiness of your arousal sticking to his shaft, and your moans drowning out his own. He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts, sinking you down to his balls with each sweep. And your cries…

“Fuck,” he whimpers and shakes at the knees.

He plants both hands on your hips and stares at anything else but your body leaned over his desk, obeying his every command, and rewarding him with its own sweetness.

“Cum for me,” he growls lowly.

Your moans are so loud that you can barely hear the order. You’ve been teetering on the edge for minutes now, barely able to hold your own release back any longer.

“Cum for me now,” he demands. “Or I.. I’ll….”

You rock your hips and Lucius lets out a deafening groan that sends you overboard. Your walls tense around him and your body flushes hot as you milk him dry. He sputters and grasps your ass, your hips, your waist, then with agonizing discipline, he slips out of your squelching warmth and explodes all over you with a roar. Warmth explodes all over your backside, your thighs, your ass, and you collapse on your arms against the desk. Your legs shake terribly and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to stand much longer.

Lucius’s groans stifle into breathy pants and the familiar squeaking of chair behind you fills your ears as he pulls you down into his lap. Your legs almost give out with the action and his eyes are full of nothing but hot rage. He splays your legs apart and clamps his hand over your cunt, feeling the stickiness of your own orgasm between your thighs. He watches you intently, studies you and the way your body shutters softly with his touch. Then, his own need for control returns, washes over him in a powerful wave.

He swirls his fingers just as he’d watched you do, just the way you like it. Your head snaps back, nipples peaking once more and your moan filling his ears with that sweet melody he’ll never forget. He hates how pretty you look when you cry, but he loves how responsive your body is to his every touch.

“Lucius… please…” you pant softly, eyes already rolling.

“I don’t recall saying we were done,” he muses.

His fingers run between your trembling folds and you jerk forward with a breathy howl.

You catch sight of his vile smile as you tremble in overstimulating pleasure and you bite back a demanding moan knowing this is now his own form of torture.

Lucius’ brows raise as he watches you struggle to regain your own control. Just when you think you have it, he lets out a soft sigh. Something along the lines of, “Happy Christmas,” fills your ears in a deep groan just before he plunges his fingers into your needy cunt and takes you all over again, completely reminding you who is always, truly in control.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fanfics:

⚡︎ Keep Me (In the Shadows) (m.) - Draco Malfoy x reader

⚡︎ Lost Love (m.) - Lucien Vanserra x Rhysand x reader

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Perfect Storm (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

December 2024

[theblackstar04]

oooh okay what about black sisters hcs (or just ramble idc honestly) ?

the black sisters actually make me so insane omg these are just some head cannons i have for them

bellatrix

-she's the eldest of her sisters

-plays croquet and fencing, along with self defense

-joined quidditch in her 3rd year as either a beater or seeker (i haven't decided which)

-genuinely believes in pureblood ideology, especially after hogwarts

-dated rita secretly during hogwarts until she married rodulphus a few years after hogwarts

-her and rita had a on/off relationship, longest they were broken up was a month

-bpd with psychotic features, ptsd, destructive behaviours (especially when she was younger)

-her 'rebellion' is putting 100% into everything. they want her to be a deatheater? she's going to be the most devoted one there is. do well in school? she's getting top scores.

-very extreme with everything she does.

-hated sirius since he was born for getting to be the heir. was both happy and angry when he ran.

-regulus was her favourite until he became the heir

-jealous that narcissa and andromeda were closer with eachother than with her

-used to sing

-she wasn't always 'crazy', but once everyone referred to her that way and acted as if she was, well, its difficult to not become that

-if she was an animagus, she would be a raven

-naturally curly hair, absolutely cannot tame it. black hair

Andromeda

-middle child

-played croquet, didn't care much for any sports

-it was only in hogwarts that she questioned pureblood ideology

-dated ted after 6th year secretly

-ran away after hogwarts with ted

-challenged her families beliefs subtly

-ptsd, osdd 3, extreme paranoia

-was closest with narcissa (and later sirius)

-played the violin

-visited narcissa the night before her wedding, wanting her to run with her. accepted her answer as no, but made sure she knows how to contact her if she ever needs to.

-she does miss her sisters, but knows running was the right thing for her to do

-if she was an animagus, she would be a heron

-naturally wavy/curly hair, very dark brown hair.

Narcissa

-youngest child

-plays croquet, prefers to watch quidditch rather than play.

