#( wardrobe

[greenerteacups]

Re: your recent response about Draco wearing blue - fashion is not something I tend to pick up on (or understand very well generally), so I’m always curious to hear more about it! Do you have any other fashion thoughts you want to elaborate on? You’ve talked a bit about Draco and Hermione’s fashion, what about Harry or Ron?

Aw, yeah! I'll preface this by saying that the following is a combination of canon and headcanon; some of this is evidenced in the text of the fic, but some of it probably isn't, it's just something that's in my head when describing them.

Harry's pretty small in Lionheart, as a consequence of chronic malnutrition in childhood mixed with a genetic predisposition to it (James is canonically a short king, cf. "Hairy Little Christmas.") That means a lot of his muggle clothes don't fit well, being hand-me-downs from Dudley; in contrast, his school robes, which we know he got tailored at Malkin's, seem to fit normally (i.e., Harry fits better in the magical world, it's his home, it suits him). In general, Harry's fashion is "adequate, but not great," which makes sense; he never had the chance to choose his own clothes growing up, and then he went to boarding school with a uniform, so when would he develop a sense of style? Honestly, it's a relief for him to have one fewer decisions to make.

Like Ron, Harry's uniform isn't super meticulous, but he seems to make an effort. He does his tie and keeps his shirt clean, etc. (which makes sense; Harry cares about belonging here). When we see Harry out of uniform, he's usually wearing baggy t-shirts and jeans, which are the least nice clothes you could give to someone while still expecting them to last; they're also clothes that fit loose and hang long on his body (very late-80's + early 90's).

Ron, on the other hand, doesn't have any qualms about belonging in the magical world; he was born to it. This manifests as a laziness with his robes. He doesn't bother with his tie as much, if at all, and when he does it's not the right knot (Draco points it out in Book 3); since he's the brother of not one but two Head Boys, we have to assume that's deliberate, or that at some extent his lack of attention is a deliberate manifestation of something. Ron is youngest boy, he has self-esteem issues, and the way this manifests is by Ron never asking for anything and then getting sour when nothing goes his way. He doesn't try, so he can't feel bad when he fails. Besides which, when Ron does try to dress nice, it backfires; it's either an uncomfortable costume, like in "Operation Prewett," or it's a horrible hand-me-down, e.g. the Yule Ball outfit. Contrast him with the other Weasley boys, many of whom — especially the three oldest — have their own cultivated aesthetics, because they all know who they are. Ron is figuring that out, and it manifests in stylistically messy ways.

[ofcommonrooms]

narcissa black attending the halloween masque as ...

A P H R O D I T E

featuring ... a dress hand-stoned with over 17,000 pearls - Aphrodite's stone of choice ( and an excuse to wear those shoes )

[longdaytogo]

narcissa sent him his winter wardrobe but draco conveniently 'forgot' about it

[oflights]

i know in retellings draco always befriends hermione because he's a nerd or whatever but this morning i was thinking of a retelling where draco befriends ron because he literally just bribes him. like he sees that harry won't bother with him and lbr no one wanted to be friends with first year hermione but ron seems like he'd be easily bought and draco's dad told him those are the easiest people to get on your side. and also wouldn't it be fun to steal away harry potter's anointed best friend?

so he's like "i'm willing to forget you laughed at my name on the train" and literally just buys ron things until he stops being indignant. he buys him a new wardrobe. endless sweets and toys. he writes to his mother like "hello i'm working on something here can u help" and narcissa is immediately on board.

and ron totally is easily bought. he really is. he pretends to still hate draco but also his mother taught him some manners so it's only polite to accept the little git's gifts. his siblings are sick with jealousy, it's great.

and slowly ron's like "maybe he's not so bad" and progresses to "yes he's weird but i've gotten him to stop with the slurs so" to actual friendship that harry and hermione eventually come around to, too.

[berzahoes]

headcanons: female jackass member

an: just some headcanons that i’ve been thinking about lately lol

I love johnny’s shirts but you would have an even better wardrobe

basically this:

you’re not afraid to kick all of the guys’ dick when they’re being assholes or just annoying

you love hanging out with johnny’s daughter if she’s on set (she’s not on set often but when she is you’re literally best friends)

you’ve probably broken an arm and a leg at the same time

you know practically everyone had beef with each other in the early 2000s?? NOT YOU or if you do want to have the whole hollywood experience then you do you <3

you definitely made some appearances on viva la bam

chris + you = besties THAT IS ALL I WANNA BE FRIENDS WITH CHRIS

you cannot go a full five minutes without cursing (me, it’s literally my vocabulary)

you know how when dave england gets drunk he’s like the worst?? you’re not that bad but when drunk dave is doing stupid shit drunk you is hyping him up

you’re always gaslighting the guys

you would shoot someone with the paintball gun (probably johnny or bam) and they would be on the ground in pain and jeff would just ask “what happened?”

you, casually with a paintball gun in your hand, shrug

“SHE SHOT ME”

“that never happened”

ok but i also love that the only female jackass member would have an obsession with dyeing her hair idk why

nvm i do bc imagine being on edge at work all day bc you think the guys are going to prank you

stress = hair dye i don’t make the rules

SPLIT HAIR OR IDK THE PROPER TERM BUT YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN

omg narcissa malfoy hair yeah <3

ok that’s all i got nothing else 😭😭

[ratkingpoe]

🍷Who’s here for femDaddy! Lucius Malfoy?

You know he raids Narcissa’s wardrobe when he’s drunk, just to prove he wears it better.

Thank you for the request!

[bergiesims]

Feng Household Makeover

My makeover of the Fengs is now complete. This is yet another household I have not played with before, so it was...interesting to say the least to get to know them while play testing things out in their apartment.

When I first started working on Lily, I mentioned that I got Evil Queen meets Claire Underwood vibes, so I definitely leaned into that. As a successful CEO, she equates her wardrobe to body armor. If she doesn't feel powerful in it, she doesn't wear it. I love how she pulls off the Narcissa Suit by @sentate in their portrait. Very badass in her signature green color.

With Victor, at first, I went with all black from top to bottom, but I changed course halfway through. If Lily is Claire Underwood, it was only natural to go with Frank Underwood vibes with Victor and went with a more straight laced career politician look.

Beware of this formidable couple. Although they appear to have good intentions, they are only interested in promoting their self interests.

Tray Files (including Packs Used and CC List) are below the break.

Tray Files: Google Drive | SimFileShare

The Fengs have been uploaded to The Gallery; remember to check ‘Include Custom Content’ when you search!

[tealeafgrimm]

Gone

Draco Malfoy x Reader Words: 1.1k Summary: Draco doesn't come home after work and you are worried that something has happened to him. The more you search, the more worried you become.

