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deepperplexity · 3 years

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Happy Birthday Snape!

Title: Happy 61st Birthday Severus!

Summary: Severus had spent many birthdays alone and giftless. Rarely was he congratulated nor acknowledged on the 9th of January - his birthday. For many years he endured it, hid his birthday and refused to tell anyone about it. Some already knew of course but he never received anything that told him they remembered. But then you came along, the new assistant at Hogwarts and you just couldn't help but fall in love with the dark man. But it took a birthday and a gift for him that burned a figurative hole in your pocket for a day before you had enough reason and courage to speak with him out of your own accord. Little did you know that that one birthday in January of 1988 would turn into 12 more birthday with him by your side, and beneath you...

A/N: For this day, this wonderful day that our dear professor Snape was born, I have done my best to create something I hope will appeal to most of you. We start off with young Snape and a rather gloomy birthday at Hogwarts while he is a student (just Snape), we head on over to adult Snape and a rather lovely birthday at Hogwarts while he is a professor (Snape x Reader) and then we finally arrive at older Snape as he works as a potioneer (self-employed) and a rather smutty birthday (Snape x Reader) at Spinner’s End! ;) <3

The three fics/chapters follow one another and show Snape’s journey so I do recommend reading all three to get the full experience ^^ The first one is rather short but to the point, while the second is a bit longer and the third one his looong. xD

I hope you all will enjoy this and join me in wishing a happy birthday to our beloved Severus who turns 61 today! <3

+A/N: I believe I mentioned a cake, and messy bed @blog4snape a while ago, so here you go. And, @m0thgutzz, here is the fic you wanted me to link you, I BELIVE YOU THREATHENED ME WITH A WATERGUN IF I DID NOT TELL YOU AND I DO NOT WANT TO BE ATTACK SO HERE! ;)

Setting: Hogwarts -> Your home

Pairing: Snape x Reader

ABBR.:│(y/n) - Your Name│ (y/h) - Your House Of Choice │

Word Count: 9432

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Kissing, Sexual Content, Nudity, Messy Messes...

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3

Chapter 1: No such thing for a Snape

1977; Last year at Hogwarts, 17 Years

Christmas was over, a new year had begun and it was his birthday. 17 years and free to wield magic when and where he pleased. No longer bound to the confines of Hogwarts; even if he was there. But, despite the fact he was soon an adult and would be thrown into the big world to fend for himself as he longed for, he was still rather gloomy.

Severus didn’t want to celebrate his birthday nor would he. It wasn’t as if anyone else remembered the day or celebrated it so why should he? It was the day he was born and there was simply nothing else to it. At least, that was how he felt. A rather mundane and regular day for the world and there truly wasn’t anything he felt were special about having been born. Some days, he even wished he hadn’t come to the world.

His mother, a broken witch, had stopped wishing him happy birthday as soon as he were off to Hogwarts. Before that, he would at least get one little congratulatory wish in the morning. His father, the irredeemable abuser of a muggle, more often than not pretended Severus truly did not exist and so the day he was born went unnoticed by the man he barely could call a father. His classmates, housemates and professor seemed as oblivious as a stone to his date of birth.

So, as he got up and dressed he wasn’t expecting the day to be any different than any other day. And, he was right. He went through it as if it was just another Monday. Which it was. Another week, more classes, more homework and idiotic people to endure. Such a waste of time, he thought as he walked away from the Great Hall after having had his supper.

The day truly had gone unnoticed just as he thought it would. It felt both good and bad, he felt content and sad about it too. But as he turned a corner heading for the common room of Slytherin he was met by Argus. The man who he had, actually, bonded with during his time at Hogwarts. His lips perked up in a tiny smile as Argus spotted him and headed straight for him with Mrs. Norris hot on his tale.

“Congratulations lad,” he said with a smile that was more of a sneer that showcased his yellowing teeth. “Thank you, Argus,” Severus said as they both came to a halt in the gloomy corridor. “Had a good day?” Severus shrugged his shoulders. “Potter exploded a cauldron in potions, he got an extra set of ears for a few hours. That was fun,” he answered the man and Argus snorted. “Serves him right, awful boy that one. Sneaking about, harassing and disrupting the others. Nasty boy,” Argus muttered in that annoyed tone of his and Severus nodded.

He had barely been able to contain his laughter at his bully, James Potter, as he pulled on the extra ears that sat right above the others. That, well that had been the highlight of his day, to be honest. Some justice in the universe. “Good evening my lady,” Severus said as he smiled a little wider as he thought of the memory and saw Mrs. Norris peeking up at him with her blood-red eyes. She purred out a meow and walked over. He scratched her under her chin and she then took a lap to stroke around his legs.

“Well, we best be off. Got floors to sweep and paintings to dust,” Argus said and the cat returned to his side. Severus nodded. “Good night lad,” Argus continued with a smile that vanished as he started walking away from the boy. “Goodnight Argus, and my lady,” Severus said to their backs before he continued on his way to Slytherin a little ways away.

As darkness settled outside of the castle Severus was sat, cross-legged, on his bed with a potions book in his lap and his wand in hand to give light. He read and read, allowed his mind to drift away from the day and time as his nose leaned ever closer to the pages of the book. It wasn’t until little circles of water marked the pages that he realised he was actually crying. The salty fluid leaked from his eyes, ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin.

He raised his hand to wipe them away but more tears just kept on coming. He snivelled ever so slightly and even though the dorm was empty he was grateful the curtains around his bed were pulled shut. It gave him at least some sense of privacy as he wept in solitude and near silence. His chest hurt as his stomach felt filled with tiny knots that turned into bigger knots. His lungs felt too tight and it was hard to breathe without shuddering.

What is wrong with me? It’s just another Monday for Salazar’s sake! Stop this infernal crying! His thoughts screamed at him but no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he did not care, that he was truly not bothered - he couldn’t stop feeling the pain or shedding the abominable, infernal tears.

Argus’s words came back to him and Mrs. Norris's slight purr. They were his only friends. They were the only ones who had remembered. How sad was that? A janitor and a damn cat were the only two who had wished him a happy birthday. But, they remembered, they cared enough to remember and say something. Thoughts of his parents entered his mind and rage replaced the sad ache in his chest.

He wished, desperately, that they had not been his parents. He wished he had not been born into such a family; if you could even call it that. Wished, oh how he wished he had been loved by someone in his life. How he wished there was someone out there in the big world who could love him, cherish him and maybe make his birthday something other than gloomy and filled with tears. A card, a wish or even a gift. Just, someone who did something to celebrate that he had in fact been born and were part of the world. Even if everyone seemed to think of him as much as they thought of a common housefly buzzing about with no meaning. He just wished there was someone out there, just for him. Someone that would care and perhaps love him.

But alas, he had no actual hope for such a person. No hope for such a thing as love or friendship. He had, for his entire life, been taught that there was no such thing for a Snape. There was no such thing as true friendship for a Snape. There was no value for a human that was a Snape. There was no such thing as happiness or joy for a person with the last name of Snape. Such an ugly word, such a horrendous word. Such a useless, despicable name. Snape. Snape, Snape, Snape, Snape, Snape. Despicable name…

He abandoned the book and killed the light from his wand before he huddled under the covers, still fully dressed, and hugged his pillow to his chest. His hooked nose buried into the soft green fabric as he tried his best to suffocate the snivels and sobs that escaped him without his consent. It was, truly, an awful birthday. A lonely birthday. A worthless birthday for a worthless person…

Chapter 2: A stirring of hope

A/N: Here we go, the second chapter and this is where you come in as an assistant that provides help to several professors with grading papers, assisting in difficult classes etc.!

1988; Professor at Hogwarts, 28 Years.

The little box wrapped in green paper with a black string woven into a bow at the top rested in the pocket of your coat. It was terribly chilly at Hogwarts this particular day, this lovely day, this amazing day. You had butterflies in your stomach as you marched from the (y/h) common room as you had been busy grading papers for professor McGonagall after classes had ended for the day and you enjoyed doing it in the common room where there were movement and sound to accompany you.

You had, unfortunately, not sen Severus all day long. Not even in the Great Hall and you found it a bit odd. He was a scheduled man, punctual and precise in his everyday life. Yet this day, this fantastic day you had longed for since you first found out about it, he was nowhere to be found.

So, you had to go to him. The little gift had been burning a hole in your pocket the entire day and you, frankly, just wanted to hand it over and get rid of the fluttering butterflies that swarmed inside you. You hoped he would accept it, that he would open it and be pleased. But with Severus, you never knew.

Truly, you never knew where you had him. You had been flirting with him since late September and sometimes he sneered, sometimes he glared, sometimes he huffed and sometimes (although rare) he smiled and averted his gaze. You had no clue if he understood your affection for what it was. Or, if he even remotely felt anything like what you felt for him. Perhaps you were just a nuisance to him?

Nevertheless, you had decided to purchase him a gift - even if you were likely to receive none in return. You didn’t mind though. You just wanted to make him happy, make him smile. As you thought of his stoic face with the distinct features and his deep onyx eyes heat swirled in your stomach and a light blush crept over your cheeks. Your hand slid down to your pocket and felt for the gift. Yupp, it was still there. Burning a hole with nerves in your pocket.

You arrived outside his private quarters and knocked on the door. You waited, listened, and waited a little more. You didn’t need to knock a second time as Severus always answered his door on the first round of knocking. If he didn’t, he wasn’t there. So, you sighed as the door remained shut and headed to his classroom. Your nerves prickled and made you shiver slightly as you truly did not know how the dark and closed off man would react. But, you’d find out in a minute.

You knocked on the door as you had arrived and it swung open. Your breath hitched as you saw him over by a cauldron in the far corner. Brewing a potion that made aqua coloured smoke slither out and up from the cauldron he hunched over in a focused stance.

You had to take a moment to catch your breath as he had removed his billowing cloak and stood in the tight frock coat that hugged his form and accentuated his waste as it flared out ever so slightly around his hips. Images of popping buttons ran through your head as you were already too aware of how many there were - having counted them too many times to ever be able to forget.

“(Y/n), what gives me the pleasure?” he murmured without looking over at you. You took a steadying breath. You could never get used to that thunderous voice of his that could be heard so clearly even if he spoke with a rather low tone. “Oh, I thought I’d come by,” you said as you suddenly hesitated regarding wishing him a happy birthday. No, I bought a gift, it is his birthday and I don’t think anyone has congratulated him so I shall do it. Yes, yes I shall do it. Move your legs! Come on, go up to him!

You scolded yourself into moving with hesitant steps. Your shoes clicked against the stone floor as you moved closer. “Well, as much as I enjoy your company, (y/n), I am in the middle for brewing a draught of peace. It’s a rather-” “Complicated potion, I am aware.” He arched a brow at you, possibly surprised but it was hard for you to tell. His expressions were shown with small little shifts and more often than not they were hard to decipher. So you simply smiled as you leaned a little closer.

“I see you’re adding powdered porcupine quills, I’ll just wait until you’re finished then.” He arched a brow at you as you sat on top of a desk, that the students used, to wait. You smiled at him and he focused on the potion again. You knew he’d have to stir until it turned white and then allow it to simmer on low heat before adding seven drops of hellebore. He would be finished soon so it wasn’t really a bother to wait. And, it would allow you to look at him unhindered if you stayed and waited in the secluded classroom. “As you wish,” he simply grumbled out and you folded your hands in your lap as you propped your feet up on the bench in front of you.

It took exactly 14 minutes until he was done. For 14, wonderful, minutes you could just look at him. Study his features, the curves of his body and the long black hair he had fastened behind his ear on the side closest to you. He had cute ears, large but peaked and rather narrow with gentle little earlobes. For a moment you wondered how he would look with pierced ears. You found the idea rather intriguing. Perhaps, a silver ring? Oh, that would look rather sexy on him, he could totally pull that-

He straightened and you smiled hastily as your thought stopped n its tracks before it had ever reached its endstation. “Done,” he stated flatly and you lowered your feet to the floor. “Great, may I have a moment of your time now then?” He turned towards you. His face stoic but his eyes looked rather puzzled. You simply kept smiling as you honestly couldn’t stop as he was close by. He always made you smile despite the stoic face, the command of respect and the glaring eyes that sometimes, but rarely, had a gentle shine to them.

“You may,” he said as he clasped his hands behind his back and remained utterly still. You often wondered how he did it. How someone could be so still as to be more of a statue than a living being. You truly did not want to know the answer, but you still wondered. “Well,” you started as you rose from the desk, “I would like to congratulate you if I may?” “Regarding what?” “Your birthday of course!” you giggled out as you shook your head gently on a small sigh.

“I do not celebrate it,” he simply stated and you gaped at him. “But, it’s your birthday, Severus. It’s worth celebrating.” “Not to me, it isn’t.” His words were cold, flat. They weren’t growled or shouted or even said with sadness. They were just empty. Utterly void of emotion. Your heart stung as he seemed so far away and almost lost. I will have none of that nonsense.

“Well I think it’s worth celebrating that you were born, so suck it up.” His brows rose as you spoke, definite surprise in the dark pits that were his eyes and you rummaged in your pocket to retrieve the gift that you now wanted to give not because you wanted to get it over with but because you truly wanted him to feel some form of happy emotion on his birthday. Perhaps he wouldn’t, but perhaps he would.

��Here,” you said as you reached out your hand with the little gift, “and happy birthday Severus.” He stood still for another moment before he slowly unclasped his hands from behind his back and reached his left hand out. His movements were slow yet steady, his fingers graced your hand as he grabbed the gift.

“You, bought me a present?” “Mhm,” you smiled out with a nod as he looked at you, “that is what one does on another person’s birthday you know.” He nodded ever so slightly before his gaze went to the gift that looked even smaller in his larger hand. “Well go on, open it.” At your words, he reached out with his free hand and tugged on the string that released the little bow. He unwrapped it slowly; as if he almost didn’t want to do it or didn’t want the unwrapping to end. You couldn’t quite figure out why. The whole point of getting a gift was what laid hidden beneath the wrappings - not the actual wrappings. You had never seen anyone do it so slowly before.

He finally revealed a little black box that was labelled ‘Brelixion’ with silver-coloured swishy writing. It looked quite elegant and the store was perhaps not well known to the regular magician but you knew Severus was well aware of the little shop that only housed expensive, exquisite and potions exclusive things. You had to be a highly skilled potioneer to use the items as they were not for ordinary magicians. They were for those who understood, commanded and ruled over potions with the utmost understanding of the art that was potion-making.

Severus, you knew, was such a magician. He was an excellent potion creator, a true Potions Master. So, it was the only place you even considered to buy him a gift from. And it appeared you may have been right in your decision. He looked stoic, yes, but there was an odd softness to his sharp features as he looked at the box. Okay, first we unwrap for an eternity and now we just look at the box? Ooookey, well, it’s his birthday, his choice.

You stood across from him, silently smiling as you waited as patiently as you could for him to open the box. But he didn’t. He just held it in his hand and looked at it. You knitted your brows together. “Aren’t-, Aren’t you going to open it?” Severus jerked his head up at your voice; as if he had been deep in thought. “What? Yes, excuse me,” he muttered under his breath as he slowly lifted the lid and peered inside.

For a tiny fraction of a second, you were afraid you had done something wrong as he frowned at your gift. It, well it hurt, to be honest. You had really given thought to the whole thing as it was about a month and a half of your salary that went towards that little gift he so gently held in his hands while his face seemed to show displeasure.

You entwined your fingers in front of you as you looked away from him and down at the floor. “Do you, do you not like it?” you asked with a low voice and you felt disheartened by your own words. You heard him move but you didn’t dare to look up at the dark man. You just bit your lip and nervously wrung your fingers.

“It’s perfect,” he said and you could not believe the softness his voice vibrated through you with. Slowly, ever so slowly, you looked up and found him looking right at you. His eyes were shiny, his mouth gently curved up in a smile and he seemed full of life rather than the statue-like state he seemed to always be in. “Really?” you asked feebly, he nodded. “Truly.”

Your shoulders lowered as you relaxed a bit and let go of the tension that had stiffened you. “Tell me, (y/n), why have you done this?” You tilted your head, now your eyes were the puzzled ones. Had he truly not seen your efforts to get closer? Had he not noticed the fondness and desire you had for him? You thought you had made it quite clear numerous times yet it seemed to have gone over his head, how in the world that was possible when Severus was such a clever man you could not fathom.

It took you a moment to order your thoughts and he waited with curious eyes directed at your own. “I-, I thought you knew?” “It’s my birthday, yes, but that does not warrant such an extravagant gift as this.” You bit your lips and lowered your gaze. Do I have to spell it out? Gosh, I-, I-, oh I don’t want to spell it out. Why can’t he just understand I’m in love with him? Is it really that strange of an idea?

You took a breath and searched for your courage. “I, I am very fond of you.” It wasn’t a lie but neither was it the full truth. Silence lowered over you for a few seconds but then you heard him take a breath and speak - in the nick of time as you wanted to run for it. “Is that so?” Was, was that a purr? In his voice? No, I, I must have misheard him. “Yes,” you whispered as you lowered your head even more, “I am very fond of you and I just, just wanted to tell you, or show you. And, wish you a happy birthday. Not that my efforts will make a difference but-” “It makes all the difference in the world.”

You stiffened as his voice rumbled around you, vibrated through you and made heat swirl in the pit of your stomach where the butterflies had been all day. His voice, his lovely voice was gentle yet firm, measured yet liberated. It was an odd combination but you loved it. Something about it felt private, personal.

He stepped up to you and you saw his hand come in under your chin before you felt it. He tilted your head up and his cold skin against your own, slightly warmer, made you shiver. It felt good. “All. The. Difference,” he stated with pressure on each word. You blinked as he gazed into your eyes and you couldn’t help how your knees weakened, how your heart pounded and your lungs felt too tight to breathe with.

“Thank you,” he said and his breath warmed your face, “for making my birthday something, other than void.” It seemed as if it were the only words he could give you at that moment and you took them with joy. You would forever remember and cherish them. “You’re welcome.” “But, I do have to ask…” “Yes?” you said as you tried to decipher what was hidden in his eyes. “Do you, perhaps, feel something other than collegial friendship and fondness for, me?”

You blushed at his words as he still had your chin in his grasp. You were sure he could feel warmth radiate from your heating skin and it felt as if your heartbeat echoed out around the both of you. “Yes,” you finally stated on a hitching breath, “yes I do, Severus,” you continued as your mouth went dry. “Good,” he said with that thunderous yet soft voice before he nearly gave you a heart attack as he leaned in and planted a gentle yet firm kiss against your lips. It happened so fast it took you a second to react. But when you did, your body softened, your thoughts went silent and all you could feel was his lips on yours for a few amazing seconds as the taste of him and peppermint overtook you.

As you broke apart you drew a deep breath. Air could finally fill your lungs again. But your heart pounded harder and you blushed a deeper shade of red as he smirked at you. “Why, (y/n), I do believe you might have a fever.” It was cruel of him really, to tease you, but at the same time you had never seen or heard him make such a remark and his voice was not harsh. It was gentle and inviting. “Well, I think I might be struck by a sickness,” you said as you looked at him. He arched a brow at you. “I do believe my heart has been struck by sickeningly sweet affection and it does make me suspiciously hot and bothered at times,” you continued and blushed even more as the words were outrageously revealing and never had you dreamt of speaking in such a manner with Severus. “My oh my, perhaps there is a cure for this sickness of yours?” “Oh there definitely is a cure. As long as I get my daily dose of Severus I’ll be fine,” you said with a shy voice as you really felt quite audacious and you had no idea what to do with your hands, how to stand or even how to look at him without wanting to hide from the embarrassment of your words.

But Severus, well he just smiled ever so slightly towards you. “My my, we do have an audacious mind,” he hummed with a gentle thunder to his gruff voice, “I must say, I never imagine you to say such lovely things, (y/n). Feel free to keep surprising me,” he said as he set the gift down on a nearby desk. He took your face in both of his hands, ever so gently, as he looked down at you from his towering position.

His eyes were still harsh, his face still stoic, his lips thin and his jaw so tense. Yet at the same time; he had a light swirl in his gaze, a slight tug at the corner of his mouth, a sort of sensual harshness to his face and jaw that utterly captivated you and spurred on the heat that gathered in your stomach. Your breath shook as you lost yourself in his eyes. As you truly lost yourself to the blooming love that glowed inside of you.

“Severus, I was afraid you didn’t feel like-, that you didn’t like-, that you didn’t-” “Hush,” he said as he leaned in to kiss you again. But his lips never came. He cursed violently and in the next moment you were hidden by him, pressed to his warm chest and you were so shocked you failed to smell the smoke in the room. But there was no missing the sound of an exploding cauldron and, certainly, no way of missing Severus’s hiss as the ruined potion rained down over him as he protected you from the liquid that was heavy and white.

You started to giggle, you tried to stop as he swore and hissed while potion covered him from head to, well to his butt really, but you simply couldn’t help it. He looked so cute as he whipped his arms and shook his head so potion splattered about from his long black hair. You were fortunately still close to his chest so none rained down on you.

He swore a few more choice words. You tried to quiet your laughter as he spluttered and glared at you. “I’m sorry Severus, it’s just, we forgot and you don’t-, you never-” “No, I do not. Apparently, audacity is not your only surprising gift. You’re quite the distraction as well. Obviously.” You blushed again and lowered your head at his snarled words. “But, I do enjoy the way you distract,” he murmured ever so gently as his fingers yet again tipped your head back from where he held them under your chin. “It’s, audaciously distracting to be in your presence like this. With no boundaries of courtesy or distance of caged emotions.” You looked at him with widened eyes, so you do feel as I do? Truly? You thought but you did not dare to utter the words aloud.

“Can I expect you to distract me again soon?” he asked on a deep rumble. You blinked and then swallowed. “If you wish, if, if you allow me to,” you stuttered out with a shy voice and your knees shook a bit. He was the Severus Snape after all. Not only was he a busy man but he was also quite private and closed off. Not to mention feared and even loathed by some students and you had noticed he always avoided spending his free time with anyone. So as he nodded in agreement to your question you could not help but to smile so widely your cheeks hurt and all you wanted to do was to kiss those lips again.

But in that precise moment, a few drops of potion ran down from his hair, down his forehead and then down his nose. You giggled yet again before you stroked away the liquid as he nearly crossed his eyes to watch the movement of your finger and that only made your giggle turn into laughter as he looked adorably ridiculous. Nothing like the notorious dungeon bat of darkness.

“A sweet laugh as well,” he grumbled on a snorting chuckle and you tried to suffocate the laughter. “Well, I’m sorry, you’re just so adorable,” you laughed out and he arched a brow at you while his face hardened to near stone. “Be glad I’m fond of you...” he huffed out as his eyes turned darker. Okay, note to self, do not call him adorable unless you want to make him pissed as the hornets of a kicked hornet’s nest. Even, even if he is adorable. You whipped out your wand to clear away the potion and the hardened lines of his face softened as you smiled at him. He nodded and you flicked your wand. He was clean but your thoughts were dirty as he gazed into your eyes and a warm shiver travelled down your back...

Chapter 3: A line of chocolate

A/N: This fic has a section that is split and marked male gender and female gender - I wanted to give at least a little more explicit content and to do that I felt it was best to do two sections (one for female genitalia and one for male genitalia) so I didn’t have to be so vague and could write a bit more freely. I hope you are okay with this setup! Everything is still GN in the sections except the physical aspects of you and the sections are almost identical except what Snape does to your body.

2000; Potioneer, 40 Years

You were being as silent as you could while you prepared breakfast for the birthday man. Forty years, I can’t believe he’s turning forty. It’s, it’s insane. Where did the time go? You thought as you ordered the table with a firm whipping of your wand. Plates, cutlery, cups and the food gently floated into place. You pointed your wand at the coffee pot and it swayed towards the table before it sat itself down on a little holder with an everglowing flame underneath to keep it warm.

You rubbed your hands together, a slight smile across your face. Your husband was sleeping upstairs with no clue about what you had planned for the day. Well, he did say I was audacious, even if it was quite a while ago now. You chuckled to yourself as fond memories of the first birthday you had celebrated him on floated through your mind. It had been a mess of emotions and potion. But everything had turned out alright in the end as you had now spent twelve years together.

You took a moment to check everything before you nodded to yourself, checked the time and saw it was nearly eleven in the morning as you strode off to wake Severus from his deep slumber. You tipped as quietly as you could through the little house and upstairs, opened the bedroom door and stepped inside of the cosy little bedroom with a bed that was frankly too big for the room; which made the room look smaller than it actually was.

Your heart skipped a beat as he laid on his back, his black hair spread out across the pillow and his chest gently rose and sunk in the midday sunlight that seeped through the little windows. The cover was bunched up at his waist, his upper body on display for you to drool over. He truly was gorgeous. His dark chest hair dusted with greying hairs, his tummy a little softer than a few years ago; but his skin was as pale as ever. You smiled at the sight. You adored him, His body, heart, soul and mind. All of him.

You gave yourself a moment to just appreciate what you had, what was yours. Who you belonged to and lived with, who you were growing old with and made memories with each day that passed. He made you whole. Made life beautiful and heaven felt useless compared to your life. I’m so lucky to have you darling, you thought as you stepped closer to the bed.

You stroked his shoulder, kissed his cheek and whispered to him that it was time to wake up as you giggled out a ‘sleepy head’. For he was. He would sleep the days away if you allowed it. Nights, not so much. He never came to bed before midnight and rarely rose before ten in the morning unless you woke him up - or he had a meeting with a customer or company provider of one sort or another.

He grumbled and groaned as he turned his head away from you. “Come on darling, it’s time to wake up,” you said a little louder and petted his shoulder a little harder. “No,” he groaned out and you rolled your eyes. “Always such a fuss to get you out of bed,” “It’s warm and comfortable,” he grumbled and you smiled. “Well, I made breakfast, your favourite.” His head jerk back towards you and his eyes were suddenly wide open. “Really?” “Really,” you said on a nod and he smiled at you.

You both ate, drank coffee and enjoyed the silence. Severus truly weren’t a morning person and you had learned through the years to be quiet for the first hour after he woke up. It made for a more pleasant day and a happier husband so you really didn’t mind. Truthfully, you had come to be rather fond of the silence as he allowed you to just look at him. The first few months he had been rather annoyed by this little habit of yours but he had come to accept it, as you had done with the silence.

