#reply: narcissa

[impcrios]

choose your own starter ! where: malfoy manor !

"if you would excuse me," narcissa said with a polite smile, gripping their glass of champagne tight in their hands as they walked their way out the tall doors into the night, she had grabbed her wand from her jacket pocket and used a warming charm before finding themselves out on the grass before hearing the sound of peacocks. she smirks, walking towards them, slowly as she would with any animal before tilting her head. "well, you're beautiful aren't you." bending down slowly she reached a hand out before getting bit on the finger. "oh fuck me," she says, looking at her finger, before rolling her eyes. "that's on me." they use their other hand and use a gentle healing charm before hearing the sound of footsteps and saying, "forget the snakes in the grass, it's the peacocks you have to look out for."

perhaps it was auror instincts, but rodolphus had been watching everyone all night, only really ever speaking when been spoke to. plus, his mother was actually here tonight and he was keeping an observant eye on her. she was lucid today, and was ever so the life of the party when she had social meter and wits to be so. he smiles briefly at her, somehow, her eyes always tracking back to him. his father, of course, couldn't be bothered to attend but he made sure to make a hefty donation from his father's vault, as well as his own, but if his father's donation was more... well, they shared the last name didn't they? he had eventually made himself move from his stance by the wall, looking out onto the dance floor at the hogwarts students, he smirks, because he can't help it, he remembers the yule balls back at school. "looks more like tripping on their own feet than anything," rodolphus says, he could already spy those that either fancied each other or were saving face as betrotheds. "i don't envy them."

it was overwhelming being the one that now had to talk to everyone, to make the connections, to promise things, to say of course regulus would owl them back for their business proposals, to talking about how yes, he didn't need a job, but he liked working in the department of mysteries, and how to subtly say no he wasn't looking for a betrothal, he also had been keeping an eye on his mother, though she never needed it. whenever she wasn't an absolute zombie at home she knew how to amp up the charm, perhaps the drinks helped and the food, but yuletide had always been a rather lonely affair for the black's and this year would be different considering his father was gone. he runs a hand through his hair searching for an exit but it's not without grabbing a glass of champagne and searching in his pockets for the tin of cigarettes. he finds himself outside, but close enough he can still hear everything inside. "don't tell my mother i still smoke," regulus smirks up at the person, shaking his head. "we all have secrets we don't tell our parents," he further says.

[signetrings]

@potentialbreakupscng

delivered by owl, scribbled on a scrap piece of parchment is a note:

dearest mother, i've decided to stay at hogwarts for christmas. i hope you don't mind. i'll send yours and father's gifts as soon as i can. love, draco

[enbysiriusblack]

prompt: narcissa visits alice at saint mungo's

The nurses stared at her, whispering to each other in hushed voices as she steadily walked down the white halls and made her way to the janus thickey ward.

The guard unlocked the doors as soon as he spotted her approaching, opening the door for her and standing to the side. She passed through.

The front desk easily told her the room where the Longbottom's stayed, but not without questioning glances sent her way, a want to ask why exactly she was visiting them on the tip of their tongue, but not a sound coming out. They could lose their jobs by angering her.

She stood outside the door, preparing herself to enter, when an old woman walked out of the room, followed by a young boy, the same age as her draco.

The boy stared into the room he had just left, tears streaming down his face. A silent sadness. The old woman walked on, making her way to the front desk and not noticing the boy was no longer following her.

Narcissa picked off a flower from the potted plant in her arms and crouched down next to the boy, holding out an azalea flower between her fingers.

He took it, waringly, and smiled down at the pink petals.

Narcissa caught the wide grin, the large hazel eyes, and mousy brown hair. The boy stood there, a young mix of Alice and Frank.

"I'm here to visit your parents, are they in here?"

The boy frowned, "You know my my mum and dad?"

Narcissa nodded, a thin smile gracing her face, "We're old friends."

"Neville!" The old woman called.

The boy gave a wave to Narcissa before quickly running back to his grandmother's side.

Narcissa stepped into the room.

It was bright- curtains drawn back and windows open. Frank was staring out of them, seemingly in daydreaming. And in the bed next to him sat Alice. Her hair had grown out, and Narcissa knew she would've hated the look of it, she was dressed in her own clothes- comfortable jumpers and loose trousers.

Narcissa slowly approached her, crouching down in front of her.

"Hi Alice."

Alice's gaze moved, staring into Narcissa but not a single emotion came.

"I brought you this", she held up the azalea plant, putting it in the nightstand in between Alice and Frank's beds.

Alice stared.

Narcissa took one of her hands in her own, clutching it, "I'm sorry. About what happened. Bella she- she was hurting."

Alice turned away, gaze moving to the wall.

Narcissa felt her heart racing, "She made a mistake, a huge one. I won't- I will never forgive her for it, I promise. Merlin, I loved you... I still love you, Alice. I'm so sorry, for everything."

She stood up, hand's leaving Alice's embrace.

Alice suddenly seemed hurried, panicking as she searched around her bed, the table by it, and the surrounding floor. She opened a drawer, pulling out a small gum wrapper and with the same wide grin Narcissa knew so well, she held it out for Narcissa to take.

Narcissa delicately took it, holding it in her hand like it was the most precious thing in existence.

"For me?"

Alice just stared back. She reached around to the plant, pulling a petal off and staring at it. She smiled, tracing her finger along the sides, completely enthralled in the pink petal.

A memory surfaced, Narcissa saw again the teenage Alice, sitting in the greenhouses during Herbology, Narcissa opposite. Alice picked a pink petal off one of the plants nearby and held it out for Narcissa.

"For you", She had grinned.

Frank had lifted his head up from the table, sitting next to Alice, he laughed, "A narcissus petal would be more fitting."

Alice smiled, staring at Narcissa, "But Cissy suits pink so much more. Makes her look even hotter."

Frank had groaned, mimicking wretching. And Narcissa had taken the petal like a lifeline.

Narcissa now felt a tear rolling down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. She turned from the room and left the ward without a glance back. The wrapper clutched in her hand like a lifeline.

[st-clements-steps]

I need her in 5 inch heels taking out aggressors with her one precise knife throw. I need her in slouch socks and an oodie getting the best oral ever. I need her with blood dripping off her teeth. I need her eating proper ice cream from the tub. I need her to have three fluffy cats and an affectionate python. I need her rolling in flowers in a spring meadow. I need her mowed down at the roller derby. I need her snottily sobbing at a sad movie. I need her kissed, tender and slow.

[ircnwrought-a]

@avanoir (narcissa) liked for a starter (astoria) !!

__________♔    CRYSTALLINE EYES SHINE IN AMUSEMENT AT THE OTHER WOMAN'S STORY. the tea in her hands long forgotten to the memories now being shared. there is something sacred in this ritual; she has never had a kind parental figure, much less a steady feminine presence outside of her own sister, but that has highs && lows itself. a break in the conversation has her leaning forward. ❛    oh don't stop there !! i'm absolutely riveted now. how on earth weren't you caught sneaking back into the common room ?? ❜

[slythzriins]

♒ = lying to them.

for draco because mother dearest loves the angst and the tears you cause her to shed xx

SEND ONE FOR MY MUSE'S REACTION !

for the first time in his still short-lived lifespan, draco is fuming. rushing up the malfoy manor's staircase, he throws the door shut behind him as he steps inside his room, only to hear his mother calling out to him, knocking and opening the door briefly. ❛ no. no. i don't want to hear it. please, mother, leave. ❜ out of everyone who could have done this to him, it was her. it was narcissa. it was the only person he still blinded trusted, the one that had always protected him — or so he thought.

❛ out of everyone! ❜ he turns on his heel to face her, and for once, he doesn't bother hiding just how much the situation as a whole impacted him. ❛ i expected this from aunt bella. merlin, i even expected it from father! but you... ❜ betrayal. that was what it felt like. not even crabbe, goyle or potter had managed to make him feel in such a way, and just weeks after him disclosing to her how he felt alone... ❛ i wish to be alone. please, mother... ❜ draco didn't want her near. not now. not when he knew, when he felt the tears threatening to spill. she'd lost the privilege of seeing his vulnerabilities, of seeing him for who he was, as opposed to the facade he often put up. the last person to still have the ability to see through him, and now, it was gone.

[yasministration]

"Malfoy" "Weasley" - bill weasley x malfoy!reader

summary: when you watch the quidditch world cup with your family, the last thing you're expecting is to see an old friend. a weasley. wc: 1.2k+ cw: one tiny mention of abuse

The buzzing energy in the stadium felt as though it had suddenly been muffled as four figures entered the box. They walked with matching gait; confident, every pair of shoulders rolled back to walk with a perfect posture, a slow yet steady pace of footsteps that established power.

The Malfoys.

Harry swallowed thickly as he set his eyes on an unfamiliar figure. One he had never seen before, yet was so unmistakably Malfoy.

It was as though every sound in the stadium was muted, other than the seductive click of your heels on the floor. Harry took in your appearance from the floor upwards, watching the twinkle in your eyes in amazement. Despite the features you inevitably shared with the rest of your family, there was something different about you.

Something mischievous.

The boy who lived was snapped back to reality when Bill — who he had only met two days ago but already trusted with his life — spoke up.

“Malfoy.”

His statement wasn’t one filled with hatred, much to Harry’s surprise. No, it was amused, familiar, and it was targeted to you. As though you knew each other like two good friends. Whilst the rest of your family walked on with intimidating glares on their faces as they passed the Weasleys, you slowed your step down, keeping eye contact with Bill as your lips tugged up into an unbelievable smile, the wine red of your lipstick perfectly contained between their lines.

