#hp oop

[ecstarry]

@jegulus-microfic / fee / 341 words / a bit of an age gap jeggy

“How much for an hour?”

Regulus was gathering his things when he heard a deep voice behind him. 

“I’m afraid my schedule is full.” His tone was dry, he didn’t care about taking on more clients and quite frankly, he was tired of the day and just wanted to go home. 

“I’ll pay double your fee.”

He paused, considering the offer. The extra cash would be helpful—he had just moved out and could use the money—but his schedule was packed. Regulus turned around to put a face to the insistent man and found himself wishing he had an available slot. The man was handsome, probably in his late thirties, with broad shoulders, beautiful skin, a few strands of gray hair in his front curls, and again, incredibly attractive.

"It doesn’t work like that." Regulus zipped up his bag, securing his racquet and tennis balls, and leaned against the table that separated him from the other man.

“What if someone cancels, will you accept me then?” 

“No one cancels on me.”

“I bet.” The man’s smirk deepened. “What about after hours practice?”

Regulus could potentially work out a late practice time for the weekend, but he already had plans—it was just too complicated. “There are other instructors who I’m sure—”

“I want you. I promise I’m a good student. So tell me, do I have to keep increasing my offer or will you find a spot for me?” The words were assertive but the tone was utterly charming. Regulus couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red from being under the sun all day or the attentive gaze of the man in front of him. 

“Okay. Friday night. Triple my normal fee.” 

“It’s a date.” The man gave him a warm smile, reached for something in his wallet, and handed it to him. “Here’s my contact.” Regulus stared at the business card with the name James Potter embossed on it.

Okay, he might be older than late thirties.

“Remember to stretch before our class, Mr. Potter. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

[courfee]

“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft. 

— Tender Curiosities, Baby!  @otrtbs

[apathetic-kiss]

The Rosier Family being social outcasts amongst the rest of the Sacred 28, not out of disgust or betrayal, but rather due to how the other families hold a morbid curiosity and slight fear towards the pure-bloods who seem to isolate themselves more than any other family.

For as long as anyone could remember, the Rosiers produced peculiar looking heirs; they all shared the same bone-white hair and gaping eye-bags, facial structure like fine china and long, bendy limbs. The children were always strange, seemingly intellectual and wise beyond their years, darkened pupils that seemed to stare into your soul if you made eye-contact for too long. They would chatter amongst themselves, rarely talking to the other pure-blood youths, preferring to whisper to each other in soft mumbles and squeaks. The Rosier children were never sent to Hogwarts, and rarely attended pure-blood banquets and balls. If they did, they trailed behind their parents and hid away in corners, blending in with the cryptids and ghosts which seemed to haunt every old wizarding mansion. When they aged, the Rosier offspring tended to become even more hermit-like; there was no presenting a daughter to society, no celebrations of a boy coming-of-age in the same way there was in other pure-blood families. They instead would disappear from pure-blood society for years at a time, their parents or aunts or siblings airily mentioning that they were abroad at the time.

In adult-hood, it was said the Rosiers only had one path of employment, and that was none. The blood-line was made up of inventors, of researches and explorers and users of dark magic, of witches and wizards who travelled the world and did unspeakable things in the name of discovery. Whispers existed amongst the Sacred 28 in regards to what the Rosiers had managed to uncover, invent, and twist their magic into, with rumours of anything from successful immortality, inter-species breeding, artificial life, and spells, hexes, and potions beyond one's wildest imagination. Whenever a Rosier died (as very few of them seemed to make it to old age), it was usually due to a tragic accident, a spell gone wrong or being mauled to death by a mysterious creature, a mix-up of potions or something along the lines of accidental, self-inflicted insanity. The private events such as funerals were barred from anyone outside the family line, preventing any further investigation into the births, lives, and deaths of the Rosiers.

The exception was if there ever was to be a union of two families when a wedding was held on the mysterious lawns of the Rosier mansion. Even then, it was kept relatively private, with only the immediate family of the non-Rosier spouse allowed to be in attendance, and the presence of a single writer to detail the events of the ceremony for the Sacred 28's records. However, weddings only ever seemed to happen once every forty years or so; there was only usually a single sibling married in a generation, the others dying mysteriously young or pledging themselves to their work for all eternity. It was as though the Rosiers only ever interacted and joined with another family for the sake of continuing the blood-line, and other than that would rather stay hidden away on the acres of property and endless wealth accumulated by the family over the generations.

The birth of twins Evan and Pandora Rosier was kept a secret from the rest of the Sacred 28 until their fifth birthday, when their mother brought them along to a morning tea hosted at a pure-blood mansion for the women to discuss the current political sphere of the wizarding world. The other women were shocked when Céline Rosier floo-ed into the mansion, her first public appearance in almost six years (they always invited her and her husband to events out of obligation and politeness, but the two very rarely showed to events. Secretly, the other family members were always slightly relieved when they didn't.). They were even more surprised at the addition of two white-haired children clinging to her robes, who she whispered to softly and sent outside to the court-yard to see the other children. Céline's sister, Druella Black, embraced her tightly, though the fury at her exclusion from her sister's life ever was apparent on her face; the family had cut her off both socially and financially after she chose to move to the Black family mansion instead of raising her children on the Rosier ancestral land. People had whispered about how this apparent betrayal to her roots and her aligning with the Black family instead would place a curse on her and her children, the rumours already whirling after her boys were born and were missing the signature pale hair; Druella had dyed her hair black the day after Sirius was born, a sign of rebellion against anyone who dared question her allegiance to the Blacks. Still, as they grew older, the lack of resemblance between the Rosier twins and the Black boys became more and more apparent regardless of the closeness in blood relativity. Nobody dared bring up the curse again, and Druella's maiden name and the history of her roots was never mentioned in Sacred 28 circles again.

