#the contrast of him with Severus

[vintageseawitch]

it's funny to me how certain hyperfixations seem to start: all of a sudden, like a damn avalanche, because my new extremely passionate obsession with Lucius Malfoy has kind taken me by surprise - not necessarily because i've been okay with him being portrayed as pure evil or truly redeemed or completely ridiculous or just out for himself in fic (any if these worked since other characters were my main focus anyways), but rather because he's blond lmao

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

I. Heal the Heart 

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, nescio. Sed fieri sentior et excrucior.  I love you and I hate you.  Why I do this, I have no idea.  But I feel it happening and I’m in agony. [Catullus]

Following the conquest of Egypt and its incorporation into the Roman Empire, there was a growing interest in its ancient culture. Over time, many in Egypt began to express a desire for greater autonomy and control over their own affairs. Dissatisfaction with Roman control over Egypt became part of the Egyptian psyche.

This is precisely why, immediately following the death of Emperor Septimius Severus, preparations for revolt began in Egypt. His emperor sons, Caracalla and Geta, were mainly focused on quarreling with each other, drinking, and enjoying themselves, while their subjects faced starvation. They organized games, watched gladiators fight, and took pride in their activities. Even when informed of the revolt in Egypt, they continued their indulgent ways, showing little care for anything beyond their own pleasures and daily pursuits.

The Egyptians were, of course, aware of their limitations; they knew they could not be as strong a soldier as their emperor father. They were confident that the day would come when, with the help of the Greeks, they would overthrow the Roman governors in Egypt. After all, they had been preparing for this since the death of Severus. Among them were also Jews, all eager to establish the sovereignty of ancient Egypt. However, there was one crucial factor they did not consider or pay much attention to.

General Marcus Justus Acacius.

They say, you can feel the ground shake when he walks on it. He makes his opponents feel certain of their own death at the very moment he draws his sword. A daring commander with few who could stand up to him. It is unclear whether this is an exaggeration or not, but it is still rumored that he cut a lion in half in the Colosseum.

A beast in every sense of the word.

More than that, he is a leader who manages his legions very well and spurs them on to achieve success during the war, a man who has not yet tasted a failure and has well-earned the title of general in every way.

Since it was obvious that no one else could succeed in suppressing the rebellion, he was immediately sent to the region with the intervention of his Empresss Julia Domna, the mother of the two emperors.

Just like she guessed, he had succeeded in putting down the rebellion; of course, no doubt, as soon as his name rang through, the rebels, along with all the inhabitants of Egypt, knew that they were already defeated.

Some were forced to surrender, those who resisted and fled were found and killed by the Roman soldiers, but not all. The general didn't kill the surrendered ones, he took them as captives which was pretty fair for a beast. In contrast to him, the ones who fled were not, they were so desperate that they didn't know what to do and they started attacking everything and everywhere like rabid dogs.

They even attempted to violate the laws of war and mapped out a plan to kill the General and his soldiers, and even all the medics, in the night at their camps. It was a suicide mission, but they were on the verge of success.

"Has anyone seen the General? He’s not in his tent!" A burly soldier entered, gripping his sword, which was stained with the blood of the rebel he had just killed. He quickly searched through all the tents, wearing a look of concern on his face.

The clinking of swords echoed in the darkness as the soldiers cut down the last remaining rebels to death with their swords.

Soon, the soldier ran to his General, relieved to see him, but he was wounded in the abdomen moments ago. As he gently pressed his hand to his injury, a small amount of blood emerged, shining like rubies under the moonlight as it dripped from between his strong fingers onto the grass. His attackers were no longer alive, they were all lying on the ground, were literally cut to ribbons. They attacked him in his sleep when he was wearing nothing but his tunic, catching him off guard. He nodded to the soldier, demanding assistance as his white tunic transformed into a crimson hue. He had been wounded many times before, countless times, but this was nothing like before and was undoubtedly the worst injury he had ever sustained. "I think I… got…," he groaned; it hurt much even when he spoke, feeling like beneath the wound, his blood was boiling. "…poisoned." These were the last words spilled from his lips before his enormous body slumping to his knees, collapse altogether to the ground.

The woman with waist-length with black hair was dragging you along with her as she walking across the meadow, you were struggled, couldn’t control your feet, as if the ground was sliding under. She had her hands outstretched at her sides, even though her back was turned, it was not difficult to see her smile by the sunlight reflecting the curve of her chin. She abruptly ceased her movement and bent down to gather a few herbs in a meadow. She plucked them, gathered them in her palms, and kissed them. You heard the whispers between her lips and the harmony of the wind rippling through your ears. It was clear that she was blessing these herbs. When she turned to you, you staggered backwards, hypnotized by her face, so beautiful, mesmerizing, her eyes hypnotizing yours, it was impossible to look away, no escape from them.

Perhaps even more surprising than anything else was that her face and eyes were identical to yours. It really was truly astonishing. She handed you the plants like they were rare jewelry. You could see her arms shone in the sun, and her skin looked like fine marble. It was impossible to believe that it could be human skin; it must have been that of a goddess, but why did her face resemble yours?

'Heal the heart, child,' her voice sang through the meadow like a gentle breeze. You couldn't move your lips, but she heard you anyway.

‘Heart?’

A warm wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman came closer, startling you. Her hazel eyes were turning green under the sun. As she slightly opens her lips, you locked your eyes on them and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘The heart of Rome,’ almost whispers, ‘Serve it,’ a little loud now like commanding, ‘Heal it...’ again whispers then gently puts the herbs on your hand.

A strong wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman danced with the wind. The sunny sky burst into a starry night as the wind embraced the silhouette and rose to the sky, to the stars. You felt the ground under your feet, but your eyes were drawn to the enchanting sky.

As the wind finally gave way to the silent night, you looked at the herbs you were holding in your hand. These kind of herbs you were used to seeing almost every day, but what you were not used to seeing was that they were sparkling like diamonds between your fingers. It was as if you could feel their healing power on your skin.

Abruptly, you heard the voice again, echoing across the meadow. Your ears were once more caressed, blessed, but this time, the words were different.

‘Cure him…’

You barely heard your name being called and your body was shaking, slowly opened your eyes, you saw a familiar but worried face.

‘Wake up, please, you need to get up now,’ the concern in the man's voice brought you back to reality, the effect of the dream disappearing like a cloud of dust between the stone walls and dissipating into the air.

‘Uncle?’

You had rarely seen this face of your uncle who had taken you in when you were an orphan, who cared for you, protected you and raised you well more than any other father or mother ever would.

You sat up from the firm mattress you were lying on, ‘I thought we were travelling tomorrow night?’

‘No, no, that's not why I woke you up,’ he put your big dark cloak over your head. ‘You need to hide.’

You were startled to hear shouting and footsteps coming from outside the wooden door of the room. This was not the sort of noise you would normally expect to hear in this Valetudinarium (hospital, clinic) at this late hour. 

‘What is going on?’ You rub your eyes with your fingers, trying to figure out the situation.

Your uncle tucked your hair deeper into your cloak.

'The Roman soldiers are gathering all the medici (psychians). I have to go with them.'

'Roman soldiers? I thought they left after they put down the rebellion, and slaughtered thousands. Besides, they must have a medicus in their camps, why would they-?'

He grabbed you by the shoulders, his anxiety evident.

'I heard that some rebellious individuals killed the Medici in their tents, and then-'

A soldier's voice was heard from one of the nearby rooms. You both turned your heads in that direction, startled, and then looked at each other again.

'Their general was targeted. The rebels attacked him in his sleep. He managed to fight back, but he was poisoned. Now, they want me to save him.'

“Poisoned? But Uncle, he might already be dead! If you can’t cure him, they’ll blame you or punish you!”

“Don’t think about that now. You need to hide. Remember, as a woman, you aren’t allowed to be here. You have to conceal yourself and wait for my return.”

The soldiers’ voices were heard nearby.

"No, I’ll come with you. If it’s aspis venom (a venomous snake found in the Nile region), we’ll use the same techniques as we did with the boy last time. It would take too long to make the antivenom alone. Let me help you."

"It’s too dangerous for you, my dearest, to go among the soldiers. Even if you wear men’s clothes, we can’t hide the beauty of your face."

You walked over to the cauldron in the fireplace and ran your hands over the soot that had accumulated beneath it.

"It worked before," you said, rubbing a bit of soot on your cheeks.

"That was only at the market. This time it’s more dangerous. I’d never forgive myself if I couldn’t protect you there."

"I was going to give this to you tomorrow, as I promised last time, but there's no time now. If anything happens to me, you will open it. Everything about your true family is in here."

You took the envelope from him with shaky hands. It had been sealed by the former emperor himself, and you wondered what was written inside.

Your uncle grabbed your shoulders and shook you to ensure you understood the importance of the letter. "No one should ever see this. Do you understand me? No one! After you open it, hide it. Do not let anyone see it. But don't lose it; hide it as if your life depends on it. You'll understand why."

You nodded firmly and swallowed hard, tucking the letter into the bag hanging around your neck. You hid it at the very bottom under the medicine bottles, causing them to rattle in the process.

"Aya, you’re going to have to choose," he said, looking at you intently before leaving the room.

"Choose what, uncle?"

"To run or to stay. It’ll all make sense when you read the letter," he said, glancing down the hall before grabbing your wrist. You were confused, but you knew you had to think about this later.

"We have to get out now; soldiers are outside. Quick!"

'I was going to give this to you tomorrow as I promised last time, but there's no time now. If anything happens to me, you will open it. Everything about your true family is in here.'

You took the envelope from him with shaking hands. The previous emperor himself had sealed it. You wondered what it meant.

Your uncle grabbed your shoulders and shook you, making sure you understood how important this letter was.

‘No one should ever see this. Do you understand me? No one! After you open it, hide it. Do not let anyone see it. But don't lose it, hide it like your life depends on it, you'll understand why.’

You nodded firmly and swallowed hard. You tucked the letter into the bag hanging around your neck and hid it at the very bottom under the medicine bottles, making them rattle in the process.

‘Aya, you’re going to have to choose,’ he looked at you before leaving the room.

‘Choose what uncle?’

‘To run or stay. It’ll make sense when you read the letter,’ he checked the hall and grabbed your wrist. You were so confused but you had to think about this later.

'We have to get out now, soldiers are outside, quick!'

The soldiers had gathered all the medici they could find at the army camp headquarters near the tents. There were seven of them, but they were unable to find a solution for the General's injury. As you and your uncle were next in line, a burly soldier of higher rank approached you both. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact. Everyone was in a rush, nearly all mobilized to save the General's life. Your gender didn't matter to them at that moment. Just as you were about to follow your uncle into the tent, the soldier raised his hand to stop you.

‘Only the medicus.’

‘My aide, sir, let him in. He's as expert as I am.’

As your uncle is their last hope, he let you in but did not follow you inside, standing guard outside the tent. The General's squire stood next to him, looking at you with tears in his eyes. It was a heartbreaking sight. The sorrow had enveloped everything inside the tent, and you could feel it deep in your bones.

The General lay on a mattress in the west corner of the tent. He was unconscious, but you noticed his lips moving as if he were murmuring. You stepped forward to take a closer look at his face, which you had been so curious about.

His face was exactly as you had imagined, yet somehow different. He had numerous scars, as if he had been born with them, and his light brown skin embraced them. His mustache and beard were partially gray, and his nose and chin were perfectly shaped, as though Prometheus himself had spent extra time crafting this man. His face was stunning, causing your heart to race. You had never felt this way about any other man, though you had never had the opportunity to do so.

You were somewhat disappointed to see his eyes closed. You longed to know what they looked like and were eager to see his expression when he opened them. You were momentarily surprised by the desire to touch his face. For an instant, you forgot why you were there. Meanwhile, your uncle had picked up the sword with which the General had been wounded and was examining the blood on it. You moved over to help him, keeping one eye on the General, who lay there with his imposing build and half of the white tunic he wore stained red.

Your heart constricted with pain, and the dream you had came vividly to mind.

‘Cure him.’

"We need to check his wound!" Your uncle's loud voice startled you, and you squinted at him, feeling ashamed.

As your uncle gestured for you to come closer, you saw that the wound was not deep, but the skin around it was turning pale from the venom, and the edges were curling inward.

"He doesn't have much time. Let's start making the antivenom now," he said, swallowing hard. The situation was worsening, and you knew you had to cure him no matter what. Perhaps this was why the gods had shown you this in your dream; they had warned you in advance that your life depended on it.

The process of making the antivenom took slightly longer than you had anticipated, but you persevered admirably. Your uncle cleaned the wound to neutralize it while you sweated through your clothes. Finally, when the antivenom was ready, your uncle carefully applied the antidote to the wound, but he was exhausted, his fingers shaking. You stepped in to help despite feeling weary yourself. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you managed to see your task through to the end.

The soldier from earlier entered the tent to check on the situation. You bowed your head and stepped back.

"We've cleaned the wound, and once it's neutralized, we applied the antidote. We just need to wait now," your uncle informed him, wiping sweat from his forehead. "We need to give him some time and ensure he drinks water soon to avoid dehydration."

As the soldier examined the wound, you turned your head to look at the squire boy, who had been sobbing just moments ago but had now already fallen asleep. Poor boy, you thought.

The soldier then ordered you to leave the tent and wait outside.

You felt your arms and legs go numb with fatigue and collapsed to the ground, sitting cross-legged and trying hard to stay awake. Your uncle was in the same state, but he still struggled to resist sleep. In the end, he couldn't keep his eyelids from closing.

You woke up to the sound of soldiers shouting and arguing. Turning your head, you couldn't make out what they were disagreeing about, but their noise was overwhelming.

"You better go in and make sure the General drinks some water. He needs to stay hydrated," your uncle said firmly, likely keeping an eye on the soldiers outside.

The tent was empty except for the General. A soldier from earlier was outside, reassuring the other soldiers. You approached the General to check on him. His forehead was covered in sweat, and his body was fighting off venom. You quickly grabbed a damp cloth and pressed it gently against his forehead. Then you touched his lips with your thin, fragile fingers. An intense feeling grew inside you. As a secret medicus, you had touched the faces and bodies of many men and women to heal them. However, touching this man's face and lips felt different from the others.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. This was nonsensical.

You opened his lips carefully and dipped a rag into the fresh water in a copper pot. You pressed it against the General's dry, pale lips, squeezing it gently through his mouth.

After doing this several times, you decided you had done enough. Just as you were about to withdraw your hand, the General's strong hand suddenly grasped yours with a firm grip. You were shocked and winced in pain, causing you to open your hand with pressure, and the rag fell to the ground.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you gazed at his face. He opened those eyes you had been so curious about and looked at you with a cold, calculating stare, squeezing your wrist so tightly that you felt it might break at any moment. You suppressed a scream and moaned in pain. 'Sir, I'm trying to help you!' You sounded as if you were crying, then he groaned in pain, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.The effort must have exhausted him. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he breathed quickly.

When he finally released your wrist, you threw yourself backwards for dear life, rubbed your wrist with your other hand and stroked it, praying to the Gods to take the pain away. You could have sworn to Jupiter that if he had squeezed your wrist any harder, you would have heard a cracking sound coming from your bones.

How could he possibly be so strong even when exhausted, so close to death?

As the pain receded, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to calm down. Your thin wrist was marked in red, like poppies, as if the shadows of his fingers were engraved on your skin.

You glanced timidly over your shoulder; he was still lying there with his eyes closed. But you had just made a terrible mistake—he must have heard your voice and realized you were a woman. Only the gods knew what he would do when he regained consciousness.

You had to leave immediately. Wrapping your wrist in a clean piece of cloth, you tucked the sleeve of your dress into it to hide the bandage. As you stepped out of the tent, your uncle grabbed your arm and pulled you behind it.

“Uncle, the general opened his eyes for a moment and heard my voice. He might remember when he wakes up,” you whispered, hoping no one had overheard you.

“Gods have mercy upon us,” he murmured, glancing down. Then he grabbed your shoulders. “It’s time to go. You need to leave now. Follow the path through the woods. Some soldiers are having a disagreement about something; I think they have found out—”

“You! Medicus! Come over here!” one of the soldiers shouted at your uncle. He gestured to you with his eyes, silently urging you to go.

“You too!” you gasped as you realized that the soldier was waving his hand at you.

“Sir, he should stay with the General…” your uncle interjected, stepping in front of you to protect you.

“I said come, both of you, now,” the soldier replied, his tone unmistakably commanding.

As you took tentative steps towards the group of soldiers forming a circle around your uncle, your heart raced as if it were about to burst. These were the soldiers who had just argued, fought, and you found yourself wondering whether they had been injured, but you could see no visible wounds on anyone.

On the contrary, they gazed at you with curiosity, and only at you.

“That’s nonsense, Dimitrus; this boy can’t be a girl,” said one soldier, pointing at you with a small knife in his hand.

Your uncle stood beside you, his worst fears realized, his face taut with worry. As the soldier, whom you guessed was named Dimitrus, approached, your uncle stepped in front of you. But the soldier easily overpowered him and shoved him aside. With a scrutinizing gaze, the soldier examined your body from head to toe. You bowed your head and clenched your fists, your heart pounding in your chest as your breathing quickened. He yanked down the hood of your cloak with his large hands, drawing the attention of other soldiers who now gathered nearby for a better look.

When he saw your hair tied up at the back of your head, his grin widened. He drew a dagger from its sheath, and as you caught sight of your uncle's worried face behind the soldier's formidable arm, you began to pray to all the gods.

Dimitrus grasped your bun and quickly cut the hair tie with his dagger, causing your golden-brown wavy hair to cascade over your shoulders. The soldiers laughed and whistled, while Dimitrus looked at them with a cocky smile before turning back to you.

“Such long hair for an aide boy, huh?” he chuckled.

“A girl, indeed,” replied another soldier, looking at you in disbelief.

“I told you I could smell a woman from a mile away,” he laughed, his voice booming.

“Please,” you pleaded, feeling powerless. A wave of despair washed over you.

“What is going on here?” The burly soldier approached, eyes wide with astonishment at your new appearance. Dimitrus grabbed your hair, pulling you closer to him. He then seized your chin and turned your face towards Octavius.

"Look at her! You didn't even notice that the medicus brought a girl with him, Octavius? In our camp? And you're supposed to be the general's right-hand man!" 

You struggled to move, but he was too strong. 

"Hey, I can’t see her face clearly!"

You closed your eyes tightly as someone threw wine in your face. Dimitrus roughly wiped your face with his big fingers.

“Gods, no ordinary beauty,” he said, looking at you like a hungry wolf. He leaned in closer, inhaling the scent of your hair, making you feel nauseous. You tried to look away, but your eyes met your uncle’s desperate gaze.

“That's enough, Dimitrus. Let her go. Is this what you all think while our General lies there, fighting for his life?”

You rushed to your uncle's side as his hands released your hair. "He's already dead; I've never seen anyone get up after being poisoned," he says, as if he were looking forward to his death.

Octavius unsheathed his sword with a sharp "schwing" sound. "How dare you! Say that again and I'll cut your tongue off!" he barked.

Dimitrus' followers drew their swords as well. Octavius looked at each of them with anger and disbelief. He had been betrayed. "You treacherous filthy rats! I'll kill you one by one!" He waved his long sword at them.

Dimitrus grabbed your uncle by the collar. "Start with this one then. Who knows what he gave the General instead of medicine?"

"Aye, he must be punished!" shouted one of them.

"Punish him, Octavius!"

They were all yelling at him by raising their swords, you were thinking a way out but there wasn’t any.

"If you won't, I shall," Dimitrus pointed the end of his sword at your uncle.

"No!" you shrieked, but your uncle stopped you, raising his hand.

Then, as Octavius raised his hand and was about to lunge at him to prevent him, Dimitrus plunged his sword through your uncle's stomach, the poor man groaning in pain and falling to his knees, and as you ran towards him, he drew back his sword, his blood splashing in your face with the force of the draw. Your body began to shake, and you felt paralyzed as you watched his lifeless body collapse to the ground.

"Dimitrus!" Octavius roared, ‘You've gone too far! What do you think our general will do to you when he awakens?’

You fell to your knees in shock, your body rigid and still, your face expressionless, yet tears streaming down your cheeks.

"General? You failed to save him; you let that medicus get into his tent; you must share his fate! I will let the emperors know that this is all your fault! And I think we must put the general out of his misery-"

Out of nowhere, an axe flew at Dimitrus, piercing his chest. His body shook as he reeled back, then collapsed to the ground, lying backwards and dying in a pool of blood. Everyone looked at him in astonishment and panic. Blood gushed from where his chest had been split open, and when he stopped breathing, he lay there as his eyes remained wide open.

They turned their heads to see who had thrown the axe and were shocked once again. The general could hardly stand near his tent, his eyes filled with rage and his gaze burning with fury. Octavius quickly ran to his side.

"General! Thank the Gods you're finally awake!" 

"What's going on here, Octavius?" His voice was like a roar.

“Sir, Dimitrus and others have attempted to mutiny.” 

Acacius shot a deathly glare at the other soldiers, who immediately kneeled with their swords turned upside down. 

“No, sir, we did not.” 

“Forgive me, sir, it was Dimitrus's doing.” 

“Sir, please forgive me.” 

You gently closed your uncle's eyelids with your fingers as they all pleaded for forgiveness. With your back turned to the General, you felt indifferent about your fate; you no longer cared whether you lived or died. It seemed to you that your whole life was already over.

"If any of you ever dare to do anything like this again," he said as he walked near Dimitrus’ body and pulled the axe from his chest roughly; you were startled by the crunching sound coming from his bones.

"I Marcus Justus Acacius, will make sure that he meets the same fate as this scum!"

He put them in their place, and they all nodded in fear. They stood up at his gesture while bowing their heads, unable to look him in the face. 

“Now get ready; we must sail at dawn!” 

“Yes, sir!” 

They quickly sheathed their swords and hurriedly spread out.

Acacius staggered slightly as watched them move, his wound still painful, but he tried hard not to show it. 

Octavius touched his arm. "Sir, the Gods have spared your life, but please rest a little longer." 

"Who is this man?" 

You were certain he was referring to your uncle, even though your back was turned to him. 

"The medicus who cured you, sir. Dimitrus got mad and killed him because he thought he couldn't save you."