“Weasley.”

And you were gone.

Catching up to your family at a leisurely pace, you took a seat next to them, crossing one elegant leg over the other. Harry saw Draco turn to look at you judgementally, and his lips moved in a silent question.

You brushed him off. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, listening in to the conversation that started between the Weasley siblings. “What was that?” Asked Ron with an exasperated breath. “Just greeting an old friend.” The older brother replied.

It was like watching Ron lose respect for his oldest brother, looking at him as though he grew two extra heads. Harry pondered silently for a moment. If Ron had such a reaction to his brother being friends with a Malfoy, how would your parents have reacted when they found out? Why hadn’t they said anything?

“Was she with you in school?” Harry found himself asking, and Bill nodded, gaze finding you again. The boy knew he shouldn’t think about it too much. Perhaps mind his own business for once.

But when you stood up from your seat at half-time, walking towards the group and Bill rose from his place to meet you, Harry couldn’t help but think of the two of you together. At Hogwarts. It was nearly impossible to imagine the both of you as teenagers, smiling fondly at each other as you walked through the halls.

A forbidden romance.

Had you been in love, or were you just unlikely friends? Whatever it was, it had evidently developed, Harry thought, watching as Bill leaned down closer to you to hear whatever it was you had to say, both of you smiling like idiots in love. Your hand slid down to the railing that Bill was tightly clutching, boldly placing your hand over his. Bill glanced down at the feeling of your touch, and he turned his hand over so his palm was facing upwards and he could properly hold your hand, his larger, veiny one encasing yours.

Behind the pair of you, your parents had tuned around from their conversation to watch you and the so called blood-traitor. Narcissa had placed a hand on her husband’s arm, prompting him to look away from the treacherous acts occurring in front of them. “Your parents still not too fond of me, I’m guessing?” Bill teased, and you tilted your head to the side with an apologetic smile.

“You know how they are. But it didn’t stop me when we were students and it won’t stop me now.”

Bill reached up with his free hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes were glued to his face, so kind, so handsome.

You sighed.

“I’m an adult now,” You started, cutting off your own train of thoughts. “They can’t do anything about it anymore.”

Anymore.

Because when you’d been at Hogwarts, your parents had sent you howler after howler. They’d even pulled you out of class one time to lecture you about loyalty. You remember what you told your father that day. “I am loyal! I’m loyal to my friends, I'm loyal to the people I care about. I’m loyal to Bill, and you can’t do anything about it.” He had hit you across the face.

It didn’t stop you from sneaking out of your dorm every night to meet him in the girls’ third floor bathroom, a room that had become your ultimate rendezvous spot. Romantic.

Bill cleared his throat softly, looking around to find his entire family staring at your interaction. “Would you like to go for a walk?” He asked as he tore his eyes from them. You glanced around, staring at the empty pitch for one long moment before you spun around to look at him again, nodding eagerly. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Harry tried not judging you as you walked down the stairs, hands linking as you disappeared from sight. People do crazy things for love, he decided, realising you’d decided to skip watching half of the quidditch world cup to rekindle your relationship.

But maybe your decision had been smart, because as Harry and the Weasleys returned to their tent, they had caught you leaving. Bill held the tent's flap open, letting you through. You straightened up, eyes widening as you came face to face with his entire family, knowing you must have looked a mess. Fred, George and Charlie all had matching grins on their faces as they took in your unusually messy hair, smudged lipstick, bruising hickeys on your neck and chest exposed by the low neckline of your dress.

Bill looked just about the same, except most of the lipstick marks on his skin were covered by the collar of his shirt, trailing underneath it. You ducked your head down in embarrassment, gasping when Mr. Weasley patted your shoulder, saying “It’s good to see you again, y/n.”

“You too, Mr. Weasley.” As Bill kept eye contact with his three most delinquent brothers, he knew he was in for insurmountable amounts of teasing when he would enter the tent once more. Bill closed the tent’s flap when his family went inside, pulling a face at you when he faced you once more.

Giggling, you took three steps towards him, clutching his collar tightly and forcing him closer to you. Bill’s hands settled on your hips, and he leaned down to press a long kiss to your lips. You sighed in satisfaction, trailing your hands up to settle on his shoulders. Your lips separated with a loud smooching sound that had your cheeks flushing hotly and you looked away, making steady eye contact with Draco, who had been watching your interaction from afar.

“Better get here before the parents do!” He called out, and you nodded, looking between him and Bill quickly. “Um, he has a point.” You mumbled, pushing yourself on your tippy toes to press one last peck on his lips.

“At least promise me a date?”

“I can promise you more than a date, Mr. Weasley.”

“Oh please, Mr. Weasley is my father.”

[lqveharrington]

Masquerade Ball | D.M.

summary: The Malfoys hold a masquerade ball in hopes of finding Draco a wife.

pairing: prince!draco malfoy x lady!potter!reader

includes: use of Y/N, mutual pinning, both oblivious, really just fluff with a tiny bit of angst

a/n: it’s like a mix of benedict’s story but not

As a child, Draco never understood how important he was to England’s society. He was always confined within the palace walls—forced to attend endless galas and balls hosted by his parents until his feet ached. Perhaps he could have escaped those obligations when he was younger, but now, he was trapped in a cycle of socializing with eligible maidens in hopes of finding a wife.

He had tried running away once at the age of seven but ran back to his mother the moment he encountered a beggar at the palace gates. It was then he realized how sheltered he truly was, unaware of the hardships beyond the gilded walls.

When Draco once questioned his status withing the kingdom, Lucius merely replied, "You will rule when you turn two and twenty." As the sole heir with no sibling, the weight of the kingdom rested squarely on Draco's shoulders.

Yet, as the years ticked closer to his inevitable coronation, he made no progress in finding a bride. Lucius' patience began to wane, culminating in the grand decision to host a masquerade ball to enhance his son's chances of courting a suitable queen.

And of course, Draco had words to say about the situation.

He adjusted his dark suit and spun the silver ring on his finger, meeting his mother's eyes through the standing mirror. "Mother—"

"Do not fuss, Draco," Narcissa chided gently, wiping invisible dust off her son's perfectly pressed suit. "Your father has made up his mind. You are to take the throne in two years. This must be done."

"And if I find no one?" He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, tilting his head at the piece of hair sticking out. It wouldn’t lay flat if he tried gelling it down.

"Then we will try again next month," She said softly, squeezing his arm. She looked between his eyes and sighed, "Please, try, my love."

"They don't care for me, mother," Draco muttered and turned to face her, rolling his shoulders back—already dreading dancing with women who want the fame and fortune. "They care about being a queen."

"Which is why it is a masquerade ball," Narcissa explained and grabbed the mask that resembled a peacock. "You will blend with the crowd, your identity hidden." She slipped the mask over his head and patted his cheek. "Get to know them without the burden of your title."

"And you believe this will work?"

"I do!" She smiled brightly and stepped away from him, ready to make her arrival with her husband. Narcissa gave him a reassuring smile and nodded. "Tu es très beau, Draco. Just... be yourself."

Draco gave her a weak smile and watched her leave his room, letting his shoulders slouch down the second the door shut. He ran his fingers through his hair again and let his mind dwell on thoughts that were unbearable.

"When has that ever worked out for me?" He muttered underneath his breath, looking in the mirror again to notice the only identifiable thing about him was his piercing silver eyes.

"Papa, why are you staring at me like that?" You asked, adjusting your flowing gown while your mother fussed with your hair.

"Yes, James, what are you staring at her for?" Lily inquired with an arched brow, perfectly pinning your hair into a dolled up bun and slipping a silver rose in its center.

"Nothing." James grumbled and fiddled with the peacock feathers on the end of your mask, thumbing the string. "Just... be safe, alright? This is your first time attending one of the King's socials without us. What if you get kidnapped?"

"James!" Lily gasped and smacked her husband on the chest, snatching the mask from him and handing it to you instead.

"Papa!" You laughed and kissed his cheek, pulling the mask over your head. "I'll be fine. Hermione and Ginny will be there, and Harry too." You pull your curls free from the mask and tilt your head at the mirror, touching up minor details such as the skewed mask and stray pieces of hair. "Besides, I doubt I'll dance much. Champagne and people-watching sounds far more appealing."

"Maybe mingle a little," Lily suggested and pinched her fingers together, leaning into her husband’s touch. "It's for the young Malfoy to find a wife, after all."

"I'm not fraternizing with Draco," You huffed and adjusted the silver necklace resting on your collarbone, the setting sun shining across the jewelry. "Harry and he practically hate each other. Not exactly ideal courtship material."

"Imagine you as queen," James mused and pretended to command a group of handmaids to fetch more books for your extensive library. You were always going to be a bookworm like your mother and he bet you would do anything to have a room the size of the palace for your books.

"James!" Lily scolded jokingly once more before smiling softly at you, clasping your hands in hers. "Just be safe, Y/N."

"Of course," You squeezed her hands and smiled back before heading out the door, tilting your head as you called out for your brother. "Harry!"

James winced as your voice echoed throughout the foyer, Lily letting a small laugh slip through. "Bloody hell, that girl can shout.”

"Why does this place look fancier than usual?" Ron grumbled, glancing around the grand ballroom adorned with glittering chandeliers and cascading drapes.

It wasn't odd to see the palace all dolled up, but everything looked so much more expensive and one of a kind. Like it was an even more special experience. There were pyramids of champagne in every corner and in the center of the ballroom was one of the largest orchestra groups you’ve seen in years.

"Because it's a masquerade ball, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on his arm, making him kiss her cheek to make up for his remark. "Honestly."

