#with narcissa it is indeed much less clear!

[pet-genius]

The Death Eaters as a Cult - Part 3

Follow up to this and this. Trigger warning: Cult abuse.

Draco is vulnerable to being recruited simply because he’s Draco - his father is a Death Eater, and he's eager to prove himself to the master he grew up believing in. I’m not usually sympathetic to Draco, but this line makes me feel for him:

“everyone thinks he’s so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick —”

“You have told me this at least a dozen times already,” said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son. “And I would remind you that it is not — prudent — to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear.”

This makes it clear that he’s been indoctrinated from a young age into a fringe belief (his belief in the Dark Lord, not in blood supremacy - that’s mainstream), and into hiding it, even after the cult disbanded. This contributed to a sense of isolation from mainstream society, and for someone like Draco, exacerbated his existing condescension and entitlement. The same must be true for Crabbe and Goyle, who on top of being children, are stupid and lacking in critical thinking skills, which means an escape was nearly impossible for them, and indeed, Crabbe died, and who knows if Goyle was clever enough to stay out of Azkaban.

Throughout HBP, Draco goes from boastful to scared for his life.

From DLA:

“What say you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, and though his voice was quiet, it carried clearly through the catcalls and jeers. “Will you babysit the cubs?”

The hilarity mounted; Draco Malfoy looked in terror at his father, who was staring down into his own lap, then caught his mother’s eye. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, then resumed her own deadpan stare at the opposite wall.

Once on top, now the Malfoys are too scared to make eye contact with anyone and protest at their humiliation. Draco is looking to his parents for protection, but they know they can’t provide it, even though Narcissa is trying.

Regulus was in a similar situation to Draco - I think he felt pressured to prove himself after the bitter disappointment Sirius had been. He and Draco were marked before they were of age, whatever being of age means in the wizarding world - meaning Voldemort was not above using minors. He also used children: the Daily Prophet writes that the Ministry has captured a nine year old child who had been Imperiused into murdering his family.

Snape’s vulnerability is glaring. In a nutshell, his extreme poverty and the neglect and abuse played a part in his decision to join the Death Eaters, and there’s a reason why Lucius is seen patting him on the back as soon as he is sorted. Perhaps the policy was to groom all newcomers. Like Barty, he might have looked for a father figure. Harry notices the many similarities between Snape and Voldemort (and himself), and these are all things Voldemort must have used on young Snape as well.

Snape is an example of how disposable Voldemort’s followers were, to him - he sent him to Hogwarts to get the cursed DADA job, meaning he was willing to let a potentially horrible fate befall Snape within the year. Even after Snape ascended to #2 by killing Dumbledore (on Voldemort’s order, no less), Voldemort killed him to gain mastery of the wand Snape became master of by doing Voldemort’s bidding.

Snape also explains the Dark Mark

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side.”

A famous cult in my country did this: The leader made his followers tattoo pictures of him and his name on their body. It’s this association that originally made me think of the Death Eaters as a cult. Voldemort branded his followers like cattle, and he expected them to drop everything they’re doing to run to him whenever he wants.

Snape was constantly tested, too. He was assigned a servant he despised, for one, and tasked with killing Dumbledore. Even after he had accomplished that, Voldemort did not fully trust him:

“Yaxley. Snape,” said a high, clear voice from the head of the table. “You are very nearly late.”

This is a threat, since they’re not actually late; I think it’s meant as a “hey, remember when I tortured you once for being late?” It is followed by:

“Saturday... at nightfall,” repeated Voldemort. His red eyes fastened upon Snape’s black ones with such intensity that some of the watchers looked away, apparently fearful that they themselves be scorched by the ferocity of the gaze. Snape, however, looked calmly back into Voldemort’s face and, after a moment or two, Voldemort’s lipless mouth curved into something like a smile.

Voldemort is using Legilimency - he still does not trust Snape, he still needs to interrogate him so carefully that the others are afraid to look.

Next, there is this:

“Do you recognize our guest, Severus?” asked Voldemort. Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity.

That the Death Eaters all knew not to look up at the gruesome sight without permission, goes to show, again, how fun it must have been to be a Death Eater. In general, I think the best way to read “Dark Lord Ascending” is to pay attention to where people are looking, and how - it’s important in general, but especially in this chapter.

Lucius is an anomaly. It’s very hard to picture him kneeling, and there is no obvious reason why he should forfeit his dignity. Cults don’t typically target the elite, and in this, the Death Eaters are a bit strange, unless Lucius was also recruited at a young, impressionable age. This can be resolved if you consider that Voldemort is the Heir of Slytherin, and unlike cult leaders, he really is super-powerful, and the person with the most potential to achieve political goals the Malfoy family is interested in.

Privileged as he was, even Lucius had vulnerabilities, and Voldemort was a Legilimens, meaning it was very easy for him to tell what they were.

This is how he treats Lucius in DLA:

“As I was saying,” continued Voldemort, looking again at the tense faces of his followers, “I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter.”

The faces around him displayed nothing but shock; he might have announced that he wanted to borrow one of their arms.

“No volunteers?” said Voldemort. “Let’s see... Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore.”

How… emasculating.

Lucius Malfoy looked up [so he was looking down until then]. His skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“My Lord?”

Lucius looks like he’s been through a lot. Also, since this scene takes place in the middle of July, why is there a fire? I’m theorizing that it’s for Nagini, or perhaps Voldemort is cold-blooded now, but in any case, he doesn’t care about the others’ comfort level. Maybe he even wants them to sweat.

“Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand.”

“I...”

Malfoy glanced sideways at his wife. She was staring straight ahead, quite as pale as he was, [...] At her touch, Malfoy put his hand into his robes, withdrew a wand, and passed it along to Voldemort.

Voldemort is making Lucius give him the wand himself, to reinforce his submission - he could have used magic.

“Give you my wand, Lucius? My wand?”

Some of the throng sniggered.

“I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you?”

Indeed, Voldemort has given Lucius his (questionable) liberty, but again, he is expecting gratitude for something Lucius would have had in the first place, were it not for him: Lucius was imprisoned because he was caught at the Department of Mysteries fighting for Voldemort.

“But I have noticed that you and your family seem less than happy of late.... What is it about my presence in your home that displeases you, Lucius?”

“Nothing — nothing, my Lord!”

“Such lies, Lucius...”

The soft voice seemed to hiss on even after the cruel mouth had stopped moving.

[...]

“Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot? Is my return, my rise to power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?”

“Of course, my Lord,” said Lucius Malfoy. His hand shook as he wiped sweat from his upper lip. “We did desire it — we do.”

Remember the fire? Do you notice Lucius sweating? His hand shaking? See how terrified he is, and how awful it must be to be forced to state how much he loves being treated like that?

To Malfoy’s left, his wife made an odd, stiff nod, her eyes averted from Voldemort and the snake. To his right, his son, Draco, who had been gazing up at the inert body overhead, glanced quickly at Voldemort and away again, terrified to make eye contact.

This is what has become of the once mighty Malfoy family.

Legilimency is important - because it means Voldemort typically could spot the mere thought of defection, and manipulate it out of the offender or outright kill them. The DEs know he can read minds, and so averting your eyes could be seen as admitting to a lie, unless you avert your eyes regularly. Breaking eye contact is a gesture of submission, and if one’s body is forced into it enough, it becomes ingrained. Every mention of eye contact in Dark Lord Ascending reinforces that. Their body language in that chapter also shows how controlled they are. I believe Death Eaters are learning to occlude involuntarily, to deceive themselves into only having permissible thoughts and feelings, to ensure their own survival. This makes it impossible to escape.

Finally, there’s JKR’s statement that Snape was the only DE who could produce a Patronus. This can't be because he's not evil (Umbridge can produce a Patronus), and it can't be because he's the only DE who is more powerful than 13 year old Harry. I think it’s because they were not allowed to - I think a spell that requires you to think genuinely happy thoughts would have reminded Death Eaters that their happiness does not come from Voldemort. The rigid mind control screams "cult" to me, and I think it's a much more interesting take on them than "bunch of plot-stupid people who had somehow managed to terrorize the wizarding world despite being incompetent".

Hope you now feel the same and thanks for reading this thesis <3

#hp #meta #cults #lucius #snape #voldemort #regulus black #draco #narcissa malfoy

[lower-east-side]

first line game 🖋

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Thank you for the tag @glittering-git!!! Going back 20 fics takes me to April of 2018. I think the only pattern is that my first lines tend to be pretty short. There is very little punctuation other than commas and periods. Almost all refer to a person, either describing or them doing something. Yet only one begins with dialogue (the single Devilman fic, and incidentally the nearly-complete sequel also begins with dialogue.) Over time, I think I show improvement! I’m not sure how representative of my writing this is, however, as I’m more concerned with an opening paragraph rather than lines. 

All of these are Drarry, complete, and rated E unless otherwise noted.

1. You’ll Love (To Let Go) -- It was the noise that woke Harry up.

2. King's Crossing (WIP) -- All the trees were bending down to hold him in their arms.

3. New Chevrolet In Flames (Devilman, M, Ryo/Akira) -- “Not again,” Akira groans as Ryo pulls up to the curb.

4. The Company of The Rose -- Brunch, according to Pansy, was the most important meal of the day.

5. Let's Kiss and Make Up -- Washing up just isn't the same without him.

6. Table Ten -- Every Thursday night was Open Mic Night at the cafe.

7. don’t say you love me, that’s extortion -- Harry is only allowed to say it when Draco is asleep.

8. Cryptography -- With a whir and a snap, the sides of the cube fell into place, and a warm glow filled the room.

9. Harriet Evans and the Happily Ever After (G, Ronmione with potential Drarry) -- It was bedtime in the Granger-Weasley household, and there was a change to the routine.

10. More Than Friends (G) --The door to the compartment slid open, and Ginny slipped inside.

11. Turncoat -- (G) When the smoke had cleared and the Horcrux dissolved, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood shell-shocked outside the Room of Requirement.

12. Taphonomy (T, Lucius/Narcissa) -- She’s holding another person in her body, and yet she’s never felt more alone.

13. To Keep the Heart’s Action -- Vampires are disgusting.

14. Variation -- The Malfoy Heir lives in Malfoy Manor.

15. House Cup Blues -- In front of the hourglasses that displayed House Points, two students stopped — or rather, one student stopped and the other ran into them.

16. all the good that won't come out (T, Daphne/Pansy, background Drastoria) -- The bookshop is Daphne’s refuge from the world.

17. In this world (we’re just beginning) (T) -- It’s not like Harry hasn’t seen the latest Muggle fashions.

18. Does Your Heart Beat Slower (M, Dransy) -- Pansy has never seen the Manor looking so gloomy.

19. Really Good, Indeed -- Sometimes, Harry and Draco still liked to fight.

20. Electric Demons in Love -- It had to be Dark Magic.

As to picking a favorite... hmm. I like the ones that make you guess a little bit, like #1 (what noise?) or #7 (allowed to say what?)  Overall, though, I’ll have to go with 12. It’s very sharp. What do you guys think?

This has illuminated how much I don’t like the opening line of my Big Bang, and that I really need to make it punchier. That’s what editing is for!

I never tag a lot of people on these (ten whole tags? hahaha social anxiety says no) and this is a lot of work so feel free to ignore, but I’d love to see first lines from @phenomenalasterisk @sunflower-swan @candybarrnerd 

#tag game #fic writing #my writing

[bush-viper-cutie]

Pretending

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,223

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot:  Severus is forced to attend Lucius’ party. The plan is simple, get rejected enough times, have Lucius think he’s a helpless cause, and go back to Hogwarts to continue reading his book. 

Warnings: None

A/N: For Snape Appreciation Month, prompt 9: Snape is a pureblood. @snapeloveposts​

Posted: 6/20/20

Masterlist

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus tried twisting his arm out of Lucius’ grip as he was dragged down the Malfoy Manor entrance hall and through two rococo style double doors into their dancing hall. A live band played in the center as dozens of families gathered and talked or danced around the room.

“You’ve come all this way, so just go talk to people!” Luscious let go of his hand and straightened his coat. “If you haven’t found someone to share your life with – ”

Severus groaned.

“So help me I will set you up with Narcissa’s great aunt!” Lucius stormed away.

Severus scoffed and dusted off his sleeve. “Why did I agree to go to this. I’m perfectly fine reading in my office,” he grumbled.

He would have to make a show of looking. He knew that by the way Lucius was staring him down from across the room. The plan was simple. He would just have to talk to people that would NEVER give him a second of their time, and after a couple of rejections he would see it was pointless and he could be back in his office reading before the clock chimed at twelve.

He glanced at several dancing figured and then at the small groups of people talking and laughing. He spotted several targets of interest. He walked up to an elaborately dressed man with lavender purple tails and a matching gem broach and nodded politely.

The man looked him up and down and walked away. He could admit it stung, but not as much as the inconvenience of being here. He looked over at Lucius who was sipping at his wine while observing him and continued onto the next victim.

This time he offered a polite “Hello” but the man simply copied him and turned back to his partner. Alright I didn’t really expect to simply show up and be turned down… he huffed and walked away, turning his sights on a group of women laughing by the band and a less wealthy group on the other side.

He didn’t feel like immediate rejection and figured the less showy group would let him speak at least a few more words but he was sorely mistaken. They closed of any spaces and huddled closer as they saw him approach with intent.

“Lucius, I swear – ” he pinched the bridge of his nose and walked over to the wealthiest looking group, hoping it would be the last rejection of the night before he could walk back defeated and be allowed to leave and spend his Saturday night in peace reading Kybelen’s new book Forbidden Potion Recipes Lost to Time and Law.

This group consisted of several women with sparkly jewels and gems adorning their long-layered gowns. Two more with braided up-dos with exotic feathers while the other two wore their hair down with a glass hair piece reflecting colorful light all around.

He cleared his throat as he approached, and they looked back at him. He noticed their eyes trailing over his attire and could see their eyes rolling. He regretted wearing the outfit Lucius had sent him, even if it was fancy-looking, everyone could tell he didn’t belong in it.

“Hello,” one of the women greeted him in and stepped aside, making room for him to join.

He stepped into the little circle and greeted everyone. Relieved, his mission now was simple. Open his mouth, get rejected, go home, and finish reading before his NEWT class on Monday.

“Evening,” Severus gave a small bow.

“We were discussing Kybelen’s new book,” the girl closest him smiled.

Severus turned to face her, surprised. She had long flowing hair and a glass bow on her head and in her white gloved hands was the very book.

“Indeed,” he breathed out. “What exactly?”

The other woman sighed, “I think those ‘uncovered’ recipes should have stayed buried in ‘time’. It’s absolutely irresponsible to publish them. I mean, what happens if people try to actually brew them? If the Ministry forbids it for our safety, then why tell the world?” she huffed, completely flustered.

Severus turned back to the girl with the book in her hand and saw she was rolling her eyes.

“See, Mr…”

“Snape.”

The group narrowed their eyes at him, as if trying to puzzle together what kind of family name it was, however the woman with the book payed no attention and continued.

“Mr. Snape, I believe it is right and fair we were given back the knowledge that was stolen from us by the Ministry. These recipes were discovered and perfect and then stolen and burned and hidden for fear of Muggles and their hatred of us and our fear of them. I’ve counted over eleven forgotten techniques in this book that could revolutionize how we brew potions today, and I’m not even finished with it yet.”

Another woman, clearly amused by the argument laughed, “Mr. Snape. What, may I ask, is your opinion on this controversial new book?”

Severus cleared his throat, excited to talk about it, “Well, I agree with Miss,” he turned to the glass bow woman.

She smiled, enthused to have someone on her side, “Marigold Demar-Dor.”

“I agree with Miss Demar-Dor. Already several journals have been released theorizing about the possible changes and effects certain potions will have with these new techniques,” he noticed her smiling at him and continued, “And I personally don’t find it wrong to learn and have knowledge of them. Just because we now know them does not mean they should become legal to brew.”

Marigold nodded, “Well said, Mr. Snape. And please, call me Marigold.”

“Severus, then.” He smiled back at her and noticed she stepped closer to him.

“Yes, but what if some Muggle-born or Half-blood decide to try the one to do with giving a muggle temporary magic on a squib, or worse on a Muggle.”

Marigold laughed, “It was never proven and that’s not how magic works. Obviously back then they received some sort of result that made Muggles appear to have magic. I’m sure half the potions we brew now would give similar effects should we feed them to Muggles.”

“The cure for Flame Breath makes Muggles levitate several inches in their sleep but not wizards. The Ministry manages to keep Wizards from giving it to muggles and I see no reason why it should not be the same for these,” Severus smiled back at the look Marigold was giving him.

“Yes, well true Purebloods would not be keen on the thought of that potion circulating society once more.”

“The Demar-Dors haven’t had a drop of Muggle blood in a century and I see no problem with it,” Marigold folded her arms.

“Mr. Snape, what about you?”

Severus swallowed. This was his chance to escape but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin his night just yet. He was glad to hear her thoughts and opinions on a book he knew no one else cared about, and he didn’t mind in the least the smile she gave him.

“My family has been Purebloods for generations, and I too side with Marigold,” he noticed her arm was now brushing against his.

They had clearly won the argument as the opposing woman looked away in anger.

“Severus, will you dance with me?” Marigold looped her arm in his and turned him towards her.

Severus smiled and led them out of the group, taking her copy and placing it in his pocket. He took her hand and placed his other on her waist and began dancing. Marigold slid her free hand from his arm and up to his shoulder.

She smiled at him and played with his hair as they danced. The song changed and slowed, and she took up his invitation at a second dance. She placed her head on his shoulder and twirled alongside him. After the slow dance she took his arm and guided him through the crowd into the entrance hall and out the back glass-paneled doors.

“You dance wonderfully, Severus,” she looped her arm back through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “How do you know Lucius?”

“School friends. We both went to Hogwarts.”

“He’s never mentioned you,” she looked up at him.

He looked away, knowing Lucius wasn’t the type to bring up any Half-blood friends he might have to any of his wealthier, more pure friends.

She kissed his cheek and stepped back, “There’s a fountain in the garden, would you like to find it with me?”

“I know where it is,” Severus held out his elbow, but she took his hand instead, waiting for him to lead.

They walked in the bright moonlight through the rose bushes and he couldn’t help but feel like a prince from a fairytale. The night had turned lovely, but he couldn’t allow himself to feel anything real. He lied about his status and by the time the clock strikes twelve the party would be over, and he would be back at Hogwarts, reading his book.

Marigold pulled him up the steps and sat them down at the fountain’s edge. Almost like a dream, the fountain lights turned on and the pink-tinted water started pouring out. Marigold leaned into him and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Tell me about yourself, Severus,” Marigold kissed his lips one last time before letting him speak.

“I teach potions at Hogwarts.”

Marigold’s eyes lit up instantly, “Potions was my favorite subject! Now I wish I had gone to Hogwarts, although we might not have been in the same year,” she laughed.

Severus smiled and looked away. His guilt was starting to eat at him and began to mix with dread and sadness. She was beautiful and clearly had the same passion for potions as he did, she even carried the book with her much like he had wanted to do.

He felt her soft glove brush his fingers before she placed her hand on his. He turned back and she kissed his lips once more, filling him with warmth and longing. She looked, talked, and acted like a princess and he wanted to treat her like one for more than just one night.

“Any other subjects you enjoyed?”

Marigold blushed and looked away, “I might have enjoyed… the Dark Arts class.”

Perfect. She’s perfect. His heart broke at the inevitable loss he’d endure tonight. He wondered what she was really like, away from Lucius’ house, away from her friends, just on her own, in a more normal setting. Would she like his personality?

They kissed once more and he heard a distant clock chime, marking the end of the day and the start of a new one. She pulled away from him and brushed her thumb on his cheek. He sighed and looked away, staying still even as she stood.

“Severus?”

“Marigold… You should go on. It was nice meeting you,” Severus hung his head and let his hair fall forward. He crossed his arms, resting them over his knees.

She sat back down and placed a hand over his shoulder, “I’d like to see you again.”

Severus rolled his eyes, “No. You wouldn’t. I’m not a – ” his nails dug into his palms as he squeezed his hands into tighter fists. “I’m not a Pureblood,” he hissed. Disgusted at the words coming out of his mouth. “I’m a bloody Half-blood,” he spat on the ground beside him, loathing how he felt. Ashamed.

She placed her hand on his cheek and pulled his attention towards her. He frowned, confused at her continued affection and was about to speak when she kissed him suddenly.

Her lips were warm and sweet, and her nose pressed against his cheek, heating them up to what he knew would be an obvious pink blush. He closed his eyes and leaned into her kiss, parting his lips with hers and placing his hand on her arm.

“You don’t have to pretend to be a Pureblood around me, Severus. Being one doesn’t make you better,” she pulled on his lip with hers and made him smile. “Obviously it doesn’t make you better considering I’ve rejected several Purebloods at this party and yet decided to dance with you.” She tilted her head and pecked at his lips, “You are far more interesting, and far cuter than any man here,” she kissed his cheek and stood up, offering him her hand.

He took it, “Then you still want to see me again?”

“What were you planning on doing after this party?”

Severus felt very on the spot. He didn’t want to assume where her question was leading and yet he didn’t want to lie. If there was ever a time to use Legilimency on anyone he would use it on her now. He held his hand behind his back and fidgeted, trying to decide on an answer.

“I was going to go back to Hogwarts and read the book. Nothing-else,” he winced at how dull he sounded.

“Then, why don’t you come back to mine and read it there,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “Afterall, I do have a copy,” she stood on her toes and kissed him.

“But if I’m reading… what will you be doing?”

She winked at him and pressed her lips to his. He chuckled and nodded, letting her apparate them away.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

#pro snape #snapeloveposts #severus snape #severus x reader #severus x you #severus #snape #snape x reader #snape x you #snape x fem!reader #fanfic #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #one shot #snape one shot #fan fiction #fanfiction #snape appreciation month #snape appreciation month 2020 #snapedom

[selkiesblog]

The ruse(DracoX OC) Chapter 1- The plan

"mooom please, does she really have to spend the summer here???" The little boy with white silverish hair said pulling on his mother's robe ends, hiding his head over her kilt

Every June until September Saphira Jones would come to his mansion to spend the summer over the Malfoy's

It started as a tradition, the two families were quite fond of each other. Since Voldemort first vanished and the rumors of his return started. The Malfoy's needed to reassure their family's safety and economic stability in case of things gone wrong during the rise of death eaters and late battle. So they made a pact that neither of the children would know: for every year until they turn a majority age, they would unite their families in expectation of a great match. And not until then deny or agree with a marriage proposal, that should be made

Draco utterly despised every second and Saphira knew it, so she would try to make his life just as miserable as hers, the only problem is that the game they both plays of twisting and pulling each other until one or another give up or break was never-ending

He would bark she would bite

As a child, they would fight over toys

"Mooom!!! Saphira stole my broom!!" He cried

"No, I did not!!"

Sometimes she would indeed steal his toys and hide in the most inconvenient of places cause at the very young age she would be more advanced in spells than he, a fact that she would- till this day- constantly remind him.

"You did!! Stop lying!!"

But this time she didn't

Oh no, he was just having fun getting her in trouble.

"Safira, give him his broom!" Her mother stepped in the light

before she could deny his allegations or make any more of her comments she heard a snap and by pulling her hear she was dragged into her room "that's it!! No wand for a week!" He smirked through his fake tears

And it got worse as it got physical. In school he will do whatever it takes to provoke her, pulling her long brown braids, pushing through the halls, calling her names until she snapped over him with her hand in a fist. She got -10 points to Gryffindor's he got a red-eye

Summer came and there she was again cuffed to him like a second skin

"Kneel," he said

"No you kneel" she pushed him

"No, I'm older than you"

"And I'm richer than you"

"Enough both of you!!!" Narcissa said "now Saphira, kneel" she took a large breath, she went down reverencing like a Princess only less charmingly. He puffed his chest with pride and kept his back straight smirking with victory "now you kiss her hand" they both looked at Narcissa who seemed with her patience on the edge, both hands in her temples. Draco not into hearing more of his mother's speeches on how the Yule ball was a very important event and that he was going to make a fool of himself if he didn't know the proper steps. Soon he raised her hand to meet his lips and planted a kiss there

The music started, slower. Saphira still taken by surprise with his action crumbled over his pace, stepping on his foot. The music started again and again until she got it right, only when it was time for him to spin her and catch he let her fall

Fifteen and It was time for pranks that she learned from the Weasley twins, Fred and George. Colorful bombs in his dorm room or shoes that would fart every time he walked, name it she has it

"Never heard of it?"

"What does it do?"

"It tickles the skin non-stop until the person breaks in laugh"

"Rather harmless..." Fred started

"But very affective" George finished

"Okay!..." She whispered to herself "Rictumsempra"

In the tall estate of the games, missing one point to Slytherin score 150 and Draco catch the golden snitch. He started twisting on his broom, having a pit of a contagious laugh. Everyone started to making fun until he lost balance and crush in the dirt of the ground

She was shaking when they took him to Papoula Pomfrey, he had hit his head but the problem was in his broken arm. He was still conscious when they asked him what happened, he just looked at her, and said "I lost balance and fall"

He lied?

It didn't make sense, he knew it was her and he wouldn't tell her off? He would always tell her off. Draco was the boy who would do everything in his reach to get her in trouble, wasn't he? Did he beat his head so hard that he has forgotten he hates her? Was he gonna use it to his advantage, just waiting for the right moment to strike like a snake?

