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my-castles-crumbling · 5 months

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Chapter 9- Clandestine

Guys, I've discovered Lana Del Ray. So if this chapter is a bit emotional, blame her. Okay, CW: LOTS of dysphoria, as well as a lot of discussions about binding, safe binding, and depictions of unsafe binding. Blink-and-you-miss-it misgendering. Some quick medical stuff. Anxiety, depression. Hints at self-harm, but not really.

Second year was not much different from first, if Regulus was honest. Rooming with Barty and Evan. Walks with Sirius.

He didn’t feel older. Classes weren’t much harder. He enjoyed being back. He felt safe.

But he struggled in some ways. Namely, with his body, which still insisted on betraying him daily.

Being in a room with Barty and Evan was wonderful in many ways. It was a reminder that he was considered a boy, here. That people looked at him and saw a boy. That he fit in with the other boys.

Bit it also made him ache, in a way that was difficult to describe. He watched Barty and Evan continue to change in the open room as he shed his clothes in the safety of the bathroom. He stared in the mirror for far too long, changing into shirt after shirt, wondering if he could actually see a small curve on his chest, or if it was his brain playing tricks on him.

Sometimes he had to sit on his hands to resist the urge to claw at his very skin. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt himself. It was just that his body kept changing, kept getting worse, and he sometimes felt the primal urge to just–

Sirius and Pandora and Dorcas were so well-meaning. They listened to him rant and rage and scream. They helped him on days when he just felt wrong, like a square peg in a round hole. They comforted him.

He’d taken to hiding the rock Potter had given him for his birthday in his pocket. When he got anxious or particularly nauseous when looking in the mirror, it helped to worry it in his hands. Flip it over and over. Feel the smooth surface. It was calming, somehow. It allowed him to focus on something else, anything else, besides the way his body didn’t fit.

He slept in the bandages almost every night. He knew it was bad for him. He felt the way his chest bruised and his back ached and the rashes and scratches burned. But he found that he needed it. He felt so invalid, like he wasn’t truly a boy without them. If he thought too much about it, he found himself close to tears- why did he have to go through this just to achieve the same feeling most people naturally had?

But he pushed that resentment down, and just re-tightened the bandages daily, forcing himself not to think about it too much.

It could be worse, after all.

“Did you hear?” Evan asked, one October evening as the three of them lay lazily in bed avoiding homework.

“That you’re a prat? Yes,” Barty replied lazily, dodging the pillow that Evan threw.

Regulus snorted.

“No, that Potter is replacing DeSilva this year on Gryffindor,” Evan clarified, scoffing a bit.

It had been a huge topic of conversation amongst anyone who followed the Quidditch games- Gryffindor had always been alright, but their Chasers had been lacking. A good Chaser would make them a problem, especially to Slytheirn, whose Keeper was shit. People had wondered why DeSilva hadn’t been kicked off in previous years, but Gryffindors were too nice, and had the policy that once you got a position, you kept it, as long as you didn’t do something morally wrong.

Of course, Regulus had watched Potter play. So, he knew they were a bit screwed, now.

So, why was he excited at the news?

“Potter’s not bad,” he commented, trying to keep his voice even.

“We’re fucked. Between Flint and Goyle, there’s no way,” Barty grumbled.

“Flint’s gotten better at covering the right hoop,” Evan said reasonably. “Too bad Goyle’s captain, or they could kick him off. He’s such shit. But I heard his daddy bought the whole team new brooms, so we’re stuck with him until he graduates.”

Barty grunted in frustration. “Maybe he’d catch the snitch if we charm it to make whistling noises. Always thought he followed Crabbe around like a puppy.”

“Next year, he’ll graduate and Reg will be Seeker. Then, we’ll stand a chance,” Evan shrugged. “Until then, I’m betting on Ravenclaw. Pandora says their Seeker is decent.”

Regulus nodded vacantly, reaching into his pocket to turn the rock over and over.

Privately, he was betting on Gryffindor.

Pain.

All he felt was pain.

Crawling up and down his ribs, punching at his back, stabbing at his chest.

It was jarring. Scary. Terrifying.

It hurt to move, hurt to moan, hurt to breathe.

He’d never woken up to pain like this.

He needed help, and he knew it. But his entire being shied away from waking Barty and Evan. He didn’t want to bother them (both were not ones to be awoken before absolutely necessary) and he was terrified they’d ask to see or touch where it hurt.

But as he tried desperately to sit up only to fall back in a groan of agony, his gulps of air causing shooting aches, he knew there was nothing for it.

“Help,” he croaked, even the movement of his talking searing his entire torso.

He had to call twice more before Evan’s grumpy-but-concerned face stuck through the curtains. He immediately went pale. “Reg? What- what’s wrong?”

But he was starting to feel faint. He couldn’t escape the pain, and he was starting to feel almost claustrophobic with it. Like he could either breathe and hurt or hurt less and have no oxygen. There was no way out.

His head spun. He tried desperately to stay conscious. He couldn’t let them see. What if they saw?

The last thing he remembered before passing out was Evan yelling for Barty.

“You fucking idiot.”

He opened his eyes to sunshine and mumbles and his chest feeling far too exposed and empty, even with the blanket covering him. The bandages were gone. “That’s my line to you,” he sleepily shot back to his brother, blinking, trying to get Sirius’s face into focus.

“Not when you break your own ribs,” Sirius said roughly. Admittedly, Sirius looked like he was the one who should be in the hospital bed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and the deep circles under his eyes made him look almost skeletal. His hands, which had wrapped themselves around Regulus’s forearm, all had fingernails that were bitten down raw. He looked distraught. “I gave you that fucking bandage to help you, Regulus. How tight–?”

“It’s not your fault, idiot,” He murmured, looking down. Perhaps he had been keeping the bandage a bit too tight.

“I didn’t know,” Sirius whispered, looking like he was trying to convince both of them of the fact. “I had no idea that- that this could happen.”

Regulus chuckled, ignoring the small twinge in his healed chest. “Same. I suppose Pomfrey is pissed?”

