#subject: antonin dolohov

[twhos-fests]

Gothic Fantasy Fest 2024: Day 6 Reveals

Today's GFF highlights are focused on the submissions we received that were inspired by or based on songs featuring gothic-themed lyrics. Songs such as PTOLEMAEA by Ethel Cain, Half God Half Devil by In This Moment, Rev 22:20 by Puscifer, and more. Mind the tags & Happy Reading! 🦇

Someone Take These Dreams Away by galaxy_skies

"The transformation slams into his bones like crashing into the fury of the seas..."

Warnings: Dead Dove | Werewolf Mates | Non-con |

Rating: Explicit

Character(s)/Ship(s): Antonin Dolohov/Draco Malfoy

Word Count: 1,156 words

Summary:

There are wounds that never heal: werewolf bites and battle scars. There are breaks that never mend: tortured minds and shattered trust. There are nightmares that never fade. There are demons that can never be outrun.

wretched and divine by @kaotic-aurora

"Once again, the magic in the air shivered...Wreaking havoc on her soul..."

Warnings: Priest!Lucius | Succubus!Hermione | Non-con |

Rating: Explicit

Character(s)/Ship(s): Lumione (Lucius Malfoy/Hermione Granger)

Word Count: 6,268 words

Summary:

Hermione has come into her powers as a Succubus-- a malady that afflicts the Wizarding Population rarely.

Lucius is a priest willing to help her.

PTOLEMAEA by @aradiaravenswood

"A near-soulless monster still walked the earth, pushing theirs to the brink..."

Warnings: Dead Dove | Isolation | Tag 3 | Inspired by Dante's Inferno|

Rating: Explicit

Character(s)/Ship(s): Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley

Word Count: 31,605 words

Summary: Ginny and Harry both thought the war would be over by now. Instead, they find themselves in hiding at 12 Grimmauld Place— running out of food, unable to use magic, and desperate to keep each other safe. Every day feels the same as Harry goes out to find what Horcruxes remain, leaving Ginny alone, trying to keep her sanity in check. It’s what she needs to do for Harry, for whoever is left out there, and, most importantly, for her unborn child. But if the house is as safe as Harry says… why does Ginny keep seeing Tom Riddle around every corner?

Without Darkness (There'd be no Light) by @dystopianrebel

"It was only when he heard the floorboards creak behind him that he turned around..."

Warnings: Slytherin!Harry | Voldemort Adopts Harry | Necromancy |

Rating: Mature

Character(s)/Ship(s): Harry Potter & Voldemort

Word Count: 5,011 words

Summary: Harry James Potter didn’t know how much his life would change just by snooping in a giant, seemingly abandoned house.

Where I Leave My Soul by @evierose42

"Ginny and Hermione crawled onto the bed like predators. And he was the prey..."

Warnings: Muggle AU | Vampires | Non-Con |

Rating: Explicit

Character(s)/Ship(s): Draco/Hermione/Ginny

Word Count: 4,669 words

Summary: Draco is just looking for a drink, he finds more than he bargained for.

Complete fest information under the cut!

Fest Disclaimer

Due to the darker subject material of the prompts, please mind every tag of the submissions you choose to read and engage with from our fest. Some fanworks include triggering and taboo content. So, take care of yourself, honor your limits, and enter at your own risk.

Fest Information

Gothic Fantasy Fest is a Harry Potter fanworks fest dedicated to and centered around our love for the gothic horror genre!

The inspiration to host this fest came out of our desire to see more fanworks in the fandom where the darkness within us all is celebrated, embraced, and reveled in.

This fest is hosted by The Writing Heirs of Slytherin Discord Server.

Important Links

AO3 Collection

Official Fest Spotify Playlist

Official Fest Mood Board

Discord Server

[dhr-ao3]

A Spark in the Abyss

A Spark in the Abyss https://ift.tt/sORmC1x by KittenKaboom Abducted and trapped in a tower, Draco and Hermione are subjected to the dark desires of a sadistic madman. As they navigate the treacherous waters of their imprisonment, they learn to trust and comfort each other as they are forced to perform and play the games of a deranged psychopath. Words: 4329, Chapters: 1/15, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Theodore Nott, Antonin Dolohov Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Auror Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Minor Theodore Nott/Harry Potter, Forced Proximity, Only One Bed, Trapped, Fuck Or Die, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, BDSM, Dom Draco Malfoy, Dom Hermione Granger, Abduction, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, dark themes, Memory Loss, Romance, HEA, Pregnancy, Happy Ending via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/ghEKbSU November 13, 2023 at 01:34AM

[morsmordream]

a little sorting drabble based off of this post of mine about a darker slytherin sirius black.

“remember now, sirius, we have a reputation to uphold. you know what will happen if you bring shame on the house of black,” sirius’ father, orion, told him.

it was almost quarter to ten in the morning on the 1st of september 1971. today would be sirius’ first day of hogwarts, and in a matter of minutes the black family would be flooing to platform 9 and 3/4 to see sirius off.

he was excited, of course, and trying his best not to let his parents’ warnings dampen his mood.

“yes father,” sirius said.

“repeat to me what is expected of you, sirius,” his mother, walburga, said.

“i shall be sorted into slytherin,” sirius recited, having the familial expectations drilled into his head from a very young age, “i will maintain the highest grades i am capable of, and i will inform you and my head of house of any subject i struggle in so i can receive tutoring from an older year and so that a summer tutor can be arranged if i still struggle. i will maintain my alliances with those i know within slytherin, and form new alliances with children from suitable families, regardless of house, as is my duty as the heir to the house of black. i will endeavour not bring shame on our family- defending myself from attack and facing punishment for it is understandable, but i will not seek out trouble.”

“unless?” walburga prompted.

“unless there is problems caused by mudbloods or blood-traitors. in that case, i shall not take action alone if it can be helped, and i shall not take any action at all without calculating the risk of being caught.”

“very good, son,” father said, ruffling his hair- but enough to make a mess. orion looked at his watch, “walburga, would you fetch regulus?”

she nodded, and left the drawing room, leaving sirius and his father.

“now, sirius, you have ensured to pack your extra-curricular books?”

sirius nodded in affirmation. extra-curricular books was an interesting way to describe it. the secret and heavily warded compartment in his trunk contained everything from introductions to elective subjects he could not study until his third year and books on becoming a suitable heir all the way to beginners dark arts books.

“yes father. i shall keep the black family books to myself, but i can compare the other books and my notes on them with other students in my house.”

“good, you have listened well.”

“thank you father.”

walburga re-entered the room with regulus in tow.

sirius noticed that regulus was somewhat misty-eyed, and sirius felt a pang in his heart. regulus would not attend hogwarts for another two years, and sirius knew they would miss each other greatly. his brother was the most important person in his life, and he hoped the next two years would pass quickly.

“reggie, c’mere,” sirius said, opening his arms.

his brother all but ran to him, wrapping his arms around him and sirius held him close.

“i’m gonna miss you, siri,” he mumbled into sirius’ chest.

“and i you, but i’ll be back before you know it! yule break is only two months away, and i’ll tell you all about what i’ve learnt!”

“come now, boys, it’s time to leave,” orion said.

sirius reluctantly pulled himself away from regulus, and straightened his back as he strode towards the fireplace. he lifted a handful of floo powder and said, in the strongest voice his eleven year old self could manage, “platform nine and three quarters.”

•••

sirius stepped out of the carriage with an internal sigh. he had spent half an hour before the train set off with the other soon-to-be first years that he had grown up with- alecto and amycus carrow, antonin dolohov, rabastan lestrange, augustus rookwook, zacharias mulciber, garrick avery and euphemia rowle. he had excused himself in search of an empty carriage ten minutes before the train departed, claiming that he wanted some peace and quiet to read and would return in a few hours.

frankly, sirius just didn’t want to listen to all the complaining that was sure to ensue about headmaster dumbledore and sharing classes with mudbloods.

he ducked into an empty compartment and promptly resized his trunk, pulling out his copy of ancient runes made easy before shrinking his trunk again. his parents had already had him read his schoolbooks for the year, so he may as well read something that interested him.

minutes after the train left the station, the door to his compartment slid open and sirius was met with two somewhat out of breath boys.

they looked at each other for a moment before sirius sighed, shutting his book.

“may i help you?”

“we- uh- we couldn’t find and empty compartment,” the taller of the two boys said, “can we sit here?”

“i suppose so,” sirius said, gesturing to the seats opposite him. as the boys made themselves comfortable, he spoke again, “i’m heir sirius black, and you are…?”

“i’m heir james potter,” the boy who had spoken previously said, sitting up straighter. a pureblood, sirius noted, despite the boys messy hair.

“i’m peter pettigrew,” the other boy said quietly.

“is your mother professor pettigrew?” sirius asked, “the divination professor?”

“yes,” pettigrew nodded.

“not a class i plan to take,” sirius said.

“neither,” potter said, “no offence, pete.”

“i’m not sure if i will either,” pettigrew said, fidgeting slightly.

“what’re you reading, black?” potter asked.

“an ancient runes book.”

“but we don’t take that until third year?”

“i know. it interests me.”

potter furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the compartment door opening again. this time it was a lone boy- somewhat skinny, with a long silver scar stretching from one cheek all the way across the bridge of his nose.

“my apologies,” the boy said, with a welsh accent, “all the other compartments were full, and i was hoping to find other first years to sit with. may i?”

sirius nodded, and shifted up slightly so the boy could sit beside him.

“thank you,” he said with a small nod, “i’m remus lupin.”

“james potter.”

“peter pettigrew.”

“sirius black.”

lupin flushed slightly, “oh- my apologies. i can leave if you so wish?”

“what? why?” potter asked.