"So, Y/N," Ginny nudged your shoulder—a mischievous smile decorating her face—ignoring Harry’s warning look. "Anyone you're hoping to dance with tonight?"

"I don’t think so, Gin.” You push your mask up and stare at all the people entering the palace. Even they were surprised at all the added decorations.

"Boring," Ginny teased before leaning into Harry and whispering something inaudible, making you roll your eyes at the two of them. If they had to be so in love, they shouldn’t do it in front of you.

Just as you opened your mouth to retort the sickening sweet scene, trumpets blared from the top of the staircase, redirecting everyone's attention to the far end of the ballroom where Lucius and Narcissa stood—the couple adorning their own masks.

"Please welcome His Majesty, the King, and Her Majesty, the Queen!"

Lucius made quick remarks about the importance of the evening before a sly grin appeared on his face, earning quiet whispers from the audience. "Enjoy yourselves tonight! For who knows when the prince will arrive..."

The whispers only intensified at the mention of the prince arriving at a later time. Could he possibly be avoiding the event himself? But that would make sense, not when the event was for him.

"Interesting," Hermione murmured as if she read your mind, making your brows raise in amusement.

"What is?" Ron asked.

"Draco isn't here for his own ball," She noted, glancing around the room for any signs of the prince.

You huff and push her toward her beloved. You would make sure Hermione had a good time rather than dwell on something that didn’t matter too much. If you had to see your brother and Ginny be all lovey, you would have Ron and Hermione do the same.

"Go dance with Ron."

Hermione sighed and took Ron's outstretched hand before looking back at you, narrowing her eyes. "Do not be a wallflower tonight. I expect you to dance with someone at least once.”

You shrug your shoulders and watch her disappear into the dancing crowd before spinning toward one of the many towers of champagne. Unfortunately, someone just had to come find you.

"Lady Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, making you freeze at how awful this coincidence was. It wasn’t like you could’ve avoided the man for too long, especially when the whole bloody kingdom was invited to the ball.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." You muttered under your breath and presented a fake smile to him, hands clenching by your sides in annoyance as you gave him a short curtsey. "Lord Cormac."

"How delightful to see you!" Cormac grinned and eyed you up and down like you were his next meal, your mind and body hating everything about him. "Would you like to accompany me this evening?"

Your eyes widened in fear and disgust, mind racing millions per hour to find a plausible excuse. “Actually—“

"Is there a problem?" A smooth, unfamiliar voice interrupted your pathetic excuse, allowing you to recollect your thoughts.

Cormac's grin faltered at the sudden interruption, taking a short step back at the sight of the taller man. "We were talking."

"I believe the lady declined," The newcomer said evenly, keeping his face as schooled as possible.

Cormac huffed but retreated in annoyance, making you grin. You turned to the stranger to find him staring McLaggen down until the boy finally moved to the other side of the ballroom. His mask obscured most of his face, but his silver eyes gleamed with amusement and victory. Funny, you found his McLaggen’s obedience quite amusing as well.

"My knight and shining armor." You quipped and tucked your hands behind your back, taking small steps toward the champagne tower you were supposed to be minutes ago. "Have we met?"

"Not officially," He smirked beneath his mask and followed, copying your small movements. "A masquerade ball is about knowing someone without truly knowing them, isn't it?” He took two glasses from the tower and handed you one—doing his best not to knock any other glasses down. “Forgive me for keeping my identity a secret.”

"Then I'll do the same, my knight." You give june a curt nod before taking a sip, the drink fizzing down your throat.

"Is that what I am now?" He chuckled and looked at you from above the rim of his own drink, silver eyes shining with interest.

You grin, "Yes."

He hummed and tilted his head at you, "Then you shall be my Ivy.”

"Unique." You raise your brows and take another sip of champagne. "Why Ivy?"

"You're dressed in a deep green," He noted. "And as unassuming as you may look, I sense there's poison beneath."

"You say that like you know me already," You narrowed your eyes playfully, placing your glass back on a passing tray as a song finished.

"A quick interaction is all one needs." He countered and finished off his champagne. He waited for the music to start up again before offering you a hand, "Care to dance?"

Without a second thought, you took his hand and readied yourself in the starting position, joining the rest of the partners on the floor. Your right hand was gently clasped in his left and his hand was warm on your waist.

It all felt different than the other times you’ve danced. It felt comfortable.

You tilted your head up as he spun you around, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Tell me about yourself."

"Well, I’m an only child," He said as you moved to walk around one another, eyes still locked onto yours. "Rarely left home unless dragged to events like these. Not much of an exciting life."

"Surely there's more. Friends? Acquaintances?" You press and take hold of his hand as he glides you across the ballroom—each note from the orchestra filling the background.

"Most used me for status." He admitted and quickly adjusted his mask and hold on you. "I learned from it.” You nodded and lightly held onto his arms when he dipped you, faces mere inches from one another. He pulled you up, “And you?"

"One older brother. Protective to a fault. Thinks every man is a threat." You rolled your eyes and separate yourself from him, letting him follow before clasping his left hand again. "I’ll admit, I came to the ball to be with friends.” You follow his steps as the dancers created a gorgeous pattern from above. “Dancing wasn't on the agenda, but... this isn't terrible.”

He smiled at your confession before remembering what the point of this ball was for. "What are your thoughts on the prince?"

"He can be...” You hesitated and looked around like the prince himself could hear you. “Difficult."

"Difficult?" He echoed and tilted his head to the side in interest.

"My brother has always had a grudge against him." You explained before spinning, heels clicking against the marble flooring. "I've had to endure their spats. Not the best memories. But it's not like I'll speak to him tonight."

He chuckled softly, silver eyes glinting behind his mask. "You never know. Masquerades are full of surprises."

And as you danced together, the room blurred began to blur, the weight of titles and expectation fading into the music and laughter. You found yourself relaxing, allowing the mysterious man to guide you across the floor with ease. His hand on your waist was steady yet respectful, and for the first time, you found yourself enjoying a ball.

"You're a good dancer," You remarked, glancing up at him through your mask—his blonde hair perfectly combed except for a small curl at the front.

"I've had years of practice," He replied smoothly. "Though I usually find these events unbearable. This is... different."

You smiled. It’s like you had the same thoughts. "Perhaps the mask makes it easier to be yourself. No judgements. No expectations."

He hummed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you. "Perhaps. Or perhaps its the company."

Heat crept up your neck, and you glanced away, spotting Ginny grinning at you from the sidelines. You shot her a playful glare before focusing back on your partner. "Careful, my knight. Flattery might get you into trouble."

"Is that a risk you're willing to let me take?" He teased and dipped you, your eyes quickly darting to his lips before meeting his eyes again with your wide ones.

Before you could respond, the music shifted, signaling the end of the dance. He gently released you, bowing with a flourish. "Thank you for the dance, Ivy."

You curtsied in return, heart pounding from whatever feeling you just experienced. "The pleasure was mine, Knight."

As you parted ways, you found yourself glancing back at him, only to see he was doing the same. You quickly turned, chastising yourself for the flutter in your chest.

Draco leaned against a column, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. There was something about the girl—the way she challenged him, spoke without pretense. He shook his head. It was foolish to dwell on a fleeting interaction. Yet... He couldn't ignore the way his chest tightened at the thought of her laughter.

"Enjoying yourself?" Blaise sidled up next to him, nursing a glass of champagne.

Draco kept his eyes locked on the many guests in the ballroom, scouring the place for his Ivy. He wasn’t sure if this was what his mother told him about when he was younger. That maybe those silly fairy tales were true.

"Surprisingly," Draco admitted and let out a small chuckle. "Met someone... intriguing."

Blaise arched a brow, "Do tell."

Draco merely smirked, "Just someone worth dancing with.”

The night wore on with more dances, laughter, and champagne than you anticipated. Yet, your thoughts kept drifting back to the silver-eyed stranger. When you finally decided to seek fresh air, you slipped out to the palace gardens, the cool breeze a welcome relief.

"Running away?" A familiar voice drawled, your insides warming at the sound.

You turned, finding him seated on a marble bench beneath a canopy of roses. "Escaping," You corrected and fiddled with your necklace. "Balls can be… suffocating."

"Agreed," He nodded and patted the space beside him, tilting his head at you. "Care to join me?"

Hesitating only a moment, you sat down, the silence between you comfortable. Stars glittered above, and for a while, neither of you spoke. It felt nice.

"Why Ivy?" You asked suddenly. You were sure there was something more to the nickname than what he previously said.

He chuckled and leaned back on the bench. "Told you. Your dress. The presence you carry. You cling to walls but have thorns when approached. Fascinating contrast."

You rolled your eyes but smiled, humoring him. "And you? You're alright with Knight?"

"You said it yourself. Rescuing you from McLaggen was quite the heroic act." He grinned and met your eyes.

Laughing, you nudged him with your shoulder. "Hardly slaying dragons."

"Ah, but you never know." He mused, gaze drifting to the sky and tracing the stars his mother taught him about all these years. "Like I said, masquerades are full of surprises."

You glanced at him, wondering what he meant by that, but the sound of the final dance being announced interrupted your thoughts.

"One more?" He offered, standing and extending his hand.

"Why not?" Taking it, you let him lead you back inside with a smile your swore would hurt your cheeks the next day.

The ballroom felt different this time. More intimate. As you danced, you realized you didn't want the night to end. There was something inexplicably magnetic about him, something you couldn't place but didn't want to let go of.

"Do you think we'll meet again after tonight?" You ventured and glance between his eyes.

He hesitated, something flickering in his gaze. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it's best we don't. Some things are better left as a beautiful memory."

Your heart sank at the thought of truly knowing who your knight was. "I suppose that's true."