“I convinced her not to owl mother,” Sirius shrugged. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You…erm…might have to lay off the bandage for a while. Pomfrey said something about permanent damage to your back. If you….y’know…keep it up as much as you have.”

Remulus blinked, trying and failing to fight against the despair creeping into his brain as the tears formed. “So…so….” he mumbled, unsure about how to put his thoughts into words.

“Maybe…only a few hours a day? Or…a bit looser?” Sirius suggested hesitantly.

Regulus balked, feeling the anger and fear and disgust all bubble within him, his self-control wavering. “And then what, Sirius? How do I explain to Barty and Evan that I’ve suddenly got tits?”

He felt the nausea build within his stomach and he almost choked, picturing for just a moment having to walk around with an unbound chest. Picturing the looks. The reactions. The disgust.

“You…you don’t have…” Sirius argued weakly, looking as if he truly had no idea what to say.

“I do! I do, and there isn’t a thing I can do about it, because our parents will never let me take the potion. So I’m stuck like this until I turn seventeen!” Regulus said loudly, allowing some of his carefully-controlled anger to boil over. “And you tell me, how many people in Hogwarts would honestly be okay rooming with me, knowing that? Who thinks that’s normal?” Sirius sighed, looking helpless.

“You are normal, Reg. There’s nothing about you that’s–that’s bad or wrong.”

“Tell that to our parents,” Regulus spat, turning away from Sirius a bit. “Tell that to my body.”

Sirius inhaled a bit. “Just….just promise me you’ll keep it a bit looser, okay? I can’t…I can’t bear it if something were to happen to you.”

The genuinely terrified look on his face was what broke Regulus from his anger. He deflated, allowing the defensiveness to flow out of him. “Alright,” he murmured, allowing Sirius to pull him into a hug. “That hurts, you prat,” he whispered as Sirius squeezed him tightly.

But when Sirius made to let go, he felt sad, as if he wished his brother hadn’t let go.

Regulus stayed in the Hospital overnight that night. Something about 'making sure his blood vessels were okay', or whatever.

His friends visited, and he reassured them that he had been out the night before practicing Quidditch (true) and he must have hurt himself during a particularly crazy dive (false). Barty and Evan seemed to buy it, but Dorcas and Pandora gave him maddeningly disbelieving looks throughout their visit.

It was a different visitor, though, that made him much more nervous.

Remus Lupin entered the Hospital Wing late the second night, definitely after curfew, and certainly after Pomfrey had gone to bed. He made Regulus emit a small yelp of shock when he showed up, as he hadn’t been expecting the taller boy to show up at all, let alone at such an hour.

“It’s just me, sorry,” Remus muttered, as if he often visited Regulus at midnight in the Hospital Wing. “Sorry, it’s just arrived, or I would’ve been sooner,” he continued vaguely, waving a small package around.

Regulus eyed it curiously.

“I….I need to tell you something,” Remus continued, sitting gently on Regulus’s bed. Regulus pulled the covers over his chest more securely, a bit nervous about how close someone else was while he was so….exposed.

“Go on,” he nodded, wondering what was so important that Remus had to sneak into the Hospital in the dead of night. “Has Sirius done something stupid?”

Remus snorted. “No…Sirius wanted to tell you himself, but…” Remus trailed off, and Regulus momentarily worried Sirius had gone and gotten hurt or something, but then Remus met his eyes. “I was there. Last night when they brought you in.”

Regulus felt his heart sink. He’d been so nervous that Barty and Evan would have seen too much when he was brought in. He hadn’t even thought about another student being there already.

“I…I came in at around 4:30…with a migraine,” Remus murmured.

He really did get a lot of migraines, Regulus thought briefly.

“Sirius came with me. So…we were already there. When you came in.” Remus looked a bit awkward as he spoke. As if he wasn’t sure how much to reveal. “They made your friends wait outside. But Sirius refused. And I was…well, I couldn’t leave.” He looked apologetic, now. “They….they healed you. And then…Sirius got very upset, and…well, you should know he did everything possible to protect you. He argued with Pomfrey and Slughorn for a good ten minutes about contacting your parents. He won, in the end. Well, you know how stubborn he is.” Remus shrugged a bit awkwardly.

Regulus waited quietly for the other shoe to drop. He had a sinking feeling, from how Remus was speaking and acting, that there was more to it.

“You should know, Regulus…I’d already guessed. Before last night,” Remus finally sighed, meeting Regulus’s gaze.

His heart sank. He’d guessed? He’d known?

“How?” he whispered. If Sirius had told, he would…he didn’t know how…

“Sirius talked about you, in our first year,” Remus shrugged. “He mentioned…well, he mentioned a sister.”

Both Remus and Regulus winced at that.

“And then he came back from Christmas and he insisted that he’d only ever had a brother. I’m guessing that’s when you…?” Remus asked gently, raising his eyebrows a bit.

Regulus nodded.

“Yeah, so…I tried to ask, but he didn’t seem to be willing to talk about it and…dunno, it’s not my business, is it? So I figured I'd let it go,” Remus shrugged. As if it was the simplest assumption in the world. That it wasn’t his business, so he should just let it be.

Regulus was again overwhelmed by the feeling of thankfulness for Remus Lupin. He was so unassuming…so kind. He’d known (or guessed) for years and had said nothing. Because he’d guessed, rightfully, that Regulus would be uncomfortable with it.

“But it’s my business now, Regulus, because Sirius is going a bit spare,” Remus said a bit louder, looking stressed. “He said…I mean, feel free to tell me to fuck off, but…he said you’re using a bandage for your…?” he used his hand to gesture to his own chest.

Regulus nodded, looking down. “There’s a potion,” he found himself volunteering, strangely comfortable talking about it with Remus. “But I can’t take it. Mother and Father…they’d probably rather I was dead,” he chuckled humorlessly. “Barty and Evan don’t know and….I don’t…they can’t. So this is what I have.”

Remus studied him for a moment, then handed him a package. “You know there are people like you in the Muggle world too, right? My mum’s Muggle, so I was raised in both.”

