#he arrives wandless

[ellecdc]

DONT TEASE ME WITH PLATONIC BARTY AND BIG BRITHER SIRIUS STOP IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEE 🪩

okay so this accidentally ended up being almost 5.5k words??? whoopsie daisy.

this concept was a collaboration with @unstablereader and also intertwined a few requests for best friend Barty, big brother Sirius, and poly!moonwater hurt comfort!!

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who was bitten over the winter hols

CW: Best Friend Barty (i.e., swearing, chaos, slight insanity), Big Brother Sirius (i.e., coddling, bad cop, certified dumbass), swearing swearing swearing, slight muggle blasphemy, description of wounds/blood/injury, discussion of Sacred 28 Pureblood Families, etc etc etc - hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Barty Crouch Junior was a plethora of dichotomies and contradictions. 

He was a good friend and a bad son. He was a smart boy who made horrible ideas. He was a rational person with unreasonable reactions. He was a menace and very reliable. He was a good lay and a bad boy. 

Barty liked that about himself though; he liked that no one ever knew what to expect when it came to Bartemus Crouch Junior. 

Though, he supposed to those who knew him, it would have been completely predictable for him to have stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. Maybe he should have gone home – really surprised everyone then.

His nightly routine of trying to incendio Daily Prophet articles of his father with nonverbal and wandless magic was interrupted by an awkward thump on his dorm room door. 

“Come in?” Barty called awkwardly, unsure who might be at his door seeing as his friends were all home for the holidays and the staff here tended to avoid him like Dragon Pox.

The doorknob began to rattle but it sounded as if the person on the other side of the door was struggling to turn it.

“Salazar’s saggy balls. WHAT!?” He seethed as he ripped the door open, determined to teach whoever was stupid enough to bother him a lesson when he came face to face with you.

Except...except you were crying, and bloody, and so pale.

“Treasure!?” Barty squawked, awkwardly catching you as you began to slide down the door frame which you were leaning the entirety of your weight on. 

“Barty...I-” you started before a pained sob tore through your teeth. “I need help.”

“What happened?” Barty asked breathlessly, moving you from the door to his bed without your help after your left leg gave out on you.

“Barty...”

“What. Happened. Y/N?” He demanded.

“Barty, you cannot- cannot tell Reg and Remus. Pl- hnggh - please promise me you won’t tell them.”

“Tell them what, Treasure? What’s wrong!?” Barty pressed, beginning to panic when his bedding quickly became saturated with your blood. 

“Promise me!” You shrieked, your voice carrying the most clarity since you had arrived.

“Okay! I promise!” Barty agreed readily. You didn’t seem convinced, however.

You shakily held your pinky out to him and stared intensely at him. “Promise me that y-, that you will not tell Remus or, or Regulus.”

Barty looked between your eyes and your pinky before finally interlocking your pinky with his. “I promise I will not tell Remus or Regulus.”

More tears fell as you began pulling your long winter robes off. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt and long trousers, but Barty could tell most of the bleeding was coming from your leg. Your fingers were shaking too much as you unsuccessfully tried unbuttoning your trousers, so Barty silently asked for your permission before undoing the button and zip for you.

You pulled the pants to your knee to expose a large...werewolf bite on your left thigh.

“Treasure.” Barty breathed out horrified, looking back up at you with tears in his eyes. “What...what happened? No, I ... I can see what happened. How did this happen?”

“I...I just-”

And you passed out.

“No! No no no. Nononononono.” Barty chanted as he tried to rouse you awake.

“Okay Barty, come on, think. You didn’t achieve all twelve O.W.L’s for naught.” He berated himself, lying you down on his bed and pulling your trousers the rest of the way off.

He turned you onto your right side and tried elevating your leg to stop the blood flow after he realized a simple episkey was not going to close the wound.

He realized that the reason you’d been struggling to open the door was that your wrist appeared to be broken, and you’d been leaning onto the doorframe to keep your weight off of your injured leg. That he could fix with an episkey, so at least he wasn’t completely useless. 

His sweet, sweet Treasure. Bitten. By a werewolf!? Your parents...

Oh gods, your parents.

That’s why you were here.

You couldn’t go back home, not as a werewolf; your parents would kill you. The only thing worse to a Sacred 28 Family than a dead daughter would be a werewolf one.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Any why couldn’t he tell Lupin and Regulus!? Lupin was probably the only person who could actually help you right now. Barty hated that – hated that someone else could help you and he couldn’t – but he also loved that you had people who loved you and could help you.

Fucking fuck, he was supposed to be burning moving pictures of his father right now, not trying to bring his best friend back from the brink of death.

“That’s enough Treasure, you need to wake up.” He muttered, shaking you by your shoulders gently. When that still didn’t work, he cast a quick rennervate. 

You groaned in pain and tried rolling onto your back. 

“No, Y/N, you need to stay like this. I need you to tell me what happened.”

You moaned again and turned back towards him; eyes shut tight in pain. 

“I...I needed to leave I, I – ugh.”

“Okay, okay. So you left, that much I can understand. How’d you get bitten?”

“I didn’t, I didn’t know it was there until it was too late, Barty. I swear it. I was following the trail behind my-my house and it just appeared! I fell back- backwards onto my arm when it lunged and I apparated once I realized what was happening, but it was...it was too- too late.”

“Where were you trying to go?”

“The Potter’s.”

“And why can’t you go there now?”

You opened your eyes at that, and Barty felt his heart fall out of his ass at the amount of pain that spilled from your eyes that had nothing to do with any of your various physical injuries.

“Rem... Rem hates himself. He hates The Wolf, he ha- hates his lycanthropy; he thinks he is a m... monster and deserves nothing. Barty, he’ll hate me.” You broke into a sob at the end of your sentence and Barty was very close to joining you.

He didn’t think you were right at all, mind you; he thinks it’d be rather impossible for anyone to hate you, least of all Lupin who seemed completely lovesick for you and Regulus. He didn’t think it was worth your energy to argue with you about it though, seeing as he already pinky promised not to go to the lycanthrope or your other boyfriend about this.

He didn’t know what to do, though. He needed to close this wound and stop the bleeding, he needed to pilfer from the infirmary, he needed to pilfer the potions supply closet, and he needed to figure out how to help a werewolf. And he needed to do all of these things whilst somehow not leaving your side at all. 

“I’m tired, Barty.” You murmured quietly, startling him from his internal panic.

“You can’t sleep, Treasure. Not until we close this wound and stop the bleeding.”

He pulled out his third year DADA textbook to find the chapter on werewolves. 

“Dangerous creature this, loss of moral sense that, right then – powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh bite wound.” Barty recited as he read off his textbook. He looked over to your wound, still oozing and bleeding, though the new angle and elevation did seem to be helping staunch the blood flow at least a little.

“Right... fresh enough I suppose.” Barty sighed, making you promise to stay awake long enough for him to raid the potions supply closet and the infirmary to get the necessary ingredients.

Barty had been feeling quite confident in his plans.

Except something was very, very wrong.

The dittany and powered silver bubbled slightly where it interacted with your blood and flesh but didn’t seem to be sticking to your wound at all; it seemed that it was just causing you to moan in agony as Barty uselessly tried spreading it over your leg.

“You’re sure it was a werewolf that bit you?” He asked again. Barty was certain that if you were feeling better, you would have kicked at him.

He wished you could have kicked at him.

“Yes, Barty.” You cried.

“Oh, Treasure, I’m sorry.” He lamented, putting down his bowl of useless silver paste and brushing sweaty hairs away from your forehead.

“Salazar, you’re burning up, Y/N.” He commented, cupping your heated and flushed face with his hand. 

“I’m cold.” You argued, awkwardly trying to pull at his bedsheets to cover your arms. Barty hated to add more layers on you when your fever was this high, but he couldn’t really bring himself to deny you, either. 

Unfortunately, it appeared that Barty needed help. 

Unfortunately, Barty made you a promise.

Fortunately, there were ways around that. 

Unfortunately, that meant having to resort to a fate worse than death.

“Oh! Hello there.” Mrs. Potter greeted Barty as she rounded the corner after being alerted by the house elf that there was a student at the floo. “Are you looking for Regulus?”

Barty adorned his most charming (and least maniacal) grin as he bowed politely to Mrs. Potter like the proper Pureblood he'd been beaten raised to be. 

“Euphemia Potter – looking as smashing as ever.” He said before returning to his full height. “Actually, I’m here for the lesser Black brother today.”

Mrs. Potter narrowed her eyes at his comment but pursed her mouth as if fighting back a smile.

“Am I to assume you’re referring to Sirius, Barty?”

Barty sighed in admiration. “Smart and pretty, Euphemia; how do you do it?”

“I’ll be right back, Mr. Crouch.” Mrs. Potter called over her shoulder as she left the floo reception room. Barty quickly pulled out the charmed compact mirror he had connected to a hand mirror which he had set up beside you before he left. You were asleep and shivering violently, but you were alive.

Help is coming, Treasure. 

“Oh.” Barty heard, causing him to close the mirror and look up to see a confused looking Sirius pausing mid-step into the room. “Sorry, I’ll go get Regulus for you.”

Barty scoffed derisively. “Oh, come off it Black – give the woman a little credit, yeah? I asked for you. Now let’s go.” He barked, turning towards the floo flame.

He turned back when he realized Sirius wasn’t following him.

“Hello??” He called sarcastically. “Did you not hear me? I said let’s go.”

Sirius looked Barty up and down and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Why in the hells would I go anywhere with you?” Sirius asked bemusedly. 

“Black!” Barty seethed. “I do not have time for this, we have to go now.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about.”

Barty sighed and looked down to the hells for patience or possibly extra strong demonic powers to get through this conversation with Sirius. 

“Where is Regulus right now?”

Sirius considered Barty skeptically but answered, nonetheless. 

“Upstairs with Remus.”

Barty looked at Sirius at that. “Is it safe to assume he is helping him recover from last night?”

Sirius’ face fell and he levelled Barty with a hard glare. “What the hell are you on about, Junior?”

“Black, please believe that there is absolutely nothing in this realm that I’d rather be doing than sitting here asking for your help but I’m here doing just that.”

“For what?”

Regulus was here, and Regulus was helping Lupin, which meant that Lupin was also here with his supernatural hearing. Barty made you a promise – he would not tell Regulus or Remus what has happened.

“I need your help, because I’ve found a lost Treasure that seems to be in some Trouble.” Barty explained slowly, praying to every god that Sirius would pick up on his not-so-subtle clues.

Sirius’ eyes stayed narrowed at Barty before they grew comically in understanding. 

“Where is-”

“Not here.” Barty interrupted. “Grab your things and come with me.”

“I have so many fucking questions.” Sirius muttered as he stepped through the floo, somehow ending up standing in the Slytherin common room. 

“Like?” Barty asked in a bored tone.

“How the hell did you manage to connect the floo network to the Slytherin common room?” He started, realizing that it probably wasn’t the most important question, but it seemed to take precedence in his mind.

Barty turned to sneer at Sirius, though his steps never faltered as he sped towards what Sirius could only assume was his dorm.

“Really, Black? I tell you that your future sister-in-law is in dire need of your help, and that’s what you’re- you know what? I’m not surprised. The floo network is easy to manipulate so long as you know how to dismantle ancient wards.” Barty explained dismissively.

 Easy. Dismantle ancient wards. Sure.

“What’s wrong with Y/N?” He asked much more seriously. Most (though not all) of the contempt drained from Barty’s face as he stopped in front of a door. 

“She...she was bitten.”

Sirius just stared dumbly at the absolute last person he imagined he'd be spending his morning with as he let that information process.

He wasn't given much time, however, as Barty quickly opened the door and disappeared into the room, clearly unbothered to see if Sirius was following him in or not.

“Treasure? Hey, hey; it’s okay. Look? I brought some help, okay? You’re alright.” He cooed at a curled-up form on his bed – your curled-up form.

“Oh, Trouble.” Sirius breathed out in disbelief, surveying your shaking and battered body before his gaze paused on your exposed thigh – clear as day was a large canine bite, still bleeding. 

“Oh, my girl.” Sirius cooed, feeling like he might be sick at the sight of one of his favourite people in the world in so much pain. It was very different from post moon care with Remus; Remus was seasoned, he was prepared, they were prepared.

You looked like you were dying.

“What’s wrong with her?” Sirius asked quickly, shaking himself and trying to force himself into action.

“Other than the very obvious werewolf bite?” Barty sneered. “She has a fever that won’t quit.”

