#theme: legilimency

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Summer Aflame, A Future Hearth (Series) by Otaku6337 Pairing: Gen, Severitus Rating: T Word Count: 8k Harry is sent to live with Snape for most of his summer after Voldemort is resurrected, much to his chagrin. And he has to learn some obscure mental magic too? Except maybe it isn't as awful as he had expected. More than that, he might even find an adult that he can trust and be comfortable with. A father figure, perhaps.

[slytherholicficrecs]

Title: The Ordeal of Being Known

Author: louisfake

Rating: Mature

Length: 146637

Summary: When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge… especially from Potter.

Features fuzzy cartoon slippers, devious house elves, 90s music, and lots—LOTS—of memories. Ron is annoyingly hot, Hermione sees right through you, Harry is a powerful idiot, and Draco is a reclusive masochist that would buy an entire city if it would make a kid happy. (And Pansy is "5'2, I wanna dance with you, and I'm sophisticated fun.")

My Notes: This fic is sooo good and brilliantly written. After reading this, I also highly recommend reading its sequel, The Rewards of Being Loved, which is also wonderful.

[jaykorianddickkoriforlife]

A reoccurring theme I've noticed in Tomarry fics that involve time travel that never fails to make me laugh is that Harry is downright horrible at keeping it a secret.

Either because he alludes to knowing or going through certain things that Tom ends up realizing could literally have not happened in that timeline which then makes him realize he's from the future, or our temperamental hero explodes and goes on long rants about everything he's suffered because of Voldemort that has Tom just standing there looking at him like he's insane until he storms off and Tom uses that information to figure out that Harry isn't from that timeline. 9 times out of 10, it's because Harry just can't lie or even act mysterious. He literally can't stop himself from revealing too much.

If it's not those two factors, then it usually gets revealed because Harry is horrible at Occlumency, and Tom finds out about everything from his use of Legilimency.

That's it. The fact that Harry is usually the reason why Tom finds out is hilarious because he's just too obvious, and can never stay quiet. His passion is too much even for himself, and he reveals so much, and I live for it lmfao

Having Tom be so bewildered never fails to make me laugh. Harry's mouth is his own worst enemy in those fics. He just can't stop himself.

[saintsenara]

Do you think harry is more similar to lily or James

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i think the assessment of harry's character which dumbledore gives to snape in deathly hallows is more or less the correct one:

“He is his father over again -”  “In looks, perhaps, but his deepest nature is much more like his mother’s.”

which i think can be expanded upon really interestingly as an example of something which the series does really, really well - how it obscures the fact that lily is the key to the mystery right up until the last minute.

the things harry has in common with james - not only his looks, but his quidditch talent, his impulsivity, his disregard for the rules, his arrogance, his cunning, his beef with snape, his adoration of sirius, his belief that his uncle is faintly ridiculous, and his bold, flashy courage - are big and explicit and demonstrative, and the text lampshades that they're inherited from his father at every opportunity.

[and not only in how many characters mention that he looks like james. voldemort - for example - mentions james' demonstrative bravery - facing him "like a man" - every time he and harry interact; sirius and lupin never mention lily when discussing harry's personality, even when what they're talking about is how he's not like james.]

the text also goes out of its way to suggest that similarly big aspects of lily's character have not been inherited by her son - the most obvious example of which is that, in half-blood prince, the incandescent talent at potions which has slughorn raving about how like his mother harry is... is actually the result of harry cheating [and cheating from a textbook he's convinced for much of the book might have belonged to james].

the only thing the text emphasises again and again that harry has inherited from his mother are his eyes.

and - in doing this - the series is actually telling us something very clear about what it understands harry to have in common with lily.

eyes are a frequent motif throughout the text, which are almost always connected to the themes of authenticity and truth.

dumbledore's eyes give away his true feelings in goblet of fire - when the "gleam of something like triumph" comes into them after he learns that voldemort used harry's blood to resurrect himself - before serving as a metaphor for the way the information about the prophecy is being withheld from harry in order of the phoenix when he refuses to make eye contact with him.

[dumbledore's eyes also stop "twinkling" after voldemort returns, in a sign of how serious the situation - which the ministry never appreciates the full gravity of - is becoming.]

occlumency and legilimency - the obscuring and seeking of truth - depend on eye contact. the teenage tom riddle's eyes - with their gleam of red - give away his true depravity, even when he's still outwardly charming and beautiful. the teen snape sees the reason for his obsession with the marauders "wrenched from him against his will" at the force of lily's glare [and the adult snape frequently averts his own gaze from harry when he clearly doesn't want to risk seeing anger or pain in lily's eyes]. ginny's love for harry - her "never giving up" on him, her willingness to wait and endure while he goes off on the horcrux hunt - is communicated by a "blazing look". the basilisk kills by looking - but doesn't kill anyone in chamber of secrets, since the truth about the culprit isn't known. and so on...

which is to say - the series regards the eyes as the windows to the soul [an idea which is connected to a verse in chapter six of the gospel of matthew - the verse immediately preceding which, "for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also", is inscribed upon kendra and ariana dumbledore's graves] and to the true, inner nature of a person.

in mentioning again and again that harry looks like james except for his eyes, what the narrative is doing is hinting to the reader that harry's big, obvious, showy similarities with his father mustn't let them miss that the more subtle traits of his personality - his steadfastness, his quiet courage in the face of hopelessness, his ability to love so much it changes the entire course of history - come from his mother, and that what he inherits from lily will be much more important to the resolution of the story than the things he inherits from james.

this is a clue it plays with really nicely - particularly because harry doesn't really care at any point prior to the last third of deathly hallows about what he inherits from lily more than he cares about what he inherits from james.

we - as readers - go through his experience of learning that his mother is the key to the whole mystery in real time - when we join harry in snape's memories - and we walk into the forest with a harry who now knows the whole truth: that he's more like his mother than he's previously realised, and that he'll therefore be able to do the same thing that she did, and die so that others might live.

“You won’t be killing anyone else tonight,” said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other’s eyes, green into red. “You won’t be able to kill any of them ever again.”

[saintsstranger]

the art of lies | t.s. (fantastic beasts) - chapter one

Summary: all your life you had been handling the dirty truth, and here he comes presenting you with his sweet lies. 

Pairings: Theseus Scamander x Fem!Reader

genre: romance, mature audience intended

warnings: mature themes, implied sexual content, sexworker protagonist, pleasure house (brothel), smoking

the art of lies masterlist

IN THE ABSENCE OF DAYLIGHT, Paris comes alive, after all, it is known as the City of Love.

Love in the form of freshly picked flowers from the florist.

The sweetest chocolate that tickled your taste buds.

Hand-written poems that rivaled world-renowned poets.

A love so sweet and tender that it caresses you gently in the night

But that certainly wasn’t the truth, it never was. Love wasn’t like that. 

Love was the thorns that hid beneath the roses.

Love was the bitter taste that lingered in your mouth after your first dark chocolate.

Love was the letter from lovers that had written goodbyes instead of ‘I’ll stay’.

Love was the harsh tug of your hair, the rough hands that hold your wrists, saying the words ‘You are so beautiful’ only when you are in the middle of the bed, spread willingly to the desires of man. 

Here, in Paris, is nothing but filled with nights of debauchery where all senses are thrown out the window. The sickening smell of expensive perfume and wine drowning you in the world of sins. And Paris was notable for it, here you are free! Or so they say.

Truth be told, you could never be free, always staying in hiding from the Non-Magiques. And here you were indebted to your handler, Madame Blanche, the owner of the renowned luxurious Maison close ‘Amour Délicat’. 

Like her name, the whites in her hair and the sharp look in her eyes tell her story. She was a former courtesan before and when the first war of the non-magiques happened there she learned something that would give birth to her only child, the Amour Délicat. When she shared the truth of what was happening in the world of the non-magiques to the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France (Ministry of Magical Affairs of France), Madame Blanche was greatly compensated, and there from the ground up, she built her history. 

Madame Blanche is far from the harsh and ruthless handlers in the non-magiques world of prostitution; she is commanding and ruthless. When she saw the reality of the world, it opened her mind to do whatever it takes to protect herself, and that is by being well-known that you create a sense of security in being seen. Here she opened her doors to those willing to work for her, at first, many were wary as to join and take employment, the look of disdain and gossip were indeed not for the faint of heart. 

And you who had nothing to lose, took the first bite and jumped straight into death potion. 

You, who only had your name and the clothes you wore on your back crawled straight inside Pandora’s box. 

Madame Blanche had saved you, she had given you a roof, food, clothes, and the protection that you needed. The life you formerly had was long gone; it was all in the past, thrown into the sea to be forgotten.

And here you learn to be a great witch. She first-hand, had taught you how to be a legilimens, as her first courtesan, she has taught you how to traverse the mind easily, to learn secrets, and how to use them to your advantage.

“The most powerful of witches and wizards can all be defeated by the secrets they hide.”

While the other courtesans were only taught surface-level legilimency, you were a natural. Not only can you do it nonverbally and wandlessly, but you can also communicate with others telepathically. Madame Blanche had opened you to all possibilities, and with that, she entrusted you with the highest position of being her right hand.

And your skill at legilimens always comes at night when you bed another clientele. And in the middle of pure ecstasy, they reveal the truth unwillingly. Here in the dimmed candlelight, you walked through the halls of their mind unlocking every door with a skeleton key of your abilities. No matter how many layers, or how many locks they keep, trust you could open it with ease. Secrets like marital affairs, financial debt, graft and corruption, illegitimate children, crimes, enemies, first love, their favorite color, the last thing they ate, their thoughts at that very moment… you can see and feel. An out-of-body experience, stripping you naked from yourself, from what you are and who you were. Here you forgot you were even breathing.

You didn’t realize you had been lying on the bed still for the last few minutes, the house elf, Bernadette, had been looking at you worriedly, and in her hand was your dressing robe, colors almost like the blinding light.

“Was the man harsh on you today, Miss?” She asked, placing the mulberry silk robe on your hand. You gave her a small smile and shook your head. The faint marks of rope were the clear sign of your lies, yet you were accustomed to it.

“It is alright. Run my bath for me?” With a wave of her hand, the bed took itself towards the laundry room and came in a small golden tub that fit your frame. Muttering a spell it filled the tub with bubbles and water, you stood before it before hitting it with a wave of your wand. The gramophone in the room suddenly erupted into soulful jazz music. With a scrub and a bar of soap ready at hand, Bernadette tried to assist you but you declined. Stepping foot into the warm bubbly bath.

“I would like a moment alone.” You waved your hand as soon as the words left your mouth, the house elf knew to leave you to your own devices. You were a grown woman, a woman who has been doing these for the last decade. And whenever you tried to look into your future, all you could see were the grand walls that painted your very eyes, the moving wallpaper depicting fields of various white flowers, you were stuck in Amour Délicat for the last moments of your life. This was the only thing you will ever know. You were indebted and grateful to Madame Blanche, and that led to your loyalty. She protects you and everyone in the Maison close. Outside these walls was uncertainty.

In the hot water, you submerged yourself trying to wake yourself up to the fact that this is your life. Yet when the warm glow of the city, fireworks erupted the skyline, muffled by the water you sat straight to peer at the noise. Without even looking, you knew families were in their own homes, enclosed with the scent of pastries and the warmth of their own fireplace. It was just a few minutes before New Year's Eve, and here you were working. Alone, staring into the distance, craving the sense of a warm home. 

