#fanon severus

[rfsak2]

Easy Target, Pt.2

Part two!! If you like it, please leave a like. Some of us authors claim we can write without feedback but it surely is much less fun! I would love to discuss headcanons and meta analyses!

Easy Target, Part 2

They thought wrong. Severus/OC

Warnings: cuss words, allusions to trauma and injuries.

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

Part 1

When next he saw her, she was considerably more put together. Her hair was pulled back into a neat chignon, she was wearing a simple knit dress, neat but sans teaching robes. She seemed much better rested as she sauntered into the Great Hall, whatever infernal shoes she had on clacking loudly on the stone.

She smiled serenely, lips a fetching red, as she settled her free hand on the back of her seat, the other small hand clutching a newspaper, long, elegantly manicured nails painted a deep, bloody red. “Good Morning.” She chirped as she scooted her chair from under the table, waving a hand over it, transfiguring it in a plush, soft cushioned chair. 

Whatever his reservations about her, he had to admit that she was brilliant at transfiguration and likely excellent at spell work in general, considering her facility with wandless and wordless magic. 

He looked up and caught her eyes, nearly starting at her bright, friendly smile. “Did y’all sleep well?” There were a few noncommittal morning mumbles, none of which fazed her.

He arched an eyebrow silently as she settled delicately against the right side of her over-large chair and opened her paper. Where was the snippy witch he had met last night? Where was the woman who had called him a dick and sparred toe-to-toe with him? 

“Morning person, are you, Ms. de Vilieré?” He groused lightly as he sipped his tea.

Her smile faltered in the slightest as she spared him the barest glance over her New Orleans Magical Post and waved a negligent hand over her teacup. The acrid scent of strong coffee floated over to his nose and he watched as she poured a liberal amount of cream into the cup. 

She sipped silently and shrugged. “No, not at all, Professor. I think I got more sleep than I’m used to yesterday and I’m kinda energetic, oddly enough. Before long, y’all are gonna need to peel me out of my chair in the morning.”  

Y’all are gonna…

He snorted to himself, what an absurd accent.

Lupin leaned over her teacup and chuckled. “It’s not even brown anymore. Is there any coffee in there, Charlotte?”

She smiled and shrugged. “My hu... ex-husband’s grandmother used to tease me for exactly the same thing.”

Snape could smell blood in the water.

She grimaced slightly and looked up at him as if expecting him to comment. There was a sharp moment in which he could feel her vulnerability, then it was gone and she was looking back down at her paper. 

“If it wasn’t the only way for me to get my morning start, I wouldn’t even bother with it. It takes too much cream to cut the bitterness out of coffee.”

He snorted again. “It seems to me that you don’t need a morning start, Ms. de Vilieré.”

She looked up at him, her blue eyes assessing his, as if wondering why he didn’t take the free shot she had all but given him. He smirked smugly at her, one word: leverage. 

One pale blonde eyebrow lifted sardonically. It wasn’t the reaction Severus had expected and it set him on edge, as if she knew something he didn’t. 

Then with a small smile, she looked back down at the paper. “Appearances aren’t always as they seem, Mr. Snape.”

Severus felt his jaw clench, an involuntary sign of his discomfort.

Then she winked at him. He sucked in a breath, trying hard to pin down the reactivity that still lingered after all this time.

**

Appearances aren’t always as they seem, Mr. Snape.

He took a few hours to cool his temper, thoughts -irrational thoughts not based in fact- making it difficult for him to not see her comment and wink as anything but meant to embarrass and ridicule.

She didn’t go to Hogwarts. She has no idea how I would take that. She was just being cheeky or mocking, at worst. She was responding in kind. 

He kept the mantra up as strode through the blessedly empty halls up to the transfiguration professor’s office. 

There was a wreath of seasonal flowers on the door. Severus stared mutely, its presence almost unintelligible.

Shaking loose of the confusion, he walked into her office without knocking, a smug smirk firmly in place, noticing how markedly different it was to Minerva’s former office. Gone were the tartan and biscuits, now replaced with Fleur-de-lis’, deep green, and wrought iron.

At least her color choices weren’t objectionable.

“It seems ironic that both you and the former inhabitant of this office are equally obsessed with your respective heritages.”

She looked over at him and sighed. She turned back to the shelf and released whatever complicated spell work she was performing.

Without a wand. Or verbal spells.

The effortless show of facility irked him.

A vase of flowers landed on a sideboard with a soft thud.

She turned back to him and set her hands on her hips, shrugged. “Must be a transfiguration professor thing. Besides I don’t rightly see how that’s a bad thing, myself.”

Snape ignored her. “You were married, that isn’t in your file.” 

She sighed and transfigured a nearby wooden chair into a plush, deep green velvet armchair. “Please have a seat, Professor.” She waved elegantly at the chair and he settled himself in the ridiculous seat. “What is it exactly you would like to know?” He opened his mouth to speak and she quickly cut in. “Mind you, I reserve the right not to answer.”

He nodded. “Does Minerva know?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. She decided that it was best left out of the file.”

Interesting. “Why?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I didn’t ask her to.” She sighed and lowered her eyes from his. “I suppose that she wished to shield me from the stigma associated with divorcees.”

He shrugged lightly, his eyes heavy with suspicion, there was more to this story. He crossed his legs and leaned back a little in his chair. “Do you have any children?”

She stiffened. “One, a son.”

He nodded and smirked slightly, trying to see how far he could push her. “One would think that a mother would have her son here with her.”

She perched herself on the edge of her desk, crossing her legs primly at the knee, back straight and rigid. “One would think that a professor would be smart enough to not make such an imbecilic statement. But then, there you have it.” 

It took most of his considerable reserve to not gape at her. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me.” She smiled blithely at him, not to be cowed. “I said what I said.”

He arched an eyebrow, fighting against a thrill down his spine that was fast becoming a predictable nuisance. “So then, your son doesn’t want to be with you?”

She rolled her eyes again. “My son can’t be with me.”

“Why is that?”

“The courts weren’t inclined to let me take him off to foreign locales. My ex-husband’s family had something to say, I think.” Her eyes hardened perceptively and her shoulders stiffened. “I have filed numerous petitions for sole custody and they have all been thrown out.”

Interesting. “Why?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not really any of your business.”

He settled back in his chair. “As deputy headmaster, I think you’ll find that’s not a correct statement.”

“As a man, I think you’ll find that you feel entitled to information for no other reason than you have a penis, whether it’s your business or not.”

He steeled himself, refusing to be set on his back foot by her blunt, provocative verbiage. “You seem to not think highly of men.” 

She waved off the statement with a negligent hand. “On an individual basis? Sure, I think highly of a few men. My father, my brother, my brothers-in-law. I hope that my son will be a man to think highly of. As an institution? The whole of the biological sex that makes up men? I try not to make sweeping generalizations.” She examined her cuticles, casually unbothered. 

“What was your earlier comment if not a generalization?” He tilted his head, watching her pretend not to watch him. 

She shrugged, smirking. “I tried. I failed.”

“And your husband?”

“Ex-husband.” She caught his eyes and held them unflinchingly. 

He was tempted to try legilimency, but he decided against it. He wanted information, to be sure, but not information at all costs. It was not war and whatever he thought she may be hiding, to pry into her mind without the justification of impending danger seemed wrong.

He acquiesced with a small nod.

“Beau?” She smiled coyly. “He’s a shining example of his sex. Surely a paragon. Which is exactly why I divorced him, an’all.”

He knew better than to wade into that water. “Why did the courts throw out your petitions?”

She shifted slightly and regarded him coolly. “Because despite claiming that they have entered into the modern era, Louisiana Court judges still can’t understand why a woman without means of her own, a former housewife in fact, would divorce her wealthy, well-loved, politician husband.” She paused and fanned herself with her hand, her accent deepening mockingly. “Well, it’s practically unheard of! She must be outside of her mind to even think it.”

A lone brow arched over a dark eye. “They judged you unfit.”

She shook her head, chuckling mirthlessly. “No, they could not do that. They have no evidence and defamation is a dangerous gamble to make. They tried, his lawyers brought it up once. It was pretty easy for me to dispense with. How lucky is it that one of my brothers-in-law runs the premier law firm in NOLA. His junior is better than the whole, very expensive team Beau hired with a fraction of the experience. Fish in a barrel, and all.” She smiled a shrewd snake smile.

He felt some part of him, long-buried from disuse, rouse and had to fight down his own answering smile.

Though she but little…

Severus nodded. “So shared custody, then?”

“The judge said fifty-fifty, so I guess they decided to play Solomon.” Nodding, she held up a finger, catching his eyes shrewdly. “But my son will be joining me here as soon as he turns eighteen.”

“How old is he now?” Severus wasn’t sure why he was so interested. He couldn’t imagine this woman doing anything nefarious. 

His earlier suspicion had almost entirely abated in the face of her clear honesty. That and he could understand why she hadn’t wanted to talk about this at dinner, he could appreciate not wanting to open your chest in front of people who would surely judge you as many had likely done before.

She talked of her son with clear adoration and spoke of her situation with a bitter sarcasm that led him to believe that she knew she had been had and that there wasn’t anything she could rightly do about it.

But still- Severus ran the tip of his finger over his lip. But still that thrill remained.

“He turned seventeen seven months ago.” She smiled with an anticipation that lit up her face. “Any mandated custody is null and void in five months.”

“Seventeen?” Snape frowned. 

Charlotte looked young, at first he thought that she was in her twenties. It was part of the reason he had been so suspicious as he watched her hedge and edit herself last night. What had she done in a relatively short amount of time that would warrant such evasiveness?

He knew better than to assume any magical person’s age though, such was the availability of anti-aging potions and charms. Regardless, she seemed too young to have a seventeen year old son. “How old-“

She smirked. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?” 

He frowned. “You’re clearly younger than me, therefore I see no reason to demure.”

She giggled and pulled a face, waggling her eyebrows. “Maybe I look good for my age. My godmother always says that the humidity keeps NOLA young.”

“Humidity has nothing to do with it.” He rolled his eyes. “Aside from potions, charms, glamours and muggle plastic surgery, I don’t see how it could be  reasonably possible for you to be substantially older than me.”

“I think you just complimented me.” She smiled wickedly. “Well, this all hinges on your age, so how old are you?”

He reckoned he should be irritated with her. She was playing with him, enjoying being obstinate, but he found that he wasn’t. She wasn’t being manipulative or disrespectful, just coy and almost playful. 

It wasn't that she didn’t want to share the requested information. 

She was making him work for it. 

He sighed. “I’m thirty-nine.”

“Then yes, I am younger than you.” Charlotte smiled smugly but provided no further information. 

“By how much?” He drawled.

She bit her lip to avoid giggling. “About five years. Give or take. I was born in 1965.”

He nodded, doing the math quickly in his head. He tried for an even tone, not wanting to come across as judgemental. 

It was a novel sensation. He normally didn’t care how he was perceived. “You had a child before you turned eighteen?”

“I did.” She no longer seemed smug, retreating being a mask of guarded indifference.

“‘Life got complicated.’”

She nodded hesitantly. “It did.”

“He turns 18 in January, correct?”

“January 12th.”

The irony was not lost on him, three days after his own birthday. “I see, and what does he plan to do when he gets here?”

“Hadrien wants to pursue an apprenticeship.” 

He nodded. “What is he interested in?”

“Potions and Runes.”

**

“What are you doing, Ms. de Vilierè?”

She started and blinked up at him, quill drooping a bit. “Huh?”

He rolled his eyes, jaw tight, staring down at her with a sneer she wasn’t sure she had done something to deserve. “What are you doing, de Vilierè?” 

She shrugged, tired enough to drop the mask of polite indifference she had been conjuring to maintain employment. “Lesson plans?”

His sneer deepened. “In your nightclothes?”

She frowned and looked down at herself. “I’ll admit this isn’t office attire-“

“How magnanimous of you.” 

“They’re sweats and a t-shirt!” She huffed out on a chuckle, hoping valiantly that he was kidding, at least, or worried about her health if ‘she caught a chill’ as Minerva had said the first time she had caught her similarly dressed.

Charlotte was starting to think that she would have been better off going to teach on Mars. 

In the past two weeks since joining the staff, it had become pretty clear that she was fast becoming odd. While no one was outright mocking or mean, it was crystal clear that most of her colleagues thought of her with fond, if not patronizing pity. It irked her. 

She may have thought the social rules in NOLA were stupid, and it was true that she often purposely ignored them to rankle the judgmental fools that relied on them, but she understood them and knew what to do to pretend if necessary. She wasn’t socially acceptable in NOLA, but that had been a choice. Here she was plain inadequate.

This week alone, she had been gaped at when she referred to her ‘pants’ (Remus had actually snickered at her before deigning to point out her faux-paus), she had been gently informed by Pomona that she gave ‘too much detail’ in conversation, Filius had patted her on the head when she had asked about the possibility of having a television, and-

And the man in front of her had taken near every opportunity to point out her shortcomings.