“i’m a half-blood,” he said, with a quick barely noticeable glance at sirius out of the corner of his eye, “i understand that i am probably not the company you wish to keep.”

“nonsense,” potter said, “i don’t give a toss about blood purity, we’re all wizards anyway.”

“yeah,” pettigrew echoed.

all eyes turned to sirius, who was conflicted. yes, this was not exactly the company he was supposed to keep, but he didn’t exactly want to make enemies before he even arrived in hogwarts.

he shrugged, “you can stay. it’s fine.”

lupin sighed in relief.

potter began to rummage through the pockets of his robes (not as nice as sirius’ own, he noted to himself) and pulled out some cards.

“anyone for a game of exploding snap?”

•••

time passed quickly, and before sirius knew it the conductor’s voice was floating through the train telling students to begin changing into their robes as they would be arriving in hogsmeade station in twenty minutes.

he found himself liking the boys surprisingly well in the few hours he had known them, and had ended up on first name terms with all of them. he learnt that james would accept no house but gryffindor, peter assumed he would be hufflepuff but would love to be in gryffindor and remus desired ravenclaw. james and peter had known each other for years, and remus had lived rather isolated and didn’t know anyone who would be in their year.

james had rather insistently believed that sirius would be gryffindor himself, which sirius didn’t really respond to- focusing more on a conversation with remus about their upcoming classes.

as the conductor’s announcement finished, sirius bid his goodbyes to the other boys in the compartment- explaining that he had promised to return back to a different compartment before the train arrived.

as he left the compartment, and walked through the carriages, sirius noted with a small smile that those three boys were the first friends he had ever made all on his own.

he wondered if sorting into different houses would affect that- with james being so staunchly gryffindor.

•••

sirius’ nerves began to get the better of him as he stood with the other first years outside the great hall.

“ooh, sev, this place is huge! the pictures in the books really didn’t do it justice!” a red-headed girl near his right said to a boy with jaw length black hair, who nodded and mumbled something too low for sirius to hear.

“mudbloods,” mulciber muttered with a scowl. sirius nodded absentmindedly in response.

the doors to the great hall opened and the first years were beckoned forwards by the rather stern-looking professor mcgonagall.

as they walked in, sirius suppressed his awe at the enchanted ceiling of the great hall- maintaining his pureblood mask. he took a deep breath to calm his nerves, knowing how close he was to the beginning of the alphabet.

sirius ignored the first few names, but noted that avery, predictably, had went to slytherin. after a few more students, he snapped back to attention.

“sirius black,” mcgonagall called.

sirius walked to the front of the hall with his back straight and his head high, careful not to portray his nerves. he sat down on the stool with perfect posture as the sorting hat was placed on his head.

“well,” the hat spoke in his mind, “you are certainly an interesting one, heir black.”

“meaning?” sirius thought.

“i believe you would flourish in both gryffindor and slytherin, their traits fit you best. having the traits of both these houses is a rather uncommon occurrence,” the hat paused, “hmm, yes, indeed. interesting. where to put you?”

“i- i don’t know.”

“you have hopes and fears, certainly. you hope that in gryffindor you could join your new friends, but it will likely cause problems with your family. a tough decision. what do you believe is best, heir black?”

sirius thought hard about this one. could he really risk his parent’s anger over people he had met that very same day? the news of the black heir would certainly bring much unwanted gossip within pureblood circles, which would only make his parents’ displeasure worse over time. he didn’t want to lose his new friends either, though, but he had always been sneaky- he was sure he could maintain these friendships somehow?

“wise thinking, heir black,” the hat said in his mind, “very well.”

sirius took a deep breath.

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat announced to the hall.

he noticed a frown on james’ face as he stood and walked to the slytherin table and felt a small pang in his chest. he hoped his sorting didn’t make him hate him.

“merlin,” avery said, patting sirius’ back when he sat down, “you were almost a hatstall!”

“the hat was torn between slytherin and ravenclaw,” sirius lied easily.

avery scoffed, “not surprised, you never have your head out of a book.”

james, peter and remus were all sorted into gryffindor, but sirius noticed how long the latter two’s sortings took- with peter looking like he was desperate throughout his sorting and remus looking quite surprised. he didn’t quite like peter so much as he liked the other two, and he was more wary of him, but still- he was a friend now.

he sighed to himself as he ate his meal. he really hoped he had made the right decision.

[shinynewboots]

In the Aftermath / Hermione x Antonin Dolohov (Chapter 2)

Summary:  In response to the low post-war population, the Dark Lord proposed a solution. The half-blood and blood-traitor women were to be given to the male members of a pureblood house. These women would be chosen by Death Eaters to carry on their family names and blood (for if the Dark Lord gave his blessings for the mixing of blood, who were they to argue?). The muggle-born women were to be left for those of lower prestige and lower rank. Or, more accurately, as willing (unwilling) toys for the most odious of Death Eaters.

Warnings: 18+, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, eventual smut, angst, dubious consent, grief, dark post-war fic, NSFW, implied SA

AO3 Link

Last Chapter

April 6, 1999

Hermione awoke to the gentle crackling of a fire. Though her vision was blurry and her eyes crusted over, she could still make out the shadows that danced across the wall.

She was warm.

Warm.

How long had it been since she had been warm?

She blinked her eyes groggily, wiping at them to aid in her vision. The room came into view and she found herself in an unfamiliar place. It was a bedroom. There was nothing special about the room as it held only a bed, fireplace, and dresser. It could have been any bedroom out of a showroom catalog.

Hermione felt around the bed, her hands taking in the thick warmth of the quilt she lay under. The sheets were soft. It had been so long since she had been anywhere soft. She moved her head quickly to further assess the situation.

A sharp, splitting pain tugged at her skull and it took everything she had not to scream at the sensation. She grimaced and placed her hands over her eyes, as though the pressure would cause the pain to cease.

The light of the fire was too bright. The gentle beams of daylight that stole through the curtains were too harsh. Hermione turned her head into the pillow. Her head was swimming.

She tried to focus on anything else in an effort to distract her sense of sight. She took in a deep breath through her nostrils and was hit with the smell of sandalwood and pine that lingered on the pillow.

“Another captor it seems,” Hermione thought to herself, unnerved at the idea of being in a stranger’s bed.

“What happened,” she pondered. Her memory was foggy. It was filled with the bone -chilling despair of Azkaban. But she knew she had left Azkaban a few days prior. If not Azkaban, where was she? Azkaban wasn’t warm.

Carrow.

Amycus Carrow had gleefully chosen her. She stood in a room of dirty girls. He had picked her out, his yellow teeth gleaming in the light. His sister had been pleased to forcefully undue her chains. She had been slapped, punched, kicked, and spit upon as the siblings took their time before Amycus took his prize home.

Truthfully, she didn’t remember much after he took her home. Pain. Nothing more. Sometimes, in her moments of madness, she would think back to her time spent in hiding with George, the way he would smile softly.  

The only true feeling she could remember with Carrow was the burning of her veins as they screamed at her to run away. She never could, however, and would always be subject to cruel taunts and curses throw at her when he pointed his wand.

Was I raped?

Her stomach churned at the thought. Her hand found itself reaching for the area between her thighs as she looked for some kind of sign or indication. She found no tenderness upon palpation of the area though that gave no comfort. The thought was enough to convince her that she needed to gain control of this unknown situation she found herself in.

Hermione attempted to rise from the bed, her movements slow and shaking. She pulled herself to the edge of the bed in an attempt to stand. Her right foot touched the ground and she could sense her unsteadiness from such a small movement.

She slid from the bed slow, wary of her body and its ability to function. A chill ran up her spine at the realization that in this moment she didn’t trust her body, truly the only thing left that was hers. Or was it really? No, her body had been sold to the highest bidder and thus she lost the last thing in the world that truly belonged to her.

She found herself on her hands and knees on the ground, pleasantly surprised to find the floor warm from the fire. She began her crawl towards the door, her body screaming in protest and her knees aching with every movement. Once at the door, she reached and grabbed the door knob, pulling the door open slowly so as to make as little sounds as possible. Peeking her eye out, she was met with a relatively bland hallway. The fact that she could even open the door was a good sign, as it meant the room hadn’t been warded.

Gaining courage, she tried to pull herself up on the door frame. In hindsight, this was a terrible idea. The door took much less effort to move than she originally thought and came swinging towards her, throwing her off balance. She fell to the ground with a loud thud.

“Shit,” She hissed, a wave of nauseous accompanying the pain that engulfed her body. The sound of heavy boots moving quickly on the hard wood was louder than even the sound of the blood rushing to her ears. Her eyes, which she had closed when she fell, could not will themselves open due to the now excruciating headache that had started.

The sound of the bootsteps stopped and Hermione felt calloused hands grab her in as gentle of a manner as they seemed capable of.

“Are you hurt,” The owner of the footsteps asked, his voice betraying a slight Russian accent. Her vision was still funny, so the man was coming into focus somewhat slowly. She could tell though, that he had dark hair, and was large and hulking.

“Not from this,” She replied, trying to gain focus.

Antonin Dolohov.

She blinked a few times, not trusting what she was seeing. The memories began to flood back into her senses. Amycus Carrow had taken his time in breaking her in so that when he finally took her, she wouldn’t cause trouble. He never got the chance. Just as he was about to violate her in the worst way possible, he grew angry, terrifyingly so. He began to yell about her already being claimed by someone else.

He used the cruciatus curse repeatedly.

He forced her back into the Ministry, yelling obscenities in the name of Dolores Umbridge. She silently agreed with every horrible word that came out of his mouth on her behalf.

She felt like a cornered animal. She needed to escape. She needed his hands to no longer be holding her in such a gentle way. She needed —

Then she remembered. Luna.