The day had been far too long again and you could hardly wait to throw yourself onto the sofa and enjoy the evening with your boyfriend. But when you closed the door behind you, you noticed the silence. It was Friday and that actually meant that Draco was supposed to be home before you. Usually there was a ready-made dinner waiting for you that day.

You put your bag and jacket down at the wardrobe and went into the kitchen. No sign of Draco, or that he had even been home yet.

"Draco?" No answer. You couldn't find him in your study either. Perhaps something had delayed him at the Ministry and he had to work late today? You knew he had been busy lately. Shrugging your shoulders, you decided to prepare dinner. Maybe he would be in by the time you were done, otherwise you would wait for him.

The food had been sitting on the table in front of you for almost an hour and there was still no sign of Draco. It had become dark outside and your worries grew with every second you had to wait.

Another half hour you waited nervously. You decided to look for him yourself. Maybe something had happened to him?

You took your jacket from the coat hook and decided to check on him in the ministry first. As you expected, the ministry was empty. Most ministry officials went home early on a Friday, only a few workerholics spent their Friday evenings here.

The lift ride took what felt like an eternity. Nervously you tapped your fingertips against the side of the lift. When the lift stopped, you almost ran down the corridor until you stopped in front of Draco's office.

The door was open, but the light was off and his desk was tidy. He had definitely kept to his normal closing time. But where was he? Why hadn't he come home? Why hadn't he told you he was running late? Where was he? He hadn't said anything about going to see a friend. Maybe he was with his parents? With one last look at the deserted office, you made your way to the exit of the ministry.

As soon as you reached the streets of London again, you apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor. You didn't like it here very much, but if it meant you would know where Draco was, that was fine with you. You had never got on very well with Draco's parents and were happy to spend as little time as possible with Lucius and Narcissa. You simply didn't share their views on the blood status of magical people and even though they had been much more careful in their statements since the end of the war, you knew that deep down they still held the old views.

With quick steps you walked up the pebbled path that led to the front door of the large mansion. After a few knocks, the door opened and a little old house elf opened the door for you.

"Ms. Y/L/N, what an honour to welcome you," the little creature chirped, bowing until his nose touched the floor.

"Eh...thank you? Are Mr. And Mrs. Malfoy home?" you asked impatiently, stepping from one foot to the other.

"Certainly. Come along, I'll take you to them."

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were sitting in front of a fireplace when you entered the room. But you didn't see Draco anywhere.

"Y/N, how nice to see you," Narcissa spoke and rose from her chair. Even though she wore a smile on her lips, you knew she wasn't really excited to see you. Especially not when her son was not with you.

"Good evening. I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to know if Draco might have stopped by your house after work today? He didn't come home and I'm worried. I thought maybe he came to see you?" You struggled to keep your emotions under control. You didn't want to panic, especially in front of his parents.

"No, he hasn't been here today. But, if I were you, I wouldn't worry too much. Maybe he just wanted some distance," Narcissa answered you with a mischievous smile. You knew the distance was meant for your personality.

"Okay, well, I just wanted to ask. Have a good evening." With quick steps you left the house. You felt like you couldn't breathe and the oppressive atmosphere in Malfoy Manor, did nothing to improve your situation.

Back in your flat, you burst into tears. What were you supposed to do? What if something had really happened to him? Crying and sobbing, you sat on the couch and feverishly wondered where else he could be.

It was already after midnight when you heard the front door open. And not two seconds later, Draco was standing in front of you. Without thinking, you fell around his neck.

"It's midnight, where the hell have you been?" you shouted, drumming your fists against his chest.

All you got in reply was an annoyed grunt and an eye roll. Your blood began to boil. How could he show up here after you had been so worried and roll his eyes.

"I don't owe you an explanation."

"Do you actually know how worried I was? I thought you'd be home by the time I got here and you weren't. I waited and waited. I went to the Ministry. I even went to see your parents. And I couldn't find you anywhere!" Your voice grew louder with each word until you shouted at him in the end.

"I just had a rubbish day, okay? I just needed to get out and clear my head," Draco finally replied. Apparently he realised how much you had been worrying, because only now did he realise how red and swollen your eyes were.

"You can't just leave without saying anything. What if something had happened to you and I hadn't known? I don't mind if you need time to yourself, but you have to at least tell me."

The tension of the day fell away from you and you burst into tears again. The guilty conscience set in with Draco. It hadn't been his intention to stress you out like that. His colleagues had simply driven him up the wall and he didn't want to take his thick air out on you, so he had left. But now he realised that his well-intentioned behaviour had had exactly the opposite effect.

"I'm sorry, come here." He pulled you close and stroked your hair.

"I didn't want you to worry. I'm fine, okay?" he asked you, brushing the tears from your cheek. You could only nod.

"Next time I'll let you know where I am. I'm really sorry."

"Your food got cold," you whispered in reply. Draco laughed.

"I think that's really the least of our problems. It's late, we should go to bed and tomorrow we'll do something together, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

[thatblondebitvh]

Fae Prince Draco & Healer Hermione

When Hermione found out her application for a Healer position at the Fae Royal Court was accepted, she thought it was a joke. In fact, she didn’t even reply until a second letter arrived—a silver envelope with an emerald seal that dissolved into thin air after she read it.

Apparently, the Fae King and Queen were so desperate to save their son from the curse tormenting the Prince that they didn’t mind a human working for them anymore. She was an outsider her whole life, and she doubted the Faerie Court would be much of a difference.

Besides, she wanted to help the Crown Prince—she wanted to be the one to break the curse for him. Not because she believed he would fall in love with her or that it would give her a happy ending worthy of a fairytale.  

No. She just wanted to do something good.

And there she was. Brought to the Wiltshire Castle by the largest carriage she has ever seen—so large it fit a bed, a round table for two and a small wardrobe. 

It seemed ridiculous and completely unnecessary for someone like her, but it also felt nice. She felt important. perhaps for the first time in her life.

The castle itself was magnificent, built of equal parts of stone and glass shimmering brightly even at night. The four towers looming above were each equipped with large clocks that told the time in each Fae realm: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

She has never seen a place like that and she doubted she ever would again. 

 “Miss Granger,” a soft voice beamed from behind, and when she turned around she suddenly faced to face with Queen Narcissa. “Welcome to Wiltshire.”

Before Hermione could reply curtsy, the Queen gently shoved her inside, into a small, plain room that seemed so out of place for a castle like this that she thought it to be a servant’s room. 

“My son will be here soon. You are aware of his condition, are you not?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said quietly. “If I could see the records the other Healers kept before we begin—” 

“I’m afraid there won’t be much to show you,” the Queen smiled sadly. “The previous Healers didn’t stay with us long enough to leave enough notes.”

She swallowed hard. She knew exactly what Narcissa meant by saying they didn’t stay. 

“That’s—”

“—dumb?” 

“Unfortunate,” Hermione offered with a grimace. “I was hoping they left some valuable research for me to read through if I can be honest.”