You’re doing lesson plans this late in the summer holidays, Ms. de Vilierè?

Yes, it does rain frequently. You did very little research, then?

Why is it always like this? She sucked in a breath and tried to calm herself.

Snape scoffed. “I know what they are, de Vilierè. Why are you wearing them outside-“

She forced a breath out through her nose. “I’m trying to understand, Sever-“

“Professor Snape.”  He seethed.

She froze, staring at him. “I see. Professor Snape, can you please explain why you object to how I am dressed?”

He seemed to flounder slightly and she noticed the clammy pallor of his skin. She had the brief thought that something had happened, that he hadn’t sought her out to lambaste her.

He looked down his nose at her like she was shit on a shoe and she felt her chest tighten and her eyes burn at almost the same time as long suppressed rage boiled over. “Your complete lack of professionalism will reflect poorly on Hogwarts as an institution.” 

“It’s midnight.” She sucked in a breath. “I fail to understand-“

“Clearly.”

She sent him a nasty glare. “I do not understand how it is unprofessional to be in a library in comfortable, warm clothing while attempting to complete tasks.”

“What if a student were to see you?” He threw his hands in the air. 

She rolled her eyes. “First, the students won’t arrive for another month. Second, I was not planning on regularly roaming the halls dressed so casually once they do arrive.” She shook her head. “You are not stupid enough to assume that I would, surely.”

“Stupid?” 

She nodded, a sarcastic smile on her face. “Yeah, stupid. Do you really think that I would’ve dressed like this if I knew I would be seen?”

“Then why are you dressed-“

“‘Cause it’s fuckin’ midnight, Snape! I was alone! There are no students and I had no reason to assume that I would have to speak to you!” She gesticulated widely. “This goddamn castle is cold at the best of times and I wanted to get somethin’ fuckin’ done! That’s why!

“I don’t spend all of my time thinking up ways to flout conventions I didn’t even know fuckin’ existed. I’m not standing in a corner, twirling a mustache, waiting for my chance to embarrass all of you. I just wanted to be out of my office because I thought I might get more done. And I wanted to be comfortable.” She was starting to run out of steam, and she blinked away tears. “That’s all.”

I will not give this asshole the satisfaction. 

Snape stared at her like she had grown an extra head.

“Well? Nothin’ to say?” She scoffed. “Typical.” She waved her hand over her belongings, stowing them in the satchel she had transported them in after lunch. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“This conversation is not done.” 

He advanced on her and she felt herself flinch, stepping back.

Worse, she saw Snape register her flinch. He stilled, shocked and suddenly pallid. 

“de Vilierè-“

She swallowed, voice dropping into a nearly broken whisper. “I know that I am not what anyone expected. I recognize that there is a lot about me that is not-“ she sighed, “not ideal. My apologies. I’ll remedy it.”

She left and didn’t turn back.

**

Severus stared at her chair the following morning. 

Her empty, un-transfigured chair.

His jaw clenched. He would not feel guilty.

His eyes darted to the door, imagining the sound of heeled shoes in the hall. 

“What happened, Severus?”

He started and turned to Minerva. She had asked softly enough to not draw attention but he flushed. “I’m sorry?”

“Why is our favorite American not at breakfast this morning?” She sent him a look that made clear who she thought was to blame.

“Why should I-“ 

Pomona sipped her tea. “Because you have not stopped watching the door, dear.”

Filius cut into his mushroom. “Or the dear girl’s chair.”

Severus flushed. “She was in the library last night…”

Minerva nodded encouragingly. “She has been most nights. What of it, lad? She doesn’t seem to sleep well.”

He winced, noticing for the first time that Lupin and a few of the other professors had left, leaving him with Pomona, Filius and Minerva. 

He sighed. “I had a dream and went for a walk and then she was there…” he dragged his hand down over his face.

“Dear me,” Pomona mumbled.

Severus nodded. “I was harsher than I meant to be, then I had any right to be.” 

The look on her face right before she had walked away, blue eyes focused on the floor in front of her. He pinched at the bridge of his nose. The brokenness had been worse than the fear. 

“I believe I may have scared off your replacement, Minerva.” His posture belied the dryness of his tone, collapsed in and fatigued. 

Pomona set her tea cup down and the soft sound resounded in his head. She set her shoulders and asked, more stern than she had been since he was a boy.  “What did you say?”

“I objected to how she was dressed- how casually she was dressed-“ he amended. “I called her professionalism into question-“

“Merlin’s bones, Severus!”

Minerva leaned forward, fury in her posture. “And what did she say?”

He glanced at Minerva, wincing. “That she recognized that she wasn’t ideal. That she wasn’t trying to embarrass us.”

Filius hummed, catching Pomona and Minerva’s eyes in turn. “Thought as much.”

Severus frowned. “Meaning?”

“I think Charlotte is feeling inadequate, maybe out of her depth.”

Pomona nodded. “We’ve all tried to help her adjust, but I think she may have more foolish pride than even you, Severus.”

“I think we have been doing more harm than help, whatever our intentions.” Filius crossed his arms across his chest. “I saw it when we had the conversation about the tele- telev- blast, what is it called?”

“Television.” Severus sighed heavily. “And I have been feeding into all of this. Bloody hell.”

“And you must apologize before we really do lose her.” Minerva pinned him with a sharp look. “We will all endeavor to apologize for our own parts and to be more understanding of her cultural differences.”

“Fuck.”

**

“Do you need something, Professor Snape?”

He winced, still facing the wreath of flowers he had been pacing in front of. He turned and stared down at her. 

She was herself and there was a part of him that sighed in relief at her unbothered appearance, as if it let him off the hook. 

Her hair was pinned back neatly, her complexion smoothed and perfected by cosmetics. She wore neat dark jeans and a fashionably oversized, deep green silk shirt, teetering elegantly on dark leather boots. She cradled a mug in one hand and directed a levitating stack of books with the other.

“Did you need something, Professor Snape?”

He shook himself free of his inspection of her. “I came to apologize.”

She arched an eyebrow and moved past him to open her office door. She glanced back at him and made a soft dismissive sound. “Mais… it’s not necessary.”

She strode into her office and set down the books and the mug. She seemed to take an extra moment to fiddle with papers on the desk before taking a deep breath and turning to him. She smiled, but it was hollow, empty and Severus felt his gut twist.

“All is well.” She shrugged. “No apology necessary.”

“I am sorry, de Vilierè, truly.” He swallowed. “It’s no excuse but I often take walks when sleep is difficult. I took my frustrations out on you. You didn’t deserve it.”

She smiled her hollow smile again. “Thank you. It’s fine, though really.”

He watched the shutters go down in her eyes and felt an answering hollowness in his chest. She is not likely to ever be open to me again, if she ever was.

He nodded and stepped further into her office. “Minerva said you also don’t sleep well-“

“You spoke to Minerva about last night?”

She seemed upset, her brow furrowed. He made a vague gesture, looking down and away. “She noticed you weren’t at breakfast and rightly guessed that I was the cause.”

He thought he heard her scoff, but the hollow smile was back when he glanced back at her.

“I see.”

He watched her for a small moment. “If sleep is an issue, I can retrieve a Dreamless Sleep potion for you.”

She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you though, Professor Snape. I am capable of brewing a potion if I need it.”

He fought not to flinch. “Of course.”

Silence settled heavily over them and he set his jaw to avoid fidgeting.

She sighed sharply. “Was there anything else?”

He shook his head and moved to leave, catching the shimmer of a glamour out of the corner of his eye.

He turned back to look again and noticed that some of the smoothness he had attributed to her use of cosmetics was in fact a spell. 

She is hiding. 

He caught her eyes and held them. “For the record, de Vilierè, I know that you are capable and competent. My social skills are sorely lacking. I apologize.”

She turned away, the briefest flash of vulnerability swimming in her eyes before the shutters came down again.

“I’m fine.”

**

A dark owl sat ominously on the perch next to her desk, staring at her with large, round, dark eyes, a folded piece of parchment in its beak.

She breathed deep, fighting down a stab of panic. That’s not an owl I recognize. The Beauregards all have great greys because they’re bougie as fuck. It’s not their owl.

The owl vocalized softly and dropped the note. She reached for a jar of owl treats she kept by the perched, eyeing the owl as the owl eyed her back. 

She held up the treat and reached for the note with her other hand. The bird took it almost gingerly and flew through her open window with the barest of whispers of wings. 

None of them have ever had such a mild-mannered owl either. 

Comforted by that fact, she unfolded the note and huffed.

Come to my office. -S

She was tempted to send her own note back and briefly amused herself with the look that would be on his face at dinner if she did.

Thanks but no thanks. -C or maybe How about you walk your happy ass up here? -C

She snorted and reckoned that being fired for being contrary after only a month wouldn’t do. He was the deputy headmaster after all.

She rubbed at her face, her temples twinging sharply. 

Still, though the tension had eased considerably, she had spent most of the past two weeks avoiding him. Something he seemed to be aiding her in, by making himself equally scarce.

She could feel a migraine starting. She had spent the time since lunch in the library, alternately cataloging the reference material future students would have access to and watching for approaching company. It would be good to take a break anyways. She glanced down at the note and rolled her eyes. 

Not much of a break.

She shrugged. Nothing to it, but to do it. At least, he’s interesting.

Sighing, she pinched at the bridge of her nose, chastising herself for continuing to entertain even an iota of interest in a man who plainly didn’t like her.

Glutton for punishment.

As if escaping that thought and the accompanying feelings, she all but sprinted out of her office and had to force herself to slow down and take her time walking down to the dungeons. 

It truly was no chore to walk the long hallways and grand staircases and she imagined Snape would be less than delighted to hear that she actually enjoyed what he certainly thought was at least an inconvenience.

She grinned, maybe she should mention it. 

But somewhere between her office and his, she forgot all about wanting to needle at him. 

Such was the power of this place. She had thought that the mysticism of this place would have worn off by now, replaced with staff duties and routine, but it had yet to do so.

She breathed deep, enjoying the wet smell of old stone and the cool, clean air that got cooler and damper the further she trekked. The impending migraine lessened somewhat as if the magic etched into the stone could reach inside her and permeate the tangled mess of scars she often felt made of.

She shrugged. Maybe it could.

As if wanting to connect further with that possibility, with that power, she traced her fingertips into dips and crevices, scuffed the toe of her loafer against floors that had witnessed so much. Hundreds of years of history and conflict, a recent battle even. She kind of wished she had attended school here, as opposed to the Convent, with its rigid social rules and roles, a structure that she hadn’t been able to get free from no matter how hard she had tried.

But then this place has rules too. They’re just nicer about it. And I don’t fit in here anymore than I did at the Convent.

Sooner than she would have liked, she found herself in front of a blackened, aged wood door. 

She took a deep breath and thanked whatever god applied that she hadn’t gotten lost. She hadn’t been paying much attention as it was and she had simply been shown what hall to traverse to find Snape’s office and classroom. 

She knocked right under where his name had been painted in an elegant silver hand. S. Snape, Deputy Headmaster

She heard steady footfall on the other side of the door and marshaled herself into some semblance of professional disinterest.

He opened the door and by virtue of his height alone, filled the doorway. He cast a look over her, clearly taking umbrage with her jeans and cardigan ensemble. She bristled. 

Be polite, Charlotte Theodosia. 

She held up his note. 

Be polite. 

“You rang?” 

He met her eyes and held them. “You came.”

She arched an eyebrow, slightly shocked by his tone and the unreadable something in his eyes. She swallowed, eyeing him in his trousers and shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His collar was undone, no cravat or tie to be found, and she caught her first sight of the remnants of the wound that nearly claimed his life.

She thought better of lingering overlong on that spot, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, and not to add to his obvious antipathy. 

And honestly, she’d much rather keep looking. 

Clearly having come from working on something, he bore all of the marks of potions-in-the-act. He was slightly flushed, skin dewy from the humidity of a cauldron. He had tied his hair back, inky strands slipping from a low ponytail that was losing its battle against gravity. 

His limbs were long, his forearms looked strong, if wiry, and his hands were large with prominent veins and knuckles. There was strength and hard work written into his calloused fingers and she fought the slightly hysterical thought that Beau had baby-soft hands until he didn’t. Severus’ hands didn’t engender the same response. 

But then Beau had never engendered anything other than fear and apathy from her. Snape, it seemed, called forth an emotional range she had not thought existed, or at least had no longer existed.

She breathed deep and worked to put that thought away.

There was a nasty scar on the inside of one of his forearms. She knew immediately what that was- or what it had been- and, shrugging, she met his eyes again. “I wasn’t aware it was an invitation. Felt more like a summons.”

He moved wordlessly back, a clear indication that she should enter. 