While he was asleep she stayed up all night on his side, guild kicking in, anxiety keeping her awake, looming at his facials expression as he slept. That night Saphira discovered many things...

first one: Draco talked in his sleep

"No, No I won't fail you"

he woke in shook in the morning, sweat dripping from his forehead, breathing heavily

"Are you feeling better?" She asked ready to question why didn't he told dumbledore it was her who cursed him

"Yes" he simply said

Second one: don't trust the Weasleys with spells

"It was a really hard crash" she sighed "unfortunately I have some bad news" he positioned steadily in the bed frowning "you fall so hard and ground that your face fractured" he quickly turned to the mirror on his side " now you look normal"

His delicate lips had a small cut in them, nothing scandalous, but he looked angry as he turned at her, his serious serious expression turned into a grin. They both laughed immensely for a couple of seconds and stared at each other not knowing what to say, or do.

"Draco?" A small voice echoed in the corner of the room

"H-Hi pansy!" He said

Suddenly it was a weird atmosphere that broke through the windows as she had just crossed nearly headless nick for the first time

"I'm gonna live your two alone" heading out the door, leaving space for the both to talk she realizes the Third one: she was completely head over heels in love with Draco Malfoy

And every time she would catch him snogging pansy in the corner of the halls, kissing the length of the neck, or overheard them talking, she would get this feeling of nausea on the bottom of her stomach

"You're jealous!" Hermione said

"Why would she be jealous?" Ron asked with his mouth full, she never so gentle smacked his head with her hand pointing at the way pansy would play with Draco hair

"He doesn't even like it in the middle part," Saphira said playing with the vegetables on her plate with her fork, not hungry at all

"You gonna eat that? " Ron asked

"Wait...you like Draco? " Harry asked, "why?"

"I don't like him!!!"

"Okay...But you spent every summer with him, it's a little suspicious"

"It's because of my family you know that"

"Have you ever considered confessing your feelings to him?" Hermione again asked

" I don't like him," she said again loudly "even so, he doesn't see me that way"

But the thought lingered in her mind for a couple of weeks, weeks-long enough for the students already know that Malfoy would keep his Summers busy with her. Suddenly everyone knew and assumed the same thing that Hermione did

"Are you dating Malfoy?"

"How long are you guys together?"

"What about Pansy?"

"Is he a good kisser?"

Overwhelmed by the random questions and thoughts she went to talk with Draco personally until found him talking with Blaise and his friends "come on guys, I'm not dating her" he laughs "she not even my type" he said making an ugly face "I am just is stuck with her through the Summers cause she so annoying and boring that even her parents don't want her around" he quickly realized the words that had just come out of his mouth and shut

There was so much truth in those words, the truth that she never wanted to admit nor she could. She was adopted, it's true, people didn't know and those who knew certainly didn't talk about that.

When two purebloods decide to adopt a magic muggle-born, the elite society doesn't take it very well, first of all, it's illegal. Second: the chance of dishonoring the bloodline and status of the family by polluting their legacy mixing their divergence with a "mudblood", it a risk that no one should take, even a mother who lost her child at early birth; a bare family in an empty nest; a tree rotten in its core. She was embarrassed, only for a couple of seconds, soon she was filled with the very familiar feeling that emerged in her mind of angst

She got a suspension when the school heard from her that she had used a spell against a student and wounded him during a game of quidditch. Sitting on the bench Draco looked at her stiffed

"Why did you tell them?"

"My parents are going to move me to

Beauxbatons school" he looked worrisome that she almost felt pity "then I won't have to trouble you with my annoyingly boring behavior" she was about to get up when she felt his hand on her wrist twirling her body close to his, too close even

"Is this what you want?" She felt his mint breath in her cheeks and shivered over the wooden cologne

"W-what I-?"

" You wanna ruin everything don't you?" Her stomach filled with butterflies "our parent's plans, the secret, you found out and now you wanna ruin it"

Instantly the short moment went away, she stepped out of his intense gaze and unlocked her wrist

"Secret?"

"Why do you think you would come every summer to my house?" He said

"obviously isn't because we're so friends"

"Our parent's plans all along were that we would be more than that, I guarantee you" the words hissed against her thoughts, it was all so obvious now "marriage, Saphira, they want us to be wedd"

She felt like crying, run away like a little girl who just found out that Santa isn't real. She felt like breaking. Draco was bounded to her, stuck with a girl that he doesn't want

Making his life miserable as hers

"Draco, hear me, loud and clear," she said crying out, he never saw her tears, but that day it poured like a stormy rain

"you will never, never marry me. I give you that" alone with his thoughts, he builds his first wall

You're free

That summer she didn't come. It was his darkest summer, that gloomed into his mind like clouds over a parade

_____

"Will you fail me, boy?" Voldemort whispered

"No, my Lord"

#draco malfoy #harry potter #fiction #fanfic #pride and prejudice #pansy parkinson #theodore nott #romance #wattapad #bridgerton

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 12

This story is following a prompt set by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 12): 3,382

Word Count (Total): 38,650

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

24th April, 1998

An entire week passes in a blur. Rapid movement would be the two best words to sum it all up. Hermione had indeed Apparated to Weasley that time in Rivington Woods, but not because she was annoyed or disgusted. No, instead she left because of a coin in her pocket? The details are a little bit fuzzy, but she said something about ‘the DA’ and ‘encrypted’. It’s probably a form of communication, and I will have to find out in more detail. Regardless, Weasley had called her out to the Forest of Dean. When Harry and I had finally arrived close to an hour later — after talking things through and deciding that we are both in for the long haul — the clearing was bustling with activity. There were even more plans in place that I had no idea about, including something to help rescue Mother.

Thoughts of my mum pull me from my mind, and I glance over to the still vacant room across the hallway. Grimmauld seems to know that something is wrong, trying desperately to cheer all of its occupants up with random bursts of new colour on the walls, or random vases on cabinets that appeared from thin air. Harry and I are still in our separate rooms, but Hermione and Weasley (who is very annoyed that I can’t quite call him Ron yet) share a room on another floor. The house is also filled with other people that Harry seems to have collected somehow. He assures me that each of them serves a specific purpose, but I haven’t been told what those purposes are. I haven’t been told much of anything.

“Draco, here you are!” My attention snaps to Harry at the sound of his voice, and I watch as he walks into the drawing room. Flopping down onto the sofa next to me, he runs his eyes over my wings. I’ve stopped trying to spell them away or cover them, and now they are permanently out in the air. Harry seems absolutely fascinated by them.

“Here I am,” I concede. “You after something?”

“A man can’t stop and talk to his boyfriend occasionally?”

A blush creeps up the back of my neck. The word ‘boyfriend’ still feels exceedingly odd. “Oh please,” I say. “You never see me during the day, you’re working,” I chide. “And it’s very important work, so if you aren’t asking me something then you should probably head back.”

Harry scowls half heartedly. “What if I was using you as an excuse to leave?” He laughs, unable to keep the serious expression on his face for long.

I roll my eyes. “That’s what I am to you? An excuse?!”

“Of course not Dray!” I glare at the horrid nickname that Harry has shifted into using. “I merely needed a distraction.”

I cock my head at him, and his eyes widen. I scowl, knowing exactly what he is staring at. “Yes Harry,” I sigh. “There are feathers. There have been feathers for just over a week by now.”

“I know,” Harry winges. “But they’re gorgeous.”

I shake my head and twist around on the sofa so that my back is to Harry. I can feel his grin from behind me as I lay back into his chest. My wings fold slightly, uncomfortable. They don’t stay like that for long though, not with Harry running a reverent hand across them. He smooths them out and caresses the dull-looking feathers. I had assumed that by now they would be back to lush white, but no. Still the ugly brown. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll ever change back. Maybe my life is too far tainted for the consequences to ever truly leave.

“What are you thinking of?” Harry asks slowly.

“Nothing,” I shake my head. “Just wondering if my feathers will become white again or not.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says. “The thoughts looked much darker than that.”

Sighing, I reply, “What if my life is too dark, and they are permanently stained…”

Harry rubs soothingly across my feathers, calming me down just as I was about to spiral out of control. There is nothing positive in my past to look back on, it’s just not worth it.

“Harry! Draco!” A head of bushy hair rushes into the drawing room. “I thought I’d find you in here,” Hermione says as she hurries towards us. Her eyes roam over our position on the sofa, and a blush reappears on my cheeks. I can’t find it in myself to move though, so she’ll have to get over it.

“We have word on your mother,” she reveals, not sparing a second glance to the way we’re sitting.

I leap up, sprinting off of Harry as I grab for her. Gripping her shoulders tightly, I stare at her,wordless. Until I’m not. “How is she?!” Is the first thing to leave my mouth. “Where is she?!” That’s a much more sensible question than the first, but both are equally important.

“She’s doing good considering where she is,” Hermione says. I don’t like the sound of that. Reading the look in my eyes, she sighs. “Lucius has her in th-”

“My father has her! She’ll die!” I yell.

Hermione winces at the loud noise at such close proximity. “If you’d let me finish…” I nod.

“She is in the Ministry of Magic, being held and awaiting trial for crimes against the Ministry.”

How Hermione manages to stay as calm as she is is beyond me. My body starts shaking in rage, and Harry leaps up to stand behind me. His hand rubs comfortingly along what he can reach of my back, but upon deciding that’s too hard, he instead walks to my side and places his head on my shoulder. My eyes start burning, and I feel my dissolve start to crumble.

“Crimes against the Ministry?” Harry asks for me. “Like treason?”

Hermione nods solemnly. “Lucius is still considered a reliable source to the Wizengamot,” she explains. “His word as Head of Malfoy House overrides her’s, especially as a woman in a court full of old-fashion men.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Harry exclaims. I go rigid under his touch, and he presses a kiss to my shoulder.

“It’s preposterous, but it’s the way of the world,” I say, defeated.

“You can’t think like that Dray!” Harry says, reaching a hand up to caress the back of my neck. “Everything will be okay.”

“You can’t promise me that, Harry.” I turn my head to look at him. “This is war, bad things happen. Mother being trialed is just another strike Lucius is using against me.” Lucius, not my father. I’m done relating the two, I can’t consider him my flesh and blood any longer. Not with how everything is turning out.

“I have more,” Hermione announces. I’d forgotten she was in the room. Harry and I focus our attention back on her, and she clears her throat. “We have people arriving there as we speak. Their goal is to persuade the Wizengamot to vote her innocent.”

“And by persuade you really mean…?” Harry asks. As I said, this is war. We need to go to any length possible to ensure we win. Voldemort can’t be allowed to rule over the world.

“Manipulate,” Hermione says with a shrug. “If that doesn’t work, then maybe a couple of Unforgivables.” It sounds so matter-of-fact, coming from a girl who never would have imagined using those spells two years ago.

Harry nods and wraps her into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers. I smile to myself, watching their casual affection and how well they know each other after years of friendship.

“Draco?” Hermione addresses me.

“Hermione,” comes my response.

“Do you want to come with us? To retrieve Narcissa?”

I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Yes!”

***

Despite originally being ecstatic about helping rescue Mother, I have since realised just how much work goes into these missions. Harry has placed our usual Glamours back on, but that’s just skin level and is very easy to remove. Hermione takes over once my skin is freckled, altering traces of my magic. I can feel it pulse within me, crashing around wildly. She assures me it will calm down after a little while, but with the way it’s acting I worry it might explode out of me. Hermione then works to change my scent, my weight and height, and some more intricate details that Harry skimmed over. When presented with a mirror, it’s like I’m inside someone else’s body. Harry might have done a good job when I was just him, but Hermione’s spell work truly takes the disguise to another level. A pang of loss rings in my chest though, my wings hidden away for the first time in a week. Oh well, it needs to be done. For Mother.

Harry gets transformed too, and then we are rushed out of the drawing room and into the kitchen. There is basically an army sitting around on the tiles, the table having been taken hours ago by the first people to have arrived.

Who are these ones, Granger?” A man wearing maroon robes asks Hermione as she steps in behind us.

“Daniel Gresham and Thomas Anstey.” Those are the names she picked out for us, further away from our real names than the ones we usually go by.

The man walks over to us and shakes Harry and I’s hands firmly. “Pleased to have you, Gresham and Anstey.”

I don’t respond, too busy taking everything in.

There are witches and wizards everywhere, dressed in high end robes and carrying wands that are poised; ready to be used in a moments notice. Harry and I are pushed into the crowd with instructions to stretch our muscles and then find a Portkey. Having both been on the Quidditch teams back at Hogwarts, stretching doesn’t take very long. Mine are a little bit stiff, less flexible than usual due to being in hiding for a month and a half. Harry doesn’t seem to have the same problem, racing through his own stretches and warm ups before watching me go through my own more slowly.

“You look beautiful,” he says. I blush. He makes me blush so easily, it’s actually pathetic. Cursing my pale skin, I shake my head at him in exasperation.

“That’s all you can think about right now? The way I look and not what we are about to do?”

“Well, I’m thinking about that too. But I couldn’t remember the last time I told you how good you look, so I figured I might as well now.” To Harry’s credit, he looks at least a little bit sheepish.

“Two days ago, Ha- Daniel.” Nearly messed up. No one can know our real identities, even though we are on the same side. Lucius and his lord can’t know we are involved in this, otherwise the consequences could be grave.

“Two days!” Harry exclaims. “I missed yesterday!”

I scoff. “You don’t need to say it every day,” I tell him. “It might lose its effect,” I whisper.

Standing up and shaking my legs out, I pull Harry to his feet. He presses a cheeky kiss to my nose, earning himself a whack to the side of his head. Rubbing the spot and wincing, he glares at me. I shrug, pecking his mouth as an apology.

“When you two are done being sickly, grab a portkey!” The man from earlier shouts from across the room to us. Harry and I nod hurriedly and find the closest portkey; a muggle notebook like the one Hermione uses. I gaze at Harry, taking in his serious face, before my stomach turns and the world twists around.

***

The world comes back into focus in the Ministry of Magic’s main thoroughfare. Floos whoosh around us, workers walking hurriedly through the passages and corridors to get to wherever they’re going. Our group of five takes a bit of time to check out where we need to go, and then a witch whose declared herself leader of the four wizards confidently makes her way through a corridor and into an elevator. Despite having spent the last two hours preparing for this, I’m not really sure what we’re doing. Apart from rescuing Mother, I don't have the faintest idea. When I turn to ask Harry if he knows, I become stuck in my place. The dark blue, glowing brick walls flicker in and out for a second while my eyes catch on swirling robes. I’d recognise the, anywhere. Lucius wears ones just like them. Shaking my head in my paranoia, I force myself to keep walking. There’s no way it’s Lucius.

Except when I look closer, it most definitely is. His platinum hair has been cut short, and is now worn similarly to the way I wear mine. The style of an unmarried pureblood. If anything, that knowledge makes me glad. Mother and I will no longer have to live in the Manor with Lucius and his lord, the evil we were forced to serve for years. Apart from that, the man who I used to consider my father looks exactly the same from the back. I tear my eyes away and catch Harry’s, trying to communicate with him though my eyes. His widen as I flick my gaze to Lucius, and he seemingly understands. What if the magic woven through Harry and I doesn’t hold? What would Lucius do? As we walk past him and enter an elevator I allow myself to exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I need to tell the others.

“Guys-” I stop speaking before I’ve even begun. Lucius has turned around and is making his way towards the lift. The wizard with dark brown hair next to me recognises him, and whispers into the witch’s ear. Panic crosses her face for less than a second, but then she shakes her head. Lucius has to enter, otherwise it would be suspicious. Swallowing hard and placing my features into the mask I’ve spent years perfecting; the one he taught me, I force myself to calm down. I’m under numerous enchantments and I couldn’t recognise myself, there’s no way the man who pretended to be my father would be able to. Right?

While he’s walking into the lift, I allow myself to scan his face. It’s just as pointy and pale as usual, only now there’s a jagged scar cutting him from his forehead to his chin. That’s joined by a few new wrinkles he’s never allowed himself to have before. Probably the only reason he’s kept the marks is to gain other people’s sympathy. Forcing myself not to scowl and lash out, I reach for Harry’s hand. Except Harry doesn’t take it. Instead he pulls away slowly. When I look at him, he smiles softly but makes no move to do anything more than that. I understand, we’re on mission. I’ll have to get through this by myself. When the elevator finally jolts into action, my hands fly up to the ceiling to grab one of the hand holds. More than a couple of the people in the lift look at me, smirking. Huffing, I spread my legs and bend into my knees slightly to keep my balance.

The group of rescuers is meant to depart on the fifth floor, and I can only hope that Lucius gets off before that. The lift pings and a woman’s voice announces the floor.

“Level Two,” she says. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Improper Use of Magic Office; Auror Headquarters; and Wizengamot Administrative Services.” I wince at the loud volume of the announcement.

My wish seems to come true though as he gets off on the second floor, leaping out of the elevator and all but running down one of the corridors. Either he is late for something, or terrified of the five of us. Then my brain seems to catch up.

“Do they know where Narcissa is exactly?” I ask the witch.

She shakes her head at me, at the person she thinks is just another wizard. Not Narcissa’s only son. “Not exactly, no,” she confesses. “All we know is that she is being held on the fifth floor near the International Magical Office of Law.” She rattles off the name as if it’s committed to memory. It probably is.

“What if she has been moved? To the second floor near Wizengamot Administrative Services?” Lucius rushing down there can not be coincidental. He never does anything without a very strong motive.

“It’s possible,” she confirms, running a hand through her short hair. Only then does it seem to click in her mind. “Oh!” She exclaims. “Let me handle this, I’ll get word back to base.” I merely nod.

“Level Three,” the recorded voice calls out. “Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes; Obliviator Headquarters; and Muggle-Worthy Excuses Committee.” Two elderly women step into the elevator, cutting any possible conversations short. They look nice enough, but in this moment they are incredibly frustrating and they don't even know it. The whole group seems to heave a sigh as the annoying voice announces the fourth floor and the women get off.

“Great idea Anstey,” the leader of the group says to me. For a second I’m really confused, until remembering the name Hermione picked out for me. “Base will most likely send a different team down to investigate, and we will continue to progress as required.”

I nod, pursing my lips. As much as I’d like to be able to be part of that team, no one on this one can know my identity. If something goes drastically wrong, them knowing could be the death of me. And by extension, Harry. I can’t let that happen. I haven’t survived as much as I have just to die at the hands of someone less than my father. Not by any means less than what I endured at the Manor. Harry catches my gaze and I look at him, taking in his new body for the hundredth time. The angles are all wrong, not at all the soft yet sharp ones he’s had since Fifth Year. Shaking my head to clear it, I focus my attention straight ahead again. This time when the elevator dings and the doors open, everyone files out. Fresh air has never felt so lovely. Four floors above the level we arrived on, and the walls are still flickering. Someone must not be paying enough attention to their job.

The witch whose named herself leader stares at the two corridors for a second, before walking down the one on the left. One of the wizards, a man with dark blond hair, asks if she’s sure it’s the right one, and she nods after a moment's hesitation. Not as sure as I’d like, really. Regardless, our group makes its way down the hallway before turning into one of the rooms. It’s spacious, plainly coloured, and very practical. The sign above the door reads ‘International Magical Office of Law’ and my pulse slows slightly. I don’t know what had me so paranoid, but I’m glad when my breathing evens back out to normal. The witch enters the office first, followed by the other two wizards, leaving Harry and I to take up the back. We exchange quick glances before stepping into the room. As we cross the threshold, the lights flicker and the door slams behind us. I whirl around and try the handle, just to find it locked in place. Panic takes over me, my palms sweating slightly.

The wizard with short, dark brown hair pushes me aside and tries the handle himself, while the witch lights her wand. Harry joins her in looking around the room, leaving me with the wizard with dark blond hair. The man catches my gaze and nods to me, gesturing to his wand held low in his hand beside him. Confused, my eyes flick down to it. He slowly waves it through the air, creates a string of floating letters. By the time I take in the almost blood-like colour of the script, the lights are totally out. The words glow in the dark now, and I finally see them spelling out the terrifying sentence ‘got you now’.

***

A/N: Here is the next part, right on time! first time in months but who cares. I hope you enjoyed this part, and feel free to leave me a comment (or a few xD). Love you all Xx

Masterlist — Previous Part — Next Part

@draconianhorntail @p3trovass @edgy-things @queeneyart @ohheavenlylord @h0pehauntedmyw0rld @unsolicted-chick-picks @itsclayclay @harrybpoetry @slash-slut @jianing2603 @magical-fairy-princess-stuff @give-me-the-queer @youmakeprettybeautiful @hello-i-am-moi @slytherclaw134689 @sinnysin-sin @lafilleetlechatnoir @rebelwolf91017 @irrelevantdrarry @glo-up-goddess @birdy1032 @d-addict @pizzasandwich72 @madison-is-a-small-baby @joshoriande @sugarhoneyice-t @imaginemymemories @shipperofalltheships @uniiicornen @thewanderingnomadsworld @randominternetloser @levi7755 @localxmermaid @biyaaaaaaaaaa @just-some-bibliophile @pizzabitch @champagnemonarch

#devilrising #fallen draco #drarry #hpdm #drarry fanfic #drarry ficlet #drarry fanwork #drarry fanfiction #harry potter #draco malfoy #fanfic #my writing

[callwrites]

BENEATH THE WILLOW TREE: Chapter I

This is, at some level, a love story. But before Andromeda’s name was burned from the tapestry of her family tree, before she took Ted’s name and Ted’s ring, she was Andromeda Black; a girl caught between worlds. This is the story of how that came to be.

read on a03 @Linquist 

Narcissa’s hand gripped Andromeda’s arm so tight she  was sure it would leave a mark. On her other side, Bellatrix’s elbow dug into her ribs and she could vaguely hear Valerian growling lowly in distaste. But the discomfort only lasted a couple seconds before the pressure was replaced with the stifling heat of the platform.

“Merlin, I despise apparition,” gasped Narcissa, stepping away from Andromeda and the cat whose voice was slowly rising into a yowl.

“It isn’t so unpleasant when done by a wizard,” said Bellatrix stiffly, also instinctively stepping away from her sister and her distressed pet. Bellatrix’s own dark gray owl, Wenlock, eyed them all judgmentally; displeased but without a feather out of place. “Thank you, Winny,” she added as an afterthought.

“Yes, thank you, Winny,” agreed Andromeda, offering a small smile to the little house elf who had been holding Bellatrix’s other hand.

Winny lit up at the praise, which did little to improve her features. The ancient house elf was more wrinkle than elf at this point, bent in on herself and leaning on an old chair leg that had been fashioned into a cane.

“Of course, mistresses,” squeaked the elf. “Winny hopes you have a wonderful year at school.”

“Narcissa, thank Winny.” Andromeda frowned at their youngest sister, but Narcissa was already tugging at the robe of her sleeve.

“Oh, please, Meda, can I please come to the prefects compartment?” She begged for possibly the millionth time that day. “I’ll be completely quiet, I won’t say a word.”

With a crack, Winny disapparated back to the estate; causing a fourth year nearby to almost jump out of their skin.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Andromeda with an unlady-like snort. “And Bellatrix already told you no. I know you just want to get a peep at Lucius.”

At this, Narcissa flushed bright red. “I-”

“And if Lucius ever took a real look at you, I’d skin him,” threatened Andromeda.

“She could do worse.” Bellatrix pointed out, fingering the lock on Wenlock’s cage.

“When she’s a third year, I’m not sure she could,” said Andromeda with the sigh of someone who had said this many, many times.

“I’m turning 14 in two months,” complained Narcissa.

“And if you like your boyfriend with his skin attached you won’t try flirting with him,” Andromeda replied in a sing-song voice. “Then I’d be out of a prefect partner.”

Narcissa scowled, but had to stifle her smile when Andromeda pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Now go, I can see Alecto and Amycus trying to wave you down. Poor Amycus’s heart would break clean in two if he knew who you really pined for.”

If possible, Narcissa flushed a deeper red. But a few train cars down, Alecto was waving for her friend and Narcissa reluctantly scampered off to join them.

“You’re too hard on her,” drawled Bellatrix. “You know Mum’s been encouraging her little crush all summer.”

“She’s too young, Bella,” sighed Andromeda. “Let her have silly crushes on boys her own age before you try to marry her off.”

The sisters made their way onto the train, Bellatrix waving her wand so their trunks and carriers lifted themselves up the steps and floated in front of them. “You know Mum will be depending on you to make sure she keeps the right company next year,” reminded Bellatrix for the thousandth time. “She won’t be happy to hear you chasing off appropriate suitors.”

“I know, Bella,” said Andromeda patiently. “But it isn’t like I chased her into a compartment of Gryffindors to talk about muggle studies. She’s with the Carrows.”

Bellatrix reached the prefect’s compartment first, which already contained several familiar faces. Narcissa’s beau in question sat by the window, conversing quietly with Evan Rosier, the 6th year prefect. Opposite, two Hufflepuff prefects and a Ravenclaw were talking in low voices. The Ravenclaw in particular cast a cold and appraising glance over at Bellatrix and Andromeda. She snorted, seeming to not like what she saw, and turned back to the Hufflepuff boy.

But standing in the center of the compartment was someone very familiar to them indeed, checking something off a sheet of parchment with an eagle feather quill.

“Rodolphus,” nodded Bellatrix.

“Bella,” he nodded back, then smiled slightly. “Andie.”

“Rod.” She smiled. “Settling into autocracy already?”

“It’s a natural gift,” said Rodolphus sagely, then glanced at Bellatrix who looked impatient. “After you two we’re just missing the Gryffindors and a couple of the Ravenclaws. We should be able to get started soon.”

Bellatrix sighed, waving their suitcases up over the seats. “Leave it to the Gryffindors.”

Andromeda took hold of Wenlock’s cage and Valerian’s carrier. She carefully stowed Wenlock off to the side of the compartment with some of the other owls, but kept Valerian at her feet. The cat had finally settled down after the traumatic apparition, but Valerian always was a nervous traveler.

