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dragonbarbie · 10 months

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𝐖𝐇𝐘'𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇?

modern!aegon ii targaryen x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: reader thinks aegon can never be more than a one night stand, and aegon is intent on getting her to give him a chance.

word count: 2.5k

tags: modern!au, smut, drunk!aegon having sex with sober!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, tity sucking, pussy eating, p in v sex, unprotected sex

note: i very much write fanon!aegon, not the canon, show!version.

sidenote: is this lowkey inspired by my irl situationship who wont quit calling me every time he gets drunk?? maybe

it was a regular friday night for aegon. his frat was throwing a big party, and he had organised everything down to the last detail. he had a reputation to maintain after all, known affectionately as the king of parties of dragonstone university. he had already drunk his own weight in alcohol, flirted (and then proceeded to get handsy) with a couple of girls but he’d been too distracted to follow through with any of them.

his mind instead wandered back to a couple of weeks ago, at another party, where he’d met y/n. she’d been chatting to cregan stark, wearing a little black dress that hugged her in the best way imaginable. he knew, looking at her enchanting laugh at stark’s dumb joke, he had to have her. putting on his most charming smile, he’d approached her.

she’d been wary of him because of his reputation around campus (who wouldn’t be) but after a few disarming jokes as his fingertips grazed the side of her thighs, he’d managed to convince her to give him a chance.

drunken steps were then taken back to her dorm room, and they’d had what aegon could only call amazing sex.

now hold on, you have to believe him when he says amazing, alright? he’d slept with too many women to count, after a while the nights blended to the point that he couldn’t much differentiate between what having sex with each of them had felt like. so, when one such night stood out for him? it meant it had met a very high bar indeed. after all, he thought, he didn’t go around spending the night at every girl’s place.

he'd thus expected a little warmer treatment come morning and was rudely shocked at her attempting to throw him out. still, wearing his jeans in such a hurry that its button and fly was undone, unlaced shoes, bare-chested as he held his rumpled shirt in his hand, he’d had the audacity to offer her a lazy grin and promise “i’ll call you.”

“please” she’d snorted with an amused look, “everyone knows aegon targaryen is not the type to call.” taking no note of his offended expression, she’d shut the door in his face.

he’d been wondering about those words ever since. sure, she hadn’t been wrong but, hey, he’d meant the lie this time! with tits that great, ass that perfect, why wouldn’t he want a repeat of last night? he’d thought to himself.

determined to prove her wrong, he’d asked around the frat house and found out her number. but as his hand had hovered over the call button, something had stopped him. she’d caught him spot on, he realised. he wasn’t a relationship guy, and she wasn’t expecting the relationship-thing with him. perhaps it was best he left her alone.

he’d done just that, at least while sober. drunk aegon on the other hand, found it much easier to pick up the phone and dial her number.

“who is this?” there was panic and sleep in her voice, having picked up an unknown number at 2 in the morning “sweetheart! you picked up” he’d grinned, words slurring. he could practically hear the eyeroll on the other end. “aegon… to what do i owe the pleasure?” “i was just missing you.” he sighed. “sure.” nothing in her voice indicated that she believed him.

“i’m actually not far from your dorm. how about i come up with a bottle of tequila and we can… catch up?” he suggestively added. “it’s 2:14 am…. on a tuesday.” she pointed out, but her words didn’t seem to mean much to him as he replied, “so?” an exasperated sigh could be heard over the phone, “good night, aegon.” click. he stared down on the iphone in his hand in disbelief, she’d hung up on him.

he decided maybe he’d come out too strong, so the next time he texted first. he’d stared at the text for a couple of minutes, and when he saw that she was online but hadn’t bothered to text him back, he’d walked over to the nearest girl and proceeded to make out with her in the bathroom. until he was interrupted with a buzzing in his pocket, “just a minute” he’d mumbled against her lips, unbothered by her disappointed expression as he fished for the phone in his pocket hurriedly.

he saw that y/n had finally replied to his ‘u up?’ with a ‘depends.’ his brow furrowed at her response in confusion, he typed back ‘on what’.

the notification arrived with a ping. her response read ‘are u drunk?’. something told him instinctively to lie. he typed out a no, but once the message sent, he realised it had autocorrected to ‘yo’. he corrected it to a no and sent again, only to find the same mistake committed again. it was only after a string of typos had been sent, did he blink and realise autocorrect wasn’t to blame at all, his damn fingers just refused to cooperate with his inebriated brain.

ping. after receiving the string of nonsense, she finally replied ‘i got my answer.’ “aegon?” the girl in front of him looked at him impatiently, only to have him grab the handle of the bathroom door, leaving with a quick “gotta go”. he immediately called up y/n as he walked out of the party, but the call went straight to voicemail. all four times.

thus, every night aegon had gotten drunk since, he found himself being distracted by thoughts of y/n, frustrated at her refusing to engage with him.

that night too, once the clock on the wall started to look to him as if it were melting off and his feet seemed to stumble wherever he walked, his brain suddenly thought showing up to her dorm was the best idea ever.

reaching her door, he ran a hand through his hair before knocking. no response. impatient, he loudly whined “y/n! c’mon, open up!” met with more silence. he whipped his phone out, blinking at the bright screen as he concentrated to make sure it was without typos, he sent her a text, ‘m 0utsidee’. he pounded with his fist on the door one more time, before a door opened, but not the one he was standing in front of.

three doors down, y/n stood against her doorframe in her small black shorts, red tank top riding up slightly to reveal skin just above them. “wrong fucking door, idiot.” aegon grinned as he walked towards her. “you’re lucky baela’s out of town for the weekend, otherwise she would have kicked your ass for banging on her door like that.”

ignoring her, he pouted as he leaned his head against her door frame, looking too much like a wounded puppy. y/n felt a tug at her stomach at how undeniably cute he looked. “why don’t you ever pick up my calls?”

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she asked instead of answering. “what?” he mumbled, confused. “high….why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?” she slowly repeated, as if talking to a two-year-old. “i’m not interested in someone who needs to be drunk to call me. i don’t want to be your booty call.” she shrugged. his lower lip jutted out further at her response, crease appearing between his brow. oh, gods, y/n found herself thinking, how could someone manage to look this pathetic and this cute at the same time.

“you’re not a booty call.” he groaned in protest. after all, there were enough girls at that party willingly throwing themselves at him, he could have been with anyone, and yet… it was her door his drunken steps had taken the path of.

“go home, aegon. it was a one-time thing. it’s not happening again.” she insisted. her words seemed to have no effect on him, as he placed a hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. he bent down to her ear and whispered, his words slurring, “let me show you all the reasons that this should be more than just a ‘one-time-thing’.”

he pressed his lips to hers, softly at first. she didn’t immediately kiss him back, but the feeling of his lips on hers felt more intoxicating than whatever it was that she could smell off his breath, and she found her lips moving against his within seconds. he bit her lower lip playfully, at her response. she parted her lips to allow him to slide his tongue past them. his hand, meanwhile, slid under the material of her tank and travelled upwards, thumb pressing against her nipple as he squeezed her breast. breaking from the kiss for a second, he smirked at her, “didn’t bother wearing a bra to greet me?”. “i was preparing for bed!” she hissed in response. “excuses” he shook his head at her, teasing.

with his hand he lifted her tank to reveal her bare breasts. “aegon!” she attempted to keep her voice low, lest her neighbours wake up to the scene, “we’re in the middle of the hallway, anyone can walk in!” the idea of someone catching them only made it all the more exciting for aegon, “relax.” he told her with a laidback smile.

before she could protest, his head dipped and he captured her nipple in his mouth. a moan escaped her lips at the feeling, and she stumbled back, her back hitting her doorframe. aegon continued his tongue’s assault on her sensitive nipple, one hand gripping her waist to keep her in place, the other reaching behind her to squeeze her ass. her hand held the nape of his neck, as her head was thrown back in pleasure at his actions. she whined when he abruptly stopped.

he kneeled down and his fingers reached up, pulling her shorts and panties down her legs, causing a shiver to go up her spine. chewing on her lower lip in nervousness she weakly said, “we should go inside” but she couldn’t deny that the thought of getting caught made her even more wet. there was a hint of recklessness and danger in his eyes, “where’s your sense of adventure?”. he threw the clothes inside her ajar door, then lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. she audibly gasped as she felt his tongue upon her already soaking pussy.

“aegon…ah!” her hand gripped his hair as his tongue played tricks on her core, her eyes rolling back till she could see stars. his grip on her thigh remained firm, and she was certain she would be waking up with a bruise. “close… so…close…” she had begun to say after a few minutes, feeling her muscles tense, when he stopped.

he stood up and started to undo his pants, freeing his length. he grabbed her by the waist, letting the tip of his cock tease her folds. she was already moaning for him, “want me to take you right here? make you scream my name, till your neighbours come checking?” she swallowed at the thought, lust overtaking her eyes.

“let’s do one thing.” he smiled as if he’d struck upon the most perfect idea, but the gleam in his eyes told y/n it couldn’t be anything good. he turned her around by her waist, hand coming to her front to rub her clit as he whispered in her ear, “you see that door?”. she knew he could only mean the door to the elevator which was the way to enter her dormitory floor. she managed a nod in response, unable to form words as his fingers pressed down on her so ruthlessly. “keep looking at it.” he commanded as he grabbed her hips back to push his cock inside her. “aegon!” she gasped at the feeling.

he entered her completely in one go, pulling out punishingly slow before pushing back in. he continued speaking as he impaled her, “someone’s gonna walk in any moment now…” he teased, “…and see you in this mess… see you bent over, taking me from behind…like a whore” the thought embarrassed her, yes, but what embarrassed her more was that she found herself almost wanting it to come true.

“even when they walk in, i won’t stop.” he threatned, his thrusts becoming faster. “you’ll be on display for everyone to see… to see how well you take my cock.” he gathered her hair in his fist in one hand, and she felt him pulling it lightly. “yes, oh, yes!” she found herself moaning, eyes intently trained on the door. “you’d like that? of course, you would, little slut.” she only whimpered in response, his words bringing her closer and closer to her edge. “you’d love to have everyone see just how well you receive a ‘booty call’” he chuckled. she could feel herself going weak at the knees at his pace and dirty talk.