“Honesty is much appreciated here. But you will soon realise, Miss Granger, that Fae are extremely… arrogant and impatient, despite our long life span,” she said, her lips melting into a scowl. “They never took the curse seriously. And they all paid for that with their lives.”

Before she managed to come up with a response, a quiet knock interrupted her conversation with the Queen.

She knew who was on the other side from the way Narcissa smiled. It was a warm, loving smile, reserved for family only. 

This was it. 

She was going to meet the Prince.

“Come in,” the Queen said. “We’re ready.” 

The door opened with a loud creak and Hermione could swear her heart skipped a beat when the Fae Prince entered the room. 

He barely looked at her before his eyes immediately drifted back to his mother.  But she got an eyeful of him. 

To say he was handsome would be an understatement of the century. He was beyond handsome—beautiful would be a better word to describe him, and yet it still wouldn’t do him justice. Otherworldly beautiful. 

He was tall and lean, with chiselled muscles covering every inch of his body.

And he moved with such smoothness Hermione thought each step of his was an invitation to dance, gracious and elegant and flirtatious all at once. No immortal could achieve that, Hermione realised, not even with a lifetime of training.

The silk silver shirt with a high collar he wore clung to his chest, the fabric moving as his muscles flexed underneath.

She was gaping. She was most definitely, undeniably gaping at him. 

“Mother,” he greeted the Queen with a half-smile tugging at his pale lips. “Another one?” 

Narcissa sighed. “This is Miss Granger, my dear. She is—” 

“A human?” 

“A Healer.”

The Prince threw a quick glance her way, one that lasted less than a heartbeat, as if she wasn’t worth more of his attention. He stalked closer, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his forehead, glorious boredom painted all over his face. 

It was obvious he didn’t want her here. Luckily, she was used to being unwelcome. 

“Get on with it, then,” he drawled, leaning closer, though still keeping a respectful distance from her. “I have important matters to attend to.” 

“What matters, dear?” He ignored his mother, staring down at her instead. 

Was he talking to her before?  She quirked a brow, waiting for an explanation that never came. “Get on with what, exactly?” 

The Prince released an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. It began to curl at the ends, as though he forgot to cut it recently. Or as if he didn’t care.

“Well, you’re here to touch me, or maybe even kiss me, because for some reason my Mother is convinced you are my soulmate and can therefore break the terrible curse,” he said casually, inspecting his impeccable nails and the rings on his fingers. “Are you not?”

Hermione, with barely contained disguise, threw the Queen a nasty look, one she could probably hang for, and quickly returned her attention to the Prince. 

A wicked smirk spread across his face, his silver eyes dancing with mischief. “So, what is going to be? Do you want to kiss a Fae Prince, human?”

She rose to her feet, holding his repugnant gaze. She didn’t blame him for the loathing, not if that was how mother was trying to save him. 

“I can assure you, princeling,” Hermione seethed, “I have no intention of kissing you. I am here to heal you.”

The corners of his mouth twitched when she called him a princeling, and he slid his hands into the pockets of his black pants. “Interesting,” he purred. Silver petals fell off his snow-white hair, melting on his skin as if they were snow. “I’ll give you a week.” 

“A week?”

Narcissa clicked her tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous, my dear—” 

But the Prince wasn’t listening anymore, already storming out of the room. “You have a week to convince me that you can help me,” he winked at her, looking over his shoulder. “After that, I’ll kiss you myself, human.”

[halfblood-princes-crown]

Please enjoy some Snape body-swap AU ideas that have been rattling around my head for a week; I do like body swaps with Sirius, but imagine the possibilities if it was someone else. - Severusish's "Western AU" Anon

= = =

During the 2nd War/Harry's era:

Petunia "I CAN'T HAVE MAGIC!!!! I'M NORMAL!!!" Dursley and Severus "Tuney is going to ruin everything! Got to get back to Hogwarts now!" Snape (ft. Snape chewing out Vernon and having to navigate by muggle means while Petunia is just having a crisis)

Remus "it's a full moon and I'm not in pain, but damn you live like this Severus???" Lupin and Severus "I'm downing a whole gallon of Wolfsbane as soon as I can" Snape

Rubeus "everything is so large and heavy :( " Hagrid and Severus "everything is so small and breakable >: ( " Snape

Narcissa "I'm off to the Ministry to make history" Malfoy (in Lucius' body), Severus "do I really have to attend all these parties?" Snape (in Narcissa's body), and Lucius "your quarters at Hogwarts are spartan and all you have is four cloaks in the same color and style in your wardrobe; this is an intervention" Malfoy (in Severus' body)

Gilderoy/Severus "You're not taking my body anywhere dressed like that" Lockhart/Snape (ft. Lockhart trying to steal Snape's potion ideas)

[5th/6th year] Tom "an opportunity has fallen into my lap" Riddle and Severus "NO! NO! NO! NO!" Snape (ft. several failed attempts to kill Harry through increasingly stupid dumb-luck means)

= = =

During the 1st war or Snera:

Lily "what do you mean I can't kill Voldemort at the DE meeting?!" Evans (in Snape's body), Severus "if I have to spend one more moment with Black/Lupin/Pettigrew, I'm committing murder" Snape (in James' body), and James "I think we might be pregnant! What do I do?!?!" Potter (in Lily's body)

Peter/Severus "HE'S THE TRAITOR!?" Pettigrew/Snape

Severus "I've never been this popular (derogatory)" Snape and James "I've never been this unpopular (derogatory)" Potter [though, this is funnier if one of them is having a good time and the other is not, or they both end up having a good time and are uneasy about that]

Remus "Sirius! James! Peter! Stop! It's me!" Lupin and Severus "Unlike some people, Lupin, I'm not going to just stand here doing nothing like a coward" Snape

Regulus "Stop making my body slump! Blacks don't slump! Have some decorum!" Black and Severus "I am taking full advantage of your family's dark arts library while we're stuck like this" Snape

Petunia "SUCK IT DUMBLEDORE! WHO CAN'T COME TO HOGWARTS NOW!?" Evans and Severus "She's going to get me expelled or, worse, murdered!" Snape

Albus "Severus, my dear boy, it is critical that we return to our original bodies" Dumbledore and Severus "Potter, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, you are expelled!" Snape

New obsession

I love this so much omg 🤣🤣🤣

The Lily, Snape, and James one is so *chefs kiss*

Also, Remus and Sev switching bodies is a MUST SEE😭😭

I never considered body swap aus until now. Thank you, Western au anon 🙏🏽

[ofcommonrooms]

𝓉𝒶𝑔 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓅 —(•• narcissa black ••)—

[birlwrites]

I would love to know what would be going through Evan head considering we don't see much from regulu's pov

