#the carrow family

[futurequibblerjournalist]

Do you think all of the S28 have crests/animals like how the Malfoys have their peacocks and the Averys have barn owls?

Yes, I do! Most of the Sacred Twenty Eight seem too stuck on their high horse to not have something like a crest/animals to represent them. I went with animals for this since I've got significantly more thoughts for that than on the crests, but I would imagine these also show up on some variant of a family crest as well. I got a bit of help from a friend with this one but,,, here are our thoughts lol

Abbot - Doves

The Old English derivative "abbod" is a reference to the head of monasteries and the Old French "abet" means "priest".

Avery - Barn Owls

Black - Black Ravens

This is canon, as seen on the Black family tree, but ravens are the specific corvus due to their symbolism.

Bulstrode - Marsh Frog

The Old English "bula" means "bull" and "strōd" means "overgrown marsh", yet bullfrogs are not native to the area.

Burke - Porcupines

Derives from the Norwegian name "Børke", which originated from the Old Norse "birki", meaning "birch forest", a location commonly populated by porcupines.

Carrow - Stoat

The Welsh surname "Caeriw" means "dweller at the fort on the hill", an area that stoats can be found. They are also a breed of mustelid that highly resemble a weasel, which highlights their Slytherin traits in reference to the phrase "weasel out of something", meaning to be cowardly.

Crouch - Lamb

The Old English term "crūc" means "cross", an item from a religion associated with lambs in direct correlation to their saviour. I especially love this for the religious context and it symbolically means innocence, purity and sacrifice. Especially the latter works great with how Crouch Senior sacrifices his son for the sake of his career but also how Artemisia Crouch (Barty's mother) sacrifices herself for her son (who she believes to be innocent as far as we're aware), something that she would have never done if she had not married into the Crouch family.

Fawley - Hare

The names originate from the Old English terms "fealu", meaning "fallow", or "colour", "fealh", meaning "ploughed land", and "lēah", which means "woodland clearing". The hare is a woodland creature with earthy tones, suiting each origin.

Flint - Otter

The Old English name means "stream", an otter's habitat.

Gaunt - Serpent

The Middle English term meant "slender", an apt description of a snake and a reference for their status as Slytherin's heirs.

Greengrass - Red Deer

An animal that takes residence in grassy areas.

Lestrange - Fox

The name derived from "foreigner" in French, which leads one to believe that they were perceived as outcasts, presumably to the Muggle world, as would likely be subsequently associated with the occult, of which foxes are part. Traits symbolised by the animal also follow Slytherin's creed.

Longbottom - Hedgehog

The Old English words "lang" and "botm" mean "valley bottom", where hedgehogs may be found.

Macmillan - Lion

Often depicted on the Macmillan family crests.

Malfoy - Albino Peacocks

This is once again another canon one. Lucius Malfoy even owns an albino peacock and it scares Yaxley when he arrives along with I believe Severus for a meeting in June or July 1997? Something along those lines.

Nott - Salamander

The surname may be a variant of "Cnut", which is an English variant of the name Knud, the king who brought England and Denmark together, and salamanders are animals found in Denmark whose features pair with Slytherin traits.

Ollivander - Cow

The name originates from the Greek "olive wand", and as the known Ollivander pairs wands and wizards, the animal was chosen from Hera's sacred cow, combining professions and origins.

Parkinson - Bat

The name "Parkin" meant "little stone" in Middle English, and whilst it is a wider stretch than others, caves are typically comprised of rock, where bats can be located.

Prewett - Lion

The name is a variant of "Prewitt", which meant "valiant", suiting both the animal and the House of Gryffindor.

Rosier - Bee/Swan

My friend suggested bees, as they are pollinators of roses, I personally like the swan. The swan is most commonly a symbol of love, similar to how the red rose is, but it is also a symbol of beauty, something I think the Rosiers value a lot. This also fits with my headcanon that the Rosier family has a lot of Veela blood in it, as the Veelas transform into a bird-like creature when angry. They're described as cruel-beaked bird-like harpy-esque creatures and as someone who's witnessed an angry swan, I think it all adds up lol.

Rowle - Eastern Osprey

I headcanon the Rowle family to have roots in Denmark (hence names like Thorfinn) and the Eastern Osprey is a bird fairly commonly seen in Denmark.

Selwyn - Goat

The name originates from the Latin "Silvanus", Roman god of the forest, where goats could be seen.

Shacklebolt - Horse

The name obviously refers to breaking shackles, thus freedom, which is often represented by horses.

Shafiq - Persian Leopard

Derives from "shafaqa", meaning "compassion". Felines are widely loved in the culture and leopards symbolise power, beauty, and wisdom.

Slughorn - Slug

Ignoring the obvious reasons the Slughorns would be represented by slugs, slugs are also known to symbolise adaptability which we see with the one Slughorn we know of. Snails in general often symbolise tests of personal strength and we've also seen Horace Slughorn deal with many tests of personal strength, first when he tells Tom Riddle about the horcruxes and later when he tells Hari about the memory of it.

Travers - Heron

The name meant "to cross" in Old French, typically crossing a body of water, an exodus that herons are known to populate.

Weasley - Weasels

Yaxley - Bison

The name comes from "gēac" and "leah" in Old English, respectively meaning "cuckoo" and "woodland clearing". As yaks are not as popular in Europe, bison bear a close resemblance.

