#voldemort's desire for harry is a prayer

[izharmilgram]

harry is captured sunlight and voldemort is the thief who grasped and stole him away. what began as uncanny fascination became a craving so compelling, imploring, voldemort had to have him--had to feel harry's warm breath and blood on his own face.

#voldemort's desire for harry is a prayer #harry's desire for voldemort is an angel's fall #voldemort clawing his way to heaven to have harry and for harry only #harry is equally obsessed dw #prostration #worship #devotion #as toast and i were talking about.... words #harrymort #tmrhplv drabble #tomarrymort drabble #not even a drabble #a trickle #a blot #izharwriting

[pet-genius]

The Death Eaters as a Cult - Part 1

This is a very lightly edited old Reddit post, that I'll publish in parts because the whole thing is like 7000 words. Analyzing Voldemort, the DE and their dynamics, Dumbledore and Harry in comparison, and individual Death Eaters. Hope you like it!

Some say Voldemort is a cartoon villain, or wizard Hitler. I think he is very realistic, and that the focus on his political aspirations ignores interesting aspects of him. I cannot prove that JKR had cults in mind when she wrote Voldemort and his followers, but this is how I read them. It’s nearly impossible to define a cult, so, for the purpose hereof, I’m going with “a group dedicated to the worship of a person”. Many cult leaders in real life present themselves merely as “god’s voice” or “the messiah”, but Voldemort specifically didn’t bother to hide behind a power higher than himself.

Tom Riddle comes from humble beginnings, like many cult leaders - he’s raised in an orphanage. He already has delusions of grandeur, only in this case they’re not delusions, because he really is magic, which makes it all the more dangerous. Look how he reacted to discovering he was a wizard, and how Harry did.

Immediately following the revelation that Lily and James did not die in a car crash, and that Harry is famous, and that he survived an attempt at his life by the worst wizard in history:

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He’d spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn’t they been turned into warty toads every time they’d tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he’d once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

“Hagrid,” he said quietly, “I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a wizard.”

Heart-breaking. Harry doesn’t believe he can be special, he blames himself for the way he’s treated.

This is Tom Riddle:

“I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic.”

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore’s, as though trying to catch one of them lying. “Magic?” he repeated in a whisper.

“That’s right,” said Dumbledore.

“It’s... it’s magic, what I can do?”

“What is it that you can do?”

“All sorts,” breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. “I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

“I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.”

His megalomania and violent nature are already apparent, as is his preternatural control of his magic. It also hints at rudimentary legilimency.

Dumbledore spells out that young Tom Riddle equated magic with immortality and liked to collect trophies, and that Tom Riddle liked being special, as he resents the name Tom for being too common; he already lives behind a mask and only shows his true face in shock. This, and not Dumbledore’s magical prowess, is what always scared Tom. Voldemort knew Dumbledore knew what he was. That was the only tactical advantage Dumbledore had.

It’s also one of JKR’s strokes of brilliance: Dumbledore saw Tom for what Tom was, and others never did until it was too late, not because he was that clever, but because he knew from experience. Dumbledore had allowed himself to fall for a charismatic but heartless man before, and it took Ariana dying to slap him awake. Dumbledore knows good people can be led astray: It happened to him. It has nothing to do with intelligence or “goodness”. Gellert was able to give Albus exactly what Albus lacked, stuck at home taking care of Ariana: the promise of freedom and a bright future, and the companionship of an equal. Albus fell for it, despite warning signs that should have been obvious.

Later, we know Tom is chosen by a wand of yew and phoenix feather. Both yew and phoenix are associated with immortality; yew trees are very long-lived. Compare this to Harry’s wand, holly and phoenix feather: both these characters will experience death and rebirth, except Tom Riddle’s wand tree is yew, and Harry’s is holly.

From Wikipedia: “The Christian church commonly found it expedient to take over existing pre-Christian sacred sites for churches. It has also been suggested that yews were planted at religious sites as their long life was suggestive of eternity, or because, being toxic when ingested, they were seen as trees of death.” Also from Wikipedia: “Christians have identified a wealth of symbolism in the holly tree’s form. The sharpness of the leaves help to recall the crown of thorns worn by Jesus; the red berries serve as a reminder of the drops of blood that were shed for salvation; and the shape of the leaves, which resemble flames, can serve to reveal God's burning love for His people.”

The two orphans’ wildly different views of death are also apparent in their wand trees. Voldemort will murder to attain his goals; Harry will sacrifice himself. That the phoenix feather came from Fawkes is also meaningful - Dumbledore taught both magic in some capacity, but he never could defeat Voldemort, because they’re too alike. One of Harry’s advantages in this battle is the integrity of his soul, which cannot be compromised.

Next, Tom Riddle is sorted into Slytherin. For a child who is already prone to megalomania, the house values bring out the worst in him, and under Slughorn, he grows into a manipulative, cunning, ruthless young man. I’m not blaming Horace for Tom being a psychopath, but some of the particular ways his psychopathy manifested in seem to have been directly due to Slughorn’s influence. Slughorn is a blood-supremacist, who was convinced Tom must come from fine stock. Slughorn tests drinks for poison using house elves; Tom Riddle tests the effectiveness of his Horcrux’s protection on Kreacher. Slughorn emphasizes the importance of connections and outright praises Tom for knowing more than he needs to, and encourages an attitude of “it’s only wrong if you get caught.” But Slughorn, prejudiced and cunning as he is, is not violent - he is academically curious about Horcruxes, but he finds them repugnant. Tom’s heart is not so faint - at the point of asking Slughorn about Horcruxes, the diary is already a horcrux, and Tom has already murdered his father. This is how Dumbledore describes Tom’s original gang, who were the proto-Death Eaters:

As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts. Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrongdoing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.

Dumbledore explains what motivated people to join Tom: some were afraid, some ambitious, some cruel. He controlled his so-called friends, and already started framing others for his own crimes (Hagrid’s framing was followed by Morfin’s and Hokey the house elf’s).

This is followed by Tom’s attempt to become a teacher (Dumbledore spells out his motivations: He is attached to the school, he wants to study its magic, and he already wants to build himself an army). He is denied, oddly chooses to work for Borgin and Burkes, a choice fueled by the desire to trace down more items to make into Horcruxes. Through the memory of the meeting with Heptzibah Smith, we see that Tom was definitely charming when he needed to be, and knew how to make people feel good. He did not use magic to trick her into showing him her precious locket and cup: he used muggle manipulation - flattery, making an old and forlorn lady feel valuable, perhaps even flirting with her (she’s certainly flirting with him). He was pleasant enough that Ms. Smith eagerly looked forward to his visits - but as she showed him her treasures, he was caught off guard by hearing about his mother and how she sold the locket, and she saw him for what he was, although she quickly fell into denial. Sadly, she was murdered two days later.

Why rely on Horcruxes to gain immortality? Tom must have known about Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher’s Stone, and the Horcruxes require someone else to perform the resurrection ritual. Either making the Stone is so hard that it would deter Tom (unlikely), or he already expected to rely on followers who would find him and revive him - he certainly seems to have expected his followers to have searched for him earlier. Maybe Horcruxes were appealing because they require murder. In any case, this is followed by the memory of Tom asking Dumbledore for the DADA job again, a decade later. Tom has spent a decade gathering followers, and he has already changed his name to Lord Voldemort. This is reminiscent of real life cult leader David Koresh, and the leaders of the Children of God, Aum Shinrikyo, etc. The meeting between Voldemort and Albus is interesting, because it’s clear that Dumbledore had tried to teach Tom about the power of love:

“The old argument,” he said softly. “But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore.”

“Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places,” suggested Dumbledore.

This did not help. Tom never learned - how could he? At 16, he was already a murderer - who could love him now for who he was? He could never be truly loved, and he could never truly love another, and he underestimated the power of love for his entire life, leading to his downfall - twice (were that it was so simple in real life).

Voldemort is trying to obfuscate the nature of the relationship, like all cults - they never admit this is what they are.

“I am glad to hear that you consider them friends,” said Dumbledore. “I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants.”

“You are mistaken,” said Voldemort.

But LV can’t lie to Dumbledore, who changes the subject. He denies him the DADA job again, and the curse is placed on the job. LV’s ascent is due to begin in a few years. Hagrid tells the story:

Anyway, this — this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ’em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ’cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches...

Voldemort isn’t just interested in immortality. He wants complete control. He wants everyone fearing him - even fearing his name. He has people isolated and distrustful, fearing for their lives.

But we know his reign of terror was dreadful - what I’m interested in is the way he treated his own followers. We know little about how he treated them in the first war, but we do have what Sirius had to say about Regulus’s fate:

From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death.

We know the real story of Regulus’s disappearance, and it’s different. Kreacher tells us that Regulus died in the Horcrux cave - but more telling is that Regulus forbade Kreacher from telling his parents what had happened to him. Why did he feel the need to do that? This suggests that Regulus knew LV destroyed traitors’ families, which is a tactic used in cults and other abusive dynamics. We know LV would leverage Draco’s welfare against Lucius for his failure in the Department of Mysteries, too. We know also that instead of going to Dumbledore, or to his own brother, Regulus chose death – unless he was really dumb, and I don’t think he was, he must have been manipulated into believing that was his only option, or his world made no sense after his faith had shattered. So many people never readjust to life outside the cult.

Voldemort “dies” about two years after that, having successfully recruited about 400 followers (“the death eaters outnumbered us the Order 20:1” - Lupin). We can’t say if all these people were genuine Death Eaters or people who had been Imperiused or otherwise coerced, or allies like Narcissa, but that coercion is used to recruit shows that Voldemort did not take his own followers’ ambitions and wishes into account. People who use outright coercion don't suddenly draw the line at manipulation.

#death eaters #cult #death eater meta #voldemort #voldemort meta #harry potter #meta

[hpdrizzle]

Below is the list of all the fic for 2020 drizzle fest! Thanks for all your support - reveals will be posted on 10th October, Saturday. 

FEMSLASH Title: Time After Time Pairing: Ginny/Luna Summary: A few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, Luna buys an ice cream truck. Title: sugarcane in the easy morning Pairing: Ginny/Pansy Summary: “I mean, it’s not like there’s anything special about Ross,” Pansy continues. “Why do the most beautiful and powerful women go for the most painfully average men?” Title: Under Adverse Conditions Pairing: Ginny/Pansy Summary: With most of the castle away at Hogsmeade, Ginny and Pansy use the time to fly together. Title: Asbhury Manor Pairing: Millicent/Hermione Summary: Millicent farms the land on her manor. She enjoys the work and the weather, but she is lonely. Enter Hermione Granger.

There are many more awesome fics under the cut! 

GEN / MULTIPLE PAIRINGS Title: You Don’t Know [how you betrayed me] Pairing: Voldemort. Tom Riddle Sr. [GEN] Summary: Tom Marvolo Riddle meets his father on a cold and wintry night. He never meant for things to unfold the way that they do but there had been something inside him that wanted to investigate where he came from. Title: Thunder & Lightning Pairing: Hermione Granger/Fabian Prewett/Gideon Prewett Summary: A thunderstorm and a little bit of magic bring Hermione a pair of unexpected guests. Title: Getting some Vitamin D Characters/Pairings: Hermione/Adrian/Marcus Summary: Hermione takes advantage of the warm, Caribbean sun.