“Take the blankets off.” Sirius ordered, earning him a whimper from your form.

“S’cold, Siri.” You whined.

“I know, Trouble, but you’re burning up.” He replied apologetically, pulling the blankets out of your currently much weaker grasp.

Barty looked like he was just as heartbroken as you were at the loss of the warmth, but clearly agreed with Sirius enough not to argue. 

“Mean.” You pouted; eyes still screwed shut in pain.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He whispered, casting a quick auguamenti and glacius on a rag and placing it on your head, earning him another protesting groan from you.

“Why’s her leg still bleeding?” Sirius asked, eyes still on your face as he used the cloth to wipe away the sweat from your features. He quickly prepared two more rags and placed them on the back of your neck and your chest. 

“I don’t know. I followed the instructions from our DADA textbook on werewolves – three tablespoons of powdered silver mixed with four tablespoons of dittany to create a paste. It did nothing but hurt her and aggravate me.” He admitted, sounding horribly dejected.

“Where’s the silver from?”

“Slughorn’s supply closet.”

Sirius groaned. “That’s why. The school buys the cheapest ingredients they can to keep costs low. That won’t be pure silver.”

“Well, where in the hells are we supposed to find pure silver then?” Barty groaned. 

Of all the times for Sirius to not be at Grimmauld Place anymore – that place was teeming with pure silver.

Pure...

Toujours pur. 

“Regulus.” Sirius whispered no louder than a breath. You didn’t seem to hear him, your lucid moment clearly over; but Barty did.

“I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.” He explained plainly, causing Sirius to groan.

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

Barty turned his face to glare at Sirius. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I heard you, Junior. So, what are we going to do then?”

Barty let out a long-suffering sigh. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed and he cautiously lifted his hand to press the back of it to Barty’s head, checking for fever of his own. Barty aggressively swatted him away.

“Are you quite alright, Junior? Is this a stroke?”

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Black. Okay? Are you listening to my words?”

Sirius nodded at him as Barty grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and stared imposingly into his eyes. “I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – promised that sweet, lovely Treasure you call Trouble over there, that I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – would not tell Remus Lupin or Regulus Black. I promised her.” 

Now, Sirius feels it’s important to note that it was currently maybe seven o’clock in the morning, and he’d only just stepped out of the shower after washing away a night of romping in the woods around Potter Manor with Moony as Padfoot last night to be told there was someone at the floo for him; in other words, he was fucking exhausted. And to add to that, he had one of his least favourite people tell him that one of the worst possible things happened to one of his favourite people. So, sue him for what he said next.

“I don’t understand.” 

“Fucking son of a mother fucking cunt, I swear to that fucking muggle-religion-wizard-guy-that-caused-the-whole-brew-ha-ha-in-that-big-ass-muggle-tome I will shave that fucking head of yours and wear your hair as a wig; I cannot tell Lupin and Regulus.” Barty spat, though somehow managed to keep his voice low enough to not gain your attention.

“Yes, yes, yes. You promised her.” Sirius lamented. “You p- wait... you promised her. You promised her.”

“Thank Merlin and Morgana.” Barty groaned as fell to his knees in exhaustion, clearly more than thankful that Sirius had finally gotten it. 

“I’ll be back.” Sirius announced and started towards the fireplace in the Slytherin common room in order to retrieve his brother. 

Regulus looked up from the pages of his novel to survey Remus’ form again. His boyfriend laid on his back with his head propped up on two pillows and his eyes closed as the soft morning light filtered its way through the sheer curtains and painted his features in its warm glow.

Regulus knew Remus was likely exhausted and sore and perhaps feeling awfully sorry for himself right now, but Regulus wasn’t sure he ever looked more beautiful. 

“You should take a picture; it’ll last longer.” Remus commented dryly, never bothering to open his eyes as a smile danced on his lips.

“Ha ha.” Regulus deadpanned, returning his gaze to his book with a blush taking over his face.

“You worry too much, love. I’m okay.” 

“I know you’re okay.” Regulus argued.

“Yet you still worry?”

“Yet I still worry.” 

Regulus heard Remus’ head turn against his pillow, and he looked back up to see Remus regarding him.

“Have you heard from her by chance?” Remus whispered as if fearing the answer he knew was coming.

Regulus knew it was you who Remus referred to; they’d been waiting quite impatiently for your owl for the past few days.

You had promised to write as often as you could - every day if possible – over the winter holidays. The last correspondence they had with you was four days ago as you told them of some family gathering at your home.

He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he could tell he was caught at the disappointed sigh from Remus.

“No, mon loup. I’m sorry.” Regulus admitted.

Remus let out another sigh and leaned his head back down on the pillows, squishing his eyes shut as if the pain of not knowing how you were was more painful than the current aching in his bones.

“Hey, Reg?” Regulus heard his brother call from the door. 

“He’s awake.” Regulus called back simply.

“How’re you feeling, Moons?” Sirius asked, walking towards the end of the bed with his hands in his pocket.

“Been worse.” Remus answered.

“I...” Sirius started, cutting himself off with a sigh.

“Spit it out, Sirius. We’ve not got all day.” Regulus drawled and put his book down. He couldn’t stop his heart rate from picking up when he noticed Sirius’ discontent, however; sudden flashbacks of Sirius standing in Regulus’ doorway begging him to pack his things and leave with him bombarding his mind.

“What is it, Pads?” Remus asked, seeming to pick up on his friend’s anxiety as well.

“I need your help.” He admitted. “It’s...it’s Y/N.”

Remus sat up all too quickly and winced at the cracking of his back.

“What is it? Where is she? Is she okay?” He asked, trying to free himself from the bedding that Regulus had tucked him into hours earlier.

“No, well, yes...she-”

“Where is she?” Regulus whispered in horror.

“With Junior. At Hogwarts.”

Regulus relaxed slightly to at least know you were safe at Hogwarts and with Barty, though that raised more questions than answers for him.

“How do you know that?” Regulus asked, all the while Remus continued struggling to dress himself despite his various aches and pains. 

“Junior told me.” Sirius admitted, finally taking pity on his friend and helping him dress whilst his boyfriend sat their uselessly. 

“Why did he tell you? When did he tell you?”

“This morning!” Sirius barked, clearly growing agitated, “listen, I just-”

“What happened to her, Sirius?” Remus begged, finally taking a moment to catch his breath and stare at his friend imploringly. “What happened to her that Junior told you and not us?”

Sirius swallowed thickly before he answered.

“She was bitten, Rem.”

All colour drained from Remus’ face and Regulus sat stock still.

“Was it me?!” Remus asked through a choked sob. This seemed to snap Regulus out of his uselessness and he reached for Remus’ shoulder to squeeze it affectionately.

“No, no. Moony, no one was there last night. I swear it.”

“What...why do you need my help? What do you need?” Regulus asked quietly, standing to pull on his own jacket and retrieving his and Remus’ wands from the dresser. 

“We can’t get the wound to close, and she’s got a wicked fever that we can’t bring down. She’s barely lucid, she's lost an insane amount of blood, and the silver at the school didn’t work to close it and-”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Remus agreed breathlessly.

“Why not?”

“Too costly to give pure powdered silver to a bunch of students who make throw away potions – they only use what works in the brew but not in practice.” Remus explained, groaning as he stood and quickly transfigured his suitcase into a cane on account of his hip after the transformation. 

“So, you need pure silver? Like... the ring!” Regulus whispered, hastily ripping the Black Family signet ring from his thumb and passing it to Sirius.

“We need to go now. She can’t afford to lose any more blood, and it should have been closed immediately.” Remus pressed, making his way to the door albeit a little shakily. 

Regulus was sick with worry; for you, your life, your future, your family, for Remus and how upsetting this must be for him as well, but something still wasn’t making any sense.

“Why did Barty tell you?” Regulus asked as they stepped through the floo into the Slytherin common room, making a mental note to ensure that it was closed before the rest of the students returned from winter holidays.

Sirius grimaced slightly and turned to look at his friend who he was supporting as they followed Regulus to the dorm room.

“She...she made him promise not to tell you guys.” Sirius admitted.

Remus’ steps faltered and Regulus turned, ready to help Sirius in catching him, only to notice that he wasn’t falling but rather had stopped walking all together.

“Why wouldn’t she want us to know?” Remus asked mournfully.

“I never did hear why.” Sirius admitted, encouraging Regulus forward with a nod of his head.

The three of them entered the room to find Barty sitting on a low stool beside you with his pinky interlinked with yours. Your eyes were still shut tightly and your breathing was shallow, but Regulus could hear Barty talking lowly to you and your occasional responses. 

“I like that song about the fighter, the writer, and the ruler.” Barty murmured quietly to you.

Your brows twitched as you gritted out “it’s Soldier, Poet, King.”

“Ah, right you are, Treasure.” Barty responded, looking over his shoulder at the new additions to the room. “You always know everything.”

“How is she?” Sirius asked as he dropped the signet ring inside the mortar and pestle and traded seats with Barty who began to grind it into powder, and Regulus and Remus moved to stand near the end of the bed to take in your form.

“Hanging in there, Black.” Barty responded to Sirius, though he looked at Regulus as he said it.

Sirius must have noticed Regulus’ death glare being pointed at Barty and opted to intervene. 

“Hey, Trouble?” Sirius asked you gently, brushing some of your damp hair away from your forehead. You hummed in acknowledgement without opening your eyes.

“Why didn’t you want Remus and Regulus to know, sweets?”

You whimpered as your face morphed into agony, eyes finally opening to look at Sirius through fat tears.

“Remus will hate me.”

Remus actually whimpered at that, clearly itching to move towards you, but not wanting to interrupt you.

“Why would he hate you, sweets?”

“He hates werewolves.”

Remus’ head dropped in shame as Regulus rubbed soothing circle into his back. 

“But he loves you, Trouble.” Sirius pressed, watching Remus all the while.

“Not anymore.” You sighed in resignation, closing your eyes once more.

“Always, dove.” Remus insisted. You squeezed your eyes tightly as if you were trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t there. 

“Do you hear me? I will always love you. There is nothing that could ever happen that would make me hate you, okay?” He carried on, slowly making his way to the other side of the bed in order to curl up behind you and pull your back into his front. 

You whimpered, though Regulus was sure it was less from physical pain and more in distress.

“What about Reggie?” You cried as Sirius continued rubbing his thumb across your forehead. 

“It’s almost ready.” Barty interrupted as he began measuring out the silver and dittany. 

“Reggie thinks the world of you, dove.” Remus murmured into your hair, looking over at Regulus imploringly. 

“You’ve got a lot of people who care about you, Trouble.” Sirius added. “We’re not going to let you do this alone.”

“It’s done, Treasure. We’re gonna fix you up.” Barty said as he made his way over, keeping his eyes trained on Regulus. 

“Dovey, this is going to hurt an awful lot, okay? But you’re so brave, you’re so brave and then you’ll feel all better, okay?” Remus spoke into your hair, keeping you pressed tightly to his form as you began to struggle against his hold. 

“Regulus, you need to be brave for her.” Sirius ordered, looking as severe as Regulus ever remembers his older brother being. 

What could Regulus have ever done to make you think it was at all possible for him to feel anything but love for you?

How could Regulus ensure that you never thought such things again?

“I’m right here, amour. Okay? You’ve got four of us here who love you, we’re not going anywhere.” He pressed, moving to take over Sirius’ place on Barty’s short stool as Sirius positioned himself close to your feet.

“I don’t want to hurt.” You cried, breathing becoming slightly erratic as Remus added more pressure in keeping your arms pinned to your sides.

“I know, amour. It’ll be over soon, okay?” Regulus tried, brushing hair away and pressing his lips to your overly hot forehead.

“You’re so brave, Y/N. We’ve got you, okay? Such a brave girl, come on babylove, you’re okay.” Remus chanted, looking over at Sirius as he pinned your ankles to the bed and Barty transfigured a stirrer in an applicator.

“Please. I don’t want to.” You begged.

“You’re so brave.” Remus repeated, pressing his mouth to the top of your head as his own tears fell into your hair.

“Do it.” Regulus insisted, not wanting to prolong this anymore.

Regulus nearly dropped his wand in his haste to throw up a silencing charm around the dorm room as your screams bounced off the stone walls in time with Barty’s first swipe of the ointment. 

Regulus couldn’t hear the words spilling from Remus’ lips, but he knew that he was whispering sweet encouragements to you as he cried in sympathy. Sirius looked to be using all his strength to keep your legs pinned down as you struggled, and his eyebrows furrowed on your behalf as well.