There was a lot of overlap with what we thought for a handful of families, though most of the explanations are by @literallysleepy! Hopefully, you guys enjoyed them as much as I did,,,,

[moonytoasted]

modern, muggle carrow siblings:

alecto carrow ˖°🦇ִ ࣪

amycus carrow ⋆ ˚｡🛹˚

[hxuse-xf-black]

[After a bust gone wrong, in which the suspected Death Eaters, Rookwood & the Carrows got off scot free] Mad-Eye: I think they're talking about us. Tonks: No, they're not. There's no need to be so paranoid, Mad-Eye. Mad-Eye: They're pointing at us and laughing.

[saibugslegacy]

"Odysseus Gaunt will belong to Hiram Gaunt. Odysseus Carrow has to belong to himself or he'll vanish."

-Odysseus Carrow

[poetryandbloods-blog]

Alecto Carrow (1958 - 2020)

Amycus Carrow (1958 - 2020)

Victoria Rookwood (1959 - 2023)

Melissa Carrow (1982 - )

Aspásia Carrow (1983 - )

Alecto and Amycus were twins, Alecto was born 5 minutes earlier, although they both served Voldemort in the first war, they were only marked during the second wizarding war and that was the only reason they escaped Askaban at the first time.

Amycus married after the fall of Voldemort and had two daughters.

Alecto never married becoming a renowned dualist, having won several competitions on behalf of Great Britain, although she was excellent she still could not compare to Bellatrix who had been trained by the Dark Lord himself.

[rewritingcanon]

harry’s most baddie moment was throwing a cruciatus at amycus carrow for spitting at mcgonagall. absolutely iconic

[onceuponanaromantic]

Electrify

(Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial​‘s prompt FFF173: No Rest for the Wicked. Not related to anything else I’m working on, so enjoy this little cyberpunk family moment!)

She wakes to a dimly lit room filled with the familiar scent of antiseptic. Despite all the technical advancements, one of the few that had remained was how the scent of antiseptics clung to skin and hospital clothes alike, despite the fact that it no longer stung the way bleach used to.

             Her older sibling looks down at her, tapping their pen against the edge of their tablet. “It’s two thirty-four a.m. Standard Southern Time, your fool sister is currently downstairs making a new brace for you because she thinks it’s her fault you fell out a window. You can look at a list of your injuries over there because you haven’t ever listened to me when I told you to stay in bed for years and I highly doubt you’re going to start now. I recommend you stay still and rest for at least a month before returning to field work but again, you’ve never listened to me so instead I will tell you that there’s a cot for you in your fool sister’s lab and she’s cleared most of the fire-related paraphernalia away from that area. Any questions?”

             “Nice to see you too, Soren.” She croaks out, testing her weight on her right arm. Said arm violently disagreed with it and made its disagreement well known. “In my defence, I didn’t expect to be thrown out the window and I did roll to try and take the impact off.”

           “Yes, that’s why you’re not dead.” Soren says, still looking down at their tablet. “Consider thanking your partner for doing the paperwork. I’ve filed the release forms though I recommend you hold still.”

             “Thanks, Su.” Her older sibling glares at her.

           “I thought you said you would be more careful after you were done with all that revolution things.”

           She shrugs. “I don’t see you scolding Aurum.”

           “That’s because you’re not around when I’m down in the lab. It’s not like either of you listen to me.”

           “Thanks, Su.”

             Her older sibling glares harder but does help her into a wheelchair so she doesn’t complain too much.

             The hospital corridors are glowing faintly with the clean fluorescent white that hurts her eyes. She tunes her hearing in, picking up on footsteps and the rustle of medical equipment and the chatter of other debriefs past the lobby. Technically speaking, she doesn’t need to give her reports as soon as she usually does but she tends to forget if she doesn’t do them immediately so it’s really just easier.

             When they finally reach the basement where her sister works, the first thing she hears is her younger sister’s voice. “-theoretical principles of Astruc’s theory-“            “It’s obvious.”

           The door opens with a tap of Soren’s card as her younger sister turns to the door, eyes wild. “Iris, tell Aurum that it’s important to understand theory-“            “It’s not.”

           “To explain what you’re doing for documentation purposes.” Her younger sister jabs one painted finger at the window for emphasis. “And don’t side with her just because she’s your twin.”            

           “Twin rights.” Her twin shrugs. “Did the brace work?”

           “Feels okay. Thanks.” She turns to Tori. “Did you ask Aurum to help you with your homework again?”            “You make it sound like I’m in primary school.” She opens her mouth, before Tori picks up the paper covered in symbols and waves it aggressively. “Not all of us can just skip past school and get an honorary doctorate later under their famous pseudonym!”

             “You can’t?” Aurum asks wryly, already fiddling with some metal thread thing again, the strange magnifying goggle thing attached to her eye. “I seem to forget that someone didn’t have any complaints when I held the electrical systems in the whole Agency headquarters hostage until they let someone move in.”

           “And you wonder why people are scared of you.” Soren said under their breath, having been ignored by all of them present. They raise their voice to be heard over all the squabbling. “All of you, one at a time. Aurum, I know perfectly well that you know the theory because you use it when you want to show off and explain something to people when you actually want them to understand what you’re doing. Iris, get in the cot and stop antagonising your younger sister. God, I have not missed this.”

           “Welcome back from the Sea, Soren.” Aurum says, deadpan.

           “Come back from the Sea, Soren. Never mind that down there, everyone respects me as the chief medical officer and actually listens. No, no, I come back because my sister writes to me to say she misses me. And then I do come back and what is the first thing I encounter? All my sisters arguing. About chemical enhancements to whatever that thing you’re doing is.” They turn to stare at the concerning black stain on the ceiling. “Most young women talk about cosmetics. Or the newest hologram technology. Or clothes. What do my sisters talk about? Chemical manipulation.”