SLASH Title: Storms of Stars and Scars Pairing: Remus/Sirius Summary: Seven storms over seven years of Hogwarts tell the story of how Remus and Sirius fell in love. Title: Come In From The Cold Characters/Pairings: Remus/Sirius Summary: The first Hogsmeade weekend of the Marauders’ sixth year. Alternatively: In which Sirius frets and works to keep Remus warm, James argues it’s not that cold, Remus wishes the cold brought something more, and Peter just wishes everyone would get their heads out of their asses. Title: Hourglass Characters/Pairings: Remus/Sirius Summary: Sirius encounters a boy who got mugged. He offers to give him a ride home. Title: time, curious time Pairing: Remus/Sirius Summary: “Do you still remember how it started?” he asks. “How could I forget?” you ask back. Title: Riverbank Pairing: Remus/Sirius Summary: While looking for an escape from his broken family, Sirius finds the riverbank. And a boy with pink hair. Title: A Summertime Thunderstorm Pairing: Remus/Sirius Summary: Summers in Wales were ideal. Sunny, windy, warm without being sweltering… and the perfect time for Remus and Sirius to explore the feelings they’ve been dancing around for the better part of a year. Title: Freedom They Can Reach Pairing: Remus/Sirius Summary: Under rising thunderclouds in late July 1980, Remus and Sirius take a different road towards home or freedom. Title: That Summer was Good to Us Pairing: Remus/Sirius Summary: Summers in Wales were ideal. Sunny, windy, warm without being sweltering… and the perfect time for Remus and Sirius to explore the feelings they’ve been dancing around for the better part of a year. Title: Eye of the Storm Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: A storm rages blindly around a cabin with no doors. Without magic, Draco and Harry are trapped inside. Title: The cold never bothers me anyway Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: It takes Harry one pointless mission to the Arctic, three falls into the snow, a few lines from Let It Go, and thousands of floating ice crystals to realize just how beautiful Draco Malfoy is. Title: Brighter Than The Sun Characters/Pairings: Draco/Harry Summary: Draco was promised a relaxing day at the beach. This was certainly not it! Title: Winter has called you [and me] Characters/Pairings: Draco/Harry Summary: Draco decided to visit his aunt in the countryside to be a little bit away from the city. While going back, he didn’t notice a snow storm was coming, trapping him in the snow a few cities away from his aunt’s house. He didn’t expect a handsome man to save him. He also didn’t expect Harry to be his soulmate. Title: A Fault In The Weather Characters/Pairings: Draco/Harry Summary: Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes have brought out a new item: a Portable Swamp. As one of their most trusted amateur prototype testers, Harry is ecstatic to get this latest object. The only problem is that it…doesn’t seem to work. It’s generating storm clouds that sweep through the Hogwarts corridors, and showering the students with rain, hail, and snow. The storms are getting stronger, but Charms Professor Malfoy and DADA Professor Potter are on the case. Title: Key to my heart Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: Harry Potter gets locked out in the rain. He goes to his neighbour Draco Malfoy for help. Title: (You’ve Gotta) Taste The Rain Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: Harry can’t take the rat race anymore and quits Auror training just before graduation. He hopes a move to the country will bring him what he’s looking for. He doesn’t factor in a wandering neighbour who turns out to be very familiar. As the rain continues to pour, things get heated. Title: The Locus of the Fracas Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: Harry is assigned community payback, and it’s all Malfoy’s fault. Title: Only Happy When It Rains Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: Weather-Be’s, the up-and coming business of Draco Malfoy, guarantees* perfect weather for your event! If you need warm sunshine, Weather-Be’s will provide it. If you want atmospheric fog, we can make that happen. We have a 100%** success rate at giving you the weather you want. | *guarantee invalid if Harry Potter is in attendance | **success rate drops to 97% when Harry Potter’s attendance at events is counted. Title: Golden Daffodils’ Sea Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: Harry returned to Grimmauld and curled alone in Sirius’ bed, the night weighted on him and he choked with fear. A crack inside him had the shape and sound of their portkey disappearing. He didn’t sleep that night, Fred’s funeral fresh in his mind too. The guilt at his lack of tears or emotions the previous day overwhelmed him and kept his eyes opened so he could feel how undeserving of the Weasley’s love he was. The months after the Battle of Hogwarts are sunny and beautiful, even though it feels like the sky should be falling around Harry. He tries to get through grief while fixing Hogwarts, capture some Death Eaters, return to his last year of school and befriend one Draco Malfoy. However, he’ll have to realize grief is not the only thing he has to fight now that he came back from death. Title: Let him be kind Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: A ghost is haunting the halls of Malfoy Manor, wailing at all hours of the day. Unfortunately for Draco, the only person to happily offer their ghost-be-gone services was none other than Harry Potter. Title: Forever In My Mind (Be My Golden Sunshine) Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: Harry Potter flees London and a broken engagement. He finds solace in the vineyards of Châteaux Malfoy and finds a love that he could never have expected. Title: No Rules in a Breakable Heaven Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: When a magical rainstorm reveals everyone’s deepest desires, Harry learns far more about his friends and colleagues than he ever wanted to know. Worst of all, he suddenly has to face his own deepest desire. Title: What the body wants is coolness Pairing: Draco/Harry Summary: Draco and Harry have been seeing each other for months, and Harry decides the best way to tell their friends is to bring Draco to a group beach outing. Draco’s given up enumerating all the ways this plan could go wrong. Title: Comfort In The Storm Pairing: Harry & Ron Summary: “Storms are even scarier outside of the cupboard. Title: I will answer thy prayers (if thou wouldst drink of my life) Pairing: Voldemort/Harry Summary: Instead of duelling Harry in the graveyard, Voldemort kisses him instead. Title: The summer of 1899 Pairing: Albus/Gellert Summary: The cicadas are humming on that humid summer day when Albus meets Gellert for the first time. What follows is an intense, passionate affair that lasts for one perfect summer. Title: Kick In Characters/Pairings: Severus/Sirius Summary: Severus loves his husband, he really does. Even if his obsessions with nudity and rain drive him crazy sometimes. Title: Unexpected Companion Characters/Pairings: Harry/Theo Summary: While picking up a birthday cake for Hermione in Knockturn Alley, an unexpected rainstorm causes Harry to take shelter where he finds himself bumping into someone he hasn’t seen in quite a while. Title: A Loss of Control Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hugo Weasley Summary: Bored at yet another Ministry charity event, Hugo goes for a wander and finds himself with someone he never expected to. Title: heartbreak was never so loud Pairing: Marcus/Oliver Summary: Oliver starts out wanting to help Flint fit into the team. Somewhere along the way, he loses his heart to the large, surly Beater. Title: Searching For Comfort Pairing: Snape/Harry Summary: Severus was mostly there for the air-conditioning. He didn’t know it would change his life! Title: What the rainbow never tells me Pairing: James Sirius/Teddy Lupin Summary: When James is challenged with an impossible task—to find the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow—no one expects him to succeed. But what they don’t know is that James has a pretty good in with England’s premier Weather Wizard, Teddy Lupin. Title: His Reward Pairing: Snape/Draco Summary: All Draco wants for Christmas is protection. And snow. Title: Too Good To Be True Pairing: James/Regulus Summary: He couldn’t help but peruse James’ body as he answered his question. It was slowly distracting Regulus, but he couldn’t think about that now. HET Title: Funny Weather You’re Having Pairing: Zach/Luna Summary: Zach notices a strange weather pattern around Luna’s house, and decides to investigate. Title: Windy and Windy Roads Pairing: Ron/Hermione Summary: After a shopping trip in Flourish and Blotts, the wind decides to kidnap Ron’s hat. If only the wind knew what that hat meant to the Granger-Weasleys. If it did, the wind would likely have left it well enough alone. Title: Sitting in the Rain Pairing: Luna/Rolf Summary: Luna is sitting in her garden out in the rain and Harry decides to go out and join her. Title: Storming Love Characters/Pairings: Harry/Daphne Summary: Harry never expected to wake up to a rainstorm in his bedroom without a hole in the roof. Can an owl to Theo break the storm that seems to be following him? Title: Brighter Than The Sun Characters/Pairings: Pansy/Ron Summary: Ron Weasley has found the love of his life. All he needs to do is get the asking right and he’s sure Pansy Parkinson will agree to tie their lives together… if only the weather would cooperate. Title: Weathering The Storm Pairing: Ginny/Blaise Summary: Ginny’s invitation to her first quidditch match as a Harpie has Blaise a bit nervous. The storm brewing in the sky is almost as strong as the storm brewing in his heart. Can they both survive the match and its aftermath? Title: I want to feel the thunder (I want to scream) Pairing: George/Luna Summary: Sometimes things don’t need to be said, but they’re nice to hear anyway (especially when it stops your boyfriend from turning into a frog every time it rains). Title: How It Falls Pairing: Ron/Pansy Summary: Pansy Parkinson wants to live life her own way, but her mother has other ideas—specifically, she wants her to marry a certain type of wizard. Title: Corazón De Mi Alma Pairing: Harry/Hermione Summary: Harry and Hermione travel to Mexico for the repatriation of a cursed Mayan artifact. Title: Pathetic Fallacy Pairing: Hermione/Draco Summary: ‘I have an idea,’ he said quietly, ‘but I don’t think you’re going to like it.’ Title: Suddenly this rain, This defeat Characters/Pairings: Hermione/Draco Summary: A weeks long storm of mysterious origins brings more than just a headache for Hermione Granger. It also brings Draco Malfoy back into her life and her heart in a way she never expected. Title: Anchors In A Storm Pairing: Hermione/Draco Summary: Draco’s current mistake—well, it wasn’t simply one, but three—was a chain of seemingly unconnected events that, when spliced together just so, made one hell of a shit storm. Title: Queen of my heart (long may she rain) Pairing: Hermione/Draco Summary: Draco likes Granger./Granger likes books./This could be useful. Title: Make it Rain Pairing: Hermione/Draco Summary: It is raining the first time Draco Malfoy kisses Hermione Granger. Or more accurately, the first time she kisses him. Title: though she be but little Pairing: Hermione/Draco Summary: He wasn’t Shakespeare, painting pictures with his quill tip; just a boy with a festering mark on his arm and a storm in his head. Title: Shifting Sands Pairing: Hermione/Draco Summary: Hermione notices a discrepancy during an audit. Draco tries to convince her that nothing is amiss. Lightning strikes at least once. Title: Flaming Tears Pairing: Hermione/Draco Summary: He set fire to the rain and watched it pour as it touched her face.

#drizzle 2020 #anonymous masterlist #hp drizzle #hp drizzle fest #fest entry #type: fic #mod post

[cuculine-nelipot]

Wish We Could

Chapter Three: All Aboard (The Hogwarts Express)

2nd June, 1996

“So how was your date?” George asked with a sing-song lilt as soon as Fred arrived back at the store, an impish grin splashed across his face.

“What date?” Fred feigned innocence, and rather poorly. He wound his way through a maze of boxes, putting his things behind the counter before setting about stocking shelves with his brother.

“You know, the one you were on all day with a certain curly haired, amber skinned, friend of the family.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” answered Fred, pursing his lips and shaking his head as though lost. He told his brother everything, usually. But this was different — felt different. For now at least, he wanted him and Hermione to be just him and Hermione, alone together and shinning.

“Oh you know, about yay high, half-Indian, half-Caribbean, muggle born, a fair bit posh, definitely too posh for the likes of—“

“Mate,” his demeanour darkened dramatically, “if you don’t stop it, I’m going to have to smack you.”

Considering however, that in doing so Fred would wind up hurting himself too, George persisted, confident that he wouldn’t. A nice bit of twin magic that. Or a curse, depending on where you stood. So he followed his brother around the store, pelting him with questions.

“Where’d you go? What’d you do? What’s Foyles? Are those books? Can I see? Did you get something for me? Fred did you get something for me? Did you kiss? Did you hold hands? Did you kiss her Fred? Fred did you kiss her? You know it’s funny, I always thought Hermione and Ron— OW!” His upper arm throbbed in pain, and he looked down to see a red patch on his arm roughly the size of Fred’s fist. Fred stalked upstairs, his trainers thumping loudly on the steps, rubbing the same spot on his own arm.

.

Late that night, George rolled over in bed, and Fred’s arm throbbed in pain. “Sorry,” Fred said from his own bed across the room, his voice meek.

“It’s fine,” was George’s sleep-gruff response. He meant it, and that only made Fred feel worse.

“It was a good day. If you were still wondering.”

“Good, I’m glad.”  And he meant that too. Fred could hear the smile in his voice.

Minutes trickled by, then hours. George’s breathes came slower, and quieter as he fell asleep. Fred lay awake, his eyes fixed on the blackness above. Fred and Hermione he said to himself over and over, finding new empathy for 10-year-old Ginny devoutly drawing hearts around Harry’s name. He couldn’t believe his luck, was almost certain it wouldn’t last, couldn’t shake the feeling that they were on borrowed time somehow. He said their names like an incantation, like a mantra, like a prayer. Fred and Hermione. He would hold on to it as long as he could, as long as he was allowed. Fred and Hermione. He let the phrase well in his ears, warm, and light, and rosy. He let it percolate through his body, shinning from his head to his toes, until at last he fell asleep.

1st September, 1998

He couldn’t exactly not go to King’s Cross, it being Ginny and Ron’s last year at Hogwarts and all. Seeing Hermione was just a bonus, even if she wouldn’t talk to him, or look at him. Even if she had ignored every owl and phone call since they last saw each other. Even if he had to see Ron kiss her, even if his only small comfort was convincing himself that maybe he saw her pull away away. It was, he thought, enough just to see her from across the station.

And Hermione hadn’t doubted for a second that he would be there. Still, seeing him set her teeth on edge. The familiar, biting, Fred Weasley brand of annoyance shot through her from stomach to her jaw. Just look at him, standing there, his legs spread in a V, one arm crossing his chest, the fingers of his other hand touching his lips, laughing at something Ginny says. His ginger hair coiffed, and in brilliant contrast to a white t-shirt and navy bomber. What an arse.

Hermione’s thoughts, like his, turn inevitably, unerringly, unstoppably to the last time they were both on Platform 9 and 3/4.

1st September, 1996

The rest of the summer had been peppered with moments like this; Fred tenderly rubbing cream into bruised skin beneath her eye after she had fallen victim to a trick telescope, Fred showing up outside her window on his broom in the middle of the night, to take her anywhere, or to just stay and talk a while, Fred, Crookshanks-like, reaching out to stroke her face while she read, Fred flinging and arm around her while they walked, or playfully shoving into her and running away so that she had to chase after him to get her revenge. Fred pulling her in for a kiss before she could.

Snogging, — this  time behind a pillar in a half hearted attempt to not be seen, at least not by anyone who would care. Her arms around his neck, his hands on her waist, something pink glittering under her skin, his skin. Neither of them had felt anything like it before and both we sure they would never feel that way ever again, not with anyone else.

“Stop it you’re going to make me late,” she whined, but she was smiling and made no attempt to pull away. Maybe she could spare a few more seconds. It wasn’t like she had to say goodbye to anyone else anyway.

“It’s fine that was just the warning whistle.” His voice muffled against her lips.

“Come on Fred. “

“Can’t,“ he teased, “don’t go there anymore.”

“Frederick,” she’d said in her best warning tone. She was going to be late for the prefects’ meeting. He was going to make her late. Fred let out a deep sigh, rubbed his nose against her neck, kissed her quick once, twice, three times on the mouth before he dropped his arms and let her go.

“Granger,” he called. She hadn’t taken three steps. Half turning around, she fixed him with a quizzical look. “I miss you.”

Ridiculous, she thought. She rolled her eyes. She walked away before he could see the smile that cracked across her face, grateful that he couldn’t see her blush.  

She felt a pang of sadness, boarding the train. She hadn’t had anyone else to say goodbye to. At her insistence, her parents hadn’t come. The Weasleys’ are always running late. There wouldn’t be time for a proper goodbye. Yes, I’m sure. I’ll see you at Christmas. I promise. I love you too.

Of course, she would have preferred they be there, but it seemed much too dangerous, all things considered. Voldemort clearly wasn’t hiding anymore, and she didn’t want anyone remembering what her parents look like. In fact, when whatever was coming eventually came, she wanted her parents as far away from her as possible.

But such thoughts were cut short by the fluttering of paper on her cheek. She pulled a small folded aeroplane from the air, unfolded it on her way to the prefects carriage, observed the now familiar script, halfway between elegant and utterly illegible.  

You’re perfect Granger.

And just like that she was smiling again.

1st September, 1998

He throws another fugitive glance in her direction, but this time he catches her looking too. She narrows her eyes at him before snapping her attention back to her parents.

“You have to write to us everyday, do you understand Hermione? Everyday. And we want pictures. Lots of them. Do you have the camera?”

“Yes dad,” she says, trying her best to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

“And film?”

“Yes mama.”

“Okay. Good, good,” her father says. Both her parents are looking at her with the same, worried expressions that cross their faces whenever Hogwarts had come up recently. They don’t particularly understand why Hermione doesn’t just do her A Levels, go to a nice Muggle university, stay far away from the world that had put her in so much danger. She hadn’t ruled it out entirely — A Levels and uni, but she isn’t one to not finish something she started, and she definitely isn’t one to run scared, at the first sign of trouble. Or the hundredth for that matter. Besides, there is the burning desire to experience at least one semi-normal year at Hogwarts to take into account.

“Are you sure about this darling?” Her mother asks again, the same pained expression on her face.

Her parents had married young, and were only in their mid-30s the first time they sent her off to Hogwarts. The intervening years had been kind to them, no doubt, but there was no denying the crows feet carved into her father’s dark skin, the wisps of white hair falling like thin satin ribbons, framing her mother’s ashy brown face, the creases in their brows. They had plenty of time left, it was true, but none they wanted to spare, and Hermione had been so distant for so long. Still…

“Very,” she says, apologetically.

“You’ll write everyday, won’t you?”

“Everyday,” she confirms

“Well, okay then. You better go.” The train whistles in agreement. Mrs. Granger pulls Hermione into a bony hug, all collar bones and elbows, but warm and comfortable nonetheless.  

Everyone boards, Hermione piling into a carriage with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna, and Neville. She gives her parents final kisses on the cheeks, leaning out the window as the Hogwarts Express glides out of the station.

She stays that way, leaning on the windowpane, long after King’s Cross is out of sight. She watches farm and field roll past as the crisp autumn air whips at her face. The carriage is crowded and suitably noisy, everyone excited and nervous in equal measure at the prospect of returning to Hogwarts.

A small paper aeroplane flutters toward her, pausing in front of her nose. She plucks it from the air, and unfolds it with needlessly careful fingers.

I miss you Granger.

No one is looking so, perhaps for the first time in her life, Hermione acts without thinking too much, without giving herself the chance to lose courage. No one pays attention as she rummages in her rucksack for a quill, or when she hastily scrawls a reply, refolds it into a plane, and breathes on it to make it fly. There. Now it’s done. Now he’ll know. No turning back now.

She feels lighter suddenly, and pulls her body into the carriage to keep from being blown away. She listens to Luna tell one of her ridiculous stories, and to everyone’s surprise, she smiles good-naturedly instead of tearing the (lack of) reason apart, as she would have done once upon a time.

