#riddle!reader

[marauder-misprint]

Okay, that may be an absurd request. But isn't that what fan fiction is for after all?!

Tom Riddle / Voldemort's daughter!reader and Sirius balck. I need a violent(!) love-hate relationship. (A spoiler for you about my current love life:))

If it's okay for you to write, I'd love to read from you.

And if possible, I would prefer Sirius who graduated from Hogwarts, maybe never sent to Azkaban or just released. It is a pleasure to read a little in adulthood.

Thank you very much in advance 🤍🤍🤍

Hi! I hope your love life is going better (And seriously, if you need someone to talk to about your current situation, I'm here for you)

Idk how violent love-hate this is. I tried to do an enemies to lovers type of thing? Hopefully you enjoy this ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

It's set post-war, James and Lily are dead and Sirius is raising Harry w/ Remus.

Blood is(n't) everything

Sirius Black x Riddle!reader

4.5k words

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, the tiniest bit of fluff, discussion of war, drinking

You knew from the moment you were born that you had Helga Hufflepuff’s blood running through your veins. Your mother was the niece of Hepzihab Smith, who constantly bragged about being a Hufflepuff descendant. You should have been a shoo-in for Hufflepuff when you arrived at Hogwarts. Imagine everyone’s surprise when you got sorted into Slytherin. 

I guess blood isn’t everything, you mused time and time again. 

You felt very at home in Slytherin. People seemed to get you. Part of you felt slightly bad that you agreed with the ones that said “Better than Slytherin than Hufflepuff if you ask me.” Hufflepuff, despite being family, felt soft and you were anything but. 

Voldemort’s main rise to power occurred while you were in school. You paid attention to who agreed with his beliefs and who didn’t. Knowing where people’s beliefs and loyalties laid, all while keeping yours close to your chest, allowed you to be on good terms with a wide variety of people. 

But as Voldemort gained more and more followers, you grew more curious about him. It took a bit of digging and research. You found out when he might’ve attended Hogwarts and from a meticulously careful conversation with Professor Slughorn, you discovered his real name. A name he stopped going by. Tom Riddle. 

That might not mean anything to any of your peers, but it did to you. Your mother had mentioned your father to you a handful of times, saying how charming he was and how kind he was to visit her aging aunt. Tom Riddle was your father and that made you a descendant of Slytherin, just like he was. 

Maybe blood is everything. 

---

Years passed and your father fell at the hands of James and Lily Potter. The ministry tried rounding up all of the known Death Eaters. Anyone with the mark would be put away. Lucky for you, you never took the mark. Your name was enough. You hadn’t taken part in some of the more heinous activities, but your connection to your father’s followers was obvious. You had worked to convince uncertain witches and wizards that blood status meant everything. 

Now that Voldemort had fallen, you returned to holding your beliefs close to your chest again. You found a job that was able to ignore whatever past you had with the Dark Arts and while some did remember your part in upping Voldemort’s numbers, you were able to move on with your life. For the most part, that is.

“How the hell did trash like you manage to stay out of Azkaban?” Sirius drawled from behind where you sat at the bar. 

You clicked your tongue as you looked over your shoulder. You had hoped for a quiet night. A few drinks at the bar and then off to bed. That was your plan. 

“Black, lovely. Can’t say I know what you mean though.”

“We all know about your connection to your father.”

“Being born isn’t enough to lock someone up.”

“It should be,” he sighed, moving closer to the bar to signal the bartender to pour him a drink. “Although, you did more than be born.”

“No one can prove I did anything to be locked up over.” You took a sip of your drink. “Say, how is the Potter boy? You and that half blood are taking care of him now that his mummy and daddy are in the ground?” 

Sirius’ face immediately burned. He tipped the bottom of your cup upward so your drink spilled all over your lap. You hummed nonchalantly, waving your hand over yourself to dry your clothes. 

“Classy, Black. Real classy.”

“You have no right to talk about the Potters,” he hissed. 

“Another one, sir,” you called to the bartender and then turned your gaze back to the man standing next to you. “Why’s that?”

“You damn well know why.”

“I mean, technically, they killed my father so me and that boy got something in common, don’t we?”

Sirius looked like he was about to punch you. The bartender came to your rescue though, handing you another cocktail and Sirius his shot. He threw it back and immediately asked for another. 

“But speaking of families… How are Regulus and Walburga? Haven’t heard from either recently.”

“Regulus is… he’s dead,” Sirius said firmly. “And Mother, who the hell knows or cares. Why were you in contact with her?”

“Shame about Regulus. I liked ‘im,” you replied, not answering Sirius’ question.

The answer was actually quite innocent. You had wanted to talk to her about being a well-positioned woman in a noble family and Regulus had connected you. 

“Just another casualty to blame on your family,” Sirius grumbled, tossing back the second shot. 

“You seem to have a lot of thoughts on the matter. Care to sit and talk about it?” you asked, your tone mocking.

You really didn’t expect Sirius to sigh and then take the stool next to you. Despite not being vocal about your beliefs in school, you and Sirius never really got along. You were a Slytherin afterall and he hated each and every one in your house, even Regulus. There had been one kiss between the two of you — that game of spin the bottle was the end of your participation in party games. And then after school, you really went your separate ways. So to say that you and Sirius weren’t even really acquaintances would be correct. 

“You helped tear apart families. Innocent people were killed. Over what? Purifying wizardkind?” he snarked before ordering a whiskey.

A sipping drink, you thought, that means he’s going to sit here. 

“I don’t expect you to understand,” you said. “Loyalty to family and all.”

“Please, if you really knew my family… You would’ve left too. Actual Slytherin families are far worse than the Hufflepuffs who raised you.”

You shook your head. “For someone who preaches not judging, you are quick to judge.”

“What?”

“Not all Slytherins are the same, which you should know. I’ve heard about Andromeda.” You swirled your drink before taking a slow sip. “But if you think home was all sunshine and roses, especially after my sorting, you’re well mistaken.” 

“S’pose that would’ve been disappointing for your mum.”

You gave a dry laugh. “A bit, yeah. Even after I reminded her that my dad was in Slytherin.”

There’s a few moments of silence between you as you each work on your drink. You are both thinking back to your sortings and the letters from home that followed. Disappointment emanated from each stroke of ink. You weren’t where you were supposed to. You managed to stray from your blood — well, you didn’t stray from your blood but at the time, you thought you did. 

“He wouldn’t have been a loving father, you know,” Sirius said. 

“And you’d know that?”

Sirius nodded. 

“How do you reckon you and your friend are doing?” you asked, beginning with genuine curiosity. Then a twisted part of you continued, “Going to throw him to the streets if he doesn’t get sorted into Gryffindor?”

Sirius let out a long, deep sigh. You assumed he was regretting sitting down. You didn’t need to know Sirius all that well to be able to press his buttons. He was simply that predictable. 

“He has so much crimson and gold in his blood-” Sirius started to say, but you cut him off.

“You’d have me believing that blood doesn’t mean shit, though!”

“Listen here, you little bitch.” His patience was running thin.

“I will if you commit. Does blood mean everything or not? Because if it does, then your boy’s a Gryffindor and I can be damned for being a Riddle but all those little mudbloods taint wizardkind. If it means nothing, then I’m innocent and you can be whoever you want to be.”

“You’re damned because you preached He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s agenda.”

“I’m damned for worse things,” you said with a wicked grin adorning your lips. “You know, those things no one can prove were me.”

Suddenly, Sirius whipped his wand out and had it pressed against your throat under your chin. His eyes bore into yours. You showed no fear, your grin only widened.

“What’re you going to do? Curse me? Hex me? Kill me?”

“I oughta…”

“Oi! Take it outside!” the bartender yelled.

You smirked, placing a few galleons on the counter. 

“On me, Black.” You stood up, Sirius’ wand moving with you. “You heard the man. This is a respectable business. If you have issues with me, we’ll take it outside.”

You turned your back on Sirius and made for the door. You looked back at him. He stood unmoving by the counter where you left him. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, pretty boy. Or do I need to insult you some more?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes in your direction, but he followed you anyway. Once outside, you led him into an alley. 

“I feel like you’re going to murder me back here…” he muttered. 

You kicked over a crate so that it was a good height for you to sit on. Sirius, however, chose to remain standing. He did lean against the grimy wall with a steady grip on his wand. 

“If anyone’s being murdered out here, it’s me. Trust me, you’re not the only one who’d like to see me six feet in the ground.” 

“If you really think I’d kill you, why did you insist I come out here with you?”

“Because I don’t think you’ll do it. You don’t have it in you. Not in cold blood. If we were dueling, then maybe. But if I’m sitting here, looking pretty with my wand tucked away, I’m perfectly safe with you.”

Sirius frowns. He doesn’t retort with anything because he knows you’re right. Yes, you were the daughter of the man who killed two of his best friends. Yes, he knew you did horrid things, but you were right that no one could prove you did anything more than preach the inferiority of muggleborns. He couldn’t justify killing you. 