I also just love reading about your thoughts on ttdl

OKAY so this ask arrived on august 30 which was when i posted chapter 61 so i'm going to assume you meant in that chapter - but what's going through evan's head is always fun aghslgksdhjkf

so, like, chapter 61 is a big chapter for him - there really is a moment when he's bracing to spill The Big Secret, Part 1. once regulus veers off course with the narcissa problem, he feels like he's managed to delay the inevitable - so that relief informs a lot of how much he throws himself into the Everything about the rest of the chapter. he has this chance to move on (and this chance to reaffirm how useful and On Regulus's Side he is) and he's going to take it with everything he has

but other Notable Things going through evan's head:

when regulus is like 'wouldn't people have their most important secret conversations in the gardens' evan is amused, not because regulus is half right, but because ONLY REGULUS would look at the most Romantic™ place in rosier manor and go 'ah yes. the perfect venue for war conversations. let us stroll among the roses hand in hand under the moonlight and plot our propaganda campaign'

he has such a one track mind. evan adores him

and then evan is fighting for his LIFE to avoid rambling the whole time regulus is trying to work on the roses - he needs to avoid being a distraction and it's K I L L I N G him. evan excels at being a distraction. he has so much fun being a distraction. regulus is rIGHT THERE. he is suffering. (but also he's stressed about The Big Secret and pulling this off)

and then of course regulus hands him a flawless duplication and he is a) awestruck and b) absolutely determined to carry out his part of the plan equally flawlessly. when he says "It's impressive. Thank you," that's an intentional direct mirror of what regulus says to him in the wardrobe with the truffles in chapter 43 (i think it's chapter 43?) - interpret that however you like re: evan drawing parallels between The Dumbledore Situation and this

evan is also growing increasingly offended by how little pride regulus takes in his own achievements. he and barty should start a club

as soon as they go back to the ballroom, evan is in Mission Mode, which is unfortunate for regulus, who is already missing having evan's undivided attention. the rosier-malfoy rivalry is something that brings me joy so i'm determined to work it into everything ajfslkhgkjdf. the rest of evan's rambling is calculated to make mulciber and warrington (and, to a lesser extent, amycus carrow) feel as excluded and outclassed as possible - mentioning things they're not invited to, telling mulciber outright that he's not one of them, bringing up things he wouldn't know about (alphard black yay!!!!), and so on

evan is pretty effortlessly mean when he wants to be - good thing he's on regulus's side ajflskghsjdkf

and then taking regulus back to his room to give him the rose!!! this is absolutely 100% a flirting maneuver, but it's also an attempt at speaking regulus's language - regulus always gets *him* presents

and "You're not going to crush it. It's not as delicate as it looks." is a reference on my part (not evan's) to regulus handing evan the snitch after the quidditch cup!

the rest of the chapter is evan wanting to say something but feeling like it's not the time or place. he knows regulus likes him - he's known that much for some time afjshgkdjf - but that's different from knowing what regulus wants, and he also feels like there is a substantial risk that regulus will get spooked and retreat and everything will be shitty and awkward forever. evan is constantly trying to test the waters without driving regulus away by coming on too strong. but also he just likes flustering him shgjlshdjkf

[draconivm]

the decay is slow.

manacled au // draco pov;

The Manor was cathartically quiet: his apparition, silent and jarring, sent ripples down his spine. Too far, too soon, straight away after staying a full five minutes under a single curse without lubricating the edges of his pain with a potion. You’re weak. Draco’s walls stilled and shot up mental spikes through his skull. It was a reward, he was reminded, for a job well done.  

It interfered with his evening, from his burning arm to the massacre at Haverthrow that went too smoothly, his effort so minimal and his bloodshed so exacting their rivers would take decades to run clean again. Draco just stared and stared as the threat dissipated and self induced dissociation brought him back to the shores of purpose: do this, and it will not have been for nothing. Do this, and she will fucking live. 

Part of him wanted to stalk to Granger’s bedroom, a place that solely recognized his blood to walk through a spiderweb of wards without specific death or dementia — crash into the only body of respite existing in his world.  The tremors would stop him. It wouldn’t do him any good to steal sleep from her, suffering and complicit in his care, shaking next to her.  

He wanted to bring more books. More clothes. A wardrobe collection he’d configured with deep vine engravings. Building a home required work. Instead there was a calloused edge to his contempt that needed a removed ceiling. Owning a graveyard with only a single grave that maintained any sense that someone still cared. 

Even in his blood soaked battalia, he knelt among the roses. Said some words to his mother, fully ignoring Kreacher who was as  old as dirt and dutifully mourning.  Didn’t curse the elf, just left him to his muttering. 

If he thought too hard about how it hurt, it made everything else too easy. There was a rock in his heart and a deadly will on his back. The push and pull was wearing the man in between down to dust. “I’ll be where you are soon enough,” Draco told Narcissa, like a solemn vow once broken but irrevocably meant, “after I take care of Hermione.”  These were his words. These were his terms. 

Weakened by the silence and the weight of the blood in his clothes, the warmth of Granger’s bed beckoned him like a selfishly starved need. For a second time he apparated directly into her room, still sans potion, forever a method to his masochism as if any other modus operandi existed for him. He needed this, just for tonight, feeling colder at his core than he ever did. And feeling utterly unchanged for it, which fucked him up the most.  

@fleurdenarcisse

[silentt-angel]

to love and to kill – chapter 1

summary: Draco Malfoy has been tasked with fixing a magical wardrobe and killing Albus Dumbledore. But he isn't the only Slytherin who received a task from The Dark Lord that summer - Magnolia Stellifer has to make sure that Draco doesn’t fail, and if he does, she has to finish what he started... An enemies to lovers retelling of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. pairing: draco malfoy x oc

1. A Beginning 

Sunday 1st September 1996

To say that Draco Malfoy was annoyed, would have been an understatement. He had only been at Station 9¾ for a total of seven minutes, and he was already cold, his new shoes were making his feet hurt and he was beginning to regret skipping breakfast that morning – just like his mother had told him he would. As if that wasn’t enough, some snotty first year student was wailing about something loudly right next to him. Had Draco’s mother not been standing beside him, he would have definitely hexed the boy into oblivion by now. Since she was, though, he settled for imagining all the things he could do to the boy with a single spell. His list was getting quite impressive.

There was something that was gnawing at the back of his mind that was annoying him far more than all of this, though – Draco missed his father. 

And he didn’t like it. 

Lucius Malfoy had never been the warmest of people, and certainly not the warmest of fathers. He could be stern and demanding and strict, but he was Draco’s father, and since Draco started Hogwarts six years prior, Lucius had been there every single year to see him off. It felt strange not to have him there. It made Draco feel like things really were changing. 

It also made him feel like a soppy git. 

Draco didn’t think he would care, and going back to Hogwarts was usually accompanied by a buzz of excitement he was certain would drown out any other emotions. This year the feeling was nowhere to be found. Instead, all Draco felt was a strange emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to.