-doesn't 100% agree with pureblood ideology after andromeda ran, but will never openly go against it

-often got overlooked in favour of her sisters

-she doesn't express emotions loudly like her sisters, but she feels very strongly and deeply

-had a short and sweet relationship with alice before lucius. she wonders what it could've been

-dated lucius in 7th year, got married a year after hogwarts

-ptsd, osdd 4, anorexia (mostly recovered in adulthood, relapsed with the stress of the war)

-was closest with andromeda (and then regulus)

-plays the piano occasionally

-if she was an animagus, she would be a swan

-naturally wavy hair, straightens it. black hair with poliosis making streaks of her hair white. she later starts dying her hair

All of them

-i hc that croquet, fencing, and hunting were all things that purebloods were expected to do

-they were all close during their hogwarts years, before everything went downhill

-the symbolism of three!!

-childhood nicknames for eachother make me cry. "andy" "cissy" "bella"/"trix/ie"

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Me & The Devil P.2 🌘| Harry Potter Imagine

takes place during HBP & DH1

Part 1 here Final Part | HP Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Black!Sister reader x HP characters (platonic), Severus Snape x reader (platonic/semi-romantic)

Content Warnings: death, violence, profanity, angst, slight cannon divergence, mentions of torture and blood, set during the book timeline of the 1990s | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested yes/no

Premise: A dark storm is brewing over Hogwarts. The return of Voldemort and his Death Eaters spark unease in the Golden Trio. For a certain member of the Noble House of Black, she takes on a new role of double agent with the partnership between her and a certain Hogwarts professor. Will she survive the ordeal and get her freedom when it's all over? The odds are slim when acting as a loyal servant and hunted by aurors.

Note: Snape is 37 in this like the books and reader is 31. Part 3 will be the final chapter to this miniseries but I have no idea when it will be posted. Hope y’all like this one! Also near the end the final scenes are inspired by Wanda in MOM so yeah that belongs to Marvel

——————-

Months went by. Waiting. Scheming. Y/n felt her mind deteriorate by the day. Between Bellatrix’s constant complaints of Draco’s failures and Narcissa’s moping, Y/n spent most of her time in the attic of Malfoy Manor. Hidden away to perfect her spells and create new ones. She even managed to successfully become an animagus. 

A black crow.

How fitting.

At times Y/n found herself sitting in front of the window. Especially when it rained. The lightning in the distance, the crisp air filling the attic walls. Lost in her thoughts, Y/n would caress the silver jewelry laid on her left ring finger. 

Once a month she’d receive a letter from Severus, unbeknownst to the others, detailing Draco’s attempts and all the times Snape’s had to cover for him. As part of their deal to keep quiet of the others' disloyalty and motives behind actions, Snape agreed to update her on Draco and keep the Order off Y/n’s trail. For Y/n’s side of the bargain, she agreed to deflect suspicion on him from their fellow Death Eaters. Specifically her sisters.

And what better way to do that then in holy matrimony.

“You want to get married?” she scoffed, placing her wine glass on the coaster. Having left with her sisters following the unbreakable vow, Y/n returned later that night after Severus sent an owl. Sitting in the same leather chair from before, “You humor me.”

“I can assure you I am everything but comical, Y/n,” he drawled, standing by the fireplace. The sound of wood crackling filled the room. “This is not an arrangement I suggest lightly.”

Seeing how serious he was, Y/n’s demeanor changed. “Wow,” her tone lowered, finger raising to tap her lips. Unable to read her mind since she was a gifted Occulmens like himself, Snape was left to wonder what Y/n was thinking. Truth be told the woman was more impressed than shocked by his proposal. “I think that’s the first time I’ve been rendered speechless, Severus.” Standing, Y/n grabbed her glass and approached the man. “You truly believe this would work? Proposing a marriage between us….” she trailed, glancing at the fire briefly, “is intriguing. Tell me more.”

Snape’s expression remained the same, “It is simply a matter of convenience.” No need to sugar coat it, “We want to keep our secrets hidden. So long as you can assure your sisters stay off my back…..I’ll make sure the Order stays off yours. We play the part of a happy married couple when operating business with the Dark Lord, and I will do everything in my power to get your freedom when this all ends.” 

Y/n liked what she was hearing. The more she thought about it, the more engrossed she became. Marrying Snape wasn’t ideal--as the concept itself she did not care for--but Y/n could not deny the idea made her curious. Plus Severus was handsome, a talented wizard, and obviously, he knew her motives for following Voldemort. What her end goal was. She needed to keep him close. 