As the music reached its crescendo, he leaned in, voice a mere whisper against your ear. "Thank you for tonight, Ivy."

Before you could reply, he stepped back, bowing deeply. And then, just like that, he disappeared into the crowd.

You stood frozen, scanning the room, but he was gone.

"Y/N! There you are!" Hermione’s voice suddenly filled the space as she grabbed your arm. "The prince is about to reveal himself. Come on!"

Reluctantly, you followed her to the front of the crowd, mind half-heartedly paying attention to the reveal of the prince. Trumpets blared once more, and the King stepped forward, his wife grinning brightly by his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending. Now, allow me to present my son, your future king. Prince Draco."

Your breath caught as a figure ascended the stairs. The crowd parted, and there he stood—silver eyes, blonde hair, and the very same mask now resting in his hand.

Your heart stopped.

No. It couldn't be.

His gaze swept over the crowd... and landed on you. His expression mirrored your shock, realization dawning.

You were Ivy.

And he was Draco.

Neither of you spoke. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the middle of the grand ballroom.

Masquerades, you thought dazedly, really were full of surprises.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[northlt03]

Amortentia (Jegulus)

Regulus didn’t smell. It drove James insane sometimes. 

He didn’t smell after quidditch practice, or even after just waking up. It was another one of those things about him that made him seem “perfect”. James hated it. 

Regulus was so much more than the image he presented himself to be, but he’d gotten too lost in playing the part, maybe that’s all he’d become. 

Every single “imperfection” had been driven away by his mother. Not just for Regulus, but for Sirius as well. The Black family had an image to maintain, high society they had to live in. They couldn’t accept body odor, crooked teeth, or any blemishes on their skin. 

James didn’t know how they did it. But none of the Blacks had any negative body odor. No matter how much they sweat. 

It’s not to say they don’t have a particular smell. According to Slughorn, everyone had a distinct smell, something unique about them. 

Sirius smelled like wet dog fur, James knew this because he slept in the bed next to him and every night Sirius turned to padfoot in his sleep. 

Narcissa smelled like spring, like her namesake— narcissus. Strangely intense, yet cool and floral. James had only placed the smell last year when they had grown the flower in herbology. 

Walburga black smelled like roses, James imagined that’s what the queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland smelled like. It was suffocating if you had the displeasure to be near her, like a thousand thorny plants squeezing your windpipe. 

James wasn’t padfoot, he didn’t memorize smells. But it’s hard not to notice how his closest friends smell. It made him feel warm, to be surrounded by so many people he loves, all with a distinct smell. 

Remus smelled like chocolate, like wet fur, wooly sweaters, a warm fire and old books. James could tell that’s what Sirius was smelling in his cauldron right then. That’s the reason he was thinking so much about smells in the first place. 

Sixth year brought with it responsibilities, but also more advanced potion making. James always wondered why he didn’t drop potions when he had the chance. 

Sirius was blushing so hard, his skin tone matched the pink potion. James had to stifle his own laughter as Remus tried to go over the recipe once again to make sure they had made it correct. They were all paired up for this particular class. Sirius and Remus at one cauldron and James and Peter next to them. It used to be Sirius and James together, but after one too many pranks in the classroom, Professor Slughorn had separated them. 

“Clockwise!” Remus corrected Sirius just before he could have ruined their potion. They were the second ones to finish their potion so Slughorn was already making his way towards the boys. “Bloody hell, Sirius. Stop overmixing it”

James exchanged a look with Peter. Why had he let Sirius pick Remus while pairing up again? Oh that’s right— Wingman duties

James was nowhere near as great as Lily or Remus or even Snivellus in potion making, but he managed. Mostly he used Remus’ notes and applied common sense. It drove Remus insane sometimes, how much work he’d have to put in to memorize something, only for James to make an educated guess about it. James couldn’t really explain how he knew stuff, he just did. Call it pattern awareness, or whatever. 

“So from the way Moony was yelling at Padfoot, I’m guessing we have to stir it clockwise?” James raised an eyebrow.

Peter only snickered as he watched their other two friends bickering like an old married couple. “What’d you think Moony smells, James?”

“Wet dog” James replied easily, “And that awful old leather jacket Padfoot refuses to throw away,”

“I bet Sirius smells chocolate and wool” 

James had known Peter for years, they'd had baths together when they were babies, learned how to ride a bicycle from James’ father, spent ten christmases trying to make gingerbread houses and so many more memories. 

That’s all to say, James knew what Peter smelled like. He had a distinct cologne he swore worked wonders on the ladies, and as stereotypical as it was for the rat to love cheese, he really did. 

So if James was in love with his best mate, that’s what he would have smelled. 

But instead when he dared to take a whiff of the potion (after coughing violently because it was pretty strong), all he smelled was broom wax, old books and paint. 

“Mmmhmm” Peter grinned, “Camembert, and candy. Smells so great I’m hungry now. And you?”

“Old books” He frowned, “And paint”

“Careful, Pads might think you’re in love with Moony too”

James wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He was glad he didn’t smell lilies, relating to his old embarrassing crush. It had been months since he had obsessed over Lily Evans and even thinking about that time made him cringe. 

James had quickly realized he had no idea what love was supposed to be. He grew up watching his parents so immensely in love he’d been in love with the idea of love and the idea of Lily Evans. And ideas are dangerous things to be in love with. 

For his sake and Lily’s, he was glad he stopped liking her. 

But after Lily… well, there had been someone James had grown a liking too. And he couldn’t help the disappointment when he didn’t smell Regulus in the potion. He took a few more whiffs, just to be sure. But to no avail. The potion still smelled the same. 

James wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe he was just incapable of loving. Because he couldn’t smell Regulus, that had to mean he wasn’t in love with the boy as he had previously thought. This was clearly a Lily situation again. And that bothered James. Mainly because he wanted to be in love. Not just because of his fantasy of being so in love with someone, but also because Regulus was so lovely. 

He was witty and sharp, beautiful and sarcastic, knowledgeable and petty, headstrong and stubborn but also sweet and funny. He seemed to positively glow under James’ praise. James loved it when he flushed pink, James loved it when he shot back a retort, when he smiled a secret smile for only James, when he dragged his long fingers over James’ skin— touch for the sake of touch. James loved every single thing about Regulus, the way his eyes crinkled when he tried to stop himself from laughing at one of James’ bad jokes, the way he sneezed, the way his lips parted, the way he tasted so sweet when they kissed, but most of all, James thought he was in love with Regulus.

He wasn’t sure what smell he was searching for. He knew Regulus didn’t smell. He didn’t have a signature smell like Peter’s cologne. But James was still disappointed. 

He wanted to make Regulus feel loved, he wanted to be in love. He had said it once and Regulus had said it before. 

Three simple words. 

And what if they were a lie?

A knock on the door made Slughorn change directions. He had been heading toward James and Peter’s potion to check it, but he walked toward the open door. 

James would have recognised those curls anywhere. 

Even before Regulus was fully visible, stepping into the doorway, eyes searching the class, James was grinning. Who cared what the stupid potion said? The potion could be wrong. Maybe James and Peter brewed it wrong. 

All that mattered was that Regulus lit up James’ world, it genuinely felt that way. Just passing him in the hallways, getting to stare at him as he stared at the stars, just listening to him talk about astronomy or his favorite paintings felt like a reward to James.

So yeah, fuck the potion. 

James Potter was in love with Regulus Black.

That’s when he spotted the paint splattered on the edges of his otherwise neat robe. He was handing a book he must have borrowed back to Slughorn. His eyes landed on James and though he tried to keep his composure in thanking the professor, James grew ecstatic at the acknowledgement.

The effect Regulus had on him really had to be studied. 

Just before he left, he sniffed the room, his eyebrows furrowing in that Regulus Black way as he mock glared at James. He had the face of an aristocrat but the mind of an artist. Maybe he was both.

James was thankful his table was the closest to the door and the others were too busy either bickering, fawning over their potion or still completing it. 

“You smell, Potter” Regulus scrunched his nose in disgust, turning to walk away, “Didn’t you shower after quidditch? It’s disgusting, it’s a wonder the whole room isn’t gagging with how strong it is, even your sandalwood perfume can’t mask it.”

James could barely say anything before Regulus had walked away. 

Paint splatter, the old books in the room of requirement and Regulus’ personal collection, the broom wax from when James had watched him polish his broom before a match against Hufflepuff. 

Slowly the pieces floated together and James thought he had started floating too. He felt light, like a floating lantern, a ball of warmth in his chest. 

And what had Regulus been talking about? James twisted his ankle his last game. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t cleared him to fly the whole week, he had been moping about not being able to play. 

When he looked at Peter, his friend was looking back with an amused look. 

“Fucking hell, Prongs”

“Don’t tell Padfoot”

[slythzriins]

"You are not the person I knew. You've changed." - for draco 🩵

'Y.A.N.T.P.I.K. Y.C.' MEME !

draco would have typically sat up, back straightened in a clear display of perfect malfoy practiced posture, the moment one of his parents stepped inside his room. he'd heard the knock, followed by his mother's voice announcing she was coming in. the door is closed carefully behind her, and he only glances up for a moment before his gaze darts back down to his hand. malfoy absentmindedly plays with a golden snitch. the very first one he had caught when he'd made it to the slytherin team. when times were simpler, happier.

his silence seems to unsettle her enough for her to make such a statement and only then does draco shift slightly. ❛ i'm fine. ❜ he states, getting up and brushing past her to put the snitch away in its box. ❛ i am just doing what i am told. does that no longer please you, and father? ❜ what more could he do to please them? to please lucius mostly? it seemed like nothing he did, or said, satisfied him. ❛ mother, ❜ he calls, trying to get her attention solely on him, ❛ perhaps, it is not i who has changed. ❜ he states suggestively. ❛ i'm still draco. your draco. ❜

[alectocarrowx]

"Precisely." There was a certain type of kindness within the dark witch, which extended to a few within her inner circle. Social with all that shared the same path, and some outside, but very few that saw this side of her. "She has her charming moments and perhaps I could benefit from afternoon tea." Druella had many connections, like her family, but there was something special about the witch.