Needless to say, so far, his day was going pretty shit. 

“Are you sure you have everything you need packed, dear?” Draco’s mother asked him, straightening the collar of his cloak. 

Any sign of summer had disappeared completely with the start of September. Everything was already cold and grey. The wind tugged at his mother’s hair angrily, blowing the black and white strands. 

It felt fitting. Having the sun shine over him brightly all summer felt sacrilegious. 

“Yes, mother. You’ve asked me that thrice since we got here.”

“I just want to make sure,” Narcissa said softly, drawing her hands away from him. 

Draco mustered up a weak smile. 

“I need you to be careful.”

“I will,” Draco assured her.

“I mean it,” his mother said. “I won’t lie to you, dear – I’m worried about you. What you are doing is extremely dangerous, so I need you to promise me that you will be careful .”

Draco swallowed thickly. “I promise,” he said. 

He hated having conversations like this with his mother, and they were having an awful lot of them as of late.

“And remember: the only person you can talk to about this in that castle is Severus. He is the only one who you can trust. Understood?”

Draco pursed his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard his mother use such a harsh tone with him. He didn’t fault her. Her husband was in Azkaban, and now her only son was risking the same fate. 

He wished his mother didn’t know about the task. Wished that he could at least take this burden from her. 

“Understood.” 

Narcissa’s eyes softened again. “I'm going to miss you very much, Draco.”

“I hate to leave you.”

“Don’t worry about me.” She smiled. “I shall manage just fine. I always do. Now,” she smoothed out her dark skirt, “I believe I have just spotted the Stellifers. Let us go and say hello and then you should be on your way.”

Draco felt the stares that followed him as they walked. He was used to people looking at him. He was a Malfoy, after all; everyone knew who he was since he was a tiny baby. This felt very different, though.

Death Eater. 

Scum. 

He’ll be joining Lucius soon.

Bastard should have got much worse.

Hope he rots in Azkaban like his daddy.

Insults were hurled at him in hushed tones.

“Do not listen to them.” His mother pulled him closer, shooting daggers with her eyes at anyone who looked their way. “They will find something new to gossip about soon.”

Draco replied with a low hum. “Unlikely,”  he said. “But I’m not concerning myself with what some mudbloods have to say about us, and you shouldn’t either, mother.”

“It does not bother me when it is me they are talking about,” Narcissa frowned. A faint line appeared between her brows. “But I hate it when they speak about my boy that way. You are right, though. We must not bother ourselves with that type of nonsense. People will always talk.”

To Draco, it sounded like his mother was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince him.

“It’s fine. I don’t care, really,” he said.

It didn’t feel good, but Draco was slowly getting used to it. He had to. Since his father had been sent to Azkaban, Draco couldn’t cross the street without hearing the words ‘Death Eater’ being spat at him. There was no point denying it or saying anything, really. It’s not like they were entirely wrong, either. 

“Now,” his mother smiled at him, “please try to look a bit less miserable for the next few minutes.”

Draco scoffed but mustered up a neutral expression. 

“Leonidas! Idris! Lovely to see you as always,” his mother greeted the Stellifers politely. “You too, Magnolia.”

Draco shook Mr.Stellifer’s hand and sent Magnolia and her mother a polite nod as they exchanged pleasantries. 

“Doesn’t time just fly? When did your Magnolia grow into such a wonderful young woman?” his mother gushed.

“Isn’t she just precious?” Idris Stellifer cooed, pleased at the compliment, a hint of French in her accent. 

It took a lot of effort for Draco to stifle a laugh.

He had only seen Magnolia once the entire summer, at the annual ball her mother organised. It was probably the longest they had gone without eachothers company their entire lives. Draco considered it one of the major advantages of the Dark Lord’s return. 

She looked the same as her had remembered her, in her brown overcoat. Maybe a bit older. A bit more tanned with a few light freckles decorating her slender nose that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps her hair had grown a bit over the summer too – it fell over her shoulders in long, dark curls. 

Draco felt his mother nudge him gently and realised he hadn’t been listening to the conversation at all. 

“Your Draco has had to mature incredibly these last few months, hasn’t he? Step up and be the man of the family,” he heard Magnolia’s father say. 

“He certainly has.” Narcissa nodded.

Draco hated these types of conversations. Hated how people would always speak about him as if he wasn’t standing right there. 

“These are strange times we are living in,” Leonidas went on. “We need to look out for each other.”

Draco thought that ‘strange times’ was a generous way of putting it. 

“We just wanted to remind you that if you ever need any help, we are always here,” the man added. 

“That’s very kind of you, Leonidas.” 

“It must be so difficult without Lucius.” Idris Stellifer gave them both a sympathetic smile. “I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like,” she said, and turned her gaze to her husband. 

Leonidas smiled at her gently and grasped her hand in his.

Draco couldn’t understand why people said things like that so often. Did they really believe it would make anyone feel better? It made him want to scream. 

His mother gave them a small smile that Draco had come to know very well in the last few months and said, “It is certainly quieter at home.” 

It was quite the opposite, actually.

“I’m really sorry to interrupt,” Magnolia spoke suddenly, “but I think me and Draco ought to go. The train will be leaving soon.”

“Right, of course.” Her mother smiled. "We wouldn’t want you missing it,” she said. “But before you go, let me give you one last big hug.” She pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. 

Draco turned to his own mother. 

“Do not forget to write to me,” she said with a tired kind of smile on her face.

“I won’t,” Draco promised.

“I know.” She kissed his cheek. “Off you go.”

He made sure to look at her for as long as he could before he had to turn away and start walking towards the train – to try and remember every detail of her face. Draco didn’t let the thought form into a sentence in his head, but a tiny part of him was afraid of that being the last time he would see his mother.

He pushed the thought away quickly. He wasn’t going to let it be. 

“Goodbye, mother.” Draco swallowed thickly before turning back to the others. “It was good seeing you, Mr and Mrs Stellifer.”

“Draco, dear,” Magnolia’s mother stopped him. “Would you mind helping Magnolia with her bag?”

“There’s really no need, mother,” Magnolia protested. “I wouldn’t want to trouble Draco.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, with a smile that he knew made all mothers like him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

They walked side by side towards the Hogwarts Express, Draco stealing quick glances at Magnolia’s face. There was a tiredness in her eyes and a frown on her lips that he hadn’t noticed before. He wondered what could have caused it. It was difficult to remember what kinds of problems people who weren’t doing the Dark Lord’s bidding had. 

“You look ravishing today,” he drawled sarcastically, finally breaking the silence.

“Tiring summer,” was all Magnolia said in response. 

“Oh, right. It must be awfully taxing having to attend so many balls and picnics,” Draco said, with pretend sympathy.

“You’d know all about that.”