“I think I’ll find playing the part of a smitten wife will be rather easy,” she rasped, stepping closer to Snape so their chests were nearly touching. Walking her fingertips up the length of his arm, Y/n leaned closer to Snape which ignited a sharp breath from the man. She smelled of expensive perfume. Their closeness allowed him to see how her eyes turned from their usual coldness to something more lustful. Almost sinister. His reaction made her smirk, “Confident you can manage the same….husband?” 

Now, almost a year later, the two managed to successfully keep their union hidden from the Order. All while any suspicion the Death Eaters had of Snape seemed to disappear. Bellatrix, initially furious and doubtful of their ‘relationship’, soon began to trust him. Still, the witch grimaced each time the pair greeted the other with an affectionate kiss. Or when Y/n took claim to Snape’s lap during meetings. An action which surprised the man himself in the beginning.

Each letter Severus sent was met with one in return, however Y/n was careful to only send her owl in the late hours of the night. When her family was sound asleep. Signing the parchment with only her initials, but instead of B as the ending initial it was S. She’d never admit it aloud, but Y/n felt a sense of comfort with Severus. There was an overwhelming amount of hate in her heart, but the pinch of sanity left in her soul connected to him. Which is not a surprise. He is, of course, the only person who can relate to her. 

Neither would call it love. Y/n possessed no love. And Snape lost his when Lily died. They had mutual respect and care for each other as their partnership grew. Finding the other’s presence calm despite the world around them going to shit. 

The news of Draco’s success in connecting the two cabinets came from Bellatrix’s glee, the woman bursting into the attic with a loud, “It’s time, sister.” Reluctantly, Y/n trailed Bellatrix to Knockturn Alley, where they met several of their associates. 

Dark clouds painted the sky. Thunder rumbling. It set the tone of the evening. 

Y/n stayed stoic the entire journey. Hating every minute, yet doing nothing to escape. Where could she even go? The mark on her arm prevented her from doing so. Until Voldemort was defeated, the only way for her to stay alive was to continue the act of a loyal servant. 

Draco was gone when the group breached the cabinet in a cloud of black smoke. The boy rushed to find Dumbledore and complete his task. He found the man on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower. Unaware his longtime rival, Harry Potter, was below him, watching the scene play out. 

The others arrived to witness Draco complete the task, however, in the end Snape was the one to administer the curse. And so the greatest wizard in history fell from the sky. 

Y/n kept her eyes on Severus the entire time. Watching his reaction. When he went through with the unthinkable, Y/n wasted no time in rushing to his side. Cupping his face, she noticed the dissociative expression Snape wore. Mind processing what he had done. “Severus,” he didn’t respond, making her shake his shoulders, “look at me.” Finally he meets her eye and the woman matches his anxious demeanor. “We have to go. Now.” 

Clutching his robe, the two push Draco in the direction of the Death Eaters. Bellatrix’s maniacal laughter rings as she shoots a spell into the sky to bring forth the Dark Lord’s symbol in the clouds. Not long after the tower was surrounded by members of the Order, ensuing a battle between the groups. Y/n tried to avoid dueling as much as possible. Not wanting to harm anyone, especially the kids in the school. 

Cutting the corner after dodging a spell from her niece Nymphadora, Y/n spotted the wretched Fenrir Greyback attacking a man she didn’t recognize. Judging by the wild red hair he possessed, she assumed it was a Weasley. Greyback’s back was toward her, unaware she stood behind him. From the looks of it, the redhead was losing the fight. 

Not sure what came over her at that moment, Y/n raised her wand and shouted, “Stupefy!” The werewolf was flung into the wall behind him, falling unconscious. 

“Bill!” a voice screamed, Y/n turning to see a young woman running to where the Weasley laid. Bloodied and knocked out. Fluer dropped beside him, sobbing at the state of her fiance. She glanced up to see Y/n, immediately becoming frozen with fear while pleading with her to help. “Y-you--H-he’s been--.”

Cursing to herself, Y/n approached the two. “He wasn’t bit,” adjusting her dress skirt, she grabbed the cuffs of Bill’s jacket and gestured for Fluer to help. Together they moved him to a concealed area away from the battle. “He’s been scratched.” Having studied werewolves while in school, the woman was well educated on the subject. Muttering a healing spell, Y/n attempted to at least stop the bleeding, however, she knew the extent of his injuries were serious. “Nevertheless, the wounds are cursed. They’ll scar.” 

Fluer watched her carefully, “W-why are you helping us?” Y/n gave no answer, instead casting a final healing spell before standing up to leave. In her peripheral vision, she noticed movement from Greyback, and sent a second stun his way to keep him unconscious. She always hated him, so it gave her great pleasure to pu thim down. 