Holding your knees close to your chest, you stared at the skyline as Muggles and Magical people alike celebrated the night with a bright display of fireworks. 

Unbeknown to you, Clarice, the receptionist had been preventing the members of the British Ministry of Magic from stepping foot towards the quarters an hour before the new year would start.

“You cannot go inside; this is a private and respectable property,” Clarice spoke, her accent rushing the words as panic littered her veins. Her arm at ready with her own wand. The lounge was filled with thick air as the British aurors pointed their wand at the girl, not understanding a word she shouted. 

Click-clack! Click-clack!

With every slow step, Madame Blanche descended the stairs. 

“And what do you English want? Here to close Amour Délicat? You don’t have the right.” Madame Blanche boasts, looking at the men below with her chin pointed upwards. Looking at them one by one, the Madame could not read their minds, the British aurors have been trained in occlumency. Remaining calm, she stood on the balcony, overlooking the whole crowd below.

“We were looking for one of your workers. I believe they have the answers to the disappearance of one of the assistant delegates of the British Department of the International Confederation of Wizards.” Torquil Travers claimed, holding a photograph of a man in his middle 30s-40s. 

Summoning the paper in the grasp of the Madame, she looked at the photograph intently, racking up all the lists of their clients. Without even showing hints of recognition, Madame had thrown the paper back into the hands of the aurors.

“I believe you must have a permit before we further your inquiries. If not, then leave.” Turning around, she waved a hand to open the large doors.

“We have it, signed and approved by your own Minister.” Stopping in her tracks, the auror walked up to the steps and held it right in front of the Madame’s face. Now a hint of annoyance was painted on her pointed brows.

“Come to my office, only I can accommodate two of you. Choose wisely.” Madame Blanche said in a cold tone, not even bothering to wait for aurors as she walked straight to the lift.

“Scamander! Come with me.” Travers could upon the young man, the older auror respected the young man’s abilities and thinking, after all, he was a respectable war hero.  

Stepping into the lift, the walls were decorated with moving painted white flowers, the madame touched the button to the highest floor, and the black lining of the lift showed its elegance. As the Aurors stood behind her, eyes darted across each other in nervousness. The Brits showed no sign of anxiety, even if that was far from the truth, the Madame held an air of regalness suffocating them with the scent of floral perfume. As soon as the doors of the lift parted for her, the room was quite the luxury and beauty with its eclectic interior, engulfed with knick-knacks from travels, moving statues, paintings from famous muggles, and the large glass pane showing the night sky. 

In the middle of the room was a velvet green chair, a large glass table, and a lone flower sitting in the golden vase.

“Sit.” She pointed toward the chair in front of her, while she remained standing encircling the room looking at the Englishman that disturbed her home. 

“Our clients value discreteness, we simply could not disclose it easily… yet since you presented me with a hand-written note by our minister I must oblige to your request. Then talk, what is it that you want?”

“We are looking for Charles Moore. He has been in charge of communications with the French Ministry as a part of assistant delegate for our Ministry, he asked to be assigned here after the Muggle World War. The day he was posted to return, he didn’t. And we believe that in his letters to his sister, he claimed to be…”

Madame Blanche raised her eyebrow at Torquil Travers waiting for him to spit it out.

“In love.” Theseus replied. “He claims that he has found the love of life here in Paris and was planning to buy off her indenture. Or so we believe.” 

Madame Blanche scoffed.

“There are many dames in Paris, and he chose to settle with a courtesan?” Madame Blanche laughed, making Travers find it humorous as well. In the keen eyes of Madame Blanche, he saw Theseus's brows turn into a frown before shifting back to biting his cheeks.

“Are you certain that it was in Amour Délicat?”

Theseus answered with a nod. 

There were three letters in total from Charles Moore to his sister. And for the past few days, Theseus had been assigned to look for the exact description of the building. He alone took the time of the day, looking at details of every establishment and brothel in Paris, from the world of the muggles to hidden alcoves of the French Wizarding World. After 2 days, he had seen the exact description of the magnificent-looking walls lined with silver and the sweet nauseating scent of flowers, that’s when he knew this was it.

First Letter:

Dearest Ange,

I believe I have found the love of my life! No one is ever as beautiful as her. No amount of theatrics on the show could ever take my eyes off of her. She sat there like a flower, waiting for me.

As soon as the play was over, I tried to approach her. Tell her to take my hand and run away with me. Oh, Ange! I never felt something like this. This must be what love is. Yet, my heart turned to pieces when I saw her taking the arm of another man, walking together side-by-side as they left the theater. I trailed behind them, and saw the most luxurious of buildings, sparkled with silver linings and flowers decorating its walls. Then I stopped and stared, and the man left her there. That’s when I realized what it was… I know this might sound ridiculous, but she is working in the red-light district and with that, no amount of apprehension could hinder me. I know you would flip the whole house upside down, but Ange this is love. I am certain of it. No amount of your denial could keep me away from this.

                                                                                                             From your darling brother, Charlie.

Second Letter: 

Dear Angelique, 

With the amount of your reply, I take that your silence was your approval. 

Today, I took liquid courage to go ahead and talk to her. But the only way was that I had to pay a fortune. I walked to the receptionist with high hopes, and with her assistance, she immediately gave me a room. With flowers in hand, I waited for her only to get my hopes up when another girl walked into the room. I was filled with disappointment. I asked the lady of the night for the description of my love, and she claimed that she was part of the ‘bouquet de blanc’. First-time patrons' pocket money is not enough to gain an audience. And me being an assistant could only lead me to certain places, yet I will persevere. 

 Give me a few more days and I’ll be able to, no matter the cost.

                                                                                                             From your brother, Charles.

Last Letter:

To my Darling Sister,

I hope this letter finds you well, I could not disclose to the ministry the cost of my expenses… but I found another way. Worry no more. Today, I will finally be able to talk to her.

The day that I return home is when she is with me.

                                                                                                             From your loving brother.

Placing the letters right in front of the Madame of the house, with a lifted finger her smile faded into a scowl. Someone from the inside was spreading information about her courtesans; Bouquet de Blanc was valued in secrecy. This was a catalog of their courtesans that had regular high-paying patrons, and this was not open for viewing so easily. Patrons that were deemed valuable to her and her Maison close were accommodated, the pure-blooded noble families, higher ranking officials, royalty even. And someone from the lower ranks of her courtesans had their tongue quite willingly.

Waving her wand, she summoned a large logbook. There inside was information such as names, professions, ages, nationalities, and ranks of their patrons, of course, the courtesan they were assigned to. Whispering the name Charles Moore, it skimmed through the pages with ease, and there in bold letters was the name of the auror the Brits were looking for. Travers tried to peer at the other listed names, his curiosity taking the best of him.

“Curiosity is the lust of the mind, Mr. Travers. Why don’t you sit still, and I’ll call upon her.”

Closing the book harshly, Madame called upon Bernadette. Apparating next to her mistress, Madame Blanche whispered to call the girl. Nodding the house elf disappeared within a blink of an eye. Behind them, the elevator dinged, while the Madame tapped on the book with carefully manicured nails. 

“It is New Year’s Eve; would you like to avail of our services? It can easily be arranged. I know it’s a long journey and your work for your ministry is greatly appreciated, it wouldn’t hurt to take the night off— to indulge yourself in your sensual desires.” 

The older man shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Suddenly they were interrupted when the elevator doors dinged, signaling the arrival of the courtesan. Turning around a slender figure stepped foot in the room, She wore a long flowing green nightgown.

“Come in here and greet the Brits, Maeve. They would like to talk to you about Charles Moore.” Madame Blanche pointed to the aurors in front of her, the back of the courtesan’s neck grew in a cold sweat.

“I–I do not understand Madame Blanche. I didn’t do anything wrong! The man asked– and I swore that was the last of it, I told him what he wanted to hear.” The girl's pleading cries fell on deaf ears as the aurors could not understand what she was crying about. Theseus' eyes darted between Madame Blanche and the girl’s tear-stricken face. While Torquil Travers stood to show his authority, ready to apprehend the girl.

Within just a few seconds, Madame Blanche had already seen the inner linings of the girl’s mind. The fear registered in her thoughts while she traversed doors upon doors to look for the memories of the missing delegate, and right there she found what she was seeking.

In just a few quick strides, Madame Blanche towered over the girl with a look of disdain painted on her red lips. The old mistress, jaw held tightly as she wiped the tears of the girl. Only to hold the young girl’s face tightly, her long nails pierced through the delicate skin while she stared straight down into the young woman’s eyes with an intense look, unblinking. 

“You may leave, pack your bags, and look for work elsewhere. I do not take it kindly to those willing to open their mouths willingly to my secrets. Bernadette, escort her out of here. I have found what I’m looking for.” 

The girl refused as the house elf dragged the wailing girl back to the elevator, screams of ‘no’ echoed through the walls. 

Travers, who was far too confused, shouted for the house elf to stop as the girl was a key witness. Even pointed his wand threateningly at the old mistress, ready to cast a stunning spell within the tips of his lips. The madame disarms him with a flick of her wand, his wand went flying right off his grasp and cluttered on the hardwood floor. Madame shook her head no when the auror Travers tried to pick it up. 

“You’re a legilimens.” Theseus muttered; Madame Blanche turned around to face the man giving them a tight-lipped smile and nodded. 

“Would you like to view the girl’s memory and be done with it? I need to run my business after all.” Offering to perform legilimency to project the memories to the aurors, they declined. They knew not to, after all, they too have secrets that protect their ministry. 

“We decline. We, Aurors value our minds and do not open them so willingly.” Travers stated, still apprehensive of Madame Blanche. “But the girl needs to be questioned, we have to have her testimonials as to Moore’s disappearance.”

“Then you must trust my word because I too have my secrets to keep. That girl didn’t kill or cause his disappearance. He came in here one night, to question about the catalog of my courtesans and that was it–”

Cutting off the handler of the brothel, Theseus insisted; “Charles Moore stated in his letters about a ‘bouquet de blanc’. I hope that might ring a bell, after browsing through your catalog in the lobby earlier. I couldn’t find traces of this list, is this a secret that you are hiding from the ministry?” 

Madame Blanche’s eyes narrowed at the young auror; her piercing ice-blue eyes almost looked like they could kill.

“No, of course not. My bouquet de blanc is the Amour Délicat trade secrets. I could not easily say it out loud for fear of our competitors copying what I built from the ground up. If you would like to browse that catalog, then let me— although I must say, we do not easily offer our services freely.” Walking towards a dark oak cabinet grabbing a large book with golden linings. Placing right back at the table, Madame Blanche flipped through the pages with images of different courtesans, and right on its last page was a picture of you. 

“I believe she is the one he is asking for.” She pointed with a manicured finger, right before your name was a title given to you. 

Queen of the Night; Night-blooming Cereus

You were smiling, looking right at the onlooker like it was destined. While others bashfully hid their eyes, sultry looking to get admirers, you didn’t need to do that. You had your charm, something that allures the onlookers to choose you. Madame Blanche tried to flip the page to show them another photograph of you leaving nothing to the imagination to the spectator, but Theseus stopped her.

“I think that is enough, could you summon her to talk to us.” Theseus declared with a cough, standing up to close the book and stepping right in front of Travers' line of sight. “Please.”

