#no one will ever play Albus like him ever again (no one will be allowed to even try I don't think)

[thatfatbitxch]

Hi! I just read you're taking requests and I love your writings, so I was wondering if you could write something about Reader being a new teacher at Hogwarts, and she's just as dark and gloomy as Severus? You can choose where to go from there, sorry if it's too vague!

Kindred Shadows

Pairing: Severus Snape x prof reader

Note: I tried my best to make the reader dark and gloomy but that’s not typically what I write so I hope this is okay and what you wanted.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The first whispers of Y/N’s arrival at Hogwarts spread through the castle long before the term began. A new professor—stern, enigmatic, and as unapproachable as the dungeons themselves.

The students, ever eager for gossip, speculated wildly.

“She’s worse than Snape,” a Gryffindor declared in hushed tones.

“No way,” a skeptical Ravenclaw shot back. “No one’s worse than Snape.”

Yet when Professor Y/N arrived, their doubts turned to wary silence.

She strode into the Great Hall during the Start-of-Term Feast, a figure wrapped in shadows, her dark robes trailing behind her like a wraith. Her expression was unreadable, her presence quiet yet suffocating. She did not fidget, did not seek conversation. Instead, her sharp eyes flickered over the students, dissecting them as if they were pieces on a chessboard.

At the staff table, Severus Snape watched her. He was not pleased.

A new professor was bad enough. A professor who mirrored his own presence—his own reputation—was far worse.

Albus Dumbledore, ever the orchestrator of chaos, introduced her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Professor Y/N will be joining us as the new Ancient Runes professor. I trust you will all extend to her the same respect and courtesy you show your other professors.”

A few students exchanged knowing glances.

Snape smirked at the irony.

Y/N inclined her head in acknowledgment but spoke nothing.

The feast continued. She did not engage in small talk with her colleagues. Instead, she observed. She was used to being alone, to building walls high enough that no one could breach them. And yet, across the table, she felt the weight of Snape’s gaze on her. Calculating. Measuring.

She met his stare with equal intensity.

No fear. No admiration. Just… understanding.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Her classroom, deep within the castle, was a reflection of herself—dimly lit, filled with the scent of parchment and ink, lined with ancient tomes that whispered secrets long forgotten. She demanded perfection.

She ran her lessons with an ironclad discipline, leaving no room for foolishness.

When a Gryffindor laughed during a translation exercise in the first week, she fixed them with a stare so sharp it could cut steel.

“Do you find something amusing about misinterpreting a warding rune and accidentally locking yourself in a room for the rest of your life?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with quiet menace.

The student swallowed hard and shook their head. “No, Professor.”

Word spread quickly.

Unlike Snape, she did not belittle students, nor did she play favorites. She was fair, but she was strict. She did not tolerate cruelty, nor did she tolerate incompetence.

She did, however, tolerate silence.

Perhaps that was why she and Snape fell into an unspoken understanding so quickly.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Late at night, Snape often prowled the halls, ensuring students were where they ought to be. He expected to be alone.

Until he wasn’t.

One evening, he turned a corner and nearly collided with her.

She did not flinch.

Nor did she apologize.

Instead, she merely regarded him with those piercing eyes of hers before stepping aside, allowing him to pass.

For the first time in years, Severus Snape found himself momentarily unsettled.

He found her again in the library.

Seated in a secluded corner, surrounded by tomes most wizards had long forgotten, she read with the quiet intensity of someone who belonged in the company of books more than people.

“Professor Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low as he approached.

She did not look up. “Professor Snape.”

His lip curled. “You are quite the enigma.”

She finally closed her book with a soft thud and met his gaze. “And you are predictable.”

His brow arched. “Am I?”

She tilted her head slightly. “You think yourself the only one who understands solitude. The only one who walks the halls unseen except when necessary.”

He said nothing.

“You’re not.”

The silence stretched between them, long and unyielding.

Yet, for the first time, it was not uncomfortable.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

It was now November.

The rain pounded against the castle windows, the sky dark and brooding.

The students had long since retreated to their dormitories, and yet, Y/N remained in the corridors, walking alone.

Snape found her there.

“You enjoy the cold?” he asked dryly, arms folded across his chest.

She didn’t turn to face him. “I enjoy the quiet.”

A pause. Then—

“You’re avoiding something.”

She finally turned to him. “And you’re prying.”

His lips twitched in the closest thing he had to amusement. “Touché.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple. “The staff insists on socializing. Minerva invited me for tea. Dumbledore for chess. Even Hagrid suggested a trip to see his… creatures.”

Snape smirked. “You sound as though you were asked to suffer the Cruciatus Curse.”

She exhaled sharply. “I prefer to be alone is all.”

Another pause.

Then, with quiet understanding, Snape turned on his heel and began walking.

To her own surprise, Y/N followed.

They walked in silence, side by side, shadows trailing in their wake.

It became a habit.

Snape and Y/N often found themselves in the same places at the same time—never planned, never spoken about, but always… expected.

A silent presence at the staff table.

A quiet nod in the corridors.

A book exchanged without words in the library.

Neither sought conversation, yet neither avoided it.

The other professors noticed.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Flitwick whispered to Sprout one evening. “I daresay Professor Y/N and Severus seem… to be friends.”

McGonagall merely sipped her tea. “Two solitary creatures will always recognize each other, Filius.”

Dumbledore, ever the observer, merely smiled.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

It wasn’t until a staff meeting in December that something shifted.

The discussion had turned to disciplinary measures. A group of Slytherins had tormented a young Hufflepuff, and Y/N was the first to demand action.

“This should not be tolerated,” she said, voice cold and sharp. “Favoritism should not dictate consequences.”

Snape stiffened. “You believe me to be biased?”

“I believe you to be blind,” she countered.

Silence fell over the room.

The two professors stared at each other, tension thick in the air.

Snape’s jaw tightened. He expected her to be like him—calculated, logical. He did not expect her to challenge him so openly.

But Y/N did not back down.

It was, perhaps, the first time someone had ever met his glare without fear.

And for the first time in years, Severus Snape felt something unfamiliar coil in his chest.

Intrigue.

Respect.

Something deeper.

But beneath that, something far darker stirred, something more intense and difficult to ignore.

Lust.

He caught himself staring at the way her lips pressed together, the slight curve of her figure, her unyielding presence in the room. His pulse quickened, a tight knot forming deep in his gut. He wasn’t sure if it was anger or something else—something dangerous, something… uncontrolled.

The way her eyes locked with his—sharp, knowing—made his body feel warm in a way that was far more intense than any reaction he’d ever had before.

It unsettled him.

She stood there, calm and unflinching, but there was something in the air, something that made the space between them heavy with unspoken things. The longer their gaze lingered, the more his mind lost focus.

He quickly masked the heat rising in his chest, though it was useless to try and erase it. He knew she saw it, the shift in his demeanor, but he didn’t care.

It was a fleeting moment, but it lasted long enough to change everything.

For a split second, Severus Snape was left standing at the edge of something darker than he had ever known—something far more consuming than anything he’d ever been prepared for.

The meeting eventually moved on, the conversation shifting away from them. But Snape barely listened. His mind was elsewhere, replaying her words.

By the time the meeting ended, she had already left.

Snape remained seated, unmoving.

It took him longer than he cared to admit to realize something uncomfortable:

She had been right.

That night, Y/N found something walking intoher office.

A book.

She recognized it immediately—it was one she had been meaning to borrow from the library, one she had mentioned offhandedly weeks ago.

Beside it sat a single cup of tea, still warm.

And tucked beneath the book was a small piece of parchment.

She picked it up, her fingers brushing over the familiar, sharp handwriting. The note read:

“Perhaps I do have favorites. A wise person once said, however, that even the blind can be made to see. Drink the tea before it grows cold.”

There was no signature.

No explanation.

But she knew.

Y/N’s lips quirked slightly at the unspoken apology. It wasn’t much—no grand gesture, no flowery sentiment—but it was enough.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, a mix of surprise and something else she couldn’t quite place.

As she settled back into her chair, her thoughts turned to the note and to Snape. There had been a shift—something between them had changed. It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he had looked at her during the meeting, the way he hadn’t been able to hide his reaction when she challenged him.

Her mind wandered. The attraction that had flickered between them was undeniable, even if neither of them had acknowledged it aloud.

Y/N set the cup down, the warmth spreading through her chest, and leaned back in her chair, considering the note once more.

She had always been careful with her feelings—guarded, independent, unwilling to let anyone in. But Snape… He was different. Something about him made her feel things she hadn’t felt in years.

And now, with the note, that unspoken connection between them felt even more potent.

She knew Snape wasn’t the type to reveal his emotions easily. His pride and detachment were legendary. But she had seen through it—just as he had seen through her.

The thought of him, however reluctantly, acknowledging something more than their usual interactions made her pulse quicken.

There was something dangerous about it, about him. But in a way, that only drew her in further.

Y/N’s lips parted as she took another sip of the tea, the warmth settling deep within her, but her thoughts remained a swirl of uncertainty.

What did this mean? Would he act on it? Or was this just another of his cryptic gestures, meant to test her without revealing anything concrete?

She didn’t know. But she couldn’t ignore the feeling that things were changing. And the more she thought about it, the harder it was to push it aside.

Meanwhile, in the shadowed halls of Hogwarts, Severus Snape lingered in his own thoughts, trying to ignore the simmering tension rising within him. The note he had left her—it had been a gamble, but he couldn’t help himself. The pull he felt towards her was far too strong, and for the first time in years, he didn’t want to hide it.

His desire for control, for distance, was slipping. He couldn’t hide the growing fascination, the undeniable need for something deeper. The way she had looked at him earlier that day… He could still feel the weight of her gaze, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

The question now was whether or not he could resist it.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

In the classroom, Snape turned just as the door creaked open. His gaze met hers instantly, that familiar, intense look flickering in his eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and hidden tension.

Then, Snape broke the silence, his voice low and measured.

“I trust you found the tea… to your liking?”

Y/N met his gaze, her heart racing, and nodded.

“It was… perfect,” she replied, her voice steady despite the rapid beat of her heart.

Their eyes held for a beat longer than either intended, the space between them charged with something neither was willing to fully acknowledge.

But for once, neither of them looked away.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, like an electric current in the air, making it almost impossible to breathe. Snape’s gaze held hers, the weight of his eyes seeming to dig deeper, as if he were seeing straight through her—into the places she kept hidden even from herself.

Y/N’s pulse quickened, her chest tightening as she fought the urge to speak. She didn’t know what to say. The words felt stuck in her throat, like they’d all been twisted together into something she couldn’t untangle. The connection between them was undeniable, and it was starting to feel suffocating in its intensity.

Snape’s voice broke the silence once again, this time a touch softer, though still laced with the same authority.

“You didn’t need to take my tea, you know.” His words were clipped, but there was an edge to them that hadn’t been there before—a vulnerability barely masked by his usual cold composure. “I merely… thought you might appreciate it.”

Y/N stood still, holding his gaze, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk behind her. She wasn’t sure what to make of his tone. There was something in it, something raw that she hadn’t expected from him. Something that matched the storm swirling inside her.

She took a step forward, her body moving of its own accord. The gap between them seemed impossibly small now, her breath catching in her throat as she closed the distance. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it felt like it reverberated through the very air between them.

“Why did you leave it for me?” she asked, her words both a question and a challenge. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to stand her ground. She wasn’t about to back down. Not now.

Snape didn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering briefly to the floor before returning to her eyes. The cool, detached persona he wore seemed to waver for a moment, and in that brief instant, Y/N saw something more—something that was so stark and raw it left her breathless.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his voice quiet, as if he were reluctant to speak the truth. “Perhaps I thought… you would appreciate the gesture.”

His words hung in the air, the vulnerability in them stirring something in Y/N that she hadn’t felt in years. It was strange, this delicate shift between them. It was new, uncharted territory for both of them.

Before she could stop herself, she stepped closer to him. The space between them was now so small that she could feel the warmth of his body, a heat that seemed to mirror the rapid pulse in her chest.

Snape’s lips parted as if he was about to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, his eyes flickered down to her lips, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause. The tension in the room was almost suffocating, and Y/N felt as if the very air around them was charged with something unspoken.

Her mind screamed at her to step back, to stop whatever this was before it spiraled out of control. But her body betrayed her, taking another step closer, until their faces were mere inches apart. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the lingering tension between them.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.

But the tension was unbearable.

The moment stretched, and Y/N could feel the magnetism between them pulling her in. It wasn’t just physical. It was something deeper, something more primal. She had spent so long keeping her emotions in check, but now, with Snape standing so close, the walls she’d built seemed to crumble. Her heart raced, her breath shallow as she struggled to make sense of the storm that had been set in motion between them.

Finally, Snape spoke, his voice barely a rasp.

“Y/N…” he began, but the rest of the sentence died on his lips. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He wasn’t sure he could say it, even if he tried. The words felt like a weight on his tongue, too heavy to speak, too dangerous to acknowledge.

Y/N inhaled sharply, her mind in a whirl of confusion. Her fingers twitched, longing to reach out to him, but she held herself still. If she moved now, she knew there would be no going back.

His breath was warm against her skin, his presence overwhelming. She could feel the tension between them, thick and suffocating, making it nearly impossible to think clearly.

“I should go,” she said, her voice barely audible, though it wavered. She wanted to leave before either of them did something neither of them could take back. She stepped back, but she didn’t make it far. Snape’s hand shot out, almost instinctively, his fingers brushing her wrist.

Y/N froze, her body stiffening at the contact. The shock of it, the sheer electricity that seemed to course through her at his touch, nearly made her heart stop.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the classroom seemed to fall away, and all that remained was the space between them—charged, dangerous, and more intimate than anything either had experienced in years.

“I don’t want you to go,” Snape muttered, his voice low and rough, though there was an unmistakable urgency to it.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up into his eyes, and for the first time, she saw something more than the cold, aloof mask he wore. There was a flicker of something raw—something unguarded.

And in that moment, Y/N made her choice.

She didn’t step back. She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she took a step forward, closing the gap between them once more. And as she did, she saw Snape’s breath catch, his eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.

Whatever this was, whatever had shifted between them, it was undeniable. And neither of them was ready to walk away. Not yet.

Without a word, Snape moved, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek, his touch almost tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Y/N’s breath hitched, and before she knew what was happening, she found herself leaning into him, her eyes fluttering closed.

The kiss came suddenly, without hesitation. It was fierce, hard—an explosion of pent-up emotions that neither of them had been willing to acknowledge until now. The taste of him, dark and familiar, overwhelmed her senses, sending a jolt through her entire body. His lips were demanding, taking control as though he could no longer fight the pull between them.

Y/N responded in kind, her hands reaching up to grip the front of his robes, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling in the heated space between them, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The years of silent tension, the guarded walls they both had built, seemed to vanish in an instant.

It wasn’t just desire that filled the space between them—it was something deeper, something unspoken. Their lips moved together urgently, as if they both realized that this was the only way to truly understand the shifting current between them.

And as they finally pulled back, breathless and wild, neither of them spoke. The silence was deafening, but it didn’t need to be broken. The connection was clear now, undeniable.

The room was still, the air between them heavy with the weight of what had just happened. Y/N’s breath was unsteady, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin, but she didn’t waver. Neither did he.

She had always been different—sharp-edged, cold, a force that others avoided. She was not soft, not delicate. She did not giggle or blush or shrink beneath the weight of a man’s gaze. And Snape—he was the same.

Unyielding.

Perhaps that was why they had found each other in this strange, silent understanding. Two shadows in the same storm, drawn together not by warmth but by something deeper—something carved from the same jagged edges of solitude and restraint.

She met his gaze, unwavering, as if daring him to take back what had just happened.

He did not.

Instead, a slow smirk—just the barest hint of amusement—ghosted across his lips.

Something in her chest tightened.

Yes, she thought. He understood.

And perhaps, for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t alone.

[scorbusdefensesquad]

Scorbus Halloween Master List 🎃

we don't have to pretend by dustyspines

"Hey, no," Albus began, tilting Scorpius' chin up so they were looking at each other again. "It's never too late to talk about her. If the feelings are still as raw as they were that day, which they clearly are, and you still both are grieving, then it isn't too late. It'll never be like that." He finished, leaning inwards towards Scorpius and, before either of them could really register what was going on, pressed their lips together. It was short, sweet and slightly too wet (in Scorpius' eyes anyway), but it happened.

"You just kissed me." Scorpius said, in a comment that was meant to remain internal, but of course it slipped out.

Halloween 2021 by torestoreamends

It’s been a year (or forty years, depending on how you look at it) since the events of Godric’s Hollow. A lot has changed in that time, almost all of it for the better, but it’s still Hallows’ Eve. It’s never been the easiest of days.

The Vigil by torestoreamends

Harry and Albus visit Godric's Hollow on Hallow's Eve, to join the vigil taking place outside the Potter's destroyed house. What Are You Putting In The Pumpkin Today? by Wyrdmazer

What will you choose this evening: head or a head? Or maybe more heads?

And, yes, it is a word-play.

Oh! You Pretty Thing by orphan_account

It’s 2021, Albus and Scorpius are in fifth year, and Headmistress McGonagall has surprised the student body by allowing some school-sanctioned mischief to go down over Halloween. It’s all fun and games until someone takes the idea of Trick Or Treat too far, resulting in both Albus and Scorpius getting the wrong end of the stick about a very important matter. Have they done the unthinkable and ruined their friendship forever, or will they come out of the other side stronger (and closer) than ever?

Featuring bats, Boggarts and more David Bowie than you’d expect from a canon-compliant one-shot!

Around the Bonfire by BookofSpells

Albus and Scorpius are invited to a spooky Halloween Bonfire in the Forbidden Forest. It's scary, but not nearly as terrifying as Albus' feelings for his best friend.