“aegon… i—ah!” pleasure spread over every inch of her body, as she came all over his cock. he continued to thrust into her, chasing his own orgasm, until he emptied inside of her with a grunt.

her legs felt wobbly as he pulled out of her, turning her back around to face him. “next time i call—” he panted as he spoke, exerted from their activities, “—pick up.” she smirked, in contrast to his dominating actions mere moments ago, his words now sounded more like a pleading request; one she felt gracious enough to grant him as his juice and her own dripped down her legs. “i will. promise.”

his pearly white teeth showed as he grinned at her response, pleased. “oh, but i’m not nearly done with you for the night, just yet.” he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he shut the door behind them as he walked back inside her dorm.

the next morning, she didn’t kick him out like the last time. she let him linger around her bed, aegon placing a trail of kisses down her body as a manner of greeting her good morning. he was needy and showed it by being as tactile with her as could be. yet she felt comfortable with his touches, allowing herself to lie with him for hours, their legs tangled. even as she bid him goodbye from her door, she had to practically tear her lips off his, neither able to get enough of the other.

she felt content as she’d shut her door behind her, leaning against it as she thought back to the night that had passed, when her phone started to ring. she picked it and smiled as she saw the name being displayed, ‘aegon (don’t pick up)’.

“see i am the type who calls. a lot” she laughed at his words through the phone, able to hear him standing right outside the door. “and also the type who does breakfast. what do you say, brunch in an hour?”

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c4qwp · 3 months

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felix catton x fem!reader

| he falls hard for you

📎 tags : fluff, female reader, felix being older than you by a year, fanon of felix bc i’m such a bad writer guys, bad orthography, (my first post…), felix being a fucking cutie patootie, (y/n) not mentioned

📎 words count : oof idk but not a lot 💀🔥🔥🔥😜😜😜

📎 author's note : this is my first post (so first story), don’t hesitate to comment to help me to progress! english isn’t my first language, idk if felix is fanon but i tried my best to write him like i how i see him

felix was a charming, flirty, wealthy and captivating man. everyone loved him. everyone wanted to be around him. it exhausted him. people just wouldn't leave him alone. especially the girls. but he didn’t care about them, you were the exception.

you've only known felix for 6 months, but that hasn't stopped you from liking each other's personalities —and physiques. you're a new student from california studying at oxford, and the handsome british guy hasn't stopped coming to see you to find out more about you.

it all started with a laugh he heard in the hallway. a cute one he thought. and that's how he first saw you.

"hello?" you called loudly when you noticed eyes on you.

the sunlight illuminated felix perfectly as he met your gaze. you were just too cute. your doe eyes watching him while scanning him up and down due to his height.

"hey sorry- ive never seen you here before, are you new?" he asked.

as you were telling your friend to wait for you, an other guy appeared besides the stranger.

"felix where the fuck have you been mate??" a man with curly hair said.

"dude i’m busy let’s talk later" felix replied.

"hey sor-"

and you were gone.

felix didn’t even catch your name and it disappointed him. he likes to meet new people, even more when they’re cute like you.

a month passed after this rather short meeting. as you were revising in the library, a voice called out to you.

"oh hey arent you the new student?"

felix. you heard about him, only good thingd though. you’ve met him but his — pretty face, made you speechless. you felt shy in front of him. now there you are, sitting like an idiot and saying nothing. gosh.

"oh — uhmm hey!" you relied a bit nervously.

"hey! sorry i think we'd met before but hadn't talked more" he said.

"yes i remember." you introduced yourself and smiled.

"i’m felix catton nice to meet you as well" he smiled in turn.

"yeahh i heard about you, felix" you smirked and closed your book.

"oh yeah? i hope you've heard good things about me haha" he said.

"mmhh who knows?" you teased him.

while there was a small blank, he glimpsed your book.

"wait aint no way you’re reading harry potter?!" he said, trying to whisper as much as possible so as not to disturb the other students.

"way. i really like reading books. they're better than movies. and this is not the first time that i’m reading it." you replied.

"it’s my favorite book and it feels good to meet someone who thinks the same about it." he said with a big smile on his face.

it was getting late and you had to get back to your dorm to phone your best friend, who unfortunately wasn't at the same university as you. you exchanged phone numbers and then left.

one day.

one fucking day.

you two were apart for only a day. he sent you the first message and you answered them. he couldn't stop thinking about your smile, your eyes and your voice. it was the same for you.

even though you'd only been messaging each other for 2 weeks, he asked you if you wanted to go out somewhere. of course, you agreed and offered to go for a coffee to take a break from studying.

you put on a beautiful white summer dress that showed off your body.

‘i hope i’m not overdoing it...’ you thought.

03:17PM

"i’m so sorry for being late—…" you whispered to the man with a glass of soda against his lips, letting him know you were tired and done with the conversation. your eyes sparkling with joy, your lips curling up into a gleeful smile when you locked eyes with the person you had been craving to see all evening. he hadn't missed one night, not a single one. he was right on time. right there to stay with you, make you feel comfortable, talk to you all night.

you'd laugh, he'd watch.

he'd talk, you'd listen.

"no no don’t wo—" as he turned to answer you, he was stunned by your beauty.

his eyes wandered up and down your face. you noticed him and smiled at him.

‘i hate the way you make me feel — my chest begin to tighten when my eyes lock onto yours, yet i find it merely impossible to look away.’

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton x y/n #saltburn #saltburn x reader #felix catton x fem! reader #fluff #felix catton fluff #fanfic #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi #one shot

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currentfandomkick · 8 months

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Fan concept to incorporate however you want:

In comics i’m pretty sure there’s a lazarus pit in the batcave, and others in gotham. A high concentration of lazarus water per square foot. Add to that gotham’s various contaminated waters from various toxins and gases on top of usual run offs, and there’s a high chance everyone in gotham is contaminated by all of this.

Add in the popular head cannons and partial fanon of lazarus water = (in some form) contaminated or corrupted watery ectoplasm.

And if we go ecto contaminated enough = liminal…

Then gotham city is full of liminals, the most notorious being a handful revenants with questionable cores (Solomon Grundy and Red Hood off the top of my head), with Damian’s Robin a liminal bordering on halfa if you go the ‘raised next to and put in the Pitts’ route.

Hell if you want, most of the Batfam can be partially ecto contaminated if not liminal (minus Duke, i feel like he’s the only starting to) but no one notices because its gradual and they assume its side effects from the 10,000 + polluntants in gotham.

You can have anyone from Amity Park enter Gotham and go ‘huh, edgy aesthetic Amity.’ Then go ‘oh, sick liminal… which dork back home knows how to fix this?’

If you want Tucker can be sending Sam updates on Gotham’s liminals (including Rogues) which Sam is helping the ecto terrorist (League of Assassins in a lot of older portrayals) and Danny vibing working for (DC bigshot or group of your choice) as an engineer who says he’s bad at coding when no one has broken his code yet as ‘its standard back home’ and baffles his employer

Dani can see Gotham and just. Vibe as a feral child who tries to help the other sick liminals with mixed results. I say let Harley snag her as her sidekick during her anti-villian days.

Jazz can be attending university and has to explain drinking filtered ecto to her dorm, only for a lot of them to start managing things better emotionally and combat wise, but now have the urge to Kick Ass as a way to Make Friends. Batfam investigate her a s a cult leader when really all she’s doing is using a clean ecto filter and teaching her classmates to do the same. Even teaches them how to make them thanks to Danny breaking down his rigs to her and leaving her repair instructions in case hers breaks early.

If you go baby Ghost King Danny, he can find out about Gotham and do a ‘oh, a fucked up version of Amity Park. Neat!’ see the Joker and go ‘Fuck this guy,’ and appear by pulling Joker into the ghost realm for his trial with a note that reads “sorry for missing another Liminal City. I’ll do better as king and handle those breaking Ghost Ettiquette myself. My bad. Still new to the ‘King of the Infinite Realms and all bonded to it. So liminals fall in, didn’t think there were more besides Amity. A branch of the Council of Observers will be sent to evaluate which liminals are sick, which are dealing with unsustainable or harmful obsessions, which liminals need relocation to handle their obsession in a better suited environment, and which ones are uneducated on liminal health.

Don’t worry, I stole some time to make sure i did all the paperwork before taking this guy. He’s the type of ecto entity who consumes attention, fear, and souls, which is Pretty Bad and that last one is an auto-execution. So i should manage the normal ‘visiting of the realms and introduction to’ spiel after we can make sure you won’t be in danger from ghosts that forget mortals dont shrug off being dropped off a few cliffs and having a two ton rock dropped on them. I may send some ambassadors from Amity to help you adjust since it was a pain for us too. Fyi if anyone tries summoning the Ghost King and expects Pariah, i win by conquest ten years ago and only JUST got to looking into liminal areas. With cheating by stealing time. If you have any questions, look up the Manson family, Amity Park, Ohio. Sam can explain better than me, and her parents somehow ended up on the mortal side counsel.

#dpxdc #long post #dp x dc #danny phantom #gotham is limina #liminal gotham #fic prompt

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ravenelyx · 1 year

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I love you in every timeline - Chapter 1: My Love Is As a Fever, Longing Still

← Prologue

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 14.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name usage for reader (only a few blank spaces), use of 2nd person for the reader, Sebastian is confused and doesn't know how to handle his feelings, and he's also struggling with his personality, veeeeery slow burn

Summary: "He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is long, and more is to come. It's gonna be a very slow burn apparently, but I hope you will like it. Finally Chapter 1 is here, it's been a while. Also, as much as I love fanon! Draco and Pansy, I decided to follow a more canonical approach here, sorry. Again, english is not myfirst language so I'm sorry if I made any mistakes. Never am I going to write about time travel again,my brain hurts.

I also made a playlist inspired by this because why not.

You can find the whole fanfiction here on ao3

"My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please." - William Shakespeare, Sonnet 147

You weren't her.

Then who the hell were you?

You briefly smiled at Sebastian and then turned back to the red-head, squinting. "Do you have the book or not?"

Ron gulped, avoiding your eyes. "It's probably in my dorm or something... I didn't have class, so I didn't take it with me."

"In your dorm, isn't that right?" Your eyes narrowed even more if that was even possible, and Sebastian was pretty sure you were about to hex him on the spot. Your leering didn't go unnoticed by either of the two Gryffindors and Hermione’s throat bobbed ever so slightly, eyes widening a little in alert.