Evan and Pandora grew up the same way generations of their ancestors had; isolated, surrounded by books, and most of all, alone. Their parents spent most of their days locked away in their own workshops, the job of child-rearing left to various members of staff and random family members who lived around the property. There were always wizarding scientists and researchers and medical professionals popping in and out of the mansion, some staying for tea and some staying for six months at a time, some who ignored the children and some who taught Evan everything he knew about potions. Though some would argue that this was no way for children to grow up, the twins would disagree; they had free-reign of the giant house and surrounding property, no bed time or limitations and complete access to their family library which had been accumulated over centuries to house over twenty-thousand books and manuscripts. When Pandora was eight, she decided she was going to read everything in the library before she died, even if it took her reading all day every day of her life (she gave this up not even twelve days into it, when had Evan begged her to put down the books and come camp down at the creek with him. She had obliged). They spent the first eleven years of their lives reading constantly and desperately, devouring novels and spell books and potion guides and studies on muggles and wizarding magazines and whatever they could get their hands on. They made potions and taught themselves non-verbal magic, experimenting with animals and transfiguration and manipulated all kinds of elements and metals and objects. They never learnt the distinction between light and dark magic, it all seemingly just a tool for them to learn how to further their skills. It was an incredible way to grow up according to them, and they wouldn't have changed it for the world. But before their shared eleventh birthday, everything had changed.

When the pair woke up and received their Hogwarts letters, they had simply tossed them to the ground and gone on with their day; Hogwarts was irrelevant to them, and only existed vaguely in their peripheral thoughts as something that other magical children were a part of. However, that night when they sat down for a very rare family meal, Céline had announced that the twins would be starting at the boarding school in September. That decision was final. After some push-back from her children, she had shut them down with a no-arguments look and the twins fell silent. They looked at each other with slight hesitation, not knowing what the hell to expect from this switch-up in the routine and life-style they had known all their life. That summer, Pandora had buried herself in books and journals written about Hogwarts and by Hogwarts students, attempting to learn and memorise everything she could about the school and its history. Evan on the other hand, was in complete denial; he shut down any mention of the school by his mother or sister, and refused to engage in Pandora's discussion about aspects of the curriculum or what their experiences at the school may be. He spent most of his time leading up to their departure for Hogwarts locked in the upper rooms of the mansion, experimenting on frogs and rats and mice as he perfected more spells and potions he was working on (though he did occasionally allow Pandora to join him and help work out the flaws in his potion-work, as long as she promised no mention of their upcoming time at the educational institute that will not be named).

The first problem that came along at Hogwarts was the expectation that they mingle with the other pure-blood families; they had only very rarely interacted with other children, and so the idea that they were supposed to befriend and talk to these other pure-bloods was an alien concept to them. Evan and Pandora had spent a little time with Regulus and Sirius as kids, but the brothers were already sitting with Sirius' Gryffindor friends in another carriage. However, this did mean the twins had an excuse to sit alone together and bury themselves in books (Pandora in her now-battered copy of Hogwarts; a History, and Evan in a definitely illegal book on the anatomy of various creatures and how to best butcher them for black-market sale).

The second problem that arose for the twins was the discovery at the sorting ceremony that they were to be in different houses. Evan was called up first, and the whispers had already begun about which house the first Rosier to ever attend Hogwarts would be in. The hat barely touched his head before shouting out Slytherin, and he had made a bee-line for where Regulus was seated with the other first years on the table. However when the hat was placed on Pandora's head, it had deliberated for a few seconds before calling out Ravenclaw. Evan had felt his face drop and the his look of horror matched Pandora's own; there was nothing wrong with Ravenclaw of course, but the awfulness of not being in the same house as his sister was something that hadn't even crossed his mind. They had spent their whole lives together, they were attached at the hip, they were practically the same person, right? Right? He watched Pandora drift over to her house table with a mournful look on her face, nodding with fake reassurance at her when their eyes locked. They would make this work.

The third problem Hogwarts presented the twins was the issue of their apparent disconnection from the rest of the wizarding world. Though this was something that had never bothered them before, and something they had in fact felt proud of in their childhood, it was now becoming a problem. Evan had never shared a room with anyone aside from Pandora, and his social skills... left room for improvement. His room-mates, Regulus and Barty, thought he was a total asshole who hated the both of them, when in reality he simply didn't understand the premise of politeness; he and Pandora had always been brutally honest to one another and to their parents, and this just seemed like the norm until he arrived at Hogwarts. Pandora's roommates on the other hand seemed to catch on to her apparent otherness immediately, and quickly shunned her from their group for being weird and creepy (it actually took Pandora a few weeks to catch onto the fact that they were being mean to her; she just figured the other girls were ignoring her out of nerves, the same way she was anxious every time she tried to start a conversation with them. She discovered this was not the case though after the fifth time she had tried to talk to one of them, and they had all left the room giggling and pointing at her). Neither of them made any real friends in their first year, and were utterly miserable.

Things perked up in their second year. Regulus had gotten into a fight with Sirius over summer and the two were no longer on speaking terms. Barty's presence had started to become truly annoying to Regulus, so Evan and Pandora became the only ones Regulus deemed appropriate company as the two were happy to sit in silence and read together. Pandora also managed to befriend an older Slytherin girl, Dorcas, as the two had striked up a conversation about Herbology in the library and become study partners. Dorcas was struggling in her third-year potions, a subject Pandora was well-versed in and knew all kinds of tips and tricks in. Pandora was barely passing Defence Against the Dark Arts as the theory was mind-numbingly boring to her, but luckily it was Dorcas' best subject. Evan and Regulus were quickly added to their study group due to their proficiency in other subjects, and when he could be convinced to shut up, Barty would sometimes lounge on a nearby table and pretend to do work. How he managed to have the highest grades of all of them, that was the true mystery.