"As if we haven't lost enough healers tonight. He was clearly mistaken. This man managed to cure me, and I am standing here because of him." He turned to Octavius. "Make sure this man's body is returned to his family. Inform the governor about this; they should make all the necessary arrangements for the rituals."

Octavius nodded, "Yes, sir, I will." 

They both turned their gaze toward you. "What about this one?" 

Your body was frozen; you felt as if the time for your execution had come. You never expected your last moments to unfold like this. 

"I think this is his aide or slave, sir. Dimitrus discovered she was a woman and that medicus was hiding her," one of them said, bowing his head in shame. You swallowed hard. 

Acacius' pain returned, and he groaned. Octavius gently grabbed his waist. "Sir, please rest. You need to regain your strength." 

"Sir!" Acacius' squire rushed over, placing his arm under Acacius' shoulder. 

It was time for him to turn away from you.

"Since her master has died, take this girl to the other slaves. I don't want any more chaos or mishap," he said in a firm voice.

You wiped the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand as their footsteps faded away. Two soldiers grabbed your arms and lifted you off the ground while others carried your uncle's body. As you turned your head and glanced over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the General's curly gray hair and well-shaped nose before he disappeared into his tent.

Your body was filled with rage. What you heard only heightened your pain and deepened your hurt. A slave? How could he say that? The one who had healed him was now considered worthy of being a slave?

As the mid-morning sun began to reflect off the walls of Rome through the haze that filled the harbor, the city was preparing to experience one of the most significant days in its history. Everyone who noticed the navy ships approaching from afar—citizens, subjects, foreign diplomats, merchants, civil servants, and porters—gathered at the entrance of the city. They were waiting to welcome General Acacius and the victorious Roman soldiers. On the deck of the large ship at the forefront of the fleet, the General sighed deeply as he looked out over his city, thanking Mars for his triumphant and healthy return.

The journey from the port of Alexandria to Rome took ten days, and it was a challenging experience for you, traveling alongside captives known as slaves. Most of these individuals were Greeks and Egyptians, and the joyous shouts echoing through the streets of the Roman capital meant nothing to them. On board the ship, they were repeatedly told that the slave market in Rome was quite prestigious. They were assured that young girls would be well cared for by certain families, urged to stop their tears, and encouraged to pray to Jupiter so that wealthy families would notice them and buy them at high prices.

You were not like those slaves; you were not a prisoner of war, and your family was neither enslaved nor poor. Your uncle was a renowned and esteemed medicus, part of an affluent family. He and his wife found you on the banks of the River Nile when you were three years old—that is what they told you. The gods had not blessed them with a child, so they loved you as if you were their own. You knew he wasn't your biological father or uncle, but you were very happy with your life and didn't ask too many questions until he revealed the letter the night before everything changed.

As an orphan, you were raised by your uncle, who taught you about Egyptian medicine. You assisted him in countless surgeries, helping to bring many people back to life, including the general himself. Through this experience, you gained enough knowledge and skill to become an expert in the field. However, no one would refer to you as a medicus because you were a woman. Your talents were too remarkable to ignore, yet despite sharing your skills with those on the ship, no one believed you. Even if they did, there was little they could do to change the situation.

As you looked through the small cracks between the ship's planks, your gaze drifted over the seemingly endless sea. You couldn’t shake the thoughts of the dream you had the night before.

‘Cure him.’

Wouldn't it have been better if you hadn’t cured him? Perhaps your uncle would still be alive. Maybe you wouldn’t be sitting on this ship now, resigned to your fate, wondering and worrying about what will happen to you. Is this your reward for healing the great Roman general?

That man ruined your life, and you only did yourself a disservice by saving him. Perhaps the gods were testing you, but what was the lesson?

You observed the shadow of the general’s fingers beneath the cloth wrapped around your wrist. The color reminded you of violets bathed in moonlight from days ago. Now, it was an unmistakably bright hue, and the pain had lessened significantly.

As the ship rumbled into port, you realized that it was time to accept your fate. In the dark and damp bilge of the ship, you and a girl close to your age called Decima took turns using the same swing as a bed, you liked each other and in desperation you became confidants, friends. She was in her early twenties and had a lovely charm about her, while you, in your late twenties, had a stunning beauty that really stood out. Her father was a rebel, probably killed by the General's men, and she was taken as captive. You told her almost everything except the letter that you’re hiding in your bag.

As soon as you stepped into the harbor, the discrimination began. The general and his men moved in the opposite direction, while the slave trader standing in front of you ordered you to go elsewhere.

You frowned as you caught sight of his face in the distance, peeking over the shoulders of the crowd. He looked healthy; his body had managed to overcome the venom of the past few days, and his wound had healed. You remembered how you had spent hours with your uncle trying to cure him and how you had struggled to create the antidote while your arms and wrists ached with pain.

Suddenly, the General's face lit up with a warm smile as he waved to his citizens. To your surprise, all your anger momentarily vanished. You turned your head away; looking at him would only cause you pain. He wouldn't recognize you because he couldn't clearly see your face, not just yet. Besides, to him, you were just a slave—nothing more.

However, Octavius recognized you from a distance. He was the only one who had witnessed your hard work. He was an honorable man, he disliked seeing you among the slaves, but he felt powerless, as it was the General's order.

In the evening of that day, after the slaves were taken to the baths and then to the market for sale, you and Decima were brought by the slaver to a separate cell. From outside, the lively sounds of the market could be heard, where slaves were being sold one by one. There was a great deal of interest in these new slaves from Egypt.

The slaver appeared at the door of your cell with a man who looked to be older and wealthy. Decima immediately stood up, but you remained still. The slaver gestured with his hand, turning Decima around in the center of the cell to show off her arms, face, and feet, while squinting at you.

“Look at these strong and beautiful young girls, sir. I wouldn’t show you any poor slaves; they are both virgins and very beautiful. The great Venus has bestowed her beauty upon them. They would fetch a lot of money in the market, but I thought I would show them to you first, sire.” He was being very flattering, but the man's eyes were fixed on you.

“Doesn't she have any manners? Why isn't she standing up?” “You're right, sir, she must be a bit sick from traveling. She will,” he gestured to you with his hand. “Come on, get up, girl.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, he squeezed your arm hard to warn you first, then did everything what he had done to Decima, opening almost every part of your body for the other man to see. It was incredibly disgusting, you felt like an animal being sold at the cattle market.

"The other one is younger, but this one is beautiful, a rare find," he said, grabbing your arm and looking at you hungrily. "How much do you want for her?"

Your eyes meet with Decima in a silent exchange, as it was time to go your separate ways.

"Eight thousand sesterces, sire."

He pursed his lips in thought, his fingers touching your hair while you closed your eyes, praying for a miracle.

"Ten thousand sesterces!"

A familiar voice of a man echoed through stone walls. You all turned your heads to that direction."General Marcus Acacius offers ten thousand sesterces for this girl!" Octavius appeared, his imposing figure clad in armor that clanked with every step. He tossed a large coin pouch to the slaver, who caught it, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"Sold, of course," he said, counting the coins with a happy expression.

Octavius then firmly grabbed the other man's arm, which was still close to you, lifted it, and pushed it away. He frowned. "This girl now belongs to General Acacius, sir. You must not touch her," he warned firmly.

As the general entered the city in his chariot, the people shouted his name. He waved his hand to them, and the streets were filled with a great enthusiasm as everyone gathered to honour the general and his soldiers. The chariot carrying him soon passed under the triumphal arch of Septimius Severus and turned towards the Curia Julia, the Senate building, where the emperors must have been waiting for him. The general's smile faded. He was tired and not looking forward to seeing them, but he would not go to his villa before visiting the emperors.

As General strode purposefully up the marble stairs, Geta and Caracella leapt down from their golden imperial thrones in excitement. As soon as Geta saw him, he opened his arms wide.

‘How can I reward Rome's greatest general?'

'By letting him catch his breath first,' Caracella smiled widely.

Acacius stopped in front of them and nodded, 'My Emperors.'

'We have been eagerly awaiting for your arrival, general,' Geta clasped his hands together, looking at him with admiration.

'Speak for yourself, brother. My legs ache from sitting for so long,' Caracella said, then laughed loudly. 'But it was worth it, indeed!'

‘Indeed!’ They both laughed once more, but Caracella looking at his brother a bit strange way.

It was hard to tell if Caracalla wanted to embrace Geta or if wanted to take his life right then and there. The relationship between the two of them was quite distorted.

The general rolled his eyes, he was used to these two whiny emperors half of his age bickering at each other all the time, he sighed in frustration at having to put up with them when he could easily take both their lives with a single stroke of his sword. Unfortunately, this unpleasant situation had only just begun.

‘We heard that you were poisoned, how did it feel?’ Geta looked at him with wide eyes and smile.

The news must have reached the emperors before the general had even boarded the ship.

'Painful, your highness,' Acacius stated, a shadow passing over his brown eyes as he remembered the pain again.

'I'm sure it was, it must have been an interesting experience.’ Caracella crossed his arms; smiling just like his brother.

‘Cobra or viper?’

‘Aspis, highness, the viper type.’

‘Oh, I won!’ Geta jumped for joy and gestured to Caracella with his hand, imitating a snake.

Caracella ignored him looking at the General.

‘The rebels must have quite a sense of humour, poisoning a Roman General carrying Medusa on his chest with a snake, quite ironic,’ he touched Medusa on General's armor with his index finger.

Acacius frowned while looking at him, ‘They certainly do, they murdered all our medici mercilessly, fortunately the great Asclepius sent his help, my men brought another medicus from city was able to cure me, it is thanks to him that I can stand here in front of you, highness,’ Acacius remembered the memory when he was unsure whether it was a dream or not but he could not get out of his mind the fingers that touched his lips, the owner of those hazel eyes that came to his aid when his throat was dry from thirst. But it couldn't be medicus he thought, it had to be someone with thin fingers, someone with beautiful eyes he had never seen before. Maybe, since he was too close to death, it was a dream or a goddess has appeared to him, he couldn't be sure.

The first thing he remembers is opening his eyes and grabbing her wrist with his survival instinct. He thought it was a strange looking young man in a hood, maybe another rebel had come to kill him again, but then he heard her voice and thought his goddess had come to heal him. He was in so much pain and seeing hallucinations that he couldn't tell if it was a dream or not. But couldn’t get rid of those thoughts since days.

The emperors didn't seem to care much about the medicis the general was talking about, or how he had recovered, and Acacius seemed bored as they continued to joke with each other.

‘Mother,' Geta ran to her as he noticed the Empress approaching, extends his arm for her.

Julia Domna took his arm as she coming towards Acacius, whispering something into Geta’s ear, without taking her eyes off the General.

‘My lady,’ Acacius nodded to her.

Domna's smile was like Caracella's, you could never guess what she was thinking.

‘General, how good it is to see you return triumphant once more. Rome salutes you, and I embrace you,’ she approached him with open arms and put her hands Acacius’ board shoulders.

Caracella sat back on his throne, a bored look on his face.

‘My Lady, the honour is mine,’ the general said, bowing his head.

‘We shall sacrifice 1000 bulls to honor our triumphant mother!’ Geta clapped his hands excitedly, ‘Let's have a great feast tonight!’

‘Highness, let's give the General some time to rest, he must be tired from the battle,’ Domna removed her hands from the General's shoulders but kept her eyes on him.

Caracella let out a high, shrill laugh that echoed through the white marble columns. Geta sat on his throne and scowled.

‘Acacius, walk with me,’ the Empress turned round, gestured to him.

Acacius sighed, he didn't want to be alone with her, but he had to. Domna walked ahead of him, hands clasped behind her back, he followed her slowly.

‘My sons are glad to see you again, even if they have no idea how fortunate they are to have you serving them.’

'It is my duty to serve Rome.’

She paused and smiled, watching the water in the pool shimmer in the sunlight, the glow reflecting off her bright skin, her expression was difficult to read.

'I think you have a talent for survival.’

She sounded dissatisfied. 'After all, you trained under Maximus, you must have learned a lot from him.’

He looked away, 'I owe where I am today to the remarkable fighting skills he taught me, he was an honourable man, the greatest general Rome has ever seen,' Acacius' eyes were fixed on the great Temple of Venus between the eastern edge of the Forum Romanum and the Colosseum.

Domna looked at him with a feeling between admiration and concern.

‘He, like you, lived to serve Rome, even if he had to kill Commodus,’ she said, and even little children could catch the obvious implication in her voice.

Acacius held his ground, his eyes roaming the curves of the statue of Venus.

‘But unlike him, you are loyal to the emperors, I can be sure of that, can't I?

He turned his head towards her, but did not look at her. His eyes were now on the two spoilt emperors who were talking animatedly to each other between the columns. 'As long as Rome is prosperous for all her subjects, I will be loyal to them, my lady.'

Domna laughed loudly, 'Ah, that's why I want you in the Senate, how long will you refuse?

'I am only a soldier, politics is not my business, nor should it be. Consuls in the Senate -'

‘Those old foxes live in abundance and do nothing, the person who has done Rome the greatest service should be in the Senate.’ Domna glanced over her shoulder at her sons. 'I am concerned that Macrinus has no equal in the Senate and that Caracella dominates him, perhaps if you are in there, you will gain his trust.’

'Your Highness...' He looked at her shaking his head as no.

Domna looked at Acacius, this time with a serious expression on her face, 'For the sake of Rome you must be especially careful with Caracella, as her mother even I find it hard to get my way with him, he is not like Geta, he is a hard-headed child.’

Acacius looked at Caracella whose back was turned, of course he knew this very well, for a moment he thought that he was the real threat to Rome, not the enemy soldiers or the others.

‘Anyway, you should go to your villa and rest, you will have time to think about this alone,’ she said with a forced smile, then turned around to go to her sons.

After praying in the temple of Venus, Acacius walked out, and as he descended the steps of the temple, he felt a stinging pain where his wound had been, the poison had completely gone from his body, but it had left its trace behind.

Octavius was lost in thought as he has leaned against the side of the carriage waiting for him, quickly stood up when he noticed him.

‘Sir.’

‘I see you don't miss your home, as you're still here,' Acacius said as he descended the last step. He got into the carriage and climbed in to sit beside him. Acacius was quite tired so he lay down on the seat, the fact that he felt so comfortable with Octavius was because of their long friendship, he was his most trusted man, more than just a friend, like a brother.

'Are you going to tell me what's troubling you?’ Acacius covered his face with his arm, but he could feel the tension in him.

'Sir, the girl.’

'Oh, I see, a girl? Have you fallen in love with a girl?

'No, that's not it,' Octavius felt embarrassed as he remembered your face. 'That poor girl, It doesn't seem fair that she should be with those slaves, sir, you are an honourable man, but your order-'

Acacius lifted his arm from his face and looked at him, the cart swaying as it moved along the stony roads.

'The girl that medicus hid? Why do you care so much for her? Is there something I should know?’

'After all, they worked so hard together to cure you, perhaps you should have at least let her go home.’

‘Together? What do you mean?' Acacius sat up, his eyebrows furrowed.

Octavius bowed his head.

'Sir, I made a mistake, it was my fault for letting them into your tent, I don't know how I could have been so careless even after the assassination, forgive me...'

Acacius raised his hand.

'Slow down, we will talk about your mistake later, you are saying that girl entered my tent and cured me? How?’

'I didn't look closely at her face and I didn't know she was a woman maybe because of her outfit but I made a terrible mistake, I should’ve known, forgive me sir.’ He bowed his head once more but it made Acacius more angry.

'You haven't answered my question, Octavius,' his voice was loud.

'Yes sir, she did her best to cure you, sir, the girl and Medicus worked hard to produce antivenom all night.’

Acacius was surprised when he realized that he hadn't dreamed that night. He was glad to learn that the owner of those eyes was a real person. But then he thought that she might be on the slave market by now, about to be sold to someone else.

‘Stop the carriage!’ He yelled.

The coachman immediately did as he was told and pulled hard on the horses' harnesses, the horses howling and stamping their hooves on the ground.

'Sir?' Octavius raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'Go and find the girl, I want to see her at my villa tonight, do you understand? Acacius tossed him a pouch full of coins.

Octavius smiled, ‘Yes, sir.’

please comment, reblog and like if you enjoyed so far thank youu,

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[agreeeeeeeeeee]

What's My Name? - R.B.

Bully!Regulus Black x fem!reader

summary: you’ve befriended the emeralds and few other Slytherin’s. Regulus is drawn to you like a magnet, but knows you have no business associating with them or their families, so he tries to scare you off. It backfires spectacularly.

cw: MDNI 18+ Regulus tries to white fang you. degradation, bullying, toxic relationships and friend groups, future death-eaters, trauma, Black Family Angst, choking, dry-humping, p in v sex

an: Ik everyone has a different marauders!era slytherin group, so here’s a quick breakdown of my personal headcanon:

Inner circle: Regulus Black, Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr., Pandora, and Dorcas Meadowes (the emeralds)

Outer circle: Severus Snape, Avery, Mulciber, Emma Vanity, Charity Burbage, Aurora Sinistra, and Wilkes.

Circle-adjacent: Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon, and the Marauders

There is also the much darker group with Rabastan Lestrange, Thorfinn Rowle, and the Carrow’s, who actively prey on some of the others for Voldemort’s Cause.

────────────────────────

No matter how hard Regulus tried, you refused to leave his orbit. You had no business affiliating with him and his friends, and had no idea what that affiliation truly meant. It meant darkness. It meant bloodshed. It met imminent and very real danger. A war was brewing right under your nose.

Regulus had been born and bred for this, as had most of his friends, but you…you were an innocent. Intelligent, witty, trusting. As much as he tried not to care, he couldn’t stand to watch your light be snuffed out for simply existing around them: metaphorically or literally.

But no matter how many times Regulus tried to run you off, spare you from what came next, you would not heed. In fact, you seemed to take his animosity as a challenge, leaving him in the predicament of being your unwitting adversary.

You were in the Slytherin common room now, curled up by the fireplace with Pandora, Evan, Barty and a few others, doing more gossiping than studying despite the piles of books and parchment on the floor around you. The greenish light of the lake contrasted with the glow of the fire against your face, creating an otherworldly halo around you.

You hair was pulled back, revealing the slender curve of your neck, the dip in your v-neck sweater where a silver pendant rested against your clavicle.

You laughed at whatever terrible joke Barty made and Regulus rolled his eyes, turning back to the spell book in his lap. He was studying alone, having told Evan a number of times to fuck off and let him work on his assignments in peace.

“Regulus!” Emma called suddenly, and he cringed, pretending he didn't hear his Quidditch captain. “Reg!” She called again.

He closed his eyes, willing them all to disappear.

“Regulus fucking Black!” She hollered, loud enough for the whole common room to fall silent.

He clapped his book shut and stalked over to where you all were sitting, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other clamped on his book.

“Yes?” He droned, leaning against the arm chair Emma was sitting in.

“Can you help me with this?” Emma asked, holding up her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.

Annoyance prickled along his skin. “What good is a genius pet if she doesn't help with your work?” He asked, leveling you with his coldest stare.

You tilted your head, eyes flicking from his black, curly hair to his leather shoes, and didn't respond.

“She said she wouldn't help me,” Emma pouted.

“I said I wouldn't do it for you,” you corrected.

“Barty, then?”

“No can do, Reg,” Barty responded, coughing up a lungful of pungent smoke, waggling a joint in Regulus’ direction.

Emma waved the smoke from her face. “Will you help, Reg? I have to get a good grade in the class or I could lose my spot on the team. And you know these lot are useless at spells.”

He sighed and took the assignment from her hands, flipping through the pages. It was rudimentary work, things she really should know in order to defend herself.

“Can't help you,” Regulus said, handing it back to her. “If you can't do this, maybe you should be demoted.”

The group ooooh’d at his dig.

“Reg!” Emma whined.

“Ignore him, Em. Not everyone takes to dark magic as easily as the ancient and most bitchy house of Black,” you quipped, narrowing your eyes at him.

Regulus resisted the urge to clench his jaw, feigning the nonchalance you wore like a second skin. The group swiveled to look at him.

“All magic, really. But thank you, darling,” he purred, winking at you.

“You should have seen Sirius in advanced Transfiguration last semester, he's a natural. Truly a gifted wizard,” you continued.

“Hot as fuck, too,” Evan added, just to dig the knife in a little deeper.

Regulus’ blood began to simmer, his temperature rising beneath his dark robes. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head. “I thought you'd be smart enough to not fall for his clown act.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Evidently not.”

“I wouldn't touch a Black with a twenty foot pole,” you replied, leaning back on your hands, stretching your long legs out in front of you, your skirt sitting high on your thighs.

“Who said anything about a pole?” Regulus replied, mimicking your condescending head tilt.

The group snickered, watching your verbal sparring like it was a duel.

“You sound a bit jealous, Reggie. Need a little attention?”

Reggie. His mask nearly slipped, he was so caught off guard by the nickname on your sharp tongue. “May as well, since you give it out so freely.” He glanced down at your shapely legs, punctuating his point.

Your head fell back as you laughed, your chest pressing up and tits bouncing, and he felt an irritating kick in his trouser as the heat of his anger took a new, sinful shape.

“It's the 70’s, love. Are you still so prudish?” You lifted your head, pining him with eyes fierce enough to cleave him in half.

He smirked. “Far from it. Just selective.”

“Don't see much of a selection to chose from,” you chuckled, earning another spike of laughter from the group. “What I see is a spoiled youngest son with nothing better to do than needle the people around him to fill the hole in his chest.” You got to your feet, shouldering your bag.

Regulus felt like he'd been punched clean through the sternum, your words never failing to cut to the quik.

“Spoken by a girl with nothing better to do than fish for a rich husband that might save her from her home in the gutter. Trust me, nothing can fill the hole of inadequacy, y/l/n.”

You stepped over Evan and Barty's tangled limbs and left without another word, leaving Regulus’ cruelty to echo off the glass and stone, the group silent.

Regulus turned on his heel and disappeared into the boys dormitory, guilt dogging every step.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The Quidditch match was in full swing, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the score was neck and neck. It was up to Regulus and the Gryffindor Seeker now, since neither team could get a leg up through the rings.

You sat in the stands sipping hot chocolate with Marlene, Pandora, and Dorcas, Barty pouting to your left because he couldn't sit with Evan in the Slytherin stands.