“You’re okay, amour. You’re okay.” Regulus insisted for both of your benefits, watching as Barty applied the last of the paste to your leg.

“Now what!?” Barty shouted over your agonized cries.  

“Breathe dove, breathe. The pain will fade, just breathe.” Remus coached, rocking the both of you gently back and forth as you sobbed.

“You’ve done so well, amour, so well. Ma courageuse fille; you’re so brave.” Regulus praised, taking both of your hands into his and pulling them from Remus’ grasp to press kisses to your knuckles. “Tu as si bien fait, tu es la personne la plus forte que je connaisse.”

It took some time and many more encouragements before your sobs decreased into pitiful hiccups and whimpers as you looked towards Regulus. 

“You don’t hate me?” You asked pitifully.

Regulus used his thumb to wipe away the tears that were still falling as Remus caressed your arms.

“It never even crossed my mind, cheri. I could never; non.” Regulus insisted. 

“I’m so sorry, dove.” Remus whispered into your head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

“Remus.” Sirius warned. 

“Not because it makes her any less lovely, Sirius. But because she doesn’t deserve it.” Remus explained. 

“I’m scared.” You admitted timidly.

“I know, dove.”

“Lucky for you, Trouble, you’ve got some seasoned professionals here.” Sirius added, nudging Remus’ foot. 

“Can I start the animagus process now, Rem?” Regulus groaned, looking at Remus pointedly. 

“I guess it wouldn’t be fair to make you sit out on full moons now.” Remus relented – he’d always hated the idea of putting the two of you in any undue danger, but he couldn’t deny Regulus of the two of you, nor you of Regulus; not when you would need him most.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Barty interrupted, moving his skeptical glance between the four of you. “You’re telling me that animagi can romp around with the likes of werewolves?”

Remus nuzzled his face impossibly further into your head as Sirius chuckled. 

“Werewolves don’t care about animals. In fact, it makes them quite happy to have a ‘pack’.” Sirius explained.

Barty laughed conspiratorially. “Well, sign me the fuck up. Regulus, I’ll buy the first mandrake leaf; my treat!” He called as he grabbed his jacket and wand and headed for the door, likely heading to Hogsmeade for supplies in his excitement. 

“Moony is not going to like him.” Sirius proclaimed flippantly, finally falling into a chair in exhaustion after Barty was gone.

“It’s not just about him, anymore.” Remus responded, pressing a kiss to your head. Regulus could tell your fever was reducing, though your cheeks were still flushed.

You had a lot to discuss; what happened, why it happened, and where to go from here. But for now, Regulus was just happy you were alive, currently safe, surrounded by people who loved you, and agreeable to him running you a bath. 

[wingedhallows]

we'll be family; sirius black

pairing: sirius black x reader | 1.6k words plot: sirius is finally back and your godson is as well. You're determined to finally be a family, no one will come between, you're determined. prompt: "we'll be family" authors note:I hope you like it, there might be another part :)

navigation | part two

“The food is incredible, Molly.” you smiled at the red haired woman. A couple of humms agreeing with you as you continued to devour the bowl of food. “I’m glad, hun.”

Your hand was entangled with his, shoulder to shoulder. 

Sirius had broken out of Azkaban a few months ago, you’d been inseparable ever since. Albus had let you finally and officially meet your godson, not that you haven’t seen him before.

The old wizard had forbidden you to take him, he had deemed you unfit to take care of an infant when Lily and James were killed and Sirius was sent to Azkaban. You complied all those years ago, not that you didn’t go down without a fight.

“Harry, love, we’ll get all of your things tomorrow morning, alright?” you spoke, his head snapping to you. He gave you a small smile and nodded. “I’ll come with you, no worries.” Your hand found his and his smile widened a tad. “Alright.” Harry had run away in a fit of anger, with good reason, you thought.

That old hag had it coming. You slightly waved your hand and the jug of water hovered over the table towards you. You were one of few wizards who were able to do magic without a wand. Making you a great asset to the Order.

Sirius tensed up, you knew well that the wrongful accusations still hurt him and how annoyed he was that he was practically bound to the house he most hated.

“Alright, all kids out!” Alastor spoke as he made his way into the kitchen. “We’ll start the meeting!” he continued. Molly ushered the children out before Harry turned to you. Sirius's hand had found its way across your back and held your waist while the other gently stroked your shoulder. 

Oh, how you had missed this, missed him.

“I want to stay, Y/N.” Harry whispered as he held onto your hand. Sirius didn’t intervene, he had made his point an hour ago. “Go on now, Harry.” Molly pushed him gently and you rose to your feet. “I’d like Harry to stay.” You said.

Severus who just arrived scoffed at you, lips in a snarl as he opened his mouth. You held on to Harry and ushered him to take a seat just like yourself.

“He’s got you under such a tight grip, just like all those years ago.” You rolled your eyes at him and propped your head onto your hand in boredom. “Like calls to like, I guess.”

He paused and the hand your husband had around your back tensed, your eyebrows shut up in anger. “Black’s been a lovesick fool without an opinion even in his school days, it was only a matter of time for you as well, Y/N.” 

Your face converted into the cold mask you knew too well, the fork in your hand clutched tightly as you, without a thought, apparated just across the table. Sirius had gone through a lot during your school days, his parents were absolute monsters and your love kept him above water all those years. To badmouth your connection, the shared pain and sorrow was unheard for.

 Without as much as a huff you pointed the fork to Severus’ neck, his eyes wide.

“I might be all smiley, happy even because after twelve years of a sentence he didn’t deserve, I finally have my husband back you better don’t forget that I’m a Slytherin as well, dear Snivellus.” You leaned down, eyes boring into his. “I’ll end you just like the little worm you are, if you dare insult my husband once more.”  “Any more comments to add?” he gulped and avoided your eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

Without another word you apparated right back into your chair, the slight squeak from the old chair the only sound in the room. “What was that?” Kingsley spoke. You didn’t think too much of it. Your friends have known since school, even Albus and Minerva knew. It was no secret that wandless magic was your expertise.

“You’ve mastered wandless magic?” Kingsley spoke again, your eyes found Harry’s, who tried to hide a laugh. Your outburst towards his most hated teacher filling him with joy. “I had a lot of time.” You huffed, the filled cup found its way to your painted lips.

Your hands found their way to your lover. His lips connected with your neck as your fingers played with the back of his neck. “You’re breathtaking when you’re angry.” He whispered in your ear before pressing a light kiss onto your cheek. “Oh, how I love you, Sirius.” you smiled into the kiss.

The meeting had gone by quickly after you all agreed to let Harry join the next meeting. Albus claimed that he had to think about it thoroughly, since it wasn’t a light choice to make. Sirius and You stood with your opinion, there was no time to waste, you thought.

“Here they are.” you smiled before grabbing a pile of dusted old books. They were in fact photo albums. “I haven’t seen those in years.” Sirius spoke behind you, his hands tucked into his trousers. “I want Harry to have them.” you gave him a kiss and made your way out of your bedroom. Sirius had given you a nod and settled on the bed without another word.

You knocked on the room the kids slept in. Harry, Hermoine and Ron had agreed to share a bedroom. There was a slight rumble before you opened the door with a squeak. You tried to suppress a laugh, of course they were still awake.

A snort escaped you as you flicked on the light. “Stop pretending to be asleep, you lot aren’t good at it.” Harry rose first and gave you an uncomfortable laugh. Hermoine and Ron joined him shortly after. “Sorry, we were supposed to-”Oh, please. You’re old enough to sleep when you feel like it.” You waved him off, the three visibly relaxed. 

“I came because.. I wanted to give you these.” You held out your hands. Your godson got up from his bed and joined you on the floor. His friends joined you as well. “What are these?” He asked. You gave him a smile and opened the first one. “These are our years at Hogwarts.” 

The first page was graced with a group photo of Lily, James, Remus, Peter, Sirius and You. You all held onto your graduation caps, wide smiles on your faces. “This was right after graduation, but there are pictures of all seven years.” 

A small smile formed on your face as you watched how James had tried to stretch his arms over all of you, how Lily leaned into James’ side with a wide smile. Remus had his arms around Sirius and You, your hand on Sirius chest as he pressed a kiss onto your head.

Harry stared at you with wide eyes. “I was determined to document our time together.” you paused and flipped to another page. “This was after your mother had finally agreed to go out with your father, we were all so happy that James’ yapping would stop now. He was insufferable, really.” 

In the picture was James as he held Lily in his arms, smiling wide. Remus, Sirius and You stood next to them shaking your heads. Sirius had his hand in yours and your other arm was propped up on Remus' shoulder who had sat down onto a tiny wall. 

Harry chuckled and you flipped to another page. “This was when your parents asked us to be your godparents.” you looked at the picture. How the shock spread onto your faces before you smothered baby Harry in a kiss. Sirius stroked Harry’s cheek and settled a kiss on your cheek. You’ll never forget the warmth that spread through you as they asked you, how much love warmed the place that night.

“Take your time looking through them.” You paused and raised your hands to Harry’s cheeks. Oddly enough it felt like all those years ago, when you used to hold little Harry in your hands. “I know Sirius and Me are not your parents and…we’ll never be but, I’ll try my best to be anything close to the mother Lily never got the chance to be.” A tear made its way down Harry’s cheek and you quickly wiped it. “I love you, Harry. We’ll be a family now.”

You gave Hermoine and Ron a stroke to their cheeks as well and left them alone. Before you were out the door you spoke once again. “You can ask me anything about them whenever you want, I’ll gladly answer your questions.There are so many great stories about them.” he nodded and got to his feet. 

Within seconds he had his arms around you, his face buried in your neck. You held him, stroked his back in a comforting manner. “Thank you, Y/N. I love you too.” He raised his head and you wiped the tears once again. 

“Your parents would be more than proud of you, Harry. Such a lovely young man you’ve become.” you planted a kiss on his forehead and left the kids alone.

Sirius was still awake, a book clasped in his hand as he looked at you through his reading glasses. “Are you cryin’?” he said, book long forgotten as he sat on the edge of the bed. You nodded and embraced him in a tight hug, your head rested on his chest. “I showed him some pictures of all of us.” He planted a kiss on your temple. “Oh.” was all he said.

“I miss them.” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek. “Me too.” he answered.

[dracoxmalereader]

Peacock Quill

Draco x Male Reader

Context: Another chapter of Intense, which can be found in full on Wattpad and Ao3. Reader is a ravenclaw in the year above Draco. Takes place at the end of OotP. <3

Summary: Draco was right at Hogsmeade station when he realized his wand wasn't in his pocket and went back to the carriages to go get it, only for you to be the one who took it in the first place.

Word Count: 950

The dirt path was damp under the hot, wet air. Dew beaded on the blades of grass to either side of it, moisture dripping from the trees that bordered. Draco jogged down, mud caking in the grooves of his shoes as he passed a number of empty carriages before finding the one him and his friends had arrived in.

He stepped up onto the carriage, balance faltering for a moment as it wobbled to accommodate his weight. It settled, and his eyes scanned the seats and floor for his wand. Patting his pockets again, he felt a surge of panic in its unmistakable absence. 

This was, quite possibly, the worst time for him to be losing his wand of all things. Anxiety boiled in the pit of his stomach, intimidated by the prospect of going home to his father and the uncannily pale guest they’d been housing wandless. He felt reptilian eyes loom over him even now. 

“Psst!” 

Jumping in place, Draco turned his head to you, and he felt heat creep up his face when you held his wand out to him. You stood to the side of the carriage, and Draco stepped down to take it back from you. As he took it from your hand, you ran the fingers of your other along the lapel of his jacket. His pulse raced, and he swallowed the air trapped in his mouth.

You looked him up and down, then smirked. “You clean up well, hm?”

Draco could have sworn he was still on the wobbling carriage with how his organs lurched forwards. 

“I knew you’d come back for your wand, sorry I took it.” Your apology barely made it past the blood that rushed through his ears, warmth blooming in his face because you wanted him here. You let go of his jacket, and he wanted to grab your hand and put it back, keep it there forever. 

You shoved a hand in your bulky pocket, wiggling it around to free the content before holding it out to him. It was a box, dark bluish-green with silver finishes. Slytherin colors that made him want to dress you in his uniform to see if they’d be just as flattering as the box made them look on your skin.

“For me? You’re getting me gifts now, hm?” He felt childish, giddiness swelling behind his teeth. The corners of his mouth tugged up against his will.

You nodded and nudged it towards him. “Open it. Happy end of the year.”