When the table was cleared, the dishes put away and Severus had finished his third cup of black coffee, as he read the news seated by the kitchen table, you turned towards him. “Darling,” you said to get his attention and he looked up, “happy birthday.” He smiled at you while he folded the newspaper and placed it on the table as the clock struck twelve. “Thank you, love,” he said and the difference between this birthday and the first struck you in that moment of time.

“Still think your birthday is not worth celebrating?” you asked and you saw in his eyes that he immediately understood what you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, not anymore. I’m rather, rather fond of it now.” You giggled and went over to him, he opened up his arms and you stepped in between his legs as he embraced you around your waist and you kissed the top of his head.

His hair smelled like sage, copper, smoke and sheets. He needed a shower. Not that it smelled bad, but it smelled of work and you didn't want to be reminded of that on his birthday. “Come on, let’s take a bath,” you mused and he leaned his head back to look at you. His black hair hung down behind him and you ran your fingers through it. “I showered two days ago,” he said with a furrowed brow. You sighed. “Take a bath with me.” You stepped out of his seated embrace and he rose without any further remarks.

The water was warm and felt gentle to your skin as you snuggled into Severus’s chest and his arms folded around you. You hummed in delight as the gentle scent of honey and vanilla filled your nose from the soap you had poured into the water earlier. “I love you, (y/n),” he whispered before his lips graced your head. “And I love you,” you breathed out. He hugged you tighter and his naked skin against your own felt utterly delightful.

You took a moment to just enjoy it, enjoy the cuddling and closeness. But thoughts of his birthday came and you felt a small, slightly wicked smile tug at your lips. You allowed your hands to stroke his legs on either side of you. Up and down, up and down. Gentle movements yet your intent was clear. He grew behind you, hardened and you felt a sense of pride that such simple touch from you could arouse him so hastily.

You turned around as the water sloshed around your body and some spilt over the edges of the tub. Your mouth started tracing kissed over his shoulder, his neck, his throat and eventually your lips joined with his as you straightened and straddled him. You silently thanked yourself for installing such a large tub and then you silently thanked him for allowing you to decorate and remodel your home through the years however you wanted.

He purred against your lips and you silently moaned as his strong hands grabbed your hips. You wiggled a tad and he groaned as you were pressed against his hardening erection. “Happy birthday,” you whispered. “Happy indeed,” he purred back with that deep voice of his. You shivered and heat made your toes curl.

He nibbled on your bottom lip as your hands cupped his face. Your tongue darted out and licked his upper lip as you ground against him again. You felt a hunger so strong you could barely contain a growl, he did that to you. Still. After twelve years of love and making love, growing and changing, evolving and finding yourselves he still made you ache with want. Still made you boil with lust. Still managed to turn you on so badly you feared you had gone mad for him sometimes.

Your hand stroked its way down over his chest, his stomach, until you reached his cock. You scooted back a bit and grabbed him with desperate movements. You began to stroke him, he moaned into your mouth and as you stroked a few more times his lips left yours as his head tilted backwards. His eyes closed in bliss produced by your hand.

He was beautiful, handsome, perfect. Your perfect ideal of a man. That he had a few years on you did truly not matter. That you had been a mere assistant at Hogwarts when the two of you met didn’t matter. That he was so much more than you could ever hope to become did not matter either. All that mattered was that he loved you and you loved him.

“(Y/n),” he breathed out as you continued to stroke him and your mouth left harsh kisses along his neck and jaw. You nearly came by the sound of his voice uttering your name with such need and want. “I love you,” you moaned against his skin and he shivered beneath you. You stroked harder, used the tempo he loved and panted into his ear as you asked him to come for you.

He groaned, tensed, and by your hand, he came undone. You felt such pride, such joy at seeing him unravel beneath you as his face was strained with pleasure and his lips gently parted as he sucked in air to calm himself. “You’re beautiful when you cum,” you whispered as you kissed his cheek with pure love.

He chuckled and raised his head as his eyes locked with yours. They were such beautiful pits of swirling darkness and gentle stardust that spellbound you without fault each time they gazed into your own. You kissed his thin lips and he moved his hand from your hip to your groin. You shivered with delight as he stroked and graced your aching sex with his harsh hand.

~Female Gender~

He encircled your clit, stroked it and made you squeeze your eyes shut in delight. His hand and fingers felt so good against your pussy you could barely take the pleasure. “Look at me,” he said gruffly and you did. You looked at him as his fingers danced between your folds and eventually pushed inside you only to be greeted with hot, wet warmth. You moaned in delight as his thumb stroked your clit while his fingers pumped in and out of your opening. Just how you wanted it.

You bit down on your bottom lip as his eyes held you captive. He wanted to see you, wanted to see all things you felt and enjoy all things he made you feel. He was dominant in his ways with you and you marvelled at his stern command no matter what situation you were in. He made you feel safe and because of that, he could do whatever he pleased with you.

He pumped you harder, pushed another finger inside as his thumb never relented on the onslaught of your clit. Your muscles were tensing, your hands on his shoulders hardened as you felt your climax arrive with a flurry of moans and gasps. Your body shook as he gently eased you of your high with measured pumps and strokes before his fingers glided out of your clenching pussy and he looked too pleased with himself as you panted and shook where you sat, still straddling him, in the tub.

~Male Gender~

He encircled your cock, stroked it and made you squeeze your eyes shut in delight. His hand and fingers felt so good against your hardened flesh you could barely take the pleasure. “Look at me,” he said gruffly and you did. You looked at him as his fingers surrounded your erection and started to pump you ever so gently as your heat radiated against his cool palm. You moaned in delight as his thumb stroked your tip while his fingers held a firm grasp of your most delicate body part and stroked you tenderly. Just how you wanted it.

He pumped you harder, pushed down and pulled up as his thumb never relented on the onslaught of your cocks peak. Your muscles were tensing, your hands on his shoulders hardened as you felt your climax arrive with a flurry of moans and gasps. Your body shook as he gently eased you of your high with measured pumps and strokes before his fingers slipped away from your softening cock and he looked too pleased with himself as you panted and shook where you sat, still straddling him, in the tub.

~Gender Neutral~

You both were dressed in soft clothes and thick robes after the enjoyable bath. Severus sipped on another cup of coffee while reading a book on the newest potions to hit the market as you sipped on a cup of tea and read a rather outrageous book of love and lust. It was quite enthralling, so enthralling in fact that you forgot about the time.

It was past three in the afternoon before you looked up from the crisp pages only to see that Severus’s armchair was empty, the book he had been reading laid on the little side table and the sound of cooking were heard from the kitchen. “Shit!” you hissed out as you threw away the blanket you had at some point pulled over your legs and discarded the book only to hurry to the kitchen.

“Severus, darling, it’s your birthday,” you said as you stepped in and found him busy by the stove. “And?” “You shouldn’t do the cooking,” you said as your arms wrapped around his waist and the delicious smell of boiled chicken with herbs wafted up your nose. He merely chuckled and kept on adding spices to the boiling pot before him.

“Seriously, I can-” “I’d like to survive this birthday, thank you very much.” You pouted at his words, it’s not like I’ve tried to poison you! He arched a brow and you growled at him. He could sense your annoyance with him. “Last time you almost burned the house down, the time before that you nearly flooded the kitchen, the time before that you almost covered yourself in boiling water and the time before that you tried to serve me some sort of concoction that could probably have killed the devil himself if she consumed it and the time before that-” You threw your hands up in the air. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m a hazard in the damn kitchen Mr Master Cook!” you spat out with a slight hiss to your voice. But yet again, he merely chuckled. You had to do your darndest not to crack up at his little devil joke either. It was clear the devil was a male by popular opinion but Severus firmly believed the devil had to be a woman - even if neither of you believed in such muggle things. You had had a long discussion on the whole thing though, and you actually agreed with him as he had said 'hell has no fury like a woman scorn and if hell can't compete then the only logical thing is that a female rules it, a woman is the devil'.

“Honey, love, you are an excellent baker - as long as it doesn’t involve the stove, so just stick with that. I can cook just fine-” “No, you are not just able to perform the task of cooking just fine, you’re fucking brilliant at it and I’m not as good as you, I am well aware Mr Look At Me Cook Like I’m a Master Chef, so don’t-” But you interrupted yourself as he looked at you with a puzzled look. “What?” you spat. Annoyed at his cheerful features. “Well, I think you might have mastered the art of spiteful compliments, love,” he said on a shrug and you had no words after that. He was infuriating at times but by Merlin how you loved him for all his perfections and imperfections. As he did with you.

“Fine, I will stay out of your hair. Do your swish-swash-stirring in peace.” He laughed at you, a rumbling sound that cushioned your heart in clouds of bliss, and gave your forehead a quick kiss before you muttered some choice words under your breath and left the kitchen behind you.

You ate a while later and Severus poured you a glass of wine before he poured one for himself. It had become somewhat of a tradition. You shared a bottle of wine on his birthday, shared a bottle of cider on your birthday and a small bottle of brandy was shared during Christmas and New Year. Other than those three occasions, you never consumed any alcohol.

Some found it strange, but you both had your reasons for it. Severus’s father had been a drunk, your (relative) and (relative) had been drunks as well. It ruined families, useless overconsumption of alcohol. Neither of you wanted that so you had your three bottles per year and that was all. In all honesty, it only made the stuff taste better to have it so rarely.

You clinked your glasses and took a sip each. You handed over a little gift to him as you had placed your glass on the table. His eyes widened and a slight smirk covered his thin lips. The gift looked exactly like the one you had given him the first time you ever presented him with such a thing. Only a little bit larger. You blushed ever so slightly as he smiled widely at you with soft and warm eyes.

“Happy birthday, Severus,” you said and grabbed your glass. He tore open the wrappings, such difference compare to the first time. Perhaps, I have managed to make him confident in the fact he will always receive gifts on his birthday. Perhaps he feels safe in that, perhaps he truly does enjoy his birthday now. Well, no, that’s not a perhaps. I know he does.

Your thoughts raced through your mind as he was yet again, after twelve years, met with a black box with silver lettering on top that spelt ‘Brelixion’ . The exclusive, expensive shop for potion-making. Not that you had a low income or anything like that anymore. No, both of you could buy most of what you wanted with your own firm doing so well. But still, it was an expensive shop and the object was worth some awe.

Severus opened the lid and peeked inside. His eyes softened and you felt a gentle warmth curl its way through your veins. He was happy. That was all you wanted. “Love, thank you,” he said gently with that deep voice of his that you loved so much. You were the only one to ever be so fortunate as to hear that gentle sound from between his lips. “Do you like it? It goes with the first one,” you said and he nodded. “I do,” he stated as his eyes went from yours and back to the gift.

“I shall take it with me at all times,” he stated and you knew he meant for work. It pleased you to hear as you already knew he always had his first gift with him in that leather bag of his that could fit more things than logically possible. Thank you undetectable extension charm, you thought on a light smile. Your mind wandered and in the silence, you pondered on the next little gift you had planned. Well, it wasn’t so much a gift, more like an experience but still.

The day passed gently, there were a few cards that arrived by owl from around the globe addressed to Severus. Customers, potion masters and old colleagues - old friends even - and you were thrilled for him as he had been such a lonely man a few years back and had so low hopes each time January and his birthday came around. But not anymore. It was all different now. Not only the birthday but he and you as well. Different, the same, but different.

Darkness had crept in nearly three hours ago and you felt a slight tingle in your body as you gathered your courage to try something new. Something Severus would no doubt find audacious. He’d most likely call you wicked and you truly hoped for that as it was a word he rarely used to describe you, actually, it was only uttered by him if you did something wickedly delightful to him that also surprised him. And you hoped, that this evening, would be such a thing so as to garner such praise.

“Darling?” you said to get his attention, he hummed a little. “Come to bed with me.” He looked up from his book. “Love, it’s only seven.” “I know,” you smiled out with sparkling eyes and a slight blush across your cheeks. His eyes widened ever so slightly as he raised his brows. He was most likely thinking about the bath you had enjoyed together in the late morning already. But he nodded and you both got up. You ushered him upstairs, saying you’d only be a minute.

He went upstairs to your bedroom while you headed for the kitchen. In the fridge stood a chocolate cake topped with whipped cream and a few strawberries. ‘Lovely Forty’ was swirled across its top in white chocolate sauce. You grabbed it and put it on the counter. You shed your clothes right there in the kitchen as beneath you wore, well, nothing. “Either he’ll die of laughter or this will go hella good,” you whispered to yourself as you took a steadying breath and placed twelve candles on the cake - one for each birthday you had celebrated with him.

You walked gently through the house with the cake in your hands, all the candles lit and the light danced across your naked skin. With your foot, you pushed the door open just as Severus had removed his shirt. His socks and slippers were already in a heap on the floor. He stood in only silky, black pyjama pants before you and the sight was quite something.

“Happy birthday,” you said again and your voice was slightly low as shyness took over for a moment. He arched a brow, his eyes harshly roved over you and the cake for an eternity before a hint of a smile curved his lips and the dark pits that were his beautiful eyes swirled with want. “Happy indeed,” he said for the second time that day and confidence unfurled and bloomed within you as all shyness melted away under his loving gaze.

There was chocolate everywhere. Literally. In your hair, on your nose, between your legs, on your feet, your elbows and tummy, your shoulder and fingers and knees. Everywhere. You were a chocolate covered mess along with the sheets and Severus seemed to be more than happy to continue making you a complete mess with the cake you had worked hard on. But you had other plans.

As he was busy licking cake off your inner thigh he did not notice you had reached for your wand, the wand you had cleverly hidden beneath the cake as you walked up many moments ago. You smiled as you flicked your wand, a belt came flying from the nearby wardrobe and in the next moment Severus was bound beneath you with his hands above his head and a look of surprise covered his face. “(Y/n), what in the world are you-” Your messy finger covered his lips as you smiled at him with warmth and yearning. “My turn,” you simply stated and he breathed out harshly through that gorgeous hooked nose of his.

You had never bound him before, he had bound you but never the other way around. Well, we haven’t ever played with food in the bed before either so, some firsts being crossed. Still, after twelve years we have firsts, the thought made you excited and you removed your messy fingers from his lips that were messy as well. You giggled as he had chocolate on that pretty nose of his and all around his cheeks. You bent down and licked it off.

With your finger dipped in chocolate from the centre of the cake you began to draw a line, from his chin to his cock. You had to take some new chocolate a few times but in the end, you had a nice little path to travel. “Oh, such a messy mess,” you said as you splattered some extra chocolate over his chest and stomach. He chuckled and sighed at your mischief. “Oh we are wickedly audacious today,” he said and vibrations shot through you from his nearly hoarse voice. The words made you purr. “Guess I’ll have to clean you up, my birthday man…”

You lowered yourself, your lips graced his jaw and you nibbled between soft kisses. He hummed in delight as you worked your way down. Licking, lapping, kissing and nibbling. “You taste good paired with chocolate,” you purred out against his chest as you ground against his cock that you were sure was nearly painfully hard beneath you as you straddled him. “But it’s nearly a shame to pair such a lovely flavour with something so simple,” you breathed out to take a deliberate pause as you knew your words were ambiguous, “as mundane chocolate.” He took a shaky breath and you gave one of his nipples a hard lick. He bucked and you moaned.

“I love you,” he whispered as you continued your journey down his stomach, licking and loving him every bit of the way. “And I love you,” you breathed out against his pale skin as you continued to press your tongue against it. You were devouring the chocolate and consumed him fully in your mouth as you arrived at his erection where the line of chocolate ended. “(Y/n).” You smiled as you licked and sucked. His thundering voice that articulated your name was all you needed to hear at that moment.

You were consumed by lust and love. He was consumed by you until he reached his highest point and released himself with a loud growl of adoration for you and your mouth. It was, for him, one of the greatest birthdays in history. Not because you loved him so audaciously wickedly with cake and licks but because you simply loved him. Fully, wholeheartedly and completely. That was the greatest gift, you by his side through life and you knew it before he ever had to utter the words.

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[Jan:2021]

#snape's birthday #happy birthday snape #snapedom #snape fic #snape x reader #writing #my writing #deepperplexity #deepperplexity fic #smutty writing #fluffy writing #cake in bed #I have no idea why I made them bathe BEFORE they got all messy but oh well

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 3 years

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Danganronpa IshiMondo Hogwarts AU idea

Hi all! So, the other night I was lying in bed, thinking about IshiMondo (as one does), when I got this random idea. It just kind of was a random musing at first, but the more I thought of it, the more invested I got. What was this idea, you ask? Well, those of you who read the title of this post will already know.

IshiMondo at Hogwarts. And... that’s about it, ha.

The idea quickly went from a “ha, cool idea” to an “I must have this.” And I would like to say that-- while I know Harry Potter has its flaws (and J.K. Rowling can bite me)-- I still adore the series, while also acknowledging the flaws and downfalls.

I did write a one shot fic of IshiMondo at Hogwarts, but this post isn’t about that. This is just about my headcanons of what house each student would be in, their blood purity, their prefect status, as well as how it would work having the Danganronpa characters be in Hogwarts. If you feel excited about the fic, don’t worry, it is completed with 25k words. I wrote frantically the last day and a half to complete it, ha. I had no plot in mind when I started, just wanted a IshiMondo Hogwarts story, but I got a pretty solid plot idea after writing for a little bit, so I hope y’all like it.

I don’t know when I’ll be posting it, just because I have a bit of a backlog of fics to post, oof. Probably sometime next week, after some more editing.

Anyway, if you are interested in the Hogwarts AU idea, feel free to read on to the rest of the post. It’s a little rambling, so apologies about that. But I’m just super psyched on this idea, ha. And I always focus on useless details when I think about thing, oof.

(I will add a read more here, just to not have an insanely long post clog your dash if y’all don’t care, ha.)

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

Anyway. The first thing I thought about was which house each student would be in. And this... was surprisingly easy, really. Some of the characters I was a bit stuck on, but was still able to put them in a house and feel good with it, even if for some I’m like “ehhh, they asked the hat to be in that house, lol”.

One small issue I found for fitting the Danganronpa characters into Hogwarts was the fact that the 88th class only had 16 students, which would be ridiculously small for a Hogwarts year. I explain this one away by saying the war just made their year smaller, since I wouldn’t want to add any students to their year, really. If you go by their canon birth years, 1993 (other than Hiro, ha, though in this AU he’s the same age as the rest), they’d have been about 4 or 5 during the war in 1998, so it would make some sense for their year to be smaller. Also... if you’re wondering why 16 Japanese students ended up in a British school... shhhh. That’s the biggest hand wave in all Hogwarts crossover AU’s.

Anyway, here’s the houses I put them in. I wanted 4 per house, since there are an even 16 students in Danganronpa, so 4 per house makes sense. I also initially wanted to have 2 girls and 2 boys, when possible, but it didn’t work out for most of the houses. Ah well.

The students houses, as well as “blood purity” and prefect status, since my fic takes place in fifth year:

Hufflepuff:

Makoto (half-blood)

Taka (pureblood) (prefect, duh)

Sayaka (half-blood)

Hifumi (half-blood, muggle mother)

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

Gryffindor:

Mondo (muggle born) (prefect)

Sakura (half-blood)

Leon (half-blood)

Hina (half-blood)

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

Slytherin:

Junko (pureblood)

Mukuro (pureblood)

Byakuya (half-blood- pureblood father, half-blood mother)

Celeste (half blood- pureblood mother, half-blood father) (prefect)

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

Ravenclaw:

Kyoko (half-blood) (prefect)

Hiro (muggle born)

Toko (half-blood)

Chihiro (muggle born)

~~~~~

Houses defense:

I honestly feel that these houses are pretty representative of the characters, for the most part. But here is some evidence, which yes, I did put thought into, ha. Please go with the assumption for the houses that the hat also takes into account what qualities the students personally value, even a bit more than what qualities they may or may not possess. This is just how I personally view the hat working in HP, because otherwise... well, it doesn’t make much sense, since everyone has at least some quality of each house.

Taka, I firmly believe, is absolutely a Hufflepuff, duh. Not only does he value hard work above literally all else, but he is fiercely loyal and does his best to be kind, even if he doesn’t always succeed. More than that, while he is intelligent, he absolutely does not value intelligence, since he hates geniuses, which eliminates Ravenclaw. He is ambitious, but he is the legit opposite of cunning or sly, ha, so Slytherin is out. And while he is brave, he is not at all reckless, nor do I think he values bravery much, so no to Gryffindor. Thus, Hufflepuff through and through.

I also feel confident with Mondo’s placement. He’s totally a Gryffindor, oof. He’s so hotheaded and reckless in canon, always running headfirst into things without thinking it through first. And with his thing against being weak, he tends to make up for it by being recklessly brave, not to mention how he’d have to at least fake bravery with his position as a biker gang leader. He doesn’t really fit in the other houses either, since he’s not super ambitious, he doesn’t really value intelligence (I like to imagine that he is intelligent, but he wouldn’t value it, which I personally view as being important in Hogwarts houses), and while he is loyal, he doesn’t value hard work or kindness, really. Thus, Gryffindor.

I think I got Slytherin house pretty spot on, ha. Junko is totally a Slytherin, given how she... literally created an entire killing game and deceived her entire class. If that’s not ambitious and cunning, I don’t know what is... I don’t know much about Mukuro, but I imagine she’d want to be with her sister if nothing else. Byakuya and Celeste are total Slytherins, given their ambition and drive for success.

Ravenclaw I was a bit confident about too, other than Hiro. But Kyoko definitely has big Ravenclaw vibes, with her inquisitive and sleuthing nature. She seems to be one to value intelligence, too. Chihiro is an intelligent character, who also values intelligence, so that also fits. Same with Toko, though I suppose she could possibly go with Slytherin... but I don’t view her as very ambitious, honestly, when you take away Genocide Jack/Jill, which I usually try to do (people with DID are not serial killers, thank you very much). Now, Hiro... this was one I was a bit stuck on. I contemplated putting him in Hufflepuff, since he has the whole, you know... stoner vibe, ha. But I think Ravenclaw does fit him. While he doesn’t have good grades and isn’t portrayed as being very intelligent, he is a talented clairvoyant in canon, and if he were in a world with divination, I firmly believe he’d be an excellent divination expert, which is a form of intelligence. He also has big Trelawney vibes, who is a Ravenclaw, ha.

The rest of Gryffindor I wasn’t super sold on, but I feel they fit. Sakura is certainly brave, even if she’s not super reckless. I think, though, that she’d want to be in Gryffindor and would ask the hat to put her there. Since she doesn’t have any strong ties to any other house (she is ambitious and loyal, but she’s not either thing above everything else), I think the hat would respect her wish. Leon I honestly wasn’t sure on, since I don’t know too much about him as a character, but I wanted him and Mondo in the same house, so... yeah. Plus, he has the whole rebel vibe, ha. Hina I almost had in Hufflepuff, but that would have messed up the 4 per house thing, so I changed her to Gryffindor. I do think it fits, though I don’t know too much about Hina, since I never finished playing the game and don’t know her later game character much. Early on, she seems to be one to be willing to fight for what she believes in, though, so Gryffindor would prolly fit.

Hufflepuff was also a bit of a struggle for me, but I think Makoto definitely fits. He’s very friendly and kind, as well as loyal, so I think Hufflepuff fits him well. Now, Sayaka and Hifumi... eh, I felt it fits a little, since neither really strikes me as having many qualities of the other houses, but I was not super sold on either. Sayaka is ambitious and can be cunning, but she just... doesn’t really strike me as a Slytherin, and I also don’t think she’d want to be placed there. Hufflepuff is more of a cutesy house (I say as a proud Hufflepuff, so don’t @ me), so I do think she’d like the house more. And with not having many qualities of the other houses other than Slytherin, I think the hat would also respect her wishes. Now, Hifumi... I had considered him for Ravenclaw (switching him and Hiro), but I just didn’t think that fit all too well. He doesn’t really have qualities of any of the houses, in my opinion, which then instantly would put him in Hufflepuff, since Hufflepuff is more than willing to take any student. Which I personally view as a good thing, ha, so please don’t think I’m putting down Hufflepuff.

~~~~~

Blood purity:

Now, the whole blood purity thing I didn’t put too much thought into other than who I think would be bigger with ‘muggle’ things than others, like Chihiro. Hiro I had be muggle born just ‘cause, though, ha. Most I had as half-blood, just because it seemed a good middle of the road thing. Junko and Mukuro are pureblood since Junko seems like she’d be a snob about it, while Byakuya and Celeste just have a single pureblood parent mostly because of a throw-away line in the fic I wrote, ha. I didn’t feel it mattered too much with all of the rest of the class other than Taka and Mondo, though, since blood-purity is kind of a meh thing.

However, with Mondo and Taka, I did put some thought into their blood purity.

Taka I had as a pureblood since I think it makes sense, given his cluelessness with popular culture in canon. This can translate well to him just not knowing muggle things. Also, I thought that having his grandfather be a Death Eater would also work out, as that would give him a very good reason to dislike the man and also gives him a big reason why he doesn’t want to be like him. It makes more sense than his grandfather being Minister of Magic and having a scandal, since during the time Taka was a child in this AU, Fudge was Minister of Magic, and then the other dudes whose names I forgot.

Mondo, though, I think would work best as a muggle born, especially considering his brother’s biker gang. I like to imagine that Daiya still has the gang in this AU and that Mondo would be at least an honorary member, so having Daiya be muggle worked out well. Plus, it would add to the IshiMondo dynamic, giving Mondo the ability to teach Taka about the muggle world, kind of like I have him teach Taka about popular culture and all that in my other IshiMondo fics.

~~~~~

Prefect defense:

Before going into the individual characters, I wanted to mention that I chose to have only one prefect per house mostly due to how few students are in the year. If there was one boy and one girl per house like in canon Harry Potter, that would be half the year as a prefect, which... makes no sense, ha. I was originally gonna have that before realizing that it made no sense. So, one per house in their year. That’s still a lot proportionally, but imagine the anger if one house had a prefect but another didn’t, so... yeah. While I like the idea that all of the class gets along well, there would still be some inter-house rivalry to consider.

Anyway... I’m sure most people who saw my list and saw that I made Mondo a prefect would be like “... wait, what?” and think I just had that as an IshiMondo thing. And while, yes, that is part of it, it’s not all of it. Given his position as Biker Gang Leader in canon, I do think that he would do well with responsibility, even despite his disinclination for rules and his quick temper, and all that. And considering that someone like James Potter was somehow made Head Boy, I know that the character being a perfect rule follower isn’t necessarily what gets them the badges. While Sakura would probably make a good prefect, I don’t think she’d want to be one, which is another thing to take into consideration.

I don’t think I have to explain why Taka is a prefect, ha.

Now, as for Kyoko and Celeste... with Kyoko, I felt she was the only one of the Ravenclaws I have that would actually be decent as a prefect. I mean... Toko and Chi are too timid, while Hiro is, well... Hiro. And as for Celeste... I actually originally had Byakuya as the Slytherin prefect, given how he’s definitely one who’d want the prestige of the title, but then I realized that there would be 3 boy prefects and only one girl. I think, given how each year in HP had one girl and one boy per house, that there would be an even girl/boy ratio with the prefects, even with the limited number of prefects in their year. Plus, Celeste seems like she’d do as good (or bad, ha) of a job as Byakuya.

