#Yes I know Hadrian would be able to beat the Basilisk

[rboooks]

Do you think you will ever write more dimension hoppers?

Due to popular demand and because I have no self-control  here is part 6 based off the wonder fic C’est La Vie by the ever-talented @cywscross which everyone should read since it’s in my personal opnion the best Harry Potter fic out there.

Neville watched as Black and Evans walked around the courtyard with narrow eyes, keeping himself out of sight ( and hopefully out of smell/hearing range as well) behind a second-floor pillar near a window.  Evans was saying something that might have been humorous if Blacks quirking smile and shaking shoulders were any indications.

It was still mind-blogging to see Black laugh. Neville could count how many times he saw the Black Heir openly laugh throughout their five-year feud and still have some fingers left over. 

Sure, the werewolf didn’t show much emotion around crowds but over the time in which the Golden Trio has been stalking them, he’s gotten glimpses of broad smiles and chuckles that he hadn’t been aware of the other male could even do. (Wasn’t that just a nauseating thought? Neville had to remind himself that Black was Potter’s partner in crime otherwise he fell like a monster for allowing that to happen)

And it was all due to the student with the highest possibility of being the Heir of Slytherin.

 Neville didn’t mean to suspect the new transfer, really he didn’t,  but ever since Halloween students people have been getting petrified left and right with no leads on who it could possibly be. Ron had been the first one to point out just how convenient it was that Evans arrived this year with a werewolf and a trio of Slytherins of all things at his side. 

More so how utterly calm he was when the first attacked happened. No one could be that unaffected by such an event unless they knew about it beforehand in his friend’s words.

Hermione was still on the fence about that theory seeing as Evans didn’t sound like a Pureblood name, which means it was highly unlike he was attacking other muggle-born students but she did admit he could be a Halfblood who had terrible morals regarding muggle-borns and out of everyone he seemed to be the only student smart enough to pull it off.

Neville could agree. One had to be completely unaware of everything around them to not notice just how advance the second year was. He excelled at nearly all his classes with frustrating ease, dazzling all the teachers with his brilliant mind and his ability to finish homework packets in one night instead of the week it took others. 

He also has uncanny charisma.

The first time they spoke face to face, Neville had watch his green eyes travel up to his forehead taking in the lightning scar. He expected the other boy to turn in a fumbling fanboy but instead Evans had stuck out his hand, introduced himself and acted as if though The-Boy-Who-Lived title meant absolutely nothing.

To him, Neville Longbottom was just Neville Longbottom, nothing more, nothing less.

It was a refreshing change.  

Evans then took this wonderful change a step further, having noticed Creevy chasing Neville around with his horrid muggle camera during one of their shared classes. The muggle-born apparently got a kind but firm talking to about invading Neville’s privacy from the Hufflepuff and the kid actually listen enough to even apologize to the Griffindor’s face. 

 If Evans didn’t keep such troubling company, maybe they could have even been friends. But Ron was right. Just because Evans didn’t seem to be on Potter’s side - that wonderful nose breaking fight at the beginning of the year came to mind whenever he needed a smile- didn’t mean he could be trusted.  The redhead claim that he knew something was off about the transfer the moment he shopped at his family store.  

He watches you Ron had said during Evans’ sorting  He keeps track of everything you do, the bloody creep.

If one of his best friends didn’t trust the Hufflepuff then Neville would be wary of him too. He hadn’t been all that suspicious of him being the Heir until Colin Creevy turned up petrified. When he was found the first year had been clutching a bowl of grapes and an envelope addressed to Evans.

No one but the green eye teen knows what was inside that envelope. 

Then after an argument in the dueling club where Justin Finch-Fletchley had repeated some less then favorable words regarding werewolves in Evans’ earshot the boy was discovered petrified in the hallway alongside Nearly Headless Nick who had invited Evans to his Death Party. 

if all the victims were connected to Evans then it only made sense that he was the Heir running around hurting people. Neville just had to prove it. 