Madame Blanche smiled, this time it was far different. “I believe your permit only limited you to talk to one of the key witnesses… And since Mr. Moore was not a benefactor of bouquet de blanc, I know because I am the only bookkeeper of that catalog… you must pay a hefty price.”

Now, the Aurors were stuck in the beginning, only pieces of blocked paths. If Charles Moore was not on the list of high-ranking patrons, then they could only comply with the demands of the authority and right now it wasn’t them who was holding the winning cards. When Travers' authority gets threatened, he scoffs, ready to drag Theseus out of the old woman. Madame Blanche truly was a businesswoman, she played them a fool. Whether they get out of the establishment empty-handed, or with empty wallets was their choice. They could simply not arrest the old woman, this was out of their jurisdiction, they were out of their element and far from their own country, and they simply couldn’t do whatever they wanted. 

“Either you pay full price, or you will tell me why such a simple assistant is being hunted down by the best Aurors of the British Ministry. Pick your price.” She sat arms folded right in front of her face, holding her chin while she grinned at the standing men.

Within a minute of no one budging, Travers' patience wavered. With a deep sigh, he faltered. With one last glance at Theseus, he held his head low. 

“Charles Moore stole 4,000 galleons. We believe that he tried to buy her indenture and convince her to come to London with him.” Travers confessed. That was the half-truth, Theseus’ senior took out the part that it was from the subsidy for international affairs. And the way he stole it was undetected like he had some insiders to help him, they were now battling an unseen threat. They only noticed it was missing after 3 months, when Theseus looked at the accounts and noticed that something was awry.

Madame Blanche started laughing, “He believes he can buy off her indenture for 4,000 galleons. Oh, what a joke! That’ll only cost him half an hour at most”

When Madame Blanche stopped laughing, she pointed back to the lift doors. “Head to the floor below. I’ll tell her I sent you.” The aurors nodded and headed to leave only to be held when the Madame halted them to stop.

“You endanger my investment; I’d rather you stay here than be near one of my priceless courtesans.” She stated, pointing at the older auror. Theseus can see his senior jaw tightened, and the veins on his neck grew red in anger. Not only was the older auror disarmed, but he was also being held under surveillance in fear that he might endanger you, now his patience and authority wavered on thin ice, and his eyes clouded with anger.

“I’ll talk to her and I’ll find what we need.” Theseus whispered as soon as he stepped foot in the lift. The doors closed slowly; he saw Madame Blanche’s eyes watching the other auror like a hawk. 

When the doors for the lift opened, what greeted him was a vast hall painted like the night sky. With a slight shift of his eyes, he can see the tiny freckles of stars that decorated a lone white door. Unlike the outside of the establishment, this seemed out of place with the flower motifs of Amour Délicat. Here he can feel the cold breeze of the winter night. Knocking on the white door, he called out to the name he had seen written on the catalog. 

You who had been preoccupied with your thoughts; wishing to know the feeling of stepping out of your body, floating, freely, like the ghosts that linger down the dark alleys. Right outside the window, the streets erupted in cheers as they all greeted each other another happy new year. Drinking down the champagne that was given to you by a patron, noting a taste of toast and coffee and a subtle spice drowning out all your other senses. When the fireworks ended, you lay there looking at the skylight as the only glow of the light left was the moonlight.

A subtle knock started you as you let Bernadette waltz her way in. Her company and the cup of tea are greatly appreciated when your water has now gone cold. But instead of the house elf, what replaced her was someone far taller than her; there he stood only the silhouette of his slender frame seen. 

Theseus didn’t expect what he saw, a lone woman basking in the golden tub, a melancholy look written in her eyes.

Sad. You looked sad. 

The only sound that could be heard was the faint hum of the gramophone across the room and the muffled cheers that erupted right behind the glass windows. With the faint sparkle of light, you saw a slight frown on his face. Realizing your predicament, you went back to wearing the mask when you were at work.

“Would you like me to keep you company?” You asked, turning around delicately, careful not to show another ounce of skin. Tilting your head to one side and smiling at him, the same one he has seen in the photograph earlier.

When Theseus realized what you were implying, he held his hand and shook his head, showing you a metal badge indicating the words ‘auror’. You had a fair share of French aurors that came to you for a night, often playing the role of the captive and captor. What a lack of imagination, if this is the role he wants to play then so be it.

“You would like to play that role? I, the convict, and you the detainer. Would you like that darling?” You asked, ready to approach him when he realized what was happening, he turned around not to face your naked form. The tips of his ears went red in embarrassment. 

“I didn’t come here for your service; I was sent here by Madame Blanche to question you. My name is Theseus Scamander, I was sent by the British Ministry of Magic.” He announced. 

Ahh… A British Auror. You hummed and stood to grab the white robe and placed it on your body. Hearing the sound of faint footsteps, Theseus waited until you gave him a signal. 

“I see… talk I don’t have all night to entertain you.” This time you put your weight and one foot, crossing your arms across your chest. Your hand laid steady on your wand.

Turning around, you pointed toward the chair that sat across from you, and he agreed to your request. As soon as he did, you went and grabbed the champagne you had been drinking earlier and procured another glass to pour him one. Placing it next to him, you stood in front of him and drank yours, waiting as he did too. Theseus eyed it suspiciously, but you continued to drink it on your own accord.

“A gift… something lighter than the fire whiskey.” You replied as you down the glass in one gulp. He nodded and carefully took a sip of his. You sat in front of him and grabbed the bottle to pour more down into your glass.

When he exhaled in satisfaction, you knew it tasted amazing. Theseus knew what you were doing, trying to lower his guard, not sitting to show you were in control, and intoxicating him to vulnerability. Yet, he remained calm, showing no signs of threat to you. If Madame Blanche was a legilimens, there was a high chance you were too, all he needed to do was throw you off his scent.

And just like he had predicted, right at the moment you tried to pry his mind. A knot on your brow formed when you stared intently at him.

‘You looked sad.’ Those were the thoughts that circled his mind, like a mantra. You can feel it. Feel him. It made you nauseous, the bile in your throat rose as his thoughts engraved into yours. No one had looked at you and thought you were sad; it was always beautiful. Sadness and you were never to be put in a sentence, and when his thoughts did it terrified you. 

To be seen broken makes you fear. To be seen feeling sadness made the feeling of being stripped naked for the whole world to see. All your life, you had built these walls that made you stand on your own two feet. The ache in your mind becomes unbearable, you weren’t beautiful… underneath all the expensive clothes, and pearls that glittered your skin— you are crooked, battered with bruises, wrecked by time, your skin filthy with sin, you were a tragedy… a rotten work.

“Stop.” With gritted teeth, you fail to look at his eyes and his mind. A slip of the tongue made you realize what you had said out loud, that was all Theseus needed to know that you too are a legilimens. “State your purposes.”

Right in the pockets of his coat was the photograph of Charles Moore, he carefully placed it on the table in front of him waiting for you to pick it up.

“Do you recognize him?” He placed the picture within your line of sight. Pausing he tried to scope for your reaction. “It’s Charles Moore, an assistant delegate of the British Department of the International Confederation of Wizards.”

“He has been missing for months and the last contact we had from him was a letter to his sister, trying to have an audience with you.” 

Your eyes examined Moore’s photograph. And minutes passed your silence almost became too heavy to Theseus's dislike, but he needed to thread your waters carefully, you were already agitated for unknown reasons.

“I believe I do not know who this person is.” You smiled and stared at Theseus, the first time you met his eyes after your outburst earlier.

He pointed out another slip of your strong facade right at its mark. “Yet you do not deny that you do recognize him.” 

“Maybe I do… Maybe I don’t. It is possible he is one of my long lists of admirers, doesn’t erase the fact that I do not know him at all.” 

“I highly doubt that. You’re a legilimens, and I am not; that is true. I need to know if you have met with him once, and if you are proven to be telling the truth then I would leave this room. But I can tell you’re lying. Skilled legilimens can procure memories into another person, and all I needed was the time and date, any people that were trailing him. Your truth is all I need.” He proposes.

“Or would you rather we do this the hard way? The choice is yours.” He leaned forward as his head rested on his knuckles.

“You give me the illusion of free choice when all you want is to pry my mind. Is there something you are not saying, Mister Scamander? Tell me the truth, what is in it for you? What would you get to look into the inner workings of my mind? You expect me to believe that you honestly want nothing else? Just my memory? I hardly doubt that.” Challenging his proposition, you leaned forward as your palms hit the glass table harshly with a loud slap, not before rebutting his claims. “Surely it could not be just you are looking for a testament, you wouldn’t work hard on that, all you needed is a vial of the strongest veritaserum and it would be done. Then why are you pushing hard to look into my mind?”

“You play a cruel game of trust.” He sighed, making you scoff. “Mr. Moore had said in his letters about how he will get the currency to meet you, his means to getting it is unsaid. And that was a clear sign that he needed someone to work with him to get that from a subsidiary of international affairs, you are simply a madman to be able to work alone. And all I need is— you. All I need is you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I need you to work with me. You knew better than just mere rumors, you knew everyone and could see their thoughts.”

Working with the British Ministry, consider it treason. Yet, you never were loyal to this land. Your loyalty lies elsewhere, it stays to those who have given you a sense of protection. Your loyalty is within Madame Blanche’s hands. Hands that remained choking you to stay. 

Still, you let Mr. Scamander entertain you with his words.

“It would have to take you a valuable price, Mr. Scamander. I am an expensive woman, yet, I am considerate. Give me leverage and I will give you what you want.” That’s when he stopped and stared at the photo, avoiding any eye contact. “What could you possibly offer Mr. Scamander, tell me.”

You grinned as you took a sip at the champagne, just like a war, both of you had been disarming and hurting each other for the kill. Breaking down every barrier with a small slip-up of each other, both of you were professionals at your trades. He is an Auror, he knows how to spot lies and negotiate, give you the feeling of support to make you break down your armor. Meanwhile, you pride yourself on being a great liar, you know what to say to appear compliant, and you know how to adapt and play the games to your tide. Every word and sentence uttered until one of you would lose the battle of wits, one slip and the fallen would crash and burn.

Leaning back you gave him a smile, your wand procuring a cigarette that lay on the table. Placing it gently on your lips, the tip of your wand lit up a flame. With a deep inhale, you knew you were already winning the battle. You didn’t need to look into his mind, to know that he was fighting a losing war. His occlumency was far useless when the knot on his forehead and the jaunt of his chin told you he was conflicted.

“I have been offered riches that could fill De Nile, clothes that were woven from the rarest of silks, jewels that shone brighter than the sun, houses that housed thousands of rooms, paintings of the most beautiful landscapes, songs and sonnets about my beauty, the most exotics of creatures that lay hidden within the government’s grasp… Pray tell, what could a simple auror like you have that can overthrow all those proposals?”

He was silent, expression never changing. And no matter how hard you try to pry to look into his mind, it remains still like he is right in front of you. 

“Safety.” Your smile faltered. “I offer you safety.” 

You blinked and blinked. Trying hard not to show that your jaw was slack in silence; the timeliness of the gramophone hitting its ending notes was fitting. His words lay heavy on your mind.