“Alright, Hermione?” She turns to find Ginny looking at her curiously, her pink, delicate face set with perhaps the faintest hint of concern.

“Yeah,” Hermione says smiling, a reckless joy bubbling in her chest, “I’m great.” She laughs and Ginny, though she’s not sure what’s so funny, laughs too, simply happy that her friend is.

.

Things go quiet the closer they get to Hogwarts, each person drawing increasingly inward, all trying to imagine what it will be like to walk those halls again — halls that they themselves helped rebuild just months ago. What it would be like to eat in the Great Hall as they had done so many times, to sit through History of Magic knowing that recently they had no small part in making it. They pull on their robes in silence, do their best to clean up the sweet wrappers and pasty crumb. Harry puts his arm around Ginny’s shoulder and she leans into his side. He brings his hand up to play with the hair next to her ear. It’s unclear who is comforting whom.

Hermione looks out the window, not wanting to miss the first sight of the castle. Ron, in his seat across from her, leans over and tries to take her hand but she jerks away from the unexpected touch. Turning to find a wounded look on his face, she takes one of his hands in both of hers. Then she sees it, the silhouette of its towers against the fast dusking sky, a thousand lights winking in a thousand windows, and she feels magic rush through her veins again.

“Harry,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. He is the only one of her friends who really understood the wonder of discovering magic, and Hogwarts. He is the only one who knows how it felt, learning that it came at so perilous a price. Switching places with Ginny, he leans toward the window, a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. The moment he catches sight of the first place that ever felt like home to him, she feels a slight squeeze, hears his breath hitch. She turns back to look to him, and he gives her a nervous smile, a glint in his eyes approaching something like wonder.

.

Fred was halfway home by the time it found its way back to him. He hadn’t expected to see it, assumed that she would have burned his little note to a crisp. So he just stared at its floating form, mouth agape. The paper plane, growing impatient, began insistently banging into his forehead. He snatched it from the air then, as though afraid of startling it, as if it might still burst into flames if he was too eager, unfolded it with cautious fingers.

I miss you too.

Taglist: @solunars @lovedyouthreesummers @keoghans @aquaeryn @thelasttime

#Fremione #fred x hermione fanfinction #fremione fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #Fred Weasley #Hermione Granger #HP #fred weasley fanfiction #hp fanfic #hermione granger fanfic #re-posting this because I somehow copy and pasted it wrong last night

[maydei]

It’s not unlike the first time he cast the Patronus Charm. Harry knows he’s done it once, and so he can do it again.

It doesn’t make the sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube any more pleasant; in fact, the knowledge of his company may make it worse. Because it’s not just a figment of the locket. There’s no way to replicate the Priori Incantatem, and as Voldemort launched spells at him, he should have known better, but he’s operating on instinct and half a prayer. He doesn’t have high hopes, just the desire to survive. It’s not like he’s faced down a horcrux since his second year, either—one that Tom Riddle had created at sixteen, and that was bad enough. Who knows what the locket could be capable of?

So, it’s not his fault for making assumptions. As this evening has proven, there’s no formula to predict what Voldemort will do next, no notes scribbled in the margins. Harry can only focus on himself. Each heartbeat: still alive. Each breath: still alive. Another second to live. Another second to think.

[continue on AO3] || [from the beginning]

#tomarry #tomarrymort #trhp #lvhp #lvhptr #luc writes #fic: KCU #update #it's Labor Day; i'm working; please send serotonin #THANK YOU FOR THE RESPONSE SO FAR I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS BAR

[mysweetestcreature]

Meus Amor (Hogwarts!Harry) Part VI

(Banner by the lovely pretty-hazza)

***

Hours must have gone by since the beat of his heart had been any less than frantic. The tears haven’t stopped dripping from his sore crimson eyes, his bare chest glistening in his own bitter misery. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so fearful in his life, and that’s coming from someone who has had the wand of Lord Voldemort pointed directly to the bulge of his neck. This is worse than anything he could have ever imagined. Defenseless. It’s the only word he can use to describe himself in this adverse position. A part of him –– a large part –– knows there’s no one to blame except for himself. 

Harry sits shaking on Gemma’s couch, his hands up to his mouth and pressed together as though in a form of prayer. His eyes are shut tight, so much that he sees the subdued patterns blending together in recurrent and blinding flashes. “Please,” he begs to whoever might be listening, and gods, he hopes there really is someone willing to answer his desperate pleas. Just one, it’s all he asks. If given one wish, he would spend it on them with no hesitation.  

There’s no doubt in his mind that Gemma is doing her absolute best, but he’s only human and humans are subject to this feeling of incapacitating despair. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to love with himself if he loses either of them, or Merlin forbid, both. That thought alone makes his stomach coil.

He hastily rises to his feet, but when it comes time to lift either of them up, he’s completely paralyzed. The desire to see them being outweighed by the guilt he feels eating him up. As much as he wants to tell himself that the decision to keep such a considerable secret from her had been in her best interests, he realizes that it might have been for more selfish reasons. Admitting to her that he had become one of them, one of the bad guys that have greatly contributed to turning their world to utter chaos, would only prove one point. It’s the one thing he had promised himself he would never become, but it’s the same promise he’d shattered when he had allowed them to mark him as their own.  

The hardest reality that Harry has to accept is that maybe he isn’t so different from his father after all. 

“They’re both in stable condition.” 

The announcement manages to take a great weight off his shoulders. His head leads the rest of his body as he veers in his sister’s way. She’s visibly exhausted, the bun on top of her head loose with matted hairs sticking to her sweaty forehead and the outlines of her face. 

“You know,” she starts, projecting a weak simper as she releases each empty flask into the air one at a time and watching as they levitate around the corner and into the kitchen. “I always heard stories about how difficult it was to treat family, but I would have never anticipated it to feel anything like this.” She breathes out heavily, hands steadying themselves on the back of her hips.

“Gem, thank you,” he says, voice unsteady. “And I know it probably means nothing to you now, but fuck...” A choke slashes its way out of him. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here. W-what if...if they–”

Gemma pulls him towards her. “As if I’d be anywhere else.” They hug each other tightly, Harry continuing to assert his gratitude into her temple. Sin still flows heavy within his veins, but the relief that comes from the news of their safety acts as something of a cleanse. 

“Can I see her?” he snivels and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

There’s a delicate shift in the way her arms feel around him, like he’s suddenly too fragile and could break at any time. He jerks away and is met with the solemn image of her lips formed in a straight line. Her mouth parts slightly but closes shortly after. It’s like he’s dangling off the edge of cliff by a single thread. “What?” he questions. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

His arms drop to his side, a numbness spreading all the way down to the tips of his fingers. Green eyes heed to the floor as though they were being compelled to do so. “Did she...” His nails click together while he tries to order the contents that linger on his tongue. “Did she say that?” The little strength he had left is completely flushed out of him.

Her lack of response suffices over any palpable answer. The silence rings violently in between his ears. He looks over her head, offering a surprisingly calm nod. Gemma places a hand over his left shoulder, her melancholy-filled smile apologetic. 

Not saying anything more, he pushes past her and bolts in the direction of the bedroom. His gut feels twisted, and Gemma’s outcries for him to rethink his hasty actions don’t make him feel any better. At this point, he doesn’t think anything will. 

Stopping right in front of the door, his hand grasping the knob firmly, Harry begins to waver. Pressing his forehead onto the wooden surface, he lets his eyes fall closed. He tries to picture her on the other side, lying underneath the blanket with her palms padded on top of her growing bump. He knows she’s scared because he’s entirely petrified. She’s been through so much in a short span of time, and the stress can’t be contributing to the well-being of their baby. Regardless of how much he wants to see her, even if it is just to attest that she’s okay with his own two eyes, he just can’t.

He releases the knob, only to have both hands curl into fists and rise up to either side of his face. They pulse against the door with a muted thud. Breathing becomes harder. He spins around and it’s then his vision becomes clouded once again as he slides down in a heavy heap to the floor. 

***

The light that shines from underneath the door is greatly diminished following the slight clamor from the other side. She observes, with tears filling in her eyes, his scarcely audible weeps. Hands find themselves atop her abdomen, her thumbs caressing the seemingly dainty skin through her shirt. When she had seen the cascade of blood down her leg, her mind couldn’t stop from fearing the worse. The sensation had been tripled what she had experienced from when she had first arrived. Knowing what she could lose if it were to overtake her was just too excruciating to comprehend. 

Every ounce of her feels wholly defeated when she thinks about the events that brought her here. How is she supposed to pretend like everything is fine when the father of her child has been pronounced with a scar that ultimately defines where his loyalties lie? Can she put this behind her in favor of being with the person she had put so much of her trust into? Because despite everything, his name is still inscribed across her heart where it will always remain. 

Yet, she can’t imagine what it would be like to raise a child given their circumstance. To grow up in a world split into two sides in constant clash with one another. The war may have just started, but she already feels its effects burdening their lives with its unforgiving nature. What child deserves that?

She turns on her side, focus boring into the wall as she gives her heart time to mend itself of all the pain. Her hand continuing to graze over the spot where she feels her baby most. “I’ll protect you, always,” she whispers into her pillow. “Doesn’t matter from who. Mummy won’t let anything happen to you.”

***

He wakes up on the couch only after a paltry few hours of sleep. Although, he isn’t sure how much of that time was beneficially used. Most of his joints feel stiff and his neck aches whenever he turns just the smallest degree to the right. He can’t even recall the last time he went to bed alone; it must have been sometime at the start of the Spring term back at school. Had someone told him at the start of his sixth year that he’d ever depend so much on another, his pride would have surely handed it back to them. 

The aromatic scent of freshly brewed coffee snags him from his thoughts, and it’s then he hears his sister hum a Weird Sisters song from the other room. He drops his head, grimacing at the sensitivity of the nerves at the apex of his spine. His hand curves over it in attempts to soothe the tension-filled muscle, but he’s sure only a pepper-up potion will be able to diffuse it. 

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek when timid footfalls echo from the hallway. Running a hand through his mess of hair, he swallows hard as he anticipates her entrance. He counts down in his head, his heart racing when those steps get nearer until they stop suddenly when he’s able to interpret her figure from the far corner of his eye. 

Neither of them commands a sound, and both refuse to be the first to look the other’s way.

Seconds pass, maybe even a full minute. She’s leaning against the wall with her arms wrapped around herself, while he’s still sitting with his elbows perched on his knees. Last night, all he had wanted was to lie beside her, but now he can’t even find it in himself to look her in the face because all he’ll see is the disappointment in her eyes. 

He clears his throat and stands up. “I think Gemma made breakfast,” is all he says. From the window in front of him, he slowly shifts his gaze in her direction. A bittersweet expression settles across his features when he finally lays eyes on her. She’s still dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, and he resists every urge to duck his nose into the crook of her neck and feel her warm body against his in a tender embrace. “You should...” he shakes his head and pushes the thought away before staring down at her hands placed on her belly, “should eat something. The little one’s probably getting hungry.”

“Okay,” she agrees quietly. She tiptoes past him as though he were a monster unconscious, and it only makes him feel like he’s exactly that. 

“Wait, love,” he calls her, outstretching for her hand before it’s out of reach. She tenses under his touch, and he ignores the way another part of him shatters. 

As she slowly spins around, she tries to keep herself aloof because being close to him has always made her weak. How can she be so angry with him, yet still allow him to affect her in this way? No matter how much she wants to give in and let her heart govern her actions, her priorities have changed. “Don’t,” she warns, but her voice becomes uneven as she does. Yanking out of his grasp, she turns her back on him. 

***

“I think it’s for the best if we take you to St. Mungo’s,” Gemma expresses her concern for Y/n’s condition over scrambled eggs and toast. The latter nods but maintains her wordless behavior as she forks around the contents of her plate. She’s not as hungry as she thought she was when she left the bed earlier this morning. “I just don’t have all the resources here, and we should really confirm that the baby is okay.”

Just as Harry’s lips wrap around the rim of his mug, he freezes. “Didn’t you say that they were both healthy? Look, if there’s something going on, you have to tell us so we can–” 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Dad,” his sister interjects and rolls her eyes as she walks her used dishes to the sink. Harry hides the bright shine of his teeth as he takes a long sip. What he would do to hear his little girl call him by such a deeply personal name. Simply thinking about it makes him about ready to swoon. “It’s more of a formality, really. Since she’s nearly two months along, she needs a file.”

“We’ll go today.”

Both Styles snap to her, Gemma with a delighted complexion, Harry with something vaguely more perturbed. 

“Lo–” he pauses. “Y/n,” he forcefully corrects himself. But he’s soon overcome by that feeling of uncertainty, and he doesn’t stop himself from kneeling beside her with his arm wrapping around the backrest of her chair. “Are you sure? I mean, we’d have to apparate to hospital. That’s too much of a risk.” If she hadn’t already had two near miscarriages, he probably wouldn’t be this worried. What if she were to get splinched? Call him paranoid, but apparition must evoke even an ounce of physical distress.  

“He’s right, Y/n,” Gemma says. “Pregnant women are more prone to splinching. It’s only about a half hour from here if you go by tube, so I’ll go ahead, that way I can get the room prepped for when you and Harry get there.” Her validation of his point gives him a sudden rush of confidence. 

His hand finds itself at the base of Y/n’ thigh and squeezes gently. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it if anything like last night happened again.” 

Her top lids droop to meet the bottoms as she breathes in deeply through her nose. The question lingers above her head. Commuting would mean the two of them would be alone and pretending that she can look him without her gaze faltering down to his arm. But can she afford not to take precautions? 

“Alright,” she concedes. “We’ll meet you there.”

***

Space on the tube is limited at this hour, or maybe it seems that way with how close they’re standing. Every time the train would start up or come to a halt, she loses her balance and stumbles into his side no matter how much of a grip she has on the pole. She feels like she’s trapped in this cocoon of restlessness and has to wait an indecent amount of time before emerging from the feeling. 

Except she’s not a butterfly, and the world around her isn’t as beautiful as she had once believed. There’s terror in places she’d never expect, treacherous doings constantly being broadcast across the country. As they had left the flat, another mass killing had been reported over muggle radio. Police couldn’t point a finger, nor could they determine a cause of death.

A man on the train holds a newspaper up high as he reads. The front page emphasizes the fifth attack in two weeks. It asks the hair-raising question: Is the World as Evil as We Thought? The featured photograph underneath the headline is the outside of a seemingly innocuous house that had found itself to be the setting of a crime. 

The non-magic world had been a safe place for her, but now it’s been ruined by wizarding supremacists with no moral compass or even a grain of virtue in their beings. Each time the names of the victims are announced, her eyes close and her ears listen carefully. She’s desperate to never hear her mum’s name, or the names of anyone she holds close to her heart. 

The compartment juts as they approach another station. She doesn’t even realize she’s lost her footing until Harry’s arms envelop her as he tries to hold her up.

“Hey,” he coos. He glances over her shoulder, spying a newly vacant seat. “Here, sit down.” 

She falls onto the bench, her lungs feeling as though they’re being crushed as she lays back. 

Harry takes the spot beside her and stares at her warily. “What’s wrong?”