Another Deathday Disaster by Hang_In_There_Baby_Crookshanks

When Rose Weasley is invited to Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party, Scorpius Malfoy is desperate to secure his own invitation. As his loving boyfriend, Albus Potter needs a plan to make sure his boyfriend gets to attend. Somehow leading to him joining a club, making friends with a small Ravenclaw, and a disaster in the great hall.

But, it's Nick's deathday, when did anything ever go right?

Memories Of A Night In Time by Augurey_Ray

After two years Albus and Scorpius return to Godric's Hollow. Albus' mind wanders to the memories from his first visit.

Fight for your fairytale by emotionalsupporthufflepuff

Albus decides to push himself out of his comfort zone on Halloween.

A Confusion of Coordinated Costumes by heatherwiththeweather

Albus and Scorpius have their first date to the Hogwarts Halloween dance, which means only one thing-costumes. But of course, nothing can ever run smooth with this pair and on the day of the dance, they realise there has been a costume malfunction which does nothing to help with their increasing first date nerves. It's safe to say that dating isn't as simple as it looks.

Al O'Lantern by Ms_Peppersimp

Albus and Scorpius are carving pumpkins on Halloween and a not-so coincidence occurs when they reveal their designs.

Happy Halloween by CQueen

Five year old Scorpius Malfoy is very sad. Not only is his grandfather being very mean, but against his will Scorpius has been forced to dress up as a kitten for a Halloween party.

The icing on the gross cake of his life is that his magical kitten tail has trapped him outside, and it's up to a very brave little lion to save him.

And not only does the boy in the lion costume save him…but he has a proposal for him. Of marriage.

What?

The Board of Spirits by BookofSpells

“How does it work?” Albus asks, his curiosity piqued. He picks up a small, heart-shaped block of painted wood with a magnifying glass in the centre and taps it against the board. Nothing happens.

“It’s like a game,” Scorpius explains, sitting on the bed and gesturing for Albus to join him. “The kids put their fingers on the planchette and pretend to perform a séance. Supposedly, the spirit communicates with them by moving the planchette over the letters and numbers on the board. There is always one cheeky kid that moves it themselves, to trick the others.”

Albus has been hiding his feelings for Scorpius for as long as he can remember. It takes a bit of luck, a spirit board, and four whimsical spirits to show him what's possible.

The Witches' House by TrueMeg

“I dare you to go to the witches’ house!”

On Halloween night, ten-year-old Albus is brought along with James and his friends to go visit the house at the edge of their village, where a family of witches is said to live. But when Albus ends up stuck at the house, he sees the witches for himself. And learns they’re much more like him in more ways than one.

Untitled by xphineasx

Halloween at Hogwarts by: Sirius Owens Hogwarts has a new Halloween event, costumes. Dressed as a Zombie, Scorpius gains two weird new friends and finally gets a chance to act upon his crush.

[cobaltswriting]

Character Essay: Snape

So, there are some characters that I have feelings about. Like, that I can see what the author was trying to do with them, but I also just... think they failed.

Unsurprisingly, two of these characters have to do with Harry Potter. Severus Snape, and Albus Dumbledore.

Yes, I know, J.K. Rowling is a terrible person and a TERF. But this is still something I wanna write about. And this is my blog. So... yeah. The Albus Dumbledore post might come later.

So, Severus Snape.

I’m gonna break this down into 3 big issues I have with the character. Which does definitely call into question the way Snape was written. And I'll even put it under a read more so any people who are pro-Snape for whatever reason don't have to read any further.

And yeah, this isn't going to be nice to Snape. Like, I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Albus Severus Potter should have been named Rubeus Remus. It is actually kind of a crime that he never named a child for Hagrid, considering Hagrid was literally the first person who was nice to him and introduced him to the Wizarding World. But I digress, let's get to the main subject of this essay.

1. Treatment of Students

We know why Snape treats Harry like shit. It doesn't make it ok, but I wanna talk about other students. Disregarding the favouritism towards his own house, we already come across a huge problem, that is also a problem with Dumbledore as well...

Snape's an abusive teacher.

Even if we disregard Snape's treatment of Harry, we have how he treats students like Neville, and insults leveled at students not within his house. Even the best Hermione, who is basically as close to a perfect student as we get, is simply ignored and passed over without a comment, and Neville... Hoo boy.

Like, I don't know the specific guidelines teachers are given that they're not allowed to cross, but Snape breaks almost all of them. Insults and abuse are hurled towards Neville constantly, even when he's in other classes, like him insulting Neville right in front of Lupin. And while I do like Lupin... Lupin just smiles at it. Nothing ever happens. Snape apparently never even gets told off about abusing his students. Hell, he yells at Hermione and Harry in front of the Minister for Magic in the 3rd book, and Fudge, while surprised, does nothing about it other than trying to calm Snape down.

Like, is abuse just... not a thing in the Wizarding World? This comes up in my thoughts about Dumbledore as well, beyond this, but...

If Snape was a teacher anywhere else, he would have been fired. Like, immediately. But he's just allowed to do so. Like, the closest thing to punishment he gets is that he's not allowed to teach Defence of the Dark arts until Harry's 6th year.

And just so we know this isn't the norm, let's look at another teacher... Minerva McGonagall.

She is the head of Gryffindor House (although I still think she should be a Ravenclaw. As should Hermione. BUT ANYWAY) but she does not favour her house. Excluding Quidditch, in which she supports her House's team, but that's a different thing, that's fine. Whereas Snape has probably never taken so much as a single point from Slytherin, she was responsible for the largest amount of points taken from Harry at one time, if I'm right. If not the largest amount, certainly the largest amount of points taken in the first book. She is also strict, but is also shown to be fair, and will compliment a student and praise them if they do well. She praises Hermione in their first class, because while Hermione did not entirely succeed, she did show godd progress for her first try. And while we do not see her compliment a student from another House, it can be assumed that it does happen.

This is how a teacher SHOULD be. They are there to nurture students, teach them, not abuse them and play favourites.

There are other teachers in Hogwarts, but Snape is the main one who abuses them. A case could be made for Barty Crouch (disguised as Mad-Eye Moody) abusing them, by putting them under the Imperius Curse) but considering he was a Death Eater, and was apparently doing it because Dumbledore wanted him to, we'll just... ignore him. I don't think it's too far from what Moody would actually do, although I don't like to think of Moody as abusive.

But yeah, Snape is very abusive of his students, to the point that the most positive thing he can really do towards a student that isn't from Slytherin is ignore them or say nothing. And abuse is a really fucking bad thing, in case you didn't know.

Let's move onto the next topic...

2. His 'love' of Lily Evans

Yeah, I put the love in quotation marks. Mainly because it... doesn't really read that much like love to me. I am aromantic, so that might have SOMETHING to do with it, but...

It just comes off more as a creepy sort of obsession than anything else. An obsession deep enough for him to have a doe as a patronus.

Like... let's start from the beginning. The first time we see Snape and Lily, Snape is spying on her and it's implied that he's been doing so for a little bit. Even though they're just kids, I'm pretty sure that counts as stalking. And then he makes a branch fall on Petunia when she insults them, which could have seriously injured her, depending on the size of the branch and where it hit her. It was enough to make Petunia cry at the least when it hit her shoulder.

Snape also encouraged Lily to steal letters from her sister and read them, when they found out that Petunia had written to Hogwarts. Although I guess that doesn't really come into the subject of his 'love' for Lily.

We also see that Snape is very... racist, I guess? Does the whole blood thing count as racist? Calling Lily a Mudblood, and then when he tries to apologise he can't even deny that if it was anyone but her, he would not apologise for it. So basically having different rules for her, which I guess could come into a love thing but the fact that he calls muggleborns Mudblood and yet 'loves' one comes out as... kinda fetishistic to me, I'm not gonna lie.

In the books we also have him desperate to protect her from Voldemort, crying when she's dead... And yet despite that, he is horribly abusive to her son, just because he looks like his father. And yet he does say that he wants to keep him safe, angry at Dumbledore when he finds out they've basically been raising him like a lamb to the slaughter. So apparently he's fine with possibly mentally scarring Harry, but killing him? Oh, that's just totally unforgivable!

You can point out various things across the books that Snape has done for Harry, but that doesn't change the fact that Snape is INCREDIBLY abusive to Harry, even moreso than he is to other students.

And then we have him taking part of Lily's letter, just because it had her signiture, and part of the photo that showed her in it, which just... always struck me as creepy. Stalker-ish. I dunno how to explain it any better than that.

And then, we have absolutely the creepiest part... him wanting Harry to look at him as he dies. Just so he can pretend that he's looking into Lily's eyes, probably. Which... yeah, that's just super creepy.

Like, I honestly cannot see it as romance at all. It just comes off as Snape having an obsession. It's even worse in the movies where he is shown cradling Lily's dead body against him and crying. Which normally wouldn't be that bad but with everything else on top of that... yeah.

This does bring us onto the last subject...

3. Snape's 'Redemption'

Snape's redemption is supposed to happen after his death. Here's the problem... he's one of the main examples about why J.K. is very poor when it comes to redeeming characters. Like, Draco could have been set up for a redemption, but he wasn't, as were his parents. Snape was set up for a redemption... and J.K. seems to think it was enough?

So, the main thing that is supposed to redeem Snape, that is meant to make us think he's ok... is showing us his past with Lily, and various discussions with Dumbledore. The whole sequence is for exposition and to try and make us think Snape is a good guy because he 'loved' Lily, and that was his motivation for everything good he did. Which, again, comes off as pretty obsessive.

Here's the thing though...

Snape abused Harry for 6 years of his life. He made Draco set a snake on him in his second year. He repeatedly broke into Harry's mind which seemed to end up having the opposite effect that Dumbledore wanted. Dumbledore even basically admits as much, saying that Snape was a poor choice for it, that he had hoped Snape would be able to see past his hatred of Harry's father. He refused to listen to anyone when it came to Sirius, refusing the possibility that Sirius might be innocent (until Dumbledore talked to him about it, probably), outed a colleague as a werewolf, which, considering the allergory J.K. was aiming for, was like outing a gay man, and made him resign from his job because he knew student's parents would be writing in to complain about it, so it essentially cost Lupin a job, which as we know, is already something that werewolves had problems with.

I do have issues with J.K.'s allergory of werewolves as homosexuals... but let's just say that one of the most notable werewolves, after Remus, was known for attacking and 'turning' children and leave it at that. It's not relevant to the topic at hand anyway.

Showing us that Snape did some things right, and that he 'loved' Lily... like, let's pretend that he did love Lily for a moment, and that it wasn't a creepy obsession.

... That still doesn't excuse the shit he did. It doesn't excuse the abuse at all. It doesn't redeem him from being a Death Eater. His only reason for wanting to save the Potter family was Lily.

Saving Harry's life in the first year by countering Quirrell's curse, and then acting as referee in the next match to protect Harry? That doesn't redeem the abuse that he inflicted upon Harry in the first year, let alone the rest of it.

Let's assume he had the best intentions in Prisoner of Azkaban, and he was interested in rescuing Harry, Ron and Hermione from Sirius. Although that is a HUGE assumption, all things considered... still doesn't redeem him.

Checking that Sirius was indeed at headquarters and then alerting them that Harry had gone to the Department of Mysteries to try and save Sirius when Sirius wasn't even there? Still doesn't redeem him.

None of the good things Snape does redeems him for the abuse he inflicted upon his students and especially Harry and Neville, and his love for Lily reads more like a creepy obsession.

J.K. tried to redeem Snape... and absolutely failed. Sometimes when you write a character, you need more than a single chapter to redeem them.

I'm not even sure if Snape was redeemable at all. Abusing children is a pretty fucking terrible thing. And I don't think it's even me being biased for being abused by a teacher, it's just unacceptable.

[cursedwithwords]

HP Next Gen Headcanons: James

Full Name: James Sirius "Jamie" Potter

House: Gryffindor

Wand: rowan and ashwinder egg

Patronus: stag wolf

Boggart: Caleb

Profession: potioneer

Sexuality: gay

Image(picrew):

Bonus: has more freckles than Lily and Albus combined. A softhearted agent of chaos. Out of his entire family he has the most upbeat personality (his grandmother always used to say he was what would happen if sunshine was a person). Always the one to crack a joke during uncomfortable situations to lighten the atmosphere. He remembers the birthdays of everyone he's ever met. Played as a Chaser on the house team. Rox calls him "Jamjar". The Golden Child of the family and has all the negative effects you would expect because of it. Number one forehead kisser award. Harbors a silent dislike towards Sirius Black but would never admit that to his father. Older people absolutely love him because he's so chatty. Considers Teddy to be his best friend, but Louis is a very close second. The one in the family all the cousins (plus al and lily) are secretly protective of. His first tattoo was a stick and poke crescent moon on his left wrist given to him by Teddy.

Extras:

Wand Wood — Rowan

"Rowan wood has always been much-favoured for wands because it is reputed to be more protective than any other... it is commonly stated that no dark witch or wizard ever owned a rowan wand... rowan is most happily placed with the clear-headed and the pure-hearted..."

I think James is a very protective person in general and outrageously pure-hearted, almost to a fault. His wand is extremely powerful in his hands, and while it will work if used by someone else, it's much less powerful, and spells will often sputter or die out. The only spells the wand will properly cast in someone elses hands are shields and defensive charms. In James' hands, however, it can cast incredibly strong magic.

Wand Core — Ashwinder Egg

"The eggs of an Ashwinder are usually found in the wands of those skilled in Potioneering..."

I just love the idea that James would have an innate talent for potions that his wand could sense the moment he stepped into the shop. I also like to headcanon that his great grandfather Fleamont Potter, an accomplished potioneer, shared the same core in his wand. When Olivander tells him that detail the day they bought his wand, he feels immediate pride and a sense of honor and connection to Fleamont.

Patronus — Stag Wolf

"Stags symbolize heroism, bravery, and new life. Owners of a stag Patronus make extraordinary, influential leaders and honestly care about the well-being of others. You are likely confident in yourself and stand up for your beliefs."

"Wolves are powerful protectors who find strength in numbers as they always travel in a pack. If you have this Patronus, then you should trust your instincts as they are usually spot on."

James' patronus changes after he loses the ability to cast a stag following a traumatic incident (see TBOTS fic for details of this headcanon). It takes years for him to be able to cast a corporeal form again, but when he does it takes the form of a wolf to match Teddy's, because in the end it's memories of Teddy that allow him to cast the charm successfully again. He's the only one of the new gen whose patronus changes, and the only one who loses the ability to cast the charm for any amount of time.

[dufferpuffer]

"Headmaster, I have heard children say things on their first day that would make you pale. Your efforts to coddle them are wasted."

Albus smiled, a jaunty chuckle bouncing through the air. It was not at all the response Severus expected. "My dear boy... you think I am so sheltered!? How insulting..." The old Wizards eyes twinkled, creasing tightly with a broad smile. "It is the way things should be! The children, away from either the comfort or the horror of their guardians, have the power of language on their side - and the freedom of naughtiness." His brows quirked up as he peered over his spectacles at the Potions Master. "I believe you were quite the foul-mouthed youth yourself. You knew words I had never even heard before!" Severus' cheeks almost painted from their regular pallid tone. "Yes, well... that's what a muggle upbringing can cause." He muttered. Albus' expression did not change at the comment - but he did sigh as he stood tall once again. "...and should children today not be allowed the same? Manners are best taught slowly - and defiance is a natural part of learning. After all, some children know naught but how to snatch like they have nothing, to gobble like they've never eaten, to demand and yell..." For the briefest moment his icy blue eyes looked a little distant. "...That is perhaps the greatest lesson we teach here, Severus. It is something I take quite seriously:" Albus spoke again, voice firm now. "We abhor swearing. We fake ignorance to the passages and shortcuts of the castle - even the obvious ones. We turn the other way, occasionally, when we discover children where they shouldn't be - or give up the chase a little earlier then we should." His old hand rose to idly play with one of the many small bells beaded into his beard, jingling pleasantly - a soothing noise. "We put their safety first - but their independence second. For what are friendships without secrets to share? Where is the wonder in life without a little adventure? This is their home, Severus - more than it will ever be ours. We can go anywhere - but they are bound to these grounds, and thus these grounds are bound to them. Peeves sings with the foul language they teach him, they scuttle through the tapestries and tunnels like little mice, they steal cunningly from storerooms to test their skills... and I would have it no other way. So we lock doors that need not be locked, we don't utilize the secrets we used ourselves when we were students - and we do not act uncouth. We save those adventures for them." Albus shot his old friend a look that insisted he understand - and that he not argue. It was a hard rule amongst the staff, one that some liked more than others. One that was difficult for some to follow.

Severus sighed. "...Fiddlesticks."

Dumbledore: Oh, fiddlesticks! This really ruffles my feathers!

Severus: Please, just say fuck!

[torestoreamends]

A Very Albus Recap (London, 2nd and 21st/22nd March)

I just want to throw out a little Joe Idris-Roberts recap, because he’s been on fire the last couple of times I’ve seen him (Saturday 2nd March and Thursday 21st/Friday 22nd March), and his brilliance deserves all the recognition in the world. Here are just a couple of the new things he’s started doing that I’ve been really excited by.

Blanket scene

There are a couple of things in this one. Firstly, at the beginning of the scene Albus lies down on the bed curled up on his side, with his back to the door. It’s clear that he wants to find his own peaceful bit of space, but he still seems happy enough to interact with his family. When James comes in he lifts his head and looks back to make exasperated eye contact with Ginny, and when Lily comes in he looks round at her and shakes his head to tell her that he hasn’t seen her book. 