           “Well, most young women don’t have honorary doctorates for their contributions to the Internet Revolution.”

           “And aren’t top of their field in the intelligence side of things!”

           “I agree.” Tori says.

             “No rest of the wicked.” Soren sighs. “Alright, get into the cot, you hellion. Don’t fall out of any other buildings.”

           “I can make you a grappling hook? Or an inflatable thing so you don’t get injured the next time you fall out a building?” Aurum says hopefully.

           “No. Falling. Out. Of. Buildings.”

           “It was strategic!” She turns to her twin. “Oh the flamethrower works by the way.”

           “I saw on the news.” Her twin replies. “It looks great in action! Most people think that it’s just electronics that’s the key but that’s why they don’t think about alloys and also, fire.”

           “You just like fire too much.” Soren says. “I still remember how you nearly burnt down our first apartment on accident.”

Iris grins at her sister, matching glints in their eyes, not noticing how the oldest and youngest respectively look alarmed at that.

             Well, it’s not like it could get better than purposefully situating themselves within a technological revolution, could it?

[asktheheirofslytherin]

Upon hearing of the dark lord catching Covid, the family sends a care package consisting of an array of teas, like ginger, chamomile, and standard black tea; shortbread biscuits, cooling peppermint oiled Vaseline, comfortable socks, pepper up potion, herbal cough drops, tissues, and a few drawings made by the children wishing him well soon.

Now this is something I can use.

I shall have to thank the family. Very loyal, and far more sensible than some. If you could only see the garish fruit arrangement from the Malfoys. And the carrows sent me the mummified head of a house elf for some reason. Something to do with being a good luck charm in the family for generations, heals illness or something.

At least the Averys sent an array of savory soups, which was also useful and pleasing.

[mskrianna]

⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ умные люди не бывают злыми — только жестокими ❜

[moonytoasted]

thinking about amycus and alecto carrow again... send me your headcanons ab them :3

[ginaraemitchell]

A Carrows Murder (The Carrows Family Chronicles, Book 10) by Annabelle Lewis | #BookReview #Standalone @iReadBooksTours @ALewisAuthor @AnnabelleLewisAuthor

Lewis skillfully balances a fast-paced, twisty plot with moments of levity & deep emotional resonance. The Carrows’ attempt to heal their friend’s broken heart leads to an unpredictable & gripping tale that keeps readers hooked from the first page to the last. With its rich characters and unexpected turns, A Carrows Murder stands as a delightful and thrilling addition to the series—a must-read for both fans and newcomers alike. A Carrows Murder (The Carrows Family Chronicles, Book 10) by Annabelle Lewis | #BookReview #Standalone @iReadBooksTours @ALewisAuthor @AnnabelleLewisAuthor

A Carrows Murder (The Carrows Family Chronicles, Book 10) by Annabelle Lewis | #BookReview #Standalone @iReadBooksTours @ALewisAuthor @AnnabelleLewisAuthor A book blog tour from iRead Book Tours. Thank you to the author, publisher, & Lauren at iRead for providing me with the information for this tour. A Note from Annabelle Lewis: Welcome to the latest installment of The Carrows Family…

[thegirlwiththelantern]

A Carrows Murder

Title: A Carrows Murder (Carrows Family Chronicles #10) Author:  Aannabelle Lewis Demographic: Adult Genre: Mystery, Crime, Romance, Humour Synopsis: A Crafty Plan. A Healing Sojourn. A Deadly Twister. Royal Dutton, close friend and stylist for Charles and Angelica Carrows, has a broken heart and he’s falling to bits. Disturbed by Royal’s escalating depression and dangerous choices, the…

[poetryandbloods-blog]

Carrow family - part I

Aquiles Carrow (1938 - 2021)

Thysania Crouch (1940 - )

Theseus Carrow (1955 - )

Belladona Rowle (1964 - )

Flora Carrow (1982 - 2020)

Hestia Carrow (1982 - 2020)

Perseus Carrow (1985 - )

Aquiles did not belong to Tom Riddle's generation and was not involved in the war, although like many other pureblood families they supported his ideals.

He had a sister four years younger who married Corvus Lestrange.

He married Thysania Crouch with whom he had three children, Theseus born in 1955 and twins Amycus and Alecto born in 1958. Theseus always preferred the academic side, becoming a scholar of magical theory.

Theseus later married Belladona Rowle with whom he would have three children, sisters Flora and Hestia and a boy, Perseus.

[beepborpdoodledorp]

Dark Cacao: the four of us are going on a family outing

Carrow: but there’s still a slot left

Dark Cacao: yes

Carrow: can

Dark Cacao:

Carrow: can I bring my girlfriend

[cursedmoon-doll13]

If It Serves You.

(Headmaster!Severus Snape x Reader)

Cw: Non/Dubcon + Aftermath, Afab Reader, Dark-ish Snape, Unprotected Sex, Powerplay, Sex as Bargaining, Facefucking, Crying, Fingering, Creampie, Begging, Degradation (use of slut) and Praise, Reader calls Snape ‘Headmaster,’ Former Student Reader, Mentions of Torture/Child Abuse, Denial of Feelings.

READ WITH CAUTION

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: As a professor of Hogwarts, your past ambitions, your fragile hope and unrelenting diligence have all led to nothing. Now, you are powerless beneath the rising force of He Who Must Not Be Named and his army of Death Eaters. The only thing left you have to give is your pride; your weak and vulnerable body.

Or, you beg the new headmaster to show mercy to your students in exchange for sexual favours.

