#lord voldemort likes to watch the world burn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

14thgalerie · 8 months

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path to you

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: war of hearts by ruelle

• word count: 7.3k

• genre: angst, fluff every now and then

— not proofread, i wrote this on a whim the other night and only finished last night.

Theodore Nott stood amidst the crowd of returning students aboard the Hogwarts Express, his heart heavy with a blend of emotions. His eyes were ablaze, lit with determination in search of that one familiar figure with locks he spent nights running his fingers through. However, as the last call to board the train echoed through the station, his hope was diminished when there was still no sign of you.

In truth, he knew it was futile right from the moment the both of you had left Hogwarts. The incident— if that was what he would even call it for that— was the moment that Voldemort had truly begun making his appearance known to the students of Hogwarts.

He was no innocent bystander to this, the mark that burns on his right arm is a constant, painful reminder of that. His father had mercilessly subjected him through the initiation process, appointing him watch of Draco to ensure he would follow the Dark Lord’s order just as others had been compelled to do.

However, in the brief moment that he knew your eyes had latched on to an exposed skin of his sleeved arm, a fear struck him, unlike the familiar one that had long been instilled by his father. He decided that he would rather weather the searing pain that seemed to burn deeper for every day that Dumbledore roamed the grounds than prove he was no trustworthy person to you now. He would ignore the ache that pried into his very soul as you steer a conversation away as he picks you up from your friends.

Despite this, in the dark and dreary summer, he is left terribly alone with only thoughts of you entangled in his mind. The old days of sunshine only remain in memory, as he supposes is a communal thing for all of you as Voldemort continued to infiltrate and pollute the magical world with his influence.

Theodore had written you a myriad of letters over the many days, his heart engraved with every droplet of ink that marks the parchment.

I miss you.

I beg of you to tell me that I’m not as forgettable as your silence otherwise makes me feel.

But every owl that returned carried nothing but itself. No words from you. Not a single one even from your friends, a choice he made in desperation, regardless of the consequences if his father found out he had been in contact with one of you.

He knew that they knew where you were, even if it might not be the entirety of it. If there was one thing he truly regretted before, it would be his cowardice. His fear runs deep in the thick crimson inside of him that dictated his every move. Though he shares a strong companionship with Mattheo and the others, Theo remains in awe of the camaraderie that you have with your friends at this time.

Driven purely by the need to be a catalyst; to make an end of this war.

With the sudden void torn into his at your disappearance, Theo found his heart crystallising once again, trying to preserve what little warmth is left by you.

Praying to a god he doesn’t believe in, begging that there will never come a day that he won’t know your last words.

You exhale slowly.

The morning had barely started, and the sun was still but a ray in the dim sky. You tug the blanket over your face, blinking once, twice. The stream below the knife-like hill they had taken camp in, continued its hum.

It has been roughly three months since the start of the school year started, and four months since you have made the decision to accompany Harry, Hermione, and Ron in the hunt for Horcruxes. Four, lengthy months since you’ve last exchanged words with Theo, afraid that you would let this mission slip, Merlin knows he knows you better than you did.

If circumstances were different and he was not tied by that horrific mark, maybe he would be even with you. But reality is unforgiving and you are left in sorrow for the easy times you’ve taken advantage of.

There were times it felt ghastly to keep certain things to yourself, for so long it had been you and Theo, sharing the deepest truths. Then in a snap of a finger, it seemed most of what came out of you were lies, all in the name of protecting your friends. But it was paramount to be cautious nowadays, even if Theo was careful and dedicated to keeping crucial information, you couldn’t shake off the fear that Voldemort may attempt to pry on his mind.

Harry, with all his strength, is no exception to Voldemort’s manipulation of the mind. What more of Theo?

You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if everything came crumbling down the moment Voldemort sought Theo’s memories.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but feel the urge to apparate for even just a moment. Just a minute. You found it difficult to get rid of the nagging feeling that he now despised you for doing this, for running away and leaving him, despite the promise you made only a year ago. It was a constant tug-of-war of the heart and the mind, most days leaving you drained in addition to the physical exhaustion.

I miss you.

I hate this uncertain silence that does nothing but bring you forth.

“Y/N? Are you awake?” You hear a voice call out.

You snap yourself out of your thought

“What time is it?” You mumble. Hermione’s sharp ears are used to your morning voice by now. “It’s already 8 in the morning, Y/N. Get up.”

“Goddess!” You shot up, “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier, my shift was supposed to be an hour ago.”

With one less person in your team, as Ron left in his fury, the rest of you had to take shorter rests now.

“It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Hermione reassures her. You stand and make your way down to the table where a cup of steaming tea is left for you. “Are you alright?” You ask.

She merely hums in question but makes no indication that she will answer. Instead, she walks out of the tent to sit on one of the rocks nearby.

“He will be fine, mione.” You say, following her. “Ron has been through so much in the past, I think by this time, he would be able to get by on his own.”

You pull her into a side embrace, holding her close without saying anything as she rests limply underneath your arm. She needed it. Sacrificing the risk of her parents forever forgetting that Hermione was their daughter had taken a heavy toll on your friend. Leaving them in the house she deemed her sanctuary from the destruction, the madness that reigned outside.

With Ron having left the three of you. Although you weren’t as close with the redhead, you knew he had been Hermione’s shoulder— ever since forever. You understood how she felt or even a spectre of it, for you, too, had left someone behind.

Someone that you could only beg the gods remains breathing and unsullied by the encroaching darkness that seemed to follow him.

“And what about you?” Hermione whispered softly, the tears that lined her cheeks dry now. “What do you mean?”

“Nott.” Hearing the name instantly formed a small, melancholic smile on your face.

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. You can stop pretending to be the shield for us now, Harry and I will be here for you. You can cry.”

Your gaze remains fixed on the sight before you. Atop the hill, the pale gold ball of sunlight emerges and bathes the cold stone in warmth. Reminiscent of the days before the Triwizard Cup, before Cedric died. It all seemed so far away now.

“I’ve exhausted all the tears from me already, Hermione. I miss him terribly. I may just crumble beneath his feet the very moment that I see him again.”

“It’s difficult what you had to do. I can’t even begin to decipher it. The both of you had consistently defied, and will likely continue to do so, every misconception that the others had of you back when you were still friends."

“I hate how there was not a scintilla of hesitation and doubt in me when I had to keep so many things from him when I had to lie to him.” You croak out, voice barely above a whisper.

“You did so because you knew that in the end, it wasn't just for the best of the wizarding world that you deliberately did all of that, it’s all for him. You did it because you wanted to keep him safe from that vile, bald head.”

You nod. It's true. Ever since you found out about the abuse that Theo’s father inflicted upon him, you knew that there would come a day when he would pay the price for it. Knowing that he couldn’t escape him before he turned 17, the only solace you can provide is your unwavering companion.

It only weighed on you heavily that Theo would have to endure it all alone again so that you could work to permanently sever the ties between him and his malevolent father..

“We’re kids.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, and you clenched your fists in frustration. At Voldemort, at Theo’s father, at your parents who left you all alone, at the lost innocence of your childhood.

“We’re supposed to be ripping our hair off for NEWTS, preparing for life after we leave Hogwarts, dancing and drinking our teenage years away. Why did we have to make all these choices? The storybooks on my shelf speak nothing of this.”

Then, her gaze unwavering firmly set on you as she sat up straight. “We’re doing this so that Voldemort, or any wizard that dares follow his steps, may never inflict the kind of pain on anyone else, the way he did to us and our parents.”

Heart heavy with foreboding and unease, Theodore stands among the students of Hogwarts in the dimly lit Great Hall. The room, devoid of its warm glow and chatter, was bathed in eerie silence where Snape, now the headmaster of Hogwarts, had summoned every student. From the tense shoulders of the man, Theo could only surmise that it was something important. It was rare to see Snape truly bothered.

“Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you here at this hour. It came to my attention that earlier this evening... Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade.”

A murmured thrill fills the Hall. Theodore’s eyes widened, as he waited for a sign. If Harry Potter was nearby, it could only mean that you were too.

Snape continues, raising his voice a tad bit to quell the noise. “Should anyone — student or staff — attempt to aid Mr. Potter, that person will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression. Rest assured: So long as I am Headmaster at Hogwarts, Harry Potter will never again step foot in this castle.”

Theo only hears the latter of what he said, mind distracted by the idea that you could be in the castle. His feet itched to run out and find you himself. Not an ounce of care for what the man in front is saying.

“Now then. If anyone here has knowledge of Mr. Potter’s movements this evening... I invite them to step forward now.”

However, the sound of footsteps catches his attention in the dead silence, and the younger Slytherin students near him exchange glances with each other. Then a figure appears from the shadows at the back of the hall. Someone that brought forth a sigh of a blend of relief and disbelief from Theo. An action that the younger him would probably scoff at.

“I think I can help you out with that…” Harry exclaims, “It appears that, even with all your thorough defensive measures, you might have a security problem, Headmaster”

The students all stare in utter perplexity, each wondering when and how the bespectacled boy had entered the castle. A vacuous question really for Harry has proven countless times that he is, in several ways, a gifted person who is filled with more courage and resolve than anyone in this room. Even Theodore, who’s good friends with Draco, can admit that fact.

The sight of Harry struck a spark of hope in a place that had grown increasingly bleak since the death of Dumbledore— Diggory’s death if you will. But the spectacle wasn’t yet done there when the doors of the Great Hall swung open, revealing the members of the Order. Their arrival further sets a ripple among the unexpecting students, though from the looks of Harry’s friends, it seems that they were the ones to aid them.

His gaze shifts to watch as one by one, they line up in a defensive pose behind Harry. He Recognizing a few familiar faces like the Weasleys, Hermione, Lovegood, Professor Lupin, Fleaur from Beauxbatons, and even some members of the Ministry.

“How dare you stand where he stood.“ Harry shouts. “Tell them the truth of that night’”

Theodore’s breath catches in his throat. The air becomes suffocating at the reminder of those times, days that still hunt him and the others. He takes slow inhales and exhales to calm himself, knowing that now is not the right time and place.

Snape with his eyes like shards of ice, faced Harry Potter. Theodore watches as he moves as if to retrieve his wand, but before he can do so, McGonagall comes forward and sends a blast in Snape’s direction. Snape pivots and barely rebounds the spell in defence,

Chaos ensues as the rest of the staff leaps forward with their wands out. A short but intense exchange erupted in the middle of the room, making the students shuffle to the side to avoid being hit by the spells and curses that flashed through the air like crackling lightning.

Snape, ever the formidable wizard despite his attitude, held his ground with a stoic determination. But Theo couldn’t help but notice how his old professor merely deflected the curses thrown upon him and never cast his own. It piqued his curiosity knowing that he was a master of the dark arts, prominent in the way lectures were replaced by dark arts in his headship.

In the end, Snape yielded, a moment that sent shockwaves to many.

“A coward, that man.” Professor McGonagall proclaims, before turning to Harry. “Mr. Potter, do you mind telling me what you’re doing here, which, I trust you realise, is an act of complete lunacy?”

Harry replies by simply telling her that he is a Gryffindor which comes to no surprise to the woman. McGonagall then turns to the rest of the students, calling them to settle down after the whole debacle.

Just then, Harry suddenly winces, pressing his palms to his temple, before a rumble rings throughout the Hall. A dark cloud swarming in the Enchanted Ceiling, imminent that the beginning of the war will begin any time now. It is the screams and face of pain that confirms it.

A familiar voice to Theodore sounds off in a deathly whisper in his head. And by the looks of everyone, it was the same for them.

“I know that many of you want to fight. Some of you may even think this is wise. But this is folly. Give me Harry Potter. Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.“

With that, the whispers recede followed by the dark clouds evaporating into thin air. For a moment, silence ensues. Pansy’s screechy voice scratches in his right ear from where she stands beside him.

“Harry’s right there! Somebody grab him!” Yet nobody gives her a second thought. Everyone’s attention shifts instead to Filch who loudly enters through the Hall, screaming that everyone’s out of bed. The man made Theo chuckle inwardly, making a tiny smirk form on his lips.

“They are supposed to be out of bed, you blithering idiot!” McGonagall tells him off. “Oh right, sorry.”

“Now, as you’re already here, I’d like you to lead the rest of Slytherin House from the Hall to the dungeons.” She adds on before Filch can leave.

Theodore’s thoughts returned, as they always did in the past months, to the one question that haunts the very corners of his mind: Where are you? In this whole happening, his eyes had been moving back and forth towards the group that stood near the large double doors. Trying to catch a glimpse of you in between the still figures. But as you had tortured him, you were still nowhere to be seen and he began to question if you had truly disappeared and left him questions unanswered.

As they were being ushered out of the Hall, he, like many others, was vacillating between insisting upon fighting for Hogwarts or to keep their loyalty to their Slytherin roots. But really, the prevailing choice for him is neither of those. He desperately wants to run towards Hermione and just ask her of your whereabouts.

But before he could approach a decision, Hermione made it for him. He jolts when a hand grasps his forearm, taking him by surprise.

“Nott.” Hermione begins before he cuts her off. “Where is she?”

It must’ve come off louder than he intended to from the way she jumped and the stares from the clutter of students from all directions. But he couldn’t care less, and it seemed that the girl in front of him had just now remembered when he didn't offer an apology.

“Well, it’s nice to see you’re not much different.” She sarcastically says. “Granger. Hermione. I frankly don’t have the time for this and I doubt that you do too, so I beg you to answer me now.”

Theodore’s impatience taking over him, he could not endure another moment without having you within his sight. It was a bit of an uncharacteristic burst of urgency for him and he knew it, but you were different. You, who holds all of his vulnerable entirety in your hands.

“She’s somewhere in the castle, searching for one of the remaining Horcruxes in the castle,” Hermione explains. “Y/N had suggested that we split and she began the search while we had to ward off Snape. We will be doing the same thing now, so if you have any idea of Ravenclaw’s lost diadem location, then that’s where you’ll find her.”

With a simple nod and a meek expression of gratitude, he runs off to a place where he begs must hold such a priceless object. It would be somewhere close by but nowhere that it can be easily found.

In the corner of his eyes, Theo caught a glimpse of Harry sprinting towards a distant hallway before rounding a corner. Knowing that by now he must have an idea of where it is, Theo makes a sprint for it. He cautiously peers around the hallway where he sees a door materialising in front of Harry.