Their little rag-tag group of five only grew closer over the years at Hogwarts, and stuck together through all the triumphs and traumas. They were there for each other when Dorcas was made quidditch captain, when Sirius ran away and Regulus was left alone, when Evan and Pandora's mother died in fifth year, when Regulus was made a prefect, when Dorcas' sister contracted a terminal illness, when Barty came back from Christmas break with red marks up and down his back. They were there for each other through it all, and Evan never knew the meaning of found family until their group of five found each other; to the Rosiers, family was blood and blood was family, end of story. He had never known there was an alternative, but he didn't care; his mother and father had never held him when he cried, but Dorcas had wrapped her arms around him after he broke down thinking of his mother being lowered into the ground.

And, after everything went down and everything went to shit, Regulus and Barty had held him in the shower as his shoulders shook, terror and fear and mourning wracking his body as he thought of Pandora. His beautiful sister, the most important person in his life, the other half of his soul had denounced him, had said she would kill him herself if she ever saw him again, had screamed at him with ferocity unseen ever before after seeing the tattoo that now decorated his forearm. She'd refused to listen to him and his pleas to join him, to follow him into the darkness of discovery, to become powerful together. After everything they had been through, they'd each chosen family in their own way; Evan, in following Regulus and Barty into the darkness Voldemort's growing allegiance, and Pandora, in remaining isolated from the affairs of the outer wizarding world, in separating herself from anyone who was not blood or who betrayed their blood, and in cutting off their apparent found family at the drop of a hat.

At the end of the day, it all came back to family, to the Rosiers, and to the endless, relentless isolation.

Evan died alone on a battle-field, his body left on a beach to be reclaimed by the elements as his soul departed for the afterlife. Pandora felt the second he left this plane of existence, a string inside of her cut and leaving her forever longing for the brother she had lost a long time ago. She had looked out her kitchen window after the day of his death, seeing a pair of two dark-haired men standing in the paddock across from the Rosier mansion, the empty space left for her twin apparent in the middle of the two men. They had all looked at one another for a moment, before her old friends had disapparated into the winds of the day. Pandora sighed quietly, a tear falling down her face as turned back towards the bubbling cauldron she was minding. She wiped her face quickly as she heard her husband walking up the stairs, and fixed her face with a soft smile.

Pandora died alone in the backyard of her childhood home, a flash of blue light being the last thing she saw before her body fell to the ground. Her last thought was not of her twin, but rather of her daughter he never got to meet, and the regret she felt at subjecting her to seeing her mother die like that. As she felt herself cross into the afterlife, it was as though a part of her soul let out a sigh of relief. Though she was leaving behind her family, she was to join Evan and her parents once again. Maybe that was for the best.

Xenophilius locked up the Rosier mansion for good after his wife was buried in the family graveyard, moving his young daughter away from the house which had always rubbed him the wrong way. The halls, the bedrooms, workshops, and library would stay empty for many years, preserved with spells and protective enchantments keeping the mansion pristine and untouched by the years gone by. If one were to visit now, it would look as though the Rosiers were still there, and perhaps had simply gone for a walk, and would return any minute. They say the ghosts of the Rosier bloodline still haunt the house, the chatter of laughter and the sound of scribbling and the turning of pages echoing through its empty, abandoned hallways.

Another family lost, forgotten to the magic of time passing.

[toorumlk]

Hey! Do you think there’s any chance they might not make Romione canon in the upcoming HBO series because of the popularity of other pairings and JKR’s somewhat recent statements concerning the ship?

fair warning this is gonna be a long post!

you know anon, i’m not gonna deny that the possibility of romione not being canon in the hbo series doesn’t keep me up at night HOWEVER COMMA-

I believe romione will be safe because i’m placing a lot, if not all, of my faith in the upcoming hbo series being repeatedly described as a "faithful" adaptation of the 7 novels. which we can deduce to mean romione friends to lovers slow burn endgame and all that good stuff (maybe i'll talk about the potential of book romione and the serial tv medium some other time)

and sure, it can all be marketing/pandering/etc. but i find it so hard to feel cynical about hbo because i love LOVE their shows and i'm of the belief that they know how to tell a good ass story (and romione happens to be a good ass romance subplot). i also have such positive feelings about the showrunner Frances Gardiner (consulting prod on succession and also has killing eve under her belt) who JKR chose herself and one of the exec producers of the show who's set to direct of a bunch of episodes Mark Mylod (succession, the menu, tlou, got)!!!! and if you know me at all you'll know that succession is one of the main pillars of my personality and i fucking love that show so bad I would follow anyone who was part of the making of that show off a cliff if they asked me to. and Mark Mylod is a fantastic fucking episodic director who's directed and produced some of the best episodes of television ever, so i know he knows how to tell a good story. and though i'm a lot less familiar with Gardiners' work, she is a female creative who has some of my personal favourite episodes listed in her imdb (chiantishire, living+, tailgate party) who's pitch of the show made joanne give her the job so.... and y'all know im a canon bootlicker and love the books so all i'll say is.. real recognizes real.

so knowing the creative team behind hp series had a direct hand in making my favourite show of all time gets me so excited and giddy!!!!

but here's where my personal theories and speculations start: I really think with this hbo series, JKR is on a mission is create something wholly and newly hers. she was barely involved creatively in the production of the movies until DH pt. 1 and 2 and the movies have almost become an entity of its own that's drifted so far away from her. of course i realize me even just talking sympathetically about JKR is deeply touchy and might piss some people off but as a fellow creative, i feel for her man!! when i think of the best books in the series in my opinion that are filled with the best bits of world building and political commentary, what i find is that GoF was handed to a director who didn't even read the book, OotP was the shortest movie in the franchise despite being the longest book and how it entirely missed the Quibbler plot and all of harry's rage, or HBP that was filled to the brim with *chefs kiss* tom/voldemort lore which was done a complete disservice in the grey and brown sludgy mess that is the HBP movie.

