This is so random but at the same time it’s actually not at all.
Would any of you read a Harry Potter fanfic? Written by me, planned by my, following the canon HP movie andbook universe? About one of the Weasley twins? Sirius Black’s daughter that’s a Malfoy? And Slytherin?
Let me explain what I have in mind. As cliché as it sounds, I need you guys to believe in me andmy abilities. I have long since wanted to write a Sirius Black daughter story. Not the usual jazz though. I want her to be a Malfoy. Raised alongside Draco, first in the row to collect her mark with You-Know-Who (does she want it?idkidkidk) and babied by my quin Cissy. She doesn’t leap into her father’s arms, she’s stoic and proud, intelligent and responsible (no crazy shananigans here nonoNO we’ve got a Malfoy kid on our hands!).
I literally have NO IDEAS only like 6 scenes I wrote throughout the last few days. Many more are to come I’m sure of it! Keep in mind that I amre-reading the books and re-watching all the movies which will be putting me in a spot this Christmas where I will be obsessed with HP!!! Free time and inspiration = fanfiction
Idek. It’s something that I’ve been wanting to do for a while. Hell, since I was 12 years old. Might just be the time to do it. What do you think?
I’ll be tagging those on my HP tag list for obvious reason such as WHAT DO YOU THINK? My ask is available too.
Bright shone the day you arrived in Britain for the long-awaited wedding. One minute you stood in comforting, familiar Sofia; the next, in strange, unfamiliar Ottery St. Catchpole. The long-distance portkey-ing left you too dizzy to walk immediately following your arrival. You’d never have found where you were going had you not been steadied by a firm hand at your elbow.
“Careful,” said Viktor in your shared native Bulgarian. “Are you all right?”
“The only thing I’ve hurt is my pride,” you assured him as you straightened yourself. “I’m still not used to traveling so far magically.”
He smiled. “You should come to more of my games.”
“And miss an opportunity for a great assignment that isn’tyour winning streak? I think not.”
The smile on his face widened as Viktor moved his hand to yours. “Come along. We don’t want to be late.”
To be honest, you would not have minded. You would not have minded missing the entire blasted ceremony. Going was important to Viktor, though, so you allowed him to pull you along beside him. He knew where he was going, at least.
The wide field in which you had landed seemed to stretch into the horizon in every direction. Soon enough—too soon for your liking—a strange shape reared up against the landscape. As you drew nearer, you realized the shape was a house that had a large tent filled with people set up next to it.
Sure enough, that tent turned out to be your destination. Viktor led you right to the entrance of it. There stood a young man with a shock of bright blue hair, waiting for guests.
“Friends of the groom or the bride?” asked the boy.
“Bride,” Viktor answered in English.
The child nodded and made to show you to your seats. Before he could get more than a few steps ahead, however, he got a good look at Viktor and froze in place.
“You’re Viktor Krum!” he gasped.
“That is me, yes.”
One of the things you loved most about Viktor was his modesty. You’d been dating another member of the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team when the two of you had met. His teammate hadn’t so much as known the definition of humility, and you were quite glad now that the relationship hadn’t worked out.
Then again, he probably wouldn’t have thought it a good idea to drag you to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding.
This boy did not seem not to be thinking of quidditch at all, though. He brightened upon confirmation of his suspicions before he headed off in an entirely different direction. “Auntie wanted to see you when you got here. Follow me!”
“If that is what Herm-Own-Ninny wishes,” Viktor said as he made to do so. His grip on your hand did not allow you to slip away unseen into the pavilion. “There is no need to be nervous,” he added quietly as the pair of you trailed after the child through the home’s cramped kitchen.
“Me? Why should I be nervous?” All you were doing was meeting your husband’s first love, the perfect, demure, brilliant woman who corresponded with him regularly to that very day. “I only worry about what the tabloids back home will say.”
The dark eyes he turned upon you sparkled with amusement. “Do you care what they say about you all of a sudden?”
“Of course not!”
“Neither do I. Don’t worry. You will like Herm-Own-Ninny very much.”
At that very moment, your youthful chaperone stopped at a door on the third-floor landing. He rapped on it before saying loudly, “Auntie! Viktor Krum is here to see you!”
Several seconds later, the door opened. A very pretty woman with bright red hair appeared there to ruffle the top of the boy’s head. “Thanks, Teddy,” she said. “Now get back to your post before Percy finds out you left it.”
“Okay!” Teddy sang, then pushed past you to race back the way had come from.
“Come on in,” said the woman, stepping aside to let you through.
Inside the room were three other women: one blonde reading a magazine in the corner by the window; a brunette sitting at a large oval mirror; and a second blonde working on the brunette’s hair. Only the last did you recognize: Fleur Weasley, her husband, and her daughter had all come to your own wedding a year ago. The redhead looked enough like Bill that she must have been a relative. Beyond those two, you were lost in a sea of strangers.
When the door closed behind you, the woman at the mirror gasped, stood, and walked over to your husband to embrace him.
“Viktor. I’m so glad you were able to make it.”
“Hermione! You will ruin your makeup,” Fleur scolded.
Hermione smiled sheepishly and stepped away.
“Not that Ron will notice,” said the redhead. “He’ll be too busy trying not to trip on his own two feet. He, Harry, and Neville got into the Fire Whiskey last night, so Ron’s going to be even clumsier than usual.”
“You look wonderful,” Viktor told the bride, and indeed she did. Though this Hermione did not radiate beauty like Fleur did, she had a quiet grace that you knew instantly Viktor liked. Her simple but flattering wedding robes only added to the effect.
“It’s been too long. I’m ever so sorry I didn’t make it your wedding. It was such a busy time at the Ministry,” Hermione said.
“I understand. Let me introduce you to my wife now: [F Name] Krum.”
“Hello,” you said uncomfortably. Your Bulgarian accent was much thicker than Viktor’s, as you’d had fewer opportunities to practice English than he had. It made you feel dumber than usual hearing it around that lot.
Hermione offered you her hand without remark. “Hermione Granger, soon to be Granger-Weasley,” she said, and the pair of you shook. “I hope you don’t dislike me too much for inviting you. I wanted to invite Viktor, you see, and Ron will feel so much better knowing you came along, too. Besides, I’ve wanted to meet you for ages! Viktor talks about you all the time in his letters.”
“He does?”
Viktor chose that time to turn his attention to the redhead. “So, Ginny, I hear that you and I will be having a rematch soon?”
“He does,” Hermione said before she leaned in closer to add, “and I can see that he wasn’t lying about a single thing he said about you.”
You felt blood rush to your face. That Viktor had been so kind about you in his letters surprised you. He wasn’t really keen on expressing his inner feelings to anyone but his closest friends. “He speaks quite highly of you as well.”
“He is a good sort of man, isn’t he? But enough about him. I’m sure you’ll be hearing about Viktor all night long. He tells me you work at the Bulgarian wizarding paper?”
“I do.”
“Do you keep a portfolio? Would you mind sending me some of your articles?”
“I could, but why would you want them?”
“I think reading the news from a Bulgarian point of view would be fascinating,” she answered, “and I’m told you’re a wonderfulwriter.”
You rolled your eyes, and at last offered Hermione a smile of your own. “What does he know? He only cares about quidditch.”
“Men.” Hermione laughed.
To your great surprise, you spent a very pleasant ten minutes chatting with Hermione, Ginny, Fleur, and the last woman (who turned out to be an oddity by the name of Luna Lovegood). Time seemed to fly by until Viktor took you toward the door so that you could find your seats.
“Goodbye, Herm-Own-Ninny. We will see you at the service,” he said.
A chorus of goodbyes followed you down the stairs. Before you could step outside, however, Viktor pulled you aside.
“What?” you asked him.
“Do you forgive her now?”
“Forgive who?”
“Herm-Own-Ninny. For dating me so long ago.”
You frowned. “It was never a matter of forgiving her. She’s just a little hard to live up to. But you were right. She is very nice.”
“She liked you, too. I could tell.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, then intertwined his fingers with yours as you left the house together. “Do you think there will still be seats in the back?”
With Teddy’s help, you found a couple. It wasn’t long after you got settled that the music started and Hermione appeared. For the first time, you were able to see her with clear eyes. She was beautiful, and blissfully happy with her own love. Hermione Granger-Weasley was no longer your rival. One day, she might even become your friend.
Summary:Severus Snape never asked for a distraction, but the one he receives the first morning of a new term will have to do.
Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (Physical Abuse; Black Eye; Professor!Severus Snape; Mentor!Severus Snape; Slytherin!Reader; Hogwarts Student!Reader; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Implied/Referenced Abuse; Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse; Anxiety; References to Depression; Lily Evans & Severus Snape Friendship)
Requester:Anonymous
Request: “Please the one where se*ually and physically abused slytherin comes to Snape for help, without the detailed description of the assault plz. She suffers from anxiety and clinical depression. Snape is cold at first and then gets really protective and angry.”
Notes: Here’s another request from Tumblr, my first Harry Potter one. I’ve never written a platonic relationship between a student and teacher before (or a romantic one, for that matter)—and oddly this is only the first of a handful of these kinds of requests I have on my list now. I hope that I did a decent job.
Please keep in mind while reading this that some of things Severus says may not be the best thing to say in a situation like this. He’s a wizard, and not a trained Healer at that, so I tried to think of what he might say in this situation instead of what he shouldsay.
“Resourceful” Is Not a Dirty Word
Another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry began just as the ten prior for Potions Master Severus Snape. He ate a meager breakfast as quickly as possible so as to avoid spending any more time than necessary with students outside his house or classroom. He made forced polite conversation with Minerva until she finally handed over that year’s class schedule. And he settled at his desk at the back of the dank, cold dungeon to prepare for his first class in the last bit of peace and quiet he could expect until the Christmas holidays.
True, an undercurrent of anger buzzed throughout his body as he went through his annual routine. A typical year would find him more apathetic than furious before he had to deal with the odious task of teaching. But no matter what Severus did that morning, no matter what path he forced his mind to take, he could not keep his thoughts from turning again and again to the fact that Harry Potter now walked the castle halls. He tried to grit his teeth and bear it by manually writing the instructions for his first class’s assignment on the chalkboard. There was, after all, no reason to take out his temper until the boy himself reared his ugly head, and that would not be for some hours yet. Before that happy time, he had an O.W.L. class of Gryffindors and Slytherins and a gaggle of third-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to endure.
Then he heard the unmistakable sound of someone unlatch the door to the dungeon behind him. They opened said door only as far as they had to to slip inside, after which they pulled the door shut again with great care.
His hackles raised at once. Potter. The thought was ludicrous. Severus knew that as soon as it occurred to him. Potter would likely struggle to find his first class on time, let alone a place as out of the way as the dungeon. Yet Severus could not shake the feeling he’d had since he first set eyes on the boy at the Welcoming Feast the night before: James Potter’s son would not fail to torment him. James would have seen to that.
Severus spun, his black cloak billowing out ominously around him. The threat of taking points from Gryffindor was on the tip of his tongue when he spotted the actual intruder:
“Miss [Last Name],” he said in his softest voice. No one attempted to sneak up on him and got away with it, not even a member of his own house.
Sensing his displeasure, you frozen in the process of sliding into a seat at the very back of the room. Your expression was difficult to read that far away in the dim torchlight surrounding only Severus. He saw no reason to light the entire room up when only he occupied the dungeon. But one thing he could see very clearly: only one eye sparkling in the flickering flames. Vivid purple and green skin swelled the other shut.
“Good morning, Professor Snape,” you murmured.
He did not return your polite greeting. “I do not harbor students after they have been fighting in the halls. You may hide from Filch in your common room or you may turn yourself in to his tender mercies, but I shall not got involved.”
This being the start of your fifth year at Hogwarts, you ought to have known his feelings on misbehavior quite well. He did not care if Slytherins broke the rules so long as they showed brains enough to not get caught. Coming to him in the hope of help once spotted by another teacher or the caretaker would earn you nothing more than Severus’ ire.
Apparently this was one lesson you had not learned. You remained rooted to the spot rather than rushing away at this suggestion. Curious. After all, he made it a point to know the strengths and weaknesses of the students within his purview, and he had never noted you to be unintelligent. Perhaps a firmer hand was needed.
“I also do not appreciate when students come early to proffer their assistance,” he said. “I have no need for the aid of an unqualified witch. Your time would be better spent in the Hospital Wing, Miss [Last Name], and I expect that you will return from there at the proper time for class.”
Such a dismissal could not be mistaken for anything else. He returned his attention to the inventory list on his desk. Only a few lines in, Severus found himself interrupted once more.
“Oh, no, s-sir. I didn’t m-mean to—” The curl of his lips must have made you think better of stammering. You stopped, took a deep breath, and then went on a mite more calmly: “I didn’t come here to disturb you, sir. Or to help you prepare for class.”
“Then what is it that you do want?” he asked.
“Nothing, sir.”
“You would not have sneaked into my classroom while my back was turned for no reason. Spit it out. You are wasting my time.”
An inhale. An exhale. You looked nervously at the door.
“If you expect me to protect you from whomever you are fleeing from, you are sorely mistaken. You must be the one to finish the duels you choose to enter into.”
“I haven’t been fighting at all, Professor!” you protested.
Something about the pitch of your voice rang true. Things added up. He had never known you to pick fights in the corridors. Of course, the more boorish Gryffindors, such as their contemptible quidditch captain, would not care about that if they cornered you alone outside the Great Hall—but even that Severus doubted. Tensions between quidditch teams never rose so early in the term, and only two of the Gryffindors would dare to enrage Minerva before classes even started. What would they get out of doing so by picking on someone like you anyway?
Severus made his slow, calculated way down the aisle between tables to where you sat, back straight and stiff as a wand. Your bruise only grew uglier the closer he drew. Perhaps you knew this, for you ducked your head the moment he stood beside you.
“Look at me,” he ordered, and you reluctantly did so.
Your [color] eyes swallowed him whole. The entire process took a matter of seconds. He found himself standing next to you outside of the heavy door to the dungeon. True to your word, he could see no one in pursuit—and the ghastly muggle wound remained bright around your eye.
So he would need to go farther back.
He followed your memories backward through the morning, though your skipping breakfast, getting out of bed—Severus carefully skipped over your dressing for the day—sulking throughout the Welcoming Feast, and lurking alone in an empty corner of the Hogwarts Express. The black eye never vanished or faded.
“I see,” he said as he exited your mind.
The statement caused the color to drain from your face. “See what? Sir.”
“If you are not having problems with your housemates, I suggest you return to the Great Hall. Fifth year is difficult from the start. You will need your strength to get through my class today.”
“No, please, sir!”
You made a motion as though to grab his sleeve. Did you realize how lucky you were that he did not curse you on instinct for doing so? Severus doubted it. Narrowing his eyes, he took a small step backward and away from your grasping hands. At least you had the grace to look embarrassed for that disgusting display of desperation.
“Please let me stay here until class starts,” you murmured to your feet. “I’ll be quiet. I promise.”