Before he can approach Harry to accompany him inside the Room of Requirement, he sees the unmistakable form of his two friends, Draco and Blaise, along with Goyle, discreetly following Harry inside. He muttered frustrated curses under his breath, knowing that those three would make trouble.

He enters through the door, where he makes a dash along the stockpile of objects that seemingly never seems to lessen with every step he takes. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, but still a lingering tension persisted, as he saw Harry’s figure running.

“Potter!” He calls out to the boy, casting aside any lingering apprehension he once held for the boy. “Did you find it?”

Harry halts in his run, taking a moment to catch his breath before responding to Theo. In truth, he wasn’t surprised that Theo was here with him, but rather, more so that you weren’t the object of his first question to him.

“I think so, the sound keeps getting louder.” He answers.

“It should be somewhere near now.” He continues. “Let’s go then.”

Theo quietly takes his place beside Harry as they weave their way through the maze of ancient objects and furniture. They continue until Harry stops, causing Theo to freeze in his step.

There you stood, a presence that seemed to penetrate his very being. The only person who plagued his thoughts, you had woven yourself into every conscious moment and every corner of his mind.

Now that you were a mere five steps away from him, he couldn’t conjure the nerve to move forward, feeling himself paralyzed.

Was it the fear that held him back? The nagging thought that this might be just another dream of his? He couldn’t grapple at an answer, but by the length of your hair that now sits at your shoulders, he would like to believe that maybe this was indeed you. This was you, and before he realised it, he was all but standing still.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you nearly lose your footing, feeling a heavy weight press to your back. The sensation of those familiar long arms enveloping you in a tight embrace sent your heart racing, the shock of it sending a rush of emotions through you.

For a fleeting moment, it felt that your body had become one with the ground, immobilised by the torrent of emotions surging through you. But then when the realisation finally sinks into you, the tension that seemed to course through you suddenly dissolves and you willingly surrender yourself to the warmth of his embrace.

You turn, your hands tracing a graceful path across his back. It had been far too long, and you couldn’t imagine being apart from him for such an extended period ever again.

The background fades into obscurity. Harry was forgotten, a distant blur that moved with the others. Your eyes filled with relief and that soft, affectionate expression that he adored. All he could see was you, the person he had yearned for and feared losing in the world you both live in.

Theo’s defences crumbled, and he finally surrendered to the weight of his emotions. He couldn’t find a part of him that would care if others saw him right now. Tears flowed freely down his flushed cheeks, like a torrential downpour.

“I’m here. Theo, I’m back with you.” Your arms held him, gently rocking him as you tried to soothe his nerves.

“Never leave me alone again.” He choked on the words, his voice raw and rugged with pain. “I beg you.”

“I won’t be going anywhere, I promise. I’m sorry for having to leave so suddenly.” You whispered, your voice filled with genuine remorse. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of movement behind some cabinets— a flash of white.

“But we’ll have to talk later.” You continued, turning your focus back to Theo. “We need to get rid of this Horcrux.”

“Horcrux?” He asks, pulling back from the crook of your neck. “Hermione mentioned that when I asked about you.”

“It’s one of the many things that Voldemort has done to ensure his immortality.” You explained, your tone carrying a sense of urgency. “But if we get rid of it, we’re one step closer to finally banishing him for good.”

He opens his mouth to say something but before he can, he is interrupted by Draco, with Blaise and Goyle, stepping into view. “Well, well, what brings you here, Potter? And Theo, what are you doing with them?”

Your gaze shifts back at Harry who had only realised that you had some other company. “I could ask you the same.” You retort.

Theo, however, pays his friend no mind. Instead, he leans to your ear, his voice a hushed whisper. “We should get that thing while Draco is still preoccupied with Harry.”

You could make a run for it; it seemed that Draco didn’t care for your purpose inside the room. Rather busy demanding your friend for his wand back, the very one you had accidentally brought back with you from the Malfoy Manor.

“- its allegiance is to me now. If you want it, you’ll have to win it back. Perhaps even kill me…” You hear Harry proclaim. You silently curse your friend for his recklessness, tired of his cavalier attitude with his life simply because he’s braved the risk of death before. You kept your eyes trained on Draco, knowing that despite his hesitation before, he might act on it now.

His wand hand twitches.

Brow conflicted.

Uneasy eyes settling somewhere behind you. You look behind to see a silhouette of a girl with a wand pointed in your direction, before you can see who it is, a ball of scarlet light emerges and briefly lights up her face and hits Draco’s hand.

“Avada Kedavra!” You were pulled back by Theo, landing on the ground with his body catching the fall. You watch as the spell ricochets and sends the diadem, which was sitting peacefully in its encasement on the table, flying away.

You spring to your feet, a burst of adrenaline propelling you forward to catch the item before it vanishes on you in this labyrinth. Your hand barely grazed the edge of the jewelled headband and with a quick nod to Harry and Hermione a nod to escape this room. Meanwhile, you’re confused as to where Ron had disappeared off to.

The red-head gives you your answer when he comes running from somewhere followed by a twisting serpent made of scarlet flames. “Run! Goyle’s set the bloody place on fire!”

With your right hand clutching the crown, you secure a firm grip on Theo’s hand, which rests lightly on your waist. The five of you dash through the towering heaps of debris that would likely be a pile of smouldering ashes and soot. A quick glance behind you reveals flames that draw closer, mutating into different forms: serpents, dragons, and the like, each following you so closely that sweat beads form on the nape of your neck.

“Keep running!” Harry shouts when Hermione sees Draco scaling a mountain of furniture. You were still running for your life when suddenly Harry spots a stack of broomsticks. TO which you all took one and began to speed across the room.

The flames explode behind you, You and Theo, who decided to share, barely elude the snap of its jaw.

“Wait! What about Malfoy and Blaise!” Harry screams at the rest of you, your head turns to look back at the two who are barely hanging on as the flames continue to destroy the room. It was only a matter of time before it reached them and they would have nowhere to go.

“You grab them!” Theo replied, his voice scratchy and painful from the amount of smoke you’ve inhaled.

“Are you serious? He’s joking right?” Ron asks Hermione, to which you instead reply. “No, he’s not! Go get them!”

Harry and Ron sweeps down, swiftly reaching out to grasp Draco and Blaise’s outstretched hands. While you, Theo, and Hermione went ahead as a giant beam of light appeared in the distance, a radiating beacon. It’s Hermione, hovering on her broom with her wand raised.

Then, with Harry and Ron in tow, you all fly headlong towards Hermione’s beacon. And in an instant, your sight dissolved into a blinding whiteness.

Your eyes flutter open, your senses returning to you in a hazy rush. You felt someone shaking you furiously, and in your disoriented state, you instinctively pushed them away. But arms instead wrapped around you and pulled you into a warm chest.

“You’re fine!” The person evidently shakes in relief, before you feel a gentle bush of lips against your temple.

Blinking away the remnants of confusion, you look up to see Theo’s striking blue eyes already intently focused on you., striking a shiver across your spine “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily.” You joked weakly, a tiny smile on your face.

Theo’s expression softened, and he tightened his hold on you as if he was afraid that you might disappear again. “I thought I lost you there,” He tells you, voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you just lying there, unmoving… I was utterly terrified.”

You reach up and gently cup his cheek, wiping away the dark ash that sullied it with your thumb. “Like I said, love, I’m not going anywhere,” Your voice filled with reassurance, and you sit properly to kiss him softly, sealing your promise in that tender moment.

But as with everything else, it was interrupted by an awkward cough behind you.

“You guys done there? We still have some things to do?” Ron retorts. To which Hermione slaps him in the chest.

You laugh and hum in tease. “Well, actually I think we could do with some more snogging here.” Ron merely groans. “No, please. I don’t wanna see that.”

The both of you stand from where you sit, your hands still entwined, hearts racing. “Where’s Draco and Blaise, by the way?” You ask Theo. “They ran off somewhere.”

As they all stepped out of the corridor, they caught you up on what happened while you were unconscious. Harry had stabbed the diadem with a basilisk fang which Ron and Hermione retrieved from the Chamber and threw it back towards the Room of Requirement where it blew up into flames.

You look at Harry who was staring into the distance, his face still bearing the trace of the agony he must’ve endured when he stabbed the diadem.

“It’s the snake. She’s the last one. The last Horcrux.” Harry speaks up.

“Where do you think he’ll take it?” Theo asks from beside you. “Somewhere safe. He’ll be keeping her close to him.”

“You should go ahead, Theo and I will stay here to help with the others.” You tell your friends, while Harry tries to locate Voldemort with his mind.

“I know where he is.” He finally comes back. “Let’s go.”

“The three of you keep safe alright?” You remind them as you all run towards the battlefield, where many of your friends stand fighting. They nod, promising you that they will and in return make you and Theo swear you’ll be careful.

In the courtyard, where students and staff trade spells with the Death Eaters that littered across the school grounds, you quickly join them, making sure that you are in sight of the other. The unspoken promise to do so served as a beacon of comfort amidst the chaos you were faced with.

From the upper balcony, your eyes scanned the battlefield, assessing the danger that lurked when you saw a Death Eater poised to send a curse to Luna from behind. Without a second thought, you unleashed a forceful flick of your wand, sending a powerful spell toward the Death Eater which sent him tumbling through the air and straight to the waters beyond the castle.

Luna, whose signature dream-like demeanour was replaced by an expression of gratitude, turns and locks eyes with you. She offered you one of her wide smiles, “Thanks! Y/n, glad to see you back here!”

Your heart swelled with warmth for your friend. “Don’t mention it, happy to see you also, Luna.” You quickly reply before returning to battle when you are hit by a deafening blast straight on the chest. You were raised to the air before you crashed into the floor below.

Theodore Nott fought valiantly in the courtyard, proving to the others that the dark mark that covered his right arm bore no significance to the man. His wand moved in a blur of motion in the onslaught of Death Eater. His thoughts were empty save for the ever-present worry that plagued him for your safety.

From his vantage point on the ground level, he does a quick scan of the courtyard, his heart pounding in his chest. The grisly sight of students and friends, along with the staff all stood their ground against the dark forces that dared penetrate their home. It filled him with a mixture of pride and fear.

And then, his eyes flicked onto a scene that made his heart skip a beat. From the upper balcony, he sees you with your wand in hand and your expression resolute as you defend Luna, a dear friend of yours. It filled him with a warm emotion at the sight of your strong determination to protect her.

But then in a blink of an eye, disaster struck. A blast struck you square in the chest, lifting you off your feet in shock and sending you crashing down. Theo’s heart which skipped a beat earlier had now wholly stopped, his blood turning to ice as he watched in horror.

With everything in him, he surges forward through the chaos to catch you before you fall down. But as he was still many steps away from you, you dropped full force into the stone ground. Panic fueled his every step as he ran towards your motionless form now with even more speed than he ever thought a human possibly could.

He feels his gut twinge at the bloody sight, a sickly feeling developing in the deep recesses of his body, the wand heavy in his hands then. His lips bore no sound as tried to call your name, his heart was twisted in his throat.

He knelt beside you, pulling you into his lap and checking you for your injuries. To his relief, your breathing was still steady for what had just happened to you and you didn’t seem to take any damage to the head, Still, he carried your disoriented body in his arms bridal style.

As he began to stand, his eyes went back to where you had previously been, searching for the source of the blast that struck you down. And then, with a shock that sent chills down his spine, he sees a familiar old face.

His father.

He sets you down somewhere safe inside the castle, without taking his sight away from his father. By the time he returns back to where you both were, his father is now advancing towards him with a sinister, triumphant grin on his face. It was a face that had been both a source of fear and disappointment throughout his life.

The face that caused his mother’s death.

“Father,” Theodore muttered, his voice laced with a blend of anger, disbelief, and a profound sense of betrayal. That despite all he’s done for him, his father still stood there with not an ounce of recognition that he was faced with his son. It was as if he had truly sunk to the depths of his loyalty to Voldemort and there was no other obligation for him except for his unwavering loyalty.

Their eyes were locked in a moment of tense, silent confrontation. He knew that this battle was only physical but also a battle of his loyalties. He had to protect you, he had to stand against his father, and he had to make a choice that would define the course of his life.

With the courtyard around them paying no specific attention to the father and son, it was only fair to say that everything else faded into the background for them too. Father and son. Standing on opposing sides, driven by their own convictions and beliefs, the younger no longer waited.

He was no, father, not in the true sense of the word. He was merely a shadow of a man, a heartless figure who stood there—grinning as if he had just claimed the grand prize in this twisted lottery.

In that moment, he had not only attacked the one person who held his son’s heart after he took away the other one but he had also torn away the last remaining fragments of the bond that tied the two of them.

His father had no time to react when Theodore raised his wand in a swift manner, hurling him violently to the cold, unforgiving wall across the castle. He rained down curses after cruses upon his father’s assailable body, each blow driven by a potent combination of anger and a fierce desire to defend.

“Stay” He seethed, punctuating his rage with a curse. “Away” Another spell. “From” The onslaught of his attack never ceased despite the dawn that slowly began to fade into view. “Her!” Each word carried the weight of an entire lifetime’s amount of hurt as Theo relentlessly battered his father until he was left into nothing but a fraction of what he used to be.

His eyes are glazed and unfocused as he continues this torture until he comes to a grip on reality when strong arms pull him away. It takes him a moment to realise that the battle has ceased.

The two people behind him dragged him away, from his father's still body. But still, his eyes remained locked onto him, unable to shift it away. The cold fire in him terrified the others that they had passed. They whispered that nothing could compare to the kind of fury and destruction that he was sure to rain upon his enemies.

“Wake up, Y/N. Please.” Theo’s voice quivered, his words trembling on the precipice of his emotions. His eyes, blurred by the veil of his tears, bore a weight drastically different than it did only hours ago.

Eyes that failed to veil the inner turmoil that plagued him. The entire battle against Voldemort had taken its toll on both of them, leaving them stranded from each other for nearly half a year, but seeing you this way…

He watched from a chair beside you as the healers worked diligently, silently begging them to look at you again, despite numerous assurances that you are now stable. His fingers unconsciously flexed at his sides, a manifestation of the anxiety that controls him.