Amour Délicat had always offered you protection, but never safety. Safety was a word often associated with emotional aspects that were never visible in your job, safety offered you the sense of never needing to keep your secrets in this line of work or needing not to utter a word that would be your downfall in these walls. Protection kept you free and sheltered from physical aspects and threats, like the two guards that trailed you whenever you needed to do outside work, or the walls that shielded you from the rain. Safety is a foreign word, way too foreign that it burns you with curiosity. A thrill you never experience on a silver platter. It gives you hope— and hope gives you greed. A greed that surpasses all material things known to man. You want to take it all, consume your being until all is left is the safety that you wanted, the safety of being able to walk free, to run away, the security of not needing to know that this is the place where you would meet your demise. 

You knew how Madame Blanche worked, she took pride in knowing secrets and that is her leverage. And right now Madame Blanche would be none the wiser when you will take his deal. And there is one thing in the world that the Madame hated, and it is to not know anything at all. 

“Give me your hand.”

“What?” 

You held your hand to him and stood up, apprehensive he stood up as well taking your hand in his. Looking up into his eyes, you called upon the house elf. Bernadette immediately appeared right beside you.

“Don’t promise me empty words.”

“I won’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if we made an unbreakable vow.”

Your hold on his palm tightens, only to travel into his wrist. Without breaking eye contact you give him a minute to decide what his choice would be. Does he trust you enough to do it at the expense of his life, or would he rather fear being the one to dictate his actions?

His palm pressed tightly into your wrists, not like the rough hands that occupied your wrists hours ago, his hold was gentle, not imposing. Nodding at Bernadette, a thin tongue of flame issued at the tips of the house elf's fingertips and wound its way around both your and Theseus’ hands. It felt like a burning wire, keeping your skin aflame.

“Will you, Theseus Scamander, promise to provide my safety, as he and I work together?”

“I will.”

“Will you, abide by our oath, to only tell the truth to me?”

“I will.”

a/n: dialogue that is formatted like this “dialogue” is in French. i tried hard to make it one-shot i really did, buT I SIMPLY CANT SO HERE I GIVE YOU WORLD BUILDING AND MORE LORE UPON LORE ON THIS FIC.

[onlygoldwillsuffice]

Dendroaspis Polylepis

Tom Riddle x Reader

For mature audiences only

This is my first time writing smut in any form, sorry if it's corny or confusing LOL

I tried to make this one longer than the last, I hope you enjoy (but i barely proofread it)

Read the first part here

Content: non-con (sort of), general smut, fem-bodied reader, questionable power dynamics, inappropriate use of parseltongue, snake-related innuendos, manipulation, slight dumbification, orgasm denial, overall dark themes - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Word Count: 5.3k+

Summary: A certain cloaked mamba you know proves to be dangerous when provoked.

Notes (Please read or confusion will follow) - This fanfiction is an AU where Parseltongue has the capabilities of mind-control, similar to Legilimency. The mechanics of this ability will be further elaborated upon in the story. Tom also has his own bedroom since he's the head boy.

Special thanks to everyone who interacted with my last post, you're all so sweet! <33

Taglist: @eyukkie, @ravenclawh0re18, @catherine1x I tried to get a little creative for this one, hopefully it's not too disappointing ( ´ ▽ ` )

The dendroaspis polylepis, most monotonously known as the black mamba, is often associated with danger, fear, and mortality. Its reputation as a deadly predator has contributed to its formidable image, and it is widely regarded as a symbol of danger and intimidation due to its highly venomous bite. 

Its notoriety is defined by its speed, dexterity, and stealth, capable of striking without the slightest warning. The black mamba is considered highly aggressive and will attack others if threatened or cornered.

 The black mamba's appearance is characterized by its sleek scales and dark coloration, ranging from grey, olive, brown, and of course, black. In addition, it has a distinctive sarcophagus-shaped head and a long, thin tongue, which it uses to assess its surroundings and locate prey. 

Its streamlined and elegant form is beautiful and intimidating, eliciting both admiration and fear in those who encounter it. 

_______________________________

More than a week has passed since the Slytherin head boy confronted you.

No matter where you went, a pair of ashen-colored eyes followed. But it wasn’t like before, when it was simply a gaze that held a distant vigil over you. 

Instead, it had taken on a new form—an ominous sort of fervor that seemed to burn within its depths. It was cruel in nature, with a vehemence that appeared to be begging for bloodshed with every glance.

However, you didn’t regret your actions in undermining Tom Riddle, even though it was a risky move. In fact, you enjoyed the slight rush it gave you when you left him as good as speechless under the stars that night.

You sat at your dorm desk, leafing through the last of the week’s homework, relieved to know you would be heading to Hogsmeade for the weekend the next day.

Professor Beery had planned a trip for your herbology class to take a look at some of the rare plants the locals had shipped in, and he figured it would do you and your classmates some good to study their behaviors and practical applications.

Finally, you’ll be free from the prying eyes of You-Know-Who, at least for a couple of days. 

The following morning, you made your way to your friends’ dormitory to leave your pet snake with them since you couldn’t take her along.

You found her egg four years ago, nestled alone in an abandoned den, fighting off a few predators to protect the fragile shell. Ever since she hatched in your bedroom back at your parents’ place, the two of you have been practically inseparable.

After you knocked on the door, it creaked open to reveal your friend Maselle.

“Hey,” you said with a smile, “I just wanted to drop off my snake with you for the weekend.” “Can you look after her while I’m away?” 

“Of course,” she replied, taking the snake’s small enclosure from your hands. “We’ll have a great time, won’t we?” She looked at the snake, who flicked her tongue out in response.

“Thank you so much,” you said, expressing your gratitude. “She’s pretty low maintenance, just make sure she has enough water and keep an eye on her. She likes to explore.” Maselle chuckled, “No problem. Safe travels!”

You waved goodbye and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, solace building in your chest for the trip ahead. You met up with the rest of your classmates, who were eagerly discussing the plants they hoped to encounter during the excursion.

As you ate, you sensed a glaring presence upon you and instantly knew where it was coming from. You understood it was in your best interest to dismiss it, but the force of it was strong enough to make you reluctantly turn your head and look towards the Slytherin table.

Riddle sat there in his usual pompous posture, surrounded by his cronies. His stony eyes were locked onto yours, but it was nothing you weren’t used to at this point.

You finished your meal and joined your classmates as you all made your way to the Hogwarts Express.

The train ride was filled with laughter and excitement, and you couldn’t help but feel lighter, knowing that you’d be away from Riddle and his aggravating presence for a while. 

Once you arrived in Hogsmeade, your group went to the townlet greenhouse, where the rare plants were being kept. Professor Beery led the way, excitedly explaining the origins and properties of each plant as you and your classmates took notes and asked questions.

The day went by in a blur of fascinating facts and hands-on learning. Nevertheless, it was a welcome respite from the tense atmosphere at Hogwarts, and you wished that you could stay in Hogsmeade just a little longer. 

But eventually, the weekend came to an end, and you and the rest of the class boarded the train to return to the castle.

_______________________________

Once you got back, things were... off.

For the past three weeks, you felt a persistent pounding within your head that would come and go with no particular pattern. And as a result, you felt light-headed on an almost daily basis and often struggled to find any appetite for food.

Even your emotional state was as unpredictable as the weather, constantly shifting and changing. Or, there would be times when you would be in the middle of a conversation or doing a task, and your train of thought would suddenly vanish into thin air.

By Merlin, were you getting sick?

Surely it’s nothing to worry about. You must have caught a bug being around all those plants.

But that wasn’t the only odd thing. Tom was no longer watching you.

In fact, it seemed he paid no mind to you at all. He would only glance your way when he could sense your eyes on him. 

It’s not that you minded. You just weren’t expecting his behavior to take such a 180-degree turn.

Good. 

He should leave you alone, and you should be able to go about your day without feeling under close scrutiny every time he enters the same room as you.

You dismissed the idle thoughts, and the specter of upcoming OWLS and assignments loomed over you, forcing you to focus on your studies first and foremost. 

But, due to your declining health, you had trouble sleeping a lot of nights. And the lack of rest took a toll on you, making it difficult to concentrate in your classes.

Unfortunately, potions, a class that happened to be scheduled as the last one of most days of the week, was particularly arduous to sit through as it became commonplace for you to drift off during lectures.

Professor Slughorn, your potions teacher, noticed your situation and, being the kind-hearted man that he was, offered you a few after-school lessons to help you catch up with your work. Grateful for his concern, you accepted his offer without hesitation.

After a successful lesson, you packed up your belongings, feeling more confident about your understanding of potion-making.

As you were about to leave, Professor Slughorn called out to you. “Ah, before you go,” he said, holding up a textbook, “Tom left this behind. Could you please return it to him?” 

You hesitated, not wanting to be bothered with Tom, especially at this hour. “But Professor, it’s already pretty late. It’s likely that he’s already asleep.” Professor Slughorn chuckled. “I’m sure he won’t mind, and to sweeten the deal, I’ll reward your house with 15 points if you do this small favor for me.” 

You realized you couldn’t debate against him for much longer, and the thought of earning points for your house made you reconsider, so you reluctantly agreed. “Alright, I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you, my dear,” he said warmly, handing you the textbook.

Besides, it can’t be that bad anyway. 

Tom’s the kind of man who never deviates from his bedtime routine, retiring at nine o’clock on the dot, so you’d probably be able to pass the textbook to one of his fangirls the next day, who are always eager to do him a favor.

You took the book and set off for Tom’s chambers, praying fervently that your errand would be a nonexistent or at least quick one.

_______________________________

As you approached the threshold of his bedroom, your steps echoed off the walls, bouncing back at you with an eerie silence. 

You steeled your nerves, inhaling deeply before lightly rapping your knuckles against the door. You knocked as gently as possible, not wanting to risk waking him if he really was asleep. And quite frankly, you didn’t want to deal with whatever lay behind the room before you.

“Enter,” called a baritone voice from the other side.

Your stomach sank—just your damn luck.

You cautiously opened the door to find him standing by a small kitchenette set up in the corner of the room.

Taking a glance around the surrounding area, you notice it’s much larger than you expected. 

Very organized. Very Tom.

Antique yew furniture, hardwood floors, a few paintings of influential (and particularly dark) witches and wizards like Salazar Slytherin, and a large circular Persian rug in the epicenter of the room. 

You notice a warm glow from a masonry fireplace covered with intricately painted tiles against one wall and towering bookcases filled to the brim with novels in languages you couldn’t decipher, accompanied by assorted trinkets spread along another.

The gentle light from a few sparsely placed lamps illuminated only parts of the room here and there, leaving much of it cloaked in mystery.

But your attention is quickly pulled back to Tom, who greets you with a tilt of his head and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Come in.” His firm tone makes his words sound more like a command than an invitation.

You hesitate before taking a few more steps into the room, but before you know it, you find yourself standing in the center.

“I wasn’t expecting a visitor so late tonight,” he says, a hint of false curiosity in his voice.

“Look, Tom, I’m just here to-,” he cuts you off. 

“Oh, I know what you’re here for. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t retrieve it myself as I was busy with other matters. Care for some tea? I hear it’s good for restless nights like these,” he said, gesturing towards the ornate pot beside him.

“No thanks,” you immediately decline. “Gosh, Y/N. You don’t need to be so suspicious of me all the time,” he softly chuckles.

You can’t help but roll your eyes - after all, this is a man who’s been stalking you for the better part of a year.