and knowing that JKR now has a strained relationship or had a falling out with most of the top dogs involved in the films like Kloves and Yates (hallelujah what who said that) and Emma Watson and Daniel Radcliffe means this show has the chance to be a behemoth that’s entirely joanne’s, like the books are. it’ll be free of Kloves' Hermione and harmony (harry x hermione) favouritism or Watson's take on Hermione's character that makes my ass itch or Yate’s complete inability to direct his actors and make non-action scenes have heart, soul and heft. but i also can’t not address the elephant in the room: this section of the discussion is filled with every shade of grey possible because what led to the falling outs was that they all vehemently disagreed with JKR's anti-trans views and good on them they absolutely should! but like.............. i hated kloves' writing and his butchering of ron's character, i think yates is a static and boring director and im not a fan of emma's acting so like... a win is a win? NO IT'S NOT. but IT IS. BUT IT'S SO NOT. but do you see what i'm getting at???

the point i'm trying to make is that joanne is not the same person she was when she was first writing the books or when the movies were being made. I think she's a lot more ruthless and cutthroat now and while i disagree with her methods and condemn her transphobia.... i think this newfound hardness to her will lend itself to making the hbo series the best HP adaptation it can be, I'M SORRY it's absolutely fucked and i acknowledge and abhor her gender critical politics as a queer woman but im also an artist who just wants good, high quality stories to be told 😔😩

and as for the other popular ships and JKR's somewhat recent comments about romione:

I think its safe to say that joanne dgaf about this fandom and what's popular in it anymore LMFAOOOO 😭😭😭 i genuinely respect that she's always stood ten toes down about how draco's not some antihero, bad boy love interest and at best is a cautionary tale on prejudiced bullies, so I don't think that's changing anytime soon. especially considering that the dramione cottage industry that its fans have made is more or less a reactionary "fuck you" to joanne and canon which they do by writing fanfic about crimes against women and making merch and binding physical copies of said fanfics (really showing it to the big baddie transphobic DV survivor by *checks notes* auctioning hermione off as a sex slave) so I doubt she'd ever consider other ship's popularity seriously. as for the possibility of harry and hermione becoming endgame um..... if the show plans to faithfully adapt the books then we'd get harry and hermione’s quintessential sibling dynamic plus we’re already free from Kloves (also i have faith in francesca and mark knowing that harmony are just plain BORING) so i think the chances, again, are low. and if joanne really wants to stick it to her old colleagues, she can go down the route of pushing romione that much harder (and she really wouldn’t have to do much, it’s all in the books already) 😭

as for the comments on romione that she’s made in recent years, i think a lot of it’s been blown out of proportion or have gone through a terrible game of telephone. what she said (paraphrasing here) about ‘wishing she’d handled ron/hermione differently because a lot of what went into them was a wish fulfillment fantasy’ has turned into ‘jk rowling regrets making romione endgame???!!’ which is just *takes a drag from a cigarette* just another tuesday around here. i also would link to two meta posts by @saintsenara on the topic of endgame romione which i wholeheartedly agree with it

all i have to say is that going into making this show i hope joanne remembers that she based ron’s character off of a person in her life she liked when she was younger and who is still a good friend of hers now 😭😔

you guys probably know i’m in animation school which is basically film school in a different font. so i’m quite literally training to one day work in the story department on projects and work alongside writers, directors and producers, so this stuff means a lot to me! she and the creative team behind this upcoming show have the chance to make something really special and i’m finding it hard not to root for them!!!!!

[dracognition]

for @drarrymicrofic; broken glass

Despite how much he harangued about it, Draco had rather begun to enjoy the Ministry fundraisers: they reminded him of the better balls he'd spent his time attending as a child, Granger and her minions had warmed up to him significantly as soon as he began generously donating to her campaign, and he got to make fun of Potter's dress sense all night besides.

Which was why he was enjoying it a bit less when both Potter and Granger were so damn late.

"Looking for someone?" Pansy asked slyly after he'd glanced at the door four times in as many minutes. He made a rude gesture, and she smirked. "Granger said Potter needed a little extra time to get ready."

"What, couldn't find robes that fit badly enough?" Draco replied, and as he did, the door swung open to reveal—to reveal—

Granger looked nice enough, as always, but Potter wasn't in rumpled robes this time; he was in a Muggle suit, tapering in at the waist and pulling tight at his shoulders. His hair looked charmingly disheveled instead of ridiculously messy. His pants fit snugly over his thighs.

Distantly, Draco heard a glass shattering.

It was only when he saw Potter's (very green, oddly sparkly) eyes meet his and heard Pansy's laugh that he realised he'd dropped his drink. "You seem a bit—not yourself," said Potter as he approached Draco. His smile was lopsided and a little smug. "Something go wrong in the Potions department, Malfoy?"

Draco, intelligently, said: "Uh."

[star4daisy]

3/4/5 of june, prompts: lips, love, garden, words: 523 @rosekillermicrofic

“What did you think this was?” Barty laughed cruelly. “Love?” He mocked. 

The words sounded bitter on his lips, Barty thought he might choke on them, they tasted like poison, a cruel joke. As if Barty had ever been capable of loving anyone. Even his mother had not been safe from his rampant rage. Evan would not be the exception. No matter how much Barty wanted him to be.

Because if Evan was the exception what did that mean for everyone else? Had Barty just not loved his mother enough to save her? Had the hate for his father managed to surpass it? No, Barty refused to accept that. It was better not to allow himself to think he could love anyone. That this tightness he felt on his chest every time they were apart was merely pain and nothing more significant than that.