The fear of losing you, the anger towards his father, the overwhelming relief that you are alive– it all left him in a state of disconcerting.

As he waits for you to wake, he couldn’t help but reminisce on all that the both of you had been through. The trials, the secrets, the moments of love and laughter everywhere and anywhere. You were not just some person he loved; you were his best friend, his reason.

His eyes welled up with tears, and he wiped them away hastily. He needs to be strong for both of you, just as you will in your state of unconsciousness. He knew that your love had emerged stronger than ever in this crucible of war. So he made a silent promise to himself that he would do whatever it takes to take you away from any danger that dares creep upon you.

Finally, as if an eternity had passed, your voice broke through the silence. He jumps up in shock at the sound. You had slowly begun to stir in your makeshift bed in the Great Hall, your eyelids fluttering as you emerged from the depths of unconsciousness. The world felt hazy at first. But as your senses gradually returned, you became aware of the hustle and bustle of the people around you and you tried to call attention.

Theo sees that you were trying to say something but from the scratchy tone that instead came out, you were in need of some water so he ran to the nearest jug he found and helped you sit up so you could properly drink.

Then, as your vision cleared, you saw Theo sitting by your bedside and that he was the one that quenched the dryness that lined your throat., his eyes locked onto hers with a mixture of relief and worry.

His face broke into a gentle smile as he saw you recognize him. “Y/N” He whispered, his voice cracking as he began to cry once more. “You’re awake, you’re back. Thank Merlin!”

You manage a weak smile in return, your throat still dry and your body aching from the attack on you. You tried to speak, but your voice came out raspy. “Theo.”

Theo reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from the side of your face, his touch gentle as ever. “You’re going to be okay.” He says, but it was more like he was also trying to convince himself. “You had me worried there for a while. I am this close to tying you up in a chair because you have caused me nothing but stress lately.”

As the both of you lay on the bed after you guilted him into laying beside you, your memories of the battle and the moments leading up to your injury slowly came back. You remembered Luna, the chaos, and the deafening blast that nearly took you away. But most of all, you remember the face of the person who did this to you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hold his hand, your fingers entwined in a silent, unspoken connection. “You must have been like a hero back there, then?” You gently try to ask him.

“More like a monster.” He mutters, unable to bring his eyes to you. The truth is he felt horrible after he finally calmed down. He was disgusted with himself and how he acted. He let his rage take control and acted like a monster. “What do you mean?”

“I was just like him, leaving him unable to fight back like he did to Mom and I back then. I just fired curses and curses at him. It was like a veil had draped over me and all I wanted was to protect you and destroy anything and anyone that dared harm you. ”

You call his name. But he doesn’t respond and continues to stare off into the distance with a glazed-over expression. You reach out to cup his cheeks to pull his gaze towards you. “Theodore, look at me.”

He hums, now staring at you but still he can’t hide the tumultuous emotions that were a storm inside him. “You are not like your father, Theo.” You said softly. “Just from what you told me, you are a gazillion ways different from him. You didn’t cower behind the fear he caused you. Instead, you faced him head on, and defended not only me but also your mother from his cruelty.”

Theo looks at you, his eyes searching yours for affirmation. “How?” He meekly asks.

“You took away the power that he boasts to have over you. '' You replied. Tone unwavering. “You showed him that you will never, ever, become anything like he is."

Your words hung in the air, a testament to Theo’s strength. At that moment, he realised that he had broken free from the shadows of his father’s influence and that he had chosen a different path. A path that is defined by love, courage, and a refusal to be controlled by his fear.

“I’m here because of you. I strived each day so that I could go back to you.” You whispered, your gaze never leaving Theo’s. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

Theo’s eyes shimmered with tears as he leaned in to gently kiss your forehead. “I love you.” He murmured, “I am in love with you, physically, rhetorically, every -ly.”

You laugh at his cheekiness, “I love you too.” You close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to drown in the wave of his love that washed over you. Giving his hands a squeeze as you raise them to lay a kiss upon the back of his hand.

In that Great Hall, amidst the scars of battle and the uncertainty of the future, they had found something precious in the very same place where two 11-year-old kids once locked eyes and found a connection.

masterlist

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #theodore nott oneshot

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hollowdeath · 3 months

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Oh hello, I just wanted to tell you that what you wrote is amazing! I read it over and over and couldn't stop reading. You are soooo amazing! *((Ugly crying😭❤️))*

And umm.. I would like to share about the imagination in my head about Dark Harry Potter. He joins the Lord Voldemort and betrayed all his friends. When the war ended, the Lord's side Voldemort wins. Everything is in chaos but Harry ignores it all because he only cares about the reader, his old girlfriend. (Harry still loves the reader even though the reader hates Harry.) He might have requested that the Lord Voldemort gave the reader as a reward to him after the war. Something like that, and ummm, a drama that is both bitter and sad and angry at the same time full of longing for each other? A rough and sad lovemaking? 🥺

hi! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: dark!harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry's all-consuming anger successfully tempts him to join voldemort in the war, sending you, his girlfriend, away in an attempt to keep you safe. years later he asks for your return, and is met with bitterness and rage as you struggle to navigate your feelings for each other in a post-war world.

c/w: smut!!! angst!! slow burn! mentions/threats of weapons, violence, abuse, and death/murder. smut is all the way at the end (grinding, oral, penetration, submissive!harry & dominant!reader) lightly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate

word count: 12.6k

a/n: this is giving me manacled x star wars and i love it lol, so so so much fun to write. i tried to make the reader more angst-y and dominant than normal, so if you like this please let me know! sorry if the plot doesn't make much sense. i also started school this week so please be patient with me! going to try and start posting shorter blurbs/headcanons between requests <3

harry was standing at a window in the lord's manor, watching the street below him as people sulked aimlessly by. it was a typical, gloomy day, the clouds gathering heavily above. it had been raining for weeks, maybe even months at this point, and it was beginning to cast a permanent gray shadow across the city. not even the weather could escape the tragedies of the war.

though harry chose to not dwell on the war, he felt its lingering effects. even from his lofty spot in the comfort of the lord's castle, which he barely left anymore. its walls had become harry's second skin. so long as he had everything delivered to him whenever he desired, it was disgusting to him to even think of stepping outside.

yet still, harry could see the abandoned and damaged shops just outside the lord's gates lining the courtyard along the cobblestone streets. the burnt remains of what once was. the sunken-in faces of the remaining people in the city. the lack of light, the lack of life, the lack of magic.

there's a part of harry, a weak cry from deep inside his repressed past, that feels bad. he was once a young wizard with bright eyes walking the streets of these same shops. he once enjoyed the sounds of shared happiness, and found solace in the fact that despite his lack of, there would always be joy in the world around him.

however, as harry grew older, and the circumstances around him shifted, he found himself getting angrier more often. not just on a weekly basis over small interactions or mistakes, but all the time, from the moment he was awoken by his nightmares to the moment he fell back into them. harry simply had no room inside of him left for anything else. it was just anger. pure, unbridled anger that only caused annoyance at first, then small outbursts of irritation after a while, and, eventually, he couldn't look at anyone or anything without wanting to physically destroy it for no reason other than he was just angry.

harry was angry at the world for having magic in it in the first place. he hated the divide it caused between muggles and non-muggles, pure bloods and half bloods. he was angry that divide is what took his parents from him before he could even properly know them. he was angry he had to grow up in abuse and neglect under the guise of 'safety'. he was angry he never received an apology, an admittance of guilt, not even a hint of closure for the past that was still controlling his present.

the boy who used to risk his life to save hogwarts and the students inside of it would eventually be the same one to let them fall.

when voldemort came back, and harry's anger was at its worst, he knew there was a connection. he didn't know about horcruxes yet and he certainly didn't know he was one. and yet he knew, somewhere deep inside him again, that it wasn't a coincidence. there was a reason his anger was consuming him, and the reason was voldemort.

after cedric's death, harry had begun to spiral. the nightmares were worse than before, he felt deathly paranoid constantly, and couldn't escape the intruding memories of the graveyard. though harry had managed well enough afterwards, still suppressing his rage, he couldn't hide the change in his personality from those closest to him. ron and hermione were the first to bring it up, but, of course, harry had snapped and told them to mind the business that pays them. despite his resistance, they tried until the very end to help their best friend see through his anger, to remember what was right and wrong.

however, once sirius was dead, it was all over.

harry had simply lost any hope that was left within him. watching sirius fall through the veil, his eyes lifeless and cold, was like watching harry himself die. he didn't think he could get any lower, and then he watched the only family he had left be cursed just within his reach.

harry was never the same after that. when he sat in bed late at night staring at the marauders map in his lap, he thought about how much he hated this life that's been made for him. the boy who lived, the scape goat, the hero, our only hope. it was crushing. harry was just a boy. he wanted to live a normal life.

but he knew he never could. not after tom riddle, not after cedric, not after sirius. even if everything went away tomorrow and harry could just attend his classes and be with his friends, nothing would change. he would still be alone, he would still be angry, and he would still suffer from his traumas. what was the point in fighting for good or living to see the end when you would always end up alone?

except, harry wasn't alone, really. he had you.

if there was one thing in this lifetime, one thing throughout this entire war that could have saved harry, it was you.

you and harry had been classmates for a year or so before really getting to know each other, and started dating not long after. when you were around, harry knew there was something worth fighting for. though he may feel angry and everything and everyone and everything everyone said, harry could never truly be mad with you. it's like when you looked at him the anger was muted, numb, deep inside him, and as soon as someone would interrupt it was bubbling at the surface again.

you were worried about harry, of course, and saw the effects his anger had on his relationships with everyone else around him. besides you.

he remembers you clearly, still to this day, and just how upset you were anytime he lashed out. if he'd felt anything other than anger at that time, it would've been guilt. guilt for hurting you, for scaring you. guilt, but not guilty enough to stop.

the anger was stronger.

even when you asked him, begged him, please, harry, please stop letting your anger win, and even when he promised, swore on his own grave, that he would try harder to stop for you, he never did.

harry was beyond angry. he was spiteful. all he had ever been was kind, a pushover who gave everyone the respect he was never graced with. he's saved strangers who wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire. he's lost his family in their sacrifice for the greater good that now rested upon harry's 16 year old shoulders.

he was beginning to think the fight wasn't worth it.

not only did the fight for good no longer seem worthy to harry, the fight against it only seemed to become more enticing. why should harry continue to risk his life and sanity when there would always be fights of blood purity? why should he be the hero everyone else has always wanted him to be?

for a long time, the answer was you. you were reason enough for harry to keep fighting, to keep his anger under control. when he looked at you things made sense for just a moment, his suffering was worth it to see you alive and well. until it wasn't.

everyone has a breaking point, and harry felt like he had finally reached his. as the war had geared up to a point of no return, harry had to make a decision. he had always assumed his decision was already made for him since birth, but he soon realized he never actually had to follow this path set for him in the first place. he was free to do as he pleased. he wasn't dumbledore, he wasn't his parents, he wasn't even the hero everyone thought he was. he was angry. he was spiteful.

worse than that, harry was vengeful.

so, when he met voldemort in the woods during the battle of hogwarts to accept his death, harry instead offered him a proposal the dark lord simply couldn't refuse. harry potter, his living horcrux, would become his successor upon his death. harry would fight with and for voldemort, training to become the most powerful dark wizard in history, and to finally let tom riddle rest well knowing the world was in just as dark, evil hands as his own.

though voldemort was skeptical at first, naturally, as harry expected him to be, he could eventually see the darkness within harry nearly consuming him whole. he was as serious as death itself. he no longer had the desire within him to continue fighting for, what he saw as, a lost cause. voldemort was rather pleased with this news, though never expected harry to come around like he did. he hadn't even considered it, really. but who was he to deny his own successor?

upon harry's return to hogwarts with voldemort and his death eaters in tow, every single person who watched was stunned into silence. even mcgonagall, who had been instructing and encouraging the students all night in their fight, had become speechless and teary eyed at the sight. ron had to catch hermione, who nearly fell to the floor.

but nobody was as upset as you were.

you had already been sobbing watching harry walk off into the woods towards his own death thinking you would never see him alive again. only to watch him emerge from the same treeline with the enemy by his side. it's like you got kicked in the gut. you would've almost rather never seen harry again.

"harry!" you had screamed in a broken voice as he crossed the bridge, voldemort's snake slithering at his feet. you were running to him, breaking through the multiple arms that tried to hold you back.

voldemort tried to raise his wand to you, but harry had stopped him, telling him to let him handle it. he was suspicious at first, still not fully trusting harry's intentions just yet, but was reassured by the sinister look in his eyes.

harry looked at you. he remembers feeling a twinge of that same guilt from before, the tiniest spark of hope deep within his rage. he really did love you, at least at some point he did. you would've made all of this worth it, you would've been the reason to keep going. but not even you were reason enough anymore. for so long he had been ready to take his revenge on the world that failed him.

"harry, what are you doing?" you had asked him, voice shaking. you were almost whispering, your eyes nervously glancing towards voldemort every other second in fear for your safety. harry grabbed your hands but you pulled them back, a look of disgust coming across your face.

"come with me." harry had told you. your look of disgusted transformed into shock, anger, confusion, and guilt. there were mumblings coming from the crowd of students behind you. "what?" you had asked, nearly breathless at this point, your eyes searching him for answers.

"come with me, [y/n]. i want you by my side as i become the most powerful dark lord in the world." harry explained, taking steps towards you with an excited grin on his face, his eyes still dark with corruption. you were still in shock when he grabbed for your hands. he kissed your knuckles softly with a quiet, "i love you,"

he had meant it, but not like he used to.

it took a few moments of silence and some tense eye contact before you pulled your hands away, letting the tears fall again as you attempted to gather your words. "you can't do this, harry. i will never join the dark lord. you know this isn't right, why are you doing this? why? why?" you're practically begging for an answer as harry looked away, an irritated expression on his face, clenching his jaw together. your hands reached for his shirt and jacket, trying to shake some sense into him as you grasped them tightly and pulled him closer.

"don't you love me?" you had asked him in the most heartbreaking, soul crushing voice. your words were weak, but your sentiment was palpable. you were bloody, dirty, covered in scars from fighting, holding harry close to you as you begged him with wide eyes. not too much earlier in the year he would've folded immediately looking at you, so innocent and desperate, his last bit of hope in the world.

but it was already far too late.