"Well, as I said—"

"Here," interrupted Hermione suddenly, voice slightly squeaking. She looked into her bag and extracted her own copy of Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants. "Use this in the meantime. I take notes on the book too, unlike Ronald here, so it should compensate."

You accepted the book, seemingly calming down a bit. “Thank you, Hermione,” you said, enunciating her name sarcastically as you shot the other boy a nasty look, and Sebastian couldn't help but feel a touch of schadenfreude as Ron hung his head low, cheeks as red as his hair.

“I said I'll give it back,” said Ron, scowling. “It’s not like you need it anyway. Sprout doesn’t even make us open books!”

You politely smiled at Hermione, your eye slightly twitching at his remark, before said smile turned into a sneer as you looked at Ron again. “Then what the hell is taking you so long?"

Hermione sighed softly, dejectedly, and Ron shrinked on himself, sending Sebastian an unconfident look. But that only seemed to propel you to continue.

"And most people do open books for Herbology, my dear Ron, but I don’t expect you to know that. You’re too busy trying to find ways to whine and beg others to help your lazy ass later when they have other, more important things to do.”

Sebastian saw it happen, in a gradual, torturous slowing of time. There was something about you, in the way your lip quirked up, in the way your brows furrowed, giving life to that crease. Something that you couldn't stop, washing over you like a tsunami, drowning any possible thought of rationality and empathy. Control, in that moment, was appearance and nothing more.

He felt, for a moment, afraid; chilling his veins until goosebumps raised on his skin: a thrill, as if she was there. As if he was watching her unleash that godly power in all her beauty.

You were still, hands clammy at your sides, as he could see you open and close them repeatedly, and you weren't gloating. It was different; like that thick, foggy feeling that floods your brain when your opponent misses a step whilst casting Protego, or opens their arm a bit too much, making it easy for a well-aimed Stunning Spell to pass through, and it makes your cheeks turn red and your chest flutter, and Sebastian saw that twinkle in your eyes as you ignored Hermione’s pleading look.

The same thrill that makes his heart tug when he inevitably, nimbly raises his wand back. When the spell goes right where he intended it to go, and the deaf sound of a wand hitting the floor fills his ears.

It was that innate human side that took pleasure in pain. That part that could turn from a lambent glow into a Fiendfyre if you're not careful. Or if you really put your mind to it.

But you weren't duelling.

Sebastian wasn’t sure what to make of the way with which you were slandering your — he supposed — friend. And in front of him, too. It made him slightly tremble, his lip slightly twitch. Part of him wondered if he was invisible, part of him felt a little too alert, part of him pitied the girl in front of him.

And while it seemed Ron and Hermione were just as shocked, they had a sort of weary gleam in their eyes. And any attempt at smoothing things over was futile. Hermione feebly tried to intervene. “Oh, we don’t need to go further—”

“You see Ronald, for a Prefect you should really put some thought into the impression you’re making on new students, not to mention the one you should give of our school—” you ignored her and sarcastically gestured towards Sebastian, who felt his breath hitch at the sudden spotlight put on him, “and yet, you’re always so comfortable acting like a dimwit . Pull yourself together and be responsible for once.”

Ron’s jaw fell open, completely at loss for words at your harsh words, and he shared a look with Hermione that Sebastian was able to understand completely.

What the hell just happened?

He couldn't agree more.

“I think you’re overreacting,” said Ron sternly.

“I think you’re disrespectful,” you replied just as eagerly.

“Alright, that’s enough!” said Hermione, putting herself between the two Gryffindors. “It so happens we have a guest here!”

Sebastian felt his heartbeat quicken ever-so-slightly as both you and Ron turned to him like you had just seen him for the first time. He shifted his weight uncomfortably; an attempt to get rid of that eerie shiver that ran down his spine as your incensed gaze fell on him.

That seemed to snap you out of it, and your cheeks flushed a bit in regret. “Fair enough...” you muttered, nodding at Sebastian. “Sorry.”

He nodded back, unsure about what to do as he shifted his eyes between you and Ron, letting them linger on your face each time he looked at you. Your nose had that same curve he always wished he could kiss, run his lips over with reverence… He shook the thought out of his head immediately.

“I should receive an apology as well,” muttered Ron, and Hermione nudged his arm as a warning not to add fuel to the fire.

"You have one day. Just one." You gave Ron an ultimatum, your tone sharp and, Sebastian thought, quite frightening. He hoped to never find himself in Ron's place. “And don’t expect me to help you ever again, I'm tired of it!”

You didn’t wait for an answer and began to walk away, only stopping briefly to look at the Slytherin boy. "I wish you the best of luck, especially if he— " you glanced at Ron again "—has to be the one guiding you through this maze they call a school."

Sebastian gasped and opened his mouth to reply, but his words seemed to be stuck somewhere between his throat and his tongue. He let his eyes fleet over your face again, heart beating out of his chest as he tried to make out your features, like in a dream.

"I hope we'll meet again soon enough." You forced a smile on your face that looked almost guilty and embarrassed, and with that, you were gone.

His eyes followed you until you turned a corner and vanished from his sight, thoughts racing at a hundred miles an hour — questions with no answers clouding his mind more and more each second. Who were you? Why did you look like her? And above all, why did you bear her family name?

Even after the theatricals that he had just witnessed, there was a certain hope in his heart: traitorous and wrong. A hope that she was really there, somewhere, waiting for him. A hope he immediately wanted to crush as soon as the image of your eyes and red robes flashed in the window of his vision again.

Sebastian Sallow was utterly, completely, absolutely losing his mind.

He was aware of the gravity of his situation — his body still spasmed uncomfortably every now and then as a result of having travelled through space and time — but, Sebastian realised, it felt more like a trance. A painfully aware and too tight reverie he couldn't find a way out of. After all, just the night before, Natty had asked him if he wanted to take part in Summoner's Court with her the next day, hadn't she?

And just a few hours after that, Sebastian had decided to try his last chance, opening the artefact that, he had believed, would bring him back to a time where her sister wasn't cursed — a time he could have avoided the disaster. And not just one at that.

He took a deep breath, willing the halls of Hogwarts to become brighter in his vision, more real. He was indeed in the future, he repeated himself, his ribcage evidently too small to contain the excruciating throbbing he felt in his chest. He had to accept that. He did. Probably.

“Bloody hell!” Sebastian heard Ron mutter as he also stared at the point from which you had just disappeared. “What was all that for?”

“Honestly, Ronald…” said Hermione curtly. “We’ll deal with this later.”

Still, Sebastian felt painfully calm at his situation: the sort of calm that he only experienced when he knew he was in trouble and couldn't do anything about it, or when he knew he was in trouble and had the solution for it lying in his hands, teeming down his throat like a treacly and old pint of Butterbeer, or a briquette of ice, whipsawed by the choice of safely travelling down his stomach and melt and leave him warm and satisfied or change direction and chill his lungs and cut his breath and bring him to a freeze.

What would Sebastian, a calm and collected person (and he believed he was, or tried, at least), do in a similar situation?

Two options came to his mind, clear and painfully bright.

To freak out completely until he was in shambles on the floor, addled and ready to break himself and cut the edges of his persona to fit into the new reality he now essentially belonged to, though he still didn't feel like it.

Or estrange himself from said reality, seeing it through lenses, analysing the world around him as if he weren't there until he found a way to go back, like a spectator, a reader. And he was indeed a reader.

In a way, the very core of one was tantamount to the other — both would completely destroy him. And Sebastian Sallow could not allow himself to be destroyed. Not like this.

But then there was another, the one Sebastian desperately willed himself to adopt, keeping his edges glued to himself and the lenses away from his perfectly working eyes.

The one he followed when everyone had lost hope for Anne.

And that was any option available, and every rational thought, even if the sound of them — or anything else, really — was still drowned by the loud pounding of his heart reverberating at the thought of the girl who just flipped his world upside down.

“What did you say her name was again?” Sebastian asked the two students, his eyes never leaving the corner you had just turned.

Ron and Hermione both looked at him with surprise; Ron opened his mouth with a scowl, as if about to make a snarky remark, but Hermione interrupted him, repeating your name calmly.

That was indeed the name.

And so he tried to be as rational as possible.

“Thank you,” said Sebastian quietly, lips parted, gaze musing. “I’d forgotten that just there.”

You were her descendant, a hundred years from his time.

Sebastian couldn't remember her having any siblings or cousins who bore her surname, but if you did, you had to have received it from a male member of her family, didn't you? She couldn't possibly have given you her name unless she married someone from her own bloodline, and Merlin, he hated that thought.

Or she had married someone else and decided to keep her own surname instead, and, once again, Sebastian knew — it wasn't his first thought, of course, but certainly one that plagued his mind — that he couldn't have been the one she had married, because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he'd have burned down the world just to get her to take his last name.

His thoughts circled back to her family, but try as he might, he couldn't pinpoint any related members from whom you might descend. He was starting to feel dizzy and sure to be on the brink of collapsing under the amount of information he was trying to process, but then Ron and Hermione pulled him out of his trance by starting to explain the rules of the castle, the classes to attend and some basic information about the Professors.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts changes every year; they say there's a curse on the chair or something," explained Ron, having calmed down a bit, and half-smiled, "so you won't have to see toad-face for long."

"Toad-what?" asked Sebastian absent-mindedly, his head still teeming with disjointed thoughts and meandering ideas which, Sebastian was sure of it, would never find a proper abode.

"Our new Professor. You'll see what I mean when you meet her for the first time."

Sebastian nodded occasionally as he listened to them talk about the other Professors, such as Snape, the Potions teacher, and also the Head of the Slytherin House. Ron kept going on about how annoying he was, trying not to show how much he was afraid of him. "You don't have to worry, though: Slytherins get special treatment from him," he said jokingly.

Ron, Sebastian decided then, was a nice fellow. He found himself wondering why you had reproached him so harshly. He had half-a-mind to ask, then, about your behaviour — and why both the two Gryffindors seemed to be far less surprised about it than he expected. He decided against it.

"Wait, what do you mean, she won't let you use spells?" Sebastian frowned as they talked about 'toad-face', alias Dolores Umbridge.

"She's from the Ministry," explained Hermione. "After what happened last year, we're sure they're doing everything they can to keep the school under control and make sure no lies—" she stroked the word sarcastically, "—are spread among the students.