You tilted your head as you viewed Sirius in the alley’s low lighting.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a waste of pureblood?” That genuine curiosity had returned.

“All the time. Right up there with being told I’m a disappointment and a stain on the Black name. But, do tell, why do you think I’m a waste?”

“You don’t seem to want to settle down and have a family.”

That caught Sirius off-guard. He had more-or-less settled down to raise Harry, but besides the little boy and Remus, he didn’t have any desire for a family. His hadn’t given him that want and he had found that he could live without it. 

“You’re pretty. You have good blood in you, whether you acknowledge it or not. I hear plenty of people actually like you. You’re just like a few moral standards short of being the perfect bachelor.”

“Like you know anything of moral standards…” 

You stood up and walked over to Sirius. You stood right in front of him, close enough to feel his whiskey-scented breath. You dragged the backside of your hand down his cheek. 

“Just because my morals are different than yours doesn’t mean mine don’t exist.”

“Yet you just said mine didn’t-”

“No, I didn’t. I said you were short,” you corrected him, cutting him off again. “You could… raise them. Higher standards are what you need. Then you’d surround yourself with better people.”

Sirius gave your shoulders a push to make you step away from him.

“I’m only surrounded by the lowest of the low when I’m around your kind,” he spat. 

“Those willing to do anything for their families?” 

Sirius didn’t give any warning. He slashed his wand, sending you flying backwards into the crate you had been sitting in earlier.

“You can’t preach doing anything and having morals at the same time, sweetheart,” he snarled, slowly approaching where you laid in the splintered wood.

“I disagree,” you groaned. You reached for your wand and a quick wave had flames shooting out of it.

Sirius jumped out of the way, but it gave you a moment to rise to your feet. 

“Sometimes-” You sent more flames out of your wand, causing Sirius to jump out of the way. “-you have set aside-” More flames and he deflected. “-what some consider good so that you can have a moment-” Flames singed the edges of Sirius’ clothing. “-with your absent father.”

“Fathers aren’t worth it!” He shot a geyser of water in your direction. 

“Then you haven’t properly longed for one.” Enchanted ropes wrapped themselves around Sirius’ feet and he fell to the ground. 

Another wave of your wand had his being ripped from his hands. You caught it with ease.

“Your little Order didn’t teach you to duel all that well, did it?” you cooed as you stood over him. Now with his wand in your hands, the ropes bound his hands as well. “You should really consider your opponent before you engage, Black.” 

Then you sat just out of his reach. You knew better than to sit too close, even with his extremities bound, Sirius could do damage to you.

“You’re sitting?”

You nodded. “I offered to talk inside and you’re the one bringing magic into it all. Figured maybe you do want to talk, but you’re too hot headed to do so civilly.” You paused before adding thoughtfully, “Orion got that way.”

“I’m nothing like my father,” Sirius snarled.

“Oh, don’t say nothing. You two are plenty alike. Just… aligned differently.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“How do I say this in a way that won’t piss you off more?” You clicked your tongue as you thought, taking your time as if to prove to Sirius that this interaction was now on your time. “Your family likes the cosmos, right? Think of it like this: you each have your north star that you follow. Or you’re both looking for the brightest star but you have different hemispheres.” You tilted your head as you tried to study Sirius’ expression. “I’m sure he thought he was raising you the right way in the same way you think you’re raising the Potter boy the right way.”

“My father didn’t care for me or Regulus.”

“Au contraire, Black. You should know that he absolutely adores Regulus. And as stubborn as you were, he loved you until you got sorted into Gryffindor and made a bigger mess than he could clean up.”

“How would you know that?”

“Oh, did you not know I’ve been for tea for Walburga several times? And Orion likes to have a few after, as you should know.” 

“I’m aware… Bit weird you had tea with my mother though…”

You shrugged. “I needed advice.”

“You?” Sirius scoffed. “You needed advice?”

“Never claimed to know it all.”

“You sure act like it.”

“And you act like the most righteous person in the ally, yet you cast the first spell.”

Sirius didn’t respond and you didn’t continue. You twirled your wand in between your fingers. You could feel Sirius watching your dexterity. You wanted him to be the next one to talk. He clearly had more to say to you, but he remained silent. 

After a few minutes of nothing, you sighed and waved your wand to unbind Sirius. He rubbed his wrists immediately after. You were surprised that he didn’t reach for his wand right away. He did after a few moments and adjusted himself so he was sitting across from you.

“Is it lonely for you?” you asked in a soft voice. “Living in the aftermath of the war.”

Sirius blinked slowly. Your words sank in slowly. 

“I… I lost a lot of friends, but I wouldn’t say I’m lonely. The survivors, we make do. We’re there for each other. I have Remus. The Weasleys. Dumbledore when I need him. Mad-Eye Moody is a character. We support each other.” He stared at you. “Are you lonely?”

“Didn’t live my life for friends. And the friends I did have? Dead. Apparently all of them. Or Azkaban.” You chuckled softly. “Bit sad, innit?”

“You chose that life.”

“I chose chasing a family who, I should’ve known this, didn’t want me. And I chose protecting myself. Chasing family and being safe shouldn’t leave me alone.”

“I chased a family and I protected myself,” Sirius said. “It was a chosen family, rather than blood. And I protected others in addition to myself. That’s how you don’t end up alone.”

“Yeah, well, it’s too late for me.” You sighed and then looked at Sirius. “You have your wand. Why don’t you get it over with or leave me alone?”

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t think you should be alone right now. I disagree with you on so much, but… the life of a disappointing family is something I’m far too familiar with.”

“If you hadn’t put a wand to my throat, I’d say let’s go back inside and get a drink,” you said dryly.

Then Sirius stood up and extended his hand. “There are other bars, Smith. Next one’s on me.”

You found a different bar. The two of you sat, drank and discussed the war and everyone you lost to it. You talked about being disappointed in your father’s reaction to your existence and wanting to be worth something to him. Sirius listened, nodding. He got where you were coming from, even if he sorely disagreed with everything Tom Riddle stood for. Sirius loved pissing his family off, being everything they hated, but he knew that life wasn’t for everything. Some people needed that feeling of acceptance. Hell, even he did and he found that in the Potters. 

When the night came to its end, Sirius said, “You know, you don’t have to be quite so lonely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Saturday. Hippogriff’s Nest at eight?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” you asked with a sly smile. You knew he wasn’t.

“Yeah, right,” he said sarcastically. “I’m offering a conversation and some drinks. Between… acquaintances?”

“Yeah, alright.” Your answer wasn’t sarcastic.

Sirius nodded and disapparated. You followed suit after one more drink.

It was the start of a pattern. Every few nights, you’d meet with Sirius to talk about anything and everything. You discussed childhoods and your years at school. Your singular kiss came up briefly, and you’re not sure who wanted to change the subject quicker. Sometimes one of you would go too far with an insult and spells would be exchanged. That was why you rarely visited the same bar twice; you weren’t sure if you’d be let back in. 

Slowly but surely, you felt the acquaintanceship melt into something fonder. You started to consider Sirius as your friend. You personally disliked how you really should’ve considered him your best friend, given that many of your other friends were people you almost never spoke to anymore.

---

“Padfoot, what the bloody hell is this?” Remus demanded as he threw the Daily Prophet down in front of him.

“That’d be the newspaper, Moony,” Sirius said casually. 

“What’s in the paper?”

Sirius glanced down momentarily. “You got it open to Skeeter’s gossip section. That’s rubbish and you know it.”

“Read it,” Remus hissed.

With a roll of his eyes, Sirius looked down at the paper again. This time reading the headline, “FAMILY TIES?”, and seeing the picture of you and him, both of you looking at each other and moving with an air of affection. Sirius turned bright red and couldn’t look at Remus. He hadn’t told his cohabitor that he had been meeting with you.

“You know I wouldn’t normally believe anything she writes, but that?” Remus pointed to the picture. “That is pretty damning, Pads. You know who she is.”

“I do,” Sirius muttered.

“Then tell me what the fuck this is? How do you explain this?” 

“It’s a drink. People tend to get them at bars.”

“And the picture? You talked to her? At least help some kind of conversation with her? How were they able to get this picture?”

Remus sounded exasperated. As he should, Sirius thought. 

“Sit down, Remus,” he said, trying to maintain his own composure. He wasn’t ready to explain everything to his best friend just yet. When Remus took a seat, Sirius continued, “I’m giving her a second chance.”

“She doesn’t deserve one.”

“Remus, listen. We’ve been talking-” 

“Ugh!” 

“I knew you’d react this way. That’s why I didn’t tell you! I know what she’s done, what she’s supported-”

“Who she’s related to!” Remus exclaimed bitterly.

“Who she’s related to. But you know she can choose her blood as much as I can.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending the Dark Lord’s daughter. Imagine what James would say!”