"take her to azkaban," harry had announced, angling his head back to the deatheaters behind him, keeping his eyes locked with yours. your grip on his clothes loosened and shocked gasps came from the crowd. harry looked at voldemort, who was a bit puzzled by the situation, but backed up harry's real nonetheless. "you heard the boy," he snapped towards the men behind him.

the deatheaters walked towards you as you stepped away from harry. "no, no, no, stop!" you were screaming, trying to back away from them, but they had grabbed your arms aggressively and began dragging you towards the bridge. "[y/n]!" a few students had shouted, running towards you before their attempts were blocked by a wave of voldemort's wand. the students fell to the ground, watching helplessly as you continued to fight your way out of the deatheaters' grasps. harry stood still, emotionless, completely stoic as he heard your desperate wails and calls for his name disappear into the woods behind him.

the rest of that night or day or whatever it was has since been completely blocked out of harry's mind, forever. his rage had reached a level he didn't know was possible. all he could recall anymore is the blood, the screaming, the running, and the light of his wand in his hand. many students and professors died during that battle at his hand, along with voldemort's and the deatheaters'. the castle was then burned to the ground, signifying the end of the battle. hogwarts had never stood a chance.

and, now, harry stands in the dark lord's manor, staring at the abandoned buildings lining his street, and he's thinking of you.

he often wondered how life would have been if you had joined him that day. though his years since have been packed with death, fights, destruction, and chaos, there were moments alone or in peril where you crossed his mind like a gentle breeze. a simpler part of his past, a light in his darkness. your soft, kind eyes, wide with shock as you back away from him, fixated on the deatheaters coming to collect you. your sweet, melodic voice screaming and breaking as you were dragged away, fighting for your freedom. harry could remember the moment perfectly despite everything else in his life being a blur.

he wonders how you would have filled the role as his partner in crime after choosing him. two dark lords unstoppable against the forces of the wizarding world, fighting 'good' and spreading evil just as he had been this whole time. would you have succumbed easily to the temptation? would you be as dark as harry was? could you maybe even be darker?

but harry knew it was a fruitless endeavor from the beginning. he had wanted to ask you anyways, to at least give you a chance to make the decision to be with him, even if he already knew what your response would be. harry was a bit let down at first, hoping maybe there was enough love between you to push morals aside, but he knew he would never be that lucky. part of why he fell in love with you way before his anger began was your commitment and dedication to what you believed was right. that same trait would be the driving force behind his decision to lock you away.

harry knew you. and he knew you wouldn't stop fighting until your body gave out, and maybe even after that. he may have lost you by sending you to azkaban for the foreseeable future of the war, but he'd rather know you were safe somewhere solitary than spend his years wondering where your dead body had been rotting into the dirt all this time. though azkaban was desolate, dark, isolated, and torturous, it allowed harry to sleep at night thinking of your still-beating heart resting safely behind those impenetrable walls.

lately his nights had become more restless, though, as the thought of you still residing in azkaban began to sit with him. he didn't feel guilt, really, he knew it was what was ultimately best for you. but he did miss you.

after the war had died down and voldemort took his place as the rightful dark lord of the world, harry's anger began to subside for the first time in years. rather than rage fueling his insatiable desire to destroy, he felt incredibly numb and disengaged with everything around him. the desolate streets and grim sky and abandoned city outside the windows began to fit his mental state more and more. for the first time since he was a teenager, harry could see past the anger.

and all he wanted was you.

so, harry had reached out to the dark lord, who spent most of his time at his new ministry castle across the country from the old manor he let harry watch over. they communicated every so often, checking in on business and social matters, but otherwise never had to meet in person.

harry sent him a letter asking for your release and direct delivery to his household, barring from reason. he felt after the war he had lead with and for voldemort, he owed harry a singular favor all these years later.

it only took 2 days for a confirmation letter to be sent back to harry, signed by voldemort himself, dating your arrival for the next day.

harry had his house elf, jinx, make up your room, asking her to be sure it was comfortable and clean before your delivery tomorrow afternoon, and to also provide plenty of options for dinner.

harry spent all night thinking about you, wondering what you'd look like after all this time. how similar or different you would be from what he remembers. how you'd react to seeing him. he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't react well, likely needing an extended period of alone time to adjust being here before he'd ever get a civil moment with you. but he was up for the challenge, otherwise he'd never ask for your return in the first place. he was releasing his anger, and instead building his patience, if not just to hold you one more time.

there was a delicious smell filling the mansion as the clock drew nearer to your arrival. harry was dressed better than he had been in years, and had jinx make the usually desolate looking building feel warm and inviting. fireplaces roaring, warm lamps flooding the hallways, and the grand dining table set to perfection for 2 particular guests.

harry didn't want to make it too obvious, but it was hard for him to hide how excited he was to see you again. even if you were different, even if you hated him, all he wanted was to see you in person, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since the day you were dragged away at his command.

once the hour was upon him, harry could hear footsteps and voices on the second floor. his heart leaped, setting down his glass of wine before heading for the stairs.

"let go of me, let go of me," a strained voice was crying down the hall, the sounds of a struggle coming from harry's left. he saw two house elves, rather squat and bulky, holding onto the arms of a frail body covered in a simple striped prison dress.

one elf turned to harry and gave him a devilish grin, "ah, there's the man himself!" he growled, his partner turning as well. "sorry we were late, mr. potter, someone here wasn't too keen on leaving azkaban, for some reason," he apologizes, pulling at the arm he's holding.

you slowly turn your head and stop struggling, your eyes wide with fear and mouth dropped open. "harry?" you whispered to yourself, your knees nearly giving out beneath you before the elves aggressively pulled you back up.

the first elf groans, rolling his eyes at you. "where can we put her, huh?" he asks, his tone impatient. harry pulls a few gold coins out of his pocket and hands them over to both of the elves. "right here is just fine. thank you, boys," he tells them.

the elves happily accept the tips and drop you to the ground, quickly disappearing in a flash.

you're left heavily breathing on the floor of the hall, sniffling and groaning in pain before diverting your attention to harry. your eyes were still wide, your eyebrows creased in confusion as you tried to move yourself further away from him on your hands and knees.

harry gave you your space, but watched intently as you nervously increased the distance between both of you. your hair was long, tangled, greasy, and falling around you like a curtain. you were smaller than he remembered, your eyes sunken in and cheeks more hollowed than before. you were pale, and visibly dirty. the soles of your feet were nearly black.

harry felt a pain in his stomach, his blood pressure rising imagining how you lived inside the walls of the prison. he couldn't identify the feeling. it was different from anger, but it wasn't far off.

as you continued to back up, your eyes shifted to a widow on your right. you slowly gained the energy to lift yourself and reach for the window, throwing it open before attempting to stick your hand out.

your hand hit the open window like you had never moved the glass barrier. you continued trying to stick your hand and head out, hitting at the invisible barrier with all your strength, making frustrated sounds.

"there's a spell on the house, love. you can't leave, just for now, until we can work things out," harry tried to explain gently as you continued trying to escape. he took a step towards you and you stepped away, leaning on the wall for support as you began to cry harder.

"get away from me, get away, what the fuck, what the fuck is happening," you tried to shout at him, your faced turned away and other arm putting distance between you and harry. you were gasping for air, your voice stressed and broken, shaking your head as you tried to continue backing up into the wall.

harry still attempted to give you your space. he hated to see you like this. you were so defensive and scared of everything going on around you. he wanted to give you time to calm down, but felt you needed to know what was going on.

"[y/n]," harry said, causing your head to snap towards him with curious eyes. your arm lowered slightly, your knees still weak beneath you. "listen to me, okay? just for a second," harry tried to ask kindly. he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he talked to someone this gently.

you continued to stand defensively, your eyes scanning harry up and down nervously as your breathing slowly started to still.

harry sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before turning his attention to you again. "i know this is a lot, and i know it's confusing," he starts, his voice unexpectedly shaky. "but i asked voldemort, and i had you released from azkaban. i figured you may like a warm place to stay, so i had you brought here,"

you still looked confused for a moment before you narrowed your eyes, your arm coming up once again to defend yourself. "what are you talking about? where are we?" you asked harry suspiciously, still scanning him from head to toe.

"my manor. well, the lord's manor, but, essentially mine," harry says a bit awkwardly. you gave him a look of disgust, leaning further into the wall for support. "why would i want to be here? with you?" you practically spat at him with hatred in your eyes. harry was unaffected.

"i know you don't. but there's nowhere else to go. i promise." harry tells you solemnly. your eyes widen a bit again, a flash of fear coming across your face, but the anger quickly returns.

"i'd rather live in rubble than prop my feet up in the dark lord's manor," you say sharply, taking a step towards him in attempt to intimidate him. though you weren't much shorter than harry, you were weak, and tired, and he wasn't necessarily afraid of your threats.

he took a step back anyways, giving you more space. "look," he says, his eyes turning to the floor before he can steady his breathing and reply. "it's just for now. if you really don't want to stay, i won't make you." he says softly before returning his eyes to yours. they're not as bright as he remembers them in his dreams about you.

"but," he says, causing your jaw to clench. "you will stay until you're well again. and it's not up for debate." harry tells you firmly, his tone not as gentle as before.

you swallow harshly, your stomach growling audibly as the smell of the food downstairs begins to settle into your senses.

harry notices this and smirks to himself before quickly returning to a neutral state. "now," he announces, straightening out his blazer. "until the food is ready, there's a room made up for you just down this hall and to your left. it has a bathroom, and clothes. take all the time you need." he says before promptly turning on his heels and heading downstairs, his heart still racing from his encounter with you.

sitting in the living room watching the fireplace in front of him, harry eventually hears the door of your new bedroom click open and swiftly close. not long after he can hear the plumbing rumble as you take your first shower. he smiles at the fact that you're finally in his life once more, even if the circumstances were completely unusual.

harry's nearly concerned and wanting to send jinx to check on you after 2 hours of running water before it stops, the sound of the bathroom fan taking its place. harry's relieved.

"jinx, could tell our guest the foods ready," harry tells the elf as she brings the last tray from the kitchen to the dining room. she nods to herself, shuffling up the stairs sluggishly.

harry's pouring another glass of wine in the kitchen and decides to pour you one as well. on his way into the dining room, he sees you standing in the entryway. you're dressed in a large jumper, oversized pajamas bottoms, and your hair is still rather wet plopped into a bun on top of your head. your skin is rubbed raw, your cheeks still flushed pink as you analyze the table full of food in front of you.

harry smiles at your shocked gaze, your stomach growling again as he tries to hand you your glass of wine. you turn your nose at him, taking a step back. he smiles curtly and heads to his seat, setting your glass with his.

"figured you might be hungry," harry says as he sits down, his plate made for him already. he looks at you, arms still crossed, nose turned away, but eyes peeking at the endless food at your disposal. he can tell you're trying to keep your guard up, but your stomach hasn't stopped rumbling since you came downstairs.

he gestures to your chair just across from him, a plate made for you as well. you look at him, your eyes curious but expression still tight. you carefully take a step closer to the table, but you're still weary.

harry gives you a sympathetic smile. "after tonight you can have any meal you want in your solitude. i just thought i'd be nice and host my guest for the first night," he tells you, catching your gaze.

your curious look quickly turns to one of anger. "i'm not your guest. i'm practically a prisoner again." you hiss, your eyes boring into his with contempt. harry can sense the rage building inside of you. he's familiar with the feeling.

though you were different in so many ways, your dull eyes and lifeless voice, you were also similar in your determined attitude. you had always been the type to stand up and take charge, which harry completely admired and was impressed by. he found your beauty to be most potent in your strong will and cunning mind.

he admired you for just a moment, looking down at him with enough hatred to send shivers over his body. you looked so young, your skin supple and smooth under the light of the candles and fireplace, your hair falling loosely to frame your furrowed brow. you were just as pretty as he remembered, even if your expression always contained a hint of sadness and fear around him.

harry simply smiles softly, sitting back in his chair. "i prefer guest," he says teasingly. you suddenly snap at him, grabbing for his steak knife and pushing your arm to his neck against the back of the chair, holding the point of the knife to the side of his neck.

if looks could kill, the knife would've been unnecessary. your eyes were nearly black as you shakily push against harry's throat. "let me out of here now or i swear, harry," your voice cracks saying his name. "i swear i'll fucking kill you," you spit, leaning further into your grasp him on, your jaw clenched tightly.

harry, to your surprise, just chuckles to himself, not even struggling to breathe as he looks up at you deviously. your eyes widen just before you feel your arms start to move for you, as well as your legs. your neck is strained as well, an invisible force pushing you away from harry as the knife drops from your hand.

you're suddenly released from the mysterious grasp, and you choke out a breath, looking back at harry. he's smirking, but trying not to let you see as his pointed hand lowers from you. he fixes his shirt and chair, gesturing again to your seat across from him. "as thrilling as that was, love, not yet. i'd like you to stay here for at least a month before i consider placing you elsewhere." harry states, picking his knife back up to place on the table.

you stare at harry incredulously. "a month?" you ask, your face turning red again. you take another step towards him but you falter in fear of him using the same force as before to stop you. you stumble as your mind races to gather your thoughts. "how…you…i'm not staying here for a month! this is insanity! how could you send me away like that and just bring me back like it was nothing? a shower and a plate of food and suddenly those 5 years in azkaban never happened?"

you're now shouting at harry with a broken voice, your emotions on high as the tears threaten to fall again. harry watches you, just watches, and simply gestures to your chair again. "just join me," he insists.

you go to yell again, but harry sternly interrupts. "we can discuss this another time. please. sit down." he commands from you.

your mask drops for a moment, a look of fear crossing your face before diverting your eyes away completely to your chair. your stomach growls again, your hand covering it to hide the sound.

it takes a few moments until you slowly make your way to sit down, glancing at harry before taking your seat. harry begins eating silently, and, not long after, you're digging into your first real plate of food in years.

harry can't help but smile to himself subtly watching you indulge yourself for a moment, the mask slipping again as you gratefully shovel spoonfuls of food into your mouth with a sigh of relief. he was glad you were eating, even if he had to put up a bit of a fight to convince you.

as harry finishes up, you're still making your way through your second plate. he stands, grabbing your attention and making you curl back into your seat. "jinx," he calls out before sipping the last of his wine. jinx comes to the table and grabs harry's glass and plate, turning to take them to the kitchen.

