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[hp-fearfest]

The spooky season may *technically* be over, but we here at HP Fear Fest HQ refuse to pass on to the other side just yet. We're like that super discounted, leftover bag of candy that got lost behind all the winter holiday decorations at the supermarket. Terrifying.

Find the 31 Days of Fear Fest Masterlist below the cut! Thank you and congratulations to everyone who created something for this year's challenge, you've ensured that we will be sleeping with the lights on for the foreseeable future...😱

If you created something for the fest and don't see it listed here, send us an ask or a message and let us know asap!

Until next year, you little gremlins! We'll be watching you 👀 -The HPFF Mods 👻

Daily: 

🎃 Day 1: Body Snatchers–Heart

👻 Replaced by @moonstruckwytch [Drarry | 100 | T] 👻 it was the only way to save him by @cavendishbutterfly [Drarry | 50 | T] cw: mild body horror, open ending 👻 reverse psychology by @vivantesopales [Tomarry | 364 | G] 👻 [ART and Drabble] Heart by @xgardensinspace [Neville/Ron | 97 | T] cw: blood and gore

🎃 Day 2: They Never Suspected a Thing–Trapped

👻 He Did It by @moonstruckwytch [Drarry | 100 | T]

🎃 Day 3: From the Deep–Buried

👻 Restoration by @chamomileteafuel [Drarry | 240 | M] cw: implied necromancy, character death, illness, gore, grief 👻 Drowning by @moonstruckwytch [Drarry | 100 | M] cw: MCD

🎃 Day 4: The–Changeling Soul

👻 Hissing by @moonstruckwytch [Drarry | 100 | T] 👻 outside over there by @chamomileteafuel [Drarry | 430 | M] cw: implied miscarriages 👻 rené by @vivantesopales [Tomarry | 392 | T] cw: blood

🎃 Day 5: Ghost Story–Haunt

👻 still life by @cavendishbutterfly [Drarry | 50 | T] cw: ghosts 👻 Hide and Seek by @moonstruckwytch [Drarry | 100 | M] cw: MCD 👻 A Ghost's Funeral by @lumosatnight [Cedric/Fred, G, 1.1k]

🎃 Day 6: Cursed Artifact–Possession

👻 Tethered by @moonstruckwytch [Drarry | 100 | T] cw: illness

🎃 Day 7: There’s Something in the Attic–Scream

👻 Inheritance by @moonstruckwytch [Drarry | 100 | T] 👻 Bury the Sound by @vivantesopales [Tomarry | 303 | T] cw: distorted reality, self-imposed isolation

🎃 Day 9: It Was a Dark and Stormy Night–Cold

👻 Outage by @moonstruckwytch [Drarry | 100 | T]

🎃 Day 10: The Shivers–Agony

👻 Orion’s Will by @phoebe-delia [Drarry | 353 | M] cw: mcd, illness, curse, grief, unhappy ending

🎃 Day 11: Don’t Look Behind You–Rot

👻 the new generation by @cavendishbutterfly [Drarry | 50 | T]

🎃 Day 14: A Seance–Silence

[ART] by @xgardensinspace [Ginny] cw: body modification, injury

🎃 Day 15: Cult Activity–Poison

👻 A Seaside Picnic by Slashaholic666 [Sirius/Severus | 1.7k | G]

🎃 Day 16: Disembodied Voices–Hidden

👻 The Manor by @kittycargo [Drarry | 1.2k | T]

🎃 Day 17: Blood Suckers–Hunt

👻 undone by @moonstruckwytch [Drarry | 100 | T] 👻 prey by @dracopetal [Gen | 799 | M] cw: blood and violence cw: dismemberment  👻 [ART] by @xgardensinspace [Ron/Neville] cw: blood and gore

🎃 Day 19: Dark Fairytale–Forest

👻 The Three Ravens by Sniper_Jade [NottPott | 9.4k | E] 👻 no stranger by @vivantesopales [Tomarry | 614 | M] cw: MCD, semi-graphic description of death by hanging 👻 [ART] Fairy Kings by @necromanticnoir [M] 👻 The Chase by slashaholic666 [Sirius/Severus | 1.8k | E] cw: rape/non-con

🎃 Day 20: B-Movie–Omen

👻 Deathly Design by slashaholic666 [Severus & Sirius pre-slash | 5k | T]

🎃 Day 22: Legend Has It–Harvest

👻 The Corpse Spouse by slashaholic666 [Lily/Severus, Sirius/Severus | 200 | G]

🎃 Day 23: Blood Magic–Family

👻 A Drop Will Do by slashaholic666 [Sirius/Severus | G | 986] cw: forced bonding

🎃 Day 24: Don’t Let It In–Nightmare

👻 Don't Let It In by brit_girl/@drarrysworlds [Gen | M | 8k] cw: torture, blood, posession

🎃 Day 25: Feed the Beast–Hunger

👻 Loveliest by @vivantesopales [Tomarry | 182 | M] cw: blood rituals

🎃 Day 28: Necromancy–Undead

👻 Bait by slashaholic666 [Severus/Sirius/Regulus | G | 516] cw: zombie 👻 Matter of by @vivantesopales [Tomarry | T | 100] 👻 Death and Undeath by @lumosatnight [Fred/George | 3.1k | E] cw: MCD, incest, sibling incest, necromancy, necrophilia, graphic description of corpses, human sacrifice, poison, kidnapping, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

🎃 Day 29: I Know What You Did–Curse

👻 as if i'll ever know how by @vivantesopales [Tomarry | T | 100] cw: unhealthy relationship, codependency, mind-kidnapping

🎃 Day 31: The Darkness Answers Back–Alone

👻 Strays of the Night by Belladonnalee [Albus Severus/James Sirius | 3.8k | M] cw: incest, sibling incest, mentions of blood 

🎃 Ongoing:

👻 In the Garden of Shadows by @alexandra-emerson tumblr ao3 [75.4 k | M] Prompt(s): Doppelganger–stranger Ship(s): Dramione Warnings: violence, dark themes, and sex Summary: When Draco was a boy, he tried to catch the sun. He lined a basket with small mirrors and praised his cleverness as he watched the light dancing in the trap he’d made. Then, the sun set, and the night stole his prize. He tried again and again, but never managed to hold the light for longer than a day. Sometimes he feared it was the same with him and Hermione. That it was just a matter of time before the sun set for them, leaving him in a world of shadows. That he'd be stuck weeding a field of endlessly growing dark thoughts until they finally overtook him. A story about running from the past, and what happens when it catches up…

👻 the echo of an axe by luminae [19.7 k | M] Prompt(s): Chapters correspond to the daily prompts Ship(s): Drarry Warnings: Dubcon, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death Summary: Draco gets attacked on his way home. He doesn't remember much, but it was scary and he desperately needs it to happen again.