He shrugged. He’d never really thought about it. “I guess…sure.”

“Well…what do you think they do? Surely they can’t take a potion,” Remus said patiently, like a Professor trying to talk a student through a difficult question.

“They cry?” Regulus volunteered, snorting at his own humor.

Remus smiled a bit. “Well, probably. But also, they have other options.”

“Like?” Regulus asked, feeling a strange bubble of hope in his chest.

“Well, some of them take medicine. It’s like potions for Muggles,” Remus shrugged. “Some of them just….cut things off.”

“What?” Regulus yelped loudly.

They both realized his mistake and whipped their heads around to Pomfrey’s door, but they heard no stirring.

“You’re fucking with me, surely,” he mumbled a bit quieter. How on Earth did Muggles actually survive without accidentally killing themselves?

“Nah,” Remus grinned. “I have a….cousin, I think? She told me about it.”

Regulus gaped for a minute before looking down at the package. “So, what’s in here? A knife? Gonna help me chop off my–”

Remus scoffed. “Sirius would kill me. Plus, Muggles have professionals that do that. No, she also told me about those,” he said, gesturing to the package. “I wrote her for one this morning. Said it was for a friend.” He shrugged.

Even more confused, Regulus ripped open the package to find–

“Is this a fucking bra?” he asked, barely controlling his embarrassment and anger. He almost threw the offending garment across the room in disgust.

“What? No!” Remus said, shaking his head vehemently.

It…looked like a strange mix of a tank top and a sports bra. But, it was missing some of the things Regulus remembered from seeing his mother’s bras. There were no cups, no small hooks, no lace or femininity. Instead, there was just a zipper on each side. And it was…less stretchy? The material had give, but it was a firmer stretch. Like it wasn’t meant to give much leeway.

“It’s a binder,” Remus shrugged. “Muggles use them. They kind of….” he gestured to his own chest again, “suck it all in.”

Regulus stared at the fabric for a few moments. “There are things that are meant for that?” he asked, though it was more out of wonder. Clearly, there were.

“Yeah, so…this is better than what you were using before because it’s meant for that purpose. And these zippers here,” Remus pointed at the two zippers on each side, “loosen it when you need a break. So you don’t end up back here.”

Regulus laughed, half-shocked and half-ecstatic. “Why did you do this for me?”

Remus gave him a weird look again. “Well….first, Sirius has been driving himself crazy. All he wants to do is to help you. To make sure you’re happy. And safe.”

Regulus felt a pang of guilt at that.

“But also….” Remus continued, looking emotional, himself, now. “I…secrets….secrets are hard. And I can…I can…well, I can imagine what it might feel like. To have a secret that you’re so…so scared about people finding out. But it’s…it’s a part of you, and you can’t change it.”

He looked so genuine. So empathetic. So understanding. Regulus swallowed thickly, trying not to let any tears fall.

Remus sighed, “It’s hard, erm, I imagine…when you have a secret like that. And if you can find something that helps…people who support you…I would think that would make it…so much easier. Right?”

There was emotion there. Raw and real, and Regulus had a feeling Remus had his own experiences with secrets. But he was so thankful to have Remus accept him and help him with his own that he decided not to push. For now.

Guys I can't with this chapter. Remus is just so amazing and we love him. Read the full WIP or leave comments or kudos here!

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metalomagnetic · 2 years

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Snippet from ‘Either must die’

***Delphini comes home for Christmas***

Before dinner, Delphini hands her grade report to Voldemort.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Voldemort asks, holding the parchment.

Harry doesn’t know, either. Neither of them went through this before, having no parents to show a grade report to.

Is there a protocol?

Delphini looks at both of them as if they’re stupid.

“Nothing. It’s just something people do. Show their progress to their parents.”

“Ah,” Voldemort says, opening the parchment. Harry stands at his side, ladle in hand, having put a stasis charm on the frying potatoes.

She’s done really well, of course. Harry sees Outstanding after Outstanding, and he almost goes back to his cooking when he spots the Acceptable in Potion and Defence, and the Troll in History of Magic.

He almost drops the ladle. Even he never got a T.

Delphini is staring at Voldemort intently, unconcerned with Harry’s reaction.

“How did you get an Acceptable in Potions?”

“The professor is an idiot,” Delphini says. “He insisted nightshade only has three properties.”

“That is idiotic,” Voldemort agrees. “But most people are idiots. Sometimes it’s just best to go along with it and get a good grade. That’s what I did.”

Delphini frowns. “No, that’s not right. If someone’s wrong, you have to correct them, so they can know better.”

“Are you sure you are a Slytheirn?” Voldemort asks, narrowing his eyes. “What happened in Defence?”

“The teacher said not to curse the other students with the jinx she showed us.”

“And?”

“And I did.”

Harry sighs. He knew about that already, having received a notification when it happened.

Apparently, a kid in her class called Lucius Malfoy ‘a nasty git’ and Delphini didn’t care for it.

Voldemort puts the parchment away.

“Wait!” Harry says. “What’s with the Troll? Am I the only one seeing it? In History? You’re good at History, Delphi! You know more of it than - really, most people I met.”

Delphini has all the goblin wars memorised- not just what happened and the years, but the exact date, day and month and everything. And there have been many rebellions. Harry isn’t even sure about their exact number.

“Binns made us write a paper about the war.”

Oh. Oh, shit.

That’s why Voldemort didn’t ask. He must have foreseen this.

Harry didn’t even think about it. That the war is something they teach in history class now.

“What did you write?” Harry asks, wincing.

She shrugs. “The truth.”

Delphini has strange ideas about what is true or not. What if she said the Death Eaters were right, or-

“I wrote everything correctly,” she assures him. Her shoulders are set in a defensive, stubborn position. “Dates and all. Very accurate, I promise.”

“But?” Voldemort asks, when she falters.

“I said Albus Dumbledore was a manipulative, secretive old man that left the burden of war on the shoulders of children. I said he should be considered a war criminal.”

Harry does drop the ladle, then.

“Delphini!”

“They gave me a month worth of detention for it, too, when I refused to apologise. Apologise to who? The man is dead!”