“Come on,” Ron says looking down the hallway from his right making sure no one was around. Lowering his voice he contuined “Hermione has the polyjuice ready. If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now.”

The two boys quickly made their way to the girls’ bathroom, ducking in quickly with the pieces of hair they managed to steal off of Zabini and Nott (Neither could get close enough to Malfoy). Hermione had stolen some from a first-year Ravenclaw that Evans like to talk to even though the girl was a loon.

“We have one hour”  Hermione warns them once she completed the potions. “Evans usually spends his free period reading Ancient Runes books on the third-floor window sill waiting for Black’s class to be over. Its the only time he’s alone.”

“Right. All we have to do is get him to confuse to being the Heir but Evans is smart. Don’t be too pushy or he’ll figure out something is wrong” Neville says looking at his best friends, “He’s dangerous and I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

The three chugged their potions in separate stales, emerging after minutes of gagging and changing. They eyed each other for a moment in wonder at the fact that it works before quickly making their way up to the third floor. Zabini is taller then Neville, everything from his point of view looks different and it was downright bizarre to be able to see over people’s heads. 

He hopes he can be this tall someday because while strange, it’s cool to be tall.

Finally, he spots Evans. The Hufflepuff is right where Hermione said he be, casually reading an Advance Runes Academic Journal that was recently published with a content little smile. Next to him, on the window sill are papers and an open muggle notebook. 

He didn’t seem like a sociopath but they never do, do they? 

Neville opens his mouth to greet the other second year as much as  Zabini fashion as he could. But he doesn’t get the chance to make a sound since the book is snap close in an instant. 

Evans looks up sharply at them when they approach.  It’s such an intense stare the three stumble a little and his green eyes feel like fire.  For a moment, Neville feels like he’s a fumbling foot soldier standing before a war-general and he’s lacking in anything intelligent to say.

Ron-as-Nott makes a nervous noise that sounds shockingly like the real deal when he asks. “Is something wrong Evans?” 

It seems to be the right thing to do since Evans relaxes smiling at them in …amusement?  “No nothing at all. Sorry, Theo you just surprised me, is all. Why aren’t you in class?”

“I wanted to chase the Crumple-Horned Snorkack,” Hermione-as-Luna says airly having thought up her excuse long before Ron and Neville. Both boys were just going to claim to need the bathroom or something. “I saw them run this way. Have you seen them, Hadrian?”

Delight blooms on the transfer’s face.  “No, I didn’t see where they went, Luna. But we can try looking for them together if you want? It’s not a good idea to run off by yourself what with the attacks and all.”

Oh boy. He’s brought up the attacks so quickly! This might be easier then he thought. 

 “We don’t have to worry about that now do we?”  Neville-as-Zabini tried to say as snobby as he could. He’s never heard the other boy speak in anything other then a stuck up tone though to be fair Blaise Zabini didn’t really talk. He was quite like Black. 

Evans’ face twitches. It’s difficult to say what the ripple of emotion going through his expression is but Neville is almost positive it’s straight-up amusement. He then dips his chin with a soft hum. “You might not think so Blaise, but whoever is attacking people seems to be going after anyone alone. It’s better safe than sorry.”

What?

“If you say so,”  Ron says rolling his eyes like Nott does when a teacher lectures the snakes on something. “I just don’t want to go back to class anytime soon. I hate this block.”

“I thought Charms was your favorite class Thoe?” Evans says with a raised brow. 

“I-it is! I just…today lesson is boring that’s all. I already know it and I can’t understand why we waste time going over it again and again” Ron tries to cover his mistake.  “Probably because of those Gryffindorks.”

Neville wants to slap his forehead but that’s not something he thinks Zabini would do. Next to him, Hermione shifts around, playing with a lock of Lovegood’s hair and tilting her head upwards as if though she was seeing the creature the strange blond claim she saw.  

Evans smiles. “That makes sense. Also, I thought we agree you wouldn’t be using that word anymore.”

Ron blinks in confusion so Evans tacks on  “Gryffindorks. We agree you stop using it.”