🎃 Completed:

👻 you'll have to take the long way down by @theheadgirl tumblr ao3 [22,4k | T] Prompt(s): Chapters correspond to the daily prompts Ship(s): Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley, Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood Warnings: self-harm, claustrophobia, murder, injury, blood, torture (check for more tags!) Summary: 31 days of fear, as experienced by Percy, Oliver, and Audrey. New prompts posted daily. Tags are for the whole work. Please be mindful of triggers. I tried to tag as much as I could but, fun fact, AO3 limits you to 75.

👻 Wormwood by @ghaniblue tumblr ao3 [13.6k | M] Prompt(s): Chapters correspond to the daily prompts Ship(s): Gen Warnings: psychological horror (check for more tags!) Summary: [...] and a great star fell from heaven, blazing like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers and on the springs of water. The name of the star is Wormwood. A third of the waters became wormwood, and many died from the water, because it was made bitter. (Rev 8:10–11) or, the life and death of Regulus Black.

[hp-fearfest]

HP Fear Fest: Week 4 Roundup

Did the nightmare creatures get you yet? No? Then here is Week 4 of the 31 Days of Fear Fest Challenge, ready to slither into your dreams. Please check under your bed before you go to sleep. You never know what's lurking in the shadows.

Prompts this week include:  

Blood Magic–Family; Don't Let It In–Nightmare; Feed The Beast–Hunger; Over The Airwaves–Transmission; Panic Room–Intruder; Necromancy–Undead; I Know What You Did–Curse; Written In Blood–Book; The Darkness Answers Back–Alone

If you wrote something for a Week 4 prompt and it isn’t included on this list, but you would like it to be, send us a message!

Links to daily posts and ongoing stories below the cut! Masterlist for the whole fest to come soon.

Daily: 

Day 23: Blood Magic–Family

👻 A Ghost's Funeral by @lumosatnight [Cedric/Fred, G, 1.1k]

Day 24: Don’t Let It In–Nightmare

👻 Don't Let It In by brit_girl [Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, gen, M, 8k]

Day 28: Necromancy–Undead

👻 Bait by slashaholic666 [Severus, Sirius, Regulus, G, 516]

👻 Matter of by @vivantesopales [Tomarry, T, 100]

Day 29: I Know What You Did–Curse

👻 as if i'll ever know how by @vivantesopales [Tomarry, T, 100] cw: unhealthy relationship, codependency, mind-kidnapping

Ongoing:

👻 In the Garden of Shadows by @alexandra-emerson tumblr ao3 [45,7k | M] Prompt(s): Doppelganger–stranger Ship(s): Dramione Warnings: violence, dark themes, and sex Summary: When Draco was a boy, he tried to catch the sun. He lined a basket with small mirrors and praised his cleverness as he watched the light dancing in the trap he’d made. Then, the sun set, and the night stole his prize. He tried again and again, but never managed to hold the light for longer than a day. Sometimes he feared it was the same with him and Hermione. That it was just a matter of time before the sun set for them, leaving him in a world of shadows. That he'd be stuck weeding a field of endlessly growing dark thoughts until they finally overtook him. A story about running from the past, and what happens when it catches up…

Finished:

👻 you'll have to take the long way down by @theheadgirl tumblr ao3 [22,4k | T] Prompt(s): Chapters correspond to the daily prompts Ship(s): Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley, Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood Warnings: self-harm, claustrophobia, murder, injury, blood, torture (check for more tags!) Summary: 31 days of fear, as experienced by Percy, Oliver, and Audrey. New prompts posted daily. Tags are for the whole work. Please be mindful of triggers. I tried to tag as much as I could but, fun fact, AO3 limits you to 75.

👻 Wormwood by @ghaniblue tumblr ao3 [13,6k | M] Prompt(s): Chapters correspond to the daily prompts Ship(s): Gen Warnings: psychological horror (check for more tags!) Summary: [...] and a great star fell from heaven, blazing like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers and on the springs of water. The name of the star is Wormwood. A third of the waters became wormwood, and many died from the water, because it was made bitter. (Rev 8:10–11)

[hp-fearfest]

31 Days of Fear, hosted by @hp-fearfest

Day 31: Alone (read on AO3 here)

Everything is looking up for Oliver Wood. His team is like a well-oiled machine, they've practiced and practiced, and he's got a brand-new boyfriend (maybe? they've kissed but haven't put a label on it) to impress. Now, out on the field for their first game of his last year, it's time to prove how good they are, and that they deserve the House Cup that he's going to have by the end of the year. He focuses on the action on the pitch, switching between the Quaffle and the other players, ready to snap into action at any time. The game is going well, so far. It's a tight lead - not impossible for Slytherin to catch up, but it'll be up to his star Chasers to make it more insurmountable … and him, too, he supposes, blocking their goals. 

Speaking of -

He catches the Quaffle handily and tosses it back to Katie. Feeling heat along the back of his shoulders, he turns and smirks at Marcus Flint, who's glaring at him like he's trying to kill him with just the power of his stare. Oliver tosses off a sardonic salute and goes back to circling the goalposts, checking in with the twins, the Chasers, Potter. 

He dives for another save and catches it. Tossing it back out to Angelina, he's barely got enough time to look back up before something slams into his chest, hard. The world seems to slow down and he feels himself arching backwards, falling off his broom. The cheers, the screaming, the blast of the whistle are all strangely muted, and his own breathing seems so loud. The air whistles past his ears as he falls, and slowly, slowly, he closes his eyes -

-they shoot back open, and the strange slowness that took over earlier is gone, and he's still falling. Above is nothing but a whitish-blue expanse - the sky, he thinks, which feels like it ought to be obvious but his mind is reeling, overwhelmed, so he states it - and he looks to either side. The same whitish-blue expanse as far as he can see: no trees, no clouds, no buildings, no nothing. He twists in the air, gasping at a sharp pain from his ribs, and looks at what he thinks is down.

It's the same. Nothing. Nothing as far as the eye can see. Not even a horizon, not a cloud. Nothing. He can feel himself starting to hyperventilate: where the hell is he? What did Flint hit him with? 

Calm down, Wood, calm down! he chastises himself. Panicking won't help. Get your damn wand. He twists again, grimacing against the pain in his chest, and manages to dig his wand out of his boot. Now Apparate. It's fine. You'll get back to Hogwarts and punch Flint right in his stupid face. 

He closes his eyes. Destination is easy. Determination is easy. Deliberation, when you're falling into nothing, is more complicated, but he still tries to take a step forward. For a moment, the lung-crushing sensation of Apparition closes around him, then, just as suddenly, it releases. 

"No!" he yells out loud. "No! I want to go home!" He tries again, again, but it's not taking, it's not taking, and 

he's 

still

falling

and he screams in frustration, heedless of the pain in his chest. 