Voldemort stands.

“Go get your coat.”

“Why?” Harry and Delphini ask.

“I’m taking you out. You can pick whatever restaurant you want.”

Delphini grins like a cat that got the canary. “McDonalds?”

She always begged for Voldemort to take her to McDonalds, but he refused, time and time again.

“Whatever you want,” he repeats, smiling back.

“Hey, you can’t reward her for getting a T and detention!” Harry calls after them.

Delphini is already out of the room, rushing to get her cloak.

“You constantly suggest I should do nice things for her,” Voldemort says, still smiling. “Show affection and all that nonsense.”

“Not over something like this!” Harry says, outraged.

“Oh, I can’t image a more suitable situation, really. Are you coming? Or will you sit here eating dinner alone?”

“I’m not encouraging it!”

He’ll talk to her about Dumbledore. He never did, outside a few remarks, and now he regrets it. God knows who told her that about the Professor.

Harry knows it wasn’t Voldemort. He never speaks of Dumbledore, either.

Malfoy isn’t a likely culprit. He’s careful with his words, knows Dumbledore is seen as a hero, so he treads carefully.

Probably fucking Lestrange.

“Suit yourself.” Voldemort shrugs and gets out of the kitchen.

Harry stands there, upset. Delphini shouldn’t say things like that. And they shouldn’t reward her for getting detention. True, Harry wasn’t concerned about the letters informing him of her rule breaking, but it’s one thing to let that go, and quite another to celebrate it.

“I want a Happy Meal! Actually, may I have two Happy Meals, father? They come with toys, and I’d like two toys.”

“You may have five happy meals,” Voldemort assures her, in such a rare generous mood.

“Wait!” Harry calls after them, when he hears the front door opening. “Wait, I’m coming!”

If he stays home, he’s just punishing himself, really.

As it is, Harry has a very nice evening. They don’t bring Dumbledore up, and it’s fun seeing Voldemort in a McDonalds, children running and laughing everywhere.

They sit at one of those tiny booths and listen to Delphini speak of Hogwarts, of her friends.

They already know about that, she sends at least two letters home each week, but she says it all again, eating her McNuggets with a knife and fork.

Voldemort only has water. He refused to get anything else, and he sneers at people drinking through straws. Delphini opens the lid of her cup and throws away the straw, eventually.

She got five Happy Meals, like Voldemort promised, but she can’t eat them all. So she carefully packs what is left in one of those cartoon boxes.

“I’m against wasting food,” Voldemort says. “But that’s not food. You don’t need to take it home. Throw it away.”

“I’m not taking it home,” Delphini says.

When they leave the establishment, as they head for the quiet alley they can Apparate from, Delphini rushes across the street and gives the box to a homeless person.

“Are you absolutely sure you are a Slytheirn?” Voldemort inquires again when she comes back.

Harry hugs her tightly, overcome with joy. He forgets all about Dumbledore. It doesn’t matter, nothing matters faced with proof that Delphini is a kind girl.

#Either must die #Voldemort A+ parenting #harrymort #delphini #poor McGonagal

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remus-poopin · 2 years

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Now that I’m thinking of it, how was it never mentioned to Harry by Sirius or Remus that Snape and Lily were friends??? I mean with how much attention James spent on Lily and Sirius spent on Snape there was no way they didn’t know they were close friends. So either they weren’t as close as Snape thought they were, they weren’t friendly in public (lily with shame from snape, snape with shame from lily being a muggleborn, or slytheirn vs gryffindor issues) or they deliberately kept this fact from Harry.

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daughterofyourdarklord · 1 year

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But what if Delphini was at Hogwarts the same time as the trio???

Year 1:

“Please.”

She jokes, nudging at her cousin who’s sitting tall besides her in the train compartment. “Harry Potter being in our year at Hogwarts is nothing more than a gift.” She means it too, forcing away that pit of fear that settles in her stomach whenever she thinks about the chosen one. About everything he’s already taken from her family, from her.

Draco goes on joking with their soon-to-be fellow Slytherins. The express is buzzing with energy, though most of the First Year’s look more nervous than excited.

She runs into Neville Longbottom on their waltz to the Great Hall. He bends directly in front of her, picking up some slimy toad off the stone floor with bare hands. Disgusting. He’s on his knees when he looks up and meets her eye, terror seeping into his gaze. She smiles at him devilishly, pausing for a moment before pushing him aside in an effort to get to what she is certain will soon be her throne room.

“Delphini Lestrange.”

It’s a horrible cover-up of a last name, an obvious lie to any witch or wizard who knows better. McGonagal calls it nonetheless. There is a weight on her shoulders as she walks forward, the same one that’s settled their since the moment she was born.

No one is surprised when the hat deems her a Slytherin.

Delphini feels Dumbledore’s stare on her the entire walk over to the sea of green and silver, but it’s Snape’s eyes that she meets when she sits down.

The tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor is palpable. Worse than it has been in years, or so the older students claim. Delphini knows why, and Draco does too.

She’s still glaring at the Granger girl when Quirrell asks her to stay after class in a sputter.

“Of course, Professor.” She answers sweetly, watching from the corner of her eye as jealousy blooms across the mudbloods face. Ever the teacher’s pet. He seals the doors behind them, locking them with a flick of his wrist and casting a silencing charm while he’s at it.

This time, he does not stutter when he speaks to her.

Year 2:

She dreams of a snake all alone, somewhere dark. Crying out for family, for companionship, for someone to listen. Anyone.

Only no one is there.

She wakes up in her dormitory with tears in her eyes.

There’s been whispers about the Heir of Slytheirn. Talk that he’s returned, that he’s ready to rid the school of all filth that stands in his mighty way.

Sometimes she wonders how people might react to find out that 'he' is actually a 'she.'

Regardless, it’s not Delphini that’s playing around in the chamber this year. A part of her is wildly unsettled that she doesn’t know who it is.

It’s no matter, she has far more important things to focus on.