Dividers by @/saradika

Of course, there was no pressing need to check and recheck the potions’ storage. Certainly no need to catalogue it twice. You did almost it out of instinct, or force of habit. Yes, It’s healthy to maintain a routine, including routine inspections, just like- just like-

“Professor ___,” comes a gruff voice from behind. In your nervous state, you imagine it is a Carrow, and freeze in panic. “Why are you here?”

You whirl around. No. It’s Professor Slughorn.

“Oh,” you straighten your robes. “Horace. I was just taking inventory.”

“Were you? I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.” He says brusquely.

“Of course, of course you can.”

Your voice carries the same placid, appealing tone with which you’ve used to calm your pupils. You wince at the sound of it. Then, his expression loosens. Not immediately, but little by little, settling into the creases and wrinkles of stress and age. His walrus moustache droops into a familiar frown.

“I’m… I’m very sorry, ___,” he says. “Whenever I leave my storage unattended for too long, I take this terrible notion that some very bright and brilliant student is going to brew a polyjuice potion. Heh.”

His laughter rings rather hollow.

“Yes, those were my thoughts exactly,” you concede, heaving a sigh. “It would be so simple. Not for all of them, but some of our best could do it. And then they would make a reckless attempt at escaping, or even try to impersonate one of those Death…”

You stop yourself, and peer carefully into his face.

You’ve noticed how Horace has visibly deflated, how he has lost his colour over the past few months. How could you not? You would never accuse the Slug of being slovenly, but you’re well aware that beneath all the powder his eye-bags are as sunken as yours.

“It is unfortunate that one of my… One of our best…” It seems that he cannot finish his sentence. Nonetheless, you know who she is.

“It’s a very unfortunate thing,” Professor Slughorn mutters idly. “Very unfortunate…”

He’s fiddling with a ring on one liver-spotted finger. His lips purse periodically, as if a throb in his temple is threatening to burst.

“Horace, It’ll all be alright,” you try to reassure him, knowing you cannot guarantee this.

The only response you receive is a distant nod. He does not stop fussing over his ring. Then, he turns abruptly stony again:

“Well, then,” he says. “You’d best be on your way.”

He dismisses you as curtly as he would a student, but you don’t protest. You know that when you leave, he will pacify his anxiety with a sleeping draught.

As you exit the dungeon and traverse the silent halls, the early winter chill rattles straight through your bones. It seems that Hogwarts grows colder each passing day; colder and emptier. Even when teaching, your classroom is as quiet as death.

Alchemy has never been a popular elective, and now you are down to very few students. Some had also disappeared completely over the Summer, mostly those without Pureblood status or families to support them… You try not to ponder too deeply on it. For their sake - and perhaps also for your own - you keep it together.

Yes. You must stay stubborn and strong. Especially considering what you are about to do now.

You shiver in your thin robes outside of the Headmaster’s office. The griffin sentinel glares haughtily down at you, and for a second you fancy it alive, judging you guilty for some crime. Thinking this, You glance this way and that, wary of onlookers. 

But all of the students are asleep; or at least, they should be. Most of your coworkers have also retired for the evening. You here stand alone. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Sugar Quill.” Your voice echoes eerily. 

The griffin does not budge. The new headmaster has changed the password, of course. You suspected as much, but it was still worth attempting.  

“Amortentia,” you try next. No response. 

You shift, acutely aware of how ridiculous you must appear; a Hogwarts professor stumped by a statue. 

“Polyjuice. Veritaserum. Bezoar… Asphodel.” 

Nothing. 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you huff, already spiked with tight, uneasy tension. “It was so much easier when Dumbledore…”

A low, heavy rumble breaks your train of thought as the spiral staircase emerges. You quickly mount it and climb upwards, boots clattering on the rising stone. It gives way to a large study lined with bookshelves.

You’ve made it into Dumbledore’s office. 

Except it is no longer his. You must remind yourself of this fact often, and each time it stings, like a tiny pricking thorn ingrown into the heart. The study is far draughtier than you remember; devoid and bereft in the absence of Fawkes.

No, Albus is not here. Instead, what scowls over at you from behind the Headmaster’s desk is the unmistakable face of Severus Snape, and he does not appear pleased to see you.

“Kindly inform me why you are in my office.” His voice is slow and measured, but you can sense the venom lurking underneath. 

“I don’t remember ever giving you the password,” he continues, alighting from his chair. “Or have you picked up that nasty eavesdropping habit from one of our pupils?” 

He spat that last word as if it was a curse. 

“No, Severus,” you say quickly. “I guessed it.” 

Severus. Or Professor Snape. But now…

You think you catch him pale ever-so-slightly, or perhaps that is the dim lighting of the room, casting dark, creeping shadows across the floor. While there has never been a cordiality or warmth to your relationship, you recognise that you have been spared the worst of his barbed hostility.

Before now, that is; now, the distance between you is far too great. 

“Did you now?” He sneers.

In response, you draw up, mindful not to appear challenging as you tip your chin. 

“I’m here because I have a proposition for you,” you announce clearly. “I hoped you would be reasonable and hear me out.” 

Snape’s eyes narrow icily and suddenly you are in his Potions class again, overseen with strict authority. One wrong move, and the concoction will spoil and poison you. His black robes billow as he approaches, expanding like the hood of a cobra. 

“There is nothing you could possibly offer me,” he says, folding one shrouded arm over another. “And so there is nothing to discuss. Leave.” 

Your nerves are strung so tight, you can’t help but object: “The Carrows are far too cruel in their methods! Too brutal. The students-” 

“Are very fortunate to have been granted mercy by the Dark Lord,” Snape interrupts, and you swallow thickly. Of course, you could not have forgotten the festering dark mark that now itches underneath his robes, writhing and serpentine.