“Luna?” She asked, so softly he almost missed it. He knelt before her so that she no longer had to look up at him.

“She’s fine, I promise. She’s with Rabastan and — “

“Lestrange?” She gasped. Her eyes were narrowed at the large, Russian man before her. She had no reason to trust him. He had played the villain in many of her nightmares since the Department of Mysteries. He’d almost killed her. The look of pure hatred he shot at her during that battle when she was only sixteen was burned into her memory.

The scar that spanned the length of her body, the scar caused by his wand and curse, burned at the close proximity it held to its brander. She tried and failed to jerk away from his touch but failed and found that his gentle touch, though in no way tight or harsh, had tightened ever so slightly around her body.

“She is safe with him. I promise.” He answered, all too aware of her fear. She looked into his dark eyes and found no malice or hatred. The look he held was closer to that of someone who had just come along a wounded animal; his eyes held pity for the animal and yet still were wary (as wounded animals were unpredictable. Dangerous. A skilled outdoorsman would know that a wounded animal would try anything to get away.)

“Your promises mean nothing to me.”

“Hm,” He answered, the sound a mix between annoyance and begrudging respect. Of course, she didn’t trust him. This strange, older man who played a villain in her dreams and had left her disfigured in the most intimate of ways. He pulled her up from the floor in one fell swoop and sat her on the edge of the bed.

“I left some potions for you, to help you recover. The bathroom is down the hall on the right. I don’t have any clothes your size, but I one of my smaller shirts for you to wear.”

He left the room quickly. Hermione took the potions, uncaring at this point if they were poisoned or meant to kill her. What was the point? She began to feel stronger with each one she swallowed until she felt she finally had the strength to walk. It was still a difficult trek, however, as she wobbled slightly with every step she took.

Once she made it to the bathroom, she took in her skeletal appearance. A myriad of bruises marred her skin. In the mirror, she saw a girl she no longer recognized. As quickly as she could, she ripped the dirty Azkaban prison uniform from her body.

Her naked form frightened her. She could account for every rib in her body, as her skin held on to each of them tightly. Her breasts, though not large to begin with, were virtually nonexistent. The small curves that had taken shape on her hips during puberty had disappeared. Easily, Hermione could have passed as a boy to anyone only looking from the waist up.

She breathed deeply as she examined the scar that had marred her body since the end of her fifth year. Hermione traced it from her breastbone to her hip bone multiple times, unconsciously pushing her fingers deeper into her skin along the path of the scar until it finally caused her enough pain to stop.

It was all his fault she had endured so much pain, and yet now she had to live with him? Coexist with him? Submit to him? He had to hate her. She hated him.

“Fuck,” Hermione thought bitterly, scoffing out loud. She turned her thoughts to something else, anything else.

Something like how Lavender Brown was likely rolling in her grave because of the state of Hermione Granger’s hair.

Though always bushy and curly, Hermione’s hair had never completely resembled a rat’s nest. Truthfully, there was no telling what fluids had mixed together to give her hair such tangle. It was knotted beyond repair. She began to rummage through the sink drawers until she found a pair of scissors. She cut away at all the tangled strands until her hair was a somewhat decent length full of layers, the longest layer brushing her shoulders.

Her hair had lost its curl at some point, likely due to stress and malnutrition, so it hung limply with no volume.

Satisfied, she threw the cut hair into the trashcan along with the uniform, wishing in that moment she could set them both to fire.

Hermione turned the shower onto the hottest setting, and did not even flinch when the heat scorched her skin. It was utterly glorious. She scrubbed away at the grim that coated her skin and was not surprised to see the water that pooled around her feet had turned a dingy color.

She stayed in the water for much longer than she knew she should have, but she couldn’t resist. When she finally emerged, the steam in the bathroom was thick. Her skin was red and raw.

She wrapped herself in two towels, one for her body and the other for her hair, and sat down on the toilet for a moment, taking in the heat of the steam. Her body felt more relaxed than it had in a long time.

Content with how dry she was, she looked at the clothes that Dolohov said he had left her. The man was huge, so anything she put on would make her look even more malnourished than she already was. With no other choice, she put on his black button-down shirt, thought it was admittedly more of a dress on her. His pants were utterly impossible and pooled around her ankles. She cuffed them to fix the length as much as she could, though it was almost hopeless.

This must have been how Harry felt. Hermione shunned the thought from her mind as fast as she could but the lingering sadness remained. He would always joke about wearing his cousin’s large hand-me-downs, a good-natured grin on his features, though if she was paying enough attention, the pain of his life previous to that of Hogwarts always remained.

Hermione left the bathroom feeling much better than she had before she entered. She was finally able to walk somewhat normally, the only handicap being the large clothes she wore that she had to constantly pull up. She walked down the hallway slowly, glancing around the area as she did. There were two other doors besides the room she had awoken in and the bathroom. She stored the information for later, perhaps at night when she knew her curiosity would get the better of her.

Towards the end of the halfway, there were a set of stairs leading down. As she moved closer, a pleasant smell began to invade her nostrils. Stew. Torn between her desire to crawl under the covers of the bed she had woken in and follow the smell, her stomach finally made its decision when she heard its loud protest.

Hermione crept down the stairs, trying her hardest not to hit every creak on the boards. She failed, of course, as one does when they’re attempting to be sneaky. The smell of the stew seemed to call to her, as with every sniff, her stomach gargled louder.

At the bottom step, Hermione stopped, hesitant of what to expect. Would she just waltz in there, wearing his clothes no less, and except him to serve her food? Would she be punished if she entered the kitchen? Yelled at? Tortured?

As she argued internally, the sound of a male voice singing began to ring. The voice was pleasant enough, not the best she had ever heard, but it had a calming effect. It was baritone, deep and warm. The words, though she couldn’t make them out, weren’t in English. They had the flow of a Slavic language, and if she had to guess, it was Russian. The song was soft, almost melancholy.

Lost in the sound of the calming song, Hermione seemed to forget where she was and stepped off the edge of the step she had been standing on, her lead feet making a loud thud on the ground. The singing ceased.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were going to stand there, Yagoda.” Amusement was evident in his voice. Her cheeks burned red.  She gathered her composure and made her way to where the voice had come from.

The kitchen was small and undecorated, like most of the house. Dolohov sat on a kitchen chair, his feet propped up on the table and a newspaper in his hands. At her appearance, he abruptly smashed the paper shut and stared at her oddly. His brown eyes looked her up and down, the odd look replaced with a frown.

“You look very small” He said with a  frown, running a hand through his dark hair. Behind him, a spoon stirred the stew that sat on the stovetop. She stood awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. How does one respond to a man who at one point in her life had wanted her dead?

“Sit down,” He said, gesturing to the wicker chair across from him. She crossed the short distance quickly, gently taking a seat across from Dolohov. He gave her one last look before getting up and moving towards the stove, grabbing a bowl from a cabinet. He stopped the stirring spoon in its tracks and ladled out some of the stew into the bowl. He sat the bowl in front of Hermione, and retook his seat across from her.

After a few awkward minutes of no movement from either party, Dolohov raised an eyebrow. “It’s not poisoned.”

Hermione looked up from her gaze that had been firmly placed upon the stew and met his eyes. “Why?”

“Why did I not poison you?” Dolohov asked, his fingers playing with the ends of his beard. Instead of growing cold, as he had done previously, his expression was thoughtful.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“Technically, I suppose I own you, as archaic as that sounds,” He answered, though they both knew it was weak.

“That’s irrelevant,” She countered. Dolohov nodded his head in agreement, his brain beginning to hurt. Why indeed. Truthfully, he had spent the hours she had been asleep locked in his study, a bottle of whiskey being his only companion. He understood the legal aspect of the impromptu arrangement. He even understood why he was so elated at the thought of keeping her out of the nefarious hands of Amycus Carrow. What he did not understand, however, was why he was being compassionate to the girl.

“You’re right.” He answered, lost in thought. “Eat, or it’s going to get cold.”

Hermione scowled at the older man, and would likely have kept up the staring contest that had begun between her and the bowl of stew had her stomach not intervened. It took all she had not to devour the stew in one gulp, as she knew the repercussions of such acts on a malnourished person would be unsavory, as she would likely see the stew again later.

“Once you recover, I suppose we can go out and get you new clothes.”  Hermione nodded at his words as she finished off the last of her meal.  Reluctant to admit it, even internally, she found the stew to be absolutely wonderful.

“I want to go see Luna,” She announced, staring him down. The corners of his bearded mouth seemed to turn up rather slightly. Of course, this caused her stare to grow even harder.

“When both of you have recovered, we can make a visit to Lestrange Manor. However, at the moment neither of you are going anywhere.”

She scowled at him, her eyebrows furrowed. Her lip was curled, a slew of cruel taunts just waiting to fall. “I’m not a child who needs to have playdates arranged.”

“So you say, but you are pouting like a child.”

“I feel well enough-“ Hermione started, but was abruptly cut off from a yawn escaping from her mouth. Her eyes began to droop heavily and her head began to bobble to the point that she almost couldn’t hold it. Despite the tired look in her eyes, Antonin knew a glare when he saw one.

“You drugged me,” She said between yawns. It was hard to decipher, but the accusation in her sleepy tone was hard to miss. Antonin jumped from his chair, jarring the table, and barely caught her in time before her sleeping body feel headfirst onto the floor. In his arms, he positioned her so that her arms were wrapped around his neck and her legs around his torso, almost like an abnormally large toddler.

Did he feel bad about adding a potion to the stew? Not necessarily. And her hadn’t drugged her per say, simply encouraged her body to get the rest it needed. His mother used to do the same to him and his brother when they were younger and sick. They would always insist that they were well, but his mother had always been a very perceptive woman, and though her methods were unorthodox, they were effective.