“And how do you intend to keep such a promise?”
“I’ll read my textbook. You won’t know I’m here. Please, sir. Please.”
Upon the second please, you lifted your eyes to meet his again. The mark on your face reminded him unpleasantly of the face he used to see when he looked in the mirror during his days as a student—and more unpleasantly still of those who made his face look that way.
“Why?” Severus asked at last.
“I just…” Taking a deep breath, you plunged forward in as slow an explanation as he thought you could manage, “I don’t want the other students to gawk at me like they always do. Every time I get back from a holiday, it’s the same. I’m tired of it, sir. I just want them to leave me alone.”
I just want them to leave me alone. Yes, he could recall the same words coming out of his mouth once upon a time, and exactly who he said them to, if not who about. He’d had so many tormentors that even staying at the school for Christmas could not keep him away from all of them. Likely you had discovered that yourself over the past five years. What was it that he’d overheard one of your dormmates saying just last September? Something about the red blemishes [L Name] tried to hide as she pulled her robes on in the morning. At the time, Severus had dismissed the conversation as the cattish gossip so typical of fourth-year girls; now he realized it had been something more.
“How long?” he said in his softest voice.
“Excuse me, sir?” Your single huge eye betrayed your feigned ignorance without any need for him to resort to legilimency this time around.
“How long has someone been hurting you?”
“No one has been…” But you trailed away upon noticing his scowl.
“Do not try to lie to me. We both know you have not been fighting with your fellow students, so where else would you have received such a wound? Let me guess,” he went on over your attempted objection, “someone at home did not appreciate your being sent your acceptance letter.”
Silence. Given how still you kept yourself, Severus expected you were concentrating on not shaking in his presence. He could not see that you so much as breathed.
“Five years, then. At least. That answers my first question. Now on to the next: Who?”
“No one you would know, sir,” you said very quietly.
“A muggle, then.”
“No!”
“Then who? Spit it out, girl! Do you think I care to expose your lineage to your housemates? I have better things to do with my time than facilitate drama for my students.”
Your mouth opened—but only for a moment before your lips clamped shut. Perhaps he should have expected he would have to pull the answer from you millimeter by painful millimeter. He had not wanted to tell Lily, after all, and she mattered to him in a way that Horace Slughorn never could.
“Miss [L Name], I cannot help you unless you talk to me. And if you refuse to talk to me, this begs the question of why you felt it necessary to interrupt my work so early in the day. You have taken up enough of my preparation period. You may not stay unless you begin telling me what I want to know.”
Time passed. With no ticking clock on the wall of his classroom, Severus could not say how long your stare down lasted. He could have entered your mind once more while he waited. Instead, he looked down at you wordlessly. You would leave if you valued your privacy over your pride. It seemed you favored the latter, for in the end you finally replied:
“My father.”
The raw anger he felt at hearing these words must have shown on his face and terrified you far more than any of his threats had that day. You hastily went on:
“He’s not my real father. I don’t know who is. Mum married Edgar while she was pregnant with me, and she left when I was just a kid. It’s just been him and me there ever since.”
“And he does not approve of you or your mother being witches?”
“I think he’s just jealous. He’s a squib, you see. Mum’s family arranged the whole thing before anybody knew, and by then it was too late for her to get out of it. Please don’t tell the other Slytherins, Professor! They think I’m pure-blood. If they knew the truth, between that and my eye and the other bruising, the girls in my dorm would—”
“What other bruising?”
Your face darkened until it reached a shade nearly matching that of your swollen eye. “Things got worse this summer. He—”
Severus held up a hand to staunch the sudden flow of your confession. “I do not need the details.”
“Yes, sir.” Ashamed, frightened, or chastised, you cleared your throat several times before continuing, “Anyway, sir, I just wanted to sit down here in the mornings until my eye fades a bit. Is that all right with you, now that I’ve told you everything?”
Under ordinary circumstances, it would not have been all right with him. He could not risk all the students in Hogwarts starting to believe he would offer them shelter from the harsh realities of life. But as he stared down at you, he thought of his childhood and all the pain and ridicule it had brought him at the hands of James Potter and his merry men. If Horace had offered him respite, would Severus still hate him so? Obviously. The situations were, however, quite different, as Severus doubted Horace had faced a day of adversity in his entire life.
“I will consider your request,” said Severus, “if you also tell me what you plan to do about your situation at home nextsummer.”
“Do?” you echoed.
“Yes, ‘do.’ Do not be dense. It does not become you. No one else is going to ride to your rescue. You will therefore have to rescue yourself.”
“But—But how? I’m not of age! In a few years, maybe I can move out, but until then—”
“That’s not good enough! I have watched you, Miss [L Name], as I watch all Slytherins. You are ambitious, clever, resourceful, determined. That is what makes you a true Slytherin, not whether or not you were raised by a blight upon wizarding society. So what, I ask again, are you going to do about it?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Think then. Have you contacted anyone at the Ministry? There are people in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who might be able to offer you assistance.”
“Oh, no, sir!” Tears sprang to your eyes. “I can’t ask anyone for help. I didn’t even want you to find out. What will some random Ministry official think? They’ll laugh at me.”
“Such a viewpoint is narrow-minded and foolish to a startling degree. Asking for help is utilizing resources. Did I just not tell you that doing so made you a Slytherin?”
You gave him a hesitant nod. If he let you go now, you would surely promise to owl the proper authorities and never do so. Your tormentor would have free rein whenever you went home until such a day came that you could bring yourself to leave. Who knew what he could escalate to if allowed that kind of freedom? Severus needed to get you acting now.
“Very well. We will forgo the Ministry for the time being. How will you go about fixing your problem by yourself, then? I am sure that you are fully capable of doing so.”
“No, I’m not! Professor, even if I were as smart as all that, I can’t use magic outside of school. You know that.”
“Except in life-threatening situations, I believe the rule goes. It seems to me that you are more in need of the reminder than I. Be that as it may, you don’t need to use underage magic to brew a potion, now, do you?”
An eager light dawned in your eyes as the suggestion sunk in. He could see your imagination unfurling with a hundred different plots at the very idea. Though he did not necessarily disagree with the sentiment behind these plans, he did feel it was his burden as your head of house to dissuade you from the messier ones.
“You cannot kill him with a potion, much as the man might deserve it. That would attract the authorities, both magic and muggle. But you could use your skill in potions to keep yourself safe for the duration of the summer,” he said.
Safe. You mouthed the word rather than say it allowed, savoring the weight and taste on your tongue. Two of your fingers lifted to gently prod the blackened corner of your eye.
“What potions, sir?” Your tone sounded much more confident than it had all day. “Please tell me. I’ll study them. I’ll know them by heart before I get back on the train.”
“I will do better than give you a list. I will teach you myself.”
Your jaw went slack in a truly deplorable display of shock. Severus chose to be relieved you did not hug him instead of frustrated at your surprise. It was unusual for him to invite students for private lessons, especially for students doing adequate work in his class. A few seconds went by before you were able to control yourself enough to say, “Thank you, sir.”
“It will not be easy,” Severus warned. “I expect you to do exactly as I say exactly when I say.”
He allowed you a pause to accept this condition. You did so with a quiet nod.
“Very well. First of all, you will be here in my classroom an hour before class begins each week, starting next week. Arrive late, and our agreement will come to an end at once.”
“Yes, sir!”
“I also have one other condition.”
The happiness dancing in your eyes faded somewhat. “Yes, sir?” you asked guardedly. As though he would ever put you in the same position as that sorry excuse for your so-called “father.”
“You allow me to escort you to the Hospital Wing this morning. I cannot allow your current appearance to distract the rest of the class, now, can I?”
At first, he could tell that you wanted to argue. Accepting help from him was one thing; showing anything to Poppy would be quite another. Most students at Hogwarts knew she didn’t ask questions about whatever magical maladies plagued them—then again, this was not a magical malady. Perhaps you knew his presence would stave off any attempts on Poppy’s part to get to the bottom of things, because after a moment of mental struggle you said:
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good,” Severus said as he went to the door. He made it all the way there while you remained rooted to the spot. “Come along. Unless you want to run into your dormmates on the way.”
With a start, you stood, grabbed your book bag, and rushed right past him into the hall. Severus stopped only long enough to lock the door behind you both. Then the two of you headed side by side toward the stairway leading to the higher floors of the castle.
A tremendous waste of his time, taking a fully-functioning teenage girl to seek medical attention? Undoubtedly. But staying nearby to make sure you didn’t run off before Poppy finished with you did keep his mind off the imminent arrival of one Harry James Potter. And was it truly a waste of time to help one of his Slytherins get through a nasty childhood like his? As Severus watched Poppy tut over your black eye, he thought not—although no one would ever hear him admit it out loud.
After the fiasco that was the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry pretty much put the kibosh on anything related to the competition. This included balls for a good number of years–at least until the students’ cry for chaperoned romance became so loud that even Headmistress Professor McGonagall threw up her hands in surrender. Since that time, the school held one ball a year, each on the same day: Halloween.
It came as no surprise to anyone that Professor Longbottom tried his best to stay away from such festivities. A near-run-in with a troll on Halloween of his first year left him a little nervous about the day, even as a full-grown man nearly as famous as Harry Potter. That didn’t stop Professor McGonagall from trying to convince him to chaperone every year, but Neville preferred to spend the evening looking after his mandrakes.
When he wandered back into the castle that Halloween night, however, the ball was still in full swing. An unexpected frost had killed much of his stock, leaving Neville with very little to do outside of fit the rest of the mandrakes with scarves. The music was sure to continue for several hours, rendering an early bedtime moot. He lingered in the hallway, listening to sounds of revelry drifting from the great hall. At least the ball had food, and there was nothing to be afraid of except a few students getting a little too intimate with their dates.
Or so Neville thought until he heard some very strange banging coming from a nearby classroom. He nearly leapt out of his skin, then paused, waiting for the sound to come again. When it did, the bumps accompanied a cry of “No! Not like that. Oh, come on! It’s nearly over!”
He stepped closer and then closer still. Almost without thinking, Neville lifted his hand toward the room’s door’s handle. Before he could work up the nerve to open the door, someone burst out of it–or maybe twosomeones. The first careened straight into his chest before he could get a good look at things.
“Oh!” you said as you pushed yourself off of him. “Longbottom!”
“Um…[L Name],” Neville answered with a frown.
One of your hands had encircled his arm so that you could steady yourself. Your other hand was preoccupied by the skeleton standing behind you wearing a set of dress robes. Once you righted yourself, your eyes followed Neville’s gaze as you brushed the hair from your face.
“Where are my manners?” you said, and tugged on the skeleton’s arm. The laugh that followed sounded distinctly uncomfortable. “This is Roger. Roger, this is Professor Longbottom.”
“Hello…Roger,” Neville said with a small wave.
Roger turned his head away as though he were disgusted by Neville’s appearance.
You elbowed Roger in the rib cage. “Roger! Be nice!”
By then, Neville was frowning at you. Your hair was in disarray, though you’d clearly tried to do it up nicely to go along with your dress. Your ditzy demeanor was nothing new, however; Neville often wondered how in the world you had convinced Professor McGonagall of all people to give you the Charms position. That did not stop him from being curious, though, especially as Roger began to drag you down the hall toward the ball.
“What were you doing in there with a skeleton?” Neville asked as you managed to get Roger to stop. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t what he often caught the sixth years at in vacant classrooms after dark.
At first, he thought that would be quite the feat, considering Roger’s missing several important fleshy bits, but then you turned a light shade of pink. A second later, you looked back at Roger, who quickly shook his head. You released his bony fingers and took a step toward Neville.
“You can’t tell anyone okay?”
“Uh…” was all Neville said in response.
He really, reallydidn’t want to know about your kinks. You both planned to stay at Hogwarts for quite a while still, and it would make talking to you in the teachers’ lounge difficult. Clearly, you had no idea where Neville’s thought were headed, though, because you continued in a pleading whisper:
“I just really wanted to go to the dance.”
“I…see,” said Neville, though he apparently did not.
“Please don’t tell Professor Pendragon!” you squeaked. “I was going to put Roger back as soon as the ball was over, and I was going to take the charm off of him, too!”
Slowly, Neville nodded. Then it occurred to him that feigning understanding would get him nowhere.
“Okay, I have no idea what’s going on here. Are you saying you charmed the Alchemy professor’s skeleton so you could take him on a date?” he asked.
“I didn’twantto,” you said in a rush. “But…no one asked me, and I…really wanted to go. If I danced by myself, I’d look like an idiot.”
Before you even finished your explanation, Neville was chuckling. Your last words trailed away into a tear-filled stare as you watched.
“It’s not funny! You don’t know how it is, being a single woman in a castle full of children and elderly teachers. I’m never going to get married, never!”
“You could date Professor Pendragon,” Neville offered, and got only a shove for his suggestion. “All right, all right. I won’t tell him. But it would probably be better if you went ahead and put Roger back. Won’t Pendragon notice when he sees you two dancing?”
Maybe you hadn’t thought of that, because you paled instantly at Neville’s words. Still, the look you threw Roger was one of great remorse. His only response was to tap his feet against the floor. You turned back to Neville.
“But…”
He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll go with you. That way both of us have an excuse to be there.”
“You will?”
Neville nodded. If Roger had eyes, the look he shot Neville as you lifted your wand definitely would have been a glare. Unfortunately, the skeleton had no time to prevent his second demise. With a flick of your wand, all life disappeared from his bones, and you caught the collapsing structure easily in your arms. A moment later, Roger disappeared.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” you exclaimed, and took Neville’s hand. “I’ve never had a date with someone living before!”
Somehow, Neville thought to himself as you yanked him after you into the great hall, he wasn’t surprised.
Hii! I wanna create a public, collaborative playlist for everyone with songs that remind you of fred and/or george!
I already added “freddy my love” and “this side of paradise”
So add as many songs as you’d like that you listen to when thinking of them! Or just remind you of them! I would love for you to comment the songs you added and why!
Hii! I wanna create a public, collaborative playlist for everyone with songs that remind you of fred and/or george!
I already added “freddy my love” and “this side of paradise”
So add as many songs as you’d like that you listen to when thinking of them! Or just remind you of them! I would love for you to comment the songs you added and why!
Feel free to share the playlist!
Here’s the link:
Update: for the past few months a spam account called “RapGame” has been spamming the playlist with an entire album of a amateur band called Morisdown. I’ve tried to report them several times but Spotify doesn’t have a report spam option. I’ve been deleting them everytime but they pop up again after a day or 2. So if you often listen to a playlist and you notice these songs in there, please delete them and report the account. Thanks!
Hii! I wanna create a public, collaborative playlist for everyone with songs that remind you of fred and/or george!
I already added “freddy my love” and “this side of paradise”
So add as many songs as you’d like that you listen to when thinking of them! Or just remind you of them! I would love for you to comment the songs you added and why!
Hii! I wanna create a public, collaborative playlist for everyone with songs that remind you of fred and/or george!