As loud and chaotic as his family are, and as out of place among them as he feels, it’s nice to see him existing among them and being himself. He doesn’t have a problem with them being in his room at all really, right up until the point when Harry comes in. That’s when Albus stops relaxing, sits up, and shuffles right up to press himself against the end of his bed, making himself as small as he can. 

Secondly, towards the end of the scene, Albus does the unthinkable – he disrespects the blanket. In a lot of portrayals, even Albus acknowledges that the blanket is a sacred object and takes care of it. There was one memorable performance in which Tom Mackley threw the blanket at Jamie Parker so hard that Jamie didn’t manage to catch it and it fell on the floor. The look on Albus’s face was so full of horror that he clearly understood the magnitude of what he’d accidentally done. But with Joe’s Albus, after a point he doesn’t seem to care anymore. It’s just a mouldy blanket after all. 

In the last performance I saw, once Harry got up off the bed and started talking about packing, Albus swung round to take up the whole space, which meant that he stretched his legs out down the length of the bed and right over the top of the blanket. He was essentially sitting on it, and Harry was absolutely livid. If he’d wanted to rile his dad up, he went about it in exactly the right way. 

Hogwarts through the trees

I’ve never seen this before, but in the performance on Thursday night, Albus somehow managed to enter this scene backwards. Normally the boys walk from the back of the stage into position facing forwards, so they see the view open up ahead of them, but in this one it seemed as though Albus was trying to avoid looking. He didn’t see the view until he was right in position beneath the arch, and then he turned round and his reaction was so sudden and so real. It was a burst of every emotion under the sun, hitting him all in that one moment. 

Joe’s expression in this scene is so profoundly beautiful. It’s everything and nothing all at once. Albus is overwhelmed by what he’s seeing, and he understands how stunning it is, and what it means to Scorpius, but his own relationship to the school is so complex that there’s heartbreak in there too. He wishes Hogwarts could be so uncomplicatedly beautiful to him as it is to Scorpius, but it’s not, and that really hurts. There are tears in his eyes, and he looks so small and sad and inadequate, but of course to Scorpius he’s anything but inadequate, even if he doesn’t realise it yet. Joe is a master of saying a thousand different things with one simple, restrained expression. 

Staircase ballet

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do anything that revolutionary character-wise in this scene, so it was actually a surprise to see Joe suddenly do something so different. He’s mentioned before that there are times he’s found the show’s blocking quite restrictive, and I wonder if now the directors’ attention is elsewhere he’s finally getting to show us the things he’s never been allowed to do before. 

He’s always got to the top of the first staircase and acted like he’s found an unexpected dead end, that’s nothing new (although I love how Albus’s path through the school is constantly blocked and thwarted, while the staircases take Scorpius wherever he wants to go – there’s a beautiful metaphor for their relationships with Hogwarts there). What was new was the moment when he ducks through the space beneath where Scorpius is sitting. 

Albus normally moves straight through that space and on up the stairs, but in this one he stayed under there and hid. He peeked out a couple of times to see if Scorpius was gone, clearly trying to avoid him, and when he realised that Scorpius wasn’t moving he sprinted straight up the stairs, like he was running away. 

It was all perfectly timed to the music still, and it was so interesting to see the choreography used to tell a new element of the story. Joe’s Albus’s story has always been that he’s trying to avoid and hide from Scorpius, he won’t even look at him, but this was a new extent. A new layer. 

Library scene 

There are two things to mention in this scene too. The first actually relates heavily to something in another scene. In the Act Four scene in Harry’s office, when Draco says ‘if its takes centuries, we must find our sons’, James has started grabbing the Time-Turner and getting ready to go, finger on the dial, about to search all of time for his son before Harry stops him. And in this scene, that was exactly what Albus tried to do too. 

The second he said ‘you’ve still got the Time-Turner, right?’ and grabbed it out of the bag, he went running across the room with it, finger on the dial, ready to go and get Cedric and Rose back. It changed the wrestling from being about pure ownership of the Time-Turner to being about Scorpius trying to stop Albus from doing something stupid there and then.

The second thing also requires a bit of background explanation. I’ve been furiously trying to figure out Joe’s library and torture scenes for the longest time, and it turns out that once you’ve understood one, you’ve understood them both. He explained to me at stage door that his Albus is a strategist. He doesn’t get scared, he just thinks – he suppresses his emotions in favour of coming up with a plan. So when you see him shutting down and not responding in the moment to Scorpius’s speech or to Delphi’s torture, it’s because Albus is five steps ahead and choosing to delay his emotions for another time. 

More on the torture scene later, but in the library scene he shuts down the second he sees Polly leaving the room. Of course he’s listening to what Scorpius is saying, he’s taking it on board, but he’s aware that McGonagall is going to show up at any second and there’s no time to get emotional. He can’t fix Scorpius’s problems there and then; the top priority is to stop them getting separated again, and that’s exactly what he does. Only when they emerge from under the cloak does Albus finally respond, and what a response. 

In the last show it was actually the beginning of Albus’s apology that was most fascinating. He separated the thoughts about the cloak into two separate instances, so it became both a commentary on his relationship with James and a guilty admission of his own problems. The first part, from ‘Yes I stole this from James’ to ‘his trunk combination is the date he got his first broom’ was joking, mocking his brother, and it finished with a ‘how thick can you get?’ sort of ‘duh’. Then there was a long pause before the second part: ‘I found the cloak made avoiding bullies easier’, which was said so quietly, reluctantly almost, like he didn’t want to admit that he’d had to hide. Maybe he was embarrassed to talk about his life being rubbish after everything Scorpius just said...

Torture scene

I discovered a couple of weeks ago that there’s one line that unlocks Joe’s delivery of the torture scene: ‘The flaw in the Time-Turner, the five minute rule, we do everything we can to run down the cloak’. In that performance it wasn’t a desperate half-baked suggestion being flung out, it was a strategy that Albus had been thinking through since he realised what Delphi was going to do, and he was counting on it to work. 

Everything that comes before that – Scorpius being tortured, Craig’s death, Delphi’s jeering – is all something that Albus can’t bring himself to engage with, because he’s focusing on the goal, which is for him and Scorpius to survive the preamble, get Delphi into the maze, and then lead her a merry dance for five minutes so they get timed out and she can’t use that task to save Cedric. Once again he’s five steps ahead. He has to be. That’s how he’s going to survive this hell, and more importantly it’s how Scorpius is going to survive it.

It isn’t until the moment when Delphi out-manoeuvres him and smashes the Time-Turner that he’s out of control. That’s when the emotion finally kicks in, when suddenly he has no plan at all, his dad is suddenly in horrible danger, and he and Scorpius are lost. 

I’ve found over the last year that if Joe’s not delivering what you expect emotionally from Albus in a situation, there is always, 100% of the time, a really good reason for that. The tricky thing is finding it, but when you do? It’s the most rewarding and exhilarating thing in the world. 

Harry and Ginny find the blanket message

This may be strange to say, but this has truly become one of my favourite scenes in the show with this cast (this and the hospital wing scene have both been unexpectedly gorgeous this year). 

The reason I adore this scene so much is because it’s such a clear assertion from Albus of how he feels about his dad. It’s the moment when Albus decides that he’s going to reach out and repair their relationship, come hell or high water. 

‘We’re starting with Dad’ is the most stunning line. It would be so easy, as Scorpius suggests, to write Harry’s name on the blanket, but Albus is absolutely determined that it’s going to be Dad. Because Harry is his dad, his dad who he loves and misses and wants so desperately. It’s Albus offering the first hand of peace across time and space, from Godric’s Hollow in 1981 to his own bedroom in 2020. There’s something so powerful about that.

The other powerful little gesture in this scene is in a similar vein. Whenever Joe’s Albus sits on a bed, he flips the pillow up so it rests against the bedstead, every single time, and in the last show I noticed that he did it here too. I couldn’t work out at first why that had such an impact, but then @ohscorbus mentioned that Albus doesn’t go back to his room after he runs away in the blanket scene. In fact no one goes in until Harry and Ginny do on Hallow’s Eve to find the blanket, and when they do, Albus is with them, if not in body then in spirit. 

It’s another little act of ownership, it feels like. The only thing that’s been touched in that room is the blanket, which is still at this point very much Harry’s possession – I doubt Albus feels an ownership over it, especially after how he treated it – so the first person to move anything is Albus, across space and time, and it’s to make the space more comfortable for himself. It’s one of those little things that he’d do to take ownership of the room if he were really there and planning to sit on the bed and do homework or whatever. 

Albus taking up his own space, taking ownership of it, inhabiting it, is so important a step for him. He’s uncomfortable and unhappy everywhere it seems, and little things like that feel like a step on the journey towards feeling better.

The penultimate scene

There’s no convoluted meta here, just a good, old fashioned hug. I absolutely love how when Scorpius hugs Albus in this scene, Joe’s Albus gets entirely lost in it for a second. There’s a moment when he forgets himself and buries his face in Scorpius’s shoulder. It’s a very long, peaceful moment. And of course it ends with him remembering that they don’t hug, but it’s so very clear initially that there’s nothing he wants in the world more than Scorpius’s hugs. There’s a solace between the two of them, and it’s still and pure and beautiful. They feel at home together, and I suppose that in the moment of that hug, before his brain kicks in, Albus has never felt more at home anywhere than with his best friend. 

[pet-genius]

A complex and many-layered thing

But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. . . .

This is the first Occlumency lesson. Harry is right, of course. Feelings don’t go away because you want them to. To let go of them when they’ve not been addressed or validated can be as hard as detaching a leg. And yet, it’s what Dumbledore asked Snape to do, and it’s what Snape had to do to survive the first war as Dumbledore’s spy. You have to ask yourself… how?

Trapped animals chew off their own legs to escape. It’s a sacrifice they make to survive.

If there’s one thing in a fic that turns me off it, it’s the idea that Occlumency shields are a thing, that Severus was so gifted at it because he’s got some power like Second Sight or being a metamorphagus. I always preferred to think of Occlumency and Legilimency as skills that can be learned, even if some have more aptitude for it than others.

Severus entered Hogwarts with the kind of life experience that primed him for developing these skills, and left it with even more. Occlumency is magical dissociation, a post-traumatic coping mechanism, and Severus has C/PTSD. More under the cut; tw: just general angst.

To survive, he would have had to develop a knack for telling how explosive and unpredictable people feel. Over his life, he faced at least two egregious examples of what Pete Walker, author of “Complex PTSD” calls “the Charming Bully”.

Especially devolved fight types can become sociopathic. Sociopathy can range along a continuum that stretches from corrupt politician to vicious criminal. A particularly nasty sociopath, who I call the charming bully, probably falls somewhere around the middle of this continuum. The charming bully behaves in a friendly manner some of the time. He can even occasionally listen and be helpful in small amounts, but he still uses his contempt to overpower and control others. This type typically relies on scapegoats for the dumping of his vitriol. These unfortunate scapegoats are typically weaker than him. […] He generally spares his favorites from this behavior, unless they get out of line. If the charming bully is charismatic enough, those close to him will often fail to register the unconscionable meanness of his scapegoating. The bully’s favorites often slip into denial, relieved that they are not the target. Especially charismatic bullies may even be admired and seen as great.

These would be James Potter and Tom Riddle, who are distantly related, I might add. Harry inherited the tendency to default to the fight response, but since he grew up the scapegoat and not the golden child, he never becomes quite as appalling, and after all, a fight response is normal when they are after you. Even so, Harry, who has both James and Voldemort inside him, triggers Severus to no end. It’s not a coincidence that the memories Harry sees when he is with him are largely horrible, and vice versa. There had to be happy or at least neutral or even boring moments, but these two detest each other, and they know they detest each other. Negative emotions and associated memories are so close to the surface they can’t be contained. This is the purpose of the Pensieve in this context - to contain the emotions. Since Severus knew what was in there when he pulled Harry out, my theory is that you don’t suddenly forget the memories you placed there, but rather you make them less fraught with emotions.

“Get up!” said Snape sharply. “Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!”

Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly as though he had really just seen Cedric dead in the graveyard. Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was. “I — am — making — an — effort,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I told you to empty yourself of emotion!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled.

“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”

A lot to unpack here.

“Memories you fear,” “weapons”, “easy prey”.

Fearing your own memories, viewing your own lived experiences as weapons to be used against you, being easy prey… Severus could not be speaking louder of himself here. He is the one whose mind had been penetrated with absurd ease, he is the one who handed weapons to Voldemort, and he is the one who had to do the psychological equivalent of detaching his own leg – again and again – to survive.

I’ll argue that Severus developed a fawn response and a flight response, as fighting had never really worked out for him if it was possible at all. He had at least two more people I’d describe as bullies in his life, Tobias and Lucius.

Again from Pete Walker:

These [fawn] response patterns are so deeply set in the psyche, that as adults, many codependents automatically respond to threat like dogs, symbolically rolling over on their backs, wagging their tails, hoping for a little mercy and an occasional scrap. Webster’s second entry for fawn is: “to show friendliness by licking hands, wagging its tail, etc.: said of a dog.” I find it tragic that some codependents are as loyal as dogs to even the worst “masters”.

Remember what Sirius called him? Lucius’s lapdog. Bellatrix called him Dumbledore’s pet, Dumbledore said he dangles on Voldemort’s arm, the narrative compares Snape to a rabbit in SWM and Harry compares the Half Blood Prince to a beloved pet who had gone feral (yes, this does mean a lot to me on a personal level, yes my username is not a coincidence).

His unconscious fawn response might have been his undoing, drawn as he was to figures like Lucius and Voldemort. As an adult, I think he utilized the skills he had developed to survive in order to stitch these people up, and involuntary dissociation and fawning became Occlumency, which to me, is his signature magic. Harry needed only to banish Voldemort from his mind; Severus could not settle for this. He had to give Voldemort something, and knowing how to fawn meant knowing what to give him and how to draw himself in such a light that Voldemort would believe it. We see how he wanted to be seen by the Death Eaters: a self-serving coward who sought to hide behind Dumbledore’s apron, playing his pet. But that’s Pettigrew, not Snape. Imagine the self-immolation, the self-violation, it must have taken to convince everyone that you’re an ersatz Wormtail! Snape is a man and a prince, and the text recognizes this as Harry calls him, in the end, Dumbledore’s man, the bravest man, and as that chapter is called “The Prince’s Tale”. Voldemort thought Snape was nothing more than a “good and faithful servant,” and that his last words were “My Lord”.

But Severus had an unequaled gift for Occlumency, specifically against Voldemort, because Voldemort could not legilimens what he couldn’t feel; and he couldn’t feel love, grief, guilt, and remorse. This was Severus’s secret weapon, which would not have worked against Harry - who can feel these things, and who is also Lily’s son. I can prove it. The first time Harry gets the hang of Occlumency is after Dobby dies:

His scar burned, but he was master of the pain; he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now, while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out . . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love. . . .

Harry learned to dissociate, though fortunately in a healthier way than many of us ever get to.

Of course, Snape was a good and faithful servant… to Dumbledore, which brings us to the flight response. The chapter wherein he escapes after killing Dumbledore is called “Flight of the Prince”. He should be fighting, he had just proven that he can cast a killing curse, and yet he flees. He can literally fly, in fact: He, Lily, and Voldemort are the only ones we see pulling this off.

As a child, we see this too: He copes with his home situation by reminding himself “it won’t be long and I’ll be gone.” He is thrilled when he imagines Hogwarts, his escape; he follows Lily out of the carriage instead of confronting James and Sirius head-on (which might have saved them all a lot of pain eventually). But this doesn’t work out, we see that in terrifying detail. The next attempt at an escape is joining the Death Eaters, but this too doesn’t work out.

He can’t flee anymore.

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Shortly thereafter:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

“I am,” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

He was ready, and he was prepared. He didn’t fly; he walked toward what might well have been his end with open eyes, armed only with the strength of his mind. Before Voldemort killed him, he looked pale, again, and terrified.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

I ask myself if this was the moment he realized he had been betrayed, that by giving Dumbledore a painless death he had secured his own. Maybe he wasn’t pale because he was scared; maybe he was pale because he was shocked. He was at his absolute limit, Occluding with all his might when he could have easily saved himself. The dam is about to break. All the memories he feared, all the weapons, the entire content of his heart is about to spill through - literally.

He fawned for Voldemort, the worst of all possible masters, but in the end, he was Voldemort’s undoing. All the ways in which he was weak and powerless against Tobias, James, Lucius, et al., proved to be part of goodness and source of his power. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that Snape is so loved. I’ve never actually seen such love for any other fictional character. He represents a kind of courage that many of us need to get by, lest we simply become evil or give the fuck up (“I wish I was dead”). A kind of courage rarely celebrated. The more time I’ve spent in the fandom in general and in the Snapedom in particular, the more I am convinced of this.

[katmoonz]

Tell Me Your Dirty Secret

Pairing Bill Weasley x Fem!Reader (slight Sirius Black x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 4.5k

CW: Smut, Jealousy, choking kink, possessive!Bill, Dom!Bill, Sub!Reader, use of pet names, aftercare, slight degradation, oral (male receiving), vaginal sex, slightest bit of violence, unprotected sex. if I’ve missed anything out plz let me know!

It’s midnight and there is not a soul in sight. Spending the holidays with the order in Grimmauld place sure was exciting from Sirius’ drunken shenanigans and Molly's incredible cooking to the twins' pranks, there was never a boring moment within the household.

Currently, you were sitting in the kitchen nursing a cup of hot chocolate thinking about your boyfriend Bill Weasley. You had met Bill through his brother Charlie, whose year you’d been in at school, the crush you had on Bill started from the moment you met him but you waited until you had left school before trying to get closer to him.