"[y/n], this is jinx," harry motions to the elf, who gives you a warm smile. you return the smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask her. she lives to serve," harry tells you proudly, earning a slight look of disgust from you before returning a smile at jinx.

"this was a lovely dinner, ms. jinx, thank you so much, truly," you thank her honestly. she bows to you slightly before continuing her way through the doors to the kitchen.

you shoot harry a glare. "the harry i knew would've never kept a house elf," you say, your words dripping with disdain. harry ignores your statement, turning to the stairs before ascending them.

he leaves you alone at the dining table, closing himself off in the master bedroom for the night. just as he's finishing up brushing his teeth, he hears your door click shut. that night he fell asleep feeling more reassured than he had in years knowing the pretty girl he couldn't keep his mind off of was asleep just down the hall from him.

it had been a few weeks since harry moved you in, and he rarely ended up seeing you in the mansion. you were often locked away in your room, or taking showers, and harry only ever saw you when you were finishing up a meal with jinx.

you had become quite close with her, it seems, which harry found sweet. he was worried at first that you may be using jinx as a way to find an escape from the house, but after a while without incident, harry realized how silly the idea was. you truly could connect with anyone.

one of the only other times he saw you, though, was when he passed by the open library one night. harry had been restless, thinking about his past in depth, feeling emotions he couldn't place, and decided to watch the sunrise to clear his head. he took a quick glance through the doors before spotting you curled up on one of the couches, a book in hand, fast asleep beside a warm lamp.

harry stopped, taking a moment to admire you from afar. you had gained some weight back being here, which harry loved to see. your cheeks were full and rounded, your hands not as frail, and the color was coming back to your skin. your hair looked impossibly soft under the light, sprawled everywhere around your angelic, sleeping face. harry couldn't help the cheesy smile that overcame his face. he was just happy that you were okay.

outside of that, harry spent most of his time alone, thinking about you. you hadn't reached out to him yet, which he expected, but was surprised when a month came and went and you still didn't confront him. he hadn't made his decision just yet, so he didn't have an answer for you even if you had asked him. he saw you were doing better, but still wasn't confident in letting you go. not just for selfish reasons, of course, but he wanted to be sure you were equipped enough to live on your own.

but, harry had to admit, his heart raced when he heard your soft footsteps pass his door to the stairs. his mind went blank seeing your figure standing in the dining room with jinx, chatting over a plate of snacks together. his blood ran cold when he heard your soft giggle from somewhere in the mansion. like a beautiful ghost haunting his past.

harry knew even before he sent his letter to voldemort that his feelings for you had never truly gone away. deep under his rage, his unforgiving heart, his cold blooded nature, his love for you had always remained. but he was learning to accept your departure if you chose to do so. a final goodbye to the most beautiful part of his unsightly life. harry wasn't sure he could handle the idea.

he was struggling with his thoughts, the constant back and forth he was feeling about you. at first harry was sleeping better with you there knowing you were safe, but now he stayed up late worrying himself sick over the decisions he had to make now that you were actually there.

sitting in bed, staring at the rising sun through his window, harry's mind was exhausting him. he hadn't slept all night and could feel the effects setting in. slowly, he stood from the bed and slipped on his house shoes along with his robe. he quietly leaves his room to not disturb you so early just down the hall.

he walks to the opposite end of the hall towards the balcony, and takes his usual seat facing the sunrise.

harry contemplates here most mornings, but never comes to any radical conclusions. he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what's best for you anymore. he knows he selfishly wants you all to himself still, but also knows you deserve to live the life you want no matter what his opinion is. it's the same conversation with himself every time, and it leaves him confused and upset for keeping you here like he is. even if his heart is in the right place.

his thoughts are interrupted by jinx, who offers harry a cup of tea. he thanks her, but quickly calls her back to ask a question. "jinx, um…[y/n], how is she doing?" he asks.

jinx, a quiet house elf, gives harry a smile, and pats his shoulder. her smile is warm and reassuring, as well as her hand. as she walks off, harry smiles to himself a bit. he's not completely satisfied with the answer, but he takes what he can get.

finishing his cup of tea with the sun shining over the horizon, harry turns to head inside before being met with the sight of you standing at the open doorway of the balcony.

you're dressed in a simple long sleeve pajama shirt along with comfortable pants, your arms crossed as the morning chill sets into the air. harry's a bit startled at first, but gives you a polite smile, diverting his eyes and walking around you to leave you be.

"harry," you said softly, turning to him.

harry's heart dropped, but turned to you promptly with eager eyes. the way you said his name, your soft voice, he was already so captivated by you.

"can we talk?"

now harry was worried. this is what he's been afraid of since you got here. he's not ready to answer you. he doesn't know what he's going to say when you desperately ask him to leave and never come back.

"of course," he says calmly, gesturing to the balcony so you could sit together.

once you've joined him in watching the sun, you two fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as the soft wind whistles past.

"i never thanked you," you said quietly after a while, almost a whisper in the wind. harry looked at you, looking at the sunrise. your face was radiant. you were brilliant in the light of the sun, your hair still impossibly soft and beautiful, falling around you, following the flow of the air. harry was overwhelmed with the beauty your presence held in this moment. "you never had to."

you glanced at harry, studying his expression, before turning back to the sun. "it's also been a month." you state coldly. harry's gaze drops, sighing. "57 days, technically," he mumbles.

a few moments of silence pass again, leaving harry an anxious mess in his seat. he tried to think of a gentle way to let you know he still needed time to decide what to do. a way to tell you without putting his life at risk to your anger.

"well, as much as i hate to say this, you were right," you say, still watching the sunrise in deep thought. harry was shocked by your words, immediately sitting up in his seat to get a better look at your face.

you were stoic, your eyes fixated on the scene out beyond your reach. "what?" harry asked, not believing his own ears. a small smile crept to your lips, the first one he's managed to see himself since you've been here. his heart aches at just the hint of seeing it again.

"don't make me say it again, potter," you try to say threateningly with that small smile, your eyes falling to your lap.

harry is stunned into silence, watching you with careful eyes. "but, you were right. i needed time to be healthy again." you said to him, your back still turned. harry stayed quiet, allowing you to continue. "i was angry with you. i still am. i don't think it'll ever stop," you inform him, the coldness returning to your voice. "but," he was preparing himself for the rejection, the questions, the begging.

"i'd like to stay, if you'll have me," you offer in a slightly embarrassed tone, your face turned the other way.

to say harry was shocked at your request is an understatement. he was expecting you to have a plan to take him out if he had rejected your request to leave yet. he never considered the idea that you might actually want to stay with him.

"i'll have you forever, if you let me," harry responds, a small smile on his face as well. you shoot him a warning look. "not forever. just until i feel well again." you tell him, your voice cold once more. you turn back to the sun, now completely over the horizon. "figured you owe me that much," you say in an accusatory voice.

harry just smirks to himself. you could never be soft for long when he was around. but he appreciated that you felt you could ask him to stay, though you never had to in the first place. harry really would have had you forever, if you'd let him.

"stay as long as you need to." he says.

you glance back at him again, your eyes softer this time. you're analyzing him for a moment before turning to him a bit. "it took me a long time to understand why you sent me to azkaban," you tell him, your voice steady and emotionless. harry just watches you, admiring the light surrounding you.

"you would've never stood a chance in destroying the world had i been free," you state, your eyes still examining him. harry offers you another small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes the same way. "you knew you were weak," you say.

harry's now analyzing your expression, your words swimming around in his mind. "i did," he admitted to you. "it was just easier if i knew where you were all this time," he says breathlessly.

your eyes narrow at him once more, the anger returning to your body language. "easier for you. i would've never done the same if the roles were reversed." you snapped at him harshly. harry believed you. he thought about it a lot in his nightly battles with his own mind.

"you're right," harry stated, still admiring you in your anger. you were upset, but gave harry a questioning look. your eyes softened only a bit. "i think about it all the time," he admits to you gently.

you're a bit puzzled by his admittance of guilt, but don't let it stop you. "i hope it haunts you at night the way it haunts me," you say sharply, your eyes dark.

"always has," harry says to himself, only making you more angry. "you poor thing. must've been so tough relaxing in this mansion knowing i was rotting away in solitary confinement." your voice is strong, powerful, a contrast to the broken words you gave harry your first day here.

"it was," harry says simply, sensing your rising impatience with him. you stood from your seat, towering over him as he continued watching you in wonder. "you evil little rat. you're just lucky my magic is restricted by this spell. i would've killed you in your sleep that first night." you threaten him, gesturing to the protection spell around the castle and balcony.

harry wants to stop himself, but can't keep the smirk off his face. this only angers you more, pulling your arm back and slapping harry square across his face.

he doesn't react, instead allowing himself to stay facing away from you. "i hate you," you state weakly, your hands balled at your side. harry looks at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "i know," he says softly.

you frustratedly sit back down, turning to look back at the sunrise once more.

a long silence settles over you two, listening to the sounds of the city as it awakens around you. eventually, you stand, turning to leave harry alone on the balcony. you pause before you leave.

"i still never thanked you, harry." you speak softly, your back turned to him. he looks over at you, your curves glowing in the morning light. "you never had to," he replies, and you're off down the dark hallway.

for the next few months, you and harry live together amicably. he sees you around more often as you start to leave the confines of your room. of course the library was a place of solace for you, but he started to see you more in the living room, on the balcony, or in the dining room enjoying jinx's company. for a while you two exchanged polite greetings, simple glances and acknowledgements, before asking about each other's days, or commenting on the weather. it was agonizingly slow for harry, but he was breaking through your walls one way or another.

one day not long after you'd slapped him on the balcony, you sat in the living room with harry, across from his seat on the couch. he was surprised by your presence, but gave you a small smile over his book anyway. "jinx tells me you've been acting different," you'd stated bluntly, watching his face for a reaction.

harry put down the book he was reading, giving you his attention. "have i?" he asks. you were always examining him, your eyes critical but curious at the same time. "she says your anger used to be terrible. even worse than i remember." you lead him on.

harry bit his lip thinking about the years where his rage was at its worst. he tried not to dwell on them, and instead tried to focus on the newfound emotions consuming his life. but he couldn't deny the path of destruction he'd left while seeing red.

harry eventually nodded, his eyes distant. "it was," he admits, his voice just as lost in thought. you shifted in your seat. "you let it ruin everything, harry." you said softly, leaving him looking at the floor in disappointment. "i know," he admitted.

the silence between you was palpable. harry felt the weight of it on his shoulders before you spoke again. "i would hear about the things you did while in azkaban. the guard would tell me even after i asked him to stop." you inform him. harry can still feel your eyes shooting daggers at him.

"for so long i fantasized about being the one to kill you, to finally put an end to voldemort." you said wistfully. harry glanced at you, seeing a longing look on your face. "how brave of [y/n] to put her love aside to kill the dark lord's apprentice." you said in a mocking tone, leaning back in your seat.

harry watched you, imagining you in azkaban, dreaming of putting an end to his life, while he dreamed of freeing you. it was a fair trade, he thought, and not one he would argue against at this point. and it didn't go unnoticed that you mentioned your love for him, either.

"you still can," harry says, causing you to snap your eyes back at him. "excuse me?" you ask with a sneer. harry puts his book to the side and sits up, his feet planted on the ground. "kill me, that is. it's not impossible." he tells you with intrigue.

you're staring at him incredulously, your eyes always searching him. "you're…you're kidding, right? i mean, you took my magic while yours seems to be highly skilled. you really think i'd stand a chance?" you ask with a sarcastic laugh.

harry stands from his seat, taking achingly slow steps around the coffee table towards you. "yes, while your magic is weak, you are not, [y/n]. i've gone out of my way to keep the knives, fire pokers, swords, and hundreds of books on potions and charms out for your use, at any time, have i not?" harry questions you, getting closer now. though you would normally pull back from him, you stay seated, trying to process his words.

standing just before you, harry admires the curves of your face against the light of the fire. "with your nimble step and cunning wit," harry lifts his hand to gently put his fingers to your chin. the first physical contact he's had with you. unless you count the time you held that knife to his throat. "you could gut me like a pig before i even have the chance to squeal," harry's voice is soft but dark, your breathing caught in your throat at the contact.

as he backed away, harry could see the physical effect he had on you. your nervous blinking, your jaw tightening, hands trembling; he found it sweet he could still do that to you, even if you claimed to hate him.

after that day, harry felt less tension between you two. maybe being vulnerable around you made you realize he was never a threat to begin with. he didn't want anything from you, and he didn't care if you never wanted anything from him. as long as you were safe, that was all he cared about. he hoped you were starting to understand that.

though conversations between you were still tense and cryptic, there was a sense of unspoken comradery that felt nostalgic to you both. your serious, brooding angst matched with harry's calm, collected coldness made for an interesting match. it was never the same as before, you were both fairly aware it wasn't ever going to be, but there was an undoubted chemistry that still lingered from your teenage years together.

however, something else that always lingered during your interactions is your distaste for harry's actions. at any chance you can, you poke and prod at his past, partly to understand, he assumes, but also to test his limits. you were always cautious and suspicious of his submissive behavior when it came to this kind of confrontation; how could someone who was, at least at one point, so evil, so cruel and heartless, become so nonchalant about their past? who wipes out entire cities just to 'not dwell on it'?

this was always a point of contention between you, even if everything else until that point had been somewhat playful. it never so much upset harry as it riled you up, bringing strong emotions to the forefront, causing you to lash out at him. though he always stayed calm, he also always seemed to listen. he never disagreed with your feelings or sentiments, if anything he agreed with your hatred for himself. it's like that day in the living room when he tempted you with his death, and yet you never took the bait.

harry rather enjoyed watching you work yourself up, and admired how quick you were to defend yourself. he never wanted to upset you, of course, but sometimes he couldn't help his cheeky responses knowing it would get a look out of you that made his heart jump. it might not be the most gentlemanly thing he does, but something about your anger excited him. it was nothing like his vengeful rage from the past, but it had its own potency that ran a chill down his spine. harry was so used to everyone cowering away from him in fear of his power that he relished your open aggression towards him. it was thrilling, and it was exactly what he needed.