Evan’s face didn’t change despite Barty’s cruelty. It was one of his talents, to be able to take everything Barty threw at him, every spiteful word thrown at him like knives and twist them until he could swallow every one of Barty’s poisonous words into something digestible.

“Would it be that bad?” Evan’s eyes were so sincere Barty felt like he might keel over anytime for he had stabbed himself in the chest. “Does it disgust you that much? The idea of being loved by me?” He finally allowed the hurt to show on his voice, it sounded more raw than Barty had ever heard him. 

It made him want to swallow every hurtful thing he’d ever spoken to Evan. Sometimes on purpose because he needed to push him away, couldn’t allow Evan to step close enough to feel anything resembling love for him. Not that he had been successful as it became more clear by the second.

Barty shook his head. “You can’t.”

“I do,” there was still a resemblance of hope in his voice.

Barty needed to kill it like he did with every good thing in his life.

“You can’t,” he insisted with more firmness in his voice than he thought he'd manage.

Some realisation seemed to finally settle on Evan's face. “You mean you can’t love me back," he finally sounded defeated. If anyone knew you couldn't make someone else love you it was him.

Barty never wanted to hear him sound like this again.

And yet, he had no idea what he was meant to say to this, but the words got caught in his throat anyway. There was plenty he could say.

'Of course, I can love you. If there was anyone I could. It would’ve been you.'

And because he loved him. So much so that he could barely breathe around the pain in his chest. Barty would not allow himself to hurt him. Not Evan. When he had been meant to be appreciated like a rose in a garden and not to be ripped by too harsh fingers that had never learned how to be tender.

Barty had not been born to love anyone.

Especially not someone like Evan who deserved every good thing the world had to offer. And Barty, unfortunately, had been raised to be the worst of them all.  

[tinyluminaryzombie]

@jilymicrofics | March Prompt #27 - Satisfied | 316 words ~(angsty and a bit steamy)~

Tonight may be the most self-serving Lily’s ever been. 

She’s also sure it will lead to her ruin. 

Lily snaked her hand around James’s under the table two hours ago. She didn’t think to question why he squeezed her hand tight and started whispering jokes in her ear. 

Two hours ago it didn’t matter. Because their intertwined hands were resting on Lily’s leg. It was almost everything she wanted. The universe had fulfilled one-half of her wish and Lily was too afraid to shatter the moment to ask why. She didn’t ask for more, beg for complete satisfaction. No, instead, she took an incomplete dream and ran.

From peeling clothes off her skin to placing her head on a stack of two pillows, James has barely let go of her hand. His determination to always be touching makes Lily want to say things she shouldn’t. Things she’s thought about for way too long and things that could never be taken back. 

It’s on repeat in her brain, right next to the touch of his lips against hers. She’s in love with James. 

“Lils, you still good?” James asks, one finger pulling her lip from her teeth. 

She could change her mind right now and he’d stop in an instant. She knows that he’d be okay with anything she’d want to do. James Potter might not be in love with her, but he’d rather die than hurt anyone he cares about. 

Lily knows the reality of their (lack of) relationship will sting in the morning. She’ll probably cry and hide under the covers for the day. But, she wants this, with James, even if it’s only tonight. 

For once, she is reckless. 

James not loving her will be Future Lily’s problem. 

“Of course,” she breathes out, letting go of James’s hand to rest hers on his neck, pulling him closer. 

How could anything this good be bad?

[galaxostars]

prongsfoot and wolfstar in the last chapter of Presque Vu by @starsworth

[bicholsdrarrysideblog]

been reading These Fics by the AMAZING hsvh that are Canon But From Draco's POV and i was doodling some fanart for them and then I GOT CARRIED AWAY AND MADE A COVER FOR THE FIRST ONE... anyway oops i guess lmao

[ecstarry]

snippet wednesday - full fic here

“Why do you look so displeased? Crushes are supposed to be fun, Harry.”

“He’s insufferable,” Harry muttered, burying his face in his hands.

Regulus chuckled softly. “I know the type,” he said, remembering all the words that once described his now-beloved husband.

“He’s a smart ass.”

“I believe I was that type,” Regulus quipped, his tone light.

“You actually have something more than that in common with him,” Harry confessed, fidgeting again. “You’re actually kinda... related to him.” His voice grew higher as he finished, cringing at his own words.

“Teddy?”

“Ew! No! He’s like my cousin.”

“Well, the Blacks have a complicated history with—” Regulus cut himself off. “Never mind that… Who is it?”

“Ugh. Please don’t make me say it."

thank you for the lovely tags @honeybcj & @bloodbruise im hugging u <3 i'll keep this as an open tag babes!

[courfee]

prompt #46 "Sirius is showing Regulus’ baby pictures to James and Reg is MORTIFIED" for the @marauderswithpalestineproject !! 🍉

thank you @kat-m-toast for the donation (and the prompt, which was just SO up my alley, i loved it) and also thanks to everyone else who donated and participted! 💕

and as a bonus a little closer look at those baby pictures :)

[jamesunderwater]

Limited Vocabulary

Read on Ao3 || 3k Words || Rated E || Jily First War AU Smut

UPDATED 4/18/24 - a bit longer & a lot juicier ;) @jilymicro-oops based on the jilymicrofic prompt: urge Lily and James never got together, too busy being afraid of the war, too busy fighting it. But some urges are simply too hard to fight, especially when you're alone, hurt, and there's a soft fire going...