“He would question me. He’d be on your side. He’d be bloody furious at me. I have every reason to hex her into next millenia. And yet, I can’t help it. I’m giving her a second chance and she has yet to blow it.”

“When she blows it, she’ll take you down with her.”

“It’s not a when, Moony. It’s an if and I don’t think she will.” 

“It’s your own damn funeral.”

“I know.”

Remus held his head in his hands for a minute, too upset and frustrated to even look at Sirius. 

“How long have you been seeing her?” Remus asked the table.  

“We’ve been getting drinks for a few months now, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Months? Padfoot!”

“Like I said, she hasn’t burned me yet.” He paused and chuckled to himself. “Well, she’s burned my clothes.”

Remus’ head snapped up. “What?”

“We’ve dueled. Several times. She’s a big fan of fire curses.”

“Merlin’s fucking beard. You’re drinking with someone who’s trying to literally burn you?”

“She tries to burn me, I try to bleed her out,” Sirius said with a shrug. 

Remus was infuriated with how casual he was acting about it.

“She’s the bloody daughter of the Dark Lord and you’re… you’re… you’re…”

“Helping her move on from her past.”

“I can’t… I can’t with you right now.” 

Remus got up from the table and walked away. Sirius remained in the kitchen and read the column about you and Sirius. He knew so much of it was exaggerated and misinterpreted. He was certain that you had never leaned in close enough to kiss him that entire night. He rolled his eyes at the article. But he kept looking back at the photo. The photo’s version of him was looking at you with an inexplicably fond gaze. And you were returning it. 

Had he been looking at you like that? Had you been looking at him like that? Why did he feel like he needed to know?

It gave Sirius something to think about before he saw you again a few days later. 

You met at the bar, like you usually did. You ordered your drinks. You told him about your day at work. He told you about Harry’s latest neighborhood adventures. It was a normal conversation. 

Then Sirius cleared his throat.

“Did you see Rita Skeeter’s article?” he asked tentatively.

You shook your head with a frown. “With a family like mine? No, I tend to avoid the gossip section. I’m surprised you don’t.”

“Oh, I usually avoid it. Erm, Remus pointed out an interesting article to me. It’s all gossip, but still… interesting.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and tilted your head. “Interesting how?”

“Just… eye-opening, I guess,” Sirius said.

He put some coins on the counter and took your hand. “Come with me.” 

You didn’t protest despite your confusion. You let Sirius lead you out of the bar and into the alley.

“Decided to finally kill after all?” you teased, thinking back to when Sirius first ran into you.

Instead of answering your question, Sirius slammed you into the wall. It was rougher than he intended, knocking the wind out of you. You tried to reach for your wand, but Sirius grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the wall next to your shoulder.

“I need to try something,” he whispered. 

He stared into your eyes for a second. Then he brought his lips to yours, barely brushing against them. You could feel him take a shaky breath. His lips pressed against yours with more force. Your body responded before you could get over your shock. You were kissing Sirius with more fervor than he was kissing you. His hand that wasn’t holding your wrist gripped your waist and your free hand made its way to his hair. 

When he pulled back, you made a desperate attempt to recapture his lips, but he moved away from you with his whole body. You stood against the wall as he stepped into the middle of the alley. He ran one hand through his hair and the other down his face.

“Fuck…” he whispered to himself. 

You watched him, confused. First he pulled you out of the bar and into the alley to kiss you and now he was acting like he just messed something up.

“What, Black?” you asked, your voice cutting through the darkness. “You got to talk to me. This ain’t Hogwarts.”

“Fuck…” he swore again, mostly to himself before turning to you. “It was better than the one at Hogwarts.”

You didn’t respond. You were unsure if you should say anything, because what Sirius just said didn’t really answer your question. Why was he so upset? 

“The article. Skeeter’s gossip. It was about us. And the article was utter bullshit. But the picture… the fucking picture…”  

“The picture made you want to kiss me?” you asked, disbelieving.

“The way I looked at you in the picture,” he corrected, his voice dropping lower. “I shouldn’t look at you like that, but…”

“But you do?” you asked softly. 

“Yeah, I fucking do. And I shouldn’t. Everything says I shouldn’t.”

“Right,” you said. You sounded hurt and a bit bitter. Which you had every right to sound. After everything you talked about and how much time you were spending together, you thought Sirius had moved on from some stuff. Apparently not. “So you look at me. And you kiss me. Yet you want nothing to do with me. I get it, Black, I do. I got Riddle blood and that’s an end all.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You just disapparated on the spot to your flat. Sirius stared at where you had been standing. He wasn’t done talking to you. He wasn’t done processing what he was feeling. And now you were gone. 

He can’t even follow you as he doesn’t know where you live. He figures that maybe he could send you an owl. Those birds can find anyone. 

Sirius disapparated himself, appearing in his kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and decided to drink the whole thing in the solitary of his room. All he wanted was to forget the look of hurt on your face when you said “I get it, Black, I do.” It took him no time at all to finish the bottle and pass out in his bed. His thoughts were plagued with your hurt expression and that bled into nightmares. As it turned out, Sirius cared for you more than he wanted to admit to himself and now he had to somehow undo the damage he did to you. 

Blood isn’t everything. And Sirius knows that more than anyone. Now, he needed to remind you of that. 

[sheeple]

Miracles don’t exist | Masterlist

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Riddle!Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Shitty parenting in capitals / torture / murder / the whole shebang A/n: This is going to a pretty long story. It stretches from year four to after Hogwarts. So beware, there are going to be a lot of chapters!! [Masterlist] [Playlist] [Trailer]

Chapters Year 4: Chapter 1: The Quidditch World Cup finale | Chapter 2: Nice Slytherins | Chapter 3: Well-mannered friends | Chapter 4: The tri-wizard tournament | Chapter 5: The first task | Chapter 6: Christmas is in the air | Chapter 7: 12 Grimmauld Place | Chapter 8: Friends? Friends | Chapter 9: Something fishy | Chapter 10: The greatest nightmare

Chapters Year 5: Chapter 11: Home not so sweet home | Chapter 12: Innocent defiance | Chapter 13: An eventful summer | Chapter 14: A DE in the DA | Chapter 15: Like hot coals | Chapter 16: Mother knows best | Chapter 17: Exploding hippogriffs | Chapter 18: I'm on her side | Chapter 19: The Department of Mysteries | Chapter 20: Just like the lot of them

Chapters Year 6: Chapter 21: Bliss | Chapter 22: Protection | Chapter 23: The Greatest Gift | Chapter 24: Popcorn, sandalwood, and tulips | Chapter 25: Floating snails | Chapter 26: Heavy heart, truthful words | Chapter 27: Teddy | Chapter 28: Without you, my heart doesn't know peace | Chapter 29: Sectumsempra | Chapter 30: The Battle of the Astronomy Tower

Chapters Year 7: Chapter 31: Important tasks | Chapter 32: Love | Chapter 33: Heavy silks | Chapter 34: Stay and leave | Chapter 35: The cellar | Chapter 36: Extreme security measures | Chapter 37: Heartbroken and vengeful | Chapter 38: The day I lost you | Chapter 39: Till Death do us part | Chapter 40: As the world caves in

Epilogue

Extras: Nott v Harry

Edits: Le Monde | Harry x Reader

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly @padf00ts-l0ver @fandom-life-12 @prettyb1tchsblog @pari-1 @f14ever @nopedefe @randomgurl2326 @rinalouu @yazminetrahan @ellen3101 @comfyvic

[herarcadewasteland]

The After Effect

A/N: Thanks to @/prompts-in-a-barrel for the inspiration for this! Enjoy. The prompt is bolded ♥

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

His blonde hair flew around his face as the wind rushed around you on the small platform of the staircase that lead to the astronomy tower. Draco’s eyes held a plea for you to stay to back and out of sight. You shook your head frantically knowing how much this was weighing on him. 

“I can’t leave you to do this! It’s not a question of not being able to cast the curse, it’s the after effect!”

“I don’t care, your father wants me to do this so I can join his ranks. It’s the only way I can keep you safe, can’t you see that?”

“I can take care of myself Draco! Joining my father to get on his “good side” isn’t gonna do anything but hurt you!”

He shook his head at you, his pale hands holding your cheeks. His lips meet yours in a gentle caress. It ends way too soon for your liking as he backs away from you to continue up the stairs. You grabbed his hand in yours, tugging gently.

“You can’t do this Draco, please. I’ll talk to father, he’ll understand!”

Draco avoided your gaze as you pleaded with him, his hand removing your grip gently.

"You're not coming."

"It's not like you can stop me."

"No, but I know who can."

"You wouldn't."

Draco sighs and glances behind you, his head nodding to someone. You glanced behind you and saw Severus with a handful of other Death Eaters, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Draco please. I can do it for you and Father will never know, you can still get in if you really want but I can’t let you do this!”

His eyes narrowed as he backed away up the stairs, Severus grabbing you by the arms as you tried to follow. His grip was too strong for you to break as you struggled against him. 