harry tried to remain respectful of his guest, but having such a beautiful mind and body occupy his space with him was hard to ignore sometimes. his eyes would wander, as well as his thoughts, and he had caught himself fantasizing about you a few too many times to admit. you were stunning, of course, you always had been, but there was something about you now that elevated your beauty in harry's eyes. maybe it was the dark, unforgiving coldness of your eyes, or the strong scowl that your expression rested in, or the underlying anger that was ready to bubble over at any point, but harry was completely infatuated with who you had become.

he knew how hypocritical it was for him to admire the parts of you that were forced out in your desperation to survive the decision he made for you all those years ago. though you seldom mentioned your years in azkaban, harry could see and feel the effects it continued to have on you. they weighed on him heavily, and though harry wasn't one to regret what's happened in the past, he wished he could've figured out another way to protect you at the time. a way that didn't dim the light inside of you the way that it has been.

but still, that light was there. when you smiled to yourself at your own quips, when you admired the food jinx prepares you, when you lost yourself in your books, harry could physically feel the light radiating within you. it was familiar, like an old hug from a friend, and was unmistakably beautiful.

sometimes he felt like a teenager again, discovering the parts of you that made him fall in love in the first place. your natural charm, your captivating eyes, the innate draw he felt to you simply by being in your presence. it was unlike anything he's felt for another person, before or since meeting you. but rather than two teenagers flirting over study dates, you were now two closed off adults with a complicated history and 'break up', if you could even call it that. it was nothing like the past, yet it was entirely too similar.

you and harry had been sitting in silence together in the living room, reading your respective books, enjoying each other's company. it was one of harry's favorite things to do with you now, and one of the only ways you two could be together without it ending in tension. neither of you talked, neither of you made noise outside of the occasional chuckle or gasp at your readings; it was a peaceful excuse for harry to be near you, and sometimes admire you from over the pages.

this night, however, you broke the traditional silence by asking harry a question you'd been keeping to yourself. "harry," you started. he loved the sound of his name in your voice, it was invigorating to listen to.

harry turned his head to you, his book still in his lap, noticing you've long since placed yours on the table beside you. "[y/n]," he responded with his typical smirk, returning his eyes to his book.

you cleared your throat a bit, your ankles crossing in front of you. "how often did you think of me," it was more of a statement than a question, your tone not as cold and questioning as it typically was.

harry knew what you meant, of course, and waited a moment before answering you. "i'd never stopped," he said simply. it was true, and it still is.

you turned to look at the fireplace, your knees bouncing out of the corner of harry's eye as he pretends to continue reading. "but you never came back for me," you stated. harry's eyebrows furrowed, glancing at you again before looking away to leave you with your words. "you left me there to die," you said, that familiar coldness returning to your tone.

harry let out a sharp breath. "that was never my intention, and you know that." he says without a reaction. you become visibly irritated, your jaw clenching with your fists. "you never thought about me," you insisted, your words heavy with contempt.

harry shut his book and threw it beside him, leaning towards you. you turned to glare at him, your nostrils flared. "i was lucky to sleep one full night in the last 5 years without a singular dream of you." he tells you, his voice as steady as his eye contact. "you haunt me like a ghost, [y/n]. you always will."

you're looking at him questionably as you stand from your seat across from him, now making your way towards him. "good. i hope you never forget about what you did to me. i won't." you hiss at him, your cheeks turning red. harry's mind races with you towering over him, leaning back in his seat to fully enjoy the view.

"how could i forget about you?" he quips, that same damn smirk making you grit your teeth. you take another, heavier step towards him, your fists trembling at your sides. "stop fucking doing that," you spit threateningly.

harry cocks his head to the side, looking you up and down. he likes seeing you like this, even if it scares him a bit. "what?" he asks, pushing you even further.

you step between his legs and lean into his face, only leaving a few inches between you. "that, you fucking creep. is this funny to you?" your voice is raised now, the anger finally starting to boil over again. "not at all," harry says, still smirking at your reaction.

"then wipe the smirk off your face and stop doing this to me, harry." you instruct him, leaning back to cross your arms in front of you. harry's biting his lip, not able to resist the lustful thoughts he's having of you in this situation. "doing what, exactly?" he asks, curious what you mean.

"this, all of this, harry. you look at me like a starving animal. you watch me around the house like a stalker. you say you think of me all the time and yet you've only so much as touched my chin." you rattle off, clearly frustrated with these thoughts you've kept inside. "you bring me back here and have me live like a princess when there's people outside who live like animals because of you and what you've done," you continue to raise your voice at him, now getting yourself completely worked up.

harry just watches you, like always, not disagreeing with any of your sentiments. as he normally doesn't, he knows you're a smart girl.

"and you're still fucking looking at me like that," you growl, your arm coming across his neck once more, like the first night you were here, holding him against the cushions of the couch.

harry doesn't stop you, as he never does, and instead enjoys the feeling of you kneeling between his legs in an attempt to further choke him. "i swear on my own life i'll still kill you, potter. what the fuck do you want from me?" you interrogate him, your dark eyes searching him for answers.

the smirk on harry's face only grows, causing you to push further into his throat. it's ironic how much he wants from you right now that would only further put his life at risk in your hands.

"i…never wanted…anything…" harry chokes out. he knows he's stronger than you and could easily escape your grasp, but he enjoys the feeling of letting you have control over the moment, and over him.

"that's a fucking lie," you say through gritted teeth, getting nose to nose with harry. "tell me what you want." you insist.

harry's heart is racing, his mind going blank from the lack of oxygen, and an inconvenient erection growing through his trousers. he could tell you so many things he wants, how many nights he's spent imagining you on top of him like this once again. he knows it would only anger you more, and he was almost tempted by that thought alone.

after a few moments of harry struggling to keep his eyes focused on you, you could feel something against your thigh that caught your attention. glancing down, your weight on harry's throat lessened enough for him to breathe slightly. you looked back up at his eyes with a look of confusion and shock before quickly returning to anger.

"seriously? are you fucking turned on right now as i'm threatening your life?" you ask him with disgust, slightly pulling away. harry's cheeks flush as he tries to catch his breath, your arm still resting across this collarbone. he stays quiet, his eyes glancing between you and his lap.

you scoff at him. "you're so pathetic, potter. how you were ever a leader of anything is a mystery to me." you ridicule him, an amused smirk coming across your own face.

your condescending attitude only fuels harry's excitement more, trying not to let his expression expose how much he's enjoying this.

"it's almost like you want me to kill you," your voice is quiet but dangerously cold, giving harry goosebumps as your breath falls across his blushing face. he tries to stop it but his body can't resist a low whine being forced from his throat.

your eyes fall to his lips for just a moment before you lean into them, surprising harry with a hungry kiss as you relax your weight onto his body. more moans escape harry's mouth as you roughly force your tongue past his lips. his hand naturally finds your waist, but you slap it away harshly with your free hand. "no touching." you warn him, your lips brushing against his.

"yes ma'am," harry responds.

you give him a look, your other leg kneeling beside his as you straddle his thigh, your skirt falling perfectly over his knee. "i still hate you," you growl, choking him against the couch once more. "i know," harry says breathlessly, staring at you like a helpless puppy.

forcing him into a suffocating kiss, you eventually let harry breathe as your lips find his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin and hands grasping his shoulders tightly. he groans at the pain, earning a slight roll of your hips on his leg. harry wants nothing more than to touch you right now, guiding your hips into his body, pleasuring you like he's wanted to for so long. but for now, he's just glad you're kissing him, and enjoys the feeling of your breath against his bruised skin.

"shirt off." you command, sitting back to observe the puddle harry's become in your grasp. he wastes no time taking off his sweater, throwing it behind him as your eyes trace over his scarred torso. your cold gaze softens at the sight, your fingers tracing the healed wounds carefully.

for a moment, when you glance at harry through your eyelashes, he feels that same love you shared as kids. the soft, innocent admiration that came with inexperience. for just one moment, nothing was complicated, and there was no history. you were discovering harry all over again, like he had been with you.

the moment didn't last for long as your gaze hardened once more looking at him. you stood from your straddling position, much to his disappointment. he was ready for you to end the moment and leave, but you didn't.

"on your knees." you instructed him. again, harry wasted no time as he sunk to his knees in front of the couch, eye level with the hem of your skirt. he looked up at you eagerly, hardly believing the privilege he had to see you above him like this.

harry's heart was racing as you lifted your skirt to expose your panties to him. his eyes never left yours, his breathing hitching at the beauty just in front of his face. his hands were patiently folded in his lap, aching to grab every part of you.

you slowly lifted one thigh onto harry's shoulder, reaching down to take the glasses off his face for him, setting them to the side. "now," you told him, your voice seductive as you lean your weight into him once more. harry holds his shoulders steady, his mouth close enough to your soaked pantines to nearly taste you already.

"let me ride your face," you coo, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as he continues staring at you with hungry eyes. "it's the least you can do for me," you smirk, your voice still chillingly cold and cryptic.

harry lets out a sigh of relief and desperation, eyes glancing at your panties before returning to your gaze. you slowly push his open mouth onto you, not able to hold back a sound of relief yourself.

harry's eyes flutter shut as your hips roll onto his face, losing himself in your smell and taste. your fingers tangle into his hair to keep him in place, soft, breathy gasps falling from your lips as you watch from above.

after a minute you become too desperate and pull your panties aside, instructing harry to hold them as you force his mouth onto your dripping pussy. harry listens like a good boy and holds the fabric, his hand also taking the chance to grip your inner thigh. a deep moan escapes your throat at the feeling.

harry's tongue quickly works its way across your arousal, enjoying every part of you as he pushes himself further into your pussy. your hands try to pull his hair back to relieve some of the overwhelming feeling, but harry doesn't let you control him for once. he's desperate to please you, his hunger growing the more of you he's allowed to have.

harry's other hand grabs for your skirt to hold it above his head, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. your face is twisted in pleasure, lips bitten, eyes glazed over as you watch harry disappear between your legs.

harry moans at the sight of you, sending shivers across your skin. you moan, biting your lips closed, your hips stuttering against his mouth. "fuck," you mumble, earning another moan from harry as his tongue circles your sensitive clit.

a hand rushed to your mouth as you attempt to hide your filthy noises, the feeling making your eyes roll back. you're trying to mask your pleasure, but harry can see right through you.

you finally successfully pull his mouth off of you, lips swollen and wet as his head rests in your grip. "good," you say breathlessly. your voice falters a bit. you take your thigh off harry's shoulder, again, much to his disappointment.

"sit," you tell him, gesturing to the couch once more. harry complies, returning to his spot on the couch behind him. you reach forward and unbutton his pants, pulling them down a bit with his assistance. you can see his erection through his briefs, causing you to smirk a bit before returning to your neutral expression.

"no touching," you remind harry as you position yourself to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. harry's sure you can hear his heartbeat racing under your control.

you start grinding your soaking wet panties against harry's clothed cock, your mouth falling open with his at the sensation. the light of the fire behind you leaves harry with the beautiful sight of you glowing in his lap, your warm skin pressed against his as your breathy moans fall into his neck.

harry can hardly take the teasing any longer, his moans becoming needier the harder he gets under you. "fuck, [y/n]," his voice is deep with desire, his head rolling back once your roll your hips into him harshly. you moan at the sound of your own name, your hands returning to his shoulders as your nails dig deep into his skin.

"that's right, say my name," you smirk, grinding into harry at a faster pace. "so pathetic," you remind him.

harry continuously lets your name fall from his lips as you watch him, a helpless, desperate mess beneath you. he loves the feeling of letting you use him any way you want to.

soon you can't wait much longer, and you pull out harry's cock from his briefs. the feeling of your hand grasping his shift makes harry's hips buck up involuntarily, silently asking for more.

you can't help but chuckle at just how eager he is. you're more than enjoying the control and effect you have over him.

"now," you say again, causing harry to look back at you with needy eyes. "you're gonna let me use you until i cum," you tell him, teasing yourself with the feeling of him against your wet pussy. harry's eyes nearly roll back again as he nods for you, his lips parted with uneven breaths.

you slide harry inside of you, adjusting to the feeling as harry's head falls back once again in pleasure. "so fucking wet," harry sighs softly, nearly whining. once your hips lower completely onto his length, you start to ride harry slowly, still adjusting to him. he's a full blown whining mess beneath you, his chest flushed and heaving as your pussy tightens around him.

you take in the sight of him, your eyes exploring every sweaty part of his body as you continue riding at a slow pace. you unwrap your arms from his shoulders, leaning back into your hips. "take my shirt off," you tell harry.

his eyes open again, looking at you eagerly. his hands nervously begin lifting your shirt, holding the fabric carefully between his fingers, and savors the sight and feeling of pulling it off of you, his eyes glancing at your chest before locking with yours again.

"so beautiful," he tells you, your skin looking deliciously soft in the warm lowlight. "i know, now be quiet," you shut him up, picking up the pace of your hips.

harry's eyes narrow at you, the intoxicating feeling of you wrapped around his cock only making him hungrier for your pleasure. the sight of you bouncing in his lap, your breasts just in front of his face as you lean your hands next to his head on the back of the couch.

"open," you tell harry.

he doesn't have to be told twice before his lips part, his tongue eagerly waiting for you. you guide your nipple into his mouth, your hips rolling onto harry's cock in circles. his teeth and tongue tease the sensitive skin, your pussy gripping harry even more and earning a low growl from his chest. his hands remained at his sides, but he wanted nothing more than to feel you everywhere on top of him.

you start riding harry once more, his teeth still gripping your nipple making you whine at the feeling. "fuck," you let the word slip out, your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip. harry's more than aroused at your reaction to him, his cock aching inside of you to release.

you pull harry's head back by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. you reach for his glasses that you sat down earlier, returning them to his face delicately. harry appreciates the gesture and can better see the pleasure in your eyes, a soft smile falling across his lips.