He feels tears being ripped from his eyes by the rushing wind, and realizes that he is entirely helpless, and completely alone. No one knows where he is. No one can come for him. He can't Apparate out. It's just him and the void. Maybe he'll fall forever. 

Maybe he'll die here.

The feeling of empty helplessness is a new, strange one for this Gryffindor, who's always able to strategize his way out, who sticks with it to the end, who has never faced a problem he couldn't make a play to solve. But this … this is beyond him. It's beyond playbooks and strategy. Whatever happened to him, whatever Flint threw at him, he can't fix it. 

He doesn't even know how long he's been falling. Thirty seconds, ten minutes, an hour? He has no sense of time, and even if he could get to his watch under his gauntlet, it would only tell him what time it was in Scotland. It wouldn't tell him anything he actually wants to know. 

He takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes. 

Screaming around him. It's deafening. Oliver's eyes fly open again, and he has just enough time to catch a glimpse of a pale, terrified-looking redhead clutching the edge of the Gryffindor stands, staring down at him, before he hits the ground and everything goes black. 

Author's Note: And that's thirty-one days! Thank you again to @hp-fearfest for hosting, to those who left kudos or comments on AO3, who reblogged or liked on Tumblr, and to you, for reading! I started writing this on August 9 and finished up on October 3, and I'm so, so proud of the work I've done. Happy haunting!

[hp-fearfest]

Fic: Wormwood (Regulus, Mature) (chapters 21-31)

This is the continuation of my Regulus fic for @hp-fearfest. The first 8k of chapters 1-20 can be found on AO3. You can subscribe there for daily updates delivered to your inbox. Or read here on Tumblr chapters 1-10 and chapters 11-20. There's a link at the end of each section that brings you to the next chapter. This a Choose Not To Warn adventure, beware.

Onwards with chapter 21 under the cut.

Prompt 21: burn (i'm sorry)

Regulus found himself in front of the small cottage at the edge of the Muggle village where he'd stood with Bellatrix just over a year ago. He could see the rose bushes in full bloom and the winding garden path, illuminated by the cold white glow of a streetlamp. 

Four cloaked figures surrounded him. Barty was there beside him: his first raid. Regulus could feel him twitching with barely restrained eagerness. This time, Regulus was the only one wearing the golden mask. He was the highest ranking Death Eater in charge.

"Are the wards down?" he asked. 

"Yes. She's trapped inside," Barty said. 

"Good. Take positions around the house. Nobody in or out. Understood?" 

Regulus had watched and learned. Commands need to be short and easy to understand, and need to be confirmed. He may be the youngest of the group, but he wore the Dark Mark on his arm. This was his assignment. There would be no mistakes on his watch. Directed at Barty, he said, "You watch the front door."

Barty gave him a jaunty salute. "Yes, sir."

He found the woman upstairs in the bedroom sitting by the window, her back to the door, the only light coming from two candelabras on the dresser. Regulus could see her face reflected in the glass, and she could see him. 

"You took your time," she said. "Here to finish what you started?"

"You know why we're here," Regulus said. "You didn't listen to the warning the first time."

"The warning—" Her voice cracked on the word. She turned around then, and Regulus startled at how old she looked, haggard and frail, with deep lines around her mouth. "My husband's gone and so is my son."

She looked directly at him as she spoke, and her gaze wasn't feeble at all. "My son's grave is empty, do you know that? There wasn't enough left of him to bury. Do you really think I care what you do to me?"

Regulus didn't have an answer to that, but it didn't matter. He wasn't here to talk or answer questions. His assignment was to deliver a message, loud and clear. 

"Was it you, the— the warning?"

"No," Regulus said, before he could stop himself.

She nodded. "Alright. I'm ready."

Regulus raised his wand, the words of the spell on the tip of his tongue. This was the moment of truth. He'd trained for this. His whole life seemed to have led him to this moment. Regulus wouldn't fail.

"Avada Kedavra!" 

Nothing happened, his wand as inert as a mundane wooden stick. Again he called, "Avada Kedavra!" But again nothing happened. Regulus' vision went a little hazy around the edges. The mask was suddenly too heavy, pressing down on his face, pressing down… He couldn't get a proper breath into his lungs. His wand hand shook.

The woman started laughing, loud gasping bubbles of hysterical laughter that rang through the house. Unbidden, an old memory started whispering in Regulus's mind, bowtruckles screaming and the cold voice of Mulciber saying 'distraction is key.'

There was a sound behind him. Barty stood in the door. "Hey, what's going on?" 

"Imperio," Regulus said, and the woman's laughter cut off instantly.

"Get out," Regulus snapped at Barty, but he didn't wait before bending down and whispering into the woman's ear. 

She blinked at him, then stood up slowly and walked over to the bed. She slid her feet out of her slippers and carefully arranged them by the dresser. Then she laid down on the bed and curled around the pillow, hugged it to her chest and closed her eyes with a gentle smile on her face. 

Regulus' throat burned. He needed it done. He needed to get out of here. Barty still stood in the doorway when Regulus turned around. 

"What—" Barty started to say, but Regulus shoved him out of the room without a word, down the stairs, through the door and out until they stood in front of the gate under the streetlamp, and he could breathe again. 

Only then did Regulus speak. "Incendio," he said, and the roof of the cottage burst into flames. 

"Can I?" Barty asked. Regulus had barely nodded assent before Barty raised his wand high into the air. "Morsmordre!" 

The green skull and winding snake gleamed sickly green in the night sky, while the fire blazed bright and orange-bright below. The contrast of colours was almost beautiful.

"That was cold," Barty said, and Regulus thought he could detect something close to admiration in his friend's tone. It tasted like ashes in Regulus' mouth. 

"Go home," Regulus said. "It's done." Regulus barely made it behind the door of Grimmauld Place before he doubled over and was sick all over the hallway carpet. Kreacher was at his side in an instant, Vanishing his mess with a wave of his hand and conjuring a cup of tea with the other. Chamomile, Regulus could smell the grassy scent wafting from the steaming cup, and his stomach heaved again. Mother made him drink it all the time as a child. He hated chamomile tea.

[hp-fearfest]

HP Fear Fest 2022

Day 17 - Bloodsuckers || Hunt

Hi, yes :’)

Happy Samhain, first and foremost! I have STRUGGLED to finish prompts for this fest, but I really wanted to at least get this one out there because it’s my favourite! I kid you not… I finished it last night :’) Well, technically today at 3am xD But, GOSH! This idea was so neat :’) I have a whole idea for a fanfic based off of this. When I first saw the prompt list I knew I wanted to have RonNev VampireAU! and I started thinking of a fic xD But you can have art on it NOW! ;) (I’m so sorry for adding more fic ideas to our list, @bubblemuggle​!! Ahhhhh!)