I already added “freddy my love” and “this side of paradise”
So add as many songs as you’d like that you listen to when thinking of them! Or just remind you of them! I would love for you to comment the songs you added and why!
We’re off to a great start! 27 songs already! But of course we’d all love for you to share even more songs that remind you of Fred and/or George! Any song you like can be added!
I would also love to know the reason why it reminds you of them or what you imagine while listening to the song(s)
warning/s;angst to fluff, mentions of pregnancy and post partum depression
word count;4.4k
summary;fred leaves you on the day you were supposed to tell him that you were pregnant with his child. three years later you see him again, and secrets are unearthed.
a/n;feedback is very, very welcome! i just love reading them aaa this was such a weird thing to write bc i wanted it angst but it’s not angsty enough so watch out for more angst deuces
“i don’t understand, freddie. why are you—”
“[y/n]! that’s enough!” your boyfriend furrowed his brows, blowing out an exasperated breath that had you feeling offended. he ran a hand through his already unkempt hair before meeting your eyes. “don’t you getit? i’m done. we’re done. we’re through.”
there was no emotion behind his words. no meaning. nothing that told you of the two years you’ve spent together. and to be perfectly honest, even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself, you expected this. deep down you knew he’d fallen out of love somewhere along the way.
warning/s;angst to fluff, mentions of pregnancy and post partum depression
word count;4.4k
summary;fred leaves you on the day you were supposed to tell him that you were pregnant with his child. three years later you see him again, and secrets are unearthed.
a/n;feedback is very, very welcome! i just love reading them aaa this was such a weird thing to write bc i wanted it angst but it’s not angsty enough so watch out for more angst deuces
“i don’t understand, freddie. why are you—”
“[y/n]! that’s enough!” your boyfriend furrowed his brows, blowing out an exasperated breath that had you feeling offended. he ran a hand through his already unkempt hair before meeting your eyes. “don’t you getit? i’m done. we’re done. we’re through.”
there was no emotion behind his words. no meaning. nothing that told you of the two years you’ve spent together. and to be perfectly honest, even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself, you expected this. deep down you knew he’d fallen out of love somewhere along the way.
Summary: idk dude just read the other chapters first or this is gonna make no sense
A/n: I did this instead of studying for my finals, also it could probably use a neither round of editing but I was anxious to post it. And I really don’t give a fuck if this is historically inacurate all research done for this was from Pirate of the Caribbean.
You considered the stars your friends, their predictability and reserve made them easy to get along with. You had been taught to read their language from your early days of ships and oceans. As a child, you would speak to them, whispering secrets from your bedroom window. Your young nights had been filled with time spent stretching from the top of your magnolia tree to try and grasp their beauty. Even now as you stared up at the heavens you wished to cradle them like priceless jewels, their wonder never faded. But you supposed their mystery is what made them so appealing, everyone wanted something they could never quite reach.
The news of your captured prince had spread like fire in a dry wind, the letters you had sent to Aldir and their neighboring kingdoms throwing many into action. Sirius’s kingdom was large, powerful, and merciless. Some wanted the prince for leverage, many others wanted blood; revenge driving them to empty treasuries and sharpen swords. At first, you had been sitting pretty, letters of bids coming to you at every stop you made. Eventually, prices got too high and kingdoms decided it would be easier to take than to pay.
Ash burned in the back of your throat, you stared at your feet as the second ship that week crumbled into the ocean. Its flames were heavy on your back, reflecting in the greys of the sea. A particularly large crack of the fire made the breath catch in your throat. Your fear of the element had persisted for years filling your nightmares with smoke and screams.
As the distance between you and the defeated ship lengthened your heart began to calm. The air was thick with moisture, purple clouds bruising the dull sky. The ocean was frothy, waves lapping tirelessly at the sides of your ship.
Your mind felt dizzy, the taste of blood still thick in your mouth. Two more men had been lost in the fight which had taken place just minutes ago. One flung into the ocean and the other struck by a bullet. That was six bodies that you had been forced to dump into the sea the past month.
You had to get rid of Sirius before more corpses were to be fed to the sharks. This had never been so strikingly obvious before yet, you hesitated. Nails dug into your palms, the voices in your head fighting a clamoring war. Your feelings were illegible, their messy colors smeared together in an uninterpretable painting. So you threw them away, ignoring the throb in your chest and taking a breath. Sirius was to be sold to the highest bidder and that was that. You felt your past’s grip on your throat loosening. There was only one way to get rid of what used to be, you had to kill it.
Sirius had never been so bewildered before. His life had been a book that was written a thousand times over. The prince falls in love, the queen doesn’t approve, the love runs off, the prince finds the love, and then happily ever after. But life wasn’t as sweet nor simple as a children’s story and this may be the first time that he had ever truly realized that. All it took was the prince to be tied in the love’s basement ready to be sold to his death.
Sirius woke with a start as metal clattered inches from his face. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as his breath slowly returned to his lungs. He stared at the plate which had woken him, it was piled higher than normal with two rolls dropped next to it. He peered up at the giver of this gift.
He recognized the small blonde as the one he had threatened a few weeks before, the fear he had seen in her eyes that moment now replaced with pity, bitter and soft like rotten fruit.
“I wanna talk.” She said plainly, toeing the plate towards him like a bribe, he supposed that’s exactly what it was.
Sirius sat up ignoring the hammer of his head. His hair stuck to his cheek, slick with sweat. The woman whose name he never learned dropped to a squat beside him, a small knife held in her hand. His eyes widened as it glinted in the small gas lamp hanging above his head.
“Relax.” She sighed cutting the rope that tethered his hands behind his back.
Sirius felt his shoulders groan in protest as they fell forward, his wrists aching and rubbed red. Hot pin pricks filled his fingers as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
When he looked back up Adrie was now seated in front of him, her legs crossed. She glanced down at the food and then back up at him, “You can eat if you agree to answer some questions.” Her demands were simple.
He let silence settle for just a moment, “Fine.” After all, what did he have to lose? His dignity? His pride? They had been sleeping with the fishes for ages.
She pushed the plate towards him, watching him quietly as he began to eat, “You don’t look like much of a prince to me.” She hummed after a moment.
Sirius swallowed, licking his lips, “Does anyone after two weeks locked in the bottom of a ship full of scum?“
Adrie cracked a smile, “I suppose not.”
She stared at him still, she was lying a bit. Years held prisoner couldn’t erase the royalty he was raised with, it stuck to him like wet stuck to water. Nothing and everything proved him a prince, you could take his crown but you could never take his title.
“How do you know y/n?”
Sirius was startled by the suddenness of the question but not remotely surprised it was asked, “She hasn’t told you?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if she had,” Adire responded, her tone was blunt.
He bit into a roll thoughtfully taking his time to chew slowly, she was patient, her blank expression, not faltering.
“I thought you were friends.” He mumbled with a full mouth.
Her jaw tightened, “Y/n doesn’t speak of her past.”
“So you’ve come to me for information?” Sirius said mild mockery in his voice.
“Obviously.”
He eyed the woman curiously, she was not what he had expected of your right hand man. Sirius smiled loosely, “You sure you wanna disobey Captain’s orders?”
“Start talking or I take the food and hang you by your ankles.”
Sirius huffed glancing between her and his food, “Fine, you win.”
“Good. Tell me everything.” She demanded.
Sirius felt his throat tighten around the potatoes he had swallowed, his mind ached with hazy memories of summer days and speeding hearts, “There isn’t much to tell.”
“You’re a bad lair.” Adire hummed.
Sirius sighed, eyes falling to the bright white scars which laced his hands. He wasn’t sure where else to start but the beginning. He told of a loud baker girl who snuck over the walls into his garden and brought him pastries and friendship. He continued with vague details, of growing up together with swords and stars, reliving each moment he shared.
He felt his words stiffen as he spoke of falling in love with you. Part of him felt like he was talking of someone completely different. Someone who had burnt up with her parents in a small bakery a million miles away. What was left, muffling cries above him, was a shell of that girl her soul replaced with seaweed and smoke. He pushed the thought away, swallowing it with the lump in his throat as he continued to speak of a proposal he regretted and the consequences of disobeying his mother.
The broken fairytale cut his tongue filling his mouth with a bitter taste. He attempted to wash it down with the rum his listener had brought to him but its flavor was just as bad, it’s only redemption was the warmth that filled his stomach.
Adrie looked at him blankly, "I don’t blame her for wanting you dead."
Sirius wished she had stayed silent.
"But I pity you, you don’t deserve death."
He didn’t look up and instead finished his drink, "Your pity means nothing to me."
She sighed standing to her feet, "I never thought it did."
When her boots disappeared up the ladder he let his cup drop to the ground, it rolled knocking into his heel as tears dripped from his chin.
By the time you had dropped anchor just off of Haran, the moisture had dropped from the air. Dry winds and clear skies greeted your crew.
Rowboats were dropped in the water quickly, the sun was setting fast and a night of cheap ale and cheaper women were in the forefront of many a man’s heads.
You were tired, the happiness of your crewmates falling short at your feet. Exhaustion had replaced all anger and sadness you had harbored for the past weeks making your eyes grow dull as the bags beneath them. The satchel burned under your arms had a note you had written agreeing to the Yerith King’s price. You had singed your finger on the wax used to seal the envelope, it still throbbed a bit with the unsteady beat of your heart. You tried not to think about much on your way to land instead filling your head with that faint burn and fog of the setting sun.
Adrie watched as you played with the diamond strung around your neck, a new piece she had only seen in recent days. She assumed you had taken it from one of the ships which had recently burnt into the sea. The bright stone was so different from the rest of your jewelry she was surprised you wore it all. Obnoxious gems had never been your type.
She was wrong on this thought, large jewels used to be what you would stare at as you passed shop windows, wishing you had the money to clutch one in your hand. They used to be a dream and a wish, now they were just things you stole and sold to the highest bidder.
Sirius had been briefly told of the plans for the evening. Two men whom he had become somewhat accustomed to during his stay had tied him up. The knots were tighter than usual as they were to be gone for the night. In his usual nature, Sirius complained about the ache of his wrists and the cramps in his legs. His grievances went unheard and his company disappeared from sight. The boat was quiet within the hour, nothing but the creak of old boards and calls of gulls far above his head breaking the silence.
He drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours, time passing in its usual way, slowly. Finally, a clear thought came to Sirius’s head, he had the whole boat to himself. That meant there was no one to stop him from escaping his certain and quickly approaching death.
Sirius tried to twist his hands out of the rope for what must have been an hour and only resulted in drawing blood from his wrists. Switching tactics he began to slowly shuffle and roll around the cabin he was in, searching for anything that could cut rope. As the sun’s light began to fade his task was growing difficult. Just before he gave in to his exhaustion Sirius found a bent nail sticking about a centimeter out of the ladder that led to the upper deck. The next two hours were spent rubbing his binds against the dull metal until they finally snapped.
After a month of being held prisoner, freedom left him stunned. He stumbled up the ladder until he reached the ship’s deck. The warm breeze which washed over him felt like a gift from the gods. A smile stretched his aching cheeks and for the first time in a while Sirius Black let out a genuine laugh.
He quickly found a small boat which he could lower to the water. He could be miles away before the sun rose and you found his binds cut. Judging by the port you had stopped at he was only a few days’ row from neutral lands. There he could gather himself and write for help. He was saved.
Sirius’s glee was cut short as he realized that he was missing one vital thing; you. The only reason he was out here in the first place was for you. He had spent years following rumors across the sea, he had given up his place as king, he had spent hundreds of thousands on supplies. But the truth was even if he hadn’t done all that, even if he had stumbled across you within a week and spent no more than ten doubloons he still wouldn’t leave this ship alive unless you were by his side.
Sirius cursed, slamming his fist into the deck. His eyes darted around in what felt like panic. He was trapped between your love and his life and while he had chosen the former weeks ago he had no way of securing it.
In the dark, a glint of light was seen. A crate of liquor stowed next to the captain’s quarters revealed itself to the pale moon. The man’s mind buzzed, he realized quickly that he would need to act fast, the hours of the dark he had left must be well used.
The deal had been easy, one glance at the large gem and you had a buyer offering hundreds. You walked away with 400 doubloons knowing it was worth much more. Not that you cared, you had been hours from chucking the necklace into the sea.
It was late at night now, the golden light of pubs and brothels spilling onto the gravel road you walked. Your legs still felt weak, they were accustomed to the sway of boats on sloshing waves not the strange sturdiness of the ground. You hadn’t been able to sleep well on land since you had stepped off it, you had always opted for a swinging hammock over a still cot.
You swung your bag of coins round in circles as you made your way to the beach. The water was smooth save the ripple of waves drawn by the full moon. Sand glistened silver under your boots, the light crash of water on rocks echoing around you.
You had never intended to spend the full night on land, your crew was well aware of this fact and none would be surprised to find you gone in the morning. You shoved one of your beached row boats back into the water, splashing about ankle deep before leaping into it.
When you reached your ship, you sensed something was wrong immediately. The small voice which you tended to ignore was screaming in the back of your head. As you climbed onto the deck the strong scent of liquor overwhelmed you. You heard a soft splash and glanced down to look at the puddle you had stepped into. Swiping two fingers through the fluid and plopping them into your mouth you hummed. There was no mistaking the sharp taste of gin. You looked around to find the leak and instead locked eyes with a figure who stood about 20 meters in front of you.
“Sirius?” You asked though you already knew it was him, you didn’t think you would ever forget his face, even if it was obscured by the shadows of the moon.
He gapped at you, unsure of what to say.
You took a step closer and caught a glance of the bottle he held in his hand. Its thin neck was stuffed with a piece of cloth, the soft glow of a gas lamp flickering behind him. The second you realized what he had planned your gun was pointed at his chest.
“Drop the bottle Black.” you hissed with a steady voice despite the fact that your gun was rattling in your hands. Your thoughts were now fogged with fear, plagued by smoke and flames.
Sirius had suddenly found his voice, “I know you’re not stupid enough to fire that. One spark and we’ll both go up in flames.”
Your breaths quickened, vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes. “Why are you doing this?” You croaked. “Why do you want to ruin everything I’ve built for myself?”
“I’m not leaving without you y/n.” He shouted, “I can’t live without you. Just come with me. Please. Just come with me and it will all be fine.”
You shook your head, “No.”
“Please, please! I need you y/n, I can’t go back without you!” He begged, snatching the lamp from behind him, “I won’t be able to live.”
It was in that moment that you understood he was just as desperate as you, just as lost and hopeless. You dropped your gun to your side, tears sliding slowly down your cheeks. Your throat tightened holding back a sob, “Okay.” You said with a broken voice.
Sirius cracked a small smile, “I knew it.” He sighed, “I knew you still loved me.” Setting down the lamp he opened his arms walking towards you. You met him halfway burying your face into his rough jacket.
“God I missed you y/n,” he whispered as you slipped a knife from under your sleeve.
“I’m so sorry Siri.” You mumbled in response before plunging the blade into his back.