~~~~~

And that’s about the extent of my musing on this all, ha. Honestly, I like the idea, and while I’m sure there are other Hogwarts/Danganronpa crossovers, I don’t think there are any IshiMondo ones. On AO3, at least. I know I didn’t have to sort all of the characters and put this much thought into it, since the fic I wrote was primarily focused on IshiMondo, but honestly? I do like the idea. And maybe, if other people like the idea too, I can write other Danganronpa/Hogwarts crossover fics, though I think it would mostly focus on IshiMondo, since I like Taka and Mondo best.

For those who stuck around this long, I’ll go briefly over the fic I wrote, if y’all are curious. Like I said, my main desire when writing was that I just wanted an IshiMondo Hogwarts story and that was my primary motivation. I set the story in fifth year, since I wanted to talk about Taka being a recent prefect. As writing, though, I had the idea of making Taka struggle to produce a patronus, given his canon problem with letting himself loosen up. Also, I always headcanon Taka as having had a pretty bleak childhood, which primarily comes from the fact that the creators said when they were coming up with his backstory, they had to stop since it got dark quick, oof. Going along with this, I then figured it would be cute to have Mondo help Taka with it, which brings the two closer. I didn’t want them to be friends or “brothers,” though, so it was kind of a mini “enemies to lovers” thing.

I didn’t want them to be totally at odds, though, so I also came up with a reason for them to go from enemies to kind of uneasy acquaintances before the fic took place. The reason I gave was that, in the end of their fourth year a few months before the fic started, they had faced a boggart in their defense against the dark arts class and Taka’s was his death eater grandfather, who told him he would never be good and that he was nothing more than a death eater like him, which made Taka cry. Mondo was like... oh shoot... and helped him out, saying that he was actually good, duh. Taka was freaked out by this, since he was like... wait, aren’t we enemies??? And also, you’re a trouble maker, why do I like you??? So he suppressed everything to prevent his fragile world view from crumbling. But Mondo was like... dude... I think I like Taka now, and maybe always did, wtf... which lead to Mondo cleaning up his act over the summer break, and then helping with the patronus in their fifth year.

Anyway! That was a bad explanation of the fic, but I really like it and I hope y’all do too, when I post it, ha. I mostly just need more Hogwarts IshiMondo in my life, tbh.

Sorry for the insanely long and rambling post! Hope someone got something out of it, ha. See y’all later!

#Danganronpa #Danganronpa AU idea #Danganronpa Hogwarts AU #IshiMondo AU idea

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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All in the Family

Chapter 101: The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

99 chapters of AitF, 99 chapters to go! Post one up, read it below, 98 chapters to go!

Okay, I'll stop now.

HPHPHPHPHP

Of all the things he could have landed on, it had to be a bag of dead rats. Peter got to land beside him on the desk. Remus got to stumble over his own feat and smack into Frank Longbottom, James got to bash his head on the doorknob. But no, he got the bag of dead rats!

Which about summed up his whole life experience of still being in this house! And this room in particular. He plucked a tiny little bone from his hair and scowled at the blood in his pants and wondered what he'd done to deserve all this. His eyes landed on the book, propped against the wall at the very bottom of the tapestry. He sighed in resignation but hauled himself up to grab it, anything to hurry up the process of getting them out of here! When he picked it up however, it fell from his slack fingers in shock at what he saw.

He knew this ruddy tapestry as well as Hogwarts castle, it had been imprinted in his mind from youth. In his youngest years, his time-out punishment had consisted of standing in front of this wall until he could recite every name, top to bottom. He knew exactly which two circles the book had been blocking, or rather, used to be. He wasn't there anymore, instead a black smudge was left in its place. Regulus's was marked as complete, the year of death as visible as his shoes.

It was the most jarring thing he ever could have seen in his life, as if his head had actually split in two. He'd done it? Surely he'd been blasted from the tree for doing something that would finally get him free of this place, permanently. But, then Regulus had also done it. He'd stayed here, and died a part of here, and a part of him wilted with that knowledge, he and his brother really never could go back to anything resembling civil, let alone normal. A quick glimpse moving up showed his brother hadn't even outlasted his parents, both had lived for several more years. What Sirius had said in the future was irrevocably true, he was truly the last of his line.

"Sirius?"

He looked up in surprise to see his three friends had moved much closer than he would have expected. He opened, then closed his mouth, and couldn't think of anything to say, so instead wordlessly flipped open the book. The tree said it all anyways, there wasn't anything left for him to say. He didn't want to see their faces when they realized the same, what would be better? Praise, or condolences?

"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," he managed to say like a turd had replaced his tongue.

Regulus wasn't sure what had Sirius in such a stuffy mood in particular as he decided to read, this was definitely one of the better rooms in the house. At least the history of their family had always been one of the more fascinating lessons their father taught. The four of them were blocking his favorite part of the tree, probably intentional on his brother's part as he liked to pretend his circle wasn't even there most days, so Regulus instead went over to one of the cupboards and opened it curiously to see if anything there had changed.

He mostly ignored the book as Molly Weasley continued infantilizing the teenagers by thinking they'd go straight off to bed without talking. Instead he smiled in surprise to still see the old dusty bottle of the very first Sirius Black's blood, his brother's namesake. There was an odd locket he didn't recognize and briefly wondered who added that and why, as well as his mother's music box she often used to get herself to go to sleep. It worked wonders, as she wouldn't wake until someone shut it.

Harry and Ron ignored Molly's orders of course, but even when the twins arrived and hashed things out not much was said that couldn't have reasonably been worked out. Regulus was actually quite disappointed in this older version of Sirius, had his brother gone tame?

A part of Regulus, even having witnessed all these changes himself, could hardly imagine the house in such disrepair, and all these virtual strangers in here trying to change it. There was something almost violating in the way they were callously throwing things out that they had no right to, even with Sirius being a more than willing participant. He ran his fingers over the odd locket once more and shut the door back firmly, and locked it. At least nobody was doing it right now and he could still pretend all of this had some bearable answer in the end.

At least Kreacher was still there! He smiled in delight at the idea of his house-elf still the same after all this time, not everyone had to be horribly different or dead in this future. Despite the intriguing information coming from the book, Regulus really just wanted to know what had become of himself. Had his death had something to do with Kreacher's attitude - he'd hardly ever seen him act in this way toward anyone but Sirius, though Regulus supposed he wasn't surprised that this extended to blood traitors and dark creatures and...Muggle-borns.

Frank rubbed nervously at the back of his neck when he found himself next to Lily and Alice having a comfortable chat about house-elves, and what little they both knew of them really, only for Alice to give him a small little frown and not immediately acknowledge his arrival. He'd unconsciously put himself as far away from Lupin, and by subsequence everyone else in the room was now in between them.

He at least tried his best to downplay it by watching the book attentively, and getting the smallest of chuckles when the bag of dead rats was explained as Buckbeak's breakfast. The knowledge that said hippogriff was staying in his own mother's room at least seemed to cause said reader great mirth.

Regulus sighed in exhaustion as Sirius ended up leaning against the wall to support his weight he was laughing too hard. Mum really wasn't that bad! Strict, especially on him for sure, but this just felt uncalled for! Had Sirius ever tried to bother to understand why they had raised them the way they had? Maybe Dad and Mum just didn't know any better about all this, like he was still figuring out?

Yeah, and maybe those doxies will fly out of the curtain and sing carols instead, he scoffed at his childishly clinging mind. His parents did feel what they'd taught their boys was right and he knew it, but that still didn't give him any answers as to why he didn't. Yet he still didn't find what Sirius did funny, there had to be some elusive third path somewhere.

To his delight, Peter came over as a distraction and Regulus welcomed that with a grin. "Those twins are really taking off with this joke shop idea huh?"

"It's really impressive," Peter agreed, "I can't say I'd have done anything near as ambitious with all that gold."

"What would you do with it?" Regulus asked, as the idea only just occurred to him he'd no idea what to do with his family money himself.

"Don't know," Peter looked surprised at the question. "Experiment what I'd want to do with it I guess, blow it all before I even figure it out," he finished with a general enough shrug, but a slight grimace.

Regulus thought he was selling himself short, and would have said so, before the bag of dead rats was mentioned again by Molly sitting on it and Peter made the exact same face. He couldn't help but wonder for the first time how that must feel, to have some part of you be used as a punchline, and a dead one at that. He still didn't know much more than the basics of what being an animagus was like, but surely hearing of the dead animal you could turn into, especially like this, wasn't pleasant.

He was sadly deterred by Kreacher entering the scene. The state his house-elf was described in was so sad. His house-elf was supposed to be a reflection of his home, and yet his companion of so many years seemed to have sunk even farther than the old rotting floorboards. Kreacher certainly didn't mutter like some closed ward patient! And the very idea he had to sneak around their home amongst these strangers to salvage old things that he had far more of a right to just caused a pit in his stomach. Then he winced, for the first time in his life feeling shame at the word Mudblood as Kreacher said it so carelessly, and he watched the very one it affected in this room flinch so openly. He realized for the first time how he'd feel if someone called Peter that, let alone laughing at the word as he once had.

Sirius, neither his brother reading nor the one coming in to break all this up, helped nothing of course as he ordered their house-elf about without even acknowledging he had a name, as usual. Regulus found himself shuffling uncomfortably and trying not to look at the tapestry himself now, he didn't know how he felt about any of it anymore, it made his stomach hurt just thinking about this stuff. So it was to his very great surprise when he caught Sirius's awkward face, and similar shuffling gait as he shot Regulus a rather odd look and read much more softly than he was before, like he was hoping the others had stopped listening.

Which of course only made Regulus focus on him all the more. Since when did he care about saying his visceral feelings for all of this as loudly as possible, what did it matter if he was saying it to Harry and everyone around them? Then his heart did a funny little thump in his chest as he realized Sirius was trying to hide the wrong thing. Not his words, but his placement, of being blown off the tree?!

He rushed forward and immediately tried to shove Sirius out of the way to confirm such a thing, but Sirius stood his ground now, frowning down at Regulus. "Yeah, alright, it's true," he sighed, even as Regulus tried to bend down behind his legs, Sirius raised one boot up and placed it purposely against the wall.

"How!?" Regulus gasped, still pulling fruitlessly at his leg it seemed.

"How should I know, Kreacher isn't muttering the story yet obviously," Sirius rolled his eyes, for all the world sounding as blissful as ever for such an awful thought!

Yet, the shock wasn't really there. Regulus was looking to see it for himself, but not because he didn't believe Sirius. Mum had been threatening it for ages now, and he had no doubts she'd go through with it. Just, the idea it had really happened...

Yet the following passages didn't give much in the way of details. He was sixteen when it happened? So it was likely to be, this very summer then? The much, much older version of his brother lingered mostly on the Potters, and how they'd taken him in, and his disgust with the whole place, as if this hadn't still been his home for sixteen years, like he'd left nothing behind.

Sirius stopped reading there though with a look Regulus didn't understand. He almost did look, guilty? That wasn't quite right, but whatever his eyes were lingering on in the words to come he didn't seem to want to share. Regulus started tapping his foot impatiently and began to scoff at Sirius to stop being dramatic, surely he didn't need to linger on this that much, when he jolted in surprise at Peter putting a hand on his too tense shoulder. Potter had to give Sirius a nudge to get him to spit out the next words, and they still rang in the silent air.

Sirius finally shuffled out of the way, where the glaring black spot shone like a beacon next to Regulus's tiny little circle, earmarking his death. Regulus hadn't needed proof to believe that either.

It had certainly been hinted at in the previous chapter, but even before that, since the Dark Lord's resurrection in the graveyard Regulus had been getting a creeping sensation this was where his life was headed. He just hadn't realized it was, so soon, in three years.

Sirius started reading at lighting speed then, as if the burn of the words wouldn't linger if he rushed through it fast enough. He'd joined the Death Eaters, and his parents had been proud of him. He'd died, because he'd become a coward in the future as well, just much slower than it was starting now apparently. An idle part of him wondered what it was he hadn't been able to do that led to this. Had his parents still been proud when he couldn't murder a Muggle-born on orders? Unable to torture someone while Death Eaters around him laughed?

He wished he could vanish from sight, it felt like a spotlight was on him and he didn't know what any of them expected him to do for the first time in his life, he didn't know what he expected himself to do. Was there even a way out?

"Reggie?" Sirius made to close the book and reach a hand out, and Regulus let him. If anyone knew how this felt, it was definitely him. The two of them just stood there looking at each other for a long time, it all felt so inevitable.

Sirius seemed to be waiting for something, so Regulus finally said the only thing he could. "I don't want that."

"Yeah," Sirius managed a tiny little grin, "at least we can finally agree on something."

Regulus took an uneasy breath before pushing the book back into Sirius's line of sight and stepping out from under his hand, but staying just as close.

Sirius felt like he should maybe apologize, but he had no idea if this was going to last in Regulus. The kid was scared right now sure, but how long until he shook it off and the bravado came back, that he'd find what he did wrong and make it right with the Dark Lord? After all, Sirius had made more than one snide remark over the years Death Eaters didn't exactly have the best mortality rate and nobody in this house had acknowledged him then, but if this was actually the first step in his kid brother finally seeing what he did in all of this, he wasn't going to break off this new line of thought. Nothing else needed to be said for now at least.

Then Molly came and interrupted everything anyway.

Lily carded her fingers through her hair as she watched the whole exchange, for the first time really seeing the Godfather Sirius would become, the little fourteen-year-old kid Regulus Black really was. Even with all the in-depth looks at their home she'd been getting, it hadn't really sunk into her what a number this place had done on these two until now, but it also raised an unpleasant awareness.

Guilt, firstly, as she realized her earlier assumption had been wrong. There was no silver spoon in Sirius Black's mouth like there was in Potter's, he clearly detested this house with every word he spoke of it, and had in fact been banished from his own family for refusing to be like them.

Sev's home life was far from ideal as well, yet he'd seemingly run to the Death Eaters at school no matter how often she begged him to stay away. Regulus was already making the first steps at trying to draw out of such a thing by just saying otherwise, what would it take for her best friend to do the same?

The rest of the chapter went by without incident as Harry and crew cleaned up the house over the passing summer, and then it was the night before his hearing to determine his fate at school. With Dumbledore a no-show in any way, quite the contrary as he'd apparently made an appearance specifically while Harry was asleep.

Was it really possible Harry wouldn't go back to school this year? That he'd remain shut up in here with Sirius for who knew how long? Sirius could barely swallow around the lump in his throat at the idea as he announced the end of the chapter approaching.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Ootp #HP #Jilly #wolfstar #Marauders #Peter Pettigrew #Regulus Black #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #James Potter #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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akiameokami · 3 years

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Popular Potter

Look at him, looking so smug as that curly-haired reject has her legs strewn across his lap. Potter. It just isn’t right for someone of his status to be with someone like her. He is a pureblood, she is muggle-born, and to make matters worse she has an eyebrow ring! Her poise certainly isn’t a redeeming quality either. I cannot see a single element that makes her good enough for him, expect perhaps that she is smart enough to put Raven Claw’s brightest to shame. If it wasn’t for her lack of professionalism and personal upkeep I am sure she would be in Raven Claw and not Gryffindor. She has changed him so much since they started dating. Potter used to be such a prince, but even since they got together he has been hanging out with anyone, even the problematic Weasleys. I can’t believe his parents let him do that, do they not care about how it will effect their status? Father always reminds me to be cautious of my social relations because they will effect him greatly. He would simply die if he saw me with someone adorned in chains such as Hermione chooses. The brazed crème a top the shit soufflé is that Harry Potter got a tongue ring! His parent’s certainly know nothing of this, but for the first time ever, I think I may not make Father privy to this. Potter and I have been associates every since primary school, and the tongue ring is a secret to all but his inner most circle. Except somehow Ronald and Hermione have become the bulk of that circle since we entered Hogwarts. To think that first semester we picked out matching Slytherin class rings together, and he somehow became a Gryffindor like them. Maybe classes do divide people too definitively? Or maybe he is changing as a person.. He always did have an affinity for the muggle world and other oddities, I just never thought he’d choose them over me.

“Hi Har- Er, Potter, and company”, I say awkwardly as I approach their group. They all go quiet as they look at me, the only green clad robe amongst a sea of red. I feel as if this griffons pride may swallow me whole. They seem to be waiting for Harry to respond before they pounce, he really has gone from a Prince to a King.

“Draco!” Harry exclaims as he moves Hermione's legs off and stands to greet me. I go for a slight wave but he pulls me into a hug. I can feel the daggers from his entourage. “I haven’t seen you around school in a while, what has Snape been forcing you into this time?” He asked, staring only at me. I’d appreciate the opportunity to get lost in his viper green eyes, but I can’t hold his stair. He knows my distaste for Snape, but he doesn’t know why. It’s a story for another time, but he’d already know it if he’d never stopped talking to me.

“Oh, no, Snape is no longer tutoring me. Instead of academic pursuits, I’ve decided to try out for the quidditch team. Seems they have taken a fancy to my flying skills!” it hurts to not tell him to truth, to see him go from someone who I could tell anything to, to having to smile through the biggest heart break I’ve ever had. When I mention quidditch he gets very excited, and his posse eases up a bit. It is not uncommon for groups of different classes to enthuse over quidditch together, it is one of the few social glues we have. “What a coincidence! I will be joining the quidditch team as a legacy next season!” he says very boisterously, “I know they are expecting a lot because of my father, but I think they will be pleasantly surprised. I did always win when we would race, right?” He says with a slap to my shoulder. To others this would look like a casual challenge, but for me that slight touch meant so much more. It brought back summers spent struggling to learn how to fly out behind the greenhouse. The time he carried me back to Mother after I was able to be the first to get off the ground and flew too high.

“You’re right, you used to be much better than me. Who knows if it’s changed, maybe you could have a practice race with me and give me some pointers if I lose?”. This audacious bastard would never turn down a challenge, and despite knowing I will likely lose, it means we’d finally have a chance to spend some time together so I’m willing to “take the L” as his muggle friends would say.

“Harry, that’d be awesome to watch!”, “Yea Harry darling, you should host a little Gryffindor versus Slytherin flying practice before the season starts!’ Ron and Hermione cheer him on from the background. The other Gryffindor's start to chime in on how they would love to see a friendly match and see how skilled the new flyers are. “Well Draco, what do you say? I’m game to leave all you snakes in the dust, but only if you think Slytherin has enough flyers to make it worth the effort”, he chuckles as he says it, but he squeezes my shoulder with a bit of aggression behind it. He didn’t want it to be a spectacle, but I’m not going to clean up his messes if he wont be my friend anymore.