Initially, she almost isn’t allowed to take part in the dueling club. Some poor excuse sprouted up by the Gryffindors, accusations of dark magic and cheating. Unsurprisingly, its Severus that comes to her aid.

Dueling comes far too naturally to her, and feels oh so sweet. Still she works harder, so eager, ready to fight, to strike. She trains and trains and then trains some more.

She needs to be enough for Him, when the time is right.

Potter being a parselmouth is.. Unexpected.

Even Severus seems surprised. Delphini is not sure how to handle the news, she writes home to her Uncle who informs her to stay out of it.

For the first time in a long time, she listens.

Sometimes, she thinks she's going insane. She hears her father speaking to her through the castle walls, they whisper and she listens. She continues her training.

She will be enough.

That poor snake.

Year 3:

The castle is awake, dementors swarming high above them, eager, hungry.

She hates them.

Delphini is determined and reluctant all at once in her venture.

Macnair had just walked out to call for the dementors, readying them to focus their rage. Quickly and quietly she slips into Flitwick’s office.

They both freeze the minute their gazes meet.

Eyes clashing from across the room, one hand still resting on the door handle, the other’s chained to an ornate desk. Sirius is the first to break the spell.

“You look just like her.”

She shifts her gaze away at that, something in her shattering just a little. “I know.” She wants to answer, but she doesn’t have the time.

“How did you do it?”

This time, it’s him that doesn’t answer, eyes scanning her face almost wistfully.

“She’d never stop talking about you, you know? Drove the other inmates mad in her rantings, but really I think she just didn’t want to forget.”

And how that just aches.

She shatters further. “How could you leave her!?” She wants to scream, instead she asks again:

“How did you manage to escape?” Her voice sounds more desperate than commanding, close to a whisper.

He smiles sadly.

“She can’t do it..” Delphini waits for him to finish his sentence. It’s short, and certainly not the answer she was looking for. “I’m an animagus.”

And that’s all she needed to hear. She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, not bothering to hide her reaction. That familiar weight settles heavily on her shoulders again, for a moment she feels like she might crumble beneath it. Quickly she turns back to the door, ready to race out of the room and pretend he told her anything else.

She pauses, tossing her dark curls over her shoulder to glance back at his haunting face.

“Then why wait all this time? Why not leave that place the second you had the chance?”

He doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t need to.

Year 4:

It was gorgeous, the bright green in stark contrast against the dark night sky. Constellations gleaming in its wake, a harmony in the heavens.

A terrorist attack, they had called it.

Art, Delphini thought. It was the first time she’d ever seen it.

Something was coming. Lucius seemed certain of this, even Narcissa had given them an exceptionally careful goodbye before ushering them onto the express.

The Triwizard Tournament turned out to be an even bigger let down than she’d imagined. Beauxbatons was a bore, and the Drumstang boys seemed scared of her, which was no surprise really.

Karkaroff avoided her like a poor case of mumblemumps.

His time would come, it was not up to Delphini to designate punishment. Not yet.

Watching Potter almost die at the edge of each of these challenges did add a nice touch to the year. Though, all that anticipation she’d felt in summer dwindled a bit each time he survived.

It wasn’t until Moody tracked her down in the corridors after hours that things really got interesting.

Even Delphini was surprised to find Barty somehow alive.

He doesn’t tell her much. They don’t have a lot of time as it stands, and really she’s just thrilled to have finally met him. He’s full of promises, of course. Lot’s of ‘soons’ and ‘be ready’. Delphini doesn’t get any of the details but she’s known since the beginning of term that it was finally coming. She’s more than ready, more than enough. Isn’t she?

"The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and He will come for me!"

The scripture scrawled into her very soul. There have been signs everywhere pointing towards His return. Now she knows it to be true.

“You have her face,” Moody - Barty - interrupts her thoughts, he’s staring at Delphini in near worship, a look so foreign for the professor. “You have His eyes, though.”

“I know.”

She meets Him for the first time later that summer and He tells her something similar. It means all the more coming from Him.

Before her father, for the first time, she spins her spells into symphonies, her hexes into homilies, casts her curses to the constellations. Shows Him everything she knows, and all her power with it.

She walks back over to Him when she is well and through, magic still radiating off of her in harsh waves. Her father takes her wand from her hands.

“I have much to learn.” Delphini offers, and she knows it to be true.

Her father is looking at her wand still.

Dragon-heartstring, like her mother. Yew, like His own.

He is smiling when he answers, something proud dancing in those red eyes. “Yes. You do.”

Year 5:

With the commencing of the Spring Equinox she is finally allowed home. Ostara save her.

Delphini has to brace herself before walking through those large double doors, entirely unsure exactly who she might find on the other side.

Still, her heart is burning.

At last.

Her mother’s embrace is a blessing. A gift Delphini hadn’t known she needed. That sharp look of recognition in her eyes hurts in all its relief.

She really does wear her face, afterall. They’d all promised her as much, didn’t they?

Father is there, He is watching. Studying them both, studying their interaction.

Her mother takes her face between her palms like a prayer, eyes shining. She’s full of promises and penitence. Delphini isn't having any of it. Her mother owes her nothing and this, just being here, it's more than enough.

Delphini has never felt so whole in all her life.

She begs to be a part of their plans at the ministry. Anything she can do to further the cause, support her family, put them back into their rightful place - above everyone else.

It's futile. She's far too young, and the logistics of getting her there are far too problematic. There's talk of Azkaban and Bellatrix looks terrified at the prospect of Delphini somehow winding up there.

"Absolutely not. The choice is not yours to make and your Father and I are in perfect agreement that you remain at the school." She turns to her, reaching a hand up to caress Delphi's cheek tenderly.

"We'll celebrate once we return with the prophecy, hm?"

It's the one promise Delphini will accept wholeheartedly.

Year 6:

Somehow, it’s Draco and Delphini that bear the brunt of the shame brought on from the fiasco at the Ministry.

Draco is marked, as punishment to Lucius (to Narcissa).

Delphini is not, as punishment to Bellatrix (to herself).

Her cousin is crumbling under the pressure, Delphini is soaring. It's the same weight she’d felt her whole life, only this time she finally has an opportunity to act on it.