Regulus hovered a few meters away, his eyes trained upwards, catching every falling leaf and ripple of air around him. You hated how handsome he looked in his Quidditch robes, his lean body relaxed on the broom despite the stakes.

That was Regulus, un-fucking-shakeable. And it drove you insane that you could never get a rise out of him, but he managed to needle one out of you time and time again.

He was as relentless as a northern wind, and you couldn't help but be swept away.

His dark curls framed his angular face, those perpetually sleepy eyes the most arresting green. Sure, everyone thought Sirius was hot, but Regulus was beautiful, ethereal almost, and he wrapped around your mind like a constrictor.

You watched as the other Seeker suddenly took off above the Hufflepuff stands, in pursuit of something, and the Gryffindor stands cheered. But Regulus remained motionless, watching his opponent like a cat trailing a mouse. Even as Slytherin urged him to take up the chase, he remained unmoved, bidding his time.

His bottomless patience would be awe-inspiring if it wasn't so damn frustrating.

You wouldn't have an issue with Regulus, maybe even could have been friends with him, if he hadn't taken issue with you first. You had no idea what his fucking problem was, whether it was because your family was poor, you had better grades than him, or what. He loathed you from the moment you showed up in the Slytherin common room, and you've yet to receive an explanation.

You'd been saddled with a one-sided rivalry, but you'd be damned if you let him defeat you now after a full semester of back and forth.

The other Seeker pulled up short, whipping his head around like he'd lost something, and you saw Regulus crack a smirk, his canines white and sharp.

Regulus turned his head suddenly, quick like a bird, and then he was off in a blur of motion. His opponent was all the way across the pitch, entirely too far to get there in time.

A moment later— “Regulus Black has caught the snitch for 150 points! Slytherin wins!”

The Slytherin stands erupted with cheers while every other house booed, including your own. But you knew a Slytherin victory meant a rager in the dungeons, so you kept your lips sealed.

Instead, you watched Regulus land at the center of the pitch, the golden snitch held lazily between his pointer finger and thumb above his head. Any other Seeker would have been parading around the field, or flying in wide circles over the stands, screaming their head off, but Regulus was silent. His victory spoke for him.

Although, you knew he'd still be smug as fuck later.

As soon as the stands began to drain, you, Pandora, and Barty caught up with the rest of your Slytherin friends, all of them buzzing about the victory, even melancholic Severus. By the time you all reached the dungeons, a party was already in full swing.

Music thrummed along the walls, so loud it caused ripples in the Black Lake, making the emerald-tinged moonlight shift and dance along the floor. You happily accepted a shot of gin, then another before letting Evan cajole you out onto the dance floor.

Sweat pooled along your spine as the music wore on, your hair wild and loose down your back as you danced, electric energy flowing through you.

A cheer came up from the entrance and everyone turned towards the commotion. The Slytherin Quidditch team strode into the room, black robes billowing behind them. Regulus stood at the front, of course. Even from several meters away, you could see the confident glimmer in his eyes, the arrogant tilt of his chiseled jaw.

Fucking Black’s.

Like a magnet, his eyes found yours across the room, and you nearly tripped over Evan’s feet at the venom they held. But he looked away as quickly as he found you, getting swept up by the crowd and disappearing from your line of sight.

You tracked down another shot and rejoined Evan and Barty on the dance floor, squished between them in a tangle of limbs. Impossible to tell who’s hands were where, just a mess of sensation and touch. The temperature in the common room was rising expontentially, so you shed your sweater, leaving you in your skirt and a white camisole, sweat making the fabric cling to your skin.

A few songs passed like that, and a blonde guy you barely know, Rowle, you thought, took your friends place when they tapped out to smoke. You rolled your body against his, enjoying the way his thick muscles felt beneath his robes, the hungry way he was staring down at you. But you were about ready to take a break yourself, the musky smell of weed calling your name from across the room, when the hair on the back of your neck suddenly rose.

You looked around, searching for the source of your bodies response, when you locked eyes, once again, with Regulus.

He was sitting in a circle of couches against the glass wall with your shared friends, a halo of smoke around his head, a girl perched on his lap, sucking at his neck while he took a drag off of a cigarette. But his eyes were glued to you, tracking every movement you made with the same intensity he tracked the golden snitch.

Confidence wafted through you, and you wrapped your arms around your dance partners neck, letting him dip you so low your hair pooled on the floor, your tits nearly falling out of your shirt. You rolled back up slowly, articulating every vertebrae in your spine until you were chest to chest with your partner, sharing the same breaths.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Regulus choke on the smoke, dislodging the girl from his skin, and you smirked.

You let your partner turn you, showing every angle of your body, and you dropped low, circling your hips in time with the resinous goth song as you rose back up.

Regulus' cigarette hung limp between his fingers, his perfect jaw a little slack.

Emboldened, you broke away from your partner, letting yourself get lost in the sensuous, thrumming beat. Your arms rose above your head, your shoulders and hips swaying in time. It felt like you were hypnotizing him, his eyes glued to every undulation of your hips, and you couldn't recall a time where you felt more alive.

Too soon, though, the music changed to a more electro-pop vibe, and you slipped reluctantly off the dance floor, the taste of smoke beckoning you across the room.

You sauntered over to the circle, pointedly ignoring Regulus as you approached.

“There she is,” Even cooed, extending an arm to you. “You looked amazing out there.”

You smiled, sliding into his lap and taking a drag from the joint between his fingers. “Thank you, lovely.” You smiled sweetly up at him, and you could have sworn he started drooling.

“Feels even better,” Barty teased, sprawled out on the couch beside Evan, clearly a little too inebriated already.

You winked at him, and he flushed a deep scarlet. Pandora, who was resting on the floor between Dorcas’ legs, chuckled at his expense.

Regulus was quiet, per usual, watching as the group chattered around him, turning the golden snitch he caught over and over in his long fingers.

The smoke made your mind a little hazy, your tired muscles from dancing going loose, and you sagged into Evan’s side, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Regulus’ fingers tightened on the snitch, his jaw feathering, and your stomach swooped with nervous excitement. You’d never been able to rattle him before. Had you finally knocked the monolithic Regulus Black off of his axis?

“Reg, why so quiet?” Evan asked, nudging his leg with his boot.

Regulus raised a brow. “What would you like to talk about, Rosier? Fucking Junior? Or eye-fucking y/l/n?”

“We can talk about eye-fucking y/n.” Evan winked down at you, and you rolled your eyes. Avery barked a laugh from his spot on the other side of Regulus.

“Yes, let's,” Barty added, raking his willowly fingers through your hair draped over Evan’s arm. You hummed under the attention, knowing it was all in good, hedonistic Slytherin fun.

Well, almost all in good fun.

As always, Regulus couldn't let your ego inflate too much. “It's hard not indulge in a little novelty, no matter how ineffectual.”

Ouch. His words landed like barbs on your skin, but you ignored him, leaning into Barty’s attention with light moan.

Regulus shifted a little in his seat, his hands falling over his lap, and you nearly smiled. Regulus may act all high and mighty, but he wasn't impervious.

“Look at you,” Even purred, blowing smoke over your heated skin, your decolletage exposed as you stretched towards Barty. “Prettiest girl at Hogwarts, stretched across my lap.” You flushed, squirming a little in his lap, and Evan groaned. “You're torturing me, baby.”

Barty tugged on your hair, sending a skitter of pleasure down your spine and craning your head back even further. “Oh, keep doing that. He loves being tortured.”

“What a good girl,” Regulus hummed, and your pussy throbbed, soaking through your underwear. It was a rush, being admired by the heirs of some of the most powerful families in the magical world. But hearing those sweet words from Regulus, twisted into degradation, did sick things to your mind. “She's on track to graduate with her perfect, filthy-rich husband, and spend the rest of her days as mindless, fertile eye candy.”

You flinched, not that the boys noticed, and sat up a little, suddenly self-conscious in your barely-there shirt.

“We volunteer,” Avery and Wilkes said at the same time.

Evan’s arm tightened around you. “You'll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands,” he replied.

Claustrophobia clawed at your throat, but you couldn't let Regulus know how thoroughly he'd flipped your night upside down.

Wilkes drew their wand, pointing it at Evan’s head. “That can be arranged.”

“A no-name isn't worth it, children,” Regulus sneered. “Save your Azkaban trips for nobler pursuits than cunt.”

That's it. You swung your legs to the ground and rose, stalking towards Regulus. The group whistled and hooted, excited by the oncoming storm of drama.

You climbed into Regulus’ lap, straddling him and stealing the golden snitch from his hands. He was warm and solid beneath you, his expensive, amber cologne swirling with the smoke to create an addicting combination.

His hands immediately fell to your bare thighs, the cold of his rings biting into your heated flesh. His green eyes darkened, lids growing heavy as he looked up at you, his ebony lashes casting delicate shadows over his cheeks.

“Regulus Black,” you murmured in his ear while loosening his tie. His hands tensing on your thighs for a split second before he relaxed them. “You will never find someone that can withstand your thorns the way I do.”

He loosed a breath, chin lifting a little closer to your face like a wilted rose tilting towards the sun.

“You will never scare me off.” You brushed your nose along his temple, feeling his heart rate increase, his breath turn shallow. “I will ruin you, and you will thank me for it.”

Before he could respond, you slipped away, taking his prize snitch with you all the way to Ravenclaw Tower. Unreachable, even for the boy that had everything.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus turned your words over and over in his mind, an endless, torturous loop. The others seemed obvious to his torment, prattling on and on while he burned through cigarette after cigarette, his tongue raw and throat scratchy.

Nothing would numb the ache on his chest, the pulsing strain of his cock beneath his robes. He'd already been painfully hard watching you move, watching you stretch across Evan and Barty like a contented kitten, preening under their devoted attention.

But when you climbed into his lap…fuck.

He was a heartbeat away from coming in his pants. One roll of your hips and he would have been done for, and you had no idea.

Or, maybe you did.

I will ruin you.

It was a miracle that you'd climbed off of him and stormed away, because the only thought he could formulate was please.

Eventually, he couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't even say goodnight to his friends, just disappeared into the dormitory and locked the door behind him.

He shirked his robe and grabbed a spare Slytherin scarf from his drawer. He flopped onto his bed and freed his aching cock, the head and angry red and shiny. He wrapped the scarf around it, squeezing hard for a semblance of relief.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, pumping his cock slowly as your voice filled his mind again, the feeling of your weight on top of him, your sweet breath on his neck, your perfume rewiring the synopsis in his brain.

His hand started to move quicker, breath coming out in desperate pants. He imagined licking across your dewy chest, tasting the salt on your skin, gin on your tongue. Blowing his cigarette smoke over your naked body, into your open mouth. So eager and flayed open for him to ravage—his innocent lamb to ruin.

“Fuck, y/n!” Your name wrenched itself from his throat as he came hard into his scarf, imaging it was deep inside your greedy cunt. His whole body shuddered with the force of it, his jaw hanging open as he pumped himself through the orgasm until he'd milked every drop from himself, wondering if your pussy, your mouth, would do the same.

He slumped back onto the pillows, completely exhausted, and shoved the scarf under his bed.

You were right, you would fucking ruin him, ruin his plans. And he wasn't sure if he hated or loved you for it.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus avoided you for two weeks after that party, going so far as to skip your shared Potions class entirely. It was for the better really, you still felt a little raw after that night, the dull ache of his words combined with the unresolved arousal has left you out of sorts, to put it mildly.

If you ran into him, you weren’t sure if you’d throttle or fuck him to death.

Your friends were beginning to grow suspicious of his absence, and your squirrely behavior, and, unbeknownst to you, they set a trap to bring this stand-off to a finish once and for all.

Pandora chatted animatedly beside you as you walked together down the stairs to the dungeon, ranting about something Aurora did to piss her off. When you arrived to the dungeon, she suddenly paused to tie her shoelace, waving for you to go on ahead of her into the common room.

You did, and the large green door swung shut behind you.

“No! Fuck, Dora!” Regulus was right there, banging his fist on the door.

You looked around, bewildered, only to find the common room completely deserted. Except for Regulus, of course.

“Move,” you hissed, withdrawing your wand.

“I tried everything,” Regulus huffed, a hand raking through his dark hair.

“I said move,” you repeated, pointing your wand at him.

He rolled his eyes and stepped aside, walking back into the common room. He dropped onto the couch by the fireplace, retrieving his book.

You threw every spell you could think of at the door, but it simply wouldn’t budge. “What the fuck!” You shouted, nearly throwing your wand across the room out of frustration.

“They left us a note,” Regulus said, not looking up from his reading.

You stalked over to him, finding an open piece of parchment on the coffee table. Immediately, you recognized Pandora’s loping hand.

“Just bone already.” You read aloud, and scoffed. “What the fuck does that mean?” You glared at Regulus, as if he was somehow responsible, but he still didn’t look up.

“I suspect they’re tired of our bickering,” he replied, turning the page.

“And what does locking us in the dungeon together accomplish?” You couldn’t believe this was happening. Couldn’t believe they’d lock you in a dungeon with your fucking nemesis. Your school yard bully. The bane of your goddamn existence.

Regulus shrugged. “Maybe they think you’ll kill me.”

You let out an exasperated sound and stormed away from him, trying the door to the girls dormitory.

“Locked,” he called a millisecond after you tried the handle.

“Maybe I am going to fucking kill him,” you muttered to yourself. Resigned, you sat on a chair by the glass wall, as far away from him as you could possibly get, and sulked.

You had no clue how much time passed, the only light filtering in through the murky lake. The cold leeched through the glass, chilling you to the bone, but you refused to move closer to him. You’d freeze to death in here if you had to.

“Y/l/n,” Regulus said after the fifth full body chill wracked through you. “Come sit by the fire.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you bit back, and he snorted.

“Fine, freeze.” He returned to his book, not sparing you another glance.

Your hands started to ache from the cold, your jaw sore from your teeth chattering together. With a sigh, you got up and crossed the room. Regulus still didn’t look up, though you could feel his attention shift to you as you sat directly in front of the fire, holding your hands out to it.

“You really think they’ll leave us in here all night?” You asked, staring at the dancing flames.

“Absolutely,” Regulus answered, lowering his book to his lap.

You sighed, resigned. The only way out is through. “I’ll start.”

He tilted his head, dark brows drawing together in suspicion.

You cursed under your breath, and dove headfirst. “I don’t understand why you’re so shitty to me,” you blurted, refusing to look at him. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

He was quiet for so long, you finally caved and glanced over at him, only to find him staring back at you, expression unreadable.

“Regulus,” you huffed, frustrated.

“Y/n,” he mocked, and your stomach flipped despite his attitude. He’d never used your first name before.

“Just fucking talk to me.” You straightened your spine, folding your legs on the ground underneath you, the fire at your side.

He stared at you for a few more moments, his eyes dancing back and forth, before he leaned back against the couch and picked up his book.

“You’re a lot of things, Black, but I didn’t take you for a coward.”

His eyes flickered with anger, but he didn’t bite.

“Reg,” you murmured, softening your voice, and he rolled his eyes, the most unbelievably bored expression on his face. You shifted your weight, placing your hands on the ground, and lifted to your knees. Slowly, you began to crawl to him, being careful to not sway your hips too much, and he broke after only a few seconds.

“On your knees already, darling?” He teased, but the casual tone didn’t match his eyes. The fire in them, the way his hands tightened around the cover of his book, betrayed his true feelings.

Once you were directly in front on him, you sat back on your heels. “Be honest with me, Reggie, did it turn you on seeing me with Evan and Barty?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your question. In his lap, you saw his cock twitch, a small pulse along his right thigh.

Men are so fucking easy.

“What about when I was dancing with them? Sandwiched between their bodies?” You rolled your head on your shoulders, mimicking the way you danced and revealing the fragile plains of your throat, your hair falling around your face. “When Barty pulled my hair? When Evan blew smoke over my tits?”

Regulus swallowed hard, his eyes like melted jade.

“What about when I crawled into your lap?” You took the book from him and set it onto the table. Then, you placed your hands on his lean, muscular thighs and pushed yourself to your feet, straddling him the same way you did that night. His entire body was rigid beneath you, muscles coiled tight with tension. “Did you like when I whispered in your ear, Regulus? When I told you that I’d ruin you?”

“Y/n,” he rasped, breathing hard.

“Tell me the truth.” You were so close, your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. You committed to the contact, brushing your lips along his racing pulse, down his jugular vein. You fought to keep your thighs from clenching together, your own body responding to the feeling him slowly unraveling beneath you. “Do you hate me because you want me?”

“I don't,” he hissed through his teeth.

“If you say so,” you hummed, moving to slide off his lap.

He grabbed your waist, his grip bruising. “Don't you fucking dare."

“I thought you didn't want me?” You taunted, sitting back on his lap to look at him, a hand braced on his sternum.

When you shifted your weight, your pussy accidentally pressed against the hard outline of his cock. You had to force your hips to stay still, your pussy practically begging you to move when you felt him throb against your warm heat.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. All the malice had drained from his voice, his eyes locked on yours.

Then what the fuck did he mean?

You rolled your hips, biting back the moan that crept up your throat as pleasure snaked through you. Regulus was less successful, a broken groan falling from his pretty mouth.

“It would be so much easier to just tell me the truth,” you purred, slowly rocking your hips over his twitching length, allowing a hint of breathlessness to bleed into your voice. “It would feel so good, Reg, to let it all go. To lose control.”

“Shit,” he crushed under his breath. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” He grated, sliding his hands down to feel your thighs flex with each movement, his fingertips dimpling your flesh.

“What did you mean by ‘I don’t’?” You asked, tilting his chin up with a finger.

His jaw went a little slack as he stared up at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and shining. “I don’t hate you,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then why do you say such awful things?” You stopped your movements, and he made a small noise in his throat, nearly a whimper, but didn’t answer. “Regulus,” you prodded, lifting yourself from him entirely.

“N-no, please, fuck y/n,” he stammered, lifting his hips to grind against you. Another moan threatened to spill from you, his body felt so fucking good against yours, but you managed to restrain yourself. “I did it to try and push you away, I—”

You lowered back onto him, your hips grinding in tandem, and his head fell back against the couch, releasing a throaty groan. You couldn’t hold back a small squeak of pleasure when the hard head of his cock grazed your clit just right, and a wave of pleasure crashed through you.

“Why did you want to push me away?” You started undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, revealing the pale expanse of his chest, lean muscles flexing as he thrusted up against you.

He shook his head, picking it up to look down at where your bodies met, a pool of your slick dampening his trousers. “Getting me all wet, lamb. You like toying with me?” he rasped, moving one of his hands to press a thumb against your clothed clit, his long fingers splayed across your pelvis. “Is that why I couldn’t scare you off?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, a full moan finally breaking free with the added pressure. You were embarrassingly close to coming, to banter combined with the friction between your bodies was a lethal cocktail, a drug you weren’t sure you’d be able to quit.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, applying enough pressure that he gasped, the sound vibrating your hand. “Why are you trying to push me away?” You leaned closer to his face, his strained pants fanning across your lips. He was so beautiful like this, ravaged by lust and desperate.

“You know why,” he growled, grabbing your wrists. He rolled suddenly, flipping you beneath him and pinning your hands above your head. “What’s my name, y/n?” His free hand slid under your skirt, palming your soaked panties.

“Regulus,” you gasped, arching into his chest.

“Regulus what?” He started rubbing the heel of his palm over your clit, electric pleasure burning through you.

“Regulus Black.” You were on the brink of coming, teetering on that torturous edge.

“Tell me then, my clever little Ravenclaw. What does that say about me and mine?” He leaned down and dragged his teeth along your pulse point, pausing to suck a mark under your ear.

“Fuck, Reg, I’m going to come,” you whined, fighting against his hold as the feeling started to overwhelm you.

His hand stopped suddenly, ruining the orgasm you had just begun to crest. You cried out in frustration, tears springing to your eyes as the pleasure bled out of you, leaving you desperate and humming with tension.

“Answer me,” he demanded, grabbing your jaw with his slick covered hand.

“I’m not an idiot,” you snapped, eyes blazing into his. “I know what the fuck it means. And I don’t care.”

He fell still, eyes searching your face. “Then maybe you are an idiot,” he murmured, eyes softening now that the truth was finally out. “But so am I.”

He closed the final inch between you, connecting your lips in a searing, devastating kiss that you felt all the way to your toes. He released your hands and you tangled your fingers into his curls, finally feeling their softness for yourself as you pulled him closer. Your mouth parted for him, his tongue delving in to taste you.

“Reg, please,” you whined against his mouth, pressing your hips to his again.

“Tell me what you want, lamb.” He kissed down your neck, one of his hands sliding down to grip your thigh and draw it over his hip.

“Fuck me, I need you inside of me.” You clawed at his belt, flipping the clasp and tugging down his zipper.

“Merlin, yes.” He finished undoing his pants and freed his cock, pulling aside your panties to glide the head through your slick folds, lubricating himself. He notched the head at your entrance, hissing at the warmth already kissing him, and eased himself in.

Regulus wasn’t overly large, but the stretch was still divine, filling you until you went cross-eyed, an unholy cry ripping from your chest. He drew his hips back and slammed back into you, over and over again until your were in shambles, a moaning, shaking mess, on the precipice of coming for the second time.

“Come for me, love. I want to feel you break.” He cupped your face, kissing you as he finally pushed you over the edge, an orgasm ripping you apart at the seams. You screamed into his mouth, your cunt clenching around him as your body convulsed. “God, I love this fucking cunt. So perfect for me,” he growled, his hips losing their rhythm as your walls bared down on him, sucking him back in every time he pulled out.

“Reg,” you whimpered, sagging against the couch as the strength bled out of of you.

He pulled out suddenly, pumping his cock in his fist, your honey coating him. “Stay just like that, pretty girl. All fucked out and used. All mine—” a guttural groan broke the final word as he came in his hand, spraying ropes of cum over your rumpled skirt and Ravenclaw sweater, his head thrown back. He looked gorgeous milking himself for you, his muscles flexing with the effort, sweat beading along his skin.

He slowly relaxed, chest heaving, and looked down at you, ruined and covered in his cum. You stared back, completely starstruck by what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, draping himself over you and pressing ksises to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I—”

“Me too,” you interrupted him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I know how hard things are for you, at home, I mean, and I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no. I deserved it. I shouldn’t have brought up your family—”

“But I kept—”

“I never meant too—”

You both exhaled, laughing softly at your rushed confessions, the sudden, giddy nervousness that bloomed between you where there once was glacial wit and razor-sharp banter. He sat you both up, removing your stained sweater and straightening your skirt, then righted himself.