“Let me go, Uncle Sev! I have to stop him!”

Severus shook his head behind you, the grip on your arms changing before you saw his signature black robes swoosh up the stairs after your lover. The person holding you laughed roughly in your ear and you shuddered. You had never liked spending time with Fenrir but having him as follower of your dad left little options for you. You didn’t bother struggling against the wolf as you knew you would only hurt yourself and still not get free. 

You watched in vain as the rest of the Death Eaters followed Severus up the stairs, hearing muffled conversation and Draco nearly sobbing. You renewed your efforts struggling, hearing Draco in so much pain was not easy for you. 

The screaming from above carried on until you heard Severus muttering the killing curse just loud enough for you to hear. You shook with relief as Draco half stumbled down the stairs towards you, the green light highlighting his silhouette as Fenrir let you go as you leapt for your other half. 

“You didn’t do it.”

“I couldn’t. You’re right. The after effects would be too much for me... for us. I’ll find another way. I promise.”

You sobbed into his chest in relief, your hands gripping his shirt as he carefully walked you both into a corner. The stars seemed dimmer knowing what had happened above you on the astronomy tower, but your soulmate was safe. He would not suffer the repercussions of using the curse and all would be okay. At least that’s what you hoped as the sounds of apparition filled your ears, the maniacal laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange echoing in the night. 

[saintfaux]

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute

[s0urw00lfsrants]

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

[thatboisus]

reading a good ass fanfic up until it said something that just makes you want to stop reading

[yawneon]

how i look at my screen after y/n just got called kitten/puppy/bunny

[fromduck]

Me with you guys simping over hot men

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Housewardens

Other Parts: Vice-Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Riddle Rosehearts

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the rustle of fabric as you flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a cat forcibly denied its favorite sunny spot.

The argument still hung in the air, an unspoken tension that neither you nor Riddle were willing to breach—at least not yet. He wasn’t wrong, not entirely, but he wasn’t right either. The impasse was as thick as the silence between you.

Determined to make a statement, you yanked the blanket off the couch arm and cocooned yourself in it, defiantly turning your back to the door. No way were you crawling back to bed tonight. Your pride wouldn’t let you. Let him stew in his perfectly fluffed, oversized bed.

Meanwhile, in his room, Riddle’s impeccable composure was fraying at the edges. He lay stiff as a board under his duvet, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all his mistakes. His pillows seemed unusually hard, the blankets too suffocating, and no matter how he adjusted, something felt... wrong.

It didn’t take him long to figure out the culprit: you weren’t there.

He groaned softly into the darkness. Guilt clawed at his insides, sharp and relentless, each tick of the clock making it harder to bear. He’d handled things poorly—he could admit that, now that the heat of the argument had ebbed. And worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being upset, out there on the couch, all because of his stubbornness.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he threw off his blanket and shuffled into the living room. His breath caught when he saw you.

There you were, fast asleep, your cheek smushed against the arm of the couch, one arm dangling off the side. The sight was far too adorable for the emotional train wreck he’d become. His guilt doubled.

Riddle knelt by the couch quietly, determined not to wake you. But as he crouched there, the exhaustion hit him—of the argument, the guilt, the restless tossing and turning. Maybe just sitting here would suffice. He wouldn’t disturb you.

A few minutes turned into an hour. Before he knew it, he’d slumped sideways against the couch, head lolling onto his arms, fast asleep in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable.

When you stirred awake, the morning light was peeking through the curtains. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes, the previous night’s anger feeling like a distant shadow. That was when you noticed him—his normally pristine figure curled up on the floor, head resting uncomfortably close to your dangling hand.

Your chest ached at the sight. The idiot. The sweet, guilty idiot.

You reached out, brushing your fingers lightly against his hair. “Riddle,” you whispered. “Hey… wake up.”

He stirred, blinking up at you with sleep-clouded eyes, disoriented but instantly softening when he saw your face. Without a word, he shifted closer, arms wrapping around your middle as he buried his face against your stomach.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, voice thick and quiet.

You freeze but quickly recover, leaning into his embrace. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your blanket. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.”

Your throat tightened, and you found yourself carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “Let’s not fight like that again.”

For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in quiet forgiveness. When he finally looked up at you, there was a hesitant, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Will you come back to bed now?” he asked softly.

“Only if you promise to use it too. No more couch-floor accommodations,” you teased, pinching his cheek lightly.

“Deal,” he murmured, and together, you made your way back—closer than before, warmth filling the space where anger once was.

Leona Kingscholar

The argument had been sharp, biting, and the kind of fight where you both refused to back down. Storming out of the bedroom felt dramatic enough to match the vibe, so you grabbed a blanket, stomped to the living room, and threw yourself onto the couch with the weight of your indignation. “Fine,” you muttered into the cushions. “Let him have the stupid bed. I don’t care.”

And at the time, you didn't. You were replaying his snarky remarks and cursing his stubborn attitude. But the couch was lumpy, the blanket too short, and sleep came grudgingly after what felt like hours of stewing.

When you finally woke, disoriented and achy, something felt...off. For starters, you weren’t on the couch anymore. You were in the bed, wrapped snugly in the comforter that still carried Leona’s scent.

Blinking against the sunlight, you sat up, confusion clouding your thoughts. At the foot of the bed was the blanket you’d dragged out last night, now neatly folded like some taunting symbol of Leona’s existence.

And Leona himself? Missing.

You slid out of bed and wandered to the living room, where the answer to your mystery lay sprawled across the couch. The sight of him, however, made your irritation waver.

Leona was far too large for the couch. His long legs hung over the edge at weird angles, and one arm was slung over his face to block the light filtering through the curtains. He looked wildly uncomfortable, but his usual arrogance softened in sleep, his face peaceful and unguarded.

It didn’t take a genius to piece it together. He must have carried you to bed sometime in the night, only to exile himself to the lumpy couch. The guy could be maddeningly stubborn, but this... this unexpected gesture had you torn between wanting to yell at him or simply kissing him awake.

Ultimately, you decided to settle for the middle ground.

Crouching next to the couch, you reached out and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. Before you could withdraw, one eye cracked open, and a lazy grin spread across his lips.

“Caught ya,” he drawled, voice rough from sleep.

You raised an eyebrow. “You moved me to the bed, didn’t you?”

He huffed, clearly uninterested in owning up to the sentimentality of it. “Couldn’t leave you out there whining in your sleep.”

“I wasn’t whining!” you protested, even though your cheeks were burning.

“Sure you weren’t,” he replied smoothly, grabbing your wrist before you could retreat. With a sharp tug, he pulled you down, practically pinning you against him. “Don’t see the big deal. You’re mine, aren’t ya? ‘Course I’m gonna take care of you.”

The casual way he said it didn’t make it any less sincere.

You sighed, melting into his warmth despite yourself. “I hate how sweet you can be when I’m trying to stay mad at you.”

His smirk widened, and he tucked you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Didn’t mean to piss you off,” he murmured against your temple. “But you’re not leaving this couch till we make up. Deal?”

You rolled your eyes, but your voice softened. “Deal.”

As the tension melted away and his arms tightened around you, the couch didn’t seem quite so lumpy anymore. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place to be.

Azul Ashengrotto

The argument had been tense, the kind where you both said things you probably shouldn’t have. Frustrated and too stubborn to stay in the same space as Azul, you grabbed a pillow and marched out to the couch. He’d barely tried to stop you, his pride seemingly keeping him rooted in the bedroom.

But pride was a fickle thing, and now you were left trying to fall asleep on the stiff cushions. Every creak of the floorboards made you feel a little guilty, knowing exactly who it was.

You didn’t even need to look; you could feel Azul’s presence lingering in the doorway, his usual composure clearly absent. The sound of shuffling footsteps returned to the bedroom, and you thought maybe he’d finally leave you alone—only to hear those same footsteps inch closer again a minute later.

"Azul, I know you're there," you muttered, cracking an eye open and turning toward the doorway. Sure enough, there he was, peeking out. His glasses caught the faint glow of the hallway light, and he immediately froze like he’d been caught stealing treasure.

“I-I wasn’t...” he started, before trailing off, clearly scrambling for an excuse.

You sighed and sat up, your frustration ebbing in the face of how uncharacteristically sheepish he looked. This was Azul Ashengrotto, the calculating businessman who could sell ice to Yetis—and yet he couldn’t even apologize without peering at you like a child who’d been scolded.

“If you’re just going to lurk there all night, we’re both going to lose sleep,” you said, finally beckoning him over with a wave.

Azul hesitated for a fraction of a second before his composure cracked, and he shuffled toward the couch. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate...” he started, sitting next to you, his head ducked low, voice soft.

You smirked despite yourself. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

He bristled, his dignity rallying as he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “I am not—”

“You’re very cute,” you interrupted, and the smallest flicker of a pout crossed his lips.