“Lily…” he responded, reaching up to wipe one of them away. When he went to pull his hand away, she pressed it back against her cheek, holding it there. “Lily,” he said again, that same look in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can be your partner on missions anymore…” she whispered, staring at him as her heart pounded. He furrowed his brows and pulled his hand back, though neither of them let go, their hands tangled messily together. “Why?” He sounded so hurt, she was sure he didn’t understand. He hadn’t seen the look in her eyes. Her heart was in her throat now, but she thought of them lying with the broken bits of building, thought of fate. “Because…” Maybe all they’d ever have was this night in this quiet house, for once away from the madness. But she needed it all the same. Needed to feel for herself what those looks meant. Swallowing hard, she twisted her hand around to lace their fingers firmly together, and tugged him forward. They fell together like they’d always been meant to, his free hand coming to her waist, her hand reaching up to tangle in his hair. When their lips met, Lily was sure this was the first time she was truly breathing. His mouth was astonishingly soft, and she wanted to cry with relief at the feel of it. “James,” she mumbled against him, and he moaned softly, and she was floating. 

Read the rest on Ao3!

[defectivevillain]

dancing around you

pairing: severus snape x professor!reader

reader’s pronouns: unspecified, but masc-intended

author’s note: the following snippet is meant to serve as the third part to my ongoing series featuring severus/reader. here’s part one of that series. it’s not instrumental that you read that first, but it may provide more context.

summary: Severus and you serve as chaperones at the Yule Ball.

The Triwizard Tournament is a bit unnecessary, you muse to yourself as you walk through the newly decorated halls at Hogwarts. Durmstang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts students alike crowd the halls in formal wizarding attire. Hagrid must have gone a bit overboard with the decorations, because there are trees everywhere. You shake your head at the premise of a ball. You’re sure you would have enjoyed it as a student, but as a professor, you only find it irritating. Furthermore, the professors are all required to chaperone. Luckily, you found your old dress robes in the back of your closet. They were a bit small at first, but you used a quick extension charm to size them properly. Normally, that’d be a concern—charms can often ruin clothing—but you have no intention of wearing these robes again.

Music leaks out into the hallway leading up to the Great Hall. You pause in your tracks for a moment and take a deep breath. You’re in for a long night, after all. Students flit about around the halls and chat excitedly. You certainly don’t carry the same enthusiasm and seemingly endless capacity for energy that they do. Even so, you take a few steps into the hall. Off to the side, you see Severus hovering menacingly. His dress robes are perfectly tailored—and all-black, as you expected—and his hair is tied back in a neat ponytail. You amble over to him.

“Severus,” you smile, stopping to stand beside him. The Potions professor looks even more disgruntled than usual—a notion you hadn’t even thought possible—as he surveys the ballroom. You struggle to keep your amusement internal. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Hardly,” Severus scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. He indeed looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else. You somewhat share the sentiment, but you won’t speak the thought. Instead, you take a moment to survey the scene around you. Students are slowly filtering into the hall. Thankfully, it seems you missed the opening dance from the Champions.

“As long as the students are having fun,” you eventually murmur. Severus raises an eyebrow at you and you shrug. Sure, there are a million things you’d rather be doing. However, the ball is just for a few hours. You’ll survive [unfortunately].

You and Severus begin walking around, on the lookout for anything suspicious. Severus seems to take pleasure out of breaking kissing couples apart. You have to resist a laugh at the humiliated expressions on their faces whenever the two of you find them. Before long, you begin to join in on the fun too. You decide to announce their names loudly with a voice magnification charm, so that everyone nearby can hear. It certainly works, as the offenders fluster and run away.

As you make your rounds, you begin to realize that staying with Severus was a good choice. Upon your initial arrival, you felt several gazes fixed on you. Now, Severus seems to ward them off, because the hopeful glances begin to wane. You’re immensely grateful for that.

“You’re rather popular, tonight,” Severus scoffs, once the two of you are back in the Great Hall. For some reason, he almost sounds annoyed. You then remember that the two of you have been together for most of the night, and that any distraction would indirectly affect him too. You push down your guilt and pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s not like you asked for any attention. You would have been fine to stalk the shadows.

“Probably has to do with our duel,” you remember to respond, your hand twitching at the memory. Severus and you had dueled in a class presentation in Defense. Against all odds, you ended up winning. How you accomplished that feat, you aren’t quite sure. You think it may have had something to do with the shocked gleam in Severus’s eyes. You shake your head to ground yourself to the current moment and turn to your colleague. “You didn’t have to let me win, you know.”

There’s a strange expression on his face. His lips pull at the edges, as if he’s frowning. “I didn’t.” It takes you a moment to process that statement, and another few to comprehend it. Even after several seconds of contemplation, you can’t quite puzzle out what it means. You decide to change the subject.

“Anyway, thanks for being my meat shield,” you send him a grin. The expression that falls on his face is nothing short of hilarious. You can’t help but let out a chuckle under your breath.

“Your what?” Severus snarls, looking incredibly affronted. His eyebrows are raised and there’s a mild tension to his shoulders.

“Muggle expression,” you wave off, resisting the very tempting urge to laugh. Severus still looks nauseated. His eyebrows furrow and this time you’re unable to stop yourself from laughing. “It’s a video game term, sort of. A shield, basically.” The other professor scowls.

“Refrain from using such terminology in the future,” Severus mutters, his gaze flitting about in an uncharacteristically restless manner.

“Sure,” you agree easily, not at all bothered. Severus frowns at that, as if he expected you to react differently. You don’t say anything else, instead deigning to think about the complex expression on his face. Why did he assume you would be irritated? You’d much rather avoid a simple word than avoid him. The realization makes you stiffen for a moment.

“What?” You flinch as the remark breaks you out of your thoughts. You turn to Severus, who has a puzzled expression on his face. Well, it’s hardly obvious, but you’ve learned to read the small signs of emotion in his face. His eyes are ever-so-slightly squinted and his lips are pulled in a flat line currently, speaking to his internal confusion.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, biting your lip. You’re not about to explain that you just realized your rather complicated feelings for Severus during the Yule Ball, of all times. That would be a rather messy and awkward conversation, especially since you know for a fact that the professor does not return your feelings. You take a deep breath and pretend not to notice Severus’s attentive gaze.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

You look up to find Minerva standing next to the two of you, a knowing grin on her face. She wears elegant velvet robes and her hair is pulled back in an easy bun. You greet her and compliment her on her outfit, to which she smiles. Severus doesn’t greet her, instead deigning to remain in his brooding and bemoan his suffering.