“The newspaper the man is holding,” she says, eyes falling into her lap. “There’s a picture of the house. I used to live in one just like it, before we moved to Kensington.” Harry looks to the man, the skin between his eyebrows indenting. His eyes squint at the bold the letters. As his mouth wrap around the last word, realization pounces on him. A humorless laugh then shrugs her shoulders high and drops them even lower. “What if...” she pauses, licking along her lips. “What if we still lived there?”

“Don’t think like that,” he urges, taking her hands into his. “The attacks were completely random. They don’t choose who their victims are.”

“Exactly!” she screeches. A few fellow passengers look their way, but Y/n replaces her embittered expression with a faded grin to detach their curious eyes. She inhales deeply to calm herself before adjusting her volume. “No one could have ever anticipated who they’d...It could’ve been someone I know. It could’ve been my parents, me–”

“No,” he booms. “It couldn’t have.” 

Y/n blanches at the dour inflection. He sounds so sure. 

***

They arrive outside Purge and Dowse, Ltd at exactly half past the hour. The building is strikingly ordinary, an unsuspecting site of renovation. People pass it without sparing as much as a trace of curiosity. 

“How do we get in?” Y/n asks, studying the cobwebbed displays. She’s never been to St. Mungo’s before, and maybe that’s a good thing. Each time she was sick, her parents would take her to a Muggle doctor, or Madam Pomfrey’s if she was at school. 

Lacing his fingers with hers, Harry leads her to the window on the far left just beside a deserted alleyway. A mannequin, dressed in a long violet 19th century gown with a pleated bell-shaped skirt and ruffled sleeves, is stood on her post and oddly out of place, with such an ensemble presented in this era. The longer Y/n stares it, it’s like it’s inspecting her right back.

Harry’s jaw become slack. “Ready?” She nods despite remaining in the dark. She watches as he makes intense eye contact with the mannequin. “Prenatal visit,” he announces to it as if it were listening. When she looks back at the display, the mannequin’s neutral appearance turns up in a subtle smirk. It catches her off guard, and she grasps Harry’s bicep with her free hand. 

“Would you believe I was afraid of mannequins until I was twelve?” she swallows, hiding her face from view with his shoulder. 

“I could see that being true,” he chuckles, and he lets his lips fall onto her hair. He finds comfort as he breathes in her scent. 

***

“We just started using these about a year ago,” Gemma says excitedly, referring to the bulky piece of machinery. “It’s inspired by the ones muggle doctors use on pregnant patients. Really quite amazing!” 

“So, it’s like an ultrasound probe?” Y/n wonders. Last summer she had gone with her cousin to a checkup and had seen something similar. Who would have thought that she’d be in her place a year later? 

Gemma just lights up. “Yes! It’s completely genius. If we could implement all this technology into our routine, life would be so much easier.”

“Since when did you become a muggle fanatic?” her brother raises the question. 

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, H,” she gives him a pointed look. The vibe in the room suddenly changes. “Why do you think I decided to move out as soon as I graduated? I couldn’t stand the prejudice in that house.” Harry becomes muted. 

Never did he think that his father had been the reason why his sister had left so hurriedly. Things had seemed so happy back then, at least that’s how he remembers it. But one evening he had come home after spending the day at Niall’s family’s cottage in Trowbridge only to find her things gone and room completely ridden of her essence. 

“Why don’t we start?” Y/n intervenes, quickly glancing at him. 

“Of course,” Gemma nods, adjusting herself as she takes her wand from the pocket of her white apron. A clear gel-like substance emits from the tip and spreads itself along the exposed skin of her stomach. It’s cold, just as her cousin had described during her appointment. It makes the small hairs on her arms rise up as tingles spread across the rest of her body. Gemma checks up on her. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” Y/n confirms. “Just a weird sensation, I guess.” 

Gemma chortles. “I get that a lot,” she muses. She reaches behind her and grabs a vial holding a sparkling pink liquid. It evokes a faint scent of something sweet, like raspberries or maybe even bubblegum. “Drink this,” she says, handing it to her.

“What is that?” Harry inquires. 

“It interacts with the gel –– makes it possible for us to view the baby on this monitor here,” she gestures to the screen that crowns the machine. “There’s this study that the research department has been working on for almost a decade. Muggle anatomy and wizard/witch anatomy are nearly identical.”

“Nearly?” Y/n pipes in.

“They’re identical in all ways except for their reproductive systems,” the healer clarifies. “For some reasons –– most likely our genetic makeup –– those organs are structured differently and that’s why treatment methods vary depending on which you’re dealing with. A muggle ultrasound probe would never be able to detect a magical baby inside her magical parent, so this potion makes it possible.” 

They take her explanation as is before she gets deeper into the science of magical framework. 

Y/n observes the vial as she takes it in her hand. She feels Harry’s hand wrap around her in encouragement. When the potion drenches her tongue in its sour flavor, her face scrunches up in disgust. Harry masks his amusement as best as he can. “It smells a lot better than it tastes,” she mutters. 

The wand hovers over her stomach like a scanner, and she focuses her attention to the monitor. Both teens are hush-hush as they wait for Gemma to speak up, but she remains tight-lipped longer than they become comfortable with. 

Her brows knit together in bewilderment. “How long...” but she trails off. Y/n turns to Harry nervously. He presses his forehead to the side of hers and whispers his reassurance, even though a sick feeling has sunk deep within his insides. 

“Is there something wrong?” Y/n desperately seeks out an answer. 

“No, no,” Gemma affirms, extending her hand to calm the young mother. “It’s just, you’re not as far along as I thought you were.” Ushering to the screen, she points something out. “See, this is your baby right here.” She refers to a small dot in the middle. Sliding her stool over to the counter, she opens a drawer and pulls a binder from it. She turns a couple pages. “Mum said she noticed the leaf in the beginning of June, which would mean you should be about seven to eight weeks.”

“Maybe she’s just small. I remember Y/n’s mum saying she was a smaller baby.” Harry just wants to make sense of all this. 

However, his sister isn’t easily convinced. “It’s not that,” she tells them. “When both parents and child are of magical backgrounds –– Y/n, you’re a half-blood and Harry’s a pureblood, which make the baby a half-blood –– growth and development are proven to be more advanced. So, what I’m trying to get at is this baby is only three weeks along at most. Date of conception estimated to be during the first few days of this month.”

“That’s not possible,” Harry shakes his head. “Yaxley came by the Y/l/n’s house at the start of July, and he already knew that she was pregnant.” If he remembers correctly, it must have been the fourth of the month, the day after they had visited Neal’s Yard. 

Y/n sits up. “I remember feeling nauseous at Dumbledore’s funeral, that was on the first, but...”

“Just nauseous?”

“I mean...yeah. But that’s common in pregnancies, yeah? I probably pregnant already.”

Gemma eyes pierce into her and Harry. Without saying anything, she stands up and walks out the door, leaving both of them as confused as ever. 

The book that his sister had used as reference is wide open. He takes it in his hands. It’s open to the description of the seventh week, an idealized example of a baby’s appropriate size right beside it. According to context, the baby should be the size of a blueberry or raspberry if she’s eight weeks in. The image of their child still exists on the monitor, and he can’t resist to use the picture as a comparison. She’s barely the size of a poppyseed, but how is that possible? Anne had known about the baby at least a month before he had visited her.

“What’s going on?” Y/n sounds completed depleted. 

He wishes he could tell her, but everything he had come to understand might have been a complete lie. 

The door opens upon Gemma’s return. Following her is a man, one vaguely familiar to Y/n. 

“This is Colin Shafiq, he’s from the Ministry,” she introduces the man to them.

“What’s he doing here?” Harry demands, standing in front of the examining table. 

Gemma doesn’t answer, but Shafiq steps forward and eyes him carefully. “On the 18th of June of 1996, Harry Potter and company battled You-Know-Who’s allies in the Department of Mysteries,” he begins. Shafiq walks past Harry and circles around the room. “Most prophecy orbs were destroyed and accounted for during the clean up following the attack, except for a notable few.” 

Y/n reaches for Harry’s hand with both of hers. Her heart thumps wildly beneath her chest. 

“Your father, Desmond Styles, had participated in the event, yes?” Shafiq asks, but everyone in the room knows the answer. “Well, as it would appear, your orb, as well as your mother’s and sister’s, have gone missing.” 

“That’s why the aurors searched our house...” Harry is winded by this realization. It had never made sense to him why the Ministry had turned the Estate upside down when it was clear that his father was gone.

Shafiq nods. “It was important that we recover them before they got into the wrongs hands, but by then your father had already disappeared.”

Harry staggers back, finding support on the examination table. If his understanding is correct, his father might have already known of his fate for months. That still doesn’t explain why Colin Shafiq was here at their appointment. Unless... He peers back to the screen. “You’re telling me my father has known about this for a year?” Which would only mean that the Dark Lord and all his death eaters had known too. The next thought that enters his mind makes him grimace even further.

“There’s a strong likelihood, yes.”  

He never stood a chance. They had planned for him to be a death eater from the very start, even prior to Desmond’s arrest. When Anne said that they didn’t have choice, she must’ve known where he’d be seven months later.

***

By the time they make it back to the flat, Harry’s head is still spinning with questions left answered. He’s upset, angry. His own parents had manipulated him with knowledge of his future, that’s the detail he doesn’t think he can ever forgive. 

“Harry...” her voice utters his name. “I know you’re not telling me something.” She rakes at him beseechingly; her tired limbs are barely able to hold herself up after the day they’ve had. “No more secrets.”

He knows she’s right. Is he expected to creep around the subject of his family forever? She’s already lost faith in him – he feels it whenever she looks at him without so much as a glimmer in her eyes. However, having revealed to her that he’s a death eater already puts her at so much risk, especially since her father is an auror, one that’s despised by Voldemort’s camp. If he were to disclose anything more about that part of his life, he doesn’t know how much of it will be too much before he loses the privilege of their protection.

The decision is hard for him, but he has to make it. “I can’t tell you.”

She doesn’t take well to his answer, and her palm comes into harsh contact with his cheek. “I deserve to know!” she seethes. “If it concerns our child, then I have every right! How can you keep doing this?”

“You think I want to!?” he shouts back. Y/n has never heard him raise his voice like this before. “You think I’m doing this as some kind of sick joke? Fucking hell, Y/n. I’m doing this for you! For this family!”

“Then why can’t you just tell me?” 

“Because...” he’s only just able to stop himself. Covering his face, he shuns away from her, trying to get himself under control. This conversation is only putting more stress on her, which will only affect their daughter, and he won’t put her life at risk because of his temper. His hands stretch down the skin on his face before they fall back to his sides. He sighs heavily, as he pivots on his heel.

“Because what?”

Moving closer, he finds moderate pacification when she doesn’t shrink away. He cups her face in his hands. “I love you,” he declares, running his thumb along the high point of her cheek. “You still believe that, right?” No answer from her, she just continues to bore her eyes into his. There’s so much left to be said, but he isn’t willing to make that gamble. Things are far too complicated, and there’s no telling how further disordered their lives can become if she were to know the full extent of the deal he had made with the Dark Lord. 

Letting his eyes fall just a little beneath the tip of her nose, he kisses her fiercely, putting everything he has into it as though it were their last. She’s stiff for a time, her lips unmoving until he slowly senses her caving in. Feeling her relaxing against him, her arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer. 

They continue their actions, Y/n allowing herself to get lost in his touch. His tongue prods its way into her mouth, licking every inch it can reach. Though it might not have been long ago that she’d felt his lips on hers, her body is aflame the way he kisses her so urgently. Part of her scolds herself for giving in so easily, but the rest of her feels the security of having their bodies so closely pressed together. In this moment, she forgets about their worries. So much that she doesn’t notice how he reaches for his wand in his back pocket.

He mumbles something into her mouth, and that’s the last thing she remembers before collapsing in his arms. 

***

The Estate had once been a safe haven, but now it’s become the breeding ground of his misery. Harry had never thought it would come to this, but as he stands outside a place he had considered home for all seventeen years of his life, he feels nothing but pure malice. 

He pushes aggressively on the front doors, and they loudly slam against the walls behind them. It rattles all the furniture in foyer. He steps through the threshold, instantly being embodied with chills crawling all over his skin. 

A shadow from the adjoining hallway grows bigger as it approaches. “Master Harry! Tin-Tin was not expecting Master home tonight!” the house elf gasps. “Does Master wish to join Mistress and Master’s father for supper?” 

“They’re in the dining room?” 

Tin-Tin nods animatedly. Harry rushes past her, practically running like a madman through the spacious rooms. 

The light of the dining room is bright from the large chandelier that hangs over the table. It’s almost blinding for him as he barges in. 

“Ah, Harry. What brings you he–” but before his father can finish his sentence, Harry punches him square in the jaw. Anne screams, pushing out of her chair and running to hold him back. 

“Bastard, you ruined my life!” Harry fumes, his nostrils flaring as he strikes another blow. All he can see his red, as he continues to thrust his fists forward. 

“Stop it! Just stop it!” Anne struggles to tear them apart. “Harry, he’s your father!”

Harry jousts her off of him before roughly throwing Desmond to the floor. He turns to her, eyes enraged and scarred with the mark of her betrayal. “You,” he points at her accusingly. “You knew about her for months and you kept it from me!” 

His mother visibly flinches. 

“Why, Mum? What did I ever do to deserve that?” his voice is frantic as he pulls on his hair. 

“Sweetheart, it’s not what you–”

“You turned me into a fucking murderer!” he cries, furious tears hanging off his bottom lashes. As hard as he tries to suppress the memory of that night, he can’t erase the face of his first victim from his memory. The night of his of initiation, they had thrown a muggle man at his feet. He can still hear the man’s weeps to spare his life because he had a family that needed him, children that needed a father. But Harry had to prove his loyalties to the Dark Lord, and that meant killing the innocent man in front of him as though he were nothing but disposable. 

Anne holds back a sob as she clasps her mouth with her hands. She shakes her head desperately. “I didn’t–” she begins to tremble. “I didn’t want to! Harry, I didn’t want to!”

An embittered snicker erupts from him. 

“The thing is, Mum...” Harry lamps down at his beaten father. “You did. You chose him over me, and now my child is paying for this family’s sins.”

Desmond struggles to stand to his feet. “Because it is your destiny,” he says darkly. “All that’s happened was always meant to be.” 

Garnering himself up, his eyes burn a deathly shade. He pulls Harry by the collar and drags him through the house. His son struggles to free himself, but he’s led into the hallway where portraits of their ancestors. From the earliest known known members in the early 1600s feature high up and close to the ceiling, to the most recent ones on the far right just at level with the arch of the door, Harry is presented before all of them. “Generations of Styles, each one believed in a society ruled by our kind. Muggles and those filthy mudbloods have tarnished the sacredness of our world.” The faces of men and women glare down at them. “This is who you’re meant to be. A wizard who fights for our people.”

“You’re wrong,” Harry growls, finally able to unleash himself from his grip. He stands firm, sending all those who wish to see him fall a scowl that says exactly what’s on his mind. This isn’t who he is. This isn’t who he’s meant to become. “I’m nothing like them,” he expounds, shaking his head as he projects back to his father. “And I’m sure as hell nothing like you.” 