While they waited, Rodolphus sat down beside her and nudged her side. She smiled at him and received one in return, causing the shadows under his eyes to soften. He was far more handsome when he smiled, though in fairness he never looked bad. His dark hair somehow always looked soft and perfectly smooth. His features had grown more defined over the summer, she realized; his jaw sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. Normally she never noticed the minute changes that happened over time. She saw him too often. But this summer, she’d only had a couple weeks with him at their family estates in France. He’d even lost the last of the tan he had gained from their walks on the coast. But his eyes were the same: hazel and kind whenever they settled on her.

Across the compartment, Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at her and mouthed the words ‘too young’.

Andromeda rolled her eyes. This was different. Narcissa was only thirteen and Andromeda hardly believed she was in love with Rodolphus. He was her friend, her person. He had been so since they were children when she would follow him through their families’ formal parties, clutching at the back of his robes. Sure, they both knew where it was going; precisely where their parents had encouraged it to go practically since birth. But Andromeda counted herself lucky.

Her future was known, secure with a man who knew her well and treated her kindly. She shuddered to imagine being in Bellatrix’s shoes, knowing her distaste for the ‘afternoon teas’ she had been forced to sit through all summer as parade after parade of mothers and their sons visited the manor.

The last two prefects arrived, rowdy Gryffindors who were playfully shoving each other as they walked in. They settled with only a hard stare from Bellatrix, a skill which Andromeda had always envied.

Rodolphus cleared his throat. “Good morning, prefects. Welcome back. I am Rodolphus Lestrange, I’ll be your Head Boy for this year.”

“Bellatrix Black,” Bellatrix put in, glancing around dismissively at the gathered prefects. “Head Girl.”

Rodolphus launched into a basic explanation of prefect duties and Andromeda allowed her mind to wander as Bellatrix took over the explanation on patrols and how they would get their schedules. She knew the duties well enough, both in following Bellatrix around on enough patrols and from her mother’s instructions. Prefect wasn’t an extracurricular option for the Black girls. If there was a measurement of excellence, they would achieve it.

Outside the train window, they had finally left the urban setting of London behind. Her thoughts were already flying ahead to Hogwarts, causing butterflies to erupt in her stomach. Perhaps butterflies was not the right word. These felt much heavier and nauseating than butterflies; slugs perhaps. Fifth year was the start of O.W.L.s. Another measurement where nothing less than perfection would be tolerated. The thought alone had Andromeda wringing her hands in her lap.

Bellatrix was wrapping up her explanation of patrol schedules and Rodolphus tapped twice on her knee. She tapped back. It had been their ritual since they were children, not allowed to speak out of turn. Tapping first was a question. Tapping twice back meant ‘I’m okay’.

But apparently Rodolphus was also making sure she was listening, because he didn’t then wrap up the meeting to let them patrol the train or return to their compartments.

“Dumbledore asked me to address a couple things,” said Rodolphus, clearing his throat. “After the events of this summer, he wants everyone to feel assured we are taking student safety seriously.”

“Oh, I bet you care about every student’s safety, Lestrange.” The surly Ravenclaw from earlier snorted.

“Something to add, Meadowes?” Rodolphus asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing at all,” she said and crossed her arms.

“For that reason, there will be a few changes this year.” Rodolphus went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Patrols will be done in pairs, no exceptions. If you need to reschedule, you will have to trade patrol partners with someone. If you have a conflict, you’ll need to let Bellatrix or I know a week in advance.”

“That’s unreasonable!” Cried a Gryffindor. “We have quidditch practice and assignments!”

“You’re a prefect,” Rodolphus said coldly. “At this point, you are expected to know how to balance your responsibilities.”

“Prefects will also be required to patrol during Hogsmeade.” added Bellatrix, seeming displeased with the safety measures. “We’ll sort out a schedule once we are notified of this year’s Hogsmeade weekends. There will also be a curfew of 9pm. Students will need to check in with a prefect when they return to the common room at night to ensure everyone is accounted for.”

“Professors are able to give permission slips for studying or detentions,” said Rodolphus. “But they will need to be given a day in advance. 7th year prefects will be given a list of their house after the sorting and will be in charge of their students this evening, but we will be sending out a schedule sometime tomorrow.”

“Isn’t this a lot to ask of prefects?” Abigail Clearwater, the 6th year Slytherin prefect, asked with uncertainty.

“I'm certainly glad.” A Hufflepuff girl said nervously. “One of the girls in my dorm was at Diagon during the attack this summer.”

The Hufflepuff next to her patted her hand comfortingly, but Bellatrix went on as if she hadn’t spoken.

“If anyone doesn’t feel up to the task,” she frowned, “they may turn in their badge with either Lestrange or myself. It hardly seems to me like the Headmaster has picked the best this year,” said her sister derisively, finally looking at the two Hufflepuffs. Andromeda was pretty sure they were both muggleborns and the girl flinched under Bellatrix’s cold stare.

“That will be all then,” Rodolphus finished with a clap of his hands. “Collect your schedules and you are free to go. It will include your patrols for the train ride.”

Bellatrix had the schedules for the girls, so Andromeda held back while the other prefects flocked around the head boy and girl. When all the others had collected theirs and departed, only Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Andromeda, and Lucius were left in the compartment.

Bellatrix tossed the last schedule at Andromeda and collapsed onto the seat opposite her.

“I still can’t believe we have to go so far out our way for the safety of a bunch of mudbloods and blood traitors,” Lucius Malfoy grumbled.

“It wasn’t only muggleborns at Diagon Alley this summer,” Andromeda pointed out. “Azalia Greengrass was in St. Mungo’s for three days after the attack.”

“But Hogwarts is not Diagon Alley,” argued Lucius, lip curling. “And certainly no one is going to be attacking one of us here.”

“Merlin only knows with Dumbledore,” sighed Bellatrix. “He allowed three mudbloods to become prefect this year.”

“It will be good for us to maintain appearances,” Rodolphus frowned. “Discretion will be wise given recent events.”

The other three exchanged a look and, not for the first time, Andromeda felt like she was out of place among them. They had always spent so much time together, both before and at Hogwarts. During breaks they had practically been inseparable. But this past summer, she had hardly seen Lucius and Rodolphus. Even Bellatrix had rarely stayed at their summer estate for long. It had begun to feel like they were all part of a club to which she didn’t belong, which she knew wasn’t far from the truth.

“I’m going to go find Camelia and Alder,” she mumbled, taking hold of Valerian’s carrier and shuffling to her feet. “I’ll see you all at the feast.”

“Hold on a second, Andromeda,” called Rodolphus. “I’ll come with you, I have my patrol anyways.”

Her heart was still sinking somewhat, even as he got to his feet to follow her into the corridor. But she kept her expression even as he slid the door closed behind them and placed a hand on her back.

“Haven’t gotten to see you in weeks,” he said as they walked and it sounded apologetic. “I’m sorry for how chaotic things have been.”

“I understand,” Andromeda said with a small smile. “I know your father has you readying for the estate.”

He flushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. He often seemed uncomfortable whenever the subject of his duties came up and it only had seemed to grow worse in recent months. “Yes, well, I’d much rather have spent the summer with you . The rest of the summer was … uneventful?” He asked and it was Andromeda’s turn to flush.

“Yes,” she said, a little harsher then she intended. “I mean … I mostly just spent it on the estate,” she said more quietly. “I learned a few new pieces on the piano.”

“I didn’t mean … I just….” he broke off, flushing again. “Well, I’d love to hear them sometime.”

“Sounds like a date,” smiled Andromeda as she spotted Camelia and Alder in the compartment next to them, already drowning in sweets. She leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you at the feast?”

“It’s a date,” he repeated with a strained smile and let his hand fall away as she slipped into the compartment and closed the door behind her.

“Your beau let you go?” Camelia asked with a raised eyebrow as Andromeda let Valerian out in the much calmer compartment. The fluffy white cat purred as she stretched and nosed around for Alder’s familiar offered hand.

“He’s not my beau,” Andromeda said airily, but she was smiling. “And he didn’t ‘let’ me do anything. I was on my way and he walked with me.”

“I don’t know how you like him,” Alder shuddered. “He gives me the creeps.”

“How was your summer?” Andromeda asked, ignoring his comment. “Did you get my gifts?”

“Nearly had to face my little sisters in hand to hand combat for the last of the macarons,” joked Camelia. “But nothing exciting. Mum wanted me to start looking at internships, but I persuaded her that it wouldn’t make sense until I had my O.W.L.s.”

“It’s been miserable since I wrote,” Alder said glumly. “You remember my cousin Molly?” The two girls nodded, remembering the red-haired girl who had graduated last year. The two never spoke, hardly acknowledging each other. “She eloped with that Weasley bloke and Mum has been wailing ever since. I mean it was hardly any secret that that side of the family were blood traitors, so I don’t know why she is making such a big deal of it now. You’d think Molly’d broken off an engagement to Salazar Slytherin and eloped with a muggle the way she’s carrying on.”

“I can’t imagine what Aunt Walburga would do if I’d done the same,” Andromeda joked weakly and both of her friends winced.

Valerian was pawing at the seat beside her, so Andromeda swept aside Bertie Bott’s containers and pumpkin pasty wrappers to make room for the cat. Feeling Andromeda pat the empty space, she dutifully hopped up, circled a few times, and then curled up purring.

Andromeda remembered Molly from the few encounters they’d had. She hadn’t seemed too bad, if a bit strange - especially her interest in that odd Arthur Weasley fellow. But Bellatrix had hated her and frequently returned from prefect meetings raging that Dumbledore had allowed two of the biggest blood traitors at Hogwarts to be prefect. While Andromeda understood to keep her distance, she had never quite grasped what had been so particularly offensive to her sister.

But Andromeda’s words left a moment of discomfort in the compartment. Both friends understood that any pressures from their families had nothing on what it meant to be a Black. Druella had been displeased with even Andromeda’s choice of friends - despite them both being Sacred Twenty-Eight. But they were Ravenclaws and not of the same ‘class’ as the Blacks, Lestranges, and Malfoys. Andromeda was sure it was only Bellatrix’s assurances of Andromeda’s otherwise spotless behavior that kept her parents from cutting off the friendships.

“Ah, well, why would you elope when you’re likely to get drowned in galleons for your wedding,” Camelia teased, perhaps a little too late to feel totally natural. “Is it a Lestrange honeymoon tradition to shower your new spouse in jewels, or do you think that will just be because you're you?”

“Shut up,” Andromeda said with a roll of her eyes, but she was smiling.

They settled into a more relaxed conversation about how they had spent the couple weeks since their last letters, before focusing on the sweets that still had yet to be tackled. Andromeda’s turn for prefect rounds finally came in the last hour of the train ride, so she left Valerian in the care of her friends - who were crinkling up wrappers and tossing them for the blind cat to hear and give chase.

The train corridor was darker now, the yellow lights flickering as the shadowy silhouettes of the Scottish mountainside flashed past. Dusk had settled too much for Andromeda to make out details as she walked farther down the train. She periodically glanced into compartments, occasionally waving to familiar faces, and once breaking up a fight between two second years with a threat of telling McGonagall once they arrived. After so many hours on the train, most had settled, already changed into their robes, and were unlikely to wander far. Her patrol was uneventful, therefore, and her evening quiet.

She made it to the back of the train, alerted two seventh years that the loo was not the most subtle of places to snog, and began the process of wandering back towards the front. She’d have to make a write up of her patrol, but both the second years and the seventh years had cleared out and calmed down without any trouble. She didn’t feel the need to report them to lose house points when they hadn’t even arrived yet. A first year nervously tugged at her robes and asked where they would need to go when they arrived, but once she had sent them back to their compartment with answers and a chocolate frog, nothing much else occurred.

Most of her hour patrolling was up when she finally reached the front of the train. She was considering making for the trolley and fetching a glass of pumpkin juice when she realized the door to the prefect compartment was slightly ajar and familiar, frustrated voices were drifting out.

“-know Cissy and Meda aren’t fighters,” Bellatrix snapped. “It is okay, since it is clear they’re both going to make good matches, but you know it is even more important that he does not doubt her loyalty.”

“I understand that!” Rodolphus answered sharply. “He has no reason to. Unless you’re suggesting something?”

“Don’t start that with me!” She hissed and Andromeda pressed herself against the wall between the prefect compartment and the end of the train car. It sounded like they were the only two left in there. “Andromeda has always kept herself in line. But that doesn’t explain why he expressed his concern for my sister’s loyalties. He certainly didn’t mean Narcissa. She’s a child.”

Andromeda’s heartrate picked up. She had a good idea of who Bellatrix and Rodolphus were talking about. Their father had sung his praises enough times over the dinner table. Until this summer, Andromeda hadn’t even truly thought he was real. She had thought him just a rumor that people like Cygnus and Druella Black wanted to believe in. But then her sister and Rodolphus turned 17 that summer. Pollux Rodolphus had brought them both to a ‘meeting’ and that was when things had really begun to change.

Summers before had always been spent with each other, their summer estates close enough that their families were always together. If it wasn’t all of them, it was Rodolphus and Andromeda. But that summer they both disappeared for weeks at a time. Rod would return looking exhausted, Bella almost manic . But why would he  be saying anything to Bella about her ? Unless Rod had told him … but he wouldn’t. He promised.

“There’s nothing he would have to be concerned about,” Rodolphus said firmly, but Andromeda didn’t think it sounded convincing. “And you know our families are just waiting until I’ve graduated to make the formal announcement. Once we’re married, he’ll welcome her.” He said this with more confidence.

At these words, Andromeda shivered. She was not sure she wanted to be welcomed by him, regardless of how her father seemed to like his ideas. The reverent way her relatives spoke of him, like he was some kind of deity frightened Andromeda. She was perfectly content keeping her distance. Even Bellatrix’s involvement seemed too close.

“You had better convince him,” Bellatrix threatened, but she too sounded afraid. “I am not losing my sister, Rodolphus.”

“You won’t,” he promised fervently. “I’ll take care of her, I always have.”

Andromeda softened slightly. Then someone cleared their throat on the other side of the prefect cart door - causing Andromeda to jump and something to knock over within the prefect cart.

The sour-looking Ravenclaw prefect, the one Rodolphus called Meadowes, stood watching her from where she had emerged from the front of the train. She raised an eyebrow as she took a slow lick on the blood-red lollipop in her hand. Andromeda froze where she stood, having clearly been eavesdropping.

Meadowes was a small thing - almost a foot shorter than Andromeda, who wasn’t that tall to begin with. But the tight coils of her hair added several inches and her attitude made Andromeda feel strangely small; irritating her somewhat. She raised her chin defiantly, waiting for Meadowes to oust her. They stared off for a moment, until the Ravenclaw girl snorted and banged open the sliding doors to thrust a fairly crumpled report into Rodolphus’s hands.

“Here you are, Head Boy,” she drawled as Andromeda walked in casually behind her. “Caught that rat brother of yours trying to turn a first year’s scarf into a snake. Have fun with that one.”

She turned on her heel and bumped into Andromeda, taking on a look of theatrical surprise that only Andromeda could see. “Oh, didn’t see you there,” smirked Meadowes as walked past.

#hp fic #hp #harry potter fanfiction #tedromeda #tedromeda fic #my fics #beneath the willow tree

[professordrarry]

Prompt: there’s more to a seeker than seeking

I freaking LOVED this prompt. Can I possibly use the sentence again sometime? When I’m in a less…silly mood? For now I hope you enjoy this random little minute of Draco being Draco. 

Lucius was very soon going to cause Harry to become defensive. They’d been standing on Harry’s lawn for approximately twenty-five minutes, in an utter stalemate, and Harry’s patience was long since gone.

“I fail to see how that is the point,” Lucius said for the umpteenth time.

“Well, aren’t you lucky that I’m not dating you!” Harry replied, edged tone finally unleashing itself over the continual berating. 

Lucius’ eyebrow lifted in a way that was nothing at all like his son’s; he had none of the warmth and humour that came from Narcissa. Instead of being sexy and mysterious, or wry and mocking, Lucius’ eyebrow attempted to judge your soul from where it stood and always found you wanting.

“I will remind you,” he said cooly, “That right now, Mr Potter, you are dating no one.”

Harry took a deep breath. They’d been over this.

“I am very much aware of that, Malfoy,” he growled. “And that will remain the case until Draco apologises.”

“Then you’ve lost him,” Lucius sighed.

“And why do you care!” Harry shouted, throwing his hands into the quickly darkening sky and begging anyone, everyone, for a bloody answer. “Last I checked, you weren’t exactly a fan of Draco dating a man.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucius clipped, the ice in his voice chilling Harry even though the night was warm. ���I do not care that my son is gay. I rather more think that my issue is with who he has chosen to…bed.”

There was so much malice in his tone now that Harry, against his will, burst out laughing; Lucius really had not adapted well to the fact that all his little rancourous vocal tricks held absolutely no power now.

“If that were true,” Harry shot back, “you would not be standing here, outside my house at eight in the evening, refusing to leave.”

They squared off again, neither willing to bend or readjust or back down. Finally, Lucius took a deep breath and sighed, scrubbing his forehead.

“Potter. Draco, as you know, is…well, not proud. That’s not the right word. I would say more…obstinate than anything. Always has been. Cannot admit his own failings. It has been a problem since his childhood.”

“In case you’ve not realised it, that little trait definitely comes from your bloodline, Lucius.”

The faintest wisp of a smile crossed Malfoy’s face. “I know it,” he said, a tinge of pride behind the words. “Nonetheless, he sometimes forgets to be obstinate with a cause. As is the case now.”

“Yes, well. I’ve been known to be a bit obstinate as well.”

“Indeed,” Lucius said with that same small smile. “But I’d think a star Quidditch player such as yourself would be better at playing the game.”

Harry looked at him angrily. He had no idea what Malfoy was on about and he did not like that feeling.

“What, pray tell, does one do once they are holding the golden snitch?” He waited for a reply and finally, Harry sighed in defeat and shrugged.

“One holds onto it for dear life, until the Officiant or Score Keeper has seen it and the game is won.”

Harry sighed again, at the point of really just wanting this conversation over. “I don’t…what are you on about. Get to the point.”

“The point, young man,” Lucius simpered, “is that there is more to being a Seeker than seeking. You hold onto it until the bitter end, in order to gain the prize.”

Harry stared at him. He let the thought process through his mind. “Get off my property,” he spat.

Lucius smiled, bowed a shallow, petulant bow and walked away, his disgusting walking stick in hand.

“I really hate when that man is right,” he said to himself as he went into the flat.

The next morning was sunny and way too hot. He hated it, to be honest. He thought absently that at least it was bright enough to keep the nargles away and then laughed. Luna was on his mind again. He was immediately sad because he knew Luna would be furious with him for letting this fight go on for so long. He took a deep breath and lifted the knocker in front of him.

Draco scowled when he opened the door. “What are you doing here?” he sneered. “You made it clear the last time we spoke. I’m not going to apologize, so we’re through.”

Harry took a deep breath and didn’t rise to the occasion. “We’re going to have lunch. Come on.”

Draco startled, just as Harry had known he would. He hated not having the upper hand, not knowing what cards to play.

“I’m…I’m not dressed to…I have plans.”

“You look fine, you know you don’t have any other plans, and I’m not asking,” Harry snapped. “Let’s go.”

He forced himself to walk away before he let Draco rile him up. That would solve absolutely nothing.

They walked side by side down the high street from Draco’s flat to the tiny brasserie that was at the end of the lane. It was small and overpriced, but it was within a short walk and was also on the ‘Draco approved’ list, so Harry had decided it would do. Inside, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all waited, a pint in front of each of them. Like a scene from a particularly predictable sitcom, they were all laughing when Harry and Draco entered, and they all abruptly stopped when they saw Draco. Draco inhaled sharply and spun to glare at Harry.

“I can’t believe you,” he whispered viciously.

“Yeah, well, I’ve spent the last two weeks not exactly believing you, so I think it makes us even don’t you? Let’s go, I’m starving.”

He walked to the table, ignoring the hesitant step Draco took toward the door. He couldn’t do anything else. Draco had to make a choice now. Harry saw the moment he made up his mind. The breath where he decided to stay. He sat gingerly at the table. At first, everyone ignored him. He sat and listened to the conversations. And yet.

When Ginny went up to get everyone another round, she brought him a pint as well and Harry slid it to him without looking at him. When their food arrived, Harry silently placed his gherkin on Draco’s plate and Draco’s tomato ended up beside Harry’s burger. They ate, discussing nothing except innocuous subjects. Finally, the plates were cleared away and the beer was gone and Hermione cleared her throat.

“Guess we can decide on pudding,” she muttered, taking the slim menu from its little stand. “I hear the tart sucre here is—”

“Look, I owe all three of you an apology,” Draco interrupted, dragging all their eyes to him at once.

Whatever he had been planning on saying fled from his mouth. Harry watched it happen; he watched about seventeen emotions scroll through his deeply reddening cheeks.

“Draco’s not so good at apologies, as you all know,” Harry murmured, taking pity on him. “It’s been made very clear, however, that—”

“Harry,” Ginny said soothingly. “We already told you, we don’t care. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Draco whispered.

They all looked back at him again. He cleared his throat.

“It’s not fine. You’re all…you’re family and I forget, sometimes, that you all went through it all together. But. I forget because Harry is my family. So I get…defensive. And angry. And I say things. Things I don’t really mean. And I…I crossed a line.”

“So basically,” Ron said with a smirk, “you were a Slytherin?”

The three of them laughed and Harry smiled down at the table.

“W-what?” Draco said, brow furrowing in his confusion.

“We aren’t actually angry, Draco,” Hermione said patiently. “I mean, it was shitty or whatever, but you’ve said worse. And done worse. We’ve gotten over that. Or at least, we’ve learned to make our peace with the past?” Hermione shook her head and gestured at Harry. “He said we had to come.”

Draco looked murderous for a fraction of a second, then looked a little more sheepishly at Harry, who now sat with his arms folded and challenge on his face. 

“You were an ass. Last time you did that, I told you that if you didn’t start apologising when you’d fucked up, this was over. I meant it.”

“We haven’t spoken. For two. Weeks. TWO WEEKS, Harry James Potter! We are engaged. I was pretty sure you were never going to see me again! I…I sent my father to try and talk to you!”

“I knew it was you,” Harry laughed with a smirk. “He was very irritating. Never do that again.”

“Yeah, okay…but the point is…the point is—”

“The point is what, Draco?” Harry challenged.

He opened his mouth as though he was going to protest more, but instead, he stood up and placed his hands flat on the table, facing them all simultaneously. “Ahem,” he began.

“Ginny. I’m sorry I told you I would curse your first born if you didn’t let me buy Pacific Avenue.” He turned slightly to the other side of the table.

“Ron. I’m sorry I cursed all your hotels so that they moved constantly to the little green squares.” He froze and looked at Harry sadly.

“And?” Harry pressed.

He sighed one more time. “And, Hermione…I’m sorry that I slowly stole all your $100 money things, spiked your tea with rum so you wouldn’t notice, and then called you a Ministry Sell Out when you won anyway,” he said all in one breath.

All four of the other people at the table burst out laughing.

“You really need to not let me play Muggle board games with you anymore,” Draco said miserably. “Even if they are the American versions you’ve borrowed from the library!”

“Agreed,” said Harry with a nod. “Though, just for the record, we only ended up not talking for two weeks because you’re a stubborn ass who refuses to a) give up his flat before we’re married and b) won’t apologise when you fuck up, even when things are stupid.”

“Yes, understood,” Draco mumbled. “What made you come over?”

“Well,” Harry said slowly. “There’s more to seeking than being a Seeker…or…something.”

They all looked at him for clarification; Harry just shrugged and stood to order a treacle tart.

#drarry #drarry os #my writing #prompts for days #love professordrarry

[queen-swagzilla]

Hermione Granger and the Pit, Chapter 1

Read it on Ao3

A thrum of terror and excitement ran through Hermione’s spine as the door shut behind the last few Order members who trickled in. The only person on the other side of the door was Ginny (who had been thoroughly hacked off), and now she, Harry and Ron were all at the table. Harry was positively effervescent with anticipation, and it was rubbing off on Hermione. This was the most responsive and alive Harry had been since Sirius fell through the veil just three months prior. That had been the catalyst—Dumbledore had finally realized that keeping them out of Order business did more harm than good, and had agreed to let them sit in on meetings and take on minor and informational assignments.

“Welcome, all.” Dumbledore greeted them quietly. “We’ll start by welcoming our newest members. Then, each of you will explain your assignments, and give a status report so that they can catch up to our intelligence thus far. Any objections?” Molly huffed loudly, but stayed silent. It had been a point of contention for going on two months. “Excellent. Harry, Ronald, Hermione, welcome to the Order. I can’t say that I’m happy you’re here, but recent events have certainly necessitated your involvement.” He sighed. “In the interest of getting you filled in, We’ll start with Kingsley.”

Shacklebolt cleared his throat before addressing the teenagers. “At the present, we have been putting the bulk of our efforts within the ministry towards protecting Minister Scrimgeour. With the Dark Lord back for the world to see, we need to be ready for escalation, and I have no doubt that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has a candidate of his own in mind.”

Tonks continued for him. “Dawlish and I tail him most days, if he’s not with Kingsley himself.”

Fred and George were next. “We’ve opened a joke shop in Diagon Alley. Thanks for the seed fund, Harry.” George threw him a wink. Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry, who grinned sheepishly, and shrugged. “We’ve been using the profits—”

“The sizeable profits.” Fred injected.

“Sizeable indeed—we’ve been using them to fund research into defensive and offensive products. Some diversions. So far we’ve come up with Decoy Detonators and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.”

This time, Hermione raised both eyebrows. “What?”

“Decoy Detonators are little devices you can use to make a distraction. If you need a diversion, you drop them, then they run in the opposite direction and explode. Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder is more of a concealment or ambush tool. Take a palmful and throw it in the air, and the space you’re in will go pitch black.” Fred explained quickly.

“Sometimes I forget how brilliant you two are. Perhaps because most of what you do is so asinine.” Hermione jibed. The twins plastered on identical looks of hurt.