Right this conversation was really going off the rails, time to get everyone back on track because they didn’t have time to go over the fact Evans apparently tried to get the Slytherins to stop using certain words. That was a thought for another time. 

Maybe one where Neville wasn’t feeling bad that Evans was evil because he seemed like an okay kind of bloke.

“Do you really think we be in danger?” Neville asks scoffing at the end of his words. “Especially you Evans?”

“I might not be muggle-born, Blaise, but being Half-blood still puts me in danger,” Evans answers mildly. He is cleaning up his stuff which allows the Golden Trio to trade confuse looks behind his back.  “My mom being muggle-born might be close enough to attempt to petrified me.” 

“Your mom is a muggle-born?” Hermione blurts confuse then quickly realizes she needs to act loonier so she adds “Did that mean she was surrounded by nugglerals?” 

Evans looks over his shoulder at them as he swings on his shoulder bag “Yes. Before she died”

“Oh.”

There is a pause before Ron seems to want to move on. “Do you think they deserve it? Those M-mudbloods?”

He only stumbles over the word a little but Evans still turns around with a glare that could freeze over hell. “I just told you my mom was a muggle-born and you dare to use that word?”

Oh, Merlin, they’re going to die. Evans is pissed and it’s terrifying. Neville barely holds back a whimper as the other boy marches towards them with death in his eyes but he walks by them with a huff. Ron, who had frozen up in terror, relax with a sigh of relief.

The Hufflepuff leaves without a single word, his anger quite and cold. For some reason, Neville feels sick to his stomach as if though he just upset Gran.

“I think that didn’t go as well as we hope” Hermione sighs. 

“No.” He agrees, hand over  his stomach  “No it didn’t”

Three days later Orion Black releases a noise that sounds very close to a wounded and outrage animal when Hadrian Evans’ body is found curved over Luna Lovegood’s terrified expression in an obvious attempt to shield her from whatever petrified them. 

It’s a good thing he did, because, according to Hermione she would have died the moment a second later for looking into a Basilisk’s eyes unprotected. Thank goodness she was able to piece it together and the Trio was able to find the real culprit soon after that.

Who knows what would have happened to Ginny if they were a few days too late?

The werewolf is the one that sniffs out Ginny for them, as the Golden Trio is forced to create a shaky alliance with the teen who is determined to avenge his pack. Hadrian is apparently the only person outside his parents that Black counts as pack and it doesn’t take Neville long to realize it’s due to his crush on his best friend. It breaks his heart a little to see Black’s devastated eyes when they visit the victims in the medical wing. 

He fights against Tom Riddle just as wild and as vicious as his condition makes him.

Neville can only hope they all come out of this alive. He can’t die without apologizing to  Evans for deceiving him. Especially after finding out Evans had been doing his best to defend the Boy-Who-Live against the other houses who thought he was the Heir. 

Orion kicks Tom Riddle between the legs as hard as he can sneering and Neville can’t find it in himself to even wince. That werewolf strength makes the crack sound and the scream from mini-Voldemort all that much more satisfying.

[becausetherearestars]

Sit Down, Lucy Dear

Chapter Ten of Lord Thanatos here

~

Hadrian stiffened as he sensed his mate walking into the room. His hands tightened around the waist of the girl on his lap. The scent of both his donor and mate in the same room was driving the young Vampire crazy, especially since his mate had not yet been claimed and was surrounded by potential threats.

“Luna this is going to be harder than I thought.” He ran his nose along the line of her neck, breathing in her scent, salivating at the steady beat of her pulse under his touch. An impulsive decision and a quick wave of his hand put a privacy ward around the pair, blocking them out from the rest of the Peverell Manor sitting room.

“You know, my Lord, you could just tell him.” His little moon bared her throat more, drawing a soft growl from Hadrian.

“I will not force this kind of connection on him Luna, you know that,” he said as his fangs dragged along her skin. “He will come to me when he wants me.”