Antonin carried the small witch up the stairs, trying to ignore the fact that he could feel every rib through her shirt.  

He left Hermione in her bed, carefully to make sure she had a fire going and the room was warm enough. With one glance towards the sleeping young woman, Antonin sighed before closing her bedroom door. She would be utter hell to answer to when she woke up. Thankfully, he had more than enough time to prepare mentally for her onslaught.

[r-lestrcnge]

"Refuge? Antonin, this is prime real estate." Faintly laughing as Dolohov joined him in his corner, he nudged a tray of snacks between them with the tip of his finger. "It comes complete with seclusion and refreshments, and is located close enough to an exit for a swift departure. What more could be desired?"

Reaching for the bottle, he then topped up his glass and lounged back, eyes fixed on the other wizard. "Any ceremony is important. Marriage vows are binding magic, whether they go sour or not. But I do not think this happy couple need worry about that." It was plain to see they were more than content with their good fortune. Rabastan did not doubt that this marriage would be long lasting.

As poker-faced as usual, Rabastan noted Antonin's distaste for the topic. It brought a wicked curve to his lips and a glint to his eyes. The subject was currently undesirable for him, too, and he was content to turn the tables. "Me? You are older. Surely yours will come first. But since you asked, I do not intend to marry before the war ends. I am committed to the Dark Lord alone, until such time as my self-sacrifice becomes less essential." Arching an eyebrow, he pulled his glass across the table, a thin trail of ice-cold condensation remaining in its wake, quickly and magically erased by some automatic charm. "Let us hope that time comes soon." It was his dearest wish to see society righted, with the Dark Lord and his most trusted at its helm.

Antonin got his own drink, a nice glass of something neat that helped him tolerate the bubbliness. “Ah, someone else has taken refuge at the drink cart.” Antonin chuckled and sat near Rabastan.  The dread of the place cards abated as this was more of a gathering place, but he kept on his guard. “Weddings, they seep into everything don’t they with their sappiness, good for morale and marshaling forces though, connection through marriages are as tried and true as any unless they go sour, but the bride and groom seem happy enough.”

He looked around at the assembled decorations and drinks impeccable in their pairing, but that he couldn’t find fault with them was off putting in its own way. “It takes a lot to put something like this together even in the best of times, I wonder when the next one will be, you planning on tying the knot anytime soon Rab?” Antonin took another slug of his drink as if the topic of marriage was a pill to be swallowed.

[upinsmoke-gossip]

Which mudbloods are doing the best job hiding it?

Did you just ask me for a muggleborn hit list? I’m not sure if they’re hiding it, but some of them are certainly keeping it lowkey.

For example, there’s Lily Potter, Juniper Dunbar, and Pandora Kane, who should really form a pregnant muggleborn club. I bet they’re all wary ladies working hard to keep themselves and their bellies safe, if you ask me.

Then there’s the likes of Pippa Strout, but I hear she’s been attacked before, so she’s not managing to hide it at all. I don’t think Nina Fedorova is doing much to hide her muggleborn heritage, but considering she’s the new sweetheart of Antonin Dolohov. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mess with him.

@fortunexflower @juniperthelionheart @pandorakane @pippaxstrout @ninafedxrxva @antonintheviper

[remainsrp]

Here is our second subplot preview: Operation Liberation, involving the Order, some Ministry officials, and Antonin Dolohov himself. 

Over the years, the Ministry has come down with increasing harness on those it deems to be undesirables—or insurgents. In particular, the Order of the Phoenix felt the most weight, crushing them after the Clash. Dolohov and his Ministry imprisoned many with farces of trial, and anyone who called the process unfair was silenced by any means possible. In November of 1983, what's left of the Order rallies together, knowing its numbers are too small to do much alone. A few cause a distraction by breaking into the Ministry and causing a scene in the atrium; most die for it. While most of the Ministry's forces rally to expel them from the Ministry and end them for good, a select few enter Azkaban and break those who've been arrested out of its cells. It's a solid plan, except many have languished there for years and are fractured, broken, not entirely ready to re-enter a fight. But, Dumbledore says, they must. In response, Dolohov introduces a new law. Anyone involved in this, as well as any dangerous criminal, is now subject to execution or the dementor's kiss at the Ministry's will. They're keeping people safe, he claims—it's not an easy job, but it's one that he's willing to bear the burden of.

[antonindoloxv]

( @worldly-diversity​ wrote: Harry eyed the other, Dolohov he now knows he's called, with some mild suspicion and wariness, but then, can he really be blamed? This is new territory for him after all. "So, you're supposed to be my mentor or something now?" )

The meeting had had a very interesting outcome. One that he had not foreseen at all. There had been others, others who had begged the dark lord to be the one to look after the boy, to train him and show him their world. Especially Bellatrix and he knew Snape had done so too, in his own way only he had been more collected and calm when he’d put his request forward. Antonin had not said a word, he’d just kept kneeling and tried to blend in with the room. But then the Dark Lord had spoken to him and awarded him with the task to bring the boy to his full potential. He had been the one to bring him there by making him kill those guardian muggles of his and now Antonin didn’t exactly know what to do or how to begin.

He’d been reluctant to bring the boy home with him or even give him a hint of where he might live in case he had a change of heart at some point and ran to Dumbledore or the Aurors to tell where to find Antonin Dolohov. “Yes.” he answered in a short tone and steered his steps towards a  door that just seemed to appear out of nowhere. A neat little trick. “You can kill. But can you fight? Come.” he ordered and opened the door that led to a stone staircase going down to the basement and the dungeons where he stored his test subjects (prisoners). But that wasn’t the part where they would venture today. That door was locked, sealed, and silenced and nothing could be heard coming from the end of the corridor, instead, he led them to a side door that opened up to a larger room with nothing in it, only the feeling of a mild protection ward could be felt when one stepped into the room. “Use your strongest spell.” he instructed and flicked his wand to close the door behind the boy and then again with something muttered in Russian to conjure up a moving target at the other end of the room. “Begin.”

[luxaurorarpg]

GABRIELLA MCKINNON, aka THE POLYMATH is 21 years old and a PUREBLOOD alumni of RAVENCLAW. Her allegiance is UNKNOWN, and she is currently OPEN. Potential faceclaims include Danna Paola, Priscilla Quintana, Melissa Barrera. *Gabriella must be Latina*

AESTHETICS

velvet skirts, intricate doodles, high ceilings, stacks of books, soft footfalls, a little sophisticated, quiet voice with a loud impact, perfect braids, the shades of grey, always reading, just slightly out of place, messily written notes, feather collector, iced coffee all year round, a widespread vocabulary, surprising stories from outrageous experiences, naturally graceful, a touch of perfectionism, constant daydreams, half finished projects, nostalgia for something that never existed

MOMENTS

At four years old, Gabriella had already started to figure out the dynamics of her family and what lines she needed to toe. Despite the fact that she admired her older sister, she knew that their parents had little to no patience for her. Alexander had the weight of their family name on his shoulders and Sebastian could do no wrong in the eyes of her mother. If she wanted to survive her family unscathed, she had to find comfort in the background. Gabby found quiet interests, entertained herself, and above all else, held herself in a way that would please her parents. Instead, she spent a lot of time reading and observing the people around her. Gabriella learned that patience was not only a virtue but a key to survival. 

When she finally got to go to Hogwarts, she was almost grateful that she was housed separately from all of her siblings. Despite being rather close to her older brother, she didn’t really want to be paired with Sebastian, and Ravenclaw had called to her heart. As soon as the hat had sorted her she had found herself at home. Ravenclaw had helped Gabriella find her voice, and her own path. She was able to explore her own interests, branch out from her parents stuffy expectations, and distance herself from her siblings to some degree. A Ravenclaw at heart, she excelled at the subjects she liked, maintained at the ones she didn’t, and found herself encroached in a plethora of special interests. Along the way, she even made good friends.

By sixteen, Gabby understood that a war was coming, and her family was going to be in the midst of it. She also understood that they weren’t all going to end up on the same side. Marlene very clearly had different beliefs from her parents, and Alexander would do whatever was asked of him. When it came to Sebastian, Gabriella tried to distance herself as much as possible. She wasn’t fooled by his charismatic charm, as she knew just how dangerous he was underneath it all. Gabriella didn’t want to be in the war, not really. So she focused on her studies instead. Gabby focused on making marks so that she could have a career in something she truly loved. She spent her down time surrounded by friends, and tried to ignore the growing darkness. 

Graduation came and with it the end to Gabby’s sense of security. Her main focus was once again balancing the line of not losing her sense of self and keeping her parents pleased. However, Gabby didn’t fall in line when it came to the war, instead opting to stay out of it entirely. Given the fact that her parents believed her to be soft and delicate, they didn’t push her to the lines of fighting. However, by the time Rodolphus took over, Gabby knew that her older sister was the only one with the right idea in their family. There was an entire chasm between them, and Gabriella had no idea how to even go about fixing it, but she couldn’t help but continuously feel the urge to reach out to her. Gabriella had planned on staying neutral, but she wasn’t so sure that neutrality was an option. 

TRAITS

idiosyncratic 

clever 

cautious 

complacent 

taciturn 

adventurous 

CONNECTIONS

SIBLINGS - Out of all of her siblings, the only one she could claim to be close to was Alexander. He had always been the kindest to her and the one that she actually enjoyed being around. While she admired Marlene, there was a pool of resentment there that made it difficult for her to even be around her older sister. Besides, she knew that becoming close to Marlene would make her as good as dead in the eyes of her parents. Sebastian on the other hand might be her twin, but Gabriella knew well to stay away from him. He was the epitome of danger, and she knew the closer she was to him, the more likely she was to be harmed by him. 