You held him as he collapsed forward, choking back on his own blood. You had begun to sob, hand still clutching the hilt of the blade which was lodged into him. Eventually his weight became too much to bear and you both fell to the ground. Sirius rolled off next to you, his hand still clasped around your own. The two of you started up at the stars listening as his breaths slowed. Just before they stopped completely you felt a small squeeze of your hand and for just a moment you saw the soft pink of a petal floating towards you.
You weren’t sure how long you lay there, staring up at the sky but it was long enough for you to finally realize that you were the villain of your story. It was an odd thing to recognize considering in all of the books you had carried as a child you took the place of the protagonist; the one who swung the sword to save the kingdom You had always been the one to end your life with a happily ever after.
Now you had realized that you had never been a hero. You had spent your life as a villain in the making, each step you had taken leading you closer and closer to your undeniable fate of evil. You had your chance to be the princess trapped in the tower, but you had ignored the prince and now took the shape of a witch. A witch who stole and killed and burned all that she hated. Some had to do it after all, we can’t all be heroes. There is no story without a villain, at least not one worth reading.
As much as the small baker girl who rested amongst the magnolia tree would have hated you, the woman you saw when you looked in the mirror was okay with who you had become. And if she was okay with it, then why did it matter what the past would have thought? You had been running from it for years and now you would never have to again. Because now your past ran from you.
Pairings:Sirius Black x reader, Sirius Black x Gryffindor!reader, mauraders era! Sirius Black x reader, Marauders x reader Warnings:Language, slight bullying (?) Word Count:3,196
Y/N POV
“What does he want with me, though?” you hissed anxiously to Lily, adjusting your robes as you followed her. You’d never been invited to any ‘Slug Club’ events.
“Dunno, he’s alright, though. Little snobbish, but harmless,” she shrugged, leading the way.
“Maybe it has something to do with my gift,” you wondered aloud. “What if it has something to do with my gift?”
“I thought we were the only ones who knew about it?” Lily asked, turning to look at you with her bright, emerald eyes.
“Well, you, James, Sirius, Peter, Remus, McGonagall, and Dumbledore,” you said, frowning as you realized the number kept growing; you doubted how much longer you’d be able to keep it a secret.
“Maybe one of them let it slip? I mean, it’s not exactly an express secret, is it?” Lily asked.
“Not really. But if the whole school finds out I can push thoughts into people’s heads and potentially make them do things, well, I’d never get left alone,” you said. “And that’s the best-case scenario.”
“I suppose that’s true. We’re an understanding lot,” she grinned, turning to you as she slowed her pace.
“I’ll say; took in a psychic and a teenage werewolf. Maybe it isn’t compassion so much as it is a desperate need for adventure,” you teased.
“For Potter and Black? Undoubtedly a pathological need for adventure; me? Compassion, definitely compassion,” she teased back.
Stopping suddenly at a solid compartment door, she turned towards you and fluffed your hair.
“Alright, mum, thanks,” you sighed, swatting at her hands as they brushed your robes. Laughing at your comment, she pushed open the doors to expose a spacious compartment filled with about 8 people.
Groaning to yourself, your eyes first fell to Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Standing in the middle of them was Severus Snape, hair greasy as ever. His eyes followed Lily for a while until they met your icy glare.
“Malfoyand Snape?” you hissed, tugging on her robes, “I thought you said Slughorn was alright?”
“Lily! Hello, my dear!” Slughorn called jovially. At his words, every pair of eyes fell onto the two of you. “Oh, and I see you’ve brought the lovely, Y/N.”
“Hello,” you smiled sheepishly, not really sure what you were doing there.
“Well, now that we’re all here, shall we?” Slughorn said, gesturing to a round table with seats for all in the compartment.
Lily walked forward and chose a seat, you filled the one next to her. A Hufflepuff you recognized as Wendy Slinkhard sat next to you and gave you a small smile, which you returned.
“Have a good Holiday, Lucius?” Slughorn asked the blonde seated next to him.
“Excellent, Professor, excellent. My father sends his best,” he smiled graciously, his voice as oily as the hair of the boy next to him.
“Ah yes, Abraxas, good man,” Slughorn laughed, his belly falling up and down.
“Slimy git,” you whispered, causing a giggle to bubble from Lily’s lips. At your noise, Slughorn’s eyes fell to the two of you and broke into a great smile.
“Lily, Lily. Whispering again, are we?” he said, though there was no tone of scolding.
“Well, it’s just Malfoy mightget offended if I called him a slimy git to his face, sir.” Despite her words, she smiled serenely, and Slughorn let out a loud laugh.
“That he might, that he might,” he allowed, still laughing. Smugly, you turned to a highly annoyed Lucius and grinned.
“And you! Ms. Y/L/N! It’s a wonder we haven’t met yet,” Slughorn smiled, now turning to you.
“I’m in your Potions class, sir,” you said, slightly annoyed. Lucius and Theo snickered, and you shot them murderous glares.
“Ah, yes! I remember now, your Draught of Living Dead was almost as good as my two stars’!” he laughed, gesturing to Snape and Lily. “Sorry, so many students, you understand.”
“Almost,” you said, forcing a laugh out as Snape’s smug face swam before your own.
“You should see her charmwork, sir. She outdoes me every class,” Lily offered, smiling at you. It was true; where Lily was truly gifted in Potions, your subject was Charms.
“Yes, I’ve been hearing great things about Y/N, lots of great things,” he smirked. Lowering his voice dramatically, he leaned forward as much as his massive figure would allow. “Some of which are truly incredible. Is it true?”
Sighing, you knew he was referring to your gift.
“So much for a secret,” you pushed to Lily, eyes falling to the Slytherins. She gave a sympathetic shrug.
“Yes, it’s true,” you pushed, looking into Slughorn’s black eyes. He let out a great rip of laughter, and everyone in the compartment looked incredibly confused except Lily.
“Sorry, sir. But is what true?” a Ravenclaw boy you knew to be named Holden said.
“Y/N here is truly gifted. More so, I daresay, than anyone in this room.” Slughorn complimented, looking at you with a special glint in his eye. Your bruised ego was soothed as the Slytherins glared at you from across the small table. “Y/N here holds a gift I’ve seen in any capacity only once before.”
In front of you, you saw Snape straighten his back, and his face lost what little color it ever held.
“How?” Lucius snapped, “Sir?” he added as Slughorn’s head snapped to him.
“This is how you slimy git. You can hear this, can’t you? Well, no one else can. See, I can put my thoughts right into that empty blonde head of yours–I mean, seriously, it feels especially spacious up here.” you pushed, smiling maliciously at the icy blonde as his eyes were stuck open in horror. “I could make you do whatever I want, if I pleased, been working on it. And when I say whatever I want, I mean whateverI want. I wouldn’t push it, Malfoy.”
Lucius was looking at you in horror, mouth fallen open. Unlocking your eyes, they fell to Snape, who wore a look of mild interest.
“Would you like a taste, Snivellus?” you sneered, peering into Snape’s black eyes. He looked shocked for a moment but quickly recovered back to his constant glare.
“Lovely, isn’t she?” Slughorn laughed, having no idea you just threatened the Slytherins in front of you with mind control.
“Lovely,” Snape sneered, still looking at you. “Tell me, wherever did you learn such a thing?”
His tone was condescending interest, but behind the facade, you could see his eyes burning with envy.
“Didn’t. Born with it. The first time I did it, I was still in diapers,” you shrugged, loving the way this answer seemed to infuriate him more.
“Fascinating,” Slughorn breathed, his massive figure pressed against the table in interest. His gut spilled over onto the table, and you vaguely wondered whether he had much feeling around his massive midriff.
The rest of the train ride was spent in the compartment with Slughorn as he gushed about both previous and current students. It wasn’t long before you all felt the train begin slowing down, causing Slughorn to trail off.
“Ah! She’s slowing now, it seems. Best be off to your compartments!” he said. “Snape, Malfoy, Nott, I’ll see you later tonight? To welcome all the young new Slytherins?”
“Certainly, sir,” Nott said, smiling his awful smile as the group of them slithered from the room.
“Lily, dear, whenever you’re passing! Same for you, Ms. Y/L/N!” he called as the two of you made to leave.
“If I ever make it down to that wretched dungeon,” Lily teased, causing another great rip of laughter from Slughorn.
“Come now! You know you love that Potions room!” Slughorn called into the hall from his room.
From the semi-crowded hallway, Lily allowed a soft laugh as everyone returned to their compartments. Though, you didn’t make it too far before you were halted by an incoming Ravenclaw.
“Oi, Evans!” a tall, blonde boy called, coming to rest by her side. “Good Holiday?”
“Alright. What do you want, Boot?” she sighed. The boy looked shocked at her bluntness, and you shook your head. Boys fawned after Lily almost as girls did after Sirius, yet Lily’s suitors had much, much less luck. You understood, of course, Lily was gorgeous with flaming locks of hair and the brightest green eyes you’ve ever seen–but after a while, it started doing things to one’s self-esteem.
“Just wondered if you fancied a Hogsmeade trip?” the boy asked, leaning against the wall, trying to recover.
“The first one’s not for weeks,” she said, looking confused.
“I know, though I just might go ahead and ask. You know, before anyone else does,” the boy said, smirking down at her.
“Oh!” she said, looking shocked. “Like a date?”
The boy seemed to be losing confidence as Lily spoke, and you bit your lip to keep from giggling.
“Er, yeah. Like a date, if you want,” the Ravenclaw said, eyes falling to the floor.
“Oh, er. I’m sorry. No,” she said, smiling apologetically.
“Why not?” the boy asked, affronted.
“Because I said so, you git,” she responded, getting angry.
“You haven’t got a reason! Can’t just turn down a man without reason. Not like you have a boyfriend or anything,” he pouted, sounding more and more childish as he spoke.
“I do have a reason: I don’t want to. Besides, maybe I have got a boyfriend,” she said maliciously, her red hair shaking down her back as she angrily crossed her arms.
“Where the hell are you going with this?” you asked, confused. Lily ignored you.
“Oh yeah? Where is he then?” the boy asked, taking a step closer.
He was bold; you’d give him that. Super creepy, but bold.
“He doesn’t have to be with me all the time for me to say no to you,” she fired up. “No means no, you prick.”
Grabbing your hand, she made to walk away, but the boy caught her by the elbow.
“James!” Lily suddenly called out, putting a scared tone in her voice. It was purposeful, you knew. She loved to tease James, always giving enough lead to get him on it, but neverquiteenough.
Not even a second later, you saw James’ messy-topped head poke out of the compartment down the hall. At the sight of her and a male in such close quarters, he reached you in seconds. James’ eyes locked on the Raveclaw’s grip on her arm, and upon notice, the boy dropped her like she was poison.
“Oi!” he called, a dark look coming over his face. At the sound of his friend, Sirius’ curls came poking out a second later. A grin came over his face as he saw the determination in James’ step, and he followed, jogging to catch up. At the sight of James and Sirius approaching, the boy took a slight but noticeable step back.
“Oh, not so tough now, are we?” Lily snapped, walking to meet James. “He couldn’t take no for an answer. I told him I had a boyfriend, but…”
“Boyfriend?” James repeated, torn from his anger. The rolling waves that were just leaking from his essence turned to bright swirls, and you shook your head as you watched him look at her.
“Oh, shame on you, Lily. You know how he feels about you,” you pushed defensively; It was one thing to tease James, but the excitement rolling off of him was tangible. The cloud that would come when she shut him down once more would likely bring you down as well. That was one of the downsides of being psychic; others’ moods were genuinely infectious, for better or for worse.
“Oi, got a problem keeping your hands to yourself?” Sirius said, taking charge of the situation as his friend stared in shock at the redhead in front of him.
“Well, I didn’t think she was serious. Didn’t mean to hit on your girl, Potter.” the boy said, backing into the wall.
“Well, that’s not the point, is it?” James said, suddenly coming to his senses. Pulling Lily behind him protectively, you noticed how she gripped the top of his arm and rolled your eyes.
“Really laying it on thick, aren’t we?” you pushed, annoyed at her toying with James. She met your eyes with an identical glance, but she wasn’t the only irritated one here; you returned it.
“If she said no, she means no, you prick,” James said, advancing towards the boy.
Sirius took a step closer, smiling maliciously at the boy in front of him, and sensing danger, you too grabbed his arm like Lily had James’.
“Alright, come on, boys. I think he gets it,” you said, pulling Sirius back. You could feel the Quidditch games with James in his biceps.
“No, I think he could use a refresher,” Sirius said, taking another step forward but allowing your grip on his arm.
“Precisely what I was thinking, Padfoot,” James smiled at Sirius. Just before you physically stepped in between them, another voice sounded.
“Problem, boys?” Remus said, appearing behind you, stalling their advance.
“Yeah, Boot here never learned to keep his hands to himself,” Sirius said, backing from the boy considerably.
“Lily called, and I walked up to find him bodily restraining her,” James said, gesturing to the redhead behind him.
“Is that true?” Remus turned to the Ravenclaw.
“Bodily restraining?” the boy repeated, incredulous, “I just grabbed her arm!”
“So you were gripping her body, in a manner meant to restrain her?” Remus said, lowering his eyes. You found yourself staring; Remus’ anger was so seldom seen. The boy blushed with anger, but turned and left the group of you nonetheless.
“Come on, we’ve arrived,” Remus said, gesturing for the group of you to follow him and Peter.
Knowing a particularly interesting conversation was about to unfold, you let James and Lily go first, holding Sirius back,
“Hang on, trust me,” you pushed, smiling at him as he looked at you confusedly. He grinned back, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.
“What was that about?” James asked quietly. “You could’ve handled that. Hell, just last year, I watched you hex that 7th year Slytherin.”
“Dunno, though you might have liked to. Guess I was mistaken,” she shrugged, an airy tone in her voice.
“No!” James said hastily, “No, no. Of course, I’d like to–you just threaten to hex me as well every time I’ve tried.”
“Well, perhaps I was a bit hasty with you all these years,” she lilted ambiguously. Ahead, you saw Remus’ pace slow, and you knew he too was listening.
“What’s that mean?” James said, louder than he meant to. Excitement was beginning to leak out of him; you could feel it in the air around him; it was lighting color spots all over the compartment, like big, colored bubbles visible only to you.
Lily merely shrugged nonchalantly and smiled at him slightly.
“And don’t think I missed that part where you called me your boyfriend,” James continued on, determined to get her to reply.
“Yes, well, if you’re just going to continue telling people we’re together anyway, we might as well be, yeah?” Lily said, a small smile on her lips.
Practically dripping with emotion, James came to a complete stop. Being too wrapped up in the feelings exuding from James, you ran straight into him and nearly fell, Sirius catching you just in time as he was behind you.
“Oi, Prongs, the hell?” Sirius said, looking properly shocked, as though you hadn’tbeen listening in.
“Lily’s just called me her boyfriend,” James said, looking at Sirius with an expression of pure elation.