“So cruel.”

“So cold.”

Bill and Fleur explained quickly that they were setting up safe houses around Europe, and Remus recounted his attempts to recruit the werewolf population.

Harry and Ron stayed nearly silent the whole way through, trusting Hermione to make the most pertinent observations and probing questions.

“I have been trying to find out what the Dark Lord has planned for the students who still reside at Hogwarts.” Snape said quietly. Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Please hold your questions until the end, Miss Granger.” She nodded. “He’s furious with the Malfoys. Lucius failed to retrieve the prophecy and ended up in Azkaban for his trouble. We know that his greatest desire is to perpetuate his beliefs in the minds of Hogwarts’ students, but we aren’t sure how he plans to infiltrate the castle walls. I will be spending increasingly less time at Headquarters in order to make myself at his disposal and cement his trust in me.” He informed them silkily. “Narcissa Malfoy has looked frantic and sick all summer. Knowing her, she’s concerned for her son. And if one Slytherin student has been asked to do something, there’s a strong likelihood that they all have. Nott, Parkinson, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode may all have missions that they’ve been set to complete.”

“Like what?”

“I would be surprised if the Dark Lord trusted such young wizards with much more than recruitment and blackmail. But then, he does dole out rather terrible surprises.”

Hermione hummed her agreement.

“Thank you all. This meeting is adjourned. Miss Granger, if you don’t mind staying behind, I’d like a word.” Dumbledore sounded tired to his core. The rest of the Order filed out into the sitting room of Grimmauld Place, where Molly had set up a dining table.

“How can I help you, Professor?” Hermione asked gently.

“I have an assignment for you. I have been handling this personally, but given recent developments, I fear I must pass on some of my outlying interests. I trust and believe in your abilities and discretion far more than most, Miss Granger.” He smiled softly.

“Does this have something to do with your hand, sir?” He raised an amused eyebrow. “Harry mentioned that there was a story behind it that you wouldn’t tell. When you went to see Mr. Slughorn.” She explained.

“I suppose it has something to do with my hand. I find myself older than I remembered. And far more tired.” He told her. “Of course, I trust everyone in the Order. But few are as open minded and logical as you. You are passionate and loyal, but you are also unfailingly kind. You reach out to people in need, and the people you are going to deal with are certainly in need.”

Hermione eyed him warily. “Alright…”

“Would you be willing to travel with me? I find that showing is sometimes better than telling.”

“Of course, sir.”

With some effort, he rose to his feet. She took his arm when he held it out for her, and then disapparated them away.

When they reappeared they were in front of a modest home, surrounded by forest. It seemed familiar to her somehow, but she didn’t dwell on it. Dumbledore drew her closer to the door, and whispered: “Watch closely.” Before drawing his wand and tracing a pattern into the door with his wand. The rune and the slender wand glowed delicately, then faded as the door swung open. “Miss Morelle?” He called into the house once they’d stepped inside.

The interior of the home was much larger than the exterior (as was the tradition in wizarding homes, it seemed). He led her into a classy yet comfortable living room, fit to seat about thirty people. To her surprise (and gentle delight), a television hung from one wall, and a piano stood against another. The rest of the walls were lined with shelves that were stacked with books. Upon closer inspection, they seemed to be sorted by subject, author and title—exactly how she would have sorted them. “Oh my god.”

Professor Dumbledore smiled fondly down at her. “I’m glad you like it, Ms. Granger. I curated this collection myself, and I’m sure you’ll end up spending quite a lot of time here.”

“Dumbles? Is that you?” A sharp feminine voice called from somewhere overhead. Hermione heard footsteps on the staircase to her right. She spun to greet the newcomer. “Oh! You brought...a guest…” The woman stated apprehensively.

“Miss Granger, I’d like for you to meet Peregrine Morelle. She’s a former student of mine, and quite a precocious one at that. Miss Morelle, this is Hermione Granger.” Hermione observed quietly as Peregrine’s eyes widened in recognition.

“You look taller in the papers.” Peregrine informed her after a long moment of silence.

“The Prophet isn’t exactly known for painting an accurate picture of me.” Hermione said uncomfortably. “It’s nice to meet you Peregrine.”

“Oh please. Call me Grin. Or Morelle, if you prefer the stuffy, formal last-names-only tradition.” Grin smiled tightly.

Hermione cracked a smile. “Grin it is.”

“Not to be rude, but why is she here?” Grin demanded.

“Due to some unfortunate developments on my end, Miss Granger will be taking over as handler for the Pit.” Dumbledore informed her somberly. Grin’s face dropped.

“She’s a Gryffindor. D’you honestly expect her to trust any of us?” She asked bitterly. A lightbulb flickered dimly in Hermione’s head.

“Miss Granger is singularly fair minded. You couldn’t ask for someone more loyal, trustworthy and intelligent to take my place.” Hermione flushed thoroughly at the headmaster’s compliment. “She’s also a fairly excellent option for your recruitment strategies. Brave to a fault, and completely unafraid of walking into a snake pit.”

Grin scrutinized her thoroughly. After a long, incredibly uncomfortable silence, she exhaled noisily. “Welcome to the Pit, Miss Granger.”

“You can call me Hermione.”

“Hermione, then. Do you know what the Pit is?” Hermione shook her head slowly. Grin glanced back up at Dumbledore. “Do you want me to explain? Or will you be making the sales pitch?”

“I’ll leave you to it. After all, you two need to get to know each other.” He smiled, eyes twinkling. “I’ll come back for you in a couple of hours, Miss Granger. I’ll wait for your Patronus.”

Once Dumbledore had left, Grin turned her scrutinous stare back on Hermione. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Firewhiskey?” She offered, still visually dissecting her.

“Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble. I’ve been knackered lately.” Up late researching advanced combative magic and protective charms. Studying the ancient practice of runic tattooing. Crying over spilled milk.

“Oh?”

“We did something stupid a few months ago. We suffered a loss. I got injured. Nightmares.” She offered shortly.

“Ah. The Department of Mysteries.”

Hermione blinked, surprised. “Professor Dumbledore told you?” Grin nodded. She pulled out her wand and flicked it casually towards the kitchen.

“We had family down there. Some of us on both sides.” She murmured as the coffee pot floated out of the kitchen, full and steaming. “Sirius Black was a terrible loss for the Order. And, due to the rather inbred nature of Pureblood families, a terrible loss to many of our families.” The words were dispassionate and clinical, but something on her face bore an undercurrent of sorrow.

“He was...really quite important to me. And to my friends.” Hermione agreed. Grin nodded mutely. “Are you going to tell me what the Pit is?”

“Of course.” She conjured a coffee mug, and Hermione guffawed. Emblazoned in silver across the side were the words ‘Espresso Patronum’. “Glad you like it.” Grin grinned. Hermione was sure she’d never seen anything quite as transformatively beautiful as Grin’s smile. The woman before her was all angles—sharp features from head to toe, and slender. Her inky hair was pin straight, and hung to the center of her back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes were thickly rimmed with eyeliner. When she was scrutinizing or frowning, she looked downright menacing. When she smiled, she looked like some sort of angel. A vengeful one, but bright and full of joy nonetheless. You couldn’t help but be put at ease.

Hermione accepted the coffee mug from her gratefully. “When the war ends, you should market these. Clever novelty mugs make a mint in the muggle world.”

“Not a bad idea.” Grin chuckled. “Now, to business.” She took a quick sip from her own mug. “This house is named the Pit, and it houses a secret faction of the Order. We are Slytherins, from high-ranking Death Eater families, who have forsaken ties to Lord Voldemort for a myriad of reasons. For the most part, we work as an invisible assassination and clean up force.” Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Yeah. Not the most pleasant work, but most of us were trained to kill from a fairly young age. We figured it would be better to use that knowledge to prevent genocide than to promote it.”

“That seems reasonable to me…” Hermione said slowly, wrapping her head around the notion presented to her. “Um...who else is in this faction?”

“You’ll meet them all soon.” Grin promised. “First, I’d like to formally introduce myself. I’m Peregrine Morelle.” Hermione’s eyebrow twitched. She didn’t know of any purebloods by that name, but she supposed that relative strangers were entitled to their secrets. Particularly if Dumbledore trusted them. “I’m the founder and leader of the Pit. That’s a co-leader position. From here on out, you’re my other half.” She winked. Hermione blushed. “There are twelve members. We get information from Dumbledore—now you—on who to recruit, and we reach out by owl. Except for Flint. We kidnapped Flint. Bloody hard to get ahold of that bugger. We let them know that they have options. They can be in research, espionage, strike or cleanup. We currently have three members in each group. I am partial to research, but swing into strike when needed.”

Hermione spluttered. “Hold on. How am I supposed to get close enough to Slytherins to know if they’re viable candidates.”

“It won’t be easy. You’re the most notorious muggleborn in Europe.” Grin admitted uncomfortably. “Splattered on the papers, constantly hanging around Harry Potter. Big red target painted on your back for all to see.” As though she could physically see Hermione bristling, Grin held her hands up in surrender. “I’m not criticising. Just stating.” She promised. “It might actually work out in your favor. Nobody will question your loyalty. Besides, I hear you’re notorious for lurking in libraries. Where better to uncover faltering Slytherins than sanctuaries of silence and solitude?”

Hermione considered that point. “You’re not wrong. I overhear an absurd amount of gossip in that library.”

“The students you’ll be recruiting will be older, and will know better than to gossip in the library. You’ll likely have to wait to get indication from younger students.” Grin warned her. “Kids like Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott.”

Hermione snorted. “Malfoy’s not going to turn coat against the Death Eaters. He would lick the ground Lucius Malfoy walked on if it weren’t for the indignity that would follow.”

Grin’s lips pursed and her eyes flashed. “I’m going to need something from you if we’re going to be working together.” She growled. “I need you to not assume that Slytherin is synonymous with evil, and consider that outward appearances in Slytherin are often carefully crafted for our own self-preservation.”

Hermione had the good grace to look ashamed when that revelation washed over her. “You’re saying Malfoy... pretends to be a bigot because it’s safer than being a good person?”

“Don’t judge him for not living by your values. It’s not how he was raised. He may actually believe that muggleborns are filthy, but if he doesn’t, he’d play everything close to the vest, either to protect himself or someone he loves. Lord Voldemort is hardly above holding the people we love against us as ransom.” She said darkly.

“You sound like you have personal experience.” Hermione prodded softly. Grin stared at her coolly. “I trust you. You don’t have to say anything. But if you want to tell me, I’ll listen.”

“I can’t tell you much.” Grin sighed after a long moment. “I’m still not sure what curses were placed on me when I was disowned. But I came from a Sacred Twenty-Eight family, and was sorted into Slytherin. For a while, I was my father’s pride and joy. Then, I was partnered with a Ravenclaw girl for a month-long Potions project. She was brilliant and gifted, and so kind. She helped me and tutored me when I struggled. She was also a muggleborn. One of my housemates told my father that I was befriending her, and he shattered half of my arm with a blasting hex when I came home before warning me to stay away from her. I was confused and unsure, so I reached out to another black sheep in the family. It wasn’t easy, either. He told me in no uncertain terms that I should do what I felt made me a better person. That there would be fallout, but the relief for my soul would be miraculous. So I didn’t abandon my friend, and my father disowned me. When my younger brother was old enough to potentially start thinking for himself, I started owling him with Amalia Rosier’s owl. My father caught on after almost a year, and recruited Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange to have me killed. I changed my name and appearance to hide from them.” Hermione’s mouth hung ajar by the time Grin finished her tale. “The few friends I still had in Slytherin helped to conceal me. When I went to Dumbledore to start this faction, I dragged them with me. Two of them are acting as spies, and one is acting as a striker.”

“What’s a striker?”

“Essentially an assassin. But I suppose the muggle terminology would be a Black-Operations soldier.” Grin shrugged.

Hermione nodded absently, compiling the information in her overflowing mind as though she were stacking an already-full library shelf. “Who are the other members of the Pit?”

“Can’t wait to meet them in person?” Grin asked, amused. Hermione blushed. “Alright then. Meridian Fawley, Lawrence Greengrass, Primrose Parkinson, Amalia Rosier, Theomer Rowle, Joshua Selwyn, Anwar Shafiq, Adonis Pucey, Marcus and Calendula Flint, and Rhianon MacDougal.” She recounted blithely, ticking off her fingers. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up.

“Those are mostly Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

“I’m technically Sacred Twenty-Eight. What’s your point?”

“No...point. Just a...surprised observation. And I’ve never heard of most of them before.”

“Well you can’t imagine that our families were particularly fond of the notion that we were turning on them. I imagine our younger siblings have been forbidden to talk about us. Damnatio Memoriae is still a rather fond practice in the upper Pureblood rungs.”

“The condemnation of memory?”

“To strike the memory of the people we’re ashamed of out of existence. Forget their names, erase their existence. Preserve the faith and the bloodlines.” Grin shrugged. Hermione started when she heard the front door slam. “Looks like someone is home.”

“Anyone home?” An unsettlingly familiar voice called from the hallway.

“Oh god.” Hermione went pale.

“What?”

“Um...we don’t exactly have the best history…” Hermione squeaked. She did her best to fade into the couch when Marcus Flint rounded the corner into the living room. He saw Grin first.

“Evening boss.” He smiled.

“Marcus.” She greeted him steadily. “Are you acquainted with our guest?”

“Guest? What…” He turned to look at Hermione. “Guest. Oh. Granger.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Hello.”

“Hi.” She squeaked again. “How have you been, Flint?”

“Could be better. Could be worse. You?”

“About the same.”

“I heard about Black. I’m sorry for your loss.” He said sincerely. Had Hermione been watching Grin, she would have noticed the woman shift uncomfortably and avert her eyes. “He was really good to us.”

“You knew him?” Hermione asked tightly. Sorrow was gripping at her chest like a vice.

“He was going insane cooped up in that house with all of his terrible memories. As a last ditch effort to keep him out of trouble, Dumbledore had him come here every now and then to help us with research and skills practice. He was brilliant.” Marcus confirmed. “He actually helped me become half decent at Transfiguration.”

“Thank you.” She whispered, awfully close to tears.

Marcus’ face melted into confusion. “What on earth for? I should be thanking you for saving him in the first place.”

“For giving him a purpose and an escape. He was so miserable there, especially when Harry wasn’t around. I wrote him sometimes, just to check in. And he was miserable there. He hated hearing his mother’s voice every time Tonks tripped in the hallway. He hated Kreacher. The only person he loved in that house left him behind and died for it. Sometimes, when he thought he was sitting alone, it was like watching a ghost.”

Grin studied her thoroughly. “Do you like Ancient Runes, Hermione?” She inquired abruptly.

Hermione's eyes snapped to her new acquaintance. “What?”

“Ancient Runes. Are you any good at translation? I’m working on translating something, and I think I’d like your help, if you think you’re up for it.” Grin offered vaguely. Marcus’ face twisted into something resembling amusement. Granger had no idea what she’d gotten herself into.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Please support my writing habit and buy me a coffee! 

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Hermione Granger #slytherin #slytherins #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #ginny weasley #Ron Weasley #anti-ron weasley #but not for long #order of the phoenix #fanfiction #dramione #sirimione #blaise x hermione #marcus flint #bill weasley #hermione x draco #ginny x pansy #ginny x dean #hermione x sirius #hermione x blaise #hermione x marcus flint #au #queen-swagzilla #swagzilla writes #s_the_queen on ao3 #hermione granger and the pit

[ragdollrory]

Hold my hand

"It’s always lovely to have you over for tea, dear." Mrs. Narcissa's voice trickled from the drawing room to where Azula was sitting in the parlor. Her feet kicking the air, legs dangling from the massive couch, boredom was slowly getting the best of her.

Her brother and the Malfoy boy had left her, gone to the gardens to race in brooms, and she'd not been allowed to join them. Her mother said little girls didn't do such things, and she'd been given a doll instead. If only her father was here.

"So how old is young Azula now?" The mention of her name made her ears perk up, she turned on the couch, kneeling into the beam of light coming from the parted door.

Her mother's voice was low, and the noise of the tea cups made it impossible for her to hear much, except for loose words here and there. 

"Delightful." Mrs. Narcissa exclaimed not long after. "Just two years apart, a perfect match for my little Draco." Azula frowned, a match for what? She didn't want to be anywhere near the boy, he was rude, and his hair was of the weirdest yellow.

"I'm going to tell on you for spying." His voice startled her, but she jumped to her feet at once, glaring at him. "I bet our mothers wouldn't like that."

"What do you care?" She spat, looking behind him, wondering where Zuko was. Not that she needed him for anything.

"I care because one day you'll be my wife." His words stunned her, eyes widening in confusion. His lips stretched into a smirk. "And I can't have you misbehaving. Father says a woman must always listen to her husband."

"Well, well-" Azula stuttered, face morphed in anger, because she'd heard her father say similar things to her mother, but it didn't apply to her, right? It shouldn't. "Well, I don't care what your dumb dad says, I'm not marrying you!"

"Oh, but you are, our fathers already signed the contract. I heard mother talk about it this morning." He step closer to her, and grabbed her hand. Azula was sure this had to be wrong. Fury filled her.

"Let go of me you little shit!" She pushed with all her might, and he fell sprawled on his back. In a second, the door to the drawing room opened, and a hand was grabbing Azula by the wrist. Her mother both apologizing to Mrs. Narcissa, and berating her for the poor behaviour.

Azula didn't care, her eyes were set on the boy, his silver ones wide in fear and something else, and she could swear there had been a spark on his clothes when she touched him. It was her turn to smirk now.

----------------------------

“I trust the portkey here was not too much trouble, Mr. Inazuma. Such a trip all the way from Japan, and with the kids, I can imagine it being tiresome.” Mrs. Narcissa’s smile was as polished as always. Azula watched her movements closely, straightening her own back some more, to imitate the woman. “Lucius is expecting you in his office. You go ahead, I’ll tend to the kids.” 

“You know it’s never a trouble to come see you, Narcissa, we're practically family already.” Her father’s own smile was wide, and toothy, and Azula wasn’t so sure she liked it, but Mrs. Narcissa didn’t seem to mind it. “You two, behave for Mrs. Malfoy. I have important things to tend to.” He turned to them, a threatening glare to Zuko, and a hand pressing on her shoulder.

Soon after her father disappeared up the staircase, they were led to the gardens. Zuko hurried away to find the brooms, but Azula lingered back, watching Mrs. Narcissa tend to the flowers. It was a quiet activity, the lady of the house didn’t seem to mind her company, and before she left to serve the men some tea, Azula was gifted a rose for her good behaviour. She beamed, walking through the manicured gardens with her flower.

“Oh, so you came this time as well.” As she turned around some lovely bushes shaped like birds, Azula came to face Draco, her lips curling into an sneer on their own, much like every time they met.

“You know I have to come every time, you dimwit.” She spat right back at him, and turned on her heels, not wanting to get into yet another useless fight with him. Maybe she’d find Mrs. Narcissa and ask her for a book or something.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?” Draco hurried to stand in front of her, cutting her way, hands in his pockets. 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” She sighed, tired of this dumb game already. 

“Nothing much, have a conversation with my wife to be, that’s all. We hardly ever get to see each other, don’t you think?” And thank Agni they didn’t, Azula thought, if she had to endure more of him a year, then the betrothal contract would never come to fruition.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you, you also know that already. Now go bother Zuko, I think he was using your adored Nimbus, or something.” Azula rolled her eyes, not even bothering to push past him, but sidestepping him completely.

“You should really stay and talk to me, though.” He grabbed her hand, plucking the rose from her. In the blink of an eye, Azula’s fingers were fisted on the lapels of his suit, free hand raised open to her side.

“You give that back.” She hissed, and could feel the air around them charging with static. To her surprise, he smiled, and then she felt the tip of his wand on her chest. “So what’s your plan, Malfoy, killing off your bride to be? Because I don’t think you have the guts to do it.”

A flame lighted on her hand, a smirk of her own pulling at her lips, the blue reflection of her fire clear as the day in the widening silver of his eyes. So he’d not expected it, perfect.

“You wouldn’t dare, I’ll tell on you.” His voice wasn’t as brave sounding as the tightening of his jaw, and Azula chuckled, letting go of him at last.

“You try telling on me. My mother isn’t here to save you anymore.” Azula commented boredly, playing with the flame between her fingers. She looked down on him, pleased with the fear flickering briefly in his eyes. “But I’m sure both our fathers would love to hear how I, a little girl, pushed you to the ground. Again.”

"You really are a monster!" He called back as she left towards the manor, followed by a yell of shock when the flower in his hands burst into flames.

----------------------------

Azula, my mother informed me an apology was warranted, after my less than gracious behaviour on your last visit…

Mr. Malfoy, I care not for the contract that our parents drew upon us, we are not friends, and you'll refer to me appropriately if you wish for me to even consider your apology...

Ms. Inazuma, you think too highly of yourself. If it weren't for my mother, I wouldn't give two shits about apologizing to you…

… that vocabulary, so improper of a boy of your status…

… one to talk, or do you forget calling me names when you were barely...

Mr. Little Shit, no, of course I don't forget. You'll learn with time, my memory is quite prodigious, something that might not work in your favour…

… and you should consider yourself lucky I'm not going to my father with your letters, or else yours will have to put a lot more gold in your dowry.

… Empty threats, as always, but since we're keeping secrets from our parents now…

… I'm sure there are worse things than an arranged marriage, after all.

… well, at least your mother cares about you. I don't even know where mine is…

----------------------------

“I thought I smelled something burn.” Azula rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to look up to see his trademark smirk aimed at her, or the way he stood against the wall, or the piano, hands in his pockets. He was the same old Draco she’d known her whole life.

“And you came just in time, I was running out of things to burn.” She turned with a sweet smile at him. “How about we try with you next?”

They held their gazes for a moment, neither wanting to cave, it was not their style after all. In the end, static charging the room and making his blonde hair stand, made Draco break his stance, running fingers through it to pull it back to its slick neatness.

“Still an annoying brat, I see.” He drawled, his wand making an appearance. He twirled it lazily between his lithe fingers.

“Still unable to perform wandless magic, I see.” Azula countered, the same smile only growing bigger.

Two strides, and he was next to her, his wand clattering to the floor, hands reaching for hers, pinning Azula down on the settee. Her breath caught, she couldn’t remember the last time they’d been this close. She could see each one of his long lashes, and every shade of silver in his eyes.

“What are you going to do without your hands?” Oh- now that was funny, she chuckled. He frowned.

Azula licked her lips in anticipation, watching as his gaze fell onto them, just in time to see the flame that came out with her exhalation. He jerked away, she trapped an ankle between hers, and he fell to the floor.

“You should practice wandless magic, Draco.” Azula stood, and marched away.

----------------------------

Azula, I don't even know why I bother answering to your questions, no, we are not being taught wandless magic.

Draco, you answer to me, because you find me charming, of course.

… but sure, you tell yourself that. School here is the same hell hole as always. Having to live with saint Potter and his lackeys…

… I can only imagine, I have one of those here; Aang and his band of merry misfits, I swear to Agni they…

… but at least you get to go home at the end of the day, this is real torture.

… except going home has not been the same since Zuko left. Since my father kicked him out. He joined that kid, Aang.

… After all, I always imagined Zuko to have poor taste in friends.

… but you say that as if you were forgetting playing with him when you were kids.

Draco, I heard what happened. My father says it’s an honor, that if Zuko were here he’d have to do the same. That your family should be proud. I- are you okay?

Ms. Inazuma, it is indeed an honor, your father is right, as usual. I am nothing but proud, to make my house great once again, by taking upon this mark and mission...

Draco…

Mr. Malfoy,

Draco,

… and I don't know who I can trust anymore, they were supposed to be my friends.

… father, he left for London, and he didn't take me with. I asked, I wanted to be there with you.

… The house is so big and empty, I swear I can hear my mother sometimes. Agni, I must sound like a lunatic, or like Potter.

… I don't know if you're getting these letters anymore, or if you even care about me still. Maybe you just decided to leave me. Like the rest.

----------------------------

It was cold, and late, and she should go home already, but the bustling of people in the streets of London made Azula want to stay just a little bit longer. She closed the coat tighter to her chest, breathed hot hair to her hands, and just watched around her.

Christmas time had never been a particularly important moment for her family, often times spent in the company of others. A time for Ozai to make deals over liquor, and Ursa to exchange empty pleasantries with other trophy wives, while she was one. 

Zuko and her were left to play around with the rest of kids, but even that didn’t last much. The manors were massive, and soon enough Azula found herself wandering empty hallways alone, with only a little flame in her hand for company.

It wasn’t too different now. Of course Zuko’s home was smaller, the normal size for the two of them plus a couple of extra rooms just in case. Still, he worked, and had friends, and a girlfriend- or so Azula figured- and she found herself walking alone sometimes.

He was out tonight, and she figured it was as good time as any to buy him a present, being this their first Christmas together since her recovery. And the people, the mass of people around her- families, couples, friends- made her feel less alone in the world.

She’d been standing in front of a window shop for the longest time now, debating herself on whether or not she should buy her brother a beautiful looking knife for his collection of cold steel, when someone crashed into her. She lost her footing on the cold streetwalk, and fell onto the floor.

“You really could afford to watch where you’re going, don’t you think?!” She snapped, even when the man was already kneeling to help her up.

His hand went for her elbow, pulling her up to her feet, and Azula swore she saw a spark. Her eyes flashed up to his face, and there was the flush of recognition in the silver ones staring back at her.

“Draco-” Her voice shook, and the word died against his shoulder, as her arms found each other on his back. He seemed stunned for just one second, and then Azula felt his hands carefully settle on her waist. She blinked back the stinging in her eyes, and breathed through the pain in her chest, but her senses were invaded by his cologne, and she had to pull away before she made a scene on the street.