"Yes, I will." Alecto had a faint idea of what it would entail, and the blonde beside her was one she would endure it for. "Let's go get a drink before the auction starts, we might find a few more to disappoint tonight."

"You're kind to me. But that doesn't count though." Narcissa chuckled, shaking her head. "And excellent." One of the Borgin's was sitting down the front near the auction stage. She knew they were looking at a haunted mirror to put in their shop and quite simply that wouldn't do. They were one of plenty of people she'd enjoy causing the unhappiness of. "You're a gem for even offering to invite her round." A few hours out of her mothers clutches would be bliss, that was for sure.

Narcissa held her breath as she waited for Alecto to respond, a grin gracing her features when she said yes. "You will? Oh that is truly wonderful news. For a moment there, I thought I was going to have to say you had no choice but to say yes."

[yasministration]

Heir to the Dark Lord's Empire - mattheo riddle x lestrange!reader

summary: when you freak out and try to leave your first death eater meeting you've been forced to attend by your mother, Narcissa and Mattheo are quick to protect you, but in two wildly different ways... wc: 0.8k+ pt.2 to not okay

The Malfoy Manor had been stripped of all of the homeyness Narcissa Malfoy had spent years trying to build. The great hall of the manor was filled to the brim with death eaters, and you found yourself dragged into its mess with Draco and Mattheo.

Narcissa had a protective arm wrapped around her son’s torso, a challenge for Voldemort to try anything with him. She had already made Lucius promise to keep Draco out of any death eater business for as long as possible.

But she couldn’t do the same for you, because Narcissa Malfoy was not your mother.

No, Bellatrix Lestrange was, and she wanted you to become a death eater as quick as possible. But she couldn’t put you first, because unfortunately, in the death eater hierarchy, Mattheo Riddle came first.

The boy stood like a statue next to you, but despite the signature stoic stare on his face, you knew he didn’t want to be a part of this. But unlike you, Mattheo had accepted his fate long ago. He had stopped looking for ways to escape the chaotic life of a death eater.

Standing in the very back of the room, behind rows of death eaters, you felt Mattheo’s hand wrap around yours for a brief moment before letting you go, both your parents present with a sixth sense for fear.

You jumped as your mother suddenly gripped both your arms, whispering wickedly “It’s almost time.” Shivers were sent down your spine at her tone, and suddenly looking up, you met your aunt’s eyes from across the room. Narcissa looked as though she feared for your life.

You did too.

“I have to go.” You found yourself muttering, and Mattheo worriedly turned to look at you from one side, your mother’s head snapping towards you from the other. Her fingers tightly wrapped around your wrist, and you jerked away from her, attracting several masked faces to turn to look at you.

As your wrist slipped away from your mother’s grip, she immediately extracted her wand from her pocket, but before she could throw a single spell at you, quickly stumbling away from her, her wand flew out of her hands and clattered onto the wall.

Bellatrix’s eyes filled with fury, but just as she took angry steps towards you, a figure appeared in front of you with a loud, apparating pop. “Narcissa, move out of my way.” She threatened quietly, and from above your godmother’s shoulder you found a pair of worried brown eyes staring at you.

“No.” You weren’t only surprised at Narcissa’s steady and decided tone, but at the fact that she had stood up for you in front of Voldemort and his most loyal death eaters.

“You’re not her mother!” Your mother screeched, but Narcissa, ever calm, replied with “I may not be her mother, but I am more her mother than you’ll ever be.”

As Bellatrix opened her mouth, inevitably to attempt a wandless hex aimed at her own sister, a voice cut her off.

“That’s enough!” Mattheo’s deep, assertive grumble silenced the hall, and his father leaned back into his throne like chair, a proud smile on his face as he waited to see what his son had to say.

The heir to the Dark Lord’s empire.

“Petty arguments will not be accepted in the Dark Lord’s presence. Settle down. I’ll take y/n for a breath of fresh air; prepare her for what is awaiting her.”

Voldemort nodded approvingly, shooting your mother a glare. A snappy comment was sitting on the tip of Bellatrix’s tongue. Was Voldemort really going to let a boy speak to his most loyal follower that way? Yes, she realised, watching as his eyes followed his son out of the room.

One of Mattheo’s hands hovered over the small of your back as he walked you out of Malfoy Manor onto the grounds, where a cool breeze greeted you. “I’m sorry.” You muttered, tears gathering in your eyes in embarrassment. Mattheo’s face softened, and a gentle smile made its way onto his features. “Don’t apologise for anything. I know it’s scary.”

You let out a shaky breath, hesitantly reaching to hold Mattheo’s hand. The boy laced his fingers into yours, watching you carefully.

“They’re gonna give me the mark.” You addressed, finally coming to terms with it. There was no more running from it. Mattheo’s gaze dropped down momentarily to glance at his own dark mark, now covered by the sleeve of the suit of his blazer. The one his father had given him on his first night back home for the summer. The death eaters had celebrated wildly, but Mattheo wasn't phased. He only wanted to spend the night in your arms.

In that moment, watching the fearful look in your eyes, Mattheo decided that he would become loyal to his father, taking over the empire if he had to, just so he could protect you. Keep you as safe of a distance from missions as you could possibly be.

‘It’s to protect her.’ Mattheo would tell his father, ‘I don’t want them to hurt her’. And his father’s chest would swell with pride, knowing his son was aware of the dangers the order could bring them. The dangers Dumbledore could bring.

He didn’t care that Mattheo loved you, he didn’t care that Bellatrix wanted to make you a soldier. He cared that his empire was in safe hands, and therefore, you would be too.

[twovialsofamortentia]

loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou 🐍

🎧 angel- massive attack

a/n: this is purely self indulgent. i just wanted to make james fold for a goth girl (me). if you don’t listen to angel while you read this you’re missing out

warnings: smut MDNI, everyone is 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, overstimulation, completely sub!james, severe dacryphillia, choking, mentions of violence, no sh mentions but allusions via the dark mark, terrible latin

“i have to go.” you insisted, tearing yourself out of james’ grasp. he didn’t want you to leave, not when you looked like that, and especially not when he knew you’d be coming home to him with a dark mark on your arm. “sirius is waiting downstairs.”

you noticed james was hesitant to let you go. you pressed your lips together, blending your black lipstick a little more, before standing up straight.

“i can handle myself.” you said as you stood up straight, although you were trying to convince yourself more than anything.

“i know.” james mumbled, his hand falling from your face, but his other hand remained on your waist still. “just- be careful. we’ll be close by if anything goes wrong, just say the word, but- be careful anyway.”

you forced yourself to tread carefully down the stairs so that you didn’t trip on your nerves and stack it. you inhaled deeply, shivering as you tried to shake off any last remnants of your usual self, and as you exhaled, a blank look settled over your face.

“well, that’s terrifying.” remus remarked, but you didn’t look at him. you were still getting in the zone. remus noted your lack of a response, and he nodded, taking your silence as an opportunity to explain. “we’ll be close by. one apparition away. we can hear everything, as long as your wands are out, so you say the word and we’ll be there in three seconds flat.”

sirius offered you his arm, and you took it, wrapping your fingers around his bicep as he led you into the fireplace. because sirius couldn’t ever shake his need to do or say something mischievous, even in a situation as grave as this one, he winked at james, and told him “got your girl.”

“be safe,” james replied, a look of concern etched onto his face behind the soft smile he was giving you to ease your nerves. “love you both.”

you nodded, and even though you were in the zone, you couldn’t resist throwing james a wink, as well.

“love you.” you told him, then sirius threw the floo powder down. green flames licked up your legs, and into the cloud of dust, you disappeared.

pretending to be in love with sirius came more naturally than you had initially expected. that was your cover- sirius returning to his family to execute his birthright, and you alongside him, together so you could sire as pure an heir as possible without some good old black family inbreeding.

you knew there was a spy in the order. this was your way of finding out who.

“cousin.” came a voice addressing sirius as soon as you stepped out of the fireplace and malfoy manor, and you had to look up, because that could have been anyone.

“cissa.” sirius sighed, and you could tell that he felt guilty already. if he was going to lie to anyone, he didn’t want it to have to be narcissa, but he was in her house, now.

narcissa’s eyes landed on you, and it was obvious to you that she thought you looked the part. her gaze raked over your figure once, up and down, then again, down and up.

“you’ve ditched the potter boy.” narcissa remarked, and you had to take as subtle of a deep breath as you could. your jaw clenched as she surveyed you, and you felt sirius wrap an arm around your waist to sell the story.

“we wanted different things.” you lied, and it killed you to do it, especially because you knew james was listening in from close by in case the mission went sour. you could tell your words weren’t quite selling it, so you sighed, and continued. “it’s a thing of the past. a phase. i’ve moved on.”

as you spoke, you glanced up at sirius and flashed him a dutiful smile, which he returned, along with a twinkle in his eye that meant you’re doing well.

“hopefully now we see eye to eye.” sirius turned back to his cousin as he addressed her. narcissa narrowed her eyes, and for a moment it looked as if she didn’t believe you, and your stomach dropped.