“Cheers, mate! That’s great, just when I was starting to think it’d never happen,” Sirius smiled, wrapping an arm around his friend.
“I’ve just agreed to date him after nearly 6 years of begging, and yet he embraces Sirius first,” Lily said, shaking her head at the boys before her.
“Sorry, Lils. I’mnumber one in James’ life,” Sirius said haughtily, releasing James but keeping a protective arm around his shoulders. James rolled his eyes, but grinned at Sirius.
“I can see that,” Lily laughed, rolling her eyes as well.
“Lovely as this is, mates, we’re stopping up the hall,” you said, turning around to glare at a Slytherin as she bumped into you.
Grabbing James’ hand, Lily pulled him away from Sirius, their robes billowing in their haste.
“You nosy girl,” Sirius teased, poking your side as you two made your way to the platform.
“Oi! Remus was listening too,” you defended, though you laughed.
As you neared the exit, the sound of pounding rain wafted through the doorway, the smell of warm, wet pavement following soon after.
“Why is it always bloody raining?” you grumbled, pulling the hood of your cloak over your Y/C/H hair.
“Fucks up my hair every year,” Sirius groaned, equally upset.
“Pads! Twitch! Come on!” James called, waving you all ahead.
The carriage carrying the four of them began moving, and you and Sirius held your breath, running into the rain, jogging to catch up. James held the door open for the two of you and grinned as Sirius grabbed his outstretched hand, pulling him into the carriage.
“Faster, Twitch!” Sirius yelled, a wide grin on his face as he held his hand out to you. Finally, your fingers wrapped around his hand and James grabbed your other, pulling you into the dry carriage.
“Gross,” you muttered, using your sleeve to dry your face.
“I thought you liked the rain?” Remus asked, looking teasing.
“I do,” you answered shortly. “Doesn’t mean I want to be out in it when it’s pouring bloody cats and owls.”
“Oh, I’m starving,” Peter whined, looking hopefully up at the castle, largely ignoring the conversation.
“How? You about bought out the trolley,” Sirius laughed, swaying slightly with the carriage. Peter turned to scowl at Sirius, who playfully grinned back.
“I bet Moony here is looking forward to dinner as well,” he then turned his attention towards Remus, nudging his knee.
“And why’s that?” Lily asked from her seat next to James.
“That pretty Ravenclaw he fancies always sits right behind him at meals,” Sirius smiled, jeering at a blood-red Remus.
“Oh, piss off,” he mumbled. Sirius let out a barking laugh and leaned forward.
“Oi, Moony, I’m just fucking with you, relax,” Sirius said. Your favorite goofy grin lit up his dark features, and you couldn’t look away. As you made your way up the hill to Hogwarts, the moonlight lit at his bone structure, highlighting his carved features. His dark hair was tucked behind his ear on the side closest to you, putting his cutting jawline on full display.
Suddenly, you felt a nudge against your foot and tore your eyes away from Sirius to find a smirking Lily. Blushing furiously as she’d caught you, you tilted your neck down and hid your face behind your hair.
“Finally,” Peter squeaked after a few minutes of idle chatter, hopping from his seat. The group of you followed, and you smiled up at the towering castle in front of you; you were home.
Pairings: Draco Malfoy x reader, Slytherin!reader x Draco Malfoy Word Count: 2,076 Warnings: fluff, none
“Now,really, Mr. Malfoy, I am morethan capable of handling this,” you heard the voice of Madam Pomfrey scoff in an offended tone.
“Thenwhy isn’t she awake yet?” Draco hissed. Your brain was swimming in fog, you could hear everything around you, but your eyelids were just so heavy.
“I’ve told you, there’s no telling how long someone will remain unconscious once they’ve passed out,” Madam Pomfrey sighed, and the clinking of tools and swishing of liquid could be heard.
“That’s rubbish!” Draco all but shouted.
“Draco,” Snape’s drawling voice sounded, warning him to hush. “I think what my eager young student means is, surely there’s some way of knowing?”
“Well judging by how her eyes are flitting under her lids I’d say she could wake up at any point,” she answered. You felt your face grow slightly warm, but you struggled to successfully pry open your lids.
“Y/N?” a cold hand found yours atop the sheet and the movement seemed to jolt your body awake. Opening your eyes, you blinked a few times before finding Draco leaning towards you, his face scrunched with worry. Snape stood above him, several paces back, looking indifferent about it all.
“Draco?” you croaked, your throat thick with sleep still.
“Hey! You’re alright!” he said, visibly relaxing as you grinned sleepily at him.
“Course I am. I’ve done worse,” you shrugged, looking down at your wrapped hand.
“Well, that’s reassuring,” Snape muttered under his breath. “I suppose since she’s awake I’m no longer necessary?”
“No, Severus, you’re no longer necessary,” Madam Pomfrey said icily.
“Excellent,” Snape sneered. “Draco, mind her.”
“Of course, sir,” Draco said quickly. And with a swish of his cloak, Snape was gone.
“Complete sodding tosser,” Draco hissed, tightening his grip on your hand subconsciously. Looking away, not wanting to read too much into his presence, you noticed the sun was well behind the mountains in the distance, casting the room in shadow.
“What time is it?” you asked.
“Er, dunno. After dinner I’d guess, it got quite loud just a bit ago but it’s died down now,” Draco said, gesturing behind him to the hall.
“What happened?” you asked; you had a general idea, of course–it wasn’t your head you injured, but everything after you blacked out was blank.
“You don’t remember?” Draco said, his face taking on the anxious, pinched look again. “Does your head feel alright? I thought I caught you before you fell but maybe you hit the desk on the way down.”
Seeing Draco anxiously fret was a completely foreign sight. His eyebrows furrowed and raised slightly, his lips pursed, his hands flying to your exposed skin, feeling for a nonexistent fever.
“You what?” you gasped. Just when the situation couldn’t get any more embarrassing, now you found you collapsed inhis arms? What was this a bloody novel?
“Well, you asked if I was mad at you–all I was asking is if you were alright; your eyes couldn’t focus and you kept swaying slightly. And then your eyes slid shut and you went limp, sliding off the stool seat. I dove forward and caught you just before your head smacked the floor, but you were completely out. Really scared a few people, I think Jal nearly fainted as well. Anyway, Snape was going to take you himself, but I insisted. I don’t bloody trust him with you, I mean, it was all he could do to wait until you were awake to leave. And now here we are,” he explained.
“Oh, Godric, Jal is probably freakingout,” you sighed, leaning back.
Just as your head hit the pillow, the door swung open and you both turned to see Blaise striding towards you, his hands in his pockets.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Draco asked. Though his tone was annoyed, his face softened slightly as Blaise approached.
“Alright, then?” he asked you in his deep voice, largely ignoring Draco’s outburst.
“Suppose so,” you shrugged. “Jal sent you, then?”
“Yeah, she can be very,” he paused, a small smile pulling at his dark features, “persuasive.”
“I was going to say completely fucking mad, but that works too,” you laughed. The smile set into his face at that and you smiled smugly to yourself; getting Blaise to change facial expressions alone was a feat, let alone a full smile.
“She wanted to come,” he started, pulling a hand from his pocket to gesture backwards.
“Yeah, she doesn’t do blood; I know,” you sighed, laughing slightly, remembering her woozy disposition when she leaked once on her period.
“Nearly passed out herself when you lifted your hand,” he remembered.
“It was pretty gnarly looking,” you allowed, casting a look down at your hand.
“Alright now though?” Blaise asked, leaning sideways to look at your hand himself.
“Mostly. It’s wrapped in, what the hell is this?” you asked, gesturing down to the light pink wrappings.
“Dittany petals,” Draco answered.
“Ah, you’ll be fine, then,” Blaise said, standing straight again. “Oh, hang on.”
Fishing in his pocket, Blaise pulled two, covered, tiny objects out and pulled his wand. “Engorgio,” he spoke. The objects enlarged and a second later he held two full size, teetering, plates. Draco reached out and grabbed one, laying it across your lap before grabbing the other for himself. Opening the lid, you found a plate of fish and chips–your favorite.
“Oi! Cheers, mate!” you smiled, popping a delicious chip into your mouth.
“Jal sent me with them,” he shrugged. “I should get on, then. She’s probably sitting right next to the door waiting for me.”
“Probably,” you giggled.
“I’ll see you later?” he asked, turning to address Draco for the first time.
“Yeah, I’ll be down in a few,” he answered, uncovering a plate of meat and potatoes. At Draco’s response, Blaise turned and strode out of the wing.
“Stiff git,” you laughed, watching the way Blaise’s movements stayed tightly controlled, clenched, almost.
“You have no idea,” Draco muttered, forking a bite into his mouth.
“You don’t have to stay with me, I know you’d probably rather be in the common rooms entertaining your goons,” you said, giving him an out.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” he answered simply, taking another bite. The heat crept up into your face without hesitation now and you smiled to yourself. The next few minutes were quiet, but comfortable. The clinking and scraping of your utensils filled the otherwise silent wing, along with Pomfrey’s shuffling in her office. After you were finished eating, Draco took your plate and stacked it with his, laying it on the table next to you.
“How are you feeling, love?” Madam Pomfrey spoke suddenly, startling you.
“Alright, bit stiff,” you answered, wincing as you tried to flex your fingers.
“Yes, that was a particularly nasty gouge. Always happens, though it’s usually the first years who end up cutting themselves,” she said, both comforting and embarrassing you. “Haven’t had it to the bone in years, though.”
“Happy to oblige,” you smiled tightly as she peeled back the petals to check on your hand.
“Almost there dear. Since it’s already so late, I’m going to keep you overnight. By morning it should be healed and ready to go,” she said, rising and whisking around your bed. “Best be getting back to your dorms, Mr. Malfoy.”
“I’m staying,” the words were a fact; not a request, not a demand, but a declaration.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Malfoy, I assure you I’m more than–”
“Professor Snape asked me to stay with her; I’m sure my father would agree with Professor Snape. Unless you’d like to ask them?” he all but sneered, angry she was trying to boot him.
“Draco, it’s–” you cut yourself off at the intense look in his eye as he shot his glare to you.
“This is really most inappropriate! A boy staying with a girl in an empty wing!” she bristled, annoyed at the situation. She met Draco’s eyes and they locked in a stalemate for a few tense moments. “Fine. But I’ll be right on the other side of that door.”
“I should bloody well hope so,” Draco snapped, causing her to huff offendedly and whisk off to her office, shutting it harder than necessary.
“You have a talent for pissing people off,” you remarked, trying to ease the tension that lingered in the air.
“Yields results though,” he sighed, rubbing his face.
“Are you alright?” you asked.
“AmI alright? I’m fine,” he laughed mirthlessly. You looked at him intently, but he seemed to be solid in his resolve, and being the private person Draco was, you dropped it. “You should get some sleep.”
“I should get some sleep? Youshould get some sleep–I’ve just spent the last 5 hours unconscious,” you laughed. Despite yourself, a yawn slipped past your lips. “Alright, I suppose I am a bit tired.”
“Get some sleep. I’ll be here,” he said, leaning back in his seat.
“You need sleep too. You should go back to your dorm. Seriously, Draco, I’ll be fine,” you tried to convince him but he crossed his arms and settled in.
“Get some sleep,” he repeated, this time an edge to his voice.
“Fine,” you pouted, turning over on your side and pulling up your covers. Within seconds, the black behind your eyes became richer and your head spun slightly as you began to fall asleep. “You’re adorable when you pout,” you thought you heard Draco whisper. Did ‘adorable’ even exist in his vocabulary? And without another thought, the black pulled you under once more.
“Y/N? Are you awake?” you heard Draco speak softly. You knew you should answer, but the curiosity was too much. There was no light in front of your lids, no birds chirping softly, even the shufflings of Madam Pomfrey were nonexistent. You guessed it was deep in the night.
“Talking to a sleeping girl in the middle of the hospital wing,” Draco sighed, and you could practically see him push back his hair, running a pale hand through his blonde locks. “Who the hell have I become?”
“Look at what you’ve done to me.” His voice was softer now, and you felt the weight of his hand fall on your leg. “Turned me into an anxious, quivering mess. Probably looked like something out of a horror movie, carrying your lifeless body through the halls, leaving a trail of blood in our wake. Scared the fucking hell out of me. Good Godric. You can’t do that to me. You can’t,”
He paused, words seemed to fail him and you strained to hear his quiet words.
“I dunno how, but you’ve wormed your way in. And now you live there, all day, everyday. Sometimes I don’t know if it’s better or worse that we’re in the same house. Can hardly pay attention in class when you’re right there to look at. Watching you laugh with Jal, the way your Y/E/C eyes light up when you know the answer, the little pout on your lips as we head down into the dungeons for Potions, the way the fire in the common rooms reflects off your Y/H/C hair. But then, if you weren’t there for me to watch I’d wonder about you all day. Might even sneak around to find you. Is that weird? Probably, just a bit stalkerish. Suppose no weirder than talking to an unconscious girl in a hospital wing.” He sighed then once more. “What would someone as good as you want with me?”
The way he spoke made it clear how he thought of himself, and it made your chest hurt. You thought he might say more, but after a few minutes it seemed as though he was done. The weight of his hand left your bed and a moment later a slight creaking could be heard. Once you felt it was safe enough to do so, you peeked through an eye and saw him lying in a cot Madam Pomfrey must’ve drawn up.
With his eyes closed, relaxed, with the covers drawn to his chin he looked much younger. The darkness usually shadowing his features was gone, the nearly constant annoyed crease in his brow was smooth, his lips puckered slightly as he settled into a deep sleep.
Smiling softly to yourself, amazed at the fact you had Draco Malfoy sleeping in a cot by your bedside, you let your lids slide closed again.
Pairings:Sirius Black x reader, Young Sirius Black x reader, Marauders x reader Warnings:language, fighting, very very slight hints of smutish behavior Word Count: 2,721 A/N: The next story I will be uploading a part for is ‘A Shit Tutor’, so all my fellow Draco stans, fear not, more is on the way. Anywayyyy hope you all enjoy this chapter, enter Lilyyyy!
Ch 3: Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff
Just then, a group of Hufflepuff girls came walking down the aisle, and after having made eye contact with a smirking Sirius, all started giggling and whispering intensely, shooting off random bright smiles as they passed. Peter smiled at one in the back hopefully as they slowed, and to your intense surprise, she smiled back timidly.
“Emmaline Nelson, Hufflepuff obviously, she’s in our year. I believe we have Transfiguration together this year if you fancy talking to her,” you pushed to Peter, who blushed something awful and stared at his feet.
“Aaaand, here we go,” James sighed playfully as Sirius beckoned one forward with his finger. She and her friends had evidently been pondering entering and stood in wait at the door. They all watched with jealous eyes as she approached him.
“Hello, love,” Sirius said, donning the silk voice he always did when talking to girls. A bitterness seemed to fill you entirely.
“Hi,” she giggled, going red in the face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Something you needed?” Sirius asked, grinning cockily at her.