Azul looked away, a hint of color dusting his pale cheeks. “You’re the worst.”

“And you still love me,” you countered, pulling him down beside you. “Truce?”

He glanced at you, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “Truce.”

Apologies came in murmured exchanges after that, both of you acknowledging where you’d gone wrong. You knew you’d both let pride get in the way—typical for two people as headstrong as yourselves.

Eventually, Azul’s head rested on your shoulder, his warm weight grounding you. You leaned back against the couch, and despite its discomfort, it felt perfect with him there.

“You know,” you whispered, running a hand gently through his hair, “for a guy who’s made half of Twisted Wonderland sign contracts, you really can’t stand your ground for the life of you.”

Azul huffed, turning his face into your shoulder to hide. “Do you want me to apologize again?”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Nope. I think I’ll just enjoy this.”

And with that, the two of you finally let the tension of the argument melt away, falling asleep together on the couch in an imperfect, perfectly “you and Azul” sort of peace.

Kalim Al-Asim

The argument had been uncharacteristically heated—rare for someone as sunny and easygoing as Kalim—but even he had limits, and so did you. When your stubborn streak flared, it ended with you grabbing a blanket and storming off to the couch.

“No, Kalim, I’m fine. You sleep in the bed, I’ll sleep here,” you snapped, cutting off his attempts to follow you. His face fell, but for once, he didn’t argue, retreating to the bedroom with a defeated slump of his shoulders.

You burrowed into the couch cushions, determined to stay mad, but as sleep started to claim you, the anger dulled into annoyance. It didn’t matter. He started it, you thought stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter.

A soft rustle of fabric woke you, tugging you from the edges of sleep. Blinking groggily, you turned your head to see Kalim crouched beside the couch, carefully tucking another blanket over you. He had his tongue poking out slightly in concentration, his touch so gentle that it was clear he didn’t want to wake you.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep.

Kalim flinched, looking at you like a startled puppy caught raiding the kitchen. “Oh, I—uh—I just thought you might be cold, so I…”

He trailed off, clearly expecting you to brush him off again. Instead, you sighed, your irritation melting as you realized just how ridiculous he looked, trying to coddle you even while you were angry at him.

“Come here,” you said, sitting up and pulling the blanket back a bit.

“What? No, I don’t want to—”

“Kalim.”

His protest crumbled immediately, and he slid onto the couch beside you, tucking his legs up awkwardly. You wrapped the blanket over both of you, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Kalim relaxed into the embrace, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice small and earnest. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You sighed, tilting your head to rest on his. “I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”

He perked up slightly at that, his usual cheer trying to peek through. “So… does this mean you won’t sleep out here alone again?”

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you under this blanket, Asim,” you teased, though your smile softened the words.

Kalim beamed, his arms wrapping snugly around your middle. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me forever!”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning back into the cushions. The couch wasn’t exactly built for two people, but the warmth of his presence made it easy to ignore. Slowly, you both drifted to sleep, Kalim murmuring sweet nothings even as his breaths evened out.

Maybe next time, you thought sleepily, you’d just let him win.

“You can have your perfectly fluffed pillows and skincare routine in peace,” you muttered, tucking yourself in with a spiteful sense of triumph.

Vil Schoenheit

The argument left both of you simmering in silence, which for Vil was a rarity. Instead of his usual icy composure, he seemed genuinely rattled. You, however, weren’t in the mood to care. Grabbing a blanket with theatrical flair, you stomped to the couch.

Once comfortably cocooned, you scrolled on your phone, trying to drown out the lingering annoyance. That’s when you heard it—sharp, purposeful footsteps marching toward you.

Before you could react, Vil appeared like a vengeful storm god, looking every bit as flawless as a deity would while furious. With a huff that could make kingdoms tremble, he reached for your arm and began dragging you back to the bedroom.

“Vil, what are you—let me go! I’m fine out here!” you protested, but his grip was firm, his annoyance palpable.

Once you were unceremoniously deposited by the bed, he turned to you, pointing at your neatly made side. “You are sleeping there,” he declared.

You folded your arms. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Deal with it.”

He tilted his head, his expression a dangerous blend of frustration and disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’ve ruined my entire evening, and now you expect me to suffer further by sleeping alone?”

“Ruined? Seriously?” you shot back.

“Yes! I require my beauty sleep, and I can’t possibly get it knowing you’re out there, sulking on a couch. It’s impossible to relax without you next to me—so you, are going to have to take responsibility!”

The sheer audacity of his statement left you blinking. It was so dramatic and entirely Vil that you couldn’t help it—you laughed. Not a little chuckle, but a full-bodied, slightly wheezing laugh that made you clutch your sides.

Vil crossed his arms, arching an offended brow. “I fail to see what’s funny.”

“You,” you said between giggles. “This whole ‘it’s your fault I can’t sleep because I love you’ nonsense. You’re ridiculous.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed, and once your laughter subsided, he gestured to the bed again, this time more softly. “Please. Don’t make me sleep without you.”

You relented, sliding under the blankets. As you settled in, Vil switched off the lights, the room going still.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment. His tone was sincere, lacking the sharp edges from earlier.

You shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him gently against you. “I’m sorry too.”

Vil let out a contented hum, nestling into your hold. With your body heat mingling and the earlier tension dissipating, it didn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep—together, as it should be.

Sleep came in patches, your mind replaying the fight in a loop. At some point, the dull ache in your bladder forced you to stumble toward the bathroom. On your way back, you froze, hearing quiet, panicked murmurs drifting from Idia’s room.

Idia Shroud

The argument had been rough—sharp words, bitter edges, the kind of fight that left your chest heavy. It didn’t matter how much Idia stammered his way through an apology or tried to explain his side; you weren’t ready to hear it yet. So, in an act of frustrated finality, you grabbed a blanket and retreated to the couch, refusing to spare him another glance.

“Ortho, what do I do? I think I really messed up this time,” his voice wavered, thick with worry. “They probably hate me now. Like, actual hate—no respawn, no restart. I mean, who else would put up with me? I’ve completely blown it.”

You sighed, anger ebbing as guilt trickled in. You hadn’t meant to push him that far, and his usual self-deprecating spiral sounded more frayed than usual.

Pushing the door open, you caught the tail end of Ortho’s voice. “Big Brother, you should—oh!” His robotic eyes darted to you, scanning the scene. A moment later, he gave a tiny thumbs-up and practically zoomed out of the room, leaving you and Idia alone.

Idia froze when he noticed you. His shoulders hunched as if he could shrink his already wiry frame. “I-I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Sorry for being pathetic. Again.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you stepped forward and opened your arms. “Come here, you dramatic dork.”

His eyes widened, hesitation etched into every inch of his posture. When you didn’t move or drop your arms, he finally shuffled over, nervously slipping into your embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him securely, and his entire body seemed to deflate as tension drained out of him.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder.

You huffed softly, rubbing his back. “Idia, I wasn’t leaving. Just... needed space to cool off. And honestly, hearing you lose your mind over it made it hard to stay mad.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” he mumbled, the words tumbling in an embarrassed rush. “Um, does this mean...?”

“It means I still love you,” you interrupted gently.

His grip on you tightened for a moment before he pulled back, pink dusting his cheeks and his hair glowing pink at the ends. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

“I’m sorry too,” you replied, kissing his cheek and earning a startled squeak.

Together, you made your way back to bed. As you settled under the blankets, his fingers tangled hesitantly with yours. The argument seemed miles away now, replaced by the steady warmth of simply being with him.

“I’ll try to be better,” he murmured into the quiet.

“You’re already enough, Idia,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you felt his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles, grounding both of you in the quiet comfort of reconciliation.

Malleus stood frozen for a moment, processing your declaration, and you could feel his pout even with your back turned. "You do not need to sleep on the couch," he finally said.

Malleus Draconia

The argument left both of you tense, and you were too mad to deal with Malleus' brooding silence. Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off toward the couch, refusing to even glance at him. "I'm sleeping on the couch," you announced. "Goodnight."

"I'm not changing my mind," you shot back, tossing the blanket onto the couch for emphasis.

There was a brief, sulking pause. Then, he went quiet—suspiciously quiet. You peeked over your shoulder just in time to catch him crossing his arms with a look of smug triumph spreading across his face.

“Malleus—”

Before you could finish the thought, a flash of green lightning struck the couch, reducing it to a pile of ash with alarming precision. You stood there, jaw dropping as the faint smell of charred upholstery wafted in the air.

"Well," Malleus said, ever so matter-of-factly, "it seems the couch is… out of commission. A most unfortunate turn of events."

You turned to him, dumbfounded. "Did you seriously just smite your own couch?"

He looked at you expectantly, his lips pressed into an overly calm smile. "The bed is still available," he offered, gesturing toward the bedroom as though that solved everything.

Your anger reignited—if that was even possible after witnessing such sheer audacity. Without a word, you dropped your blanket onto the floor, flopping down dramatically as if making it your personal mission to out-stubborn a dragon fae.