Truth be told Y/n didn’t know why she helped the injured Weasley. It would have best suited her to get the hell out of there and let whatever outcome happen. Whether that be Greyback killing the man or Bill successfully overpowering the werewolf. But instead, she cursed her associate. Saving the life of ‘the enemy’. 

Several agonizing minutes passed before Y/n managed to escape the tower. At Snape’s order, she ran deep into the forest until she was far enough to apparate. Back at the manor she was immediately questioned by her sister.

“Is Draco okay,” Narcissa grabbed Y/n’s wrist to stop her from escaping to the attic. Eyes glossy with tears, “Did he--.”

“Your son is fine, Narcissa,” she roughly pulled away. “You have my husband to thank for that--he finished the job.” There was immediate relief from Narcissa, exhaling the breath she had been holding. Y/n went straight to the liquor cabinent, taking a glass and pouring a generous amount before downing it. She then refilled the glass, offering it to her sister without a word. Once Narcissa took it Y/n kept the bottle for herself, saying nothing more as she made her way to the attic. 

It wasn’t long before the others arrived. Y/n heard Narcissa’s cry of relief upon seeing Draco. Bellatrix was busy scolding Greyback--something that brought a smile to her face. Other murmurs were made out, but hard to identify with all the noise. Moments later she heard the fast approaching sound of footsteps nearing her door. Jolting from her bed with her wand raised at whoever was about to breach it. Only when it was revealed to be Severus did Y/n lower her guard, rolling her eyes, “What have I told you about--.”

Snape slammed the door shut, muttering a silencing charm which caused Y/n to raise her brow. “We need to talk.” Her guarded expression returned, but Snape beat her before she could question him. “I know you stunned the werewolf to save Weasley.” All movement from the woment seized, frozen in shock.

“How do you know--.”

“I saw you with Miss. Delacour, Y/n,” Snape peers down at her with visible frustration. “Why would you risk such a thing? If you had been caught--.”

“But I wasn’t, Severus,” she interrupts, eyes flicking to the door in fear someone was listening, but then she remembered the spell he cast. “I was careful. You should know better than to underestimate me. And to answer your question….” she turned away from him, hands on her hips as she turned her focus to the woods beyond her window. “I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did--It just happened. Maybe it’s the fact the Weasley’s are distant family. Or because I fucking hate Greyback.” She throws her hands up in defeat,  “Or I want the Order to have all its members to better their chances at winning this damn war. Maybe…” her hands fall back to her sides, “deep down there’s some humanity left in me.” The words were so low it was barely a whisper. Y/n shook her head, the speck of softness replaced with disinterest. 

“Whatever it was,” turning back to him, Y/n narrows her eyes in warning. “It’s no longer our concern. Dumbledore is dead, you killed him.” footsteps echo against the wood as she approaches Snape, noticing his expression change at the mention of the headmaster. “He will be plotting his next move. We need to remain focused--I expect his attention will be on us more now given the circumstances.” 

Snape knows she’s right. Killing Albus only shined a spotlight on him, and in turn on Y/n. He was now labeled public enemy #1 in the eyes of the Order. Voldemort himself will likely turn to Snape. They will have to up their game, continuing the act of a happy couple. Well happy as one can be in the middle of a war. 

That summer was endless torture following the Headmaster’s death. Y/n not only had to deal with Voldemort growing stronger, but also the return of Lucius from Azkaban. It did bring the witch great joy to see the dark circles beneath his eyes and matted hair. One year in prison did a number on him. 

Lucky for Lucius it was only one year. Had it been 15 like Y/n, he’d surely gone mad. Thankfully the two rarely saw each other. Not long after his release following Dumbledore’s death Y/n moved into Severus' home. Only returning to the mansion when necessary. 

At every Death Eater meeting Y/n had to fight yawning with how bored she was, keeping her expression blank even when addressed by Voldermort from time to time. The man wasn’t blind. Well aware the youngest Black was not as forthcoming with her praises to him like Bellatrix. Never voicing her opinions, while also keeping any objections to herself like a smart person would do. He never fully trusted her. Even though she was married to one of his most trusted advisors, something in the back of his mind told Voldemort she’d be the first to turn on him. Without proof, Voldemort kept a close eye.

The meeting tonight was just like any other. Seated at the massive dining table in Malfoy Manor, Voldemort at the head while the Black’s and Malfoy’s flanked to the right. Y/n seated beside Draco, far from her sisters. Very telling of her attitude towards them.