He took the box from your hand and eased the top off, revealing a peacock-feather quill with a silver nib. Opaque and saturated, the feather’s colors alone looked expensive. “How much was this?” His brows furrowed and he pulled the quill out by two fingers. 

“A pretty penny, put it on hold at Scrivenshaft’s and saved up for it.”

Draco eyed the quill for a second longer, admiring its form and shape before he slipped the quill back into the box, shimmying it shut and turning his eyes back to you.

He took a shaky breath, tucking the box into the inner pocket of his jacket. He gave one firm nod of his head back to you. He felt the warmth in his face creep down his neck, and cursed the new summer sun for the sweat that collected at his brow. 

Clearing his throat, he muttered, “Thank you.” 

“Write me over summer, if you can.” You grinned, and he shoved his hands clumsily in his pockets, fingers restless and unsure. His lungs felt tight and his nose itched. You wanted him to write to you. Draco felt like he could die.

“Alright,” He started, more words laying unspoken on his tongue. His mouth hung open and he felt embarrassment seep into his blood as you stared expectantly. “Uh…”

“You should run off to your friends now, no?” You cocked your head to the side, and it made him want to pet you.

“Huh?”

“After this year I don’t think your friends would take too kindly to you ditching them for me on the train again.” You laughed, dry and lacking full humor. You squinted and looked away.

Draco felt guilt burst in his chest. His brows furrowed. “Did they say something to you? Crabbe or Goyle?”

He watched your face morph between a selection of emotions he couldn’t quite decipher, and it made his stomach churn. “Don’t worry about it, I like having the ride all to myself. Good for reading ahead if you ask me.” You brushed past his question and shook your head with a chuckle. A smile that didn’t look very natural settled onto your face. 

A spark of shame stirred his breakfast back to life in his body. Draco felt sick, and a little like he wanted to punch Crabbe and Goyle so hard they could never say anything to you ever again. 

A protective feeling washed over him, and he was glad his hands were in his pockets so you couldn’t see the way his nails dug into his clammy palms. You blinked. How beautiful, he thought to himself. 

“Run along,” You reached out and pawed at his shoulder, pushing him slightly. The contact made fireworks pop behind his ribs. “I have some business to attend to, don’t wait up for me.”

Your smile shifted into something more genuine, and Draco nodded dumbly, allowing himself a moment just to appreciate your eyelashes. Stepping back, he muttered a farewell to you before moving to leave along the dirt path to the train. 

His gaze flickers down your face one more time before he lets his trembling knees carry him away, hoping the summer won’t last too long.

I had a dream the other night that I had to fight Voldemort and then me and these girls I didn't know had to fly out of my window by flapping our hands and we flew to this abandoned island with only woods and a claire's and me and this one girl were arguing about which one of us was gonna go and make the claire's checkout counter into rice because in her words "we don't need that much rice"

So I had to explain to her that I'm bulking, of COURSE we need that much rice. Then Nev from catfish came and made our survival into a TV show and we eventually ran away because it felt disingenuous. We also burnt the entirety of Beverly Hills down, but that wasn't really relevant to the plot.

I hate Nev from catfish. A girl on roblox catfished me once with some scene chick's pictures, and when I called her out for it she was like "Do you know the show catfish? I'm Nev." Girl. We are playing a kawaii sanrio roblox obby at your request. No you are not.

Tags: @nowayisthistakenyet @gayaristocrat @dracoshusband @skrunklespoingo @esperfraud @joongbin @midwestemosblog

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Aesop Sharp NSFT Alphabet

I needed to write it. That is all.

[gif made amateurly by me]

tw: very explicit sexual content and much more

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aesop gets very gentle after sex, high on endorphins from his orgasm. He’s way more open, more prone to smile, and seeking physical contact. He usually just casts a wandless Scourgify on the two of you, as he doesn’t want to get out of bed, his eyes getting heavy rapidly. If you two make love during the day and have nowhere to be, he takes a twenty minute nap afterwards. Sleep comes to him easily after a nice orgasm.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It took him a long time to stop loathing his body, his leg for failing him like it did, and it takes him an even longer time to actually start liking anything about himself again. He supposes he’s fond of his hands, their expertise with potions enabling him to have a job he quite enjoys, and, of course, his brain. Not even an injury so severe as the one he suffered is enough to dull his wit.

He is fond of pretty much everything about you, but he feels particularly enamoured with your eyes - the looks you send his way, the openness and fondness with which you observe him - it’s enough to make shivers run up his spine, enough to set his blood on fire, enough to make his heart squeeze in his chest. He hasn’t felt this way since he was a teenager and he secretly loves it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He does enjoy coming across your face, or your body, but it doesn’t give him the same kick it gives some other men. He is, however, obsessed with finishing inside, whichever opening, but mainly your cunt. He feels as if he’s marking you, claiming you as his and his only, and he loves feeling your walls clenching him, milking him until the last drop. The amount is also larger than average, something one needs to be prepared for when fellating him. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If you happen to accidentally leave your underwear in his chambers, he will hang onto them. He feels incredibly dirty to do so, and he feels even dirtier bringing them up to his nose when he’s alone, lying naked on his bed, teasing himself, but not dirty enough to not do it. He would never tell you, but you suspect something may be up, considering one evening you arrived at his chambers wearing one pair, then leaving the next day wearing entirely different ones, freshly washed. Neither you ever mention it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s very experienced, even though he could count the number of women he’s had sex with on one hand. He’s a quick learner and a generous lover by nature, though, so he is able to play you perfectly after just a while. His quick mind catalogues every reaction to every touch, and it enables him to do whatever he wants with you. If he wants to make you come in under a minute, he definitely will.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

He likes every position in which he is face to face with you, but he’s especially fond of you riding him, as he can watch your face while you take your pleasure the way you want it, and once you’re on the very edge, he grabs your hips hard to guide you up and down his cock at a brutal pace, chasing his own release. Before his leg is fully healed, there won’t be any sex while standing, for obvious reasons, but you needn’t despair, because the professor is perfectly able to bring you to completion in every other position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He’s more on the serious side, though it doesn't mean he does not smile or laugh at all. He’s not going to be telling you jokes mid-coitus, but he will sometimes release a chuckle or a witty little comment when your reactions to his movements are particularly thunderous, or when a swear word or two roll out of your mouth unconsciously. 

“Heh, my my, that would’ve made a sailor blush, my sweet.”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Aesop is very hirsute. Particularly on his chest and stomach, his pubic area, his forearms and his legs. His back and bottom are mostly bare, save for a light peach fuzz. He keeps himself tidy, his pubes neatly trimmed regularly, even before you become intimate together, mainly because of hygiene and his own comfort. His body hair is dark and soft to the touch.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He spent a lot of time being emotionally unavailable, the few sexual encounters after his injury being anything but intimate. So when you appear in his life, he realises just how touch starved he is. He is very intimate, very contact focused and very intense. He needs to have you entirely, anything less is simply not enough. He often kisses during sex, and he gives you breathless little praises and compliments, which are rolling off his tongue nearly unconsciously.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Barely, both before and after entering a relationship with you. Before: as the afterglow passed, he was left bitter and sorrowful, because he was all alone, because his pleasure was brought by his own right hand as opposed to some beautiful witch who actually desired him. The only time he really allowed himself to indulge was after drinking a phial of Draught of Peace, before going to sleep. 

There is a bit of an increase in his indulging after you two are in a relationship but are not yet intimate. He doesn’t feel bitter after that, as he’s imagining you and keeps telling himself that his fantasies will get fulfilled later on in your relationship. They indeed do, and his masturbation rate goes down again.  

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He can get rather possessive and dominant, if you let him, marking your skin with his teeth  and being a little more rough. There can be hair pulling, maybe some light choking, a lot of biting. He’ll love it if you pull on his hair as well, or maybe slap him a little. He’s also quite fond of blindfolding you and tying you to the bed, edging you until you beg for him (you don’t even remember whether you’re begging for him to stop or continue at that point).

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

The bed, most definitely, as he likes to nap for a bit after sex. Many other places are also good in this regard; the sofa, the armchair, Aesop’s office, the broom cupboard on the 5th floor where nobody ever goes… Bed is best, though, the other places make all kinds of kinks appear in his back. He prefers to make love to you in private, but is willing to take you almost anywhere with at least partial privacy, if you get your thrill from semi-public sex. He has no problem staying completely quiet.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Considering how intimacy and touch starved he is, it really doesn’t take a lot, given he is in the right mindset. There are days when he’s not feeling well, physically or emotionally, there are days when he’s simply too tired, and it’s just physical closeness and affection he craves on such days. He more than makes up for it when he’s feeling better though. Many things can get him in the mood; looking at your body, suggestive conversation, biting his lips, kissing his neck, etc. One of your 100% success rate working tricks is what you call simply ‘The Look’. Head a little tilted to the side, looking at him through your lashes, your lower lip between your teeth, your hands fidgeting. That look drives him wild.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation and public sex. 

He can get a little rough, you may leave his bed bruised, sore, and overstimulated, with visible bite marks, but you’ll do so being called ‘beautiful’, and ‘brilliant’ and ‘his good girl’. He’s never going to call you any insulting, derogatory terms, because that’s just not who he is. If you attempt to degrade him, it’ll be a major turn off. He wants you to slap his face, not his soul.

Semi-public sex is quite alright with him if he knows the two of you won’t get caught. He really doesn’t want to get caught; Firstly because he doesn’t want your honour to suffer because of it, and secondly because what you two have together is yours, and only yours. He’s a very private person who believes your lovemakings should be just that: private.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Aesop Sharp can go down on you like he’s getting paid for it. He’s very very skilled with his mouth, using everything, tongue, lips and teeth. He’s normally a little self-conscious about his slightly crooked teeth and large nose, but they both prove plenty useful when he’s using his mouth on you. He loves doing it, in all honesty, and he can go on doing it for hours. It’s absolutely no problem for him to finish with you, as he pushes you over the edge with his mouth, devouring you like a man starved. 

He likes receiving as much as any other fellow, praising you throughout, his fingers combing through your hair gently. He doesn’t push you unless you ask him to, doesn’t thrust up into your mouth unless he knows you can handle it. He’s not exactly small and the last thing he wants is to make you choke on him, or make you gag too much. Just imagining what could happen if he did make you gag too much is a little revolting. Talk about a moodkill.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Preferes to take his time, build your mutual pleasure steadily, let it fill you entirely and only then he picks up the pace considerably, the sudden change in speed making the inevitable climax more intense. However, as was said before, he’s a very skilled, generous lover and he absolutely can adapt to whichever mood either of you may have. There have been lovemakings so slow and sweet, that neither of you raise your voice even upon your orgasm, and there of course were couplings so hard and fast, you were close to fainting by the end of them. Aesop can do it all and he can do it really well.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Occasionally. He really likes to take his time, and he’s a major foreplay enthusiast, but there are days when one or both of you simply don’t have enough time, despite wanting to be intimate together. Aesop is effective, meticulous and passionate, like he is in everything he does. Both of you are able to reach your finish in a matter of minutes, giving each other blissed out smiles and kisses, hanging onto one another as if your lives depended on it. However, if there is even a small chance that Aesop would be able to have normal, unhurried sex with you if he only waits a few hours, he will forgo the quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He’s definitely willing to experiment, not judging anything until he’s tried it, unless it’s something very risky and potentially dangerous. That’s where he draws the line. It still leaves a lot of wonderful things for you to try and decide if it’s something you enjoy together or not. Temperature play with ice? Lovely, exciting, will do again. Wax play? Well, you were nearly certain you probably did it wrong, but you did it wrong enough for you to never want to try it again. Ouch.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has brilliant stamina and control, and can last for a long time, but he does have a longer recovery period, which he blames on his age. You disagree with the statement wholeheartedly, blaming it instead on the fact that he’s perfectly able to be at it for hours if he wants to. He can go for two quite lengthy, mind blowing rounds with a pause between, perhaps a little nap, too.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does own a few fun things he likes to use. Velvety blindfolds and tapes to bind you, an assortment of objects to be used on you once you’ve been properly restrained, ranging from a fluffy feather to a (very carefully used) crop. They are used only occasionally, to spice things up a bit, for example after you’ve both had a long, difficult day. He’s been on the receiving end of these a couple of times, and is a little embarrassed to say how much he enjoyed it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does enjoy a fair share of teasing, but he’s never mean in it. He may edge you a little if you’re both comfortable with it, he may miss your sweet spots on purpose in order to make your arousal grow just a little more, but if he sees you’re really desperate, if he knows you really need to come, he won’t dare rid you of the orgasm. He possesses a kind of physical empathy that lets him know when he can tease you and when he cannot.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is perfectly able to be nearly silent the entire time, ragged breathing his only sound, but he chooses not to when he knows your ears are the only ones that’ll hear him. He prefers to let his sounds flow off his lips naturally, and it’s something he likes in you as well. He doesn’t need you to scream or moan your lungs out to know you’re having a good time, so be natural, and if you feel a moan coming onto you, don’t stifle it and don’t exaggerate it. He won’t either. His sounds are usually little grunts and groans in the beginning, but will progressively turn into small moans once he’s getting close. The only sound that might be considered louder is the one he makes once he actually reaches his climax, and it’s the only one he’ll try to muffle a little, by kissing or biting you, out of slight self-consciousness.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One of Aesop’s fortes is his openness about sex itself - he’s no blushing virgin and he’s no vulgar sailor. Sex is just completely natural to him and he sees no reason not to call things the way they are, or even not to talk about sex at all. He knows Muggles think of sex as if it was something shameful and sinful, hiding behind colourful names for normal body parts, as opposed to what sex actually is - something natural, pleasant and beautiful.