“But it isn’t enough,” you say, throat sandpaper dry. A rush of urgency floods your system. Now. It needs to be now, before you lose your courage. 

(A gash on the cheek, a row of dark-purplish bruises and welts, a swollen eye, whippings and burns, scars from chains, all so frightened, but brave still.)

“If you agree to grant my students your protection,” your voice falters. “I will give… Myself to you.”

The silence that follows is agonising. His expression is indecipherable; taut and stiff. You’re beginning to think that maybe you weren’t transparent enough. 

Your trembling hands drift towards your top buttons, and you start to undo them bit by bit. 

“Stop,” Snape orders. 

At this, you freeze. Your heart plummets starkly into your intestines. Oh. You hadn’t even considered that he would - or could - reject your offer. You fear you may have tipped the bubbling cauldron over and left it melting through the carpet. As you linger numbly, Snape’s tongue darts between his lips. Light flashes behind his stern black eyes. 

Perhaps he’s considering it, perhaps… 

“Come here,” he says sharply. You obey. 

Shuddering in the winter chill, you watch the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, the twitch of his lids as his gaze dips steadily downward… Snape’s forefinger comes to brush the fabric from your shoulder, his knuckle grazing your collarbone, and your pulse quickens anew. 

“I’ll do anything,” you plead. “Please, Severus.” 

“You will refer to me as ‘Headmaster,’” he corrects.

“Headmaster…” 

You suck in a shaky breath. Standing this close to him, you can make out the lilac rims of his sunken eyes and the worry lines on his forehead. 

He’s tired… The thought springs to mind, unbidden. 

The hand that tends to the rest of your buttons is not rough, but the coldness of his touch makes you flinch. Snape pulls down your outer robes in one swift motion, and you can’t help but gasp. Your nipples perk from the chill, skin prickled with goosebumps. Underwear was unnecessary, and though you knew that from the start, you are stripped so quickly it still leaves you cringing. He moves to fondle your breasts, and your breathing shallows. You stare desperately towards the floor, towards some old, faded tea stain.

“Fall on your knees, ___,” he tells you. 

You kneel quickly in front of him, and he moves to cup the nape of your neck. You don’t need to be instructed; you do your best to steady your hands and unfasten the button over his crotch. You nudge out his dick, and see that he’s already half-hard. 

Before he changes his mind, you spit into your palm and use it as lubricant as you get to work jerking him off. You can feel him watching you, silent and still. This situation is completely wrong, all wrong, but the awkwardness of it is almost juvenile. 

“___,” he calls above you. You stiffen. You know that cautionary tone. “If you have enough cheek to wag your tongue at me, you can also use it for this.” 

You nod faintly, licking your lips. Of course, you should have prepared for this, too, but you have barely even steeled your nerves. Hesitant, you lean forward and run your tongue along the shaft, tracing a vein. Your movements are practically mechanical; dispensing small, kitten licks over the tip, continuing to stroke him. This is now a kind of out-of-body experience for you, the sort of bizarre circumstance you can only encounter in a very strange dream. 

But then, Snape decides your next course of action for you, clutching your jaw and muffling your whimpers as he sinks into your mouth. 

A teardrop falls softly onto your chest, and it only occurs to you now that you’re crying. You gag out a sob as the tip of Snape’s cock hits the back of your throat, unable to prevent loose spit from dribbling down your chin. Above you, his breath hitches. 

“Open your eyes,” he demands. 

You didn’t know you had closed them; squeezed them tightly shut. You peek up at his pale face. 

His pupils are blown wide, almost entirely black. Snape forbids you to keep eye-contact with a firm grip over your head, and you gag again as he rocks his hips. You clutch his thighs for purchase while he fucks your face, tears streaming down your cheeks. For distraction, you try to focus on him, and his pleasure-stricken expression lulls you in like hypnosis; the tightness of his lips, his dark brows slightly furrowed, the minute twitches in his jaw. 

Snape’s thrusts begin to stutter, but he tightens his hold on you and forces you to take all of him. He drags in a sharp intake of breath, and warm, slightly bitter cum pools onto your tongue. 

“Swallow it. All of it.” 

You gasp for air, gulping it down hastily. 

“You'll be getting used to the taste of me. Stand.” 

Snape urges you up and steers you over to his table. Before you can blink, you’re whirled around and caged against his desk. The edge of it cuts harshly into your naked thighs, and you yelp. You can feel his long black hair sweep over your neck, a sensation that is almost ticklish. Snape yanks down your robes and they fall limply around your boots. Now, you are truly exposed, shivering and naked. The only source of warmth is his body heat pressed into your back, the starched, dark fabric of his clothing. 

His cool hand dips around and feels down your stomach, and your breath hitches as Snape unexpectedly plunges several fingers into your pussy. You shock yourself with how slick you are, mortified at the way he tsks behind you:

“Little slut. Is this what you’ve always wanted?” Snape hisses into your ear, spreading the pads of his fingertips over your labia, teasing your clit. 

“Yes!” You choke out. 

“Yes, Headmaster,” he pinches your clit warningly and it feels like an electric shock. 

“Yes, yes Headmast- ah…!” 

He starts to rub in rough, merciless circles, and you immediately try to stifle a cry against your wrist. Snape rips it impatiently from you. 

“Don’t even try to deny it. I can feel how wet you are.” 

It’s surely not the truth. Surely, you tell yourself... 