Severus was the last to arrive, dark cloak tailing behind him. His entrance caught everyone’s attention, while his was on his colleague hanging in the air. Muggle studies professor Charity Burbage. The wounds on her body indicated she had been subjected to torture. 

“Severus,” Voldemort greeted, “I was beginning to worry you had lost your way. Come. We’ve saved you a seat.” The headmaster took claim to the only free chair at the table, bidding a look to his wife, to which she slightly shook her head. Silently saying, “I had no part in this.”

Voldemort then said, “Do you bring news, I trust?”

“It will happen Saturday next, at nightfall.”

“I’ve heard differently, my Lord,” Yaxley interrupted at the other end of the table, then proceeds to say he believes Harry will be moved at the end of the month. The 30th of July. The day before his 17th birthday.

“This is a false trail,” Snape insists. “The auror office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter. “Those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the ministry.”

The Death Eater seated beside Y/n laughed, “Well, they got that right aren’t they.” Several at the table joined in the laughter. The youngest Black’s expression was tight, plastered with annoyance. 

“What’s say you, Pius?” Voldemort addresses the man seated at the opposite head of the table. 

Nagini curled herself next to the chair as he answered, “One hears many things, my Lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear.” Voldemort chuckles.

“Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, prove most useful, Pius.” The Death Eater appears pleased by the compliment. Voldemort turns back to Snape, “Where will he be taken, the boy?”

“To a safe house. Most likely the home of someone in the Order. I’m told it’s been given every manner of protection possible, once there it will be impractical to attack him.”

Suddenly the conversation is interrupted by Bellatrix. “My Lord, I’d like to volunteer myself for this task.” She leans against the table, voice dropping, “I want to kill the boy.”

“Of course you would,” Y/n thinks to herself, holding back the urge to roll her eyes. Frankly she found her sister to be stupid to ask such a thing. Considering Voldemort mentions his desire to kill Harry Potter everyday. And with the prophecy, there’s no way he’d allow anyone else the opportunity to do the deed. 

In the back, Charity let out a haunting groan, causing Voldermort to shout, “Wormtail! Have I not spoken to you about keeping our guest’s quiet?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the man spoke with urgency. “Right away, my Lord.” As he scurried off, Voldemort returned his attention to Bellatrix. 

“As inspiring as I find your bloodlust, Bellatrix,” the hope was clear in her eyes, disappearing with his next words. “I must be the one to kill Harry Potter.” With that she curled back into her seat, Y/n’s lips raising in a satisfied smirk.

“But,” he rises from his chair, “I face an unfortunate complication.” As much as Y/n wanted to tune out this conversation, the nature of it was hard to dismiss. Especiall when the man walked behind the chairs on her side of the table. Brushing past her sisters before ending beside Lucius. There was satisfaction seeing him visibly afraid of Voldemort. A smirk on her lips when he was to give up his wand, a wizard’s most prized possession.

Her expression shifted when Charity’s brought to the center of the table. Death Eaters laughing at her despair and cringing with disgust at her profession. Y/n moves her gaze to Severus, who’s emotionless to Charity’s pleas. Then when the woman’s killed and her body drops to the table, Y/n lifts her hand to grasp Draco’s wrist. Squeezing it in warning for him to control himself when she sees his distraught state in the corner of her eyes. 

The action surprises the boy. Draco sucking in a breath and forcing himself to relax. Once he does, Y/n removes her touch and waits to be dismissed by Voldemort. As soon as the order is given she’s quick to leave the table, taking Snape’s outstretched hand where he apparates them back home. 

“How do you plan--?” he doesn’t let her finish the question.

“I have it covered.” Moving to his study, he hears her footsteps behind him, Y/n slamming the door shut once they’ve entered. He looked annoyed, “This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it does!” she shouted, making him clench his jaw. Ever since the incident at the Astronomy tower the two had been on edge with each other. For one, the Order discovered their marriage causing Y/n to lose her shit. Now she was public enemy #2 in their eyes. Or 3 if you count Voldermort at the top. Her odds of the Order leaving her the fuck alone decreased immensly. 

Second, Snape told her of his and Dumbledore’s arrangement. That the headmaster asked Snape to kill him. A secret Y/n had trouble wrapping her head around and prayed to a higher power no one, especially Bellatrix, found out about. 