“What now?” You asked when he finished fussing, studying his flushed cheeks, his tousled hair.

He sighed, suddenly looking grim, and your heart gave a nervous thump. “We find a way to keep you safe, lamb,” he said, meeting your eyes. “But until then, we should act like nothing’s changed. Okay?”

Uncertainty coiled in your stomach, but you nodded. “Okay.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thanks for reading!

[muiitoloko]

I'm EATING all of the Severus' fanfics and I haven’t seen one about daddy Severus, where his private, not secret, love (also a teacher from Hogwarts) is pregnant and he's so fluffy and protective about his new little family. Thank you for your work on all these stories *kisses to your brain* 🩷🩷🩷🩷

(Also if yall have father-to-be Severus fanfics recs please share, I beg)

Title: Daddy Snape's Dilemma.

Summary: The feared Potions Master reveals a softer side as he prepares for the arrival of his child, though his strict nature remains. Balancing love and discipline, Severus discovers that fatherhood is as complex as any potion.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: I love your enthusiasm for Severus fics—who can resist the allure of a fluffy, protective Daddy Severus, right? 🩷🩷🩷 Your idea is so sweet; I might have to dive into that territory myself! As for father-to-be Severus fanfics, I have to admit, I don't usually read them, so I'm not too familiar with what's out there. It's quite rare for me to venture into Snape fanfics. But hey, maybe @smilingformoney has some hidden gems or knows where to find them! *kisses to your brain back* 😄

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

You sighed with relief as you settled behind your desk after finishing the last lesson of the day with the second-year students. The Ancient Runes classroom was quiet now, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of a few moments ago. You allowed yourself a moment to caress your growing belly, smiling softly as you felt the gentle flutter of movement within. At five months pregnant, your belly was getting bigger with each passing day, and though you loved the feeling of your child growing inside you, you couldn't deny that it was also becoming more tiring. Your magic had become unpredictable, surging with emotion and exhaustion, which made your job as a professor a bit more challenging than usual.

Despite all this, you stubbornly refused to take things easy, as your beloved husband, Severus Snape, had repeatedly suggested—no, insisted upon. But "suggested" was putting it mildly. Severus could be a pain in the ass when he wanted to be, and now that he knew he was going to be a father, his overprotectiveness had reached new levels.

You chuckled to yourself, remembering how he had practically growled at poor Professor Flitwick earlier that day when the tiny Charms professor had approached you, his usual cheerful demeanor evident as he asked if he could feel the baby kick. Severus had swooped in like a bat out of hell, his dark robes billowing behind him as he inserted himself between you and Flitwick.

“Absolutely not, Flitwick,” Severus had snapped, his tone icy. “My wife is not a spectacle for your amusement.”

Flitwick, who was well accustomed to Severus’ gruff manner, had only chuckled in response, backing away with his hands raised in mock surrender. “My apologies, Severus, I didn’t mean any offense. Just a bit of fatherly curiosity.”

Severus had glowered at him, his dark eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “Fatherly or not, I’ll thank you to keep your distance.” He had then turned to you, his expression softening just enough to show his concern, but not enough to lose his characteristic sternness. “You should be resting,” he had admonished, his voice lowering to a tone that was meant only for your ears. “These students and staff can manage without you for a while.”

“I’m fine, Severus,” you had replied, smiling at him despite his overbearing attitude. “Besides, I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

He had given you one of his signature looks—a mix of exasperation and something deeper, something softer, that he would never admit to in front of others. “You’re far too stubborn for your own good,” he had muttered before storming off, his robes swirling dramatically around him.

You shook your head fondly at the memory, amused by how protective Severus had become. It wasn’t just the staff he was wary of, but the students as well. You had heard from several sources that he had taken to patrolling the hallways near your classroom during your lessons, his presence enough to intimidate even the bravest of Gryffindors into behaving. There were rumors among the students that he had placed extra wards around your classroom, though you had yet to confirm them.

The door to your office creaked open, pulling you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Minerva McGonagall stepping inside, her stern expression softening into a smile when she saw you. “Good evening, dear,” she greeted warmly. “I just wanted to check in on you before I head to dinner.”

“Good evening, Minerva,” you replied, returning her smile. “I’m managing well, thank you. And how are you?”

Minerva’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, the usual chaos,” she said with a fond sigh. “The Gryffindors are keeping me on my toes, as always. And I hear Severus is keeping you well-protected?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “That’s one way to put it. He’s being Daddy Snape in full force.”

Minerva raised an eyebrow at the nickname, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Daddy Snape, you say? I dare say he’s earned that title.”

You nodded, feeling a surge of affection for your husband, even if his overprotectiveness could be a bit much at times. “He certainly has,” you said softly, your hand resting on your belly. “He growled at Flitwick today for simply asking to feel the baby kick.”

Minerva chuckled at that, shaking her head. “Poor Filius. I can only imagine Severus’ reaction. But don’t worry, my dear. Severus means well, even if he’s a bit… overzealous in his protectiveness.”

“Yes, I know,” you agreed. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Though sometimes I think he’s more afraid of you than anyone else. You’re the only one he allows to touch my belly without glaring daggers.”

Minerva’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she stepped closer, her hand hovering just above your belly. “May I?”

“Of course,” you said with a smile, moving Minerva’s hand to the side where you felt a small kick. “Right there.”

Minerva’s eyes softened as she felt the gentle movement, a warm smile spreading across her face. “He’s going to be a wonderful father,” she said quietly, her gaze meeting yours.

“Yes, he is,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat as you thought about the future. “He’s already so devoted, even if he drives me mad sometimes."

Minerva patted your hand reassuringly before stepping back. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, my dear. But if Severus gives you too much trouble, just let me know. I’ll have a word with him.”

You laughed softly at that. “I’ll keep that in mind, Minerva. Thank you.”

As Minerva left your office, you leaned back in your chair, feeling the baby move again beneath your hand. You couldn’t help but smile, thinking of Severus and his fierce protectiveness. He might be a pain in the ass, but he was your pain in the ass, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

You were just beginning to relax when the door to your office swung open with a loud bang, and Severus Snape stormed in, his expression a mixture of irritation and concern.

“What did I say about resting?” he demanded, his voice sharp as he approached your desk.

You raised an eyebrow at him, refusing to be intimidated by his tone. “I was resting, Severus. I was just sitting here, minding my own business.”

He huffed, clearly not satisfied with your answer. “You need to be more careful. You’re overexerting yourself, and it’s affecting your magic. I’ve noticed the fluctuations.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Severus, I’m fine. The baby’s fine. You’re just being overprotective.”

“I have every right to be,” he shot back, crossing his arms over his chest as he loomed over you. “There are too many dangers, especially with that lunatic Black on the loose.”

You sighed, knowing that Severus’ worries were not unfounded. The news of Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban had shaken the entire wizarding world, and you knew it weighed heavily on Severus, given their complicated history.

“I know you’re worried, Severus,” you said gently, reaching out to take his hand. “But I’m safe here. And I have you watching over me.”

His expression softened slightly as he looked down at you, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of concern and affection. “I just want to keep you and our child safe,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“And you are,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand gently. “But you don’t need to do it alone. We have Minerva, and the other staff, and even Dumbledore. We’re surrounded by people who care about us.”

Severus sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he seemed to accept your words. “I suppose you’re right,” he muttered, though there was still a hint of reluctance in his tone.

“Of course I’m right,” you teased, smiling up at him. “Now, how about you help me back to our quarters so I can actually get some rest? I think Daddy Snape could use a break too.”

He gave you a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated, but the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. “Very well,” he said, his tone begrudging. “But don’t think for a moment that I’m going to stop being overprotective. It’s in my nature.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you replied, standing up and allowing him to wrap his arm around your waist, guiding you out of the office.

As you walked together through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Despite his gruff exterior and overbearing nature, Severus was a man who loved deeply, and you were lucky enough to be the recipient of that love. Even if it meant enduring his overprotectiveness, you knew it came from a place of genuine care and devotion.

And as you leaned into his side, feeling the warmth of his presence, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together—with Severus by your side, and your growing family at the heart of it all.

Later that evening, you found yourself in the cozy warmth of your quarters, the comforting crackle of the fire in the hearth filling the room with a soft glow. The scent of your simple dinner—a warm stew, bread, and some pumpkin juice—wafted through the air. Severus sat across from you at the small dining table, his dark eyes focused intently on the book he held in one hand. The other hand was absentmindedly stirring his stew with his spoon, though it was clear that his mind was far from the meal in front of him.

You watched him with a fond smile, amused by how deeply engrossed he was in his reading. The book’s title, The Art of Parenting: A Wizard’s Guide, was clearly visible, and you stifled a laugh at the intensity with which Severus was absorbing every word. He looked every bit the severe Potions Master as he read, his brow furrowed in concentration, but the subject matter was decidedly different from his usual fare.

"Did you know," he began suddenly, not looking up from the book, "that at five months, our child is approximately the size of a grapefruit? A grapefruit," he repeated, as though the concept was particularly profound. "And according to this, the baby’s bones are starting to harden now. Quite the development."

You bit your lip to keep from laughing out loud. The way Severus delivered this information—with all the seriousness of a professor lecturing on the properties of a rare potion—was both endearing and hilarious. He was so intent on getting everything right, so determined to master the art of fatherhood just as he had mastered potions and the Dark Arts.

He finally looked up from the book, his expression serious. “It also says here that you should be consuming more calcium. It’s essential for the baby’s bone development. I’ve already spoken to the house-elves; they’ll be bringing you more dairy from now on.”

“Severus,” you began, your tone light, “I appreciate your concern, really, but I think you’re worrying a bit too much. I’ve been eating just fine.”

He ignored your reassurances, setting the book down on the table with a decisive thud. “Worrying too much?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “This is our child we’re talking about. I’ll not have anything less than the utmost care taken, especially given the circumstances.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, knowing full well what he meant by “the circumstances.” The looming threat of Sirius Black was never far from his mind, and it only fueled his already fierce protectiveness. “Severus, everything is going to be fine,” you said gently, trying to soothe his frayed nerves. “We’re safe here. And as for the baby, I promise I’m taking care of myself.”

But Severus was not easily placated. “You may be taking care of yourself, but I’ll not have you neglecting anything that could potentially aid in our child’s development.” He leaned forward slightly, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Did you know,” he continued in that same lecturing tone, “that the baby can now hear sounds from outside the womb? My voice, your voice… even the drivel those dunderheads of Gryffindors spout during class.”

At this, you couldn’t help it—you burst into laughter. The image of your unborn child listening to the Hogwarts students’ chatter was too much to handle. “Severus,” you said, your voice tinged with amusement, “you’re treating this like one of your potion experiments. I half expect you to start measuring out ingredients for a perfect pregnancy potion.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed, though you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You may laugh,” he said darkly, “but this is serious business. Do you think this book exists merely to amuse witches and wizards with idle facts? It’s a manual for the correct upbringing of our offspring.”

“I know it’s serious,” you replied, still smiling. “And I’m glad you’re so invested. But you don’t have to treat it like a potion with exact measurements and timed stirring.”

He sighed, a long-suffering sound, as though he was dealing with a particularly obstinate student. “I simply want to be prepared,” he muttered, glancing down at your belly, his expression softening ever so slightly. “I want to give our child the best start in life. Is that so unreasonable?”

Your heart melted at his words, and you reached across the table to take his hand in yours. “It’s not unreasonable at all,” you said softly. “In fact, I think it’s one of the things I love most about you. But remember, Severus, parenting isn’t something you can learn entirely from a book. We’ll figure it out together, one day at a time.”

He held your gaze for a moment, then nodded, his usual stoicism returning. “Perhaps you’re right,” he conceded. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be as informed as possible.” He picked up the book again, flipping through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. ���And according to this,” he said, his voice taking on that lecturing tone once more, “we should also be preparing the nursery soon. The baby will need a proper environment—calm, quiet, and free from distractions.”

You stifled another laugh, knowing full well that Severus’s idea of a proper environment would likely resemble his own quarters—dark, orderly, and intimidatingly silent. “Calm and quiet,” you echoed. “That sounds about right. But I’m not sure our child will appreciate the dungeon aesthetic as much as you do.”

Severus shot you a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “I’ll have you know, dungeons are perfectly suitable for raising a child. They’re secure, temperature-controlled, and free from unnecessary frivolities.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll keep that in mind when we start decorating. Maybe we can paint the walls a nice shade of midnight black?”

He looked at you for a long moment, and then, to your surprise, he let out a low chuckle. It was a rare sound, and it warmed your heart to hear it. “You’re incorrigible,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “But perhaps�� a bit of color wouldn’t be entirely out of the question.”

Your grin widened. “See? We’re already compromising. We’re going to be great parents, Sev.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in that way it only did when it was just the two of you. “Yes,” he said quietly, his hand tightening around yours. “I believe we will.”

And as you sat there together, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. The future might be uncertain, and the challenges ahead might be daunting, but with Severus by your side, you knew you could face anything. Even if it meant enduring countless lectures on parenting techniques and the optimal conditions for nursery decor. After all, that was just part of the adventure.

After dinner, Severus insisted on helping you undress and prepare for bed. His hands, usually so precise and controlled in the brewing of potions, were surprisingly gentle as he unbuttoned your robes. The dim light from the fire flickered across his face, casting shadows that deepened the stern lines of his features, but you could see the care in his eyes, even as he kept his expression carefully neutral.

"Severus, you don’t have to do this every night," you teased softly, watching as he folded your robes with meticulous care, his long fingers smoothing out any wrinkles.

He glanced at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "I’m perfectly aware that you are capable of undressing yourself," he replied, his voice its usual low, measured tone. "But considering your current condition, I prefer to ensure that you’re not overexerting yourself."

You smiled, touched by his concern, even if it came wrapped in his typical bluntness. "I appreciate it, truly. But you do realize that pregnancy doesn’t turn me into a delicate flower, right?"

He didn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on helping you into the bath he had prepared. The warm water enveloped you, the scent of lavender filling the air, and you sighed contentedly as you leaned back against the tub’s edge. Severus knelt beside you, his stern face softening slightly as he watched you relax.

"Perhaps not," he said quietly after a moment, his deep voice almost a murmur. "But it does make you and our child more vulnerable. I won’t take any chances."

You reached out to touch his hand, appreciating the rare moment of vulnerability in his words. He allowed the contact, his fingers curling slightly around yours, though his expression remained stoic.

"Thank you, Severus," you whispered, feeling a swell of affection for the man who, despite his gruff exterior, cared so deeply for you and your unborn child.

Later, when you were settled into bed, Severus surprised you by bending down to your belly. His tall, lean figure cast a long shadow over the bed, and you raised an eyebrow, curious about what he was doing. He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of how to proceed, before finally speaking.

"Now, listen here," he began, his voice taking on that stern, lecturing tone he often used with his students, "I expect you not to pay any attention to the nonsense that the Gryffindors will undoubtedly try to fill your head with. Your father is here to ensure that you grow up with a proper understanding of what it means to be a powerful wizard or witch, a true Slytherin."

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, your amusement growing as Severus continued his one-sided conversation with your unborn child.

"You will excel in Potions, of course," he went on, his tone brooking no argument, "and in the Dark Arts as well. I will personally see to it that you are well-versed in the most advanced magical disciplines. No child of mine will be anything less than exceptional."

He paused, as if considering something deeply troubling, and you couldn’t resist asking, "And what if our child is sorted into Gryffindor?"

Severus straightened up immediately, his expression darkening as he fixed you with a glare. "That," he said, his voice cold and firm, "will not happen."

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing at the sheer indignation in his voice. "You can’t control the Sorting Hat, Severus. What if it does happen? Can you imagine? A Gryffindor in our family? The horror!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously, but you could see the flicker of something else—perhaps a bit of horror, mixed with a grudging amusement—beneath the surface. "I’ll have a word with the Sorting Hat, if necessary," he muttered darkly. "There will be no Gryffindors under my roof."

"Really, Severus? You’d try to influence the Sorting Hat? I never knew you were so biased!" you teased, still laughing.

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit the brooding Potions Master you had fallen in love with. "It’s not bias," he retorted, his tone icy, "it’s practicality. A Gryffindor child would be… disruptive."

You smiled at him, loving how serious he was taking this hypothetical scenario. "And what would you do if, by some twist of fate, our child did end up in Gryffindor?"

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, a sound full of reluctant resignation. "I suppose," he said slowly, as though the words were being dragged out of him against his will, "I would have to… tolerate it."

You grinned widely, knowing how much it pained him to even consider the possibility. "Tolerate, hmm? That’s quite generous of you, Severus."

He scowled, clearly not amused by your teasing. "Don’t push your luck," he warned, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth that betrayed his amusement.

You reached out to him, pulling him down beside you on the bed. He allowed himself to be drawn into your embrace, his usually stiff posture relaxing slightly as you rested your head on his chest.

"Whatever house our child ends up in," you said softly, your voice filled with affection, "they’ll be loved, and they’ll have the best father in the world."

Severus didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel the way his hand tightened around yours, a silent acknowledgment of your words. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more vulnerable than you were used to hearing.

"I’ll do my best," he murmured, his tone almost self-deprecating. "Though I make no promises about how I’ll handle a Gryffindor in the family."

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I’m sure you’ll manage, Severus. You’ve already proven you’re more than capable of handling the unexpected."

He huffed softly, the sound almost a laugh, before wrapping his arms around you more tightly. "Sleep now," he said, his voice returning to its usual firmness. "You need your rest."

You closed your eyes, feeling safe and content in his embrace. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but imagine the future—the laughter, the challenges, the love—and you knew that, no matter what house your child ended up in, you and Severus would face it together.

Even if that meant surviving the potential heart attack Severus would have if his child ever donned the scarlet and gold of Gryffindor.

[dinarosie]

Re-Reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: Snape’s Moment of Unyielding Bravery

The scene I want to highlight in The Goblet of Fire is one that carries so much weight, and each time I re-read it, the gravity of the moment only increases. Imagine the setting: the hospital wing. It’s packed with people—Cornelius Fudge, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Bill and Molly Weasley, Hermione, Ron, and Harry. All eyes are on Snape as he steps forward, pulls up his sleeve, and reveals the Dark Mark burned into his skin.

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too.

Let that sink in. Snape isn’t just showing a Mark; he’s exposing the deepest, darkest secret of his life. He’s standing in front of his students, his colleagues, and—let’s not forget—Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, and he’s admitting something most people would bury forever.

What makes this even more remarkable is that the choice to do this wasn’t something Dumbledore told him to make. This isn’t part of some grand plan discussed beforehand. Snape makes this decision on his own, in the moment, fully aware of how it will tarnish him in the eyes of others. Why?

Because Snape understands the stakes. Fudge’s denial of Voldemort’s return endangers the entire wizarding world. By exposing the Dark Mark on his arm, Snape hopes to convince Fudge to take Voldemort’s return seriously. His goal is clear: to push the Ministry into taking precautionary measures and preparing the wizarding community for the battle ahead.

And then there’s this haunting line:

“…We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

What Snape doesn’t say, but what we understand, is that he knows he’s facing the exact same fate. When Snape goes back to Voldemort, he knows he’ll be met with pain, torture, and humiliation and even death. Where Karkaroff sees only a way out, Snape sees his duty—a stark contrast that underscores Snape’s resolve.

Here’s what makes this even more powerful: Snape is so determined to convince Fudge that he uses the suffering he knows awaits him as evidence. He stands there, knowing that returning to Voldemort will mean enduring unbearable torture, and he uses that as proof of Voldemort’s return. Snape essentially says, “I know what’s coming for me, and I’m still standing here to tell you the truth.”

Then we reach the next turning point in this scene:

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

Look at Dumbledore’s approach here. He’s cautious, almost hesitant. This is a sharp contrast to Half-Blood Prince, where Dumbledore gives Snape direct orders about killing him. Here, Dumbledore knows exactly what he’s asking of Snape: to return to Voldemort, to put himself in unimaginable danger.

And Snape’s response?

“I am.”

That’s it. Two words. No hesitation, no complaint. J.K. Rowling describes him as pale, his cold, dark eyes glittering strangely. Dumbledore, too, is described as watching Snape leave with a trace of apprehension on his face. Both of them know that Snape might not come back. Both of them know he’s walking into the lion’s den. And yet, Snape doesn’t waver.

This moment is a masterclass in bravery, but it also completely dismantles the argument that Snape’s good deeds are purely motivated by guilt over Lily or his promise to Dumbledore.

This scene also shows us that the promise Snape made to Dumbledore after Lily’s death wasn’t just about protecting Harry. It was about choosing a side. Snape made the decision to fight against Voldemort, no matter the cost. From that moment on, he dedicated himself to sabotaging the Dark Lord’s plans, enduring unspeakable pain and danger in the process.

And let’s not overlook this: Snape doesn’t just fight when Harry is in danger. He fights Voldemort at every opportunity because he knows it’s the right thing to do. He does it not because of guilt or obligation, but because his own moral compass demands it.

This scene in The Goblet of Fire encapsulates everything that makes Snape such a complex, fascinating character. It’s raw, vulnerable, and incredibly brave. Snape isn’t perfect—far from it—but this moment proves that he is so much more than the sum of his flaws. He’s a man who chooses to stand and fight, even when it means sacrificing everything.

[ms-snape]

Imagine.. reader is Sirius sister and she is in secret relationship with Severus (she is teacher in Hogwarts too). In Grimmauld place at order meeting Severus and Sirius are arguing again. She can’t take it anymore and starts screaming there on both of them and accidentally came out with her and Severus little secret. And everyone are like whaaat ? Dumbledore is like: I knew it all along.

Title: Secret Forbidden Love

Résumé : Severus Snape entretient une relation secrète avec la sœur de l'intimidateur de son école, que se passe-t-il lorsqu'il le découvre ?

Attention : angoisse, mais fin heureuse

nombre de mots : 2000+

liste maîtresse

---

The flickering candlelight danced on the stone walls of Severus Snape's private chambers, casting long shadows that intertwined like the tangled emotions within the room. YN Black, professor of herbology and Sirius Black's sister stood, by the small window, her silhouette framed against the night sky, her heart racing as she felt Severus’s presence behind her. The warmth of his breath brushed her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

“Are you sure this is wise?” he murmured, his voice low, laced with a hint of concern. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin.