One long, deft forefinger slips into your slit and pumps steadily in and out. You let out a soft moan, unable to resist the quivering thrill that coils in your abdomen. You didn’t realise he would even try to prep you, and, against your will, you feel some of your fear dissipate. 

“You think I didn’t notice, did you?” He scoffs. “Always so desperate for my attention, always clamouring for a better grade.” 

Memories of your seventh year at Hogwarts resurface and spiral dizzily in your head. The newest, youngest professor, but strict and competent, and— 

Dark, sweeping cloak, black hair, black eyes… 

I even once wished I could brush away the strands…  

Then he retracts his fingers, slowly, torturously, You hate how you yearn for his touch in its absence, how you crave the buzz to smother your discomfort. 

Snape bends you cleanly over the polished table, your still damp breasts pressing into the hardwood. He traces a long, thin finger down your back, tracing languidly across your spine; you could almost believe his touch is tender. Almost. Instinctively, you try to turn your head to face him, but he denies you with a firm hand gripping the base of your neck. You whimper as he lathers cold precum on your thighs, positioning his straining dick over your entrance:

“…Or was it praise you were hoping for?” His voice is low and subdued. Snape’s breath fans over you, and for a moment you falter.

No, of course you don’t expect— 

No, not from Professor Snape. Only your best was acceptable. To elicit a nod of approval, or even a commending glance, you couldn’t possibly hope—

“Headmaster, I— I only ever wanted you to…” 

“Beg for it,” his tone sharpens again. 

Snape slips the tip of his cock inside your folds. But then, he stops, and does not move. You are trapped between his desk and him, left pitiful and squirming. 

“Headmaster,” you say weakly. “Please.” 

“Please what, ___?” 

You grit your teeth, still bristling at the indignity of it all. But you know that, whether he’s enjoying himself or not, Snape has the patience to wait this out. 

“Please, fuck me!” you plead.

You gasp as he grips your thighs and slides himself in further with a lewd, wet sound. Your walls stretch around him as you adjust to his length. He groans softly and rolls his hips, sinking deeper into your cunt, until you’re utterly full of him.

Despite it all, it feels sinfully good, but his movements are so sluggish that you can’t help but whine pathetically into the wooden table. 

“And what exactly is it that you’ve always wanted?” 

What I always wanted, when I was in Potions class… 

“For you to p-praise me, Headmaster.” 

In an instant, you realise this is true. Deep down, you have always hoped for his sole attention… And now he’s invading that dark, primordial world in between, spurring on those secret and forbidden desires you should never have conceived. 

Snape slowly pulls out, dragging every inch of his cock, and then snaps his hips back in, briefly hitting that sweet, sensitive spot that has you seeing stars. 

“Please!” You add, letting out a shrill moan. 

“And do you? Do you want this…?” 

He mutters so quietly, it almost sounds like he’s begging you. Snape’s pace is set now, rocking powerfully into you as you fill the air with loud, desperate whimpers. 

“I do!” You breathe, mind-numbingly uncertain. 

But it doesn’t matter anymore if you want it or not; the sensation is so overbearing and so ruthless, unforgiving and unfair, just like him. You’re barely cognizant of the arms that curl around your naked waist, almost embracing you, until they provide cushioning against the sharp desk. 

“You take me so well,” he murmurs, “So well.” 

Your head spins, threatening to give up on you completely. You could never have predicted such a drastic change in demeanour. The way he’s treating you now is so different from his earlier cruelty; his affectionate caresses might be almost loving. 

“So tight, so good for me…” He groans again, heavily, and the vibrations thrill up your spine as he spears you on his dick. “You’re doing perfectly.” 

He kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, sighing blissfully. You can feel the spiking thrum of Snape’s heartbeat, the soft touch of his lips on your neck, kissing reverently over your shoulder blade. You wish you could just see the expression on his face, if you could only see Severus for one moment…

“Headmaster,” you pant, craning your head. 

“Don’t,” he says hurriedly. “Don’t look at me.” 

Snape doesn’t relent, forcing you firmly in place with a hard squeeze on your shoulder. There’s something thick and vulnerable in his voice that you can’t place, but all you can respond with is a needy cry as he speeds up, angling his thrusts just right. You can feel the familiar shock of pleasure coiling up in your belly now, surging from how deep he reaches. 

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, aren’t I?” He snaps without warning, bursting with emotion again. You can only nod frantically in response.

“Yes, yes, Headmaster!” You sob, your eyes stinging with tears again.

Snape’s movements only grow stronger, his breathing heavier and huskier. His fingernails are digging small, half-moon indents into your skin. You don’t try to stifle the wanton moans that spill from your lips anymore, clawing for purchase at the wood. 

“___… When you cum, you cum for me.” 

Uncontrollably, you arch into the table. Your leg is cramping up from the exertion, muscles pulled taut, and you’re going to, you’re going to—

Your orgasm drowns the rest of your thoughts in static, white, hot bliss that smothers you. Snape shudders and moans as he buries himself to the hilt, pumping you full of his seed. His black cloak sweeps over you as he pulls out, far too soon, leaving you quivering and dripping with his cum.

The last, mangled strands of lucidity swim hazily in your mind. It takes a moment for you to remember why you were here at all.

After a few seconds, he releases you from the confines of his desk without a word. You bend down and hoist the ring of fabric up past your hips again, though your skin is sticky and damp. After a deep, shaky breath, you dare to glance at Snape. 

There’s a thin sheet of sweat beading his forehead. Snape helps you pull your robes over your shoulders. He silently fastens your buttons back up again for you, and his touch is surprisingly gentle. You don’t rebuff him. Your hands are trembling enough as it is. 