THOMAS DEARBORN - Out of all of her friends, Thomas was the one that was able to bring her out of her shell best. Thomas was good at helping her push her boundaries, and helping her find her voice. Best friends since their first year, Gabby knew that she could always count on him to make her day a little brighter, to make her feel a little braver, and to catch her whenever she fell. Thomas was a light in her life no matter the circumstances, and she tried to return the favorite whenever she could. So long as she had him by her side, Gabby knew she could do anything. 

ANTONIN DOLOHOV - Antonin was an unexpected friend, and someone that Gabby found to be incredibly important to her nonetheless. In the midst of the chaos, she could always count on him to be the calm, and she sought him out whenever the world threatened to overwhelm her. Back in Hogwarts they studied together and often spent their time in companionable silence. Antonin was intelligent in ways that most people missed, but Gabriella didn’t. She saw who Antonin was, and she adored him for it. Once they graduated, he was someone that she made sure to keep in touch with, and someone that she found herself reaching out to more and more often. 

MARY MACDONALD - The friendship she had with Mary was one that she had kept on the quiet side for a while. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, because truthfully, blood status didn’t really matter to her, it was that she didn’t want her parents finding out. Gabriella was well aware of what her parents were capable of and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. However, Mary meant a great deal to her, so much so that she maintained their friendship outside of school and beyond their years at Hogwarts. There was a warmth to Mary that pulled Gabriella in like a moth to a flame. Despite the risks, she knew that in all of this, she would do whatever she could to protect her friend and stand by her.

[of-viciious]

it’s  been  seven  years  since  the   pureblood  wizard  ,  antonin  dolohov  was  sorted  into  slytherin  upon  arriving  at  hogwarts  .  i  suppose  over  the  years  we’ve  learnt  that  he  is  audacious  ,  insouciant  ,  belligerent  &  pertinagious   ,  i  guess  that’s  why  they  were  sorted  where  they  were  .  (  aron  piper.   )

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒  !

 frosting in  strands  of  hair  ,  cold  handshakes  and  even  colder  smiles  ,  cloudy  childhood  memories  just a  little  too ��bitter to  reminisce  ,  the  soft  crackling  of old  vinyl ,  family  heirlooms  decorating  bruised  fingers ,

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈  𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓  !

i.  BRUISES   -   lewis  capaldi  .

ii.  ALREADY  GONE -    sleeping  at  last  .

STATISTICS 

personal

full name : antonin dolohov 

name meaning : “ priceless; inestimable or praiseworthy . ”

nicknames : anton ( friends )  tony  ( grand - parents ) 

date of birth : august 24th

place of birth : dolohov manor 

current residence : hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry 

sexuality : pansexual 

religion : agnostic

apperance 

hair colour : dark brown , curls 

eye colour : brown - green 

height : 6'1

build : slightly muscular

tattoos : the dark mark ( ?? ) 

birthmark : behind his knee 

scars : a small line on his deltoid ( from childhood incident )

hogwarts 

year level : seventh 

house : slytherin 

best subject : charms 

worst subject : herbology 

electives : apparition , ancient studies , ghoul studies 

clubs : astronomy , potions , duelling 

quidditch : beater for slytherin quidditch team 

misc

character inspiration : tba

moral alignment : neutral evil 

personality type : tba

BIOGRAPHY 

* trigger warning : animal cruelty , animal death *

they  say  there’s  no  such  thing  as  bad  seeds  ,  only  bad  farmers  .  but  there’s  a  coldness  within  him  ,  one  that  easily  flowed  through  --  inherited  from  his  mother  ,  fostered  by  his  father  ,  antonin  was  never  not  going  to  be  the  villain  in  the  story  . 

but  innocent  until  proven  guilty  ,  isn’t  that  how  it  goes  ?  imagine  .  little  dolohov  ,  barely  even  seven  ,  head  full  of  curls  ,  lips  aching  from  so  much  smiling  .  running  around  the  courtyard  of  the  dolohov  manner  ,  (  he  was  too  young  to  know  that  such  felicities  were  only  fate’s plaything  , emotions toyed  around  for  the  torture  of  mere  mortals  )   and  he  spots  a  little  bird  ,  with  a  broken  wing  ,  a  little  squeak  of  pain  .  and  he  frowns  ,  he  kneels  and  cups  the  bird  in  his  hands  .  tears  warmed  his  cold  cheeks  as  sorrow  and  emapthy  overpowered  him  .   that  was  his  first  memory  of  crying .  **  trigger  warning  :  animal  cruelty  ** he  took  it  to  his  father  ,  who  grabbed  it  by  a  fist  till  it  went  limp  in  his  hand  . **  end  trigger  warning  **

he’s  not  quite  sure  what  he  did  after  ,  the  memory  ends  there  --  like  a  movie  cutting  to  a  black  screen  .  his  only  memory  of  ,  well  ,  caring  .  over  the  years  ,  he  was  built  to  perfection  ,  the  ideal  pureblood  elitist  ,  like  a  carver  shaping  ice   ,   like  a  blacksmith  sharpening  a  sword  ,  every  comment  ,  every  action  ,  with  the  purpose  of  permanently  imprinting  those  elitist  beliefs  in  his  mind  .  hatred  ,  disgust  ,  complete  revulsion  for  the  muggle  world  and  its  people  ,  that  was  all  he  ever  knew  .

fast  -  forward  to  his  first  year  at  hogwarts  school  of  witchcraft  and  wizardry  ,  slytherin  ?  expected  .  lonely  ?  expected  .  homesick  ?  expected  .  friendship  with  a  muggle  -  born  gryffindor  ?  not  so  much  .  their  name  was  [  ooc  :  insert  name  here  ,  pls  someone  write  this  connection  with  me  ]  .  and  merlin  ,  they  were  beautiful  .  and  they  were  kind  and  warm  and  funny  and  they  were  helping  him  care  again  ,  to feel again  .   the  possibility  of  her  being  muggle  -  born  never  even  crossed  his  mind  ,  for  his  father  had  taught  him  that  muggles  were  vile  ,  disgusting  creatures  who  tainted  the  wizarding  world  with  their  dirty  mundanity  .  they  were  ugly  and  hideous  ,  unsympathetic  and  wickedly  invasive  and  had  no  right  to  revel  in  the  marvellous  world  of  magic  .  and  he  believed  that  ,  to  his  core  ,  like  a  permanent  tattoo  on  his  heart  ,  etched  by  his  father  with  a  nearby  blade  ,  his  pureblood  elitist  ideas   was  more  part  of  him  than  his  heart  was  .  she  was  the  first  test  of  his  ideals  ,  the  first  real  reason  that  made  anton  question  his  beliefs  --  and  the  last  .   his  father’s  teachings  were  too  strong  ,  too  potent  that  no  such  antidote  could  dilute  its  toxicity  .  this  was  who  he  was  ,  this  was  who  he  will  always  be  .  a  cold  -  hearted  ,  pureblood  elitist who  never  really  had  the  chance not  to  become  one .

now  in  his  seventh  year  ,  all  his  wishful  thinking  has  been  drowned  by  realties  of  the  time  .  a  wizarding  war  was  brewing  and  anton  ,  who  was  built  --  born  to  be  a  soldier  ,  was  needed  more  than  ever   and  he’s  ready  to  put  his  life  on  the  line  for  what  he  believed  in  ,  a  pure  wizarding  world  .  but  he’s  only  twenty  -  one   and  despite  the  dark  mark  that  itching  under  his  sleeves  ,  there  was  time  to  change  .  innocent  until  proven  guilty  ,  right  ?

WANTED CONNECTIONS

all . of . them . pls . gimme . all . the . plots 

but all sooomeee ideas : 

a fake - relationship : a relationship to please their parents 

someone who makes him all soft and gooey inside : someone who makes him realises hie has feelings and he hates it so he tries to distance away form them but he also ?? kinda ?? loves it ???

best friends : the people he grew up with 

unlikely friends : hufflepuff x slytherin friendship v.2 ??? 

study buddies 

tutor buddies 

quidditch buddies 

and so much more !!! 

[evdolohov]

❝ Never forget who you are for surely the world will not.❞  EVANDER DOLOHOV looks a lot like that muggle, MATTHEW DADDARIO, right? Only THIRTY years old, that DURMSTRANG alumnus works as a FREELANCE CURSE BREAKER and is sided with the NEUTRALS. HE identifies as a CISMALE and is a PUREBLOOD. [ PLOT ARC 43, PROPHECY 41, THE CYNIC ]

—— the basics. ——

full name — evander victor dolohov.

nickname — evan. ev. evie ( by his sister ).

date of birth — october 13th, 1996.

blood status — pureblood.

pronouns & gender — he/him. cis male.

orientation — heterosexual.

—— familial. ——

father — antonin dolohov.

mother — agatha dolohov.

siblings — twin sister and one older, paternal brother.

children — elliott james dolohov. 13. gryffindor.

marital status — single af.

—— education & employment. ——

former school #1 — hogwarts. years one to six.

hogwarts house — gryffindor.

former school #2 — durmstrang. years six and seven.

best subject(s) — charms, transfiguration.

worst subject(s) — history of magic ( ironically ).

functions held — keeper for the durmstrang quidditch team.

current job — freelance curse-breaker.

—— the story. ——

After the dust hat set over the ruins of the Second Wizarding War, the British Ministry of Magic set out to uncover each and every last follower of the Dark Lord and bring them to justice. Upon arriving at the old Dolohov manor they were surprised to find it lifeless, only a mess of belongings left behind to mark the existence of the previous owners. Among those fleeing for their lives was two-year-old Evander, the youngest child of Antonin Dolohov, who had absolutely no idea why he was running or from whom.  