“Of course he will, my Lord.” She gasped as his long fangs pierced her skin. Blood, hot and sweet rushed into Hadrian’s mouth as he sucked  at his donor’s pulse. He pulled away after a few mouthfuls, delirious look on his face as he licked the wound closed, pulled down his wards and leaned back in his chair.

Across the room, his beautiful blonde mate looked at the pair with unmasked jealousy written across his face. Hadrian knew he wouldn’t have to wait long before either he or Draco snapped.

~

Severus was waiting in the Peverell Manor sitting room, surrounded by students he had never even pretended to like, his Lord and two of the least annoying Death Eaters.

Severus was tired.

It had been a very long two days and he had this terrible feeling that whatever Hadrian Peverell had decided to do to wreak havoc on the world would, at some point, involve Severus cleaning up Peverell’s mess or saving his stupid hide. Again.

Severus was, however, dedicated to the Dark and the Dark Lord’s goals. And if his Lord believed that Hadrian Peverell would be instrumental in achieving those goals, Severus would do as he was told. It was what he was best at, after all.

And if Albus Dumbledore came away from this with barely a scrap of his current power and social standing, Severus would be an extremely contented man.

Sitting next to Severus on a large bronze and blue couch was one of the only people Severus would think to call friend, Lucius Malfoy. Severus was intimately acquainted with the less than stellar aspects of Lucius’ personality and therefore was not remotely surprised when the blonde man stood up suddenly and pointed an accusing finger at Hadrian Peverell. An extremely stupid thing to do in Severus’ eyes, considering said Vampire was currently in the presence of his Donor and his inner circle. Threatening Vampires in front of what they considered theirs was, generally, just a horrible idea if you wished to keep your blood inside your veins.

“I need some explanations,” Lucius said bluntly and Severus wondered, not for the first time, how this man made it into Slytherin. He could see Draco a few chairs over thinking something similar and felt a surge of pride for his godson. He was much more sensible than his father.

Peverell, who had been in a deep discussion with Barty Crouch Jr., of all people, while he wasn’t not-so-secretly draining the blood out of Lovegood, turned from the younger Death Eater and raised a hand to quell Crouch’s snarl in Lucius’ direction. “Yes, Lucy dear, what can I explain for you?”

The Malfoy Lord’s face flared at the nickname and Severus was amused to note the Dark Lord snorting into his whiskey glass, clearly enjoying the entertainment. Even though the Dark Lord was back to being as sane as he was when Severus pledged his loyalty, if not saner, the Dark Lord still enjoyed the humiliation of his followers every now and then. Or maybe it was just Lucius.

“You!” Lucius spluttered out and Severus could see Draco’s face getting increasingly more mortified. His father was about to make a fool of himself. “How did you do this?” he gestured wildly around the room, “Do you really expect me to believe you have been deceiving us all this time?”

Severus thought that, yes, Peverell had most likely been deceiving them all this time and that he, along with the entire wizarding world, had severely underestimated the wrath of an intelligent and powerful young man. Severus was glad to be on Peverell’s good side and was not going to be doing anything, any time soon to change that position. No matter how much he hated the boy’s father.

“Well Lucy,” Peverell drawled, a hint of a growl lacing his voice. “As I have proven to you already, you don’t know me.” The arm wrapped protectively around the Lovegood girl tightened and Peverell’s eyes flicked briefly to Draco.

“As far as I can see, the likelihood of me deceiving you of all people, and getting away with it, is considerably more likely than your ego is able to admit. So, I will ignore this rude outburst and kindly ask you to return to your seat before you see what threatening me in the presence of those that are mine will do to you.”

Severus noticed the young Vampire’s eyes flick to Draco yet again and a sense of dread worked its way into his stomach. He had a feeling Peverell knew exactly who his mate was and was going to be especially irritable until that bond was claimed. Lucius was sure to be on the receiving end of a lot of Vampire ire when Draco was around if he continued to deny Peverell’s authority.