“Azula, what- what are you doing here? I thought… last I heard-” He seemed to struggle with the correct way to say she’d lost her mind, but she couldn’t really blame him, could she? 

“Zuko lives here. I moved in with him some months back.” Azula eyes searched his face for the boy she’d known, and learned the ways in which he’d changed from that. The new strength in his jaw, and the worry lines between his brows, the stubble that had never been there before.

She watched him do the same with her, his eyes moving over her face, and worried over what he might see there. Neither were the same person from a decade ago, after all. “What about you?” Her words were a bit rushed, tinged with the fear of him walking away too soon.

“I-” His gaze moved onto the shop window, gloved fingers running through his hair. “I’m not exactly sure. I guess I’m trying to live differently. Azula-” Draco’s eyes moved back to her, but he seemed unable to say whatever was trapped behind his teeth.

“Coffee. I don’t drink tea.” She smiled, hoping she was getting this right amongst everything she’d gotten wrong in the past. The corner of his lips tugged upwards, and he shook his head at her.

“Of course you don’t, you brat.” Draco chuckled. He looked up and down the street, probably deciding which way was best- which one was less worse- and nudged with his chin for her to follow.

It was cold, and crowded, and Azula stepped closer to him, and very slowly, almost as if he didn’t want her to notice, he pulled a hand out of his pocket. Her own brushed it, and she swore there was a spark, there always was one with him.

Ever so slowly, almost as if she didn’t want him to notice, she laced her fingers with his. And after the briefest falter in his step, he closed his around hers, and held her hand.

#azula #atla #azulaweek2019 #azula week 2019 #crossover au

[quartusbellum-blog]

NICKY for the role of  NARCISSA MALFOY, using the faceclaim SARAH GADON.

Reading this application was delightful. You’ve given Narcissa such a strong voice. It’s clear from your app that we’re going to get the ruthless Narcissa we see in the books and so much more! This app is chock full of detail. You’ve considered so many angles of this character and the skeleton which I am extremely eager to see explored on the dash! Welcome, Nicky!

ooc details

Name: Nicky

Age: 32

Pronouns: she/her

Activity Level: medium; I have other writing projects I am going to (hopefully) be working on, but I should be online at least briefly most every day, moreso later in the week/weekend than the beginning.

Other: None, but I really do mean it when I say you can absolutely make use of Narcissa for plots and events and stuff, even the nasty ones! I’m not precious about my characters lol.

Acknowledgement: I absolutely acknowledge and indeed look forward to it all. I am happy to have Narcissa damaged or to have her damage others throughout, and if a tempting plot presents itself, even to have her killed; I will happily app someone else in the aftermath of her (no doubt bloody) demise!

                                                  ჻ ჻ ჻ ჻

general ic details

Name: Narcissa Carina Malfoy née Black; nickname “Cissy” but only by those who are family, close friends, or who knew her well in school or childhood before Hogwarts.

Age: 25; born May 20, 1955 (if I did the math right lol)

Ships: I am a huge fan of lucissa which is obviously canon here in that they are married, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re in a loving relationship. I have played a great many permutations of the Malfoys’ marriage before and am happy to do so again should whomever apps Lucius prefer not to have a lovey-dovey partnership (or should our takes on the characters simply fail to mesh suitably for that). I do believe that the current set-up with the Silent Daggers requires them to at least be friends and partners who have some level of trust in one another, but whether there’s romance there or not is something to be determined when/if a Lucius player arrives, and I’m good either way!

There are no other ships for Narcissa that I am going to be actively seeking out, but I’m in no way opposed to playing others should they emerge over the course of the game, whether as group affairs with her husband included, acceptable affairs on the side, or not-so-acceptable liaisons or outright betrayals. Narcissa is someone who very much ranks purity (and prettiness) above something as minor as gender (so pansexual, not that she probably knows the label or would use it if she did–”tawdry labels are for idiot muggles, darling, intelligent people don’t bother”) and she’s a shallow, selfish woman, but she wouldn’t be the first Black sister to have her heart betray her… Also, pre-Lucius relationships? Definitely yeah let’s headcanon the shit out of that backstory goodness.

Gender/Pronouns: cisfemale, she/her

Face Claim: 1ST CHOICE: Sarah Gadon SECOND CHOICE:  Imogen Poots

                                                  ჻ ჻ ჻ ჻

bio questions

Please note, while this game is “canon” up until the start of the Wizarding War it does not stay canon and it’s quite divergent at the start of the game.

biography:

The third and final of the three Black sisters, Narcissa was one last try for a male heir – and she was, obviously, a failure. (She didn’t even merit a family name – not that she’s bitter for not having been named for the stars too, of course not.) That’s the only thing in her life she’s willing to accept failure for, however. Perhaps knowing that she was an unnecessary spare is what drove her towards being such a perfectionist: perfect hair, perfect robes, perfect smile, perfect wandwork, perfect marks, perfect husband…perfect son. The first few years of Narcissa’s life was one steady climb towards the ideal future she had been raised to claim, from her sorting into Slytherin (where else!) to her appointment as prefect to her position as Seeker on the house Quidditch team to her excellent N.E.W.T.s scores all the way through to her marriage to the beautiful and perfectly pure, perfectly socially-positioned Lucius Malfoy…save for one unfortunate hiccup: Andromeda.

Still, one sister is better than none, and at least Narcissa still had someone to stand beside her at her wedding – and a husband who was gracious enough not to think that her former sister’s choices muddied her purity. There were those who whispered otherwise (there are always those who whisper otherwise) especially when little (former) cousin Sirius followed in similar footsteps, but Narcissa kept her head up and clawed her way back to perfection without them. Let the dregs be cast-off and discarded, forgotten; she and Bellatrix and Regulus were doing just fine. Better than fine, in fact; they were going to be heroes, going to be victors. They were going to make the whole world perfect, at long long last. No, Narcissa never went so far as to take the Dark Mark herself – but she was certainly proud to be married to a man who did, proud to have a sister and cousin who bore it (albeit a little worried about Regulus; he’d always been so sensitive as a child, was he really up for this?) and was thrilled to do her part in service to the Dark Lord. She toyed with the idea of stepping into the inner circle many times – certainly the Dark Lord would have welcomed her, given her connections and lineage! – but ultimately it was just a bit too much commitment. She and Lucius were starting a family, after all; better that one of them have a little less time invested in the struggle so they would have more to spare for the eventual heir. Lucius could win them their glory; Narcissa would lay the foundation on which that glory would one day be spent.

When the Dark Lord finally claimed his victory, it seemed like the perfect time to start their perfect family and it didn’t take long for a pregnancy to take root (never mind all those times they’d tried before and couldn’t manage; obviously her womb was just waiting for the perfect time). For an all-too-brief period it seemed like all was well, all was perfect…but it wasn’t. As the flush of victory faded, the reality that it was his victory – not theirs – set in, and set in hard. After everything they had done for the Dark Lord, everything they had sacrificed, everything they had been promised – there was nothing. No glories, no fortunes, no perfect future. After Andromeda and Sirius this was one betrayal too many and with a baby on the way something had to be done. They were Malfoys, Blacks; they deserved better. Their child deserved better. But Voldemort had made one mistake when he had called them all his servants: he had thought that meant they would be as loyal and harmless as House Elves. Foolish man, forgetting that they were wix – wand-carriers, not creatures – and their loyalty had been purchased, not bred; if he failed to carry out his end of the bargain, then the bargain was defunct. And there is no one more dangerous than a Black betrayed…except perhaps for a Malfoy.

Their determination for retribution didn’t mean she and Lucius weren’t still frightened of the Dark Lord, of course; they would be fools not to be, and neither Narcissa nor her husband were fools. But they were well-versed in old magicks and experimental spells, and clever enough to know that merely marking someone was not enough to ensure their loyalty (they themselves were proof of that weren’t they?) but there were other spells and curses that could. It would require the direst of secrecy, the most careful of planning…but they would do it. They would destroy the Dark Lord and claim their true place at the head of wizarding society. And if there were a few more sacrifices yet along the way, well…they would survive those, too.

The fact that one of those sacrifices had nearly been Narcissa’s very life had not been anticipated, but she survived – and perhaps even more importantly, the baby lived too, although Narcissa spent the rest of her pregnancy fretting about what effect her transformation might have on the child in her womb. Fortunately Draco was born with no complications (at least, none that they’ve seen yet) although it was deemed necessary to hire a wet-nurse nanny (not something traditionally done in the Black family, who prefer that their children be nourished only by their own pure bodies, but there was no way of knowing whether Narcissa would be able to give the boy what he needed now) who was passed-off as a decision of fashion and indolence. Narcissa tried not to let it bother her that she couldn’t be mother enough to provide everything her son needed herself (she failed) and took comfort in the fact that at least no one outside the family knew her blood was now tainted – not even dear Bellatrix. There was no knowing how she might react to the news…especially given what’s happened now to Regulus.

He didn’t take the transformation as well as she did, perhaps given the lack of support around him at the time (he didn’t have a few pints generously donated by a doting husband to carry him through that first night, after all) or perhaps there were other circumstances involved in his condition…or maybe he’d always just been a little bit weaker, more inclined toward melodrama. It was hard to say, especially given how secretive he acted about the whole thing – but at least she can trust him to be discreet about her condition. Even if he wasn’t relying on her to keep news of his whereabouts secret from Bellatrix and the Dark Lord, she’d be able to rely on Regulus – and Narcissa wishes she could do more for him, to help him adjust to their shared misfortune…but there’s only so much time in a day (or night).

Narcissa has to concentrate on other things right now: in addition to Draco (her primary focus and motivating factor in all things now) she had the Silent Daggers to found and control, a task admittedly made easier now that she had access to a very particular sort of blood-based magic…not that any of their allies needed to know that. (Conveniently their not-knowing will make it even harder for any of them to break the binding spell should they be tempted to try…and conveniently even if her secret does come out, none of them can turn their backs on her now that they’ve been pledged, cut, and bound to the Silent Daggers.) Perhaps it’s just as well she has that nanny to help with the baby…but she’ll never, ever admit that to anyone else – maybe not even to Lucius. Of course, the fact that Draco would be killed as punishment if the Dark Lord ever discovers her and Lucius’s treason looms over her every moment like a bleak black shadow…so it’s a good thing she’s learning to avoid the light.

                                                  ჻ ჻ ჻ ჻

my character is:

Please Describe a Belief your character has that is wrong. It can be something we, as players, know is wrong (ex. prejudice against werewolves ).  Alternatively: How is your character lying to themselves (and how is is it shown externally).

Narcissa is wrong about a lot of things in this world. One of the biggest, though, has to be her subconscious conviction that her sister would never hurt her. She might have thought better of this whole Silent Daggers thing if not for that delusion – might have been too frightened, too prudent, to take such a reckless risk if she had really believed that Bellatrix would tear the skin from her bones (and that of her child) on the Dark Lord’s command. Narcissa claims to be sensible and realistic in her assessment of Bellatrix, claims that she knows that they’ll come to blows over it eventually…and she does believe that but in her heart of hearts, she doesn’t believe Bella would ever really hurt her. Not badly, not in a way that lasts. Not fatally. And maybe she’s right that the revelation of her vampiric taint wouldn’t be enough to inspire Bellatrix to hurt her; maybe she’s right that her sister would forgive Narcissa for the impurity she didn’t ask for…but betraying Voldemort? Bellatrix would kill her for that…and Narcissa can’t bring herself to believe it. One would think that after Andromeda, she would have no illusions about Bellatrix’s ruthlessness or fanatical loyalty left – but Bellatrix didn’t kill Andromeda either (although she ranted about doing so often enough). Of course, she probably expected Andromeda to come to her senses and come back (certainly Narcissa did) up until the birth of the child (and maybe even a year or two after that – motherhood among the mud? Really!?) and she was quite busy fighting the Dark Lord’s war at the time, far too busy to indulge herself by hunting down their sister…and now Andromeda, wherever she is, is far enough away to be safe (presumably). But Cissy has yet to realize that Andromda isn’t the only one who will need to run, if and when Bellatrix ever finds out what she’s done…

Please Provide a description of either Your Character’s Job (what do they do? how do they feel about it? Do they have any goals or dreams beyond this job) and/or Address the differences between what your character is currently doing and what they would prefer to do?

Celebration, that’s what Narcissa should be doing right now – reveling in their victory, relaxing now that the fighting is over. But it’s not. And if the Dark Lord is left in charge, it never will be. Their grand revolution of purity doesn’t seem to have been his end goal the way it was theirs; or perhaps he just doesn’t know how to let go. Regardless, the rewards that were promised his servants have not come to pass – and they’ve come to realize that servant of the Dark Lord has more in common with the servitude of a House Elf than it does the honor and privilege they were led to believe such a position signified. So instead of resting on her and Lucius’s laurels and smoothing down the last few sharp edges of the world into the perfect future her son deserves, she’s plotting treason.

As joint founder and head of the Silent Daggers, Narcissa is a little more squeamish than her husband about how far into the mud they’re willing to reach if necessary (the Malfoys have always been more pragmatic than the Blacks) but she’ll grit her teeth and force a smile for the filth if that’s what it takes to build a better world for dear Draco. The only problem is the worry teasing at the back of her mind: if the Malfoys turned on the Dark Lord for not keeping his promises, doesn’t that mean they’ll have to keep whatever promises they make to the mud in order to defeat him, or risk the very same thing happening to them? That’s a concern to be dealt with after victory is achieved, though – not today. For today she can shove it to the back of her mind and do her part spreading whispers and recruiting allies and accruing information…and, sometimes, making use of all those things to hurt the Dark Lord they once obeyed so loyally. Bellatrix is another problem for the future – but deep down, Narcissa knows that if (when) it comes down to choosing between her son and her sister…well, she’s already survived the loss of a sister once. She can do it again if she has to, for Draco’s sake.

ooc questions

Writing Sample:

Narcissa forced herself to stand calmly, to keep her eyes from settling on the silver bowl – or more importantly, to stop herself from licking her lips. It was strange how quickly she had adapted to the taste of blood, salty and bitter and somehow more delicious than any lavender cream pastry or herb-crusted quail. It was something she tried not to dwell on – and definitely not something that she could let on about here and now, when they were about to bind the first of the Silent Daggers (what a charming name; Lucius always was so good with words) and take this movement against the Dark Lord from tenuous disgruntlement to active rebellion.

Revealing that half of the couple behind said movement now had vampiric blood in her once-pure veins would have put rather a damper on things, and the baby growing in her belly (unharmed by her recent transformation, she had to hope) needed this. It was their only to build their child the future they deserved…

And if that meant Narcissa had to use her newfound affinity for blood to forcibly bind friends and allies to their cause, so be it. Truth be told it was a convenient tragedy, at least; the spells to hold the tongues and treachery of the Silent Daggers in check would be so much stronger now than they would have been before her brief, bloody death. Not that any of them knew they were binding themselves with vampire blood…but it was too late for any of them to back out now anyway. The time for qualms had come and gone.

Lucius wrapped-up his little speech (if she hadn’t helped him practice it for the past three days, she would have been as enthralled as the rest of the audience, but repetition could make even his dulcet tones run dull) and Narcissa stepped forward with the blade they had spent the last month bespelling. It tingled in her hand and she didn’t know if that was a result of the spells sunk so heavy in its gleaming metal or merely her own anticipation.

The first cut she made was to Lucius’s arm – unlike the Dark Lord, neither Malfoy would hold themselves aloof and above the rest of the Silent Daggers (not so obviously as by keeping their own arms unmarked, at least; obviously they were in charge but it was less obnoxious than it was with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters) and it was only appropriate that they go first – and the last would be to hers. That was part of the binding spell, using her vampire blood to anchor the magic, although to the others they had merely presented it as appropriately symbolic that the Malfoys should both begin and end the evening’s loyalty pledge.

One by one, they came up to her and bled into the silver bowl; one by one, they presented their arms – marked and unmarked – for her blade, and she fought the urge to salivate at each hot red slash across their skin. No healing spells would be cast until the whole group was done (small, but soon to grow – Narcissa was sure of it) and the spell finalized so they stepped back wincing or stoic as their natures dictated, gripping bloodied arms in bare fingers or pressing handkerchiefs to the warm, delicious wounds.

Narcissa’s stomach grumbled and she nearly dropped the knife, cutting a bit deeper than before with the sudden rush of nerves. She smiled at Marcus and he stepped back without seeming to notice; perhaps for him, pain was still a comfort that let him know he was alive – or something that felt like a bond to his lost family. (Of all the people here tonight, Marcus was one of the last she would have wanted to admit her condition to.) Perhaps he just considered himself too new to their company to complain, or thought she had gored him so deeply on purpose as mute commentary on the necessity of his loyalty now…

A few more tantalizing slices and she was handing the knief to her husband to do the final cut. They raised their wands in unison and the others held their bleeding arms out, showing all eyes that the cuts were true and strong, ruby droplets falling steadily on the stone cellar floor. The words of the spell – some spoken, some not – rose in a cadence as harsh and hollow as the grasping hands of the wind. The blade glowed, the blood boiled, their wounds flashed hot and bright as fire – and it was done. The Silent Daggers were formed, their secrets bound by blood and magic.

Murmured sounds of healing spells rose around the room, interspersed with stilted banter and quiet muttering. It was always awkward, ending a group ritual; magic was not cast like that often, and it always felt somehow artificial or overdone. Narcissa closed her eyes and allowed herself to lick her lips, just once, as though to wet them after the extended bout of spellcasting. She opened them again when she felt Lucius’s fingers on her arm.

“Shall we retire to the study for icebrandy and gin?” Lucius suggested, the room going quiet in response to his brisk and jovial tone. “I mean, I suppose we could have the rest of the meeting down here too, but that seems so unnecessarily bleak to me…”

Laughter, both from amusement and relief, rose in response. “You’ll see to things down here?” Lucius asked her, leaning in close and speaking softly. Narcissa nodded and stepped back, smiling at the others as they filed out past her. She would join the party in a few moments, once everything down here was securely put away and the bespelled blood safely stored for later additions to the alliance.

And if she licked up a few stray drops here and there, well, who would ever know?

Exploration:

Please share three things you’d like to explore. This could be a character changing sides, darker themes, or basic fiction tropes.

Narcissa As Vampire: What does that mean for her physically? (How fortunate that she’s always been the sort to favor parasols and broad-brimmed hats in summer sunlight for the sake of her complexion – and how fortunate that she’s always been so pale! no one will ever notice a difference!) What does that mean for her magically? (She was always such a strong witch; surely she hasn’t lost that power, not with Black blood flowing in her now-tainted veins?) Where does she get the blood she needs to eat? (Is it always pure or is she reduced sometimes to drinking–ugh–muddy blood? Or is that a hardship, or is it easy for her to think of Muggles as food? Does Lucius ever donate to the cause?) What does it mean for Draco? (He wasn’t hurt by it, he can’t have been…he just can’t! Can he?) What does it mean for her internal assessment of purity…or to Lucius? (He says he still loves her just the same, but does he mean it?)  Is it a weapon she’s willing to use in their war, or something she’s too ashamed (or afraid) of to risk unsheathing under all but the most dire of circumstances? (True, she used it for the blood-binding, but was that a one-off exception or the start of a trend?) And so on and so on… For that matter, how did she become a vampire? I kept that deliberately vague in her bio because I’m hoping to explore something there involving other player(s) – maybe it was Regulus who was turned first, and he turned Cissy to save her after she was injured? Maybe that vial of blood around his neck came from a not-quite-disowned relative of theirs who’d fallen to the fangs years ago, and Narcissa made use of the same old relation when she was dying? Maybe it was someone in the Radical Alliance (willingly or unwillingly) who turned her as a favor or to pay a debt, or maybe it was vampires who hurt her in the first place and it was Lucius interrupting before they could finish the attack that led to her being turned instead of merely killed…. There are a lot of different ways to run with her “condition,” both in how it happened and how it affects her now, and my only regret is in knowing that I can’t do all of them at once!

Recruitment: It was Narcissa (and her particular familiarity with blood) who came up with the little trick with the knives and the blood to make sure no one could betray them in the first place, but a revolution can’t be run with only a handful of allies – nor without a few disposable tools. Since Narcissa is generally seen (by fools) as the most “harmless” of any of the Blacks and Malfoys, she uses her unassailable social position to whisper and toy and tempt others, sometimes tricking them into doing what the Silent Daggers need and sometimes adding them to her quiver of allies (with a prudent slash of red to make sure they stay there). It makes her someone who can cross the lines of allegiance for interactions more easily than most other characters, too, which should be interesting! And honestly just the chance to have Narcissa be an active part of the fight (if a subtle, secret one) is exciting, since she’s so often reduced to a wallflower (or worse, a reluctant participant who lacks her family’s blood-supremacist convictions) in these sort of games. I’m really looking forward to getting blood on her hands here – both metaphorical and literal! Narcissa is canonically ruthless…so I’m excited for a game where she actually gets to act like it.

Blood-Status & Family: Narcissa is a blood-supremacist. She always has been, always will be. Being turned – being tainted – hasn’t changed how she thinks of Mudbloods nor of animals like werewolves and Muggles…but vampires were always more fashionable, weren’t they? Of course they were. Besides, she might be a vampire but she’s a vampire with Black blood in her veins – that has to still count for something, especially when it comes to a creature for whom blood is so crucial! Yes, she’s still part of the elite even if she does have fangs…and that means she still looks down on everyone who isn’t. (It’s a delicate balance in her head, but one necessary to maintain for her own sense of self to remain steady.) But now she’s turned her back on Voldemort, she might have to ally herself with those who aren’t worthy…and that’s fine, those sort of deals are necessary in a war. But as she’s learned from having the promises she was made broken by the Dark Lord, those “necessary alliances” can’t be simply discarded after the war is won. Not unless you want a new rebellion on your hands. Which means that anything she or Lucius promise to any piece of filth whose allegiance they want to secure, they’ll have to follow through on in the end…which means she might have to get her hands dirty. Is she prepared to do that? Is she prepared…perhaps…to talk to her former cousin? Or worse – her lost sister!? (I know there’s no Andromeda in the game right now, but that doesn’t mean Narcissa can’t entertain the idea of having to face and deal with her – nor for that matter, the idea of having to deal with Bellatrix discovering her secret. Those possibilities will be relevant to her, even though they aren’t going to be applicable in the game as playable plotpoints. Sirius and Regulus, on the other hand – if either or both of those characters get picked up, then those confrontations should be lots of fun from very different angles: Sirius the disgraced, cast-out cousin who betrayed the family but who might be a useful tool in the fight against the Dark Lord…Regulus the “good boy” who got lost, who now shares a certain proclivity for blood and fangs but much more openly than she; much less stable than she too, given how and when he developed the condition…but he’s still her precious little cousin. And he’s no more tainted than her, even if he’s having a few more problems adjusting…but will she accept that, or ignore his issues because it means acknowledging her own lack of perfection though acknowledging his? Should be fun!)

BONUS: The Diary! I’m assuming (hoping!) this is going to come up as a plotpoint eventually, and I’m psyched for it. I’m also psyched for exploring how Narcissa will react to the revelation of Voldemort using Horcruxes – because we know they’re generally regarded as well beyond the pale by most of the magical community, so will Narcissa likewise be disgusted? Or will her upbringing as a Black (notoriously more comfortable with certain types of magic, it appears) and/or her current position as a member of the Silent Daggers make her more pragmatic about the idea? I don’t know, I think it will depend on how the news leaks out (if it does; maybe they’ll find a way to use and/or destroy the diary without ever learning exactly what it is idk) but either way it’s going to be interesting to play with.

Extras:

I have very, very rarely had the privilege of being in a game where both Malfoys are taken characters. Thus I have approached Narcissa’s development largely from the premise of her being on her own and I’ve just gone ahead and stated things as established history that would be better discussed in tandem with Lucius’s player. If there does end up being an app for Lucius I will (after I finish dancing with delight) be very very happy to revise and amend all of this to mesh with their player’s ideas. (Likewise with any eventual Bellatrix or Andromeda players – or for that matter, any family details overlapping with Sirius and Regulus!) I genuinely really enjoy group world building! So please, fellow or potential players: view this as an outline for Narcissa, not as a headcanon that’s set in stone. I’m happy to tweak and twist and rearrange, so don’t hesitate to fling your ideas my way!

#marauders rp #skeleton rp #hp skeleton rp #lsrpg #harry potter rp #quartusbellumaccept #narcissa malfoy #narcissa malfoy bio

[ask-gayharrypottercharacters]

write something about the blacks

“Why won’t you call me fucking Tonks??”

When the front door slammed, Andromeda rested her tired face in her wrinkly hands. With her arched back, they were the only signs giving away her old age. She’d heard her daughter’s friends whisper on her still young-looking appearance on countless occasions. According to rumours that was because on every full moon she would bathe in the blood of the men she’d murdered. Nymphadora always laughed at them. It was such an insane theory if you knew who Andromeda really was. But she couldn’t exactly blame them for thinking she wasn’t any different from other pure-bloods either.

Nymphadora. Such a pretty name. In Greek Mythology nymphs were goddesses. They animated nature. They embodied raw beauty and liveliness. How could her daughter disavow such a meaningful name? A name she had personally chosen for her?

Andromeda grabbed the simple armrest of the nearest chair, trying by all means necessary to stop her train of thoughts from reaching its destination. Her eyes shut close while her knuckles whitened on the light-coloured wooden material. After all these years, it still was her weak point.

They all were.

When she opened her eyes again and looked down, it was engraved flowers that her fingers were wrapped around. A different darker smoother type of wood.

“Sit straight, Andy.” She turned to her left on the other side of the dinner table, where the little voice came from. “You do not want mother to reprimand you in front of the whole family, do you?”

Andromeda immediately obliged. Narcissa smiled at her in response. She looked so young and delicate. Almost innocent. So eager for her to fit in this room even though it was blatantly obvious she never truly would.