At the moment Bill was away on order business he was due back in the morning, this left you unable to sleep out of concern for his safety and with time to collect your thoughts.

Bill is the most handsome man you’ve ever met, his piercing blue eyes and his strong muscular form are all perfect but his kind and charming personality made you even more attracted. Bill is the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for, always checking up on you asking about your day, complimenting the meals you make, running a bath when you don’t feel well. His warm embrace makes you feel so safe and secure among other things... The sex is amazing Bill is always so attentive, always taking care of you first before carefully making love to you but it wasn’t enough. For the past few weeks, you had been wanting him to be a little rougher with you but you didn’t know how to tell him what you wanted.

It started one morning when he’d walked into the bedroom to find you struggling to tie your shoes, he’d bent down and tied them for you. You watched as his fingers, which were laden with rings, quickly but efficiently tie your laces before he stood up to kiss you on the cheek.

That was only the start of your fascination with his rings, he would often massage your shoulders for you after a long day at work before retiring to bed. When he kisses you he often holds your face in one of his hands, the cold metal of his rings against your face would cause butterflies in your stomach.

But you also wanted him to choke you. You’d started imagining him choking you after going out to a bar with him, a guy had been harassing you and you’d been trying to ignore it but he grabbed your arm tightly within his hand in a bruising grip trying to talk you into going home with him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and before you knew it the man was being held up against the nearest wall by Bill, his hand around the pervs throat as he gave him a gruff warning to leave you alone.

Since that moment you’d constantly been fantasising about what it’d be like to have Bills hands around your neck whilst you had sex. The only problem with this being that Bill was ever so gentle whilst having sex with you, he’d never been rough in the bedroom.

You sigh as you finish off your hot chocolate before walking over to the sink with your mug to wash it out. *there must be some way to get him to be rough with me* you think longingly, suddenly the idea strikes you like a lightning bolt *Bill only had his hand around that man's neck because he pissed him off, perhaps if I make him jealous enough and then try to seduce him he will be rougher*

With that thought in mind, you decide to head up to bed not wanting to wear yourself out before tomorrow’s order meeting which would be the perfect opportunity to put your plan into action.

-

The weekly order meeting at Grimmauld Place was due to start in a few minutes, the house bustling with order members. Bill spots you from across the room and starts making his way over to you, “y/n” he shouts over the crowd.

Looking around you, you notice that the seat next to the owner of the house Sirius Black is free so you quickly seat yourself next to him.

“Alright love,” he says arching one brow before taking a sip out of the goblet in front of him.

“Yeah good,” you say looking around the kitchen for Bill, you spot him speaking to his mother who must have accosted him before he could get to you.

“trouble in paradise?” he asks before leaning back in his seat.

“No, no, nothing like that” you hastily reply, “I just um…” you look him up and down before taking a quick glance at Bill across the room.

“Y/n?”

You decide to give in and ask Sirius for help with your plan considering that he seems to be one of the few people in the room who would agree to it. “Would you help me with something?”

“Sure doll, what?” he asks, leaning in closer to listen to you.

“I need to make Bill jealous”

Sirius smirks before looking over your shoulder for Bill, he turns back to you and looks you up and down “what’s in it for me?”

You consider backing out for a second but at the thought of potentially having Bill's hand around your neck, you decide to go for it. “I’ll get you a bottle of firewhiskey”

Sirius smiles before taking your hand in his “deal” he doesn’t release your hand and whispers “don’t turn around he’s watching us, play along.” He raises your hand to his mouth before placing a chaste kiss upon your knuckle, you giggle both out of nervousness and to keep up the act.

You place your hand on the table and continue your conversation with Sirius.

“Why are you trying to make him jealous? If you don’t mind me asking?”

You look into his eyes and contemplate whether you should tell him or not. “I just want to piss him off,” you say, batting your eyelashes innocently.

“Mhmm, so you don’t just want some rough passionate make-up sex” He replies cockily picking up his goblet again.

You look at him sheepishly “how’d you know?”

He places his goblet back on the table before putting his hand on top of yours, “you don’t look like an angry woman trust me I’d know from all of the women- well also men that I’ve angered in my lifetime and every time you look at him you look as if you want to jump his bones.”

“I um-“

Sirius cuts you off, “it’s okay, you don’t need to explain yourself, maybe give me a few details tomorrow if you’re still able to walk, oh and my firewhiskey but I’m glad to be at your service doll”

You hit him on the shoulder before letting out a laugh, a tear falls from your eye as you laugh.

Dumbledore walks into the room getting ready to start the meeting, “Let's hope that Bill sits reasonably close to us” you say getting visibly excited.

Sirius lets out a chuckle, “Have fun I suppose but don’t come crying to me in the morning when you need a pain-relieving potion”

Bill walks over to you and leans over your shoulder to kiss you but you dodge him at the last second so that his kiss lands on your cheek. “Hello love, you look like you’re having fun” instead of turning around to speak to him you continue to look at Sirius, “mhmm,” you say dismissively. Bill gives you a look of confusion before walking away, he sits down at the opposite side of the table to you just as Dumbledore starts the meeting.

The meeting is relatively boring. It mainly consists of Albus talking about the upcoming patrols, you can feel Bill's eyes on you as you try to concentrate on the meeting and decide to shift your chair closer to Sirius’. Your hand is still on the table and after a few seconds of sitting closer to Sirius you can feel him place his hand on top of yours, he starts to stroke your knuckles with his thumb. You look up at him offering him a smile, he smirks back at you and leans into your ear. “We’ve barely done anything and he looks irritated already, follow my lead” he whispers before he leans back into his chair he strokes your cheek lightly with his free hand.

A couple of minutes pass by before Sirius shifts his chair even closer, he takes one arm and wraps it around you, you lean into his side with your head resting on his shoulder. You hear an angry huff from the other side of the table and take a glance up to see Bill with an angry expression upon his face.

Mad-eye starts giving his report on the happenings in Hogsmeade and you can feel yourself start to drift off to sleep as he continuously rambles.

You open your eyes at the feeling of someone lightly shaking you, “y/n love, you fell asleep the meetings finished” you look up to see that you have fallen asleep on Sirius, the rest of the order are starting to get up out of their chairs. Bill walks Molly and Arthur over to the floo giving yourself and Sirius a minute to yourselves.

“I don’t think we’ve pissed him off enough,” you say whilst trying to think of what else you could possibly do.

“You’re staying for drinks with us aren’t you? Perhaps we could flirt a bit more or you touch me up” suggests Sirius and before you can put up even the slightest protest at his suggestion Bill returns to the table with Charlie, Remus, Tonks and drinks in tow.

For a while Bill ignores you but you can see the slight frown upon his face every time he looks down your end of the table.

After a while of sitting back and listening to Charlie's stories about his encounters with dragons, you hear someone’s stomach rumble. Tonks giggles “sorry, I guess I’m still hungry”

Bill stands up “I’ll see if I can find any food, I’m sure Mum left some cookies a couple of days ago”

As Bill walks around the table you reach out to Sirius and put your hand on his thigh. You hear Bill let out a low growl as he notices how close you are to touching Sirius’ crotch. Before making his way over to the pantry he leans down over your shoulder, you can feel his warm breath behind your ear. “What are you doing?” He asks angrily.

You turn around to look at him and notice the red tinge on his face. It almost matches the shade of his hair due to how angry he is. “Nothing babe, I’m just talking to Sirius, am I not allowed to speak to my friend?” You reply innocently.

Bill lets out a huff before wiping a hand across his face trying to calm himself down, he proceeds to walk over to the pantry to find the cookies and upon returning he practically throws the plate onto the table. Everyone bar yourself and Remus takes one. After a couple of minutes you reach out to grab a smaller one but Sirius stops you by grabbing onto your hand. “I’m not sure you’ll want one love, they’re a few days old so they are quite hard.”

“That’s okay, I like it hard” you reply cockily before grabbing one.

There's a stunned silence for a moment before everyone starts laughing, that is everyone except Bill.

Sirius stretches in his seat before standing up, “c’mon let’s go sit in the library it’s much warmer up there” Sirius reaches towards you taking your arm in his before leading the way up to the library.

Upon reaching the library, Sirius backs you into a bookshelf and cages you in with his arms. “I’m sure you’ll get what you want soon, love” he whispers down into your ear. Instead of withdrawing after whispering into your ear, he keeps his face close to yours so that if anyone were to walk into the room it would look as though the two of you were making out.

Sirius has the most breathtaking eyes you’ve ever seen, you can feel your breath hitch as you gaze into his face. Sirius due to his lineage has sharp aristocratic features upon his face, his lips voluptuous and full. If you weren’t already with Bill you definitely would have jumped Sirius’ bones.

A couple of minutes go by, you hear the sound of the floo signalling that someone has left. Another minute flies by and you feel your heart flutter in your chest with anticipation. A stomping noise comes from the staircase before the door is abruptly opened,

Bang!

In a matter of seconds, Sirius has been roughly pulled away from you and pinned into the wall by an angry Bill.

Bill has his hand wrapped around Sirius’ throat and you can feel the anger radiating off of him. “Hands off my girl” he growls. You whimper but Bill ignores you so that he can focus on Sirius who is currently pinned to the wall smirking.

“Trust me I’m not interested in your girl” replies Sirius cockily despite having a muscular hand around his throat.

“Then why were you all over each other?” Asks Bill, his hand on Sirius's neck slightly loosens

“Because she asked for it” Sirius replies cockily. Bill tightens his hand around Sirius’ neck yet again and you whimper even louder than before. Your panties are completely soaked and you’re rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the arousal that you are feeling. Both Bill and Sirius hear your whimper and look over to you watching as you non-discreetly rub your thighs together.

“She planned this Bill, look at her, she’s getting off on it,” Sirius says with a hint of laughter in his voice.

Bill watches you for another second before letting go of Sirius.

“Is that true princess? Did you plan this?” asks Bill, with a strange look on his face. You don’t respond to him so he walks over to you and tilts your head up to look at him.

“Answer me when I talk to you” he growls dangerously, his eyes have darkened slightly, possibly due to his anger or arousal. You whimper again before nodding. “come on love, let’s go to bed” he firmly grasps your arm and marches you over to the door, he stops and turns to speak to Sirius from across the room “we still okay to stay tonight?” He asks gruffly.

“Sure mate” replies Sirius leaning against a bookcase with a smirk on his face. The last thing you see before you are dragged out of the room is Sirius winking at you.

With a tight grip on your arm, Bill marches you up the stairs of Grimmauld Place towards one of the guest rooms. You can feel butterflies in your stomach both excited and nervous at the prospect of getting what you want. Bill drags you into the guest room and closes the door. Bill turns around to watch you for a minute before beckoning you forward with his finger. “Come here love”

Cautiously you walk towards him till you are standing right in front of him.

“Why did you do that?” asks Bill, the strange but intimidating look remains on his face.

“M’sorry” you reply, slightly embarrassed.

“No love, I didn’t ask you to apologise. I said why?” He steps forward so that there is no space between you. You can feel his breath on your face.

“Just wanted to make you jealous” you reply, sheepishly.

Bill puts his hand under your chin and tilts your head to make you look at him. “Why’d you want me jealous princess?” his mouth is right next to your ear and you can feel his warm breath against the side of your face.

“S’hot” you reply putting a hand on his chest

“Mhmm, and what else?” Asks Bill, starting to kiss and suck on your neck.

You let out a quiet moan, “want you to be rough”

“Rough? how’d you want me to be rough?”

You pull back from him slightly to look into his eyes, his pupils are wide with arousal, “Well?” He asks arching a brow

“Want you to fuck me hard,” you say breathlessly, you can feel the tingle in your pussy from just admitting to your desire to be dominated.

“Good girl” he whispers before kissing you, Bill brings up one hand to start massaging your breast as he backs you up to the closest wall. Bill presses you up against the wall and softly bites your lip before backing away from you. You whine, Bill stands in the middle of the room with his arms crossed looking slightly amused at how desperate you are. “strip” he orders. You look up at him and don’t make a move to take off your clothes.

“Are you dumb princess? I said strip” Bill gives you a stern look as he orders you to take your clothes off. After a few seconds more of staring at Bill blankly, you start to remove your clothing. Just as you are about to remove your panties his voice reaches your ears again. “Leave them on”.

You look at him and rub your thighs together, your panties damp with arousal. Bill comes closer to you and puts one hand on your shoulder to push you down “Be a good girl and suck my cock”

You get onto your knees and wait patiently for him to unbuckle his belt, you watch as his ring laden fingers pop open the button on his trousers and push them to the floor alongside his underwear. His cock, long and hard now revealed to you.

The sight of his cock has what one might describe as a Pavlovian effect on you, your pussy throbs with excitement and your mouth suddenly feels as though it has too much saliva. You lean forward and spit on your hand before enclosing his length in your fist, you run your hand up and down it, getting him harder with your hand. You bring your face closer and look up at Bill, his face expectant. “Well?” He asks.

You bring out your tongue and give the head of his cock a lick, Bill shudders and lets out a pleasurable moan, you grin before taking him slightly into your mouth, sucking on the tip like a lollipop. Bill starts to moan a bit louder, you take him deeper into the warm cavern that is your mouth. You bob your head up and down whilst using a hand to work the rest of him off as he has a rather generously sized cock. Bill puts a hand in your hair, his eyes are shut revelling in the pleasure that your mouth is giving him. “Yess, good girl” he hisses, trying not to succumb to the urge to just cum in your mouth.

After a few minutes, Bill pulls on your hair, you release him from your mouth and look up at him before whining in disappointment. “Up,” he says, you stand up slowly trying to adjust to the blood flow getting back to your feet after being on your knees.

Bill reaches down to help you and pulls you into his chest as you rise, “are you gonna be my good girl?” He asks with a smirk on his face, without giving you a second to reply he lifts you off of your feet and carries you to the bed, throwing you down and settling himself over you. Roughly, Bill pulls down your panties before chucking them across the room, he brings himself back up to your face grasping your jaw in one hand. Your pussy throbs as you stare into each other’s eyes.

Bill has the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen, the blue orbs a stark contrast to his ginger locks which are tied back in a bun at the back of his head. As you distract yourself with your boyfriend's beauty he sneaks a hand down to your pussy. You gasp as a lone finger suddenly fills your aching core, he pumps it in and out a few times before stopping causing you to squirm, “Bill, please” you whine.

Bill smirks and leans down to take a nipple in his mouth, he waits until you let out a little moan before releasing your nipple with a pop. Not wasting another second he pushes his cock into you, letting out a groan at how tightly you are gripping him, he starts with gentle thrusts before steadily speeding up. You can feel the tingle in your pussy and let out little moans every time Bill pushes back in.

As you get closer to your release Bill starts to slow down, he slows till you start to whine having been pulled away from the brink of orgasm. Bill moves one hand to rest next to your neck and continues slowly thrusting, he leans down and takes your ear lobe between his teeth for a second before letting go and pulling back to look into your eyes.

“So princess,” he starts “did you think it was fun to make me jealous?” he punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust causing you to let out a gasp.

“M’sorry” you whisper back at him.

“Sorry? So you don’t want me to be rough with you?” He asks with a smirk on his face, this time he ceases all movement. You whimper and buck up your hips to try and get him to move, he chuckles. “Look at you, acting like such a desperate slut” he starts to move again, this time with slow, hard thrusts.

“Is that good baby?” he asks

“Not enough” you whine back at him

“Not enough?” he asks “maybe my desperate whore would get what she wanted if she asked for it”

He wait to see if you respond before continuing, he looks you dead in the eye, “Tell me” he whispers huskily “tell me your dirty secret”

Without thinking you end up blurting out what you want, “want your hand on my neck”

Bill takes one hand and gently wraps it around the front of your neck, pressing down lightly at the sides. Bills rings feel cool against your skin, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your sweaty body. You moan loudly and your pussy clenches around his cock drenching it even more.

Bill feels himself getting close from the grip you have on him so he starts to thrust harder “good girl” he hisses.

It feels like a dream, how could this delicious demanding man be your Bill, you are in such disbelief at how easy it was to get him to be rougher with you that the next words that fall from his mouth seem almost unreal.

“Touch yourself” he huffs out mid-thrust

You reach a hand down and start frantically rubbing your clit, desperate for release. You feel the tingle in your navel grow and your moans get louder. Bill senses that you are about to cum and presses down slightly against the sides of your neck pushing you over the edge. You see white and feel Bill release your neck as he gives a few more thrusts before releasing inside of you, he manages to stay on his arms long enough to pull out and drop down next to you.

Half asleep from the powerful orgasm you hear someone moving around the room, you let out a groan and shift slightly to get more comfortable.

“Shh baby” Bill whispers, he moves your legs to start cleaning you up and you let out a whine at being moved from your position. Bill gently strokes your cheek, “it’s okay, I’m just cleaning up the mess, good girl” He takes a wet cloth and carefully wipes up the mess between your legs.

The mattress shifts slightly as Bill returns to you, he pulls you into his chest and softly kisses your forehead, “my good girl” he whispers into the top of your head just as you drift off to sleep.

-

The soft glow of sunlight coming through the dusty old curtains is the first thing to greet you upon awakening. You stretch out your limbs which are sore from last night and try to roll over but find that you can’t due to the strong arm that Bill has wrapped around your torso.

Bill softly snores and you peer up at his face over your shoulder, his features even more beautiful in the glow of the morning sunshine. His skin has a pretty sheen to it, the freckles on his arms and face stand out against his pale skin.

Carefully so as not to awaken him, you slip out from under his arm. As you stand up you almost lose your balance and have to hold on to the edge of the bed to steady yourself. You notice Bill's shirt from the previous day abandoned on the floor so you pick it up and pull it on buttoning it up before shuffling out the door.