“Sure Harry, I think I can pull together some wizards and witches that will make it worth your precious time.” I flatly announce as I start to walk away. I make myself keep stepping forward, and I can hear their snickers behind me. I walk straight away from him, no not quite, I walk straight to Snape's office. I wonder if he knows the pain he puts me through? Being compared to the Potter-Prince growing up, Father pushing me to be better than him, Harry having the audacity to be such an amazing man, friend, and first. Yet he also has the power to be the person to put me through more pain by not being in my life, driving me to focus on my studies, to get Severus to be my tutor, to use Severus as a coping method to get over him. Do you know what you’ve done to me Harry?

~~~Imagine a world where Harry didn’t grow up with the Dursley’s, where Voldermort wasn’t a thing, where Lily and James didn’t die. Would Draco and Harry have been friends? Would they have been more? Harry and Draco are 17, nearing graduation and independence, but that also means they are climaxing from their teenage angst and heartbreak. Will they get closure?

I approach Severus’s office, emotions flooding me. After Harry and I got accepted to Hogwarts and he started drifting away, I found myself lost. At first, I believed his excuses for why he bailed on our plans, and then I blamed myself thinking I made him mad, and then I realized he just didn’t like me anymore. The self blaming was the hardest to get over, but Severus helped with that. I chose to focus on my studies, I had to find something productive to do so that Father would be proud of me again. He got very angry when I messed up the connection with the Potters. I decided instead to try and be very academically accomplished, so I needed a good tutor. Father and Mother were both very familiar with Severus Snape and knew him as an intelligent man and an excellent wizard despite being only 6 years older than me. They arranged for him to be my tutor, and he lived much closer to the school than we did, which meant I would study at his house and in the summers I stay with him. Since he is also a teacher at Hogwarts we don’t ever interact politely as school, because frankly our relationship is unconventional. to the public. I don’t love him, he doesn’t love me, but we both have been burned by the Potters more than once and despite all our pain, we still love them. Don’t get me wrong, Rus is very good to me, and we have had some very sentimental memories, but I can never mean as much to him as Lily I don’t think. That and I am not willingly to fall in love.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK* - “Come in.” I walk in and instantly Rus’s face goes from stone cold to slightly softer. “Draco, I assume you came to speak about your last test scores?” He arches an eyebrow and nods at the door indicating I should close it.

“Oh come on Rus, I know we have an arrangement to not interact extra here but I..” I close the door and try not to meet his eyes. I know what I am feeling, and its stupid! I can’t explain it though. He closes the door while reaching over me. With his other arm he pulls into a hug.

“Use your words Draco.” He kisses the top of my head while whispering softly. I bury my face in his shirt. How do I tell him that I am hurting because the person who means the most to me, acknowledged me, and it left me feeling hollow? “Is it about Mr. Potter? I saw you speaking in the courtyard. That was dangerous.” I let out a shaky sigh. This is why we are together, because we share the same pain.

“Yea..” I mutter, “We are going to have a little race between Slytherin House and Gryffindor to see who the faster upcoming flyers will be.” Even saying it sounds absolutely ridiculous! It’s a bloody pissing contest! Yet nothing has been able to break me out of this numbness until now. Rus braces the small of my back as we lean against his office door. I look up to see him with a small smile, “I understand. I think this will be for the best. Whether it is closer you get, or simply a win. I be here if it goes wrong”. He is so consistent. Just as expected, after saying something so sweet that I could almost develop feelings, he leans down and begins a gentle kiss. He pulls my waist into him, spreading my legs with his knee. I kiss him back while running my fingers through his hair. I reach down for his belt, trying to undo it. He stops my hand and pulls back, “Now Mr. Malfoy, we are on school grounds.” He says with his stern, teacher voice. He the leans in and whispers, “You can show my what that Malfoy mouth is good for later”. I feel my dick jump a little bit, giving me a semi. This is how I cope. Feelings cannot negate the power of something physical, and Severus Snape needs to forget about the Potters just as much as I do. We were a match made in Hell.

“Draco....” I hear Harry’s voice calling my name, but it sounds distorted, almost as if I’m underwater. “Draco!” it comes through clearly this time, but it isn’t Harry, It’s Blaise yelling at me to rouse me from my sleep. I had returned to the dorms embarrassingly late, but I had the forethought to lay out my quidditch gear ahead of time so I wouldn’t be scrambling in the morning. “Draco, wake the fuck up! We’re gonna be late to the race!” Blaise is still yelling but I can hear him heading for the door. Late? What did he mean late? I roll over and check the time, he was right, I had about five minutes to go from bed to the quidditch field. Fuck.

“I almost thought you chickened out Draco!” Harry taunts as I approach the quidditch field, running as fast as I can with all my gear on. I was able to gather three other Slytherins that wanted to race, and who were marginally decent. Sadly Harry seemed to have a whole team that wanted to test us. I glance at Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle and they do not seem to be exuding confidence. I got them into this so the least I can do is be the one who people blame. “What? Run away from you Potter? I could never”, I say a little too seriously while making eye contact. I catch the slightest frown from Harry, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. “Well then, lets get this over with. It sounded fun, but looking at your little group, it just feels like bullying.” He rejoins his group at the start line. The course was to make one large loop around campus while going through specified markers, such as looping through the womping willow and its thrashing limbs, and past Hagrids hut. It is just the school campus, but that doesn’t make it not dangerous. That is why I wore my protective gear, but as I glance around I see that most everyone else was casually dressed with the exception of Longbottom. He looked as if he was wrapped in bubble wrap. I don’t want to be associated with the likes of him so I discard my protective layer. I return my attention to the other end of the field where Hermione stands with the flare, and off it goes. I must’ve been disassociating during the count down. I feel the wind of the others taking off before I see the bristles of their brooms when they speed past me. Shit. I take off as fast as I can, but I am not too concerned about the starting line. Anyone can get up, its staying there that’s the problem.

The first obstacle is the peaks of the school, where we stand the danger of Mr. Fletcher seeing us and everyone getting in trouble. This obstacle is more about stealth than speed, you could speed right through the peaks, but you would certain alarm everyone inside the castle. The trick to making it without being seen is to pay attention and roof hop, taking a break to wait out anyone who may see you. I can see ahead of me where two Gryffindor flyers drop altitude instantly, nearly getting caught. I swerve away from that tower and loop around the other way, hopping off the roof after checking the next peak. When I emerge from the other side of the peaks I see Harry far ahead, Ronald right behind him, and Blaise on their tail. either no one else made it through, or they are behind me, because no one would be ahead of Harry. We approach Hagrids hut and drop down low for the loop, I see Blaise take the turn too tightly and have to drop to the ground to prevent himself from going tip over tail. Ronald falls behind me as he flew too close to the hippogriff and got the tail of his broom snipped out. The race is between Harry and I as we approach the womping willow. It is especially crabby today it seems, or perhaps that was just because I was actually flying closer too it and not away from it the way I would have preferred. As we near the willow I am close enough that I could grab the bristles on Harry’s broom if I wanted to. I follow his maneuvers dodging the willows grasps. There is no denying that when it comes to agility Harry has an edge on me. There is no doubt that James took the time to train him personally. Despite all his preparation I see Harry narrowly avoid getting swept by a branch, which meant I had no time to avoid the branch at all. The willow makes contact with my broom and sends me plummeting to the ground. I’d rather jump and break something, that be strangled by a tree. The impact knocks the breath out of me, and the pain floods my body. My vision goes black and once again I feel like I am in bed, floating into nothingness.

“Draco?!?!” I hear Harry’s voice calling out to me, but I don’t respond. Blaise wont fool me again. He just wants me to wake up from my peaceful nothingness. Then the pain hits me and I remember what happened. I open my eyes to see a sweaty and shirtless Harry tying my arm in a makeshift sling. “Draco.. please say something..” He mutters as he struggles with the knot.

“Ouch you bloody bastard, that fucking hurts!” I squeak as he tightens it too much. Despite my pain I see a look of relief cloud his face. “Other than your arm, what hurts? I can’t tell if anything else is broken. I already have Ron and Blaise going to get a teacher. I am so sorry Draco, it wasn’t suppose to happen like this!” Harry is running his sentences together as he is frantically searching me over for any other damages. Everything hurts, but what I feel the most is the throbbing in my chest. Did I really have to almost die for him to say my name in such a caring way? I don’t want to be here, it hurts to see him like this knowing it is just me that is feeling this way. “Professor Snape!” Harry yells as Severus approaches with Ron and Blaise right behind him. I see Rus reach for his wand and the next thing I know Harry is swept away from me by an unseen force, flown at least three yards away. “Harry Potter! What have you done now?!” Severus yells, abnormally angry. He turns his attention toward me, worry lines streaking his face. He looks me over and his face softens. A wave of his wand and I feel a million times better. He leans down next to me and whispers, “You’ll be okay Draco, I’ll take care of this”. He turns his attention to Harry, “While I transport this young man who could very well be crippled, I’d recommend you contact your parents before I get the chance. Let them know I expect to be seeing them soon.” Severus knows better than to touch me, so he makes me float using Hermione's favorite spell. He must have cast a different spell as well, because the last thing I see is Harry’s terrified face as Severus brings me back toward the castle.

I wake up to a sudden jolt of pain coming from, well, everywhere. The most prominent pain is coming from my right arm. I sit up to exam the damage, but to my surprise I see none other than Hermione Granger sitting next to my bed in the infirmary, reading of course. Without a word she raises her hand and indicated the number 1, probably to suggest “one minute”. I wait for her to finish her page.

“I know about you and Harry.” She announces bluntly as she closes her book carefully. She is smart, but she can’t possibly be that smart. “Well, yes, I assume you would know about how he got me clobbered by a tree. You were there.” I try and dismiss her suspicious words. She does not buy a word of it. “No, you twit, I know about you two’s past, and I am willing to bet that your annoying behavior is because you still have feelings for him.” She states it so matter o’ factly that I am left speechless. She rolls her eyes and gets up to leave, “Well, I sure hope that is the case. Him and I broke up you see. After I found out the only reason he wanted to be with me is because I am smart enough to brew a Polyjuice potion of you so he can fuck it, I decided maybe I should be with someone who was actually attracted to me.” She walks away without giving me a chance to argue, or well, say anything at all really. He does what? She runs into someone at the door and I hear them exchange words, and to my surprise the next person to walk in is Harry Fucking Potter. He stands awkwardly at the end of my bed for what feels like an eternity before asking, “how are you feeling?”. Despite his concern, he wont make eye contact with me. He doesn’t even seem like he wants to be here. I sink back into the bed and roll away from him. “You can go, I am fine. I bet your friends are lost without you.” I bite my tongue at the end, knowing that isn’t how I feel. I feel the bed shift as he sits down on the edge.

“Draco.. I don’t want to go. I feel terrible about what happened, and I Hermione just told me that you know about.. me, or us, or however you want to say it, and what I am trying to say is, “ He takes a deep breath, “Draco I am so sorry. I know your father doesn’t want me around you, but it hurts to see you like this, and it hurts to not be with you.”. His voice got weak as he finished his sentence. His hand grabbed my leg and squeezed it. It’d been forever since I had felt his warmth.

I can’t.

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’tIcantIcantICANTICANTICANTICANT!

Why? Why does he have to do this? Why does he have to hurt me like this? What does this all mean? Does he think that because he said sorry I can just roll over and pretend the last two years never happened?! HE LEFT ME! He hurt me! He got me hurt! When I lost him, I lost the love for myself as well. How can he say those things to someone who is just a shell?

I start breathing desperately, my heart racing and my head flooding with these thoughts. I can’t control it, I can’t stop it, and I can’t move. I want to reach out to him, to grab his hand, to push him away, I don’t know!

“Mr. Potter, now would be a good time for you to leave.” Severus’s calming voice announces over the hallway in the infirmary. I hear his footsteps swiften towards us. “Proffessor Snape I was only-” Harry starts, but gets interrupted by a stern and almost hissing whisper, “No, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy’s parents are heading this way, I strongly recommend you make it as if you were never here. Do you understand?”. That very much so sounded like a threat. “Of course, I’m sorry... Please take care of him!”. Harry runs down the hallway and I hear the door slam before Severus addresses me. He kneels beside the bed to be face to face with me. “Draco, I’m so sorry. Deep breaths”. He says gently as he wipes away tears that I didn’t know I had. “Don’t worry about your parents. I will tell them now is a bad time. We will all reconvene at my house this evening once you recover from the healing spell. You can ask them about what Mr. Potter said if you must, I will protect you. Always.” He gently kisses my forehead and leaves silently, leaving me to suffer, as always.

It's painfully awkward sitting at dinner with my parents and Severus. He was able to fix my arm, but it left me what could only be described as the largest hangover one has ever suffered. To top it off, since I was okay physically, my father was going to make sure I wasn't okay emotionally or mentally. He'd done nothing but berate me for causing a scene. I zone out of his rants and stare down at where Severus is squeezing my knee. He is trying to be supportive, but all I can notice is a strange tattoo on his arm that wasn't there before.

"Severus, what is this?" I ask as I drag my fingers over the snake that's wrapped around a skull. It graces his forearm so delicately, it really adds to his aesthetic. My father looks appalled at my blatant change of topic, and Severus looks panicked. He tries to cover it with his sleeve, but father stops him. "Severus Snape, is that the reaction to my spell?" Father stairs him down.

"Yes, my lord. I've no excuses for my behaviour. I will only say that never once have I sought to harm Draco. I've had his best interests in mind, always." Severus hangs his head as he finishes his sentence, knowing what he has just admitted.

"Draco, that mark - or something definitive, will appear on anyone you've had relations with." Father waves his hand towards Severus's arm as he struggles to remain calm. Mother chokes down a sob. "I had my suspicions about the Potter child, but I suppose this confirms that you are exactly the deviant whore I assumed you to be." I- wait, Harry? He knew about us? If he did something like this, something permanent to someone who worshipped him, then what did he do to Harry?

"Father! Tell me, is Harry's scar because of this?!". I grab Severus's hand and squeeze it, needing all the support from him that I can get in this challenging moment. Bever had I spoken againt father, but this was going too far!

"Of course. Are you really that daft to think he spontaneously manifested such an atrocious mark? Honestly Draco, to think you've tainted a wizard of such nobilty, and to include Severus on your path of destruction. I am ashamed to call you my son." Lucious stands to leave, grabbing Narcissa by the arm and dragging her with him. I never thought it would come to this, I knew father could be nasty, but I never believed he would be this way towards me. Everything I did was to make him look to, to do the Malfoy name proud. Yet he can't even let me love who I want to love? I want to chase after him but Severus weighs me down in my chair. "Don't Draco, let him cool off before you try anything. It wont end well if you pursue him now.".

The next day at school I can't help but stair at Harry's scar in every shared class. Severus explained how the curse worked, he explained that the mark would burn and feel as if it were festering when the host was around me. He explained that the reason Harry grew distant was because of my father and James Potter deciding to seperate us by any means necessary. Severus only learned about this after he began tutoring me and learned of my heart break. I still couldn't bring myself to speak to him. I don't know whether I feel betrayed, or heart broken. I don't know where I will go when the weekend comes, because I can't go home, or to Severus's, and I can't stay here. The library seems like the only logical option to kill a little bit of time at before finding a place to spend the night.

"Draco?" Before I even look, I know it is Harry who has joined me in the endless rows of books. "Draco.. I am so sorry. I hope you're okay. I hope Luscious didn't.. do anything, to you. Like he used to-" "STOP" I can't take this anymore! "Did you know? About the curse, about our fathers, and what he would do? This whole time were you just hiding from my reality?!" He is standing right here in front of me but as I yell at him I only stare at the scar on his forehead, knowing it must be throbbing.

"I knew.. after it appeared, they explained it to me. They said it was what you wanted, and that this would help us distance ourselves." He steps closer to me, reaching out for me. "But I knew it couldn't have been true. I figured it out after you started getting so familiar with Professor Snape. I tried asking my father about it and he told me the truth, but I thought you'd moved on so I didn't want you to have to choose.", he grabs my hand and holds it close to his chest. "But I'm done waiting. I don't think you've moved on, I just think you're too afraid to be yourself. So stop me if this isn't what you want." The last words are practically a whisper as his lips close in on mine. It'd been so long since I'd felt his touch, let alone his kiss. He starts out soft and sweet, lingering to feel the softness of my lips. When I don't fight his kiss, he gets more aggressive, his tongue parting my lips and finding mine. He grabs the back of my head and laces his fingers through my hair, cushioning the impact of him pushing my into the bookshelf. "Draco~" he mutters my name as he leans into me. I can feel his hard on pressing against me. "Fuck Draco", he lips press against my neck as he kisses me intensely, trying to leave a mark. "I've never stopped wanting you", he bites me gently, "I never let you get taken from me again".

#Harry Potter #drarry #Draco Malfoy #draco x harry #severus snape #severus x draco #lgbtq #hay #gay #romance #who does it end with?#It was meant to be Drarry #but I dont know anymore #Severus may be 6 years older #But he is a hell of a lot nicer #always

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cxmetery-gates · 4 years

Text

SURREPTITIOUS - DRACO MALFOY

CHAPTER ONE: PLATFORM 9¾

SUMMARY: Arriving at Platform 9¾ , Leslie and her father exchange words with an old friend. WORD COUNT: 3.02k NOTES: Ahhh the beginning! Make sure you read the prologue first! I hope that the next few chapters start creating questions and theories about what happened and what’s to come involving the Greyscale and Malfoy families. If you want to be added to a taglist, please let me know! Thank you for reading! WARNINGS: mentions of death

MASTERLIST

AT PRECISELY 10 O'CLOCK ON the first of September, sixteen-year-old Leslie Greyscale maneuvers herself through the flocks of non-magic people to get to a specific platform at a very popular train station in London, England. Her mind is as clear as she can make it, only focusing on the location to direct her cart towards. Relatively not too long ago, the girl enjoyed listening to the thoughts of Muggles, seeing how differently they live their lives and what sort of problems they have in comparison to her. However, she lost interest in reading the non-magical people when she turned fourteen, their lives all too similar to each other. Where the common Muggle may worry about what's for dinner or whether their boss is mad at them for not meeting a deadline, Leslie and other people like her are looking over their shoulder every minute in case of danger, as the wizarding world is not the safest place to live in as of recently. If the newspapers weren't enough to drill in this message, there is one other who took it upon himself to remind her every day during her summer holiday.

Right behind her is the man who continuously cautions her of the dark times: her father, a middle aged man named Janus Greyscale, who couldn't be more proud of his daughter and her gifts, though hidden.

Leslie loves her father dearly, but her time at Hogwarts always felt more like a vacation, more so now than ever. For weeks at a time Janus insisted on staying indoors, even considering pulling Leslie out of Hogwarts after the infamous mass murderer Lord Voldemort apparently rose from the grave. Fifteen years prior he was vanquished by a mere one year old boy whom Leslie happened to be friendly with at school. In no time at all, the news spread like wildfire across the globe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, alive and well. Janus and his daughter may have survived the First Wizarding War, but there is no telling what could happen this time around.

"And you're sure you have everything? All your robes? Books? Oh, what about—"

"Dad, if you ask me if I've forgotten anything one more time, I will surely find a reason for you to head home before I can say goodbye." Leslie turns her head back, her long brown hair held in a loose swinging braid. On her lips is a loving smile to her father, coaxing him to let her be. She's sixteen, after all. Next year she'll be an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world. Despite this, Leslie knows she'll never be anything but a young girl to her father.

Janus smiles at Leslie, placing an arm around her shoulders to hug her tight. This causes Leslie to skid to the side, her whole cart wobbling and her scops owl Perry caws fussily.

"Watch it, old man! Could have tipped the whole thing over," Leslie laughs lightly, angling her cart towards a platform entrance once again. This platform, however, isn't the same as the rest at King's Cross Station. Merlin's beard, no! Wizards are a secretive people, living among Muggles in hiding, some in plain sight yet still maintaining secrecy. Everything they do has to be kept a secret from the regular world, from their government to using a spell to reach something high on a shelf. Platform 9¾ is just the same.

Arriving at a specific brick column is the entry to the Hogwarts Express, a beautiful red steam engine that carries all Hogwarts students to their school. One side of the column reads a black printed "9" and on the other side reads "10." Between the two posted signs is Platform 9¾. This train isn't on the same tracks as the rest of the trains at King's Cross: there is no door, no wand waving, not even a secret staircase. In order to get onto the platform, all Leslie has to do is run straight into the brick barrier. Simple enough, she tells herself every year. It never gets any less nerve wracking, running into a brick wall, especially after hearing how it once closed on a couple students. Leslie couldn't imagine the embarrassment or bruises after taking a hit like that.

Janus places one hand on the small of Leslie's back while the other wraps around the handle of the cart. "Together?"

"Really?" Leslie asks, humored by his over-fatherly mannerism.

"It's not every day I get to drop you off at the station," Janus replies, half heartedly.

Leslie rolls her eyes in a very teenage fashion. "Why's today any different? I figured next year would cause a bit more sentimental tears. It's not like this is the last time."

Janus goes to argue, wanting to mention that fate works in many ways, but Leslie beats him to the punch. "Together, then."

With a bit of a run, Leslie and Janus aim her cart straight towards the brick column, a moment being caught in darkness before emerging on the other side, a warm light flooding the magical platform. Spinning the cart a one-hundred-eighty degrees, the Hogwarts Express gleams in all its glory, steam rising from the train as if to welcome Leslie back.

But the train is the only thing manifesting a form of joy. Across the platform, mothers, fathers, and guardians alike share a look of solemn, holding their children close and whispering softly in their ears. This was like no other time Leslie boarded to head back to school. The past five times she walked through, there were spits of laughter and shouts, goodbyes and love-calling. Now, the station is uncannily quiet. Not quite silent— of course, her gift never lets her actually experience silence in a crowded room— but deafening in comparison to memories. A deep disturbance settles in her gut.

Dark times lie ahead, Leslie notes, remembering all that she read in the Daily Prophet over her summer. While she tried to make sense of the wrongs going on, she couldn't. The evil Dark Lord Voldemort is back and there's no telling what he will do this time to rule not only her world, but the entire globe as well. Shivers run down her spine when she passes a mother who thinks of regret sending her only son to Hogwarts.

Breaking her concentration, Janus patiently pushes the cart towards the dock where a man is seen in a red uniform helping students lift their trunks onto the steam engine.

However, it isn't long until Leslie notices her father is distracted by something in the distance. Turning her head, Leslie doesn't see any face she is familiar with but the pleading in her father's eyes causes her to break the silence. "You seem a bit preoccupied, dad," she says softly, waiting in line to load her belongings.

Looking back down at the case in his hand, he shakes his head. "No, no. I just thought—"

"I don't have to look to see there's something you need to do," she reminds him. Janus, after discovering his daughter's talents, proceeded to learn Occlumency, learning how to magically hide his mind from any nosy witch or wizard. Leslie used to wonder what her father would be hiding from her, but her small mind as a child rationalized that she didn't want any spoiled surprises on her birthday. And since, she never felt the urge to question nor try and prod at his mind. After all, he would know if she were. "Go on, I got this," she tells him.

Janus leans to press a kiss to her forehead, pointing a finger lazily at her before setting her suitcase down. "Just a single moment, darling."

"I'll be counting." And with that, his dark cloak blends into the crowd, his body gone from her sights.

It's all a matter of lifting and handing off her items to the young man in the uniform, but to Leslie, it felt like a real workout. Her trunk is by far the heaviest even though Janus put an undetectable extension charm on it. How it never seemed to lose weight is beyond her. Janus would tease that eventually even the charm won't be able to hold all of her belongings. Leslie couldn't help but partly believe his word.

Leslie hands off Perry to the man. The sweet bird squawks and ruffles his feathers as if saying "see you later." Leslie smiles at the small bird. "See you, Perry," she says softly. Perry makes another sound in return.

Turning on her heel, Leslie goes back to find her father to say goodbye. Glancing at her watch, there's just short of thirty minutes before the train pulls itself out of the station, enough time to say goodbye and to find a seat.

"Every year, there's more and more," Leslie acknowledges to herself so no one can hear, sliding between cracks in the mob. Once she is digested out, Leslie straightens out her coat before looking up.

Leslie never considered herself a lonely outcast, a weirdo, nor strange. She had her friends, some close and some distant, and even managed to earn the heart to a funny red-headed twin. Leslie Greyscale just preferred the silence of isolation. This has always been the case for the young mind-reader, but unfortunately, her favored posse made others have extremely loud thoughts on the girl. Her gift, though immensely rare and potentially powerful, was not always her friend. Sometimes, Leslie was not given the option to use or not to use her gift, the girl's gifts having a mind and thoughts of their own, picking up tidbits or full backstories on random people. In time, this only became more common. She had no control over her gift on one tragic day, the sudden influx of thousands of voices frightening her beyond belief. While Leslie has attempted to regain control, she hasn't experienced as much luck as she hoped, her mind flooding with people's thoughts constantly, though now at a dull roar. In this moment, it was no different.

It isn't like Leslie wanted to see that Narcissa Malfoy thought that the daughter of Janus and Barbara Greyscale was odd, but it simply happened.

Awkwardly shuffling up to her father's side, Leslie approaches the duo as the pointed-faced woman looks from Janus to his only daughter. Her blue eyes widened in surprise, taking a look-over at the sixteen-year old girl. "Oh, Leslie! You have truly blossomed, I see."

Truth. It is also true that she had not seen the rich woman nor her husband in many years. Narcissa had not had a chance to see how charming the girl had become, her round edges and untamable mousy hair evolving into sharp corners and neatly straight brunette. A flash of two children playing together pulls Leslie out of Narcissa's mind immediately, not wanting to linger in the past.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. You are looking lovely yourself, as always," Leslie responds politely, but meaning every word. She hopes she will age as gracefully as the woman, especially given what has happened to the Malfoy family in recent months.

Mrs. Malfoy smiles kindly. "Your father says you achieved O.W.L.'s for all your courses."

Leslie nods, but remains neutral. Her scores were high amongst her peers, but she wasn't one to boast. "Thanks to weeks of studying, yes. I--"

"I'm very proud of her. I know I did not get nearly as good marks when I was in Hogwarts. Too busy pulling shenanigans, I'm sure you remember." To her annoyance, Janus interrupted what Leslie was about to say. This act was not uncommon, though. While Leslie appreciates her father's worry, it is beyond frustrating that she could never get more than a sentence in when they converse with others.

It appears Narcissa took notice, her gaze lingering on Leslie's frown. Her head nods slowly. "Well, I was too happy to see Draco had passed his O.W.L.s. Perhaps you two will find yourself sharing a couple classrooms this year."

Leslie forces the tight line her mouth instinctively formed into a smile, hopefully one that passes. A white scar across her right hand burns a memory. She forces down the flinch trying to break free from her stone exterior. "Perhaps."

There came a pause in the conversation. It was heavily introduced by Narcissa Malfoy, the woman's thoughts shifting fast, wondering if her words would be appropriate or taken well, or perhaps neither. Of course, Leslie knew what the woman was about to mention. But, she still braced herself, though not well enough as her hands begin to shake and her eyes turn red from irritation.

Looking down to her clasped hands for just a moment, Narcissa sent the girl before her a caring, yet sorrow-filled smile. "I'm also sorry to hear about Ms. Amin. I heard you and her were very close."

Her mouth dries up, all words evaporating off her tongue. Leslie nods, swallowing the air that kept her from responding verbally. "Yes," was all she could croak out.

Narcissa's face flashes a look of sorrow, conflict, and, most importantly, guilt. The woman knows who screamed the curse and she knows them well. Leslie did not have to look to know this fact. While the culprit's identity is hidden just by a mere flash of images, the young mind-reader refrains. She does not have the heart nor mental capacity for such truths at the moment. Perhaps she never will.

"It was good to see you, Narcissa. Please write if you need anything. The Greyscales are always generous to friends." Leslie didn't have to read her father to know he spoke in half-truths.

"Thank you, Janus. I appreciate your concern. Now, if you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to." Before waltzing away, Narcissa paused to briefly smile at Leslie, as if reminiscing in some flashback. "Take care of yourself, Leslie. Have a wonderful school year."

And with that, the witch departs from the pair, leaving a loud silence.

When Janus looked back to Leslie, her eyebrows are raised, questioning the motivation he had to speak with the wife of his old best friend, maybe the wife of her friend's killer. "Don't give me that look. You know what's become of them."