Anyways, glad to be posting this on Halloween because it feels very appropriately like ending the month with a BANG! :) I had 3 more drawings planned for the fest, so maybe I’ll still finish those and post them even if the fest is over? :b Cheers! Enjoy some deets below:

Weiterlesen

[hp-fearfest]

Fic: Wormwood (Regulus, Mature) (chapters 21-31)

This is the continuation of my Regulus fic for @hp-fearfest. The first 8k of chapters 1-20 can be found on AO3. You can subscribe there for daily updates delivered to your inbox. Or read here on Tumblr chapters 1-10 and chapters 11-20. There's a link at the end of each section that brings you to the next chapter. This a Choose Not To Warn adventure, beware.

Onwards with chapter 21 under the cut.

Prompt 21: burn (i'm sorry)

Regulus found himself in front of the small cottage at the edge of the Muggle village where he'd stood with Bellatrix just over a year ago. He could see the rose bushes in full bloom and the winding garden path, illuminated by the cold white glow of a streetlamp. 

Four cloaked figures surrounded him. Barty was there beside him: his first raid. Regulus could feel him twitching with barely restrained eagerness. This time, Regulus was the only one wearing the golden mask. He was the highest ranking Death Eater in charge.

"Are the wards down?" he asked. 

"Yes. She's trapped inside," Barty said. 

"Good. Take positions around the house. Nobody in or out. Understood?" 

Regulus had watched and learned. Commands need to be short and easy to understand, and need to be confirmed. He may be the youngest of the group, but he wore the Dark Mark on his arm. This was his assignment. There would be no mistakes on his watch. Directed at Barty, he said, "You watch the front door."

Barty gave him a jaunty salute. "Yes, sir."

He found the woman upstairs in the bedroom sitting by the window, her back to the door, the only light coming from two candelabras on the dresser. Regulus could see her face reflected in the glass, and she could see him. 

"You took your time," she said. "Here to finish what you started?"

"You know why we're here," Regulus said. "You didn't listen to the warning the first time."

"The warning—" Her voice cracked on the word. She turned around then, and Regulus startled at how old she looked, haggard and frail, with deep lines around her mouth. "My husband's gone and so is my son."

She looked directly at him as she spoke, and her gaze wasn't feeble at all. "My son's grave is empty, do you know that? There wasn't enough left of him to bury. Do you really think I care what you do to me?"

Regulus didn't have an answer to that, but it didn't matter. He wasn't here to talk or answer questions. His assignment was to deliver a message, loud and clear. 

"Was it you, the— the warning?"

"No," Regulus said, before he could stop himself.

She nodded. "Alright. I'm ready."

Regulus raised his wand, the words of the spell on the tip of his tongue. This was the moment of truth. He'd trained for this. His whole life seemed to have led him to this moment. Regulus wouldn't fail.

"Avada Kedavra!" 

Nothing happened, his wand as inert as a mundane wooden stick. Again he called, "Avada Kedavra!" But again nothing happened. Regulus' vision went a little hazy around the edges. The mask was suddenly too heavy, pressing down on his face, pressing down… He couldn't get a proper breath into his lungs. His wand hand shook.

The woman started laughing, loud gasping bubbles of hysterical laughter that rang through the house. Unbidden, an old memory started whispering in Regulus's mind, bowtruckles screaming and the cold voice of Mulciber saying 'distraction is key.'

There was a sound behind him. Barty stood in the door. "Hey, what's going on?" 

"Imperio," Regulus said, and the woman's laughter cut off instantly.

"Get out," Regulus snapped at Barty, but he didn't wait before bending down and whispering into the woman's ear. 

She blinked at him, then stood up slowly and walked over to the bed. She slid her feet out of her slippers and carefully arranged them by the dresser. Then she laid down on the bed and curled around the pillow, hugged it to her chest and closed her eyes with a gentle smile on her face. 

Regulus' throat burned. He needed it done. He needed to get out of here. Barty still stood in the doorway when Regulus turned around. 

"What—" Barty started to say, but Regulus shoved him out of the room without a word, down the stairs, through the door and out until they stood in front of the gate under the streetlamp, and he could breathe again. 

Only then did Regulus speak. "Incendio," he said, and the roof of the cottage burst into flames. 

"Can I?" Barty asked. Regulus had barely nodded assent before Barty raised his wand high into the air. "Morsmordre!" 

The green skull and winding snake gleamed sickly green in the night sky, while the fire blazed bright and orange-bright below. The contrast of colours was almost beautiful.

"That was cold," Barty said, and Regulus thought he could detect something close to admiration in his friend's tone. It tasted like ashes in Regulus' mouth. 

"Go home," Regulus said. "It's done." Regulus barely made it behind the door of Grimmauld Place before he doubled over and was sick all over the hallway carpet. Kreacher was at his side in an instant, Vanishing his mess with a wave of his hand and conjuring a cup of tea with the other. Chamomile, Regulus could smell the grassy scent wafting from the steaming cup, and his stomach heaved again. Mother made him drink it all the time as a child. He hated chamomile tea.

[hp-fearfest]

no stranger

[30102022, tomarry, M, @hp-fearfest – xix, hunger games crossover, inspired by the poem/song The Hanging Tree, cw: MCD, a corpse that sings and talks, semi-graphic description of death by hanging, nothing too gory]

•

Round midnight, Tom comes to the tree. He finds Harry sitting cross-legged amid the undergrowth, as always, with a guitar on his lap. Lost in thought. Darkly, the saplings and wildflowers rustle to his distracted thrums.

Tom’s footfall is hunter-quiet, but that doesn't keep Harry’s eyes from snapping up, from finding him – they never seem to have trouble finding him, and neither does the generous bursts of light in Harry's smiles; and neither does Harry's touch, warm, in a good dizzying way; or his lovely songbird voice.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree?

The forest goes quiet. Vastly focused, the little bugs and animals stop in their tracks just to listen as Harry sings.

Where I told you to run,

So we'd both be free.

But he sings to Tom only, and every word feels like a kiss on his split knuckles, on his soot-cold lips. 

-

A snowstorm in December blankets the steady coal fire of hope in Tom’s chest, and Harry’s trust bruises so easily in the cold, promises from last summer tender like a fruit, long frostbitten.

It’s ludicrous that Tom had thought running off together could be the answer, and he tells Harry as much.

The two of them, of all people, should know that fairytale kisses cannot seal fairytale fate. Suppose they run. Suppose they leave everything behind – then, what?

A lifetime in hiding, and that’s if they’re lucky.

... Are you, are you

Coming to the tree?

Still, Tom shows up before dawn. He shows up in white, two stolen names in his pocket, wet whip on his belt; behind him: a dark red trail on snow.

Where the dead man called out

For his love to flee.