"so pretty," he whispers. he can see the blush you try to hide, looking away from his eyes and down at your hips.

you start groaning in frustration, your grip on his hair tightening, causing harry to wince. "you're gonna make me cum," you tell him through broken moans, your thrusts becoming uneven. harry can feel you tightening around him again. he groans at the feeling, your name slipping from his mouth again and again. this only makes you fall apart more, high pitched whimpers coming from you as you chase your high.

you soon sink into harry's neck, your cries of pain and pleasure falling across his skin as your legs start to shake. you can't even form words as your body feels the waves of intense pleasure from each thrust onto harry's cock. your hands move to his shoulders again, holding onto him for stability as you continue to ride out your climax.

harry grows impatient at the feeling of your orgasm and watching you break down into him. he finally grabs for you, moving your hips to the couch beside him, staying inside you while you gasp at his movement. he kicks off his pants and adjusts himself between your legs.

"harry," you try to protest, your voice weak and shaky. "just let me do this, darling," he growls, his hips becoming flush against yours as he pushes his cock completely inside of you. you let out a gasp, your hand slapping over your lips once more.

harry hungrily digs his cock deeper inside of you with each slow thrust, his hands holding himself up above you as he watches his cock easily slide in and out of your soaking wet pussy. he folds your legs back as he sinks even deeper into you.

"holy fuck," he groans, his breathing heavy, hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep himself steady. "so beautiful, [y/n]," harry tells you again, his droopy eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.

you look at him, your eyes full of lust, but still cold as ice. "i…hate you," you remind him through strained breaths, struggling to take his entire length, still glaring at him.

this pushes harry over the edge, his hips quickening until he feels himself start to unravel. he pulls out of your warm pussy and cums on your stomach, groaning at the sight of you below him.

you gasp at the feeling, looking at harry with shock. "did you just cum from me saying i hate you?" you ask, your tone mocking his desperation. harry nods, still stroking his cock slowly, his other hand remaining on your thigh as his moans quiet down.

"you're disgusting," you tell him coldly, but harry can see the smirk on your face and the lust in your eyes. he watches you below him, smirking in return.

"and you love it."

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liquidluckandstuff · 11 months

Text

Drabble: Harry feel sorry for Tom Riddle

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?" Harry wanted to say "yes, of course," but something stopped him. He had once said Harry's greatest power was his ability to love and care for others, but a sinking feeling had Harry thinking that didn't apply to little boys who just waned to be loved.

Did he feel sorry for a little boy in a cupboard under the stairs, who just wanted a mum and dad to love him? Once upon a time that could have been all Tom Riddle wanted too, but Dumbledore thought it was a better idea to set his wardrobe on fire to prove a point rather than to get to the root of the issue.

Harry once stole pencils and markers from his classmates because he wanted to draw when get got back into his cupboard because there was nothing else to do. Would Dumbledore have set those on fire too?

If the Headmaster didn't feel sorry for Tom Riddle then, did he feel sorry for Harry now, after everything he has gone through?

A dark realization came over Harry that the answer his last question was a simple "No."

Then, Harry understood why someone would want to become a Dark Lord. With men like Albus Dumbledore in power; with all of their hypocrisy and lies, little boys in orphanages and cupboards would always be desperate for the things they wanted most in the world.

Tom Riddle just wanted to be understood, and his chance was burned away in front of his eyes.

So, now he is doing it to everything else.

Harry just wanted to be loved, and his chances keep being killed in front of him again and again and again...

Harry looked up at Dumbledore and lied "No, I don't feel sorry for him," But in his mind he was picturing a horrified little boy watching his first chances at acceptance being burned away in front of his eyes.

#Harry potter #Drabble #Fanfic #Tom Riddle #tomarry #Tomarrymort

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awyeahitssam · 10 months

Text

TW: depression, dissociation, mentions of suicide (though not staying dead)

“Come sit,” Voldemort advises.

Harry swallows around nothing. His throat is aching and tight, like he’s smashed at the glass that sits between himself and the rest of the world, but instead of shattering it he’s just earned new shards to swallow down. He's shaking.

Harry is used to stillness. Stillness didn’t lend towards attention, but just because he notices he’s tremoring doesn’t mean he can stop it.

“Can’t,” he chokes out. Did he kill himself wrong? He aches.

Maybe he’d jumped from the Astronomy Tower again? Maybe his vertebrae are all out of whack from falling, but he didn’t actually manage to kill himself properly, and now—

“You’re fine,” Voldemort tells him impatiently, but somehow it’s not unkind. He grabs him by the wrist and hauls him through the blackness around them, until there’s a plush, familiar carpet under his bare toes and he’s pressed into his seat.

“Voldemort...” he says vaguely.

The form over him stills. Tom Riddle’s face peers down at him, eyes dark. Confused.

Harry’s never called him that before. But he is, isn’t he? Tom Riddle is Voldemort. The little boy who’s only belongings in the world burned before his eyes is the Dark Lord.

“Yes,” says Riddle. Then, “No. Not… yet.”

“Voldemort is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter…”

“Okay,” Harry agrees. Everything is odd and muted and he’s surprised any words are actually falling from his lips, because the glass has cut up his throat and it shouldn’t be possible to speak through all the blood he’s choking on.

A hand brushes his hair away from his forehead. His scar aches. Riddle hisses faintly. He sounds very far away, though Harry is vaguely aware of the warmth of his touch.

“What did we do to you now?” He doesn't sound like he's expecting an answer, and Harry isn’t giving it.

Tom Riddle is so very self-centered. Egocentric.

This isn’t about him at all, except in the ways that it is, because doesn’t everything always come back to this? Harry and Voldemort, who is Tom Riddle, who lives in his Sanctuary and is only sometimes Horrible.

“Are you a ghost?” he asks nonsensically.

There’s another hand on him, suddenly, and Harry’s body flinches from the contact despite how distant he feels. Marvolo is at his side. He hadn’t noticed him.

“You know what we are.”

“Yeah,” Harry says numbly. “Me too.”

His hand comes up again, and he claws absently at his scar until his fingers are pried away. Beside him, Marvolo inhales sharply. Riddle ignores him. They’re probably fighting again. Or still? Are they ever not fighting?

Nobody hates themselves like Voldemort, except maybe Harry Potter.

“So you realized,” Riddle says. Harry finds that odd.

Realized, like it was new. Like Harry hasn’t known since he was fourteen.

“Of course,” he says from a great distance. Is it funny that they didn’t think Harry had? That they needed this confirmation, somehow, when it has been so obvious for years? What’s wrong with him, he wonders.

What’s right with him?

He flexes his hands almost absently. Papers appear in his grasp. Harry stares at the pages blankly. His eyes trace the words but he absorbs nothing.

“‘Dissociation,’” Riddle reads upside down.

The word shatters against the thick film that coats Harry’s reality. He recognizes it. He knows what the papers say. He knows what he’s done.

It’d never been accidental before.

He lets the pages slip through his grasp, and as they fall to the ground he watches them begin to burn. The ash disappears as it’s created, none of it touching the rug. Smoke gathers, and Harry inhales deeply.

His lungs protest. He exhales, a bit more present.

He opens his fingers, observing the crescents that his nails have bitten into his skin with a vague intrigue. Ice appears in his palms with a thought.

Harry stares at the cubes as they melt, then tilts his hands and lets them drop. They, too, disappear before touching the rug.

Harry is real again. Or maybe he was always real, and it’s just that he’s present, now. He looks at Riddle, hovering in front of him, a furrow between his brow.

“I asked if you were a ghost,” he says, a bit amused by this.

“Yes,” Riddle agrees.

“‘Not yet,’ huh?” Harry murmurs. It’s far different than his answer had once been.

Riddle pauses for longer this time, then agrees. “Not yet.”

Harry hums noncommittally. His eyes meet Marvolo’s sharp gaze. His eyes are hungrier than Tom’s, ever-eager to devour more. Harry hadn’t thought a soul could get more greedy. He wishes faintly for the days he could pretend that hunger was for a meal, or for magic, or for life. Marvolo is more ravenous for Harry than any of that, though.

#harry/voldemort #voldemort/harry #snippet #undying #my writing #tomarry

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sitp-recs · 8 months

Note

Hello Liv, I’m looking for a fic with « a falling in love while the world around us is ending » vibe. Finding love in a midst of a war or a tragedy. when everything around is collapsing, when we don’t know how much time is left so every second is lived fiercely and intensely.

A bit of a tragic lovers vibes (but with ultimately a happy ending).

Do you think you could help?

Ohhh I love this ask so much! I definitely have some nice recs for you, and would love to read more doomed lovers, it’s one of my favourite tropes. Please note that some most of these have open/unhappy ending. Enjoy!

Without Sunshine by @sweet-s0rr0w (T, 1k) - open ending

The fall of the Wizarding World begins on a Tuesday morning. As Draco says, the timing's dreadful.

if the world was ending by saltwatergarden (M, 4k)

The world is ending again, but it's far less dramatic this time. Harry Potter tries to save the day. Draco wishes he wouldn't.

Between Two Fires of Beltane by secretsalex (E, 5k)

As the war drags on, Draco becomes a spy for Voldemort and works his way into Harry’s good graces—and his bed. When the Order prepares to invade Malfoy Manor, Draco is forced to examine his loyalties.

A Cold Spot in Hell by @drarrytrash (E, 8k)

When there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire. If you wanted 8k of sexy arson, emotionally difficult arson, general arson, handkerchiefs, dread, and poetry curation, now is really your moment.

The Taste of Magic by @romaine2424 (M, 10k)

As the world's atmosphere changes, magic starts to disappear. Only a "lucky" few will stay in the magical world until the earth begins to heal.

And Save Me From Bloody Men by @blamebrampton (T, 10k) - open ending

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching.

The Eighth Tale by lettered (E, 12k) - Cw: mcd

Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon by @the-starryknight (M, 17k)

The Ministry didn’t turn bad overnight. Harry didn’t suddenly turn rogue either. Between covert Legilimency links and Polyjuice disguises and running and running and running, Draco has forgotten what it is like to have a safe harbor that isn’t a person. If there’s an art to fighting back, then they’ll find it hand in hand.

All the Ashes Like Leaves by @firethesound (M, 21k)

Nothing about being the Chosen One had prepared Harry for this. With most of the population blinded and man-eating plants running amok, he can only stay close to his friends as they make their way to safety. Not that he’d call Malfoy a friend, but the end of the world does rather make their ongoing feud seem trivial. And it just figures that it took nothing short of an apocalypse to make Malfoy seem like less of a git.

We Are Legend by @vaysh11 (E, 38k) - cw: mcd

Eighty years into the future, Voldemort won. Harry Potter is a renegade wizard, Portkeying Muggles out of London to Hogwarts, last sanctuary in a Britain ruled by the Dark Lord. On a mission he encounters a powerful phoenix Animagus fighting on the Death Eaters' side.

REVOLVEVLOVER by @firethesound and @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 46k) - open ending

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for.

The Compact by astolat (E, 64k)

Hermione frowned. “The real question is why the magic of Britain would be failing now, in fact.” “That is not the real question!” Ron said loudly; he’d woken up fully by now, and Harry had too; it was starting to sink in that they’d found the problem. “The real question is, how do we fix it?”

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Bonus: I don’t usually read WIPs but this one is my all-time favorite and it fits the ask perfectly!

In The Dark by @bixgirl1 (E, WIP)

In the aftermath of an apocalypse, Harry receives an order to find and bring Draco Malfoy nearly a thousand miles, to the tenuous safety of Hogwarts. But more than distance separates them from their goal. The world has fallen, and death is hungry.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #tragic lovers

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somerandomoutsider · 2 months

Text

The Armistice

Summary

After a strange talk with Voldemort in the graveyard Harry begins to question his Headmaster

Chapter 1

In the graveyard, held in place by a statue Harry even though filled with thoughts, wonders why should his life be so difficult, why can't one year be filled with boring classes and life too mundane to be forgotten till he wishes it were simpler when life individually catches up? But he can not have such a thing as his life is meant for as some people would call adventure.

But here and now in this moment of struggling with a statute for freedom as the corpse of a friend, lay out of sight yet not too far away from him. Harry reluctantly watched as Peter performed the ritual that would bring back a man who was after him. If given the chance Harry would be so selfish as to abandon his so-called duty to live in peace. But he can't.

After his blood was taken from him he pondered if death was a viable option for peace, but the thought was swept away like the wind as a figure emerged from the cauldron. As if born like a child healthy without issue this being will wreak havoc on the world simply to watch it burn for its pleasure and curiosity.

The figure in question in all its natural glory is no man yet he is no monstrous beast but a delicate balance of both.

Harry would confess there is beauty in the man's monstrous being. But then again there is beauty in everything.

Voldemort, born anew, was quick to adjust to his new body. With a simple gesture, his servant was all too pleased to give his master his wand. Voldemort, ever the kind master, has rewarded his servant with pain. Peter in his cries thanked his lord.

Harry watched the scene with great attention. Looking at Peter as he rolls and shutters in pain. Moves his gaze to Voldemort, not so surprised when their eyes meet.

With a wide smile, Voldemort is quick to be in front of Harry and watches as the boy begins to struggle more and more to be free. “Oh, how I've waited for this day. At last, I have you” he says all too softly as he runs a hand through the boy's hair.

Leaning away from the touch Harry all but want to yell but there were no words that could come to mind. The man before him was not what he had anticipated. To be fair from Dumbledore’s words he had expected a madman, perhaps he was mad but not in the way he thought. But before he knew it he was met with the damp soil of the graveyard floor, frantically searching for his wand he clawed at the dirt in hopes to find as his life depended on it. The sound of a throat clearing made his head snap up and was met with the sight of Voldemort with a small smile on his inhuman lips, in the man's hand he held the very tool that would be the only saving grace of his life.

“Give that back!” he yelled as he shot to his feet and was able to charge forward but stopped himself when Voldemort raised his hand.

“Tell me what would you do if I gave you back your wand?” he asked with a small smile.

Scoffing “I'll kill you”

“Is that so?” a pause “Is that what Albus wants you to do?”

“Yes! Because if I kill you first you can't kill me!” Harry all but shouted in borderline annoyance.

Voldemort looked at the boy as if he had sprouted a second head for a moment he composed himself. Sighing the man rubbed his temple “We have much to discuss it seems”

“What?” Harry said, struck with confusion.

Sighing with a wave of his wand he conjured two chairs. With a simple gesture, he motioned for Harry to sit which he did with much hesitation. “What exactly has the old fool been telling you? If you tell me what he has said I will answer any questions you have in regards to me.”