The Dolohov family reputation had suffered considerably due to their actions during both wars and they recognized the fact that they would no longer be welcomed into the British Wizarding World. They lost their status as elite along with most of their fortune and were forced into a cone of obscurity. It was a sudden and difficult change but they endured since they couldn’t really fight the Ministry’s decision. They had sided with the losers in the War after all.

The British branch of the Dolohovs spent the next two years travelling aimlessly through Europe and Russia, jumping from one acquaintance or relative to the other until they could find a place to call home again. In her husband’s absence, Agatha Dolohov worked tirelessly to restore a semblance of normality in the family. She set aside her pride and pleaded to the authorities for the pardon of her two children stating that they were innocent of any crimes she and their father had committed and they should not be declined the opportunity of attending Hogwarts and

Eventually, her pleas were heard and the family was allowed to return to English soil. The Ministry even agreed to give them back one of the five homes the Dolohovs had previously owned so they wouldn’t have to struggle too much. Agatha was still under the watchful eye of the Ministry and she was only allowed to leave the house under special circumstances. Even then she had a tracking spell placed on her. The children were not as unlucky.

Despite the Dark Lord’s defeat and her apparent capitulation to the Ministry of Magic, Agatha never stopped believing in the sanctity of blood purity and everything that came with it. Behind closed doors, she constantly reminded her children of their duties as purebloods and of how disposable they were if they failed to meet the standards. When the Dark Lord would rise again they needed to be worthy of joining his ranks so their family could once again take their place in the elites where they belonged.

Agatha made sure to never spoil her children. They were to learn their worth as purebloods and how to act according to it, but never become overbearing. Along with positive traits such as confidence, poise and charm the youngest Dolohovs were taught about bitterness, cruelty and, most important, vengeance. The violence in their small house by the lake was kept a secret from everyone, even from other purist families. No need to wash dirty laundry in public, their mother said.

Ever since he was very little Evan has been the odd one out. He always questioned authority, disobeyed his mother, associated with people he had no business being around and, most importantly, questioned the purist way of life. Needless to say, his behaviour got him punished more times than any child should be, leaving some very deep physical and emotional scars. But it never managed to fully crush Evan’s spirit.

Agatha hoped that the boy’s attitude would adjust itself as he grew and became more aware of the world surrounding him but her hopes were all in vain. The differences between Evan and his family became more and more apparent with every passing year and his disdain for their way of life grew stronger and stronger. The only person in the house to escape his hatred was his twin sister.

Evan was the only one of the Dolohov children to not be sorted into Slytherin. Instead, the Sorting Hat decided his place was in the house of lions. Needless to say, the news came as a huge shock and disappointment to his mother who believed she had failed as a parent. His supposed failure was not left unpunished when he returned home for Christmas break that year.

Students at Hogwarts were still wary of the Dolohovs and often avoided interacting with them unless it was absolutely necessary. This was rather difficult for little Evan who had never had many people to call friends and was very eager to make some in school. He tried, to the best of his abilities, to prove he was nothing like his father and other students had no reason to fear or hate him. Whoever wanted to take the time to get to know him was more than welcome.

During his Hogwarts education, Evan tried to restore at least a shred of dignity to the name Dolohov. Instead of cowering in the shadows, ashamed of his background, the young wizard worked harder than his peers to prove he was more than just the son of a dark witch and a murderer. Even though he hasn’t always kept his head held high when walking down the school corridors, Evan tried his best not to pay any attention to idle gossip or hurtful comments directed at him.

Most of the time, Evan ended up in the company of other children coming from families of former Death Eaters. It wasn’t out of loyalty to some dead cause or nostalgia, or the need to be approved by his mother, they just understood what it meant to pay for someone else’s mistake and be looked at with suspicion just because of something your parents or grandparents were a part of.

Sometime during his fifth year of school, Evan was accused of a very heinous crime. Allegedly, someone had seen him cast an unforgivable curse on a muggle student and later on that student ended up dead. Evan denied the accusations and tried to defend himself but the damage had already been done. Everyone had painted him a murderer and they were demanding he be punished for his actions. Lacking enough evidence to have him sent to Azkaban, the Ministry committee assigned to the case advised for his expulsion instead. Headmistress McGonagall had no choice but to obey the order.

Despite how hard he tried Evan never really felt like he fit in at Hogwarts, not with all the weight that hung on his last name and all the wrongfully placed hatred that he had been getting even before the unfortunate incident. So he considers getting expelled as probably one of the best things that had ever happened to him, even with the reason attached to it.

Even though she publicly scolded her son for the accusations, Agatha was proud of the fact that her son had supposedly come to her senses and understood that muggles were not something a respectable wizard should associate himself with. Hard as he tried, Evan couldn’t convince her that he wasn’t responsible for the crime.

It was one of Evan’s maternal uncles who called in a favour at Durmstang so that his nephew could have a place to finish his studies. Even though nothing really qualified the former Gryffindor to attend the Institute, he was accepted and was shipped off to the Scandinavian school immediately after Christmas break. The rest of his siblings remained in England. Evan was allowed to return home for the summer breaks but he would be placed under supervision by the Ministry.

The young wizard thrived during his years at Durmstrang. He wasn’t the most sociable of creatures but he did manage to make some friends with whom he spent most of his time. A good number of those friends had some kind of connection to Death Eaters: either their families had been members of the organization and were now in the same position as the Dolohovs or they had been sympathizers of the cause. The best part was that at his new school nobody judged him for what his family had done during the wars, not openly at least.

At Durmstrang Evan finally had the courage to try out for a position on the Quidditch team. He was accepted as Chaser and maintained the position until the end of his stay at the Institute.

The summer after his sixth year was the time when Evan was finally disowned by his mother. He met a muggle girl and the two were immediately drawn to one another. Evan jumped into a relationship without much regard for the consequences. At first, he tried to keep it a secret, mostly to avoid any unwanted nagging from his mother, but very quickly he stopped caring and openly admitted the relationship to his family. What he never mentioned to anyone was that he had told her about the magical world.

In an attempt to try and persuade her son to give up such foolish behaviour, Agatha sent in Evan’s twin sister. When she came back unsuccessful, Madam Dolohov was enraged, to say the least. For days she filled her son’s head with threats and insults in the hope that he would get discouraged and abandon the muggle. Her words fell on deaf ears.

The day he was set to leave for Durmstrang Evan received two pieces of news that would change his life. The first was that enraged, his mother had decided to disown him. He was cut off from what little money she sent him every month and was no longer allowed to contact any of his siblings, especially his sister. He had to take all his belonging with him when he left for school and never set foot into the house again. The second was that his girlfriend had become pregnant.

Being disowned wasn’t much of a shock, he half expected that to happen, judging by how furious his mother had been. But the second piece of news left him speechless. The pair decided that they would keep in contact as often as possible and they would sort things once he returned from school the next summer. Luckily Amelia’s parents were more understanding than his.

Little did Evan know that September 1st would be the last day he actually saw his girlfriend. Amelia died due to complications at birth. The news was absolutely devastating. What’s worse is that her parents were no longer willing to honour the deal they had made and they were not willing to let Evan see his son either. His sister somehow managed to sneak him a picture, something he was very grateful for. She also promised to look after little Elliott as well, make sure no harm came to him from their mother.  

After graduation, Evan had absolutely no idea what he was going to do with his life. Since he was no longer a student at Durmstrang the school had no obligation to host him over the summer. Evan suddenly found himself all alone in a foreign country, no roof over his head and nobody to turn to for help. Whatever great plans he had made when he was younger all seemed like distant, unachievable dreams.

He spent some time sleeping on the couches of the few friends he had managed to make while at Durmstrang but he knew it wasn’t going to be a permanent solution. He also needed to get back to England, back to his kid. The first step towards achieving this goal would be to earn some much-needed money. One of his friends’ father managed to get him a part-time job at the metal charming facility where he worked, nothing fancy but it got him enough money for a trip back to England.

At age eighteen Evan was living and working at the Hog’s Head Inn in Hogsmeade. In his free time, he kept an eye on his sister and checked in on his son who lived in Scotland with his grandparents. Even from that young age, it was clear that Elliott had inherited magical abilities from his father. It was only a matter of time until they manifested. Evan waited rather impatiently for that day to come.

While making a deposit at Gringotts, the former Gryffindor’s attention was caught by a recruitment pamphlet for Curse-Breakers. Since he met most of the requirements and was in desperate need for a job, Evan decided that it was worth giving it a shot. Within a few days of applying his presence was requested at the Ministry of Magic to discuss further training for the position.

Evan went in with as much confidence and determination as he could muster. He wasn’t there to make friends, he was there to learn and become the best. The training was every bit as rough as he had expected and there were days when he got back to the Inn exhausted, bruised and with his will almost broken. But the following day he was back at it, even more driven. Once training came to an end the male was selected to become a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts. On occasions, he also collaborates with the Ministry, when they are in need of someone with his skill set.

Three years after his return to England he was contacted by his former girlfriend’s parents. They were complaining about strange behaviour with Elliott and they had decided they could no longer take care of him as he had become dangerous. Evan knew there was nothing really dangerous about the five-year-old, he just needed someone to teach him how to control his magic. So he happily agreed to take custody of the boy.

Now he’s a part-time Curse-Breaker and a full-time dad. He’s also got some help with childcare from a great aunt who was also disowned by the family for taking a muggle’s side in an argument.

Evan currently resides in muggle London with Elliott, who is in his third year at Hogwarts, and his great aunt. They all live in a small apartment and it gets kind of stuffy and insane sometimes but he loves it either way. Evan is trying his best to keep his son as far away from the upcoming war as possible. He’s advised Eli against joining any kind of organizations at school, no matter how much pressure he feels from his peers.