Crossing over to him where he stood at his desk, Y/n caught his wrist to make him look at her. “In case you have forgotten, dear husband, we are playing both sides right now. You say you want to protect Harry Potter…just how do you plan to do that during an ambush you helped orchestrate? What the hell are we supposed to do if Harry Potter dies at his hands Saturday next?” Y/n squeezed his wrist tighter, “I’m putting all my trust into Severus Snape. You promised me my freedom when this was all over.” 

“I haven’t forgotten, Y/n,” he removes himself from her grip, “You say you trust me. Do so, and you won’t be let down.”

Y/n didn’t know where it all went wrong. One moment she was flying in the sky, the next she’s being rammed into by Bill Weasley’s Thestral. Pain erupted in her chest, likely from a broken rib and caught herself on the creature's satchel. Her hand is then grabbed by the imposter Harry seated behind Bill, keeping Y/n steady to prevent falling to her death. Using her talent of legitimins, Y/n identifies the imposter as Bill’s fiance Fluer. 

“You’re not Harry Potter,” she whispers, causing Harry (Fluer) to widen her eyes. The accusation was confirmed when Fluer’s voice responded, “How did you know?” Before Y/n could answer, however, the world around her became black. Having been stunned by Bill who realized what was happening behind him.  

Acting fast, Fluer reached with her other hand to further grasp Y/n’s now limp body onto the Thestral. 

“What are you doing?” Bill shouted over the chaos, “She’s one of them!”

“And she saved your life in the Astronomy tower, William!” Fluer screamed back. Using all her might, she hauled Y/n over the bottom half of the creature. Gripping the material of her robes and dress while ducking at the incoming curses around them. 

When they finally made it to the Burrow, the shaky landing caused Fluer to lose her hold. Y/n fell to the ground, still unconscious. Bruises were sure to form on her body. Bill leaped off the Thestral, helped Fluer off and rushed to Y/n. After confirming she was alive by pressing his fingers to her pulse, the oldest Weasley took the death eater into his arms and followed Fluer into the house. But not before telling Fluer to take her wand which had been discarded into a ditch.

“Wait here,” he said, placing Y/n in the care of Fluer by setting her on a bench outside the door, Bill entered to find the others gathered around an injured George. After the shock wore off of his brother’s state, Bill announced the death of Mad-eye and departure of Mundungus. Deepening the already intense mood.

“There’s something else,” he hesitated, eyes flickering to find everyone staring at him with unease. They watched Bill exit the house, only to return a second later dragging the last person they ever expected. Gasps rang out, wands drawn in Y/n’s direction. The witch barely conscious but fighting against Bill’s hold. Eventually succumbing to sleep once again due to the pounding in her head. 

With the help of Remus, the two propped Y/n in a chair, casting a spell to bind her hands and legs. “Where’s her wand?” Remus urgently looked around, relieved to see the object in Fluer’s possession. He turned to Bill, “What the hell happened?”

As the oldest Weasley explained, Molly approached the woman, assessing her carefully. Y/n had dirt and grime in her hair. A small cut to her temple. Likely from a rock when she fell from the Threstral. Her breathing was shaky, pained groans escaping her mouth which Molly assumed was from trauma to her chest. Although the others were against it, Molly began performing healing spells on Y/n, “Had it not been for her my son would be dead! I do not care what side she is on--I shall offer the same courtesy.” 

The group was alerted to Y/n’s consciousness twenty minutes later when she groaned. Shifting in the chair, her eyelids fluttered briefly before opening to bright lights. Moaning, Y/n straightened up aware of the audience in front of her, however she did not appear concerned. Even with several wands pointing at her. “Hmmmph,” she blinks a few times, settling her gaze on Remus, “what an unpleasant situation we have here. I hoped to be dead before experiencing this.”

It pained Remus to hear her words. Thinking back to that little girl he’d met on the corner of Diagon Alley with James, perched on Sirius’ hip. That little girl was gone. In her place was a woman with the Devil on her shoulder. “We don’t want to hurt you, Y/n.”

Tilting her head as though she found his statement funny, she replies “Is that supposed to make me feel at ease?” rolling her eyes she adds, “Surely you could’ve come up with something better.”

Remus sighed, realizing it was about to be a long night. “We’re willing to negotiate terms if you provide us with information. A lesser sentence if you will,” he chose his next words carefully, seeing her demenor shift, “so long as you are upfront and answer all of our questions with honesty.” Y/n’s face tightened, no longer humored. Remus felt his stomach lurch, not breaking the intense eye contact she set with him.

“You threaten me--.”

“It’s not a threat--,” he insists but Y/n continues.