What he is referencing to is a story no one has escaped from. It wasn't like the same story filled all the papers: "Lucius Malfoy: Death Eaters Are Among Us!" You'd have to be hiding under a rock to miss out one of the biggest scandals of the decade. The reporters were eating up the case like chocolate frogs. Part of Leslie felt some remorse for the family, considering it was her friends who helped put the man in prison. But one of those friends includes a girl Leslie will never see again. Lucius Malfoy was working alongside the Dark Lord, along with other Death Eaters like himself; it's only just that he would pay for his crimes. And still, part of Leslie felt for Narcissa, the woman who helped raise Leslie and treated her with kindness and a nice smile.

To this, Leslie nods in some understanding. The Malfoys and Greyscales had always been somewhat close over the past couple centuries, both maintaining a presence where the other may go, until just over twelve years ago. While Janus removed himself from the Malfoy family's relations, it is clear Narcissa still holds a place in his heart, remembering her just as Leslie does. Besides, one once said it's wise to have friends close, but enemies closer. It just appeared Janus wasn't open to letting all of them in.

The rather slightly uncomfortable silence was broken by Janus creating a smile, lightly tugging his daughter towards his chest. Leslie exhales a sigh, finding herself calm in her father's embrace. Sometimes, it felt like he was using his shielding abilities to ease the ones entering her head, to which she is thankful for in this moment.

"And you're sure you still wish to return? No one would blame you," Janus tells her softly, knowing the pain of loss all too well. Part of him hopes Leslie would change her mind about going back to Hogwarts this year. After all, these are dark times and so far, she was one of the unlucky to taste its bitterness.

Leslie closes her eyes, still embracing her father. "Yes, Dad. I wouldn't if I thought any different. I'll be okay. Promise."

A smile forms on Janus's lips, pulling away from his only daughter. He sighs lightly, pressing his calloused hand to the side of her head before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Make it a good year, darling."

"As you wish." As she pulls away, her thoughts trail off, then become vocal. "Let me know if you hear anything about Zee, please."

There is a tight smile upon his face at the mention of the elder child who disappeared out of spite a year ago. Neither Leslie nor Janus had seen him or heard from him since. Dead or alive, Leslie does not know and part of her does not want to. Zelos Greyscale was always talented in the art of starting fights with the family (or anyone, really), but before he would start his last year at Hogwarts, he left home. For what reason is something else Leslie is unaware of, as her father told her it would be too painful for him to relive. She had simply nodded her head and did not ask any questions ever again.

"As you wish," Janus replies, though it felt forced.

Leslie steps up on her toes to give her father a goodbye kiss on his cheek before walking towards the train. Right before merging with the crowd of students, Leslie waves her hand, sending a grin.

With a loud roar and a puff of steam, the Hogwarts Express departs from Platform 9¾. Inside, Leslie made for a compartment, luckily finding some friends to aid her search. Outside, her father watches as the train slowly disappears from view, knowing his daughter will be out of harm's way. At least for now, he hopes.

#surreptitious #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x oc #draco x reader #draco x oc #draco fanfiction #chapter 1 #tom felton #hogwarts #harry potter

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slutsofren · 4 years

Text

Magical Mysteries / Chapter 2: Goodbyes & Promises

Summary: You’re stepping away from your home in London to follow your father on some mysterious assignment from the Ministry. There’s trouble in the air but you and your best friend, Ben Organa can’t put your finger on it. Guess that’ll be a problem for later you.

Read on AO3 here!

“Do you have to leave,” Ben whined. You gave him a short laugh as you packed your suitcase. He had come over when you sent Anubis, your cat, to deliver him a letter, telling him that you and your parents were leaving for Paris for the summer.

Ben sprawled his large body across your bed, looking over the various records you had imported from America- you were currently obsessed with Motown music. Diana Ross’ soulful voice filled your bedroom, singing of love and warm embraces. “Yes, of course I do,” you responded, albeit a little disgruntled seeing him put his feet on your bedsheets.

“Feet. Off. Now,” emphasizing with a lighthearted wack on his nice black boots. Ben let out a loud groan, adjusting his massive body. He had grown so much over the past few years, you had too but not nearly as much as him. Ben liked to joke that you were an entire foot shorter than him but that was further from the truth.

“How long will you be in Paris then?”

You stopped folding the corduroy skirt in your arms, “I’m not sure, truthfully. Father says we should pack for the entire summer just to be safe but I suspect he doesn’t wish to stay so long.”

“Good, because I will apparate there to get you and bring you home,” he lightheartedly admitted.

“Oh, hush Ben, you know you’re not allowed to apparate.”

“Actually, little Miss Fontaine, being the appointed son of the wizarding community, you should be keen on noticing that I can do whatever I want.”

You gave the dense boy a panned look, cocking an eyebrow. “You say that yet you’ve seldom gotten in trouble since I met you!” Ben grabbed one of your plushies from your bed, a black bear that you had since childhood, and tossed it in your general direction. “Hey!”

The laughter that filled your bedroom felt like literal sunlight on a depressing day, you always felt joy being around your one truest friend. “Listen, just be safe okay?” You gave him a soft grin and nodded.

“I’ll try,” you raised your hands innocently, “there’s no guarantee that trouble won’t find me.”

“Remind me why you have to leave again,” Ben whined.

You turned around and had your back to him as you went though your salves and tinctures, thinking of which ones to pack with you. “Apparently the Ministry is sending my father to Paris for some project and he’d be gone too long so my mother and I are going with him.”

“Yeah, but,” he sighed, hugging a pillow close, “Why? My mother has said nothing about sending you guys down there. It doesn’t make sense.”

You turned to face him once again, leaning against your desk. “Then, I don’t know. My father got a parcel the other day and there was a letter and some book. That’s all I know.”

“I wonder why you’re being sent to Paris then. Sounds nice but, not for that long.”

You sat next to him on your bed, your tan wool skirt crinkled around your waist. He rose to sit, facing you. A small frown was setting on his lips, “Promise me you’ll be safe?”

You let out an airy laugh, “I said I’ll try!”

He grabbed your hand. “I’m not playing around. There’s been whispers of something bad happening,” he pauses. “It’s been driving my mother and the rest of the Ministry up the walls. You’re my best friend, if anything happened to you and I couldn’t do anything to help? I’d be devastated.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise. Besides,” you assured him, “My father is the strongest wizard I know!”

Your father was the head Auror at MACUSA when your family lived in America, but since his transfer due to some unfortunate situations, your family was uprooted and he accepted a lowly title with the Ministry of Magic.

It didn’t mean much to you but you knew how strong and powerful your father was, the only thing wrong with him was loving a no-maj, a muggle. Shame was never in your vocabulary whenever it came to who your parents were, but it was something you weren’t fond of talking about, even to Ben.

“I thought I was the strongest wizard you knew!”

You stuck your tongue at him and jumped up to finish packing. Ben stayed, as he always did. Your home was the one place where he felt safe enough to let his guard down, knowing that you would never sell him out to the Daily Prophet. This was the one place he felt content.

The rest of the day felt more of the same, jovial chatting between the two of you until the moment you had to leave. Ben was given permission to temporarily move into your home while your family was gone, “No, I couldn’t allow that Mr. Fontaine.”

“Enough with the formality, Ben, you’re family to us. You know to call us by our first name. Say it with me now, Atlas and Luna.”

Faintly, you could hear your mother laughing in the next room, preparing the area in the kitchen for your portkey travels.

Ben looked at you, only mildly defeated. “Atlas, I don’t feel entirely too comfortable just moving in.”

Your mother took this to come join you all in the living room, “Here then, take this.” She handed him an old charm of hers that your father, Eric, casted a spell on back in America when the two first began dating.

The charm was in the shape of a small simple silver ring, and would allow Ben entry to their home safely and quietly whenever he pleased. “I- Thank you, Mrs- I mean, Luna. Thank you. I’ll be sure to take care of it.

Your family left, choosing to travel by portkey. As your family arrived in Paris, the sun was kissing the sky goodnight as the moon slowly rose over the eastern horizon.

The summer home was fairly nice, it was located in the Quartier de Purpliers, just off Rue Damesme. The house was two stories and looked like it was pulled out of a French Art Nouveau gallery.

The walls were decorated in dark contrasting colors depicting women of all shapes and sizes, many of which winked at you as you would walk by. You laid a hand on the stairwell railing, giving each magical portrait a polite greeting.

In your temporary bedroom, there was a framed portrait with a small plaque reading: Divan Japonaise, a lithograph by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec raised above the bed.

“Oh, hello,” you put your trunk and enchanted satchel down.

The woman in the painting looked over her shoulder and nodded at you, acknowledging your presence. Her sly smirk kind of irked you, as if she knew what your future held and wanted to bare witness silently. Your mother explained that the house was used for Ministry personnel only and therefore magical friendly so you only hoped that this was her general look, hoping others took notice of her mystery.

There was a tapping on your window, somewhat spooking you. When you approached it, you spotted Athena, Ben’s loving owl, in all her grey glory with a wax sealed letter in her beak. “Come inside, little one.”

She flew into the room and landed on the bare desk in the corner. She dropped the letter as soon as you gave her obligatory head rubs. As soon as she let out a gentle hoot, Anubis came running up the stairs, wanting to greet his dearest friend too.

You gave a small chuckle at the two getting cozy on your bed as you sat at the desk and opened the letter from none other than Ben Organa.

“Didn’t think I’d write so soon? Of course I did. Well, I forgot to mention when I left that mother dearest has to attend another gala later this summer in London. She’s bringing me along but I wanted to know if you’d want to go- as friends, you know? I’ll let you know when the date of the gala is later and you don’t have to worry about a dress or anything. I’m sure mother will have something with her people set up. Anyways, let me know, we miss you already here. Ben.”

You laughed out loud at his letter, he writes like he talks sometimes. You turned to the two furry friends on your bed, “Athena, would you mind if I sent a letter back with you? You can rest here for tonight.”

The great horned owl gave you another hoot and tucked herself back into the snuggle pile with Anubis, graciously accepting the rest period. You would send a reply with nothing short of the same humor and lightheartedness as his, accepting the invitation and looking forward to going back to London for a few days as you were positive you would be a little homesick for the city.

The letter set you brought with you contained your favorite seal, a soft purple wax and your stamp marked with a bushel of lavender. Ben gifted you this set for your first winter celebration as friends six years ago, he even got the wax enchanted so it would never run out. He always knew how to give the best gifts, they were always well thought out and items that could be useful and practical. This warmed your heart very much.

Grabbing one of your spare pens you wrote back, “I’m glad to hear from you so soon. Athena stayed the night so I hope you won’t be too worried for her, she’s enjoying some time with Anubis on the bed. To answer your question though, yes! I think it’ll be fun, just keep me informed, I’ll let my parents know. I think I have some floo powder somewhere, if not maybe see if I can get special permission from Madam Minister to apparate back home. Hint hint. Anubis and I miss you dearly. XO, Little Miss Fontaine.”

You slowly folded the letter together into a pocket, making sure to add a small snippet of lavender under the seal. It was always fun being a little extra with your snail mail. Behind you, you could hear both yours and Ben's companions resting peacefully but as for you, there was something that gnawed on the back of your mind, filling this night with restlessness.

If there was only an answer to your worries, you felt there might have been a small reprieve.

#asher's writing #magical mysteries #wizarding world au #kylo ren #kylo x y/n #kylo x you #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren/you #kylo ren reader insert #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars smut #star wars reader insert #harry potter au #kylo ren / you

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eltanin-malfoy · 5 years

Text

Get A Grip

pairing : draco/fem-y/n

word count : 4k

warning(s) : mentions of torture/death/war/ptsd, some violence, angst, fluff

requested : no.

a/n : just slightly modifying canon events to whitewash draco a bit and make up an opportunity for x reader fluff! because if we don’t, would this even be a draco x reader? requests are open as usual, and any feedback would be appreciated! do you guys want me to make this a series? i might. (also this isn’t betaed again.)

Malfoy Manor was full of rooms and spaces even a long term inhabitant would never have to visit. There were quite a few luxurious bedrooms (all with king sized mattresses covered with egyptian cotton), bathrooms (slightly more modern, and.. swanky, additions) and all sorts of other lounge areas. Most of these rooms were barely used at all. Draco didn’t even think he’d managed to see all of the rooms yet. But, perhaps living in a house for generations relieves any curiosity you might have about it.

However, there was one space he’d always been interested in where he’d been absolutely forbidden to enter : the cellar.

For him, it seemed to be like a basement full of wonders he had no idea about. There must have been some reason why he’d never been permitted to look inside it, right? Some peculiar, life-changing reason. But, he was wrong.

The cellars of the Manor had been used over the past few centuries as places for the Malfoys to keep prisoners. Actual living beings. There were real reasons other than the possibility of a fun creature living behind the door that it had bars over the windows. He’d considered the possibility, sure, but he didn’t realise its severity until he saw the other Death Eaters bringing in people. People they didn’t want to keep in Azkaban for some reason, but people they wanted to starve and torture right here.

It had been traumatic enough, really, having so many Death Eaters living in his house as the Dark Lord’s influence slowly grew stronger. Watching Professor Burbage’s death had only been the beginning of what was to come. Every day he stayed at his home, he’d be ordered to torture people the Dark Lord suspected or was simply disappointed with. Performing the Cruciatus curse hadn’t seemed all that bad in theory, but watching a grown man who could normally hold his own contort and scream in pain that you were causing to him was another level of horrifying.

Draco had hoped to have escape it at Hogwarts, but, alas, the coming of the Carrows had been absolutely as awful as he’d anticipated. He had thought torturing grown adults was agony, but they’d seemed to make torturing students some kind of competition. Defense Against The Dark Arts classes were total nightmares and while practice with Aunt Bella had made him somewhat adept with the Unforgivable Curses, he could barely hold himself up when he heard the students around him screaming.

After he’d seen Amycus torture a muggle-born first year, it was as if the sight would haunt him forever. He’d thought his task for sixth year was difficult, but this year had turned out to be much harder than he’d ever imagined.

Not to mention, the guilt that started seeping into him over the course of the year. He’d begun to realise that his hatred towards the muggles and the muggle-borns around him had been.. biased. Perhaps even slightly bigoted. He knew he had no right to complain about what was going on in the castle, it was sort of his fault to begin with, and that just drove him further down that hole.

He’d begun to stay up most nights, trying his best to stay away from the dreams that had become a part of his life. Of watching those he loved hurt by the Dark Lord, seeing innocent children hurt.. simply for their blood status. Why had he supported and upheld such beliefs for so long? Now.. it was too late to change anything, it seemed.

But when he came back for his winter holidays, life at the Manor was worse as ever.

It was even more bleak than it had been the year before. Not only was there a lack of grandeur or joy around the place, but he was also forced to continue to serve the Dark Lord. And, of course, not only that but the Death Eaters had begun to use their cellars to trap.. civilians. Not people they’d suspected of being in the Order of the Phoenix, not people who’d been actively badmouthing You-Know-Who, but just.. problem citizens. He’d known that they’d even plucked out Loony Lovegood from the Hogwarts Express during the holidays and kept her there because her father was being difficult about the stories published in The Quibbler.

But he was surprised to see even more people gathered around in the cellars the one time his aunt let him take gruel to the prisoners. There were so many old people (whom he assumed had provided safe houses for escaping Mudbloods) and even younger couples (who he suspected were cross-breeding, in the Death Eater’s eyes). There were even a few families in sight, young children gathered around in circles playing some sort of game. He seemed to recognise a small, ferrety looking man with his wife and children to be someone he’d seen in the Magical Maintenance department, but he couldn’t exactly be sure..

But what surprised him the most, and the least, at the same time, was that there were actual Hogwarts students down there, or.. ex-students, rather. There was no one he recognised to be in Dumbledore’s Army in the years prior, but people he assumed had been standing out of line. Or perhaps just people the Carrows or Snape had lost their patience for. He’d heard of a few incidents at school and had realised that the Death Eaters had forced the perpetrators out of Hogwarts, but he didn’t realise that they would truly kidnap them the way they had.

He couldn’t really understand what good it did to keep the innocents there the way they had. It didn’t make much sense at all. What good would it do to trap these people here and hurt them to pass the time? It’s not like they were doing anything but trying to save others, or attempting to escape from the Dark Lord’s wrath. It made him feel all the more guilty and powerless.

That was until, he decided he could take the slightest bit of action. He’d been sent to give them gruel again but felt guilt swirling in his stomach as he heard a child crying, asking when they could finally get home. He watched the child’s mother console him and was suddenly reminded of his family’s own current plight. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d pulled the child’s parents to the side and told them he’d help them get out. And soon enough, at an opportune moment when he felt no one was being too wary over the prisoners, he showed them the way out of the cellar and told them the way to the nearest town, the safest one he could think of.

There wasn’t exactly anyone keeping track of who or what went in and out of the cellar to begin with. It was just the goblin, Ollivander and the Lovegood girl his people seemed to remember, everyone else they’d pick and choose out of to torture when they were getting bored. So, he felt his actions were simply for the greater good. The Dark Lord wouldn’t need to worry about taking care of these folk then, would he? Or at least, that’s what he said he’d say if he was actually found out.

He tried and did this every few days over the holidays, sneaking out the people who seemed the most vulnerable at that point. All the prisoners noticed him taking the risk he was and acknowledged it, even acted politely towards him whenever he came into the dungeons. (Which he suspected was also a bit more to get into his good books.)

Soon enough, he returned to Hogwarts for another unpleasant term. Everything only seemed to be getting worse. Practically all the students who’d been suspected to be a part of ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ had gone into hiding. He’d noticed the clear Longbottom shaped hole in the classes they’d had together. He often wondered to himself whether there was any chance he’d been forced back to Malfoy Manor like so many others. He shuddered thinking about it, even though he’d never had so much as a positive thought towards the bloke up till that point.

His classes were clearly emptier. Many children didn’t return after the holidays, afraid of ending up like so many others who’d been tortured endlessly. Again, he wondered if this was a rumor the Carrows had spread after whisking off some of them to the Manor.

Before he knew it, it was time for Easter break. He returned to his ‘home’ quite reluctantly, afraid of what else was in store after each visit seemed to gradually get worser. He visited the cellar and it was as full as ever. There were clearly a lot more students there, most of them younger than him, looking frail and poorly.

He noticed only another student from the same year as him.. Y/N Y/L/N. Their paths had never really crossed much. They’d always had classes together here and there, but they’d only exchanged a couple of words. He didn’t know exactly what to say to her. He never remembered her being a part of the D.A. or anything like that. She wasn’t really close with Potter or his fellows either. He’d noted she’d stopped coming into class, but had assumed it was because her parents feared for her or something. He wasn’t exactly why she was here in the first place, but it’s not like he had time to stop and chat.

Even though he would have liked to help her out of the place, there always seemed to be somebody else who took precedence, be it an elderly couple who looked like they were about to take their last breaths, or a second year Hufflepuff who looked absolutely distraught.

A few days before he had to board the Express back to the castle, he decided to help out another student. After handing out another daily helping of gruel, he noticed a Gryffindor student who couldn’t have been much older than thirteen lying curled up in a corner of the room, crying. He noticed Y/N beside him, trying her best to brighten his spirits, but he lay as he was, sobbing out.

He waved over to Y/L/N and had her shift away, going up to the child himself. Of course.. he wasn’t exactly one to console others, so he leaned down and patted him on his back until he finally became calmer. As soon as the coast was clear, he helped the boy up and led him out the cellar. He took him through the back door into the gardens, reaching the edge of the fence. He told him the directions to the nearest safe town and reassured him of his fate. He was just about to push him through when he felt a hand firmly grab hold of the back of his shirt. “What do you think you’re doing, boy?” A rough, raspy voice called out, another hand gripping at his hair. Dolohov.. Draco’s back arched at this and his eyes began to water in pain.

“N-nothing… nothing at all.” He’d been caught red handed and he knew it. There was no way out of this.

“The Dark Lord will be so proud of one of his fools letting out our prisoners.” He recognised Yaxley’s voice.

“You-you can’t do anything to me! This is my house!” Draco managed out.

“Let’s see what your aunt has to say about that.” The hand pulled him further back and his glassy eyes locked with the men’s cold, unforgiving ones.

Before he knew it, they’d dragged him all the way back to the lounge, and were just about to begin roughing him up when finally, Bellatrix arrived.

“What are you doing to him?” She called out, strutting over to the scene. It wasn’t long before his own parents arrived, and soon the rest of the Lord’s army.

“He’s been betraying us! As good as a blood traitor he is.” Yaxley responded, balling his hands into fists as he glared down at the boy. “It wasn’t-”

“He was.. betraying the Dark Lord?” Bellatrix interrupted Draco, not even meeting his gaze. He looked over at his parents, but they just looked shocked at the scene playing out in front of them.

Dolohov kicked Draco in the side and he whimpered in pain, reaching down to clutch at where he was sure a bruise would begin to form.

“He was helping prisoners out of the cellar!” Bellatrix’s eyes widened and she quickly grabbed ahold of him. “How could you? You insolent brat! You’ve let down the Lord already!” Draco’s lower lip began to wobble as he began contemplating what lay ahead of him. He really shouldn’t have risked it to save all those people..

She slapped him across the face, her long, sharp nails like claws against his skin. He fell to the ground, already growing weak.

“Take his wand and throw him in the cellar with the others. His fate will be decided on later.”

One of the men carried him off to the cellar entrance and flung him inside, grabbing his wand from his pocket. “It’s what you deserve! To live like them!” Draco fell to the ground with a thud as the door slammed. Draco began to come up with a retort. “You’ll-You’ll all pay-” He felt a striking pain in his shoulder as he landed on it, then slowly sat up again, gulping and gripping it to somehow relieve himself of the tension he was feeling.

But there was absolutely no way to.

He’d managed to screw up his family’s reputation worse than it was already with the Dark Lord and his followers. And this was.. like salt in their wounds. He’d been a bit taken aback over the fact that his parents hadn’t even tried to defend him up there. They’d always seemed to be there to take care of him but perhaps.. this time had really gone too far. He was simply the author of his own misfortune.

He suddenly realised that all of the prisoners were watching him. He looked up, silvery eyes flitting from side to side, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. “I.. I managed to help him out. He-he’ll make it. The Death Eaters didn’t get to him.” He reassured everyone, but some continued to look over at him. What was he supposed to say to them? Any hope they might have had was certainly diminished with him being tossed in here the way he had been. He just sighed and shifted off towards a corner, hugging his knees and setting his pointed chin on them.

He could feel fear filling him up to the brim. There was no end to the terrible implications him getting caught would have. Merlin could only hope they didn’t find out about all the others he’d helped out as well. He shut his eyes tightly and shuddered, soon beginning to feel tears well up in his eyes. He let them drip down his face, bringing his palms onto his cheeks to hide them from anyone who might be watching.

Suddenly, he heard the soft patter of steps near him. He swiped away the tears on his face and looked up. It was.. Y/L/N. What could she possibly have to say to him? He’d let her down by not helping her out of the place, goddammit, he’d let her down by bringing the Death Eaters into the castle the year before. He’d let everyone down! He sniffled slightly and forced himself to look up at her. Her face was.. clearly a bit sorrowful.

She was sporting a pink jumper and some blue jeans, all of which had since grown a bit dishevelled and had torn at places, leaving patches she couldn’t mend without her wand. Her face looked a bit more gaunt as well. She’d certainly not been able to eat well, what with, only the daily serving of a bowl of gruel to all of them. She must not have seen the sun in a while either, and of course, she must have been as stressed as any of the others, anticipating extreme pain at all times.

“Draco?” She asked, softly, and he realised he’d been staring straight at her for a second. “You-you were really brave. To help all the others the way you did, I mean.” She bit down on her lip and put her hands into her pockets, fiddling along. She was clearly a bit nervous in front of him, and he couldn’t exactly blame her.

He felt his ears heat up at her comment. Why was she being so kind to him? He’d done absolutely nothing for her thus far. Was she expecting him to make it out of this all healthy and help prisoners out of the place again? “Really. We’ll never forget what you did for the rest of them. And they’ll definitely never forget your sacrifice.” He took a deep breath before responding himself. A shaky “Thank you.” was all he could manage out.

She nodded at him, then looked down at him curiously. She had to know he was likely awaiting for one of the Death Eaters to come down and call him up to be executed. “Are you alright?” She asked him, pressing her lips together. He just nodded and looked up at her, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. She gave him a weak smile and slowly turned to leave, deciding to give the boy his space.

Before he knew it, he felt tears trickling down his cheeks again, wetting his trouser covered knees. He sniffled a bit loudly for his taste, bringing his hands up to hide his slowly reddening face. He was going to die. To die! How could he just accept it? His death would not only mean sorrow for his family, but likely despair for all the prisoners around him. All of whom were innocents who’d been caught trying to do something for the greater good. In that moment, he felt more fearful towards death than for anything else.

He heard the same patter of steps and felt a warm body crouch down in front of him.

“I-It’s clear you aren’t alright..” The same voice called out, so soft it was barely even a whisper.

“I’m just fine.” He managed out again, trying his absolute best to compartmentalise his thoughts. He’d been successful with it for Occlumency! Why couldn’t he do it when awaiting impending doom?

He heard her shift and sit down beside him, leaning up against the wall herself. She stared at his shaking figure for a few seconds before beginning to speak herself. “D’you.. want a hug?”

He was more alarmed at what she said than how she sat beside him. He looked up at her, tears still threatening to continue to spill. “What?” He croaked out. She couldn’t possibly have said that to him! He’s a Death Eater, for god’s sake. Regardless of what he’s done since.

“Would you like a hug?” She eyed him nervously, then looked down at her lap. “They’re scientifically proven to make you feel better.” Draco gulped down the lumps forming in his throat, slowly mustering up the courage to meet her own gaze. Her expression was surprisingly tender, almost pitiful towards him. He squinted at her before nodding politely. “O-only if you want to… you don’t have to.” He sniffled again, bringing his hands up to rub his wet eyes with his knuckles.

“I do want to. Don’t worry..” She reached over and set a hand on his shoulder, patting it gently. “I’d like it if you felt better.. and exchanging the slightest of body heat isn’t the worst sacrifice to give.” She smiled again and Draco managed a curt one himself. She shifted closer towards him and swallowed audibly herself. She gently placed her palms on his upper arms, and he slowly set his own round her waist. She brought her arms further upwards, around his neck. He almost had to stop himself from continuing to shiver at first, but felt himself grow warmer at her touch. She shifted further towards him, bringing him into a tighter embrace, their chests pressed up together as she set her chin over his shoulder. He couldn’t even bring himself to remember the last time someone had hugged him, or the last time he’d felt this intimate with someone.

He could feel all the nerves that had had him all buzzed beginning to relax as she gently rubbed her hands on his back. She brought a hand onto the back of his neck and let her fingers toy gently with the ends of his hair. He could feel the original rigidity of his body give away, practically like putty in her warm, gentle arms. “Thank you.” He managed out again, although that same nervous lurch in his stomach hadn’t wavered.

He held onto her a little tighter, and thankfully, she didn’t seem to want to detach herself from him either. He clung to her as if for dear life, and felt the corners of his lips quirking up slightly as she brought her face into the crook of his neck. He gently set his head atop hers and took a deep, deep breath. He’d want to try and recreate the overwhelming sense of comfort this brought to him somehow later on. Y/N certainly wouldn’t want to do this kind of thing again after they were out of crisis.

He could feel his eyelids begin to droop, growing heavier and heavier with each breath. Had she cast a spell on him? On a normal day, the fear of certain death would give him anxiety to no end.. but somehow.. today, he wanted nothing but to continue holding the girl in his arms and that the higher powers above them would somehow realise their own faults with justice. He hoped and prayed to whatever was out there that the other prisoners would be able to make it out of the place unharmed, especially Y/N.

Suddenly, she shifted back slightly, beginning to draw her arms back. “P-please don’t go.” He managed out, holding onto her how a baby would to its mother. “Please.. I.. I’m s-so scared.” He stuttered uncharacteristically, the fear of losing her touch on him driving him jittery with fear again. She moved closer to him again, nodding. “I-I won’t..”