She felt the air, heavy and loaded, and then broke eye contact, staring down at the toe of her loafer. She stepped past him and risked a glance up at him. He caught her eyes again.

**

He closed the door behind him and fought the urge to fidget with his collar or unroll his sleeves.

‘You came’? How bloody asinine. Collect yourself, Snape.

He honestly hadn’t expected her to show up at his office door. The note had been the result of a fleeting thought, one he hadn’t caught and suppressed before Blodeuwedd flew from her perch by his desk. 

A thought born from lingering guilt and some cockamamie desire to see her outside of meals. Guilt and desire that led him to act rather rashly.

Not that she needed to know that. 

But then here she was, dressed casually, comfortably, sans heeled shoes and cosmetics since the incident.

She was so small.

He had almost forgotten, her personality was bold enough to create a mirage of physical presence, but the top of her head didn’t even clear his shoulder. There was something soft and feminine in her oversized cardigan, which had slipped from her shoulder in an effortless show of allure that reminded him of the courtesans of old.

Courtesans? Hell, Snape, get a hold of yourself.

She looked around, some of the same wonder he occasionally saw on her face at meals when she didn’t think anyone was looking. 

She crossed the room to look at one of the jarred specimens on his shelf, stretching up on the toe of her leather shoe. “Do you use any of these or are they just for intimidation?”

He considered her quietly for a short moment, unsure if she was mocking him or curious. 

She glanced back at him, blue eyes genuine in her curiosity. There was no meanness that he could catch and he cleared his throat. 

“Some of these specimens have been in this office since I was a student.” He watched as she meandered down the line of the shelf. “But generally, no, they are not ingredients.”

She smiled. “So, intimidation then.” She chuckled and caught his eye over her shoulder. “And something you inherited from potions masters in days gone past at that.”

“What is it that you Americans say? If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.” He sneered or, at least, he tried, it felt more like a wry twist of his lips. “It has worked for as long as anyone can remember, so why change it?”

She turned and her face was lit by the glowing liquid in the canister nearest to her. “I never did know when to leave well enough alone. When is well ever enough?”

He hummed. “Are you feeling philosophical, de Vilierè? You’ll not find a ready conversationalist in me.”

Snickering, she ran her finger over the edge of the shelf, nails a deep, almost black shade of purple. “For the record, we woulda gotten that saying from y’all. The language is called English, after all. And if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

He scoffed. “Hogwash. The only thing broken is that grammatical structure.” 

“Fair enough.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Back to the matter at hand then. You mean to tell me that tradition has kept preserved animal parts on the shelves of your office and you’ve left them there because it ain’t broke.” She tapped her finger against the glass. “So, then I can conclude that intimidation is precisely what you’re going for.”

He shrugged. “It gets me what I want.” At her look, he added. “Peace, quiet, a controllable classroom.”

She leaned her hip against the row of cabinets under the shelves. “My-oh-my, dontcha know you catch more flies with honey?”

Severus felt his chest warm at her coy smile. “Why would I want flies?”

She nodded. “I asked my grandmother that very same thing when she told me that it would be easier to get what I want if I played nice.”

He sneered. “We are generally not considered to be nice. Potions masters, I mean.”

“I dunno…” Laughing, she turned to stare at a preserved sheep’s heart. “I know a nice potions master or two.”

He knew that. That was why he sent the note to begin with. He shifted, suddenly aware of the time they had wasted… doing whatever it was they had been doing. “I’m aware.”

She turned and smiled up at him again. “Ah, so that’s why I’m here. I thought maybe this was some sort of tactic, a power play. Tryin’ to intimidate me or somethin’.”

No, I lack impulse control on occasion and we’ve been avoiding each other. 

He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t expend the effort. I don’t spend all of my time scheming and plotting, contrary to popular belief.”

She stilled, watching him with intensity. “So you haven’t tried to intimidate me?” 

Staring into her very serious eyes, he again wished to use legilimency, his fingers veritably aching to retrieve his wand and do just that. “Are you intimidated?”

She turned and leaned against the door jam that led to his private study. She smiled and he was briefly relieved to see a real smile from her. It wasn’t the cheeky grin he had seen her share with Filius and Pomona, even Minerva recently, but it was some amount of progress. 

Progress towards what? He lambasted himself. The most he could truly hope for was the warm professionalism he shared with Minerva and some of the other staff. To not actively be enemies.

That is all it will ever be, Snape. Don’t get your hopes up.

She had been watching him as he chastised himself. He thanked whatever god applied that he was already flushed from potions making. 

Her smile took a cheeky, mischievous edge. “Should I be?”

“Answering questions with questions.” He sighed. “I have not tried to intimidate you, de Vilierè. I’m sorry that I have failed to communicate effectively.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, cher. You’re a very effective communicator.” She smiled, eyes dancing in the light of candelabra above her. “It’s just that I’m veritably bulletproof at this rate. Un-intimidatable, nearly.”

He should be irritated with her. Should take affront at her cheeky, cavalier attitude, but he found it almost refreshing that she didn’t shy away.

He had seen her eyes find what remained of his Dark Mark, had seen the comprehension on her face. He had been prepared for her to turn on her heel and sprint back upstairs.

After the Incident, he expected that she would.

But she hadn’t, she had shrugged. 

He didn’t have time or predilection to examine his feelings on the subject but he didn’t have it in him to totally eschew the attentions of a pretty woman, however fleeting they likely were. 

The silence stretched for a brief, but not uncomfortable moment, as they considered each other. 

He motioned to the door behind her. “I have something to show you.”

He unwarded and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter in front of him. On his study desk, sat a stack of half a dozen or so books. 

She lifted the first book and smiled down at the front cover. “My dad’s book!”

He breathed deep. “So, you are Theodosius de Vilierè’s daughter?”

She nodded and opened it, idly flipping through and reading his personal annotations. “Yep.” She glanced up at him. “Should I tell him he has a fan?”

He sent her a baleful look. 

She chuckled. “I mean he’s read your work, he’d be pleased to hear you’ve read his.”

He ignored her. “Your father is a prolific writer.”

She nodded and picked up the next book in the pile. “He enjoys research and writing.”

He sighed. “Since you are Theodosius de Vilierè’s daughter, I have also found a book by your grandfather. Aurelius de Vilierè.”

She smiled. “The History of Southern Potions Making.”

“Quite.” He leaned back against his desk as she perused his annotations in the next book in the stack.

She set her fingertip over one of his annotations. “Milk Thistle as opposed to Milkweed?

He nodded. “Milkweed is not indigenous to Europe.”

She made a soft exclamation. “I’ll have to tell dad that.”

“Why did you not tell me who you are?”

She froze, a deer in the gaze of a predator, and he wondered at her reaction, having not intended to cause such a reaction. “What do you mean? I did tell you who I am.”

He nodded, aiming for a softer tone. “You neglected to mention who your father is, who your grandfather is.” 

She relaxed and smiled, setting the book down on the stack. Wandering past his overstuffed bookshelf, she made a parody of looking at the titles, though her eyes were more often studying him. 

“I really didn’t think it would matter.” She shrugged. “You didn’t seem predisposed to liking me and I’ll be damned if I name-drop to impress someone.”

He hummed. “Too proud?”

She shrugged. “Where I’m from, everyone already knows who I am, who my family is. It was nice to escape that, I think. Honestly, it was refreshing to be disliked because of something I did, separate from my family or what I was expected, but ultimately failed, to be.” She smiled again, though softer and more sad. “How dumb is that?”

“Your pot was too small.” He drawled. “I don’t dislike you, de Vilierè.”

She snorted. “Coulda fooled me.” She held her hands up. “Well, is that all, Professor? I am released on my own recognizance?”

He moved to stand, mistakenly knocking over a small stack of books that had been precariously placed on the edge. 

She flinched minutely at the clatter, but Severus caught it. “What is it?”

She hummed and he noticed the tightness around her eyes and the tension in her neck and shoulders. 

He scoffed and moved toward a closet in the wall opposite the bookcase. “Foolish woman.” He all but whispered and held out a vial for her to take. “You should’ve said.”

Migraine/Tension. 1-2x/day SS

She caught his eye with a speculative look.

“What?” He groused. “Take the bloody potion or give it back. I wouldn’t poison a colleague.”

She shook her head, before popping the cork and throwing it back. The difference was immediate as her shoulders dropped and her eyes fluttered open. She smiled, relieved. “I didn’t think you were going to poison me, for the record.”

He doubted that. It wouldn't have been the first time someone assumed negative intentions on his part. 

She handed the now-corked vial to him and laid her hand on his elbow, getting his attention. “I assumed you didn’t like me, professor. Not that you’d poison me but that you wouldn’t expend effort on my behalf.”

“You can use my name.”

She tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t have to call me professor. It will be odd if you are still doing so when the students arrive.” He nodded, feeling supremely awkward when she shot him a cheeky grin. He shifted away from her, turning his back on her with a dismissive wave. “Now, I’m busy. You may leave.”

She nodded. “Alright. Thanks for the potion, Snape.”

#harry potter fanfiction #severus snape/oc #fanon severus #pro severus #severus snape fanfiction #pro severus snape #severus x oc #harry potter

[momo-t-daye]

Part One

Co-(god)parenting a teenager with your (maybe?) ex can be quite the adventure

(O.W.L.s might be easier if you'd had the examiners as tutors since you were old enough to talk, Sirius)

So, for the mirror pattern, I'd been goofing around with attempting marbling with India ink and water, I made an awful mess but I had fun and the swirly pattern looks interesting

#Severus Snape #Sirius Black #Harry Potter #Snirius #Severitus adjacent #self-indulgent AU #Implied one-sided Prongsfoot I suppose #Sirius & Severus are narrative mirrors #But so often Sirius and James are assumed platonic while Severus is assumed to have one-sided romantic feelings for Lily #But fanon is a fun house mirror and mirrors are prone to flipping things around and around yes? #my art

[bythepen98]

Severus 🐍

Aside from Harry and Hermione, he is arguably the next character whose pov I read about the most (gen or ship wise). Can't help that he's too interesting of a character for me to ignore when written right.

#doodle #fanart #severus snape #professor snape #snape #snape fanart #hp fanart #harry potter fanart #i love fanon snape #mostly bc i barely remember canon him #I admit to being a bit biased #blame the movies and fics for making me adore him #headcanon where snape is more powerful than what's portrayed in the books/movies #tall dark and broody #snarky bastard who hates everyone but has the tiniest soft spot for his youngest slytherins #he loves dumbledore minerva pomfrey and some of the staff in his own snarly way too #his own found family you could say #idk i have a lot of thoughts on this man #or my image of him anyway #but am not good at articulating it right now

[rewritingcanon]

i’ve seen relationship therapists and psychologists analyse hermione and ron’s relationship and conclude that they wouldn’t work out in the long run. they’ve argued for hermione to be with harry, krum, even DRACO (don’t understand how a counsellor can vow for canon dramione but alright) as an alternative partner for hermione since ron is “too insecure” to be with her and match her intelligent prowess or what have you.

i seriously don’t understand this sentiment. ron and hermione genuinely seem (almost) perfect to me, maybe not in the movies (a common denominator of people who don’t like romione is that they always cite evidence from the movies, since the films took a lot away from ron’s character and his growth), but definitely in the books.

looking at ron’s insecurities, a lot of people dredge his inferiority complex up to toxic masculinity primarily, when it was more explored how it was an effect of his home life (not gonna argue toxic masculinity wasn’t a factor, they’re teenagers in the 90s written by a pretty misogynistic woman so…). he was the youngest son out of how many children? all of his older brothers were brilliant in some way. bill was an extremely gifted spellcaster, charlie was gifted with magical beasts, percy’s academic score was unmatched, and fred and george (despite their trouble) were entrepreneurial inventor-geniuses. ron, on the other hand, was quite literally born a disappointment to his mother, who conceived him specifically because she wanted a daughter, whilst ginny was born her favourite (though, even then, ginny was gifted at quidditch). ron was mediocre in every sense of the word, and his two best friends were harry (one of the most famous wizards) and hermione (the smartest witch of her age yada yada). and i’ve seen people argue that harry was more welcomed by molly into the weasley household than ron ever was. this isn’t even mentioning the amount of bullshit he copped for being poor (people always downplay the blow to confidence being in poverty can have on a person who is constantly surrounded by people who not only have more, but look down on him for simply being unlucky as to not have what they do).

so yeah, ron was an envious kid, but he was that way not because he was an evil patriarchal conception but because he was lowkey neglected. and even then he was overall an extremely devoted and loyal friend to both harry and hermione, because he did genuinely love them.

there were many moments of ron standing up for hermione that was cut from the films, not as a guy who was romantically interested in her, but as a friend. ron arguing with snape for making hermione cry is one of my fav scenes in the books ru kidding me, and in the movies he AGREED with snape RU KIDDING ME. not to mention how ron was a sobbing violent mess when hermione was getting tortured in the last book, whereas he wasn’t nearly as bothered in the films. and the films cut out harry being a dick to ron about his familial concerns (in dh), so when ron left it seemed like a random dickish move over his jealousy towards harry and hermione’s relationship.