“I am most certainly not enjoying myself,” Severus snarls, crossing his arms over his chest. Sure enough, the venom in his gaze has only seemed to become more potent in the time you’ve spent in the Great Hall. You can’t necessarily blame him for his feelings—this chaperoning is getting to be rather tedious and boring. Even so, you’re glad to have an excuse to spend time with him. Not that you’d ever verbalize that sentiment, though.

Minerva looks between the two of you, mischief gleaming in her eyes. You hardly have the time to wonder what it signifies or run away in terror before she’s leveling an expectant gaze at you and extending a hand. “Care for a dance?” You blink at her in complete shock and bewilderment for a moment. It takes a pointed cough from Severus for you to break out of your stupor and answer the professor.

“Sure,” you shrug, taking her hand. The gesture is clearly a platonic one meant for a colleague, so you find no flaw with it. You allow her to lead you onto the dance floor, ignoring the strange feeling of eyes on your back. You don’t last longer than a few moments of dancing before you find yourself blurting out the question on your mind. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Minerva says, her eyes alight as she spins you around. You roll your eyes and continue dancing. It seems you won’t be getting a straight answer out of her. You take the time to simply enjoy the atmosphere around you. Minerva and you whisper about some of the pairs dancing around, taking note of who is dancing with who. It’s lighthearted fun and it ends far too soon. At the end of the song, Minerva bows to you and you return the gesture.

“You’d better go back to your partner,” the professor smiles, glancing behind you at where Severus is evidently standing. You shake your head in amusement. 

“Minerva, he’s not-” You try to say, only to turn and find that she is nowhere to be found. You glance around in bewilderment, before eventually returning back to your place next to Severus. His fists are clenched at his side and his eyebrows are furrowed—both signs of his anger and irritation. You wonder what could have happened to set him off.

“Well,” you say breathlessly once you return to his side, admittedly a bit breathless from the dance. Minerva is, unsurprisingly, quite skilled at dancing. It was fun regardless, however. You wouldn’t be able to gossip about the students with Severus in the same way you just did with Minerva. Of course, you don’t even necessarily wish to do so with the Potions professor, but it’s still relieving to let loose a little. Severus lets out a strange snarling sound and you glance over at him.

“That cunning, old hag,” Severus hisses, glaring at Minerva across the hall.

“What?” It’s your turn to be confused. You squint at him in bewilderment, wondering what Minerva could have possibly done to incite such anger from the professor next to you. He wasn’t like this when it was just the two of you. Idly, you wonder…. No. You stop that thought process before it can get anywhere.

Meanwhile, Severus shakes his head. There’s a dark expression on his face, as he crosses his arms over his chest and glares ahead. It feels as if he’s steadily avoiding your eyes. You decide not to call him out on it, for fear of deterring him further. Severus lets out a rather strangled breath and, to your surprise, walks away.

You watch his retreating back, unable to shake the feeling that you’re missing something.

next part

[disast3rtransp0rt]

"Fruits, faggots, genderqueers, lend me your ears;

I come to bury Joanne, not to praise her.

The evil people do lives after them;

The good I've yet to see within her soul.

So let her be forgotten. The 'noble TERFs'

Have wrought chaos on solidarity;

Were we smart enough, such vitriol

Would turn from common ground upon the rich."

(Fuck JK Rowling, protect your trans family and ALL your fellow queers - yes, even and especially the 'freaky' ones you don't understand - or we'll all die together at the bottom of the same pit.)

[ohmygodshesinsane]

Unlicensed | A Jily Micro-Oops

Lily Evans begrudgingly agrees to get in the car with classmate and sometime-foe James Potter and his not-quite-earned P-plates after a particularly rubbish day.

words: 1438 | for @jilymicro-oops | april prompt 14: ridiculous

read on ao3 or under the cut

Lily’s buckle clicked as Potter nudged the gearstick into ‘R’. He tossed his gaze back over his shoulder, one hand on the wheel, dark hair curling around the round rims of his overlarge specs. It was getting long, by school standards; she was surprised McGonagall hadn’t tapped him on the shoulder to send him for a cut. It softened him, though. The contours of his straight nose and the hard ridge of his forehead seemed friendlier, somehow. Or maybe she was just growing accustomed to the crinkles that came with one of his genuine smiles.

All the same, it was ridiculous that she would be sitting in his car, bag tucked between her ankles, all patches with its broken zip in the footwell of his beamer. Heated leather melted against her back, sanding the edges off the mid-July chill. She had pegged him as the sportscar sort, truth be told; but he wasn’t seventeen yet. Hand sanitiser sat in the drinkholder, and the car was empty, save for him and her and his bags in the boot. It was too clean for a bloke - especially one with red P-plates pinned to the windscreen. Plates he hadn’t earned.

“Is this your Mum’s?” Lily asked lightly. The car lurched. She grabbed the handle hanging above. Potter swore, running his fingers through his hair, and twisted his body to look out the back window.

“Yeah,” he admitted, never looking at her. “If you wouldn’t mind keeping - er, mum, about it, though —”

“Much cooler to let everyone think your parents got you a car for your birthday,” Lily smiled. He was doing her a favour, really, but she couldn’t resist. He was the only one in their year with any kind of access to independent transport as yet; the only one whose parents were permissive enough to let him zoom around in their car with a big fat ‘L’ stamped on his license. Lily had passed the theoretical with flying colours, but the only person in her family to hold a full license was her sister’s stupid boyfriend, and she would beg for rides before she’d condemn herself to listening to him boast for hours on end.