It takes longer than she would like to mend the vanishing cabinet. Draco was seeing to it personally in the beginning, but with little to no headway Delphini made it her personal mission.

Not that it really mattered anyway. Delphini has other plans entirely.

Whilst Draco wastes his time casting cursed necklaces and poisoning wine, Delphini is speaking with the stars.

She will be enough.

When the day of reckoning is finally upon them she can hardly hold back.

“Expelliarmus.” It’s swift and was fully intended to take him off guard but she’d still expected him to put up some sort of a fight. Immediately, something seems off, its only a matter of sorting out whether or not its something she can take advantage of.

“Evening, Delphini, Draco. Are you alone?”

“Who else is here?” She doesn’t bother to entertain his question, though Draco is quick to boast about the Death Eaters holding off the guards down below. Dumbledore assures them he is alone, but the two brooms resting along the ramparts suggest otherwise.

No matter, Delphini will handle them both. Draco is waxing on, talking about the vanishing cabinet and Rosmerta. Much as she hates to listen to him give them all away she’s taking a moment to study the Headmaster. Something seems off, as he is entirely unbothered to be at the wrong side of their wands.

“And why have you waited?” The headmaster interrupts after a beat, causing even her cousin to pause. “Those feeble attempts to kill me all year, surely they weren’t you.” He is speaking directly to Delphini now, she knows it.

She smiles.

Quickly, the other Death Eaters are fast up the stairs making their presence known.

“It doesn't have to be this way.” The Headmaster continues, eyes only on her despite the others' verbal jabs. “Long ago, I met a boy who made all the wrong choices-"

“My Father, you mean?” She breaks her silence, the other Death Eaters laugh behind her at the revelation. Though Dumbledore is not at all surprised, and why would he be? “There’s no reason to hide behind truth’s any longer, Headmaster. His time has come, and consequently yours is over.”

And suddenly Severus is there stepping forward to share a look with Dumbledore. A part of her considers testing the potion professors loyalty..

..Only, this is her moment.

“Avada Kedavra!” It’s sweet on her tongue, and even sweeter watching him fall. They’re on the move sooner than she’d like for them to be, hardly a chance to savor it.

On their flight into the forbidden forest she throws a ‘morsmordre’ into the sky like a personal signature. The monogram of her family.

When she finally greets them, He tells her she’s worthy and stitches as much into the inside of her left forearm.

She is enough.

Year 7:

It’s beyond refreshing, being who she was always meant to be.

Watching as Slytherins and now students alike all bow at her feet, that renewed fear keening in their eyes.

She savors it, relishes in their reactions.

Miss Black, they call her.

It’s nearly perfect. Helping alongside mother and father to secure the ministry this summer, returning to Hogwarts with an honest surname, unforgivables cast at her fingertips without repercussion.

Of course, there is still the looming prospect of Potter.

He’s been hiding from them all for far too long, lurking in the shadows despite the growing number of mudbloods father kills. Finally, they manage to locate him at Hogwarts, where boy wonder somehow convince the entire school to fight for him. How cute.

Until eventually, they find a way to lure him out.

Father calls her to the boathouse through the mark she finally bears. Her mother falls into step with her the moment she departs, Delphini is not sure if she was called but what does it matter? They’re family.

Nagini greets her with enthusiasm, dancing between her legs like a cat. She acknowledges her, of course, but only after she acknowledges Him.

He eyes her mother disapprovingly and Delphini is not at all sure what to make of that.

“We’ll have him soon, Father. I'm certain of it. He’s far too righteous to let this continue, even if it is good fun. He will come to you. ”

He hums in agreement, long fingers tracing his newfound wand.

“That he will, Delphini.”

She waits then, she and mother both, giving him the floor to impart his orders.

“You understand, Delphini, that you have proved yourself very valuable to me since my return.” She smiles gently, sharing a warm look with her mother before turning back to Him. “You’ve been right about a number of things, and dedicated beyond my expectations.” He pauses again before resuming his gentle pacing. “One can only hope that that devotion continues with my next request.”

He falls into step next to her mother, reaching forward to trace along Bellatrix jaw gently.

“I have concerns, Bella, with how this new wand may cooperate with me when it comes time to put an end to Harry Potter.” Her mother looks confused, leaning forward into his touch.

“My Lord?” He lingers a moment, appreciating her features before resuming his pacing.

With it He continues, telling them of wandlore he was able to gather from Ollivander, from Gregorovitch. Delphini’s stomach sinks with every word.

“You understand, Delphini.” He pauses, stopping directly opposite her on the other side of the small boathouse with an imploring look. “That while you live, the elder wand will never truly be mine?”

And finally she is crumbling under the weight of it all.

Tears swim in her eyes as she looks at Him without answer, finally broken. She did everything right - exactly as He had asked her to! She did it all for Him - for them! To be everything and more.. To be enough..

Though, it seems she may never be enough.

“F-father..” Her voice is broken, stubborn tears escaping from her eyes, eyes the same shade as His own. He doesn’t speak, nor does he resume his pacing.

And then there’s Bellatrix, balancing on the edge of in-between them.

Delphini is too afraid to even look at her, desperation more than evident in her mother's voice: “My Lord. Certainly, there is another way. We can take Potter as prisoner and work the rest out later! How can we trust the word of a two-timing wandmaker? No - there are more, other wandmakers throughout Europe! I will bring them to you and we can find other ways - just like we always do..My Lord.."

His eyes don’t leave Delphini's own.

“Please.”

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maruke2003 · 2 years

Text

Yet another idiotic James Potter Stan on tik tok. This one has claimed that James and Sirius were much like the Weasley twins because they "bullied students" 🙄.

James and Sirius canonicaly hexed students on a whim. Not just Snape, he was their main target yes but he wasn't the only one. Lily herself claimed that James hexed people in the hallways.