You head to the restroom and then start to make your way down to the kitchen, the trip taking almost twice as long as usual due to your aching muscles.

Finally, you get to the kitchen which is empty, you make yourself breakfast before sitting down. After a few minutes, you hear the floorboards creak signalling that someone is approaching the kitchen. The door creaks open and you are greeted by Sirius who is grinning from ear to ear, “morning love, wasn’t expecting to see you today”

You roll your eyes and finish your breakfast. You slowly stand up and make your way to the sink with your dishes, you lean against the counter after ridding yourself of them. “Soooo” begins Sirius, “how was it?” He leans against a nearby wall and takes a sip of his coffee waiting for your answer.

“Good” you respond not giving anything away

Sirius looks you up and down before putting his mug down and crossing the room to stand between your legs, he’s so close that you can feel his breath upon your cheek. You close your eyes as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, you feel him shift away from you and as you open them again you find him softly smiling at you his eyes have a mischievous twinkle.

Sirius walks back towards the door pausing before turning back towards you. “I have a present for you” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle, he throws it to you, you catch it. It’s a bottle of pain-relieving potion. He winks at you before leaving the room.

Tags: @crystal-dee @fredweasleylittleslut @padf00ts-l0ver @divanca2006

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[johamfated]

Every time I read this passage my heart takes an emotional journey on the bumpiest rollercoaster. 😭

I can only imagine the turmoil Harry is experiencing. Not only is he grieving the loss of his Headmaster/Mentor and handling the trauma which came from witnessing his death, but Harry is having to deal with how little he actually knew about Dumbledore. And the guilt which stems from that, as well as the anger.

Harry regrets never taking the time to ask his Professor personal questions, that all they ever really discussed was Harry himself. More specifically the part he had to play in this war.

Here is a young man, who has never really known the love of a parental figure since the day his Mother and Father were murdered.

And when he does allow himself to attach to such figures, they are cruelly snatched away.

He is never really given the time or the proper circumstances to deepen those relationships. And with Harry being a child for 99% of the series, those relationships are sort of one sided.

As it should be really.

As a child we are much too young to worry about our parental figures, in terms of finding out who they are, beyond what they are. It's only as we grow older, that we begin to appreciate them as people and their back stories.

I feel this is what Harry is muddling through in his grief.

Throughout DH, he is bombarded with information about Albus Dumbledore, which quite frankly knocks him for six. He finds out information which he really wishes Albus had told him. Like the fact that they had both lived in Godric's Hollow, both lost loved ones there. This is mind blowing for Harry. They could have bonded over this shared history. Perhaps even have visited one day together.

But Dumbledore chose not to reveal that part of himself. And Harry is hurt, because he doesn't understand why. He had always believed that Dumbledore cared for him. Even during OotP, Harry at his core, still believed Albus cared, and that is why he was so hurt and angry throughout his fifth year. He thought that they shared a special sort of bond. And each time Harry thinks they are getting somewhere, he feels as though Dumbledore takes a step back.

I always feel that had Albus not died that night, he would have been 'forced' to reveal some information to Harry. They had after all gone through a traumatic experience together, and bonded further due to it. And I genuinely think that Albus would have wanted to reveal what he had seen thanks to that potion. He would have felt he owed Harry some answers given what he asked of him that night. But more than that, again, I think he would have wanted to tell Harry. Because he does care. But Albus being who he is, constantly has to walk a fine line. He can only connect with Harry to a certain point. Because Harry is after all, first and foremost, his student. And it would be inappropriate to share too much. But I do think, the night he died, was that first stepping stone on what could have been should he have survived.

But this is what I mean, Harry only knows what he experienced. Harry couldn't see inside Dumbledore's head. All he knew was that Dumbledore kept him at arms length, even though he claimed to care.

So when Harry finds out that Dumbledore had a shaded past, in which he revealed his secrets to Gellert, as a young man himself, Harry is incensed, and even outright jealous. Here was a dark wizard who Dumbledore is known for having defeated, who Albus had revealed his inmost self to after knowing for a few months maximum. I imagine Harry must feel cheated in some regard.

After all, Harry had known and looked up to his Headmaster for six years. He had trusted him implicitly, no questions asked. And yet he didn't hardly know anything about him personally. But Gellert bloody Grindelwald had somehow managed to gain the Holy Grail in a matter of months! If Dumbledore could share with Grindelwald, who turned out to be a dark wizard, then what was wrong with Harry? Why didn't Dumbledore want to share with him? Harry must have felt he meant nothing to his mentor. Which we know isn't true. But it must have been traumatising for a grieving 17 year old boy.

It's only after Harry has spoken to Albus in person, and Albus has at last revealed parts of himself to Harry which he is ashamed of, is Harry able to let go of his anger.

Once he sees that Albus wasn't withholding information about himself because he didn't trust Harry, but rather because he didn't want Harry to think less of him, Harry understands that Albus did and does love him.

And Harry is also now able to say that he loves Albus. Not for being the Headmaster of Hogwarts, or the Greatest Sorcerer of the age, but for being Albus. Because he now knows everything there is to know about the man. Albus Dumbledore is no longer on that pedestal Harry had seated him on. He was finally accessible and attainable. And loved.

[ironwoman359]

The familiar stone gargoyle stands before you, and you cannot help the way your mind drifts back to the first time you saw it. You were so different then, a young, bright-eyed thing enraptured by the world around you. You wonder if you’ll ever regain that sense of wonder, after everything that’s happened, but you shake yourself. You did not come here to reminisce, not this time. 

You walk forward and the gargoyle steps aside; you have never needed a password to enter here. You climb the spiraling stone stairs and enter a space so familiar you could navigate it blindfolded. Portraits peer down at you curiously as you walk towards the claw-footed desk in the center of the stone room, and when the man sitting there peers up at you over the rims of half-moon glasses, he is smiling. 

“Ah, you’re back again,” he says, putting down his quill.  

“Hello, Albus,” you say evenly, and his eyes twinkle with a smile. 

“Hello, hello, come in and sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?” 

You shake your head, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Something stronger, then? I forget sometimes, how much you’ve grown.”

The words are truer than he can possibly know, and they remind you why you’ve come back here again, after all this time. 

“I won’t be staying long,” you say, and he nods. 

“Of course, of course. You’ve better things to be doing than linger here and listen to an old fool ramble, you’ve your adventure to relive.” 

He gestures to the door behind him, but you shake your head. 

“I’m not here to relive anything,” you say, and he frowns. 

“Then what–” 

“You know, I remember the first time we spoke,” you interrupt, and surprise flickers across his face. “You seemed so wise then, almost all-knowing. And I trusted you. That first time, and so many times after, I trusted you. The greater good, that justified everything, didn’t it?”

He opens his mouth, but you continue before he can get a word out.

“I was wrong.” 

He blinks, surprised. 

“Part of me is embarrassed,” you continue. “But then again, I was only a child myself, playing at being wise.” You shake your head. “It took far too long for me to see the truth. But I see it now, and that’s what matters.” 

“The truth?” he asks, cautious, and you fix him with a cold look. 

“I don’t need to play by your rules. I never have. And I fully intend to never do so again.”

He rises from his desk, a frown on his face. 

“I know that the steps we must take can seem daunting at times,” he says. “To fight against suffering with what appears to be more cruelty, it hardly makes sense. But sometimes a sacrifice–” 

“Your speeches don’t work on me anymore,” you interrupt again, taking a step forward. “Once they did, when I was yet another child who looked at you and thought you could hang the moon in the sky. But I am no longer a child, and the stars left my eyes a long time ago.” 

You take another step forward and he steps back, giving you a surge of confidence. 

“Things are going to be different this time,” you say. “This time, a boy will grow up with his godfather, loved and cared for and cherished. This time, frightened children and broken adults won’t be pieces in a game that they don’t even know they’re playing. This time, a child will not be raised to be cannon fodder in a war he did not ask for, and this time, if it does come time to make a sacrifice, it will be his choice and nobody else’s.” 

Dumbledore stares at you, dumbfounded, and you know the sight of him so surprised should not make you as happy as it does, but you decide that you are allowed this small moment of triumph. 

“You are not in control here,” you tell him plainly. “This time, a muggle born who casts spells better than anyone else their age will be a boy’s first clue that perhaps not everything his father says is true. This time, Slytherins will fight alongside their brethren, because Hogwarts is their home too. This time, a half-giant will be allowed to continue to learn and a werewolf will be allowed to continue to teach. This time a little girl with magic in her fingertips will help a man see that his father, too, was wrong for all those years, and he’ll ring up his cousin and ask if he wants to go for a pint. This time, it’s going to be different.” 

You turn to leave, but glance back one last time before you go. 

"This is my world now,” you say plainly. “In fact, it always has been. I have the power to create something more rich and meaningful than anything that your way could ever have hoped to achieve, and I can do it all on my own.” You look him straight in the eye, and utter the last words that you’ll ever speak to him. 

“I don’t need you anymore.”

There’s a pang in your chest as the world falls away...some small part of you that wishes things could have stayed the same forever. But Dumbledore himself had been the one to tell you that it did not do to dwell on dreams. You took a step forward, and a smile spread across your face. 

Now. It was time to live. 

[ilikefandom]

A Death at the Shack

Request: An Anon requested: Can I request a sev x wife reader? But it’s okay if u don’t want <33.

Genre: Angst!!!!!!

Synopsis: (Y/n) needs to save her husband’s life during the battle of Hogwarts

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem reader

Warnings: Voldemort, Death, Threats of Violence, Possible Death of a Canon Character.

Author’s Note: Not all requests will get answered this quickly! I just have the day off and the time to write this. Please send in requests! I work better when I have people to please!

The sounds of battle echoed through the hallways as (Y/n) ran. Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts and the Arithmancy professor was scared, not just for her students, but for the headmaster as well. 

After hiding her relationship and then her marriage from the majority of Hogwarts staff and students, (Y/n) was terrified. While she had to hide from people she liked and respected, she was never in any real danger for her life. Severus, however, had to keep his relationship from the friendly people at work and from one of the darkest wizards of all time, Lord Voldemort. 

She made her way through the Great Hall, dodging spells from both friend and foe, shoving her shoulder into a death eater before dashing outside of the castle. She saw a dark figure make its way across the grass with a familiar flowing set of robes. Robes she had purchased for Severus’ birthday.

Down the stairs she went, glad for the dark robes that blended her into the shadow of the castle. She jogged lightly, tired from the journey from the castle, but still full of adrenaline. (Y/n) saw three more figures appear from the corner of her eye, the trio of Gryfindors that her husband liked to give trouble to. 

Suddenly frightened for the minors she turned the other way and ran to intercept them, catching hold of Hermione’s shoulder as she reached them. 

Hermione yelped and all of them drew their wands pointing them at the woman in front of them.

“Professor (Y/L/N)?” Hermione asked.

(Y/n) nodded, but motioned for all of them to be quiet. “Yes, Hermione. Do you three realize where you’re going? You’ll walk right into his trap!”

Harry shook his head, “His name is Voldemort, no need to say it any differently.”

(Y/n) shook her head, “I do Mr. Potter, I do. If only for the sole reason of keeping my family safe I do.”

Ron gave her a sideways glance. “Your family? But why would you need to protect them now when Voldemort is going to be defeated soon?”

(Y/n) gave a half-hearted smile. She stared at the Shrieking Shack for a few seconds before commenting, “My husband plays both sides of the line children. Sometimes, you need to sacrifice your beliefs to keep those you love safe.”

She turned back to the group of teenagers in front of her and looked into Harry’s eyes. They really were just like Lily’s. (Y/n) gave a small smile as she thought back to her Hogwarts years, three years younger than Potter’s gang; they never paid her much mind. That was until she started telling them off for picking on Snape. When she was twelve she remembered distinctly giving James and Sirius a shrill tongue lashing for using leveracorpus on Severus. Fun times yelling at the two of them with Lily that would never occur again.

(Y/n) took a deep breath before picking up her pace toward Hogsmeade. Turning around only slightly to look back at her students. “Well,” she asked, tilting her head to the side a bit, “aren’t you coming?”

Harry hurried to keep stride with the professor as all of them raced down the path. (Y/n) listened for death eaters in the bushes, behind them and in between the trees. Making sure that they wouldn’t get caught before getting to their desired destination. 

As soon as they reached the shack, (Y/n) gestured for the group of teens to stay outside as she ventured in. The creaking of the stairs quieted by a quick spell from her wand. 

She gathered all of her nerve and made her way to the closed door that led to her partner and his previous master. Frightened about what she might hear from the latter man.

“You have performed extraordinary magic with this wand, My Lord,” Severus was saying, “in the last few hours alone.” As always, (Y/n) lover had to play devil’s advocate, keeping Voldemort at bay and protecting all that stood behind him.

“No,” the dark warlock replied, trailing his gaze away from the spy and out one of the unboarded windows, “no, I am extraordinary, but the wand resists me.” 

He quickly rounded on Severus causing (Y/n) to almost jump. She put the pieces together quickly, the evil man meant to kill her husband.

“There is no wand more powerful.” Severus stated, calm as ever in the face of danger. “Olivander himself has said it.”

The potions master caught a glimpse of movement behind Voldemort. He caught a brief shine from the hem of his wife’s signature gold and silver trimmed robes through the crack of the door and the breath hitched in his throat. Quickly, he commented, “Tonight when the boy comes it will not fail you, I am sure of it.”

After a pause, Severus, desperate to keep Voldemort’s attention away from the door behind him, looked the Dark Lord in the eye, “It answers to you, and you only.”

“Does it?” Voldemort asked, looking back into the black velvet of Severus’ eyes. 

Another pause, the tension building in  and thickening as if it was smoke over a growing fire. “My Lord,” Severus said, his voice wavering a bit as the door swung open, silently, fear crashing over him like a tsunami, after catching his wife’s gaze. 

 “The wand, does it truly answer to me? You’re a clever man Severus.” Voldemort said as he made his way around Snape, (Y/n) ducked behind the door, back against the wall outside. She spotted the golden trio crouching down the hall and she clutched at her chest in fright.

“Surely you must know. Where does its true loyalty lie?”

“With you.” Severus replied, his voice strong again, but his mind jittery with fright, as his back was to the door behind where his precious one hid. “Of course, my Lord.”

“The elder wand,” the Dark Lord stated, “cannot serve me properly because I am not its true master. The elder wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner.” Voldemort turned his back again to (Y/n) and she opened the door again, this time slipping into the room behind Voldemort. 

“You killed Dumbledore, Severus.” The evil wizard spoke, and (Y/n) readied her wand. “While you live, the elder wand cannot truly be mine. You’ve been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but, only I can live…”

He was cut off by (Y/n)’s silent stunning spell. Voldemort rounded on the younger witch who dove out of his line of fire, rolling to the ground. “Death is not the only manner of defeat, sir.” She said as soon as she was on her feet again.

Voldemort’s interest was piqued at this comment. “You speak of defeat, girl.” He said giving (Y/n) one of the creepiest smiles she had ever seen. 

“All I am trying to say,” (Y/n) stated, “Is that Severus didn’t make the first move, he wasn’t the one who subdued Albus Dumbledore.”

Voldemort chuckled, a high frightening laugh that echoed through the shack. “The Malfoy boy? You cannot possibly be telling me that he is the master of the elder wand! Severus killed Dumbledore, so...” 

(Y/n) smiled, “Then how come Dumbledore managed to master the elder wand without killing Grindelwald? Isn’t he still imprisoned in Nurmengard?”

“You have spirit, girl,” Voldemort spat, “I can accept that. Giving up a student to save Severus, if I didn’t know better, I’d…” Voldemort froze. “Ah Severus, you didn’t tell me you snagged yourself a bride. How, disappointing.”

“My Lord,” Severus spoke up, “My Lord please I…”

“Betrayal and disloyalty,” Voldemort scoffed, I’ll teach you to defy me! Avada Kedavra.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione heard the spell, a body slump to the floor, and then the signature crack of disaperation. Hermione bolted to the door and thrust it open. Severus Snape was sitting on the floor, large tears spilling down his face cradling Professor (Y/l/n)’s head in his lap.

As the tears fell, he looked at the trio, “Take it,” he said gesturing at the tears, “take them.”

Hermione pressed a glass vial into Harry’s hands and he took the memories from Snape’s cheeks. “You really do have your mother’s eyes.” He said, allowing himself a small smile before clutching once again at his love’s body. 

Ron tugged on Harry and Hermione’s sleeves, “Let’s go, before Malfoy suffers the same!”

They all turned back to the door and vacated the Shack. Allowing their professor to grieve, once again, over the body of a woman he loved, a woman killed by Lord Voldemort.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Because, it's you and me

Prompt- dancing with each other | ANGST | HURT COMFORT ( mostly hurt ) | TW- death | "When the time comes, you have to let go and when you let go, know you're not alone, because it's you and me" | lyrics used- nothing by Bruno Mars

I've written plenty marriage related danced and recently wrote a masquerade dance. I promise this will be the last dance prompt I write for a while. Here's something entirely different. I am slightly proud of this.

" hey love, I've picked up the groceries like you said, let me know if there's something you need. Love you" beep beep....

" uncle harry ?"

Harry aligned on the chair better as he saw teddy walk in with a little bag.

" how are you doing Today ?" He asked cheerfully as he sat down in front of harry on the chair preserves for him

"you ask this everyday and I'm doing fine teddy " harry chuckled huskily

" well as your very beloved godson, I have the right to ask" teddy smiled as he adjusted the radio set and put on the new tape.