“Wise? No,” she replied, turning to face him, her eyes bright with mischief. “But it feels right.” She stepped closer, the distance between them collapsing as she leaned into him. The world outside faded, leaving just the two of them, enveloped in the cocoon of secrecy that their love had woven amidst the chaos of the wizarding world.

Severus’s lips curled into a ghost of a smile, a rare sight that made YN’s heart swell. “You are a reckless woman,” he teased softly, but his voice betrayed the warmth he felt for her. She knew he would never admit it, but his heart was as entwined with hers as the roots of the mandrakes they tended to in Herbology class.

“Only for you,” she whispered, and then she closed the gap between them, tasting the bittersweet flavor of passion and danger on his lips. They melted into a kiss, a moment of stolen bliss that felt both electrifying and forbidden.

But as the summer sun began to rise, so did the reality that awaited them.

---

The stone walls of 12, Grimmauld Place echoed with the tension of the gathering Order members. Flickering candles cast dancing shadows across the room, illuminating the faces of those present, each marked by the weight of their shared burden. At the head of the table, Albus Dumbledore sat, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, while Sirius Black paced restlessly nearby, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Snape hasn’t changed, Albus,” Sirius insisted, his voice rising, a stark contrast to the calm ambiance. “He’s still a Death Eater at heart. We can’t trust him!”

“Enough, Black,” Severus Snape retorted, his voice low and edged with disdain. He leaned back in his chair, dark robes pooling around him like shadows. “I have proven my loyalty time and again. Your inability to see beyond your own prejudice is your weakness.”

“Prejudice? You call it prejudice when I refuse to trust a man who would sell his own soul for a chance at power?” Sirius shot back, fists clenching at his sides. “You are a coward and always will be, Snivellus!”

The tension in the room thickened, and Yn, seated quietly at the far end, felt her heart race. As a professor of Herbology, she had spent years cultivating patience and understanding, but the childish bickering between her brother and Severus was grating on her last nerve.

“Enough!” Yn’s voice rang out, firm and clear. She rose from her seat, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall, catching the candlelight. “This is not the time or place for your petty squabbles. We have far more important matters to discuss.”

Sirius shot her a glare, eyes narrowing. “You’re on his side now? You don’t even know what he is capable of!”

“Actually, I do.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and the room fell silent, a collective breath held in anticipation.

“What do you mean by that?” Sirius asked, voice low and dangerous.

With a sudden rush of courage—or perhaps foolishness—Yn took a step closer to Severus, her heart in her throat. “Because Severus and I are…dating.” The admission hung in the air like a spell that had gone wrong, the shock palpable.

Gasps echoed around the room. But Dumbledore merely raised an eyebrow, as if he had expected this revelation. Sirius’s face twisted in disbelief, anger radiating off him in waves.

“You’re joking,” he breathed, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. “You cannot be serious, Yn. You’re dating him? That—”

“Is none of your business!” she snapped, feeling the heat of her brother’s gaze like a physical blow. “I’m not a child, Sirius. I can make my own choices.”

“This monster has hurt many people before, and you think he’s changed, what makes you think he won't hurt you just as well?” Sirius’s voice trembled with a mixture of fury and heartbreak. “I won’t allow it!”

“Allow it?” Yn’s voice cracked, her emotions spilling over. “Who do you think you are to dictate my life? To tell me who I can and cannot love?”

“Love? You call this love?” Sirius spat, his face pale with anger. “You’re putting yourself in danger. He’s playing you, Yn!”

“Enough!” Severus interjected, his voice colder than the winter winds. “This is between Yn and me. You will not speak to her as if she was a child.”

“The problem is you’re not just some charming suitor—” Sirius shot back, but Yn stepped in, her heart racing.

“He's right, I’m not a child, Sirius!” she yelled, tears brimming in her eyes. “I know you just wanna protect me, espicially after what happened to Regulus, but I can take care of myself!”

The mention of her lost brother struck a chord, and the room fell silent again, the weight of grief settling heavily upon them. Sirius’s eyes softened momentarily, but his anger flared back to life.

“You’re making a mistake! I won’t stand by and watch you ruin your life!”

“Ruin my life?” Yn’s voice cracked, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “You've spent most of your life in Azkaban because you chose revenge, you don’t know anything about me or what I want!”

With that, she turned on her heel, storming out of the room. Her footsteps echoed in the hall, a stark reminder of the conflict left unresolved.

Sirius stared after her, guilt gnawing at him. The last time he had seen his sister cry was when Regulus died, and the memory twisted in his chest like a knife. But pride held him back; he didn’t want to admit he was wrong.

“Leave her be, Sirius,” Dumbledore said softly, his voice filled with understanding. “She needs time.”

“Time? She’s with him!” Sirius snapped, gesturing toward Severus. “What if he hurts her? I won’t let that happen!”

Severus, who had remained silent through most of the confrontation, felt a flicker of something akin to guilt. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He hadn’t wanted to cause a rift between the siblings.

“I’ll speak to her,” he said, rising from his chair.

“Not without my permission,” Sirius warned, eyes fierce.

“Enough!” Dumbledore interjected, his voice commanding. “This is not a battlefield, gentlemen. We are fighting a war, and if you cannot set aside your differences for the sake of the mission, you will find yourselves at a greater loss.”

“And Sirius, you must know that we are often surprised by the paths others choose,” Dumbledore continue, his voice gentle but firm. “But it is not our place to judge the journey, only to trust that love—wherever it is found—brings with it the potential for great courage and even greater understanding.”

Sirius’s shoulders slumped, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. He turned away, staring out the window at the darkening sky.

Yn leaned against her door, her heart racing, tears streaming down her face. How had it come to this? She had hoped that her relationship with Severus would be a source of strength, not a point of contention. She felt trapped between loyalty to her brother and her love for Severus, a tangled web of emotions that left her feeling breathless.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts, and she wiped her eyes hastily. “Go away,” she called, her voice thick with sadness.

“Yn?” Severus’s voice was low, almost tentative. “May I come in?”

She hesitated but finally opened the door. Severus stood there, his dark eyes searching hers, concern etched on his features.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stepping inside. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It’s not your fault,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s just…Sirius doesn’t understand. He’s hurting and he's doesn't see it.”

“I know.” Severus’s voice was gentle, a contrast to the sharpness that had characterized their earlier confrontation. “But I can’t change who I am. I can’t change how I feels. All I can do is be here for you.”

The sincerity in his voice warmed her, and she took a shaky breath. “I don’t want to choose between you two,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t,” he said firmly, crossing the room to stand before her. “You can be loyal to your brother and still love me. He’ll come around eventually.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” she whispered, looking up at him, searching for reassurance. “What if I lose him forever? I've already spent twelve years without him, Severus”

Severus reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then we will find a way to make it work. Together.”

His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding her in the chaos of her thoughts.

Days passed, the tension palpable within Grimmauld Place. Sirius avoided her, and every time she caught a glimpse of him, guilt twisted in her stomach. She missed her brother, and the silence between them felt insurmountable.

One evening, as Yn prepared for bed, a soft knock broke through her thoughts. She opened the door to find Sirius standing there, his expression a mix of determination and regret.

“Can I come in?” he asked, voice softer than she’d ever heard.

“Of course,” she replied, stepping aside.

Sirius entered, shifting awkwardly in the small space, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I’ve been a right git,” he began, his voice low. “And I’m sorry. I just…” He hesitated, searching for the words. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. Not again.”

Tears pricked her eyes, and she nodded, unable to speak.

“I know I can’t dictate your life,” he continued, his voice gaining strength. “But I’m your brother, and I care. I just—” He paused, taking a deep breath. “If you’re going to be with him, I need to know that he’s not going to hurt you.”

Yn crossed her arms, heart racing. “He won’t, Sirius. He’s different now. He’s changed.You just weren't here to see it”

Sirius studied her for a moment, the anger in his eyes fading, replaced by something softer. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy” she said firmly. “With him. I love him, Sirius.”

The confession hung in the air, and Sirius let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I hate that I can’t just accept this,” he muttered, pacing the room. “I just—he’s Snape. He’s always been Snape.”

“Maybe it’s time to let that go,” she said, her voice steady. “You have to let me make my own choices.”

Sirius stopped, turning to face her, vulnerability etched in every line of his face. “I just wish you’d chosen someone else, someone-”

“Someone safer?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You want me to date someone you approve of? That’s not how love works, Sirius. It’s not just about safety; it’s also about connection and heart.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then closed it, the fight leaving him. “I don’t want to lose you,not after… Regulus” he admitted, his voice breaking.

“You won’t,” she promised, stepping closer, reaching for his hands. “I’ll always be your sister, no matter what.”

A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Then, Sirius pulled her into a tight embrace, and she melted against him, feeling the warmth of family wrap around her.

“I just want you to be safe,” he murmured into her hair, and she felt the tremor in his voice.

“I will be,” she whispered back, her heart swelling with love for her brother. “I promise.”

The next day, as the sun broke through the clouds, casting light upon the darkened house, Yn found Severus in the garden, tending to the herbs she had planted. The vibrant greens and delicate blooms stood in stark contrast to the somber atmosphere of Grimmauld Place.

“Hey,” she said softly, approaching him.

Severus looked up, his expression softening at the sight of her. “How did your conversation with your brother go?”

“He’s…coming around,” she replied, a small smile breaking through her earlier worries. “He just needs time.”

“Time,” Severus echoed, a hint of skepticism in his tone. “That can be a double-edged sword.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, reaching out to touch a petal of a blooming herb. “But I think he’ll come to see that we’re not just some reckless fling. This is real between us.”

Severus stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “And what if he doesn’t? What if he never accepts this?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” she said firmly, determination swirling within her. “I won’t let fear dictate my happiness.”

For a moment, Severus studied her, and then his lips curled into a rare smile. “You are far more stubborn than I anticipated.”

“Stubbornness is a family trait,” she teased, her heart swelling with affection. “But that doesn't stop me from loving you”

As they stood together, the sun casting a warm glow around them, Yn felt a sense of peace settle within her. The path ahead was uncertain, but her heart was anchored in the knowledge that love, no matter how complicated, was worth fighting for.

And as the winds of change swept through the garden, Yn knew she would stand strong—both for herself and for the love she had chosen, no matter who stood against her.

[g1rld1ary]

red carpets - actor!sirius black x actress!reader

wc: 942

cw: none! you catch sight of sirius on the red carpet

tag: @lovemenotts

The sheer amount of noise surrounding you was making you light-headed. Yet, you plastered on a smile, smoothed out your silky skirt and stepped onto the red carpet. Your smile didn’t budge as you inched down the carpet, performing for the hungry cameras and the sometimes scary men behind them. You grit your teeth as they yell commands, changing pose as they desire, waiting to get to the interview portion of the red carpet. At least the journalists had to be polite to you.

A woman from some gossip rag you purposefully avoid reading calls you over and you consciously boost your smile again, turning up the energy to 100. She’s nice, at least, and a good conversationalist. Too many interviewers left you to pick up their slack and carry the conversation as if it weren’t their job to be digging for the information they want.

“How does it feel to be nominated for an Emmy in your first foray into television?” She asks and you beam.

“It’s such an honour, really. I mean, this show is such a labour of love, Lily put her heart and soul into the writing, so I’m just so grateful I got to be the one to bring it to life. It’s so amazing that we’re both being nominated tonight,” You answer with a practised grace, giving a glance to the camera behind the interviewer.

The conversation continues and you find yourself enjoying it more than you anticipated. The interviewer connects with you well and matches your excited energy at being around celebrities. You figure it’s about time you move on, but give her one more question as a secret reward for her not being as invasive as the others usually are. She asks about your friendship with Lily and creating a project with someone you’d known forever and you grin again.

You start your answer, gushing over Lily’s talent for screenwriting and your friendship of ten years. You turn to look for her, meaning to gesture when your eyes get caught on something. Someone.

“Who is that?” You ask the interviewer, pointing out the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in your life. Long dark hair, dressed in all black with silver jewellery glinting in the flash of cameras, you basically fall in love at first sight.

“That’s Sirius Black,” The interviewer answers with a laugh.

“God, what is he from?” He’s honestly supernaturally good-looking, you’re not convinced he’s real.

“He co-created and stars in The Marauders series, you haven’t seen it yet?”

“No, I’ve been meaning to but I haven’t had the time — Lils says it really has to be appreciated so I’m waiting to dedicate significant time to it. He did not look like that on the poster.” The series is set in high school and so all the actors look different, younger, Sirius no exception. The dark eyeliner around his grey eyes creates a magnetic contrast that makes him look much more mature than his character.

“Is it safe to say you’ll be finding him at the after-party?” The interviewer asks cheekily. The situation comes back to you in an instant; you’re on camera and who knows how many people are seeing you thirst over another actor in real-time.

“God no,” You laugh, frantically trying to brush over the incident, “I don’t chase after boys. He’d have to work for my attention.” You wink in an attempt to deliver the joke and it goes over smoothly enough, the interviewer graciously letting it go and thanking you for your time. You thank her profusely.

You chance another glance at Sirius as you move on, all grace and long limbs as he effortlessly poses for photos and messes around with his co-stars, spirit not yet beaten out of him by Hollywood. You envy the way his cast talk all the way through the process, clearly extremely fond of each other. You would go to the ends of the earth for Lily, your best friend and writer of the show you star in, but your male lead couldn’t be more opposite. Severus Snape was someone you would never get along with, and your interviews consisted of forced smiles and camaraderie on your side and zero effort from him. You would love a cast like The Marauders, not that you would dare complain to Lily, who had given you so much.

You don’t end up meeting Sirius during the awards or the afterparty, unfortunately, though you do see him once more across the room and feel the flutter of intrigue in your stomach. The next awards ceremony you had a goal, and a series to watch in the meantime.

LOVE IS ON THE RED CARPET? EMMY WINNER ADMIRES NOMINEE SIRIUS BLACK

The clip from that interview goes viral, both your fans and Sirius’ dissecting every frame of the videos. Some focus on the subtle up-and-down you give him, slowing it down to a snail’s pace to catch every eye movement. Others focus on Sirius, swearing they could see his eyes flick over to you for a fraction of a second. The ultimate conclusion is that you two should be in love, or already are, and fan edits of both you and your characters are already surfacing on TikTok.

You sigh from your hotel bed, scrolling through an endless amount of photos of him and yourself. Your publicist would not be happy with you. Although, it could be a pretty good marketing strategy.

[starlight-sev]

Nothing’s Out to Get You (Post War!Snape x Reader)

Just because there’s peace outside now that the war’s over doesn’t mean there’s always peace inside.

Warnings: themes of ptsd and trauma. This is more of a comfort fic for these issues but please be aware these themes are brought up a few times throughout ❤️

A/N: i found this bone-chilling cover of The Bug Collector and my mind wandered. This is what came out of it. Enjoy 💕

Recovering from the war wasn’t easy.

Perhaps that was why you convinced Severus to move in with you. It was better to heal together than face your demons alone.

You had volunteered to bring him home after he was discharged from St. Mungo’s. You went in, expecting to have to fight your case for hours to get him to agree. To your surprise, as soon as the dreaded question left your lips, Severus nodded. Eagerly, even, which made your heart sink a little. After all, you seemed to be one of the only professors at Hogwarts that still respected him. You were one of the only people who knew the truth.

Harry hadn’t told the wizarding world the truth about Severus yet. You figured it would be a while before his real story came out.

You couldn’t let him fend for himself with the wounds he had. They only discharged him because he was no longer in critical condition, in order to make more room for other wizards that needed healing. Severus still had a long way to go in his own healing process. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself if something had happened to him while he was living alone, especially after having escaped death so narrowly.

He needed a friend by his side, and although you didn’t want to admit it openly, you did too.

You didn’t escape the war unharmed, either. A near miss with a Death Eater’s curse resulted in a steady tremble of your right hand. The nerves had been damaged, and no healer had been able to find a remedy strong enough to stop the trembling for good. Sometimes the shooting pain would be strong enough to wake you from your sleep, but you were beginning to manage. It was the only choice you had, really.

It had only been two months since the battle at Hogwarts, yet it felt as though you had aged fifteen years. With Severus being at your home, it made the days slightly more bearable.

The two of you existed as shadows in your home, orbiting each other in almost complete silence for most of the day. It was a stark contrast to how both of you behaved together at Hogwarts, often meeting on Friday nights to share a pot of tea and complain about that week’s troublemakers. You were the only one who could coax a smile out of Severus Snape.

Now, you couldn’t remember the last time either of you had smiled.

There’s a centipede, naked in your bedroom.

And you swear to god, the fucker’s out to get you.

You can still remember the way your blood ran cold the first time it happened.

Severus had been sleeping on your couch while you were in the process of cleaning out your office to turn into his new room. You woke in the middle of the night to a muffled sound. At first you thought it was a stray cat outside, but after a moment of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you heard it again.

It was a scream, loud enough to travel down the hall and through the closed door of your bedroom clearly.

Severus.

You threw the covers off, wincing as the abrupt motion sent a tiny shockwave through your hand. Throwing open your door, you raced down the hall to the living room. Your heart pounded as you fumbled for the small lamp by the coffee table, and you tried your best to ignore the images that played through your mind of that night you found Severus in the Shrieking Shack.

Severus lay curled up on your couch, his hands tightened into fists as he clutched the blanket around him. He was whimpering loudly, and from the dull light of the lamp, you could see he was sweating profusely. Your heart relaxed only slightly as you cast a worried glance to the bandages on his neck but luckily found them clean.

“Hey,” you whispered cautiously, kneeling down and resting your hands against the seat of the couch. “Sev. Wake up.”

You reached to touch him, but then froze, your trembling hand inches from his shoulder. You didn’t want to startle him awake and accidentally hurt him in the process.

“Severus,” you repeated, a little louder this time. “Wake up. Wake up!”

You tried your best to ignore how your voice trembles as it caught in your throat.

Severus woke with a gasp. His dark eyes shot open, but they were distant, foggy almost. He was still too far lost in his nightmare to focus on you.

You took a chance, inching forward to check if he was okay. As your hand touched his own, he hissed sharply and drew back, trembling despite the warmth radiating through your home.

“It’s me,” you managed to squeak out. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Severus finally seemed to notice you sitting there at the edge of the couch. His gaze swept over you and you watched as he frowned, as if he was trying to remember where he was.

“You’re in my home,” you continued. “You… I heard you screaming. You were having a nightmare.”

His eyes widened, and before you could stop him, he reached up to touch his bandages in the exact spot where Nagini had attacked. Panic filled his eyes for a brief moment, then confusion. You reached forward and grabbed his wrist tightly, gently easing his hand back down to his lap.

“God…” Severus muttered, passing his free hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I…”

A muffled sob escaped him as he kept his hand pressed over his eyes. Without thinking twice, you leaned forward and drew him into you. You held him tightly, despite the pain that shot through your hand as you did so.

“You’re safe now,” you whispered. “Nothing can hurt you now. You’re awake. You’re safe.”

You felt your heart crack as Severus rested his forehead against your shoulder.

“I-I’m here.” You said slowly. You reached up to caress his hair softly, feeling tears of your own fill your eyes as Severus sobbed, clutching you desperately as if you’d disappear.

You never thought you’d see the stoic and unshakable man you’d worked with for so many years fall apart in your arms this way.

Then again, you never imagined any of this would ever happen.

After that night, the two of you agreed to sleep in the same room together. And then, when that still wasn’t enough, in the same bed. It seemed to be the only way that both of you could fall asleep and leave behind the lingering memories and fear of the war.

There’s a praying mantis, prancing on your bathtub.

And you swear he’s a priest from a past life, come to get you.

The second time the war came back to haunt your home, it came after you.

You were in the kitchen drying dishes. A storm raged outside, but it didn’t bother you. You had grown to like the sound of thunder over the years you spent teaching at Hogwarts.

The day had been calm. Severus spent the morning sitting with you at your small wooden dining table and, for the first time in god knew how long, the two of you had actually laughed together over breakfast.

As you reached for a teacup to dry and put away, you heard a slight shuffle as Severus walked over to your bookshelf. You could just barely see him from the doorway as he peered at all the books you had crammed onto the shelf.

“You’ve finished Pride and Prejudice already?” You called out with a smile.

“Yes.” He replied matter-of-factly from the other room. “You’d better have more Austen on your shelf or I’m coming for your head.”

You giggled as you set the teacup back in the cabinet and reached for the second one.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never read her work before. Sense and Sensibility is on the bottom shelf, right side.”

“There is a god.” You laughed at Severus’ response. “Thank you.”

Before you could call out a reply, there was a flash outside your window.

That’s when time stopped.

You were no longer in your kitchen, but back there. In the courtyard of Hogwarts, running to catch up to Harry and his two friends as you raced against time to get to the Shrieking Shack. You looked to your right just as a bright flash of red shot your way. Then a fire in your hand.

“Y/N!”

The burning feeling in your right hand. It was all you could think about. The flash you saw. They were back. Coming for you. Ending it for good this time-

“Y/N, look at me.”

You heard someone crying. Was it Hermione? You were supposed to protect them, Harry and his friends. Did you fail?

“Y/N, come on!

Firm hands grasped either side of your face, snapping you back into reality. Severus stared at you with a strange combination of fright and determination.

“They’re back,” you gasped, wincing as Severus dug his fingertips into your shoulders tighter than you expected, an attempt to bring you out of your memories. “I-”

“It was lightning,” Severus replied quietly, resting one hand over your trembling one. You whimpered as you remembered the pain that shot through it that night the moment the curse hit you. “No one is outside. It was lighting, Y/N. It was the storm.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, but that only made the memories come back stronger. You opened your eyes again, your gaze landing on the shattered teacup that lay inches away from where you sat.

Severus guided your chin up until your eyes met his again.

“Stay like this,” he commanded softly. “Eyes on me. Breathe.”

He took a deep breath, and motioned for you to follow. You couldn’t stop shaking.

“It’s still there,” you whispered in defeat. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

Severus nodded his understanding as he caressed your cheek comfortingly. His features creased into a worried frown as he watched you try to catch your breath.

“Look at me, Y/N. Eyes on me, not the floor.”