there’s also a million moments where they minimised ron’s usefulness in the books for comedic purposes (forbidden forest with aragog, troll scene, devils snare scene) so ron seems dumber than he is. like, he’s actually smart and a really good spellcaster…. in the books.

so simply by stating this most of the arguments against romione become void. “he’s too stupid/weak for her” simply not true. “he’s a terrible friend who doesn’t stand up for her” also not true. “he’s too insecure to have made a move on her,” yes, but given the context i don’t think people would freak on about ron’s upbringing, i think many would be more understanding, especially considering his growth. even if he wasn’t insecure, hermione is beyond incredible and is bound to make anyone nervous when pursuing her (not an excuse for ron to act like a dick, but it does explain a lot where the movies don’t). “they argue too much” they bump heads, none of the arguments they have are actually super damning, with the exception of ron leaving in deathly hallows.

maybe i’ve covered everything (excluding the abhorrent amount of classism that clouds people’s judgments around how they view ron when harping about how hermione deserves better? hopefully).

now, i know people won’t like me mentioning the cursed child, but i’m going to considering we actually get an insight of their life as a longterm married couple there. a lot of ron stans hated how ron was the only character that wasn’t doing something incredible. harry was head of the aurors, ginny was a famous quidditch player retired to a famous journalist, neville was a hogwarts professor, hermione was quite literally minister on magic. and ron…. ran the joke shop with george.

and i think this was almost the perfect route to go down for ron. because he was average, and was perfectly fine with just being average. hello?? that speaks leagues of growth for his character. he’s supportive of hermione’s work, he grounds her when she gets too caught up in being the literal president of wizarding society, and he still viciously defends her, minister or not. in fact, he’s proud to simply be known as hermione’s husband because he doesn’t feel the need to prove to anyone else his worth. the people he loves most know his worth, hermione never downplays or underestimates him, they are complete equals in the relationship in every single way that matters. they kept ron’s best qualities whilst making him seem more of a healed person. they work so well as a married couple without it seeming like mischaracterisation (not to mention the cursed child literally shows how those two are in love in every reality, so there quite literally can’t be a better partner for hermione or ron according to canon).

so i really don’t understand how professional relationship counsellors can go online and denounce it. probs because they only watched the movies, but it’s 2023 and ron stans should not STILL be fighting for their lives trying to defend him from people who simply don’t consume media with as much depth (which is fine, but one should clarify if they’re talking about the movies because i’ve seen people state they’re talking about the hp BOOKS when it’s simply just…. the films). anyways. romione on top, thanks to coming to my ted talk.

#buts thats just a theory. a GAME theory #next ted talk i’ll talk about wolfstar and why fanon wolfstar can suckkk in so many ways simply bc the fandom characterises remus as a dick #didnt mean for this to turn into a ron defender post but it did. #most romione-antis cite ‘ron’ as just the sole reason as to why theyre romione antis in the first place loll #its been a while since i read the books tho. like seven years since. so if i get anything wrong just lmk #harry potter #hp #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #lavender brown #severus snape #anti dramione #draco malfoy #pro ron weasley #cursed child #ootp #molly weasley #bill weasley #percy weasley #charlie weasley #neville longbottom #ginny weasley #fred weasley #pro romione #george weasley #viktor krum #hp gof #deathly hallows #rewriting

[controversialhpmemes]

#anti barty crouch jr #anti regulus black #pro severus snape #anti marauders fandom #anti marauders fanon #anti marauderstok

[snapeaddict]

Thinking about the fact Dudley canonically went through much more character development and gained more maturity than James Potter ever did but here we are

#The tea cup #When Dumbledore talks of the 'damage' inflicted on him by his parents #I don't think you're a waste of space #Also Albus talking about damage done to a child is sooo #Like Albus. #Didn't you send Harry there. You who can read minds. And left him there. And did nothing for Severus. Bref. #Anyway. What I mean to say is the power that projection and fanon have on the overall idea of a character is as strong as the narrative #... 's input #Clearly #Don't read more into it

[moonlightdancer26]

I've seen an uptick in weird questions about James Potter in your ask box (????) so how about some other questions:

What do you think Severus thinks about Molly Weasley?

What are your favorite things about Nymphadora Tonks?

In your opinion, what is the worst popular fanon trait assigned to Sirius Black?

I feel like it’s been a while since I’ve seen your blog around, good to see you again!

1. I think Snape kept his interactions with the members of the OoTP to a minimum, but I think he respected Molly and Arthur. Molly slightly more so than Arthur, because I think Lucius’s words about Arthur and the ministry had a bit of an influence on Severus. I think he respected her parenting skills and how kind and welcoming she usually was. Also I personally love the thought of her asking him on more than one occasion to stay for dinner at Grimmauld place. And I think she also respected him, otherwise she wouldn’t have told Harry to refer to Severus as “Professor Snape.” I think her kids complained about him to her many times, to which she responded in a very Percy-like manner lol

2. I just love how much of a breath of fresh air she is. She’s just so inspirational and is never afraid to be herself, she’s one of the least problematic characters in the series and you simply can’t help but love her. And her happiness and kookiness seems to rub off on others. My irl best friend is almost scarily like Dora, and I really love that about her.

3. Oh boy. I saw this tiktok around a day ago and it sums up how I feel about fanon!Sirius PERFECTLY:

The user who posted this is @/bowbeforerhaenyra on tiktok, when that tiktok came on my fyp I was literally so shocked by how much they summed up my thoughts on this subject. The Marauders fandom pretty much took all of Sirius’s traits (tall, haughty, anger issues, mood swings, casonova of the gryffindor tower, etc) and gave them to Remus. It’s just so unfaithful to Sirius’s (and Remus’s) character and I hate how popularised that “cutesy short guy with many insecurities” version of him is, it’s legitimately nothing like his canon character.

But thank you so much for your ask! It’s definitely nice to see a change in topic 💀

#canon sirius>>>>the weird fanon version of him #harry potter #nymphadora tonks #severus snape #anti marauders fandom #anti marauderfen #hp #ask #asks

[forestdeath1]

I never thought this day would come, the day I have to remind Snape stans that Severus Snape was a great wizard, no matter his values, but him hiding between the bushes from James Potter is on a whole new level of omg what 😱?!

The whole scene in SWM starts with an exam, students being dismissed after it ended, the marauders talking between themselves and Snape absorbed in his examination questions.

Still poring over the paper and apparently with no fixed idea of where he was going. ( HPand OOTP page 644 )

Then we have Snape reviewing his O.W.L paper as he -settled himself on the grass in the dense shadows of a clump of bushes-. ( same page ) 

Have you never sat somewhere to review over your exam paper absent-mindedly yourself? 😂

Now, here is when the scene of James and Sirius vs. Snape unfolds:

As he ( Snape ) emerged from the shadows of the bushes and set off across the grass, Sirius and James stood up.  ( HP and OOTP page 645 )

Is it me or he wasn't hiding at all? 

I am not going to start a morality discussion about bullying and his interactions with James Potter, because it is not relevant to this. However, I would like to mention here ( as I have done before in anything I have written on this matter ) , I am neither justifying James nor Snape. 

What really rubs me the wrong way is how some people in the fandom refuse to see Severus Snape's talent and power, even his own stans. Why would you portray him as a poor weakling wizard? He invented lots of new charms and jinxes during his school days. He modified lots of potions, be the instructions or ingredients,  to amplify or simplify them and later he was knowledgeable enough to even halt Dumbledore's death for about a year despite the curse of  Marvolo Gaunt's ring with it's ancient magic and being a Horcrux with his own incantations and potions. 

My point is, Severus Snape was talented enough to achieve those things. Point is not them being dark or not, point is achieving. ( as I said I am not talking about morality here)

Canon Snape didn't need to hide between the bushes people, respect your favourite character. 

#severus x bushes #severus snape #anti fanon severus snape #justice for snape #hp meta

[the-most-faithful]

Fanon James Potter

Ok I need to say this, anyone who loves the Fanon James Potter needs to stop defending the canon one.

Some fanfictions are pieces of art, well written and with interesting plots, but they distort some characters. If you like Fanon James ok, but he's not the canon one.

James in canon was an arrogant bully, that's the truth. We can talk about whether he changed or not (Spoiler, he hasn't changed, he's just dead) but using non-canon facts to cleaning up canon James is ridiculous.

#anti james potter #anti marauders stans #anti marauders #james potter was a bully #pro snape #snape stan army #stan snape #severus snape #snape was the victime #marauders era #the marauders #anti snape slander #snape slander #stan james potter #marauders fandom #fanon james potter #James Potter never changed

[winnienora13]

I mentioned James Potter to one of my friends today and she said ‘’ The bully in Harry Potter?’’

I’m considering pushing her off a flight of stairs

#marauders #james potter #jegulus #marauders era #fanon #canon #harry potter #bully #snivellus #severus snape #james potter supremacy

[rfsak2]

Easy Target, Pt 1.

So we'll see if anyone even reads this but Ima post it anyways. This has been brewing for decades at this point and it is somewhat of a rewrite of something I posted on Sycophant Hex (~I’m aging myself~) years ago.

For the record I acknowledge that Snape is OOC. He’s taller (by a lot), capable of healing and kindness, and has a sense of humor and hella PTSD.

His characterization is due partly to having started reading these books as a kiddo well before the end of the series (which ended when I was in college ~I’m old~). I have been collecting and revising headcanons since I was a child and now, as an adult and a therapist, I have a very specific idea of Snape that may not be canon, but I might like better.

I also have un-unalived some characters. Lupin and Tonks and maybe more as we go. We’ll see. Again it may not be canon, but I like it and my Snape better. (Fuck JKR).

If you like my Snape, let me know. If ya don’t… also let me know. I’d love to discuss and compare our thoughts

Easy Target

They thought wrong. Severus/OC

Warnings: nothing right now, some bad language words. There will be warnings if continued including mentions of past abuse/assault, violence, smut.

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE. 

“Little Lottie Beauregard.” The woman grinned maliciously. “How the hell are you doin’?” 

Charlotte sighed and set down the book she had been perusing. She glanced over her shoulder and made sure her son was out of earshot. “My last name is de Vilieré, Annabelle, or are your drinking habits finally impairing your memory?”

Annabelle grit her teeth. “No, ‘course not. Say, did you hear about who was at Antoine’s last night?” 

Charlotte made a face. “Can’t say I care about gossip.”

“Beau was seen with the Dreaux girl.” 

“Good for her.”

Annabelle fidgeted with her hair, disconcerted that she wasn’t getting a reaction. “I mean, I would think you’d be interested as that’s why y’all got divorce ‘n all.”

“I didn’t get divorce because Beau was fuckin’ other women. Sorry that I can't validate your petty jealousy.”

“My petty jealousy?” Annabelle shook herself free of following that line of thought. “Why did you get divorced then?”

Charlotte caught her eyes and held them, dispassionate and disinterested, sliding a book back onto the shelf.

Annabelle shied away from her. “I just know that the Beauregards aren’t the kinda family you leave. So you had to have reason to try.” 

“I didn’t try, Annabelle, I succeeded.” Charlotte began flipping through another book. “Maybe, they aren’t as bulletproof as all y’all thought.”

“Rumor has it, your mother has already started undoing all your success.” Annabelle managed to make faux sympathy look as vicious as direct assault. “I reckon you’ll be back at home in no time.” 

Charlotte chuckled, eyes fixed on a spell in the book she was reading. “Well, my mother is hot on the heels of her own divorce, so maybe she should mind her business.” Charlotte turned towards Annabelle and shut the book with a snap. “Ironically, that’s advice you’d find helpful too.” 

Annabelle batted her eyelashes. “Oh, didn’t y’know: my business is anything I make my business.”

“That’s why your family business is failing, ain’t it?” Charlotte nodded. “Makes sense, too many fingers in too many pies.”

Annabelle blanched.

“Though, gotta say, don’t know why’d you want me to remarry Beau.” Charlotte mimicked her simpering tone. “After all, now you can fuck him all you want and you’ll be the only one committing adultery. I mean, he may need to hire a secretary to manage his…  social calendar but I’d imagined this would be good news for you… and the others too, ‘course.”

Annabelle ignored her, pushing her straight, dark hair over her shoulder. “Don’t be silly. Your father isn’t going to divorce your mother. Seriously, it’s a bluff.”

Charlotte smiled. “Would you look at that? There’s at least one thing you don’t know anything about.”

Annabelle hummed, trying very hard to remain calm and disinterested. She failed.

Charlotte bared her teeth. “You don’t know my dad.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “No one knows your father.”