" you're more than just my godson teddy and you know that " harry groaned as he picked up his legs and with much effort put them over the little stool

" I know, uncle harry " teddy smiled and he finally pulled out the paperworks

" you know we can do this anyday- I mean there's no rush " teddy awkwardly said as he strange fear settled into his heart

" I know dear. But it's about time I did this " harry smiled. Sadly yet willingly teddy took out his pens and the papers, reading out to harry, taking suggestions and making harry sign the same.

" you'll visit right ?" Harry gauntingly asked

" uncle harry- don't say that " teddy sadly frowned

" will you ?" Harry persisted

Teddy sighed, leaning down to press a kiss on Harry's forehead " of course. And I know Albus and scorpius will too" teddy assured cupping his face

" you remind me a lot of your father teddy. I miss him, even after all this time" harry sighed

" you are like my dad uncle harry, I might've never known my dad but you've been my dad and I wouldn't switch it for the world- well I mean I would've liked to know him but you know what I mean. You were the closest thing to a family for me and I don't regret it "

Harry smiled " we've raised you right"

" without a doubt "

" shall I leave the song on then ?" Teddy finally asked as his time' came to leave

" leave it on " harry rested his head against the arm chair closing his eyes and falling into little world of his memories.

" harry- come on- hey- look at me- look in my eyes and Just let your body flow " draco chuckled

" but if I look at you, then my legs wouldn't work fine. Coordination would be absurd draco. What kind of shit advice is that " harry rolled his eyes, still staring at his feets

" trust me harry. Just look at me and you'll be fine. Everything will be fine harry. It's you and me " draco smiled fondly. Harry sighed as he looked into draco's eyes and let his body flow to the music as they danced away.

" see, it's that easy. It's always easy-"

" because it's you and me " harry completed his sentence. Draco smiled at him, pressing a small kiss over his lips.

" because it's you and me " draco repeated, and he twirled harry around, breaking into little laughter in their own little paradise.

________________________________

" the blood sugar is considerably better, other reports also seem fine of course. Its mostly a fit report. Any problems and you know you have to report me immediately " the doctor smiled

" that's good then " harry struggled shifting backwards into the chair

" how long do you say ?"harry asked

" I- we can't predict that. But if this is how things are going to be, another 6 months maybe " she smiled sadly

Harry nodded, finally standing up, getting hold of his walking stick and letting himself out after bidding goodbye.

Like every other day, harry picked up some fruits from the market, visited Ron and Hermione, laughing at some old memories, going back home, reading the newspaper, cooking for himself, taking a shower, reading for another hour, sleeping for longer duration and finally would arrive evening that he'd spend away listening to old songs, checking his health, watching TV, making dinner for himself, and then go to bed.

Like every night, harry laid on the bed, wide eyed, picking up his phone and scrolling through until he Landed upon just the ones.

" honey, can you bring the monstera plant from the nursery, ours unfortunately died. love you" beep

" hey, love, I've told Albus and scorpius you're running a bit late, but try to reach here faster, if you can, we don't wanna upset them. Love you "

" hey love, I've picked up the groceries like you said, let me know if you need something. Love you "

" is- is this Working- oh it is. Hey, Darling, where the hell even are you ? It's our fucking anniversary and I maybe old but I'd still chop your penis off if- oh never mind, there you are. Wow you look still not a day old, still elegant as ever. Anyways- who you're talking to draco- love you, harry " beep

Beep... Beep..

Harry allowed a little tear to trickle down his face, playing with the ring on his finger as he remembered old days of his life passing away . He wouldn't change it for the world. He'd had everything he needed, and now he was done. He'd lived to see another day everyday, but now he just waited for another day where he won't be.

" Track suits and red wine " harry Sang lowly to himself just like they used to before

"Movies for two"

" We'll take off our phones "

" And we'll turn off our shoes "

He breathed heavily as he wiped off a single tear, still humming

" We're not making out"

"On a boat in the rain"

" Or in a house I've painted blue "

And slowly and slowly it faded until his eyes closed.

" hi harry " he whispered as he appeared in White

" d- draco- what- what are you doing here ?" Harry frowned

" it's time, babe, it has come. I'll be waiting " and he faded into the whites again with his own preserved little smile only for harry and that little dream came to an end, just like a breath.

________________________________

" yo- I can't believe you bought his radio" victoria sobbed as she leaned over his husband's shoulder, teddy.

" I know he'll need it " teddy sobbed lightly, placing it over the little engraved stones.

Scorpius broke into sobs as he hugged Albus, violently" I can't- "

" it's going to be alright " Albus replied heavily

" shall I ?" Teddy asked everyone as he sniffled wiping away his own tears with a handkerchief, getting hold of his wife's hand.

" Who needs stars?

We've got a roof

But there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you "

The radio faded, the voice slightly branching into little audio of harry and draco of them talking and giggling from the day of their children's weddings.

" I can't believe he bought this " harry whispered, holding draco's hands.

" I can't believe you didn't know he'll bring it " Draco chuckled as they watched their kids, holding hands with each other's and placing flowers.

" we've raised them right, haven't we ?" Harry smiled fondly at draco

" we have " draco smiled

" do you think they'll be alright ?" Harry asked , slightly worried for their kids.

" I think they'll be fine " draco smiled.

They sat their for Long hours watching their kids, sitting their ideally crying In their memories, sometimes even cracking little jokes, sharing memories until the night came in and they all slowly reluctantly started leaving.

" but there's nothing" draco hummed as he danced away on top of stones with harry

" like doing nothing " harry hummed doing the same

" with you "they hummed collectively as the song finally ended and teddy packed the radio up.

" we'll miss you. You're finally with draco. Rest in peace uncle harry. To the moon and back.. " teddy whispered and with a single large tear, he walked away.

" it's finally you and me " draco whispered when everything finally went silent.

" it'll be fine " draco reassured

" because it's you and me "

" because it's you and me " and they cherished in a little kiss.

I really hope you liked this. Thank you for the incredible support In the last few days..

Requests open

Day 47- stupid Teenage crush | Day 49- 5 times Harry was a pain in the ass until he wasn't

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Grand Gestures

Request: A request for my love, George Weasley! Post-war (Fred is alive obvs) and all is good and well, and they've been ignoring their feelings for one another for so long and now, because George almost lost Fred and he's tired of ignoring how he feels so he shows up where she works, and just says he's in love with her and is fed up with waiting for them to pull their heads out of their asses! Extra fluff please?? You're the best Millie 💛💛💛 - @dreamer821

A/N: JJ! Thank you so much for requesting, and for trusting me with your idea! I truly hope I’ve done it justice! This is a load of fluff - just some good old fluff, because why shouldn't George get that? I’m also 12 followers away from 1000 followers!!!!! which is insane!!! I have a big celebration planned so let's get there! As always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of war and some swearing BUT THE FLUFF IS SO CUTE.

Word count: 2.2k

The Daily Prophet had a reputation within the wizarding world; it was known globally for its hard-hitting expos on the highest wizards in power across the globe. It had been particularly damning towards Albus Dumbledore upon his fall from grace with the rise of the Dark Lord yet backtracked on their view of the Headmaster upon his death.

You had started work at the publication six months after completing your eighth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Second Wizarding War had disturbed your final year of education. But the defeat of the Dark Lord allowed you to go back to Hogwarts to receive your NEWTs.

The war had taken so much from you; you had lost friends and family members through the Battle of Hogwarts. Memories of the events were burned into your brain; they couldn’t be avoided in the late hours of the night when your tears would fall silently down your face.

However, whilst the war had taken so much from you, it had brought you closer to your oldest friend George Weasley.

Growing up in the next village from Ottery St. Catchpole, the Weasley family were the closest wizarding family to yours other than the Diggory’s. You spent most weekends at The Burrow being spoiled rotten by Molly Weasley. Your parents worked so often; they felt awful for leaving you so much but as you grew older, you reassured them that you really didn’t mind spending time with the Weasley family.

The more time you spent at The Burrow; the more attached you grew to the twins. Being the same age as them, you fell into an easy friendship with them – playing pranks on their elder brothers, practicing Quidditch in the meadow behind their home. The friendship with the twins was something you treasured, and it followed you to Hogwarts where you were sorted into the same house.

Fred and George shouted the loudest when the Sorting Hat cried out Gryffindor after being placed on your head. Your grin matched theirs when you sat down across from them at the table. Charlie patting your shoulder in celebration as you sat next to him.

Your time at Hogwarts was defined by three things; your academic skills, the rising tension about the rebirth of the Dark Lord, and your love for George Weasley.

You consistently came at the top of your class in every subject; spending hours in the library, working on essays and revising topics you could recite like the back of your hand. George lost count how many times he had dragged you out of the library after curfew; after you had promised him just one more hour of studying.

Falling in love with George Weasley was the next natural step in your relationship. Your heart started to race every time he smiled in your direction; feeling your face heat slightly at any attention he gave you. Your skin felt overheated each time he would grab your hand out of the blue; knocking the breath out of you when he did.

Every day you told yourself you’d tell him; you’d confess what you had felt for so long.

Then the war came.

----------

Upon seeing him alive, standing in the Great Hall, covered in dust but his eyes still the brown you had come to love, you had thrown yourself into his arms.

He met you halfway; his arms wrapping tightly around you as he kept you pressed against.

“I thought…” You trail off, tears falling down your face.

George hushes you, “Not in a million years, love.”

You sniffle, your hands patting him down, checking for injuries. “Love, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

You nod rapidly, “I’m okay, not hurt, I just have some cuts and bruises.”

Something in George’s chest relaxes at that; relief flows through his body when your confirm that you’re okay. Through the entire battle, his mind was occupied with you – panicking over where you were and what was happening. Dread pooled in his stomach at the thought of you hurt.

He didn’t want the day to end without him having the chance to tell you how he feels about you.

But when he saw you running through the Great Hall to get to him; he wanted to tell you – wanted to tell you everything, but his mouth couldn’t find the words. So he settles for burying his face in your hair, inhaling the scent he had come to associate with love.

--------

It had been a year since the war ended, since Voldemort’s defeat and yet you hadn’t taken the chance that had been offered so many times.

When you joined him on his walks; the sun shining, his eyes brighter than the week before. There was a chance then to tell him.

When you found him in the kitchen in the Burrow at midnight, making enough hot chocolate for two because he knew you’d join him. In the silence, there was a chance then.

The war had brought you closer together; you started staying at the Burrow more. Molly only too happy to let you stay if it meant that George was starting to sleep through the night without waking from the nightmares of Fred’s near death experience. It had truly scarred George; the moment when he found him unconscious had been the darkest minutes of his life – he felt he had no direction; as if the very reason for his being on earth had been taken away. It had taken time for George to feel like he could let Fred out of his sight.

Chance after chance had presented itself to you, but you wanted to be in a place where you worried about your own mental health as well as his.

The war had been devastating, and whilst it had brought the two of you closer together, it had destroyed part of you that needed time to heal.

You were happy to be his shoulder to cry on when his thoughts got to be too much. For now, you were content with the walks and the midnight hot chocolates.

----------

George had had enough. He couldn’t keep his feelings from you any longer; he was close to combusting from what he felt for you.

Groaning, he lets his head fall onto the kitchen table. Fred laughs at the sight, “Still pining are we, Georgie?”

“I just don’t know how to say it, Freddie.”

“How about something grand?”

“What do you mean?”

“Put on a show, George! We’re the Weasley twins, we’ve never done anything that wasn’t a spectacle.”

George lifts his head from the table, “You’re right but what should I do?”

A smirk breaks out across his twin’s face. Fred has had this planned since he realised the romantic feelings between the two of you and the absolute obliviousness of the both of you.

--------

George fixes his patterned tie in a shop window across the road from the offices. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead but it soon flops back over. He let it grow out after the war and hadn’t had the time to get it cut since. He takes a deep breath, smiling at himself in the window. He can do this, he tells himself.

The doors to the Daily Prophet are never closed; instead, running on revolving doors that journalists and photographers constantly run in and out of. George wonders mindlessly whether any of them get dizzy from running in and out all day, chasing leads and capturing photos.

He shrugs to himself, stepping into the road. His heart is in his mouth with every step he takes towards the doors. His hands shake slightly as he enters the seemingly plain office building, but his breath is always taken away by the ornateness of it once entered. It’s disguised as a simple red brick building for muggles, to keep them off the scent of witches and wizards, but entering the foyer to the building, George wonders if he’ll ever enter a place as grandly decorated.

As he stands in the lift, giving the number of your floor to the lift operator, his voice breaks. He blushes at the sound of it before repeating himself, clearing his throat first.

The lift goes too fast for his liking; the butterflies in his stomach turning into a full blown riot when the doors open to the familiar floor. He had brought you lunch here a thousand times, if not more. Eating at your desk as you worked on another story and George occupied himself by watching you work.

Thinking back on it, George wonders if you’ve realised that he’s in love with you and you haven’t said anything as to not let him down.

He shakes his head clear of that thought, getting off the elevator. He won’t talk himself out of this; not now, not when he has come this close and listened to Fred’s every word.

Your desk is situated to the back of the room; next to the large window that covers the expanse of the wall. It provides a beautiful view of muggle London, but George would argue that the most beautiful view in all of London is you. You’ve pushed your hair back from your face as you shuffle papers on your desk; you huff as a piece of hair falls into your eyes. You’ve rolled the sleeves of your blouse up, exposing the tattoo on your right forearm that you got in memoriam for the family you had lost in the war. It was one of George’s favourite things about you; you were happy to move on, to start living your life again, but you would not forget.

A large smile breaks over your face at the sight of George in your office. He visited so often but you were never bothered by the man you had fallen in love with as a teenager.

“George,” You call, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He waves his hand in a nonchalant manner, “Oh… nothing, I was just in the neighbourhood.”

You glare playfully at the red-headed man, “I don’t believe you for one second, Weasley.”

George gasps, placing a hand on his heart, “You hurt me, (Y/N).”

“Oh hush,” You grin, “How can I help you today, George?”

George takes a deep breath, preparing himself, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“I’m all ears. Anything for you, Georgie.”

He smiles at you softly; overcome with what he feels for you. He’s never loved anyone like this; he’s had crushes in the past but that’s all they were – simple, childish crushes. But this; this is it for him. You’re it for him; if he could propose marriage to you here and now, he would because he knows with every single fibre of his being that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

George swings himself up onto the desk in front of yours; he pauses for a second to see if the desk will take his weight. He smiles satisfied when the desk doesn’t collapse under him – that would definitely ruin his plans for what he has to say.

“What are you doing?” You shout, your hands reaching to pull him down.

George bends at the knee, lowering himself to be closer to your level, “I’m making a grand gesture, love.”

You frown up at him, taking a step closer in case he falls, “You’re what?”

“I’m making a grand gesture, are you ready?”

You look at him with a puzzled expression on your face, but curiosity burns through you. “As I’ll ever be. Show me your grand gesture, George.”

George stands to his full height, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes a deep breath.

Now or never.

“I love you!” George shouts, arms spread as wide as his smiles as he balances precariously on your neighbour’s desk.

You hold a piece of paper to your face to hide the large grin growing across your face at the sight of the man you had loved since you were a teenager declare his feelings for you in such a grand gesture.

Your shoulders shake from the effort of keeping your laughter repressed. This had Fred written all over it, but you knew that George would happily go along with it. It had the Weasley twins written all over it even if it wasn’t one of them declaring their love for you.

“What do you say, love? Do you love me back?” He asks, eyebrows raised, waiting for your answer.

You stay silent for a minute; making him wait. Eileen at the desk to the left of yours throws a ball of paper at your head, “Honey, if you don’t tell him you love him, I will.”

You start to laugh, “Yes, Georgie. I love you too.”

Relief washes over him; making his legs feel like jelly as he jumps down from the desk. The smile doesn’t leave his face once – not as he pulls you in, not as he tilts your face, and not as he finally, after so so long, presses his lips to yours.

“I’ve waited so long to tell you and so long to kiss you,” George whispers when he pulls away.

“I think I’ve waited just as long as you have,” You quip.

“Grand gestures, aye?”

You laugh, kissing him again. It’s a while before you reply, but when you do you’re whispering, “Thank Merlin for grand gestures.”

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​

George Weasley taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

[britishboystm]

On the Quidditch Pitch | The Day We Met: A Fred Weasley Mini Series

Inspired by:

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, injuries, nasty falls, swearing, physical fighting, bullying

WC: 1.6k

Chapter Summary: Y/N joins the Gryffindor quidditch team in her second year at Hogwarts. As a result, a series of unfortunate events unfold at her first official match.

Series Masterlist

***

September 6th 1990

Madam Hooch had seen a great deal of potential in Y/N the second she stepped onto the Quidditch pitch in her first year. In fear of other teams preying on the small girl, Madam Hooch felt it necessary to keep her after class to train.

By second year Y/N was ready to be the best Gryffindor chaser Hogwarts had seen in decades. The moment the other Gryffindor players saw her walk towards them in sporting robes one afternoon practice, they all laughed, including the twins. This sparked something within her and it became Y/N’s mission to prove them all wrong.

Once everyone had taken position in the air, Y/N had gotten into her game headspace. By the end of practice, she had gotten ten quaffles through the tall hoops.

“Did you know about this?” George asked in bewilderment as he flew up beside his twin. Fred couldn’t keep his eyes off of the tiny chaser passing the keeper again and again. He was gobsmacked.

“No idea.” He responded in astonishment.

It was a week later that Y/N found herself standing alongside the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team at her very first official match. The small open space between the closed canvas curtains gave a tinge of brightness as the team waited in anticipation. Muffled screams and shouts of the hundreds of students in the crowd echoed throughout the pitch.

“You ready L/N?” Asked keeper and captain to be Oliver Wood.

The young girl looked up at the older brunette and smiled widely.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The drapes opened, allowing the sunlight from the outside world to fill the inclosed space. Y/N jerked back a bit and winced, attempting to adjust her eyes to the brightness.