It makes it really easy for you to discuss anything with him, maybe even learning some new things about your own body in the process, as he doesn’t blush or stutter or say ‘such matters are unfit to be discussed’, like Muggles might do. He knows his anatomy and he knows yours, and it's pleasant not to have to explain to him why you don’t want to be intimate this week.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is large. It should really be expected with the size of this man that his tools would be proportionally well endowed. Seven inches in length when erect, but he is girthy. Uncircumsized, with a large, dark pink tip, a few well defined veins. He definitely fills you to the brim, but can be a bit difficult to fellate. His left bollock hangs slightly lower than the other one and they are quite sensitive.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

After his injury and before entering a relationship with you? Nearly nonexistent. For a year after the injury, the pain was so bad, he couldn’t even get it up, which made him consider himself impotent, only adding salt to the wound. He regained his potency later on and engaged in a few one night stands, but his emotional/intimate unavailability made the sex feel tense and the orgasms barely worth the effort.

After becoming your partner, his sex drive rose considerably, as he allowed you in, allowed you to see his vulnerable side. Having the ability to be open with you sets his mind at ease and allows him to not only find himself craving your touch and the union of your bodies, but also lets him perform nearly as good as he would have performed before his injuries. Being a little older, his hormones a little calmer, he actually sometimes performs even better than he would in his younger years.

Now he has a very healthy appetite for sex, perhaps a little bigger than an average man of his age. He can control himself very well, his body mostly obedient unless there’s some un-ignorable stimulus right in front of him - he wouldn’t be able to force his erection down even if he was dead, that one time you came into his office wearing only your school robe and nothing else.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

At night he tends to fall asleep quite quickly after a nice lovemaking. He does clean the two of you up with a spell, he does talk to you and kiss you gently as you cuddle under the blanket, but he’s out like a light before long. He cuddles you out of his sleep, and sometimes snores. If you were to tell him that, though, he’d be very insistent that he does not, in fact, snore. He’s never snored in his entire life. 

i hope you liked it! you can also check it out on AO3, as well as all of my other works.

[sodamnradd]

TUESDAY

“If you really want to go out with me, sacrifice magic for a week,” says Hermione, exasperated, knowing he won’t do it. One of his friends dared him to harass her into a date, and the moment she says yes, they’ll laugh at her. She’s not stupid.

After taking a moment to deliberate, Malfoy hands over his wand. “A week.”

Unconvinced, she says, “No wandless magic. No house-elves. No potions.”

“Very well.”

WEDNESDAY

Hermione looks up when Malfoy enters the office. “You’re an hour late.”

“Do you know how long it takes to walk here from Chelsea?” he grumbles, irate, robes in disarray. “While trying to avoid metal death traps on wheels.” He shakes his hair like a wet dog. “In the rain.”

She grins when his back is turned.

THURSDAY

He’s not late, but he looks awful. His hair is shaggy without his expensive styling potions, he looks exhausted, no doubt having woken up extra early to arrive on time, and there are bandages around his hands.

“What happened?” she asks, amused.

He rubs his palm sorely. “I tried frying an egg, but it fried me.”

More endeared than she cares to admit, Hermione almost crosses the room to heal him. But it would do him well to learn Muggles don’t heal instantly—a humble Malfoy is a better Malfoy.

FRIDAY

“You dropped this.” Hermione picks up a plastic card that tumbles out of Malfoy’s cloak. “Is this a room key?”

A second glance at him reveals a well-rested face and a smile?

“You know,” he says, “hotels have something called room service? It’s like Muggle house-elves! And it only took ten minutes to walk to work.”

MONDAY

Hermione’s jaw drops when Malfoy enters the office.

Dressed in a chic, tailored suit—Muggle. Hair cut and styled in the latest fashion—Muggle. And he’s whistling. Whistling!

“Uh… morning?” She can’t take her eyes off him.

“Good morning, Granger.” He unbuttons his jacket and sits behind his desk, taking out a—

“Is that a Montblanc fountain pen?”

“Oh you’ve heard of it? Tanisha, the concierge, set me up with a personal shopper. And a chauffeur, Philippe, good man. And did you know there are barbers that come straight to your suite? What do you think?” He brushes a hand through his wispy blond hair.

“You look…” Her heart thumps loudly in her ears. “Handsome.”

“I do, don’t I?” He looks exuberant. He’s glowing. “Know what I learned from all this?”

“What?”

“It’s awfully nice to be rich in Muggle London.”

TUESDAY

“Here’s your wand back,” says Hermione, hovering over his desk at the end of the workday. She still can’t get over how well Muggle fashion suits him. She’s barely gotten any work done this week. “I thought it might be a humbling experience for you, but I realize now that ‘humble’ will never exist in your vocabulary.”

His smile fades. “So you won’t go out with me?”

“You were really serious about that?”

He shrugs, defeated, lifting his gaze from his wand to appraise her slowly. An achy open longing in his eyes. “I fancy you.”

“You might not be humble,” she concedes, blushing, “but you are resourceful. And resilient.” She looks him over again, her stomach fluttering. “Dinner tonight?”

Malfoy’s face lights up. “Phillipe and I will be at your doorstep at eight.”

(556 words, prompt from twitter: sacrifice)

[weirdraccoon]

What if Em-Sea gets abducted? How would Fig respond?

Fig's office was open to all his students. Yes, even on saturdays and sundays. And if he was not there, they could find him in his quarters, but not many dared cross to the faculty towet unless it was a live or death situation (therefore the infirmary had to be close by).

However, that specific sunday morning, Sebastian Sallow, Poppy Sweeting and Ominis Gaunt broke into the office like hell was behind them.

And they looked awful.

Sallow had a black eye and split lip. Sweeting's nose was bleeding all over her vest, and Gaunt was leaning heavily on Sallow's right shoulder.

"What's the meaning of this!"

Fig stood up in a second, marching to the fifth year students ready to lead them to Nurse Blaney. Why they were in his office and not there he could only guess.

Well, he didn't have to wait for long.

Sallow and Sweeting spoke at the same time.

"MC has been taken!"

"Rookwood has MC!"

Fig froze. Maybe he didn't hear them right. His brain was worried already, knowing Ranrok was looking for her. He eyed each student closely. The three of them seemed to be close to MC, he even dared to call them friends. So, why would they leave her in such a dangerous sotuation? Unless... Well, he shouldn't be surprised that an older dark wizard with a bunch of followers got the upper hand on four fifth year students.

"What exactly happened?" Fig asked, clenching his teeth. He had to rein in his magic to avoid any accident around the students. "Mr. Gaunt?" He added when it seemed like Sallow and Sweeting would talk over each other again.

The blind boy swallowed, tilting his head in the direction of Fig's voice.

"We were on our way to Hogsmeade," he explained. "But when we were passing by the forbidden forest entrance, MC said she heard a wounded animal. Poppy and she decides to investigate, see if they could help, so we ventured into the forest thinking we would find a dying beast," he let out a painful breath, shifting his weight on Sallow's shoulder. "We were ambushed instead. Rookwood and his men were waiting for us, for her, and when it looked like they were going to kill us, MC blasted their tent and tackled Rookwood himself. Or it sounded like that," he frowned. Sallow and Sweeting nodded in agreement. "Rookwood called his men off and they all aparated away, but he took MC with them."

Fig's mind was reeling.

Rookwood had MC.

Rookwood had MC.

Victor Rookwood took MC to who knows where to torture and kill no doubt.

"We think he took her to Rookwood's castle," Sallow said. "We just came for back up. They won the first time but they were 20 against 4."

"We know you care for her, professor," added Sweeting. "That's why we came here first. But we planned on telling Professor Hecat and Professor Sharp too."

"Tell Ronen and Weasley as well," Fig ordered. "Tell them to meet me in Feldcroft as soon as possible. It's time we stopped that Rookwood for once and for all. And you," he looked them in the eye. "You stay here in the castle. In the infirmary. MC won't be happy to see you all injuried when I bring her back."

Sallow and Sweeting looked ready to argue, but the fierce look on his face stopped them. They nodded and turned to limp out of the office.

Fig sighed and closed his eyes.

She was fine.

She had to be fine.

With a determined look, he went after his charge.

When Sharp and Hecat arrived at Feldcroft, they weren't surprised to see Fig was no longer waiting for them. Weasley and Ronen were next, and then Onai and Garlick. They all rushed to the castle to save their friend and student, only to find most of it on fire, a lot of Ashwinders dead or unconscious, and Fig cradding MC's unconscious body on his lap.

Rookwood was tied up, gagged, wandless and helpless right behind Fig. If glares could kill, Fig would be more dead than the Ashwinders slowly burning to crisps at one corner.

"Clean up and forget?" Asked Hecat.

"Clean up and forget," agreed Sharp.

Onai shook her head, Garlick shrugged, and Weasley began transfiguring the bodies into rocks and barrels. Ronen joined her, vanishing all evidence of the small murder spree Fig had gone through. Garlick even planted some fluxweed over the worst damage to hid it from curious eyes. Fluxweed was useful for some potions but not as common as ditany, no one in Feldcroft or the nearby hamlets would come looking for it.

"Is she all right?" Weasley asked, walking slowly toward Fig.

Fig nodded.

"Just exhausted," he said, running his fingers through her hair. "Rookwood was using crucio on her when I arrived."

Matilda's glare found the bound wizard. He gulped. He thought Hogwarts'professor would call the authorities on him, so he would have been able to blame Fig for most of the murder and destruction around. Now, he wasn't so sure he'd br alive come morning.

"Leave him to me," Sharp said, gesturing to his bag of potions (or poisons). "I know someone who owes me a favor. He won't ask that many questions once I contact him."

"Slytherins," Ronen sighed warmly. "Let's get back to the castle then. Is she able to floo?"

Fig nodded, allowing Ronen to lavitate her bahind him. Garlick cooed at the sleeping girl and followed, watching their surroundings with wand at the ready. Onai took Fig's hands and wand, offering a comforting smile.

"I'll clean this for you," she motioned to the wand. "Just in case."

Hecat and Weasley followed Onai and Fig back to the nearest floo. Both deep in thought.

They knew you could learn something new every day. And that day, they learned just how fierce Eleazar could become. At least, when protecting those he loved.

[purple-iris]

Since they pass on some of our TV Chanel during Christmas time, I've been rewatching some Harry Potter movies with my mother ( I don't support JKR at all, but I can't rob my mom of the fun let's be real) It's an enjoyable watch, and since I'm pretty familiar with the content, it made me think about an element.

Namely, Snape's flashback, when we see him cradle Lily after Voldemort's passage and subsequent murder spree in Godric's Hollow.

A human child (i.e. Harry) can't survive long without an adult or immediate care, which I believe might be exacerbated by the trauma of Lily's death and the Killing Curse.

That lead me to believe that once Severus let go of Lily's body, hand still trembling and sobs still stuck in his throat, he may have been the first one to pick up Harry, to cradle him close to his velvety robes, until the boy finished crying and fell asleep in exhaustion.

Snape, who uttered wandless healing incantation, with little to no result for the wound on the boy's forehead.

Snape, who in spite of the child being James', also knew the child was Lily's, and that she gave her life for him. Whispering an another unnreakable vow, this time not to the Headmaster, but to Harry, that while he'd never show it, he would watch over him.