“Uh,” she stuttered, giggling more.
“I might be sick,” you rolled your eyes as you looked at James, who made a gesture of agreement.
“Not really. Just, I mean, if you ever like, want a study partner or something, or whatever,” she seemed to be losing her nerve as Sirius continued to rake his eyes over her. “You can just let me know, ya know if you want.”
Leaning back, feeling suddenly intensely annoyed and wanting to look anywhere but at the two of them, you got out Jinx and began stroking him as he perched on your knee.
“Pretty bird,” the girl breathed, smiling at Jinx. You pulled a face in response, but hers told you it came off ruder than you intended.
“To study?” Sirius smirked, looking at her accusingly.
“Yeah, or whatever,” the girl smiled, grasping the ends of her hair nervously. It was simply more than you could take.
“Happy as I am the two of you are going to, er, study, perhaps spare us from the rest, yeah?” you quipped as Sirius smirked and opened his mouth to silkily retort.
Everyone’s eyes fell upon you, and you curtained your hair over your face, returning to stroking Jinx.
What the hell was that? Girls flirted with Sirius all the time; there was never a moment you didn’t catch at least one set of eyes on him. Sirius was hot, cocky, sexy, arrogant–but with the talent to back it up. And top it all off with a gorgeous set of dark curls framing a shadowed, structured face with high cheekbones and dark eyes. It wasn’t hard to see why he encaptured the attention of so many.
Face burning, you realized you found him hot too. Incredibly so.
The girl then looked at you, affronted, but turned nonetheless and stormed from the compartment.
“The bloody hell was that, Twitch?” Sirius said in an offended tone, gesturing to the storming Huffelpuffs shooting you dirty looks.
“Nothing, I don’t know,” you said quickly, tearing your eyes from the group of them. All four boys were peering at you confusedly, and you stood up sharply, causing Jinx to fall from your lap. Hissing in pain, you looked down to see three claw marks on your knee as he was shocked by the abrupt change. He hooted sharply at you and went back into his cage, turning away from you. “I uh, have to go to the bathroom.”
Face and knee burning, you walked with your head down to the bathrooms, mind reeling the whole time.
Sirius was no stranger to being flirted with, regardless of present company–hell, last year, he’d taken to snogging several on the couches in the common room as the younger years trailed off to bed. You remembered feeling annoyed when he did so, but that was logical, right? Who the hell wanted to watch that? Especially week after week with girl after girl. Perhaps you were just being prudish; sure, all the experience you had involved Alekand Nole, a dare, and a broom closet, but surely it was abnormal to blow through girls like that? Or do those kinds of things in front of prying eyes, right?
Pushing open the bathroom door, you groaned internally as you saw the same girl whispering angrily with her friends. Their looks turned murderous as you walked in.
Great. Well, too late now.
Trying to be quick about things, you almost made it out without a scene, but just after washing your hands, you were stopped.
“Oi, what the hell is your problem, Y/N?” the girl asked, her blonde hair shaking as she rolled her neck angrily.
“Excuse me?” you said, turning around to face them, temper already flaring.
“You heard me. What do you care what I do with Sirius, not like he’s your boyfriend or anything.” her friend giggled ruthlessly as she sneered, “Tell me, how is it that you’re best friends with the bloody Marauders, the hottest guys in our year and you can’t get even oneof them to snog you?” she said, laughing haughtily as her friends howled. Your blood boiled as their biting laughter filled the little room. “Not even that trail along. What’s his name, Peter?”
At the jab of both you and your friend, you snapped.
“See,you, unlike me, are a whoring slag who can’t wait to be the latest notch in his belt. AndI, unlike you, have self-respect, love. It’s quite simple,” you all but growled, turning to walk out of the room. You heard the outraged noises and almost made it back to the compartment when you felt a harsh tug on your hair.
“The bloody hell?” you yelled, jerking backward as she pulled, pain rippling from your scalp.
“I am notawhoring slag, you bitch!” she screeched, lifting her arm up to strike you. Seizing your chance, you bent and rammed your shoulder into her stomach, knocking her wind out and sending her flying onto her back.
After years of having an older Muggle, boy cousin who tormented you for sport, you learned how to take care of yourself.
“Y/N?” you heard Sirius’ voice sound out suddenly. In the midst of it all, the girl had gotten an iron grip on your hair and was now using her legs to kick angrily at you from the floor as her hands held you in place by your hair.
“Let go of my hair, you cheating whore!” you screeched, trying futilely to pry her deadlocked fingers from your hair.
Footsteps sounded down the compartment hallway, followed by various annoyed noises as they were pushed against the sides, Sirius barrelling down the hall to reach your voice.
“What the hell?” he questioned. “Let her alone!!”
For a wild moment, you thought he was telling you to leave her alone, but a second later, you felt a pulling sensation around your midriff. Yelling out, you reminded him of her grip on your hair, and he yelled out an apology and dropped you, warning James as he came skidding to a halt seconds later.
“What in the bloody–” Remus cut off, seeing the girl kicking at you like a monkey from her back.
“Little help whenever would be great, boys!” you called, scratching at her arms and wrists to loosen her grip on your hair. “Only bitches pull hair!”
“Stupefy!” someone called, and suddenly you were airborne. As you flew back, you noticed several strands of your Y/C/H hair had come loose in the girl’s fists.
You hit the ground with a thud and gasped as you fought to force air back into your stunned lungs.
What happened next was utter chaos.
Spells went flying from behind you at all angles as each of the boys shot a different hex at the wand that’d sent you flying. Various crowd members who had poked out to figure out what all the noise was about began screaming and jetting off in different directions in the cramped hallway space, trying to dodge the bouncing hexes. Spells then started flying towards the boys in retaliation, and finally regaining your breath, you got to your feet and pulled your wand to help.
“What in the hell is going on here?” you heard the voice of Lily Evans enter the scene, and James immediately straightened and fluffed his hair before she came into view. Finally, she broke the crowd and turned, glowering at the group of you.
“Should’ve known you gits were involved, honestly Remus, you’re a Prefect!” she hissed, scolding the boys, who all began to interject.
“Y/N? What’s happened?” Lily asked, walking concernedly over to you as you sopped the flow of blood free-streaming from your nose. Seemed the twit managed to get one good hit in.
“Thatslag attacked me; evidently, somebody’s a little sensitive,” you sneered, lowering your eyes at the girl in front of you who was now sporting an ever-growing nose as small antlers were making their way out of her head. Looking down, you saw her hands twitching violently and smiled at the boys in front of you.
“Is that true?” Lily turned to the girl, who was bright red with embarrassment and fury.
“I wouldn’t have had to if the stupid bitchhadn’t poked her nose where it doesn’t belong!” she screeched, pointing her finger at you accusingly.
“Well, it looks like you’re about to do the same, Pinnochio,” you jeered, causing her to pounce once more, this time being dragged back by the male Hufflepuff Prefect.
“Alright everyone, show’s over! Back to your compartments before I hex the lot of you nosy sods!” Lily yelled at the onlookers, causing all to duck back into their compartments, shutting the doors tightly behind them.
“Excellent handling of the situation, might I say, Ms. Evans,” James simpered, already kissing Lily’s arse.
“Potter, you are downright shameless,” she said, lowering her bright green eyes at James as he grinned back boyishly, “And you, Remus, been shirking on responsibilities again, have we? I’ve just finished situating the first-years when I hear what sounds like a fightat the Gryffindor end of the train! Honestly, theleastyou could do is control yourlittle friends if you’re going to leave the rest to me, yeah?”
“Right. Sorry Lily, most rude of me…” Remus nodded solemnly, feeling as though he wholeheartedly deserved her reaming. Lily seemed to soften slightly under Remus’ guilt, and she breathed out, relaxing her shoulders and unclenching her fists.
“Well, I dunno about everyone else, but I’m starved,” you said, pulling your sleeve back to see the bleeding had finally ceased.
“Come here, Twitch,” Remus beckoned, pulling out his wand once more, “Tergio.”
You felt the funny sucking feeling of all the blood leaving your face, and you wiped a spot to find your fingers clean.
“Cheers, Moony!” you smiled as he blushed slightly and grinned back.
“I could’ve done that,” Sirius said, sounding oddly annoyed, “Come on then, here comes the trolley.”
Sure enough, you heard the comforting voice of the old woman with the Honeydukes trolley wafting down the hallway as she made her way down the train.
“Care to join us?” James asked Lily hopefully, gesturing forward with his arm. Not bearing to see your friend’s crestfallen face when she likely refused as always, you intervened.
“I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior,” you pushed, looking at her meaningfully. “C’mon, Lils, he’s really not thatbad…”
And to your intense surprise, she caved.
“Alright,” she sighed, stepping into the cabin. You didn’t need to be part psychic to feel the excitement rolling off of James as she stepped by him, sinking into the seat next to his.
“Didn’t even know Hufflepuff’s fought,” Remus sighed, collapsing into his seat.
“Haven’t even made it off the train, and little Twitchy is already getting in duels,” Sirius jeered, knocking your knee with his hand. A rush of heat flooded you, and you blushed, hoping the others would take it as embarrassment about the fight.
“Well, if you’d stop entertaining rubbish like that, I wouldn’t have to,” you quipped, glaring at Sirius before offering him a small smile. Peter giggled at your comment and kept checking the window every few seconds, anxiously awaiting the trolley.
“Oh, believe me, I’ve learned my lesson,” Sirius said, looking at you rather intently. Before you could blush again or give yourself away some other way, Lily spoke.
“Oh, I see. So I tell you off about those girls of yours for years, and you can’t get it through that thick skull of yours, but Y/N gets in one little row…” Lily shook her head, leaning back before she could get her temper going again.
“Amazing, isn’t she?” James said quietly, his voice in awe as he gazed, mesmerized at Lily–who blushed pink at his comment.
“Oi, Prongs, mate. We can all hear you,” Sirius laughed, whispering playfully at his friend. Everyone’s laughter was interrupted at the arrival of snacks.
“Anything from the trolley, dears?” the old woman smiled sweetly at the group of you.
After spending most of her time there dolling out Peter’s numerous sweets, each of you had your treats, and she was off to the next compartment.
“Coconut ice and cauldron cakes?” Lily laughed as you happily sucked on a coconut cube. As you sheepishly looked around, you caught Sirius watching you, his eyes seeming darker than usual, somehow.
“What? They’re my favorite!” you defended, loving the way the sweet spread across your palette. After months of your grandmother’s unimaginative cooking, this was heaven–it had to be.
“Oooh, can I have a chocolate frog?” you asked, seeing Sirius’ stack on his lap.
“Help yourself, Twitch,” he shrugged, opening one of his own. “Alberic Grunnion?”
“Oh, you boys best stand up and salute!” Lily laughed as Sirius read out the name. The boys merely shared confused looks.
“The maker of the dungbomb!” you explained, to which they all erupted into a chorus of ‘oh’s’ playfully gave a salute to the card in Sirius’ hand.
As you leaned in to grab a chocolate frog, you caught a whiff of the new fragrance potion he must’ve been trying out. He smelled of pine, smoke, and something sweet you couldn’t quite name. As you were distracted, your hand brushed across the seam in his jeans, and the both of you met eyes, you blushing a furious shade of red.
“New potion?” you pushed after a second, unable to bear the awkward silence between the two of you. He nodded imperceptibly and smirked slightly.
“Very nice.” you complimented. He shot you a small smile, and James turned to Lily.
“Have a good Holiday, then?” he asked her, looking hopeful.
“‘Was alright, try as Petunia might to make it hell. I wish Muggle schools and Hogwarts had opposite schedules,” she sighed, drawing one of her long legs up onto the seat.
“My god, could you imagine? Virtually never even having to see Blakely anymore?” you said, painting a dramatic look of longing on your face.
Everyone laughed, Peter actually choking on the three cauldron cakes he’d stuffed into his mouth.
“Apapneo,” Lily said, pulling her wand. Peter coughed once and looked up at Lily.
“Thank you,” he wheezed, smiling as he dabbed at his now watery eyes, bits of chocolate spilling from his mouth.
“Uhm, Lily Evans? Y/N Y/L/N?” a small girl in blue-lined robes asked, looking wide-eyed at the boys around you.
“That’ll be Slughorn, then?” Lily said, rising from her seat.
The girl nodded and ducked off, running back to the Ravenclaw section of the train.
“What’s he want with you?” James asked bluntly, looking put-off that she was leaving.
“Charming, Potter. He happens to like me. And Y/N, evidently.” Lily said, smiling at you. “Let me just get my robes,”
Using her wand, she sent her robes flying from her trunk, and you dug yours out.
“Have fun, girls,” Sirius said as the two of you made to leave the compartment.
“See you there, boys,” Lily sang back.
“Save us a carriage seat,” you said, turning back to shoot a wink at Sirius. His face looked funny for a minute, but he recovered quickly and shot one back.
Pairings:Sirius Black x reader, Marauders x reader Warnings:none, slight language (but that’s for every chapter rlly) Word Count: 3,108
As if on cue, you heard a knock at the door just as your foot touched down onto the landing. The sound of quick, heeled footsteps sounded immediately after; Grandmother briskly coming down the hall followed by the slower steps of Blakely as he surely wanted to gaze curiously at your friends.
“Prongs!” you breathed upon seeing James, smiling fondly at the messy mop of black hair atop your friend’s head.
“Twitchy!” he smiled back, opening his arms in greeting. You wasted no time in falling into them, smiling into his chest as his hug signaled the true return to Hogwarts.
“Mrs. Killianis,” James said, suddenly formal as he looked to your severe grandmother behind you. Following his gaze, you saw her eyes narrowing as Sirius and Remus all but fell out of the car, Peter’s wheezing laughter following them out.
You smiled fondly after them as Remus brushed the dirt from his knees, frowning up at Sirius. Sirius grinned back and ran a hair through his raven black hair, brushing it from his eyes.
“Hello, Mrs. Killianis,” Sirius said, his voice taking on a tone you’d never heard before. You and James glanced warily at each other.
“Hello, boys,” she said stiffly, her eyes now staring rudely at the scars littering Remus’ exposed skin.
Remus cleared his throat, clearly catching your grandmother’s eyes. “Shall we get your trunk then?” he said, clapping his hands together as he smiled at you.
You offered him a sympathetic smile and pushed an apology into his head at your grandmother’s rudeness.
“That’d be great, Moony, thanks.” you nodded. Peter followed him up into your room dutifully. After a moment or two, you heard what sounded like a reprimanding noise followed by a sharp smack and idly wondered what was going on.
“I suppose you’ll be staying at the school for the Holidays again, yes? Blakely and I were planning a trip,” Grandmother said suddenly–it didn’t take a genius to figure out you weren’t invited.
“Definitely,” you answered briskly. The choice between a Hogwarts Christmas with the boys and a visit to Grandmother’s sister’s house in the States with Blakely was a no-brainer.