Tom shows up late. Hours late, or perhaps days. He finds Harry waiting for him at the edge of a harsh, blind world.

His Harry, his love – why won't he untuck himself from the shadows and, as always, illuminate Tom's bleak, grey world? Why won’t he smile? Tom's gotten revenge on the Peacekeepers, gotten them a future in the Capitol out of it. Surely that is good news.

"Tom –" Harry's voice cracks, and on instinct, Tom sways forward, wanting to comfort him.

A branch creaks above, a fatigued noise. Fear and anguish cross Harry's face – does he not recognise him?

Exasperated, Tom begins softly,

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree?

He can't sing like Harry, but it's their song, their morbid little in-joke. He knows the lyrics like he knows his own name.

Where they strung up a man

They say who murdered three.

Harry’s face screws up in a broken, soundless scream. He drops down to his knees. In the thickening snow, he scrambles closer and fiercely hugs Tom to himself, face buried into Tom’s elbow.

His Harry, alive in his arms, but Tom can’t feel a thing. It’s as if he’s a thousand feet down the mine again, where the weighty buzz of his carbide lamp is real and his body is not.

Run, my love, Tom whispers, slowly, painfully, finally remembering. Himself as the bait, thirteen lashes before he found the right moment to twist his wrist out. Three down, but more was coming. The bullet they put in his thigh tore at his muscles as he tried to outrun time, outrun death …

Splintered rope, scratchy and unrelenting around his neck. Gravity silenced him, inch by inch; he watched, his last exhales bleaching the sky hoary.

Harry, run, they’re –

But Harry just hugs him tighter, hugs him with a terrible sort of finality and doesn’t – “Never,” Harry chokes, “never again” – furiously, doesn’t let go.

•

🍁 at first i intended tom and harry to directly mirror coriolanus and lucy in The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes, which would end in a different kind of tragedy [spoilers ahead] – tom would have to betray harry for power and glory. but this tom insisted he loved harry too much to do that so he got to be a singing corpse instead.

🐿 read more: prev | next | my fear fest collection

[hp-fearfest]

Death is a slow process.

First, the heart stops beating, blood flow ceases, oxygen withers and fades into nonexistence. Cells burst, veins rupture. Limbs become stiff; laughter lines freeze in place.

Then, the abdomen swells, bacteria crawl into every limb—every crevice—and consume their fill. Muscles become liquid; dreams become nightmares.

Finally, the insects arrive. They colonise empty cavities, lay their eggs, and feed their young with rotting flesh. Bits of skin are gradually chipped away, all features lost to the inevitable turn of the Earth. Bodies become bone, a disquieting reminder of a life once lived.

Death is a slow process. Undeath is much the same.

My fic for @hpcestfest is revealed!! What a wild ride. And just in time for Halloween too. Also written for @hp-fearfest for the prompt necromancy.

Death and Undeath

Fred/George, Harry/George, E, 3.1k

Tags: Necromancy, Necrophilia, Graphic Description of Corpses, Death, Dark Magic Rituals, MCD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Smut, Angst, Twincest

Summary: George digs up Fred's body because he just can't let him go.

Go read it on AO3!

[hp-fearfest]

31 Days of Fear, hosted by @hp-fearfest

Day 30: Book (read on AO3 here)

CW: death

Of the two of them, it is extremely unusual for Oliver to be the one holed up in the Hogwarts library. Normally Percy's the one who has to be dragged out, kicking and screaming (at a level that is acceptable to Madam Pince - namely, a slightly elevated whisper). But Oliver's been in there all day - he wasn't at lunch, and Percy's going to start seriously worrying about him if he misses dinner, too. 

After all, he has to take care of - he feels himself start to smile just thinking the words - his boyfriend. He has to rescue his boyfriend and bring him to dinner. He curtails the entirely un-Head-Boy-like spring to his step and steps into the library. Madam Pince flashes a disapproving look at him, even though he hasn't actually done anything, and he nods politely to her. 

Oliver is easy enough to find - still at the table he'd been at that morning, hunched over a book, a pile of parchment next to him.

"Oliver?" Percy says softly, taking a seat across from him. "It's dinner time. Can you take a break?"

"No," Oliver says, not looking up from the book. "I can't stop now."

"You've been in here all day," Percy replies. "Far be it from me to stop a good studying session, but you'd have had me out of here ages ago if the situations were reversed." He reaches out for the book, intending to mark Oliver's place before shutting it, but the Quidditcher’s hand clamps hard around his wrist - hard enough that it hurts, and he pulls his hand back, stunned and upset. "Oliver, you hurt me."

"Sorry," Oliver says, and to his credit, he does sound sorry. "But I can't stop now. I'm just getting to the good part. You're Minister for Magic, Perce, and I'm captain of the Scottish national team. We have kids, a boy and a girl, and she's really shaping up to be a cracking Beater - "

"What are you talking about?"

Finally, Oliver looks up, and there's a manic glint in his eyes that Percy normally only sees before Quidditch games. "In the book, it's all in the book. It's telling me the future. Our future."

"That's impossible."

"It's not, it's all here." He taps the pages. Drawn by the movement, Percy looks down and catches his own name on the page. He does want to know more - but the look on Oliver's face, the hard grip on his wrist (not to mention kids; Merlin's beard, they've been officially dating for a week) frightens him. "I have to know what happens next." 

"Oliver, please," Percy says. "Let's just go. The book will be here later. After dinner. Come on."

Something sick and hot settles in his stomach, a feeling that if Oliver turns that page, there's no going back. Something awful waiting in the wings, and once it's read, it'll happen. It's ludicrous, goes against everything he believes in, but he feels so certain of it his bones ache. 

Oliver turns the page. He bends his head down to read, and Percy sees the instant the blood drains from his face. 

"You're assassinated," Oliver says, uncertain, voice shaking. "At an official Ministry event, on - "

"Don't." It comes out harsher than expected, a slap of a sentence. "I don't want to know."

"I wish I didn't know," Oliver says. He looks up at Percy, and the look in his eyes - something broken, scared, like he's looking at Percy but seeing him in a coffin. It breaks Percy's heart. 

"The future isn't set," Percy says. "That book doesn't know anything. I make my future."

"It was right about us," Oliver says. "About how I asked you out. Down to the hallway where it happened."

Percy sneers. "So it's able to recount past events accurately, and makes wild guesses for the future? I'm not impressed." He reaches out for the book, closing it firmly. "We're going, Oliver. Now."

"Perce - "

Percy gets to his feet, planting his hands on the table, and leans over to kiss Oliver, hard. 

"We're going, Oliver," he repeats, quiet, but firm. "Now."

Oliver shakes his head, but it's not a no - more like a swimmer shaking water from his ears. Then he nods, getting to his feet as well. 