He stared at you in bewilderment, clearly expecting a different outcome. For a long moment, he didn’t move, as though trying to process your act of defiance. Then, with an audible sigh, he finally caved.

“Alright,” he said softly, crouching to your level. His eyes held a rare vulnerability. “I… overreacted. I apologize for upsetting you.”

You bit back a smirk, pretending to be unimpressed even as you felt your resolve softening. "I wasn’t thrilled about it, yeah."

Malleus tilted his head, something of a pout returning to his expression. “Will you come back to bed, then? The floor hardly befits someone so precious to me.”

“Only if you promise not to zap anything else," you teased, finally relenting as you reached out to take his offered hand.

He helped you up gently, his grip firm but careful, as though he feared breaking you. “I cannot promise to never act rashly in defense of my love,” he murmured, leading you back to the room.

Settling into the bed together, you couldn’t resist poking at him one last time. “You really destroyed your own couch just to keep me near you, huh? You know they make couple’s therapy for this, right?”

He chuckled softly, pulling you close. “I would smite an entire castle if it meant you stayed by my side.”

“Noted,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your chest. As you both drifted off, tangled in the sheets, you couldn’t help but think how absurdly lucky you were to be loved by someone so dramatic—and so utterly devoted.

Masterlist

[sp7-mr]

[sheeple]

Miracles don’t exist | 1: The Quidditch World Cup finale

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): None this chapter [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

Your first three years at Hogwarts were uneventful. As uneventful as being the daughter of Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange can be.

From a very young age, you knew that your parents weren't normal people. I mean, with a mother who was convicted to Azkaban when you were just one and a father who disappeared. It was not hard to connect the dots. 

Of course, as soon as you were popped out of the womb, you were left behind at Malfoy manor in the care of the same nanny that took care of your cousin, Draco. Your mother was too busy with being a Death Eater to care about a brat. Her words exactly.

And it's not like it matters anyway. The Malfoy's are good to you, even besides the fact that you are the Dark Lord's daughter. At first, they handled you with additional care. But after a while, they saw you more as a daughter than anything else. Especially aunt Cissy, who's always fussing over you.

The first time you were genuinely terrified was during the house sorting at Hogwarts. As a precaution, your last name was changed to Black, after your mother's maiden name. Having the surname of either Riddle or Lestrange was way too dangerous.

You can still remember the whispers as your name was called. 

"A Black?" "I didn't know a Black her age still existed." "Could she be the daughter of the mass murderer?"

A sort of relief went through your body as you were sorted into Slytherin. There was no doubt, being the heir of Slytherin nonetheless. But still, the fear of disappointing a father that you've never met was all too great, even for an eleven-year-old.

That same year you got the first letter from your father. He wrote how proud he was of you for being sorted into Slytherin and that he expected big things from you. Thanks, dad, no pressure at all.

During your second year, you heard all kinds of weird whispers as you moved about the castle. It was then that you discovered that you could speak Parslemouth. The giant murder snake in the sewers was not as scary as many believed. Of course, as she was murdering muggle-borns, you felt guilty and tried to forbid her to do so. But the Basilisk couldn't help her nature.

After everything happened with the Chamber of Secrets, you went to Dumbledore and confessed everything, from your true parentage and being a Parslemouth. You cried while asking the headmaster to not expel you.

"My dear child", said Dumbledore calmly, producing a handkerchief out of thin air, "you have nothing to worry about. If I learned one thing throughout my long life, I've learned that parentage could mean nothing. If you let it mean nothing."

He did make you promise to give him every letter your father would send. You agreed without hesitating for a moment.

Third-year was uneventful. You stayed as far away from the Golden Trio as possible, knowing that Sirius Black was after Harry at the time. It proved difficult as they ─ especially Harry ─ were constantly around you. Even at remote parts of the castle, when you needed some time alone from all the stares and whispers, he seemed to find you.

You sniff, burying your face into your hands. Some sixth-year Gryffindor made you fall down a flight of stairs with a spell and scattered all your stuff around the ground. 

Suddenly, a pair of feet appear in front of you and you jump up, raising your wand in defence. Harry Potter looks at you with wide eyes and your schoolbag in his hands.

You drop your wand and turn away, wiping away a stray tear. "What do you want, Potter?" The words come out harsh, just like you see your cousin do all the time.

The boy in question shuffles awkwardly from his left foot to his right. "Are you... are you okay? I saw what happened." He holds out your bag and you take it.

You mumble out, "thanks", and you stand awkwardly across from each other. You fumble with the straps of your bag while Harry plays with his tie.

"I don't think you're like him at all", he suddenly blurts out, making you look up at him with wide eyes. "Like your dad. Sirius Black."

You stiffen. "O-oh no! Sirius isn't my dad. I'm- we're cousins... I think."

"Oh..." Harry's face heats up, obviously embarrassed.

After that rather awkward encounter, every time someone tried to trip you over or bully you, he was there to stop it. Draco was obviously not happy about it and you begged him to not tell uncle Lucious.

And that's how we arrive at your fourth year. Or, actually less than a month before the new term.

"Hey, Bowtruckle, are you awake?" Draco waves his hand in front of your face, obviously annoyed that you didn't listen to whatever he was raging about.

You snap up and turn to look at him, raising one eyebrow in annoyance. "What?"

Draco rolls his eyes and points outside the carriage. A sigh leaves your lips as you see that you've arrived at the Quidditch World Cup finale. To be completely honest, you don't care that much for Quidditch. But Draco does, and Uncle Lucius cares for your public appearance, so you were forced to go.

Climbing out of the carriage, you stretch out your arms and breath in the fresh August air. Everywhere you look are wizards from all over the world, people flying and zooming around on brooms, flags waving proudly. 

You trail behind the two Malfoy's as they strut up the steps, showing off their badges that Lucius got from the Minister proudly.

Suddenly, Lucius spots a familiar family of red-heads, a smirk forming on his face.

A sigh leaves your lips as he and Draco brag about having seats in the Minister's box. Your eyes lock with Harry's and a small smile forms on your face, raising your hand subtly to wave at him. He returns the gesture with an equally shy smile. 

Draco seems to notice whatever's going on between Harry and you and he janks at your arm, pulling you behind him. "Keep your filthy blood traitor eyes away from my cousin, Potter", he spits in Harry's direction as he pulls you along.

Yanking your arm out of his grasp, you move along to the box and take place in the far-most corner of all the seats. Ignoring the looks both Draco and uncle Lucius give you, you stare at the stadium and see the Irish and Bulgarian teams flying around.

As the match continues, and the crowd gets rowdier, you grab a pair of binoculars and look around the stadium. Most people are boring. Here and there are a couple of interesting figures, but nothing more.

Aiming the binoculars higher, you spot the Weasely family with Harry Potter, Hermoine Granger, and two others. They are having fun by the looks of it.

"You're lucky I caught you flirting with Potter instead of father", hisses Draco in a whisper, making you roll your eyes while still peering out of the binoculars.

Glaring at him, you grumble back, "I wasn't... flirting."

He looks at you incredulously before clasping his hands together and fluttering his eyelashes.

You scoff and give his shoulder a shove. "Come off it, you twat."

As you and Draco squabble a bit louder than desired, uncle Lucious snaps his attention to you. He clears his throat and you immediately break apart, cowering under his hard glare. "What... did I say?", he spats.

"Do behave", you both mumble, looking down.

Uncle Lucius gives you one last look before turning back around, resuming conversation with some ministry person. Your cousin and you both share a glance before focusing back on the game. 

The match ended with Ireland winning over Bulgaria by 170 to 160. But Draco and you don't get a chance to enjoy the festivities as uncle Lucius shoves you into a carriage.

"Why can't we stay?", you ask with a frown and produce the same puppy eyes that always work on your uncle.

Not this time, apparently. Lucius gives you a sharp look. "Because I am your uncle and I said so." Giving Draco a piercing look, he slams the carriage shut and sends it on its way.

Slumping down on the seat, you fold your arms over each other.

"You are only making things harder for yourself", muses Draco as he sits back, plucking an old Daily Prophet from the seat next to him.

You opt to ignore his remark and stare out of the window for the rest of the ride home.

Taglist: @the0doreslover​

[tsukimirecs]

SLYTHERIN // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

REGULUS BLACK

le lendemain matin

the salt and the sea

forever

the better of two bad options

a pen

the door

the black heir

distraction

THEODORE NOTT

love is sour grapes

by netws & nott

something stronger

like snow on the beach

the only heaven i'll be sent to (is when i'm alone with you)

TOM RIDDLE

desiderium

love again

from the glue

salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink

midmorning

effects of amortentia

DRACO MALFOY

our little secret

honeydukes

firsts

how could i ever forget?

makeup

draco malfoy with shy!male!reader headcanons

cherry juice

MATTHEO RIDDLE

the cat

puppy eyes

the game

rainy nights m.r

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

like nobody else

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

GUYS… 💀

Skully J. “I greet you with a kiss” Graves

You wake up in his arms after blacking out

Calls you “my dear” and “lovely”/“wonderful” even though we literally just met

Comments that your names are beautiful

Offers to escort you (well, Trey technically) through the woods even though Skully has no idea where tf he’s going

Remarks that it would be nice to hold hands and stroll through the forest together

He tends to use the term "fated" to refer to things he has in common with others

Is the first character in all of Twst to have a BLUSHING face

He holds your hand and kisses you (on the back of it??) without even waiting or asking for your okay (avert your eyes, Grim…)????