“Lovely thing Hogwarts does, providing a home for the holidays,” James grinned, putting an emphasis on ‘home.’ Grandmother lowered her eyes, but Remus and Peter were already coming down the stairs, hauling your heavy trunk between them.
“Bloody hell, Twitch,” Remus huffed, blowing his thin brown hair out of his eyes, “What’d you pack?”
“Mind your tongue, boy,” Grandmother snipped as the two of them passed through the front door. “You won’t behave like the heathensthat you are in my presence.”
“Er,right,” Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes and laughing under his breath. “C’mon, Twitch, don’t want to be late.”
Eager to leave the situation, you quickly followed the boys out and made your way into the baking heat. Just as they made to load your trunk, you clucked your tongue as Peter fumbled his end and dropped it roughly into the undoubtedly magically enhanced trunk.
“Sorry,” Peter winced, rubbing his hands together in an anxious sort of way.
“S’Alright Wormtail. Now, shall we get a move on, then?” James said, using his wand to swing open the car door for you. You heard your grandmother let out a small gasp, and Blakely took a step back. As most parents took the time to drop their children off at Platform 9 ¾, the journey there was generally a sort of grace period if you wanted to use magic; the Ministry wouldn’t take the time to differentiate each use of magic on this day between parents and students. Per wizarding law, they’d never seen magic as you didn’t use it during your time here–aside from your special gift.
“Please,” you said, turning to leave without glancing back.
“You aren’t going to say goodbye?” you heard Remus ask. You turned to answer him before you slipped into the car, but he wasn’t talking to you.
“Excuse me?” Grandmother said, clearly affronted he was saying anything more than ‘hi’ and ‘bye.’
“Honestly, Moony, just let it alone,” Sirius moaned as he made his way back out of the car to gather him.
“You aren’t going to see your granddaughter for 9 months, surely you’re going to at least say goodbye?” Remus pressed on, equally affronted. Sirius took a step closer to his friend, and you saw your grandmother’s eyes fall upon the several tattoos that already littered his arms; Sirius lived to upset his family, and tattoos were such a Muggle form of rebellion it only bolstered his point.
Her eyes then fell to the both of their wands, which were gripped tightly in their hands, and let out a breath she’d been holding. Lowering her eyes but acquiescing nonetheless, she sighed.
“Goodbye, then,” she said stiffly, nudging Blakely, who was locking eyes with a mischievous looking Sirius. Glancing behind Blakely’s head, you saw a dish hovering dangerously above his head and looked to see Sirius’ wand pointed right at it. Rolling your eyes, you pushed the dish back with your own and threw a knowing grin at Sirius.
“Naughty, naughty boy,” you said silently. He grinned back boyishly at you and threw you a wink.
“See you next summer,” Blakely allowed, lowering his eyes at you and grinning in an awful sort of way. You could’ve sworn you heard a growl on your right and found Remus glaring at Blakely, who swallowed harshly and disappeared back into the house. At that, you slipped into the front seat next to James, the rest of the boys piling into the backseat, Remus scolding Sirius for shoving Peter out of the way to get in first. Fondly, you smiled and listened to them bicker.
“Merlin, glad that’s over.” Remus shook his head as James smoothly pulled away from the house. “Don’t know how you do it all summer.”
“Aw, what’s the matter, Moony? Not a big fan of familial tension, are we? I think it’s rather quite nice; reminds me of home,” Sirius said with a fake voice of longing. James looked through the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes at Sirius.
“Muggles giving you hell again?” Peter squeaked from the backseat, grabbing the head of your seat and leaning up towards you.
He’d always been a mousy boy, but after his first successful transformation, his commonalities with his Animagi only became more pronounced.
“When do they not, Wormtail?” you laughed, throwing a gum wrapper at him playfully as you popped a piece into your mouth.
“Ooh, is that gum?” Sirius asked, peering over your shoulder from the backseat.
“Yes, but it’s Muggle-gum.” you reminded him.
“Bit boring, but it’ll do. Jamesy won’t let me smoke in the car,” Sirius sneered, looking amusedly at an annoyed-looking James in the mirror.
“It smells! Isn’t my fault Dad has the nose of a bloody hound,” he defended, looking disgruntled at the thought of being a do-gooder.
“Good ol’ Fleamont, what a chap,” Sirius laughed, spreading out on the backseat and draping his arm along the seats. He reached and affectionately gave Remus’ hair a tussle, jostling Peter in the process, who grinned.
“So, now that we’ve all been reminded how horrible my lovely grandmother is, how was everybody else’s Holiday?” you asked as James drove the car expertly around the busy London streets–Muggle driving was a skill he was particularly proud of.
“Oh, you know, wonderful as always. Mother only threatened to have me disenfranchised and disgraced twice this year, so that’s a mark better than last Holiday.” Sirius laughed, blowing bubbles with his gum but frowning in disappointment when they popped.
“Didn’t you go to Prongs’ early this year?” you asked, remembering James’ letter that Sirius had arrived a few weeks into break.
“Yeah, don’t know why the evil hag insists on having me around anyway. All she does is dote on Regulus and send the nearest object flying at my head. Don’t even get me started on Kreacher…I don’t think I’ll go back next year.” a dark look came over his features, and you found yourself staring at him.
“What?” you asked, shocked at the nonchalant tone of his serious words.
“Yeah, I didn’t so much go to Prongs’ early this year as I did run away,” he said, looking slightly sheepish as you looked accusingly at him.
“What? What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?” you gasped, turning in the front seat entirely to glare at him.
“Dunno, I mean, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” he shrugged.
“Well, go on then, tell me more,” you insisted.
“Just more of the same Twitch. You don’t understand,” he paused, and his usual carefree, light demeanor vanished and was taken over by a dark cloud that seemed to fill the car. “That house, it’s like a black hole. It swallows you whole. It’s like a bloody residential dementor. Every decent thought you have gets sucked into the black wallpaper, every horrible thought you’ve ever had on repeat, magnified. I can’tbreathe in that house; they’re all so cozy, so comfortable in that dark, that evil. The Noble House of Black, it’s killing me slowly, draining the life out of me.”
He seemed aware of how much he was saying, how serious he’d gotten, because, at the end of the little speech, he let out a deep breath and forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck subconsciously.
“Nothing like Prongs’ here, for example,” he grinned up at his friend, who shot him one from the mirror.
“I mean, you basically already lived there,” James shrugged. “Besides, Mum was thrilled–you know, I think she likes you better than me sometimes.”
“Oh, she definitely does, mate. Euphemia and me? Kinda besties,” Sirius grinned, and the dark cloud dispersed. You found yourself staring at Sirius, chest full of emotion. The quickness with which he dismissed himself was almost worse.
“And, Moony? How was yours?” James asked, filling the silence.
“Decent, I suppose. Though I’ve almost worked my way through every decent book worth reading at the library closest to home, all the rest are the silly little Muggle books in that dingy section they have in the back…though I started reading this one called the ‘Bible’; Merlin does it tell some truly fantastic tales…whales eating people, turning water to wine, healing the blind–this Jesus bloke even rose from the dead! I reckon he was some type of early wizard or something, don’t know how the Muggles don’t…” he trailed off while the rest of you shared knowing glances. Moony was prone to monologues full of on-the-spot thinking, constantly prattling on about something he’d read in some book.
“You’re doing it again,” you shot a meaningful look at Remus, who blushed scarlet at your mental words and trailed off.
“Hey, no fair!“ Sirius whined from the back seat at you. "I wanted to see where he was going with that. There definitely could’ve been something in there well worth making fun of!”
“Opportunity missed, Padfoot.” James hissed in sympathy at his friend, smiling at him in the rearview mirror.
“You all leave Moony alone. Just because he gets abnormally excited about really obscure Muggle things doesn’t mean we get to make fun of him for it,” you shot a smile at Remus in the back seat, who rolled his eyes but nonetheless smiled around sheepishly.
“How was your summer, James?” Peter asked from the backseat, leaning up hopefully.
“Alright, my parents set up a little Quidditch pitch in the back; Sirius got his arse handed to him a couple times,” James smirked, throwing a playful grin at his best friend in the backseat.
Wormtail laughed gleefully at James’ story as he described a match while Sirius sat up indignantly, poised to argue.
“I’m a Keeper, Potter. Not a sodding Seeker. Not too quick to tell everyone how miserable you were at trying to get the Quaffle in, though, are you?” Sirius quipped from the backseat.
“Down, boy. We all know how great of a Keeper you are, wouldn’t have won that last match against Ravenclaw without you..” you pushed into Sirius’ head, stroking his bruised ego. He met your eyes in the rearview and smirked up at you, clearly appeased by your comment. Lounging lazily once more in the roomy backseat, he turned to Peter.
“What about you, Wormtail? Your Holiday good?” Sirius said, cocking his head at his friend with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“S’alright..” he trailed off, looking around nervously as Sirius grinned at him.
“Really? Didn’t miss having Prongs’ arse to kiss?” he sneered at his friend, who blushed and stuttered.
“Let him alone, Pads,” Remus smiled at his friend from across the seats.
Just as the boys began to bicker more harshly, James pulled into the parking lot at Kings Cross, and the group of you piled out of the car.
“Wormtail, go find us a trolley,” Sirius said, and with a wave of his hand, Peter was gone.
“Obedient little bugger, isn’t he?” Remus said praisingly, rubbing his chin.
“Why d’you think he’s made it this long?” Sirius laughed, lifting his trunk out of the car as Peter came wheezing around with the trolley.
“I’ve got it, Y/N,” Peter said, exerting tremendous effort to lift your trunk until Remus saw him and reached in to help.
“Thanks, Peter…always so helpful.” you pushed to him in thanks. You saw him blush violently and smile to himself.
Your gift had taught you many things, but perhaps above all: people were so easily manipulated, one well-timed compliment, and it could send a person fawning. Though you weren’t shy to use it to your advantage, it was lucky a person of your moral stature had the gift. It could be so easily used…perhaps it was thoughts like these that led to the Sorting Hat’s consideration of your placement in Slytherin.
Half an hour later, your trunks were placed in the train’s storage carriages, and the group of you were lounging in a compartment, your various pets making random noises as they settled in for the long train ride.
Jinx hooted sleepily in his cage before lifting his wing and drifting off to sleep. Sirius’ handsome jet-black Screech Owl, BamBam, seemed to take a cue from Jinx and buried his head into his wing as well. They almost resembled salt and pepper shakers as they stood next to one another in direct contrast. To most everyone’s intense surprise, Remus’ pet was a fluffy siamese cat named Cleo. Unsurprising, however, was Peter’s choice of a pet rat named Nibbles. Though, Nibbles was on his last leg–most common rats only lived a couple of years, and Nibbles had been with Peter since first year.
“What’re you doing?” Peter asked, sitting up interestedly in his seat as Sirius drew out his wand and flung open the compartment door.
“Having some fun,” Sirius shrugged, the grin you all loved so much donning his face. James watched his friend and broke into a smile; Peter seemed to be struggling to sit still with excitement; even Remus peered over the top of his book to watch.
Fully aware he was holding all of your attention, Sirius pointed his wand at the wall opposite your door.
“Carpe Retractum,” Sirius said, and a length of rope came spouting out at the end of his wand. “Bollocks…what’s that one to get something to stick to something else?” he asked into the compartment after a moment.
“Epoximise,” Remus answered from behind his book once more, seemingly having seen everything he needed to.
“Right, cheers, Moony,” Sirius smiled and did the incantation, sticking the other end of the rope to the wall. Pulling on his wand, he seemed to test his theory and smiled in success as the rope pulled taught–effectively making a tripwire.
“Very nice,” you complimented, to which you received a playful little bow of his head.“Might I suggest something, though?”
“By all means, Twitch,” Sirius said, gesturing to the tripwire.
“Omnino dissimulare,” you spoke, pointing your wand at the length of rope. As the white beam of light hit it, the rope disappeared from view, and you smiled triumphantly. You’d been working hard on that one towards the end of last term and were worried you’d have to start over with the holiday break.
“Excellent!” Peter cheered, clapping wildly at the two of you.
“Where’d you learn that?” Remus said, finally putting his book down and looking at you curiously.
“Been working on it for a bit. Found it in a book Madam Pince let me take home last Christmas,” you answered, feeling a bit smug that you’d impressed Remus.
“Pince let you take home books?” Remus said, incredulous.
“You know she pities me,” you laughed, waving a hand. “Though, she did threaten to turn me inside out if there was so much a creased page–so only marginally.”
“Wait, wait!” Sirius called, pointing to the door excitedly; Peter was positively quivering.
A group of already-robed Slytherins came strolling past your window, and you smiled in anticipation. At the last second, Sirius jerked his wrist and tightened the rope, sending the group of Slytherins sprawling across the floor.
The group of you exploded into laughter, and they all got to their feet, whipping their wands out, looking for a culprit. Given the rope was invisible, however, they found no such thing and resigned to giving the group of you ugly looks before grumping off.
“Oh, very good, Padfoot,” Peter simpered, laughing heartily as tears of joy rolled down his plump cheeks.
“A little juvenile,” Remus scolded, smiling ruefully at his friends, “But funny. However, as a Prefect, I am not to indulge in such behavior and as such must sincerely reprimand you.”
“Most eloquently spoken, dear Moony. Tell me, does being a Prefect mean you have to be just a bit of a prat on principle?” James asked his friend, painting a serious look on his face as Sirius and Peter erupted into laughter. You let out a small giggle as Remus blushed slightly and put down his book.
“Well, you should sure as hell hope not,” Remus began, smiling mischievously at his friend. “Imagine fawning after Lily Evans for years, at her often utter disgust, only for her to end up being a prat. Talk about unfortunate, mate.”
The group of you were in stitches over Remus’ response, and even James let out a laugh.
“Touche, Moony. Touche,” he laughed, shaking his finger at Remus in a playful manner. A warm feeling spread through you; you were so happy to finally be going home.
summary: reader has secrets of her own. a party at the malfoy manor reveals them.
a/n: i had to rewrite this bc im dumb n my first draft didn’t save which was Very upsetting but anyways i hope you like it :“)
“Well, don’t you look dashing.”
Draco’s eyes snap up in the mirror.
[Y/N] is standing in his doorway, having somehow opened the door without him noticing. She has one shoulder leaning on the doorframe, arms folded over her chest, eyebrows raised. There is a glint in her eye that Draco knows all too well; that of playfulness, of fondness. One he has long since associated with safety.
He breathes out a short laugh. “How long have you been standing there?” Draco asks, ringed fingers deftly resuming to work on his tie, but he isn’t having much success. He feels far too jittery, and as a result he keeps accidentally knotting it, only to unwind the silk and try again, over and over like some messed up routine.
Watching her through the mirror’s reflection, he sees [Y/N] step into the room. She’s wearing a plain black dress; lace sleeves, collarbones in display, the silver necklace he’d given her hanging around her neck.
“Long enough to find out that you’re a grown seventeen year old who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.”