Snape, who cradled the boy's head and held him close until Dumbledore and Hagrid arrived in Godric's Hollow, before letting go of Harry.

This little scenario could be pursued or hinted at in the third book, when Harry encounter the Dementors and hears his mother's scream, superimposed strangely with a deep, baritone sobbing...

[autumnweeen]

Dramione Month Day 26: College/University AU

Art by ene - Chester Company

Chapter 1: One Week and Three Days After the Easter Holiday

“Do you plan to change classes just so you can keep avoiding me?” Draco said as he grabbed her hand, rooting her in place.

“What?” Was all she could muster while trying to level her voice and pretend she was not panicking.

“May I remind you we have two classes together this term? It doesn’t matter if you try to avoid me or ignore my calls and my texts you still have to see me in class.”

He didn’t like mobiles. Texting was impersonal, he had said, and yet he had done it in an attempt to reach her, to talk to her; but it had not been enough to drive her fear away.

“I’m perfectly aware of my class schedule.” Was her retort.

“Then this attitude of yours is even more ridiculous because you are, in fact, aware that I will be there, and that I will see you, and that hiding from me and ignoring me since you arrived from holiday has been a fucking exercise in futility.” Draco was livid; truth be told, he had a right to be.

But Hermione would not concede. She didn’t know what to say. Once again, she had no plan, no emergency exit. Operation “Avoid Draco Malfoy” consisted of just that, avoidance, and it was failing.

“We need to talk,” he said pointedly, not for the first time.

Hermione tried to free her hand from his, but he just tightened his grip. She pursed her lips and said, “There’s nothing to talk about,” risking sounding like an arrogant brat.

“Yes, there fucking is, Hermione.” Draco sneered as he pushed himself closer to her.

She parted her lips and felt a rush of blood to her centre at the mention of her name. All the memories from their night together flooded her mind. Occlumency had never been in the cards for Hermione; she just could not clear her bloody head. Regardless, she had tried her hardest to lock away everything that happened between them a week ago in someone else’s room. The sounds, the smells, the taste of him on her, how she tasted on him, the feel of their bodies pressed together… And here was Draco Malfoy ruining it all, performing wandless magic with the touch of his hand on hers and her name on his lips, casting a Bombarda on her mental wards, fucking everything up.

Hermione yanked her hand away. “There’s nothing to talk about because that was nothing—

“Nothing? Do you often go to parties and end up shagging a friend in a random bedroom? Because I fucking don’t!” Draco growled.

“Of course I don’t! It was a mistake, it—it shouldn’t have happened. It meant nothing,” Hermione said, trying to convince them both.

Draco glared at her in silence. “You’re the worst bloody liar I have met. You know fucking well there…” He did not finish the thought.

“If that helps you sleep at night, then keep telling that to yourself, Granger. You’re right; there’s nothing to talk about.”

He walked away without looking back, and Hermione was just there, too numb to even react, her mind still recovering from the whiplash of his words. Some days she still had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that Draco Malfoy, of all people, had gotten to know her so well. She was only fooling herself; she knew it, but she was not ready to admit it; doing so made it real. Hermione could do almost anything as long as it served her purpose, and she could go on pretending there was nothing between them, but not even her brilliant brain could answer for how long.

[sailtomarina]

A Travesty to Remedy

Pansy x Ron | Kinktober Day 31: “Aftercare” cw: sex, referenced cum kink

The first time they had sex, Ron had rolled off of her, understandably exhausted after their vigorous romp that took them across the entirety of her flat, starting in the elevator, down the hallway, through her door, on the entrance floor, against the wall, and finally in her bedroom where they now lay.

Pansy had zero complaints up until that point—if anyone had asked her opinion throughout, difficult given her gasping and groaning, she would have praised Circe above for the gift of Ronald Weasley’s glorious cock. He had the length to plumb into the deepest parts of her and the girth to rub against everything that mattered. 

And the rest of him?

That arse, so curved and tight and just asking to be squeezed, trunk-like thighs from years of gripping a broomstick, and the broad, freckle-dusted shoulders of a professional Quidditch keeper. 

So, yes, Pansy was more than satisfied. She’d been shagged within every inch of her life, the soreness present and satisfying in its testament to his endurance.

Then came the snore.

The arm she’d thrown over her face in ecstasy came down and she slowly turned to stare at him.

He’d fucked her every which way, filled her with enough cum to take up an entire swimming pool, cast a cleaning spell on only himself, then fallen asleep like some kind of barbarian. He slept on his stomach, limbs splayed in all directions, and his mouth hung open expelling the most harrowing sounds Pansy had ever heard. All of her exhaustion transformed into rage.

She did the only logical thing she could have done at that moment.

Thwack, thwack!

The pillow she used as her weapon had a delightful, expensive weight to it that she used to full potential as she thumped him over the head with it.

“What?” He awoke with a snort. “What’s going on? Why are you hitting me?” he yelped, curling into a ball and covering his head with his arms. 

It would have been a comical sight if Pansy wasn’t so pissed off at him. She continued to smack him with the pillow, spitting out insults until he lost his patience and grabbed onto the other end to wrestle the weapon out of her grip to toss across the room. In another deft move, he’d pinned her beneath him, his piercing blue eyes looking directly into her own.

“What,” he grabbed her wrists in one hand, holding them above her head, “is,” he then grabbed her hair in the other fist to force her to maintain eye contact, “your problem?”

She willed all the scorn she could into her glare, then rolled her hips upward against him.

“Bloody witch,” he muttered, tilting his head to nip at her neck. “Crazy, insatiable—”

“That is not what I meant, Weasley,” she snapped.

“Oh, it’s back to ‘Weasley’ now, is it?” He returned to glaring at her, both hands tightening their hold on her.

“It is if you’re going to treat me like some Knockturn whore.” At his look of confusion, Pansy wrapped her legs around one muscled thigh and slid her dripping cunt against him. He jerked like he meant to pull away from her, and her scowl deepened.

“What the fuck, Pansy? What do you think you’re doing?”

Absolutely clueless.

All of her irritation vanished as quickly as it had arrived, and she found she didn’t care anymore. Her legs dropped down and she stopped straining against him. Sensing her change in mood, Ron slowly let go and sat back on his haunches.

“This was fun and all, but I think you should go.” Not wanting to waste a second more on him, Pansy cast a wandless scourgify on herself and yanked up the sheets in clear dismissal.

She waited until he’d gathered his things and exited before she threw the blankets back and headed straight for her desk.

She had a letter to write.

“What do you mean he doesn’t do aftercare?” Pansy asked, appalled at what she’d just heard come out of Hermione’s mouth.

The two had agreed to meet following Pansy’s message, and they now sat outside of a quaint little cafe, sunshine warming their table. Hermione nibbled at her sandwich before replying.

“He offered at first, of course, but I asked him to leave it. I…like…the mess.” She winked and took another bite.

Pansy dropped her teacup on its saucer with a clatter that would have had her mother swooning at the ill manners of it.

Swotty Hermione Granger had a cum kink.

She’d dated Ron for years.

She was now engaged to Pansy’s best friend.

“You little cumslut,” she breathed, visions of Hermione and Draco crowding her mind in an unwanted assault.

“So, no, unless told directly, I suspect Ronald won’t understand what you need unless you tell him directly,” Hermione continued with a prim voice, taking another sip of her tea. The smile she aimed at Pansy from behind the porcelain curled up at the edges like a cat playing with its food.

Pansy narrowed her eyes at the witch and considered her advice.

“What makes you think he’ll still be interested in me?” He hadn’t even protested her throwing him out. He’d just dressed in silence and left without another word, and she hadn’t heard from him since.

“Oh, he’s interested. Owl him and you’ll see.”

Lunch passed quickly once Pansy resolved to do just that. She turned down Hermione’s offer to hear more about Ron. She preferred to find out all his preferences and oddities on her own, and she wouldn’t make the mistake of assuming anything about the fool wizard again.

A part of her felt guilty for acting out the way she had, but the notion of the man who’d brought her to orgasm that many times not following through with a basic cleansing spell, much less a damp towel, infuriated her.

It didn’t stand to reason. This was a travesty that required immediate remedy.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep this time,” Pansy demanded from her perch above him.

Sleepy eyes looked up at her, fighting to stay open. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t want to be attacked again.” His face contorted as he struggled to hold back a yawn.

“I spoke with Hermione.”

Ron started to sit up, but Pansy put all her weight down onto the hands still pressed against his chest, and he allowed her to keep him in place.

He huffed, now fully awake. “What about?”

“She told me that she basically trained you to never clean up.” As her words sank into him, a pink blush worked its way up his face and across his chest. “But there’s much more to aftercare than just jizz and juice.”

He cleared his throat a few times before he was able to respond. “And is that what upset you last time?”

She bent down to reward him with a close-mouthed kiss, swollen lips to swollen lips, staying close as she pressed her forehead against his.

“You can’t fuck like that without knowing the proper etiquette.”

“So teach me.”

Pansy delighted in a lover willing to learn, especially one with a monster cock already swelling to life inside of her like he was now. She rolled her hips against Ron’s and captured his groan in another kiss, this one open and filthy in a perfect imitation of what was to follow.

“One more, and then I will.”

WC 1237

10/31 “Aftercare” prompt for @hpkinktober

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3

I suppose I could have ended with something a little sweeter than this, but I had a hard time imagining my version of Ron having the wherewithal to take care of his partner after having his own spectacular finish 😛Let’s hope Pansy teaches him to do better.

For those of you who stayed with me from beginning to finish for my first foray into Kinktober, thank you! I don’t usually write shameless smut, much less delve into various kinks, so this was a fun exercise in both. Hopefully next time I can try to go for allllll the days, but we’ll see when we get there!

[jomiddlemarch]

The shapes a bright container can contain! 

II. After he’d hauled her out of the depths, it wasn’t up for debate.

Empirically speaking, Hermione Granger looked awful. 

She’d vomited up what seemed to be better than half the Black Lake, a not insignificant portion of which had gotten into her hair, which was itself tangled with weeds, her curls almost black with lake water and mud. She’d had the foresight to throw off her robes before she’d gone into the loch, but that was about all he could say for her; her clothes, a blue button-down shirt and wool trousers, were plastered to her, slimy with algae, her leather shoes ruined, and beneath the filth streaking her face, she was whiter than the Grey Lady. There were violet shadows under her eyes he hadn’t seen before. She must have dropped the glamour when she was dealing with the Giant Squid. Her body, when he had wrenched it free from the water’s hold, was too slight and it had been too near, her death, when he’d dragged her up onto the bank and cast all the wandless Healing spells he could think of before he managed a Patronus to Abbott, who’d taken over after Pomfrey retired to Cornwall.

When Hermione still lay motionless, he stopped trying to revive her with magic and shook her, muttering prayers under his breath to anyone he could think of Merlin, Circe, Nimue and then the most basic God, for fuck’s sake, please, until she coughed again and opened her eyes. She looked dazed and her right hand moved ineffectually at her side as if she were seeking her wand. He grasped her hand in his and squeezed, just a little. She coughed again, more alert this time, trying to swallow the sound and he shook his head and murmured It’s all right. She turned her face to the side, letting him see her Naiad’s profile against the wrack mixed in with her hair and he remembered how she’d looked when they were young, how lovely she’d been before she’d fled Hogwarts, how pretty she’d been before his aunt started cursing her. 

Abbott arrived then, brisk and competent, nodding when Draco explained he hadn’t wanted to risk Side-along when Hermione had been so fragile and likely magically depleted. Except he’d said Professor Granger and Abbott had rolled her eyes and replied.

“We’re all friends here, Draco. Unless you expect me to call you Professor Malfoy.”

Hermione said nothing but she was breathing, so he didn’t care much about anything else.

[nelweensfic]

Day 21: Frozen

It had snowed all day. Harry had waited for Draco to come home impatiently, mug in hand as he looked outside. Their garden was full of snow and looked so peaceful. He remembered the old days at Hogwarts, where George and Fred used to levitate snowballs to throw them at students. He remembered the joy of Ron and Hermione walking with him to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer. It was a long time ago. Time flies more as an adult. 

“I’m home!” Draco called as the door stumbled behind him.

As Harry watched the snow falling on the ground, an idea sparked and he ran toward Draco. Without a word he took his hand and pulled him directly to the garden. 

“Harry?” Draco asked, confused but let him lead the way. “What is it?”

“Do you want to build a snowman?” Harry asked just at the same time he opened the door and cast a wandless warming charm on them. 