You had to fight to tear your eyes away from the teacup. Severus smiled softly as your eyes met his once more.

“Good. Stay with me. You’re safe.”

I try my best…

…to prove that nothing’s out to get you.

The days turned to weeks, and then into months. Before you knew it, it had been a year since Severus had moved in with you.

You never believed people who said everything would heal with time, and a part of you still didn’t, but there were small things that had you thinking… perhaps there was an element of truth to that saying.

You saw it from time to time - moments of healing. It was in the way Severus placed a warm hand on your back as he passed behind you in your narrow kitchen. In the shared glances and gentle smiles the two of you exchanged over dinner. In the embraces you two gave each other before bed, which, as the months went on, turned into passionate kisses in the middle of the night.

Perhaps the fact that you and Severus had become lovers over the last few months contributed to why time felt increasingly gentle as it passed. Sure, there were still moments when you’d both be pulled right back into the war, but it happened less frequently. The painful, sharp edges of those memories had finally begun to dull.

You stood in the kitchen, slowly slicing strawberries as you watched the first few rays of sunrise begin to filter through the window. As you placed the slices into a bowl and reached for another berry, you felt a pair of arms gently circle around your waist.

“It’s not like you to be up early,” Severus grumbled as he kissed the shell of your ear. “Come back. Your side of the bed is too cold.”

“You weren’t supposed to be awake yet,” you replied with a laugh, turning your head just enough to kiss his nose. “I was planning on surprising you with breakfast in bed.”

“Mmm.” Severus began kissing your neck softly. “Sounds nice. I’d much rather have you in bed, though.”

You laughed and swatted at his arm as you resumed slicing strawberries.

Severus watched your motions in silence for a few moments, before his hand trailed back up your waist, across your arm, until his fingers rested over your right hand. You set your knife down and watched as Severus laced his fingers through your trembling ones.

“Does it hurt?” He asked quietly, stroking your thumb softly with his own. You shook your head.

“Not nearly as much as before. Sometimes I’ll still wake up in the night if I’m not careful and sleep on it funny… but it’s okay.”

“You should tell me when it hurts,” Severus murmured, leaning his head against yours. “I’ve been testing ingredients for various pain tonics, I think I might be close to finding a cure for your hand.”

You smiled at his statement. “It’s okay, really. The healers at St. Mungo’s said there’s nothing they can do. It’s permanent nerve damage.”

“Not if I can help it. There’s a cure for it until I know for certain I’ve tried everything I can.” Severus grumbled, his grip on your waist tightening. “Everyone at St. Mungo’s is a dunderhead. They discharged me when they knew I was no longer on the brink of death.”

You turned around, frowning at Severus disapprovingly. He sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face before kissing your forehead gently.

“Sorry. But you know it’s true. You did more to help me heal than they ever did.”

You nodded slowly, reaching your trembling fingers up to the scar on his neck. Your fingers hovered a few inches away, hesitant to touch the wound that had nearly claimed his life.

“It’s alright,” Severus reassured you. Your worried gaze met his warm, dark eyes. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He placed his hand over your own, and the firm pressure of the palm of his hand against the back of your own stilled the trembling for a few moments. He slowly pushed your hand forward until it rested gently against his scar.

“It really doesn’t hurt?” You asked doubtfully.

“Sometimes,” Severus began softly, a memory tugging his gaze far away from you for a moment. “It feels strange. As if I’m remembering the pain but not experiencing it. It’s dull. Far away. But it’s nothing compared to the pain I felt when I first came home with you.”

You looked up and met Severus’s gaze, and you gave him a tiny smile.

“Thanks for coming home with me.” You whispered. That earned a frown from him.

“You say that as if I did you a favour.” He replied.

“You did, in a way. I don’t think I’d have been able to survive all this without you.”

In response, Severus leaned in and kissed you. It was soft at first, barely there, until you reached up and pulled him closer to you. His grip tightened on your waist and you nearly melted as the kiss grew more and more passionate. You reached your hands up to caress his face, but then broke away, cursing silently as your hand began trembling more than usual.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “It’s hard to control sometimes.”

Severus shook his head and kissed your palm, before leaning in to kiss you once more.

“You’re alright.”

You nodded. This time, you believed him.

“I know. You are too.”

Severus gazed at you understandingly. He kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a few extra moments, before pulling you into a protective embrace.

“We both are.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Do you think Tom was the only student Dumbledore hated? I think Tom probably isn't the only Unfavorite Student and there are more out there that Dumbledore was successful at sabotaging.

(Side thought do you think Moody started out on Dumbledore's bad list but then worked very hard to "redeem" himself by trusting Dumbledore in all things and that's why he's so weirdly loyal to Dumbledore?)

Dumbledore and Hating People

The thing is that Tom Riddle does seem to hold a special place in Dumbledore's heart.

There are other characters we see who are also loathsome/have qualities that Dumbledore despises but it's in different ways/not to the same degree.

Dumbledore utterly loathes Lockhart, purposefully sets him up with the job so as to either destroy his reputation fundamentally or kill him. However, I'd say Dumbledore is contemptuous and dismissive of Lockhart. Dumbledore has 0 interest in the man beyond destroying him, and doesn't spend much time thinking about him beyond getting him in the castle and letting the curse do its work.

Dumbledore is dismissive and contemptuous of Cornelius Fudge, but again, doesn't focus on him much beyond pitying his shortsightedness and holding him in general contempt.

Dumbledore similarly doesn't love the Dursleys but it feels like that's in a way of he has 0 opinion or interest in Vernon and just... a very weird treatment of Petunia. I wouldn't even say he dislikes them, in fact, I think he likes the idea of them beyond the general disappointment in not treating Harry exactly the way he'd like (except they are doing that but he'll never say as much).

While we don't know that Dumbledore doesn't have stashes of memories he's painfully collected over the years, going to anyone who ever interacted with Tom Riddle and asking "please give me every memory you have ever had" only for the vast majority of them to slam the door in his face, given the focus he has on Tom Riddle it seems... unlikely...

Add this in with Tom's "dark glamour", the way Dumbledore talks about him, the way he pontificates about him as if he's a fictional character and Dumbledore is writing fanfiction and metas about the man, and we're looking at a... I'll call it a fixation where Tom hit all the right buttons for Albus Dumbledore in a way that other people just haven't.

Basically, the people we see Dumbledore hate just aren't hot enough (or are women so Dumbledore doesn't care).

I'll put it this way. Harry's easily Dumbledore's second fixation, he puts a lot of work into this boy, but Dumbledore's way less... into him is the only way I can put it, than Tom. Harry's there as a vehicle/means to destroy Tom and acts as a foil to Tom. Everything about Harry for Dumbledore is presented as "in contrast to Tom Riddle" and that's telling to me.

As for hating students...

I think most of the time Dumbledore just doesn't give a fuck.

With Draco who was actively endangering the student body, nearly killing several students to ultimately kill Dumbledore, and ultimately letting Death Eaters (including Fenrir fucking Grayback) into the castle where it's a miracle no one died/got lycanthropy Dumbledore was into it and a) knew the whole time b) did nothing to stop it because then Tom would hurt Draco. (It's too bad Katie Bell got cursed for six months in the process of that huh Dumbledore or you didn't approach Draco with that offer to give him clemency until the last five minutes of your life).

I doubt Dumbledore knows who Crabbe and Goyle even are.

And he seemed to favor the Marauders (rampant known bullies) and not care about Severus at the time and now thinks quite highly of Severus for having redeemed himself for love/following a narrative Dumbledore likes while also being unable to not do what Dumbledore wants.

He only cares about Ron and Hermione in relation to Harry and just likes the general idea of them (Dumbledore is very big on the "idea" of people).

Dumbledore and Moody

I don't think so.

We've seen the redemption story Dumbledore likes and that's Severus Snape's. Dumbledore likes a narrative, Moody having been disliked then just choosing to be a sycophant would be very unimpressive for Dumbledore because he'd see no reason for Moody to have changed/not an impressive enough reason.

It has to be for true love, friendship, some reason that is a compelling narrative to Dumbledore.

Everything for Dumbledore fits into these narratives from Merope dying in childbirth (she just didn't love enough), to Lily being murdered (she loved her son so much she sacrificed herself), to Snape (his love for her means he is now undyingly loyal to her son), to everything.

Plus, I don't get that feeling about Moody.

Dumbledore has plenty of people unquestioningly loyal to him, he cultivates the Order such that this is the case, it's not so much that Moody's an outlier for being so loyal but the fact that he is in the Order of the Phoenix at all means he must be this loyal to survive there (notice Percy is not a member). In the Order we're seeing the people who survived the litmus test of "actively not questioning Dumbledore in any decision he ever makes" (see HBP and the Christmas Party and shooting down of Harry's "Draco's up to something and Snape is too" for reasons that are simply "I trust Dumbledore completely" and nothing else).

If Moody wasn't like that, he wouldn't be in the Order.

So, I think Moody's just like the rest of them and I don't see a reason why he would have ever been different.

[lightningant]

Severus Snape thoughts

I've prodded him with my thoughts before but now I need to post through it. Because he's my princess.

I think a lot of what makes Snape so complex (and so compelling) is that he is neither a good person nor a just person. He really is beefing with that 11-year-old. He really did scoff at Albus saying that he would protect Harry because he cares about him. (LMAO, btw). He really is just a horrible guy, which honestly makes his efforts that much more brave and noble!

When we see the Prince's Tale, Severus Snape personally curates his timeline to showcase his bigotry to Harry. He specifically isolates moments where his antipathy for muggles is contrasted with his love for Lily. He does not show Harry his home life, or how much Lily liked him, he is on topic: I hated muggles, but I loved her. And then he isolates a moment where Lily finally explains how troubled she is by his friends, and he cuts off whatever teen drama motivated her to say it. He shows his worst memory again, something he was shaking with rage and fear at Harry discovering. He shows the aftermath of him grovelling.

And after that is the timeskip. His feelings are not relevant. In fact, all of his memories may as well be from Lily's perspective. It is significant that all his memories are essentially from Lily's perspective.

What Snape was showcasing to Harry is that he knows that he was not listening to her. He knows he was being patronizing, that he prioritized his exclusive access to her over feelings, that he treated her beliefs as if they were irrelevant or biased.

Snape took on a patron-like relationship with Lily, teaching her wizarding culture and presumably acting as the source of her incredible potions ability (despite her expertise clearly being charms). He most definitely assumed that in the Dark Lord's new order, people like Lily would be coveted for their magical skill alone, and he would not really care if the Death Eaters executed Lily's parents and sister because they're just muggles.

And then she is murdered for protecting Harry Potter too well. She is disposable. He had to have heard it. She's just a mudblood.

Snape gives himself no excuses in the Prince's Tale. He did not include what he did for her in his memories, because he prided himself in uplifting her star and probably still does, and the memories in that bottle exhibited his shame. He provides no context which might paint himself in a better light. He is giving Harry his remorse, with raw, open honesty. 'Here is where I went wrong.'

Snape's character is that of someone who is bearing the excruciating burden of not only being responsible for the death of a loved one, but silently de-radicalizing himself, all alone, while still on the inside. He lives in his muggle house. He intentionally repaired the link between his current self and his shameful muggle origins in order to acknowledge the way he treated muggles was wrong and the way he treated Lily was unforgivable. He won't even let paintings use slurs.

There is a temptation to polish his image, to say he was justified or uniquely victimized, without acknowledging Snape is messy and cruel has always been fundamentally incapable of empathy, yet he has passionate feelings on doing the right thing. He spent 10 years making an active choice to be a good person, a thing that does not come naturally to him. The point of the Prince's Tale is that it does not come naturally to him!!!!! And he does it anyway!!!!!!

He doesn't want Harry to die because he's the last thing he has left of Lily (🙄), but because the right thing to do, the Lily thing to do, is to not raise a boy for slaughter, let alone her boy.

[foxconfessorandthewolf]

Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]

[thatfanficstuff]

Finding Peace - Lucius Malfoy

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Soulmate!Reader

Warnings: discussions of abuse

a/n: these soulmate fics were supposed to be quick little things. *squints at 3000+ words* damn it.

Lucius Malfoy strode through the dim corridors of Hogwarts, his robes billowing behind him. His silver-blond hair cascaded down his back, contrasting sharply with the dark blue of his robes. His steps were hurried, determined. Anxious to check on his only child. Who would dare attack the scion of House Malfoy?

As he approached the infirmary, the heavy doors swung open in front of him, deferring to his unspoken will. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of medicinal potions and the remnants of healing magics. The room seemed too dark even with it being the middle of the night. Severus Snape was still able to see the worry that lined his friend’s face as he sought the one reason for his visit – Draco.

Severus stepped forward to intercept his path so they might talk before Lucius reached the bed that held his son.

“Where is he?” Lucius asked, his gaze trailing the potion master’s arm as he gestured to a bed along the far wall. Tension flowed from him in relief as he spotted Draco in a bed, holding a witch in his arms as they slept. His brow furrowed as he studied the two of them. You were a pretty little thing. Beautiful even, but you were unknown to him. “How is he?”

“He’s faring better than he would be. Thanks in no small part to her,” Severus answered in a soft tone, indicating the girl in the bed.

“Her?” Lucius asked, the single word holding so many questions.

Severus says your name with a nod of his head. “A shy little thing, with strong maternal instincts. She takes care of all of my snakes and a fair few from the other houses as well. She’s been instrumental in soothing the uncertainty that remains after the Dark Lord’s death and the end of the war.”

Lucius took a step forward, trying to get a better view of you. “And she helped tonight, how?”

“Potter.” Severus all but spat the name. “They were arguing and he cast a spell he wasn’t familiar with. She stepped between them and took part of the effects on herself.”

“What was the spell?” Lucius asked, quietly horrified of the possibilities.

“Sectumsempra.”

His wide eyes snapped to the potion’s master. “If you hadn’t been there…”

“I am aware.” The curse was one of Severus’ own design and he was one of the few that knew the counter. Both of you would have bled out had he the man not found you.

“And what is to be done with Mr. Potter?”

“Unknown.” Severus crossed his arms over his chest. “Albus has yet to make an appearance in spite of my patronus advising him of the situation.”

Lucius closed the distance to his son’s bed. Draco was pale, drawn but unmistakably alive. He cradled your small form against his side, one arm wrapped around you while his free hand ran in a constant loop along the arm that you had draped over his stomach. His pale eyes filled with relief upon laying sight on his father.

“Are you alright?” It was a simple question with a thousand unspoken words behind it.

Draco understood them all. He nodded once and kept his voice low. “I’m fine.”

Lucius seemed unable to pull his gaze away from you. There was just something drawing him to you. “And her?”

His son looked almost devastated for a moment. “She shouldn’t have done that. She should have never gotten between us.”

“Is she your mate?” Lucius forced the words past the sudden lump in his throat at the thought. It wasn’t usual for a submissive mate to protect their dom but it wasn’t completely unheard of. They were ferocious in the guarding of their offspring, however.

Draco scrunched his nose in mild disgust. “Merlin, no. Just a friend. A very dear friend.”

A knot of tension in the elder Malfoy’s chest eased with the declaration. He closed his eyes as he took a breath. This was getting ridiculous. “What is this then?” he asked with a gesture between the two.

Draco swallowed and a muscle worked in his jaw. “She has the most horrendous nightmares. Has since first year.”

Your eyelids fluttered, a sliver of consciousness piercing the fog in your brain as voices roused you. It took a moment for the room to come into focus, for you to realize there were two men standing beside the bed. When your gaze shifted from the concerned eyes of your professor to the man beside him, you gasped.

Lucius Malfoy’s piercing grey eyes locked with yours and magic arced between the two of you, tying you together in an instant. This man was your mate. The sudden realization had you sitting up with a jerk.

Ignoring Draco’s questioning voice beside you, you scrambled with the blankets. You had to get up, to get away from your blond friend. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…It was…I mean…”

You trailed off as you finally untangled yourself and practically fell off the bed. You found your way to your knees, ignoring the cold floor biting into your skin. The warm liquid running across your skin and the sharp stab of pain as wounds reopened. Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead to the stone, hoping that your mate would accept your supplication and not punish you too severely for your transgression. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry. I shouldn’t have let him touch me. Forgive me.”

The words came in an endless stream and you barely noticed the utter silence of the room around you. Steps approached and you dared not look up.

“Enough,” a soft voice stated as a hand on your shoulder directed you upright. A pale hand cradled your face as Lucius trailed his gaze over you. “You are my equal. You need not plead with me for anything. Least of all forgiveness when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Before you even had time to process his words, he’d swept you up in his arms to carry you to a bed. “Severus, fetch Madame Pomfrey at once.”

“Of course.”

He lowered you to the bed and you flinched as your back brushed the fabric of the sheets. “I’m fine.” The words were automatic as you were used to healing your own injuries and brushing aside your pain.

One elegant eyebrow rose. “The blood soaking the sheets beneath you says otherwise.”

Heat flooded your cheeks as you looked away. Pomfrey quickly arrived and turned you on your side so she could treat the wounds. Lucious remained standing as he watched every move the healer made. His gaze hardened, fury brewing in the depths of his icy grey eyes as they roamed over your form. The skin on your back was exposed true enough, but it was as if he could see every secret and scar you’d managed to keep hidden from the world. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Unforgiveable.” The venom in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. The air crackled with his fury, his magic snapping in anger. “Who did this to you?”

You tried to shift away, to protect yourself from his ire. You were weak, you knew it. He deserved better. He was disgusted by everything that you had allowed to happen. Your father had always told you that your mate would realize how worthless you were and reject you. He’d trained you to be desirable to a certain type of dominate. A prize worth a vault of galleons to the right sort of man. You seriously doubted Lucius Malfoy was that sort of man.

You flinched as pain flared across your body, a silent testament to the abuse you’ve endured. His hands reached out with a gentleness you weren’t expecting. They were strong but held you as if you were something precious, fragile. His magic followed suit, wrapping around you, protecting you from the dangers of the world.

“Easy.” His tone was soft, soothing, contrasting sharply with the anger in the air. “I am here now. You are mine and I protect what is mine. You will be loved. Cherished. That I promise you.”

Your heart raced at his proclamation but the others in the room pretended not to hear it. At least they were giving you the illusion of privacy.

A moment later, Pomfrey finished her treatment and allowed you to lay back down before she covered you. “I thought Severus would have told you that Potter cast the spell.”

Severus snorted at the woman’s idiocy. She knew damn well that wasn’t Lucious was referring to with his earlier question.

“It’s okay, Poppy,” your soft voice cut through the tension in the room and all eyes turned to you. “He’s my mate and Draco already knows.”

The mediwitch cleared her throat. “And Severus?” Her voice had lost its edge as she spoke to you.

“I would have already told him if I was allowed. You know that.”

The elder witch simply nodded and took a seat. After a brief hesitation, the two men conjured chairs between your bed and Draco’s and sat as well.

Surprisingly it was Draco that spoke. “It was her father. He’s been training her to be the perfect submissive.” He spat the words in his anger.

“I’ve been treating her wounds since first year,” Pomfrey added.

“And you told no one?” Lucius snapped. “Either of you?”

“I made Draco take a vow that he couldn’t tell anyone until I was ready,” you explained, not wanting your mate angry at his son.

“I informed Albus and was promptly told it was under control.” The mediwitch crossed her arms over her chest. “In order to work at Hogwarts I had to take an oath to defer to Albus. His word is final.”

“This entire situation is completely unacceptable. What in Salazar’s name is going on in this school?” Was the old bastard really so worried about keeping control that he would let children suffer to maintain it?

Your hand rested on his, pulling his attention to you. His gaze immediately softened as it met yours. “Will you take me from here?”

His brow furrowed. “Don’t you wish to finish your schooling?”

“She doesn’t attend any of our classes. Everything she knows is self-taught or we’ve taught her in the common room,” Draco said.

Lucius looked from his son to Severus. The potion master shrugged. “I was told she was doing independent study. I had no reason to question it. She’s exceedingly intelligent.”

Your mate turned his attention back to you, clearly wanting answers. For once in your life, you wanted to tell someone everything. Every secret, every lie, every fear. Your father was a terrifying man, but something told you that he was nothing compared to your mate. “If you promise I don’t have to stay here, I will tell you everything.”

“We can leave immediately if you wish,” he answered with no hesitation.

“You can leave in the morning,” Poppy corrected. “Those wounds need a little longer to heal.”

The corner of Lucius’ lips lifted ever so slightly. “Very well. We will leave as soon as you are released.”

You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat. Your fingers had somehow intertwined with your mates and you stared at where they were linked rather than making eye contact with anyone. “It isn’t solely due to my father.”

Silence reigned for a long stretch.

“Explain.” Lucius’ cold tone had you drawing in a deep breath before you could answer. He squeezed your hand in comfort. “My anger is not directed at you, dear one. I promise you need never fear me.”

“I am an only child. Father was never pleased that I was female. Even less pleased I was submissive. His only recourse was to mold me into what he wanted and sell me to the highest bidder.” You closed your eyes against some of the harsher memories and swallowed your shame. Lucius cradled your hand between both of his, silently reminding you that he was by your side.

“I was to be quiet. Obedient. Loyal to my master. Take what I was given without complaint. I was to have no status in whatever house he sold me to. Be offered no protections. No concessions. A slave to whoever owned me.”

A gasp came from one of the others in the room, but you ignored them keeping your focus on your mate. The sympathy in his gaze outshone the anger simmering there but you were uncertain how long that would last. Submissives were to be cherished, protected, loved. Ideally one would meet their mate and they would marry, have a family, etc, etc. However, it did happen that some marriages were arranged, typically between an older unmated Dominate and a younger submissive. The contracts stipulated the many ways in which the submissive would be cared for.

Then there were those that sought a submissive to which they held no obligation. No penalties owed for mistreatment or neglect. There were many that would pay dearly for that sort of bride.

“That is no longer your future. You are mine,” Lucius reminded you. Tension you hadn’t even noticed eased from your body.

“My father paid Dumbledore to see to it that my instruction continued at Hogwarts.” Your words were quiet but seemed to pull all the air out of the room.

“What does that mean exactly?” Snape asked after a moment.

Your gaze darted around to take in all the others in the room before focusing back on your hand intwined with your mate’s so you didn’t have to meet anyone’s eye. “My lessons were focused on magic that would allow me to better serve my husband. Disobedience or failure was met with punishment, be it magical or physical.”