HE ALSO KISSES GRIM AND ALL THE OTHER BOYS ON THE HAND

HE KISSES YUU MULTIPLE TIMES THROUGHOUT THIS EVENT

HE WALKED OUT OF a DAtinG SIM 😭

Other Skully facts:

He’s taller than Malleus (not including the horns, just judging by the models) and Sebek (stated explicitly in the dialogue)

He’s is a first year student

He’s 16, same age as the other first years (though Skully only recently turned 16)

Speaks very respectfully, even to fellow first years (Riddle remarks on Skully being very gentlemanly and even Vil calls Skully elegant)

He refers to himself using an archaic form of “I” (wagahai)

HE’S AN OTAKU FOR HALLOWEEN, he calls Jack Skellington “Jack Skellington-sama” and says Jack is the person he admires the most dbsksbsiqguzvs

Skully asks everyone else call him Jack-sama too

He comes from a small isolated fog-shrouded rural village; it is located at the bottom of a valley

His hometown considers Jack Skellington the founder of Halloween; Jack Skellington is not known outside of this village

The people in Skully’s hometown love Halloween and its founder, Jack

He seems to be sleep deprived???

Skully tries to tell others at his school about Halloween and Jack, but his peers don’t listen and get mad at him

Skully doesn’t like to talk about his school (and seems to actively dislike it, calling his classmates fools and asking to avoid the topic of school)

He self-admits to not having many people who understand him

Confirmed a mage (Leona says he has the same amount of magic as Epel), but he doesn’t have a magical pen/doesn't seem to know what they are???

He doesn't know Malleus either.

Skully claims he was also sucked into the book while attending the used book fair in Foothill Town

Chunibyo?? Like, he presents as mysterious initially but actually has very excitable reactions to things, lots of purple prose too

Leona calls him a BADGER

He calls his classmates “worthless” for not understanding/listening to him

He thinks lowly of those who disagree with his opinions on Halloween; there is a drastic shift in his personality when the NRC students express dissent

Skully’s ideal Halloween is solemn and desolate, involving: beating up all ghosts, painting rooms entirely black, no decorations, and no music

This is how his village spends Halloween, in solemn silence; Skully grew up thinking this is how it always is

He likes classical music and opera

He acts gentlemanly because he believes Jack is also a gentleman

He wants to learn piano someday

Skully believes that staying traditional and respecting and protecting the past is important

Details about his unique magic

(Side note: GRIM’S NEW oUTFIT 👌 He looks perfect in that suit!! LOOKS At HIS WIDDLE PAW gLOVES… And the chest fluff sticking out gives the illusion of a cravat! Aaaaaah, so cute 💕)

[telephoniii]

REALLY…HIM?

☆彡 in which professor trein judges your relationship with the NRC boys

NRC boys x Reader (minus Ortho)

Word Counter: 3K

Warnings: Reader is Prefect, Trein is your father figure, established relationship, possible OOC

A/N: life’s getting pretty hectic so i’m sorry if my upload schedule slows down. i hope you enjoy :>

ace trappola

Can’t say he’s surprised, just disappointed. It makes sense; he was one of your first friends. However, that doesn’t make him any less troublesome. Despite being a first-year, Ace is one of the biggest slackers and troublemakers on campus— much to Trein’s dismay. His main worry is that Ace will poorly influence you. He’s already seeing it with the two of you getting a crazy amount of detentions and scoldings for unthinkable reasons. You’ve got it rough already being from another world, you don’t need a devil on your shoulder convincing you to get into all kinds of trouble. It’s a real shame said devil is your boyfriend. He’ll allow the relationship and all will seem swell. Little do you know that he pulled Ace aside and had a long chat.

deuce spade

A fine pick; Trein is neither severely impressed nor disappointed. He doesn’t think Deuce is too bad, but he believes you could do better. Deuce will need to somehow prove himself to Trein. On the outside, Trein looks like he absolutely hates his guts. His eyes are always staring at Deuce with this sharp look and it gets the card soldier real nervous real fast. In reality, it’s just Trein keeping a closer eye on him + his RBF. He’s relatively neutral on the first year, yet Deuce is fully convinced that his professor wants to set him on fire.

cater diamond

Trein is very annoyed with your choice. He doesn’t like Cater’s social media addiction and would much rather have you hit the books than scrolling through Magicam. Not to mention, he feels as though something about Cater’s happy-go-lucky attitude is a facade, and doesn’t trust him around you. Cater finds Trein scary, but he’s not as intimidated as Deuce. As he does with Ace, Trein takes Cater to have a talk, and—surprisingly— his opinions on the third year improve. He doesn’t fully like him, but he’ll tolerate Cater more so than beforehand. Cater also offers to help Trein make a social media account; it’s cute yet chaotic all the same watching them bond.

trey clover

Before Trein can form a solid thought on Trey, the vice housewarden is subtly trying to win his favor. Trey knows how about his father-like connection to you and immediately shapes up. He gifts Trein different pastries and learns which ones he’s partial to. What really wins the professor over is when Trey starts volunteering to help clean his classroom after class. Trein won’t even know the two of you are already together and he’ll make comments around you like, “That Clover boy is real nice…” Needless to say, Trein approves of Trey long before he finds out you both are in a relationship.

riddle rosehearts

Trein immediately scowls when he hears the news of your relationship. You’d think he’d approve due to Riddle’s intellect and dutiful behavior. Admittedly, Trein does like that about Riddle. But he despises the boy’s bursts of anger, finding them childish and unfitting for a future mage. He’s seen the housewarden go berserk on one too many students and doesn’t trust he won’t do the same to you. Trein doesn’t want you walking on eggshells around your own partner. This is another one who’ll have to prove themselves to Trein. Riddle will be upset when he hears of Trein’s low opinion of him, but gets a surge of motivation to convince him otherwise. You’ll find Riddle working even harder on his studies than before you didn’t even think that was possible in hopes of gaining Trein’s favor. He’ll eventually get it. I imagine that Riddle does some small, heroic deed for you that really shows his love, and Trein just so happens to be passing by and sees it. Once your unofficial official father in Twisted Wonderland gets along with Riddle, expect to be nagged about missing assignments and homework a WHOLE LOT.

jack howl

Similar to Trey, he immediately knows about your bond with Trein. Instead of trying to win over the professor, Jack takes a more blunt approach. He goes straight to his desk after class and tells him about your relationship, being upfront about his feelings towards you. Trein respects it. He thinks that Jack has more guts than most on campus and trusts him to protect you. He’s quite supportive of the relationship, acting as a mentor for the both of you. You can catch him watching the two of you with a tiny smile, murmuring something along the lines of, “Young love.” The two of you remind him of his own marriage with his late wife. It makes him sentimental in a way.

ruggie bucchi

A BIG 180 FROM JACK. Trein thinks this guy is sleazy. Ruggie couldn’t care less in the beginning, finding it funny to practically hang off your shoulder while Trein stared daggers into him. Then it started to seep in that it may or may not be important to get Trein’s approval for a long-term relationship with you. That’s when he gets his act together and completely starts sucking up to Trein. He’ll help out with paperwork, errands, cleaning up, etc! All for free! much to his dismay All Ruggie asks for in return is Trein’s support for your relationship. He catches Trein by surprise with how well his work ethic is. The lengths the hyena goes to for you ends up leaving the professor impressed.

leona kingscholar

Professor Trein is both surprised and disappointed. Now how did this happen? He didn't think Kingscholar was capable of being nice to anyone, let alone get into a whole relationship. Well, he bugs you to tell your boyfriend to start showing up to class. He’s not exactly happy with you dating a huge slacker like him, but Trein knows that Leona is a smart boy. Brash and not his first pick, sure, but he wouldn’t play with your heart or rope you into anything stupid. He trusts Kingscholar to protect you. But if he starts seeing you begin to skip class— which is going to happen, Leona’s going to make you do it at least once— he’ll pull YOU aside and give you an earful. Tough love, unfortunately.

floyd leech

Hell no. All the red blaring flags. Now why would you go and do that? Really? Out of EVERYONE? You bet your bottoms Trein is actively speaking out against your relationship every single time he sees you. He doesn't even want to try to talk to Floyd. Trein is convinced you are addicted to getting in trouble and lets out the biggest old man sigh. Is there any way Floyd can win the professor’s favor? Probably not. And if there was a way, would Floyd even do it? Big fat no. Floyd thinks it is hilarious that Professor Trein disapproves, upping his affections around him with that toothy grin of his. And if you guys have a class together that Trein teaches? Chaos. Expect a lot of paper balls to be thrown at you.