“Right now?” Draco cast a tempus charm, it was almost dinner time. 

“Why not?” Harry accioed his shoes and a beanie before putting them on. “Come on, it’s fun!” 

“It’s ridiculous.” Draco groaned. “We’re adults, not children!”

“Exactly!” Harry pulled Draco outside and the sounds of the snow cracking under their feet was satisfying. “I want to be able to enjoy snow like I want, no one can tell me what I can and can’t do now.” 

Draco looked at Harry intensely. Something crossed his mind before he waved his wand. Another hat, a scarf and a carrot arrived from the house. 

“Come on, Harry.” He said as if nothing happened. “The snowman won’t be built alone.” 

Harry smiled and he followed Draco’s steps. They collected the snow carefully, trying their best to do a perfect round body shape. Draco finished the first ball, a big ball standing beside a tree, waiting for Harry to come with the head. When Harry arrived with the second ball, it was clear he wasn’t that experienced in building snowmen. Draco sighed and criticised the imperfect shape but still helped Harry to put in on the body. He put down the hat and the scarf while Harry searched for little rocks. 

“This is outrageous.” Draco said once the carrot and button rocks were on.

“This is fun.” Harry countered as he grabbed Draco’s hand. “I can’t wait for Ron to see it.” 

Draco snorted but Harry was proud of their little snowman, standing alone in their little garden. 

“You’re right.” Draco finally said. “It was fun.” 

Harry smiled and Draco kissed his cheek before turning back in the house. 

“Now come help me with dinner, I’m starving.”

<< Day 20 by me

<< Day 1 by me, to start at the begining

[george-weasleys-girl]

North Star Series

Chapter 3 - Lunch

George Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: using magical stimulant to stay awake, mention of someone hallucinating, a couple of curse words

Summary: The second meeting, in which we learn a little about Y/N.

Start Here:

~•~

George's heart sank when Y/N wasn't in the Great Hall as he arrived for lunch. She'd been on his mind all morning. He was really looking forward to seeing her again.

As he was sitting down, Ron blurted out, "I wonder if Y/N will get detention on her first day?"

George's head snapped up. "What? Why would she get detention?"

"Apparently, she got into a.....heated discussion with Snape over wandless potion making. He made her stay after class." Hermione answered.

"Wandless potion making?" Fred asked, sitting down next to his twin.

Hermione nodded. "Ilvermorny requires students to be adept at it by their third year.

"Brilliant, I wonder--" Harry began, but Fred interrupted him. "Oi! There's our little trouble maker now."

Y/N plopped down on the open spot across from the twins.

"Hi, George," she smiled at George. That same warm glow he felt at breakfast, returned. He smiled back, unable to decide whether he was more elated that she knew he was George or that she made a point to greet him and only him.

Before George could respond, Ron bellowed at Y/N, "Did Snape give you detention?"

"Nah," Y/N shook her head. "But I don't think I'll be in the running for teacher's pet anytime soon." Everyone but Hermione chuckled and nodded knowingly. "So tell me," Y/N continued, "is Snape always an ass or did I just catch him on a bad day?"

"Always an ass," Harry replied.

"Everyday is a bad day for Snape." George added.

"Great..." Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them wide. She could really use a nice twelve hour nap.

"Is he going to let you do wandless potion making?" Ginny asked.

Y/N nodded, rubbing her eyes. "Yep. But he's not happy about it."

George chewed on his lip while he watched Y/N and Ginny. Y/N seemed different from this morning. Less lively. Her movements were slower, shoulders hunched, dark circles forming under her eyes.

"Hey, how are you doing?" he asked.

Y/N gave him a feeble smile. "Ready to fall on my face. I'm lucky if I've managed eight hours of sleep in the last two days."

"How are you going to survive the rest of the day?" Ginny's voice was heavy with concern.

Y/N didn't answer immediately, but reached into her backpack and pulled out a small velvet bag, from which she retrieved something that looked like a gumdrop. "This," she said, before tossing it into her mouth.

"A gumdrop?" Ginny slid closer, peaking into the bag.

"Bright‐Eyes Elixir." Y/N explained. "Pukwudgies invented it as a way to stave off fatigue after all-nighters. It was originally in liquid form, but we figured out how to infuse it into gumdrops in my fourth year."

"How long does it last?" George asked.

"Depends on how long the person has been without sleep. If it's just been one night, it'll last most of the day, about 7-8 hours. In my case, it lasts around 3 to 4."

George nodded, his lips spreading into a small, delighted smile as he watched Y/N go from exhausted to energetic in matter of seconds.

"So you could just take these forever and never need to sleep?" Ron asked.

Y/N chuckled. "Hardly. It temporarily supresses the effects of sleep deprivation. It doesn't eliminate the body's need for sleep. The longer you take it, the less effective it gets. Eventually, you will crash no matter how many you take."

"What's the longest anyone's stayed awake?" Fred asked, leaning over to hear her better.

"Well, we don't recommend taking them for more than three days in a row. Though a few have managed a week." Y/N took a sip of pumpkin juice. "But, there was this one guy in the 70s who went for over three weeks without sleep. Just for the hell of it. He was chugging bottle after bottle of the stuff. According to the stories, by the end, he was hallucinating that he'd seen the moon fall out of the sky and that he was being followed by a gigantic talking toad named Jeffrey."

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked.

"He crashed. Hard. He wasn't in by curfew one night, so they sent out a search party. They found him facedown in the grass with an empty bottle of elixir still in his hand. He slept for four days straight.

"And the professors allow this?" Hermione looked pale.

Y/N helped herself to a slice of apple and butterscotch pie. "Yeah. It's actually encouraged, to a degree. Most of the teachers figure it's best to let us experiment while we're still in school and have easy access to two medical wings."

"Two?" Hermione was incredulous. "Why do you need two? How frequently do these experiments go wrong?"

"Not as often as you might think. There's two because we have the main hospital wing, like here at Hogwarts. Then there's a smaller one attached to Pukwudgie House. Most of us are healers in training, after all."

Hermione stared at Y/N with a mixture of wonder and horror.

Fred leaned over to George. "We went to the wrong school, mate."

"Yeah..." George nodded, captivated by the girl with the sparkling eyes sitting across from him.

~•~

*If you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know*

~•~

Next Chapter:

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Dramione Month (Part 2)

Dramione Month 2023:

Three Weeks and Five Days by AutumnWeen - M, 5 chapters - “We need to talk,” he said pointedly, not for the first time. Hermione tried to free her hand from his, but he just tightened his grip. She pursed her lips and said, “There’s nothing to talk about,” risking sounding like an arrogant brat. “Yes, there fucking is, Hermione.” Draco sneered as he pushed himself closer to her. She parted her lips and felt a rush of blood to her centre at the mention of her name. All the memories from their night together flooded her mind. Occlumency had never been in the cards for Hermione; she just could not clear her bloody head. Regardless, she had tried her hardest to lock away everything that happened between them a week ago in someone else’s room. The sounds, the smells, the taste of him on her, how she tasted on him, the feel of their bodies pressed together… And here was Draco Malfoy ruining it all, performing wandless magic with the touch of his hand on hers and her name on his lips, casting a Bombarda on her mental wards, fucking everything up. Or An unlikely friendship, a car ride, a half-baked plan, and a last-minute decision that will change everything.

The Artist's Daughter by MarinaJune - G, one-shot - She was here again. Draco Lucius Malfoy, First and Only Prince to the kingdom, stayed hidden in the stacks next to a row of tomes dictating the genealogies of the royal families dating back hundreds of years. He had his private tutor to thank for the tiresome task of locating the volume listing the exact ancestor Draco had failed to name correctly in his latest exam. The other day, he’d been here searching for a text that would answer which crops their kingdom specialized in for exports. Ridiculous, really. As if he wouldn’t some day have advisors to do all this research for him. Then, just like today, he’d seen a girl wandering through the shelves. She hadn’t noticed him, of course. Draco was far too sneaky to be detected by some muggle, which she had to be given her unaware musings as she walked around with her nose buried in a book.

a promise to the moon by riddikulus_puff - T, one-shot - The Death of Queen Narcissa Malfoy forced Prince Draco Malfoy onto the thrown at a time when he had never expected the news to arrive. His father, the passed King Lucius Malfoy, who had married into the family had been passionate about his wife’s love for their country. She had a duty and she performed. She had worked tirelessly for her country even to the day she died. Now, it was up to Draco and his wife, Hermione, to work religiously for their country.

The Wrong Side of the Aisle by violently_verbose - M, one-shot - “You know exactly what I’m talking about Granger.” Resting his hand on the entrance, he turns towards her, trapping her against the doorframe. Her breath hitches, and she curses her body for giving her away. “I thought my silence was pretty clear,” she replies. “We’re done. We never should have started in the first place.” His eyes flicker with something foreign as his pupils shrink, gray irises dominating his cold gaze. “Right." He nods and snatches away the cigarette dangling from her lips, before marching past her. He’s almost out the door when- “They’re gone!” Pansy bursts into the lavatory. Makeup mingling with her tears, her voice is raw and close to collapse. “The groomsmen. Neville. They’re all gone!” OR: a chaotic panville wedding in which a wronged witch, the very man who wronged her, and an unhinged remembrall save the day.

Incendio by art_emissss - T, one-shot - If there ever was a time to believe in what his parents taught him, that people like her were nothing but thieves, nothing more than filth under his shoes, it was now, because his world was shifting and he desperately, frantically clung to the only familiar thing in it. It wasn’t his fault that his hold began slipping. Or: the one where Draco spends Hermione's birthdays with her—without her knowledge.

Starting Over by MarinaJune - G, one-shot - A re-imagining for DHR Month of the end of the Battle of Hogwarts where Draco and Hermione reunite.

Nott, My Problem by shheart - T, WIP - Draco doesn’t date because the only one he wants would never want him. But what happens when Theo Nott—his supposed best friend—starts dating her? “Her” being Hermione Granger, because of course it is.

Birthday Breakfast by MarinaJune - T, one-shot - “I suspect she’ll wake up soon, my star. The food will keep until then.” Humor laced his words. Hermione could just imagine Scorpius’ lip jutting out in response. “But—” “But,” Draco emphasized, “We could try a spell to help her wake.”

The Wounds of Time by MarinaJune - T, one-shot - Someone once said, “Time heals all wounds.” Draco wanted to find this unknown, probably a muggle who’d died long ago, and kill them again for good measure. Well, maybe not kill. Hermione wouldn’t like that and it would look bad, a former Death Eater murdering some idiot muggle, no matter how justified the reasons.

Hermione Granger: Auntie of the Year by MsPolaPotter - M, one-shot - A slice of life story in which Hermione throws herself a birthday party for her niblings.

Gorgeous by arielle_reads - M, one-shot - It's Hermione's 30th birthday and instead of happily celebrating with her boyfriend, Roger Davies, he's too busy shagging some other witch in the loo. There's only one thing left to do. Take Malfoy up on his offer to make the wanker jealous and spend the rest of the night dancing with the most gorgeous man there.

Empty Halls by Serpent_Sortia - T, one-shot - Hermione wanders the halls alone on her birthday, and just who should she run into?

Incandescent Celebrations by Biirdiee_Rose - E, one-shot - Draco may hate going out (especially with Gryffindor's), but there wasn't much he wouldn't do for Hermione Granger. An exceptional witch deserves exceptional celebrations. And he'll do just about anything to ensure that she's happy and satisfied.

Pledged Desires by writes_and_wrongs - E, one-shot - “What if you don’t want the man behind the notes?” he asked. “What if you want someone safer?” Her heart fluttered. Safer? “I’m no saint,” he confessed. There was a lethal seriousness to his voice. The hair rose on the back of her neck. “I would ruin anyone for you,” he said. “I’d do anything to keep you safe and happy.” The moisture left her mouth. “If you choose me, I will completely possess you. And I won’t be able to stop.”

Seven by nyle_bd - G, one-shot - Draco Malfoy recalls seven moments over seven years that lead to a fateful meeting, seven years later.

Inside Out and All Tied Up by MarinaJune - M, one-shot - Harry’s mouth hung open, one foot still in the bathroom behind him, as he watched his best friend barrel down the hall. He would’ve been tempted to consider Ron’s scream some kind of Samhain prank to help set the mood for the party currently raging on downstairs, but there was nothing fake about the way his freckles stood out even more than usual in his pale skin or the visible white of his wide eyes. Harry couldn’t recall seeing this kind of naked fear on him since their school days. Ron’s escape was partially impeded by his own costume of what appeared to be a blast-ended skrewt, if the sparks coming out his butt were any indication. If he’d worn a mask at some point, it was long gone, now replaced with the perfect picture of a Ron Weasley completely terrified out of his mind. So, Harry did what Harry did best—he charged towards the threat.