"You know," he says, "if anyone could change the future, it's you."

"Yes. I do know. Come on."

Behind them, still on the table, the book emits a single, brilliant flash of light, and there's a sound like distant, rolling thunder.

They make it almost to the Great Hall before Percy collapses.

[hp-fearfest]

Day 31 Prompts: The Darkness Answers Back 🕸 Alone

Please indicate somewhere in your tumblr post or AO3 post which prompt(s) you are creating for. Remember to tag us in your Tumblr posts @HP-FearFest and use the tags #31DaysofFearFest and #HPFearFest2022. We will reblog your work here as we’re tagged! You can also add your works to the "31 Days of Fear Fest 2022" collection on AO3!

[hp-fearfest]

Fic: Wormwood (Regulus, Mature) (chapters 21-31)

This is the continuation of my Regulus fic for @hp-fearfest. The first 8k of chapters 1-20 can be found on AO3. You can subscribe there for daily updates delivered to your inbox. Or read here on Tumblr chapters 1-10 and chapters 11-20. There's a link at the end of each section that brings you to the next chapter. This a Choose Not To Warn adventure, beware.

Onwards with chapter 21 under the cut.

Prompt 21: burn (i'm sorry)

Regulus found himself in front of the small cottage at the edge of the Muggle village where he'd stood with Bellatrix just over a year ago. He could see the rose bushes in full bloom and the winding garden path, illuminated by the cold white glow of a streetlamp. 

Four cloaked figures surrounded him. Barty was there beside him: his first raid. Regulus could feel him twitching with barely restrained eagerness. This time, Regulus was the only one wearing the golden mask. He was the highest ranking Death Eater in charge.

"Are the wards down?" he asked. 

"Yes. She's trapped inside," Barty said. 

"Good. Take positions around the house. Nobody in or out. Understood?" 

Regulus had watched and learned. Commands need to be short and easy to understand, and need to be confirmed. He may be the youngest of the group, but he wore the Dark Mark on his arm. This was his assignment. There would be no mistakes on his watch. Directed at Barty, he said, "You watch the front door."

Barty gave him a jaunty salute. "Yes, sir."

He found the woman upstairs in the bedroom sitting by the window, her back to the door, the only light coming from two candelabras on the dresser. Regulus could see her face reflected in the glass, and she could see him. 

"You took your time," she said. "Here to finish what you started?"

"You know why we're here," Regulus said. "You didn't listen to the warning the first time."

"The warning—" Her voice cracked on the word. She turned around then, and Regulus startled at how old she looked, haggard and frail, with deep lines around her mouth. "My husband's gone and so is my son."

She looked directly at him as she spoke, and her gaze wasn't feeble at all. "My son's grave is empty, do you know that? There wasn't enough left of him to bury. Do you really think I care what you do to me?"

Regulus didn't have an answer to that, but it didn't matter. He wasn't here to talk or answer questions. His assignment was to deliver a message, loud and clear. 

"Was it you, the— the warning?"

"No," Regulus said, before he could stop himself.

She nodded. "Alright. I'm ready."

Regulus raised his wand, the words of the spell on the tip of his tongue. This was the moment of truth. He'd trained for this. His whole life seemed to have led him to this moment. Regulus wouldn't fail.

"Avada Kedavra!" 

Nothing happened, his wand as inert as a mundane wooden stick. Again he called, "Avada Kedavra!" But again nothing happened. Regulus' vision went a little hazy around the edges. The mask was suddenly too heavy, pressing down on his face, pressing down… He couldn't get a proper breath into his lungs. His wand hand shook.

The woman started laughing, loud gasping bubbles of hysterical laughter that rang through the house. Unbidden, an old memory started whispering in Regulus's mind, bowtruckles screaming and the cold voice of Mulciber saying 'distraction is key.'

There was a sound behind him. Barty stood in the door. "Hey, what's going on?" 

"Imperio," Regulus said, and the woman's laughter cut off instantly.

"Get out," Regulus snapped at Barty, but he didn't wait before bending down and whispering into the woman's ear. 

She blinked at him, then stood up slowly and walked over to the bed. She slid her feet out of her slippers and carefully arranged them by the dresser. Then she laid down on the bed and curled around the pillow, hugged it to her chest and closed her eyes with a gentle smile on her face. 

Regulus' throat burned. He needed it done. He needed to get out of here. Barty still stood in the doorway when Regulus turned around. 

"What—" Barty started to say, but Regulus shoved him out of the room without a word, down the stairs, through the door and out until they stood in front of the gate under the streetlamp, and he could breathe again. 

Only then did Regulus speak. "Incendio," he said, and the roof of the cottage burst into flames. 

"Can I?" Barty asked. Regulus had barely nodded assent before Barty raised his wand high into the air. "Morsmordre!" 

The green skull and winding snake gleamed sickly green in the night sky, while the fire blazed bright and orange-bright below. The contrast of colours was almost beautiful.

"That was cold," Barty said, and Regulus thought he could detect something close to admiration in his friend's tone. It tasted like ashes in Regulus' mouth. 

"Go home," Regulus said. "It's done." Regulus barely made it behind the door of Grimmauld Place before he doubled over and was sick all over the hallway carpet. Kreacher was at his side in an instant, Vanishing his mess with a wave of his hand and conjuring a cup of tea with the other. Chamomile, Regulus could smell the grassy scent wafting from the steaming cup, and his stomach heaved again. Mother made him drink it all the time as a child. He hated chamomile tea.

[hp-fearfest]

31 Days of Fear, hosted by @hp-fearfest

Day 29: I Know What You Did (read on AO3 here)

CW: mind control, drugging

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Weasley," Corban Yaxley says from the other side of the desk. He gestures to a set of commissary-issue tea cups and a matching teapot. "Something to drink?"

"Thank you," Percy replies, making a note to not drink from his cup until he sees Yaxley drink from his. The chances of the tea being tampered with are slim, but not none. Yaxley nods and pours tea into both cups, pushing one over to Percy. 

For a moment, they're both quiet, with the soft scrape of tongs and gentle pour of milk. Though he appears to be focused on his tea, Percy is also watching how Yaxley prepares his tea and imitating it exactly: two sugars, a splash of milk. It'll be a little too sweet for his liking, but drinking from the same pot and preparing their tea the same way means less chances of something happening to only him. 

He hates that he's thinking like this, hates that he sees enemies in shadows and plots in every cup of tea.

Yaxley takes a sip of tea, and Percy follows him a moment later. It is, as he'd thought, just a little too sweet, but it tastes fine otherwise.

"You're probably wondering why I asked you here, Mr. Weasley," Yaxley says, setting his cup down.

"I was surprised, yes," Percy replies.

Yaxley smiles a little. "Tell me something humiliating, Weasley. Something that you don't want anyone to know."