***

It’s a quarter after midnight when Y/n peeks into the hallway through the tiniest crack in the door. When nothing but silence greets her, she further reveals herself fully in the doorway. Glancing down both ends of the hall to ensure its emptiness; she shyly takes that first step away from the sanctuary of the bedroom. The wooden floorboards creak when her heel touches down. She bites on her lower lip and snaps towards the brightly lit cast that leads into the living room. 

She decides to be brave and take a chance. Picking up the pace, she briskly walks all the way to the end. 

“What are you doing up?” 

Y/n nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Gemma,” she catches her breath, “I thought...I thought you’d be asleep.” Dressed in lilac pajamas, Gemma places the teacup in her hand on the table beside her. She crosses her arms over her chest in assessment. 

“You’re leaving him.” The words cut through the air with no warning. She states it as an observation rather than a question, her lips dragging down the slightest amount. 

Unable to muster up a verbal response, Y/n regretfully lowers her head. She hadn’t thought hearing it out loud would only intensify the feelings of grief, making each repercussion more and more apparent.

“I love him,” she whimpers, “but I don’t know if I can trust him anymore.” She’d woken up when she couldn’t remember falling asleep. All she could recall was being with him before everything went dark.

Gemma bounces up to full height and approaches her. She stops only a few inches short of from where she stands. “He loves you, probably more than you realize.” Her hands gently curl around the outer portion of Y/n’s arms. “If I can’t stop you from leaving, at least believe me when I say that.”

Stifled sobs begin to sound from the back of her throat. She’s quick to seal her mouth before they can get any louder. Her mind isn’t fully made up to begin with, the decision to leave is what she believes her protective instincts as a mother –– if she can really regard herself as such –– are demanding of her. As she peers up at Gemma with an apology written in the dismal gloom of her irises, she starts to recede. 

Just as she’s about to slide the wand out of her pocket, the pictures ricochet on their nails. The front door swings open, and his figure surges forward. Instant panic settles into the fine lines on his forehead when he notices her with her wand ready. 

“You’re not,” he cracks before he can elicit a complete thought, she knows he can read her. He already looks so feeble, with his bloodshot eyes and marred demeanor. “You should be resting–” 

She shakes her head. For every stride he dares to take towards her, she retreats even further. It feels all too like déjà vu. “I have to do this,” she whimpers. 

“Please.” He’s completely frantic as he moves closer. 

Cradling the base of her stomach, she swirls the tip of her wand on the spot. Before Harry can run to stop her, he’s left with nothing to hold onto.

***

She disapparates into her bedroom. It’s just the way she had left it four days ago, except it’s drenched in the memories she’d formed with him. Every inch of white carpet holds new meaning, even when she hadn’t comprehended it, or appreciated it at the time. As she takes a seat on the side of the bed, she recalls the last time they had laid beneath the covers and just held onto one another. 

If the results of the appointment were accurate, then it’s quite possible that the baby inside of her was conceived on this bed. She can’t help but wonder when exactly that moment was. 

Three weeks. 

A tear flows down the side of her face, and she lies down across the mattress. She grabs a fistful of blanket in her fists as she allows the rest of the emotions to flow out like an active stream. 

As she continues to bawl, a wet circle expanding beside her head, the lights in her room suddenly flicker on. Her eyes burn as though they were hit with acid at the intrusion of light. A gasp sounds at the entrance, her mother delivers her name in astounded quality.

“Oh my, dear!” Linette hurries towards her, encasing her in her arms when she situates beside her. She holds her daughter’s convulsing figure close. “We were so worried about you!”

Y/n wipes her eyes and turns around. “I’m sorry, Mum,” she wails, her bottom lip quivering uncontrollably. 

Linette examines the younger girl’s appearances as she runs a hand through her knotted hair. “What happened?” But Y/n just shakes her head, refusing to say anything more that could make this tormented heartache bite any more than it already does. Instead, she launches herself into her mum’s arms and lets the tears soak through her night gown. 

***

The next morning, a table full of her favorite breakfast foods waits for her in the kitchen. Both her mum and dad are seated at the table, talking in hushed tones. Nicolás is quite heated, she can tell by how he shakes his head and in the tautness of his posture. 

She makes her presence known by clearing her throat. Her parents gawk at her in surprise, before both expressions decisively turn up.

“Good morning!” Linette smiles brightly. “I made waffles and Dad went to the bakery to pick up some croissants!” 

Nicolás signals to the chair beside him. “They’re best when there’s still a light crisp in each bite.” He places the buttery pastry on her plate and follows it with a delectable strawberry waffle, a can of whipped cream equipped to the side.

When she takes her seat and begins to pick at her food, she can feel their eyes trained on her. It’s only logical that her mum has filled him in by now, and she can only imagine how long she has left until they start to notice the changes in her appearance. Telling them as soon as possible had always been the plan when she’d first found out. But things have changed since she’d decided on that, and now she’s not so sure if she has the confidence to speak a word about it. 

With Harry being what he is, she’s absolutely terrified to let her dad know. Linette might be more understanding, but she fears Nicolás will march to Styles Estate out of his fury and put himself in harm’s way. 

“The explosion at Florean’s,” he starts, and the strawberry from her waffle suddenly turns sour on her tongue. “What happened?” Her dad wipes his mouth with a napkin, then places both elbows on the table in interrogation. “We interviewed everyone that was there, and none of them had a clue about what led to the fire.”

“Nic,” Linette says warningly. “She just got home.” 

“I know, I know.” He holds his hands up in surrender, but the professional side of him, the big tough auror proceeds to conquer. “But I read the report from the crime scene unit, and they said that the fire could have only originated from the dining area.”

“Well, can’t you just wait until she’s settled in? She’s only been here for eight hours.” Linette sends her a warm twinkled gleam before it modifies into a grim frown when she returns attention to her husband. 

He huffs back in response. “I just want to get to the bottom of this! If they hadn’t left when they did, who knows what could’ve happened to our daughter!”

“They got out fine, so let’s just drop the topic.” 

“And we will. Just as soon as I get a formal state–”

“I’m pregnant.”

The air around them becomes stale with the impulsive confession.

Not one of them attempts to fracture the silence that has mounted overhead.  

Linette exhales deeply as she massages her temples with her fingers. Y/n can sense the chagrin in her character. It’s funny, she’d always talked about wanting grandchild, Y/n knows that explicitly. However, she knows that the news has fallen on them like a ton of bricks dropped from the top of the highest building.  

Meanwhile, the base of Nicolás’ neck starts as a shade of deep pink until it deepens into a blistering red, looking as though he’ll explode just like the ice cream shop had. He pushes out of his chair. “I’ll kill him,” he barks angrily. “I swear I’ll do it.”  

“Oh, sit down,” Linette orders. Her husband gruffs, but begrudgingly does as he’s told. She peels her eyes open and carefully turns to her. “You said you two were being careful.”

“We were!” Y/n insists. She can’t pick out a time where they hadn’t! Starting from their first time back in January to the time...oh gods. Her eye grows twice their size. She runs to the fridge where they keep a calendar on the front with a magnet. July 4th had been more or less three weeks ago. Harry had claimed to have already known about the baby by then (having just arrived back from visiting his mum), which is why he must have neglected to use a contraceptive charm. 

She remembers that night vividly. How he had held her and dragged his lips over her fiery skin had been in such a way she’d never experienced before. Sex between the two of them had always been impassioned, even if it was just a quickie before a quidditch match or in the limited time they could bargain between classes. But there was something in the way he looked at her that was painstakingly different and so emotionally heightened. 

Nicolás turns up beside her. “What are you looking at?”

She stumbles back, feeling her head beginning to feel weightless on her shoulders. “It’s...” but she’s unable to form a coherent thought. The blood that runs through her veins becomes cold as ice as the color drains from her face. 

***

Every day since she’d left him, when she had spared nothing but the smoke of her departure, he stands guard outside their house from when the sun starts its descent on London, to when it reappears in its morning glory. He sits on the ground in the alley across the street, it’s the only place he can get a clear view without risking a member of the family catching sight of him. By now he’s sure her parents know of the baby and they might even know truth behind the façade he’d tried to keep up for so long because Y/n can never lie to anyone. It’s one of the many characteristics that differentiate the two of them. 

The waste bin back at the flat is up to the brim with the letters he wants to send to her, but each time he’d sign his name at the bottom of the page, he’d reflect over the sentiment he wishes to disclose with each and every word, something inside of him prevents him from proceeding. He’d asked her if she believed that he loved her, that the connection formed between them is completely real and without taint of anything less. She hadn’t said anything in return, and that had broken him. For her to question him like that, he knows he’s screwed everything up beyond repair. 

This waiting until sunrise outside their house and fighting off the droopiness of his eyelids from letting sleep take over his exhausted self is the only way he believes he can keep his promise.

He made a promise that he’d always be there to protect her no matter what, and that extends to when they’re apart. 

If he’s lucky, he’ll see her from window. Sometimes it’ll be to open it up for a bit of fresh air. Other times she’ll just look wistfully through the glass. She’ll remain there for hours, wearing the same despondent expression without falter. He wants to know what’s going through her head whenever she wipes underneath her lash line or exhales until her chest can sink no further. Does she think of him when she peeks down at her belly? Has she ever thought of sending him a letter or even letting him know that she’s still there with the protean charm on her ring? Does she even wear the ring anymore? 

He thinks frequently about these things in the late hours of the night when the rest of the city is tucked away in their beds. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, he leans his head back against the brick as he engrosses himself in another long gander to the window. 

And each time the light of her lamp switches off at night, he breathes out the same thing.

“Goodnight, my love.”

***

By the time their next meeting wraps up, Harry is prepared to make a clean getaway. They’d repeatedly gone over their plan of attack for when the Order moves Potter from his relative’s house at Number 4 Privet Drive in Surrey, to the Weasley’s home on the outskirts of Devon. The tip off had come from one of the participating individuals, the question of who this informant is remains unclear to him. Also mentioned in the memo had been which three routes the real Harry Potter would most likely set out on. 

This whole mission makes him nervous. It’ll be the first time he’ll be in direct combat with the Order. He can’t stand the thought of taking another life in Voldemort’s name. 

No more blood on his ledger.  

He stands on the balcony that overlooks the rose garden, his wand ready at his side. It’s the fragrance from the petals that waft along in the breeze that manages to keep him here for any longer, if not just to clear his mind from thinking too deeply about the interception on the 27th. Instead, he muses about how Y/n would love this view if she were here beside him. She used to go on and on about how much she loved roses, and how they always made her reminiscent of her grandmother, Nana Rose. Words aren’t enough to describe how much he misses her laugh, the sound of each puff of breath as she sleeps soundly beside him. Because the more time that passes, he believes he’s about ready to fall apart. When she had left, he had wanted so badly to chase after her, but Gemma had stopped him. She persuaded him to give her time to heal from it all. Which is what he did, but it’s slowly killing him. Looking down at the ring on his left hand, he wishes he could have foreseen this misfortune and avoided it before it had a chance to escalate. 

Maybe they could have had a shot at happiness, instead of being doomed from the very start. 

“Psst!” 

A buzz reaches his ear in the bashful breeze. His eyebrow cocks up, head somewhat dropping as he glimpses over his shoulder. Nothing but the disconsolate cast of the interior of Malfoy Manor salutes him. 

The grip around his want only narrows as he swivels back. He’s more in tune, however, every little thing acting as a stimulus to motivate his senses. 

Just as he’s about to apparate, the sound occurs again.

“Psst, Styles!”

Harry recognizes that voice in spite of its low murmur. He sighs. “What do you want?” 

Zayn emerges from behind a grand column.

“There’s something you should know,” the boy tells him in a slight panic, and he pulls a worn-out paper from the pocket of his robe. “Here.”

Reaching for it, Harry gives him a suspicious look before unfolding the paper. Headshots of each member of the Order that were said to be participating in Potter’s transfer are all in row, their names underneath each picture. From Kingsley Shacklebolt to Fleur Delacour, he’s familiar with all of them. It’s the same document that had been presented to them earlier during the meeting. 

“I’ve seen this already,” Harry states, shoving the paper into Zayn’s chest. All he wants is to get back to the flat and take an hour’s long nap before he returns to his watch post outside Y/n’s house. “Stop wasting my time.”

“Look at it again.” Zayn compels him. Harry rolls his eyes but takes it anyway just to get it over with. The same faces stare back at him, nothing too unconvincing to him. That is, until the wizard across from him taps the spot beside Mundungus Fletcher’s portrait. It takes a few seconds for the image to become clear, but the face soon becomes legible to his eyes. 

And he gapes at it, refusing to accept it. “You’re lying.” 

“Listen, mate. I didn’t want to say anything because the big man warned everyone to stay quiet about the whole thing, but...” He makes sure no one is around to hear his next words before he continues. “I though you deserved to know all the details before we set out.” Zayn backs away, having done his part. 

It leaves Harry with the wrinkled paper of Order members that they’re meant to spare no mercy towards, and now that he’s been made aware of holes within the plot, the roster now reveals to include Nicolás Y/l/n.

***

A/N: AHHHH THEY’RE BACK!!!! It’s been too long since I’ve updated this little story (about seven months adljdfsa) and I’m so so thankful to all of you who still continue to request it and keep it alive! 

Thank you so much for reading, let’s talk about it :)

***

#hogwarts!harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry potter #harry potter au #harry potter imagine

[alwaysandforeversnape]

‘Till Death do us part

I’m finally finished! I intended to post this on 2nd May, but school got in the way. Also, I got a little carried away while writing this.

Imagine: Your husband Severus Snape has died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Little do you know that he’s watching over you in afterlife.

Warnings: Angst, it’s very very sad (I cried while writing it)

Words: 2,101

May 3, 1998 One day after the day you lost him.

You were lying in your bed that you once shared with him, sobbing into your pillow and hugging his in an attempt to create the feeling of him cuddling with you and telling you that everything's going to be okay. You sniffled and spoke softly to him in the dark and empty room.

"Sev, you did it. Harry lives, Voldemort is defeated. Everything worked out because of you. The nightmare's over. But, I miss you."

"I miss you so so much." Those words reached him and hit right home. He was watching over you in afterlife, even though Dumbledore had advised him not to. But he couldn't leave you. He had promised to take care of you and protect you, and he would fulfill his promise even after death.

Severus felt his heart tightening in his chest, watching you grieve, tears streaming down your face. You didn't even try to silence the sobs that racked through your body. He felt just as sad about the now unbearable distance between the two of you.  

He had always hoped for the end of the war to have the freedom of taking you anywhere you desired to go. The secrecy of your marriage limited him in options on where to take you on dates.  

During the Battle of Hogwarts, he had lost sight of you and instead of worrying he settled on looking forward to the moment, he could hold you in his arms again. Feeling your warmth and knowing he was safe.

The moment he knew everything was alright and he could be content and peaceful for the first time of his life.

The moment he could declare to the world that you were his wife.

But sadly, that moment never came.

You both were now worlds away, only connected by your mutual sadness. Severus lost himself in his thoughts while watching your grieving form.

May 14, 1998 Twelve days after the day you lost him.

The day of his funeral had you crying harder. It was the day you had to finally part and bid farewell. The day you had to come to terms with his death. But how could you do that when it felt like a part of you was missing?

You sighed, while you stood in front of the mirror and fixed your black robes, then slipped your shoes on. It was time.