An unnerving stillness fills the room as he turns up the heat on the stovetop. He turns around to look at you, his back leaning casually against the counter.

“You know, I really missed you while you were gone,” he trails off and looks away for a moment before finally meeting your gaze again. “How was your trip?”

Letting out an impatient sigh, you feel your feet shift on the ground beneath you, and you begin to tap your foot in irritation, not wanting to stay any longer than necessary. “Is there a point to this conversation, Tom? I need to get back,” you asserted. 

Tom smiles and nods before slowly turning around to finish boiling the water. He grabs a tea bag of what looks to be chamomile and carefully lowers it into the pot.

As you wait for the seconds to tick by, he fills up an awaiting mug with the steaming liquid, taking a leisurely sip before setting it down and turning towards you to speak again.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night,” he begins. “What I said and the way I acted may have been a little bit out of line, and I dread that I’ve given you a bad impression of me. Still, I hope you can understand that I was just trying to do my job as a student. You never know what intentions some people might have, especially within the walls of a school like Hogwarts.”

You felt frustration overtake you as you acknowledged that your attempt to keep the interaction short quickly became an impossibility. “I wasn’t bothered by it,” you respond. “You can consider yourself redeemed if you just take back your textbook-” He interrupts you again. “Let me make it up to you, Y/N.”

He begins to walk towards you, sending a knot of trepidation through your stomach.

“Tom, seriously. I really don’t mind,” you protest. His domineering aura seems to swell with each step he takes, and you become acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. And it’s not that you’re particularly short by any means; it’s just that he’s freakishly tall.

Time seemed to stand still as you parted your lips again to make your words more transparent, determined to finally leave.

“Did you hear me, Tom? I said I-” Two large hands abruptly snaked around your waist with a tight and unforgiving grip, startling you and snipping off any chance of finishing your sentence. Your heart races as fear and confusion erupt over you at the unexpected intrusion.

He’s definitely crossed the line now.

Your instinctive reaction forces your muscles to tense as a surge of indignation permeates your being. How dare he lay his hands on you like this? You attempt to raise your hands, ready to shove him back, but... that’s strange.

Why can’t you move?

You look up at him with wide eyes, only to see cold and unkind ones staring back down at you. Fear as hot as molten lava pumps swiftly through your body as his disfavored presence engulfs every corner of the room. He towers above you, a daunting force that cannot be ignored.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, his tone dripping with condescension. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Tom reached into the depths of his robes and pulled out his wand, a thin shaft of aged wood. Then, with a fluid swish, the room went dark, with the only lingering light coming from a handful of candles scattered throughout.

As he focuses his attention back on you, he takes note of the puzzled expression on your face and takes it upon himself to explain what’s happening, “graciously” filling in the missing pieces for you.

He utters a word as ancient as time, a single string of syllables resonating with power and strength. “Parseltongue...” he trails off. He whispers into your ear, and for a second, you could swear you were hearing not just with your ears but also with your mind--as if he were speaking directly to it. His words curled around your head, internally and externally, sending shivers down your spine.

He pulls you closer to him and strokes the curve of your cheekbone with his finger. His breath is warm on your skin, and his voice is low, giving off an intimate whisper that fills you with forbidden vitality.

“And you’re right, Y/N,” he says softly, his pillowy lips barely brushing against your ear. “How could I have been so careless? Letting just anyone see me speak such a socially inappropriate language”, his finger still trailing feathery lines on your pretty face. His lips are so very close. Your heart begins to pound in your chest as the anticipation becomes almost too much for you to bear.

You struggle and write, desperately attempting to break free from his iron grasp, but to no avail. With a quiet hiss, his lips parted to reveal a mamba-like tongue. It curled between your own, completely enveloping you in a rough, disordered kiss.

His tongue is warm and languid, moving languorously around your mouth as if it has all the time in the world. The moment's intensity advances as he wraps you up in darkness, forming an impenetrable prison of human contact.

His soft moans swarm your ears before he finally pulls away from you, leaving a thin, glistening strand of saliva linking your parted mouths - evidence of the lewd kiss that had just taken place. His eyes scan your stupefied face with satisfaction, pleased at his ability to put you in such a state.

“Most people know Parseltongue gives someone the ability to speak to snakes, but very few know about the other power it holds.” 

As he speaks, you feel a chill run down your spine, sensing that there’s more to the story. And you’re right.

“I spend a lot of time in the restricted section of the library,” he says, steering you backward by your hips.

 “Searching for any book that could grant me more power than I already possess, and I happened to stumble upon something interesting about a year ago. Something that very few ever find out about.” His voice descended into reverential silence, as if he were weighing up the situation and deciding how much to reveal.

“The use of Parseltongue on a non-Parseltongue speaker can have manipulating effects only under very specific circumstances.” You feel your ass bump against his desk, and seconds later, he lifts you up, placing you on its hard surface.

“Proficiency and fluency in Parseltongue are paramount for anyone wishing to manipulate another person with their words,” he purred, his voice as smooth as silk. His tongue trailed a languid path along your jawline, leaving you weak at the knees.

“And the non-Parseltongue speaker must have or be in a state of vulnerability that the speaker can exploit.” His words seemed to contain a hidden power, like each syllable would take on a life of its own.

“This could manifest in many different ways -- from being under the influence of a strong potion or spell to enduring a great deal of emotional turmoil.” He waves his hand over your chest, and without even touching you, his intonations seem to make the buttons on your shirt undo themselves as if of their own volition. 

“Perhaps they have endured past trauma, harbored unfulfilled desires, or been crippled by overwhelming fears.” He redoubles his effort as he traces intricate designs over your neck and collarbone, artfully balancing pain and pleasure within you.

“If the speaker is able to tap into the listener’s vulnerabilities and use Parseltongue to amplify those feelings or emotions, well, the listener can be controlled at the deepest levels to do just about anything.” You feel his warm hands slide up your smooth thigh and past your flimsy skirt. “Down to their very thoughts, emotions, as well as…physical being.” 

Calloused fingertips began gliding over the thin fabric covering your clit. Every pass of them sent tingles of pleasure to the sensitive region between your thighs, earning a few yelps out of you--sounds that only spurred the growing hardness in his pants.

“In the most extreme circumstances, with those bold enough to practice dark magic, it can even induce a trance-like or petrifying state of mind where the listener is devoid of all sense of time and space, leaving them totally in submission to the speaker’s demands.” 

Almost like the one you’re in.

His hands squeeze your upper thighs, pushing up your skirt ever so slightly. “Parseltongue works in unique ways, though, and it’s only effective when the target is not in a position to resist.” 

“Unfortunately, however, you didn’t seem to have any of those vulnerabilities. And believe me, I asked around. Your friends, professors - it seemed like no one really knew anything about you.” You felt a pang of disappointment as his body withdrew from yours, and you involuntarily bit your lip at the thought of his touch.

“How could I possibly get to you, I wondered?” 

“So I started by retracing my steps.” He began to disrobe, letting his heavy cloak slide gracefully off his shoulders and discarding it onto a hanger beside the door.

“I looked over the book again to see if there was anything useful to me, and as fate would have it, I overlooked a page. There was one last way to control someone with Parseltongue. A strong connection, a mental link... specifically through snakes.” He carefully pressed the fabric down, ensuring it was hung up neatly and securely, before turning back around.

“I was honestly surprised, wondering what I had done to be so fortunate.” He let out a low chuckle, and the true implications of his words began to dawn on you. Every beat of your heart was like an overturned stone as you realized what he was implying.

Tom’s voice was low and menacing as he recounted the details, savoring his newfound power over you. “Your friend, the one who had your snake while you were gone, she talks too much,” he explained, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “It didn’t take long to learn about your dear companion.” He started walking towards you again as he spoke.

“I gave her some generous flattery, and when I requested to spend some time with your little pet, it was quickly met.” His muscular arms moved carefully to take up a post on both sides of you, effectively trapping you between them. 

“At that point, all there was left for me to do was plant some seeds into your precious snake, slowly feeding it sounds that it would imitate and eventually take form in your subconscious.”

Your visit to Hogsmeade was meant to be a refreshing and carefree trip, but instead, Tom turned into the site of a wicked plan, using your unsuspecting pet as the tool for his manipulation. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Was this even possible? Could your snake really be influencing you without your knowledge?

Tom seemed to read your thoughts. “Yes, the mind is an incredibly powerful tool. And when combined with the right kind of magic, anything is possible.” He paused for effect before finishing his sentence with a slight glimmer in his eyes.

You felt a chill run down your spine as the full extent of what he had done set in. You could almost hear the sibilant hiss of your snake as Tom spoke, and the image made you shudder involuntarily. The thought of being under the influence of something you had no control over, something that was affecting your health, thoughts, and emotions, was a terrifying prospect.

“Don’t look at me like that, Y/N.” He pleads softly, his strong arms scooping you up from your plush thighs off the desk and cradling you close as he carries you across the room to his bed. 

Even under the dim candlelight, his eyes were burning with intensity as if begging for something more.

As he continued speaking, you couldn't help but notice how his voice seemed to wrap around your mind, manipulating your senses just like he had done with your snake. It was almost hypnotic in its power, as if he could will you to listen and obey his every word.

“I have always been fascinated by the power of Parseltongue. It’s a language only a select few can understand, and even fewer can speak. But with great power comes great responsibility. And I, my dear, am not one to shy away from responsibility.”

The fear that had permeated your bones dissipated, replaced by a different, unfamiliar feeling. His words seemed to drift away, and the deep-rooted desire between your legs suddenly became more pronounced. You felt your breath come in short, shallow pants, wanting something without knowing what it was. You wanted his touch, and you wanted it bad. It was an urge that seemed to be calling out from within you.

Tom laid you tenderly on the edge of his neatly-made bed, his gaze transfixed entirely on you. 

“Oh sweetheart, what I wouldn’t give for you if only you knew how to make the right choices,” he whispered. 

He slowly ran the calloused pad of this thumb along your now tender lips. The faintest of sighs escaped him as he observed them pucker and contort under his caress. 

“But I suppose having you like this will do for now,” he purred before inclining his head and pressing his soft lips against yours.

His hand found its way to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he pulled away with a smile. “Let’s make it last. Now keep still.” 

You did as you were told, closing your eyes and relaxing into the pillow. He flicked his tongue along the skin at the base of your throat, blazing a slow path down to your collarbone. He lingered there momentarily before continuing to your breasts, his teeth softly grazing around each nipple before delivering gentle bites that sent borderline electric shocks through you.

Tom seemed to sense your arousal, and he used his other hand to pull up your skirt, leaving it bunched up around your waist. 

Trailing his fingertips down, he slipped off your panties, exposing the swollen nub that was far too neglected for both yours and his liking. Not to worry, though. He was determined to set it right.

He dipped his head down, showering you with the warmth of his breath as he bullied the sensitive skin beneath your belly button. 

You could feel his soft cheeks on your inner thigh as he moved lower, and you suddenly felt the tip of his tongue licking at your slit. He continued to taste and tease you, occasionally stopping to place an open-mouthed kiss on your clit, eliciting a mewl from you.

Tom hummed in approval, kissing it once more before trailing his tongue along your labia, gently lapping at the juices already starting to flow from your vagina. 

You couldn't help but squirm as he slowly made his way up to the top of your cunt.