"I'll explain everything later. We should focus on more important things, like your academic persona and your education," she added, noticing his confused expression.

She was definitely Prefect and worthy of her role too, at least if you went by the typical clichés.

The hours passed, and there wasn't a minute when Sebastian didn't think of her.

And of you.

Because the more time he spent walking, the more his rationality seemed weak and pointless.

He thought he'd go mad, her memories spoiled by your oh-so-similar but equally different features. He saw your eyes looking at him back in the Scriptorium, as she was ready to take the Cruciatus Curse rather than cast it on him. He saw a Gryffindor sitting by him in Herbology, stealing not-so-subtle glances while tending to the mandrakes. He felt like his mind was splitting in half, frustrated and embittered and close to tears as you tainted his remembrances of her.

He needed to see you again, talk to you, ask about your life, your family, your past. He needed to know every thought behind your eyes, every subtle expression towards him that could mean you recognised him, that you were her, that you remembered him, remembered your time together, that you'd follow him in all his antics, in all his mistakes, in all his choices, that your actions meant more than your words.

That you loved him as he loved you — as he loved her.

Her.

Not you.

Because he didn't need to talk to you. Because indeed your recent actions spoke louder than words ever could.

Because no matter how much Sebastian fooled himself into thinking that he wasn't alone, stuck in a world that had gone on without him for a hundred years, that she returned his feelings the way he thought she did, that somehow you'd look at him and know that she was meant for him, that you were meant for him, you weren't her . You didn't know him. You could never know him as she did, and not because he wouldn't let you in — he'd run to you even now and lay his heart open if it meant finding a faint resemblance to what it used to be — but because he couldn't allow it. He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her.

At that moment, Sebastian made the decision to stay as far away from you as possible.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he reached the Great Hall. He hadn't noticed that it was already lunchtime.

"Do you think Dumbledore will make a speech to introduce him or not?" asked Ron, not caring that the Slytherin boy could hear him loud and clear.

"I don't think he'd just let it go, but I hope it won't be as big as last year's," noted Hermione.

"Those were two bloody new schools, Hermione. This one must be different."

He felt like a new Honeydukes product hitting the shelves for the first time.

It turned out the Headmaster hadn't made a speech to introduce him, and Sebastian almost would have preferred it if he had, because he felt like a circus monkey sitting at the Slytherin table with a hundred eyes staring at him like he'd just broken into their home and stole a particularly rare card from their Chocolate Frogs collection. He looked around at the other tables and saw heads turning away so quickly that he was sure he would be the culprit in a mass murder with a thousand broken necks. He sighed as a girl with dark hair and green eyes sitting opposite of him handed him mashed potatoes.

"Do you want to eat or not? No one poisoned your food just because they don't know you."

Sebastian glanced at her and accepted her plate, munching his food slowly as if he didn't quite believe her.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"Sebastian Sallow."

"Sallow? Never heard of that name. What's your blood status?"

He almost choked on his food at her blunt question. What kind of uncivilised conversation was this? And the way she looked at him, waiting for his answer, he knew that that question alone could decide his entire future — hopefully a short one — in that House.

"I'm a pureblood like you, I suppose," he lied, lifting an eyebrow as he blankly stared at the girl.

"I see," said Pansy, narrowing her eyes as if not fully believing him. And Sebastian knew it was probably time for him to make up a story, a lie he could tell everyone in the indefinite amount of time he was to spend among them.

He had put a great deal of thought into what wanted to tell in the past hour — he could, after all, be anyone. Anyone he wanted.

He could change his past, he could avoid his mistakes, he could pretend to be a normal boy with a normal life. He could just be.

In the end, it didn't matter, because while other people might look at him and see only a picture-perfect new student with a thirst for knowledge, he would look at himself and see the boy who tortured his friend, the boy who murdered his uncle.

They might not know, but he would.

He kept the edges tight against his body, and decided to opt for a half lie that made it easier for him to play on and not forget any details.

He told her that he wasn't from the Highlands. He told her how his parents were Professors at another magical school but died prematurely, and left him to live with his uncle, a former Auror. And he told her about his timely death as well, omitting, of course, his involvement in it.

"When he died, too, I decided to move here," he concluded simply, hiding the tremble of his lips behind a glass of pumpkin juice.

Part of him expected sympathy from her, or at least a hint of hesitation; that look he had become so accustomed to whenever people came to know about his tragic tale or something along those lines.

Surprisingly — though, for some reason, Sebastian wasn’t surprised in the slightest — Pansy Parkinson didn't seem to care at all.

"Were your parents true purebloods or filthy blood traitors like the Weasleys?" she asked instead, clearly showing where her priorities lay, and it was enough for him to know that his earlier hope that there would be no more discrimination was merely a child's prayer.

"They have magic. That's the only thing you need to know." Sebastian cut short before focusing on his food. He noticed the familiar badge on her robes and silently thanked Dumbledore for assigning him to the Gryffindor Prefects instead. At least they never judged him, not even for dwelling with time and space like a bloody idiot — though he believed he had seen a gleam of reproach in Hermione's eyes as she'd uttered the word 'misadventure .

"All right, I believe you." She shrugged.

Sebastian wasn't convinced.

Pansy nudged a boy beside her, who looked at him with his piercing grey eyes. He was pale, with sleek blond hair so light it almost looked white, and also wore a badge. He reminded Sebastian of Ominis. That must be Malfoy.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," — it hadn't been so hard to guess, though now Sebastian thought he'd rather not meet him at all — "I saw you walking around today with that skint blood traitor and that mudblood Granger. You should have been assigned to us. It's not worth it to taint your blood status by associating with such filth," he spoke venomously, a mocking tone punctuating his sentences.

Skint blood traitor. Mudblood. He was exactly like those boors Sebastian so enjoyed thrashing in Crossed Wands when they had the guts to join. Perhaps he could do the same with him — blast him with Bombarda until his hair turned black (or he went bald; any of them would do).

Sebastian didn't know why he suddenly felt like defending the honour of two people he had met that same day, but he wished he could poison his food instead.

"Maybe next time you'll be considered fit for your assigned role. I suppose all that purity didn’t take you that far this time," he replied just as rudely.

Draco Malfoy made a weird face — a mix between stunned and angry and that half smirk that had begun to creep up his face as he had expected Sebastian to agree with him, and that had died on his lips but not yet fully, and the whole thing was so comical Sebastian had to hold back a snort. Because that was not (not in a million years, no matter how many artefacts he accidentally opened) going to happen, and when Draco Malfoy realised it, he seemed to have a hard time closing his mouth back to a dignified expression.

"I'd be careful if I were you, new student. I'm a Prefect!" he threatened, squinting his grey eyes and finally gaining enough control to curl his lip into a small smirk.

Spoiled bragger, Sebastian thought.

"And what exactly are you planning to do — take points away from your own House?" replied Sebastian, smirking back, enjoying how his face turned back to that ferret-like countenance.

"We share the same dormitory. Choose your words carefully." Draco Malfoy pursed his lips, his face becoming even paler. Sebastian wondered if he had even an ounce of blood in that body of his.

"We do indeed, so I suggest you sleep with one eye open," retorted Sebastian. Part of him knew that, logically, he should have been more mature about the situation.

But Merlin, he was starting to despise the brat.

(And the other part of him was still fantasising about that Bombarda-induced vengeance).

"You think you can scare me?"

Draco Malfoy snickered, and the line of Slytherins sitting on his side began staring at the two boys with piqued interest, wondering what all the fuss was about. It was quite unusual for two Slytherins to argue so openly, and even students from other Houses had begun to turn their heads towards their direction. Two big students beside Draco Malfoy snickered, too, as if on cue. Sebastian felt a wave of repugnance at how pathetic they looked.

"Definitely not, especially when you have your guard dogs next to you." Sebastian nodded at the two students mockingly. "Tell me, does your father pay them to be by your side? They can't be that stupid to volunteer to be in your presence."

The blond appeared to want to eat him alive, while the other two took a bit longer to fully understand his words before reproducing the same angry expression. Perhaps Sebastian understood your outburst: it was indeed gratifying to pour his disdain out. Though, unlike you, Sebastian didn't feel an ounce of regret.

"All right, Draco, enough of this," interrupted Pansy with a sigh, before giving Sebastian a hateful look. "He's a blood traitor like Weasley, and he'd better take care of his priorities."

Sebastian ignored her, focusing back on his food and already dreading the idea of having to share his Common Room and dormitory with people like that. Maybe he could sleep in the Undercroft for the rest of the year. He wondered if that place still existed at all.

Strangely enough, the aftermath was quite unsatisfactory, and Sebastian felt his cheeks warm up as he realised he had indeed acted like an immature git, stepping down right at their level. He stared at his half-empty plate, abashed.

The time passing, then, felt particularly chilly under his skin.

After he felt content enough with his lunch, Sebastian stood up, ready to meet the two Gryffindors again. He faltered a little as he looked around their table, his chest squeezing as he caught a glimpse of you. And not just a glimpse.

He watched you as you engaged in a happy conversation with a red-haired girl next to you: she scarily resembled Ron, so he deduced that she must be his sister. The two Prefects sat opposite you, and on your other side was a boy with messy black hair and round glasses.

Sebastian noticed how you tried to avoid Ron's eyes, only glancing up at him through your lashes from time to time before looking back at the girl, and he wondered if you would even apologise or if you were waiting for the red-head to do so. How proud were you? How much did you care? To which length were you willing to go for the people you loved? Sebastian felt a compulsive need to know it all, a new wave of hunger right in the pit of his stomach, completely empty even after his heavy, albeit displeasing, lunch, and ready to be fed by what all he could find about you. He needed to know every last bit of information, if it was the last thing he did in that new world.

That eerie calm chilled his bones again, moderately assuaging his desire, like a glass of cold water before supper. Sebastian realised he was stuck, so he had no rush to do exactly that. He didn't need to be greedy, to devour — though the idea was tempting indeed — and to gobble up every bit of you yet. He could feast, he could savour, he could indulge in his sumptuous meal like he deserved. And then he would find his way back, satiated beyond belief.

Now that would take his edges off.

He shook his head, derailing that tingly feeling running down his lower stomach before it nestled, and averted his eyes, instead noticing that barely anyone had left the Great Hall, and he was the only Slytherin standing. He quickly walked out of the room and rested against a column, wondering if he should wait for Ron and Hermione to finish eating and meet him, or if he should just go alone.