"stfu Snape was not a good person, let's not forget he joined a cult because HE WANTED TO nobody forced him"

Snape was a good person, not a nice person, let me just say that. Yes Snape joined the death eaters because he wanted to. But what were the circumstances? Someone doesn't just be like "oh I'm going to join a murderous cult that thinks people of my blood status or similar are dirt at the bottom of their boots." Like girl, no one does that. Snape was a half-blood, he was technically a mudblood as well. Snape could have very well been brainwashed to some degree by his housemates, or having heard the same arguments over and over and over again he probably started to believe it. The same with hearing the word mudblood being used. Snape is a product of his environment.

"the marauders were fun"

Okay maybe they were, maybe they genuinely played actual pranks instead of just "pranking" one student and tormenting him so badly that people find it funny when he gets flipped upside down and has his underwear put on full display. They find that fun, so I wouldn't really describe them as fun. Their fun came at the expense of someone else.

"that's no excuse"

They tell me this after I said that Snape joined the death eaters after Hogwarts and on top of that Sirius himself didn't even know Snape was marked until Snape revealed his mark to Fudge after Voldemort's revival.

You can't use "oh but he was a blood supremacist death eater scum incel" like no. Even if he was that doesn't give you the right to constantly torment him so bad that he has to create spells to defend himself. Spells let me tell you that can kill.

"They were enemies"

Okay I'll give you that, to some degree. They did hate each other. Snape had a valid reason, James's reason was because Snape existed. That's not a real reason tbh.

"Pete (Peter) and Remus didn't even do anything. It was James and Sirius"

Remus was a prefect in his fifth year. A prefects job is to interfere when bullying happens, make sure the students are following rules etc. Remus stood by and watched James and Sirius torment Snape up to the point that whenever Snape sees them coming his way he's whipping his wand out in self defense. That's a trauma response, it's similar to how someone would lift their hands up to shield their face (awaiting a blow to the head or something similar). Peter also stood by and watched, we don't know much about how he was within the group but he enjoyed watching James and Sirius tormenting Snape he wouldn't have done anything to stop it either.

"it's not like Snape didn't hex back"

I would hex back to if someone was targetting me for no reason. Someone hits me I hit back. It's just how it goes. He's defending himself. Like defending one's self doesn't make them evil.

"Remus wasn't the only prefect"

No but his friends would listen to him. And it's not like the other prefects would have wanted to get involved. Remember you saying people thought it was fun? Yeah prefects involved.

"if Snape was simply nice"

I believe when Snape was younger he was nice. He was still young and innocent and Lily liked him enough then. (Tho Lily also ended up befriending the marauders and marrying his tormentor so maybe she doesn't have the best judgement.) But it's not like they even gave him the chance to be nice. Snape mentioned wanting to be in Slytheirn and right away James's bias came out, even when Sirius mentioned that his entire family has always been in Slytheirn. I wholeheartedly believe that if Sirius had been sorted into Slytherin that James would have targetted him as well. That is if he had targetted and tormented them. I mean maybe not if Sirius ended up still tormenting Snape.

Also why is it only upon Snape to have been nicer. Why not James and Sirius, and don't give me that bs claim that they were already nice. Sure they were nice to their friends but not the people they target.

----------

They went on to ask me not to call them a girl. I use "girl!!?!" As an emphasis in general just putting that out there. They then went on to call James & Sirius vs Snape a rivarly.

"rivalry"

I'm definitely not going into the whole "it was a rivalry" thing. Like google is free. Go learn the definition before you spew bullshit.. even more then you already have.

"We only saw things from Snape's pov"

And we also hear things from Sirius and Remus, who were two of James's closest friends. Changing POVs doesn't change what happened. It just changes the lense you see it through. Harry himself was a biased narrator so when Harry thinks Snape is evil and that Snape should die the readers (normally) think that as well. Like Harry, Sirius and Remus are biased towards James just like Snape is biased against Gryffindors and James/Harry.

Sirius claimed that SWM was fun, he showed no remorse for what had happened and both Remus and Sirius defended James's actions despite it being an unprovoked attack.

We also never saw the full memory.

"we never saw what happened before that"

I mean I'm guessing you're still talking about SWM, but we do, we do see the entire thing. From the ending of their OWL test to when they went outside. We saw it all. Sirius was bored and Snape was just sitting there. James went up completely unprovoked.

The fact that they believe SWM was a provoked attack says a lot. We also have no idea how it ended because Snape pulled Harry out of his pensive. James Potter could have well taken off Snapes underwear and NO ONE would have stopped him.

After that last comment they just responded with "whatever helps you sleep at night" which normally when they don't want to continue arguing means they've got nothing left to say. So, yeah, that just happens.

Also this post is much longer then I was expecting it to be

#severus snape #pro snape #anti james potter #anti sirius black #remus lupin skeptic #peter pettigrew skeptic #anti marauders #idiots on tik tok

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whitenight11007 · 1 year

Text

LISTEN UP SLYTHERINS

So, i usually accept harry potter aesthetics and so on, but i do need to clear something up with slytherin house especially. It makes me SO mad that slytheirns are ALL OVER THE HECKING place. yes, slytherin isn't bad, BUT you can't all base them after yourself. They can't alllll like gum, or have color coded index cards or complete perfect people. Yes, you define your house not the other way around HOWEVER slytherins are all over the place. Slytherins are the kick butt house, yes, and they are sometimes rude, but you have to incorporate them with others. Slytherins have the boldness of gryffindors, the fierce wit of a ravenclaw and the smile of a hufflepuff. they are not defined by their family, just like no one in this entire world is. We can't just judge them for how slytherins are today, their house does have qualities we need to be aware of when writing head canons and the like.

thanks for listening to my crazy rant.

#hogwarts #harry potter #slytherin #green

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drawlfoy · 2 years

Note

heeeeyyyy literally slytheirn boys x reader it can be Draco, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo, or Tom doesn’t matter maybe they all kidnap you or something idk thx so much luv ya ❤️

yeah fs !! ily 2 🫶

pairing: slytherin boys x reader

warnings: abduction, child trafficking, language, unhealthy parental relationships

a/n: thanks for this request!! this took me back x further notes at the bottom

I wake up to my alarm clock blaring. It’s 6am—and if that wasn’t bad enough, it’s the first day of school. Sigh.