Charlotte nodded, eyes on Hadrien, lest he hear more than he should. “That’s not one hundred percent true. I mean he is the eldest son of one of the founding families of this city, a descendant of the first Creole governor of Louisiana. He’s a philanthropist, an expert in his field, he’s active in all the right circles. Everyone knows my father. My father just doesn’t cast pearls before pigs.” 

“Pigs?” Annabelle sucked in a breath and looked down at her hands, trying to school her emotions. “And yet, even the illustrious de Vilierés needed the Beauregards-“

Charlotte laughed. “We didn’t need the Beauregards. My mother made what she thought was a calculated bet. She put her money on the wrong horse, hence the divorce.”

“What horse should she have betted on?”

Charlotte grinned. “Me.”

Annabelle swallowed. “Seems to me that the de Vilierés aren't as prominent as they used to be. Seems to me that she bet on the only horse she had.” She simpered. “After all, the shame was only narrowly avoided. If she had not acted so soon… well, one shudders to think.”

“Must not shudder often, huh?”

Annabelle shot her a nasty glance. Charlotte returned it.

“I just think y’all are awfully big in your britches, considering…”

“Considering, what?” Charlotte challenged. “Quit pussyfooting and say it.”

Annabelle demurred.

Charlotte nodded, sighing. “See now… That’s how I know just how prominent my family is. You wanna drop hints and flirt with what you think is true, but you are too coward to say it. You lack conviction. I doubt you really believe the shit in your mouth. It’s just fodder for your imagined superiority.” Charlotte shrugged and returned Annabelle’s earlier malicious grin. “But then, maybe you just don’t know. Just like you don’t know my dad. You don’t run in the right circles. You want to, for sure. Badly. Desperately. You spend too much money -more than the rumor mill says you have- on dresses for balls and cotillions hosted by social circles you’ll never be welcomed in, to climb a ladder you can only get so high on.”

Annabelle shrunk back.

Charlotte didn’t press forward. Her posture remained loose and unbothered. “Just remember, Annie, my family built the ladder you’re trying to climb. I firmly believe everyone deserves a chance to try to climb the ladder, but knocking us off won’t get you any closer to the top any faster.”

“How egalitarian of you.” She sneered

Charlotte shook her head. “It’s not equality per say, but desire for quality competition. Can’t know how good I am if I don’t know how good my competition is. As it is, I’m not sure I have competition.”

Annabelle flushed. “See, the problem with y’all is-“

Charlotte hummed, cutting her off and set the book in her hand back on the shelf. “The problem is you decided to make my life momentarily difficult instead of minding your damn business. The problem is you’re boxin’ outta your weight class. Shoulda kept your mouth shut and you wouldn’t have embarrassed yourself. But then, the problem is that you got that inferiority complex gnawing at your brain. Makes it difficult to think, I reckon.”

“Charlotte.”

Charlotte turned over her shoulder, away from Annabelle’s slack-jawed stare, and smiled at her brother-in-law’s mother, her godmother.

“Bonjou, Mama Oya! Koman sa va?”

“Mo bon, babygirl.” Tall and ebony-skinned, Oya Dillioles glared down her nose at Annabelle with more regal dignity than any monarch the world over had ever possessed. “Mrs. Brennan.”

Annabelle just managed to not sneer. “Mrs-“

Charlotte tsked. “Madame.” She tilted her head, blonde ringlets tumbling over her shoulder. “I mean, you gotta know I ain’t about to let you address her recklessly.”

Annabelle locked her jaw. “Madame Dillioles.”

Charlotte smiled. “That’s better.”

Oya hummed and turned sharply away from the fuming brunette. Leaning down, she placed a kiss on each of Charlotte’s cheeks. Charlotte stretched up to return the gesture.

Oya shifted so she was standing full in front of Annabelle. “Charlie, cher, I was on my way to the Shop and felt faint. I was hoping you and my strapping, young grand-baby could walk me over, if y’all were done here?”

Charlotte fought back a smile, knowing full well that Oya Dillioles had never felt faint a day in her life. Charlotte would unhesitatingly put money on her living forever. 

“Of course, Mama. We’re meandering that way.” Charlotte called over to Hadrien, who stood from where he had been inspecting a low shelf of books. “Baby, is there anything you wanted to buy? We’re gonna walk over to the Shop with Mama Oya.”

“No, I’m good. I didn’t see anything that we don’t already have at the house.” Hadrien approached with a bright smile, giving Annabelle Brennan a wide berth. “Hey, Mimi!”

Oya’s smile was beaming as she reached up for Hadrien’s peach-fuzzed cheek. “I see you everyday, baby, and I swear you get taller every time. Just the spittin’ image of your Grandpa and Uncle.”

Hadrien beamed and stopped ever so slightly to press a kiss to his de facto grandmother’s cheek.

They left without glancing at Annabelle Brennan. Meandering idly, Hadrien regaled Mama Oya and Charlotte with a complicated potion he had been helping his uncles with all summer.

“Nonc Ogun said that my-“ he stopped short in front of a beignet shop. “Do you think they’ve eaten?” 

“Your uncles?” Charlotte glanced at her watch. “I doubt it. It’s only 10:30, baby.”

“I’ll get them coffee and some pastries then. Be back in a second.” 

Charlotte smiled. “Get me a coffee too, H. Mama Oya?”

Mama Oya pinched Hadrien’s cheek. “Me too, baby. Thank you.”

When Hadrien was clear of the door, Mama Oya glanced down at Charlotte. “You shouldn’t let her get to you.”

Charlotte smiled. “She doesn’t. I’ve known her all my life and the worst she can do is try to taunt me about my divorce? A divorce I wanted and instigated?” Charlotte grinned. “Pathetic. I ain’t worried about her.”

Oya hooked her hand in Charlotte’s elbow. “Who then? Who are you worried about?”

“My son, me, all of my family including the Dillioles..” Charlotte shrugged. “I love NOLA, it’s in my blood-“

“But?”

Charlotte sighed. “But I’m not sure how much longer I can be here without hexing someone into the next century.”

Oya frowned. “Are people harassing you? If so, I can get Amadioha or Eshu to walk around with you.”

“No… that’s not necessary. They both have more important things to be doin’ than babysitting me.”

Oya clicked her tongue. “They would happy -proud- to keep their Auntie Charlie safe, you know that, especially if you’re being harassed.”

“It’s not that bad.” Charlotte sighed. “People mostly just stare or make little snide comments. I kinda wish someone would try something. Give me a reason.” Charlotte caught her eyes. “I just- I’m done. I don’t have it in me to pretend anymore. To show people only what they want. To allow them to spew shit about situations they know nothing about without retaliation. It’s killin’ me.”

Oya nodded. “You’ve never been good at politicking, playing nice. Straight to the point. It’s one of the reasons we should’ve known that you didn’t want to be with him. That there was more going on.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I worked real hard for a long time to keep y’all out of it. I just wish I had said something sooner.”

Oya nodded. “I know, baby, I know.”

“I just don't know if I can be me here. Everyone already has an opinion here. About me, about the family, about the divorce. I feel like I’m suffocating.” She sighed. “I'm trying to make it to January but I don’t know if I can.”

“When Hadrien turns eighteen.” 

Charlotte nodded. “I have an interview. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“For a job?” 

“Yeah, with a school out in the UK.”

“Hogwarts?” Oya whistled. “Ain’t that somethin’?”

Charlotte swallowed. “They’ve finished fixing up the school after the- after and the Headmistress was their transfiguration professor so they need a new one.”

Oya smiled and pinched at her cheek. “Well, I’ll miss you for sure, but I can’t think of a better person to take over a transfiguration professorship.”

Charlotte turned wide, vulnerable eyes on Oya. “Are you sure?”

Oya pressed a kiss to Charlotte’s forehead. “Never been surer about anythin’, cher. You are the best transfiguration master I’ve ever met.”

Charlotte breathed deep and nodded. “One thing that would make it easier, tell you what. Once Dad’s divorce is final…”

Oya sucked on her tongue. “Hush you.”

Charlotte grinned. “Gotta get rid of your boy toys though.”

Oya pursed her lips to tamp down her smile.

**

Charlotte yawned and glanced at her watch. 

6:00 am. Goddamn.

She could barely keep her eyes open as she dropped her portkey into the waiting basket, set down the bird cage in her hands and stepped off the platform. 

This is bullshit. People don’t actually exist at this hour.

She looked around quietly, hoping to catch sight of not only the customs office, but also a coffee shop? Or at least someone who could tell her where to find one?

She sighed upon seeing the customs office, sans coffee, and made her way towards the line she could already see forming, catching a brief glimpse of herself in a large decorative mirror. 

She winced, taking in her bedraggled appearance.  

As per normal, her blonde hair was a mess of frizzy ringlets, her blue eyes tired and clouded over the bags that normally haunted the sleepless. To top it off, she hadn't really even bothered to get dressed beyond a faded t-shirt and a pair of cuffed, faded blue jeans that had once been dark. It just seemed too much effort to get all dressed up for traveling and the inevitable errands she had to run.

She shivered. It was full-summer sweltering, bordering on hellish in NOLA. She had worked up a sweat walking from the car to the porkey office in NOLA not thirty minutes ago. She would have to dig a sweater out of one of her bags at first opportunity.

She swallowed dryly and set her shoulders. She was a de Vilierè. She could do this.

She felt her posture collapse, the energy required to keep upright almost too taxing on her frayed nervous system. 

I’m not sure I’m human currently, much less me.

She pinched the bridge of her nose feeling the caffeine headache starting up.

There was so much to do after she finished fighting her way through the red tape. There were new clothes to buy, books to peruse, money to exchange and bank vaults to set up. She then had to portkey to some remote town in Scotland and become acquainted with the school that she would be living in for the foreseeable future.

She sighed and shook off a raging headache and a distinct sense of melancholy. Best get to work.

**

After an hour waiting in the line at the customs desk in the British Ministry's International Portkey Office, she imagined she had seriously considered casting nearly dozen unforgivables, a great majority of them directed at either the execrably slow customs officer or the man in front of her that sported excruciatingly severe body odor.

It took a further fifteen minutes of abject torture before the man in front of her moved away from the counter and cleared the way.

To be fair, she tried valiantly to put on a smile and remember the manners society expected of her, but upon reaching the front of the line, the portly woman found there launched into a laundry list of items that the Ministry had deemed 'restricted.' 

No hello. No good morning. Just a list of vegetables and restricted potions ingredients.

It took another ten minutes and all of her easily exhausted patience, after pulling nearly all of her worldly possessions out of her bespelled satchel, to convince the officer that she was carrying none of the restricted items  in her luggage.

Finally, after checking the last item off her list, the witch turned back to her and held out one chubby hand. “Hand me your wand, Ms. de Vilieré.”

Charlotte raised a blonde eyebrow in response, both at the butchering of her name (de Vil-ear) and the idea of placing what amounted to a part of her soul into the hand of a customs officer who she doubted would treat it with the respect it deserved. Knowing it would get her nowhere, she relented and handed her the wand.

The woman examined the wand carefully and then measured it, calling back to one of her cronies, “Yew, ten inches, with...” She paused and cast a spell on the wand, “A snake's scale.” She shot Charlotte a skeptical look. “You yanks believe that snake scales hold magical properties?”

Charlotte smiled frostily, her deep south accent deepening further (if that was even possible) in irritation. “It's not just any snake, it's Li Grand Zombi and it does hold magical properties or it wouldn't be in my wand.”

“It's a zombie snake?” The woman guffawed. “I'll believe it when I see it.” 

“I can demonstrate if y’want.”

The woman froze, staring at her from under her lashes. “No, mum, it’s not necessary.” 

Charlotte simpered. “If you’re sure.”

She cleared her throat and gave the wand an experimental flick, turning her back on Charlotte. “Yew, ten inches, springy and with a zombie snake's scale at the heart.”

A red-headed man sat behind her and stared at Charlotte from behind a set of clerical file drawers. “Got it, Matilda.”

Matilda cast an appraising look at Charlotte and whispered, a bad parody of sotte voce. “Though, I reckon she’s not the type we’d be wantin’ ‘ere after You Know Who.”

The man nodded. “Yew wood and a snake core. Bad omens, they are.”

Charlotte grit her teeth. “Can I please have my wand back, Matilda?”

Matilda looked uncomfortable and handed back her wand. “Here y’go, mum.” She nodded, awkward anxiety written in her posture. “You’re done ‘ere, mum. Passport control and visas are two floors up.”

Charlotte thanked her quietly as she accepted her wand. She made to leave and paused. “For the record, Voldemort didn’t have nothin’  on some of our racist madmen.” Charlotte delighted in their shivers, fighting down her conscience. “And I’m an absolute pussycat compared to them. Adieu.”

She didn’t get far before regretting her ill temper. She’d be lucky to make it to Hogwarts at this rate. Matilda was probably calling the passport office right now.

Tossed out because I couldn’t watch my mouth. Who’da thunk?