Sebastian decided to walk to the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower, to the Undercroft, praying it would still be there, untouched by other students. When he arrived, he saw the familiar clock, and his heart swelled in fear and anticipation as he took out his wand and flourished it like he had done so many times he practically relied on muscle memory alone.

The clock hands started to turn, and he breathed a sigh of relief as a door opened to the familiar room that he considered an analogue to his house. He stepped in carefully and looked around. The furniture hadn’t moved an inch in a hundred years, still in the same position that Ominis knew by memory. He wondered about him: if he knew Sebastian would one day disappear forever only to remain stuck in the future, if he had waited for him in that same room hoping for him to come back, or if he was glad he was gone after all.

Sebastian wondered if he would ever return to his time: if Ominis and Anne had been waiting for him their entire lives, getting old without him, and if they had hoped that they would one day see him again, and then he had another terrifying thought: what if he went back yet it was too late?

What if all of his pals were much older than him once he did? What if, upon his return, he discovered Anne still suffering the effects of the curse, or worse yet, already deceased? What if Ominis had been made to return to his family, where he would have either changed into one of them or been tortured and murdered? What if she had found someone else to fall in love and share the rest of her life with, or what if the perilous journeys she was compelled to take killed her and he had not been there to save her?

"Scourgify!" he declared, pointing his wand at various objects around him to clean them, wishing he could reproduce the same effect on his mind.

Once he was done, he sat down, leaned against a column, and put his head in his hands, breathing deeply and feeling his eyes burn.

The calm had gone, replaced by pure, utter despair and panic. It had only been a few hours since he'd found himself there, confused and startled, and he knew it would be many more until he went back — if ever.

If ever.

The thought cut at his lungs like sharp glass, drawing quiet and wet sobs. He didn't know whether the artefact could ever be repaired at all. He didn't know whether he could control it enough to go back if it was repaired. For all he knew, he'd find himself in bloody Mesopotamia, if he was lucky enough to survive another travel. Or he'd get stuck between time and space, forever embedded in the threads between realities.

Based on those thoughts alone, Sebastian felt like he should be grateful to have found himself still in Hogwarts, as safe as he could be, but he wasn't.

He missed his routine, his life, his friends. He had disappointed Ominis, but he would give anything to hear his voice now, even if he yelled at him, to see Anne even if she did not want to see him, to read their old letters over and over again, to accompany her on whatever adventure she was setting out on. Heck , he wanted to hear Headmaster Black's voice scolding him for his horrible detention record, listen to Poppy ramble about her dear magical creatures, see Garreth blow up his potions, and even wanted to hear Imelda complain about Quidditch being cancelled. He missed it all.

He spent some time there alone — he did not know whether it was minutes or hours — weeping silently to himself. His wrists copiously moved to his eyes in a weak attempt to dry his tears, which kept falling nonetheless, undaunted, wetting his cardigan and shirt and skin.

Sebastian had always prided himself in his capacity to bottle up emotions, to avoid the crying and instead channelling those goopy feelings into something more useful, like studying or spellcasting. That had backfired, and Sebastian had to learn, awfully, that doing that didn't mean those emotions wouldn't force their way out in a way or another, and after what had happened in the Catacombs, where his feelings had exploded in the worst way imaginable, he had reluctantly decided that crying alone was the best way to let them flow naturally. With that and everything that had happened to him within a few weeks, not to mention the previous events, he felt overwhelmed.

He hated it.

After drying his tears as best he could, hoping that no one would notice his glistening eyes or swollen face, he decided to leave the Undercroft and find Ron and Hermione again; they were to give him his timetable, as he would join their class starting the next day. That was before he abandoned them.

He stepped out of the room and froze in his steps. You were sitting on the ground just outside, back against the wall, focused on your textbook. You looked up once you heard a noise, and saw a dishevelled and surprised Sebastian staring straight at you.

"Oh, well, hello again, new fifth-year!" You smiled politely.

He cursed under his breath, turning his face away slightly and rubbing the back of his hand under his nose again, in case any stray tears were still present.

"'Didn't know about another secret passage in the school," you continued, apparently ignoring his actions, before muttering to yourself, "It wasn't on the Map."

"Map?" he said in a rough, unfamiliar voice, surprising even himself.

You examined him, a quizzical expression on your face. "Have you been crying?" you asked bluntly, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

Great job, Sebastian. Perfect disguise.

He felt his cheeks warm up, and he turned away again. "No... not at all." He cleared his throat, trying to find a way to switch up the conversation when his eyes fell on your book. "What are you reading?"

You frowned slightly, obviously not believing him, but understanding that he wasn't willing to talk about it, and looked back at your book. "My Herbology book. Ron gave it back to me at lunch. Finally, I’d say."

Sebastian paused for a moment, unsure whether it was appropriate to ask about what happened in the corridor, but then he felt that ache again, right above his navel, and the words slipped from his mouth without restraint. "Did you two—"

"Don't." You interrupted him and averted your eyes, staring down at the cover musingly. "Don't bring it up again. That was already embarrassing as it was."

Sebastian stayed quiet, his eyes never leaving your form. He would very much have liked to just plunge into your brain at that moment and make himself at home there.

Perhaps he needed to add 'Learn Legilimency' to his to-do list.

"How so?" he asked at length, quite stupidly, he realised.

"I lost my temper," you said simply, and forced your eyes back towards him. Your next words seemed to eject out of your mouth painfully, like they were unfamiliar to you, and it took a while for you to utter them. You sighed, "I— I suppose… I owe you an apology."

An apology never felt so forced and so sincere at the same time. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"I do. It wasn't the best impression I made of myself." Your lips parted as you leaned your head back on the wall. "I suppose I have to apologise to Ron as well — properly, I mean."

Sebastian stayed quiet, observing you curiously. Why were you telling him all that? "I... suppose," he uttered, not knowing what else to say. That appeared to be enough for you because you didn't even seem to acknowledge his words.

"He was looking for you, you know? Hermione, too. They said they needed to give you your schedule."

"Ah, yes, they mentioned that before," said Sebastian, glad to change the topic. "I’ll meet them promptly then, I was—"

"—Too busy hiding in a place no one else knew about," you continued for him.

That made him still in his steps, a chill running down his spine. Your eyes met: his open wide, yours unwavering and daring him to contradict your statement.

Perhaps the previous topic was way better.

"I just..." Come on, Sebastian, think!

"I just stumbled upon it!"

Usually he was one to conjure lies out of thin air, but being around you made his brain seem to melt. Sebastian thought that it was because he didn't really want to lie to you, or perhaps it was because, with the way your eyes pierced him, he felt as if you already knew all his secrets, all his lies, and you certainly wouldn't be fooled, not even if he made up a whole story full of intricacies and chapters worth publishing.

He knew, however, that the answer was neither, and it lay deeper than anything he was willing to admit to himself so loudly that he had to face it.

"Right."

You closed your book and stood up, facing him. He couldn't read your expression properly, but he felt his body start to uncharacteristically shrivel at the intensity with which you stared him down. He was in Ron's place.

"Strange, isn’t it? how the new student suddenly stumbles upon a secret room on his first day — a room not even Fred and George know about."

You had spoken that last part quietly, as if only to yourself. In fact, Sebastian didn’t know who Fred and George were at all. And, frankly, he didn't want to. "What can I say? I’m full of surprises," he replied smoothly.

"Or full of lies." You hadn’t missed a beat.

It was frightening how easily you had switched back to the girl he had met in the corridor. And he pitied it. And he liked it. And perhaps he was a fool for liking it, and an even bigger fool for pitying it. "I didn’t know it was illegal to be in this room," he said, scowling.

"Illegal? Oh, not at all. But certainly unusual for someone who has supposedly never set foot in this school before."

You took a step towards him, and he had to fight the urge to take one back himself. There was something wrong in the air — something goopy and misty and heavy, penetrating his skin like Mallowsweet fumes, inebriating and dizzying and frighteningly close to losing control. He had only felt it once, in Hogsmeade nonetheless. Electric and impatient, but, now, shrouded. That day, it had been galvanising. Now it was almost shy — almost… veiled.

"Hermione told me that she barely only took you through the first two floors. You're not even supposed to know about the classroom's whereabouts, and yet you seem all too comfortable with your surroundings," you continued, unaware.

He felt his heartbeat accelerate. Why did you have to be so inquisitive? Was he supposed to tell you the truth now?

Dumbledore’s voice came back to his mind: "...unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I don’t know what you're talking about. It was an accident, as I said," replied Sebastian in a poor attempt to reason again, knowing full well you wouldn't believe him.

"Certainly a convenient one." He twitched involuntarily, like he had just got a shock. The corners of your lips lifted in a sneer. "You are an interesting case... Sebastian, was it?"

He nodded hesitantly and narrowed his eyes, baffled at your countenance and your confounding words. An interesting case?

You shuffled on your feet in a nimble movement and pressed your back against the wall again, leaning onto it. "Don’t forget to show me that room sometime, too."

"And why would I do that?" Sebastian was growing impatient at your behaviour, while some part of him was thrilled at your nonchalance. The more you bantered with him, teasing him like that, the more he felt his stomach flutter. He hated himself for it.

He felt a sudden urge to leave. To run to his Common Room, or back into the Great Hall, where the noise cramming his ears would be enough to shut down each and any possible much-too-loud beat of his heart, as if the mere sound of those tiny pulses would beguile him into wandering proscribed feelings. A deceit of his own body he wasn't willing to face, not even through his love of the forbidden. The hunger and ache had to stay just that: mere curiosity, more about her and her family than you.

But he stayed in the silence of the corridor, with a loud pounding noise in his ears.

"Because it would be a shame if other people in, let’s see, higher power were to know about it, too, wouldn’t it?" You moved a hand through your hair to push it back, clearing your vision, and Sebastian watched as your locks fell around your face, a twinge in his chest. "Although I do believe Professor Flitwick would love to have another room for his choir practice. Is there a good acoustic in it?" You peered over his shoulder and towards the now closed door with a playful smile, clearly only teasing him, but the way the light fell on the tresses framing your visage was a bit too familiar to him. His mind stalled for a moment, and he didn't want those beats to stop anymore.