Even though the Hogwarts case against him has been set aside due to lack of evidence, Evan still feels the weight of those false accusations even to this day. While some people believe his side of the story and consider him innocent, there are others who want his head on a platter even after all these years.

—— plot arc. ——

Hard as he’s trying to remain neutral in the upcoming war, for Elliott’s sake, Evan realized he can’t remain that way forever. His sister has joined the Wraiths, either by her own decision or pressure from their mother, he doesn’t know, and it looks like she is in over her head. Now feels like he’s got a duty to both his sister and his son to keep them alive no matter what comes their way.

Being neutral isn’t of much help, especially since he’s done all that he could to not be involved in the affairs of either good or bad and he has no contacts on either side. If he is to be of any use he needs to be as informed as possible and as ready as possible. To make sure he can achieve that it seems like he needs to finally choose a faction to put his faith in. The logical choice would be the Order but there’s no guaranty they will spare his sister if it comes to it. And neither will the Wraiths if the war turns sour and they win.

[risingphoenixrp]

Rabastan Lestrange | 25 | Slytherin | Pure-Blood | Deatheater| FC:Robert Sheehan|

Date of birth: 1957., England

Occupation: Potions Shop Clerk

Ship:  not set

Biography:

Rabastan Lestrange is a very skilled and powerful wizard, but he can’t help thinking it’s really all for nothing. As the second son, he’s not allowed to take over his father’s business, nor does he get the prime pick of the Black sisters. Once betrothed to Andromeda, he was shamed when she ran off with that muggle-born, and has joined Lord Voldemort partly to seek his revenge on the couple that has done so many wrongs.

Rabastan spends his days assisting his brother in the shop and pining after Bellatrix. He wishes she would see how superior Rabastan is, but she’s never looked at him twice except as another servant of the Dark Lord. Rastaban also proves himself on missions, taking risks where others will not in hopes he can one day finally best his brother. Skilled especially in torture, Voldemort has rewarded him by bringing Rabastan to deal with cases that needed an extra dose of pain.

Consumed with his need to become the better son, Rabastan occasionally wonders if his mind has room to be anything else. He succeeded in all subjects during his Hogwarts years, leading to teasing by his older brother that he should have been in Ravenclaw, making him resent Roldolphus even more. He’s putting his charms skills to good use, creating counter charms for the shields that the Order is so fond of using, he’s itching to try them on the battlefield. Twisted and dark, Rabastan won’t rest until he’s cleansed the world of in-purity; even if that includes his own blood-line.

Connections:

Roldolphus Lestrange

Bellatrix Lestrange

Antonin Dolohov

Cassiel Avery

Lucinda Talkalot

Maya Zabini

Sawyer Scamander

Current status: Open

[thexdarkxheir]

!!

With every “!!” i get, I’ll introduce you to an OC! || ACCEPTING

Introducing Damariss Dolohov:

Blood Status: Pureblood

Sexuality: Flexible Heterosexual (experimental), Heteromantic

House: Slytherin

Best Subject: Defence Against the Dark Arts

Blog: @queenxofxthexashes

Damariss was born in 2000, seven months after her father, Antonin Dolohov was found and arrested for his involvement in the Battle of Hogwarts and death eater activities. An ambitious girl, she never truly got along with her distant mother, though she did express some sadness at her eventual passing. Fluent in  French, English, Russian, and Latin. Damariss once aspired to be the most accomplished duelist of her time. 

This all changed when she got to Hogwarts and met Phoenix Lestrange, a psychopath who she fell head over heels for. Devoting her entire life to him and his cause, Phoenix is her entire life (though she won’t hesitate to curse a bitch). 

“Oh I assure you, I live to ‘curse a bitch.’ I may be devoted to my husband, but can you blame me? His cause is the only one worth fighting for, magical supremacy, pureblood ideals. There is nothing more noble. And I dare them to underestimate me, a trip to St. Mungo’s might do them some good.”  

[slytherdaddy]

WHO: @commanderlestrange​ WHERE: front parlor, Dolohov Estate, Manchester WHEN: Monday evening, February 4th, 1980

The Dark Lord didn’t often pass over Lucius for missions or responsibilities. In fact, it felt like ever since Lucius bore the Dark Mark that fateful day, officially becoming a slave to the Dark Lord’s bidding, the man had thrust countless expectations onto him. Always Atlas, Lucius shouldered it, not one to shy away from burdens - his only stipulation being that clear boundaries were marked, a title given, so that Lucius could operate within them and rise to his highest potential. His best job was presented when he had all the cards and understood which way the Dark Lord wanted them dealt, the patriarch gifted with the art of public image.

Pray tell, then, why Lucius had been cut out from the Hogwarts mission entirely, despite the operation having an incredibly low success rate without his deft hand to puppeteer all its players. Why someone as demure as his wife had been trusted with such a high expectation, while Lucius was left begging for scraps like a dog. No, it had to be something else - the Dark Lord was testing him, Lucius was sure of it, seeing if the man had become stagnant and complacent within his rank. Maybe even purposely trying to get a rise out of the man. It’s these unsettling thoughts that crept and coiled around his brain, green with envy, hissing with spite - nobody knew better than Lucius that once his usefulness ran out, he’d be cast aside, and nothing motivated quite as much as fear of irrelevancy.

Antonin was a good ally to have - in fact, he was teetering very closely to becoming one of Lucius’ ‘friends’ as his owl reached the fellow patriarch by mid-afternoon, informing him of their master’s arrival at his estate and imploring Lucius not to mention their communication of the matter. It wasn’t wise for the Dark Lord to know the duo were keeping tabs on him, lest he think something more sinister was unfolding than a nagging curiosity on Lucius’ behalf. The Minister took an early day to go home to his wife, giving Lucius the perfect opportunity to make his way to Manchester via the public routes. 

His patience wore thin as he approached the towering brick buildings of the Dolohov Estate, tested too long through the motions of public transit, but he used the last few meters of his walk to have a cigarette and soothe any lingering anxiety. The Dark Lord could sniff out an insecurity from across the room, and Lucius’ composure had gotten him this far for a reason. Gliding up the front entrance with his usual grace, he stopped momentarily within the threshold to cast his coat upon whatever house elf stood in waiting, not bothering to even look at it as he demanded audience with its master. The wrinkly idiot had barely left the room when Lucius caught the sharp clap of heels against marble, and his eyes rolled in a visceral reaction, having to suppress the groan threatening to leave his chest. Of course she’d be here, she’s always near him. Despite this, Lucius had to fight the scowl wanting to push across his features, settling on a carefully composed, neutral expression as Bellatrix entered his line of sight. It had become second nature to simply ignore the hammering in his chest whenever he saw her, this time being no different.

“Bellatrix,” he stated coolly, the closest thing to a ‘polite greeting’ he could muster, “I believe I asked for Dolohov’s audience, not yours.” Not that it mattered - she knew just as well as he did who’s audience he really sought; she had an annoying habit of knowing what he wanted even when he wasn’t willing to say it. “I would think it to be beneath you to be subjected to hostess duties, yet here you are, greeting me like a housewife,” he continued, knowing he was poking at a caged animal for no other reason than to watch it snarl, hoping to make it snap, “He must feel very safe here, to allow you to abandon His side like the diligent pet you are. I wish to speak with Him, but I’m sure you both already know that.” 

[verochkka-blog]

                                     never have i been a blue calm sea                                      i have always been a storm.

VEROCHKA DOLOHOV really is the spitting image of KYLIE BUNBURY, right? For someone only 23 years old, VERO has been forced to endure so much. Yeah, that PUREBLOOD has been scraping by at the sanctuary since OCTOBER, 2028 working as a HERBOLOGIST in the DIVISION OF RESEARCH. THEY are NON-BINARY and is known to be EMOTIONAL and BELLIGERENT but also DILIGENT and LOYAL. Best of luck surviving through this.

LINKS – pinboard, stats. CHARACTER PARALLELS – obara sand ( asoiaf ), hester of ravenswood ( the school for good and evil ) johanna mason ( the hunger games ), joel ( the last of us ), uma ( descendants ), sister michael ( derry girls ) TRIGGER WARNING – fratricide, murder, death, grief, ptsd, survivor’s guilt (all have a trigger warning in-text too)

history

vero is the middle dolohov sib and is endlessly, deeply loyal to their family. being the middle child  in a family of five can be rather lonely at times, with mila and marlen ( their younger siblings ) being close as well as maksimilian and lyonechka ( their older siblings ) being close. they were always in the middle, a little too old to play with their two younger siblings, way too young to play with their older siblings. that is not to say they were alone, but there was a slight feeling of being left out at times. still, verochka loves their siblings growing up, and continues to do so as they grow older.

a bit of family background: antonin dolohov is vero’s grandfather. their father and antonin’s son, kazimir, was a clothing designer, who made exquisite fashion that sometimes had neat charms that came in handy for death eaters or death eater-esque folks. their mother, anastasiya, worked for the bulgarian ministry in the dept of mysteries. the family lives in bulgaria for a good part of vero’s childhood and are very loyal to pureblood ideals ---- they’re probably quite proud to be descendants of antonin dolohov, yikes!

vero grows up in bulgaria, and has quite a solid childhood, tbh? they love bulgaria, love their family, and eventually love durmstrang, too. they spend two years there, but when they are thirteen, the family moves to the united kingdom, so their father could open a boutique there, which did quite well. their mother started working for the british ministry, as well. vero transferred to hogwarts, and is the only one of their siblings that went to school to both hogwarts and durmstrang.