“Would I?” He smirked. “I don’t recall attending many tea parties this summer.”

She furrowed her dark brows. “What’s your problem, Malfoy?”

He laughed. Given by how quickly he had managed to get her riled up, it seemed he wasn’t the only one in a bad mood. 

It felt good to pick a fight – finally have someone to snap at. 

“Were the balls any fun at least?” he asked.

“Certainly the ones you weren’t at,” Magnolia snapped back. 

Draco would have been at all of them if Voldemort hadn’t been spending his time in Draco’s living room most nights. 

“I’m sure my company was dearly missed.”

She laughed back at him. “I beg to differ.”

“I’m doubtful.” 

“I wouldn’t expect any different, you arrogant twat.”

“Good, you know me well then, and you shouldn’t miss me too much now, either.” Draco grinned at her one last time before letting go of her suitcase, giving it a hard push towards the train tracks and strolling off, “You’ll manage just fine with that, I presume?” he called over his shoulder.

Magnolia stood where he had left her, giving him the middle finger, the two green ribbons in her hair blowing wildly in the wind. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It didn’t take long for Draco to find the compartment his friends were sitting in. 

“About time,” Blaise Zabini said, shaking his hand. “We thought you weren't going to make it.”

“I hoped I wouldn’t.” 

“But you’re here.” Blaise grinned. “And that means you owe me a galleon, Goyle. Don’t think I forgot,” he shouted across the compartment. 

Goyle groaned and started rummaging in his pockets. He slid a few coins over the table to Zabini. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, mate.” 

“I’ll be having a percentage of that,” Draco said. 

Blaise frowned. “We’ll see about that.”

“We were actually just talking about you before you came,” Pansy Parkinson said, changing the subject.

“You were?” Draco raised a brow.

“Just wondering,” Pansy said with a sickly sweet smile, “what Master Malfoy was so busy doing that he couldn’t be asked to reply to a single letter all summer?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Some of us didn’t spend our entire summer sunbathing in Italy,” he said. “I’ve had to take on some of my father’s responsibilities. It’s kept me pretty busy.”

He noticed the way Blaise and Pansy looked at each other awkwardly, but chose to ignore it. 

“How was Italy?” he asked, in part because he wanted to stop her from having a go at him, but also because he was dying for a normal conversation that had nothing to do with the Dark Lord, and his father, and the war.

Luckily, Pansy didn’t need much encouragement. She started babbling happily about the beaches, all the food she ate, the people and all the wine she managed to swipe from her parents. Draco was grateful not to have to speak for a while. It was nice to listen to something so down to earth.

It didn’t last very long, though. 

“You know,” Pansy said, “apparently some people aren’t coming back this year.”

“Muggle-borns,” Blaise chimed in. 

Draco leaned back in his seat. “People are starting not to trust Dumbledore with their precious children as much.”

“Took them long enough,” Blasie sighed. “He let a bloody werewolf teach us.”

“Lupin wasn’t all that bad,” Pansy countered.

“Did you fancy him or something, Parkinson?" Draco joked.

“You think I’m into hairy guys?”

“I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours.”

Pansy rolled her eyes at him.  “At least he actually taught us something. Better than Umbridge.”

"S’ppose” Blaise shrugged.

The compartment doors swung open and the freckle-covered face of some Ravenclaw student peered inside.

“Hi, sorry, is there a Blaise Zabini in here?” the girl asked.

“Depends who’s asking,” Blaise drawled.

“I’ve been asked to deliver a message from Professor Slughorn.”

The girl passed Blaise a wax sealed envelope. Pansy peered over his shoulder as he opened it. 

“That’s the new Potions professor," she said. “He taught my father.”

Blaise scanned the letter quickly and scoffed.

“What is it?” Draco asked. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it, the mysterious letter had sparked some curiosity in him.

“Looks like I’ve got lunch plans today.”

“Who would have thought you’d be such a teacher’s pet, Blaise,” Pansy giggled. “Getting invited to lunch by a professor on the first day back? Must have been a busy summer.”

“What does Slughorn want with you?” Draco asked. “You’re awful at potions.”

“Beats me.” Blaise shrugged. 

“Maybe Slughorn’s doing special classes, for those most in need, this year,” Pansy suggested, smiling innocently. 

“Rude.” 

“Only logical explanation.” Draco smirked.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on either of you,” Blaise said, standing up. “Let’s hope the food is good. See you later.”

He left the compartment whistling, his hands in his pockets, leaving just Draco and Pansy in their booth. 

The girl pressed her forehead against the window. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her jumper, each of them decorated with chipped black polish and silver rings. They both sat in silence for a while, looking at the rolling hills they were passing, before she said, “Isn’t it strange that we’re only going to get to do this one more time?”

He raised a brow. “Pansy Parkinson getting sentimental?”

She laughed. “Maybe a bit. Hogwarts is a shithole, but I’m going to miss it. I’ve spent most of the last few years of my life there.”

He decided not to tell her that he may not be there with her on the train next year. That by then he might be onto bigger things.

This was going to be a good year for him. Draco was going to make sure of that. It was going to be difficult, but it would all be worth getting his father out of prison, restoring his family’s good name and keeping his mother safe. There was a lot he was willing to do to accomplish that.

Apparently even murdering his headmaster.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Blaise returned after an hour. He already had a scowl on his face as he swung the compartment door open, and it only deepened when he couldn’t get it to shut again.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” he asked angrily, as he tousled with the door. 

Just as Draco got up to help him, the door slid open completely, and Zabini toppled over sideways, landing straight in Gregory Goyle’s lap. Pansy and Draco both erupted into laughter.

“Oi!” Goyle snarled. “Get off me.”

“You’re acting like I wanted to land on your fat arse!”

“We all know you like it, Goyle,” Pansy jeered.

“Get your hands off me,” Zabini spat.

“You’re the one sitting on me!”

“Keep telling yourself that, mate.”

Blaise leapt up before Goyle could shove him off and slumped down next to Pansy. Draco sprawled out across the free seat next to him. He listened as the two slytherins continued to squabble with a smile, when something white flashed before his eyes. Draco frowned slightly.

“How was it?” Pansy asked, still laughing slightly.

“One of the biggest wastes of time,” Blaise groaned.

“What did Slughorn want?” 

Draco was glad that Pansy asked before he had to. Blaise was always far too pleased when he forced someone to try and pry information out of him.

“Just trying to find some well-connected people,” he said, straightening his jacket. “Not that he managed to find any.”

“Who else did he invite?” Draco asked.

“McLaggen from Gryffindor,” Blaise replied.

“Oh yeah, his uncle’s big in the Ministry.” Pansy filled in.

“–somone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw.”

Pansy scowled. “He’s a dickhead.”

“Magnolia Stellifer was there too,” Blaise added, and Draco noticed the way he looked at him, searching for a reaction.