A New Year's Eve to Enjoy by MarinaJune - T, one-shot - The start of this new year marked Hermione’s first as the British Minister of Magic. The role was 20 years in the making, after one marriage and one divorce, strategic promotions up the government ladder, and several landmark cases won in the Wizengamot. As the youngest Minister in history, a woman, and a muggle-born, Hermione was a household name. She had never felt lonelier.

A Calendar for Firsts by MarinaJune - T, one-shot - Somewhere along the way, her calendar had lost its function as a means to plan ahead. Draco was delightfully unpredictable, and she found herself retroactively marking the dates and events she never wanted to forget. There was one date he allowed her the chance to set.

The First Time Draco Malfoy Crashed a Weasley Wedding by Sparkly_Bee - E, 2 chapters - Draco Malfoy meets Hermione Granger in a pub to apologize only to end up falling in love with her just days before she is to marry Ron Weasley.

The Burning Ache of Firsts by Wanderingfair - T, one-shot - “Hermione Jean Granger, you’re the first thing I’ve ever really wanted. I want to be the first thing you wake up with and the first kiss to start your day. I want to have all your firsts from here on out..." OR The one where Draco surprises Hermione inside the Restricted Section.

Blissful Comfort by yoursdraco - E, one-shot - Hermione Granger-Malfoy’s pregnancy had been a rollercoaster of emotions and struggles. As she entered her third trimester, her nights became increasingly restless. The discomfort, the anticipation, and the worry about becoming a mother weighed heavily on her mind. Thankfully, she has her husband, Draco Malfoy, by her side, providing comfort and support when she needed it most.

In a World of Our Own by MsPolaPotter - T, one-shot - The road to redemption was long and grueling, but Draco didn't expect to have her by his side.

[carewyncromwell]

Jackson and Matilda, please?

Hogwarts's Deputy Headmistress actually knew of Jackson long before his other professors. As Deputy Headmistress, it was her responsibility to write to all those students who the Book of Admittance had chosen to attend Hogwarts each year, and one of those such students was Jackson. You can imagine Matilda Weasley's shock and concern when -- after sending Jackson's letter to the address on file for Cassandra Knightly -- she received a letter back from Cassandra's father, Everard Knightly, explaining that his grandson had been kidnapped by his Muggle father the previous year and taken to places unknown. Matilda followed up with the Ministry of Magic about this, and sure enough, a case file had been opened, but with no further leads, it had gone cold and there was no indication of where poor Jackson might be. Matilda was heartbroken by the news and actually sent several letters to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over the next two years, pressuring them to keep looking for Jackson, just as Everard had been. Fortunately, after nearly three years of separation from his mother, twelve-year-old Jackson was discovered in New York City thanks to the efforts of one Adelia Selwyn @thatravenpuffwitch and the MACUSA. Matilda was very relieved by the news, and quickly set about preparing the new arrival to start his second year at Hogwarts.

One could argue Matilda Weasley was predisposed to like Jackson from the offset, just because of everything he'd suffered through prior to getting to school, but this isn't wholly true. Jackson just turned out to be a rather amiable, charming boy -- upon first meeting Matilda Weasley at the Knightly estate before he started at Hogwarts, Jackson immediately bowed to her, offered to take her cloak, and even brewed up a pot of tea for her, his mother, his grandfather, and himself, without any prompting. Matilda was also both startled and awed when Jackson ended up moving the furniture around the room and even conjuring a white rose out of thin air for his mother, all without a wand. Matilda was quick to caution Jackson about using wandless magic, given the risk of becoming an Obscurus -- a warning she'd have to give him several more times in his school career -- but she could already see that this young man had extraordinary magical talent, especially for her own subject, Transfiguration. When Jackson started at school officially, he soon became one of Matilda's most gifted students, acing just about every Transfiguration assignment he was ever given. Matilda would've probably sung Jackson's praises as a student if it weren't also for him constantly breaking school rules. Sneaking into Hogsmeade; exploring forbidden corridors; breaking into the Headmaster's Office and the Restricted Section; finding dangerous creatures in the Forbidden Forest; sparking duels in the corridors -- Matilda quite frequently arranged for Jackson to serve his detentions with her, just so she could make sure the other professors (like his Head of House, Abraham Ronen) wouldn't go too easy on him and she could bend his ear off about him squandering his potential and defying authority just because he thought he could get away with it.

As Jackson grew older, though, he grew a little wiser and more responsible, to the point that he decided he wanted to go into politics, to make a real difference in the world. Matilda was very encouraged to hear that Jackson hd earned a place on the Minister's support staff while still a young adult and was even more pleased when Jackson became Minister for Magic. She even attended Jackson and Monty's wedding at the Knightly estate. The two did end up having something of a falling-out, though, when Jackson made the decision to actively keep the British Wizarding World out of World War I -- the Weasleys in general, being both so strongly pro-Muggle-rights and unafraid of conflict or battle, were all vocally opposed to the decision, and Matilda was no exception. She even condemned Jackson in a letter at one point, saying that she would never have imagined he could be so blinded by the fears of his past that he'd place a higher value on the Statute of Secrecy than on his constituents' families' lives. After Grindelwald's rise to power, however, Jackson earned back Matilda's favor when he publicly, candidly, and passionately rebuked Grindelwald and his ideals, regardless of anyone else's opinions on the matter. The now elderly retired professor even Transfigured a letter into a paper owl to ensure it reached Jackson at the Ministry, in which she applauded his courage and admitted that she'd always admired how Jackson had never allowed his father's cruelty to blind him with hatred toward all Mugglekind, let alone the world and Fate overall. Later that decade, Jackson was one of many attendees to Matilda Weasley's funeral, and when asked to speak, spoke very fondly of his ex-professor --

"In some ways at school, she was very much like what I've heard many mothers are, for their children. I do very much love my own mother -- but Professor Weasley tried so very hard to try to 'keep me in line,' back then, as it were. And yet, even then, it was like I was doing a high-wire act for her, while doing it -- performing in front of the whole world, showcasing my potential for everyone to see and towering higher than I ever could've, if she hadn't kept me walking that straight and narrow wire. ...I am grateful, truly grateful, that I got to know such a talented witch...a brilliant professor...and a remarkable woman. So let us, when next we enjoy our favorite drink, surrounded by those who push us to be better with their mere presence...take a moment to toast our dearly departed professor. To Matilda Weasley."

Teacher Ask!

[spikybanana]

jegulily week day 3: food: Regulus visits the Potters' house pls tell me if I fucked up indian-anything [masterpost here] [prompts here]

When Regulus and Lily came in from the Potters’ garden, it was to find James sitting at the dining table alone, happily digging into a frankly astonishing spread of Effie’s cooking. 

Regulus froze in his tracks. Not at James and his hooligan-ish table manners— that he’d long been acquainted with— but hitting him face-first was an overpowering wave of warmth that was so much more than the rich aroma of spices that permeated the air. Regulus had seen pictures, heard descriptions from James and Lily, but to step into the house and see for himself everything that screamed home and wrapped around him the way a metaphorical warm threadbare blanket might— because of course it’s nothing he’d ever known beyond an idea. But even the quietness of their arrival, the absence of fanfare (which Regulus suspected was deliberate but appreciated deeply) made it feel like they already belonged here. And the food, more unassuming and welcoming than even a Hogwarts dinner— there’s so much of it Regulus couldn’t imagine how many people it’d take to finish it all. 

"What's all… this?" he muttered.

Lily turned to him amusedly, and James laughed out loud.

"Food! What do you think it is?" James grinned, scooped another mouthful of curry and naan before promptly reaching out with his buttery hands to drag Regulus to the table. "Real food, Reg! Not whatever poncy bullshit you’re forced to nibble your way through at home, or the piss poor attempts at dal by Hogwarts kitchen—” 

Lily sat down with him. She was biting back a smile at how James buzzed with excitement, rambling on and on as he flicked his wrist to send a wandless cleaning spell at their hands, “Come on, then, get your sleeves rolled up and dig in.”

“Where’s everyone else?” he asked slowly, still overwhelmed. He looked between his hands to the basket of warm naan and felt a strange urge to cry.

“Sirius and Remus are in the kitchen trying to help mum.” James shrugged.

“Trying.” Regulus repeated pointedly.

Lily snorted, “Yeah, you get it, that’s the keyword. Though I bet they’d be doing better than you and I would.” she added with a wink.

“Good thing dad actually likes his naan a bit burnt.” James said breezily, before his excitement returned, he leaned forward, shoved bits of naan into Lily and Regulus’ hands, “Well go on, try some now we’ll wait for them later— holy shit Reg, I can’t believe you’ve never had mum’s cooking before— here, do you want the dal or the palak paneer? Don’t worry about the bread, there’s more coming. Oh you’ve got to try the curry, it’s your colour and everything—”

Lily was laughing and Regulus was shouting James’ name and protesting before the boy could shove the whole table at him. Coincidentally, that happened to be the moment Mrs Potter entered the room, and Regulus was so embarrassed he sprung from his chair and stood up, stuttering out a greeting to her as he slowly dropped the bit of naan back onto his plate.

“Oh love.” Effie smiled, and even Regulus couldn’t interpret it as anything other than warm and loving. “Sit, sit. Eat what you like, don’t listen to James.” Her hand went to ruffle James’ hair even at his indignant cry. “Bless your heart, dear child, Sirius had reacted the exact same way.”

Her voice betrayed something wistful. Anger flashed for a moment in her eyes then was gone. Then, she was doing exactly what James did, piling naan and scooping curry into his plate, setting off on a motherly ramble the likes of which Regulus had only read in books. By the end of it, Regulus felt his face burning to the tips of his ear but he couldn’t bring himself to complain. Sirius and Remus and James’ father had gathered around the table as well, everyone chattered openly and pretended to not see when a tear rolled down Regulus’ cheek. Family, he heard in every laughing, loving gesture, and this was all so— different. Under the table, Lily’s soft fingers threaded into his and squeezed, and Regulus felt it like a squeeze in his chest right around his heart.

[halfblood-princes-crown]

Ok since you asked for me for that dark snape au.

He kidnaps Harry before the letter could reach the Dursleys house but severus knows about the tracking spell so he picks a random place in random to receive it, a hotel they he can register under in a fake name so it would seem like his family is just on vacation.

Harry does receive the letter, reads it then severus makes him write a reply that he’s not attending because his guardians wouldn’t allow it.

Harry now is both terrified and slightly fascinated, what is this weird man talking about? Was that place real? And a million other questions in his head.

Severus then gets them tickets to go somewhere like Switzerland because the Magic community there is more isolated and he knows people.

By this point Harry is frustrated, he needs to know what’s going on! He timidly asks who the man is and where they are going.

Severus just stares at him like an owl then says that he’ll tell him everything when they arrive, plus he can call him Alexander, the name he’s going under and that he’s his uncle.

Now of course everyone is concerned because the boy who lived just rejected his letter?! Headmaster and professor mcGonagall go the private drive and are welcomed by the ugly sight of the house abandoned, they ask mrs figg what happened and she tells them she saw them leave a week prior.

They track them and find out Dudley is in a private school now and Vernon works over seas while petunia was left to rot in mental hospital because nobody wants to take care of her.

Back to Harry and severus, they arrive at Switzerland, severus immediately contacts the people he knew, then register him and Harry under different names and orders a new one becomes up to the point he’s wandless.

Harry thinks the country is beautiful but it would be more enjoyable if the weird man didn’t stare at him like that, like he had something to say but never says it.

Also forgot to mention that is struggling now to hurt Harry, because the man as we mentioned is not ok, so it triggers his fight or flight sense whenever Harry gets a little too close for comfort.

Ima continue this when I have some free time.

Holy Shit

Ok first of all, Sev has a good plan going here but did he think it through ALL the way? I feel like maybe there’s some things he isn’t considering. Or maybe I’m an over thinker, ignore me.

And they did WHAT to Petunia!? 😧🫠 OOHHOHOHOOOOOO DAYUM…karmas a biatch

And I love when Snape Stan’s add little triggers and trauma responses to Snape in their writings 😩 Sev ‘bout losing his shit when Harry touches him is so ᑕᕼEᖴᔕ KIᔕᔕ

I love the snapedom so much omg