You arched your back, trying to get closer to him as he nibbled at your flesh, mapping out the contours of your folds with his tongue. His hands moved from your waist, skimming up the sides of your ribs and onto your breasts, gently squeezing and massaging them as he continued to feast on the spot beneath your abdomen. 

You were lost in a sea of your thoughts, desires, and emotions, unsure if they were truly your own or just the seeds Tom had sowed. It didn’t matter, though, for he had become an escape for you--a way for you to forget about everything else. He was giving your body the attention it so desperately craved, and in return, you granted him complete control over you.

Tom continued his exploration, slipping two fingers inside your slippery cunt as he used his other hand to massage your clitoris in circles. Every touch felt more profound than the last, making it difficult for you not to whimper from the intense pleasure inundating you.

You felt your mind go witless, your thoughts growing hazy with every movement he made. His long fingers descended inside you slowly and deliberately, coaxing you closer to the edge. But before you could reach the peak of ecstasy, he withdrew them and moved back from you to unfasten his dark slacks. You heard the faint sound of a zipper being pulled down as he spoke in a gravelly whisper.

“Go on,” Tom said softly, his voice fluttering slightly. “Touch yourself for me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. All you wanted was to feel his thick cock pushing its way past your entrance—an intrusion that would bring about nothing but pleasure. Your hands moved up to your breasts, shamelessly pinching and rubbing the nipples between your fingertips as you thought about Tom’s lush cock in you.

He leaned forward, and you gasped as you felt something hard and thick, probing its way inside your canal, igniting an overwhelming sensation within. Your walls were already slick with his saliva, enabling him to slide in effortlessly. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist as tightly as possible, eagerly pulling him closer as pure bliss consumed your entire being.

“Tom!” you cried out, You could feel him growing harder against you, his pace picking up as your moans got louder.

Tom’s hand reached down again and captured your clit between his fingers, chafing it roughly as his cock mercilessly pounded into you.

As you approached the glorious return of the orgasm that previously left you, your entire body tensed in anticipation, wanting to make it last as long as possible. But unfortunately, Tom had other plans. 

His action was met with a plaintive whine when he abruptly pulled away from you, lifting you off the bed and settling you on his lap, eyes level with his. His hands were almost painfully tight around your waist, keeping you securely in place.

He guided you down onto his still-throbbing member, watching intently as you pathetically began bouncing on it. His damp ebony locks hung like a curtain around his face, and his half-lidded eyes were full of longing, looking at the flickers of pleasure that crossed your face as every inch of him filled you up.

You could feel his heart drumming, and every rigid breath he took seemed to reverberate within the space between you.

“Do you want to come?” he questioned, his voice tinged with a hint of mockery. You nodded your head so fast he was surprised it didn’t spin around and fall off your neck. 

“Use your words and say it then,” he continued, clearly enjoying the idea of teasing you. “I can’t understand your mindless babbling.”

He was utterly clueless to the degree of torture he was putting you through, but you gathered what remained of the sense you had left and stammered out a barely coherent string of words.

“Pl-please, Tom,” your voice was shaking and frail as you begged pitifully. “L-let me come around your c-cock.” The desperation in your words and tone was evident as tears started welling up in your eyes.

Your whole existence was devoted to craving and conviction; only his touch could break the deep enchantment he had cast over you.

“There we go,’ he breathed gently into your ear before kissing away the last of your tears. “Now, was that so hard, princess?”

You felt serenity sweep over you as his lips left your skin, and in reply to the question, you shook your head from side to side.

"Ah, ah. Use your words," Tom reminded firmly as if he were scolding a misbehaving student.

You swallowed hard and forced the words out of your mouth. “No, it wasn’t h-hard at all," you voiced meekly. It was a lie, but you were relieved that you had been able to utter something.

Tom's lips stretched into a wide grin at your obedience, pleased that he had gotten the audible response he wanted.

He accelerated his rhythm, bucking his hips faster and faster into you. You could hardly keep up with him as you finally reached the point of no return, and contentment flared through every nerve in your body, causing you to shudder in ecstasy. You felt yourself squeeze around him tightly, internally gripping his throbbing cock as it pulsed within you.

His large frame trembled uncontrollably as he painted your insides with his hot seed, leaving a warm, sticky trail trickling down your thighs, mixing with your essence.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. He placed his head on your chest, his body rising and falling rapidly as he recovered from his own orgasm. 

He delicately entwined his fingers with yours, slowly tugging them towards him, and lifted his head to look at your satisfied expression before planting a gentle kiss on your lips, sealing this moment forever in both of your memories.

Never before had he felt such euphoria. It emanated from both of you in such a beautiful display that no one else could ever replicate or replace.

And sure, he may not have had you kneeling before him and pleading for absolution like he initially envisioned, but having you so entirely at his mercy like this was a more satisfying form of retribution than he could ever have dreamed of. As you relinquished the last of your power to him, the look in your eyes spoke volumes—a much sweeter vindication than words could ever convey. 

[momo-t-daye]

Despite being half-baked, this idea has been running around in my head

So, yes, Legilimency needs eye contact and so forth, but I’ve got a soft spot for a Legilimens!Severus Snape and I’m happy to bend magical rules for the sake of silliness. (Alright, I’ve got quite a fondness for Legilimens Eileen Prince, who taught her classmate Tom Riddle a thing or two before, inadvertently, discovering that he knew more about mind magics than he let on and there was quite a dreadful mind under that handsome smiling face.  I imagine she left the magical world for more than one reason, but she stayed away so long because she knew that Tom knew that she knew that…)

Well then, although Legilimency is “reading” and Occlumency is “hiding” and those two things are put in opposition, they aren’t exactly two sides of the same coin, are they (or maybe this conceptual coin might have more than two sides)? There is reading another’s self-story and trying to hide one’s self, might there not be a broadcasting of one’s self, a leakage of one’s internal subjective reality into the minds of others? Couldn’t the opposite of Occlumency be like the psychic equivalent of playing a short-form video in public without headphones or driving around in one of those cars with the speakers on the outside that make windows rattle and what not? Maybe it doesn’t have a fancy name like, I suppose, “Narratamency” or “Fabulamency” or some other butchering of Latin.  Maybe it gets called “charisma” or “a charming manner” or “magnetic personality” (or “a lot of personality”) or something else indirect and more polite than “you are imposing your subjective reality into other people’s subjective realities”.  Maybe it’s considered too Dark to be given a name and any study at all (in such a small society in which reputation and connections and the old school tie matter so much for success, in which asking an older student to do a favor like sticking one’s name in a Goblet is apparently so outlandish that they didn’t bother making some sort of protection against that event, imposing one’s mental concept of the world over someone else’s self-world would really be beyond the pale), maybe it is the foundational practice from which spells like Imperius and Oblivate (which ought to be an Unforgivable, if only it wasn’t so useful for muggle-control) derive. Then you get to having folks who go around with their personal self-story leaking out of them and nudging others into playing supporting roles, getting called “charismatic” or “charming” or “has great leadership potential” etc., Tom Riddles, Gilderoy Lockharts, James Potters, and so forth.  Sure, you could take this in a dark and angsty direction, but I like to think that I am rather silly. 

And so, as a point to this rambling, a James Potter who has an internal narration that projects like an opera singer enjoying the echos off the Grand Canyon, who constantly tells himself the story of “boy-hero James Potter, who always saves the day and gets the girl and is the coolest bloke on the block” would be the terror and nemesis of any Legilimens within a hundred miles.  Legilimens!Severus Snape (who would appreciate a two hundred mile buffer between himself and James Potter) has suffered greatly, has gotten James Potter’s stupid little theme song stuck in his head day after day, has decided that putting his two cents in is worth it even though he’s broke.

James Potter, for his part, does not appreciate the unsolicited concrit on his daydreams.

[ellecdc]

Hi amazing writer! I just finished come back, be here and it was AMAZING!!

I just wanted to ask about the orbs -which is such a creative idea and so well thought out. I mean I’m kind of convinced you were a ghost writer for Harry Potter. But besides the incredible idea, I was wondering which colors represented who?

We know Sirius is silver, Lily is orange, and James is red -but what about the rest? I tried thinking guessing of who is who by the borders but it still stumped me.

Amazing and mind breaking writing sweetheart, you’re genuinely a literary gem and genius.

CW: CBBH spoilers below if you haven't already finished

Hi hi hi hi FIRST OF ALL I love you, thank you so much for writing me 🫶 I'm so glad you enjoyed that piece! Definitely a favourite of mine and tbh, I have like 3-4 different versions of CBBH saved onto my desktop because I was so entrenched in that plot -> different pairings, different themes (some way darker etc) so I'm so glad everyone is enjoying it as much as I do!

As for our orbs, let's pull it up, shall we??? ..... *drum roll* .....

okay so like you've already pointed out, the red is James (Gryffindor), the orange is Lily (her hair), the yellow is Remus (the moon), and Sirius is silver (his eyes). The only other orbs I discussed in CBBH were the black and the green. I never explained who they were, but for me the black orb was Regulus (last name Black) and the green was Narcissa (Slytherin).

I made the core characters (Moony, Pads, Prongs, Lily) larger because of the amount of memories that Vix needed to store (these were some of her longest friends) and then the amount of work Cissa and Reg put in with her made their orbs fairly large too.

I imagined the little mauve orb (between Sirius and Remus) to be baby Harry (she'd not known him for long), and the little baby blue orb to be Draco.

The other colours were added to represent various members of the Order that she would have protected when subjected to torture/legilimency etc. (& just think, one of the orbs would have been her memories of Wormtail as her friend 🤢) I imagine there were more orbs along different strings/paths, but these were the ones I emphasized in our borders.

Fun fact! The very first hint I gave that suggested Reg was the spy (other than the form of a cat running in the forest) was when Vix asked Sirius if his hair was shorter when they knew each other in chapter one! 🥰

Thanks for being here with me, you're the best!! 🫶

[thehoneybeet]

Desiderium (E, 6.1k): draco/harry

Tags: POV Draco, clubbing, minor drug use, fuckbuddies, Draco is a writer, EWE, canon divergence, thunderstorms, body shots, kissing, edging, oral sex, legilimency, wandless magic, pining, staying up all night, this fic is almost entirely one sex scene, except they talk through most of it Summary: Their club, their loo, their writing on the wall—it has to be enough. Until it isn’t.

Draco kept his arm glued to Potter’s waist, clinging to the pretence of keeping him upright as they navigated the maze of sweltering, moving bodies out into the night. It was humid, threatening rain, and Draco faltered at the sidewalk, sucking deep breaths into his lungs, with no idea where to apparate. He’d never been to Potter’s house. Evening flowers poured out over boxes along the street, spilling over the eaves, the scent cloying, and on the horizon was the last indication it had ever been day—a greenish line, like the flash of a curse.

Potter breathed hot into his neck. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Ah, well,” said Potter, as he sucked them out of sight.

For @hp-poetry-fest, inspired by Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Much love and thanks to @mono-chromia, @the-fools-errand, @nv-md, and @epitomereally for your eyes on this🌹

Read on Ao3

(some spoilery thoughts/author notes under the cut!)