“Promise me that you’ll…” You halt.

Your vision is still blurry, but you could swear he looks like the old Severus. Not the figurehead or the professor, but the man. The Severus you once knew. 

There’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t understand, and maybe you never will. 

You’re so dead tired you can barely drag your feet back to the staff’s living quarters. You wake Minerva— or, no, she is already occupied by her usual routine of restless pacing, tugging at her tartan dressing-gown. While she does interrogate you a bit crossly, you can tell she empathises with your ‘insomnia.’

After that you gulp down a contraceptive and stumble into bed, boneless and weary. You don’t cry at all, though you feel that you probably should.

In a way, you’re glad that Minerva doesn’t appear concerned or worried for you. That means she hasn’t found out. There was a persistent paranoia in the back of your mind that she had, that Minerva had seen or heard or sensed it somehow.

You wonder if she’d feel disgusted, or if she would simply pity you. Maybe that would be worse.

You flick your wand and flush out the light.

No. No one needs to know what you’ve done.

A month passes. The grip of winter releases its hold, and spring emerges in its wake, fresh and pure. It’s as if you can finally breathe again.

You hope that you do not imagine the way your student’s faces regain some semblance of warmth. You hope you do not imagine the unmarred bodies, mercifully free from wounds. You also hope that it is not their own schemes or plans that embolden them.

They should leave those matters to you.

Somehow, it feels like the nightmare is almost over. But not yet. Not yet. You still await your orders, and nurse lofty dreams of freedom in your heart.

When night falls, you strip off your underclothes and climb the spiral staircase once more. It is not excitement that tightens your chest, but it is also not dread. Perhaps something else you also do not understand, and cannot afford to think of now.

Headmaster Snape is standing by his desk. You realise he’s been waiting for you. He has that strange, mystifying look in his eyes again.

He offers you a hand.

“Come here,” he says.

[iamnmbr3]

Draco's Motivations in the Book 7 Room of Requirement Confrontation

I just reread the Fiendfyre sequence and based on a close reading Draco's motivations and actions are a lot more complex and sympathetic than I remembered. Not to mention, once again, here there be drarry.

First, the context:

After the incident at Malfoy Manor, we know from Harry's psychic connection to Voldemort and from the Carrows' overheard discussion that Voldemort's wrath was exceptionally terrible. The Malfoy family became virtual prisoners in their own homes for months and were subjected to especially brutal (even by Voldemort's standards) torture that was also likely quite protracted. Lucius has visible marks on him months later - which, given what we know about magic in that world, really speaks to the level of what has been going on. While he probably got the worst of it, it's certain that none of his family members escaped unscathed. After their other failings they have at this point probably permanently fallen out of favor and have nothing but a (likely short) life of misery to look forward to.

Draco bears a lot of responsibility for this state of affairs since it was he who chose not to identify Harry. This likely adds to his sense of conflict as his conscience tells him one thing and everything he has ever been taught tells him something else. He presumably feels responsible for the suffering his family (we know from book 6 that he does genuinely care about them) has to endure.

Not to mention that he himself is suffering along with them. It would be unsurprising therefore if he felt tempted to "rectify" his earlier moment of what he probably perceived as weakness and made a last ditch attempt to save his parents' (and his own) lives and prestige. While Harry has been taught that love and mercy are noble and valuable impulses, Draco has not. In his world love and mercy are called weakness.

Quite possibly as he suffered and faced death alongside his family, part of him must have felt ashamed of the impulses that led to his choices when Harry was a prisoner at the Manor. Everything he has been taught tells him that Voldemort's victory is inevitable and that his moment of shameful weakness has accomplished nothing except to fail his own family and condemn them (and himself) to a likely short life filled with suffering.

At most what we see in the Room of Requirement is a replay of what we saw on the Astronomy Tower - where Draco is deeply conflicted and when confronted with the reality of violence in support of Voldemort cannot go through with it even under tremendous pressure and even though his failure to carry out these acts of violence will inflict danger and suffering on himself and his loved ones.

But, is that even what actually happens? In my opinion, the answer is "no."

The scene in question:

If we actually look at the text it's not even clear that's what's going on at all. Draco's motives are ambiguous at best here. The scene starts when Harry is stretching out his hand to take the diadem. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle come up behind him and he is completely unaware of them. Draco then announces their presence, alerting Harry that he is being watched. He could've very easy simply stunned Harry or attempted to put the Imperius Curse on him (or killed him) while his back was turned. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead he talks, thereby ruining the element of surprise.

And that's not typical of Draco at all when he actually wants to attack Harry. He's never beaten Harry in a face-to-face confrontation. (In fact, the last time he tried - in 6th year - he almost ended up dead.) The two times he has managed to incapacitate Harry - when he petrified him on the train in 6th year and when he hid and caught Harry for Umbridge with a tripping jinx in 5th year - he did so by using the element of surprise to his advantage.

Given that Draco knows that Harry is a very formidable opponent (AND that Harry's friends are nearby) if he truly simply wanted to capture or kill him, announcing his presence is the last thing he would ever do. Then he says "That's my wand you're holding." He still doesn't cast any spells - not even to try to disarm Harry. He also doesn't say he wants to hand him over to Voldemort. He doesn't even tell Harry to drop his own wand, attempt to take him prisoner, or even threaten him.

It is Crabbe, not Draco who says "We're gonna be rewarded...We decided to bring you to 'im." Draco doesn't say anything about his own intentions other than that he wants his wand back - and we certainly know that even in 6th year he didn't trust Crabbe and Goyle, much less now, and thus is unlikely to speak openly in front of them. 