I fail to see how that's relevant or appropriate, is what Percy intends to say. He hears the whole sentence in his head, the slightly confused, slightly offended tone he'll take. His voice, however, gets as far as the "I" before it goes rogue. 

"I find you very attractive," he says, and flushes, clamping his mouth shut. He looks at the cup. "There was Veritaserum already in the cup."

"You are clever," Yaxley says with a laugh. "And that is a useful, and terribly embarrassing, tidbit." He leans back in his chair. "Now that we know it's working, why don't you tell me what you're doing for the Order of the Phoenix?"

"I'm passing on information to them," Percy says. He curls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his hands, anything to get him to shut up. 

"How?"

"Magically." It is true, just not helpful. Maybe if he can just stick with one word answers - he's dead either way, but maybe this way he's dead with a little less blood on his hands.

"And here I thought your brothers were the jokers," Yaxley tuts. "Tell me how you pass information on to the Order, Weasley. Be specific."

"I make copies of what I work on," Percy replies. He digs his nails harder into his hands. "And I Transfigure them into cigarettes, which I give to my contact in the Order when I go to smoke." 

"Who's your contact in the Order?" He's leaning forward now, a greedy spark in his eyes.

"I don't know."

"You have to tell the truth, Weasley."

"I am. It's someone different every time - or maybe it's the same person in disguise. I don't know them."

"Hmm." Despite the fact that he's been dosed with a truth serum, Percy gets the feeling Yaxley doesn't believe him. He's not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing. "What have you passed on to the Order?"

Percy swallows. This is it, he thinks. "Everything."

"Ah." Yaxley smiles, and it puts Percy in mind of a shark. "Well, Weasley, I think it's time you started working for the right side, don't you?"

"I'd rather die," Percy replies, and he doesn't feel ashamed about telling that truth. 

"Give it time, I'm sure we can make that happen." Yaxley draws his wand. "Imperio." 

[hp-fearfest]

31 Days of Fear, hosted by @hp-fearfest

Day 28: Undead (read on AO3 here)

"What floor d'you think we're on?" Oliver asks, holding out a hand for Percy to grab onto as he drops off the ladder. 

"We took the lift down to level 65, so … 71? I think?" 

"Wish someone took the time to label these," Oliver grumbles. He shivers. "Bit chilly down here, isn't it?"

"Considering how far down we are, it's amazing it's not colder," Percy says. A pause. "Or hotter, potentially. I actually don't know how deep we are."

"Oh, what's this?" Oliver says, kneeling. He carefully scoops up a crystal shaped like a tear, about the size of his hand. The lights in the walls reflect off its facets, making it sparkle. "Perce, what do you think? We ought to bring it to Gunther, let him …"

He trails off at the sound of rattling in the darkness, then the distinct sound of footsteps. Slowly, he gets to his feet, readying his mallet. They'd learned early on that most of the monsters down here were resistant to magic, so they'd had to improve their hand-to-hand combat skills quite quickly. He glances over at Percy, who's drawn his dagger from his belt. Percy looks back at him and gestures with his chin ahead - let's go. 

Side by side, they step forward, further into the darkness of the mine. The lights finally reveal what they'd heard: a skeleton, eyes glowing faintly red, with utterly inexplicable armor at its shoulders and leather boots. Without warning, it lifts a hand and flings a bone at Oliver. It hits him in the face, hard, and he curses, stumbling back.

With a wild cry, Percy launches forth towards the skeleton. They trade blows - Oliver can hear the crack of bone and the thud of impact against flesh - and Percy finally manages to drive his dagger in between two of its ribs. Despite the fact that there are no lungs to puncture, it's enough to take it out. The skeleton collapses into a pile of bones at his feet, and Percy stands over it, breathing hard, clutching the dagger in a white-knuckled fist.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asks, not sure if he should feel turned on or concerned. 

"Things that are dead should stay dead," Percy grinds out, glaring at the bones like he might set them on fire with his mind. Absently, he brings a hand up, wiping blood from his cheek. 

Definitely concerned. Oliver thinks, briefly, of the Spirit's Eve celebration coming up, and how Clint had mentioned that the wizard on the edge of town would usually reanimate some skeletons for folks to watch. 

One of my iridium-infused maces would make short work of them, he'd bragged. That, apparently, or a rage-fueled ginger. 

"Are you okay?" Percy asks, coming back to Oliver, carefully cupping his face in his hands. "It threw a bone at you - it hurt you!"

"I'm fine," Oliver assures him, pressing a quick kiss to his palm. "Might bruise up later, but I've had worse. Promise."

"If you're sure." Percy examines him one more time, as though to make sure he's whole, then steps back. "Let's keep going. I don't like it here." 

They continue forward, missing the sets - and sets - and sets of glowing red eyes blinking open in the darkness.

[hp-fearfest]

Day 30 Prompts: Written in Blood 📖 Book

Please indicate somewhere in your tumblr post or AO3 post which prompt(s) you are creating for. Remember to tag us in your Tumblr posts @HP-FearFest and use the tags #31DaysofFearFest and #HPFearFest2022. We will reblog your work here as we’re tagged! You can also add your works to the "31 Days of Fear Fest 2022" collection on AO3!

[hp-fearfest]

HP Fear Fest 2022

Day 14 - A Seance || Silence

Yes, I know I know… It didn’t hit me until I started colouring her skin blue that this is basically Sally’s colour palette from the Nightmare Before Christmas, okay? xD I’m sorry! I know it’s kind of funky, but since I’m still playing around with fun colour palettes, it just happened and I apologise; but also… Sally?! How fitting with the thread angle I took to the Silence prompt :b

Also… YEAAAH, I did both prompts from day 14, soz! :b I just got inspired from both, so there you have it, hehe. Hope you guys enjoy this work, regardless of my silly choices. Cheers!

For the @hp-fearfest​

[hp-fearfest]

Fic: Wormwood (Regulus, Mature) (chapters 21-31)

This is the continuation of my Regulus fic for @hp-fearfest. The first 8k of chapters 1-20 can be found on AO3. You can subscribe there for daily updates delivered to your inbox. Or read here on Tumblr chapters 1-10 and chapters 11-20. There's a link at the end of each section that brings you to the next chapter. This a Choose Not To Warn adventure, beware.

Onwards with chapter 21 under the cut.

Prompt 21: burn (i'm sorry)

Regulus found himself in front of the small cottage at the edge of the Muggle village where he'd stood with Bellatrix just over a year ago. He could see the rose bushes in full bloom and the winding garden path, illuminated by the cold white glow of a streetlamp. 

Four cloaked figures surrounded him. Barty was there beside him: his first raid. Regulus could feel him twitching with barely restrained eagerness. This time, Regulus was the only one wearing the golden mask. He was the highest ranking Death Eater in charge.