I loved the concept of poetry fest and have been wanting to push myself to write longer scenes, and this was the result. Something I love about Kubla Khan as a poem is how sexy it is, especially upon a second read, and how beautifully it represents paradise not only as a state of artistic creation, but also a feeling that we constantly strive towards but can never quite reach. I was captivated by a Harry who goes through life still halfway in Xanadu, the liminal place between life and death he visited when he died. But of course, 'his flashing eyes, his floating hair'... Harry needed a witness, someone who was both drawn to him and terrified of getting too close. Draco, who initially believes Harry doesn't care for him, still can't help himself, and offers Harry both a reminder that he's alive and a witness to Harry's worst and most wonderful memory. And ultimately, while Draco is Harry's path to Xanadu, Xanadu becomes Draco's path to Harry.

I also wanted to explore this theme through the sex by writing a story where neither of them come. There is no moment of release in that way, which to me was important to convey the feeling that what you most desire is close, but just out of reach. I loved playing with the tension, edging both them and the reader, and in the end leaving them still searching. Anyway, just some thoughts I had while writing, and know that I love you if you read this far.

[ensnapemysenses]

would you write a blurb or smth that Severus Snape has a daughter whose either 16 or 17 and Voldemort has her become a deatheater. Draco and her are good friends and this is just about oc or y/n having a legilimency conversation in a deatheater meeting while Voldemort is there

Overheard

Pairing: Draco Malfoy X Reader

A/N: decided to take this as a friends to lovers route, hope I did it justice!

Warning: written really quickly so will probably contain errors as I didn’t really proofread it, suggestive themes

‘This is boring.’

The thought rings through your mind as your eyes glance over at Draco seated on your right beside his father, Lucius.

You take in a sharp breath and elbow Draco hard causing him to wince from the pain.

“Watch your thoughts. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble. Again,” you whisper through gritted teeth.

Unlike you, Draco isn’t skilled in occlumency and you know if he keeps it up Voldemort will show him his wrath. He’s done it before and nothings stopping him from doing it again.

Draco tenses beside you. You know he’s thinking about all the times Voldemort has used crucio on him before. Both of you would rather not have to deal with that again. Draco, because of the immense pain and you, because Voldemort forces you to cast the spell knowing Draco is your really close friend. It pains you to have to pretend to be so heartless and you’ve cried for hours in Draco’s arms after the fact each time, profusely apologizing over and over again. Draco simply consoles you, ignoring his own pain. He doesn’t hold it against you. He understand you must obey The Dark Lords bidding.

Your father, Severus Snape has been attempting to teach him occlumency as a preventative measure to protect him, but he hasn’t caught on as fast as you have. In fact, even though you are only 17, one could argue that you were almost as good as your dad in warding your mind from prying eyes. It’s something you are actually quite proud of. You like to think of it as a way to honor the Snape name you carry proudly.

Your eyes soon drift back over the Draco. The meeting today is especially boring: logistics and technical things that don’t really concern you. You and Draco are only present given your fathers high positions in rank.

Draco is visibly sweating and he’s a lot paler than usual as his eyes dart over to you as well and he uncomfortably shifts his position a bit. You don’t mean to but you accidentally see his thoughts and you immediately wish you hadn’t.

He’s thinking of you - naked; remembering his dream from last night, playing it over in his head. You watch as he kisses your body all over and — a booming voice saying your name and Draco’s brings you both back to reality blushing, embarrassed, and overwhelmed with a hot desire pulsing between your legs.

“My, my, what do we have here? What an interesting daydream, Malfoy. I see that you noticed it as well, Snape. You let your guard down,” Voldemort tuts. “You’re not quite as skilled as your father, yet.”

Beside you your father tenses a bit and his hand squeezes your leg in reassurance warning you to keep your cool and lock your mind back down. You take a deep breath and steady yourself.

“It seems that two of my highest ranking men in my inner circles children fancy each other. How amusing. Yet, I approve,” he playfully hums. “You two are dismissed. Do what you want with your time.”

You and Draco practically run out of the meeting and down the hall to an empty bedroom, locking the door behind you.

For a moment you hesitate, eyes hovering over the others lips for just a moment too long. But then, the tension snaps and you’re pulled together like two magnets attracting, your lips finding each others and kissing fiercely with a pent up desire you both never saw coming.

[hp-fanfic-archive]

annual honesty by hauntologies, tigrrmilk Pairing: Remus/Sirius Rating: T Word Count: 18k Podfic available here Read by: RevolutionaryJo Length: 1-2 hours “It is hard to keep the truth from clever friends,” Dumbledore had said, first. “I had hoped --” Remus had looked down at his hands. There were little, half-moon scars around his knuckles, too inconsequential to see unless light hit them at an angle and made them silvery with scar tissue. He wondered if other werewolves had these scars too, whether they were a telltale sign too mundane to have made it into the textbooks. Remus had hoped, too.

find the full podfic library here

[cerise-grenadine]

Hello!

For the Snapedom AU Ask game, can I get your answers to 1, 2, 5, 6, 9, and 26?

1.) Do you have a name and/or a tag and/or a master post for your AU (so I can peruse your blog and admire your creativity)?

2.) What is the premise of your AU (one sentence summary, tropes, your big “What-if” question, etc.!)?

5.) What are the major divergence points in your AU?

6.) Is there any part of the canon narrative you really like to build off of or interrogate with your AU?

9.) How and why does your AU!Snape differ from the canon!Snape?

26.) Does Severus have any major interests (mycology, astronomy, sci-fi, baking elaborate puff pastries, art forgery, etc.) in your AU that we never got to see canon!Snape indulge in?  Do these interests play a major narrative role?

i'm sorry, if you ask me about my AU, i will infodump 😔🙏🏻

1.) Do you have a name and/or a tag and/or a master post for your AU (so I can peruse your blog and admire your creativity)?

Yes! SlythenclawAU!Snape. it's quite meh but i never really took the time to think of one.

2.) What is the premise of your AU (one sentence summary, tropes, your big “What-if” question, etc.!)?

A long time ago there was a teenager in boarding school who got tired of waiting for the 5th Harry Potter book and decided to make a Snape-centered sequel herself (it's not particularly focused on anything but the ✨ fluffy romance 💖).

5.) What are the major divergence points in your AU?

Honestly, it’s easier to point out the parts in common 😅 It’s only canon-compliant up to Goblet of Fire (with some parts of OOTP included now), meaning Severus was pretty much a blank canvas. We knew he was a smart skinny bastard who disliked the Marauders and was about to resume his job as a DE spy, that was it. As a result, his background is completey different. He has a different family, a different childhood (still terrible), different motivations, different traumas, and Lily was never even a thing.

6.) Is there any part of the canon narrative you really like to build off of or interrogate with your AU?

Not so much one part in particular, but there are themes I like to think about (I won’t say write, I haven’t written a thing in years). Everything that has to do with guilt and forgiveness is interesting to explore with Severus, because he’s both a victim and a culprit: how to forgive, should one forgive, how to make amends, isn’t asking for forgiveness selfish and placing the weight of the pardon on the victim, how to live with guilt when some things can’t be forgiven... In the same vein I like to explore his guilt towards Lucius, who is a genuine friend and a genuine Death Eater; he feels guilty for betraying his friend, and feels guilty for still considering the man a friend.

9.) How and why does your AU!Snape differ from the canon!Snape?

I think the major difference (apart from no Lily) is that he’s more adjusted as an adult. It’s not necessarily visible to the Hogwarts staff or students 😬 the teeth incident or his breakdown at the end of POA are still a thing and the British wizarding world really brings out the worst in him. But he actually has a solid support network in the form of siblings and adoptive parents he met when he was 21. They live abroad and he keeps them secret to avoid DE retaliation so they don’t meet often, but still they are very supportive and it has helped him a lot sorting things out during his late twenties/early thirties. Having this one anchor, being loved and loving them back, has really done him a lot of good and he strives to better himself (at least in private). By the time his love interest appears, some things have healed enough that it’s not her job to fix him, she merely becomes yet another support to help deal with the rest (and the first one in the Brit WW). Don’t worry, he still has nightmares, and tons of guilt, and petty tantrums, but overall he’s in a better place than canon!Snape and has hope for the future. Also I don’t usually include Occlumency/Legilimency. Ho and he’s very French (sorry not sorry)

26.) Does Severus have any major interests (mycology, astronomy, sci-fi, baking elaborate puff pastries, art forgery, etc.) in your AU that we never got to see canon!Snape indulge in?  Do these interests play a major narrative role?

Yes! he’s a huge nerd (the kind who solves equations for fun when he can’t sleep), so he likes to study a lot of things.

Apart from normal magic things, he’s very knowledgeable about human anatomy and medecine, it makes him a better brewer and practitioner of healing magic (also his brother studied Muggle medecine for a while + his brother’s adoptive father was a heart surgeon). He is also an exellent cook (who doesn't eat much), because what’s the difference between Wolfsbane and mayonnaise, you just put stuff in a big saucepan and stirr dutifully it’s the same thing really.

Both those skills are pretty much background stuff; but there is one big hobby that is very important in his life, for several reasons: playing the piano 🙌🏻✨

He is very attached to it because his mother taught him (and she died young) and it’s his one pastime and antidepressant. He will focus on fast-paced pieces when his anxieties keep him awake, will hammer away his anger when he’s had a row with someone... it helps him calm down and clear his mind, and sometimes he will learn complicated parts just for the fun of it simply because he enjoys himself. He is a selfish pianist however. Music is very private to him, he is not a performer and will only do it sometimes for very close people he loves. He owns two pianos, his mother's grand piano at home (which has been through some stuff and is his most prized possession), and a baby grand at Hogwarts gifted by his siblings when he started teaching (it was needed for his mental health and the not-murdering of students). He’s learned how to tune his piano the Muggle way (the only true way, it sounds better, and yes of course he’s pedantic about it) and can talk about the links between mathematics and music for hours. Also +30 years of piano training have given him an acute sense of rhythm and very precise motricity skills that are highly valuable in potions work.

His lover being a musician herself (of the performer kind), music is very important in their relationship and has been central in their getting together. In fact, she first kissed him as they were playing together, so his sister jokes he would never have gotten laid if not for the piano she gifted him (she’s right)(his entourage also jokes sometimes about the kind of fingering skills a pianist with decades of experience has)(he hates it)(because he’s a giant prude)(they’re also right)

[sitp-recs]

Hey liv!! Do you have any recs of fics where there's an imbalanced power dynamic between them or an exploration of that..I guess it is sexual in a way but also not only in that aspect. I just read sth like this and thought it would be an interesting theme between harry and draco. It doesn't need to be a main thing in the plot..Thank you in advance! Kisses 💋

Hi anon! Yes, I’ve read a few fics like that and it can be a fascinating dynamic indeed! Most fics I thought about explore the teacher x student and boss x employee relationships. I hope you enjoy these:

Defined Parameters by Amelior8or (E, 4k)

Harry is a security officer on a ship stuck in the far end of the Delta Quadrant. Malfoy is the Maquis First Officer they tentatively have an alliance with. If they're going to spend the next 70,000 lightyears together, they need to define the parameters of their power. They just so happen to define it on the Holodeck, during a bout of Turkish oil wrestling.

Love, Actually, is All Around by punk_rock_yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Crutch by AWickedMemory (T, 11k)

Harry has too much to do, and Draco, too little. The solution? Hire him, of course. Who knew Draco Malfoy would be such a perfect personal assistant?

Little Talks by Femme and noeon (E, 11k)

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

Exiled by A_factorygirl_69 (E, 16k)

Draco is declared persona non grata by the Ministry after the War. Harry has been tasked with keeping an eye on him, ensuring he stays out of England.