Charlotte glanced up at the clock and cussed under her breath. She made her way towards where she assumed the elevators were. She had at least another hour of bureaucracy and red tape before she could do something fun.

Three hours later, she was sitting on a bench in the middle of the now-bustling Portkey Authority, trying valiantly to fight of the wave of sleepiness that had latched onto her mind with a vengeance as soon as she stopped moving.

As it were, she was quickly falling into a light doze when an indignant squawk broke its way through the fog of sleepiness.

“Hermés, shh.”

The squawking did not stop and the bird-cage sitting next to her on the bench shook violently. Charlotte sighed a little and, with a small indulgent smile, twisted around to find her steadily over-filled satchel on the other side of the bench next to her. She pulled out a bird treat and moved the leather cover out of the way looking at the falcon within.

She offered the treat as one would offer a peace treaty and got a hearty nip to her forefinger for her trouble.

“Yeah, yeah, screw you too, bitch. You never stay angry for long, and you know it.” She reached into the cage and smoothed the ruffled feathers on the falcon’s head, before retrieving another bird treat.

“I don't mean to intrude, mum, but are you Charlotte de Vilierè?”

Vil-i-ear. She shrugged. It was better.

Charlotte started and turned toward the representative of the Authority she somehow missed approaching. “Um yeah, that’s me.”

The short man cleared his throat. “Well, we are ready when you are, ma’am.”

“Yeah. Okay.” She took a deep breath and grabbed Hermés’ cage. “Let's go.”

**

Charlotte took another deep breath of clean, cool air, trying really hard to not jostle Hermés in his cage. She looked around Hogsmeade slowly, taking in what amounted to a tiny sleepy village in its full summer splendor. The sun was bright, the foliage green and the air cool and clean, a startling difference to the muggy, sweltering heat of New Orleanian summers. 

She took another deep breath to savor the beauty around her and stepped further onto the street.

��Oh and yeh must be the new professor!”

Charlotte started and turned towards the large man standing next to a carriage. She nodded slowly watching as the man began to walk towards her. He shot her a broad grin, then stuck a hand out.

“Th' name is Hagrid, I teach Care of Magical Creatures. Nice ta meet yeh, Professor.”

Charlotte felt her body relax, smiling easily and slipping her hand into his. “Charlotte de Vilieré. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

Smiling, he reached for the bird cage in her hand and relieved her of her satchel as well. He bowed slightly and opened the door for her. “Go ahead, then. Get in the carriage. I'll be taking yeh up to the grounds.”

She nodded again and made for the carriage quickly. “Um thank you.”

He smiled and nodded then followed her into the carriage, setting Hermés on the ground between them. “You're welcome.” He settled back and shifted around her until he was comfortable. “So where are you from, Professor? The headmistress said you were from across the pond, but was mum as to where exactly.” A small self-deprecating smile flitted across his face. “Probably guessed we wouldn't have no clue what she was talking about anyways.”

Charlotte smiled softly.  “I'm from New Orleans, Louisiana.” At his look of confusion, she clarified. “It's in the South, along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico.”

Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. “Mardi Gras, right? I don’t rightly know where that is but I've heard about Mardi Gras. I probably coulda guessed that you were from the South from your accent.”

She chuckled lightly. “It is rather distinct. Maybe when I am settled in I can show you New Orleans on a map.”

“I would like that, professor.” Hagrid smiled broadly again. “So you're gonna be takin' over teachin' Transfiguration?”

“Um, yes. I'll be teaching Transfiguration and taking over a couple of the Arithmancy classes so that Professor Vector, I believe, can do more research.”

The sound of gates swinging open cut off the rest of the conversation.

“We're here.”

**

“This here is Professor Snape, our Deputy Headmaster. He'll be showin' yeh around Hogwarts.” Hagrid smiled brightly and motioned to the dour-looking man in all black standing on the steps of the school. As if sensing her anxiety, he whispered from somewhere over her head, and took Hermés’ birdcage from her hand. “I know he looks a fright, but he's a war-hero. Never met someone as brave ‘n trustworthy as the professor. Man deserves to be a little grumpy after what all happened. I’ll take your owl and your bags to your quarters.”

She nodded absently, choosing not to mention that he didn’t look a ‘fright’. He wasn’t smiling, sure, looked to be pretty ticked to be standing there, but that wasn’t the problem. 

She had done her research and knew who Severus Snape was. She knew to expect some curmudgeon-esque behavior. His personality had been extensively reported on, but so had his deeds, his skill, his intelligence. 

Severus Snape was capable and, while she knew she was intelligent and the Headmistress had been impressed with her, seventeen years trapped in a marriage had done little for her professional confidence. The imposter syndrome was kicking her ass. 

That and he was attractive. Sure, he wasn’t Brad Pitt or Leonardo DiCaprio, but she’d never been really interested in conventional. He was tall and intense and wore intelligence and ambition like armor. 

It had been a long while since she’d felt any type of attraction for anyone. It was enough to set her nerves on edge.

And honestly, she probably looked like she had been dragged backwards through a swamp. Bedraggled and disheveled.

Her mother’s voice came to her unbidden. Really Lottie. Put more effort into how you look. That’s your job as a wife, to be ornamental. He didn’t marry you for your brain.

Maybe if you took being Beau’s wife more seriously he wouldn’t-

She shook herself free of that memory and started up the stairs toward the tall man. She wiped her hands on her jeans, hoping he didn’t see, knowing by his sneer that he did. “Hello, Professor Snape. I am Charlotte de Vilieré.”

One black eyebrow rose as a pair of black eyes looked down in disgust at her hand. His eyes flickered back up to hers and he intoned a brief: “I'm aware.”

She breathed deep. So it begins. “‘Course.”

He hummed. 

Her jaw clenched slightly, before she forced herself to relax. “Nice to meet you.”

“I'm sure.” He sighed negligently and waved her into the castle. “Shall we? The Headmistress thinks it a good idea that I show you around the school.” His tone left no room for imagination as to his feelings on the matter. 

She sighed and followed after him, noting with more than a little resignation, that he seemed determined to lose her. At maybe six-three or six-four and towering a foot-plus over her not particularly impressive five-two, he had a much longer stride and used it to his advantage. He was in the building before she even had time to clear the first level of stairs.

Breathing deeply, she scampered behind him. Once in the building - the castle, good god, where am I?- she became easily distracted by the architecture, the smell, the feel of the place. Nothing in NOLA, as opulent and storied as it was, could compare to this.

He stopped abruptly, she almost ran full-tilt into his back, and turned towards her, watching in sarcastic amusement as she put a hand to her chest and huffed a shaky, “Shit.”

“Having problems keeping up, Ms. de Vilieré?”

What a dick. She glared at him and stood up straight. “Please continue, Professor.”

The smirk fell from his face, indicating that she had likely said that out loud. She flushed and felt a brief stab of something more than anxiety as he appraised her with dark eyes. 

He seemed to come to some decision and turned away, drawling a quiet: “Indeed.”

Turning toward the giant doors in front of them, one large hand came out from the depths of his pockets with a wand. A negligent flick of his wrist later and the doors opened.

She followed him into the room and looked up at the enchanted ceiling silently, awestruck by the sheer complexity of the charms needed to pull something like that off.

“Do close your mouth, Ms. de Vilieré. It is rude to gape.” He shot her a smug look and continued to walk further into the room. “This is the Great Hall...”

After that she found it rather hard to concentrate on what he was saying. Somewhere in between imagining a dozen or so wordless, wandless jinxes she could throw at him, she completely zoned out.

She was just considering the mathematics behind a wandless color change spell, when the subject of these musings cleared his throat.

“Ms. de Vilieré, if you would kindly listen when I speak to you.” 

With a swift shake of the head, the woman rejoined the world of the living and stared up at the very tall man in black with tired eyes, realizing yet again just how tired she was. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, chastising herself. She seriously considered attempting to throw a jinx at the man just because he was being a little ornery.

“Professor Snape?” A sour look passed over his face briefly as he waited for her to continue. Her accent was thick with exhaustion and she was sure she looked a mess, but she struggled to focus on his disapproving black eyes for more than a few seconds. “I know that it's pretty late in the afternoon here, and that by all rights I should be as cheerful as you, but,” she paused to yawn, peeking with one eye over the hand shielding her mouth at the glowering man, “But I have not stopped goin' since midnight and I need to sleep desperately.”

He looked down his long nose at her, black eyebrow raised in disdain. “I see. In that case, I will show you to your quarters. Will that suffice?”

She nodded mid-yawn before adjusting her tote on her shoulder. “By all means, lead the way.”

He nodded curtly and turned sharply on his heel. “This way, Professor.”

**

When next he saw her, this time hours later at staff dinner, she looked if possible, even more ridiculous. She seemed to be wearing the same trousers as she had been wearing this afternoon, wrinkled as if she had fallen asleep in them, accompanied by an over-large gray sweatshirt, with the word ‘Saints’ emblazoned across the front in garish gold lettering. Her curly blonde hair was free of the ponytail it had been in earlier and had formed a cloud around her head that made her look like an overgrown mushroom.

A beautiful mushroom, to be honest, with an alluring, impressively glowing recommendation from Minerva and a surname that tickled at his memory for some god forsaken reason. 

But a mushroom, nonetheless. 

She approached the table timidly, with the near imperceptible scuff of trainers on stone, and made for the only open seat, the one directly across from him.

The table fell silent, even Rolanda and Lupin choosing to forgo their rather obnoxiously loud discussion of quidditch in lieu of watching the tiny, blushing woman take her seat.

Minerva cringed slightly at the woman's less-than-professional appearance, before forcing a thin, polite smile on her face. She cast a look at Severus and he knew immediately that she was warning him to play nice. “And how did your travels go, Professor de Vilieré?”

“Charlotte’s fine.” The woman smiled, her hair arranging itself into a neat bun of its own accord. 

Wandless and wordless. Severus shrugged it off, it was likely a spell she had been using most of her life. Proficiency was a given. 

“It went alright, I guess, Headmistress. Thanks for askin’. I'm exhausted but I reckon I'll be right as rain in the morning.” She shrugged with a self-deprecating smile. “And more put together too.”

Minerva responded with a pleasantry he didn't care to catch and the woman responded in kind with a soft smile and soft admonition he couldn’t make out. 

As she spoke recounting some particular or another about her journey, he allowed himself to listen to the odd cadence of her voice. Her voice was soft and her accent thick and drawling, lacking the staccato rhythm of the Minerva’s brogue and brusque quality of his own voice, but there was something annoyingly pleasant about it.

Like almost everything else about her, he decided it was irritating. She was a lesson in extremes. She was too short, her hair too wild, her jumper too garish and her accent too American. She couldn't just be average.

That thought led into another rather interesting thought. Why was it that this blasted school couldn't hire anyone normal? 

“Severus!” A long fingered hand landed on his sleeve heavily. “Are you quite alright, dear?”

Severus snapped to attention and focused on Minerva. “Yes.”

“What has you so distracted?” She retracted her hand.

He sighed, frustrated that he had been caught lost in his thoughts. “It is of no importance.” He caught de Vilieré’s eyes and grunted, looking down at his food.

**

“That jumper, Ms. de Vilieré, may I assume that it is in...support, shall we say, of a sports team?” Despite his polite, maybe even pleasant, phrasing, the deep baritone of his voice dripped with sarcasm. He didn’t like her or her sweater and desired that she knew it.

The asshole.

She looked up from the mush she had made on her plate and caught his arched eyebrow with one of her own, and spoke in a deliberately cheerful voice, nodding. “The New Orleans Saints. They are my hometown’s professional football- American Football- team.” She deliberately ignored his contemptuous look.

“Ahh,” he drawled, smirking slightly. “Muggle football, I’d suspect.”

She breathed deep, trying to steady herself. “Yeah, it’s a no-maj sport.”

“Not Quidditch?” Professor Hooch frowned. “Do Americans play quidditch?”

“Some people are into it. There’s a club league in NOLA that my brother-in-law tried out once. Quidditch is more popular up north, I think. The South has been obsessed with Football as long as people have been playing it.” Charlotte smiled. “To be honest, I don't think I've ever watched Quidditch. I’m not really a sports girl."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Then why the jumper, I wonder?"

Charlotte shrugged, watching as the Headmistress shot Snape a look. "I think my brother gave me this sweater, to be honest, or my dad.”

Professor Hooch looked scandalized. “Did you play quidditch at Ilvermorny?”

Charlotte smiled. “I didn’t go to Ilvermorny. The US is a very large country. Most states have their own school or schools. I went to the Convent - the Lafreniere School of Magic in New Orleans. The no-majs believe the school buildings are an old Ursuline Convent. Most still call it the Convent rather than by the school’s official name. Everyone in my family went there and it’s, like, right around the corner from our house. My dad wouldn’t have felt too secure sending his children that far from home.”