Lucius sat back stiffly on the couch and glared at the young Vampire, shrinking back slightly when a growl rippled through the air. Severus did not fail to notice the slight blush that appeared on Draco’s cheeks at the show of dominance the Vampire displayed and knew there was already nothing he could do to stop his godson from eventually bonding with, possibly, the most powerful creature in the world. At least he couldn’t aim any higher.

“Perhaps, Hadrian, we should explain a little more before poor Lucius here loses his head?” the Dark Lord said, unsuccessfully hiding his smirk behind his whiskey glass once again. Lucius shrunk further back into the couch as he remembered the Dark Lord was present in the room for his outburst. Severus wanted to pity his friend, but couldn’t deny that Lucius got himself into these situations all on his own.

“Are all those things people talk about true?” Draco asked. “Like did you really stab a Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor?” Severus was admittedly quite excited to find out what the Golden Boy had actually got up to during his years at Hogwarts. People worshiped the ground he walked on and, despite the proof sitting in front of him that Hadrian Peverell was nothing short of brilliant genetically, Severus wanted to know what more Dumbledore had been hiding from him concerning the boy.

“Well,” Peverell started, “there was the Philosopher’s stone in first year. Dumbledore had it all planned out to trap Tom and test me at the same time, but he obviously didn’t count on me having a mind of my own.”

“I managed to make a cheap replica of the stone, steal the real one and get a vow of non-combatants from old grumpy-face here all before Christmas. The test at the end of the year was all for show and I’m honestly still baffled that the man was so completely fooled by an eleven year old and a clinically insane wraith. He really is getting old.”

Looks of approval were shared through the room. “You made a Philosopher’s stone that was convincing enough to fool Dumbledore?” Severus said, looking at Peverell like he had never seen him before, and in truth he probably hadn’t. He had realised in the past two days that the Harry Potter Dumbledore had essentially described for the world was nothing like the young man in front of him.

“Well yeah, but it never would have worked as one.”

Severus didn’t even want to think about the dismissive tone Peverell used when saying that. This boy always managed to give him a headache, secret prodigy or not.

“Second year was all Lucius really, wasn’t it Tom?” Hadrian said. Eyes full of mischief as the Malfoy Lord paled considerably and shrunk even further into the couch. Severus decided that he needed to have a chat with Narcissa. They needed to keep a closer eye on the blonde prat before he got himself killed.

“Indeed,” Tom said, “he should be exceedingly grateful that you and I were working together already because that year could have ended very painfully for him.” Lucius glanced at Peverell with, what was probably a pleading look, and Peverell couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, well, I had a wonderful time conversing with your diary my dear and, even though I had to deal with the major temper tantrum at the end of the year, I have to say it’s one of the most engaging conversations I’ve had with you.”

Gasps came from both Malfoys and Severus who were shocked beyond belief that someone would dare talk to their Lord in that manner. Barty just smothered an amused snort, slightly more used to the way the two Lords interacted, but never willing to incur either of their wraths.

Severus noted that Peverell’s followers were gazing at the Vampire with awe in their eyes. There was no doubt that the boy had them completely in his pocket and he wondered if this was what it was like when the Dark Lord himself was at school. What a terrifying thought indeed.

“I never did kill the basilisk, Draco, but I did find the sword of Gryffindor while I was down in the Chamber.” Peverell said gazing intently at Severus’ godson with a look in his eye that confirmed his earlier suspicions. He was going to have to look out for anyone that would become a threat to the blonde boy, lest he have to deal with a potentially homicidal and extremely protective Vampire. “I’ll show them both to you one day, if you like?”

Draco nodded emphatically and Severus sent up a prayer to whatever gods were listening that the world would survive Hadrian Peverell and Draco Malfoy working together.

“Third year was a clusterfuck completely the fault of Peter fucking Pettegrew.” Peverell snarled and Severus had to agree with him on that one. The little rat was possibly the most hated man in all of magical Britain for all the trouble he’d caused. “Can I have him by the way?” Peverell asked, turning to the Dark Lord with a questioning look.

“He’s already in the dungeons waiting for you, my dear,” the Dark Lord said with a smile that could cut diamond. Peverell only smiled back just as sharply.