I pad over to my bathroom where I run my fingers through my hair and survey my appearance. It feels like there should be something poetic in the way that I’m staring at myself in a new mirror, in a new house, looking at the same objectively flawless reflection, but instead all I feel is static.

I’m nervous. It’s my first day of my new school and if there’s anything you should know about me, it’s that I have a tough time making friends. I’m different, you see. I’m not like other girls. I wear band shirts and paint my fingernails black. Even though I’m perfectly petite and small enough to fall down the shower drain if I stand too close, I wear oversized sweaters and alternative shoes (read: black converse). I’m used to people thinking I’m weird, that I don’t fit in, and even though I try not to care, it still hurts. It’s not that I don’t like being alone—I do. Being alone is one of my favorite things, actually. But sometimes it’s nice to have someone there, to have someone to hold my mall smoothie when I try things on at Hot Topic.

Maybe North High will offer me that. My last school was so shitty that I couldn’t help but feel relieved when my mother got the job offer that made us move. Though I’m nervous about my first day, I’m feeling a little more hopeful now that I’ve had a good night’s rest and have moved in. This town seems nicer than the ones my mother and I have bounced around for all of my teenaged years. Even our house is bigger. I have my own attached bathroom, with that cute behind-the-mirror cabinet I’ve always wanted and—get this—heated tile. I didn’t even know that that was a thing.

I wash my face, feeling my perfect girly hands slide across the smoothness of my flawless skin, lubricated by the soapy bubbles that smell of flowers. I take special care to pat my moisturizer on—that’s all I’ll do to my face before leaving, I don’t really like to wear makeup—and half-heartedly swipe a mascara wand through my naturally luscious lashes.

I blink once, twice, thrice at my reflection. I’ve since changed out of my sweat shorts and adorably oversized sweatshirt into my black “anti social social club” shirt and black skinny jeans. I look okay. There’s just something that I’m missing...

Ah, that’s it. I spy a hairband with my bright blue orbs and gather my caramel colored hair into a messy bun, pulling a few strands out to frame my perfectly oval-shaped face.

“Y/N, are you almost ready?” yells my mother.

I roll my eyes, then pause. My mother rarely cares whether or not I get to school on time. Sure, she’ll throw a bitch fit if I show up late enough times that the office writes home to her, but she isn’t the type to proactively check up on me. She doesn’t even drive me anymore. The school is within walking distance, so what’s it to her if I’m ready or not?

Maybe she’s also getting the first day jitters. The thought is comforting at first, but it morphs into the sticky feeling of affection that makes me uncomfortable. I grab my iPhone 6s, plug my earbuds in using the 3.5mm headphone jack (which will never become obsolete), and listen to some Twenty One Pilots (kind of underground—don’t feel bad if you don’t get it) to distract myself from the fact that I’d just had a really big feeling.

“Y/N?” she yells again. I can’t tell where she is in the house—this is my first night here—but her voice sounds closer.

“Coming!” I yell back. My voice cracks on the second syllable and reaches a pitch that I didn’t know was possible.

I grab my black galaxy print backpack, give my new bedroom a once over to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything important, and bound down the stairs.

“Good morning,” I say dully when I see my mother lurking by the bottom of the staircase, intending to pass her into the kitchen and get some toast before leaving.

To my surprise, her eyes look shiny, her mouth screwed into an expression that I just can’t quite place. I begin to feel profoundly uncomfortable. If she’s all of a sudden getting emotional about how quickly I’m growing up, I’m going to throw up right here and right now.

One of my earbuds falls out and dangles in the air in between us. If you focus, you can hear the distant sounds of a ukulele and the whine of Tyler Joseph’s voice as he sings about living in a house of gold, or whatever the subtext of that song is.

“Good to see you up,” she clips. Her eyes harden as they track the swinging earbud in between us. “I thought I told you to only use those in your room. It’s rude to talk to people when you’re listening to music with those earphones.”

“They’re earbuds, Mom.”

“Right. Well. Take them out. I have someone—some people—I want you to meet.”

There’s something in her tone that deeply disturbs me, an underlying, cool anticipation that chills me to the bone. “Mom, I can’t. I have school.”

“School can wait,” she says tightly. “Come into the living room, now. We’re holding them up.”

I trail behind her as she walks through the massive open concept kitchen and pass her art room. It already smells of acrylic paint and canvases. As we go, I marvel once again at the sheer size and grandiosity of the home. We’d always stayed in 2 bedroom 1 bathroom single story homes with one oven, a sitting room, and a laundry room if we were lucky. But this? This was like a whole Disney Channel set.

“Now, dear,” said my mother, pausing before the living room door.

This immediately set me on edge. She never calls me pet names.

“Surely you’ve noticed that money’s been tight,” she continues, carefully.

I nod.

“Well...” She swallows, wringing her hand. “I’ve had to make some tough decisions. About your future, I mean.”

“What?” I’m confused. She’s never done anything to invest in my future. It’s not like she’s been saving for my college or anything.

“They’re very nice,” my mother added, as if she was making any sense. “I’ve met them. Very kind. They’ll treat you well.”

I gape at her.

She opens the door.

A group of 5 men are casually lounging on our couches, as if they own the place. One of them has striking platinum blonde hair, another with rich chocolate brown (the others look like the void, because i, the writer, have no fucking clue who “lorenzo” or “mattheo” are i’m really sorry u lost me there).

“Who are these people?” I ask my mother. She takes me roughly by the shoulder and pushes me through the door.

“Your new owners,” she says simply.

One of the swirling black holes stands up, and I see something that looks like it could be considered a human hand extended in my direction. “’Ello, luv. Welcome to your new life.”

apologies to anon if ur request was not satire. im not sorry for clowning u tho bc this was a buckwild request. also apologies to anyone younger than the age of 18 reading this bc i feel like this is more mid 2010s core than anything and will thus be remarkably unfunny and unenjoyable

#draco x reader #dee overshares #crack fic #kidnapped by 1d

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