jade leech

“Are you okay??” Is the first thing Trein asks when you tell him you and Jade are in a relationship. Doesn't exactly trust the boy, but Jade tends to behave around him. The professor has always seen him being picture-perfect whenever he’s around which is 100% suspicious, but Trein doesn't have any solid reasons to disapprove. Jade, like his brother, finds the whole situation very amusing. He’s always figuring out new ways to appear like the ‘ideal boyfriend’ to Trein. If he ever talks to the professor he’ll slip in a comment like, “I never disappoint, trust me” and it makes Trein distrust him even more.

azul ashengrotto

Now what bet did you lose for this to have happened? At least Ashengrotto is a star student, you need to hang out around more of those in his opinion. After confirming that, “No, no bet was lost,” and “No, he’s not paying for my love,” Trein was pretty alright with it. The Monstro Lounge is a student-ran organization, it's clear from that the young boy is capable and responsible. He just keeps a very, very close eye on you two. The last thing Trein wants is for Azul to take advantage of you since— knowing him— he seems like the type to do so. Expect frequent questions of “How’s your relationship going?” and “He’s treating you right, right?” Azul is going to get asked to stay after class to talk. Trein then proceeds to threaten lecture him on how to properly treat your lover. He just wants to make sure you don't get wrapped up in one of those contracts he’s heard about. Azul has quite the track record.

kalim al asim

Automatically assumes you’re dating him for the money and begins to ramble about how you should marry for love. Tells you about his late wife and how much he loved her— it is so sweet I'm actually crying. That's the kind of love he wants you to have. You’ve got to reassure him that, “Yes, my certified father figure, I do love him very much and I’m not just in it for the money.” After that talk, he finds the relationship sweet but kind of concerning. Kalim is a nice boy but severely naive and, frankly, incompetent. Trein starts to go a little harder on Kalim in class, not that he was going easy anyway. He scrutinizes the essays he turns in and chastises him for missing an assignment. As he watches you kiss Kalim on the cheek after getting an A, Trein can only sigh and think, “He’s lucky he’s rich.”

jamil viper

Trein’s pretty okay with him. He’s a level-headed guy with passable grades and the title of a vice housewarden. However, the professor did hear about his Overblot and does think that there's more beneath the surface. He doesn't judge him for his Overblot, no. But Trein does keep a closer eye on him to make sure he isn't scheming anything involving you. The professor also tries to push him to do better academically. He’s heard from you about how smart Jamil truly is and can see his potential, so he tries to get him to stop holding back. Jamil is a little appreciative of it and respects Trein as your father figure, but still isn't a fan of sticking out. Nor does he plan on giving into Trein’s attempts.

epel felmier

Is fine with the relationship at first. He was polite, soft-spoken, and a part of Pomfiore. Most students belonging to that dorm are pompous, but respectful nonetheless. Then Epel’s true nature comes out and Trein is constantly reprimanding him for horseplay. It's kinda funny how surprised Trein is by Epel’s country toughness. The professor definitely had his suspicions— nobody at NRC is innocent, he’s learned every student here has some sort of dark side— but he definitely wouldn't have expected this. A part of Trein actually prefers him like this. You are dating someone with a backbone who will defend you. He encourages Epel to be himself around him, promising a judgment-free area. They get along pretty well surprisingly, with Trein being a sort of mentor to him. Overall, very sweet and Trein approves.

rook hunt

In the most blunt way possible, Trein tells you, “Your boyfriend weirds me out.” He thinks Rook is an oddball for sure. No way around it. Is half convinced Rook is stalking him. Because he is. When you explained to your boyfriend about the bond you had with Professor Trein, he got way too intrigued and ended up ‘watching’ Trein like he does to Leona. It's not until the professor makes a passing comment about being paranoid that he’s being watched that you realized, “Oh shit my boyfriends stalking you.” You don't say that to him— you don't want Rook getting in trouble. So you settle on having a really long talk with Rook about it who reassures you he’d never disturb your father figure or the absolutely beautiful bond between the two of you. He still worries you sometimes when he goes missing and randomly reappears by walking out of Trein’s classroom.

vil schoenheit

Trein worries that Vil won’t make the time for you. He’s aware that Schoenheit is a busy boy as he’s missed his class plentiful in the past. He’ll make Vil stay after class for a little to talk to him about it, giving him a fatherly warning about being ready to fully commit to a relationship and the time it takes to manage one. Vil is, admittedly, insulted that Trein doubts his ability to wholeheartedly love you but takes it in stride. He sees this as a sign to up his game in the romance department and properly does so, dedicating more time to pampering you. The professor expresses his concerns to his coworker, Crewel, who talks his ear off about how much of a “good pup” Vil is and that he won't disappoint. Trein can’t help but agree when he spots you walking into class looking more freshened with slight makeup on and a new hair-do that Vil definitely did for you.

idia shroud

Once you break the news to Trein, he immediately asks to meet with Idia one-on-one. The blue-haired student rarely shows up to class! And that iPad isn't going to cut it forever! He needs to be able to size him up in person. Idia, naturally, is scared to death. At first, he immediately declines, insisting that they don't really need to meet up, the whole idea is stupid, and it’ll be fine if he stays right there in his room. Then you sit down with him and tell him how important Trein is to you and… sigh You landed a natural 20 on the dice of persuasion. Idia can’t believe he's doing this. You’re beside him the whole time as he stutters in front of Trein. Is Trein impressed? No, not at all. Yet your confidence in the Shroud and constant praise is reassuring. The professor’s going to make you force Idia into showing up in person in class. His attendance rivals Leona's.

sebek zigvolt

Doesn't really care for Sebek despite the first year's desperate attempts at trying to impress him. Sebek lost him after he started talking about Malleus when Trein asked about you. Ever since then, it’s just been him trying to win him back to no prevail. Kinda sad to watch. He’ll be the biggest gentleman ever: rushing to doors to open them for Trein, scrubbing his whole classroom for him from top to bottom, and yelling at other students to be quiet— though he was pretty much doing that before you two even got together. But every time Sebek gets close to winning the professor’s favor, he ends up going on a tangent about how amazing his liege is, and we're back at square one. You’ve got to rub him on the back and kiss him on the cheek while telling him, “Trein will come around one day!” Even if that day never comes.

silver

Not a fan. He’s witnessed Silver fall asleep in his class one too many times and thinks it's disrespectful. Once you tell Silver, he’s upset as it's not exactly something he can change, but will put in extra effort not only in Trein’s class but in all his classes. He studies with you beside him so you can prevent him from falling asleep when you see him get all drowsy-eyed. Trein immediately takes note of Silver’s hard work and grit as the boy passes his class with flying colors while asking if there’s anything he could do to help him after hours. It's only when he hears from his fellow teachers that Silver has been doing exceptionally well is he actually impressed. Afterwards, Trein will start being more understanding of Silver’s constant sleeping. He won't be any less strict, but he won’t lay into him for it as hard as before since learning it's out of Silver’s control. Trein thinks rather positively of your relationship, comparing it to the ones in the fairytales.

lilia vanrouge

A bit disturbed, to say the least. Lilia is older than him after all. Trein tried to keep a close eye on the two of you, but Lilia always caught him and pursued a staring match. Trein was always the first to look away. Lilia finds it entertaining. He tries to play tiny tricks on the professor, but you stop him at the very last minute. You sit down and try to explain that you deeply care about Trein and, by extension, what Trein thinks of him. Lilia proceeded to suggest that he brings Trein some cookies to win him over to which you immediately say no. Honestly, I don’t see Trein really ever warming up to Lilia. He just pretends the old bat doesn't exist and isn't your boyfriend. Lilia finds that incredibly funny while you're dying inside.

malleus draconia

The fact you were able to get close to the Draconia is an impressive feat to Trein. However, future ruler of Briar Valley or not, he intends to make sure that Malleus treats you right. Right when you tell Malleus that Trein is basically your father, the fae goes straight to the professor, confesses to him about your relationship, and swears to take good care of you with this ominous tone. Trein isn’t very fond of Malleus at first, struggling to decipher whether or not that introduction was genuine. It isn't until you go to him after class, gushing about the late-night walk you went on with Malleus yesterday and shoving cute little polaroid photos in his face does Trein begin to trust the fae. He makes sure to scold you for not being asleep at that time, yes, but he stares at one of the photographs for way too long, imagining you and Malleus as him and his late wife for a moment. A small smile appears on his face. However, he can’t help but think that the two of you are down a similar path; the happiest marriage ever, kids, and one lover outliving the other. A tragedy, but he’ll let you enjoy it while it lasts just like he did. As long as you’re happy.