"Why do you care about this room so much?" Sebastian shifted his weight, now taking a step forward as well, and your eyes flickered down when you perceived the movement. Your lip twitched a bit.

"Why do you?" You simply replied, shrugging. "A secret room is a secret room. Don't you want to be a proper new student and get in good with the Professors?"

Sebastian felt his stomach boil at your singsong tone. "That seems to be more of a Gryffindor trait."

"Is it? And how much does a supposed stranger know about our Houses?"

His breath hitched and his resolve crumbled immediately at your quick retort. Sebastian warmed all over and stilled in his steps, feeling a bit too heavy on his legs. The image of the girl who lost her temper in the corridor was the one he had expected to evoke, pity even, yet she was nowhere to be found as your half-lidded gaze stared at him impishly.

"Besides," you continued, clearly feeding off his reaction with increasing confidence. "You should really get to know your Slytherin peers a bit more. Hopefully you won't become like them, but alas if you do, you'll end up snitching on this place yourself."

The thrill gradually disappeared, replaced by unadulterated annoyance. He found himself lowering his head, and he glared down at you, heart pounding in his ears. Your eyes stayed unwavering in his, though Sebastian noticed your crossed arms tightening marginally around your chest. "You can only wish to be like us," he hissed.

As you lifted an eyebrow daringly, he stepped forward again, finally free of that marbly perception that had spread through his body at your mockery, and towered over you. You tilted your head up, eyes never leaving his, the red and gold making them stand out in a way that only sent a new wave of anger through Sebastian's bones.

You could only wish to be like her.

"My dream in life."

Your voice rustled softly against your teeth, stretching with the smirk you wore, daring him to retort again. Sebastian felt it spread before he could even process your words entirely, burning through his guts all the way up to his trembling hands. That hunger. Craving. Ache. And something else — something that made the corners of his mouth tingle and his head tilt forward slightly more. He inhaled deeply from his nose, breathing out gratingly, air straining against his throat.

"Shall I serve as your future proxy and tell the faculty about it now?" you continued, voice glottal and purring, faring on the satisfaction of his heavy breathing on your face. "Might save you time ahead."

A low chuckle left his lips. "Even if you told the faculty about it, I could always pretend you were the one who showed it to me and kept it a secret all this time. After all, I am the new student, aren’t I?"

He grinned to himself as your smile fell slightly, squinting as you looked at him, but it only lasted a moment before you spoke again.

"And why, pray tell, would anyone believe that I would fraternise with a Slytherin enough to show said person a secret room?" You leaned your head on the side, and Sebastian’s heart jumped again. "And why would I turn myself in, given I would have, supposedly, kept my room hidden for five years?"

"It's my room," replied Sebastian lowly, instinctually, voice slightly trembling, blood rising to his head. Despite the height difference, he was starting to feel smaller and smaller every time you spoke, crushing his resolve word by word. It made him shrivel. "I knew it before. You're not welcome in it, nor is it any of your business."

"You knew it before," you repeated blankly, like you didn't care. "So you’re admitting to having learnt about this place already?"

What?

A heartbeat, a glint in your irises, and Sebastian's heart dropped pathetically as he realised he had given you exactly what you had been searching for — what you had wanted him to admit all this time. He shifted his weight back, leaning away from you. "No, I never said—"

"—I believe the Professors know about your true history — especially Dumbledore, you can't trick that one — so I know they won’t be fooled," you continued undaunted to shut each and every one of his possible retorts. "Plus, even if you told them that lie after I snitched on this place, they’d still let it go and take control of this room — Filch in particular. I won’t get into trouble just for keeping an insignificant room secret, but you would lose your special place."

His mouth fell open, for once at a loss for words. He could only stay silent as you threatened to reveal his hidden spot with that undeterred ragging tone of yours. Sebastian would usually brush off any threat against him, especially if it involved getting the help of teachers of all people — he was known for breaking rules on any occasion — but he couldn't ignore your words. He knew you had no idea how much that room meant to him; would you have cared if he told you? Would you have taken your words back? Why would he care if you had? He had promised himself to stay away from you, and that was exactly what he was planning to do. This conversation had gone on for too long.

"Who—Who says it's my special place?" Sebastian tried to salvage it, although his disingenuous and trembling voice betrayed him almost immediately.

"You reek of dust and humidity," you said with a satisfied smile, as if insouciantly waiting to shake his hand after your checkmate. "As if you've spent a lot of time in there just now. Also, no student in Hogwarts with more than a pea for a brain would ever refuse the comfort of a secret room no one has discovered yet."

You had deduced it... by his smell?

Sebastian had still been processing when you gathered your things and looked back at him, breaking into a genuine smile. "You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, and mind you, there are a lot of them in this school, so you'd better get used to it."

The corner of his lips quirked up against his will, heart gradually slowing down again. "Well, you did just threaten me in a way."

You chuckled — an unfeigned, carefree chuckle with no malicious hint — and shrugged. "I was never going to snitch on you, that would have been incongruous. I just wanted to see how this would go."

"I don't follow," he said at length, tilting his head slightly and raising an eyebrow at that. "Were you just playing with me?"

Sebastian didn't know why he had asked. It had been quite clear since you started talking that you had only run rings around him like he was a bloody amateur. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks in chagrin. You averted your eyes with a smile still on your face, and Sebastian wasn't sure whether to feel impressed or annoyed.

"Call it an investigation." You raised your hands in surrender. "I’m no Sherlock Holmes, of course, but..."

"Sherlock who?"

"He... Never mind." You shook your head, and looked back at him for a moment, biting your lip as if facing a conundrum. You sighed. "The thing is, from your perspective my threat should've appeared empty, or unfounded, because, as you said, the Professors would have believed that I was the one who showed you the room, as a more experienced student."

Sebastian listened intently, growing more confused the more you spoke. "Wait, so—"

"So, if you had nothing to hide and had really just found out about the room, you would've been less... defensive ," you explained, and Sebastian found no contempt in your voice: it was neutral, a bit excited maybe, but not mocking — perhaps only a little condescending, he noted bitterly. "Or, more specifically, you would have been defensive about me being out of line rather than about the room itself — more annoyed , I believe, at the fact that I got all up in your personal business uninvited."

The way you spoke, with unalloyed certitude and indisputable pride — though with an almost riveting aspect in your self-assurance, if he dared to admit it — seemed almost preposterous to Sebastian.

"Also," you continued, "if you had really stumbled upon it so easily, you would've been more shocked about the fact that no one else in the school had, wouldn't you?"

That actually... Made sense.

“What if I were just a new student who had accidentally found a room,” began Sebastian hesitantly, although he couldn't stop himself from being rather dazzled — and envious. And definitely ill at ease at your aptitude at reading people — him specifically. “And had completely panicked when another more experienced student threatened to reveal me as if I had done something horribly wrong?”

You looked at him, eyes shifting between his right and left one in a sequence. “Yeah,” you finally countenanced with a blithe nod. “That would have been perfectly plausible, too.”

Sebastian’s face fell, exasperated beyond measure. He suddenly felt a wave of lassitude wash over him and let out a world-weary sigh that earned him a small smile from you.

"Just know that you don't know me as much as you think you do," he said at length.

“I don’t know you at all,” you confirmed with a bright smile. “But I definitely enjoyed this. "

You pointed between the two of you, and Sebastian faltered, following your hand with his eyes for a moment before his gaze fixed on you again. "What?"

"It's just… I didn't lose my temper this time, and... well — it was sort of... nice."

Nice. The word you had used was nice. Sebastian found it anything but that: it had been humiliating to say the least. But again, he was the loser.

"You didn't lose your temper alright," said Sebastian, looking away. "Though we may need to get even on that."

Your eyebrows lifted and you broke into a giggle. "Yeah, perhaps. Even if I'm sure I'm not as much of a smooth talker when you’re not in… well… emotional distress."

To his own surprise, Sebastian smiled back, genuinely and widely and almost tenderly, letting his chest tingle freely and a little more than needed. "So you took advantage of me."

"That I did." You nodded at him. "It’s a pleasure doing business with you." And with that, you started to walk away, leaving him stunned but smiling in the middle of the corridor.

"Ah, before I go," you suddenly added, turning around and walking backwards, and his eyes shot to you once more; "last time I saw Ron and Hermione, they were near the Grand Staircase, on the second floor. If I meet them, I’ll send them to you."

You waved at him and turned around, walking down the stairs and disappearing from his sight.

[Read more]

Taglist:

@lovely-maryj @yuzuhasbae @mosf13 @rbfacee @prichuchan-blog @h0neeyy @lina-prongs @moonlightsolo @ninicol @gayandfairycore @nanako-sakura @epicy0n @shiro-from-cafeberry

(I'm having trouble tagging some of you, sorry :( )

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months

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I love all the information on your blog! If you have a moment, would you confirm something? In every fanfic with Lilia he seems to use his bats to watch over others (particularly Silver) and can even use them to spy. (Basically, he's the bat master.) In the game does Lilia ever use bats for anything or are they just part of his aesthetic?

I checked all the Lilia content I could and (surprisingly) Lilia never mentions the bats or their relation to him in TWST canon. In fact, he never states that he has them do anything for him at all either. The fandom/fanon emphasizes the “bat” aspect + utility of Lilia far more than official content does, with fans often incorporating bats into his regular activities.

Lilia usually does tasks by himself in canon (even delivering Malleus’s holiday note to Yuu himself rather than relying on bats to do it). He doesn’t use bats to help spy on others either, even in situations when it would be a considerable boon (such as during the human-fae war, when having bats scout the area ahead for human soldiers would have been beneficial). This is consistent with other characters’ accounts as well. When Silver describes his childhood, he recalls that Lilia would go on globe trotting journeys and leave Silver alone in their cottage to look after the house and himself. Not once does Silver ever remark that bats watched over him in place of his father; it was either his woodland creature friends or the Zigvolt family that watched Silver in Lilia’s absence.

(Note: one scene that’s difficult to interpret due to the visual novel medium of TWST is when Yuu and co. meet General!Lilia in book 7; there is a part where a bunch of bats flood the screen, but it’s unclear whether they’re just wild animals of the forest or if they’re following Lilia’s command.)