“wait until you’ve taken the mark before we come to that conclusion.” she preened, turning on her heels and walking off to sit down.

as soon as she was gone, you sighed with relief, and sirius dropped his smile. you were cautious of the fact that you were not to blow your cover at any point during the evening, though, so you squared your shoulders and let sirius lead you through to the dining room.

you stood still for a moment, and as soon as you stopped walking, you felt something cold and smooth wrapping itself around your ankles. you looked down to see a long, black, snake, and it made you feel sick to your stomach. the sound of it slithering, combined with the feeling of it twisting, tightening around your ankles, sent a wave of nausea coursing right through you.

that was the last time you were aware of your surroundings until someone was dragging you up out of your seat by one arm, pulling you to standing. you caught a glimpse of lucius malfoy’s long blonde hair, and you had to fight not to roll your eyes.

someone else addressed lucius from the other end of the table, and when you looked up to see who it was, you almost choked. voldemort was looking right at you, his black hair pushed smoothly out of his white face. he looked human, but not completely, as if there were something off about him- his skin a little too pale, his eyes ever so slightly too dark, and reptilian.

lucius nodded at the order he was given, and he rolled up the long sleeve on your arm, holding your limp hand still.

“fides in tenebris et in eius imperio.” he told you, prompting you to repeat his words. you didn’t speak latin. sirius did.

you shot sirius a look, and he nodded slowly, reassuring you. you were grateful to have him there. he was a reminder that there was some good in the world, at the very least.

“fides in tenebris et in eius imperio.”

lucius gripped your arm, and raised his wand, hovering it just millimetres above your skin.

“ex hoc tempore usque ad mortem.” he finished the motto, refusing to put you out of your misery and tap his wand to your skin until you had repeated him.

you took a shaky breath in, and then let it out slowly. you could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on you, so you knew that if you didn’t do this, didn’t swear allegiance to voldemort, you’d blow your cover before it had even began.

“ex hoc tempore usque ad mortem.”

it took a second for the pain to kick in, but when it did, it was nothing like anything you’d ever experienced. you clenched your jaw, and tears stung your eyes, so you had to blink them back. you watched the black ink spread across your skin and take the form of the mark, and as you saw it sinking in to your flesh, you felt a little part of you shrivel up and die.

“very good.” came that sickening hiss of a voice again from the head of the table, and you just nodded, muttering a hasty thank you, my lord, and throwing yourself back into your seat.

it was sirius’ turn next, and he stomached it a lot better than you, although you could see him wincing. you reassured him with your eyes, a subtle reminder that remus and james were waiting just outside, and that soon you’d be returning home to them. this wasn’t forever. just for now.

you sat in silence through the rest of the meeting, sirius’ hand in yours, and tried to come to grips with your feelings of guilt at what you’d just done. it was harder than you’d anticipated to remind yourself that you’d done it for the order, for the side of good, especially when you could feel that fucking snake slithering around your feet.

you zoned out until sirius was urging you to stand, reassuring you that it was time to go home.

the safest option was to travel back to your family home by floo powder, in case you were followed, so that was what you did. as soon as you were back in your own dining room, you sighed, and the feelings of guilt washed over you like a tidal wave.

you squared your shoulders as you stepped out of the fireplace, your cloak hood still over your head, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. when you did, your eyes landed on james.

you wanted to speak, to say something, but you had no idea what to say. it was sirius who spoke first, as he came up behind you.

“you did well, love.” he told you.

all you could do was nod.

that was what upset james. he walked slowly towards you, and for a moment, he just stood in front of you, trying to find his words. he slowly reached up, his fingers almost hesitating to touch your skin because he couldn’t bear to look at it. he lifted your arm up, and let the dark mark catch the light.

you looked down at it for the first time, and it filled you with an incomprehensible sense of dread.

“merlin..” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“it’s for the order.” james told you, taking his face in your hands. “you did a good thing, darling.”

remus hummed in agreement, stepping up behind sirius. “you’re both very brave.” he said softly. “i say you get some rest.”

“please.” sirius sighed. “i want to go home.”

you nodded slowly, not reacting when sirius pressed a kiss into your hair, or when remus ran a hand over your back. they both wished you a soft goodbye, then took a step back, and apparated out of the room with a quiet pop. that was the last sound in the room, and it announced a deep, thick silence.

you said nothing to begin with, just stood still. you were still dressed like a death eater- black dress, black makeup, sporting a new black tattoo to match.

“i swore allegiance to voldemort,” you began quietly, eyes filling with tears that you blinked away. “i lied about my loyalty, and i lied about my life. the hardest words to say of them all were that i don’t love you.”

james didn’t have a response to that, because he didn’t want to ever consider the possibility that you didn’t love him, since it simply wasn’t true. it was also his worst nightmare. instead of letting himself spiral down that rabbit hole, he just sighed, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your painted black lips.

“how can you kiss me? i look like a murderer.” you asked dejectedly, shrugging your cloak off and draping it over one of the chairs at the table.

“you look like an angel.”

that stunned you. your dark eyes flicked up to meet james’ and you furrowed your brows. it hadn’t occurred to you that james would be a fan of the death eater look, but here he was, staring down at you through his glasses, and his pupils were like saucers.

you wondered as you looked up at james how far he’d let you take it.

“kiss me again.” you breathed, more of a command than a request, and james obliged happily, threading his fingers into your hair as he captured your lips with his, uncaring of the fact that you were spreading black lipstick everywhere as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“james-” you began. you didn’t know what was going to come next. maybe you were going to ask james politely if you could fuck him like your life depended on it. maybe you were going to force him to his knees. you didn’t need to do anything, though, because when you huffed out his name, james huffed right back.

“please-” he whined, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

you pulled back, standing up straight. your heels were making your feet ache, but they were keeping you in this new frame of mind, playing into this weirdly dark persona, almost as if you were harbouring a secret, twisted side of you that was just now coming out to play.

you could tell as you scanned james’ gaze with your smoky eyes that he was expecting something. expecting you to snap, maybe, or to give him a command. you couldn’t just stand there staring at him all night, as much as you wanted to, so eventually, once you had taken james’ face tightly in your hand, you spoke.

“look at it.” you spat, forcing his gaze down to the mark on your arm, the skin around it red raw, like sunburn, a purple bruise already forming where lucius malfoy had forced the tip of his wand up against your flesh.

james’ eyes lingered on the mark for a moment before looking back up at you through his glasses. his eyes flashed with a look of concern, but it was mixed with something else, a strange fascination over the ink clinging to the flesh of your arm.

it was strange for james to be attracted to something like that, something so stupidly dark, and it made you look like a slytherin, there was no denying that- the dress, and the lipstick, it was really all rather gothic for james.

the strange thing about it was, he loved it. he lost himself staring at the mark on your arm, silently wishing to himself that you’d boss him around a bit.

“do you trust me?” you asked, using your grip on james’ face to shift his gaze back towards you.

“yes.” he answered quickly. far too quickly to even be debated whether or not it was dignified. it was simply not.

you nodded slowly, taking in the answer as if you had expected it to be any different. you realised then, as you stood in the dining room, not even three paces out of the fireplace, that both you and james were subtly getting off on this side of you.

james was practically glued to you, and it was as if he was trying to draw some comfort from your body. it was all he could do not to reach out and grab you, because he knew you’d tell him off for that, so instead he gazed down at you through his glasses, blinking rapidly.

“please..”

“go.” you said, letting go of james’ face with a little shove, urging him in the direction of the living room.

james nodded slowly, his expression serious, but his gaze never left your face. he wasn’t going to look away, and he took a few slow steps backwards, until he was stood at the doorway to the next room.

you walked forwards as james walked backwards, slowly, but surely, your heels clacking on the stone floor, and that felt good.

“i’m gonna sit you down,” you began as you walked. “and i’m gonna ride you until you’re begging me to stop. okay?”

james’ lips quirked at the corners, and he wanted so badly to break out into a smirk, because that was singlehandedly the best news he’d ever been given. he knew, however, that you in your new state probably wouldn’t take kindly to being smirked at, so he just nodded.

“beg.” you told him, watching as he sat down on the sofa, slouching back against it, and because it was james, he couldn’t help but manspread just a little. it was also an attempt to shift the raging hard on in his jeans, because looking at you walking towards him, just to stand over him like that? it was making so much blood rush to his dick that it was almost painful.

“please..”

“again.”

“please.” james urged you desperately, involuntarily brushing the palm of his hand over his jeans, just to create any little bit of friction, just to ease some of the tension. “please, love, please, you look so pretty, need you.”

you ran your tongue along your top row of teeth as you watched james staring up at you from the sofa. he looked a fucking sight- your black lipstick smudged across his mouth, pupils blown, slouched against the sofa cushions, gazing up at you as if you hung the moon and practically fucking his hand through his jeans.

you reached up to tug at the string that was holding your dress together, and the sleeves went loose around your shoulders before you dropped it to the floor. when it pooled around your ankles you shivered, because it reminded you of that fucking snake. slithering at your feet. wrapping itself around your shoes, as if to say you’re here now, for good.

that was how it felt. your eyes flicked down to the stinging skin of your forearm, and your jaw ticked. you weren’t evil. you weren’t a bad person. you just happened to have a big black mark on your forearm that told the world otherwise.

“angel..” came james’ voice from beneath you as you stepped out of your dress, crossing the hardwood floor in your heels and your underwear. it wasn’t so much him calling you by a name as it was a declaration of how simply gorgeous you looked in that moment.

you twisted your forearm to face upwards, showing james the burning flesh, the raised skin around the tattoo.

“this is not me,” you began. james nodded in response, because he knew that, but you continued. “this is not who i am.”