UnKnown by DorthyAnn (M, 23k)

Draco just wanted a second chance, he was willing to work hard, he was willing to do whatever it took, but no one would let him live down his past. But when he recklessly casts a spell promising a new life, he's not prepared for the consequences...

The Four Doors by fluxweed (E, 49k)

It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Tales From the Special Branch by Femme (E, WIP)

When Gawain Robards asks him to form Special Branch seven-four-alpha, Harry Potter knows they'll have to work outside the confines of the law--even though they are the law.

[hp-12monthsofmagic]

I think that we can all agree on one thing: the Harry Potter fandom is full of the most incredible talent. Harry Potter: Twelve Months of Magic will be a year long event running throughout 2023 to give members of the fandom to inspire their fantastic creations and give them a chance to share their work with others.

So, how will it work? Well, on the first of each month, a new theme will be announced. Each theme will act as a prompt to inspire all kinds of creations - be they stories, digital and traditional art, video edits, gifsets or other things I’ve not even thought of. Contributions will be reblogged on this blog, and will be added to the blog’s site navigation to make it easy for others to find them. You can post your work throughout the month, and there is no obligation to take part in all (or even any!) months.

This project is open to all members of all areas of the HP fandom, whether you are a casual member, an established blog with many followers, or a total newbie, and all types of creations are welcome. This is intended to be a fun and positive and so will be very inclusive and relaxed, with very few rules and regulations. However, there are a small number of things you need to bear in mind…

Be kind and respectful to all other contributors.

Any work containing mature, sensitive, or potentially triggering topics MUST be appropriately tagged and need to have a cut (:readmore:) before the material.

No one at this blog can do Legilimency! If you want your work reblogged and included on site navigation, you have to tag this blog!

The other thing I would love for all contributors to do is attempt to engage with others’ work. The aim here is promote content and positive connections within the HP fandom through interactions. You never know, you might just find your new favourite author or artist!

TLDR: 12 Months, 12 Prompts, A Whole Lot of Talent.

I’m excited to see what all you amazing people come up with! Happy creating!

The Masterlist!

January - Anything’s Possible (If You’ve Got Enough Nerve)

February - All You Need Is Love

March - Life’s A Witch

April - I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good

May - Victory!

June - Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests

July - Surprise…

August - School’s Out For Summer

September - Hoggy Warty Hogwarts

October - Something Wicked This Way Comes

November - Remember, Remember

December - Merry and Bright

[hp-unspeakables]

Frequency Asked Questions (FAQ)

Can works be cross posted to another fest? Yes! As long as your work fits within the themes of both and follows the rules of the other fest.

Can I write my favorite ship or OC? Can I make a character an unspeakable who is not an unspeakable in canon?

Yes & Yes! As long as the work is set in the Harry Potter universe and follows the fest rules.

Will this fest be anonymous? Works will be anonymous initially on AO3, but participants are welcome to discuss them during the writing or creating process. We encourage you to talk about your works within the confines of the DoM, but please feel free to go wherever you’re most comfortable. Five days after works are posted to AO3, reveals will begin. We are currently planning to have all reveals occur on September 21, 2024, but may change this depending on the number of participants. We will let participants know and update the FAQ, if needed, once claiming has closed.

Can I claim more than one prompt at a time? You can claim a second prompt only after your first work has been submitted and approved to the fest. If you wish to claim a prompt after claiming closes, please email mods for consideration. Participants can submit a maximum of five works.

What do I do if I need an extension or need to drop out of the fest? Email the mod account as soon as you think you might need an extension, and we will do our best to work with you. If you can no longer participate, please send us an email and let us know. Please be sure to send us an email rather than a DM as it will help us stay organized.

Can you explain what you mean by writing stories (or making art) about the known areas of study of the Department of Mysteries (i.e., love, death, prophecy, mind, and space/time)?

Love:

What precisely did Lily Potter do that gave Harry the protection against the Killing Curse? How did the ward on the Dursleys’ house based on that protection operate, exactly?

Dumbledore told Harry “Love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark.” Was he speaking literally? How does love manifest in one’s magic?

Example Story: Beyond the Draught of Destiny by Jaxon

Mind: Legilimency, Occlumency, Thoughts, Memories.

Do memories shift over time? Are they fully removed from one’s mind when placed in the Pensieve?

Is Occlumency strictly magical? Can a squib with determination block a wizard? Can ADHD confuse the attacker? Are those proficient in meditation impossible to read?

Space/Time: Apparition, Time Travel, Aging, Alternate Universes

Is only closed loop time travel possible? Can you create a multiverse through your actions? Is the grandfather paradox possible? How, exactly, does apparition work in terms of physics?

Example Story: When Midnight Comes by Curly_Kay

Death: Soul vs. Body, Reincarnation, Afterlife

Is Death final? What is the nature of the soul vs. body in death? Can death be reversed?

Example Story: Beyond and Again by In_Dreams

Prophecy: Free Will vs. Determinism, Self-Fulfilling Prophecies

Are prophecies self-fulfilling? Or do they happen regardless? What happens if you try to fight prophecy? What happens if a prophecy is made and no one hears it? (Is there free will -- yes or no)

The Unopened Doors:

Magic & Families: How is magic passed down? What about muggleborns? Why do squibs exist? Does marrying a Muggle, in fact, dilute magic?

House Elves, Goblins, and Creatures, oh my!: How does their magic work and interact with that of wizards?

Magical Ethics: What sort of discussions happen before magical communities decide not to intervene, even if they could solve a muggle issue?

Nature: Ley lines and fairy circles.

HR and Intake: What is the hiring process like to become an Unspeakable? Do applicants have to complete challenges or tasks?

Example Story: Falling by anoesis

Matter: How do spells that interact with matter work? Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?

Example Story: SUS AIRBNB by nocturn

[maraudersera-slytherins-1970s]

𝕰𝖒𝖒𝖆 𝖁𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖞

CREDIT TO KÆM (Template credit)

Face Claim: Zendaya Coleman

Theme Song: “Running with the wolves” by AURORA

Introduction

Name: Emma Maeve Vanity

-Emma: Whole, Universal

-Maeve: She who rules

-Vanity: Excessive pride

Also Known As:

Em: Used by their friends

Emy / Emie: Used mainly by Lucinda and Amelia

Van: Used mainly by everyone else

Titles: None

Birthday: August 7th, 1959

Astrological Signs:

*Sun: Leo

*Moon: Virgo

*Rising: Taurus

Nationality: British

Species/Blood-Status: Muggleborn but claimed to be Half-Blood during their Hogwarts years, only Dumbledore and teachers knew the truth.

Blood Type: A-

Gender: Non-binary

Pronouns: They/Them ; She/Her for friends to use only

Sexual Orientation: Biromantic demisexual

With the wizards community being more accepting, Emma didn’t hesitate to come out to any of their friends at Hogwarts or even teachers. Most purebloods like Louis were confused, as this was no big deal at first. But Sebastian, whose father worked among muggles, was well aware that muggles were much less accepting of this and explained the situation to the rest.

Despite them not knowing that Emma was a muggleborn, Emma told them that they were born and raised in a muggle neighborhood, to a witch mother who no longer had interest in magic and a muggle father. Which they all believed.

When it comes to their family, Emma only came out to their sister and father, still unsure how their mother would react and decided to leave the rest of the relatives out of this.

About Him

Personality: ESTJ

Occupation: After graduation, Emma joined the “Chudley Cannons” quidditch team

Likes:

-Football and Quidditch

-Books

-Hanging out with the gang

-Being dragged into Lucinda’s never ending adventures.

-Animals

-Casual practice with their quidditch friend group

-Coffee

-Journaling

-Mythology and folklore

-Cold fries

-Spicy food.

-Sour sweets.

-Positive attention.

Dislikes:

-Corban Yaxley and his gang.

-Extreme heat.

-Spiders.

-Alarm clocks.

-Riddles.

-Talking during movies.

-Fairy tales when the chemistry is lacking due to the couple meeting 5 minutes before getting together.

-Quills, they are too much trouble they prefer pens.

-Golf, just golf, it annoys them.

Hobbies:

-Sports, especially football and Quidditch.

-Reading, despite it being difficult to keep them sitting still for too long.

Fears:

-Clowns

-People looking down on them despite all their efforts.

Strength: 

-They are very good at flying.

-Adapting to changes quickly

Weakness:

-Due to being a muggleborn, they lacked too much knowledge about magic that they tried to catch up with.

-They can get very emotion and easily irritated when under stress.

Talents: 

-Flying, quidditch and football.

-Legilimency

Relationships

Father: Benjamin Vanity

When they were younger, Emma was very close to their father and it is from him they got their love for football. But after finding out about their magic, the two’s relation became strained now with Ben being mostly confused about how magic works and taking time to accept that it is real and not just an absolute madness from a bearded old man in a robe. Though they would every once in a while when both are free, enjoy a quick game of football.

Ben was mostly interested in the magical things when he learned about Quidditch, a sports he never heard of and one that his child excelled in.

Mother: Isabella Wright 

Emma wasn’t exactly close to their mother, as a child things were really well but with the muggleborn’s natural magic appearing, Isabella unlike her husband was more concerned than confused. And once she learned that Emma lied about her blood status, no matter what the reason was, she got really upset and refused to let it go, constantly bringing up how their child was ashamed of who they were when this wasn’t the case.

Siblings: Ida Vanity

Emma had one sibling, a sister, Ida. Despite the two being very different, they got along really well. Ida shared a lot of interests with some of Emma’s friends so this latter always made sure to tell her stories about school. Once they even got her to meet a few of their friends on the train station including Lucinda, Amelia, Charity and Aurora whom Emma told they were muggleborn once they were sure enough they won’t expose them for this.

Relatives:

Emma had many cousins and relatives, whom they would meet mostly during holidays. They were close, though none of them knew about the kind of school Emma was going to nor that they were a wizard to begin with. All they were aware of is that Emma got a scholarship for a private school.

Education

School: Hogwarts

House: Slytherin

Best Core Class: Charms

Worst Core Class: History Of Magic

Elective: Muggle studies, Apparition

Quidditch: Beater, later team captain

Extra-Curricular: Flying, Muggle music

Magic

Wand: 

-Length: 13 ½"

-Flexibility: Reasonably supple flexibility

-Wood: Ebony

-Core: Unicorn core

-First Reaction: Emma tried at least three wands before finding their perfect wand. The others barely reacted to them, making the kid question the existence of their own magic, until Ollivander handed them the perfect wand. The moment they held it, they could feel it, the magic flowing through it, with a swing of their hand they sent the extra boxes back in their place.

Pets: Emma didn’t have any pets, though they liked looking after their friends’ pets.

Boggart: A group of faceless people looming over (being judged and people seeing through their perfectionist act)

Animagus: No

Metamorphmagus: No

Natural Legilimens: Yes

Patronus: Black Mare

Amortentia: TBA

Affiliations/Alliances

Hometown: London

Residence: A family house

Loyalty: Their family and friends

Trivia

-When Emma’s magic started showing, Dumbledore paid the Vanity family a visit and explained the situation to them.

-When Emma’s legilimens started showing, they were afraid of telling anyone about it in fear of being told they were crazy or that they were actually hallucinating and hearing things.