there, they are sorted in hufflepuff, and that was a bit startling ----- vero thought themselves are hardness and ragged edges, thought themselves more a slytherin or gryffindor or hell, even a ravenclaw than a hufflepuff. they only knew about the houses in a very shallow, stereotypical way, though, and once they read more about them ( they didn’t ask their peers, saw no reason to ) they understood. vero is a very loyal person, someone who can be lethal when it comes to that part of themselves — crossing someone they love is usually met with they rage. they’re not shy of working hard and they are a very dedicated individual, and above all, vero has very high ideals and very intricate thoughts on fairness. while i can assure you that they’re not a very morally good person, they do think about fairness a whole lot. the issue is just that their thoughts on what is fair and what is not are rather twisted. yikes!

vero was a good student, in all honesty, but not a very social one. their ideals didn’t sit well with many of their peers ( which, you know, good ) and they were haughty, didn’t feel like they needed to connect with many of the people around them. i imagine that vero had a small social circle that they stuck with and was otherwise hard to approach, harsh and snappy. vero was short-tempered, quick to pick fights, even if they tried to avoid them as much as possible. they mostly tried to keep their head down, though, and work hard ----- they could have endless debates about what was right and what was wrong, but it’d be a waste of time: they wanted a solid career upon graduation, and thus preferred to focus on their studies

really loved practical subjects, preferred working with their hands rather than with their mind ( which was, in all honesty, sharp enough for them to be good at essays if they applied themselves ). excelled in transfiguration, dada and charms especially, and started considering a career as a hit-wix pretty early on.

due to their undeniable talent with a wand and their connection to the ministry through their mother, vero got into hit-wix training pretty soon after graduation. while they didn’t always like the rules and regulations, or the way the ministry worked, they were happy to be there, to be getting ready for a career that fitted their talents and wishes for life.

they grow more reserved, keeping their thoughts hidden behind a stone face. they just work hard and get good results. they have to laugh, though --- a dolohov as a hit wix? many of the people they help arrest are people on their side, in a way, but in all honesty, vero doesn’t give two shit. they like combatical magic, like the work, and if a so-called dark wizard is stupid enough to get caught, that’s what they deserve. they’re not very motivated to do their job well because it makes the world a better place --- they like doing it because they like dueling and fighting and detective like work.

outbreak

both vero’s older siblings and their parents rejoined the death eaters, but neither they or their younger siblings were asked/pushed due to their young age. which they were glad about --- vero supports blood purity, they enjoy fighting, but they were happy that they had a bit more time until they had to join ( because that would happen eventually, no question about that ).

death (of a parent and a sibling), grief tw || lyonechka (their older sister) died during the raising of the inferi. verochka was deeply startled by this --- up until then, the dolohov’s had seemed to an unbreakable unit to them, already so victorious due to all their success, richness and power, and yet, their sister was dead. the dolohovs stuck together after that, not turning towards hogwarts ( what were they going to do there? they were too proud to go, and doubted that they’d be welcome ), but soon fell apart. vero and their siblings and father watched their mother die at the hands of a horde of inferi, and sometime after they became separated from kazimir || end of death of a parent tw

fratricide tw || and so vero and their remaining three siblings ( maks, mila and marlen ) kept moving, still not turning towards hogwarts, searching for something else, or at least running from inferi. at some point, marlen got infected, but they didn’t notice, due to the glamour. vero didn’t notice that anything was wrong, not until marlen was rushing towards maks and mila asked if he’d been checked for bites --- and then everything went very fast, in both vero’s head and the world in front of them. they take their wand, aims, considers, and kills marlen. they save one sibling by killing another.

they’re not sure at first. they check, frantically, whether marlen was really bitten, panicked that maybe they made a mistake, that maybe marlen just wanted to tackle hug their brother ( which doesn’t seem entirely right, but what if, what if, what if ), but he was an inferi, he really was. but vero doesn’t feel relief. they just feel horribly hollow. they don’t know how to process this --- maybe there’s no way to process it, even. how the fuck do you move past such a thing? they don’t know. 

survivor’s guilt tw || a lot of the time, vero just thinks that they should be dead, that they don’t deserve to be alive. logistically, they know that them being dead would not solve anything, but they don’t believe that --- they just feel like they should not be there, and that marlen should be. that lyonechka should be. that their mother should be. the way they killed marlen was so instinctively, and that scares them to fucking death, in all honesty. what does that make them? a monster. a monster a monster a monster. || end of all tw’s

and then it’s just three. vero, mila and maks keep going, still not turning towards hogwarts, because maks says they should keep going. they get separated from him during a skirmish in a village, and that’s when mila and vero decide to FINALLY swallow their pride and seek refuge at the castle

they are welcomed with suspicion, and vero hardly does anything to diffuse any of the heat that is on them. sure, they understand their suspicion, but they’re mostly annoyed with it --- if vero wanted to wreak some havoc, they would have already. they just want some peace and quiet. to be safe. to not constantly have to look over their shoulder, to not constantly worry that their family will grow smaller and smaller until it’s just them. they just want to be safe ---- they have no interest in furthering the death eater’s agenda. who cares about blood purity when the entire world is falling to bits? when they feel the way they do? all that matters now is mila, and keeping her safe. that’s all that matters.

at the previous installment of inferi, antonin was also in the chamber of secrets --- am not sure if that’s the case here right now, but that would def make things more complicated, on one hand. on another, vero doesn’t feel as much loyalty to their grandpa any more, due to his responsibility in all of this. 

vero has only been at hogwarts for a few weeks or days ( should figure out an exact date sfkjdfh ) and everything just feels wrong, and sometimes they just wants to leave. they don’t feel safe here, even though it’s the safest place they have been in a long time. maybe it’s because of their nightmares, or because there’s too many people here that get on their nerves, or because nothing is right. to them, this all feels like a temporary solution, like another place they and mila are just going to be at for a while until it’s time to move on and go to the next place. the fact that they think that this is temporary ( which it shouldnt be, because this is the best place to be – they knows that, logically ) is the one thing that is keeping them slightly calm.

trauma and grief tw || how can they feel safe when they still feel like they’re in danger? the inferi-invested world hasn’t left them yet. marlen’s eyes haven’t left them yet. they’re plagued and traumatised and filled with unresolved grief. they won’t feel safe anywhere. || end of tw

personality & details

vero is highly emotional. sometimes they feel like they will combust with emotions --- tears and anger come easy to them, and they drown in them, because part of them wishes to be repressive, because they never felt that there was room for them. they can push down their emotions for a day or two at most and will then break and either implode or explode. 

fire heart. really short tempered, 24/7 annoyed, angry person. should probably just keep their mouth shut if they want to do themselves some good, but have a lot of trouble doing so.

while it seemed logical to sign up as a guard, vero didn’t really feel like it. sure, that’s what they’re good at, but they don’t want to fight any more. besides, they imagine that it’d be hard for them to get a position in that department, anyway, with their surname and such. and so in stead, they started working with herbologists, because vero has always been good with plants. they feel at peace around them, and i don’t think they do very complicated work, because there’s probably people more skilled than them ( herbology was more of a hobby to them after graduation, after all ), but they’re around the plants a lot, caring for them and finding a bit of peace among all the chaos. and mila works in the research dept so they can hang out w their sister more! 

i always associate fire with them, because they’re quick on their feet, quick to act, temperamental, fiery fiery fiery hot. vero might be antisocial, but they are not cold --- they’re really damn warm? too warm? don’t burn yourself-on-their-heat warm? would burn themselves to keep the ones they love warm. they’re destructive, wildfire-like, and sometimes like a wavering candle flame. 

survivor’s guilt, death, fratricide tw || so fucking loyal. which is what triggers all the survivor’s guilt --- being alive feels like a betrayal, especially because they’re responsible for marlen’s death. well, not really, the inferi that bit them is, but still. || end of tw 

honestly loyal to a fault, but if you’re their friend, you have a real ride or die on your hands. will bury a thousand bodies for u.

vero is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns. they came out to their parents a long time ago, and they were quite accepting --- they’re really open about it, tbh. their sexuality is something they understand less: they know they fall somewhere on the ace spectrum, but aren't really sure where, but they’re not really fussed about that in all honesty

morally .... trash. that’s all i’ve got. they supported blood purity when it benefited them and now they’re kind of ambivalent about it ( i mean, they haven’t shaken those ideals yet --- they’re ingrained in them, i think, but they care less, they just care less in general about a lot of things, are horribly ambivalent and indifferent towards most things that don’t affect them or mila ). still definitely bigoted, though. selfish, in a way --- or, well, they care a lot about mila -- more than they care about themselves -- and about maks ( wherever he is --- he’s still not turned up, but then he never wanted to go to hogwarts anyway, so he might still be out there ) and even their father, and they will do anything for them, will kill everyone if they have to if it’d keep them safe. don’t have a lot of .... things they are not willing to do in the name of loyalty. so fucking antisocial. an asshole. ugh!!!!!! my trash child 

adores beyoncé a lot 

likes trashy books. nothing to complicated --- screw romantic literature, by the way. prefers horror and detectives and thrillers, has a secret affection for muggle novels. shhh. 

rly competitive, likes playing chess and enjoys dueling with people for fun

really likes dancing??? doesn’t have any training whatsoever but has a good sense for rhythm and just enjoys losing themselves in music tbh

so grumpy. smh. 

loves leather jackets and clunky boots and the colour red !!!!!!! 

are they posh? kind of. don’t like to appear as a prep nor posh, but they are ... posh. or at least, rich and used to it. used to the best of the best, the creme de la creme, etcetera --- but they’ve done a good job adapting to the post apocalyptic world ( mostly because they at least have their most expensive leather jacket & their fave boots with them, still )

[upinsmoke-gossip]

Antonin and Nina are taking things to the next level

I don’t know if you mean sexually or romantically. It certainly is interesting how quickly they got together… why, one might almost think he’s properly in love. How ridiculous.

@antonintheviper @ninafedxrxva