She had almost missed the moment in which the rest of the team mounted their brooms, zipping on to the pitch.

She quickly caught up and followed as the team did a lap around the pitch. Nothing but grass, sky and the blurred collection of the Hogwarts student body were in sight.

Y/N let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding in and all of a sudden she felt as though she were on top of the world.

It was almost immediately that the Slytherin team brought into play their game plan; pick on Y/N. Being the newest, youngest and physically the smallest member of the Gryffindor team, she instantly became the easiest target. It was what Madam Hooch feared when she began training the young girl, but Y/N knew she couldn’t let a few green hooded bullies get to her.

She pushed and pushed and scored and scored. The cheers and chants of her names coming from the stands every time she advanced Gryffindor to victory was her fuel. Much to the Slytherin team’s chagrin.

“Get the little twerp!” Marcus Flint yelled. The three chasers of Slytherin all collectively nodded to the commands given and nosedived to where Y/N was. She didn’t initially notice them until one of them pulled up beside her and aggressively body checked her with his shoulder. She looked at the older boy in disgust, trying to lose him amongst the other players.

But she was too late.

A second chaser came up on her other side and did the exact same thing as the first. Y/N soon realized that she was being ambushed as she looked over her shoulder to see the third chaser right on her tail.

The three Slytherin’s forced Y/N down towards the grass below. She tried to shimmy her way out of the pack of bodies, but when she finally looked down to where she was going, a flash of white hit her, her stomach lurching forward in the process.

The tip of her broomstick had caught onto one of the sand patches, sending her flying forward off of her broom and skidding face first into the rough grains of sand.

The impact was enough to knock her out cold.

A collective gasp filled the pitch and the game stopped completely. Everything went silent.

Fred couldn’t help but worry as he witnessed his friend take the nasty tumble. When the cloud of dust around her finally settled and he saw her not moving, his worry grew exponentially. That was when Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey and a student assistant rushed onto the scene.

“Out of my way!” Madam Pomfrey yelled as she ran past the now grounded players towards Y/N’s motionless body.

Everyone watched as the three person medical team examined her injuries. A group of Gryffindor professors came trickling in with Madam Hooch, hoping for a positive report. Sure it was slightly biased since she was one of their own, but who could blame them?

From closer inspection it became evident that her face had been badly bruised and scratched, especially around the cheek area. Her left wrist laid awkwardly beneath her, clearly broken. And from a couple quick tests, it seemed that she also suffered a bad concussion.

“She needs to be taken to the hospital wing.” Madam Pomfrey said with concern.

Hagrid nodded and along with the student medical assistant, rushed away into the shadows of the pitch to then re-emerge with a cloth stretcher.

They gently placed her on it and with very little struggle brought it off the ground, walking off the pitch towards the hospital wing.

Fred didn’t really think before he dropped his broom and ran after the group of adults, slowing down when he finally found himself beside the moving stretcher.

“Y/N.” Was all he said before taking her small hand in his. She looked so peaceful for someone who had just gotten the life knocked out of them.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked with concerned eyes as he looked to Madam Pomfrey.

“Yes but what she needs is rest.”

“I’m going with her.” He stated confidently.

“Sorry sunny, she won’t be allowed visitors for another few hours. Only after I’ve fully mended her wounds.” And with that they quickened their pace, leaving Fred behind.

“Sad to see your little girlfriend go Weasley?” Called out Pucey in a nasty joking tone.

Fred’s fists and jaw clenched and his temperature rose exponentially. The Slytherin’s had clearly planned this. To injure his friend who was just playing a good and fair game of Quidditch.

He finally turned around at the sound of the opposing team laughing.

“You greasy little git!” He yelled as he stormed towards Pucey, shoving him in the chest once he got close enough.

“Ooohh.” The team mocked, not really taking Fred Weasley seriously.

“So she is your little girlfriend. Maybe next time you see her you can tell her to leave the game to the big boys. Pipsqueak didn’t stand a cha-“

Fred punched him square in the jaw causing the Slytherin to fall to the ground in pain. The crowd erupted in cheers and hollers when Fred dove forward and pinned Pucey down, tackling him.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Filled the arena.

“Get him off!” Pucey yelped as Fred laid hit after hit. No one talked about Y/N that way, never. He didn’t understand why he had gotten so heated over the situation, but at that point he was in way too deep to even care.

Finally, George came in and pried his older twin off of the bloodied up Slytherin who was whimpering in agony. He had to before the collection of angered professors approaching them did.

“Fred stop!” George yelled as Fred thrashed, trying to push his brother away from going back in for another round.

“Stupid wanker! I’ll show him!” George finally moved in front of him.

“Fred, relax. Y/N wouldn’t want to see you like this. Pull yourself together mate.” Fred was still seeing red. George attempted to make eye contact but it was no use. Fred was too busy sending death glares to Pucey, his chest rising and falling rapidly and nostrils flared.

“Mr Weasley!” Professor McGonagall screeched. She ran up to him with Snape and Flitwick close behind her.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Professor he-“

“Apologies for interrupting you Mr Weasley but I believe I asked your brother the question.” George slinked back away from Fred, no longer able to protect him from the wrath of McGonagall.

“I hope you understand the severity of the situation. You will attend detention every day for an hour until Winter Break, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes professor.” He couldn’t make eye contact with her.

She looked at him with disappointed eyes.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor.” She said with a sigh before walking away.

“All students back to the castle!” She called out, causing everyone to disperse from the stands in disappointment.

Later that evening, Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore stood in the doorway of the now darkened hospital wing. Hours had passed since the incident.

“He’s been here for hours Albus. Should I send him back to his dorm?” She whispered.

Dumbledore smiled lightly, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

Fred Weasley, still in his dirty quidditch robes, sat in a chair beside the hospital bed Y/N was sleeping in. He hadn’t gone back to his dorm to change or had eaten dinner in the great hall. He instead, paced in front of the hospital wing entrance until Madam Pomfrey finally let him in to see Y/N.

Fred was now hunched over and drifting in and out of sleep. His hand held Y/N’s, his thumb caressing the soft skin on top of them.

The two adults listened intently as Fred sleepily recounted his fight with Pucey to Y/N. He didn’t care if it fell on deaf ears. At least she was there.

“No Minerva. Leave him be.”

[pellucidity-is-me]

On Comparing Two Werewolves

Summary: Another scene from my fanfic (link in blog description) that can work as a one-shot. Dumbledore returns to his office the night before Halloween, argues with a few portraits about Remus Lupin’s place in Hogwarts, and decides to take a closer look on his own past with Fenrir Greyback.

Wordcount: 4396

Dumbledore returned to his office, humming Benny Goodman's Sing, Sing, Sing. He looked around and smiled at all the decorations on his walls. The group of Gryffindor boys calling themselves the “Marauders” had snuck into his office and decorated it as a little Halloween practical joke. It was very advanced magic (highly impressive for first-years), and it would have fooled anyone else. But not Dumbledore—and he was going to let the prank play out. It was harmless, after all.

Dumbledore removed the portrait-coverings from the walls. The portraits found it terribly annoying to be covered up like that, and Dumbledore did like having their input... most of the time. However, many of them held very hostile beliefs towards werewolves, and Dumbledore didn't want Remus to hear any of it. Remus had, of course, probably heard it all already. But the boy was eleven years old, and Dumbledore wanted to let him be a child as long as he could.

Even if it meant having his office expertly decorated for Halloween.

Especially if it meant having his office expertly decorated for Halloween.

"They've decorated your office," Eupraxia Mole said sternly from her portrait-frame. "A couple of boys. I think there were three. One of them was the werewolf." Dumbledore noticed the contempt with which she said the word and raised an eyebrow.

"I am aware, Eupraxia. And I do not see it fit to discriminate against Remus when you are quite literally a portrait. You're not even a living being, and I do not need to argue with you."

"The audacity!"

"I'd say you weren't fit to run this school if you weren't the best Headmaster we've ever had," said Everard, twirling his moustache. "I trust your judgement, even though I do not trust the boy."

"Thank you, Everard."

"I was a Healer before I was Headmistress, you know," said Dilys. "I've healed a few, and they are not completely ill-mannered, to my knowledge. Most of them seem to be normal at first. It is society, I believe, that drives them to be the monsters that we believe them to be. Watch him carefully, Albus. It is still possible that he will go down that path."

"Very insightful, Dilys."

"Half-breed, that's all he is," said Dexter Fortescue. "They all end up the same! Why you would put the school in danger by allowing him in, I have no idea! You ought to just put a stop to this nonsense and put him out!"

"You've heard our conversations, Dexter. He is no more dangerous than you or I."

"Whiny, snivelling little brat if you ask me," said Phineas Nigellus Black. "Doesn't seem to pose much of a threat. It's Sirius Black I'm worried about. I would recognize his voice anywhere, and this hijink will be reported directly to his mother. If he were anyone else then it would be acceptable. But he has a responsibility, as heir, to act his age. I've heard Walburga rant about him—he's a Gryffindor."

"No harm done, Phineas. I find him to be a bright and entertaining boy, myself."

"Of course you would," said Phineas snidely. "You let a literal monster into Hogwarts. That never would have been done in my day. It wouldn't have been done in anyone's day. There's a reason it's never been done before."

"Remus is an eleven-year-old boy. There is no reason to be afraid of an eleven-year-old boy."

"How do you know he's not a senseless monster? You have no proof," Euphraxia argued.

"Monsters are not pleasant, clever, kind, and mild-mannered," said Dumbledore evenly. He was getting a bit frustrated now. It should be such a small thing, letting a werewolf into Hogwarts. The portraits only disliked the idea of it because it had never been done before. It was difficult to talk with paintings that were stuck in the past, could not grow, and could not mature. Dumbledore again wondered why he was doing it.

"He's faking it." Euphraxia blew out a puff of air and let her portrait-y lips flap a little. "I can't believe you can't tell. He's not a normal eleven-year-old; he is a monster assuming the shape of an eleven-year-old, pretending to act as any other child would. It's obvious, Albus, that he's lying. You saw. He nearly lost control that one time. Had to stop, breathe, and take up his façade again. Remember?"

"He was stressed. I would have stopped to take a breather, myself. And, forgive me for saying so, but I excel at reading people. He is not pretending to be a person." Really. The notion was ridiculous. Remus was good at a great many things, but pretending to be a person for six and a half years was not something that he could do. It wasn't something that anyone could do.

"Don't get defensive, Albus," said Dilys. "We are only trying to protect the school. That is our duty, after all. I am inclined to agree with you, but I would be cautious if I were you."

"Thank you, Dilys. I accidentally allowed myself to forget that you are only portraits, and that I cannot easily change the mind of a painted inanimate object."

"I had no idea that you were so irresponsible," said Phineas, "letting my descendant go bad like that."

"What was I meant to do?"

"Re-sort him. Put him in Slytherin. That House will lead him right."

"The Sorting Hat does not agree."

"You mean the inanimate talking hat?"

"I see you've heard of it."

"This school is going to go up in flames!" Dexter continued. "A werewolf running rampant in a school full of children! I may be a portrait, but I've heard of the deeds of Fenrir Greyback! Mark my words, that boy will go bad!"

Armando Dippet cut in for the first time. "I remember Fenrir. I taught him, though he didn't go by the surname 'Greyback' at the time. You taught him, too, Albus. Quiet. Soft-spoken. Like the Lupin boy."

"Not all quiet teenagers are the same person, Armando."

"I know, I know. But I see my colleagues' point. I never would have imagined Fenrir to grow up the way he did. Something snapped, Albus. Something changed. He wasn't the same after being bitten."

"He became bitter because of a tragic event. I can't see Remus taking that route."

"And I couldn't see Fenrir doing it, either. I advocate for equality, of course. But I don't think you should have let Lupin into the school."

"And you," said Dumbledore, picking up his quill, "are only a portrait. I do not wish to discuss this any further. I make the decisions. You have all made your opinions clear, but my say is final. Sirius Black is a Gryffindor, and Remus Lupin is a Hogwarts student. And remember: you all are sworn to secrecy about his condition."

"Condition!" scoffed Dexter. "What a euphemism! It's not a condition, nor is it a sickness... it's a way of life! It's a species!"

Dumbledore closed Dexter's portrait with a snap. "I would like some peace and quiet. Do not make me permanently remove your portraits from my office."

The portraits were quiet (most of them even left their frames, perhaps to sulk somewhere else), and Dumbledore finished composing a letter to the Minister. But something niggled in the back of his head. He remembered Fenrir, of course. He had gone to Hogwarts. He had been human at the time. But what had he been like? He had seemed like a normal student. Dumbledore had never paid much attention to him.

Dumbledore rifled through his bottles of memories and found what he was looking for. He poured it into the Pensieve and entered the memory of one of his classes. Fenrir Greyback was sitting at a desk, his head bowed over a book and his fingers tapping on the desk impatiently. Dumbledore bent next to him and tried to remember.

It was almost unnatural to watch this boy—whose face was now constantly in the Daily Prophet—who was now one of the most feared people on earth. He looked so young and innocent: he was hardly the same person. It was no wonder that no one ever recognized him after he went bad. Dumbledore himself hadn't believed it; when the name Fenrir Greyback had become popular amongst fearful wizardkind, Dumbledore had thought that it was simply someone with the same first name. After all, he'd taught multiple Fenrirs. He'd even entertained the notion that the name was completely fake, or that he hadn't taught Greyback at all... he'd never once made the connection until he had seen that 1965 photograph of the man, and it was hard to believe even then.

Dumbledore studied the young Greyback's face, but could find no trace of Remus Lupin in his eyes. He simply looked bored, and Dumbledore could hardly fault anyone for being so in the middle of Transfiguration class.

Fenrir was quiet. Hardly ever spoke at all, in fact. He didn't spend any time around peers in his own House—he spent more time with the Gryffindors, in fact, than anyone else. Fenrir's chosen company reminded Dumbledore of James and Sirius, in fact. But he was always an add-on; someone who never had nor was ever considered a "best friend". He was just... there. Quiet. He reminded Dumbledore more of Peter Pettigrew than Remus Lupin, if Dumbledore was being honest with himself.

Dumbledore could hardly see the current Fenrir Greyback in the boy's appearance: the man who had grown out his nails and hair, who had embraced his condition and used it to become more wolf-like and intimidating. This eleven-year-old boy looked... sweet. Happy. Had he changed? The boy stood up and walked over to young-Dumbledore after class ended. Dumbledore only had to search the depths of his brilliant memory for a moment before he remembered this conversation.

"Professor Dumbledore," said the young Fenrir Greyback, his eyes bright. "I forgot to do my homework again."

"And what were you doing instead, Fenrir?" It was always so unnatural, hearing his own voice in a memory.

"I was... er."

"Yes?"

"I dunno, sir. Sleeping. Reading. Outside. I just didn't feel like doing it."

"First year is an excellent time to start applying yourself, Fenrir. Habits are formed when you are still young. Do you realize that you have not turned in a single homework assignment since school began?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why are you here?"

"Sorry, sir?"

"Why are you at Hogwarts, if you are intent on shirking your responsibilities?"

"It's not like I'm not learning the spells. I can perform them. I just don't want to do the written homework." Now, that sentiment reminded Dumbledore of those of James Potter and Sirius Black. But still not Remus.

"Which will help the spells to stay in your long-term memory," Memory-Dumbledore said. “We teachers rather know what we are doing."

The memory faded and reformed, and Fenrir was now in third year. Dumbledore looked on as Fenrir spoke to Armando Dippet, who looked thoroughly frustrated with the child.

"Fenrir," said Dippet, not unkindly, "You are still refusing to apply yourself. What do you plan on doing after Hogwarts?"

"Don't know, sir," Fenrir said dismissively, "and I don't care. I'm meant to be doing something more than sitting still and doing homework."

Dumbledore was almost amused despite himself. Well, that ended up happening, didn't it?

The memory shifted again, and Fenrir was laughing with his friends... running and chasing them around the Hogwarts grounds... playing catch and Exploding Snap.

All monsters had started out as boys and girls, hadn't they?

Dumbledore remembered a little more of Fenrir now. He hadn't been able to sit still for the life of him. He used to tap the desk with his fingers so loudly that the children sitting next to him would be driven to madness. He held grudges. He had gotten good enough grades, but only ever ended up doing enough homework to squeak by when exams rolled around. He had been innately interested in Defense Against the Dark Arts and was a decent duellist.

Dumbledore could see some traits in Fenrir that might have contributed to his current state. He was resourceful and cunning, yet didn't often think before he acted and was wont to give into current desires rather than make future investments. He seemed to value a "pack" setting—he was fiercely loyal to those he cared about and didn't seem to care whether anybody else lived or died. He didn't seem to show much empathy, save to a few of his closest friends, but he didn't exhibit a lack of empathy either. He was just... there. A student.

Could Dumbledore imagine him going bad? Sure. But people went bad all the time. Anyone had the potential to go bad; it was only a matter of choice.

This boy had been bitten by a monster shortly after leaving Hogwarts (according to Dumbledore's recent calculations), was shunned by the wizarding community, went through unimaginable pain every month, and had eventually decided to look after his own desires rather than the needs of others. Dumbledore could see him doing that. He could see many people going down that route.

But while Fenrir had been self-centered because of his condition, Remus remained others-centered.

No, that wasn't quite right in all respects. It was right in hardly any respects, actually. Fenrir had focused on others as the object of his hate. Remus had focused on himself. Remus never got angry with others for his suffering—not for long. He seemed to quite loathe himself on occasion, but almost never others. Remus was always focusing on himself, it seemed: he pitied himself, blamed himself, and overall thought about his own troubles quite a lot. It wasn't always a strength, but it was undeniably Remus.