“With a cell in Azkaban and expect me to comply? By being a snitch?” she shakes her head, eyes full of fury. “Go to hell, Remus Lupin.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Oh?” She grumbles with a glare, “and how else do you suggest it be? I’m not stupid--a tad mad if we want to get technical, but you all have yourselves to blame for that.” Y/n was referring to the Order not taking her in during the First Wizarding War. Sirius warned them of his family and the Death Eaters recruiting her at a young age. Yet no attempt to protect Y/n was initiated. 

The werewolf’s face fell, “Had we known--.”

“Known what?!” She jumped forward in her chair as the dam of pent up resentment and anger broke, making several flinch at the sudden movement. A few wands pointed up but she paid them no mind. “That I’d become a Death Eater against my will? That I’d be forced to use the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottoms or face my sister’s wrath?” She spat with ferocity. Pupils nearly pitch black it made her appear demonic. “You knew what my family was like! Sirius knew--It’s why he left! And you did nothing to save me.” Leaning back in the chair, Y/n finished with, “Go ahead and kill me. I’m not telling you shit.”

Remus runs a hand through his hair, his patience running thin and stress levels rising. “Y/n, I’m trying to help you here. We’re giving you the opportunity to avoid a lifetime in jail if you help us--help us end this war.” When his efforts are exhausted Remus gestures to the man behind him, “Kingsley has Veritaserum and we will use it if necessary.”  Now this has her smirking, chin raising in challenge. 

“Go ahead,” her voice lowers an octave, sending chills along his arms, “I welcome you to.” Weary of her acceptance, the adult members of the Order all exchange looks before Kingsley approaches. Y/n tilts her head back, watching Kingsley unscrew the vial and pour the tiny amount of liquid onto her tongue. Once it’s entered her stream, the woman cracks her neck and returns her attention to Remus. 

He clasped his hands in his lap, leaning in his chair. “How’d you know about tonight?”

Y/n pretends to think, “I think I saw an advertisement in the Daily Prophet. Yeah,” she nods her head, acting serious. “That was it.” 

Remus’s own head falls to his chest, the others visibly confused. The potion was to make her tell the truth. Pretty much against her will. Thinking it may have not settled in yet, Remus asks another question. “Who told him we were moving Harry?” 

Deciding to play along, Y/n shrugs her shoulders, “Yaxley.” Lie. She held back a chuckle at his confused reaction.

“How did he know?”

“Overheard it.” Lie.

“Where?”

“Diagon Alley I assume.” Lie.

“From who?”

“I don’t know.” Lie.

“But he’s the one who told Voldemort.” Y/n rolled her eyes at that, gesturing to her binded hands.

“Obviously since we’re sitting in this predicament.” She sees the frustration on Remus, as well as the others. Yet, the witch couldn’t help but feel entertained. “Anything else?”

“What’s your relationship to Severus Snape?” 

“He’s my husband,” She didn’t miss the way the Order reacted to the news. Upset but not surprised. No point in lying. They already knew about their marriage from what Snape told her. The truth of why, however, was still a secret. 

“Why did he kill Dumbledore?” Harry stepped forward, drawing her attention to him. Anger was written all over his face. Filled with absolute hatred. Something Y/n had expected when her husband murdered the man he looked up to. 

“You were there, right?” she asked, head tilting with curiosity. “Snape mentioned you’d been below the observatory deck.” Tsking, Y/n surveyed him. She was getting under his skin. “Why do you think he did it?”

“I think he did it to save himself. He was a coward,” Harry saw the way her face tightened. Taking offense to his words. A mere speck of what someone could label as affection or respect to her spouse. 

“Severus Snape is many things,” she sounded sinister, anger seeping off every word. “But a coward is not one of them.”

“Fat lot of good coming from you.” Harry antagonized her. “You hightailed it out of the ministry when Sirius died. He was your own cousin.”

“My cousin who left me a sitting duck for the wolves,” Y/n reminded the boy, temper rising. An indicator with how her voice was strained. “Let’s not forget you all thought he was responsible for betraying your parents. Didn’t even hesitate to believe he was guilty.” That cut them all deep. “And I adored Sirius at one point in life. Much like you, Harry Potter,” she let out a deep sigh, attempting to calm herself, “look at where it got me.” Exhaustion was beginning to take over the witch. Her body ached and there was a pounding in her head. Molly’s healing spells worked to patch any internal injuries Y/n had, but she still was drained from the whole ordeal. 

They were getting off track. Having had enough of the tension, Remus butted in, “Answer the question, Y/n. Why did Snape kill Dumbledore?”