“It’s not a boarding school?” Professor Lupin leaned forward.

Charlotte rubbed at her face. Their questions were to be expected but this level of social engagement was exhausting her already rock bottom stores of energy. “No. Most schools in the States don’t board their students. Ilvermorny does and I think there’s a boarding school out in California.”

“I’ve heard that Americans often pursue higher education. Did you attend university?”

Charlotte winced imperceptibly, having dreaded this question. “I had planned to. Life got complicated around the end of my time at the Convent.”

“Complicated?” Snape drummed the pad of his middle finger against the table, dark eyes on her.

Charlotte nodded. “Complicated. I decided it would be more feasible to pursue apprenticeship in my chosen fields.”

“Complicated how?” 

She turned back to Snape and considered him quietly. “Complicated enough that it derailed many of my personal plans.”

He caught her eyes and held them for a long moment.

“How interesting.” The Headmistress smiled, sensing the rising tension. “The differences in culture are astounding.”

She blinked and he looked down.

Sprout leaned forward, ignoring her. “I’ve heard about something called Mardi Gras?”

Mar-tee Grass. Jesus Christ. 

Charlotte chuckled but didn’t correct her. “It’s one of the things New Orleans is famous for. It means Fat Tuesday. It’s the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday.” 

“Ash Wednesday?”

Professor Snape sighed. “The Wednesday before the start of Lent.”

He was met with blank stares. He caught Charlotte’s eyes. “The forty days before Easter. Meant as a time of repentance. Catholics observe it.”

Professor Sprout turned back to her. “Are you Catholic?” 

The look on her face must have been unedited because Professor Lupin chuckled. 

She marshaled herself and made a so-so motion with her hands. “Culturally, I guess. I did all the sh- rites that were expected of me. But I haven’t willingly stepped inside a church in years.” She shrugged. 

“Why did you do all the rites if you don’t think you believe it?”

“Pomona!”

Charlotte nodded at the Headmistress. “It’s okay. It was expected of me, given my cultural heritage and family. I don’t know of any member of a Creole family that would risk social censure by rejecting Catholicism. You just do it, take Communion, light the candle, get it over with. Grease the wheels and all that.”

“How do you know about Lent, Severus?” Pomona turned to Snape with curious eyes. 

“I was raised Catholic.” Snape nodded to Charlotte. “Similarly to Ms. de Vilierè, I did all the shite that was expected of me and no longer practice.”

“I didn’t know that about you, Severus.” Flitwick hummed, kind smile on his face. “What did you mean by Creole, Charlotte?”

“Being of French heritage from the city of New Orleans.” 

“And being Catholic is part of being Creole?”

“I think it’s widely assumed to be essential to being Creole.” 

“You would disagree?” Severus watched her quietly.

“I don’t think it matters if I agree.” She sighed. “New Orleanian magical communities are very… culture-bound and committed to maintaining tradition. As a result, these communities retain a lot of the historical prejudices that the no-maj communities have lost to some extent. My family is Creole and, outside of school, I didn’t really socialize with people who weren’t. Creoles live in the Quarter and go to Mass at St. Louis, Americans live across Canal Street and attend church at First Magical Baptist, the Irish live in the Channel and go to their local Catholic church, and so on. If I had wanted to change that, make a different decision, -hell, if I had wanted to move out of the Quarter- the social pressure would’ve been intense.”

“Americans? Aren’t you all American?” Lupin smiled.

“Now, yes, but again, the Creole magical community holds to a lot of older, traditional prejudices. There’s a pecking order- a superiority complex. We were the original colonists. I’ve always been taught to identify as Creole first, American second.” 

“What’s Cajun?”

Charlotte blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“What does the word Cajun refer to?” 

Charlotte’s smile felt tight. “Of French heritage from outside of the city.”

Professor Binns nodded. “I thought it was food.”

Charlotte breathed deep. “It means that too.”

The Headmistress sighed loudly and set her hands on the table with some amount of finality. “I think we’ve all asked too much of our new colleague already. She’ll be here past today so you can ask more questions at a later date.”

Professor Sinistra smiled. “New Orleans sounds fascinating.”

Charlotte ducked her head. “NOLA is unlike anywhere else in the US. It’s truly unique.”

“Why are you in Scotland then, I wonder?”

The air left the room with a whimper. The Headmistress rubbed at her face.

Charlotte nodded, biting at her lip, glancing over at Snape. There was a part of her that wanted to be honest and another, larger part that wanted to meet his sarcasm head-on. 

The latter part won. 

“The weather.”

Professor Sprout snorted.

He hummed, eyes on hers. “You’ll be disappointed then.”

She chuckled. “I already am. It was summer when I left NOLA this morning. I should’ve kept a jacket out when I packed. ‘Bout near froze.”

“Disappointed and of delicate constitution.” Snape sighed dramatically. “You’re not likely to last long here.”

The Headmistress's jaw clenched. “Severus.”

“I’m cold-natured, sure.” She shrugged, smiling the edgy little smile that used to irritate Beau. Despite the obvious being exactly what she meant, she clarified for the sake of professionalism. “I do get cold easily, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m delicate.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I wouldn’t worry about my longevity, I have survived much more frigid climes. I’m tougher than I look.”

Severus made a face that communicated clearly that he didn’t believe her. “I’m sure.”

She hummed. She wasn’t going to let him goad her into revealing more about herself than she was ready to share.

Professor Lupin glanced between the two of them. “At the risk of being nosy, why did you decide to move to Scotland?”

She considered Professor Lupin and saw Snape watch her out of the corner of her eye. After a moment, she shrugged. “The magical community of NOLA isn’t small, per say, but it is insulated and very interconnected.“ She paused and looked at Snape again. “I felt a little stifled at home, I guess. Needed a new environment.”

“A new environment for what?” Snape traced the wood grain of the table with a single long finger.

She bit back the urge to shock him with an absurd lie. “To grow, develop. A bit like a houseplant, I needed a new pot.”

Professor Sprout made a pleased sound.

“You felt stifled in a city with the culture and history you’ve spent the last hour describing?” He demurred sarcastically. “Your new pot may be a mite small.”

“I’m sure it’ll be alright. After all, it seems big enough for the current residents.” She lowered her chin, eyeing him from under her lashes. “If such illustrious company can grow to fit such a space, I’m sure I will do alright.”

Professor Lupin choked on his wine. Professor Flitwick dropped his silverware with a clatter. Hagrid froze as if he was in the presence of a predator.

“Touché, Ms. de Vilierè.” Snape nodded. 

Part 2

#severus snape #snape/oc #Severus Snape/oc #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #severus snape fanfiction #pro severus snape #fanon severus

[marysgffr]

Honestly, let's be so real about something. Was James a bully? Yes. Was it deserved? Also yes!! Let's talk about how Severus Snape was genuinely a bad person!! He was literally a child's boggart, something that scares them the most. He also created a spell that makes people bleed out?? Let's not act like he was innocent pls!! Also let's talk about he was literally CRIMINALLY obsessed with a woman for YEARS and then touched her dead body and ignored her crying child in the crib right next to him. AND THEN PROCEEDED TO MAKE HER CHILDS LIFE EVEN MORE HELL THAN IT ALREADY WAS.

#marauders #bartylus #jegulus #lily evans #mary macdonald #pandora lovegood #regulus black #dorcas meadowes #evan rosier #slytherin skittles #severus snape #saw a snape lover on tiktok and felt inspired #have your own opinion but lets please not ignore facts #but also #fanon #ig #but either way hes a bad person

[momo-t-daye]

Momo's Snapedom AU Ask Game!

I do love how the Snapedom has folks who write extensive meta with citations and how the Snapedom has oodles of people making a delightful diversity of AUs that gnaw on the bones of the canon narrative skeleton to cook up a more satisfying story-soup! So I thought it might be fun to put together a few questions for an ask game (after all, the fun part of fandom is interacting with other fans):

Do you have a name and/or a tag and/or a master post for your AU (so I can peruse your blog and admire your creativity)?

What is the premise of your AU (one sentence summary, tropes, your big “What-if” question, etc.!)?

Can you describe your AU badly?  (Because I do love hilariously misleading but not actually inaccurate descriptions of stories)

What your favorite thing about your AU? (Does it make you cackle with glee or do you break your own heart?)

What are the major divergence points in your AU?

Is there any part of the canon narrative you really like to build off of or interrogate with your AU?

Are there themes or motifs or specific concepts in your AU that you hope people will notice?  (Do you want to give hints about your masterful foreshadowing or chat about your extensive world building?  Should we all grab a floriography dictionary when flowers are mentioned?)

What are some key life moments in your AU!Snape’s life that differ from canon!Snape’s life?

How and why does your AU!Snape differ from the canon!Snape?

Would your AU!Snape want to trade places with canon!Snape (and vice versa!)? Why?

Do you know if Severus going to escape the gravitational pull of the canon narrative/fate in your AU?

Do you think any other characters are going to escape the gravitational pull of their canon narrative/fate in your AU?  If so, can any of that extra AU!velocity be attributed to Severus’ actions?

What era does your AU primarily take place in (is it focused on part of the canon timeline? Is the canon timeline adjusted a few years one way or another? Or are you playing with a futuristic sci-fi AU or a historical AU or something else entirely?  Maybe you have a 1998!Snape dealing with life in 1942 or some other combination?)

What is his childhood and/or family life like in your AU?  Is it better than his canon life starting out in Cokeworth?

Does Lily exist in your AU?  Are Severus and Lily friends in your AU?

Do any of the Marauders exist in your AU?  What role do they play in your AU Severus’ life?

Do the Malfoys exist in your AU?  How do they interact with your version of Severus?

Does Voldemort exist in your AU?  Does Severus join his cause at any point in your AU?

Does Dumbledore exist in your AU?  What role does he play in Severus’ life in your AU?

Does Harry Potter exist in your AU?  How does he interact with Severus in your AU?

Is there another canon character that plays a major role in your AU!Snape’s life?  What role do they play and how does it differ from their canon relationship with Snape?

Is an Original Character a major feature and player in your AU?  Who are they? What role do they play AU!Severus’ life?  How do they interact with any other canon characters in your story?

Does Severus have a significant other (or others) in your AU?

Does Severus have children in your AU?

Is Severus Snape the Hogwarts Potions Master in your AU?  If not, what is he doing instead?

Does Severus have any major interests (mycology, astronomy, sci-fi, baking elaborate puff pastries, art forgery, etc.) in your AU that we never got to see canon!Snape indulge in?  Do these interests play a major narrative role?

Do you have a snippet of prose (or an art piece or a list of headcanons) from your AU that you particularly enjoy and want to share?

Free space!  Any other questions folks want to ask?

#Severus Snape #Snapedom #snape fandom #snape community #prosnape #ask game #My questions are going to come from the main blog because I'm not tech savvy and didn't quite grasp what a sideblog was... #Canon is a scaffold and fanon is a funhouse mirror and I'd love to see what you're reflecting on!

[starrylayle]

Regulus’ character in fanon is so funny coz — guy who gets abused by his parents? Gets peer pressured to join the death eaters? Highly intelligent? An excellent potions master? Like babe ur describing kid Snape u can come out of the closet as a snapie I promise u are still loved (maybe)

#anti regulus black #I’m not even a snape fan btw #just think that his character is more complex and interesting than anti-snapies give hime credit for #marauders hcs #marauders #the severus snape-ification of regulus black #reg already has an interesting character on his own #if u like kid snapes character traits then just Stan kid snape #I feel like the only fan fiction I’ve seen that accurately depicts reg’s personality is ‘choices’ by messermoon #(I don’t like james’ character in that fic tho lol) #but yeah anyways #every other fanon interpretation of reg is basically just how kid Sev is

[slytherwrites]

Hello, I hope I am not disturbing you. Your writings are great. If you are getting requests, can you write for yandere husband Pollux Black, Crygnus Black, Orion Black, Alphard Black, Severus Snape, Gellert Grindelwald, Aberfort Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore? Please

You're not bothering me at all! I love requests! Here are your husbands lol

Characters: Pollux Black, Cygnus Black, Orion Black, Alphard Black, Severus Snape, Gellert Grindelwald, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Albus Dumbledore

TWs: Yandere Content, implications of forced sex, implications of forced pregnancy

Pollux Black

There was no denying it. Pollux was drunk out of his mind.

He'd always carried himself with guilt. A twin who's brother died in the womb. The firstborn son of his father, thus complicit in whatever he wanted, in order to keep his place in the family. He was man who's back was so spineless that it should've curled in on himself already. A disappointment, not proving himself better than Arcturus and not securing the switch in power between his branch of the family and Arcturus'.

But he was you husband, and you had to stick by his side.

"Baby," He crooned in you ear, "You know I love you. You know your the only one for me."

"I am aware."

"Oh, darling I need you, there's no one else for me." He continues, "Love is just what keeps me going. And love is just you in that dress."