“No, come on! Please let your mother start one of her stupid fights! It’d give me an excuse to climb the stairs lock myself up and avoid this miserable pretence of a family dinner.” Andromeda looked to the boy facing her.

“Where to, cousin? In that red and gold rubbish dump you insist on calling bedroom?” Andromeda turned back to her sister’s rolling eyes. She was as much a spectator of this scene now as she was then.

“At least I sleep in said bedroom every night, cousin.” Sirius smirked when Walburga approached, interrupting their little joust and momentarily making him the victor.

If Narcissa had been Medusa in that moment though, then Sirius would have turned to stone.

“Please take a seat, Arcturus.” The old man she was holding by the arm naturally found his way at the very end of the immense ebony table of 12 Grimmauld Place. At the other end, there was no one near Sirius or Andromeda to contest his authority.

The seating plan had been carefully designed by the host. Although they weren’t the youngest of the Black children, the two cousins had been placed at the very bottom of the family tree.

As soon as the patriarch was sat down the guests rushed to their designated chair. Facing Narcissa, Regulus shifted uncomfortably. He was only twelve and big events like this one always made him nervous.

Sirius noticed. “How old is he exactly? He looks 150 if that’s even possible.” He joked to make the atmosphere a little less unbearable, which Andromeda was immensely glad for. She wasn’t about to insult him in front of all of his heirs though so she chose to keep quiet instead. Most of the time she was anyway.

“We are celebrating his 70th birthday today, actually. If you can ever believe that.” They all looked to Regulus’ left where the voice came from. “But you know, he’s survived most of his family. That tends to physically mark one.” Alphard wrapped his arm around the back of the empty chair that was separating him from the little boy. Narcissa glared at him.

“What happened to them?” Regulus asked his uncle, unsure if that was a proper question to voice at a family gathering.

“Your parents never told you?” He disapproved. “Well, his brother died from an illness I can never remember the name of. One day he found himself unable to talk and the next he was dead. A striking disease… He died an unmarried man. He was loved by everyone in this family though, which, really, was a prowess. Truly an incredible man!” Regulus looked down at his own hands, seeming distraught by the answer. “But he lives through you, Regulus. After all, you were named after him. And it seems like you too are loved by everyone in this room.” He winked. Sirius nodded.

The boy looked back up with teary eyes but smiled at Alphard who gently rubbed his back for comfort. He was so terribly sensitive.

“What about the others?” Narcissa asked in turn with disdain.

“The others?” Alphard was reluctant to give her an answer. “Ah well, his sister died of that same disease six years later.”

“Was it contagious? Can we catch it?” Sirius couldn’t help out.

“No, children. Well, it is contagious but only through…” He stopped in the middle of his sentence.

“Through sexual intercourse.” They all fixed their eyes on the woman in front of Alphard. She was easily the most beautiful woman of the Black older generation. And even though they were born the same year, she was much prettier than Walburga could dream of ever becoming.

“What a way to join the conversation, Lucretia! Might I remind you these are only children?” He chuckled as she smiled back at him, the kind that would forgive her just about anything.

“Living in this family and not being taught the family gossip? I strictly condone it.” Alphard chuckled again into his napkin. Her husband, a Prewett, joined him while poking at her shoulder gently.

She cleared her throat and ignored both men. Instead she stared directly into Narcissa’s almond-shaped eyes, disregarding completely the empty space between them. “And then, my dear mother killed herself because she could not bear others’ moquery on her name. My father is a lonely worried old man. He only wants for his family to survive.” She smiled so brightly even Narcissa had to look down in respect. She always responded to female authority better anyway.

“Lucretia, do you really have to fill my daughters’ heads with such spooky business?” Druella snapped on Alphard’s left.

The dark-haired woman’s retort came only seconds after. “Well, someone has to educate these girls.”

The other woman opened her mouth in shock. But she was a Rosier, even after her family name had changed to Black. Lucretia was now Prewett, yet she would always be blacker.

Walburga didn’t miss the opportunity to remind her. “Lucretia is right. Your daughters should be taught their family history, Druella. Even though it is not your story.”

Cygnus attempted to mediate. “Did I mishear or are you both criticizing the way I raise my girls?” Walburga kept quiet. He was the youngest of his siblings but the most respected. He was a man and, unlike his older brother, he was married. He didn’t give Lucretia any time to retort either. He turned to his side. “Do not pay attention to my cousin, dear. She is only under my brother’s influence.”

It was said like it was enough explanation. Like Alphard was the problem by default anyway.

“Oh, my sister knows how to misbehave well on her own, cousin.” Orion mocked, which somehow was something no one had the heart to dispute. Lucretia herself laughed out loud.

“And have you not taught your daughter punctuality, Cygnus?” Charis, who married into the Crouch family, asked from Orion’s left.

“Oh yes. Being late at such a significant event is quite unacceptable, dear!” The woman’s sister, Callidora, added. Harfang Longbottom nodded after his wife’s statement.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. These old cows shouldn’t be insulting your sister when theirs married a Weasley.” Lucretia whispered in Narcissa’s direction, pinching her nose like it was painful for her to speak the name. She put her glass to her lips as if she needed to cleanse her mouth.

Narcissa shook her head. “No. They are right. My sister is quite unacceptable indeed. If Charlus Potter managed to be on time today then so can she.” Although the Potters were disputably respectful these days, the man had been invited through his wedding to Dorea Black.

Lucretia almost spit out the champagne she had just sipped. “I know you think she is too disdainful for a little girl, Alphard, but I like her.” She pointed at the blonde.

The man laughed gently. “Well anyway, I would like to thank Merlin for placing me near all of you children. Today I would have dreaded the habitual small talk.” He scoffed while designating the more serious older end of the table with his shoulder.

Sirius burst into laughter while Narcissa’s eyes dismissed the man completely.

“Kids, put your hands under the table!” He ordered smilingly. All of them rushed their hands under the velvet cloth with excitement.

The man snapped his ringed fingers and Andromeda suddenly held a cold coin in her palm. She felt the shape of a dragon with the brush of her thumb.

“Don’t tell your parents.” He winked. They all discreetly slid the Galleon into their pockets. It took everything Sirius had not to boast out loud.

“And how can you sit proudly at this table when no other family has asked for your eighteen year old daughter’s hand?”

They all turned to the other end of the table where Orion had just shouted. Apparently the rivals hadn’t stopped quarreling. They both sought Arcturus’ favours.

“Oh I cannot wait until the day your eldest son is of age, cousin. Are you going to lie or are you going to blame the sorting hat for your boy’s incompetent personality? I wonder…” Cygnus answered with the calm and scorn that characterized him so well.

That infuriated Orion even further. “Have you forgotten you are currently under my roof?”

“This house still belongs to your father if I recall well. He can still decide you are not worth living here.”

After that, everyone went on with their little commentary on who they thought was better fitted to take over as head of the family. Alphard certainly didn’t miss his chance to entertain them. “Look at your fathers, fighting like two roosters of the same chicken coop!”

Fortunately everyone was so loud Alphard’s comment went completely unnoticed. Their voices kept raising and raising to an unbearable decibel level.

Only Andromeda and Arcturus, whose gazes met, remained silent. The old man breathed out while shaking his head disapprovingly. Andromeda half smiled. It was comforting knowing the very backbone of this family seemed as out of place in this moment as she constantly felt.

Suddenly a green puff of smoke invaded the marbled fireplace and cut the hostilities right out. The room fell utterly silent.

Two silhouettes gradually appeared, among which Rodolphus Lestrange, who was sweeping the ash off his dark suit. He nodded his respect to the hosts, waiting for his wife to apologise for their tardiness.

Bellatrix greeted them instead. “Uncle Orion. Aunt Walburga.”

She brushed her fingers in her unruly hair before walking straight to the old man presiding the assembly that she had yet to acknowledge. Andromeda noted how her dress perfectly accentuated her curves. Bellatrix stooped to the man’s level and kissed his cheek.

“Sorry I’m late.” This time everyone one heard them perfectly well although she was only whispering. “Will you forgive me?” She pretended to plead.

The old man took her hand and kissed it gently. “How could a man hold a grudge when he is confronted to such beauty.” His voice was filled with amusement. “He can only find himself disarmed.”

Bellatrix smirked. “Well I hope I’m not interrupting.” She added after taking notice of the whole room.

“No, no. I was waiting for your interruption.” He brushed off with his hand.

She raised and went to the man’s left where Pollux Black was seated. She kissed the man’s cheek too. “Grandfather.”

Pollux put his hand over hers on his shoulder. “Bellatrix! How pleased I am to see you.”

She also kissed the woman beside him. Pollux’ sister and Bellatrix had always gotten along. Cassiopeia was a pillar among the Blacks. She was a crucial element to the family stability. She outlived every odd, every scandal they had all been faced with. Their family name was often considered to be carried solely on her tired shoulders. A true force of nature.

Andromeda knew no other unmarried woman in her family history. Yet that had never been a topic of gossip either. Remarkable but unique.

Cassiopeia brushed Bellatrix’ cheek with her wrinkled fingers. “Off you go to your seat, young lady. Quick!”

The young woman obliged. Naturally, she rushed to the spot on Narcissa’s left, content on avoiding her parents on the other side. Her long dress floated behind her. Lucretia grabbed her arm when she passed in front of her. “And where is my kiss, honey?”

Bellatrix breathed out in amusement but gave in and brushed her aunt’s cheek with her lips.

When she grabbed the empty chair, Narcissa interrupted her. “Are you a man now?”

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows in amusement. “What? Do I look like I have grown a penis underneath that dress?” She looked down on her own crouch to emphasize her words.

Irma, born Crabbe and her grandmother, let out a high-pitched scream in shock. For their part, Callidora and Charis put a dramatic hand over their mouths.

Arcturus laughed out loud which cut any comment that could have occured after that.

Narcissa frowned with disgust. “No. But you know the rules, don’t you? One man. One woman.” The blonde explained while showing the seating plan with her hands. She pointed to Lucretia. “One woman.” Then to the empty spot. “One man.” And finally to herself. “One woman.”

“So nice seeing you again, Cissy. I didn’t know you were so keen on sitting next to my husband, but alright then.” Narcissa visibly pinched her lips, internally cursing herself. She hadn’t thought that through, had she?

Bellatrix reached the opposite chair in between Alphard and Regulus, allowing Rodolphus to take his seat as well.

That was Arcturus’ cue to officially launch the dinner. He raised to his feet laboriously.

“Thank you all for coming to my birthday party.” He coughed. “There are…many things I wish to discuss with each and every one one of you. But for now…let us dine!” He took his glass of champagne and raised it towards the rest of the guests. They all cheered to his birthday.

As soon as the golden liquid wetted their lips, their plates instantly filled themselves up.

Arcturus sat down and casual conversation started again. The western end of the table was chatting about gardening. Orion was talking politics with Charlus Potter, gauging his opinion on the matter. Cygnus and Walburga were patching things up after their little confrontation earlier. Druella was quite visibly attempting to flirt with Ignatius Prewett, at which Lucretia was laughing with Alphard and Bellatrix. Sirius and Regulus were playing at sorting Hogwarts teachers into secondary houses.

Narcissa shifted uncomfortably in her seat while Rodolphus cleared his throat. “So, how is school going?”

Narcissa straightened her spine. That was a question you would ask a child. “It is going great, thank you. It is my last year though. I focus on what is coming next, rather.”

“Oh yes? What have you planned?” He was trying his best to sound polite and hide how uninterested in the answer he actually was.

Narcissa looked at him like he was daft. “Marriage, of course.”

Rodolphus scratched the back of his head. “Of course. Anyone in view?” Andromeda noticed Bellatrix was regularly side glancing in their direction, much more interested in their conversation than the one she was having with her uncle and aunt.

“A couple, yes.” Bellatrix cut her meat so forcefully both the plate and her knife broke. Everyone momentarily stopped their little chat to stare at her.

She took her wand out of her robes and fixed the mess she’d just made so they all went back to their business.

Rodolphus visibly moved back in his chair thinking she was going to jinx him. He glared at her though. Andromeda knew why that topic was so sensitive because she was aware of the nature of her sisters’ relationship. Hell, she used to be in the middle of it. Sometimes she still was. But Rodolphus was clearly having some doubts of his own.

“Your sister has some serious issues she should deal with.” Rodolphus said out loud despite quite obviously fearing the wrath of his own wife. Maybe he felt safe sat at this table. He shouldn’t be. Bellatrix kicked him from under the table but was too focused on controlling her emotions to be able to properly respond yet.

“Yes, I am aware of that. Everyone keeps reminding me as if somehow I were her mother.” Narcissa deadpanned, glaring at her sister.

“Well, you are the only one she listens to.” He tried to hide that he was massaging his wounded leg. “She certainly does not listen to me.” Another kick. He hissed in pain but smirked, content on annoying her.

“Perhaps she would listen to you if you behaved like a proper man.” Narcissa only paid attention to the vegetables on her plate.

“And what is it that you do to make her listen to you, huh? I am all ears.” He asked with sarcasm.

Bellatrix raked her fingers on the table while Narcissa snapped her head at him, suddenly realising how certain he sounded about what he suspected.

Andromeda chose that particular time to finally join the conversation like it was her life that depended on those secrets to remain buried. “And how is married life, Rodolphus?” Great. She was going to start a whole other fight she really wished she never had to witness.

Rodolphus acknowledged her for the first time since he had walked into the room. Bellatrix looked at her with both relief and anger.

Narcissa acted on instinct. It was better to run from the conversation entirely. “Will you excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.”

She wiped her mouth with her white napkin, got up and fled the room, leaving a worried Bellatrix behind.

Druella, very much nervous at seeing her daughter leave such an important dinner, ordered for Andromeda to go get her back.

“It’s alright. I’ll go.” Bellatrix answered for her sister. She left the room in a breeze before anyone could argue against it.

“Married life to Bellatrix is just a constant bliss. As you can see.” Rodolphus kept looking at the door as if he could see behind it should he concentrate enough. “Aren’t you looking forward to it, young girl?”

Andromeda swallowed uncomfortably. Her insides clenched. She chose to jump back into silence.

Rodolphus only grew more impatient though as he grabbed the armchairs previously under his elbows. “What’s taking them so long?”

Andromeda was quickly on her feet. “It is probably Narcissa’s…time of the month.” She deadpanned, her cheeks redder than the tomatoes she’d just been eating. “If you know what I mean.” Rodolphus looked positively disgusted. Lucretia poked his shoulder, utterly incompetent at hiding her amusement. “I…I”ll see if I can be of any help.”

Andromeda ran on her way up the old staircase. She understood Narcissa well enough to know she would need somewhere she could lock herself up.

When she reached the bathroom, Andromeda noticed the doors were slightly opened though. She approached the room with caution. The lock looked burnt off.

She couldn’t see anything yet but she heard Bellatrix sigh quite heavily. “Narcissa, if you don’t start talking I’m going to beat it out of you!” Andromeda was close enough now to see the basin against which Narcissa was leant. She looked emotionless. Two hands brutally slapped the porcelain on each of the blonde’s sides. At least that startled the girl. “Insult me if that’s what you need to do but open your sodding mouth or else-”

“Or else you will hit me. I got it the first time, you know.” Narcissa interrupted. In the mirror on her back Andromeda could see Bellatrix’ face. She wasn’t angry by any means. Only determined. “I just…”

“What?” The brunette insisted, patience not being one of her virtues.

Narcissa massaged her temples with her own palms. “I am tired, do you hear me?” She was the angry one. “Tired of waiting for you to visit me. Tired of mother’s incessant comments on every literal thing I do.”

“What is she saying to you?” Bellatrix almost groaned.

“Nothing that matters. But she has been hell ever since you left. Andromeda is a failure and she keeps pressuring me into being bloody flawless.” Narcissa grabbed Bellatrix’ arms only to make her take a few steps back. Andromeda almost fell against the wooden floor upon hearing her name. “And you?” She poked her chest with one of her slim fingers. “You dare coming late to one of the only events we are given to see each other. Father doesn’t threaten to beat us when you are here, you know?” She continued bitterly. “He is too scared of you to even try looking at me which, really, gives me a bloody needed break! And yet you dare delaying it!”

“Shit, Cissy!” Bellatrix tried to take her sister’s hand but failed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t choose to be late, okay?”

“I know.” Narcissa said in a much gentler tone this time. “I just wished you cared about me like you used to.”

“That’s bullshit! You know you’re the only one I even care about to start with!” Andromeda saw the brunette’s reflection in the mirror moving around like she didn’t know where the blonde wanted her to be.

Narcissa looked up to her with pleading eyes. “Prove it then.” She sounded so fragile yet so fierce and Andromeda couldn’t help projecting. She too had once begged her older sister to give her some semblance of comfort. She’d never properly answered to her complaints though.

“Narcissa, we’re…we’re not alone in this house.” No they definitely weren’t. Narcissa was a different story though because Bellatrix sought her cheeks as reassurance.

She was only met with the girl’s determination. “Be convincing.” Maybe that’s where they differed. Andromeda would never have the nerves. She was a distraction where Narcissa was a soulmate, innately knowing how to push the other woman’s buttons in the direction she desired. “If you love me and not…him…then I have to feel it, Bella! Because words are so easily forgotten when you are gone.”

The brunette seemed to hesitate. Andromeda should interrupt them. She should tell them to go back downstairs immediately if they didn’t want Rodolphus to show up unexpectedly. She froze instead.

And that’s when Bellatrix made her move. She grabbed the blonde’s shoulders and turned her around effectively pinning her against the farthest wall. They were both only visible through the mirror now.

The brunette collided her mouth on Narcissa’s, fiercely set on showing her exactly how much she loved her. The younger sister struggled to grab her robes, pulling her closer if that was possible. Bellatrix hands went up to Narcissa’s silver hair before they cupped her cheeks.

The blonde’s thigh slided up the other girl’s leg to settle on her hips, trying to get as much friction as she could. Bellatrix grabbed it, accidentally hiking up Narcissa’s skirt. When her cold hand touched her bare skin, Narcissa audibly moaned in the other girl’s mouth. Bellatrix clearly lost all reason then as she carried the girl by the legs, taking her off the wall only to cross the room and sit her down on the sink with a loud thump.

Narcissa didn’t hiss in pain. Instead she moaned and smirked against Bellatrix’ lips.

Andromeda’s head snapped when she heard the click of the dining room opening downstairs. She slammed the bathroom doors open and revealed herself.

Bellatrix was quick at her throat until she realised it was only her. “Andy for fuck’s sake! I thought you were done spying on us!”

Narcissa’s brought the back of her hands to her flushed cheeks before reuniting her feet with the floor.

“Thank me because Rodolphus is on his way up.”

Bellatrix paused before pointing at Narcissa. “You need to stop fucking me up like this. This was completely inconsiderate. He could have seen us.” At least the blonde looked ashamed.

It didn’t mean she was sorry though. “You make it sound as though you hold no self control!”

“I don’t, Narcissa. When it comes to you I quite obviously don’t!” Andromeda mustered all the confidence she possessed for these words not to cut her.

“Well for you information, I don’t either. I cannot help the way I feel.” Bellatrix rolled her eyes but Narcissa smirked.

“Oh don’t you fucking dare be happy about that!” Though now she was more amused than anything. How fucked the three of them were.

“As much as I love being witness to your reconciliation, you’ve got another problem coming up the stairs if you don’t move quickly.” Andromeda reminded them. So she was the reason now? That was new.

Bellatrix grabbed Narcissa’s chin and placed one last kiss on her lips. “Don’t doubt me ever again.” The blonde nodded so she proceeded to leave the room.

She kissed Andromeda’s cheek on her way out. “Thank you. I owe you.” That would be enough for today.

They both heard Bellatrix stumble upon her husband in the staircase. “Where have you been? Everyone’s wondering where the hell you went! You need to be fucking flawless at this dinner table if you want to stand a chance at-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re not my father, Lestrange.” Rodolphus audibly groaned but the couple eventually left. Andromeda and Narcissa followed their steps.

When they bypassed the doors, the huge table had been replaced by smaller ones scattered around the room with champagne and pastries.

Arcturus, who was drinking with Cassiopeia, Pollux, Dorea and both their spouses seemed relieved to see them come back. Druella glared at Narcissa from her spot which she shared with Cygnus, Orion and Walburga. She said nothing though when Bellatrix and Rodolphus joined them.

Narcissa’s gaze shifted between Alphard, Lucretia and her husband’s table and the one where Sirius and Regulus were binge eating. She quickly made a decision and chose to join the former. Andromeda followed her.

Her ability to make herself invisible had always been looked down by her family. Druella said it was the reason she was not desirable to men. Bellatrix kept telling her it made her weak. Sirius refused to let her meet his friends as he thought she wouldn’t fit in because of it.

It was alright. Andromeda, she could see the strength in it. Just like today. She could go from table to table and no one would notice her. She was knowledgeable and that made her powerful.

“So, do you think your father really is going to pass the torch today?” Alphard asked Lucretia.

“I know so. Look at him. He is consulting with his cousins right now.” She casually answered, not even paying them any attention and bringing a piece of cake to her mouth instead.

When Andromeda turned her head though, she did see the eldest members of the family talking quite seriously.

“Is he going to ask Grandfather Pollux?” Narcissa asked with interest.

Lucretia giggled at the absurdity of the suggestion. “He is about the same age as him. You don’t name another oldie to the head of one the most prominent families in the country.”

“The most prominent family.” Narcissa rectified.

Lucretia shifted her head slightly in her direction before smirking. “Anyway, he considers his cousin incompetent.” She giggled again. “Though he did contemplate designating Aunt Cassiopeia.” Narcissa’s eyes lit up. “I say it would be about legitimate.”

“He would consider a woman?” Ignatius contributed to the conversation.

“He was raised by a woman whose nickname was Hesper the viper. He literally views his sister Lycoris as a goddess ever since she died. He holds Cassiopeia to the highest standards. He is consulting her right now. He is only being polite to Pollux.”

Alphard nodded is approval. “Is he considering you?”

“No-”

“He is not thinking about Aunt Walburga, is he?” The blonde girl asked as though the prospect terrified her.

“No, of course not! But…he is very aware of the fact that the last generation of,” she paused while looking in the direction of Sirius and Regulus’ table, “boys are never going to be up to the task.” She stroked the girl’s cheek. “Your father on the contrary…he holds dear to his heart.”

Narcissa looked skeptical. How could anyone hold him dear to their heart? That was out of her comprehension. Out of Andromeda’s too.

Lucretia couldn’t help chuckling this time. “Rather, he highly regards your sister. And he does not think of your father as incompetent which would be, in my opinion, enough for now.”

If Narcissa’s eyes opened in shock, her lips tightened into a thin grin.

Ignatius interrupted her reverie. “This is nonsense, Lucretia. She is a Lestrange now.”

The woman only shrugged.

Andromeda was sick to her stomach. She knew if her father was given such an occasion to shine, he would pressure her further into marrying when he had put a stop to it recently. And that was…not an option. Not now.

She left their table to reach the next one. She realised that was a mistake when she heard Charis and Callidora’s usual gossiping.

“I’m surprised Regulus didn’t turn out to be a squib!” The one said feinting surprise.

“Yes…he is so sensitive that little one. Perhaps it will show in his…preferences.” The other answered.

“Oh no, haven’t you been told?” She shook her head. “Our granddaughter’s cousin, Frank, was sorted into Gryffindor as well, poor boy, and funny enough him and Sirius have become good friends. Augusta told me about our boy’s ways with…other boys.” Charis gasped. “I would burn him off the tapestry if I were his mother!” If only they knew how half of their descendance felt about the same gender.

The other woman nodded. “The Longbottoms are growing softer. So are the Rosiers. And now that vile woman is infecting our blood!”

Andromeda got the chills when they talked about her mother in such a way. Their words were so harsh. They were in many ways more terrifying to her than physical violence could ever be. Perhaps that was a statement to the harsh childhood she went through.

And whenever she felt threatened Andromeda ran to the only person she ever felt safe with. Even though she was more often than not the source of her anxieties.

She couldn’t properly be at the table as her parents were blocking her way but she was contempt on standing within Bellatrix’ reach should she need her.

Though this time the blow precisely came out from her mouth while she was having what she thought was a private conversation with their father.

“Don’t tell me you really contemplate marrying Sirius and Andy!?” The girl’s stomach turned.

Cygnus answered quite vividly. “Of course I am. No one wants her. And no one will want Sirius.”

“They’re cousins, not livestock.” Bellatrix defended at first.

“Orion and Walburga are cousins too.” Andromeda’s insides begged to be released.

“Precisely. They’re miserable and you know it.” At least she had her on her side.

“Aren’t we all? Aren’t you?” That made Bellatrix pause.

She scratched her hand under the tablecloth. “Andy she’s…she’s not strong enough for this.”

“Don’t blame me for your mother’s mistakes.” There was no denying that although Bellatrix was boiling inside, she could tell. “Orion and I agreed moments ago. It’s done.”

Bellatrix only nodded. She wasn’t defending her anymore. She was abandoning her.

Andromeda’s throat constricted and soon she was out of breath. Her glass fell out of her hands, revealing her position to others when it broke loudly against the marbled floor.

The girl ran outside. On her way, Sirius tried to stop her and ask her what was wrong. The look in his eyes almost made her throw up on him right there.

Thankfully she managed to get outside before emptying her stomach. She couldn’t even think. She was paralysed.

She heard heels coming in the distance.

“Andy…” Bellatrix tried unsuccessfully.

She stooped to her level and put a comforting hand on her sister’s back. “It…it’s not as bad as it sounds. You like Sirius, don’t you?” Andromeda suppressed a gag reflex.

She turned to look into Bellatrix’ eyes, tears threatening to wet her cheeks. She said nothing but something broke in the brunette.