"Are the wards down?" he asked. 

"Yes. She's trapped inside," Barty said. 

"Good. Take positions around the house. Nobody in or out. Understood?" 

Regulus had watched and learned. Commands need to be short and easy to understand, and need to be confirmed. He may be the youngest of the group, but he wore the Dark Mark on his arm. This was his assignment. There would be no mistakes on his watch. Directed at Barty, he said, "You watch the front door."

Barty gave him a jaunty salute. "Yes, sir."

He found the woman upstairs in the bedroom sitting by the window, her back to the door, the only light coming from two candelabras on the dresser. Regulus could see her face reflected in the glass, and she could see him. 

"You took your time," she said. "Here to finish what you started?"

"You know why we're here," Regulus said. "You didn't listen to the warning the first time."

"The warning—" Her voice cracked on the word. She turned around then, and Regulus startled at how old she looked, haggard and frail, with deep lines around her mouth. "My husband's gone and so is my son."

She looked directly at him as she spoke, and her gaze wasn't feeble at all. "My son's grave is empty, do you know that? There wasn't enough left of him to bury. Do you really think I care what you do to me?"

Regulus didn't have an answer to that, but it didn't matter. He wasn't here to talk or answer questions. His assignment was to deliver a message, loud and clear. 

"Was it you, the— the warning?"

"No," Regulus said, before he could stop himself.

She nodded. "Alright. I'm ready."

Regulus raised his wand, the words of the spell on the tip of his tongue. This was the moment of truth. He'd trained for this. His whole life seemed to have led him to this moment. Regulus wouldn't fail.

"Avada Kedavra!" 

Nothing happened, his wand as inert as a mundane wooden stick. Again he called, "Avada Kedavra!" But again nothing happened. Regulus' vision went a little hazy around the edges. The mask was suddenly too heavy, pressing down on his face, pressing down… He couldn't get a proper breath into his lungs. His wand hand shook.

The woman started laughing, loud gasping bubbles of hysterical laughter that rang through the house. Unbidden, an old memory started whispering in Regulus's mind, bowtruckles screaming and the cold voice of Mulciber saying 'distraction is key.'

There was a sound behind him. Barty stood in the door. "Hey, what's going on?" 

"Imperio," Regulus said, and the woman's laughter cut off instantly.

"Get out," Regulus snapped at Barty, but he didn't wait before bending down and whispering into the woman's ear. 

She blinked at him, then stood up slowly and walked over to the bed. She slid her feet out of her slippers and carefully arranged them by the dresser. Then she laid down on the bed and curled around the pillow, hugged it to her chest and closed her eyes with a gentle smile on her face. 

Regulus' throat burned. He needed it done. He needed to get out of here. Barty still stood in the doorway when Regulus turned around. 

"What—" Barty started to say, but Regulus shoved him out of the room without a word, down the stairs, through the door and out until they stood in front of the gate under the streetlamp, and he could breathe again. 

Only then did Regulus speak. "Incendio," he said, and the roof of the cottage burst into flames. 

"Can I?" Barty asked. Regulus had barely nodded assent before Barty raised his wand high into the air. "Morsmordre!" 

The green skull and winding snake gleamed sickly green in the night sky, while the fire blazed bright and orange-bright below. The contrast of colours was almost beautiful.

"That was cold," Barty said, and Regulus thought he could detect something close to admiration in his friend's tone. It tasted like ashes in Regulus' mouth. 

"Go home," Regulus said. "It's done." Regulus barely made it behind the door of Grimmauld Place before he doubled over and was sick all over the hallway carpet. Kreacher was at his side in an instant, Vanishing his mess with a wave of his hand and conjuring a cup of tea with the other. Chamomile, Regulus could smell the grassy scent wafting from the steaming cup, and his stomach heaved again. Mother made him drink it all the time as a child. He hated chamomile tea.

[hp-fearfest]

31 Days of Fear, hosted by @hp-fearfest

Day 27: Intruder (read on AO3 here)

"Attention, Ministry employees," a cool female voice announces, her voice projecting from the ceilings. "Please be advised that we have a Code Quintaped in process. Repeat, a Code Quintaped is in process. Lockdown operations will begin immediately. Please remain where you are. Attention, Ministry employees…"

Audrey's stomach clenches in on itself. A Code Quintaped? That means an actively hostile intruder who's caused at least one casualty already. She stands from her desk, reaching to grab her purse and, after a moment of thought, her Thermos of tea.

“Where d’you think you’re going, Weasley?” Brooks, her boss, asks. “Stay put. Did you not just hear what they said?”

“I don’t know how long this lockdown is going to last and, given the option of spending several hours here with you lot, or several hours with my husband, I’m choosing him,” she replies, tucking the mug into her bag so she has her hands free. “If I move quickly, and take the stairs, I can be there before the lockdown spells are in place.” 

“This is a stupid idea. You know who’s gonna have to sweep you up if something happens to you, right?”

“Please give Martin and Euphemia my sincerest apologies, then,” Audrey retorts. “It’ll be fine, Fletcher. Thank you for your concern.” Without another backwards glance, she hurries out of the Auror offices and takes off towards the stairs at a quick clip. Her high heels sound like gunshots against the green marble floors, and every click makes her wince. She doesn’t dare risk even the thirty seconds it would take to take her shoes off, though - every second counts, and though she was certain she could make it, it would be extremely tight. 

She pushes open the door to the stairs up to the first floor and pulls her wand from its holster. Leading with it, Audrey sweeps the landing, and up and down the stairs, then takes them as quickly as she can. She tries to stay in shape, but she’s still breathing harder than she’d like when she makes it to the landing on the first floor. Reaching out slowly, she pushes the door open with her fingertips, ready to slam it shut at the first sign of a spell. 

“Audrey?” 

“Percy?! What are you doing out here?” This was not the plan. She came to him; he didn’t come to her. She grabs his arm, hauls him back towards his office. “We need to get going.”

“I panicked when the announcement started for the third time and you hadn’t arrived yet, I thought maybe … “ He trails off, clearly realizing with each word that this wasn’t the brightest move. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

“Why is this corridor so bloody long?” Audrey wonders. 

“Warning,” the cool female voice announces. “Lockdown spells in thirty seconds.” 

Percy speeds up, and Audrey finds herself taking four steps for every one of his. Click click click click click click click - 

Click.

A door opens and shuts behind them. 

“Ah, Weasley,” a man says from behind them. “Just who I was looking for.”

Percy whirls, putting himself between Audrey and the newcomer. His brow furrows in confusion. “Who are you?”

“Not you,” the man says with a sneer. “The other Weasley. Recognize me, sweetheart?”

Audrey gasps, curling her fingers around Percy’s wrist. “Love, we need to go, now -” 

And all around them, the lockdown charms click into place.