He adjusted Lovegood’s position on his lap and began talking to the room again. “Tom had begun sending me nutrient potions and food the summer before so I was stronger that year than the ones before. The Dementors were a pain though.” Peverell said and Severus was once again hit by the realisation that he had been brewing potions for the boy for a very long time, and was likely one of the only reasons he was alive and healthy right now. It was a strange feeling for Severus and he wasn’t sure how to feel after so long actively hating the brat.

“I found out Pettegrew was the traitor from Tom the year before and had no idea why my godfather was so intent on getting in to Hogwarts until I saw the stupid rat’s name on the Map.”

“What map?” Draco asked and Severus was glad he wasn’t the only one who picked up on that and wanted to know more. He didn’t want to seem curious after all.

“My fathers, Remus Lupin and Pettegrew made a map of Hogwarts when they were in school. It shows not only where everything is, including secret passageways and whatnot, but also where every person in the castle is. It can’t be fooled by polyjuice, animagi or invisibility cloaks and is really quite handy at insulting people.” The stupid brat had the audacity to wink at Severus then and he had the quell the instinctive urge to take ten points from Gryffindor.

“I can still confiscate items when we get back to Hogwarts, brat,” Severus said to the bane of his existence. “And give you detention.” He added just because he could.

“Ah, but Severus, then I wouldn’t let you use it,” the boy smirked at him and damn if he wasn’t a little bit tempted. “And what would be the fun in that?” Severus scoffed dismissively but said no more on the matter undoubtedly confirming his desire to see, and thus use, the possibly ingenious creation of the thrice damned Marauders.  

“That year ended as all others have, with a showdown between that year’s ‘great threat’ and my ‘friends’. The Weasel, Granger and I ended up following Pettegrew and my godfather to the Shrieking Shack where my information from Tom was confirmed and Pettegrew was revealed to the rest of the Golden Trio. We were interrupted by Lupin and Severus and it all went to shit from there.”

Peverell looked a little exasperated, and Severus really couldn’t blame him. If he had gone through half of the ‘challenges’ Albus Dumbledore had put the boy through, he’d be a little exasperated too. Perhaps more so, but he doubted he was seeing all of Peverell’s emotions right now.

“We decided to take everyone up to the castle to sort everything out legally and then the full moon came out. Lupin is a werewolf, you see, and after nearly thirty years of taking the wolfsbane potion every full moon, without fail, he ‘forgot’ that night.” Severus’ eyebrows rose, he hadn’t thought of that. He’d always been too busy disliking the wolf on principle.

“I’m convinced Dumbledore had some interference, and knew exactly what was going on in the Shack, because after being attacked by a werewolf and ambushed by over a hundred Dementors, Dumbledore sent me and Granger back in time to save a Hippogriff and an Azkaban escapee. Both of whom could have been saved by Albus-I-hold-a-position-on-every-board-imaginable-Dumbledore with little effort on his part. In fact, I have all but confirmed that Sirius wasn’t allowed to be free in Dumbledore’s eyes because it meant I would legally have a closer blood relative than the Dursley’s.”

Lucius looked shocked and Severus hoped he wasn’t going to say something stupid again. “Sirius Black is a blood relative of yours?” Draco looked intrigued as well but Severus noted that everyone else in the room seemed to know what this meant. He hated being in the dark like this.

“Yes, my Grandmother was a Black from the main line. And, when I was born, Sirius blood adopted me and named me his heir. He knew even then that he would produce no heirs himself and I have always been like a son to him.”

Lucius looked enraged again. Severus really had no idea why this made any difference to the man’s life, or why it made him angry, despite the knowledge there was a child who shared blood and genetics with the stupid Black mutt. “You’re the Black heir?” Severus’ blonde disaster of a friend said incredulously and Severus had to stop himself from lowering his head into his hands and groaning in despair. Lucius really was too prideful sometimes. He had no right to his wife’s former family’s title despite his insistence.