It didn’t surprise Draco one bit that she was invited. She was brilliant at potions – he had to give her that.

“– and Longbottom, Potter and that Weasley girl,” Zabini finished.

“He invited Longbottom?” Draco laughed in disbelief. 

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” Zabini said indifferently.

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?” Pansy asked.

Blaise shrugged.

“Guess the whole Potter fan club scored an invite,” Draco sneered. “Even the Weasley girl.”

“A lot of boys like her for some reason,” Pansy said. “Even you think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please.” She wriggled her thick eyebrows suggestively. 

Blaise made a gagging noise. “I’d rather snog Goyle.”

“I don’t have a hard time believing that after what we just saw,” Draco teased.

“Not that I want to spend my free time with that old man,” Pansy said, “but I’m a bit surprised that Malfoy and I weren’t invited.”

“I wouldn't bank on an invitation,” Blaise said. “He asked me about Notts father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry, he didn’t look happy. And Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters. At least not convicted ones.”

Draco let out a single humourless laugh. “His loss.”

“We’re nearly there,” Pansy said. “We should get our robes on. Blaise needs all the time he can get in front of the mirror.”

The boy clutched his chest. “How thoughtful, Pansy.”

As they all stood up and Goyle reached up for his trunk, Draco heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a faint grunt. He looked over at Pansy and Blaise, but they were still going back and forth about something, oblivious to the strange noise. Draco continued pulling on his robe like he hadn’t heard anything and reached for his trunk. The train halted.

“You guys go on,” he told his friends. “I just want to check something.”

Draco waited until he couldn’t hear anyone in the corridor and lowered the blinds. He bent down and reached into his trunk, then spun around and pointed his wand at the luggage rack.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Just as he had suspected, Potter came toppling down from the rack, his head and torso sliding out from underneath an invisibility cloak. He landed right at Draco’s feet. 

Draco smirked down at him. “Hello Potter. I thought it was you,” he said jubilantly. “I heard Goyle’s trunk hit you and thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came back… It was quite rude of you not to say hello.”

His eyes lingered for a moment on Potter’s face as he considered how much he could get away with. 

“You didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter, but while I’ve got you here…” Draco stamped down hard on Harry’s face. He heard a crunch under his shoes as Potter’s blood spluttered everywhere. “That’s from my father.” He kicked again. “And that’s from me.”

Potter’s glasses had snapped into three pieces and the glass had shattered, some of it slicing into his – definitely broken – nose. 

It felt good to see him so defenceless. The legendary boy who lived at his feet. It was his fault that Draco was in the position he was in.

“Oh, dear” Draco cooed cruelly. “You’ve made quite the mess.” He wiped his shoe on Harry’s shirt, then dragged the cloak from under Harry’s immobilised body and threw it over him. “I don’t reckon they’ll find you until the train’s back in London,” he said quietly. “See you around, Potter… or not.”

He took care to tread on his fingers as he left the compartment. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Does Potter’s nose have anything to do with what you left on the train?” Pansy asked Draco during the feast. 

“Perhaps.” He smirked, pleased with himself. What he did was going to be the highlight of his week. 

The Slytherin table erupted into laughter. They were silenced only by Dumbledore stepping onto the podium. 

“The very best of evenings to you!” Dumbledore said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide enough to embrace the whole room.

Draco groaned and buried his head in his arms. 

“Now...to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you...” 

He mostly drowned out the sound of Dumbledore’s annual speech.

“...those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn. He is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master. Professor Snape, meanwhile,” Dumbledore said, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, “will be taking the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength.” 

Draco lifted his head off the table at the name ‘Lord Voldemort’.

“I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety.” 

The old man had no clue what he had coming. 

[dolce-tenebra-toscana]

La squadra and what i think they would perform at Sanremo 2023 ( i'm choosing between the actual contestants this year )

Risotto ✂️: Paola e Chiara " Furore "

Goth Man would be living the best moment of his life, give him his dance/techno moment with a metallic lookin outfit please. Risotto with a mic is the definition of a Diva

Prosciutto 🍖: Tananai " Tango "

This is just my thirsty tuscan ass simping over the both of them...In my mind i can imagine Prosciutto singing this song to me, with a hoarse and deep voice...lifting my chin slowly....* faints *

Formaggio 🧀: Colla Zio " Non mi va "

Formaggio is laid back enough to sing this with their same energy, he would just vibe and have fun with the bandmates and audience ( Also give the cheeseman pastel wardrobe please )

Illuso 🔎: Anna Oxa " Sali ( canto dell'anima) "

They are basically the same person, and Illuso screaming at top of his lungs looking like the lovechild of Narcissa Malfoy and Stevie Nicks is honestly a mood.

Melone 🍈: "Rosa Chemical " Made in Italy "

Do i need really to say more? C'mon i think this masterpiece speak for itself and our favourite Toscanino Meloncino

( also i piedi made in italy 👀👀👀🤣🤣🤣)

Ghiaccio 🧊: Lazza " Cenere "

Has the right amount of angst and sadness that i think would suit Ghiaccio a lot. But honestly is just cause Blanco isn't a contestant this year, because Ghiaccio destroying roses and outraging the whole city of Sanremo? Yes please

Pesci 🐟: Sethu " Cause Perse "

Just because this poor guy is basically in last place and if Pesci was a Sanremo's contestant....he would have the same fate lol. We still love you sethu 🤣🤣

My jojo oc would sing this song 👉👈, please don't judge me 😭😭

I know it's not on the Sanremo list but is totally her vibe 👉👈🩷

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

Andromeda Rising: A Snippet

I wanted to begin posting what I had of my Andromeda story, but I'm committing myself to finishing at least one of my two current longfics (Cariad & A Changing Pack) before I begin posting Andromeda's story. At this point I've got a firm story told in two parts: Andromeda Rising and Andromeda Falling.

Since Andromeda doesn't have a canon birthday, for the purposes of this story, I've made her birthday 12 January 1953. In lieu of posting the first chapter, below you can read a snippet of the first scene I have. Hopefully sooner rather than later this will be on AO3 and on a regular posting schedule!\

(I'd also like to thank @pebblysand for her assistance in choosing the cat's name!)

12 January 1964

A bright, cold winter morning greeted Andromeda Black on her eleventh birthday.

She got out of bed and strode to her wardrobe to find the newest set of robes, gifted to her by her Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga. They were black and velvet, with the family crest embroidered in silver, just underneath the clasp. She carefully put the robes on and brushed her unruly waves until she looked presentable for breakfast.

At eleven years old, Andromeda stood at exactly four feet and six inches tall. She looked quite like her older sister Bella, but Andromeda had softer features on her heart-shaped face. Her hazel eyes weren't as heavily hooded, and they were wider. Bella's eyes made her look fierce and tough; Andromeda felt that her wider eyes made her look soft. Bella had thick, black curls that were always sleek and shiny, while Andromeda had lighter, chocolate brown waves that cascaded halfway down her back. 