Draco still has it in him to roll his eyes, to let out a short-lived laugh. “I do,” he mutters, yanking a little at the fabric in frustration. “It’s just..”
[Y/N] swiftly pads across his room to join him at the dresser, a tiny grin playing across her lips. Standing in front of him, she gently knocks his hands away so as to work on his tie herself.
“Nerves?” she says quietly. The grin on her lips falls slightly as she fixes her gaze on his tie, hands quickly working to loop the loose ends together.
Draco inhales sharply. His palms are clammy, his heart is beating too fast inside of his chest—to say that he’s dealing with nerves would be an understatement.
”You could say that,” he decides, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides. When she looks up to meet his gaze, he tries for a weak smile, if only to quell the storm inside his heart.
”It’ll be fine,” [Y/N] tells him with a pursed smile. She’s done tying his tie. Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, which are covered with his suit jacket. His mother had insisted he wear it, just as her own mother had no doubt insisted [Y/N] wear her dress; it is somewhat of a special occasion, after all, although what they are celebrating is hardly something that neither draco nor [Y/N] feel too ecstatic about it.
”There’ll be drinks,” continues [Y/N] with a lilting tone, thumbs smoothing over the creases of his suit. “And..”
She trails off. There isn’t really much to say.
”Dancing?” Draco suggests half-heartedly.
There is one brief second in which their eyes meet, and both of their lips are already beginning to quirk up at the corners, and then the next they are both breaking out into laughter. And it’s not the kind that hurts your stomach or has you pounding your fists on the ground, but it’s laughter nonetheless—a little rigid, a little heavy-hearted, but it’s just as relieving.
[Y/N]’s shoulders wrack with subtle giggles. “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding. “And I suspect Greyback will be giving a motivational speech.”
Draco feels his lips tug up into a crooked grin. “Hear my aunt might skip out on the party. She’s got knitting to do, you see.”
Both of them let themselves paint a picture inside their head: the infamous, untamed Bellatrix, sitting in a quiet corner with a quilt in her lap, humming a little tune to herself.
[Y/N] throws her head back in a loud laugh, and this time it’s not quite as tense. Draco watches her, laughing quietly on his own, and suddenly his heart doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.
He watches as the last of her giggles dissipate, and she is smiling down at her shoes again, and then back up at him.
“We’ll be okay,” she tells him softly, once more reaching out, but not to tie his tie or to smoothen out the creased fabric of his suit, but to card her fingers through his hair the way she knows relaxes him.
Staring down at her—holding her gaze, which is warm and comforting and reminiscent of simpler times, like when she would sneak into his bed at Hogwarts and they would whisper and laugh quietly into the night, taking care not to wake up any of his roommates—Draco allows himself to breathe. To feel like himself again; a boy in love and nothing more.
”Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes, leaning forward to lean his forehead on hers. “Yeah, we will.”
—
Gatherings at the Malfoy Manor were usually a grand event; peacocks would mill about the lawn, some wandering past the large castle doors and into the drawing room, where the guests would stroke their feathers in admiration with one hand and hold a glass of the finest mulled wine in the other as they spoke among themselves, laughing and boasting offhandedly about the ancient living room set they’d imported from France or their children’s future careers. Sometimes one would have enough courage to bring up the notion of arranged marriages, only for Narcissa Malfoy to turn them down and say that Draco would choose for himself when the time came, veering the conversation away towards things like ministry connections.
Parties happened often back then—not as much to celebrate as to fill up the overly large halls of the manor with pointless chatter—but things have changed. It’s been a while since the Malfoys last opened their doors to guests.
Does this count as a party? Draco wonders to himself, watching Death Eaters filter into the drawing room, some wearing sickening grins and others looking dead inside.
There are no more wandering peacocks. No more music, no more friendly guests eager to wed their children into the Malfoy family. There are only murderers. Death Eaters. There is laughter, but the kind that has Draco feeling uneasy.
Things have changed. Draco wonders if it’s for the better.
He knows he and [Y/N] can’t hide here forever—at the edge of the shadowed banister overlooking the entrance hall—but they stay there for as long as they can, until his grim-looking mother comes up the staircase and beckons for them to join the party.
Party. Ha.
So Draco and [Y/N] trail after Narcissa, who leads them into the drawing room, where most of the Death Eaters have gathered. No peacocks, no music, but there iswine, and almost everyone is clutching a glass of it.
He feels [Y/N]’s fingers graze against his. Looking over at her, she sees him staring placidly in front of her, meeting no one’s gaze, but she seems to feel his eyes on her—so she turns her head to the side, and Draco sees her facade slip away for the smallest of split seconds as the look on her face softens and she gives him this small, reassuring smile.
He can almost hear her voice inside his head: we’ll be okay.
Draco swallows. Nods just a fraction of an inch.
People clap him on the back as he passes, congratulating him and [Y/N] for a job well done at fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco nods mutely and lets [Y/N] do the talking—she has always been better at keeping her composure, masking her true thoughts.
"Could never have imagined it,” cackles Alecto Carrow, marching up to them in the middle of the large room. Her cheeks are already tinged pink with intoxication, voice a higher pitch than usual. “Most I expected from you lot was.. well, nothing, really. Doubted you could even fix a dresser, much less a whole bloody cabinet!” she shrieks with laughter, some of the wine from her glass spilling onto the floor.
[Y/N]’s gaze is stony. “Thank you.”
Alecto’s nose wrinkles, her chortles dying down. “Thank you?” she repeats. “S'that all you have to say?”
For a brief, horrifying moment, Draco almost thinks [Y/N] is going to bite back with a sarcastic remark—but things have changed and there is a mark on her arm now, so instead she says, flatly, “It wasn’t an easy feat.” A slight pause. “We’re just as surprised as you.”
Alecto grins. She seems satisfied. “Well, ‘course it wasn’t an easy feat, or at least for you.” She takes a big swig out of her glass. “Could’ve done it myself in ten minutes, isn’t that right, Amycus?”
Her brother Amycus snickers but doesn’t reply. Draco knows it’s because he doubts Alecto’s claims just as much as they do; she doesn’t seem capable of writing even a bloody paragraph on her own.
Draco almost snorts. It’s uncharacteristic of her to be so formal, and most of all to take the high road when being insulted. He knows that if things were different, if their lives weren’t on the line, she wouldn’t be standing here at Draco’s side—no, her wand would be at Alecto’s throat.
But that little bit of humor quickly fades when Draco finds Amycus staring at [Y/N], uncouth eyes roaming from her lips to her exposed collarbones, the skin hiding just underneath the lace of her sleeves, the dress hugging her figure—
Draco feels anger flare up, hot and heavy inside of his chest. Unconsciously, he finds himself stepping forward, urged on by that unpleasant feeling worming its way into his stomach, curling his hands into fists, tinging the tips of his ears red as his fingers edge closer to the wand inside his pocket.
¨What are you looking at, boy?¨ Amycus sneers, meeting his gaze.
Draco thinks, at that moment, that magic would hardly be fit to put this ugly brute of a man in his place—no, he´d much rather use his fists, pummel them into that crooked nose of his until he kneels at [Y/N]’s feet and begs for her forgiveness, because no one should look at her like that—
[Y/N] is whispering something, but he can´t hear it through the blood rushing in his ears.
But all of a sudden, Amycus’s gaze changes. He is no longer looking at Draco; rather, at something over his shoulder, and then he is bowing his head, eyes downcast.
All it takes Draco is a brief glance behind him to realize why.
He hears [Y/N] now: he’s here. He’s here.
An odd hush has fallen over the large room. The cause is easy to pinpoint; the Dark Lord has appeared at the entrance of the large drawing room, bringing with him a familiar sense of foreboding as everyone’s breath seems to hitch. It’s funny, in a sick way, how easily the atmosphere has shifted from something like ease to suffocating tension. How Alecto, who had been cackling into her glass of wine just moments before, now looks like a dog called to heel. How Amycus has torn his hungry gaze away from [Y/N] to instead stare down obediently at his feet. How Draco’s own parents, who stand a few feet away from the Dark Lord at the entrance, have their lips pursed and their hands clasped in front of them in submission.
Draco would laugh, but he is one of them now, and his head is hung just like the rest of them.
¨My, my,¨ says the Dark Lord, tone soft. ¨What a lovely party.¨
It had been he, the Dark Lord, who had suggested the idea of a celebration to revere in Draco´s and [Y/N]´s success. Not out of fondness, of course, but out of sheer spite for the Malfoys, caused by Lucius’s failure at the Department of Mysteries. This party was just another part of his little mind games; not only had he forced their son, Draco, to let Death Eaters loose inside Hogwarts, but he was now forcing them to celebrateit.
But why is he here?
It had been he who proposed the party, but no one had expected the Dark Lord to actually come. He had other things of actual importance to attend to: things that involved torture and kidnap and blackmail. He was on the brink of taking over the Ministry of Magic, and thus was a busy man—the Dark Lord only goes where he is needed, and not to pointless parties.
Draco swallows.
So why is he here?
¨It is only right, of course,¨ Voldemort continues, his voice still so oddly soft, like he´s addressing children, ¨That we celebrate the success of our young Death Eaters. The task I gave them was not an easy one, I’m afraid, and yet they prevailed, in the end, and proved themselves to us.¨
He wonders if Voldemort has spotted him and [Y/N], and feels bile rise at the back of his throat. Draco doesn´t want him anywhere near her.
Just leave, Draco thinks to himself, his teeth gritted so tight he hears how they scrape inside his skull. Just leave.
“I must admit, a few months ago I had my doubts.. but now here we are, applauding them, congratulating them for a job well done, treating them as one of our own.. welcomingthem.”
“Draco.”
[Y/N] has inched closer to him. A moment later she feels her fingers weaving through his, squeezing his palm so tight Draco knows without having to look that her knuckles have turned a ghostly white.
He squeezes back, thinking that she might just be as surprised as him. Just as nervous.
It’ll be okay, he tries to tell her without saying it out loud. He´s too scared to speak. It’ll be okay.
¨And yet even as we toast to their names..¨
Draco keeps his head down. He can hear the sound of Voldemort´s robes rasping against the floor as he moves about the room.
But that is not the only thing he hears. Cold sweat trickles down the side of his temple, because in the Dark Lord’s voice he hears an edge. He senses danger.
A thought bounces around Draco’s skull as he fixes his gaze intently on his shoes: why is he here?
“Even as we welcome them with open arms.. as we let them walk among us unharmed, revered, almost, for their bravery..¨
¨Draco,¨ [Y/N] repeats, a little louder this time but only for his ears, and if the room wasn´t so quiet he wouldn´t have heard her ragged, almost panicked breathing, but it wasand he did.
He senses uneasy movement from behind him. One of the other Death Eaters.
¨Despite our kindness, one of them dares to turn away from us. One of them dares—¨ The Dark Lord´s voice grows colder, angrier, losing control and then all of a sudden softening again after a pregnant pause; ¨One of them dared.. dares to feed information to the fools that call themselves the Order of the Phoenix.¨
Draco hears the collective murmur of surprise that ripples through the room.
“Draco.” [Y/N]’s grip on his hand, if possible, tightens.
¨One of them dares betray us.¨
There is a brief moment of confusion on Draco´s part. He turns his head to look at [Y/N], brows furrowed as he struggles to make sense of the Dark Lord´s words.
But then Draco meets her eyes. Sees the look on her face.
¨I´m sorry,¨ she whispers, and realization hits him like a burst of icy cold water.
¨Seize her,¨ Voldemort says coldly. When Draco looks up, he sees that he is halfway across the room but his gaze is fixed on them—on [Y/N].
Amycus and Alecto are the first to move. They drop their glasses with no hesitation, sending them to the floor where they break into a hundred tiny pieces, and grab [Y/N] by the arms. She resists, wrestling in their arms, but the string of words that leave her mouth aren´t curses, nor are they pleas to let her go; no, they are apologies, repeated over and over again like a mantra as she desperately holds Draco´s gaze—”I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry.”
He watches as they yank [Y/N] across the floor, towards the Dark Lord, away from him. His lungs have stopped working, his heart is pounding wildly somewhere inside his throat, and [Y/N] is being roughly thrown at the Dark Lord´s feet—
Draco can´t breathe. His mind is buzzing, blanking out to a field of white, noise and heat colliding and melting until he can´t think through the blood rushing in his ears.
“Pity,” the Dark Lord whispers, gripping her chin harshly, jerking it up so that she would look at him.
“I thought you’d proved yourself to be worthy of my praise, but instead it seems you’ve proved yourself to be rather the opposite—“
She snaps her head away. “Fuck you.”
“You, my child, have proved yourself to be a fool.”
“You´re never going to win.”
The Dark Lord seems unfazed. A grin splits wide on his face, stretching his lips into an uncannily amused grin as he stares down at the girl at his feet for a few seconds before nodding—and then turning around, twirling his wand in his hands—when had he pulled it out?
“And now, my brothers and sisters.”
Draco doesn’t feel his feet move underneath him, but they do.
“Lo and behold what happens to ungrateful fools who turn us away believing that they are saving the world, when in fact they are ruining themselves.”
Everything happens so quickly that Draco barely has any time to react; Voldemort raises his wand, and it seems to almost shine in the light as he points it directly towards [Y/N]—the Dark Lord´s mouth opens, the spell resting on the tip of his tongue, [Y/N] at the opposite end of his wand—
“No!”
It’s as though something inside of Draco has snapped, like he is being jarred awake. He doesn´t think—just darts forward with no real goal in mind other than to put himself in between Voldemort and [Y/N], but then there are hands grabbing at his arms, holding him back—
“Let go of me!” his tone is feral. He jabs his elbow into someone´s stomach, trying desperately to wrestle himself free, but the more Death Eaters he rips off of him, the more take their place. “[Y/N]!” he is breathless. “[Y/N]—”
The Dark Lord is going to kill her. He´s going to bloody killher.
“Draco,” he hears his mother´s voice but doesn’t see her—he´s too busy thrashing wildly in the arms of whoever has hold of him, yelling out profanities and curses and [Y/N]´s name; “Draco, come. You don´t want to see this.”
“Letfuckinggo of me!”
But then the Dark Lord´s voice cuts through the havoc—¨Let him stay.¨
“[Y/N]!” Draco shouts, gritting his teeth. There are tears in his eyes; he doesn´t realize they´re there until they´ve fallen and he tastes them on his tongue. “Don´t touch her! Don´t fucking touch her!”
But the Dark Lord is, once again, unfazed. He turns his gaze to Draco but doesn´t lower his wand. “Watch, my child,” he says, voice ringing throughout the room, cold and unforgiving. “And pay close attention. This is what happens to cowards. To fools. To ungrateful scum.”
[Y/N]´s back is turned to Draco, and maybe it is better that way, because when the Dark Lord raises his wand, he doesn´t have to see the light leave her eyes.
Draco feels the entire world slow down. A single thought appears inside the ruined mess that is his mind, almost as if it’s mocking him—[Y/N] has always been better at masking her true thoughts. At hiding things; even from him.