“i know.” he said softly, nodding again slowly as he leaned slightly forward. his arms snaked around the cold skin of your waist, and his chin rested against your stomach so he could stare longingly up at you through his glasses. those fucking glasses.

“regardless of that fact, james, and the fact that i love you very much, i’m going to fuck you like i hate your guts.”

james’ eyes fluttered closed briefly at your words, but then he forced them open, because he didn’t want to miss a second of you. you sent a shiver down james’ spine, and it was as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. it was in that moment that every atom of his being had become more in love with you than it had ever been before.

you shoved at his left shoulder gently, sending him back against the sofa, before reaching up behind you to unclip your bra, catching it as it fell off of your shoulders, then dropping it on the sofa. james lifted his hips up to slide his jeans and boxers off over his legs, his lips parting at the sight of your bare skin, as if he’d never seen it before.

there was no doubt in james’ mind that he was looking at his most prized possession, and he was obsessed with you. love was the word most of the time, but this, when you were stood over him, leant slightly forward so you could slide your underwear down your bare thighs and off of your ankles, over your heels, james felt like it was something different.

he wanted to reach out, he wanted to touch you, he wanted to kiss and taste, but he didn't. james was obedient- he'd do what you told him, and not one thing more. he stared up at you through his glasses as you straddled his lap, his gaze flicking to the mark on your arm every now and then.

you hissed as you sunk your aching body onto james’, sliding as deeply as you could onto him, and it was like nothing you’d ever felt before, because as much as it was you quelling your need to feel james inside you, it was also the solidification of your newly-formed, madness-driven, complete and utter control. you had him now.

“oh, fuck..” james moaned loudly, permeating the tense silence with an exclamation of pure ecstasy, and he had to tell himself not to cum just at the sight of you.

you gritted your teeth, sitting up on your knees to lift yourself up on james’ cock, before sitting slowly back down on it, burying it so fully into you that you could feel it brushing the right spot already.

“oh-” you gasped quickly.

“fuck- please!” james’ grip on your hips tightened, and his body immediately tensed. it took everything james had not to meet you with a thrust, because he knew you were in control, and he had to be good, and he could be that. he was going to be that if it was the last thing he ever did.

it took you a moment to get your own composure, to debate whether you should abandon it now and go back to normal, but something in your head was telling you that you were too far gone.

“again.”

“please, please.” james continued without hesitation, his voice breaking as he huffed out desperate begs for something, he didn’t even really know what, as he dropped his head against the sofa, eyes flicking down to your arm again. “please- fuck, please, please.”

that turned you on more than anything had ever turned you on your life. you felt yourself get even wetter, felt it underneath your hips, all over james. it was hot, almost painful, and you let out a breathy groan.

james’ heart was beating so hard he thought that it might rip his chest open. he could feel how desperately wet you were against him, and it was the most maddening, incredible and excruciating moment of intense self control he’d ever had to endure.

“angel, angel, please,” he tried again, his voice coming out barely as a whimper between jagged huffs of breath.

he tugged at your hips and rocked his hips against yours at the same time, desperately trying to get deeper inside you, if it were at all possible, and when you rolled your hips against his, sliding slightly off of his cock and then slamming yourself back down onto it, james felt tears sting his eyes.

you had your eyes squeezed shut at first, trying to steady your own breathing and remind yourself it wasn’t your turn to be a mess, this time. when you blinked a few times and your gaze landed on james’ face, wet with tears, the fight to stay upright and not fall apart then and there became twice as hard.

“are you crying?” you asked incredulously, the words coming out as a breathy huff.

you grabbed james’ jaw with your free hand and pulling him further towards you, wanting a better look at the tears staining his cheeks. you could feel his breath on your face, he was so close to you, and your eyes fixed on the pretty little tears, watching james blink a few times to let them out.

“yeah-” james whimpered, unable to hold it back if he had even wanted to. he had no shame in it, though, because he was so obsessed with you right now, and the pain that he was feeling was because he needed you so badly. it was because he loved you, and in that very moment it truly felt like you were ripping his heart out of his chest, and he’d let you do it to again. over, and over again. as many times as you wanted. because it was you. “yes, angel, just please- i need you- i love you-”

“you love me?”

“oh fuck, yes-” he gasped, and his eyes were wide and pleading as he looked up at you. “i love you so much, i love you, always, angel, i love you, i love you.”

you couldn’t help the moan that slipped from your lips at that, as you drove your hips forward, and you were bouncing on james’ cock now, lifting off of him and driving your hips back down, slowly, but roughly. your vision almost clouded over when you leaned back and felt james’ tip brushing against your cervix, because it hurt, but the type of hurt that was only bringing you closer.

that, combined with the fact that james was underneath you, chest heaving, crying because he loved you so much, would have been enough to make you cum alone, but what really helped was the fact that every few seconds, james’ gaze flicked from your face down to your arm, as if he was checking that the tattoo was still there, that you were still the one in control.

you leaned forwards to gently kiss the tears from james’ face, peppering little pecks across his pretty wet cheeks.

“fuck,” you sighed contentedly, in between the chaste kisses. “oh, fuck, that’s it.”

“angel, angel, angel, i’m gonna-” james huffed, trying his hardest to hold back from the edge until you told him it was okay, that you wanted it in you. he wanted to put it in you. he wanted to make you his forever. “i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna-”

“yeah?”

“yes! fuck! i’m gonna-” james repeated frantically, his voice taking on a high-pitched whine, a broken sound, as he felt your nails digging into the skin of his back. “i’m gonna cum, angel, please, let me- i need to- i need-”

you felt yourself getting closer to your own edge, but it wasn’t quite enough for you just yet. you looked down at james, who was looking right back up at you, begging you to let him cum, tears stinging his eyes again. you nodded permissively, because he looked so good, and he had been good, and you wanted to feel him coming apart underneath you.

james let out a noisy, whining moan, one that filled the whole house, and it sent a shiver down your spine as he came deep inside you, burying his head into your shoulder and huffing out ragged breaths against your bare skin as he felt himself unravelling.

it sounded like he was sobbing as he came, and you laughed softly, because he didn’t know the half of it just yet.

“can you cum again for me? yeah?”

he nodded desperately and quickly, his own eyes almost wild, and he was holding onto you tighter than he’d ever held anything before.

”yes, yes, please, anything, anything for you, angel-.” james pleaded. “i’ll do anything- fuck! fuck!”

the feeling of you grinding yourself against him after he’d just came made james’ hips stutter upwards, and his jaw dropped. it hurt, but it hurt so good. he gasped out a few low moans, eyes pressed shut at the painful pleasure of you not slowing your pace around his achingly sensitive cock.

“oh, fuck.” you hissed when james snapped his hips up into you.

james just swallowed deeply, and hummed lowly against your skin, pressing a long kiss to your shoulder before he pulled away. he looked like a mess, hair in his eyes, tears staining his cheeks, breaths heavy. “please, angel - just-”

you took james' face in one hand, fingers splaying out across his cheeks as you grabbed him by the jaw, and he whined, lips squishing together into a pretty little pout. you felt the tears spill over onto your fingers and you shivered when a stray bead of watery desperation escaped and slipped all the way down your wrist.

you gave him a command, touch me, and of course, james obliged, nodding as best he could in your grip and pulling you closer with one hand, the other reaching down to press his fingers softly against your clit. it pulled out a sharp cry of pleasure that came tumbling from your lips, and just like he had been the whole damn time, james was enthralled. captivated. there was no better word than the one he'd already thought a million times- obsessed.

james' other hand roamed your body, touching you everywhere he could get it. he ghosted his fingers over one of your nipples, then they trailed over your throat, lingering against your jugular, almost as a reminder.

james was strong. he could have grabbed you by the throat, thrown you face down and fucked you into the sofa cushions, but he didn’t. he was under you, submitting to you, crying for you. he wanted you to recognise that.

his fingers left your throat, which was good for you, because you almost faltered, but you were reminded of just how in control you were when james trailed his middle finger over the sore skin of your new tattoo.

"yes." you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

“i love you.” james blurted through a teary moan, because he just needed to say it out loud. “i love you, i love you, angel, i need-”

“yeah, yes- fuck-” you moaned as you squeezed around him and pulled him as deep as physically possible. “oh, i’m so close-”

james all but gasped for air as he shuddered underneath you, feeling the shock of a second orgasm creeping up on him so quickly that it was almost painful, and as soon as you dropped your head onto his shoulder and let out what could only have been described as a strangled cry, james lost his composure again.

“i love you, i love you!” he whined, bouncing you harshly upwards with a final snap of his hips, then just collapsed against the sofa, totally spent, chest heaving and gazing up at you as if you had just fallen from the sky.

“fuck.” you huffed finally. it took you a moment to catch your breath. it also took you a moment to shake off the urge to hold james down and make him do it again. he would have done it, for you, no questions, but you knew he was already fucked out and done for.

but then you saw james underneath you, his face stained with tears, out of breath and obviously aching from still being inside you. your eyes widened slightly at first. he looked ruined, but he looked so beautiful.

“darling..” you began, and you didn’t know whether or not to feel guilty.

james nodded quickly, and it was as if to say he was fine, which he wasn’t really, but he didn’t care, because you were still sitting on his lap and you were still letting him look at you, and that was all he was asking for, really.

“you’re okay?”

“i’m okay.” james assured you. “i love you.”