He sighed as he burrowed his head into the area between her neck and her shoulder this time, slight tears beginning to drip out of his eyes. “I don’t want to die.. I really don’t. It must.. must sound so greedy of me.. but I really don’t want to.. “ He felt his tears drip onto her skin and onto her clothing. She should have had some adverse reaction but she didn’t show it.

She brought her hand into his hair, stroking through it very softly. He sniffled yet again, his tongue beginning to feel heavy in his mouth. “It’s not greedy.. It really isn’t. No one here wants you to die, Draco. No one here wants you hurt at all.” She leaned over and pressed the lightest peck to the top of his pale blonde head. It was so soft Draco thought he’d imagined it. “You deserve better, Draco. You’ve.. saved so many people from here. Really. They’d all be beyond thankful to you.. after all this boils over.” If it does. He couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit skeptical.. why was she trying to be so goddamn nice? It made no sense.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He forced his tears to slow down and held her closer, trying his best to remember what she felt like. If there would be some way to emulate it when he was past this realm of existence. She didn’t say another word, but continued to hold him as softly as she could. Y/N’s own soft breaths slowly lulled Draco to sleep, his usually horror-stricken dreams full of anticipation as to what truly awaited him when he woke up.

Part II

#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco #hp #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #hp imagine #fluff #romance #death eater

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drjackandmissjo · 4 years

Text

firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine

you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Chapter 3 --- previous chapter --- next chapter

Harry Potter fics Masterlist

"Sorry, Blaise. Can't today." That had been the customary answer from none other than Draco Malfoy, prefect and general pain in Blaise's ass, despite still being one of his best friends. Since they had started their lectures, there had been an incredible array of excuses left and right, but enough was enough and all the brain abled Slytherins agreed it was time for an intervention.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Theo began protesting, in his usual disarmingly calm behaviour: "You've been saying that since the year started!" he all but yelled at the blonde, visibly losing his temper already.

"I'm busy okay, back off" came a defensive reply that left something to be expected, yet refused to lead on more.

"No, we're not backing off on this anymore" said Blaise, still seated down in front of his irritating Herbology textbook. He could also feel his temper rising, but managed to keep it contained, remembering the neat way the muscles of a certain Gryffindor boy pulled wherever he scribbled a tiny note on a piece of parchment and choosing to focus on that to remain calm. He was really grateful they didn't have a legilimens in their house, otherwise things would've been even more awkward that usual. "Is this because of your new fancy position?" he asked, mustering as little discomfort as possible in his words, although the mere idea bothered him infinitely.

Draco's face paled of all its blood, eyes darting to look behind them all and to asses that nobody was spying on their conversation. "You know very damn well I can't talk about it!"

"Draco, you shouldn't keep secrets, you'll get wrinkles!" said Pansy, gazing her perfectly manicured fingers as lazily as possible. Blaise had wondered for their entire first year if she truly did not care about anything in the world or if that was an act, but quickly discovered that she cared way too much on occasion and it was smothering to say the least.

But her nonchalant remark snapped Draco out of his mind, and he replied with a hissed "Shut the fuck up Parkinson or I'll hex you into next week."

Blaise and Theo both laughed at the attempted threat, doubling over themselves in laughter as Pansy snickered sprawled over her chair. "How, may I ask, do you suppose to do so?" she asked, her blood red lips gleaming from the light of the fireplace in front of her, "You haven't been paying attention to class as much as you used to. You spend all your time daydreaming or staring at Saint Potter's tush" she added in a matter of fact way, voicing the thought they all shared.

Whether Draco was distracted by whatever dirty deed the Death Eaters wanted him to do or by Saint Potter and his rather objectively well shaped backside, formed finely by years of riding a broom and training, he was still distracted nevertheless, and that wouldn't do well on their collective well-being.

The blonde moved abruptly back, yelling such a forced "I DO NOT" that nobody in their right state of mind would believe. It wasn't as if Draco was out and proud or had even remotely hinted anything, but merely from a muggle statistic point of view, a class which his mother had forced Blaise to attend during the summer and he was incredibly grateful for, it was most probable that he was some sort of queer than anything else. He spent way too much time preparing himself to even see Saint Potter in the hallways, messing his hair and slicking it back countless of times to just "show him and his loser group of friends that we're so much better!" , to be even remotely straight. All of them would still love and care for him either way, as they would for Blaise, but the young boy understood the blonde's reluctance to share that little piece of information.

"Yes, you do, you queer puff. Don't deny it" continued Pansy, not wanting to let the subject drop and inevitably side-tracking from their original battle plan. Many headaches of Blaise's were caused by Pansy's inability to follow a scheme and still the only cure he could think of was to remove her head from her shoulders and leave it on the fireplace. That would've lightened his tension for sure!

But Draco was having none of it: suddenly as red on his face as a Gryffindor robe, he stood up from the couch and began walking away towards the dormitory door, leaving their intervention unfulfilled and useless. Another reason behind Blaise's headaches was Draco's ability to ruin all his bloody plans and intentions.

"Enough with this bullshit" he called back, looking distraught and uneasy, "I don't need your help and surely you don't need mine so kindly fuck off all of you. Let me know when you drop all this crazy shit!"

Blaise followed suit, exiting through the portrait after his friend and catching him up once he was near the staircases. "The fuck you want now?" asked the blonde, ire and hatred lacing his words. Despite it all, Blaise couldn't help but notice how his roommate was shaking, fear deep in his eyes.

He knew he should've tried to comfort, he knew he should've been patient, yet he couldn't bring himself to: while it was true that Draco didn't want to get in those awful games the adults of his family played, he still swore to fulfil whatever duty was asked from him, without mentioning it to his best friends and closest allies. He had a choice and choose to cower before the Dark Lord, he gave in to the threats and the violence and the bloody stereotype that Slytherins were evil murderers.

So when he spoke finally, they weren't kind words those that came out of him: "I would've loved to spend some time with you, you stupid bitch, even if it was studying, cause we rarely even see each other anymore. You're so busy either stalking Potter or doing Salazar knows what on the fifth floor." He saw Draco's eyes widen, the fear turning into full panic and then blow away as if nothing had fazed him in usual Malfoy Manner. Another headache was coming and Blaise wondered if he could go to Madam Pomfrey and ask her " oh hello! Do you have anything to rid me of those terrible pains inflicted by my awful Death Eater roommate, along of those terrible housemates of mine? ". Now, that would surely be an interesting reaction.

"Shut up, Zabini, you don't even know what you're talking about!" Draco whispered violently, checking that nobody was eavesdropping in the empty corridor. "Well why don't you start explaining?" he fired back, standing his ground with his full height and towering over the blonde, who looked like he was about to pass out at any given moment.

" Merde " he said eventually, after having gathered his thoughts, "I cannot talk to anyone about this, okay? Not even you, no matter how hard you push. He'll kill my mum if I don't do it!" He sounded more exasperated than scared now, as if he had already rehearsed that same conversation, probably with himself.

Still, Blaise needed all the answers he could get, "You mean…?"

"Yeah."

" Porca puttana Eva ." He passed a hand over his face, going straight to his shortly cut hair as if to ground himself. He had had doubts, of course, anyone in their right mind would have them and he was really surprised nobody from Saint Potter's squad was onto him like a guard dog. But thinking is one thing, having those thoughts acknowledged and confirmed was another topic entirely. Blaise felt as if the ground would open up from the stone under their feet and swallow them both whole. "Worse ways to go " he thought blandly.

"Indeed. So all I can ask all of you to do is cover for me and have faith in what I'm doing."

He uttered a dry laugh, trying to hide the nervousness that conversation was suddenly giving him. "How can we do it if you don't even trust us?" he asked roughly, hurt and very pissed off.

Draco now looked in full disbelief, as if he had never enthralled the thought of someone not following him blindly before. He supposed it might be true, since in their previous years he was always eager to agree with the blonde. But after their fiasco with Umbridge, Blaise swore to took with a grain of salt everything. Including his friendships.

"How can I trust you lot? I'm marked. I swore an oath. When the time is right you'll be too and we'll take back what's rightfully ours."

"You talk like a madman, and hopefully I'll never have a seat at that table" he said, stumbling backwards. 'Rule number thirteen: men are easily lead and get foolish as soon as they get a taste for any type of power or violence. Do not become like one of those' his mother told him and he didn't plan on disappoint her anytime soon.

"I'm gonna go back and study for the quiz tomorrow, and I highly suggest you do to" he said dryly after a while, regarding his friend with as little interest and concern as he could. And he then turned around, ignoring Draco's feeble attempt to snatch his attention back. For a seeker, he was trash at his job.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the portrait, he was flooded with questions from his fellow housemates, but they all immediately shut up at the thunderous look on his face. Theo seemed to catch on and simply raised an eyebrow at Blaise, who pointedly ignored his roommate and moved back to his Herbology textbook. There had been whispers among the Pureblood Slytherins, many parents having fallen back into old habits and already planning the coming of their children. Blaise had not truly acknowledged those words, choosing to ignore them, never revealing his disdain towards so many of his friends' families.

His father had been amongst those and had perished when his mother was still pregnant, and she and his grandparents had raised him to loathe that idiotic, medieval, misogynistic and racist behaviour. " White idiots think like that, and you are neither" had told him his mother the first time he had brought up the Dark Lord and his antics. He agreed.

Struggling to concentrate, he tried to remember if asphodel was considered by the ancient Greeks the food of the dead or of the nymphs, but his mind was full of worries.

He definitely needed to go to the infirmary for a headache remedy very soon.

Glossary:

"Merde" s French for "shit" cause we all know that Draco's pretentious ass swears in French "Porca puttana Eva" Is basically "Holy burning shit" literally is "that fucking bitch of Eve"

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violet-knox · 5 years

Text

Back at Hogwarts

Year 5 - Chapter 12

Summary: You patiently wait for Severus on the train to Hogwarts, but when he shows up, you notice him hiding his face. When you see the cuts and bruises across his face, you worry and begin asking questions.

Word count: 1466

Warnings: Mention of child abuse

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

You looked up from your book when you heard the train compartment door slide open and saw the slim gloomy figure you knew as Severus Snape, dragging in his luggage and putting it away before struggling to extract his own book from the wreckage of a bag that barely held itself together. It was the same bag he’d left Hogwarts with last year, at least it looked like it was before it seemingly aged about a hundred years. Though the sudden deprecated state of the bag had you curious, you knew it wasn’t your place to ask. Besides, it was Severus’ actions that had you worried as you watched him shove his face in his book without even acknowledging your presence.

“Severus?” you said cautiously, trying to take a look at his face. He’d let his hair hang over him as soon as he turned to sit across from you, his book easily covering his features, which was a rather odd sight. You’d at least expected him to simply great you or at least make any indication that he knew you were in the compartment with him.

Severus ignored you, hoping you would go back to reading your book, if he simply stayed still, showing no interest in starting a conversation, but instead, he found you putting your book down and standing over him. He tried shoving his face further into his book, pretending as though he wasn’t aware of your presence, but you knew better than to fall for his illusive guard.

“Severus, what’s wrong?” you said sitting next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped up at the contact, turning his back to you and shoving his face in his hands. You knew something was wrong but you didn’t want to push him. You stood up, making your presence known behind him by gently placing your hand back on his shoulder. His tense shoulders shivering beneath your palm told you he was struggling to keep himself together.

You wait for him to turn around on his own accord and when he did, you noticed his hair was longer than usual, explaining why his face had been completely hidden from you. Even now, facing you, his hair showered over him like a curtain on a stage, waiting to be pulled back. You studied his slouching posture a moment, waiting for him to make a move that never came. Slowly, you reached a hand up, lifting his chin, to which he surprisingly didn’t object to. But when you saw his face, your eyes widened in shock and your back straightened as you saw the bruises around his left eye and cuts across his lower lip, left eyebrow and right cheek.

“Severus,” you whispered, “What happened?”

Severus looked away from you and pushed his way past you as he sat back down. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, intending to go back to his book.

You watched as he slumped back in his chair and felt your worry intensify further, wondering what had happened to him.

“You know you can tell me anything,” you said as you sat down beside him. He held his book in his lap but made no move to open it. “Was it James? Or Sirius?” you asked, gently pushing hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear to get a better look. He yanked his head away from you but didn’t yell or try and push you away.

Understanding that he didn’t wish to speak about it, you went and grabbed your book, seating yourself back beside him, showing him you respect his wish to stay silent. It was all you could do as you had no desire to push him further than you already had.

You both read a while after that without a word spoken between you. Eventually, you moved to the other side of the compartment and laid down, deciding to take a nap as you didn’t get any rest the previous night. When you woke up a half hour later, you saw Severus staring at you intently. His cold gaze caused you to freeze in your spot, not daring to move.

“It was my father,” he whispered after a long moment. Looking away from you, he hung his head low in shame, not knowing why exactly he had decided to share with you. He had never mentioned his father’s abusive tenancies to anyone, not even Lily, but he felt more comfortable with you as you had once shared your personal life with him and this secret was something burning him from the inside. It felt good to talk about it with someone, even those few words he’d spoken helped him feel a bit more at ease.

You sat up and quickly and cautiously getting up to sit beside him once more. Severus didn’t move an inch as he continued to stare at the floor.

“He-umm-” he started, “He’s a muggle. He hates magic, thinks it’s more of a disease than a gift. My mother normally sneaks me out of the house early in the morning when he’s still sleeping so I can get to the train before he starts going off again. But I woke up late today and he caught me packing my things,” he took a deep breath and paused. Noticing his struggle, you reached over and gently squeezed his hand in comfort.

“I understand,” you said softly, “You don’t have to say anymore.” You both stayed there in silence before you went to brush hair from his face again. He didn’t jerk away this time, finding your soft touch comforting. He slowly turned his head towards you and began searching your eyes. As you gazed back into his eyes, you wondered why he’d come to trust you so much as you didn’t exactly have the best friendship. In fact, you weren’t even sure what you had with him was even a friendship as he’d never really shown any indication of feeling such a way towards you. Sure you’d studied together, spent time outside of class with one another, but was that really enough to say you were now friends?

After a moment, you went into your luggage and took out your wand. “How about I help you heal?” you said enthusiastically, trying to lighten the mood a bit and help him forget the horrible morning he’d had. He hesitated a second before nodding his head. You did your best and was able to clear his bruises, but some of his cuts didn’t heal all the way. Nevertheless, you were glad you were able help ease a bit of his pain, both physically and emotionally.

“Sev, how-how often does he do this?” you said hesitantly. He went back to looking at the floor, feeling uncomfortable at the topic of his father.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he whispered. You nodded in agreement and didn’t dare speak another word about his injuries. You watched him relax as you quickly changed the subject telling him about the books you had read over the summer holidays.

As the train ceased to a halt, you jumped from your seat, eager to start your fifth year at Hogwarts with Severus.

“You know we have O.W.Ls this year,” Severus said as he held the compartment door open for you.

“Yeah, Professor Slughorn mentioned that to me last year but I never got to ask what that was?” you asked curiously.

“The Ministry tests us at the end of the year and our grades determine if we can continue in the subject next year.”

“What?!” you said panicked. You always had the impression that so long as you passed your classes, you would be able to continue with your studies the following year. You never expected to take Ministry issued exams.

“Don’t worry,” he said, noticing the fear in your eyes. “You’ll be fine, most Professor’s will take you with an E and I suspect you will be able to achieve that in the subjects you want to continue studying.”

“What subjects do you want to continue with?” you asked out of curiosity, unsure yourself of what you’d want to sign up for.

“Well, definitely Defense and Potions. I’ll probably take Charms and Herbology as well for good measure…”

“Naturally,” you giggled knowing those were really the only subjects you studied together last year.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Guess we shall see what my options are after I receive my O.W.Ls results.”

Thinking about receiving a letter telling you what your possible future could be scared you, not only because it would determine your career path options, but you were afraid of the thought that you wouldn’t be able to take classes with the only person you had came to trust.

Next Chapter

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin

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lutraverselemonde · 4 years

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bio

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Ndulue “Lu” Travers

AGE: 26

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Genderqueer. They/Them. Queer.

Lu does not use the term ‘genderqueer’ themselves. They just know – and have always known – that their body does not fit how they feel inside. They know it’s a good body, and they don’t hate it, in fact, they quite enjoy using it for certain physical activities at times, but they just don’t think it belongs to them more than a handbag does.

They’ve tried living as a traditionally female-presenting woman for a while but it seemed just as wrong. So they’ve decided, especially in the face of war, that there’s bigger things to worry about and to just wear and act and love however they feel like it that day. If modern terminology and information were accessible to them, they’d choose ‘genderqueer’ for themselves and so I’m going with the most widely used ‘they/them’ pronouns as well. I can imagine Lu’s skin crawls when people address them with ‘Mister’ or speak of them with ‘he/him’ pronouns, even if they can’t fully put it into words why, but when it comes to playing into the ideas some people have of them, they’re good at sucking it up.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Not applicable

ANY CHANGES: X.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

[Lu’s soul is split into two. Their parents divorced, leaving them and their brother commuting between different counties, educations and opposing moral values. They are of magical blood, no one else in their family is, has been, or will ever be. Their taste is accustomed to luxury and fame, but they themselves have no Knut to their name. To which world do they belong? Who are they really?]

Their personality is best described as vibrant and fun-loving on the one hand and selfish and sly on the other.

Meeting them for the first time, you’ll be confronted with a lot of sass, a lot of cheek, a lot of jokes and shallow remarks. They’re painfully honest about what they think of others – or at least their appearances. There’s something hyper-sensual, hyper-sexual to them even, as though their whole world turns around how to get who to bed. In a way, that’s very much the truth. After all, the person they’ve become can only exist as long as they keep being wanted that way. If they like you, they’ll shower you in gifts and wild adventures, they’ll make you get out of bed at one in the morning for a trip to an underground party where everyone is dressed up in Rococo fashion, and if you don’t want to, they’ll shame you for not living your best life. “These are the golden years of our lives, let’s spray-paint us in glitter to match!”

On the other hand they do have a dark past and a deep-rooted melancholy they can not always shake. Sometimes they use this to get pity-points. You see, even though they didn’t go to Hogwarts but to Beauxbaton, they are the epitome of a Slytherin. They’ll do most anything to protect their kin, foul play never out of the question. Lies are their best friend, and they’re damn good at it. In fact, they don’t just take pride in it but also joy. Imagine Regina George complimenting your bracelet only to turn around a second later and comment to her friend just how ugly it really is. That’s Lu. They found happiness in everything material; fashion, housing, parties, carriages is their life. Flowers are beneath them as they die too quickly. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend is their motto. And if you get on their bad side, you will suffer. You don’t know the bad luck that ensues is coming from Lu, but you will experience it intensely. There’s also an intense need to be appreciated, to be everyone’s number one and win first place in any competition – even those where no one else is aware that it’s a competition.

They can play incredibly sweet. Feed you honey as long as they get what they want, help you succeed, and rid you of all your adversaries. But if they feel insulted or neglected, the venom in their bite shows quickly.

So if it comes to what they’re good at, what they struggle with, it’s two sides of the same coin: being honest. Yes, they’ll use their actual hurt to get attention and some extra loving, but when it comes to facing how it actually makes them feel, how it influences their actions, they’ll put up a fight – or distract. They’re a master of conning, even before they met Mundungus Fletcher who helped them to their current life. They bamboozle and bedazzle their audience – and break when the truth beneath the facade is found out. The world’s a stage, they’re the lead role. But if you catch them behind the scenes, or reduce them to being the audience, a feisty tongue will jab and jab and jab until words turn to actions, indeed quite similar to theatre kids not being cast in the role they want.

What this hurt is, that I mentioned? See the next section.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Lu’s theme – a soul divided into two – has its roots, as for so many, in their past and background.

Muggle Belgium is a country split between a French part and a Dutch part, and most people there are raised bilingual. Lu, with their Nigerian mother, was raised with yet a third language, a third culture to appreciate and respect, a third reason why fitting in was nearly impossible.

Initially, it was a happy childhood, with a baby brother Lu was devoted to, and parents who, despite their differences, managed to show their love to their children. But soon the differences grew too broad, and it didn’t help that each fight they had when they believed their children to be asleep was followed by furniture mysteriously bursting, disappearing, or changing colour. Accusations were thrown, insults were hissed, and soon Lu’s father moved up to Antwerpen, far away from the French language, far away from his family, far away from the open-hearted person he used to be.

He became xenophobic, as though blaming every immigrant to be the cause for his unhappy life. Even his own children, now coming to visit him every second week, weren’t safe from his drunk, racist slurs. But staying with their mother wasn’t an option either, as she soon married again, had two new children, blacker than Lu and their brother Urhie, happier, more normal. To the new husband’s sight, Lu and Urhie were a thorn, a mistake his wife had committed and simply couldn’t make undo, a chore. So every second week, Urhie would take their little brother by the hand, go on a train, and travel yet again across the country. It wasn’t perfect. Neither home felt right, and because of the going back and forth, it was nearly impossible to make proper friends at their two schools. And when they did, and the other kids found out that the Travers were children of divorce, they’d be bullied for it. Leaving one county was always filled with anxiety, wondering what would await them on the other side of this train ride. But at least they had each other.

Urhie was a happy boy. He barely remembered his parents fighting, and while the travelling and bullying, later the lack of parental love as well, took a toll on him, he at least had an older sibling who protected him. There was nothing Lu wouldn’t have done for Urhie. They taught him all the best curse words, helped them with the homeworks, built the best blanket forts and painted the greatest tigers onto their face, read them all the Comic books and stole just so much candy for them. They also took their father’s beatings, and got all the chores for their mother done so that their presence would be at least tolerated. At school, they’d meet each other in the courtyard, and Lu made sure that Urhie never felt lonely. Never felt like all of this was his fault. After all, somehow, Lu always knew that it had been their fault, and their fault alone. All the mysterious little things that had happened, the incidents which their parents used to accuse each other of and which led to the awful arguments – that had been all Lu, hadn’t it?

The famous Beauxbaton Flower Petals proved them right. They flew in through the window, even though Lu had been so sure to close it, and that was the end of their childhood. Everything about Beauxbaton was brilliant. The uniforms, the people, the teachers, the building, and of course the magic. Everything felt like a dream. A beautiful, rare, fantastical dream that had to be true simply because Lu knew their brain could’ve never come up with something like this on its own. Was it hard to believe that they were a Wix? No. Was it hard to tell their parents about it? Oh, yes.

Their father responded with a slap to the face. “Stop with your jokes.” The Beauxbaton Secretary, who came a few days later, performed a few spells and while Lu’s eyes grew wide with wonder, their father’s grew darker and darker. Perhaps it was anger, that his child was even stranger and more different than he had expected. Perhaps it was a form of jealousy. Their mother – forbidden to say anything to her husband – cried and cried until all her tears were out and then cried some more, with a dry face now. No one quite understood why but when she finally stopped after five long days, she also stopped acknowledging Lu’s presence. They had died for her, and in the rare cases she needed something of them, a chore done, she’d speak of them in the third person, detached, as though they were just not in the room, but not even in this realm.

But none of this was bad. Not compared to how it affected Urhie. At first there was eagerness: “So you think I’ll go to Beauxbaton, too, when I’m older?!” But no matter how much they tried to make things change colour, nothing ever happened. And when Lu was about to start their fifth year at Beauxbaton, and no Flower Petals came for Urhie, their relationship changed. Brusquely and irreversibly. Urhie grew quiet, visibly hurt, at first internalising, later placing all the disappointment in his broken life on their sibling. When they were with their mother, they now played with their half-siblings, or did the chores before Lu could do them, wordlessly. When they were with their father, Urhie hid in his room and blasted music, letting Lu face the violence alone, but instead of kissing the wounds afterwards, he now didn’t even acknowledge them.

And the more Lu tried to escape the tension – staying at Beauxbaton over the holidays, ward themselves with spells at night, or spend more time in the Wizarding City of Antwerpen and Liège – the more Urhie resented them. It was a betrayal. Lu was able to live in a world where there was magic, where there was happiness, and he wasn’t. The traitor was Lu. And so they paid for it.

By their seventeenth birthday and their graduation from Beauxbaton, they had no home anymore.

OCCUPATION: Escort

Dancing the Devil’s Tango, you know? Playing the flute, you could say. Knowing how to truly enjoy eating a banana, is another way to phrase it. Practicing throat massages, loving the nightly work out and specific stretching positions, giving people excuses to wash their bed sheets more often. You get the idea, I’m done. No, wait, one more: Horse back riding but without the horse.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Lu thinks they’re losing. They’re not powerful enough, not strong enough, not smart enough to do anything against the upper class society that has always ruled over this country and will always rule over this country. No, they don’t think they’re bad people or acting against the law, but it all seems so futile. Such great efforts for what? Perhaps a few years of peace before the next racist radical group arises? Adapting is the key, not fighting, no revolution has ever gone anywhere productive, and because the Order isn’t even trying to adapt and make use of those inside of it with privilege, Lu is both condescending towards them, as well as mildly bemused by them.

They affiliated themselves nevertheless because they want to be protected.

First, if their secret ever came out, that they’re really a Mudblood, then the Order might be there for Lu until they can get out of the country. Possibly even help them back to Belgium. Secondly, if the Order does win the war, they don’t want to be known as a Death Eater.

They’re not a Death Eater and certainly don’t have the Dark Mark, but you’d be surprised how deep into their dinner-party affairs you can sneak when you’re only considered the hors d’oeuvre. Nevertheless, Lu’s somewhat affiliated. So if the Order wins the war and their affiliation is revealed, it would be best to be in the Order to say, oh no, I was just working as a double agent, I’m not actually a bad person.

So that was why they began helping the Order out, a few months after coming to England. Nothing big, only some very personal information or clear descriptions of locations that could be useful for Order missions. The reason the Order had such a detailed description of the Nott house in December, was because Lu had taken the freedom to ‘get lost on their way to the bathroom’ and have a snoop around. It was their first ‘trial’ to help the Order with something.

For three months now they’d been helping the Order, solely for their own protection. Until. Well. Until this New Years, when the Death Eaters decided to go against Muggles.

Their war against Mudbloods, Lu had always been able to understand, to accept. Muggleborns couldn’t properly fit into the Wizarding World, not without completely getting rid of their Muggle side. And who would want to do that? To split one’s soul for two completely different styles of life… That simply wasn’t healthy.

But Muggles? Those innocent, stupid bastards? What have they done? Who will protect them? Who will protect Urhie? Lu doesn’t let themself think that name, but that’s the source of their fears, isn’t it?

SURVIVAL:

Lu came to England as an extended family member of the Travers family. Their real name is, in fact, Travers, but that’s pure coincidence, and there’s no relation to the famous British pureblood family at all. It was only with Mundungus Fletcher’s information and a bit of conning that Lu made themself pass as a member of the Sacred 28. Well, that, and long eyelashes batting with promise of the kind of night you don’t dare speaking to your wife about.