Bellatrix suddenly got herself up again. She was looking in the distance when she spoke again, decisive. “Pack your shit up and leave this house.”

Andromeda frowned “Wh-what?”

The brunette crossed her arms on her chest. “Leave. Run away.” Andromeda looked scandalised now. “I’m doing you a favour. You won’t survive this if you stay. So just get the fuck out.” The girl looked down, realising there might be a salvation after all. “But never tell me where you’ll go, Andy, because I already know I won’t like it.”

Andromeda swallowed. “And be bloody discreet because if I ever actually see you leaving Andy, I swear, I will kill you.” That was the simple harsh truth. She would.

Bellatrix didn’t even spare her a look when she stepped away.

Andromeda cried out loud for a good ten minutes before she reminded herself that she had to act like she wasn’t going to break.

So she closed her eyes with the strength that was left in her. She needed the tears to stop.

When she opened them, she was back in the tiny living room of her seaside cottage and although her cheeks were wet she didn’t have to hide how she felt there. It was only a distant nightmare now. She was alone in this house and it both relieved and terrified her.

Who was she to scold her own daughter for wanting a thing she herself had wanted? Shouldn’t she understand better than anyone else on this earth

She was seriously delusional if she thought she would be any different from the rest of her family though. She was just as screwed and just as cruel.

#i had planned this even longer but i had to be done with it lmao #andromeda tonks #cissatrix #blackcest #the noble and most ancient house of black #narcissa malfoy #bellatrix lestrange #rodolphus lestrange #regulus black #sirius black #mine #hp drabble #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #drabbles #fanfics #jkr #jk rowling

[mischiefmanagedrp-blog1]

Narcissa Black

narcissa black. slytherin. fifth year. prefect. pureblood

out of character info

Name/Alias: Samantha Pronouns: she/her Age: 25 Timezone: est Activity:  5-8 Triggers: no kiddie shit or stuff with animals >:( Password: always Character that you’re applying for:  narcissa black Faceclaim:  peyton list Favourite ships for your character: Lucius/narcissa ofc but I’m always down for drama

in character info

Full name: Narcissa Lyra Malfoy Birthday:  August 25th Sexuality, gender, pronouns:  she/her, heterosexual Age: 15

Wizarding World Info

House: Slytherin Year: Fifth Wand: yew, 10.5", white river monster spine Boggart: disappointed family Patronus: lioness Quidditch Team: not on it Classes: transfiguration. charms. potions. history of magic. defence against the dark arts. herbology. study of ancient runes. divination. Clubs: • member of the Celestina Warbeck fan club • 5th year Slytherin prefect

Detailed Info

Appearance: From a young age, it was very clear that Narcissa would grow into a beautiful woman. That hasn’t changed in the slightest so far, and though she is only fifteen, she’s grown wonderfully. She’s average in height, approximately 165cm tall(5'4"), and shaped like a slim hourglass. While many in her family have harsher, sharp, and elegant features, Narcissa differs. Her face and features take on a somewhat softer appearance, perhaps baby fat left from her childhood. A round, soft face and plumper lips make her stand out from the rest of the family. That, and the brilliant blonde hair she sports. A rare occurrence in a family that produces dark haired children. As well, unlike her family, her eyes aren’t a shade of blue or grey, but instead Hazel. No doubt a trait passed from her mother, whose Rosier genes provided the black bloodline with them.

Genetics aside, as pure as they are, Narcissa’s fashion sense is what she considers elegant, tasteful. Her fashion sense doesn’t line up with the seventies fashion that she sees many muggles and wizards alike enjoying, preferring to favour the fashion of her mother, grandmother and aunts, influenced by their upbringing through the fifties and sixties. A-Line dresses and strings of pearls at her throat, of highest quality fabrics purchased on trips to France and Italy, and tailored to her body by some of the finest tailors in the wizarding world. Narcissa takes her appearance incredibly seriously, taking great pride in portraying what every young, pureblood witch wants to be.

She does an excellent job of it. Events and galas amongst the wealthy pureblood are opportunities for her to show off her feminine prowess, and as such, the Black family was able to nab the pureblood’s most sought after patriarch: Lucius Malfoy.

Personality: While Narcissa isn’t the smartest of witches, she’s no less driven than any of her Slytherin counterparts. Her grades are decent, putting the effort in not necessarily to learn and educate. But because no pureblood wizard would want to marry a woman who couldn’t even keep her grades up. Her ambition and drive isn’t for education. Learning and expanding her intelligence isn’t one of her passions. Narcissa is the type to do what’s needed to be done to fulfill the role she has in the world. 

That isn’t to say the young woman isn’t without wit, however. She’s quick on her toes, and highly adaptive. Excellent at deception, as her mother taught her well. Narcissa appears meek, but as muggles say, meekness does not equate to weakness. This allows her to play the part of whatever company she keeps, acting perfectly to their ideas of what they want her to be. A soft, well spoken women? Easy. Graceful and poised, elegant and cold? Not an issue. It’s who she’s been trained to be since a young girl, and even Narcissa often finds herself wondering if these aspects she can portray are part of her. 

She often settles on the idea that they are, to some extent, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to play her part as well as she does. It’s given her the ability to make and keep friends in high places, though her Black name and Malfoy betrothal help as well. 

But as you dive deeper, if you’re lucky enough to experience it, you can find the softer and more genuine part of Narcissa. She’s maternal, highly protective of her loved ones. A dutiful daughter, and a doting mother in the future. She’s romanticized her future, the childhood tales of pureblooded, wizard nobility having her dream of what her’s is to be like. It’s mysterious, magical, adventurous, as far as Narcissa is concerned. This makes her naive, yes, but low and behold the life of a fifteen year old girl, after all.

At the root of it all, that is Narcissa. A fifteen year old girl, highly influenced by her mother and her father that the life they’ve mapped out is indeed the life she wants. Marriage to the Malfoy heir, standing tall and proud at his side and one step behind in glamorous robes and gowns bestowed with jewels gifted by other members of the high houses, thanking her and her husband for their hostage and donations. 

Luxurious and a pampered lifestyle appeal to her, as well as the attraction to power that comes with her ties to her families, both her own and the houses she’ll be tied to by marriage. It offers her security to start the family she’s wanted since childhood, to raise beautiful children and be swept off her feet by her equally attractive husband with lavish gifts and parties. 

A childish view on life, but Narcissa is but a young girl who, at the end of the day, simply wishes to be the elegant and graceful woman and mother she’s been taught to be. 

Of course, as time goes on, she’ll grow and learn that the world becomes far more complex and things are never as simple as exchanges of money and vows. Even more so as she makes a great effort to squash questions and curiosities that may challenge her ideals as a pureblooded witch.  History:  The youngest of three daughters, Narcissa was born on a warm, summers day at high noon. As far as pregnancies went, Narcissa gave Druella black a fairly easy one. Her birth was the same, labour lasting hardly more than a few hours until out popped a head of blonde, whispy hair. The ease of her birth, however, did not come without disappointment.

Having been decided that this was the last of Druella’s pregnancies, lest she risk complications in the future, it was highly hoped that an heir would be produced. Whilst Cygnus has brother, both he and Druella had hoped to produce and heir to the Black family as well. This was not without envy, as Walburga and Orion produced not only an heir but a spare as well. 

Though Narcissa was a girl, she was not without her own charm. As her sisters Bellatrix and Andromeda aged, their personalities developed. Neither of the older two Black daughters carried the same soft and obedient personality that Narcissa quickly developed, and as such, became a favourite of Druella. With Narcissa’s unique blonde hair and round, gentle features, she showed promise to her mother to be molded into something of her own. 

Bellatrix was a force to be reckoned with, and Andromeda was not without her own rebellion. But to Druella(and Cygnus, in his own way), Narcissa was the epitome of a pureblood witch. As a girl, Narcissa excelled in her finishing classes, and quickly picked up French, as well as a myriad of other, smaller talents. Around her, she charmed the patriarchs of many of the sacred twenty eight, and Cygnus and Druella were offered generous bridetokens for her hand. As of the present, nothing has been established, but rumour has it Abraxas Malfoy will join their two noble houses with his son, Lucius. 

It was decided by Cygnus to leave options open, as Narcissa began to start school. Though she had begged and pleaded to go to Bauxbatons, both her parents were insistent otherwise. Many children of their allied houses were to be attending school at Hogwarts, and it was agreed that the best way for Narcissa to network was to be with peers of other respected families, despite the less than worthy students from mixed blood and muggle families. As well, it allowed time for Narcissa to grow into herself, giving way to more opportunity to attract the attention of one of the sacred twenty eight’s families. 

At school, though it wasn’t Bauxbatons, proved beneficial for Narcissa. With both her sisters and children she had grown up with, she did excellent in securing friendships with other purebloods and extended family, such as her cousin Regulus. She got into no trouble, and continued to showcase the elegance and grace of what a true pureblood witch should be. Recently she was given the status of a prefect, much to the delight of both her parents. 

However, while the chance to socialize with other pureblooded children had its benefits, Hogwarts came with other temptations. With muggleborns and mixed blooded witches and wizards, she had been exposed to such things as muggle fashion, media, as well as more trivial aspects of their world. She’d become a fast fan of singer Celestina Warbeck, which was highly disapproved of by her mother and was now kept a secret. Also, small belongings left behind in libraries and after classes attracted her like a curious moth to a burning flame. 

Things such as muggle fashion magazines, which got her attention immediately. The high gloss pages of vibrant colours were unlike any catalog she’d seen before. She disapproved of thieving, but justified her nicking them into her bag as simply... tidying up. She goes to great lengths to hide her little stolen possessions from the muggle world, keeping them in a nearly bottomless satchel in her truck. 

Sample paragraph:  “Mother,” Narcissa asked, watching her mother move about the room through the mirror she sat in front of. At her back, a dresser was pulling her hair by sections, creating luscious curls with her wand and small, barely there mutterings. “Yes, my darling?” Druella responded back, and Narcissa kept her eyes on her through the reflection as she pulled gown after gown off the enchanted rack and laid them out on the canopied bed for inspection. “Why must I meet with the Travers?” She had met countless pureblooded families over her years. Most every one had gone smoothly, and Narcissa enjoyed the small parties and excuse for new clothing and jewelry. However, the Travers family was one that had been at odds with the Black’s for some time now. “We’ve been civil with them, yes, but father abhors them, and quite frankly, mother...” Narcissa paused, looking for the polite words to put out. 

“Their son... he’s...” She wasn’t raised to insult other purebloods, regardless of how all the families got along with one another. You kept your words to yourself, and let subtle actions do all the talking for you, if you had nothing to say that could be for gain. Druella stopped what she was doing to shoe the dresser away from her daughter, placing a gentle hand on Narcissa’s shoulder while the other went to pull back stray locks as they met eyes in the mirror. 

“Your father is hoping you are the key to smoothing over this particular crisis, my darling girl.” Her smile was tight, and Narcissa could see in her eyes that she didn’t agree with this meeting either. As if she could sense that she was throwing her favoured daughter into a pit of lions. With a sigh, she leaned close to nearly rest her chin on Narcissa’s shoulder. “There is bad blood between our two houses, Narcissa. Times are changing, and we must ally ourselves with those who are strong. There is strength in blood and numbers.” Narcissa nodded, picking up the golden tube of lipstick that she applied. She knew they couldn’t wait for Abraxas Malfoy to decide if she was a worthy bride to his prized son, Lucius, and that all options needed to be left open.

But the possibility of marrying Samuel Travers? It sent an uncomfortable shiver up her spine. And this feud started by grandfathers? How were they expecting Narcissa to end it. Pureblooded families did not forget the wrongdoings of ancestors, and marriages were never as simple. “And, if,” Narcissa countered, voice soft and without argument behind it. “In theory, there is rupture again between our two families, am I to be a Travers, or a Black?” 

Druella stood, both hands now on her daughters shoulders while she spoke. “You are to be both. That is what the joining of our houses mean, Narcissa. We grow stronger, not divide.” The young girl nodded, putting the tube down on her vanity table and moved on to dusting her cheeks with a silk like powder that smoothed her skin and covered and unfortunate blemish on her chin. 

“Now, come, my precious girl,” Druella gestured for Narcissa to stand and come to the full length floor mirror. She did so, and in her slip and half done hair, she looked at her reflection. Beautiful, she could see herself. But, should the future go to one in which Samuel Travers ended up her husband, she wondered just how long she’d stay that way. He was known to be violent in his school years. But Narcissa hid the worry of such a future behind a mask, and allowed her mother to hold a dress to her body. 

“Yes, I think this’ll do.” It was a creme, lace with a high collar and sleeves. “They’re offering a large bridetoken, so I suggest you use your charms this evening, darling.” Narcissa nodded again, while Druella passed the dress to her dresser, who curtsied in gratitude at being handed back her position. Narcissa ducked, and the gown sliding down her body. Any bit of looseness was tailed by her dresser’s wand. “Beautiful,” Druella approved. “They’d be foolish not to adore you.”

Narcissa wondered if, should this meeting one day result in a marriage, they were the foolish ones.  

Other Information

Headcanons:   • Narcissa is a big fan of performer Celestina Warbeck, despite her mothers disapproval. She hides posters and merchandise in her room and in her trunk. She also tries to keep this information from her peers, lest they think lesser of her for liking such a trivial thing. • Dreams of moving to France. Spends her summer holidays at the Black family apartment in Paris. Rarely wants to come home, and has begged and pleaded to go to Bauxbaton as opposed to Hogwarts. • Sometimes sneaks peaks at muggle fashion magazines left behind by other students, and likes to feel the glossy paper and look at the beautiful colours and interesting muggle fashion. • twitches her nose when thinking • fluent in French, like many members of the Black family • has a small collection of muggle things that appeal to her, such as fashion magazines and little fashion accessories. 

Anything of importance: Nope

#narcissa black #accepted #submission

[bellatrixmalfoy]

Round One

The instructions had been clear:

Meet at the very end of Knockturn Alley at midnight exactly.

Gather around the discarded goblet outside of the Borgin and Burkes’ front door. 

Do not bring anything but your wands. 

Prepare to fight. 

She and Lucius had apparated nearly an hour early, pretending to be visiting Borgin and Burkes’ due to Lucius’ Apothecary duties, then fetching a house elf to take their purchases back to Malfoy Manor once their alibi was sealed. They were both nervous, there was no denying that. Clutching tightly to each other as they strolled past the neighboring shops they had done already so many times before. 

Once more wizards started to show, they no longer clung to each other, but remained close. Their wands were drawn under their robes, not trusting anyone they didn’t intimately know. They were after all still seventeen, and most of these people were much older. And though they all knew why they were here, not even Knockturn Alley had seen something quite like ‘Voldemort’ before. So it was smart to be careful.

Everyone neared the goblet as midnight neared. it was a surprising amount of wizards... though to her smug surprise a large portion of them let go seconds before they were transported through to the front yard of what looked like an abandoned muggle home. Through the window, Bella saw the wallpaper inside, it showed the outlines of hastily removed decor. and the furniture was all covered in sheets. 

None of them moved further than a few feet from their Portkey, not even daring to cast Lumos to better see their surroundings. Lucius took the moment to hold her hand. squeezing it tightly before they fell into a line in front of the front door. She could feel herself shivering as the seconds passed despite the warm summer air.

When the large front door to the muggle home finally opened to reveal Voldermort, Bellatrix’s jaw dropped ever so slightly. The rumors seemed to be true about what he had done to himself... His dark hair was slicked back, adding onto the smoothed features on his face--much smoother than she remembered from just a year ago. There was no dispute that he was a Gaunt--a Slytherin. His robes were tailored well, making him appear even taller than he was, nearly the tallest among the small posse that followed close behind. 

As he went down the line of prospects, greeting them in turn, she realized she was the only woman there to meet him. The two women that had been waiting pulled away, and Alecto had already joined his ranks a few weeks ago, almost immediately after their Seventh Year at Hogwarts ended. Bellatrix however wanted to be better prepared before joining his ranks, it wasn’t worth it for her to just be a foot-soldier. If she was going to be a part of this, she was going to lead.

Bella had realized she was standing straighter than she had been when their eyes met. Perhaps it was his powerful presence, or the fact that she was a bit starstruck, but she could’ve sworn his eyes flashed red as he approached her.

“Ms.Black, the eldest.” He spoke his greeting like he had with the others, his voice more of a hiss than before, she noticed now that he was in front of her. “It is still Ms.Black, no?”

“Yes” she nodded, not missing a beat as she let him take her hand and kiss it. Bella’s gaze met Alecto’s for a split second, and the look on the blonde’s face told her that he hadn’t done this with they’d met. Much less what was to come next.

“We have met before.” he stated, still holding her hand, and she fought back the urge to laugh nervously.

“Yes. I remember.” she stated, mirroring his tone. She did indeed remember that Pureblood party last year, how different he had looked, she remembered him speaking to his mother and her looking terrified and very intrigued. She remembered that Narcissa went on about how handsome he was, how Lucius refused to listen to Bella agree with her. At the time she had not known why he had reacted this way... 

“Welcome.” he returned her earlier nod as he dropped her hand, and continued onto the next person. A small hush came over this small crowd in the time between her and the next person. He was a notoriously cold and cruel leader, killing any who disappointed him. It was a rarity to have him be civil. To have him welcome someone into his ranks was unheard of. 

Her eyes dared to dart to her Fiance, who thankfully had already been given a curt greeting. Lucius was concentrating very hard--and Bellatrix thanked Merlin that she made sure he had a proper handle on Occlumency before coming here.

As she and Lucius had expected (and like Alecto hinted), this was only the first of many rounds. He was to call to them at his choosing and test their loyalty to their cause. After he was sure, only then will they take the Dark Mark. Surprisingly, there were no casualties. Not yet anyway. 

This didn’t mean, of course, that they hadn’t returned home with their fair share of scrapes. She had clung tightly to her Lucius as they walked away after they were dismissed and apparated back to Malfoy Manor. 

“I know you’ve been holding it in.” Bella offered, “So have I--”

“What the fuck was that?” Lucius started pacing, “it is still Black no? Fucking--I dont want you near--”

“Lucius, hey--” She stopped short when he grabbed her, his grip strong but not painful.

“You’re mine.” he murmured, their eyes locking for the first time in hours, and they both felt a small rush of calm wash over them.

“Just yours Daddy...” she whispered, her voice sweet and innocent as she stepped closer to him, their foreheads touching. 

“You’re lucky we got our asses kicked today and I’m too tired to do all I want to to you right now.” he growled, “To show you who you belong to....”

Bella giggled, “Well I don’t know about you, but I’m having a bath in a minute.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do anything to you, I said not everything I want.” 

“Daddy... I’d love for you to remind me of exactly who I belong to...”

#you can reply to this is if you want #like eventually #after we finish the 38740 other paras weve put on hold lol

[kerasdnd]

Visions and the Whomping Willow

Table of Contents

I was woken up by a pillow being thrown at my face. “Get up. It’s 7:30 am and I don’t think the boys are awake yet,” Pansy said hitting me with the pillow again. I groaned and sat up so she would stop. “So getting them up is my problem how?” I ask, stretching. Pansy just scoffed and went to the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on and I knew I had been stuck with the duty of waking up the boys. I quickly got up, changed into my uniform, and went to the boys’ door. I knocked three times before opening it. I was shocked to what I walked into. Crabbe and Goyle were both awake and unsuccessfully trying to wake Draco. Theo’s head was buried under his pillow trying to go back to sleep. Blaise was walking into the bathroom with his towel. I was surprised that any of them were up right now. I quickly moved to Draco’s bed. Placing my finger on my lips, warning the two to not warn Draco that I was there. I stood over Draco’s bed, cleared my throat, and mimicked Narcissa’s voice perfectly, “Draco Lucius Malfoy, get out of bed now. It’s already 745 am. I did not raise a lazy son. Now you only have 15 minutes to get ready for breakfast. Don’t make me get your father.” Draco bolted out of bed and started getting dressed, apologizing profusely. I looked over and saw that Theo was also quickly getting dressed. I shared a look with Crabbe and Goyle. The three of were trying to not laugh but failed when Blaise busted out of the bathroom, still soaked from his shower, trying to dry off and get dressed all at the same time. The three frightened boys looked at us while they got dressed then face-palmed. “Bloody Merlin Lyra. Don’t scare us like that,” Blaise growled, now actually taking the time to dry off. I rolled my eyes and headed for the door. “I wasn’t kidding. We’re going up to Breakfast at 8 am. Chop Chop,” I called as I closed their door. Walking back to my room, Pansy was also getting dressed. I walked over to my bed and dumped my bag out.

Eight notebooks, lots of pens and pencils, my sketchbook, sharpies, a Bluetooth speaker, and my wand fell onto the bed. I then unlocked my truck. I pulled out seven binders, all my 1st-year textbooks, potion equipment, parchment, quills, and ink. “When does the spell wear off?” Pansy asked. I turned to her and noticed her hair was a wet mass of curls. “Around 10:15 am,” I stated as I waved my hand at her. Pansy’s hair quickly dried and straightened to frame her face. She smiled slightly as she grabbed her bag. “Shall I pack some makeup remover and a hairbrush?” she asked. I nodded, organizing everything on my bed into my bag. I slide my wand into one of the outer pockets of my robes. My iPod into the inner pocket. My earbuds were hung around my neck. I triple checked everything was there and then left the dorm with Pansy. The boys were in the Common Room looking picture perfect. “Ready?” Draco asked. “Let’s go,” Pansy stated strolling out of the door. We all followed and easily fell into our pattern of walking. Everyone chattered around me with ease. I smiled and joined in when I was supposed to. Just outside the Great Hall, a dizzy spell overcame me and I grabbed onto Theo’s arm. “Lyra are you okay?” Theo asked me as the others surrounded me so the rest of the student body couldn’t see me. Before I could answer my vision went black.

I opened my eyes to find us walking towards the Great Hall once more. However, I noticed that Draco’s and Pansy’s hairs were both much longer. Draco was also taller and walking with fake confidence. I turned to look at Theo and Blaise. They, too, were taller but their hairs were the same length. I knew Crabbe and Goyle would be the same as the others. Everyone was older and were scared out of their minds but hiding it well, including myself. Suddenly Draco flinched, grabbing his left arm discreetly. I went to reach out to grab him when I felt my left arm burn. Draco turned around to face me. Our eyes were wide with fear and Draco grabbed my hand. We turned on the spot and everything went black.

I gasp as I came to. I hastily pulled up my left sleeve and sighed in relief when I saw it was bare. I looked up to see my friends’ concerned faces. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything is going to be fine,” I muttered to them as Theo helped me stay steady on my feet. “How long?” I asked softly. “Little less than a minute,” Blaise answered. I nodded and we continued into the Great Hall. None of the other students had noticed my fainting spell, which I was grateful for. We sat down at the Slytherin table and started eating breakfast. Serveurs came and gave us our schedules. “Sweet we get three day weekends,” Blaise exclaimed. “But we have to deal with Gryffindors first thing Monday mornings,” Draco growled. When Serveurs handed me my schedule, there were a few more sheets of parchment. I looked over my schedule first and then compared it to Pansy’s. “Bloody hell. I don’t have a single day off,” I grumbled and rubbed my face. I ran through the rest of the papers. The first two parchments were a list of materials that I was going to need for the other two years I’d be learning. The third was a permanently signed restricted section pass with Dumbledore’s signature on it. The final paper was a simple reminder that I only had a week to gather the necessary materials. “Why do you have all these papers?” Crabbe asked, causing me to jump. I tucked the papers into the same pocket as my iPod as I answered, “Because I fought and won against the Sorting Hat, I have a few more classes that I have to take. The papers were simply I need to gather what I need.” Everyone accepted the answer without a doubt. A pang of guilt hit my gut at lying to them, but them knowing would probably cause them more harm than good. We finished our breakfast and strolled back down to the dungeon for Potions.

I was relieved that I had Mondays with my friends. It made waiting for Severus to open the class more bearable. Once we were allowed to enter, I slipped into the first seat I could. Everyone filed up to the seats up front. To my surprise we had an odd number of students, leaving the seat next to me empty. I relaxed at this. As we waited for Professor’s grand entrance, I pulled out a forest green notebook, a matching binder, a black notebook, a black sharpie, and a pen. I didn’t dare to put an earbud in while we waited. Instead, I labeled the binder as ‘Potions’ and the green notebook as ‘1st year’ with the sharpie. I placed the notebook into the binder with a decisive snap. However, no one looked at me since at that moment Serveurs slammed open the door to his office. I opened the green notebook ready to take notes until he started to give a lecture. Suddenly he called out Potter. During each of the Professor’s questions, Granger had her hand up while Potter looked at Serveurs stupidly. Draco looked back at me in surprise as we had been forced to study Victorian language just under a year ago. I shook my head at his question of commenting. Draco rolled his eyes and face forward once again. Serveurs turned to the whole class just then and had us start taking notes as he lectured on the basics of Potion Brewing. Have way through the class, Serveurs assigned an essay that would be due at the end of class. Sighing I pulled out some parchment and started writing.