“i love you.”

james’ heart clenched at your words, because he was finally hearing you say it back, not just wailing his own proclamations of love to be met with a huff or an order in response.

you picked up on that. it wasn’t that you didn’t love james when you felt the way you did, it was that you didn’t feel like enough of yourself to be the one that he loved, not really. you felt like a strange sort of imposter, as if you weren’t really you, and you didn’t know if you wanted james to love you when you were like that.

wants be damned, james was going to love you anyway, and that was what he did. you showered, when you both found the lower body strength to drag yourselves upstairs, and the skin of your dark mark stung like flames were licking it instead of water, but james held your hand, reminding you that just because it was etched into your skin didn’t mean you had to fulfil its prophecy.

you kept the mark covered, after that, with long sleeves, and sometimes even a bandage when it was too hot not to dress for the weather. it only came out along with the black lipstick and a trip to malfoy manor, but every time it did, james would fold for you, and that served as intermittent stark reminders that james was a fan of the dark look, really.

[theolivetree123]

Rev up your engines, it’s time to…

🏁 Race for the Cookie Cup! 🏁

(More below the cut)

🫐Event Summary🍒

You, Grim, Ace, and Deuce decide to visit a new arcade that recently opened up in the town not far from NRC. There, you meet up with Ruggie, Epel, Silver, and Idia, who have all taken interest in a specific game in the corner of the arcade. The game is called Sugar Rush! Since there's two arcade machines, Ace challenges Deuce to one round of the game, and whoever loses must pay for the other's lunch. Deuce unsurprisingly accepts, and they begin their match. Midway through their match, however, the game suddenly glitches! You and the gang all think the game is broken until a flash of light comes from the arcade machines. Next thing you know, all 8 of you are somehow inside of the racing game, Sugar Rush!

To escape this sweet nightmare, you must win the next grand prix and obtain the Cookie Cup! But, uh oh. Ace and Deuce are having a bit of a squabble. It seems like you guys are going to have to split into two separate teams!

For this grand prix, Deuce will be accompanied by Silver and Idia as...

Team Bluepuff!

And Ace will be accompanied by Ruggie and Epel as...

Team Redpop!

Which team will you choose?

🏁Rules🏁

Everyone is allowed to race! Whether it's your OCs, yuusonas, or, heck, even rope your favorite canon NRC/RSA student into this mess! Everyone is welcome to participate in the mess that Ace and Deuce started.

You can participate in this event by making custom cards, general fanart, fanfics, whatever! Just no NSFW, please. This is a PG racing game!

If you decide to make anything for this event, please tag me and use #🍪rftcc. I'd love to see what you make!

And finally, this event has no deadline, so feel free to participate whenever!

🏁Outfits and Carts🏁

Since you will be racing, make sure your outfit is fit for the job! Make sure your character has a jersey, gloves, and a sweet theme!

For your character's theme, make sure it is based off of some sort of candy or sweet treat! The character must also have a matching cart, as well (if you're drawing them with one, that is). Try to stay away from actual candy brands, though! We wouldn't want a lawsuit on our hands!

The characters listed in the summary have their own cards and outfits! I listed them below so you don't accidentally copy their theme.

SSR Deuce (Blueberry Pie)

SSR Ace (Cherry Pie)

SR Ruggie and Epel (Donuts and bubblegum)

SR/R Idia and Silver (Slushies and marshmallows)

Also! If you're making a card, you may use the blank cards below!

🏁Racers🏁

Team Bluepuff

🍋Yuya Florence by @cheerleaderman

🍪Dias Feathenfool by @beezonia

🍓Robyn Starling by @pinkskytwst

💝Reese Kingbit by @kickasscentral

🍋Flori Mohn-Prinz by @bunniehunn

Team Redpop

💍Ryuuni by @rini-rambles

🎂Narcissa Viperoné by @beezonia

🍍Saya Starling (ART) by @pinkskytwst made by @dilatory-replies

🧸Cerise Fanfare by @0kiwisalad0

🎄Humm by @xxoomiii

⚫️ Leon Lynch by @readsrandomstuff67

🏁Fanart🏁

A little comic from @mello-bee

Art of the crew by @spade-12

Ruggie doing donuts by @mirioho

Ruggie fanart by @cheshanoneko-draws

🏁Fanfics🏁

Bet on the Teleportation by @spadecentral

🏁I look forward to seeing what you create!🏁

[impcrios]

she can't help but roll her eyes at his first sentence, it sounded condescending in the tone that he said it, but she let it go. they knew when to pick their battles and she wasn't about to go sprouting off on the apprenticeship that she had under her belt or the fact that she had been in her line of work for over six years now. they weren't an idiot when it came to lucius malfoy, they had been in the same house, same year, knew that his father died and ended up being the head of his house, too young for anyone, and at the moment it had happened she had felt bad for him. it would be a loss to lose a parent, a loss to have an empty mansion with ghosts not seen, and a younger sister and mother to care for. she sees it then, the first sign of emotion, the irritation, her mask is composed again, the shift in tone changing once more. her mother had tried to beat her into submission when it came to proper etiquette and decorum, chastising them that they said whatever came to their mind. she takes a deep breath, listening to him, trying to understand, but there's a very deep part of her that just feels doomed. maybe even a bit sad. 'you don't think i couldn't have any girl i wanted,' she raises an eyebrow at that, her arms crossed, clutching her wand, and when he keeps talking and painting the picture of the kind of wife that she should be, she gulps, her jaw slackening at the thought. then lucius goes for the jugular, as any slytherin would. she can't help but the corner of her lip almost turning upward. maybe he had been right, maybe she did want to be different so badly, but there was one thing that she clung onto. "i'm not unhappy, malfoy." at least, in terms of her career life. in fact, she felt like she was finally free. they had a job that they loved, a place to call home in england and in romania. they had dragons that they cared for since they were born, that only knew narcissa as their loyal caretaker. the only thing that truly made her unhappy was the fact that andromeda was gone. 'what  is  it  i'm  working  for,  or  that  you'll  allow  me  to  work  for', before she can even answer she hears it. toujours  pur. she could react in anger, in fact, she wanted to punch him in the face. but they wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "are they?" she asks, are they truly happy? they could name many girls in their year who would speak only ever in the dark about how it felt like being someone's property to be betrothed to someone but no one ever said the quiet part out loud. "are you? aside from gaining the black name and my family? are you happy?" whatever his answer would be, it would always come back to family duty and honour. maybe that's what it would always be between the two of them. it made her sad for the both of them.

lucius  malfoy  knows  many  things.  he  excels  in  potion  making,  charms,  conducting  business,  having  a  poker  face,  operating  malfoy  manor,  attending  meetings,  hiding  his  allegiances.  there  aren't  many  things  he  doesn't  know  —  but  now  he  has  two:  dragons and how  to  handle  narcissa  black.  ❝  this  tells  me  you've  done  the  research.  ❞  not  that  it  took  a  genius  to  see  how  the  dragons  are  chained  and  harmed  while  making  a  visit  to  gringotts,  he  still  wasn't  sure  how  he'd  manage  narcissa's  request,  but  he  knows  people  —  it's  the  one  thing  he  knows  how  to  do.  ❝  i'm  not  asking  for  effort  from  you,  ❞  the  words  come  out  sharp,  irritation  veiling  his  tone.  lucius'  doing  the  best  he  hows  how  and  yet  narcissa  twists  his  words,  sizing  her  up  as  well.  ❝  you  don't  think  i  couldn't  have  any  girl  i  wanted  ?  ❞  it  wasn't  meant  to  be  cocky,  but  more  matter-of-fact.  lucius  malfoy  was  an  eligible  man  and  already  head  of  his  household  —  the  families  of  many  single,  pureblooded  woman  had  already  sent  in  requests  for  lucius  to  take  their  daughters  hand  in  marriage.  lucius  didn't  accept  any  of  them.  ❝  i'm  being  serious,  ❞  his  voice  lowers  as  he  watches  narcissa  closely.  ❝  you  think  i  would  accept  a  proposal  with  you  if  i  wanted  a  socialite  to  fill  my  house  with  unwanted  people  for  parties  and  change  the  decorations  every  month  ?  ❞  he  takes  a  pause,  a  moment  to  really  look  at  them.  ❝  i  think  you  want  to  be  so  different  so  badly  that  you  cause  yourself  to  be  as  unhappy  as  you  are.  what  is  it  i'm  working  for,  or  that  you'll  allow  me  to  work  for  ?  you  and  i  always  knew  this  was  our  path  —  family.  duty.  honor.  toujours  pur.  ❞  the  french  house  of  black  motto  rolls  off  of  his  tongue.  ❝  did  you  think  this  would  be  different  for  you  ?  even  if  you  think  those  other  pureblooded  girls  are  easy  or  lesser,  at  least  they're  happy.  ❞

[fiella]

harry potter vs the consequences of speaking

“You’re both exhausting,” Draco muttered.

Harry, like the idiot he was, grinned over the rim of his mug and replied, “And you’re cute.” Out loud. In front of his mother. “I mean—” Harry stammered. “In like, a disheveled, terrifying sort of way. Like—er—sleep deprived, but… charming?”

Draco just kept blinking.

Narcissa took a polite sip of her tea, the corner of her lip twitching.

“I should go,” Harry said abruptly, standing too fast and nearly knocking his chair over. “I should… check on the—uh. Ward perimeter. Or something. Yes. The wards.”

“You finished the wards yesterday,” Draco said flatly.

Harry was already halfway to the door. “I know, but they could be… wobbly. Or flicker-y. Wards shift.”

“I watched you double-layer the stabilization charm.”

“Triple-checking. Safety. You know me.”

Draco stared at him, dead-eyed.

Harry flashed a deranged smile and promptly fled the room.

Behind him, he heard Narcissa sigh fondly. “They always run when they’re flustered.”

read the rest (if you wanna)