At first it seemed risky to burst into the Upper Pureblood Society without a proper patron, but soon enough Lu realised that while the British liked to present themselves as quiet and respectable, they were no less naughty than the French. Living in a small country Manor, part of the Travers heritage, there’s rarely ever a day – or rather night – that passes without visit. And because none of those patrons are the kind of people to speak about their private affairs, Lu lives more easily than ever before.

It would probably be very easy to just stay out of the war, play innocent in case the Phoenix side wins. But what if all Purebloods get persecuted at the end of the war? So it’s safer to play on both sides. And if the Death Eaters catch Lu meddling with the Order, they can simply say it’s a matter of double-agenting as well. Only properly joining the Order could be a proper risk, and until very recently Lu had absolutely no desire to do that. For what? To get sent into a mission and die? You wish!

But, well, now New Years has happened and sitting still in their country Manor is not as easy anymore, is it? So while everyone is seeking out safety, Lu is, for the first time, leaving their comfortable den, to get themself into trouble. Stupid? Perhaps. Well. Yes, actually. Most definitely very stupid. But… There’s this feeling. This knowledge that danger lies ahead, but that taking a beating or two is all worth it, if at least it will protect Urhie…

RELATIONSHIPS:

In general, Lu is careful not to make close friends.

Oh, their official list of friends is as long as the guest list for a Gatsby Party, sure, but the people that actually know Lu are … non-existent. In the past, whenever there was someone who came too close to Lu, learnt too much and made it hard for them to continue playing the role of luxurious party host and resident play-toy, they’d jump ship. Go to a new country. Find new friends.

At the moment they’re physically very close with a handful of Death Eaters, but none of them ask Lu for private information, only see them as a fun pass-time, and Lu lives for it. There is safety in not being known. Safety in being loved for all the wrong reasons, never hated for all the right reasons.

When it comes to the people of the Order – most of which Lu has yet to meet – they’re rather indifferent to them. Do they have money? Flair? A sense of humour and an ability to hold their liquor? Let’s be friends! Are they bland and all about the war? All right. Let’s focus on the war. They have no interest in being close to any of those people but that doesn’t mean they’re rude to them. They affiliated themselves with the Order for protection, and they are trying to join now to help the Muggles. Much like you treat your local grocery shop lady, Lu is friendly to them, not really trying to play serious or their glamour-card, just interacting in a professional manner. But again, if there are people in the Order who they think could pay for their bling, they will not draw the line just because they’re in the Order. They see the Order the same way they see the Death Eaters: they don’t care much about their ideologies but sees them as individual people.

Suggestions, as discussed with the players:

Peter Pettigrew/Severus Snape: Both of them are Death Eaters, both of them know the faces that hide behind the masks, both of them are wildly aware what that person, who is helping the Order get to personal information about Death Eaters, is properly doing to get to that information. They know Lu’s not a Death Eater, but they also know they’re not fully on the Order’s side. Interestingly enough, they’re the only people Lu’s wary off – on Death Eater side. The Inner Circle of the Order knows that they must be somewhat close to the Death Eaters, but the Death Eaters can under no circumstances learn that Lu’s flirting with the Order. Luckily, both Peter and Severus are also aware of the power that Lu holds against them, so there’s a mutual tension and black-mailing potential going on.

Mundungus Fletcher: Mundungus is the reason why Lu made it to Britain. The two of them met at a bar in Paris, where Mundungus was currently being caught red-handed in a con-gone-awry. Lu helped him and then “I owe you.” “Great. I actually got something I need help with right now.” At first Mundungus seemed irritated that a Muggleborn wants to play Pureblood, but he showed up the next day at Lu’s place anyway, ready to help them con the British Pureblood Society. Their relationship is riddled with quarrels, jabs and insults, but somehow they can’t quite go longer than a week without going out on a drink together again.

Lily Evans: Is reason for great conflict to Lu. On the one hand, she’s a stupid Muggleborn who isn’t even trying to conceal her identity. On the other hand, she’s clearly a talented Witch. Best of her year, they say? So maybe all those prejudices against Muggleborns isn’t actually true? So while at the moment Lu is still facing her with an air of hostility and sceptical arrogance, they do want to know how she’s doing it; finding all this bravery. It might do them well to learn of another Muggleborn’s past. Either because it’ll teach them that not all Muggles are bad, or because it’ll reinforce this idea that Muggles are in fact not suited to know about magic, that the Statue of Secrecy must be kept at all cost.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: Lu x Dumbledore only, please. Only supreme Sugar Daddies acceptable for my Lu.

No, but seriously, I’d like for Lu to actually get attached for once. You’ll see, they’re very vain and shallow, but beneath all that there’s a genuinely sweet person who wants to be protected as much as they want to protect. So whether that be someone older who fits their usual prey – homewrecking is their speciality! –, or someone younger who they wouldn’t even consider as a romantic partner, I’m very open to it all.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

I think it is safe to say that now that Lu has adopted the Sacred 28 name Travers as their own, they have all the privileges one can only image. They live in a big house with maids and footmen, and while they don’t actually live off the heritage of a long-lost aunt fifth removed like they’ve told the Purebloods they hang out with now, they do have their means to get by. Gain enough money to spend it on all sorts of fun activities.

And because they’ve stopped entering the Muggle world about five years ago, they’re also facing barely any prejudices concerning their skin colour – or extravagant clothes. The former seeming to be a prejudice indeed mostly fostered by a people that took too long to begin travelling the world, the latter a prejudice for a people that has never had a sense of fashion to begin with. The traditional Wizarding costumes are colourful and grand by nature, dramatic in all the right ways, and Lu savours it.

Coming to their own biases and prejudices.

Against Muggles: Stupid, hostile, irrelevant, prejudiced to a painful degree. As the above written paragraph makes it obvious, Lu doesn’t think kindly of their own once-upon-a-time kin – surely because of the way they were treated by them.

Against Muggleborns: Actually, deep down, knowing themselves quite the skilled Magician, they don’t really believe that Muggleblood washes out your powers. However, they do think that every Muggleborn who is still staying in Britain at the moment, without even trying to conceal their identity, is the epitome of stupid.

Against Halfbloods: Barely of any relevance to Lu, but if you’d dug deeper you’d find that they might think any Wizard stupid who thought to marry a Muggle. Can’t be that grand of a family, if there’s traces of dementedness in their blood, right? But mostly they don’t care.

Against Purebloods: In Lu’s opinion, every Pureblood is inherently more powerful than Muggleborns or Halfbloods. I know, I said they know themselves to be incredibly skilled, but those contradictions exist within themselves the same way everything else splits them into two sides. They’ve spent so much time around Purebloods that they can no longer separate the truth from lies, and their beliefs have seeped into their own skin, with a tendency to make them believe they might actually be less skilled at magic as they once thought they were. It’s one of the reasons why they barely ever use magic around Purebloods – simply not to accidentally prove themselves as weak-blooded. They also think all Purebloods are rich.

Against Halfbreeds: Between the horrid prejudices spread by the Pureblood Circles they hang out in, and their own Muggle background, halfbreeds are inherently unhuman to them. In fairy tales, you didn’t see magical creatures be given human emotions. The goblins were greedy, the sirens were sexual predators, the wolves were to devour you. Surely it’s the same in the real world. The house elves love serving, the veelas love dancing on pianos at cocktail parties, and the werewolves want nothing but to kill humans. No matter how much human blood they got in their veins, at the end they’re their fairytale trait… The same way you can’t just shake your Muggleblood, right?

#{ le monde }#bio #bolded all thats relevant if you want to have a quick read through

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rosecorcoranwrites · 5 years

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Editing Advice Part 2: Plot

Last time, I discussed the importance of editing for continuity in the categories of time, place, and people. This week, we're going to focus on the plot-centered issues of internal consistency and plot holes. The line between these two categories is vague at best, but I'm still going to discuss them separately. For our purposes, let's say an internal inconsistency is a problem with the world building and a plot hole is a problem with the plot (as the name implies).

Internal Consistency

I'm not of the belief that you need to know every single thing about your fictional world—when the agricultural revolution happened, how ALL of the economic systems works, etc—but you do have to know enough for it to make sense, and you have to realize when it doesn't. Even if your setting isn't consistent with our world, it needs to be consistent with itself, thus the phrase "internally consistent". You can't break your own rules.

You should be thinking about internal consistency throughout the writing process, but, well, some people don't, so editing is your last shot. Ask yourself, does everything that you have chosen to include in a story follows naturally from how you've built your world? Is there something you don't talk about in your book, but that needs to be mentioned for the world to make sense? If you were a reader, is there anything that would strike you as "off" or unbelievable about the world, even in (or specifically because of) the setting it's in?

For example, in the the setting of Leigh Bardugo's fantasy books, known collectively as the Grishaverse, homosexual relationships are considered as normal as heterosexual ones. Yet, in Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom, there's this whole subplot about how Wylan's father thinks he's unfit to inherit his mercantile company because Wylan can't read; the father has already divorced/disappeared Wylan's mother, attempted to have Wylan murdered, and remarried so he can get a "better" heir. But, um, why? In a setting where gay relationships are the same as straight ones, there would have to be systems in place for non-bloodline inheritance. Otherwise, homosexual relationships would be seen as a burden by families, since gay heirs wouldn't be able to have heirs of their own without all sorts of weirdness (which I hardly think the families or the heirs would be okay with!). Bardugo has two conflicting societal norms: homosexual relationships are considered normal, and bloodline inheritance is a necessity. She needs to deal with one of those two things, either by explaining it (maybe Wylan's dad cares about blood when no one else does) or getting rid of it (nix the entire subplot with the new wife and have Wylan's dad trying to set up some adopted son or trusted coworker to be his successor instead). Otherwise, part of her world just doesn't make sense.

Internal consistency requires that you think about how everything is connected and affects everything else. No man is an island, they say; no world building factoid is an island, either, I might add. If you want your world to be taken seriously, you have to take it seriously by stepping into it and seeing it as a place with history, culture, sociology, natural history, cosmology, and so on. This is true regardless of how close or far removed your setting is from our own. If you make even one change—vampires exist, no one lives past the age of thirty, the North lost the Civil War, etc—it will have ripple effects across society and the world. Take some time to think about wether or not you've thought those effects through, and wether they might impact something important in the rest of your setting.

If everyone in your society is put into a warrior caste, lawmaker caste, scientist caste, and un-person caste, who grows all the food? Maybe mention that at some point. If you have a space fairing civilization, why would weapons dealers be the richest people and not fuel manufacturers. Maybe switch that around (Last Jedi, I'm looking at you!). If there was a widespread conflict between magic users and non-magic users, can you justify the people who can't wield supernatural forces as being the winners? If wizards have always lived apart from muggles, as evidenced by their robes, feather quills, parchment, and candles, why do they also use locomotives and buses? Why not use pens, paper, and lightbulbs as well? These are the types of questions you should answer at some point, and the editing process is your last chance to do it.

Plot Holes

Plot holes are easier to spot, yet they find their way into published works more than any other inconsistency, probably because people—writers, editors, those who should know better—tend to get so caught up in the story that they overlook things that don't quite make sense. You owe it to yourself, your story, and your readers to keep constant vigilance concerning holes in the plot.

One common plot hole is when a character has some ability or item that could easily solve some problem, but... they just don't use it. Why? Because the plot requires it! Another example is when the villain insists on carrying out some complicated scheme instead of the much simpler option because... plot.

An example that combines both of these hole types is Voldemort's plan in Goblet of Fire, in which the entire plot of the book is predicated on not using a Portkey in a timely fashion. Hear me out. We are shown that Portkeys (items that teleport people who touch them) can be made from anything, even trash. We are eventually shown that the Triwizard Cup is a Portkey, as it is used to teleport Harry to the spot where Voldemort uses his blood for magical resurrection fuel. We learn that Barty Crouch Jr. has gotten close to Harry so that he can manufacture Harry's win, so that Harry can be the first to touch said Portkey. I repeat: he gets very close to Harry, pretending to be his teacher. Harry trusts him. And Portkeys can be anything. Anything.

Do you see my problem? Why not make some random classroom item the Portkey? "Potter, go fetch that book on my desk. The purple one." BAM! Harry's in a graveyard and Voldemort can do the ritual. No need to make sure Harry's name gets in the Goblet of Fire, or talks to Hagrid, who takes him to see Charlie's dragons, in the hopes that this information might give Harry a leg up in the contest, maybe, and then do all the other convoluted things that might, hopefully, ensure that Harry has a head start into the final challenge. I mean, I love Goblet of Fire, but its plot absolutely does not need to exist. The fact that Barty Crouch Jr. doesn't just smack Harry with a Portkey while passing him in a lonely hallway or something is a huge, gaping plot hole.

Another sort of hole is when writers change the rules for certain characters for the sake of the plot. Again, let's look at Harry Potter (if it seems like I'm picking on Rowling, it's because I was absolutely obsessed with her books as a teenager. I nitpick because I care!). In Deathly Hallows, Rowling established that to become the master of the Elder Wand, you have to "defeat" the previous owner. Malfoy defeated Dumbledore with Expelliarmus, then Harry defeated Draco by physically grabbing Draco's wand—not the Elder Wand, mind you, but Draco's own wand—so that Harry is now the Master of the Elder Wand. But we're to believe that Voldemort, then, doesn't become master of the Elder Wand when he Avada Kedavra's Harry in the forest? Why not? How does basically killing someone not count as "defeat" when disarming someone or stealing their stuff does? Because Harry's the Chosen One, I guess? And the plot required it.

Let me be clear, I'm not saying you have to fill in every plot hole, but you definitely have to address them all, in one way or another. Let's go back to our two examples.

Option one, of course, is to fix them. In Goblet of Fire, maybe the resurrection ritual has to take place during an eclipse, and wouldn't you know it, the final challenge of Triwizard Tournaments also takes place during eclipses, and maybe Barty Crouch Jr. has to actually be present at the resurrection ritual so he can't slap Harry with Portkey on that day... or something. For Deathly Hallows, maybe nix the Deathly Hallows (and thus the Elder Wand) subplot from the story entirely, since they add nothing to the plot (in a later post, I will argue that they actually derail the plot), which already involved finding and destroying Horcruxes.

Option two is to keep the plot hole, but explain why it isn't a plot hole. We already know Voldemort could have used any enemy's blood in the resurrection spell (no, really, he says this in the book!) but he has an obsession with Harry. Perhaps this obsession could lead him to forsake the obvious course of action I outlined and instead focus on producing a "worthy" enemy by having Harry "prove himself" in the tournament. As for Deathly Hallows... I mean, I guess you could say Voldemort didn't defeated Harry in the woods, but defeated a piece of his own soul, but that's still pretty weak, in my opinion (just stick with option one and get rid of the Hallows!). Anyway, for this option, the writer has to acknowledge that the plot-hole does exist, but that there is a reason for it to exist, and thus isn't really that much of a plot hole.

A final option is to hang a lantern on it. This means that you leave the plot hole in and point out how big of a hole it is. This works better for comedies or stories where characters are meta-aware of tropes than in more serious works (so, not Harry Potter). For example, have someone wonder why so-and-so didn't use that super useful item back there. Well, he's an idiot, so he forgot! Or maybe someone points out how incredibly unlikely it is that a certain character showed up at exactly the right time and place the other characters needed them in, and he says, "Well, that's a funny story, actually..." before being interrupted, and it is never brought up again. If you're writing such a story and come across a plot hole, feel free to have your characters point it out and move one, as long as you can do this in a way that feels natural to your writing style.

Of course, both world building and plot are so central to any narrative that fixing them may require more than a simple tweak and instead, a complete overhauling of large parts of the story. Next time, we will discuss how to tackle these and other issues during rewrites!

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locitarose · 5 years

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I’ve officially started rewriting that HP AU and Leonard’s barely even gotten to Gringotts and the word count on this is already more than half of the entire original series so I’d say it’s definitely more detailed. And because I like posting sneak peeks at stuff, here’s a bit of what’s been written so far:

While most boys would probably shy away from holding their mother’s hand, Leonard didn’t mind. He had been worrying about her and Lisa since she’d convinced his dad that Leonard needed to go to Hogwarts.

He wasn’t worried about the fact that Lewis had said nothing other than “good riddance” and “at least I’m not paying for that crap”. No, Leonard worried about what Lewis would do when he realized that his mom had taken sixty pounds out of the account so that Leonard could get extra things if he wanted. (Books, he thought, might be his best bet. Books might not be perfect but it’d give him a place to start at the very least.)

“Mom, we don’t have to convert all—“

“We do,” she said, interrupting him with a smile as she pushed Lisa’s stroller. They weren’t far from the area that Professor McGonagall had said they’d find The Leaky Cauldron. “I want you to do well at this school, Leo. That means learning as much as you can before you get there. If that means your father gets a little upset, well, then he gets a little upset. I only took out what I deposited from some of my side jobs anyway.”

Which was even worse, Leonard thought. Mom needed that money. Just in case.

“Mom—“

“Leonard Snart, that’s enough.” Her expression softened and she briefly let go of him to run her hand over his hair—what little he let remain at least. Her son had taken to keeping his hair cropped very close to his head two years ago. “I won’t hear any more arguments from you on this. We can afford this much and you need it. That’s final.”

Leonard stared at her for a few moments and then nodded. “Okay,” he said eventually. His hand slipped back into hers, remembering that Professor McGonagall had said that to see the pub they would go through, his mom would have to be touching him though they’d be fine once they were in Diagon Alley.

It wasn’t even ten minutes later before Leonard tugged on his mom’s hand. “There,” he said, fighting down the feeling of giddiness that wanted to come over him. As excited as he was, he also knew that he needed to be careful. He had no idea what this new world was like or whether the people were decent or not.

He’d learned a long time ago that while most people might not be abusive like his dad, they were definitely blind to the abuse. Or they just didn’t care.

He still hadn’t decided which was worse.

“Oh,” his mom breathed as she took in the grubby looking pub between the book shop and the record shop. She watched as people walked by as if it didn’t even exist and smiled slightly. “Well, let’s go in.”

The inside wasn’t very crowded. There were a few people at tables here and there though it wasn’t exactly easy to see inside with how dark it was. There were candles lit throughout the room along with a few lanterns giving off just enough light that a person wouldn’t have to strain their eyes to read anything. Leonard wondered why they didn’t just use lamps but decided against asking just yet. He paused as he caught a glimpse of a newspaper called The Daily Prophet and noticed the picture on the front was moving.

He glanced away before the person reading it noticed him watching and allowed his mom to tug him towards the bar as she carefully maneuvered Lisa’s stroller between the tables.

“Excuse me,” Natalie said once they reached the bar, “but would you happen to be Tom?”

The balding man blinked at the sound of an American accent before smiling. “That I would, miss! How can I help you today?”

She smiled. “Professor McGonagall said you’d be able to help us get into Diagon Alley. My son is going into his first year.”

“Is he now? I’d have thought Ilvermorny with your accent,” he said. Off of Natalie’s confused look, he added, “Ilvermorny is the magic school in America.”

She nodded in understanding. “We moved here a little over a year ago due to my husband’s work,” she said.

“Aye, that would explain it,” Tom said. “Come along, let me show you how to get in the alley.” He motioned for them to follow him and led them through the bar and out into a small courtyard with brick walls. There was nothing but a trash can (dustbin, Leonard reminded himself) and a few weeds. He smiled down at Leonard and pulled out his wand. “Now pay attention to this, lad. Once you get your wand, you’ll be able to enter the alley with it. You’ll always use the wall that the dustbin is in front of and count from the top of the dustbin.” He pointed at the bricks. “Three up and two across and then tap three times. You’ll do the same thing on the other side to come back.” As he tapped the brick a third time, he moved to the side. “Welcome to Diagon Alley, folks.”

Leonard watched, unable to hide his amazement as the brick Tom had tapped quivered and then a small hole appeared in the middle and grew wider, turning into a large archway that led to a cobbled street. Leonard followed its path with his eyes, taking in the way it twisted and turned until it was out of sight and let out a breath. The alley was packed with people, some in colorful robes and others in Muggle clothing like he and his mom were. He felt something loosen inside him.

It was real.

Tom smiled at them. “Follow the path all the way to the end. You’ll see a large white building. That’s Gringotts.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Natalie said absently, staring at the alley with just as much amazement as Leonard. They moved forward and behind them they heard the brick shifting, glancing back to see that the archway had become a solid brick wall again. Leonard allowed himself a grin and turned back, noticing the way his mom was smiling down at him.

They made their way slowly down the path, taking in the different shops. There were cauldrons—Leonard couldn’t believe they used actual cauldrons—piled high outside the nearest shop.

“Mum, Dad, look! There’s a new Nimbus,” a boy with messy black hair and glasses practically shouted as he ran by.

“James, get back here,” his mother called. She frowned at a man that Leonard assumed was her husband. “He gets this from you.”

“Of course, dear,” the man said with a smirk as he began to pull her in the direction of the shop the boy was standing in front of. “Now come on, there’s a new Nimbus!”

“I’m only going so that you don’t walk out of there with two new brooms, Monty. Honestly, there’s still Christmas and his birthday to think of and he can’t even take a broom this year.”

“We can still look, Mia, my love.”

She sighed. “Fine. But we’re going to the apothecary afterwards. I’m nearly out of asphodel.”

As they moved passed them, Leonard looked over to the right and took in the sights of all the shops. A place that had to be the apothecary the woman from before had mentioned had a barrel of bat spleens outside. He wrinkled his nose a bit at the smell coming from the shop as they passed. Another was selling robes while the sound of soft hooting could be heard coming from Eeylops Owl Emporium. Another shop had telescopes and a bunch of other instruments that Leonard couldn’t identify. Flourish and Blotts had stacks of books outside around the entrance and the store itself was two stories high. A stationary shop had parchment and quills, across from that was a shop that sold trunks. Leonard thought that’d be a good place to start. At least they’d have a place to put everything they’d need to buy.

Finally, they reached a sparkling white building with bronze doors that towered over the shops. Leonard fought to keep the surprise as he saw the guard at the door, remembering that Professor McGonagall had told them that goblins ran the bank and it was never a good idea to cross them. As the goblin bowed, Leonard nodded in reply. He wasn’t sure if he was even supposed to acknowledge the goblin but it couldn’t hurt.

Leonard paused as they reached a second set of doors though these ones were silver and had a poem of sorts engraved on them.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn,

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Leonard paused as Natalie entered the bank, moving off to the side so that he could read the words again. He briefly considered telling his father about this bank just what would happen when he got caught. He dismissed the thought almost as quickly as he’d had it. While Lewis had stopped taking him on jobs due to all the cameras that London had, he was sure that his father would make an exception so that he could use his wizard son to try and rob a wizard bank and Leonard wasn’t about to get busted for his father’s crimes.

Besides, if Lewis got arrested, it’d leave his mom in a bind. She’d have to try and find a full-time job just to support the three of them and that would mean having to find someone to watch Lisa during the year while he was at school.

So, as tempted as Leonard was to set Lewis up, he wouldn’t do it. But it was nice to imagine.

“Trying isn’t worth whatever the goblins would do to you.”

Leonard turned to find a kid with dark hair watching him, not even bothering to hide his curiosity. He tilted his head.

“I wasn’t considering it for myself.”

“Then you must really hate whoever you were considering it for,” the kid said.

Leonard paused. “Yeah,” he said, not bothering to explain further.

The kid shrugged. “Long as it’s not me, I don’t care. I’m Mick Rory.”

Leonard studied him for a few moments and then nodded. “Leonard Snart.”

They stared at each other for another few moments and then, as if they’d reached some sort of unspoken agreement, headed inside together. A pair of goblins bowed at them as they went through the doors and entered a marble hall. There were hundreds of goblins sitting on high stools behind a long counter. More doors than Leonard had ever seen led off the hall and even more goblins were leading people in and out of those.

“My parents are already inside but I got distracted by the brooms,” Mick said, scanning the room for his parents. “Ha! There they are.”

“Leonard!”

Leonard glanced over to find his mom coming towards him. “Hi, Mom,” he said.

“Hi, Mom, he says,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Don’t wander off.” She focused on Mick. “Sorry. Hello.”

“Hi,” Mick said brightly. “Sorry, I distracted him.”

Leonard fought not to show his surprise at the blatant lie.

His mom smiled. “Well, I suppose I can’t be mad if he was making a friend. I’m Natalie Snart, Leonard’s mom.”

“I’m Michael Rory but everyone calls me Mick,” Mick told her. “I sort of got distracted by the brooms instead of coming in here with my parents.”

“I’m sure we can find them.”

Mick nodded. “I know which lines they’ll go to.” He paused. “Do you need to convert pounds?”

“Yes,” she said, not mentioning that they’d need to talk to a goblin about fund that helped students pay for Hogwarts as well.

“That’s the lines furthest over. If you want to open a vault for Leonard, you can ask one of the goblins over there about it too. It takes a bit but I bet my parents wouldn’t mind waiting for you guys.”

Natalie blinked in surprise. “If they’re okay with it, then we’d love to join you.”

“I’ll ask then find you,” Mick said. He glanced at Leonard and grinned before moving off towards a group of lines not too far from where they were standing.

“He seems nice,” his mom said as they headed towards the lines that Mick had indicated before.

Leonard nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, thinking of the way Mick had lied to his mom about being the reason Leonard had fallen behind. “He does.”

#Nicole writes stuff #HP AU #Leonard Snart #Why yes that is a cameo by the Potters in there #I already like this so much more than what I originally did

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heilhermes-blog · 6 years

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［LV／HG］Salome