“I don’t know,” she simply stated. Lie. “He didn’t say. Although…I can only assume it was to spare my poor nephew.” Another shrug, “And survive the unbreakable vow. Which you already know of.” 

Harry shook his head, “I don’t believe you.” His gut was telling him there was more to the story. 

“Harry, she took the Veritaserum,” Hermoine pointed out gently, missing the flicker of amusement from Y/n. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Hermoine’s right, Harry,” Ron agreed, moving beside his friend. “There’s no way she could be lying.”

“How much did you give her, Kingsley?” Arthur questioned, also suspicious of Y/n’s answers. Kingsley held up the vial. More than half was consumed.

“Enough.”

“Something’s off,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. A bickering match ensued between members of the Order. Harry, Arthur, and even Y/n’s niece, Tonks, had difficulty believing Y/n told the truth. The majority, however, voiced opposition. 

“Veritaserum is a very potent and strong potion, Harry,” Remus stood from his chair, but before he could say anything else, Y/n’s voice took over.

“Which you just wasted.”

Silence consumes the room. Processing what she said. That’s not possible.

Heads turning to the witch, Y/n starts to chuckle in delight. A sight unnerving to the Order as it becomes more deranged. Harry looked to his friends for an answer, but they were just as perplexed as him. Y/n’s voice turns taunting, “Oh my, you lot really are daft at times. Have you forgotten? Or did you believe it to be a rumor?” Her grin is wicked, finding the scene entertaining much to their dismay. “I’m a skilled Occulmens.” 

It was as though the dementors arrived with how cold the air became. Everyone falters, stilling at the revelation. It could only mean one thing:

Everything Y/n said potentially was a lie. 

The Death Eater tsked, “What do you think I did with all that time I had rotting in the middle of the ocean?” she laughs again, more menacingly. “Your little potion is useless! My mind is more protected than Azkaban. For all you know I fabricated everything I just told you.” Her taunting laugh continues, shredding the last ounce of patience the Order had for her. 

Remus kneeled in front of her chair and smacked the table, causing everyone besides Y/n to flinch. “Enough of these games! I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt knowing you’d been forced into this life, but you have proven to be not so different from your associates.” Now that was a nail to the coffin. Any and all of Remus’s hope for Y/n having some level of good in her gone. “This is your final warning--or we will throw you in Azkaban for the rest of your life for good!”

Never straying her stare, the Death Eater murmered cooly, “You have no idea how reasonable I’ve been.” This time it was Remus’s turn to scoff.

“Holding children hostage at the Ministry, attacking Hogwarts, marrying Snape, and sending assassins after the officials who locked you up,” He lists off, surprising the Order with the last detail. They had heard rumors of Azkaban guards and Ministry officials killed in the last few months, but assumed it was Bellatrix. “I don’t see how that’s being reasonable.”

Y/n gave a sound that was a mix of a chuckle and scoff, leaning forward in her chair. “Sending those assassins after them instead of myself was mercy.” A chill rose, Harry’s intuition telling him something was about to happen. “And despite your hypocrises and insults I have warned you time and time again to simply get out of my way.” Remus saw her hands fidget, tightening his grip on his wand. 

“You’ve exhausted my patience,” Her voice lowered once more, almost to a whisper as her bottom lip quivered. “But I do hope you understand…that even now--with what’s about to happen…..” lips curled into a deathly smirk. “This is me being…reasonable.”

Faster than the speed of light, Y/n casts a non-verble, wandless spell that mimics a gust a powerful wind, ripping the binds off her hands and ankles. Remus flies onto his back, the lights flicker and burst. The windows and glass shatter. Papers fly. Hermoine screams, echoing amongst the shouts as Ron pulls her into his arms. Molly leaning over an injured George to protect him from shards. 

 Fluer gasps at the feeling of Y/n’s wand in her hand ripped from her. The death eater had snapped her fingers in the chaos with a non-verbal Accio.

With her wand now in her possession, Y/n unleashes another bout of wind, crippling the Order from attacking her. Once satisfied she makes her escape. Black smoke fills the room before flying out the window and into the night sky. The storm inside the burrow seizing. 

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron coughs, catching his breath. 

“That,” Kingsley stands up straight, sore from colliding with the wall which knocked him down. “Was the closest thing to experiencing the Devil on Earth.”

Tags: @unloved-and-outspoken

[midnight-owlat-musings]

Bellatrix: when have I ever done anything rash or irresponsible?

Hermione: do you want that chronological or in alphabetical order

Andromeda: or varying degrees of intensity and stupidity

Narcissa: or by level of war crime?