The funeral was a small one. Only Severus' closest friends came, including some of his students and the Order of the Phoenix. Even though Harry had spread the word of Severus' good deeds, some were still wary of him.

It took place in Hogsmeade, the place where he was now buried, along with the other heroes who died in the Battle of Hogwarts. So, if anyone else wanted to visit his grave, they could.

With a shaky breath, you stepped forward and turned to the little crowd to give the speech you had prepared. You didn't need your notes, because you memorized all your words; because these words came straight from your heart.

"Thank you all for being here to mourn the loss of Severus Tobias Snape and celebrate the life he led. I know that some of you had differences with him, so I am all the more thankful that you are here.

As Harry already told you, Severus was on our side and did everything in his power to ensure Voldemort's downfall. And he succeeded. He led an incredibly dangerous life as a double agent and I admire his courage and strength for that.

I am honored and privileged to have had him in my life, not only as a friend but as my loving husband. He has made every day in my life brighter and always managed to turn a bad day into a good one. I couldn't have asked for a better husband." You had to take a deep breath and blink the tears away. Minerva offered you a handkerchief that you gladly accepted.

Then you continued, "Severus may have acted grumpy and sarcastic all the time, but we all know that deep down he cared. We all had lovely moments with him, memories we will hold onto forever.

We will miss you and love you always."

You said the last part while directing your gaze into the sky in hopes that he would hear you.

And little did you know, that he did.

Severus Snape was a man who did not cry often. Emotions never got the best of him, but right now he was weeping and sobbing while Albus was patting him on the back and trying to console him. Albus did not admit it, but he also cried during his funeral. He felt honored to be the only person who got buried on Hogwarts grounds.

"Let's raise our wands in honor and memory of Severus Tobias Snape, former Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts and former Headmaster. He was an exceptional Potions Master, a skilled Occlumens and an even greater man."

With that, you raised your glowing wand and many followed. The light from your wands illuminating Hogsmeade was like a ray of hope for you. Hope for better days to come.

The light from your wands illuminating Hogsmeade gave warmth for Severus.  Knowing, that finally he was loved, he was cared for and safe. He felt the love and silent prayers, emitting from the light and felt tears welling up again.

The funeral ended, and most people left after giving you words of condolence and comfort. The only people remaining were Harry, Hermione, Minerva and you.

"I believe, we need to discuss the reconstruction of Hogwarts." Minerva started and sent you an apologetic look.

You shook your head, welcoming the distraction. "No, it's fine. We have to talk about it anyways."

After your conversation that went on for too long, you gladly apparated home and collapsed onto your bed. What an exhausting day.

May 17, 1998 Fifteen days after the day you lost him.

The smell of him became unbearable. Everything was too familiar. His house, his furniture, his scent. Everything reminded you too much of him, of your loss.

In a blind rage, you pushed all the pillows on the ground while tearing the sheets from the bed. Gathering the bed sheets and blanket, you made your way to the washing machine. After opening the door, you aggressively shoved the green cloth into the washer drum, determined to wash every bit of his scent out of it.

Shutting the door with a slam, you sank to the ground, your head and back leaning on the machine. You were sitting on the ground, arms around your knees, eyes closed. You gave a satisfied sigh when the machine came to life, gurgling and rattling happily behind your back.

You didn't feel them, but Severus saw the silent tears streaming down your face.

September 1, 1999 489 days after the day you lost him

It was the day Hogwarts finally opened again. Everything returned to its usual routine. You thought it was great to see the students again and some old friends return; Neville Longbottom as the Herbology professor, Slughorn as Potions Master and Hermione Granger as a student.

While you watched the sorting ceremony in awe, you didn't notice the four concerned glances directed to you.

Minerva had asked you beforehand if you were sure about wanting to continue your job as a professor. She was quite worried about you, though you brushed it off.

As the days went on, you realized that Minerva was right to voice her concerns. And even though you pretended to be fine your friends still noticed that you were not.

Horace noticed, how your hopeful face would always fall, whenever he opened the door to his office. Severus' former office.

Hermione noticed, how she often met you leaning against a wall, your eyes far far away. Remembering the moments, you shared with Severus.

Neville noticed, how you sometimes talked to him about the flowers you planted on Severus' grave. The flowers that failed to bloom.

Minerva noticed, how frequently you would visit her office with ridiculous excuses. Of course, she knew why, because she saw the way your face lit up whenever you noticed that Severus' portrait was awake. The knowing glances she exchanged with Albus when you happily chatted with the portrait.

Severus noticed everything you did behind closed doors in your chambers.

That you were using his quill to grade papers.

That sometimes you pull out the box under your bed and gaze fondly at the pictures of you two.

That sometimes you would cuddle with his pillow to fall asleep.

He noticed all the little things you did and it broke his heart.

May 2, 2000 Two years after the day you lost him.

You were on your way to Hogsmeade to visit Severus' grave.  It was already late as you declined Minerva's offer to take the day off.

Upon arriving, you noticed that you weren't the only one that remembered to honor Severus. There were many candles, their dim light illuminating Hogsmeade along with the other candles.

That's when you remembered that you saw several students sneak out. Seeing that, you smiled. There weren't many people who attended his funeral, but there were many people that remembered him. People who came here alone to thank him for all the good he did. To thank him for all the lives he saved.

When you crouched down, you noticed that not only had the flowers you planted begun to bloom but there were other flowers among them. Neville had helped you learn the Language of the Flowers so that you could choose the perfect flowers for his grave. And seeing the meaning of the flowers that laid there, you knew who had put which flower there.

Chrysanthemums - the flower symbolizing love beyond death

Carnations - the flower symbolizing friendship and loyalty.

Orchids - the flower symbolizing admiration and cleverness.

White Tulips - the flower symbolizing forgiveness.

And a single Lily.

Bonus: If you moved on.

Severus wanted you to move on, to finally let go of him. Even though it would break his heart seeing you with another man, he knew it would make you happy. And happiness was all he wanted for you.

And you did move on.

You were running a few errands in the Muggle part of the town when you bumped into him. You didn't expect to hit it off with him immediately and him inviting you on a date.

When you got home from the date that evening, you were smiling wider than Severus had ever seen you after his death. He was happy for you and hoped with all his heart, that this relationship would work out and make you happy.

Severus was wary about him being a muggle, because of his bad experiences, but he hoped that you wouldn't end up like his mother.

But you didn't.

Your relationship progressed beautifully. After months and months of dating, you could feel yourself slowly falling in love again. And it was a glorious feeling.

He had asked you if you wanted to move in with him and after much consideration you accepted. You were ready to begin a new chapter of your life and leave your old life behind you. You sent owls to your friends and hoped they would understand. You were leaving their world; the world of magic that you loved.

But it was time to say goodbye. You were standing in the living room at Spinner's End which had been your home for so long, twisting your wand in your fingers. Then, with determination, you placed your wand on the shelves, where Severus wand had always lain.

One last glance and a whispered goodbye before you opened the door and stepped out. You shut the door firmly and locked it.

Maybe you'll return one day.

"Ready?" A voice behind you asked gently, prompting you to turn around.

You nodded, there was no hint of hesitation or doubt in your eyes anymore.

Severus also saw it. He, too, didn't feel torn anymore. He knew that he and the magic world would always have a special place in your heart.

Your boyfriend now had the job to care for you and protect you. It wasn't his anymore. He wished you all the best, and a bittersweet smile found its way to his lips.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)."

And with one last glance, he turned around to join Albus for tea.

"'Till we meet again."

#severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #severus snape angst

[hp-crossgenfest]

2018 HP Cross Gen Fest Anonymous Masterlist

Here is the complete Anonymous Masterlist for the 2018 @hp-crossgenfest! Reveals will be going up in a few days on, on August 31, so you've still got some time to make your way through any entries you might have missed. Don't forget to leave some love for the wonderful authors and artists! <3

ART

Parting Gift [Harry/Sirius | R] All Harry wanted to do was to say goodbye to Sirius, he didn't anticipate the time turner going farther in time. Finding himself in Azkaban with Sirius, Harry is overwhelmed by the emotions that he feels and gives in to the desire that he had kept locked away. Sirius doesn't mind. VTV [Minerva/Severus | NC-17] Minerva rescues a wounded Severus from certain death after Voldemort has proved victorious. Will he recover? Will they stay safe or have to flee again? Will they be more than colleagues? What role does Draco Malfoy play in their story? Will they ever be able to return home? Points for Slytherin [Draco/Harry/Hugo | NC-17] Hugo is the only Slytherin Weasley. He uses it to his advantage with Harry and Draco. Arrangements [Astoria/Narcissa | R] Astoria's mother-in-law made sure she never regretted the arranged marriage. Mornings [Minerva/Severus | PG-13] A glimpse of the post-war life of Minerva and Severus. Wish I could lie [Harry/Severus | PG] "I wish I could hate you, but I can't." Comfort [Harry/Sirius | PG-13] Harry knows it's wrong to lie to his godfather about the night terrors, but he doesn't want to stop waking up in his arms. Seductress [Lily Luna/Pansy | PG] Pansy met her match.

FIC + ART

Brighter Than the Sun [Draco/James Sirius | NC-17] James Sirius Potter is gorgeous. He's also half Draco's age. Getting emotionally involved with him would be a complete and utter disaster. Fortunately for Draco, he's had a lifetime of practice compartmentalizing his feelings. Draco can definitely handle fucking James—young, beautiful, rash James Sirius Potter—with no strings attached.

FIC

Where the kind things are [Charlie/Teddy | PG-13] Charlie didn't think there was any other way to live, until he was forced to take Teddy Lupin in as a dragon trainer. Teddy didn't think he could ever be forgiven, until Charlie Weasley told him there was no shame in being kind. Of Bras and Binders [Lucius & Scorpius Gen | G] Scorpius attempts to navigate the deeply unpleasant experience of buying a bra, with some support from Lucius. What Albus Did on His Summer Hols [Albus Severus/Draco | NC-17] For the prompt: Albus is spending part of his summer hols at the Manor when he walks in on Draco having a shower. He can't stop thinking about his friend's dad, and a few days later, tormented by lust, he decides to do something about it. Bargaining Chip [Draco/Lily Luna | PG-13] “I’m not marrying your father or mother. It is you, Lily, who I am to wed. As such, I refuse to call you Potter—” Draco spat her last name and she flinched. “—so I suggest you get comfortable with it.” Royalty!AU—Lily Luna Potter has always known she was simply a bargaining chip to maintain peace between two kingdoms. After meeting her betrothed, however, she finds it more than a bit difficult to accept her fate. Won't You Give Me What I Want? [Harry/Remus | NC-17] Harry knows what he wants, who he wants. What Harry doesn't know is how to ask him for it. Can't Fight The Friction [Harry/Severus | PG-13] Severus Snape doesn't die in the war and, though it took quite a bit of time, he's a lot easier to get along with than Harry previously thought. Two Souls Healing [Andromeda/Hermione | PG-13] Hermione reflects upon how lucky she is to have found Andromeda during a time of need. Dealbreaker (if you think on it) [Harry/Sirius | NC-17] Harry had never actually intended to let this kink slip so, of course, it happens right in the middle of sex. Games People Play [Minerva/Severus & Remus | PG-13] Life is not easy when you are Severus Snape or Remus Lupin. But sometimes, there are compensations. What Then Is Freedom? [Charlie/Sirius | NC-17] As unlikely a pair as they are, they somehow work - even on the days when work screws you over and a dragon manages to knock you over with its tail. Putting Charlie Right [Charlie/Teddy | NC-17] Teddy is good at his job. He can take the most disorganised, poorly maintained record keeping system and have it pass any audit within weeks. Teddy is very, very good at his job, and he’d be able to prove that fact if Charlie wasn’t bent on distracting him. Mine [Draco/James Sirius | NC-17] Using a queer wizard hook up scheme, James starts up a casual relationship with Draco Malfoy. James thinks he's okay with casual until he sees Draco with Blaise Zabini at a party and jealousy rears its ugly head. In the Shadows [Lucius/Ron | NC-17] Ron has no idea what’s waiting for him when he’s summoned to Lucius Malfoy’s cabin the night of the Quidditch World Cup. Memento Mori [Harry/Severus | NC-17] After the Death Eaters win, Harry clings to life stripped of himself and terrified for the future, but determined to fight. Could an unlikely alliance help him defeat Voldemort? A Taste of Hate [Narcissa/Teddy | NC-17] When she arches her elegant back, mouth stretched around a silent scream, Teddy enjoys whispering cruel words against her ear, "Toujours Pur." Wounded soldiers [Alastor/Severus | NC-17] Rufus Scrimgeour gave it only three days. Fred Weasley gave it a week. Charity Burbage, who knew Severus Snape better than any of them, gave it eleven days. Ted Tonks predicted they would last two weeks, while his daughter, who held Moody in higher regard than her father did, gave it three weeks. Remus Lupin was rather more generous, suggesting that they would find they had a lot in common, and that Moody and Snape would be able to share a room for at least five weeks. Bathilda Bagshot gave a vacant smile, and said Alastor Moody and Severus Snape would make a lovely couple. But she was one hundred and eighty seven years old, and completely senile. Or maybe she wasn’t… Porte-Cochere [Albus Severus/Draco | NC-17] Draco Malfoy is the editor of Porte-Cochere, the top fashion rag in all of wizarding Europe. He has a love of haute couture, a fondness for cock, and a penchant for dropping his assistants like last season’s styles. It’s enough to drive his staff spare. Could Albus be the answer to their prayers? A The Devil Wears Prada AU. Domestic Bliss [Hermione/Remus | NC-17] In the privacy of his study, Remus and Hermione were caught up in their lust. Scandal-Free [James Sirius/Oliver | PG-13] A housewarming party brings James Potter face to face with his hero; Oliver Wood. Dirty Young Man [Draco/James Sirius | NC-17] Draco can no longer hide his feelings when given the chance to win a date with James Sirius Potter. Red [Ron/Teddy| NC-17] Teddy is a rockstar; Ron is his muse. (Or a love story fueled by drugs, sex & rockn'roll—but mostly plain old, awkward and embarrassing young love.)

#cross gen #harry potter cross gen #hp cross gen #hpcrossgenfest #2018 fest #masterlist #anon masterlist #mod post

[ivoryandbonerpg-blog]

  ♛  THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE  ♛

Monsters are crafted from shadow and bone. They give life to terror and consume all that surrounds them. As Hell reigns on Earth, and the wizarding community finds itself in the midst of destruction like their kind has never seen, the superstitious and religious pay their final blessings and respects before their final days have expired. The world is exploding into a flurry of chaos and blood, and Lord Voldemort’s Inner Circle are wielding the destruction.