Fenrir, alternatively, considered himself better than others—with or without the lycanthropy. Remus considered others to be better then himself because of the lycanthropy. Funny how that worked out.

They were different people, Dumbledore deduced. Greyback was a monster. Remus was not.

He had already known that, of course. And he was thankful for it.

But looking into Fenrir's young eyes, so full of life and energy, he couldn't help thinking of Remus'—the dead opposite. Remus always had a tired look to him, looked so much older than he really was, was much too mature, and had grown up before his time. Why did Greyback get a childhood and Remus did not?

So was the mystery of the universe.

Dumbledore resolved, then and there, that he would never let Remus Lupin go bad. He had allowed Grindelwald to do so in his childhood. He had already made the mistake of letting someone's faults take over until that person was no longer who they once were. He would not let the same thing come to Remus. He was going to invade the inner workings of the universe and fix things—that was his responsibility as someone who was both powerful and intelligent. Dumbledore knew how to fix things, and he was going to do it. He simply couldn't sit idly by and watch Remus' world burn.

But Remus didn't really need his help, did he?

He returned to his office, where all the portraits were sleeping—with the exception of Armando.

"Greyback, hm?" Armando asked. "Have you considered?"

"I have. My mind has not changed."

Armando chuckled. "Albus Dumbledore, changing his mind. That will happen the day that a Welsh Green becomes Minister for Magic."

"On this matter?" Dumbledore said. "Not even then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was one more memory that Dumbledore wanted to view, but he waited until all of the portraits were sleeping. He fished the vial out of the cabinet and poured it into the Pensieve, slightly dreading it. But it was perfect for Halloween, wasn't it?

And then there he was. That night that he had been out on the streets, walking on the cobblestones and singing to himself, enjoying the cool air and the streetlamps. His hair had been a little darker then, and his eyes a little brighter. It was only about five years ago, but it felt like an eternity.

Fenrir had been a werewolf now for... let's see, if he was eleven in 1948, and bitten at age eighteen, and now it was 1966, and he was about twenty-nine now... eleven years. Less than twice the amount of time that Remus had been a werewolf: present-day Remus had been a werewolf for six and a half. But Dumbledore didn't want to compare the two more than what was necessary, though he knew that it was inevitable.

Dumbledore saw his memory-self pause and look around. When Dumbledore heard a strange sound and he couldn't tell where it was coming from, he had a ritual of sorts. First, he would look up, because that's what the average person would least expect. Then he would look down. Then he would look to his left, because he was right-handed. Then he would look to his right. He watched his memory-self do all of this, and when he was doing the final step—spinning in a circle—he noticed the source of the sound.

It was Fenrir, of course, shrouded in a black cloak that was so ripped it barely covered him. Memory-Dumbledore did not recognize him at first. "Hello?" he said, drawing nearer. It wasn't until the thing looked up and met Memory-Dumbledore's eyes that he realized. Memory-Dumbledore recognized Fenrir's image from the papers, so he drew his wand and trained it on the creature, ready to attack if need be. "Fenrir. Fancy meeting you here."

Fenrir smiled, and both Dumbledores noticed his teeth—sharp, pointed, and stained with red... Very Halloween-y, thought Dumbledore, and also mildly disturbing.

"What are you doing out here, Fenrir? Do you need assistance in getting somewhere? Azkaban, perhaps?" Memory-Dumbledore pretended that he was not repulsed. Memory-Dumbledore imagined that it was only tomato juice or something on his teeth. Even Memory-Dumbledore, though, knew that this wasn't the case.

"Dumbledore. Long time no see." Fenrir wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were not those of the eleven-year-old boy at all. They were more dangerous. They were bloodshot. They were narrowed. Wolf-like was the first word that came to mind. Dumbledore's eyes drew to Fenrir's hand, which sported long, curled nails. He realized with a jolt that Fenrir had bitten Remus Lupin only about a year prior.

"You look a little worse-for-wear, Fenrir," said Memory-Dumbledore. "I deeply sympathize." Memory-Dumbledore did not yet know the extent of Fenrir's exploits. He remembered still the young Fenrir, full of life and a deep desire to do the right thing... Memory-Dumbledore had stupidly believed that he could somehow turn Fenrir to his own side, even though he'd been Voldemort's weapon for years now.

"You can't sympathize," said Fenrir. His voice was deep, gravelly, and scratchy, almost like a sinister record-player. He pronounced his R's in the back of his throat and ended his sentences a bit abruptly. How had his voice changed so much in a few short years? Remus' voice sounded nothing like that, so it had nothing to do with the lycanthropy. But Clark Darnall pronounced his R's that way—had Clark picked it up from Greyback or had they both gotten it from another place? "You can't sympathize," said Fenrir again. "You have no idea what I've been through."

Memory-Dumbledore, indeed, did not know. But current Dumbledore had an idea.

"I'm sorry, Fenrir. Is there anything I can do?"

"'Course not. It's not a problem anymore. I made the best of it. Made do with what I had. You know how it is."

"Hm. Have you been hurting anyone?" Memory-Dumbledore's hand twitched on his wand, knowing the answer—but he wanted to hear Greyback say it; perhaps, he thought, it would drive the man to conviction....

Fenrir was quick to confirm, and there was no guilt in his voice. "No more than they've hurt me. You've heard the stories, haven't you? You know what I've done."

Memory-Dumbledore looked at him intensely. "Fenrir," he said, "I am a very powerful wizard, you know, and I will not stand for that." Fenrir eyed Dumbledore's wand warily, but Dumbledore was not budging. "There is a way out, you know... we can keep you safe on the full moons. You are infamous for attacking children, my friend—but it's not too late to step away from all that... you'll have to pay for your crimes, of course, but we can keep you hidden from the higher-ups at the Ministry, who no doubt want to execute you. You're not trapped in this lifestyle."

Memory-Dumbledore had suspected that some of the rumors about Fenrir were unfounded, but he'd been wrong. He'd felt sympathy for the boy who had attended Hogwarts not too long ago, but he'd been wrong. Clark Darnall was in Dumbledore's ranks, and he'd warned Dumbledore of the horrific acts that Fenrir had committed... he'd already spoken to Dumbledore about Remus at this point. But Dumbledore had still thought, somewhere, deep down, that Fenrir could not have changed so much from when he was a boy—that he was only evil because he had not been given a proper choice—and Dumbledore had known that, if he could convince Fenrir, then he'd automatically have all of the werewolves in Britain on his side... countless lives could be saved.

Dumbledore was a brilliant man, yes, but he was sometimes incorrect. This was one of those times.

"Dumbledore. You know me; you taught me. Do you really think that it's so easy to convince me? You underestimate me—I wouldn't leave behind all that I've built, not for the misguided lie that there's a place for me amo-" Crack. Fenrir had, intelligently enough, Apparated away in the middle of his sentence. Nay, the middle of a word. Memory-Dumbledore had not seen it coming, and that was a rare occurrence.

Memory-Dumbledore marveled at the boy's—no, the man's—no, the monster's cleverness, and resolved to keep an eye out and figure out what he was up to before he could hurt more people. It wouldn't be that difficult. Memory-Dumbledore was already, so to speak, following the scent, and he was sure that he would have plenty more chances to apprehend the werewolf. Memory-Dumbledore walked away, less of a spring in his step, but confident and relaxed.

Current Dumbledore made his way over to the place in which his memory-self had once stood and peered down the alleyway where Greyback had been standing. A dead rabbit, still warm-looking and covered in blood, lay on the ground.

Dumbledore's stomach roiled a bit, but at least it wasn't a toddler.

With that comforting thought in mind, Dumbledore removed himself from the memory, sat down on an armchair, and opened a book.

He did not read it, though. His eyes skimmed over the words and his hand idly flipped pages, but his mind was back in the alley, watching the boy-become-monster.

The pieces clicked together in a way that they were wont to do in Dumbledore's keen mind. They were pieces that had come together in the past, yes, but now they did so even more securely.

Ten years after Fenrir was bitten, at age twenty-eight, he had attacked Remus. And he'd been savage for a long time before that. Remus had been a werewolf now for six and a half years: when Fenrir had been a werewolf for six and a half years, he had probably already begun attacking people.

The portraits had been wrong, obviously, and this proved it. But now Dumbledore thought about why.

It wasn't because Remus was a better person than Fenrir (though that was undoubtedly the case). It wasn't because he had somehow escaped whatever disease had made Fenrir go bad. It wasn't because the lycanthropy somehow affected him differently. So why had they turned out differently?

A mixture of personal choice and better circumstances, Dumbledore decided.

Remus was doing so well because he had such good parents—who had taught him right from wrong, who had spent time with him, who had loved him unconditionally. He would be further shaped by his professors and friends. He would learn, he would grow, and he would continue to live in human society—as he had done for his whole life. He'd made a choice early on to be this way, and now his choices were manifesting themselves in his personality. That was what made a person human (in the abstract sense of the word), not a species.

It was likely that Fenrir had not had systems of support like Remus did. That didn't force him to become what he was, of course, but it made it much more difficult. And then Fenrir had made a choice to do this—to give in to things that he knew were wrong—to let the worst parts of him invade his life and personality—thus Fenrir Greyback was born. Would things have gone differently if his parents had loved him unconditionally? Had they? What if Fenrir had still been in school (though Dumbledore knew that Dippet would not have allowed that)?

But one thing was for certain: it had nothing to do with lycanthropy. It was not biological. It, like many other things, was a matter of choice. It was one’s choices, after all, that showed one who they truly were—far more than their abilities.

And that was why Sirius Black, who had grown up a descendant of Phineas Nigellus, was a Gryffindor. That was why James Potter, who loved everything Gryffindor, was a Gryffindor. That was why Peter Pettigrew had chosen friends that did not match him in either ability or personality. It was all personal choice applied to surroundings: it wasn't even werewolf-specific. No one was biologically a monster.

Dumbledore had already known all that, but it was nice to put it into words.

Everyone starts out as children, he mused as he fiddled with a Disillusioned bat decoration hanging off the wall.

And as the memories replayed themselves in Dumbledore's mind well into the night, he meditated once again on the fact that having such a brilliant mind and a tendency to stick his nose in other people's business was both a blessing and a curse.

[ohscorbus]

I had a thought while watching one cc show that when Scorpius first got back he accidentally slipped and called Draco “sir” instead of “Dad” and then he has to tell Draco everything about who he was in the dark timeline - do you think that could happen?

Oh I think this is exactly how it happens. I’ve actually had this headcanon for a while. Scorpius stands in McGonagall’s office and tells them what happened because he has to, but he skillfully skims over the details about Draco. He does it to protect his dad. To spare him the judgment from others, save him from his own, and partly because saying it out loud makes it real in this world too. No, Scorpius is going to bury it because that’s what is best. Except Draco can tell when he’s holding something back. He always has. But Draco decides not to call him out on it in front of an audience. He’ll ask him about it later on. Except there is no later on. Scorpius goes missing again and Draco fears his own failings have finally caused him to lose his boy. 

Between their return, recovery, and classes, this specific issue doesn’t rear its ugly head again until the summer. Despite the reveal of Delphi’s true identity and intentions, McGonagall still enforces their cancelled Christmas and Easter is spent catching up on missed classes, so Scorpius doesn’t get back home until June. It’s been months since the events of October and so he’s been lulled into a false sense of security. But that first night home brings back the nightmares tenfold. He thinks it’s just because this is the first time he’s been separated from Albus since… since that place. And so he writes a letter the very next day and makes sure to place a photo of the two of them together on his bedside table. He goes to bed that night hopeful but wakes up in a cold sweat and a silent scream on his lips. This goes on for a week until that scream finally escapes his throat and Draco rushes in, wand raised ready with a lumos. But in the murkiness of sleep and the confusion between dreams and reality, Scorpius is blinded by wand light and then struck by fear of the loose blond hair behind it. He doesn’t register his dad’s mirrored horror, just of what could possibly be following it. He violently flinches back and gets out a ‘sorry sir’ before he’s even realised what he’s done. Draco is silent. All that can be heard is Scorpius trying to catch his breath between barely suppressed sobs. Then suddenly the lights are on and Draco slowly approaches, wand out of sight and hands where Scorpius can see them. Draco has no idea what’s happening but as he looks from his son’s trembling body to the letters and photos scattered on the bed beside him, it all falls into place. 

“Scorpius… it’s me. Do you need me to get Albus? I don’t care what time it is, I’ll make sure Potter sends him through.” 

That makes Scorpius choke out a laugh. He can just see his dad arguing with Harry through the Floo as Ginny ignores them both and tries to wake Albus up because she knows like mums always know. And as nice as it would be, to have the confirmation he’s okay, Scorpius doesn’t need that right now. Albus is safe at home with his dad. So why did he just now feel like he wasn’t safe at home with his? That’s when the guilt sets in and those words start to playback in his head. He must look like he’s going to be sick because Draco moves as quick as he can, clearly trying not to startle Scorpius again, but needing to reach the small bin by his desk for Scorpius to throw up into. He makes it just in time, but the gentle hand rubbing the back of his neck only sets off his tears again. He’s not afraid anymore, just ashamed of ever thinking his dad could hurt him. So he confesses it all. Sat there in his sweat soaked pajamas and smelling of sick. Scorpius can’t look at his dad as he spills their worst fear. But as he feels Draco start to retreat into himself, Scorpius looks up and fiercely tells him he’s not that person. He speaks with as much passion as Astoria would whenever she told him he was a good man and the kind of dad Scorpius deserved. The best. They know they need to talk about this again someday but for now, it’s enough. Draco vanishes the sick and freshens Scorpius’s pajamas and asks again about fetching Albus. Scorpius properly laughs this time. He says no and waits a beat before nervously asking if he’ll stay instead. Just until he’s fallen asleep. Draco gets on the bed beside him and lowers the lights. He pulls out a photo of Albus and Scorpius from underneath his back and asks Scorpius when it was taken. It’s exactly the right thing to do. Scorpius is smiling before he’s even launched into the tale of Albus chasing his last chocolate frog around the empty common room on Christmas day. He falls asleep with a smile still on his face and Draco stays long after it’s faded. He turns his head and looks across at the photo of Astoria also on the bedside table. He feels all the love and loss and failure and progress he’s experienced in the last hour alone and can’t stop the few tears that escape.

The next morning he’s awoken by a kick to his shins and Draco is taken back to Scorpius’s toddler years. He sits up and looks down at Scorpius still fast asleep and makes a decision. He quietly gets up and heads straight to the Floo. He manages to catch Harry as he’s eating breakfast, already dressed in his robes ready for work. He gets straight to the point. Scorpius had a bad night and while he’s better now, he knows he’d really appreciate a visit from Albus today. He knows Harry doesn’t want him at the Manor but he asks, father to father, if he’d put aside their history again for the sake of their sons. Harry must see the desperation in his eyes and as much as he hates that, it’s worth it when Harry finally promises to send Albus through as soon as he’s awake, if he wants to go. That makes Draco laugh. “I’ll see him shortly then. And thank you.”

When Scorpius comes down later on, it’s to find his dad and Albus sat at the table together. He doesn’t know who to run at and hug first. Luckily Albus is up and moving towards him before he has to make a decision, but once he’s over the initial shock of Albus finally visiting his home, he turns to his dad and gives him an equally bone crushing hug. 

“Thank you. For Albus and you know, for last night.” 

Draco lovingly pats down his son’s messy bed hair because there’s nothing to say. Scorpius should never need to thank him for that. He’s still learning, but he knows that’s what dads do and Draco, ever the Malfoy, is going for gold. So he pushes him back towards Albus who’s clearly itching for a tour. He’d just been telling him how Scorpius would use the ladders in their library to play hide and seek fearlessly up on the shelves. The image of a seven year old Scorpius hiding amongst the books had him laughing. He knows he can’t wait to tease him about it. So Draco ushers them out of the kitchen with the promise he’ll let them know once breakfast is ready. As the door shuts behind them, Draco stands there for a second and just listens to them talking and laughing as they catch up. The sound erases any reminding doubt that they can’t get through this. Toddler or teenager, Scorpius will always bounce back. Just like Astoria said. And if she’s right about that, then maybe they’re both right about him being a good man too.

------------------------------------------

(I often wonder if Draco would ever cut his hair or at least offer to after Scorpius’s strong reaction to it loose. But the more I think about it, the less likely I think he would. I’m sure he’d do it in a heartbeat if Scorpius asked or if it was a persistent issue. But it’s not. It was just that once. Plus, I personally think his long hair is a link to Astoria. He may have initially grown it out because he’s a Malfoy, but I think he keeps it like that because Astoria liked it. I imagine her reaction the first time he got it trimmed when they started dating told him so. Ever since then he’s always kept it long for her. I think Scorpius knows this too. I’m sure she often told him she loved his hair as much as she loved his dad's. So even if Draco does offer, he’d tell him no. His mum loved his long hair and he refuses to let that world tarnish that memory. Draco would agree, but he’d also keep it strictly tied back afterwards. It stays like that until the following summer when Scorpius cheekily uses a quick charm to undo the ribbon and laughs as his hair falls in front of his face, covering the pages of the book he’s reading. He doesn’t do it to prove he can cope, that doesn’t even cross his mind, he does it because his dad promised him a trip to Flourish and Blotts and he’s given up waiting patiently for him to finish his chapter. Draco threatens to cut his book allowance but they both know he doesn’t mean it, especially not when Draco realises Scorpius didn’t react just now. From that day forward, Draco doesn’t always bother to tie it back in the mornings or at all on days when it’s just the two of them. But it takes another couple of weeks for Scorpius to realise his dad is wearing it down again. He immediately gives him a hug in silent thank you.)