The only prominent time Lilia mentions bats is in his own Dorm Uniform vignettes, in which Silver and Sebek bring home an injured bat and Lilia nurses it back to health. Lilia demonstrates knowledge of bats, but nothing more beyond this (as he takes care of the injured one just as he would look after a human infant like Silver). At the end of the vignettes, Lilia prompts the bat to return to its family; he does not indicate if he is already familiar with the swarm of bats the recovered one is going to.

Bats are definitely a part of Lilia’s “aesthetic” though! He wears bat motifs in his clothes (such as on his Clubwear T-shirt and on Suitor Suit’s chain). Bats are also commonly included in his “image” artwork, such as his Birthday cards—and bats are even featured on Lilia’s character coffin design. They’re clearly a very important symbol for Lilia as a character.

I think where the confusion (or headcanon?) comes from is that Lilia is seen with bats helping him in or appearing during lessons (the gameplay mechanic). Most notably, a swarm of bats holds Lilia’s broom for him in Flight Class. The bats also appear in other aspects of gameplay, such as Alchemy Class and in battles (although they aren’t shown actively “helping” Lilia in these instances; it’s more like the bats are just there).

This probably led to fans speculating or assuming that Lilia has the ability to communicate with bats and can get them to do his bidding. (Isn’t it crazy what a few little animations can spark in a fandom? 😂) Part of this may also come down to the fact that Lilia himself is a nocturnal fae and displays many bat-like or vampiric tendencies himself, such as being averse to sunlight, staying up late/being nocturnal, greeting others while being upside down, and his preference for tomato/berry juice.

So! It’s just a “logical leap” to make, I guess 🦇

#twst #twisted wonderland #Lilia Vanrouge #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #question #Yuu #Malleus Draconia #Sebek Zigvolt #Silver #Diasomnia

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opera-house-twisted-wonderland · 10 months

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Hi, if possible, I would like yandere headcanons for vil schoenheit pls? :'))

Ofcourse darling! Hope you like this <3

Yandere Vil Schoenheit headcanons

Warnings!: Unhealthy obsessive beheavior, poisoning, possesive beheavior, abduction

•Vil is a controlling yandere.

•That's something a big part of the fandom frames him as. And this controlling aspect of his is presented in the game, not only as a "fanon" beheavior but also canon to a extent(atleast before chapter 5). With the way he controls how Epel should act, how he should dress, how he speaks, his accent etc.

•So it's no surprise to say Vil would be a very domineering lover.

•He's always on your back. Commenting how you didn't use the right products on your hair, how your skin looks oily or just too dry, how your nails aren't well taking care of, no matter what you do—He will comment about it. Even if you actually did put effort in it.

•It was like nothing you did was enough, as if your best wasn't good enough.

•You could pick a brush up and the moment it touched your hair—Vil would immediately scold you. Saying you weren't "doing it right" and grabbing the brush from your hands, using it to brush your locks as you sit there, brows furrowed in confusion as you wondered just what did you do wrong, if you did the same as he?

•But his controlling beheavior didn't just end at the way you looked, but also with who you spoke to.

•Whenever you interacted with others he would grimace. His gaze boring daggers upon the unfortunate person you're chatting with

•It wouldn't take long for him to strut over and lead you away from them, his hands gripping your wrist tightly as he gritted his teeth, nails pratically dugging into your skin and opening cuts that would for sure leave marks for days.

•Your friends, especially, made his blood absolutely boil.

•I mean, have you seen how they interact with you? Acting so casually, wrapping their arms around you, interrupting you guys personal time with their brainless problems- It was simply infuriating.

•It wouldn't take long for Vil to abduct you. 1 month, 2 perhaps if you're lucky.

•He would spike your drink with poison, one that was unscented, something you wouldn't be able to pick on...

•Of course, it wasn't in the intention of killing you, goodness no!

•Just the right quantity that would make your body weak, uncapable of moving... something that would allow him to easily overpower you.

•It would happen in one of you guys dates, a surpringly casual one compared to Vil's usual high standards.

•Perhaps a movie marathon in his room, you always did complain about how you two never did something casual after all.

•He asked you if you were thirsty after all the salty popcorn you ate(which he oddly allowed you to eat even thought he had such strict dietaries rules?)

•For the sake of this headcanon you said yes, and that was when he got up from his bed to fetch you the drink, which he quickly ruffed with the poison he brew himself.

•Two or three sips were enough for you to lose control over your limbs, simply laying limp, throat clenching and nose burning with a painful stung, your eyes stuck staring at Vil in fear as he proclaimed his love and how he was doing the best for you.

•It's hard to know where he would take you, leaving you in his room was simply too risky, somoene could always be much of a noisy thing and try taking a peek inside. Perhaps somewhere in the dorm, a secluded room he could place a spell upon, one that kept curious people far away, a illusionary one even.

•He would visit you whenever he could, forcing you to drink more of the poison in small quatities to keep you imobilazed, incapable of doing anything—At his mercy.

•Vil would spend hours just brushing your hair, doing your skin routine, giving you baths...

•He will turn you into your best self.

•His precious little doll, who he will shape into his perfect spouse...♡

•In resume, Vil is a controlling and possesive yandere who unfortunately loves you

•And there is no escape.

Additional notes+!: I think i didn't really capture Vil's essence in this, and i'm sorry for that. My writing skill are still very mediocre since i never truly practised before-

#Vil Schoenheit #Yandere Vil Schoenheit #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #yandere #Yandere Vil Schoenheit x reader

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norunoru03 · 2 years

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A SSR card of a Housewarden from a fanon dorm. He is my friend's OC.

#twst #twisted wonderland #fanon dorm #housewarden #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #little red riding hood

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rottendeadpan · 9 months

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I have... a lot of Faure I can share, but I'll just repost this large handful for now

Small things idk I've ever said anywhere besides his ToyHou.se bio--

He's part of a Beauty and the Beast themed dorm in RSA (fanon dorm; i am waiting desperately for them to release the actual dorms over there. For how I'm running off the '7 princesses of heart' theme from KH lmao,,,,)

Terribly afraid of thunderstorms. They can ruin his entire day and drive him into a panicking spiral. This is meant to parody off the weather conditions from Aristocats when the kittens get kidnapped. To his knowledge, he's never been kidnapped before, but he doesn't have a good memory of when he was very young.

He has a human grandmother, as his mother (Eva) was adopted by a human woman.

#Faure Chantelle #twisted wonderland oc

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girlwithonegoal · 6 months

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sorry but the only reason destiel even works is because wincest did it first and also better

i've been thinking a LOT about this and want to get it all out so here it is. if dean was truly in love with cas, he would not have hesitated to tell him so when he literally knew cas was about to DIE. we don't see that. we see shock, grief, disbelief (an angel loves me!), we see him trying desperately to process his best friend is leaving him but nowhere does dean say, or imply, with his eyes, or words, that he's in love with cas. of course he loves cas - cas is family - and cas is not exactly his brother, (closest is brother-in-arms), despite his insistence in an earlier episode - but he's not in the kind of soul-crushing love that cas is with him. he's not in love with cas, and can't be, because he's already in love with sam.

when dean dies, he gets as close as he possibly can to confessing to sam he's in love with him without actually crossing the line. he would never to that to sam - he would never do to sam what cas did to him - because he would NEVER do anything to make sam lose his agency (sidebar: not that cas doesn't respect dean. but his love confession is almost wish fulfillment - i'm going to confess to dean i love him and go out in a blaze of glory and then leave without dean ever even having to reciprocate because i know he doesn't love me back. and he's absolutely right).

dean has already had years and years of not having his own agency from john his whole fucking life! john did whatever he wanted to dean and dean took it because like hell was he going to subject sam to that bullshit. which brings us to sam and dean's childhood - not much is known of their early years before sam went to stanford and that's fully on purpose. we can almost see dean as not only a brother figure to sam but also a father figure. john leaving for weeks maybe even months at a time - how the hell did dean and sam manage to survive? by dean doing whatever he had to do. emphasis on whatever.

you see, john absolutely knows that dean is beautiful. whether you read their relationship as purely abusive or abusive with a sexual component - dean definitely did questionable things to get food on the table for sam, an aspect that's more in fanon that canon but reads true to the heart of the show. sam doesn't know because dean wanted a normal childhood for him. and dean would rather die and go to hell for 800 years than force sam to make a choice, make any choice, of a romantic and/or sexual nature related to him.

back to dean's death. this is again the closest thing to a love confession that dean can make - my baby brother - take out the word brother and it would be not only romantic but stunningly true - he raised sam, this child who grew up to be a man, this child who loves him - waiting outside sam's dorm for hours - can you picture him pacing in the snow, waiting for the one thing he wants but can't have??? why does that sound familiar? oh, right, because that's what cas said but in dean and sam's case it would be actually true. how cruel and unbelievably insane it is to find your soulmate in your brother, the one person you have that you love unconditionally, not just because they are your family but because you are in love with them, and you can never have them as long as you live.

re: american gothic and soulmatism. very different from crimson peak where thomas fully realizes the unhealthiness of the codependent incestuous relationship with his sister and wants to be free and happy with edith. but sam and dean don't want to be free. in their minds, they already are free as long as they have each other and only each other. not getting in all the other romantic relationships that the brothers have with other people bc it would take too long, but they already fulfill that need for each other and don't need anyone else...like i'm sorry i love my sister but i want to get married one day to someone else. if you read their relationship as purely platonic, it doesn't work at ALL.

the kripke early seasons fully leaned into the gothic horror aspect of it all and incest is definitely a part of that...dean and sam literally cannot live without each other. they can't do it! sam dies in dean's arms and dean can't even wait five fucking minutes without making a deal with a demon lmao. he can't eat. he can't sleep. their love is a perpetual resurrection; they keep killing each other and bringing each other back to life. because they don't know how to stop. they are a singular mangled fucked up entity. i read a fic once where the author described sam as hating his own body because it was separate from dean's and dean's whole presence was a phantom pain. and yeah. just yeah. they can't live without each other because they ARE each other.

seasons 1-3 to me are spn at its soul. that's it. cas only works as a side character, if he's a brother (like, purely platonically) to both sam and dean or just unrequited romantic love for dean. the trope of an angel falling in love with a faithless man who can't pray only works if dean hasn't been in love with sam the whole time.

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therealvinelle · 5 months

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From what I can tell, in the actual books there's just one line from Sirius saying Alphard left him some gold, and not much other canon mention of him. How did Alphard become such a big character in your fics/Tom Riddle's love interest?

You know, that's a very good question.