                                                                   ⚔ ⚔ ⚔

&&. FAMINE

Deep in the bowels of a dungeon, dug far underneath a castle made of weathered stone, he listens to the cries and tearful protests of his Master’s prisoners. This cacophonous medley of music is crafted from the human soul; the sound of low, throbbing moans mix with the whimpers of distraught creatures. The scraping of their dirt-caked, broken nails against the metal bars that confine them; the sound of flesh on stone as they drag their bodies to and from the entrance to their chambers as a square of food is deposited to them midday by the guards that patrol the area. What he doesn’t hear are their prayers; they are silent or nonexistent. Praying for salvation or death has always been a private matter for these lost souls of Lord Voldemort’s; they were once hungry for the lives that had been stolen from them. Now, they are simply exhausted. He takes their joy, their happiness, their memories that serve as beacons of light in the darkness, and absorbs them deep into his bones. And when their souls have been bled dry and shrivel up beneath his palm, he discards of them and prepares them for their final being with his beloved, Death.                                                 take, break, bend, and make;                                 an endless appetite and a thirst for ambition

He is careful not to move too close when he surveys them in their natural, weakened habitat like this. It’s better that they don’t know their life force is being depleted every day; that he is the stuff of their nightmares, the reason they wake up screaming and trembling and feeling hollow. He takes and takes with greed and malice in his heart; he has been hardened to the ways of war since his conception. His desire knows no bounds; it is as endless and churning as a deep, turbulent sea during a storm. Their screams are enough for his soul to take today; he is reminded of their impurity--of their failure to serve his Dark Overlord in a way that was beneficial for the greater good. The shadows kiss his skin and shield him from the brunt of their suffering--he does not take pleasure in their pain, as his sister Conquest does, or in overthrowing their will and strength, as his brother War so greedily does. It is the absence that he absorbs with a vengeance; the absence of joy, of life, of faith. He is a turncoat to those weak enough to trust him; a monster to those who have become wise to his actions. And when he steps into the light, a hollow shell of a wizard with a wand strapped to his thigh and an inquisitive eye, he looks every bit as starved as he feels. He bends down slowly, next to a trembling man with hair the color of toffee and eyes that have lost their sheen. He trembles and begs for forgiveness, for redemption, for silence; possibly, he thinks the wizard before him is Death, ready to lead him home. But Death has taken the day off, and Famine is here in her place.

“It will all be over soon,” he murmurs, his words no more than a whisper on the wind. He reaches out slowly, his wand brushing against the trembling, debris-stained fingers of the prisoner, who quakes with impatience. “She’ll be here soon.” What he doesn’t say, as his eyes greedily take in this man who has been broken by human beings not so very differently from himself, is that it won’t be soon enough. And when he is enveloped into the yawning chasm of emptiness, starving for something he will never have again...only then will this sinner understand.

              He is more than emptiness. He will steal your soul. He is famine.

&&. CONQUEST, WAR, AND DEATH.

Care to see the other horsemen of the apocalypse and some of Lord Voldemort’s most trusted Death Eaters? You can view Conquest here and War here. Be sure to like and reblog this post, and Death’s teaser will be released next.

                                                  WHO ARE WE?

A brand new, canon divergent storyline following the Golden Trio and the newly expansive Wizarding World and its corresponding second war is on the way. You’ve never seen the Chosen One’s story this dark before; and now, Harry Potter’s beloved Wizard World will involve dynamic characters from a wide variety of culture and backgrounds, both canonically known and entirely original. In upcoming teasers and infographics, expect to learn the following: a themed playlist for the group, teaser introductions for important characters, upcoming bio releases, and more.

MAKE SURE TO POST IN THE GROUP’S TALK TAG (IABTALK) AND FOLLOW US FOR MORE TEASERS AND INFORMATION RELEASED

#lsrp #hp rp #lsrpg #literate rp #iabtalk

[castlehead]

.

 obsession, an unhealthy amount, helps; though this also be a source of mental laceration, terminal guilt, and ire directed both from and to others. i am an insane revisionist. or rather i am a revisionist to the point of insanity. i live breathe bleed words however i consider who i am more in line with my name than the name of the type of person who produces what i produce. some people want that label - and pretty funny that by the desire it becomes exactly a non-label - which is quite sinister. i used to think people being fake was a cliche rather than something to take seriously - not in the sense of omission, like, what you tell your coworker vs. what you tell your wife, or even hiding oneself out of shame - but like literally not being yourself. and, moreover, that people were generally sincere and wanted to be sincere and work for that etc. but now i know people will not only be fake unawares but consciously be that way and leech and leech. and this is not even lit i am talking about just fucking life. you see. i have worked hard at the written word, very hard. too hard. indeed i say this as an objective fact and not to gloat as the whole damnable bunch of it got me nowhere and nearly killed me. like obsession to the point of basically destroying everything. so i have learned brevity, honesty, sincerity. i have learned to not see this online variorum of mine as anything special at all. the words i post, the things i say, how i form myself in this abstract realm. utterly unknown and unfamous i am but that is not my aim and good luck at getting noticed in the arts as my father is an actor and has been for around half a century and holy hell you will have no idea who he is. but i will continue to be me which means writing all the time among other things, because writing is fun as hell and conveying something is. i think this whole movement thing/idea is fun and everything but at the end of the day i write for nobody but me who is body ultimate. yet i wish to stir people. i want to throw the small swarm in my chest back at the hive and do good words. for it is an action, a penance to my god. or a prayer even. all it is are prayers. the elliptical nature of ammons’ dispositional axis proves that something does stick around tho it moves and this is called transcendence. time passes but it takes awhile for the effects of its discoveries to take hold, similar to the psychological imprint of a horrible event. that being said i know i have a long way to go still which is the greatest doubt of all, a most positive doubt. and in examining myself as eternally infant regarding understanding anything at all much less making something artful, i will - and funny, this - unknowingly stumble upon perhaps what might not change the world but tweak it maybe. and it’ll be better for me not forcing anything. like conrad aiken i am determined to be minor and i guess i would force my insignificance. which does not necessarily mean i cannot start at the keyboard with a great idea and wish to change nay the universe itself. that is how i do it: i think, this can really shake things up, write, and say to myself - ah what garbage - then decide after reading it and incessantly editing and whatnot that maybe it is good tho what i thought was good at one point or the best shit on god’s green earth three years ago i barely spend brainspace on nowadays and maybe tao lin is the founder of blablabla who knows. a movement is something else. it resembles a sort of like ‘ontical’ nature bc its being is outside of language but also a product of language and dependent on anything one might consider absolute or permanent. i am not saying that language is permanent, and we have hundreds of years – ‘whan that aprille with his showres sote’ [chaucer] etc. - of proof of that but its attempt is at permanence which in a funny way is a thing like ‘sense’ or ‘reason’. there is a core to things outside of what we name that is maybe a name before the flood. i like this name for she is an impenetrable name, as like this primeval definitionless state of being [dasein] i describe, or don’t. but any movement, no matter if tao lin starts it or fucking voldemort from harry potter, will unknowingly incorporate a prior zeitgeist that in its way is too an attempt to return to that impenetrability so as like it to become impenetrable, absolute, and so then immortal. i am sure you as others will see the concentric reality here. we want what we cannot have so arch our spines to look at our feet and deify the impermanent so as to dialectically, impossibly, remove that permanent, restless, shifting core above us, which is death itself. anyway: the most important thing is to work at it and work at it and to not let other things get in the way, not of you aping an influence, but of you attempting the sublime. knowing you are fated to eat up the ghost of what people have already done, and swerving the creative atom in a new direction despite. heh. “everything, everything, everything is poetry:” [a.r. ammons] artist is artist man. i am no writer, just DAN. myself. art is getting high. being higher than ever putting together something getting slowly clearer in your head whatnot. paterson williams etc. laundry list note on the refrigerator art - is art. all’s art. someplace to put it is art rather. or isn’t. artist? art? what

#poetry #poem #pome #powtry #depth as predicament #the sad truth of it all

[lucius-inspo-blog]

PART I: THE MUGGLE

Name: Aman

Age: ..22? shit how old am I? Yeah, 22. We’re good.

Timezone: PST

Preferred Pronouns: She/her

Activity Level: um… active? low key always around ngl

Have you read the rules and F.A.Q.?: yuppp

Tell us a bit about yourself and roleplaying: umm… hi

What is your favourite spell?: Weird question, I know, but I’m curious! Fat rat yellow spell!

Ships | Anti-Ships: Lucius/Narcissa, Lucius/Chem

Anything else?: sorry, i wrote a lot…

PART II: THE WIZARD

Name: Full name of the character you are applying for.

Age and Birthday: August 11, 1954, which makes him 25

Preferred Pronouns: He/him

Character alignment: Neutral Evil. He might not exactly fit the mold but I’d say the following holds true: A neutral evil villain does whatever she can get away with. She is out for herself, pure and simple. She sheds no tears for those she kills, whether for profit, sport, or convenience. The explanation goes on to explain that he has no love of order or destruction for the sake of destruction. Which, honestly, is true. All of that, his reasons for everything tie back to himself.

Affiliation: Death Eater. Why’d he join? Practical reasons: everyone is, Lord Voldemort is clearly powerful, there’s a movement here he wants to be a part of, he wants to be actively involved, he knew his father’d done plenty of meddling in affairs but this is more than that and even better, he would be making things happen Emotional reasons: he struggles with depression, the bloody part of this role serves as therapy of sorts, it brings him a rush, a power and something bigger.

Occupation: Pls, he has none. Socialite. As a Malfoy, he’s been taught to have his fingers in everything but to always keep his respectability. He’s shrewd, clever and intends to go after power, however he refers being the whispers in someone’s ear rather than to take the limelight (in case it backfires in the future). He doesn’t mind throwing anyone under the bus, but he’ll always do it from behind the scenes. This persona is part of why he’s able to plead Imperius curse when put on trial after the war. He was never openly cruel towards the wrong people. When we see him later in the series, we see a lot through Harry’s very biased perspective where he is openly cruel. At that point, he has made an enemy out of Harry and makes a point to be brutal. Backspace jut a little earlier in the book and you’ll hear him telling his son to never be openly hostile towards Harry because it wouldn’t do well to hate the BWL.

PART III: THE INTERVIEW

1. What was your first sexual experience if you had one? Is it a positive or negative memory?

“I hope you know that, usually, I’ll need a good glass of wine or three before delving into such topics. However, I can make an exception today.” He paused for effect, playful smile hiding behind the rim of his wine glass. “Let’s see, I was bright eyed young thing at Hogwarts and spending time with an older girl– hush, we’re not naming names. We’d found a little alcove and had ourselves a quick, little fumble. Awkward, a little cringe worthy, definitely warrants a good chuckle as I look back at it now. Overall, I’d say it’s a good memory, which I’m thankful for. I’ve heard quite a few tales of some terrible first experiences.” 2. If you had a weakness for one of the seven deadly sins, which one would it be and why?

“Easily gluttony. If one takes into account how much as I’ve eaten today, I might need to be rolled back to the manor.” Lucius laughed and patted his smooth stomach, taking delight in the lingering gaze on his figure. “You’d do the honors, right? Help a poor, gluttonous man out.” 3. What kind of house/apartment do you live in?

“Grandiose would not even begin to describe Malfoy manor. Don’t tell me I have never invited you over– oh no, this has to be rectified immediately. Next time we meet to discuss the policy, we shall do so at the manor. I’ll give you a tour, maybe we might be able to catch my father.” Lucius watched the man stand to attention at the mention of Abraxas. Perfect, he could work with that. 4. Which do you idealise most: happiness or success?

“Happiness. Success isn’t the answer. No, listen, wait a minute, don’t go saying I want every endeavor to fail. Success isn’t the answer to everything, it’s a way of life. I have it now and it’s something that I’ll always be chasing– anyone in their right mind will always be chasing it. Once you stop working towards it, it’s gone… Happiness, however, is a state of being that I’d love to get to know better. ” 5. If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

“My wife to be, I would imagine, would be quite torn apart by my loss.” An image played in his head: Narcissa crumpled over in a chair, inconsolable as she pressed a damp handkerchief to her eyes, the air full of choked sobs and prayers for his safe return. She was strikingly beautiful when she cried but he had no desire to test that theory, especially not in this manner. He would be staying as far from death as he could manage. His own death, that was. “Were you expecting me to say my father? Tsk, you and I both know he’d be delighted to raise another Malfoy heir. He always did enjoy my younger years.” 6. What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

“As a man who thrives off company, I’d be at a loss.” Perhaps that’s where marriage comes in, another person to share your sleepless nights… The reply never passed his lips so that the man’s thoughts stayed away from a certain pale, beautiful figure wrapped up in silk sheets. Lucius wet his lips, then continued, driving the other wizard in another direction. “If no one is available for a floo call, well… I’ve always been a fan of learning something new– perhaps a musical instrument. Do you play any yourself?”

PART IV: THE DETAILS

Q1 Takeaways:

Warm and inviting, when he talks to someone, he’s basically inviting them into his space. Like they’re special and an exception and can see something that no one ever gets to see.

He can laugh at himself. Only he can though, if you say something about/to him, he’ll remember it and it’ll bite them in the ass later. But if he laughs at himself, you can go ahead and give a good chuckle with him.

He’ll withhold as deemed classy and he’ll do it in a way that doesn’t feel like he’s holding back. He’s smooth and charming and hardly hesitates

More selfish note about witholding the girl’s name: it’s also about his first time and he doesn’t want any other perspective. He doesn’t want someone being interested, seeking her out and getting her side of it. Again, back to the being able to laugh at himself but you better not laugh at him.

However, if he didn’t like her, if it was a bad memory, he might’ve let part of the name slip by ‘accident’.

Q2 takeaways:

He’s vain, he loves when people appreciate him. Half of these types of comments from him are for when the reply is along the lines of 'rolled back? Look at you, you’re flawless.“

Gluttony: selfishness. Overindulgence, he loves the big stuff and he often gets wrapped up and carried away in it. Give him something good and he’ll chase it with all he’s got. Even the thought or hope of something good is enough to demand his attention. He’s constantly seeking out fulfillment and happiness. He’ll gobble something up and then move on to the next thing, never satisfied. This is a huge aspect to him as a person where he doesn’t know where to stop. He tends to get enthralled by something and then carelessly toss it aside when it’s consumed (when he’s realizes that, no, it’s not going to make him happy). There’s always a new best thing: a new bottle of wine, the family wand, Narcissa.

Rejects

Lust: nah, not for sex, not for power. He has power

Envy: meeeeeeeeh

Greed: psh

Sloth: NOPE, he always gets irritated when people claim that rich just laze about in their manors. He’s seen his parents stress, struggle, and strive for more just like anyone else. He sees his friends and others in his society picking up jobs, organizing charities and balls, influencing the world…

Wrath: this is a contender, if only because he knows how to hold a grudge. He gets angry, upset, he goes to violence, he sees it as just. He revels in vengeance and enjoys a good cleverly hatched plan. However, it’s not blinding. He’ll never lose himself in a rage and will always weigh consequences. He values himself more than he values that anger.

Pride: another contendor, but not that high. This man’s ego is unparalleled by many. He values himself and thinks of himself as a gift to the world. It’s put in perspective, however, when you look at how he uses it. He considers himself high but he surrounds himself in other people who are at his level. He sees others’ pride as well and acknowledges that, yes, they should be proud. They’re accomplished as well. They’re powerful, skilled men and women to admire.

Q3 Takeaways:

He knows what the man wants, he just roundabout worked his way there. This wizard wants to meet Abraxas? That can be arranged. It might be. Maybe. Okay, Lucius had no intention of bringing his father in, but let’s keep that between us.

Even if Abraxas isn’t there, it’s a way to bring the other into his arms. Lucius enjoys these kinds of things, where he can show off the manor, share little 'secrets’, help the other unwind, bring him in to his side.