The haughty look Peverell sported now told Severus exactly how he felt about his inheritance being questioned by a Lord of lower standing. “No, Lucius,” the young Vampire purred, “I’m the Black Lord.”

The blonde was standing up again before Severus could stop him, his face contorted in rage. “You don’t deserve such a title,” he sneered and Peverell just leaned back in his seat seemingly at ease with the situation. Despite this, Severus could see the tenseness of his shoulders and was sure the Vampire would be at Lucius’ throat within a second if he were pushed too far. “That title belongs to my son, not some filthy halfblood.”

The room was silent except for the slightly ragged breathing coming from the Malfoy Lord. Severus was shocked. He could see Draco was shocked too.

As was the Dark Lord. And Peverell’s followers.

Barty looked positively murderous.

Hadrian Peverell did something completely unexpected. He laughed.

A loud, probably genuine laugh that seemed to increase the tension in the room rather than ease it.

“Is that right, Lucius?” Peverell said, his voice turning dangerous as he passed the Lovegood girl to Barty and finally stood. He was taller that Lucius only by a centimetre or two but he seemed to tower over the Malfoy Lord as his magic whipped around him. “I have purer blood than you could ever hope to have, Lord Malfoy.” The title was said with such condescension that Severus would bet his best cauldron even Lucius could pick up on it.

“I have the blood of a Most Noble and three Most Ancient and Noble Houses running through my veins and I am the Lord of all four of them. You speak to me as if I am below you, but one word from me and your family name becomes synonymous with dirt throughout the British Isles. Every name I hold is older and richer and more respected than the Malfoy name and, if you push me Lucius, I have thousands of years to watch as every Malfoy who thinks themselves better than me falls. And they will know it is all your fault.”

Severus watched as his friend’s face got considerably paler as Lord Peverell continued to talk. He re-organised his mental schedule to make sure he spoke to Narcissa as soon as possible. He didn’t think Peverell would ruin Draco but he had to make sure Lucius knew his place.

“I am a full-blooded Living Vampire and therefore the literal top of the magical hierarchy, Lucius. So much more than the diluted Veela blood you try to hide from the world while you preach blood purity like you aren’t a hypocritical idiot who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.” Peverell was in Lucius’ face now. Fangs bared, eyes glowing and magic choking the air from the room. Lucius was fucked if he didn’t stand down and Severus hoped he knew that.

“The only reason I haven’t already taken action against your disrespect, Lucius, is because your Lord likes you for some reason that I will never understand. I do not want to ruin your son and the pride he has in your Family name but I will if you continue to push me. Do you understand Lucius?”

Lord Peverell stalked back to his seat and sat in the most elegantly lazy position Severus had ever seen. One ankle crossed over the other leg and arms spread on the arm rests, he looked sculpted by the gods, like a predator wrapped up in the most beautiful and dangerous package they could come up with. Lucius was fucked.

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius said meekly, attempting to retreat to his seat when Peverell cleared his throat.

“No, Lucius, I think you should address me with my full title tonight.” Peverell said, malice veiled behind a pleasantly sweet expression. Severus thought it was likely more terrifying than the anger he displayed just moments before. “That would be Lord Peverell-Ravenclaw-Black-Potter, to you,” the young Vampire said and Lucius’ eyes widened.

“Heir Slytherin as well if you don’t mind,” the Dark Lord said darkly and Severus was sure Lucius would be facing the wrath of their Lord at some point in the near future. Why he couldn’t just keep his mouth shut and act like a Slytherin, Severus didn’t know.

He sneaked a look at Draco and sighed at the mortified look on the Malfoy heir’s face. Likely he could not believe his Father would lack even a modicum of tact or decorum in any situation. Especially in present company.

Lucius bowed then, low and deep. Just a fraction higher than he usually would for his sworn Lord. His face deathly pale and displaying the full depth of his regret at speaking out of turn. “Yes my Lord Peverell-Ravenclaw-Black-Potter, Heir Slytherin. I apologise.” Peverell nodded his approval and Lucius slunk back to his seat. He was likely to remain silent for the rest of the night.