Narcissa, Andromeda's younger sister, was the family beauty: she was tall for her age, like Bellatrix, but unlike their eldest sister, Narcissa was very slender, and had long, golden hair and blue eyes. Though two years apart, Narcissa was already as tall as Andromeda, albeit slimmer. Narcissa was also the palest among the three sisters; Druella, the girls' mother, often likened her youngest daughter to a porcelain doll. Andromeda and Bella, however, had inherited a warmer, ivory tone passed down from their Rosier grandmother, Persephone. 

Andromeda knew she wasn't as pretty as her sister, Narcissa, but she prided herself in sharing the aristocratic good looks of her Black relatives. She and Bella had sharp, slightly upturned noses, high cheekbones, and full, rosy lips. Bella's mouth always seemed to curl on one side, making her appear devious, while Andromeda's mouth downturned slightly at the corners. 

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, satisfied with her appearance. She stepped out of her room and went downstairs, where her parents and sister were waiting for her.

“Happy birthday!” Cissy shouted, earning a glare from their mother, Druella.

“Don’t shout,” Druella admonished. She turned to Andromeda and added, “Your letter has arrived.”

Andromeda squealed, uncaring that it was improper, and dashed to her place at the table. A cream-colored envelope lay there with her name written in emerald ink.

To: Miss Andromeda V. Black

The Ruby Room

Mulberry House

17 Station Park

Mayfield

East Sussex

“Dear Miss Black,” Andromeda read aloud, her mouth curling into a smile. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” She scanned through the rest of the letter, beaming, and placed it back on the table, waiting expectantly for her parents’ hearty congratulations, as her older sister Bella had received on her eleventh birthday. 

“Grandmother Vi has fallen ill again,” Cygnus said drily, reading through his correspondence.

“Dragon pox again?” Druella asked.

“Mother, father,” Andromeda interrupted. “I have my Hogwarts letter!”

“As we expected,” Cygnus replied. Druella cleared her throat and he frowned slightly, before adding a half-hearted “Congratulations.”

“Mother, when can I go?” Cissy whined, sweeping her long, glossy golden hair behind her shoulder.

“When you turn eleven,” Druella replied, returning her own stack of letters.

Andromeda pushed around a fried tomato on her plate, feeling suddenly disappointed. She took her Hogwarts letter and read through it again, trying to memorize its contents while her parents continued discussing Granny Vi. Andromeda waited impatiently for her turn to speak; her parents wouldn't hesitate to scold her for speaking out of turn, even on her birthday.

When there was a break in the conversation, Andromeda said, "Can we go to Diagon Alley today?"

"We'll go in the summer," answered Druella. “You’ll grow out of the measurements we take at Twilfitt’s if we go today.”

"Bella got to go on her birthday. May I get my wand today? I can’t outgrow a wand."

"Your sister's birthday is in August. There wasn't much time to wait. We’ll shop for everything at once, when Bella’s book list arrives this summer." Druella's tone conveyed her annoyance. Andromeda looked away, frustrated, thinking of another possibility.

"Can I see Grand-maman, please?"

"May," Druella corrected.

Andromeda tried not to scowl. "May I see Grand-maman today, please?"

"I want to go too!" Cissy said, batting her eyes at her parents. "Please?"

Andromeda would've kicked her sister at the table if her parents weren't there. It was her eleventh birthday, not Cissy's.

"If your grandmother is amenable," Druella replied, opening another letter, "you may see her this afternoon for tea."

"Both of us?" Cissy asked, batting her eyes again.

"Yes, both of you." Druella returned to her breakfast. Andromeda knew it would be pointless to argue, so she excused herself and stormed back up to her room with her Hogwarts letter in hand.

Andromeda had waited eleven years for her own wand, but it appeared her parents wanted her to keep waiting. She wanted to get copies of her own schoolbooks, her own cauldron, and perhaps even some Slytherin-themed items to go along with her robes.

Her plans were dashed and she threw herself back onto her freshly made bed. She winced, realizing she’d landed on something hard. She rolled over and found a dainty, pale pink collar on her bed. It had a tiny bell attached to it, as if for a cat. She frowned and sat upright, holding the collar in her hand.

The door burst open a moment later. Andromeda’s jaw fell open when she saw Cissy standing in the doorway with a small, fluffy mass in her hands. Grand-maman Rosier was behind her, smiling gracefully.

“’appy birthday, Annie,” Grand-maman said airily. “I brought your gift.”

“It’s a kitty!” Cissy announced. She walked carefully to Andromeda, letting the black and white ball of fur fall into her lap.

The kitten had an almost entirely black, flat face and brilliant orange eyes. It was tiny, no bigger than a teacup, and its white mustache took up half its face. It had a large patch of white fur on its chest and wild whiskers framing its startled face.

“She’s a Persian,” Grand-maman explained, joining Andromeda on the bed. “She will join you at school.”

The kitten meowed and promptly relieved itself on Andromeda’s new robes. She froze, unsure of what to do, but Grand-maman waved her hand and the mess vanished.

“Merci, grand-maman,” Andromeda said, grinning at her new pet. “Does she have a name yet?”

“Non, non. You call ‘er what you like. She is your minette.”

“I like Minette.” Andromeda stroked the top of the kitten’s head, feeling it purr underneath her touch. “My Minette.”

Grand-maman produced a little gold medal from her pocket and pressed her wandtip to it. Andromeda and Cissy watched in awe as “Minette” was engraved on it in their grandmother’s neat, elegant script.

“It will grow with ‘er,” Grand-maman said, as she fastened the collar, now bearing the kitten’s engraved medal, around Minette’s neck. “What do you think?”

“I love her!” Andromeda held Minette up, already smitten with the kitten. She thought she wanted an owl to take with her to Hogwarts, as Bella had done, but Minette was soft, cuddly, and more charming than an owl. If Styx, Bella’s owl, wasn’t available, Andromeda figured she could always use a school owl. 

“Can I play with her?” Cissy demanded, reaching out for Minette. Andromeda held the kitten to her chest, unwilling to let her go.

“She is your sister’s, chérie,” Grand-maman said, running her hand through Cissy’s golden hair. “You can play with her later.”

Cissy pouted, but Grand-maman was firm. Andromeda beamed; of all her relatives, Grand-maman was her favorite. Druella always said she was turning into her mother, but Andromeda never understood what she meant – Grand-maman was firm, but sweet, while Druella only reserved her affection for special occasions.

Grand-maman led Cissy out of Andromeda’s bedroom, leaving her alone with the meowing Minette. The Hogwarts acceptance letter remained undisturbed at the foot of her bed. All thoughts of Diagon Alley drifted away; Andromeda had a new friend and she couldn’t wait to get to know her.