"Is that some song?"

"Loving you is just what I do best..."

You take the cup from his hand and slip him out of his formal robes. The reception is over. Cassiopeia got out of this family and is married to someone who loves her. You wish you could say the same.

"It's how I feel, darling." Pollux continues, "I can't stand to see people around you."

"I'm all yours, Pollux." You tell him, "I'm all yours."

"When are you going to act like it then." He whines as more layers get removed between the two of you. You've holed up in the main manor, in one of the side rooms. Pollux is too drunk to apparate or use the floo network. And nobody in the Black Family would dare be seen riding the Knight Bus.

"I do act like it." You tell yourself, "I'm yours, Pollux."

"You don't say I love you. You recoil from my touch. You refuse to call me anything other than my first name." Pollux's tone gets serious, "You don't act like you love me."

"I love you." You tell him.

He grabs your shoulders and throws you onto the bed with him, "Then start acting like it."

"Pollux—" You tried to put some distance between the two of you, "Pollux, wait."

"No." His tone was much more sober, even if he was still slurring his words, "No. You are mine. Quit acting like you're not."

"Please—" You start but he interrupts you, "No! No. You are my wife. You shall act like it."

"I do!" You try to get back onto your feet, "I do!"

"I am your husband and you are my wife." He says, "We shall be one. We shall grow ourselves—our family."

What he means dawns on you and you know that this was always a part of your marriage contract, but you believed that by the time it happened, you'd be in love with him.

You tried and your tried but the light are off and the curtain is closing. This performance is over and act two's about to begin. This time, with a proper pureblood family from the two of you.

Cygnus Black

Cygnus was raised as a righteous man. He has a duty to the family—to live long and prosper. And he wanted to do that with you. Second-born son of the second-born line, he wasn't close to leading the family, even in his wildest dreams.

But he could lead his own family. And he wanted to create that family and that legacy with you and you alone.

"Spin." Your dress robes shimmered with the brightness of the stars themselves, the glimmer bouncing off of them in the waves of your turns, shining as bright as you do.

You don't say anything to him as he takes in your figure. You need to be perfect for him. It is your wedding day, after all.

"Muggles wait to see what they're partner is wearing until they are right in front of them." Cygnus notes, "What fools they are."

"How do you know what muggles do at weddings?" You try to laugh, tease him so that this moment isn't as daunting for you.

"Because I do." Cygnus growls, "Don't question your husband."

"You're not my husband yet." You laugh weakly for your own sake. Cygnus has always been quick to anger, quick to contempt. Hopefully you're quicker—especially than he is at action.

"Look at me." He grabs your arm and squeezes until all of the blood rushes from the hold, "You do not question me. I am your husband. It would behoove you to learn that quickly."

"Alright." You rub your wrist, comforting yourself, "I understand."

"I'll train you up. Don't worry." He says, "You'll learn before our children are born. You'll be an optimal parent. You'll be the perfect spouse. I'll make sure of it."

Somehow, you silently note, that you know that you'll never be as perfect as he needs, no matter how much he teaches and you endure.

Orion Black

Orion Black looked at you with a gaze so sharp it could pierce your body and soul. His straight black hair was combed neatly. His eyes were concrete grey and he kept his face just with the hints of what his beard could be if he didn't shave it regularly. His suit was crisp and clean and his shoes shined like motor oil.

He was well dressed and angry at something. And he was looking at you to fix it.

You took the initiative, silently accio-ing a bottle and a glass, pouring him a drink and then handing it to him. "Rough day?"

He takes the glass you offer, "News you won't like."

"What is it?" You ask, "I can handle it."

"I know, darling. You're so strong for me." Orion takes a sip of the drink and bridges the gap between the two of you, taking your hands into his, "They know the gender of Druella's baby."

The realization dawns on you, "Another girl."

"Yes," He offers you a sympathetic smile, "You've always been bright."

"I don't think coming to that conclusion took much brain power."

"I talked with my grandfather. He's expecting us to pick up the slack."

"Have the heir." You fill in.

Orion nods.

"No." You put your foot down, "That was the deal. I was to stay with you, play the perfect Black Family Wife and I would remain financed, protected, and untouched."

"That was if Cygnus was able to have a male heir." Orion says, "Do you think that I want to go back on that arrangement?"

"Then don't!"

"And have Bellatrix be the next Head of the Black Family?" Orion asks, "I'm already set up to be heir. It was always expected of me."

"It's not going to be expected of me."

"Yes it was." Orion's grip tightens, "We are already wed. You are mine. You cannot leave. Now you can do this the easy way, or I'll imperio you."

"You wouldn't."

He looks you in the eye and reaches for his wand. He doesn't say the words outright, but you made a deal with the devil so he wouldn't hurt you further. And maybe you will have to slide back on that deal a bit. But if you didn't, he'd take it painfully. And he would feel as if he could take more and more out of you.

You can keep some semblance of control this way. And what's one kid in the grand scheme of things?

Alphard Black

Alphard Black loved you to the moon and back. He was Hephaestus and you were Aphrodite, but like the mythical husband and wife, you were not loyal.

No, you'd found your Ares.

A muggleborn, in fact. Some man in the French Ministry of Magic who's been in Britain working on a project. Alphard didn't care who he was or what he done, except for when it was with you.

He used muggle means of subduing him. He's always been fascinated in the magicless. After all, he took you as his wife, even after his family threatened him.

It took all of his convincing to prove that you'd be a good partner, despite being a squib. You can still produce magical children after all. And he's not of the main line anyways.

But you had to go and fuck it up, didn't you?

He has your man tied up in a chair in the parlor, stripped of his wand and his clothing. He was still out cold and you came running when your darling husband told you oh, so sweetly that he had a surprise for you.

He stands over and behind your passed out lover. He's able to see your face when you notice what's gone on. And he can see the horror on your face as you see his manic smile.

"Alphie... what did you do?" You take a step closer, kneeling in front of your lover, "Alphie! What are you doing!"

"Don't Alphie me, sweetheart." He replies, "I saved you from a horrid life in the muggle world and this is how you repay me? By fucking some muggleborn swine!"

"Alphie, it's not what you think..."

"No, baby, it is what I think." He says, "I've been working and you've had a bit too much free time. So you took a man who would give you that attention. I'm sorry, darling. But I'll give you the attention you deserve."

"Alphie, please!" You try to reason with him, but he grabs a knife, "You can't do this!"

"Oh but I can. Knife to the head, incendio for the corpse, and aguamenti to put out the flames. It's simple, really."

You try to run to your lover, standing with him so that if Alphard was to light him ablaze, he'd have to do so to you as well. But Alphard casts a spell you don't recognize and you fall to the floor as you loose consiousness.

You come too as the fire dies down. Your lover no more than ashes. Alphard has himself pressed against your back, arms around your waist. He's singing the song at your wedding and it dawns on you:

You can never escape. You will never escape. The world that you admired so much and was desperate to be a part of you had a chokehold on you so strong that you were unable to leave it, even if you wanted to.

Severus Snape

You were in this marriage for your own personal protection.

The Snape name wasn't known as a Wizarding name just yet, but Severus was a halfblood. He could trace his lineage.

You could not, on account of being a muggleborn.

Honestly, with how Severus acted, you'd wished a death eater would take you out already. It wasn't nearly as torturous as being the wife to such an insufferable man.

"Darling," His slow manner of speaking irritated you, as if you couldn't handle him speaking any faster than this, "You mustn't linger about like that. You seem unhappy."

"And what if I am unhappy?"

"With the favor I have provided you?" He asks, "It would be foolish of you."

"Then call me a fool."

In all honesty, he was right. Staring out the window in the muggle home the two of you shared wasn't healthy for you. It only served to remind you of the home and happiness that you have since lost.

You change the subject, "How is your lord faring?"

"Better, now that he's decided on whomst his biggest threat is."

"Not Albus Dumbledore?"

"No, not Albus Dumbledore." Severus won't tell you more than that and you do not push the matter.

"Anything interesting in the potions you've been making?"

"No." He replies, "It is all the basics for getting a potions mastery. I will have to show it to the Potions Mastery Committee, down at the Ministry."

"You're heading into London?"

"I was planning on flooing, actually."

"Pick me up a new book." You turn to look at him, seeing him flip through the pages of his own book, "I've finished the last in that series and I want something of a similar author."

"Alright." He replies, not looking up at you. You look at his face, still ever-present in his book.

You suppose that he could be worse. He could be active in this situation, not just complacent in your slow torment under this roof. He could lay an unjust hand on you. He could treat you like the other wives of Death Eaters.

There is a mercy in how he acts. There is love in his distance.

You could reciprocate it, you could let it grow and blossom. But for now, you let the waves splash softly against the sand that is the foundation of your relationship with the man.

Gellert Grindelwald

Gellert Grindelwald doesn't love you.

The truth of the matter is that he's never loved anyone, only having obsessions. And, for all of his life, he's only been obsessed with two individuals: Albus Dumbledore—and you.

The fact that you have something in common with Albus Dumbledore makes you laugh. Him, one of the greatest wizards of all time, and you, a witch with so much self-loathing you almost formed an obscurus.

Almost, being the key word. For Gellert Grindelwald made it certain that you would not succumb to this deadly affliction, that you would find love within yourself and the world and its magic, so that you would keep on living.

And, it was all so he can keep you funneled away, hidden from the rest of the world in a small flat near Godric's Hollow.

It's embarrassing really, how quickly you fell for him. And yet, he does not love you, even after all that he did to make you love him.

You just stare off into the fireplace, awaiting his arrival. Because he's the only thing that keeps you from slipping into that state again. He's the only thing that brings you joy.

Aberforth Dumbledore

Aberforth wasn't the gloriest of husbands you could of had.

In all honesty, you befriended him to get closer to Albus. That was the real catch, your mother told you. Handsome, intelligent, hardworking—the world was falling at his feet and you could've been the woman smiling by his side, perfectly cared for and content while he tool the Wizarding World by storm.

But Aberforth had to actually take a liking to you, one he took violently, one that tarnished your reputation afterwards.

One thing lead to another and there was a child between the two of you. Aberforth made you an honest woman and you got yourself stuck with a child you didn't want, a job you hated, and a husband you hated even more.

At least nobody cares about what you did, out of wedlock. It's been decades now. You and Aberforth are over a century old. So is Albus.

And even if you can't call Albus Dumbledore yours, you still get to be near him and bask in his intellect. You two are friends, even if you always wanted to be something more.

Albus Dumbledore

He was an odd man. Never violent, even if you wished he would be.

He was kind, wise, put love as the forefront of everything, even though you didn't love him.

You didn't even like him. No, you were filled with pure, unadulterated hatred for your husband.

He's a gentle man. Smart, intelligent, caring. He keeps to himself on most occasions and lets you roam the walls of Hogwarts freely, just like you did, when the two of you were students.

You remember him well, you suppose. Back then, he wasn't like this. Back then, he was easier to endure. Back then, your dislike of him was validated.

Now, he's the war hero and headmaster of the greatest wizarding school in the world. He's saved countless of lives and mentored everyone who's walked through the walls of Hogwarts for the past century or so.

And it's exhausting, staying by his side. You're expected to be a proud person, prideful in your husband's work and all he has done, joyful in how the Dumbledore name has flourished and grateful for the man you've married.

But you are not here willingly. You would not have joined his side by choice.

You honestly hope Minister Fudge finds a way to oust him. Maybe his crimes in the wars will be released. Maybe he'll keel over and die already.

Because being the partner to such a perfect man is exhausting. Especially when you're the only one who sees all of his flaws.

#yandere hp #yandere alphard black #yandere pollux black #yandere cygnus black #yandere orion black #yandere severus snape #yandere gellert grindlewald #yandere aberforth dumbedore #yandere albus dumbledore #i'm not too familiar with fanon interpretations of these characters so if something seems off that's why #some of these are more fem aligned than others that's just how the cookie crumbles i guess #vaguely fantastic beasts canon with this because ive only seen the first one and seen discussions of the latter two

[righteousenjoymentofthunder]

procrastinating studying by reading fanfic... and reading the third chapter and being absolutely SLAPPED in the face with mischaracterisation. and then im like: this concept had SO MUCH potential? *goes to write the fic im thinking of*

#snape/sirius is so interesting in concept but this fic was literally mansplaining the idea of sirius being raised by blood purists and snape #being a halfblood AS IF THEY HAVENT KNOWN EACH OTHER SINCE THEY WERE 11. #(mansplaining to each other when they're 30 years old and actively on the other side of the war from each other) #also i know this is more a fanon thing but sirius would know snape is a halfblood and probably all the way back to where snape is related t #him on the wreath of british pureblood family trees #hp #harry potter #severus snape #sirius black #disclaimer that i know fanfic is written for fun and not that serious but like. spitefic motivations #marauders #fanfic #writing #posts