When he called for the papers, I was the last one to turn mine in, on purpose. As the Professor skimmed over my work, I saw his eyes stop at the bottom. Though I told Draco not to question my godfather, I was different. A line after my conclusion I wrote, ‘So you’re sorry for Harry’s loss of his Lily? Who knew you were so caring.’ He looked up at me in disdain then shuffled through some papers on his desk. He promptly handed me two more sheets of parchment and sent me on my way. We had a few minutes before the bell rang, so I place the new parchments in the binder and placed the binder in my bag along with the parchment. I then took out the List from my inner robe pocket. I opened the black notebook and started writing letters to the appropriate stores in Diagon Alley. Just as I finished the last letter, the bell rang. I quickly dropped the closed notebook into my bag as I was surrounded by the group. As we walked up to the main hall, Goyle asked, “Where to next?” Blaise was the one who answered surprisingly, “History of Magic. It’s supposedly taught by a ghost.” That explained why he knew. Pansy complained about needing to use the restroom so the boys split off from Pansy and I. Pansy then dragged me to the closest bathroom and handed me the makeup remover wipes before I could ask what she was doing. Sighing in relief, I took them from her and went to look at myself in the mirror. Taking a wipe out of the package, I quickly removed the offending dust from my eyelids. Once all the makeup was removed I handed the package back to Pansy, who simply replaced it with a brush. I carefully took out the Comb and placed it in one of the outer pockets on my bag. As I took out bobby pin after bobby pin, Pansy asked, “Do you have to return it to Narcissa?” I chuckled, “No. She said that my mother would’ve wanted me to have it on my 11th birthday. So it was a gift.” I finally got the last bobby pin out and my hair fell around my shoulders in soft curls. “Are you sure you want to brush those out?” Pansy inquired. In response, I started running the brush through my hair in long, confident strokes. I then loosely French braided it. “Better?” I asked as I turned to her. “There’s the Lyra we all know and love. Now come on or we’re going to be late,” She said and pulled me out the bathroom all the way to class. We made it with minutes to spare.

As we took our seats, we found that Blaise was indeed correct about this class being taught by a ghost. I also found myself with a table to myself again. “Huh, weird,” I muttered as I pulled out a magenta notebook with a matching binder. I quickly matched the snap with the bell and got ready to take notes. Surprisingly the Professor went straight into the lesson without any reservations. The hour sped by as he taught. I noticed many of my classmates were falling asleep, however. I shrugged it off. When the bell rang, the Professor asked me to stay back for a moment. “Go. I’ll you guys at lunch,” I whispered to the group before I walked up to the Professor’s desk. “I was told you were to be taught 2nd and 3rd-year criteria. Is that correct?” he asked. “Yes sir,” I responded. “Very well. I expect you to get the notes from your housemates in the other years. As for your homework in the other classes, I expect it on my desk the day and period it is due. I highly suggest you make fast friends, Miss Lestrange,” he stated as he held out a parchment. “Yes sir,” I replied as I took it. He dismissed me and I quickly left. I bolted outside and took a breath of fresh air. I looked around the grounds in front of me and spotted a tree that looked strangely like a weeping willow in the middle of the front grounds swaying in a nonexistent wind. I slowly walked over to it. As soon as I got into range, the tree whipped out its branches at me. I stumbled back, yelling, “I don’t want to hurt you! I just want to sit under your branches so that I won’t be questioned while I finish getting my school supplies together.”

The branches stopped swinging just as quickly as they had begun. I looked up and saw that the tree had opened its vines for me to enter. I slowly walked forward again and it didn’t attack again. I walked into the opening and the branches closed behind me. I reached out my hand to touch the truck, but a small branch lightly slapped my hand away. I smiled softly, “Baby steps. Got it. Either way, thank you for allowing me to sit within your branches. I need to summon my elf, Dobby. I hope that’s okay.” I waited for a few minutes to see if I got attacked again. When I didn’t, I called out, “Dobby please come here.” With a loud pop, the pale house elf appeared before me. “Y-yes Mistress Lyra?” Dobby asked in a shaking voice. I knelt done and fished out the letters and my coin purse. “Dobby I need you to go to these shops and pay for the materials they give you from these letters right now okay?” I asked handing him the bundle. “Dobby understands, Mistress. Dobby will be right back,” he said before leaving with another loud pop. I settled onto the ground about a foot from the trunk of the tree and started pulling out my binders, notebooks, and a black sharpie. I labeled each binder with a different subject. The magenta got ‘History of Magic’. A cherry red was labeled ‘Transfiguration’ while a sky blue read ‘Charms’. I wrote ‘Astronomy’ on a midnight blue binder. The canary yellow stated ‘D.A.D.A.”. Just as I got done writing ‘Herbology’ onto a leaf green binder, Dobby appeared with a loud pop. I looked up to see him holding three parcels and quickly took them off his hands. “Thank you, Dobby. Do you think Lucius can spare you a little longer?” I asked as I placed the parcels on the ground. “Dobby thinks he can help Mistress a little longer,” he said with some confidence. I smiled and handed him one more letter, “Take this to my Aunt Andromeda. Bring back what she gives you. You don’t have to tell Lucius where you went. If he asks, say you were helping me with getting the books for my extra classes, got it?” Dobby nodded and popped away. I went back to organizing. I labeled the notebooks with ‘1st year’ and placed them in their color corresponding binders. I opened the parcels and placed them in my bag as I made sure everything was there.

I then placed my earbuds in, started Sit Still Look Pretty by Daya, and started to write the first essay I was assigned by Serveurs for 1st years. It was about 40 minutes later that Dobby popped into existence. Before I could say anything, Dobby placed the new parcel on my bag and said, “Dobby must get back. He needed by Mistress Narcissa.” Then he popped away again. I smiled and shook my head, “He’s always getting pushed to hard. Sucks that I have to push him harder sometimes.” I was answered by silence so I opened the parcel from my aunt. On top of the black binder and 16 notebooks, was a letter. I opened it and read a strongly worded letter about using her sister’s house elf to contact her, not overworking myself here at school, and that she better have a letter every two weeks telling her how I am. I chuckled and went to work at finish organizing my school life. When the bell for lunch rang, I had a binder for each core subject I had and three notebooks in each binder, one for each year. I also had all six essays that had been assigned to be done. I groaned and stood up. “Thank you once again for allowing me to study under your branches. I’ll see you in a few hours if you’d allow me to sit under you once more,” I said looking at the Willow. I heard the branches move and I took my cue to leave. As I walked up the stairs to the Entrance Hall, I was blocked by two tall and lanky gingers. I crossed my arms and stopped about five feet away. “Say, George, did you see that? Little Miss Slytherin just walked out from under the Whomping Willow without so much as a scratch,” the one on the right stated. “Why yes, I did Fred. It couldn’t be that this girl knew some sort of magic that we don’t,” the one on the left, George, replied. I rolled my eyes, saying, “If you must know, Weasleys. All I did was ask permission.” I then moved passed them and went to eat lunch.

Draco waved me over to where the group was sitting. I sat down next to Goyle, who instantly start placing food on my plate. “So what was it this morning?” Theo asked. Everyone froze and glared at him. I got the feeling that they had all agreed not to bring it up and he just broke that agreement. I sat up straight and looked at Draco. “Do you want to know or would you rather me keep silent?” I asked him. Draco waved his hand for me to continue. I rubbed my face and said, “Draco and I were a few years older, maybe in third or fourth year. We were at the Manor. Lucius had pinned me to the wall with a full body bind. He ripped my the back of my shirt open and forced Draco to brand the symbol of a Dragon on my right shoulder.” I had kept my face covered to hide both the shame and guilt from the other Slytherins. I wasn’t lying about the vision. I had it about a month ago when I got pushed into a wall by Lucius. It just wasn’t the vision from this morning. If I told them that one, they would lose hope in my plan. I felt arms wrap around me and different hands pull my hands away. “We won’t let that happen, do you understand us?” Theo growled in my ear as the other five stared me down. I nodded and we went back to eating lunch, though slightly less happier. The bell rang and we continued with our day. The remaining classes were similar to the morning classes. I was placed alone with no partner. We took notes on lectures. At the end of each class, I was given the same speech about notes and homework, before being handed the extra homework that was assigned to me. By the time the bell rang signaling the end of the main school day, I was done with everything. “Guys I’m going back outside. I’ll see you at dinner,” I muttered before I stalked off to the Whomping Willow. No one tried to stop me. I knew it was they thought I need some space and they were right. All they did after lunch was pity me.

I stopped a few paces away from the branched ranges and called out, “May I have the pleasure of sitting with you again?” The Willow opened her branches and beckoned me under. I did so with a smile. Instead of doing homework like I should’ve been doing, I laid back on the ground using my arm as a pillow. Looking up at the sky through the branches, I couldn’t help but talk. I talked about everything. From the vision about be gaining the Dark Mark by 6th year to the book I finished the day before I came to Hogwarts. I didn’t feel the Willow judge me in any way as I talked. I slowly ran out of things to say and just laid there watching her branches move in the wind. After a little bit, I waved my hand and checked the time. Seeing it was 5:15 and the sun was starting to set I got up. “Thank you for listening and letting me sit with you again,” I said before leaving out the walkway she made with her branches. I strolled into the Great Hall and over to my friends without any interruptions this time. Draco placed a plate in front of me and I started eating without a word. I had nine different essays that were all due on different days. Some I didn’t even know the due dates for. I went onto autopilot as everyone left the table and headed down to the Common Room. We all sat in front of one of the many fireplaces and started doing our homework. About 7 pm, I groaned and stood up. “Where are you going? You have more homework than the five of us put together,” Draco said flipping through his History of Magic textbook. “I have to go talk to a second and third year, so I can get notes and due dates for classes I don’t have,” I answered walking away with my bag. I had a class with the 3rd years in a few minutes so I went over to a group of 2nd years.

As I walked up to the table, one of the students held out a stack of parchments. I went to say something but the same person cut me off, “Lyra Lestrange, yes we know. Professor Snape caught us before breakfast and explained what was going to be needed. Here’s your copy of today’s notes and the second year schedule. Where would you prefer we hand the notes to you from now on?” I stood in shock before shaking my head. “The Entrance Hall during break before dinner, please,” I answered steadily as I took the stack of papers. The group in front of me nodded. Confused at what just happened, I turned around and went back to my group. I stood next to the couch that Theo and Blaise were sitting on as I placed the notes in my back. “I guess I didn’t need to talk to them. Apparently Serveurs already did,” I commented. “He is a Professor and Head of the House Lyra. And he’s your godfather. No way is he just going to leave you hanging, in school at least,” Blaise replied. Theo shifted through his notes, stating, “You either need to run or find a way to get a time turner if you’re going to make it to class in time.” I ruffled his hair and bolted out the Common Room door. I raced up to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Thankfully I made it in time. As I entered the roof, another stack of papers were held out to me. I didn’t even ask. I took them, proclaiming, “The Entrance Hall during the break before Dinner.” Out of the Corner of my eye I saw a nod. I quickly sat up my station and placed my left earbud in. From what I had gathered from class earlier today, the class is dead quiet after getting the instructions. Battle Cry by Imagine Dragons drifted through my head as the Professor told us what we were doing. I quickly got the hang of what to do and placed the right earbud in. As I got into the trace of looking at the stars and plotting them, my eyes started playing tricks on me. One second the sky was clear and full of stars. I’d blink then it would be clouded and green. I pulled away from the telescope and rubbed my eyes. Maybe I should’ve taken a nap instead of talking earlier. I thought. I went back to work and got lost again. It kept happening every few minute however. Ten minutes before the class was over, the green wouldn’t go away.

Looking down I noticed that I had a shadow below me. I looked up to see if it was the moon. Instead, I saw the huge Dark Mark hovering over the tower. My forearm burned once again. Grasping my arm, I turned around to see Draco crying, my Mother laughing, and Serveurs casting the Killing Curse at Dumbledore. As it hit, Dumbledore fell over the side of the tower and fell to his death. I covered my mouth hastily as I came out of my vision. No one noticed I had been still for a few minutes. The Professor came over and placed her assignments for me on top of my chart, also not noticing that something was wrong. I packed up my station and walked over to the Common Room on autopilot. Crabbe looked up at me as I approached him, Goyle and Blaise. “The other’s finished and went to bed. We figured we’d stay up for you to get back,” he said moving his things so I could have my spot back. I nodded, sitting down and pulled out all of the notes I was given. Blaise looked up from his book at my silence, then asked, “That bad of a vision?” I again nodded automatically copying the notes into the proper notebooks. I jumped when a Chocolate Frog landed in front of me. I looked up and saw Blaise stand. “You don’t have to talk about it to any of us, but you will eat the chocolate. You having two visions in a day isn’t good,” he stated as he walked towards the dorms.

I looked over to Crabbe and Goyle in turn. “You still have homework. And the Common Room is empty besides us. Pull out your speaker, turn on your music, and get it done. We’re not going anywhere for awhile,” Goyle ordered as he finally opened the page on his book. I smiled when I saw Crabbe do the same. Everyone thinks they’re just here to follow Draco’s orders. No, they’re just as smart and cunning as the rest of us. They are just as vulnerable to the pressures of being an Heir as well. I thought as I turned on the speaker and played This is War by 30 Seconds to Mars. I heard both of them chuckle at my choice. Three of us dove into our work after that, not coming up until after 3 am. When we realized the time, we packed up our things and went to bed. Once in my room, I placed my bag next to my truck, grabbed my toiletries, and went to shower. I got out of the bathroom clean and changed about 30 minutes late. I then promptly passed out on my bed.

#The Founders A New Generation #The New Headmaster #theodore nott #harry potter #oc #draco malfoy #slytherin #pansy #blaise zabini #crabbe and goyle #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

[adamantiiine-blog]

From the very beginning, Draco's life had been planned out for him. He came into the world in a difficult time, at the height of a war which would soon be over, and was raised in an environment where his opinions and ideas were handed to him without any conflicting ideas to evaluate them against. His 'friends' were hand-picked by his parents, who made sure they were all the right sort.

Draco showed sufficient magical ability in his childhood. Though nothing remarkable, there was never a question that he was, indeed, magical. His family relationships were complicated-- his mother doted on him, and his father was often authoritarian and aloof. It was Lucius who tried hardest to influence him, and Draco therefore grew to emulate him wherever possible. Though he adored both of his parents, he often took his mother's love for granted and strove for his father's affections, which, though present, were less readily given.

His childhood was incredibly sheltered, and he was not exposed to any views outside those of his parents' until he was eleven years old-- and by then, it was easy to make a bad impression on most people he met by parroting his parents' bigotry. When Harry Potter rejected his offer of friendship-- the first time such an offer had been rejected-- Draco became incredibly bitter toward him. He felt as though Harry was trying to be better than him. Much of the next five years would then be devoted to attempting to surpass Harry Potter-- or attempting to drag him down.

While Draco's magical ability had been average during childhood, it flourished at school. He quickly became one of the top students-- consistently scoring just under Hermione Granger in most subjects except for Potions, in which he was easily top of the class. He picked up a particular talent for Transfiguration as well. In Second Year, with the Seeker position open on the Slytherin Quidditch Team, Draco tried out and landed it, excelling beyond students who were older than him. He would perform quite well as Seeker, though, ironically, his animosity toward Harry Potter would distract him during matches with Gryffindor. Outside of that, however, he proved to be a fairly talented player.

Regardless of his academic and athletic ability, however, he never quite reached high enough to satisfy his family. Falling below a Muggleborn student in his overall marks was a cause for contempt, as was consistently losing his Quidditch matches against Gryffindor. With each year, the stress upon him increased ever so slightly, and he became slightly less insufferable, slightly more withdrawn.

Fifth year, his academic achievements landed him a prefect's badge-- though at that point, his family had far more important things on their mind, and the celebration was minimal. Draco himself wasn't completely excited about Voldemort's return, and tried simply to not think about it much, using his prefect's duties (and power) as a distraction. He wasn't much of a fan of Dolores Umbridge, and only joined the Inquisitorial Squad as a means to oppose Harry Potter more directly.

Everything changed at the end of Fifth Year. His father was in Azkaban for Death Eater activities and Voldemort had already taken up residence in his family's manor as home base. Lucius' imprisonment came as a severe shock-- and was followed by a series of other such unfortunate events.

Upon returning home, Draco was almost immediately initiated into the Death Eaters and given the Dark Mark, without his or his mother's consent. He started being trained in the Dark Arts by his aunt Bellatrix, newly escaped from Azkaban. The training is grueling-- he was taught not only to cast the Imperius and Cruciatus curses, but also how to endure them, among many others. Training in Occlumency began during this time as well. Not too long after his initiation and the start of his training, however, he was sent on his first mission-- alone, at night, into a forest. His only orders: to await further instruction, and to keep his wand stowed. The mission was a ruse. Instead, Draco found himself viciously attacked by a transformed Fenrir Greyback.

Both Narcissa and he hoped briefly that it was simply a horrible accident, but those hopes were dashed swiftly when it was confirmed that Greyback had attacked on Voldemort's orders. This had been both a warning to the Malfoys, and a punishment for Lucius' failures. Draco's next mission was then revealed once he had recovered-- to kill Dumbledore.

It was clear by now that Draco was meant to die. He was being used as an example, as a punishment for his family. While at first he tried to hide that knowledge as much as he tried to hide his condition, the strain began to show quickly. For the first time in his schooling, his marks fell below average. He started missing classes frequently. He even stopped playing Quidditch or attending to his prefect's duties. Draco pushed away those that had supported him, becoming very isolated and devoted only to his mission. His bullying tendencies utterly disappeared-- instead, he was withdrawn, dark, and desperate. His rivalry with Harry Potter turned to sheer loathing, then faded into the background. The only person he consistently interacted with was Snape-- and that was only out of necessity, as Snape was tutoring him in brewing the Wolfsbane potion each month.

When Draco finally had Dumbledore in a position to kill him, he couldn't cast the curse, he could only go so far as to disarm the Headmaster. Had the Death Eaters not arrived, Draco may have even gone so far as to accept Dumbledore's offer of amnesty.

Despite his failure, Draco returned to the manor alive, and because his actions had led to Dumbledore's death, though he hadn't killed him himself, Voldemort freed Lucius from Azkaban. Though the Malfoys were united again, their lives did not much improve. They were all but prisoners in their own home, under constant scrutiny, and their status among the Death Eaters was lowered to barely above the Snatchers. Long before he returned to school, now a known Death Eater, he had grown thoroughly disenchanted with the Dark Arts and Voldemort. At Hogwarts in 1997, he was outcast by anti-Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathizers alike-- the first because of his status, and the second because of his failure. His marks were always just passing, though he tried once again to focus on his studies.

After the war, his mother's lie saving his entire family from Azkaban, Draco retreated into solitude, falling into a deep depression. He isolated himself into his room at the manor for months, leaving only to eat or to isolate himself in the manor's library for hours on end. Eventually, he managed to pull himself out of it with the support of his family, though never completely. After those first few months, he threw himself into Potions work and magical research, taking an interest in Alchemy and Spell Creation. Though things would get easier over time, Draco had been forever changed-- for the better, though far more difficult.

#( 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗈 ) — about

[hogwartswelcomesyou]

Where Are They Now?: The Malfoys (by Tory)

Note from Tory-Mod: Before we start, here’s some context. The Mods came together and wanted to ask the question, “What happened to [this character] after the War?”, with a primary focus on secondary characters whose endings either weren’t discussed by J.K. or we just weren’t satisfied with. I took this prompt and decided to write this down. It’s my original concept of what happened to Draco and his family between the last chapter of Deathly Hallows and the epilogue – it was in my head long before Harry Potter and the Cursed Child came out, and I’ve still yet to read Cursed Child, so you should see this like an AU scenario…like what could’ve happened to Draco after the War and what his family life was like. I will also put in a trigger warning here for the mention of a murder, just in case -- I don’t think it’s too graphic (given that I tried to use the sort of terminology you might hear on a crime show), but I don’t know what my readers may have gone through, so if you think it might trouble you, read this “what-if” with some caution. Now that that’s out of the way…let’s begin.

The War was not kind to Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius. The family had to pay out a lot in damages to the Ministry, leaving their wealth but a shell of what it once was. Narcissa barely avoided time in Azkaban, but both her son and her husband spent time behind bars for their roles in Voldemort’s army. Fortunately for Draco, his sentence only lasted three years, thanks in large part to some testimony from Harry about how Draco refused to identify him to Bellatix at Malfoy Manor. Still, when Draco came out of Azkaban, he was a changed man, and even now he frequently suffers from depression and PTSD. His emotional state had become so bad after leaving Azkaban that he, at his mother’s urging, checked himself into St. Mungo’s for treatment...and it was there that he met Astoria Greengrass, his future wife, who had just taken a job there as a Healer.

Draco had known Astoria in passing while at Hogwarts, since he’d been year-mates with her sister Daphne, but it was at St. Mungo’s that they really hit it off, bonding over their experiences in the War. Astoria in many ways was someone Draco would’ve had no interest in when he was a boy, given that she was a quiet, in-her-head, slightly snobby Ravenclaw who tended to gravitate toward the outcasted and befriend them...but for Draco at that time, when his identity was in free-fall and he couldn’t go to his old school friends for help, Astoria was a saving grace. After they got married, Draco would often cite Astoria as the reason he was still alive.

Astoria and Draco had two children -- Lyra Belle and Scorpius Hyperion. Both children strongly resembled their father, with sleek blond hair and stormy gray eyes. As per their grandmother’s family tradition (passed along from the House of Black), they were named for stars (Narcissa’s middle name is Lyra, so Astoria thought to honor Draco’s mother by naming their first child after her). Their middle names came from Astoria -- Belle was the name of Astoria’s best friend, a half-blood student who had died during the War, while Hyperion was the name of her beloved godfather, who had been Astoria’s tutor and had instilled in her a love and passion for learning.

With Astoria’s encouragement, Draco moved his new family out of Malfoy Manor and into a smaller home in the country outside London. The thought behind it was to take Draco out of the Manor, which had so many bad memories, and bring him somewhere a little more peaceful, where no one knew who they were. And indeed, those five years were some of the happiest of Draco’s life. The house was concealed by enchantments, so they could use as much magic as they wanted, and there were no other wizards in the area, so they could avoid prying eyes. Astoria would go to work at St. Mungo’s everyday, while Draco would work as a stay-at-home father, raising Lyra and Scorpius and taking care of homely duties. Their children had plenty of yard and forest to play in (and they would sometimes sneak out to play with their Muggle neighbors’ kids), and Astoria and Draco would take midnight broom rides over the small-town streets together (with Draco steering -- Astoria is hopeless at flying). Alas, the Malfoy family’s tragedy would not end with the War -- there was one more casualty.

Unbeknownst to the Malfoys, there was a creeper in the neighborhood -- an older Muggle man who had been kidnapping and murdering young children -- and one day, when Lyra had sneaked out of the house to play at the local playground, she was taken. When Lyra disappeared, Draco and Astoria contacted the Ministry, pleading for help in locating their daughter; the Aurors found her within hours, shot dead through the head. From the look of it, Lyra had put up a real fight -- the ropes that had bound her were burned, like she’d conjured fire to free herself, and she lay on her stomach, as if she’d been trying to run away before she was shot from behind. The Aurors suspected that the perpetrator was the same man attacking Muggle children in the area.

The Malfoys were grief-stricken at the loss of Lyra, none more-so than Draco, whose depression re-awoke with a vengeance and sent him spiraling down into a dark state of heavy drinking and suicidal thoughts. But the worst part of all was that the Malfoys could not properly seek justice for their daughter’s death. If they told the Muggle authorities, they would have to subject themselves to scrutiny and would have to appear in Muggle court, and since none of the Malfoy family knew anything about the Muggle justice system and their house didn’t even exist in the eyes of the community, they could not risk violating the International Statute of Secrecy by coming forward. And so all they could do was get reports from the Ministry about how the criminal was apprehended and sentenced to life in prison for his other offenses, never getting the chance to confront their daughter’s killer in court.

After Lyra’s death, Draco brought the remainder of his family back to Malfoy Manor to live with Narcissa and, for the rest of his life, he would loathe all Muggles without exception. He grew to tolerate half-blood witches and wizards, even some Muggle-borns, out of necessity...but Muggles he would never forgive, and alas Scorpius took on that same subconscious prejudice. Still Astoria’s kind heart and sensibility endured, and she helped her husband and son work through their grief. As a family they put up old wizarding photographs of Lyra all around the house, so that they would always have her in their thoughts, and planted an entire garden of sunflowers -- Lyra’s favorite -- behind the Malfoy Manor in her honor.

Draco is now just as overly protective of his son Scorpius as his mother Narcissa was for him, but fortunately Scorpius is not even close to being as spoiled as Draco was. Having always known he was the son of a Death Eater who renounced his side and having always been shunned by kids his age because of it, Scorpius grew up into a demure, overly mature boy. Although he looks strikingly like his father (excluding his reading glasses and his faintly curly hair), he is much more like his mother, being solitary, quiet, and deathly loyal to his family. Still there is something underneath -- resentment, resilience, and passion -- that lies somewhere deep under the surface, where next to no one can see. When Scorpius put on the Sorting Hat, his examination took a solid five minutes, most of which involved the Hat insisting that Scorpius would do well in Hufflepuff -- Scorpius, however, despite his great devotion to his family, stubbornness, kindness, and patience, decided that his ambition to restore his father’s honor and gain some of his own was more important to him than anything else...and at last, the Hat relented to the boy’s will.

Draco was proud when Scorpius ended up in Slytherin. He was much less so when he found out that his son had started a “symbiotic relationship” (NOT a friendship, Scorpius insisted) with Harry Potter’s son Albus, who had also been sorted into Slytherin and had been a target of bullying. Time will only tell how this “relationship” will turn out...

Draco remains a stay-at-home father at Malfoy Manor, visiting Lucius in Azkaban with Narcissa every morning. Lucius unfortunately has lost a lot of who he was in Azkaban, but even now after all this time, his face clears of pain and anguish at the sight of his beloved son. It is like simply seeing Draco’s face is enough to banish the demons away -- as if Draco himself is Lucius’s Patronus. Astoria is now a well-respected Mediwizard and chief breadwinner in the Malfoy family. Narcissa also hired a new house-elf after the war -- Kox -- and he helps Draco keep the house in order. And even now, when Draco is at his lowest and haunted by old ghosts of memories past, you can still find him wandering through the garden of sunflowers behind his family’s Manor.

#tory speaks #fan theory #harry potter #draco malfoy #astoria malfoy #scorpius malfoy #narcissa malfoy #lucius malfoy #AU #tw: murder