At this point Ron comes to investigate and Crabbe tries to use magic to cause a mountain of debris to fall on Ron and crush him. Harry counters the spell and Draco then grabs Crabbe's arm when he tries to repeat the spell. He gives as his justification the need to avoid the diadem being crushed but since we know he doesn't trust Crabbe it's likely this isn't truthful. Especially since Voldemort has not said anything about wanting the diadem (and even if it wasn't a Horcrux it likely wouldn't be damaged in any case).

Crabbe points out this very thing and Draco argues with him at which point Crabbe says "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished." So arguably he was not even including Draco in the "We" he imagined would be rewarded. Crabbe then tries to use Crucio on Harry.

Draco then again intervenes and tries to stop him. 

"STOP" Malfoy shouted at Crabbe, his voice echoing through the enormous room. "The Dark Lord wants him alive--"  

He doesn't even just say it. He shouts. We rarely see Draco shout. He is someone who generally keeps his deeper emotions hidden - it's why he's so naturally gifted at Occlumency to the point that he is powerful enough at a young age to lie to both Snape and Voldemort.

What he says here doesn't really even make sense because Goyle isn't even trying to kill Harry; he's just trying to hurt him. However Draco is so distressed by this that he actually starts yelling, something we NEVER see him do at ANY other point in the book. "The Dark Lord wants him alive" is also exactly what Snape says to Bellatrix as they flee in book 6, and we know that Snape's real intent was to protect Harry with a believable excuse. It's the only thing Draco could reasonably say in that moment as a justification. 

Crabbe (rather sensibly) points out that 1) he didn't even try to kill Harry and 2) Voldemort ultimately wants Harry dead so it probably doesn't matter that much. This makes perfect sense. And yet Draco is inordinately concerned with preventing harm to Harry & Co rather than with taking any action to capture or even disarm any of them.

Clearly he did not expect to lose control of Crabbe and Goyle like this and as a result is now losing control of the situation (and himself). (Unlike Harry, Draco is more of a planner and is not as good at reacting in the moment.) Also the possibility that Harry could be killed seems to drive him nearly to the point of hysteria - rather like how Ron reacted to Hermione being in mortal peril at the Manor. This is not just a general aversion to killing. This is something more. He finds the idea of Harry dying truly unbearable. (I don't need my ships to be canon; this one just happens to be.)

At this point they start fighting and Draco loses Narcissa's wand. Wandless, he STILL tries to intervene. Crabbe and Goyle are both aiming their wands at Harry and Draco once again starts yelling -  "Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!" and is obviously in significant distress and is not at all happy with what is going on. 

After that the Fiendfyre gets loose and the rest of the scene goes down without much dialogue.

At NO POINT does Draco 1) actually say he wants to hand Harry to Voldemort OR  2) attempt to attack Harry or Ron or Hermione at all OR 3) use his Dark Mark to call Voldemort OR 4) tell anyone he's seen Harry after they get out of the Room of Requirement - even in a later scene when he's been cornered by a Death Eater who is considering killing him he doesn't reveal this information even though that probably would've proven his loyalty or at the very least distracted the Death Eater.

Conclusions about Draco's motivations:

So, where does that leave us? What went down there and what was Draco trying to do?

We really have 3 options.

Option 1: Draco tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort in order to save himself and his family, got cold feet and couldn't really go through with it, and then lost control of the situation due to Crabbe and Goyle's changing loyalties. 

Verdict: Possible but unlikely given the remarkably bad job he does of it and how inconsistent his approach is with his usual MO. Even if we assume his heart wasn't in it you'd think he'd at least have got as far as disarming Harry before announcing his presence. Especially since Harry almost killed him last time they fought (and Draco probably doesn't know Harry didn't know what the Sectum Sempra curse would do.)

And if his heart WAS in it then then this makes even less sense since he not only didn't attack Harry while his back was turned but also didn't call Voldemort or even inform anyone that he'd seen Harry. 

Option 2:  Draco wanted to get himself captured in a way that looked convincing so that he could take the chance Dumbledore offered in 6th year, only it went quite badly wrong.

Verdict: This would be an interesting possibility but I think it's also unlikely as it's simply too risky. He doesn't know Harry was there on the astronomy tower or that Harry would make the same offer. His family would also likely be murdered if Voldemort realized this had happened.  

Option 3: Draco wanted to cut a deal in order to improve his family's situation without actually handing Harry over - perhaps he hoped for some kind of exchange where he could get his wand back and bring Voldemort the diadem as some kind of consolation prize - but overestimated his control over his cronies and lost control of the situation. 

Verdict: I actually think this works best given his behavior during the scene. He initiates a conversation because he wants information about what and where the diadem is (and what value it would have to Voldemort) and because he wants to make some offer along the lines of 'give me my wand and the diadem and we'll let you go.' This could get him what he wants and help his family without actually harming anyone.

Also it hedges his bets a bit because if Harry wins he will owe Draco. The problem of course is that Crabbe and Goyle aren't happy to just take orders anymore and have their own goals. At that point, instead of caving and going along with what Crabbe and Goyle want to do instead, Draco actually tries to intervene, albeit in a way that doesn't actually expose him as questioning Voldemort.  

Draco made his choice at the Manor. If he wanted to hand Harry over he would have. But he couldn't. He cares about him too much. But he also feels tremendous guilt and fear over the price he and his family are still paying for that decision. This is his attempt to try to fix things - to try to find a middle ground between the conflicting imperatives that are tearing him apart. The reality though, as he shortly discovers, is that there is no middle ground. And when he sees that, once again he chooses Harry.