The true and full story behind how Alphard Black became an important character in our fics is laden with a lot of spoilers and back-and-forth, though I will say it wouldn't have happened at all if @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin hadn't already used him in When Harry Met Tom. When we later then needed to add a character for The Man Who Would Be King, Alphard's name lent itself easily and on discussion we found he was the only that really fit the role we needed a character to play. He went on to become a surprisingly large part of secret fic, now we've imprinted on him like baby ducks and he's in everything.

So, what makes Alphard Black so fitting for what we need him to be?

We have little to go on from canon, but compared to some of the other characters fandom has decided on characterisation for, we at least have something to go on when we make stuff up. Oh, we have to conjecture, fabricate, and headcanon away, and for every possible Alphard Black we draft up someone could have used those same clues to create a different Alphard, but we would both be following certain constraints.

By contrast, characters like Alice Longbottom or Abraxas Malfoy have very strong fanon characterizations, a lot read into them, but I'd argue we have just as much, if not slightly more, to go on with Alphard Black.

With that said, here is the information we have on Alphard and how Muffin and I used every bit of it to make up as much as we could.

Teen pregnancy 1.0: Pollux edition

Alphard's sister was born when their father Pollux Black was twelve, and his father married her mother. Going by his young age, I assume this was so Walburga wouldn't be a bastard. Walburga, by her painting's ravings, appears to have spent all her life in 13 Grimmauld Place, she feels a connection to "the house of my fathers" and always had a strong sense of Black identity she tried to pass on to her sons: I think it's a very fair assumption that the Blacks raised the baby, and not her mother's family (as her mother would have been in Hogwarts as well or else a statutory rapist, either case spells a grim homelife for Walburga).

Now, Alphard's birthdate is unknown since he's struck off the family tree, but it was sometime between 1925 and 1938.

Muffin and I have decided that he was born the next year, since this gives Tom a dorm mate, and more importantly it gives Alphard a teen father, one who learned nothing from last year and assumed no responsibility. Tom now has a fucked up dorm mate, and we didn't have to (completely) invent a character.

You now have two kids raised by family members not their parents since their father is a literal thirteen-year-old, and the generational age gap is so narrow that when Walburga starts school her paternal aunt Dorea is canonically a fifth year. They want for nothing materially and the family does step up, but the complete parental absence in their life has an impact.

For the sake of funny, we thought Arcturus Black, who is already raising Lucretia and Orion, is our candidate for raising his cousin's spawn. Now Walburga's marriage to her second cousin is to someone who was raised alongside her, which is funny and so awful. Another feasible candidate is Cygnus Black, Pollux's father and currently raising four kids, but... not as funny.

Teen pregnancy 2.0: Cygnus edition

Cut to 1951. Alphard is a happy bachelor, his father has stopped having kids (legitimate ones anyhow), Walburga's happily married to their cousin, and then... their brother Cygnus does a booboo.

Bellatrix is born, Cygnus is thirteen. Andromeda's birthdate is unknown, but must have been while he was in Hogwarts because Narcissa is born in 1955, while he is still seventeen.

The same problem as with Pollux arises with Bellatrix: who wants baby? And, as with Walburga, I think a fair argument could be made that the Blacks took her in, not the Rosiers.

There are many options here (and can't rule out the Rosiers), but I think it's fair to assume Bellatrix went to live with close family.

Per the Black family, this gives us three options that I find feasible: Walburga, Alphard, and Pollux.

I don't think it was Walburga, I think that would inevitably have come up in canon, either as Walburga lost her shit when Andromeda eloped, handled her grief differently after Regulus died if she had surrogate daughters, or Sirius had a different dynamic with Bellatrix. The Orion-Walburga-Sirius-Regulus family unit doesn't come across at all as having had three nieces raised alongside the boys, so Walburga's a no.

Which leaves us with Alphard, Pollux, someone in the Rosier family, or extended Black family raising Bellatrix.

Pollux, per his wild youth, might not be topping the lists. One could posit that Pollux wants a second shot at parenting and would take in his granddaughter based on this, but he already has Cygnus if he wanted a second shot at parenting. Still, he's a candidate.

So is Alphard, however, who is living alone and has no wife to worry about, no children of his own, and a pile of gold. Per his choice to give Sirius gold after he ran away, one can also assume he's one to come through for family, which fits with taking in his much younger brother's daughter.

TL;DR: we can't prove Alphard Black didn't raise the Black sisters, or at least care for them in their early years, but someone must have and it might as well have been him.

Let there be no pregnancies and no marriages

We then enter the bit that had Muffin go "oh, gay. I will use him in my fic" long before any of the detective nonsense to come up with the above, which is that Alphard did not marry. Now, that could mean anything, perfectly straight people don't marry and gay people do marry.

However, from 1938 through 1960, no Black heirs are born. Which isn't necessarily a long time, on the contrary, Cygnus has been supplying the family with children for years now, luck just had it so they're all daughters who can't pass on the family name.

Still, taking a step back, Orion, Walburga, Alphard, and Lucretia (who married a Prewett) are all adults who are just not having any children. The Orion and Walburga are perhaps not even married, we don't know when they married, and it could be they married specifically because neither of them had found anyone else to marry and there were no sons. Alternatively, they married earlier but then did not have children until they were in their mid-thirties. Considering Lucretia's childless marriage, it might be some Blacks struggled with infertility.

A bit of nerding about why I think Walburga waiting so long to have children is odd

The tldr for Western European demographics is that if you can afford to have children and provide for your family, you will marry and have children early. The upper classes have historically married and had children much younger than the lower classes because of this. The mother's education will also impact when she has children - higher education means having children later.

I think we see this reflected in the wizarding world, in that education is both low (arguably nonexistent, considering the curriculum at Hogwarts) and in magic making material considerations Muggles must make obsolete. And we do see a lot of young parents - Lily and James are both 20 when they have Harry, Andromeda is maximum 24 when she has Nymphadora Tonks, Molly Weasley is 20 when she has Bill, Narcissa is 25 when she has Draco, Fleur would have been 23-25 when she had Victoire, Harry and Ginny are 26 and 25 when they have James Sirius, Hermione and Ron are 26-27 when they have Rose...

Young is the norm.

And with the Blacks, who were lineage obsessed, and where Walburga is never reported to have had a career keeping her busy, I find it very interesting that Walburga doesn't have children until she's 35.

There are three possible explanations I can see:

Walburga and Orion didn't want to have children, and waited for Alphard or Cygnus to get on with it, only for Cygnus to only have daughters and Alphard to have no children at all (bit unlikely since they had two sons, a couple who pointedly did not want children would have called it quits after the first)

They had fertility issues

Walburga and Orion did not instantly marry, but waited for years until it became clear Orion wasn't going to find anybody else, Alphard apparently not either, and Cygnus said "fuck you all, I've contributed three kids already", at which point Walburga and Orion were both single, both cared about the lineage, and went for it.

We've gone for option 2 since it's just funnier to have a pair of cousins all over each other at Hogwarts, "Aren't they-" "Yes and they're very happy together :)", but I think option 3 is pretty feasible too.

Either way, you can read into Walburga and Orion from the late births of their children and you also get free Alphard characterisation, because his choice not to marry starts to look rather pointed.

Back to Alphard

While the Blacks were not dying out at the time, they also weren't swimming in children. Only Cygnus was passing on the family name, and that was exclusively to daughters, and he went on to have no more (legitimate) children after leaving school. Pollux wasn't having any more (legitimate) children, and while there are and grandfathers uncles on the family tree who could do the deed they were quite old, many unmarried, and most importantly they canonically had no children.

We're down to Alphard, Orion, and Cygnus having to pass on the family name, with Orion and Walburga a decade into their marriage with no sons to show for it. Sure, Cygnus could have sons, but that would be placing all their dragon eggs in one dragon basket (and indeed, he had no sons).

Why doesn't Alphard marry?

The family must have brought it up, if not pressured him. Alphard not marrying in a world where arranging a match would have been the easiest thing in the world looks to me like a deliberate refusal.

The giving of the money to the Sirius

This all brings us to the one thing we know for sure that Alphard did in his life: he willed money to Sirius after he'd been disowned.

We know Alphard was not a blood traitor prior to this, or he'd have been burned off earlier.

I frankly take this to mean Alphard most likely subscribed to pureblood supremacy, or at least he did not mind it enough to do anything else to cross his family. Giving money to Sirius isn't a political act, it's an uncle providing for a family member who has suddenly lost everything.

(And, if we assume Alphard himself is gay: it's an uncle who sees his nephew run away from home to be with his best friend, and perhaps drawing a few conclusions of his own about the strength of Sirius's friendship to James. There are many ways to interpret his choice to support Sirius financially, is what I'm saying.)

It also seems a distinct overreaction to me that Walburga would burn him off the family tapestry for something like this, and... it seems very much like one angry, mourning, woman's way of hurting a brother she can no longer confront. If she had been hoping Sirius wouldn't make it out in the wild and be forced to return, then Alphard giving him money would be a betrayal of the highest order.

Walburga putting a cigarette to her wallpaper isn't the same as the entire Black family disowning Alphard posthumously, it's an act of grief and anger.

Where we make things up wholesale

I'll go ahead and assume Alphard was gay, had a good and stable but slightly fucked up family life, and got overly attached to his dorm mate Tom Riddle as a stranger to all of this who perhaps seemed above it all. I also vote he raised Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda, because it's a more interesting option than Pollux. (In case you didn't notice, Muffin and I subscribe to the Black family being as fucked up as we can reasonably make them.)

Vinelle, what was the point of this?

My point is that we may not have any canon appearances to go on with Alphard Black, but we do have dates, biographical facts, what he did with his will, a few statements from Walburga's insane painting and other characters, and a whole lot of imagination. And an obsessive tendency.

And a willingness to say "Mm, no. Can't read. Sorry, that fact's just wrong." when we don't like things (more specifically, Sirius's phrasing making it sound like Alphard died not too long after Sirius ran away from home, which would make him dead for The Man Who Would Be King, a fic that takes place in 1982. We will assume Sirius meant "gave", not "left".)

Wee.

#the blacks #black family #alphard black #walburga black #orion black #harry potter #harry potter meta #secret fic #the man who would be king #my fic #the carnivorous muffin fic #the carnivorous muffin #cygnus black #pollux black

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