“Are you saying that Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Light and the headmaster of this school, neglected your education and abused you in addition?” Poppy asked. Her voice sounded angry and broken.

“He’s much worse than father.” This time the words were a whisper. An acknowledgment you were reluctant to voice.

Silence stretched. Finally, Lucius cleared his throat. “Get some rest, dear one. I’m not going anywhere. Tomorrow, you will be coming home with me.” He shifted his attention to his son. “You as well, Dragon. I will not leave you here a moment longer.”

Draco looked at you then back to Lucius. “Yes, Father.” He resettled himself in the bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. After giving you a soft smile, he closed his eyes.

You were exhausted as well, but much less willing to close your eyes, afraid this would all be a dream when you woke. “You’ll stay?” you asked.

A small smile curved his lips. “Forever if you’ll have me.”

With that assurance, your eyes grew heavy and it wasn’t long before you too drifted to sleep

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you were once again awoken by voices in the room. Not enough if the lack of light was anything to go by.

“I believe you are aware, Lucius, that parents are only allowed a maximum of two hours visitation outside regular hours unless the child is severely injured. As young Draco is fine, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” A tremor rolled through you as you recognized the headmaster’s voice.

“I have advised you before to refer to me by my title, Headmaster. And you are correct. I am well aware of the rules regarding visitations to the infirmary for a parent and child. I am also aware of the rules regarding visitation between mates. That is the capacity in which I remain and I will continue to do so.” Lucius’ words were clipped but calm.

You cracked open your eyes so you could see Dumbledore but hopefully he wouldn’t notice you were awake. Lucius took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers.

Dumbledore’s eyes widened as he looked between the two of you before focusing on your hands. “You can’t be serious?”

“Oh, but I am.” He sounded so smug and proud, you couldn’t help a smile.

The headmaster cleared his throat. “Surely one of your position has no desire to be tied to this girl. There would be no shame in rejecting her. I assure you that no one outside of this room need be aware of the connection.”

“Are you attempting to interfere in a mating bond, Dumbledore?” You could have sworn the chill in Lucius’ voice dropped the temperature in the room by two degrees.

“I would never.” Dumbledore managed to sound supremely insulted, though that had been exactly what he was attempting to do.

Lucius merely hummed in acknowledgment. “And what is to be done with Mr. Potter?”

“Harry will be serving detention with me until the end of the term.”

You couldn’t help sucking in a breath at the words. Lucius squeezed your hand and Albus’ gaze darted to you and back to the Lord at your side. “Detention for nearly killing two students.” It wasn’t a question or a clarification. It was a statement of pure disgust.

The headmaster peered over the top of his glasses with a look of disappointment. “Now, there is no cause for dramatics. I assure you Harry meant no harm. He was unaware of what the results of the spell would be when he cast it. He would never cause such damage on purpose.”

Lucius surged to his feet but maintained his grip on your hand. “That is worse than if he had done it with intent. And while we are on the topic of your ineptitude, why was my mate never treated or removed from what was obviously an abusive situation?”

That look of disappointment only deepened though he struggled to maintain it through his anger. “A submissive being raised under the hand of a strict Dominate is hardly abuse, my boy.”

Only then did Lucius release his hold on you as he stepped forward to close the distance between himself and the old man. “I am not your boy. I am a Lord on the Board of Governors for this school. I hope you have enjoyed your tenure as headmaster, Dumbledore, because I intend to see you removed from your position as soon as possible. Expect to hear from the aurors and my attorney before the end of the day.”

The two men stared one another down for another minute before Dumbledore turned and stormed from the room. Lucius returned to his seat and smiled at you when he realized you were watching. He traced his fingers down the side of your face. “You don’t have to worry any more, dear one. I will always take care of you.”

With those words you allowed yourself to fall back into slumber, at peace for the first time in a very long time.

[hrefna-the-raven]

I don't need your help!

Notes: I'm obsessed with the Harry Potter movies again and of course my main obsession, yet again is Snape 😇😍😅 so yeah, here you go, a small female reader and Severus Snape moment 😉

Words: 727

Summary: Snape gets yet again bullied by James and his friends. It's your first year at Hogwarts and despite having never talked to Snape, you won't tolerate bullies and step up for him.

"Expelliarmus!", a male voice shouted, being cheered on by a group of other students around him.

You glanced in the direction of the commotion and identified the culprits immediately. A Gryffindor student, encouraged by his companions, had taken away the wand of a tall, thin Slytherin student who was peacefully sitting at a tree before they showed up. Having attended a non-magical school prior to receiving your acceptance letter from Hogwarts, you were familiar with this type of behavior. Whether in a regular or magical setting, bullies always stood out and intimidated those they considered vulnerable and insignificant. You've been here for only a few months but you were determined to not let anyone bully an innocent person, so, naturally, age and height differences did not deter you as you instinctively rushed towards the unfolding situation. The Slytherin student hovered in mid-air while the Gryffindor boy maintained his wand's pointed position.

"Right", he laughed, "do you want to see Snivillu-", his sentence was abruptly interrupted by a loud gagging noise.

The boy's gagging persisted as he collapsed on his knees, his complexion turned pale as his lips parted in agony and pain, a slimey green slug slithered out of his mouth, causing those around him to gasp in disbelief. Their heads turned towards you as they took a step back upon seeing you standing there, your wand aimed at the bully on the ground.

With a loud thud, the Slytherin student fell to the ground as the spell wore off. His eyes cautiously met yours while his mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

"Take your friend and leave!", you commanded the group rather calmly, given the rage that was bubbling within you, "and if I ever see him doing this again, he'll throw up more than just slugs!"

As you observed the group escort their companion away, you carefully stowed your wand back into the pocket of your robe. Your attention then shifted back to the student who had been targeted earlier, allowing you to truly see him for the first time. Compared to you, he possessed an impressive height, which seemed to surpass what his uniform could accommodate with his trousers barely reaching above his ankles. His sleek black hair cascaded down, concealing a significant portion of his face; however, it couldn't hide his defined jawline and prominent hooked nose. Eventually, your gaze ascended towards his captivating dark eyes that contrasted beautifully against his pale complexion. You may have spotted him on several occasions in the library but never dared to speak to him as he was obviously at least four years older than you and always occupied the farthest corner, engrossed in his reading material.

"Are you ok?", you tilted your head curiously, your voice gentle and calm.

"I don't need your help!", Snape shouted angrily, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes.

In an attempt to push away his sorrow, he sought solace in seething rage. James had once again targeted him for humiliation in front of everyone, but a new emotion was now brewing within him. Although just a young first-year student, you bravely defended him without any personal gain or knowledge of either him or Potter. Your actions appeared to stem from genuine kindness and a strong sense of moral obligation, something he never thought to witness, most certainly not directed at him.

Severus experienced a touch of gratitude mingling with his usual feelings of shame. Although he wouldn't confess to you, today he truly appreciated your decision to step in.

"I don't care", you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, "it was the right thing to do and I'd do it again, whether you like it or not."

You turned around and walked back towards the castle, slightly annoyed at the boy's hostile attitude towards you.

"Wait!", Snape yelled, taking a hesitant step in your direction, "what's your name?"

You stopped in your tracks, huffing out your name without even turning around to look at him.

"I-I'm Severus", his voice cracked, doubt and fear seeping through his initial angry tone.

You let out a sigh and looked at him, feeling an inexplicable fascination. There was an intangible attraction that drew you to him and if he allowed it, you would stick by his side to get to the bottom of it.

"Well Severus who doesn't need my help", you gave him a mischievous wink, "despite all, it still is a pleasure to have met you."

And with that, you turned around and continued to head back to the castle.

[dinarosie]

Rivals? Sure… If Privilege vs. Neglect Counts as a Fair Fight

One of the boys sharing the compartment, who had shown no interest at all in Lily or Snape until that point, looked around at the word, and Harry, whose attention had been focused entirely on the two beside the window, saw his father: slight, black-haired like Snape, but with that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for, even adored, that Snape so conspicuously lacked.

The way J.K. Rowling describes the first meeting between Severus Snape and James Potter is one of the most poignant moments in Harry potter and deathly hallows. It's not just about the bullying and taunts that eleven-year-old Snape endures—it's the heartbreaking contrast she paints between them. And what's worse? This imbalance doesn't just end on the train. It lingers for the rest of their lives.

James and Snape were never rivals—because how could they be? James was the golden child, adored, sheltered, born into wealth and love, proud of everything he had. Snape? He was the forgotten one, fragile, drowning in poverty, neglect, and violence. By what standard could they ever have been equals?

This unfairness never fades. James always gets what he wants, even in the brief span of his life. After his death, his mistakes are brushed aside, his legacy carefully preserved by those who loved him. Snape, on the other hand, is the boy who never gets what he truly desires. His dream of a different life is always out of reach. He dies weighed down by guilt, and even in death, his name is tied to his mistakes, his legacy stained by them.

[ms-snape]

I got you 😀 I hope i am not the only one who send you requests.

Daddy snape x daughter reader (maybe preschool age) He is home alone with her. Her mother/snape wife is somewhere out. She start asking quentions about her mom, how they met, how much they love eachother, how she was born etc. Sev is little bit confused and dont know how to response.

Title: The Magic Of being A parent

Warning: none just pure fluff, platonic relationship

Word count: 2000+

A/N: Sorry took me pretty long to write it, it's cause school just started for me and I was pretty busy lately, I spent half of the week end dowing homawordks and the other half writing this, so I hope u'll like it even though it's not so good in my opinion. <3

(y/d/n= your daughter's name)

Masterlist

--

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the grounds, its rays filtering through the tall, ancient trees. Inside the walls of the house , the air was pleasantly cool, a comforting contrast to the warmth outside. Severus Snape sat in the dimly lit living room, a tome of Potions theory splayed open on his lap. The only sound was the soft rustle of parchment as he turned a page, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Suddenly, a high-pitched giggle broke the silence, echoing off the stone walls.

“Daddy, can we play now?” A small figure bounded into the room, her dark hair bouncing with each enthusiastic step. Y/D/N, a bright-eyed five-year-old, was a bundle of energy, her small hands tugging at her father’s robes.

Severus looked up, his expression shifting from one of studious focus to mild bewilderment. “I suppose so,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the exuberance of his daughter.

“Yay!” She clapped her hands together, the sound ringing like tiny bells. “Can we play with the toys? The ones with the wizards and the dragons?”

He sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Very well. But keep the noise to a minimum. I have much to think about.”

“Okay!” She hopped onto the floor, her little feet padding against the cold stone as she raced to the toy chest. The lid creaked open with a loud crack, and Y/D/N began to rummage through the colorful assortment of magical figurines.

“What’s this one?” she asked, holding up a small dragon, its scales shimmering in the dim light. “Can it breathe fire?”

“Only in a child’s imagination,” Severus replied, watching as she cradled the toy against her chest, her eyes wide with wonder.

After a moment, she looked up, her expression shifting from playful to serious. “Daddy, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he muttered, preparing himself for the barrage of questions he knew would follow.

“Where’s Mommy?” Her voice was soft, tinged with a hint of confusion.

Severus paused, the question hanging in the air like a delicate spider’s web. “She went to a meeting,” he replied, his tone steady but his heart tightening at the thought of his wife being away.

“Is she coming back soon?” Y/D/N's brow furrowed as she tilted her head, her innocence shining through her concern.

“Yes, she will return shortly,” he assured her, though he could not help but feel the weight of his words. “You don't need to worry.”

Y/D/N nodded, but her curiosity was not so easily quelled. “How did you and Mommy meet?”

Severus raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the depth of her question. “Well, it was a long time ago…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “We met at Hogwarts, during our time as students.”

“Students?” She giggled again, the sound light and airy. “But you’re a teacher! Are you a student too?”

“Not anymore,” he clarified, trying to suppress a smirk at her logic. “I was a student long before you were born. Your mother was my classmate.”

“Did you like her then?” Y/D/N asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Severus shifted in his chair, the question stirring a mix of emotions within him. “At first, I did not regard her as anything more than a fellow student,” he admitted, recalling their early days in the Potions classroom. “But over time, I grew to admire her intelligence and strength.”

Y/D/N’s face lit up, her small fingers fiddling with the dragon toy. “Did you tell her? Did you say, ‘I like you' to mommy?” She giggled, the innocent suggestion causing Severus to chuckle softly.

“I was not as brave as you might think,” he replied, his tone laced with a hint of nostalgia. “It took me a considerable time before I found the courage to express my feelings.”

“Courage?” Y/D/N echoed, her brows knitting together as she struggled with the word. “What’s that mean?”

“It means the ability to do something that frightens you,” he explained, leaning forward slightly, intrigued by her earnestness. “Like when you stand up to mean people or try something new.”

Her eyes widened, a mixture of awe and determination. “So, was it scary to tell Mommy you liked her?”

“Very much so,” Severus admitted, recalling the nervousness that had gripped him that day. “But I was fortunate. She felt the same way.”

“Did you kiss?” Y/D/N’s voice was a whisper now, as if the very notion of such affection was sacred.

Severus felt a warmth in his chest at the thought. “Yes... Indeed, We shared a brief embrace. It was… memorable.”

“Memorable!” She squealed, bouncing on the tips of her toes. “Like when I'll got my first wand? Or When I'll go to Hogwarts? Will that be memorable too daddy?”

“Yes,Precisely,” he said, amused at her ability to draw connections. But then, she pivoted once more, her expression shifting to something more serious.

“Do you love Mommy?”

The question hung in the air, thick with the weight of sincerity. Severus’s heart softened as he considered his answer. “More than I can express,” he replied earnestly. “Love is not merely a word; it is a commitment, a promise to stand by one another.”

“Love is a promise?” Y/D/N asked, her eyes wide.

“Exactly,” he nodded, his tone firm. “A promise to support and care for one another, no matter the circumstances.”

She pondered this, her small fingers tracing the edges of the dragon toy. “So, if I make a promise to you, I have to keep it?”

“Yes, and it is important that you do,” Severus affirmed, appreciating her earnestness. “A promise is a bond that should not be broken.”

“Okay!” She beamed, her enthusiasm infectious. “I promise to help you with your potions! Even the stinky ones!”

Severus chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I appreciate your willingness, but I fear you may not enjoy some of the more pungent ingredients, you're too young dear.”

“But stinky potions are fun!” Y/D/N declared, her voice rising with excitement. “Like the one that makes you smell like a skunk! Can you make that one, Daddy?”

“I assure you, I have no desire to create such a potion,” he replied, his lips curving into a smile. “However, I can demonstrate a few simpler ones. Perhaps a calming draught? It would help you relax.”

“Calming draught?” Her brows knitted again. “What’s that?”

“A potion that can soothe anxious feelings,” he explained, enjoying the way her face lit up with interest. “It can help ease a troubled mind.”

“Like when I feel scared at night?” Y/D/N’s voice was small, and in her eyes, Severus saw a flicker of vulnerability.

“Exactly,” he said gently. “It can help you feel safe and secure.”

She nodded, her little brow furrowed in thought. “Can you make it for me, Daddy? So I won’t be scared?”

Severus felt a pang in his chest at the innocence of her request. “I can teach you how to brew it, if you like. It is quite simple, really.”

“Yay! I want to learn!” She jumped up, her excitement bubbling over. “Can we do it now? Please?”

He glanced at the tome still resting on his lap, the text blurring into the background as he watched his daughter. “Very well. Let us gather the ingredients.”

“Yay!” She clapped her hands again, her laughter ringing through the room like music.

As they prepared for their impromptu potions room, Severus found himself surprisingly at ease. Y/D/N’s energy was infectious; she darted around the kitchen, pulling out various jars and containers, her small hands working with a determination that reminded him of her mother.

“Do we need the shiny leaf?” she asked, holding up a jar filled with dried herbs, the sunlight catching the contents and casting little rainbows on the wall.

“Indeed, that is an essential ingredient,” he replied, stepping closer. “But be careful not to spill any.”

“I won’t!” She grinned, carefully measuring out a pinch with exaggerated concentration. “Like this?”

“Precisely,” Severus said, watching her with a mix of pride and amusement. It was moments like these that made the weight of his responsibilities feel lighter, moments that reminded him of the joy in family and the simple act of being together.

As the two of them worked side by side, Y/D/N began to chatter again, her curiosity unquenchable. “Daddy, how did you and Mommy get together? Was it like a fairy tale?”

“A fairy tale?” The notion made him chuckle. “Not quite. Our story is filled with its own challenges and struggles.”

“Like dragons?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Not exactly,” he corrected gently. “More like obstacles that we had to overcome together. But through it all, we found our way to one another.”

“Was it scary?” she pressed on, her small hands busy mixing the ingredients.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, reminiscing about the dark days during the first Wizarding War, when uncertainty hung over them like a storm cloud. “But love has a way of guiding us through even the most difficult of times.”

“Daddy, Do you think I can find love too?” Y/D/N asked suddenly, her expression earnest, as if the weight of the world rested on her small shoulders.

Severus paused, taken aback by the intensity of her question. “One day, when you are older, you will understand love in your own way,” he replied slowly. “But for now, focus on the love that surrounds you—like the love of family and friends.”

“Like the love from you and Mommy?” she beamed, her face lighting up at the thought.

“Yes,” he said simply, his heart swelling with affection. “And always remember that love takes time to grow.”

“Okay! I’ll wait!” Y/D/N declared, her enthusiasm unwavering. “But I still want to be a dragon when I grow up!”

“A dragon?” Severus feigned surprise, raising an eyebrow. “And how do you propose to achieve that?”

“By learning magic!” she exclaimed, her laughter infectious. “And maybe getting a shiny tail!”

“Ah, yes. A shiny tail would certainly be impressive,” he replied, allowing himself to get swept up in her imagination.

As the potion bubbled gently on the stove, the air filled with the warm, earthy scent of herbs, creating an atmosphere that was both comforting and familiar. Severus watched Y/D/N as she danced around the kitchen, her laughter echoing off the walls, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside ceased to exist.

“What’s your favorite thing about Mommy?” Y/D/N asked, her tone suddenly serious again.

Severus considered her question carefully, his mind drifting to the countless moments they had shared. “Her kindness,” he finally said. “She has a way of seeing the best in others, even when they cannot see it themselves.”

“Like you?” Y/D/N’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Daddy, you’re the best! I love you!”

His heart warmed at her declaration, and he felt a softness wash over him. “I love you too, my dear,” he replied, his voice low and sincere.

“Can we make a potion for Mommy when she gets home?” Y/D/N asked, her excitement bubbling over once more.

“Of course,” Severus agreed, his heart swelling with affection. “We will create something special for her.”

“Yay! A surprise!” She clapped her hands, her giggles filling the room with joy.

As they finished brewing the calming draught, the atmosphere shifted, a sense of magic weaving through the air. The bond between father and daughter deepened, each shared laugh and every curious question drawing them closer together.

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed from the entrance hall. Y/D/N’s eyes widened, and she paused mid-giggle. “Is that Mommy?”

Severus nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. “It seems she is back.”

“Yay! Let’s surprise her!” Y/D/N dashed toward the door, her laughter trailing behind her like a melody.

Severus followed at a more measured pace, allowing the warmth of the moment to envelop him. As Y/D/N flung open the door, her face lit up with joy.

“Mommy!” she squealed, launching herself into Y/N’s arms.

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling with love as she enveloped their daughter in a warm embrace. “I missed you, sweetheart!”

Severus stood back, watching the scene unfold with a softness in his heart. The worries of the world outside faded into the background, eclipsed by the love radiating from his family.

“Did you have fun with Dad?” Y/N asked, her gaze turning to him.

“Yeah! We made potions! And I asked him about love!” Y/D/N exclaimed, her words tumbling over one another in excitement.

Severus raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? And what did you learn?”

“Daddy said that love is like a promise!” she declared, her voice ringing with certainty.

Y/N turned to Severus, her expression a mix of amusement and pride. “I see you’ve been busy,” she said, a smile dancing on her lips.

“Indeed,” Severus replied, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his voice. “It seems I have been outmatched by her boundless curiosity.”

Y/N chuckled, wrapping an arm around Y/D/N. “That’s the magic of being a parent,” she said warmly. “You never know what you’ll discover.”

As they settled into a cozy evening together, the air filled with laughter and stories, Severus felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. In this moment, surrounded by his family, he understood that love was not just a promise; it was the very essence of their lives together.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the windows, Severus Snape knew that no matter the challenges they faced, their love would always guide them home.

[muiitoloko]

I don't wanna be annoying but can we please have another sequel to the unscripted love? You can keep it in the back burner for now so you can do other people's requests first tho! I like the idea of the reader and Alan reading fanfiction lol and maybe maybeeeeee while reader reads, Alan suddenly gets the idea of recreating it 😩. Like he'll stop whenever reader stops reading too haha. Just a thought but you totally don't have to do it! I just love your stories so much! Any update from you I try to read immediately ♡♡♡

Title: Cloaked in Love

Summary: Alan’s playful impersonation of Severus Snape leads to laughter and a deepened connection during a well-deserved break from your hectic lives.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

Author's Notes: You’re not annoying at all—trust me, I love hearing your ideas! 😄 The thought of Alan getting inspired by some fanfiction and deciding to recreate it? *chef’s kiss* I’m definitely intrigued! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the stories! Thanks for the love and support—now I just need to make sure Alan doesn’t get too carried away with those fanfics! 😉

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

Weeks passed before you and Alan could finally meet in person, the whirlwind of your respective projects keeping you both on the move. You traveled from country to country, promoting your film, attending premieres, and juggling endless interviews. Alan, in the meantime, was busy filming A Little Chaos, and while you kept in touch through calls and messages, it wasn’t the same as being with him. The distance began to wear on you, the days stretching longer as you counted down to the moment you could finally be together again.

So, when your schedule finally allowed for a day off, instead of resting in London as you’d planned, you decided to surprise Alan on set. The thought of seeing him, of being close to him again, filled you with a bubbling excitement that made the exhaustion of travel seem insignificant. You missed him more than you’d realized, and the idea of waiting another day just to see him was unbearable.