"Pure blood, supreme glory, the peak of power..." He repeats the gorgeous but meaningless rhetoric in his mind like a silent mantra, such as walking step by step on a smooth stone step in a dreamlike step by step. At the top of the tower is a mirror without a border that is blurred by the fog, but he can still guess what he looks like from the mirror image - just like the night sky, it’s all black and short hair, because of the sharp edges. The lines are cold and blunt, and the red pupils are filled with blood. He doesn't look like a living person most of the time, but if the ruddy ending looks like an inevitable death, he would rather choose to be a wandering presence. He hasn't found a way to live forever, but he always feels that eternal life seems to be close at hand, where he can reach it, so once he thinks of his footsteps, he will involuntarily become brisk. The moss on the stone wall is astonishingly thick, and the dark green mixed with gray and black looks so disgusting, but he doesn't mind at all. He could see the worm crawling in his eyes in a low-lying way, and all the Muggles in his eyes should live in this way. They are born to breathe the turbid air, which lives in a foul-smelling sewer. In the future of his fantasy, the mud species always lined up in the gloomy graves. There must be no Muggle in the world ruled by him. However, once he thought that the person he was going to meet now was a muddy species from Gryffindor, his mood was once again heavy. He still didn't understand why he had ordered them to shut her down to an inescapable place when she was told that Hermione Granger was captured by the Death Eaters - which is something special in some ways. It’s actually a wise choice to shut her down where it’s harder to escape than a normal prison – the Muggle witch from Gryffindor always reveals the Slytherin-style embarrassment at a critical moment. As one of Potter's confidants, she must know the high-level secrets of the Order of the Phoenix, and the information that can be put out with the smuggling agent and the spell of the heart, so that a rare opportunity must not be missed. However, isn’t she being held in a high-level prison to admit that her wisdom is enough to escape the ordinary prison? As a matter of fact, when the mud is caught, it can only be chosen. Struggling for a long time between these two contradictory emotions, Voldemort finally decided to close Hermione Granger on the top floor of the tower. Thinking about it, he has come to the top. When the two-meter-high scratched wooden door appeared in front of him, he couldn't help but wonder - can it really trap the so-called "the most intelligent witch of Hogwarts in 50 years"? He was puzzled by the high praise that a Muggle was so high, but couldn't help but start thinking about another possibility – if her wisdom really deserves such a name? No, it is impossible, Muggles are the people under the group. He shook his head and pushed open the wooden door after taking a deep breath, and his hands and feet looked like a stupid Muggle. He couldn't believe that he would have created an illusion that Muggle deserves to be admired in that short moment. After all, any Muggle is not worthy of being treated as a normal person, let alone respect or even worship. Voldemort never believed in the real clever existence of the Muggle Wizards, except that a small number of people were extravagant and clever and made others mistakenly think they were smart. That's it, there are no exceptions. However, when he really saw her, an inexplicable feeling came to his mind - no matter where Hermione Granger was kept, she would escape by her own deceit. This hateful Slytherin wearing a Gryffindor coat! There was no window in the tower, and then the cold wind blew in, but Hermione Granger kept the same position and never wavered. She closed her eyes and looked up at the sound of footsteps and opening the door, but she still didn't open her eyes. She wore a black skirt, so that she was as thin and horrible because she had not eaten for many days. Her face was pale and no different from the dead. The smooth skin showed a waxy, delicate and sturdy texture. The thick eyebrows shivered slightly, like a moving body. Brown messy wavy curls cover her cheeks, curling like a river. She clasped her lips, pinching her skirt with her hands, as if a devout pilgrim had struggled before she died. The sturdy blue veins that protruded like a worm on the hands of the dead branches showed her strong desire to continue to live. Hermione Granger did not want to be a martyr who died before the light came to the world. She wants to live, but she will never give in. "Tom Marvoro Riddle." Before he could say anything, she read the dirty name he had used, with a taunting and malicious tone. The arrogance is even more intense than the old-fashioned pure-blooded. She raised her head slightly, and the corner of her mouth pulled out an inconspicuous curvature. This made him unable to help once again secretly complain about his hateful mother. Not only did she marry a squatting Muggle, she did not even leave her surname to him. Even if it is called "Tom Marvoo Gunter"! In this way, he can claim to be a pure-blooded wizard, and he does not have to face and solve unnecessary troubles when he goes to school. He didn't have to waste his precious time, but just because his mother gave him a Muggle surname! This mediocre to incompetent hateful name has no effect except to remind him that his lineage is not pure. Although he later called himself "Voldemort", even though he had been killing his hateful Muggle father for many years now, the anger of nowhere to vent has not completely subsided. "Why are you closing your eyes?" Although he felt an uncontrollable anger when he was called to the full name, he chose to ignore the problem for the time being. This muddy species is offensive to him, but he does not intend to use the mantra of her for the time being - the rare kindness of the Dark Lord. He would have to listen to what she can say, and what qualifications she has qualified for such a high rating. "I don't even bother to see you." She still closed her eyes, her eyes sagged inward, and she was extraordinarily proud. He desperately suppressed the impulse to immediately give her a curse, and began to carefully look at her facial features. He observed a groan in her eyes. So this guy is really scared? It’s really ridiculous. “What qualifications do you have to do this?” he asked in an angry tone, completely ignoring the fact that he could use the heart spell to force her to beg for mercy. "Get it, what do you guys who know how to use people to incite hateful means to gather people? What's more, you only know how to use violence to solve problems most of the time. On politics, you can't even compare with Herman. Goering." She showed an obvious ironic smile and mentioned a name he seemed to have heard - probably a Muggle. "What are you talking about, mud?" He unconsciously stepped back. "The pedigrees in the Muggle world and the bloodlineists in the world of wizards are on the same path. It is not a change of medicine. But even so, there is always a large group of idiots giving their own for the so-called freedom and equality. Life, the banner of justice for your own evil deeds - I am talking about your Death Eaters. But the obvious thing is that most of them are obviously not willing to give life for you because they are right You don't look so loyal on the surface." “A muddy cock is so arrogant that I think I know enough about my men?” "Do they have the courage to face death, you know." "Why do you call my hand and die?" "They don't want to give their lives for you, so talk about loyalty?" For a time, he couldn’t think of the rebuttal, but he was unwilling to fall into silence. For a long time, he made up his mind to ask softly: "What exactly is that true loyalty?" When the words were exported, he immediately regretted it. When he realized that he was doing this as if he was humbly asking for a mud, he felt as if the vines blocked his throat, causing him to barely breathe. "You don't know that its definition is a good thing for us." Her tone revealed a smug smug, but the ironic smile gradually disappeared into her face. "I can't believe anyone who is willing to follow you after fully understanding the ugly face of bloodlineism." Seeing him without saying a word, she added another sentence. She bowed her head and seemed to fall into her own meditation world again. He looked at her quietly and then quietly left the top of the tower. He began to think about how to make this stubborn mud kindly apologize to her for her rude speech, let this "prophet" who is governed by knowledge and reason voluntarily surrender to him, let this arrogance fall to the inexplicable witch. At his feet. Although he knew that this was unlikely, he could no longer stand the arrogant attitude of no one in his eyes. He could not tolerate a Muggle that seemed to be full of wisdom and did not bow to him. He wants to conquer him until she admits that she is humble and low-lying, acknowledging that everything she said is wrong. He once again remembered his sad mother, but he did not intend to use the same behavior with her. The enchanting agent and the heart-throat are nothing but the incompetent and cowardly ruler who likes to use. However, he never imagined how to let her abandon all the irrational thoughts she had in the past. So he found a Death Eater. "Go and cut her head down." He ordered it with no emotion at all. As it turns out, the Death Eaters are particularly active in some weird and unhumanistic things, and they are much more efficient than usual. Before the dawn, he saw Hermione Granger's head. Her eyes finally opened - the brown eyes that were unremarkable, as turbid as the dead leaves mixed with mud, and the light of knowledge once shined in the chocolate-colored hazelnuts. It was like a work of art – the place where the skull and neck were broken was cut neatly, like a realistic wax figure. He took her head from the hands of the trembling, unmanned Death Eater, then gently held it in his arms, stroking her almond-shaped eyes, tall nose, and chilling with soft fingertips. Skin and lips without blood. He slowly lifted her head to the position flush with his face, like holding a valuable treasure. He looked at her eyes carefully, then gently pressed a kiss on the soft, cold lips—before it rotted at dawn. If she is willing to look at me while she is alive, I will be able to get her unique, supreme love.

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synoir · 7 years

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Theo & Draco. Bros out drinking.

You know when I first read your prompt as it was worded, I didn’t think I’d write in the tone I did. But this happened, and I hope you’ll like it.

The place Draco Malfoy, one of my oldest friends, had invited me surprised me. It wasn’t that I found the place classless. Still, for a Malfoy, it was very casual.

The low light, velvet covered chairs, and the strong notes of a Jazz song created an atmosphere that was intriguing and strangely enticing. I immediately knew that Draco had changed, even before I laid an eye on him.

It had been five years since I last saw my childhood friend. He had escaped right after the Battle of Hogwarts, and rightly so. At first, neither of us had written. I was faced with the responsibilities of running the businesses of my once powerful House, while Draco was hiding from the judgmental eyes of the victors. Even after his name was cleared Draco hadn’t returned. It was I who wrote the first letter. I had told him about the life in the Kingdom after the Dark Lord’s demise, and he had written back, telling me about his travels in the continent, finally last year he had taken residence in France.

Even the Muggle Paris is less challenging than going back to the Diagon Alley, my friend had written. The things I miss of home are things that I have no chance of having. There is no reason for me to go back.

The words that I’ve read had broken my heart. Even though I knew Draco did not mean any ill towards me, and I understood his feelings towards the place he still called home yet did not wish to return, I was struggling with my own loneliness. I needed a friend, and maybe I had hope that he would return. The letter had proven that I was hoping for something unachievable.

That day, I had not considered that I could leave as well. I was chained by responsibilities bestowed upon me without my consent, and I’ve put the blame of my unwelcome solitude to Draco.

Coming to this strange bar in Paris, was the first step of taking the control of my life into my own hands. Even in death, my father’s decisions had chased me. I had almost gotten married to a young woman just to be able to have a proper heir to my name, created business endeavours that bored me, and socialised with people I despised.

In here, I was sure in my steps, and I did not flinch when people noticed me in fear of being noticed by someone unfavourable, and most importantly, my money, my name and my solitude was in my ownership. I saw Draco sitting on a dark green velvet chair, and motioned towards him with that confidence on my shoulders.

I was right to assume that Draco had changed. He was wearing a pair of black trousers and a deep purple vest, the latest fashion of the Wizarding Paris; my long black jacket was not entirely old-fashioned either, but I must admit that I regretted not following the modern trends. Still, seeing the person I had known to be the follower of the traditions in clothes inspired by Muggles was strange; if not entirely unwelcome.

“Theo,” he said when he saw me, and I could not stop the warm smile caused by the warm feeling seeing a friendly face gave me. Draco rose from his seat elegantly and welcomed me with open arms. I accepted the gesture by hugging him in a friendly manner. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Draco,, ” I said, and to acknowledge his pleasant demeanour I added: “You look well. Paris must be treating you well.”

Draco smiled and sat back on the chair motioning me to sit as well. I took the seat opposite him.

“And I see that you’ve been taking care of yourself, too,” he said. I wasn’t sure how genuine he was, I had felt horrible for so long. Still, I knew I was better than I had been in a long time, so I accepted the compliment with a nod of my head.

“It’s good to get out, sometimes,” I said. “I should have followed your footsteps immediately after the war, and travel. I feel like I’m a bit late in life.”

Draco laughed heartily. I found myself pleased to hear that sound, remembering the last few years of our friendship with the Dark Lord hovering above our shadows, tainting our every step with his presence.

“No, Theo. I ran because I had no choice. You, though…” Draco pointed at me with a small gesture of his hand. “This is your decision now. You aren’t escaping like I did.. You are moving on.”

The words, I must admit, had the effect of a healing potion. I was taken aback by the wisdom that I never had witnessed from Draco; a person I knew of being selfish and goal-oriented to the point of harming himself.

“Maybe so,” I said, unable to refute him. “It feels a little strange, realising the years I’ve wasted on things I never cared about.”

At this point of our conversation, we were interrupted by a server who asked me what I would drink, and I asked for some Cognac. When the younger man left, Draco asked:

“What are your plans now?”

“I plan to enjoy France, for a while,” I said. Draco seemed pleased with this idea. I grinned. “It seems to work out well for you. You even have a tan. How did you achieve that?”

Draco laughed softly at that. “My mother has a vineyard in the south. She convinced my father to take up permanent residence there, and I visit them whenever I can. That, and some potion she had developed after being burnt by the sun the first year she spent there. Narcissa Malfoy could never be seen with tomato red skin, after all.”

I joined Draco’s laughter upon hearing that. Imagining the horror of the woman I know to be quite vain when she’d seen herself in the mirror. After that our conversation flew by. It was as if the years hadn’t passed, and I found myself talking boastfully like I did back in the dungeons of Slytherin. I had heard people saying the distance of time did not matter when it came to old friends, and for the first time in my life, I had to agree. It didn’t take an effort to remember the companionship we once shared and continued our camaraderie from where we left off.

After few glasses of Cognac, I felt relaxed and more open than I had been in years. It was as if a mountain of anxiety had left my shoulders. I did not care where they went to, as long as they remained with whoever they chose after leaving me.

“I’ve seen Potter before I came here,” I said. I didn’t know why I mentioned Draco’s old rival, but perhaps it was because I needed some clarity on the issue. I had wondered about the intensity those two shared for years, hidden under the pretence of enmity. I knew though, that Draco had hidden Potter’s identity when he was caught as much as it was revealed during the trials. Potter had been adamant to clear Malfoy’s name, it had been an unexpected surprise. But, now older, I could see what was the reason behind all the tension and hatred behind the rivalry they shared much more clearly. Still, I expected Draco to avoid the subject, and since it was a sore topic, perhaps I should have avoided it as well.

Draco did not surprise me, of course. His famous sneer was quick to adorn his undeniably handsome face, twisting it into an ugly mock up. This expression on Draco’s face was something I remembered too well, in fact, this particular look was reserved for topics that included Potter himself. I probably was the only one who knew the lie behind it.

“What of him?” Draco asked his eyes on his drink.

“He asked how you were, which surprised me,” I said. I was watching my friend’s face unblinking in fear of missing a vital expression that would be useful for me to understand him better.

“No doubt asking if I’m up to something,” Draco said. His tone was bitter. “That man should learn to leave me be.”

“And are you quite sure this is what you want?” I asked.

Draco looked at me, his sneer still present.

“Why would I not want that?” he returned my question with another. I shrugged and took a sip from my drink to gain some time to collect my thoughts before answering him.

“Perhaps, it’s time to acknowledge the truth, Draco,” I said, trying my best to avoid hurting him. “Even if not to the world, to yourself.”

I saw as my friend lost his demeanour and slumped back into his chair.

“It’s no use, Theo,” Draco said in a low voice. “I’ve made too many mistakes and he witnessed the worst of it.”

“He witnessed the best of it, as well.” The words left my mouth swiftly, even I was surprised by my own boldness. But I decided to back them up. “He owes you his life, he admitted as such. Maybe it’s time to at least move ahead of the old squabbles. Even if it won’t end as ideal as you may wish…”

Draco shook his head and drank the rest of his drink at once.

“I’m here,” he said with a voice burned from the alcohol he forced down on his own throat. “He is there. It’s no use.”

I smiled, seeing the coward he knew so well. Draco had never been particularly brave, but I knew if he’d notice his cowardice caused by the inability to see the difference between real threats and the threats he imagined.

“I hear that he will quit his job, the Auror gig,” I said, grinning even though it would anger him. “He never married the Weasley girl like many of us thought he would either.”

“Who cares, Theo. Look at who he is. Look at who I am!” Draco said heatedly. “What do you think it’ll happen?”

“I know what won’t happen, Draco,” I said solemnly. “You won’t lose anything. You don’t have anything to lose.”

Send me a prompt with any pairing you’d like!

#synoir drabbles #theodore nott #draco malfoy #a little drarry mentioned #synoirdrabbles

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noxilicious-ish · 7 years

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RECALIBRATION (CH. 5)

Haven’t updated this in longer than I could admit and come out of it with my pride intact.

Btw, if anyone’s interested: I’ll put up an ask or something for doodle/ headcanon requests or questions related to my Harry Holmes project. Check it out later!

Previous chapter: http://noxilicious-ish.tumblr.com/post/154338266696/recalibration-ch-4

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Past Sherlock/Lily, canon pairings

Word count: 2,879

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my pitiful, depraved mind. Please don’t sue me.

CHAPTER FIVE – IN WHICH PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL SAVES THE DAY

Scrutinising turquoise eyes locked unblinkingly onto ever-changing blue-green-gray? ones. All the while, larger and far more inexperienced emerald eyes than either of the other pairs were watching each in part alternatingly, worriedly, much like following a tennis match. Harry was witness to a Mexican standoff the conclusion of which he was uncertain of – and indeed, one he dreaded.

“It’s Professor, actually,” Minerva broke the ice, sipping her tea calmly.

“Professor McGonagall, then,” Sherlock acknowledged with a nod. “Professor of… Transfiguration, I believe? The art of changing the form and appearance of an animate or inanimate object.”

It was all Minerva could do to keep her rather beautifully-shaped teacup safely within her fingers’ clutch. Her eyes widened minutely, although she managed to recompose herself. Her lips remained in a tight, unnerved line.

“You are correct, Mr Holmes, however much that may seem like an impossibility. May I ask how you came upon such knowledge, seeing as you are most obviously not Magic, nor are you a Squib?” she inquired slowly. Mr Potter could have told the strange man about his… special boarding school, but the Ministry was supervising what was imparted by witches and wizards upon Muggles very carefully. And the man’s custody of the child was unofficial and dubious at best.

Sherlock smiled distantly. “During our… acquaintance, Lily bestowed me with her absolute trust, and revealed much of her education and overall childhood, as well as the fundamentals of Wizarding society. She was exceedingly impressive in her skill of avoiding certain trigger terms that might alert the Ministry.”

Harry perked up at the mention of his famous mother, while Minerva paled. Lily had broken the Statute of Secrecy… for a Muggle? She had been a very intelligent girl for all the years the old teacher had known her, so she was undoubtedly aware of all the consequences of such a felony. To have nonetheless committed it for someone’s sake…

The detective scanned her for a few seconds, his smile falling to reveal serious determination. He placed his cup in its saucer, then on the table near his armchair. “Professor McGonagall,” he started, interlacing his pale, bony digits. “You have obviously come here out of concern for you pupil’s safety and wellbeing. You may rest assured that he is in good hands, or at least much better than he used to be.”

The last he muttered angrily and Minerva found herself agreeing. However…

“That is not all you wish to inform me of,” she stated rather than asked.

“No,” Sherlock acquiesced. “Being a Muggle, there is little influence I can manage in the Wizarding society at the moment. I am in need of your help in a particular matter, seeing as you are the most equipped to handle it.”

She raised both eyebrows at this. What a strange fellow. “Indeed? And what is this matter you speak of?”

“I am afraid Albus Dumbledore has committed a grave mistake. You are the only one who can convince him of this, being one of his most trusted allies.”

“And why would I believe you, if that is the case? You seem aware of the fact that Albus’ word holds considerable weight with me.”

At this, he looked her dead in the eye. “Because I am Harry’s biological father.”

Then he stood statue-still, his posture expressing no-nonsense as he awaited her reply. Truly, Sherlock was more than a little nervous about this whole affair. Harry’s happiness and health was at stake whether this stern aging lady chose to aid him or not, and he was definitely not playing around with those. He loved games, but not when they involved his prodigal son.

What a laugh John would have to hear him even think that there could ever be a time he would not simply adore a little game of wills.

Harry shifted almost imperceptibly, trying his best not to break the thick silence that had fallen over the three of them. This was an adults’ exchange, and he was both glad and overwhelmed that he was allowed to spectate. He was also – though he’d never, ever say it within the Professor’s hearing range – a little amused to see said woman for the first time in his life shocked into speechlessness. She was more humane than most authoritarian teachers, but still strict enough to intimidate.

Meanwhile, Minerva was gaping. If the previous unexpected comment had startled her, this was more than enough to stun even her. And yet, she could not entirely deny the fact that what her conscious was desperate to object to, her subconscious was increasingly resigned about.

“How…” she managed to stutter out eventually. “When…”

The other adult mercifully waited for her to regain her bearings. “Are you certain of this?” she finally asked firmly.

She was met with a sardonic smile. “I have valid reasons to believe it is more than possible.”

Minerva conceded with an odd grimace. Harry blushed scarlet and fought valiantly not to fidget. No sane teenager, regardless of the tangled history of their parents and not-parents and any curiosity relating to it, could ever be comfortable with a discussion of their own conception.

“But James…” the Professor muttered, frowning in turmoil. “Why would Lily ever do such a thing? How could she?”

The detective was quiet for a few long moments, staring into the distance. “It was before she married him. I do not know…” he abruptly trailed off, greatly troubled by some long-past memory.

The old Scotswoman studied his absent expression, then she sighed and looked at Harry. “I suppose the resemblance is uncanny,” she joked softly.

Sobering, she continued, “If what you say is true, Mr Holmes, and it does seem so, then you have yet to tell me what the Headmaster’s fault is in this.”

The moment Sherlock’s eyes flicked back to hers, a horrible feeling had already settled in Minerva’s heart. “Though Lily did return to James, in the event of both their deaths, do you not wonder whether she would have rather wrote down the name of the actual father of her child, instead of that of her dreaded sister’s as said child’s caretaker?”

The Transfiguration Professor shook. “Albus… claimed that all of Harry’s potential guardians were either deceased or imprisoned. There was simply no one but… them.”

Sherlock’s fingers clenched tightly over the armrests and he leaned over slightly. “And if that were true, would there not still be his birth certificate to prove the existence of another potential guardian?” he argued tightly, spitting out the last words with unmistakable biterness. “I am not exactly parent material, but anyone would have sufficed, ANYONE but that biped swine and his equally primitive wife.”

He sat back slowly, reigning in his fury after that slight slip-up. As he watched the teacher raise a shaking hand to her mouth, he knew she was remembering Harry’s living conditions for the past twelve years. Given her ability to shapeshift, she was most likely the one tasked with keeping an eye on the child now and then, and must have borne witness to what was taking place in that abominable household.

“Lily’s Last Will and Testament is missing from the Ministry’s public records,” he concluded.

Minerva frowned, trying her best to think logically despite the amalgam of emotions. “Once a deceased witch’s or wizard’s Will has been read, it is magically written into the records. This applies to any and all testaments, and is not undoable.”

Sherlock looked at her pointedly. “Who was the known executor of Lily’s Will?”

Her eyes shot back to his and her features tightened.

…

Ever since finding out about magic, Harry’s life has been in a constant tornado of events, positive as well as less than positive. While he would never regret that moment on his eleventh birthday when Hagrid stomped on that isolated little hut’s door, there have been times when he had needed a breather, the confusion of endless adventures having overwhelmed him to nearly his breaking point.

During his two years at Hogwarts, he had found that refuge in his two best friends’ unwavering loyalty even in the face of certain danger. Still, even a precocious trouble-magnet like himself found himself occasionally seeking the steady wisdom of an adult.

He had never imagined that visiting Headmaster Albus Dumbledore’s office would ever create anything but a feeling of safety and respectful wariness.

Witnessing the elderly wizard’s calm, expectant visage the moment they entered the office was what dropped the burden of crushing disappointment and betrayal onto his shoulders.

Mr Holmes’ perceptive eyes flickered over to him, before he felt the slightest brush of an uncertain hand over his shoulder. If Harry had not been so troubled, he would’ve gave the man a weak, but nonetheless grateful smile for his efforts.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore nodded to his long-time friend and fellow colleague, who merely thinned her lips back. The Headmaster looked at Harry next. “Mr Potter.”

Harry did not answer. He rather chose slight disrespect over opening his mouth and blurting whatever crossed his mind in a fit of rage and desperation.

“Mr Sherlock Holmes. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Said detective’s expression remained blank, though his manner spoke the world about his impression of the wizard. “Mr Dumbledore,” he returned. “I wish I could say the same, but the circumstances dictate otherwise.”

Dumbledore made a movement with his wand, conjuring three comfy-looking armchairs and gestured towards them in invitation. Once everyone was seated, the old wizard turned to gaze out the window.

“You know why we’re here today,” the Muggle stated, unsurprised.

“You are here because twelve years ago I made a choice for the greater good, regardless of my own wishes,” was the answer he received.

“Greater good…?” Minerva parroted incredulously, her tone rising with each syllable. “For whom, precisely? In all the years I have known you, Albus, I swear…”

The wizard turned to face her, his expression resigned, knowing he deserved her ire, but adamantly in support of his motivation despite it. “No boy should have to live their entire life in the center of attention, not when such a tragedy is the foundation of his fame. Living far away from the magical world for so long was the best option.”

“And you couldn’t have trusted me to shield my own damn son from your bloody magical population? You honestly thought it was better to leave him with a bunch of savages that locked him up in a bloody cupboard? For ten years, you just watched and let them do their number while he cleaned, cooked, scrubbed, while he was being yelled at and pushed around, while he was belittled and treated as less-than-human, through all of that, you did nothing! You rant and rave about how undercivilised and dull Muggles are,” and he spat out the word mockingly, “and then you just throw one of your own into the lion’s den. And you’re still better.”

Harry stared with wide eyes at the detective all throughout his tirade, not expecting the sudden avalanche of words at all, and certainly not at this intensity, even though it was called for. The rant resumed a lot of Harry’s own frustrations over the years and he was a bit glad there was someone brave – or stupid – enough to point them out so bluntly to a form of authority that could have taken measures and didn’t.

Mr Holmes stared angrily at the old wizard, anxious to hear what the man had to say in his defense in the face of this.

“Can you truly claim that you would have been a good caretaker for Harry at the time, twelve years ago?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the suffocating silence that followed Dumbledore’s solemn question. If the detective had been angry before, now he was positively boiling, his bright eyes now icy cold with fury and loathing, but also a conflicted, unreadable emotion.

“That justifies nothing. I deserved to know!” he growled through clenched teeth, obviously as an attempt not to roar and scream and rage at the man.

With that, Mr Holmes leaned back in his seat from his near perch on the edge of the chair, though he remained tense, spine ramrod straight, limbs coiled like springs. Harry stared at his hands, unnerved by the showdown but occasionally sneaking glances at everyone in turn, to try and anticipate whatever their next movement would be. For now, though they had come to a standstill.

Professor McGonagall was surreptitiously watching the detective, most likely looking out in case he suddenly jumped out of his seat and throttled the old wizard, though by her crisp, angry and disillusioned visage, she was more than a little tempted to do it herself.

The one to break the pattern was the Headmaster, as usual, when he rose from his seat slowly, for the first time in Harry’s life actually showing the consequences of his old age. He disappeared from their view for a few seconds, then returned with a few yellowed papers in his hand.

“When James and Lily Potter were declared officially deceased and their wills were read, I ensured that most of Lily’s will would be followed to the letter, except for a few select points.”

What was most likely the will, he spread out over his desk. It was obvious that should any of those present be unsatisfied with his credibility, he was willing to read out the entire will for their sake. But after the whole circus, none of them were up for a formal ceremony at this point.

“ ‘To William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I leave a letter to be handed by my Executor.’ ”

Dumbledore handed an envelope to the detective, who accepted it after a brief moment’s hesitation. The man held it gingerly, almost reverently, but seemed firm to suppress the instinct to open it at once, instead opting to see the rest of their meeting carried out.

“ ‘To my son, Harold William Holmes-Evans, I leave the residue of my estate, including a letter to be handed by my Executor upon his eleventh birthday.’ ”

The other envelope was given to Harry. “As James had already left most of his estate to you as well, I had Lily’s savings deposited into the same vault as his,” the old wizard explained carefully, before returning to the last point to be mentioned:

“ ‘I appoint William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the biological father of Harold William Holmes-Evans, to be the guardian of my son until he reaches 18 years of age.’ ”

He concluded by rolling the manuscript closed, and sliding another piece of paper over the desk towards his guests.

On it, written in old, faded but mostly well-preserved ink, the letters spelled out clearly: BIRTH CERTIFICATE.

Harry stared dazedly as he read what was apparently his real name. Harold William Holmes-Evans. And wasn’t that a mouthful.

Well, at least Mr Holmes won’t be complaining about Harry’s name anymore.

Oh yeah, Mr Holmes’ name was there too.

“Your first name’s William?” Harry blurted.

The man pinned him with a deeply unimpressed look. That was the most relevant line of inquiry on his mind to him? “Unless you’d like me to call you Will Junior…” the words even left a sour taste in his mouth, they were so idiotic.

“I’m good,” the boy interrupted hurriedly. If Harold was too serious, he had absolutely nothing in common with the name William.

He supposed he’d learn to live with it, considering his mother had chosen his name.

Also, his real name was as sentimental as his fake one, apparently.

Most of all, now I know for sure that he’s my father and legal guardian, Harry thought, feeling more than a little relieved and excited by the prospect.

See you never, Dursleys!

Harry’s train of thought was interrupted by sudden movement from the corner of his eye, as Mr Holmes stood to pick up the birth certificate. Professor McGonagall was standing as well, by now.

The detective and the old wizard were now having some sort of silent exchange.

“Was it worth it?”

Both of them turned to look at Harry in slight surprise. “The choice you made… was it worth it?” he clarified tentatively.

Dumbledore’s usually twinkling eyes had lost most of their brightness and they actually looked sad as he answered, “I don’t know.”

Harry bit his lip. Albus Dumbledore was a good man. He’d always felt that in his gut, even though the old wizard tended to be more than a little vague. Looking at it objectively, one might suppose that the Headmaster was in a position to take the hard decisions no one else could, for the sake of the wizarding world or whatever.

The boy supposed one day he’d be able to forgive that, not just acknowledge it.

For now, though, he desperately wanted to go home and maybe cry about it for a bit – not that he’d ever admit it aloud. He had his pride, after all. He grabbed Mr Holmes lightly by the sleeve, trying to convey this silently.

The man clearly got the message, because he nodded meaningfully towards the Transfiguration professor, who turned to lead them back out of the office. They left without another word to the Headmaster.

To be continued…

So that’s it for now. I’m not even gonna promise anything anymore, hopefully I’ll be writing and updating sometime soon, but considering I have my Cambridge examination sometime soon...

Again, if you want to see more Harry and Daddy Holmes fluff or have any requests related to them, check out my blog and click the request button there.

See you next time!

#parentlock #harry holmes #sherlock #harry potter #recalibration #crossover #fanfiction

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