Potter lifted his foot off the brake, and the car hesitantly jerked back into the carpark. With a swing of the wheel he righted them, and so the navy BMW hopped its way out of the school gates. Potter’s brows knitted in concentration as he straightened in his seat, knuckles white.

“Er,” he said, checking his mirrors, “could you put the heat on? The whole driving and fiddling thing —”

“Don’t worry.” Lily leaned down. The car’s interface was impossibly flash, with a shiny touch-screen and a dozen different lights. It could make phone calls, skip songs, even - “It has a reverse camera, you know.”

Potter flicked the indicator on. “Yeah,” he said, a little distracted. “I wanted to learn the old-fashioned way.”

Lily’s eyebrows arched. “Nothing about this is old-fashioned. It’s an auto. It has Spotify.” She jabbed an accusing finger at the little black-and-green app on the car’s menu.

“I’m an old soul, Evans.” Lily winced as he accelerated into a tiny gap, earning a blast on the horn. “Ah, fuckwit, I was fine!” Lily snorted. Potter flashed her a look, but his eyes quickly returned to the road, sitting a smidgeon too close to the car in front. Kids spilled out of the school in the distinctive black-and-grey Hogwarts uniforms, backpacks bouncing, heading for cars in the line-up or swinging their legs over bikes. Lily ducked her head. The last thing she needed was for someone to dob her in - ‘a prefect in a car with an unlicensed driver, Miss, really!’ Potter had a reputation, too. The last thing she needed was for the girl-of-the-week to come after her. She tilted her head, wondering what, exactly, Potter would tell the current one, a clingy blonde who always glared at Lily if she dared to enter Glassons. Lily didn’t think they’d ever spoken, but she clearly held a grudge.

“Come on,” Potter said, drumming his fingers as they waited for the traffic lights to change. His eyes hung heavy on her skin, and she grimaced, knowing she looked like a loon. “I’m not that embarrassing, am I? I’m a bloody good football player. Got the winning try when we played Durmstrang the other week, you know.”

Lily’s foot tapped; as soon as she noticed it, she stopped, scared somehow that the worn toes would mark the car. She folded her hands in her lap and unfolded them, picking at her nails.

“I just… shouldn’t really be in here,” she said, guilt seeping through every word. “After everything with Sev…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Potter said, frowning. “Snape’s a dick.”

“People will think I was in on it, though,” Lily said, eyes falling to the lock on the glovebox, shining in the afternoon sun. “I mean, I - you know, I do… what you did was… but if Sev’s mum calls the school or something, or one of his mates makes a fuss - it’s…” How could she explain? James Potter had had his name down for Hogwarts since his birth, and his parents donated generously and notoriously to the school. What did he know of scholarships and monthly meetings, the sneers of the Slytherins’ parents when she spoke at assembly? “Never mind,” she shrugged. “Thank you for the ride. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Potter answered. Lily froze. His jaw worked, a flush creeping up his neck. “You’ll sign it off for me, right?” he added quickly, laughing, flexing the veins in his hands. “I need all the hours I can get.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“Mm… But?”

“You’re dreaming.”

“You’re facilitating.” Potter grinned cheekily. It was endearing, in its own strange way, and Lily’s stomach swooped. He’s such a tosser. They took off, cruising now that they’d escaped the speed-limited school zone. Lily gazed out the window, through the maze of low brick homes to the rippling ocean beyond, blue and brilliant. Why had Potter agreed to drive her? They’d been partnered up for their English project, sure, but they’d never exactly got along. Was it just because of lunch? Did he pity her?

“It’s a left,” she said, when they made it over the bridge. Potter shoulder-checked - good job - and slipped into the turning lane.

“Evans,” he said, braking.

“Yeah?”

“It’s not on you, you know.” His voice lowered. Lily swallowed. His hazel eyes landed on hers, round and sincere, with an intensity that made her heart race. “What happened’s not your fault.”

She couldn’t stand it, with that mole on his cheek and the press of his mouth.

“I don’t know,” Lily said.

“I’m telling you it isn’t,” Potter insisted. “I chose to do it. I’ll tell them all that. I don’t,” and he inhaled deep, hauling in the breath like a fishing net, fingers splayed in his nest of black hair, “I don’t want you dealing with the consequences of my actions.” His features firmed, resolved. “I won’t let that happen.”

Lily’s mouth dried. She tried to play it off with a chuckle, folding her arms across her chest.

“I don’t think it’s really up to you, whether they blame me. They will. It doesn’t matter.” It mattered more than anything, but only for someone like Lily. The holes in her socks seemed to gape over her feet.

“No, Evans,” Potter said, guiding the car shakily around the corner now. Had he ever been down this road before? Tufts of grass moped amongst the brown dustbowls of the front yards, tacky gnomes and old bicycles decorating the paths to the front doors. A picket sign warned off doorknockers and Jehovah’s; a collarless dog lifted its leg on the slender wood. Lily shifted in her seat, conscious of the leather and the new-car air freshener and the little sticker on the inside of the glass windscreen that noted the car as being one of regular, reliable services. “You’re my project partner,” he said. “It matters. You know, now, I guess, you - well, yeah. You matter to me.”

They hit the speedbump too quick, and Lily’s body jolted over the seatbelt, straps digging into her body, bag slamming against her leg. The brakes screeched. Potter hurriedly spun the wheel, bringing them back onto their route. Lily’s pulse pounded. Why would he say that? It didn’t make sense. Nothing about today made sense.

“Sure,” she said, face knitting in thought. “I’ll believe it when you stop trying to kill me.”

“Come on, Evans,” Potter smiled, eyes glittering. “The fear is half the fun.”

[reggies-fake-horcrux]

Sirius "running away is easy, it's the leaving that's hard" Black and Regulus "loving you was easy, it was you leaving that scarred" Black