Upon arriving at the set, you were greeted with a mix of excitement and surprise. Fans who had gathered around the area recognized you immediately, and you spent a few minutes signing autographs and posing for pictures, all the while trying to keep your nerves in check. The thrill of seeing Alan again was tempered by the knowledge that your relationship was still a secret, something you both had agreed to keep under wraps until the time was right.

Finally, one of Alan’s assistants appeared and offered to take you to where he was. You followed eagerly, your heart pounding with anticipation as you walked through the bustling set. The grandeur of the production was evident in every detail—the elaborate costumes, the intricate sets, the palpable energy that came with creating a period piece. It was all very impressive, but your focus was solely on Alan.

As you approached the area where he was taking his lunch break, you spotted him immediately. He was sitting at one of the tables, fully dressed as King Louis XIV, albeit without the wig, his regal attire a striking contrast to the casual conversations he was having with the crew around him. His hazel eyes were alight with that familiar warmth, and his deep, baritone voice carried across the set, drawing you in like a magnet.

For a moment, you stood there, simply watching him. The way he carried himself, even in costume, was unmistakably Alan—graceful, commanding, yet somehow effortlessly charming. He was in his element, and the sight of him made your heart swell with affection. You had missed him more than you’d realized, and now that you were so close, the longing you’d kept at bay for weeks surged to the surface.

Finally, you began to approach, your footsteps light and quick as you made your way to the table. Alan noticed you almost immediately, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise as he recognized you. He had clearly not expected you to be there, and the delighted smile that spread across his face made all the effort of getting there worth it.

“Well, well, what a surprise,” Alan said, his voice warm and rich with genuine pleasure. He stood up from the table, his tall, thick figure cutting an impressive figure even without the royal wig. “I thought you weren’t returning to London until tomorrow.”

You grinned, unable to contain your excitement as you closed the distance between you. “I couldn’t wait,” you admitted, your voice filled with affection as you looked up at him. “I missed you, Alan. I just had to see you.”

Alan’s smile softened, his hazel eyes searching yours with a mixture of fondness and something deeper, something more tender. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as if to reassure himself that you were really there. “And here I was, thinking I’d have to wait another day to see you,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “This is a very welcome surprise.”

You could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric of your sleeve, the simple touch sending a shiver of warmth through you. There was something electric in the air between you, a connection that neither time nor distance could diminish. The urge to close the gap between you, to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a kiss, was almost overwhelming, but you resisted, knowing that the crew was watching.

Instead, you let your hand rest on his, your fingers brushing against his as you shared a private moment in the midst of the bustling set. “I couldn’t stay away any longer,” you confessed softly, your eyes locked on his. “I’ve been thinking about you constantly, Alan. Every interview, every premiere… all I wanted was to be with you.”

Alan’s expression softened even further, his eyes shining with something that made your heart skip a beat. “And I’ve been thinking about you,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “You’ve been the best part of my day, even when we’re miles apart.”

The sincerity in his words, the quiet intensity in his gaze, made it clear that he felt the same way you did—that the weeks apart had been just as hard on him as they had been on you. It was a comfort, a reassurance that your feelings were mutual, that the bond you shared was strong enough to withstand the challenges of your careers.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing there, connected by something deeper than words. It was as if the distance between you had never existed, as if the weeks apart had only made your connection stronger. And in that moment, you knew that whatever the future held, as long as you had each other, you could face it together.

Alan seemed to sense the same thing, his hand tightening slightly on yours as if to anchor you both in the moment. “Come,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let’s find somewhere a bit more private. I’d like to catch up properly.”

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation as he led you away from the busy set, away from prying eyes and the chaos of the production. As you walked side by side, your fingers still intertwined, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, at the man who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a lover. He was your partner, your confidant, the person you trusted above all others.

And as you found a quiet corner of the set, away from the noise and the cameras, you knew that this was where you belonged—by his side, in the moments both big and small, in the spaces where you could simply be together, without the world watching.

Alan turned to you, his expression soft and filled with a warmth that made your heart swell. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the stubble that lined his jaw. “I’ve missed you too, Alan,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the love you felt for him. “More than you know.”

You let out a small, frustrated sigh and muttered under your breath, "Damn, I wish I could kiss you right now."

Alan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he caught your words, and a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in slightly, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “And why don’t you, then?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow in that way only he could—both challenging and playful at the same time.

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, the temptation to close the gap between you almost overwhelming. But you quickly glanced around the set, taking in the bustling crew and the open space. With a small, regretful shake of your head, you started to look for a place to sit down. “We can’t do that here, Alan,” you whispered back, your tone filled with both longing and practicality. “Not in such a public place.”

Alan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest in that relaxed, confident way he had, as if he was entirely at ease with the world. His hazel eyes remained fixed on you, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched you find a spot to sit.

You sighed tiredly as you finally settled into a chair, the weight of your travels and the emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks catching up with you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were arriving early?” Alan asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and affection as he gently changed the subject.

You shrugged slightly, leaning back in your chair as you looked up at him. “Honestly? I wasn’t even sure I’d make it here today,” you admitted, your tone light despite the exhaustion in your eyes. “I took the first flight I could find from New York to London, thinking I’d just go straight to bed and sleep the whole day before meeting you tomorrow. But as soon as I lay down, I just couldn’t shake the urge to see you… even if only for a moment.”

Alan’s expression softened at your words, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter. He pushed off the wall and walked over to you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you as he leaned down slightly, his face close to yours. “So you came all the way here just to take a peek at me?” he murmured, his voice rich with affection and a hint of that mischievous charm you loved so much.

You smiled up at him, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away in his presence. “Yes,” you whispered back, your voice filled with sincerity. “I couldn’t stay away, Alan. I just… I needed to see you, even if it was just for a few minutes.”

Alan’s smile widened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch soft and comforting. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” he said quietly, his voice low and intimate. “And now that you’re here, I’m not letting you go so easily.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and relieved as you gazed up at him. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, your eyes locked on his. “But I’m afraid I’m not much fun right now… I’m completely exhausted.”

Alan's expression softened into one of sympathy, his eyes filled with understanding as he gazed down at you. “You look like you could use a good rest,” he began, his voice gentle. But before he could say anything more, a voice interrupted the private moment.

“Well, well, what do we have here? Two lovebirds trying to sneak a moment alone?”

You both turned to see Helen McCrory approaching, a playful grin on her face. She looked stunning, as always, her presence commanding attention even in the simple, understated costume she wore for her role in A Little Chaos. Alan straightened up immediately, his posture shifting from relaxed to slightly more formal as he greeted her.

“Helen,” Alan said warmly, his baritone voice carrying a note of affection. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

Helen's grin widened as she came to stand beside you, her gaze flicking between the two of you with a knowing glint. “I should have known I’d find you two together,” she teased, her tone light. “Trying to keep your little romance a secret on set, are we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her words, the sound light and carefree as you looked up at her. “You caught us,” you admitted with a playful shrug. “But in our defense, we haven’t seen each other in weeks, so we’re allowed a bit of sneaky time.”

Helen’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she reached out to gently squeeze your shoulder. “Of course you are,” she agreed, her tone warm. “But don’t think you can hide from me—I always know when something’s up.”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair as you let out a mock sigh. “Well, I suppose we should be careful then. Can’t let Narcissa Malfoy catch us in the act. Or worse, let her participate in this little get-together.”

Helen raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into a smirk as she caught onto the joke. “Ah, yes, because that would be quite the scandal, wouldn’t it? Severus Snape and Narcissa Malfoy having a little rendezvous on set.”

Alan chuckled softly, his gaze flicking between you and Helen as he played along. “Indeed. I’m sure Lucius would have something to say about that,” he remarked, his tone dry but laced with humor. “But I doubt even he could stop Narcissa if she had her mind set on something.”

Helen laughed, the sound rich and melodious. “Oh, you’re absolutely right, Alan. Narcissa always gets what she wants.” She then turned her attention back to you, her expression softening as she added, “Though I must say, it’s lovely to see you here. We’ve all missed having you around.”

You smiled, touched by her words. “I’ve missed you all too,” you admitted. “And I couldn’t resist the chance to see Alan again. But honestly, I’m not sure how you two manage to keep going with such hectic schedules. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

Helen’s eyes twinkled with a mix of sympathy and teasing as she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, if you had accepted that role in Harry Potter, you’d be used to this kind of chaos by now. We could have been three wizards on set instead of just two.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Don’t remind me, Helen. I still think about what might have been. But then again, who could ever live up to Narcissa Malfoy? You were perfect for that role.”

Helen grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. But you would have made a brilliant addition to the cast, and you know it.”

Alan, who had been quietly enjoying the exchange, chimed in with a wry smile. “I must say, I would have enjoyed seeing you wield a wand on screen. Perhaps we could have had a duel—Severus Snape versus… whoever you might have played.”

You laughed, the thought of being in a magical duel with Alan Rickman and Helen McCrory bringing a sparkle to your eyes. “Oh, I would have given you both a run for your money,” you teased, pretending to twirl an imaginary wand in your hand. “But I suppose we’ll never know.”

Helen playfully pouted, crossing her arms over her chest as she gave you an exaggerated look of disappointment. “Such a missed opportunity,” she said, her tone dripping with mock seriousness. “We could have been the most formidable trio in the wizarding world.”

You couldn’t help but grin, loving the playful camaraderie between the three of you. “Well, maybe we can still make it happen someday. I’m sure there’s room for a new character in the Harry Potter universe.”

Alan chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he considered the idea. “Now that would be something to see. But in the meantime, I suppose we’ll have to settle for being mere mortals.”

Helen rolled her eyes playfully at his words, her grin widening as she reached out to give him a light nudge. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Alan. You may be playing a king right now, but we all know you’re still the dark and brooding wizard at heart.”

Alan shared a warm smile with Helen, the camaraderie between them evident in the easy way they exchanged glances. The conversation had lightened the mood, and for a brief moment, the weight of his earlier insecurities seemed to lift. But as the laughter faded, he caught sight of you glancing at your wristwatch, a small frown creasing your brow as you noted the time.

"I should probably get going," you said, your voice tinged with reluctance. "I still need that well-deserved rest before we meet up tomorrow, Alan."

The regret in your tone was clear, and Alan felt a pang of disappointment that the moment had to end so soon. But he nodded in understanding, knowing that you needed to recharge after your whirlwind travels.

Helen looked between the two of you, her sharp eyes catching the subtle exchange of emotions that passed between you. She watched as you stepped forward to share a hug with her, your embrace warm and affectionate, a testament to the friendship you had built over the years. "Take care, love," Helen said softly, giving you a gentle squeeze before pulling back. "We’ll see you soon."

You smiled, your eyes flicking over to Alan, who stood nearby, his tall frame still as he watched the interaction. With a playful smile, you reached out to pat his arm in a friendly way, your touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Get some rest yourself, Alan," you teased lightly. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

Alan returned your smile, though his eyes held a warmth that went beyond simple friendship. "I’ll try," he replied, his voice carrying that familiar baritone rumble that always sent a shiver down your spine. "But only if you promise to do the same."

You chuckled softly, nodding as you turned to leave, your footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet of the set. Alan’s gaze followed you as you walked away, his eyes lingering on your retreating figure with a mix of affection and something deeper—something that Helen didn’t miss.

As soon as you were out of sight, Helen turned her attention back to Alan, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You’re not fooling anyone, you know," she remarked casually, her tone light but laced with meaning.

Alan, ever the actor, raised an eyebrow in mock confusion, his expression carefully neutral. "Whatever do you mean, Helen?" he asked, his voice smooth and composed as he feigned ignorance. "I’m simply seeing off a friend."

Helen’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, come now, Alan. You and I both know there’s more to it than that. You’ve been practically attached at the hip with her since the day you met. Don’t tell me you’re still going to pretend there’s nothing going on between you two."

Alan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if to dismiss the notion. "We’re good friends, Helen," he insisted, his tone light and casual. "Colleagues, even. Nothing more."

Helen didn’t buy it for a second. She had been around long enough to recognize the signs of a budding romance, and the way you and Alan interacted was a dead giveaway. The subtle touches, the lingering glances, the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching—it all pointed to something more than just friendship.

"Is that so?" she asked, her voice filled with playful skepticism. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like the two of you are hiding something. And I’m not just talking about a close friendship."

Alan met her gaze, his hazel eyes steady and composed, but there was a flicker of something in them—something that betrayed the truth he was trying so hard to keep hidden. "Believe what you like, Helen," he said with a small, enigmatic smile. "But I assure you, there’s nothing to hide."

Helen tilted her head slightly, studying him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "You’re a terrible liar, Alan," she teased gently, though there was no malice in her words. "But I suppose I’ll let you keep your secrets—for now."

Alan chuckled again, his laughter rich and deep, though there was a hint of tension beneath it. "I appreciate that," he replied smoothly, his tone still light. "It’s good to know you’re on my side."

Helen’s smile softened, and she reached out to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Always, darling," she said warmly. "Just remember, you don’t have to hide everything. Some secrets are meant to be shared."

Alan nodded, though he made no further comment, his thoughts already drifting back to you and the connection you shared. Helen might have been convinced that there was more to your relationship than met the eye, but for now, he was content to let the world believe whatever they liked.

As Helen turned to leave, Alan watched her go, a small smile playing on his lips. He knew that she wasn’t fooled by his denial, but he also knew that she would keep his secret for as long as he needed her to. After all, some things were worth protecting, even if it meant keeping them hidden for a little while longer.

And as he stood there in the quiet of the set, Alan allowed himself a moment to savor the thought of you—the woman who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a colleague. The woman who had captured his heart in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

For now, he was content to keep that truth close, to cherish the private moments you shared, knowing that one day, when the time was right, the world would know just how much you meant to him.

But until then, he would continue to play the part of the enigmatic, charming actor, keeping his secrets close and his feelings even closer, all the while knowing that you were the one person who truly understood the man behind the mask.

The next day, you and Alan finally managed to carve out some time together, albeit later in the afternoon than you’d originally planned. Both of you had agreed that after the whirlwind of your respective schedules, a lazy day at your house was exactly what you needed. No interviews, no scripts—just the two of you, unwinding in the comfort of your shared space.

The moment Alan arrived at your door, you couldn’t help but greet him with a warm, lingering kiss, your hands gently cupping his face as you reveled in the familiarity of his touch. He responded in kind, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close, the tension of the past few weeks melting away as you both simply enjoyed the moment.

“It’s good to finally have you all to myself,” Alan murmured against your lips, his deep baritone voice sending a shiver down your spine. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his hazel gaze filled with a mix of affection and something deeper. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love for the man who had become such an integral part of your life. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, your voice soft and sincere. “And now that we finally have some time together, I intend to make the most of it.”

Alan’s lips quirked into a playful smile, and he leaned in to steal another quick kiss before pulling you into a warm embrace. “I like the sound of that,” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “So, what’s on the agenda for today, love? A bit of reading, perhaps? Or maybe we could finally indulge in those fanfics you mentioned.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers idly tracing the curve of his spine as you rested your head against his chest. “You’ve been thinking about those, haven’t you?” you teased, your voice filled with amusement. “I never pegged you as the fanfiction type, Alan.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest and making you smile. “Well, you did pique my curiosity,” he admitted, his tone both playful and genuine. “And I must say, the idea of seeing how I—well, Snape—am portrayed in these stories is rather intriguing. Plus, I’m curious to see how… detailed they get.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Detailed, huh? You sure you’re ready for that? Some of those fanfics don’t hold back, you know. They might give you ideas.”

Alan’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, seductive murmur. “Oh, I’m counting on it, my dear,” he replied, his tone sending a thrill of anticipation through you. “After all, what’s the point of reading them if we don’t have a bit of fun recreating the scenes?”

You laughed, the sound filled with both amusement and excitement at the prospect. “Well then,” you said, stepping back slightly and taking his hand in yours. “Let’s get comfortable first, and then we can see just how well you can bring those fanfics to life.”

Alan’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a playful glint in his eyes as he followed you to the living room. Once there, you both settled onto the couch, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate as you curled up against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

You reached for your phone, pulling up the fanfiction website and scrolling through the list of stories until you found one that seemed particularly promising. “Alright,” you began, your voice light as you looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Shall we start with a classic Snape romance, or would you prefer something a bit… steamier?”

Alan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “Why not start with the romance?” he suggested, his tone filled with a subtle, teasing challenge. “I’m curious to see how they capture the… softer side of Severus Snape.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement as you clicked on a story that had high ratings and plenty of comments praising the author’s portrayal of Snape. As you began to read, the room filled with your voice, each word weaving a tale of unrequited love, intense emotions, and the eventual confession between Snape and the story’s protagonist—a young witch who had somehow managed to break through his formidable exterior.

As you read aloud from the fanfic, you both became more and more engrossed in the story, the detailed descriptions of Snape's inner turmoil and the humorous moments woven into the narrative drawing you in. The author had managed to capture Snape’s dry wit perfectly, and you found yourself laughing at some of the quips that sounded like something Alan himself might say.

Then, you reached a particularly funny scene. In it, Snape, ever the sarcastic and somewhat grumpy Potions Master, was trying to teach a rather inept student the finer points of potion-making. The student, who was clearly out of their depth, had somehow managed to turn their cauldron into a bubbling mess of what the fanfic described as "a rainbow-colored disaster."

Snape, unimpressed and thoroughly exasperated, was written to have dramatically thrown his black robes over his shoulder like a cape, stalking around the student and lecturing them in a tone that was described as both condescending and theatrical. The author had even added a line about how Snape’s hooked nose twitched with irritation as he delivered one of his signature biting remarks: "If incompetence were a potion, you would have brewed a perfect batch."

You couldn’t help but laugh as you read the scene aloud, the image of a melodramatic Snape stalking around the hapless student almost too much to handle. "Oh, Alan," you said, still giggling, "I can just imagine you doing something like this! It’s so over-the-top and theatrical."

Alan chuckled along with you, but as the laughter subsided, you noticed a glint of mischief in his hazel eyes. Without saying a word, he suddenly stood up from the couch, a sly smile playing on his lips. You watched, intrigued and amused, as he reached for the soft sheet you had grabbed earlier to cover his legs, draping it over his shoulders like a makeshift cape.

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched his impromptu costume change. "And what exactly are you doing, Mr. Rickman?" you asked, your voice filled with playful curiosity.

Alan gave you a mock-serious look, his lips curving into a smirk as he held the sheet dramatically with one hand, letting it flow behind him like Snape’s billowing robes. "I am now Severus Snape," he declared in a perfect imitation of the character’s deep, measured voice. "And you, my dear, are the incompetent student who has dared to ruin a perfectly good potion."

You burst out laughing, the sight of Alan in his makeshift Snape costume, coupled with his spot-on impression, making it impossible to keep a straight face. "Oh, really?" you said, playing along with a grin. "And what exactly do you intend to do about it, Professor Snape?"

Alan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he took a step back, lifting the sheet-cape with a flourish and adopting a more stern, imposing posture. "I shall do what any good Potions Master would do," he intoned, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I shall recreate the scene, and you, my dear, shall read the lines while I bring this catastrophe to life."

You couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, the playful banter between the two of you filling the room with lighthearted energy. "Alright, Professor Snape," you replied, your tone teasing as you picked up the phone again, scrolling back to the start of the scene. "But I warn you, this student is particularly inept. You’ll have your work cut out for you."

Alan gave you a mock look of exasperation, his eyes narrowing as he slipped fully into character. "Do you take me for a fool?" he retorted in that smooth, commanding baritone. "No student is beyond the reach of my… expertise."

With that, you began to read the scene aloud, doing your best to maintain a serious tone even as the ridiculousness of the situation threatened to make you burst out laughing again. Alan, for his part, played the role of Snape with a level of dedication that was both impressive and hilarious. He stalked around the room, his makeshift cape flowing behind him as he delivered the lines with a mixture of stern authority and theatrical flair.

When you reached the line about the rainbow-colored potion disaster, Alan paused mid-stride, turning on his heel to face you with a dramatic flourish of the sheet-cape. "A rainbow-colored disaster!" he repeated, his voice filled with incredulous disdain. "If incompetence were a potion, you, Miss [Your Last Name], would have brewed a perfect batch!"

You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, the sight of Alan fully embracing the role of Snape—complete with exaggerated gestures and that iconic, sardonic tone—was just too much. "Oh, come on, Professor!" you protested, trying to keep a straight face. "It’s not that bad!"

Alan, staying in character, arched an eyebrow in that perfect Snape-like way, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer, looming over you with the full force of his theatrical presence. "Not that bad?" he echoed, his voice low and menacing in the most exaggerated way possible. "Miss [Your Last Name], I have seen first-years brew better potions in their sleep! This—" he gestured dramatically at the imaginary cauldron, "—is an abomination, an affront to the very art of potion-making!"

You were practically in tears from laughing, the combination of Alan’s over-the-top performance and the sheer silliness of the scene making it impossible to maintain any semblance of composure. "Alright, alright, you win!" you gasped, holding up your hands in surrender. "I admit it! I’m a terrible student!"

Alan’s stern expression softened into a triumphant grin, the playful glint in his eyes returning as he dropped the sheet-cape and stepped back, his arms crossing over his chest in that familiar, confident stance. "Indeed you are," he said, his voice slipping back into its natural cadence. "But perhaps with the right… guidance, you might improve."

You grinned, wiping away the tears of laughter from your eyes as you looked up at him. "Guidance, huh? And what kind of guidance would you suggest, Professor?"

Alan leaned down slightly, his face close to yours as he dropped his voice to a low, teasing whisper. "Oh, I can think of a few ways to improve your… performance," he murmured, the playful tone in his voice making your heart race. "But I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the next lesson."

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the playful banter between you both filling the room with warmth and affection. "I’ll keep that in mind, Professor," you replied with a wink, your voice filled with both amusement and genuine affection. "But for now, I think I’d like to stick to the fun kind of lessons—like this."

Alan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you with a mix of affection and something deeper. "As you wish, Miss [Your Last Name]," he said, his voice warm and sincere. "But remember, the offer stands. Anytime you need a little… guidance, I’ll be here."

And with that, the two of you settled back onto the couch, the lighthearted moment bringing you even closer together. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a comfortable, playful companionship, the laughter and joy of the day a reminder of just how much you cherished these moments with Alan—the man who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a lover.

He was your partner, your confidant, your source of endless amusement and affection. And as the day drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the bond you shared—a bond that, despite the challenges and the distance, only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.