Q4 Takeaways

Fuck me up I have a lot of thoughts about this. So does Lucius, can you tell? His demeanor gets a bit more earnest, like he’s telling you something you need to know.

He’s familiar with success.

He isn’t familiar with happiness. It goes back to how he has the world at his fingertips. It hit him a lot as a teenager– he dealt with depression! He was prefect. He had good friends. A girlfriend. Sexual experiences. Grades. Pureblood. Teachers loved him. He was perfect. But he felt empty and, damn, he needed something. It’s multiple things: he doesn’t handle bad news as well, constantly looking up the ladder, goals are less gratifying than he’d thought them to be, he felt like he’d always had to hold back. He withdrew for a while there, in Hogwarts, pulled back from all the shit and just tried to sort his stuff out on his own, but that didn’t end up working out at all. Now he’s grounded a bit in his mission with the Death Eaters.

The torture and the killing is almost therapeutic to him, putting life and values into perspective. It keeps him grounded but it still doesn’t give him that happiness. Right now, he thinks Narcissa is going to make him happy.

Q5 Takeaways

He’s a dreamer, can you see? It works with him in general. He knows how to dream big. He knows how to get what he wants!

Narcissa… He has an image built up of her in his head. He has an idea of who she is and what she’ll be to him. He expects her to fill it, honestly. He’s controlling as a fiance and he makes sure he has a say. At the same time, he’s very romantic. He wants her to be in love with him and to miss him. There’s a juxtaposition there that’s going to definitely leave him jarred. Especially as he realizes that his image of Narcissa isn’t really her. Right now though, he idealizes her. She is the solution to all his problems, his other half, his wife to be, the woman who’ll share his bed and his struggles.

He’s spoiled by his dad. Absolutely spoiled and they have had a really good relationship ever since he was young. Something changed a little with his father when he grew up. He idealizes his childhood a little bit and that joy he had there.

Q6 Takeaways:

He’s an extrovert and everyone knows it

He has very very detailed and vivid thoughts about Narcissa being in his bed

The assumption that he can wake her up if he can’t sleep. Not for sex, but just in general. It’s such an interesting assumption and you can tell that he doesn’t understand relationships in any way

He realizes how the mention of Narcissa can bring the other guy’s thoughts to her scantily clad and in bed. So he’s protecting his wife to be’s virtue. Gtfo, guy, only he can daydream about her like that

He likes to spend time productively and doing things. He does, however, have a loose sense of the word productive. Making peacocks out of paper? Useless, sure, but it’s productive. An intricate braid in his hair? Why not?

Wand

Age: 11–now

Sentiments: it’s been a great companion to him, served him well, he enjoys a little flair Alder wood, dragon heartstring

Wood: Alder

Whilst Alder makes for an unyielding wood, its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards. Alder is also excellent for protection against outside forces, and, when combined with phoenix feather, is a suitable match for a wizard who will "make their mark on this world”

Core: Dragon Heartstring

As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

Age: for the future

Sentiments: longing Elm, dragonheartstring: Kept in a walking stick, family heirloom that’s been passed through the Malfoy family from patriarch to patriarch for generations.

He’s eagerly awaiting this wand, honestly. He’ll be getting it when he marries, as a symbol of becoming head of the Malfoy family.

Lucius has this game he plays with his father where he’ll try to sneak it away from him. They’ve been doing it since he was younger. Sometimes the wand would be laying in the open and he’d sneak it away. Other times, he’d go with a classic “OH WHAT WAS THAT” and then run with it, giggling like a mad man. It led to quite a few little accidents, unfortunately, but nothing that couldn’t be waved away.

Friends

He’s a lot looser with his friends than the general public. He can be more crude, more playful and enjoys that they can bring out the cruel streak in him.

He has no problem sharing disgusting details with his friends, he’s also the group gossip for sure.

Considering his friends, I can easily see them having a bit of a good cop bad cop dynamic sometimes.

He judges Rodolphus’ relationship with Bellatrix and definitely doesn’t want anything like that for himself.

He’s known for his parties tbh, he throws amazing ones

Family

Father: Lucius close with his dad and has always been. When he was younger, his dad would bring him along to teas and casual events, just to charm the ladies. Lucius would sit there, well behaved, flashing a couple smiles and asking a few questions here or there. Winning people over had never been difficult. He enjoyed the bonding. He loved seeing the inner working’s of his father’s circle– how things worked and why. The man did, however, have a habit of silencing young Lucius when he used the wrong words. Abraxas took a direct approach to raising Lucius and showed him how everything worked and why. His father didn’t give away all his secrets, though, which was made apparent when he rebuked any questions Lucius had about if he really did organize the unfortunate death of the first muggleborn minister.

Mother: His mother was a stranger to him growing up. She’d married Abraxas for his name, gave him an heir, and then declared her duties done. She stood by Abraxas at parties but hardly did much more. Lucius didn’t interact much with her growing up and, honestly, he didn’t want to. His father had never had kind words for her, which left a mark in Lucius’ impressionable young mind.

Relationship^ He doesn’t want a relationship like his parents. He wants love and companionship. He has a lot of views of what marriage would mean to him and they’re very naïve, idealistic and one sided.

The Supremacy

He was raised with pureblood supremacy. It was how he viewed life, of course. He knew he was better than others, that much was clear. He was isolated in a similar society. In this way, he definitely grew up seeing an ideal. This is what the rest of the world could be. He couldn’t fathom why they would not want this. His family has always held such beliefs and have been pulling strings in the background for years. Abraxas, in fact, was part of the assassination of the first muggle born minister. Lucius started his Hogwarts years with that belief never wavering. However, it was always just a belief until he joined the death eaters. Then it quickly became something more. He’s proud of his position as death eater. He sees himself as taking a belief and acting upon it, not just once or twice but over and over with each mission he takes. He sees himself and his comrades taking up arms for a something they believe in and rallying together. He finds a lot of strength in that idea. They’re coming together to do something good. It’s something that needs to be done. He recognizes the cruelty of it. How would he not see the fact that there’s death and torture at every step? He doesn’t mind, though. In fact, it’s part of the draw. Lucius struggled with depression for a lot of his teenage years, but this has helped pull him out of it. He’s found something that helps him feel steady. This is what he likes. He likes the torture. He likes the ideals. What is he there for? He’s there for himself. Honestly, he’s there because it works for him. It’s an easy, entertaining way for him to solidify his sense of self. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in any of it. Actually, he’s dived fully into it and has quickly climbed the ranks of the Death Eaters. However, it just means that his loyalties lie with himself.

^– is a a coward? Idk about that. Maybe you could call him one. It’s more that he loves himself more than anything else and he’ll take care of himself. He’s loyal to the death eaters but that’s because it works for him. When it stops working for him, he’ll let it go. When Voldemort dies, he has no desire to go look for him. He’s not loyal to the man. Yes, he believes in pureblood supremacy, but he’ll find his own ways to play with it that doesn’t involve voldemort or the death eaters. And by then, he has a son as well which ends up becoming another way to ground him (a healthier way than torture and killing). He doesn’t go searching for Voldemort. He doesn’t want to end up in Azkaban. So he says forget that. He doesn’t think Voldemort is the answer to everything. He sees him and respects him and even fears him, but he believes in himself more than this dark wizard.

I’m using this in reference, as well, to when the DE masks come out at the Quidditch World Cup. At that point, he’s been bored, slightly unbalanced yet again and the torture was a pull he couldn’t resist.

OKAY

Now that you’ve read all this bullshit, go ahead and check out: https://lucius-inspo.tumblr.com/ it’s easier to read, i swear

PART V: THE STORY

Lucius Malfoy graced the wizarding world with his arrival between claps of thunder– applause. The downpour continued for a week after his birth but did nothing to deter the flocks of men and women who made their way to Malfoy manor. The manor sat under darkened skies, teeming with life as the pitter patter of rain against the tiles became another layer of music. After years and years of trying, a new heir for the Malfoy family was born. Abraxas paraded the newborn around, the bundle of blankets cradled in his arms for all to see while his wife sat with her friends, exhausted and pretending her insides weren’t torn apart.

These first few days of Lucius’ life reflected the following years perfectly. A doting father, a distant mother, thunderous applause and the Malfoy name.

The name Malfoy gave Lucius everything– wealth, prestige, luxury, heritage, purity, and a sense of pride– and his father never once let him believe otherwise. As he grew, Lucius learned how to wield this identity as both a weapon and a shield. With words as sweet as honey and a bright smile to go with it, he charmed everyone through his childhood, from his father’s coworkers to Hogwarts professors to the girls who giggled in the halls when he passed by. His actions held a warmth that, though exagerrated, could hardly be called fake.

Pull this string and you get a nod of acknowledgement, pull the other and you get an invitation into their home. Hogwarts was a breeze to the clever young Slytherin, who churned out excellent spellwork, acceptance into the Slug Club, and a prefect’s badge. His friends never left his side and the girls were another adventure entirely. Life should be perfect for Lucius Malfoy, the young boy who had everything.

Yet, the ever elusive concept of happiness stayed within arm’s reach for him. Both in and after Hogwarts, each goal he placed for himself brought a satisfied curl to his stomach before leaving him empty and in want of more. The man ate, drank and smiled his way through a barrage of parties but found himself craving more. Parties, alcohol, drugs, women. When something failed, he switched his attention to something else.

The fullfillment was found in the Death Eaters. When he joined Lord Voldemort’s ranks, it was as much for himself as it was for the cause that he believed in so dearly. The higher purpose and the torture that came with it was just enough to ground the unbalanced young man. The climb through Lord Voldemort’s ranks was accompanied by a renewed vigor in Lucius’ life.

He craved more: a wife, the manor, a new title, impact on policy, his family wand, his mother’s approval, Lord Voldemort’s favor, the list goes on and on. Narcissa was the first on the list and just as easy as everything else was to him. With a word in her mother’s direction, the young woman was already his, down to the new platinum blonde hair. The dedication delighted him like nothing else before. It could only get better from there.

At 25, Lucius had grown into himself as a man. He had gained his own reputation in the Ministry that could rival his father’s– one with no need for a job title. Lucius kept his hands clean, fingers gently wrapped around his wineglass as he smiled his way through yet another Ministry function with his beautiful fiancée by his side. With Narcissa as his own, the Ministry in his pocket, and the muggleborns quickly dwindling away, he saw good things for his future. And damn, he was craving something good.

[approachthebench-blog1]

Why Hermione Jean Granger is the true hero of the Harry Potter series

During my sophomore year of college, my public speaking professor assigned us “fun” debate topics.  One such topic was whether and why Hermione was the real hero of Harry Potter. (SN: the idiots in my group chose whether Lady Gaga is this generation’s Madonna as our topic but that’s neither here nor there). I’m bored and drinking glass of wine #2 on this glorious but cold Saturday afternoon, so I’ve decided to go though each book for anecdotal evidence proving once and for all why Hermione is the real hero of the Harry Potter series. 

SN #2: I’m doing this based on what I can remember from the books and movies.  I haven’t read the books in forever but the movies are on now. (Shoutout to Freeform for their constant Harry Potter Weekends)

Sorcerer’s Stone:

During the first Quidditch match against Slytherin, Hermione noticed that Snape appears to be jinxing Harry’s broom (she didn’t notice that it was actually Quirrell but still saves Harry anyways) . She sneaked up behind Snape and set his cloak on fire, breaking his eye contact and at the same time knocked over Quirrell, breaking his eye contact and allowing Harry to get back on his broom. 

Paid attention in Herbology and saved Harry and Ron from the Devil’s Snare en route to the Sorcerer’s Stone. 

THE FUCKING POTION RIDDLE. HERMIONE AND HARRY WOULD HAVE BEEN TRAPPED IN THAT ROOM FOREVER IF SHE WEREN’T AN ABSOLUTE GENIUS. To this day I’m still not sure why this scene was cut from the movie. 

Chamber of Secrets:

Came up with the idea of using Polyjuice Potion to trick Malfoy into telling them about the Chamber of Secrets. Stole a shit ton of ingredients from Snape’s private stores, risking detention, disembowelment or death if she was caught. Successfully brewed Polyjuice Potion. 

Movie only: destroyed Dobby’s rogue bludger while everyone else at the match watched.

Figured what what creature lived in the Chamber of Secrets, how to protect against it and how to destroy it. Harry and Ron may have been the ones to actually go in the Chamber, but they wouldn’t have figured it out if not for Hermione.  So she once again saves the day even though she was petrified. 

Prisoner of Azkaban:

Two words: TIME. TURNER. Without Hermione’s Time-Turner, Buckbeak is dead, Sirius has his soul sucked out, Harry never figures out that he can do the Patronus Charm, and the book/movie are about half as long. 

Figured out that Lupin was a werewolf. 

Also punched Malfoy which, although not life-saving, still brings me so much joy.

Goblet of Fire:

Founded S.P.E.W and became a champion for house-elf rights. Again, not heroic but noble. As a lawyer and a social engineer, I’m part of a community that fights for the underdog and downtrodden so I particularly identify with her desire to protect those

Figured out that Rita Skeeter was an unregistered Animagi and used that to blackmail her into not writing about Harry et al. (Hey, I’m a lawyer. I may root for the underdog but I always appreciate a good blackmail plot).

Order of the Phoenix:

(If I’m not mistaken), came up with the idea for Dumbledore’s Army and found a place for them to meet. Also implemented security measures to prevent any DA member from tattling to Umbridge. Jinxed the fuck out of  Marietta Edgecombe. 

Stopped Umbridge from torturing Harry by lying about where DA’s secret weapon was. Lured Umbridge out to the Forbidden Forest where she was kidnapped by centaurs, allowing Harry and the gang to get to the Ministry. (She also told Harry that it was a trap but he wanted to go anyways). 

Half-Blood Prince:

Seriously can’t remember anything epic that Hermione did this year. All the jealously and the raging hormones got in the way. 

Deathly Hallows:

Made the awesome sacrifice to Obliviate her parents’ memories so that they would be safe in Australia while she was fighting Voldemort. 

Had the foresight to pack Harry’s and Ron’s clothes in case they needed to escape quickly.... which they did. 

Realized that because the Sword of Gryffindor is impregnated with basilisk venom, it can destroy Horcruxes. 

Saved herself and Harry from Nagini/Voldemort at Bathilda Bagshot’s house. Broke Harry’s wand in the process but life > wand. Just saying. 

Got herself, Ron and Harry out of Xenophilius Lovegood’s house without blowing Ron’s cover that he was at home sick and while proving that Lovegood wasn’t lying about Harry being there. 

Had the presence of mind to conceal Harry’s identity as they were being captured by Snatchers. Bought Harry and Ron time to formulate some kind of plan while she was being tortured by Bellatrix fucking Lestrange (and by plan, I mean prayer to a broken mirror that resulted in Dobby coming to save the day). 

Damn near blew her cover as Bellatrix by acting like a “dewy eyed schoolgirl” (shoutout to Griphook for that shade) but came up with the idea of using the dragon to escape from Gringotts with the Horcrux. 

I’m sure I missed something but I can’t remember anything else. But the fact that I remember this much makes me think that I’ve watched and read WAAAAYYY too much Harry Potter over the years. Is that even possible?

#hermione granger #harry potter #brightest witch of her age