Harry had given it thought. That being said he made them sit in silence till he agreed with a sigh “I guess I have no choice in the matter. But I guess it would be beneficial to hear you out. But know I don't trust you”

Humming pleased “It's only natural,” Voldemort said.

Sighing and rubbing his eyes he cursed under his breath “I was told that you are on a mission to kill me to rule all magical Britain. Dumbledore told me that you were insane and that you killed my parents. That you will only bring death in discussion on your path.”

Raising a nonexistent brow Voldemort looked down at the boy before releasing a sigh in frustration “Of course the old fool would lie. To speak the truth I may have killed your parents but I had good reasons to.”

“What good reason was it to make me an orphan!” Harry yelled at the man causing Peter to hide in fear as to what was surely to come.

“It was a matter of production for your well-being,” Voldemort said calmly “You see there is a prophecy that dictates I must protect you”

“Prophecy?” Harry asked

Nodding “Yes. There is a prophecy that states that you are my equal and that we both will change the course of our very world. Dumbledore the fool misunderstood and thought that another war would come and that we must battle. Which is why he tried to hide you away from me.”

“Ok? But why kill my parents”

“In truth, my original plan was to help in raising you alongside your parents but Dumbledore gave them the idea that I was out to kill you so he hid your family away. That night I spoke to make them see reason but they were blinded by Dumbledore. They knew that they couldn't defeat me so they did what I was not expecting. Trying to kill you.”

“How can I trust what you are saying is the truth?” Harry asked as he gave the man a hard look.

“You can't but I believe Dumbledore will show his intentions with your life. But only time will tell”

Harry could hardly believe this. It all seemed so utterly weird. Sitting with his supposed enemy and protector, perhaps he has died, his body lying in the moist dirt at Voldemort's feet. But he isn't dead, it is all very much reality. He could hardly contain the laugh that screeched from his lips as if his sanity were leaving.

“God I can't believe my life is such a fucking mess! Death would be more pleasant” he said between broken chuckles.

Cocking his head to the side “Why do you say that? I would assume since you were given the title of savior you would have been raised akin to nobles. Training and Education”

Laughing more Harry could hardly breathe he took a moment to catch his breath “I didn't even know magic existed till arriving at Hogwarts. I was raised by my muggle relatives, they hated magic, I lived all my childhood in a cupboard under the stairs with little to no food or water and was beaten when I accidentally performed magic. It was like that until I left for Hogwarts.”

“I apologize for the outcome of that night,” Voldemort said softly. It was there that something stirred within Harry. The man's sincerity had touched him deeply.

“I believe it is time you return to school.” Voldemort's voice brought Harry out of his thoughts.

“Really? You're just going to let me go”

Nodding, the man gave the boy back his wand gently with his touch, “I have things I have to do.”

“What?” Harry asked but before he could be given a chance to question the Triwizard Cup soared through the air along with Cedric's corpse he had long forgotten. Before he knew it the sounds of music and cheering were heard it only took a few small moments for the people to acknowledge that something was wrong. That was when the cheerful atmosphere was devoured by the demon of fear and then chaos soon followed as the people scrambled among themselves.

Harry could only stare at the scene before him.

#harry potter #voldemort #harrymort #fanfic #not beta read #going off vibes and vibes alone #The Armistice

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star-named-riddle · 7 months

Text

Some part of me must have died the first time you called me (and some part of me came alive)

This one actually went over 1k. I don't care anymore. Enjoy the angst.

Day 26 - Delirium

Lord Voldemort watched as his most faithful - his most precious - walked about their bedroom trapped by the claws of delirium.

He wasn’t sure how she had done it, he wasn’t sure she knew how she had done it, but she had fractured her own mind in order to survive Azkaban.

Aware of all the ways the spectres were taking things from her, she had shielded herself against them. She had taken everything she had learnt from him about shielding her mind and turned into a weapon against her prison.

She had lost memories, he knew that. Happy things from her childhood, sunny days at Hogwarts that the Dementors had sucked out of her first. Then, she had blocked off everything that meant anything to her, sectioning her mind and splitting it into nooks and crannies, hiding them all away.

It had saved her, but in doing so it had broken her. His Bellatrix was back, but not entirely. Bits of her escaped her every now and then. Her awareness faltered when she was at rest, never when her mind was made sharp by whatever was happening around her.

When she was at ease, though, her mind escaped her control. It wandered off into dark corners of her memory, the ones she had locked away her darkest hours into, and there it succumbed to the toll of Azkaban.

It had been worse at first, during those weeks he had held her back, forcing her to recover before unleashing onto the world again. He had seen it then, and then saw less and less of it as he gave her back her purpose. Steadfast on a mission, Bella’s mind did not waver and did not wander. Like a charmed blade, she was kept sharp by use, and dulled under exhibition.

Carrying his heir had given her a greater purpose, and her mind had settled. His presence at her side soothed her. Nagini acted like a balm, and he suspected the snake’s unrestrained displays of affection had something to do with it.

Still, he could not have his precious Bella out in the world while she carried his child. He had drawn her close, closer then ever. His chambers becoming theirs, his bed becoming hers as his body seemed to need less and less sleep, and the both of them enjoyed it when he watched over her sleep.

At his side but removed from her favourite role as his most dangerous weapon, second only to his own magic, she dulled. And her mind wandered.

Bellatrix walked in small circles, in the room between their bed and the wall. It was the darkest corner of the room, furthest from the fireplace and the place neither moonlight nor sunlight kissed. It was also the coldest.

He hadn’t figured out exactly why, but the cold always opened the door for Bella’s mind to wander like a lost cat. Something about being cold at night pulled Bella’s thoughts so firmly back into Azkaban that neither could stop her mind from running amok.

He chastised himself for allowing Nagini to coil around Bellatrix as she slept. No matter how much the two of them enjoyed it at first, robbing Bella of warmth in the dead of night was never a good idea.

Lord Voldemort had taken to keeping his chambers warmer now. For his own sake, he told himself, as his reptilian body was colder, his blood not as warm as before. For his familiar sake, the bit of his soul in Nagini further cooling her, making her moody and snappish. He knew why. He didn’t mind the cold, Nagini being snappish was only a problem to those around him, not himself.

The fireplaces in his rooms burned all day for her sake.

It had not been enough tonight.

Lord Voldemort approached Bellatrix, careful not to startle her. It only made matters worse. He had tried snapping her out of it before, and the result had been painful in the very least. Outright destructive sometimes. He let his mind reach her before his hands did.

His Bella came back to him, her grey eyes focusing on his red ones, her hands instinctively finding purchase in his clothes. Her fingers, unrestrained, climbed up, settling on his cheeks in intimacy that was seldom allowed.

“My lord, I could not find you. You were gone and I could not find you.”

“I’m here, Bella,” he whispered into the crown of her head, pulling her close, feeling the swell of her belly against his body, and the child there move.

Bella trembled in his arms in a way she had never done before. She had been terrified by his absence.

Slowly, he walked her back to their bed, making sure to stir the fire and cover her snugly. She forewent her pillow, choosing to lay her head on his chest instead. He allowed it, knowing she was looking for the comfort of his heartbeat. A reassurance of his presence, of his life, even as she slept. She cuddled against his side, his arm over her shoulder, his hand slowly dragging his fingers over the curve of her waist.

Nagini hissed as she climbed into bed with them. He hissed back, ordering his familiar to keep her distance from his Bella. Displeased, the snake coiled herself on the mattress, by Bella’s feet and as further away from him as she could be. The pair of golden eyes watched him with a shade of viciousness to them. His own familiar was jealous, tasting the air for the scent of her, deprived that he kept it from the object of their desire.

Lord Voldemort watched over Bellatrix’s mind as she succumbed to sleep once more. Her breathing evened, her heartbeat slowed down, and her mind steadied. In her last conscious thoughts, he saw it.

In the coldest nights in Azkaban, when the wind was so harsh it seemed to blow through her bones, when the sea crashed into the tower with such strength that the foam of it could be carried all the way up and into her cell, when the Dementors found her easiest to prowl on, Bella would try to take refuge in her mind, in the island of him she had built.

And in the coldest nights in Azkaban, her own body kept her from it, from him. And in keeping her from hiding with her memories of him, it left them vulnerable to the spectres.

Through it all, losing him had always been her greatest fear.

Also on AO3

#bellatrix lestrange #lord voldemort #bellamort #bellamort microfic #bellamort september #voldemort x bellatrix #delphini

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simping-4-voldemort · 9 months

Text

Onion Headlines and Harry Potter Characters part 36/?

#lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #lord voldemort #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #gellert grindelwald #albus dumbledore #grindeldore #rubeus hagrid #harry potter #harry james potter #lord voldemort likes to watch the world burn #lord voldemort sows chaos #pro lord voldemort #shitpost #shitposting

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motherfuckingmaneater · 8 months

Note

What was it like when you saw Narcissa for the first time after returning from Azkaban?

Bellatrix is exhausted. Her Master who is stood at a height above all others moves with an eery fluidity like a wraith. He sweeps into Malfoy Manor with her in his arms. He is drenched from plucking her from the waters and she is unmoving. Tears spill without hesitation from Narcissa's eyes and she follows where no others do, heels clipping the floors. Voldemort spells open doors to his own wing wandlessly and nonverbally and Narcissa doesn't ask to enter.

Is she. . ?

Fine. He utters only one word, gazing down onto the face of the only being alive he has ever cared for aside from himself, the only person he has ever adored. Nagini hisses at Narcissa but Voldemort silences her with a single sharp hiss in return and so the snake retreats.

Narcissa is already fretting, listing mentally every potion she will need, every healing spell she can think of. Voldemort is already ahead of her. He has them both dried in an instant and she is encased in a magic so strong the colour is immediately coming to her face.

He leaves them be, both sisters to each other's company. Narcissa remains by her sister's side until her eyes blink open, weary and tired. Bellatrix smiles and Narcissa dissolves to tears once more.

Why are you crying? Bellatrix asks wearily, am I so hideous as that?

Not hideous, dear heart, never hideous. I have missed you. I have loved you, I have spelled magic to the heavens for your health.

Narcissa spends the night curled to her sister's side and Bellatrix relishes her warmth. Voldemort does not appear for the night and even if he did, Narcissa does not think she would have it in herself to give up her space beside the witch she loves most in this wretched world.

By morning Bellatrix finally eats - though it is not much. She has grown used to starving. Narcissa detangles her long waves and they sit prettily once more, though they don't quite shine the way they used to as though stars and silk were weaved through them. Her skin is scrubbed clean, she has started to look like herself again. Her face is still beautiful, but her cheeks are hollow, her eyes don't glitter as they used to, brilliant tarnished silver doesn't shine yet.

Narcissa spends the next few days catching Bellatrix up with everything that's happened. Bellatrix listens and nods and she doesn't say a word. Only when Narcissa tells her of Cygnus' death does she react. She is gone in a flash - for hours Narcissa is worried sick. Lord Voldemort has appeared that very day amidst the storm raging outside, Narcissa wringing her fingers as she paces. He calms her quietly, Narcissa tells him everything. By the time he returns it is morning and Bellatrix is in his clutches.

Narcissa watches from a distance as Lord Voldemort speaks in hushed whispers to her older sister, as he leans just a little into her and how she says nothing. She watches as Lord Voldemort touches his knuckles beneath Bellatrix's jaw, how he tips his head a little as he speaks with her.

They have always had such a unique bond, she thinks to herself, even when Bella was scarcely sixteen. They have always been so very good at forgetting the presence of others with their hushed voices and their shared glances that only the other seems to know the meaning of, and the steps they take in tandem with one another as they pass corridors lost in conversation to each other no one else seems to comprehend. Narcissa watches with a jolt to her stomach as her sister leans just a little more into him as she speaks and Voldemort answers her in a kiss. Her gaze instantly drops like a caught child, retreating to the dining spaces as jealousy burns through her — but before long, Bellatrix has returned to her side and so all is right.

She says nothing as Narcissa takes her back upstairs, as the younger of them orders the elf to bring them lunch. Narcissa is weary, Bellatrix can tell, but she insists. So Narcissa’s recollection carries on. They spend the next few nights in a bed they share together. Narcissa bites her lip from asking the question she wants to ask, but Bellatrix can read it from her mind.

Do you still love me? Bellatrix shifts closer. She merely nods and then finally, she kisses her. Narcissa melts against her, yearning fingers clutch desperately, they feel the smoothness of her skin and slenderness of her arms.

Narcissa kisses her again and again until her lips are sore. Bellatrix drinks in every kiss, she familiarises herself with her body once more. Narcissa still feels the same, long lean limbs, silver hair, soft skin, soft lips. They’re a tangle of one another night after night. It takes time but she’s worth it. She will always be worth it — and after all, they’re all they have left.

#uh oh is cissy a lil jealous????#maybe....#cissatrix #blackcest tw #narcissa black #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix black lestrange #bellatrix x narcissa #narcissa malfoy #narcissa black malfoy #lord voldemort

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duplicitywrites · 1 year

Note

would love to hear about your non-tomarry faves!

THANK YOU FOR ASKING 💖 here is a collection of some i've read recently/throughout 2022, and then one at the end that i think everyone should read because it's so much fun

i'll show you every version of yourself by latteloves | Cedric Diggory/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | WIP

i don't think dia made a post for this yet, so i'll take a moment to share some love 😌 a great take on the similarities between cedric tom during his time at hogwarts 💕

Harry Potter is dead, Dumbledore is dead, and Voldemort decides he deserves a holiday. Instead he gets captivated by the beautiful and tortured Head Boy, Cedric Diggory. - Or, Harry dies in the graveyard instead of Cedric.

Turmoil by Metalomagnetic | Sirius Black/Severus Snape | WIP

a great look at the marauders era; the relationships between characters are vivid and thoughtful, and i enjoy how it slots in with canon

Two lost boys taking all the wrong turns.

Blood by papermonkey | Delphi & Draco Malfoy, Delphi & Voldemort, Draco Malfoy & Voldemort | Complete

a really lovely take on draco's character and the impact of grief on his life in a vee-wins AU. can be read as pre-slash/relationship for draco/vee!

Outside, the world burns. But Draco isn’t watching.

The Best by say_no_more | Harry Potter / Cedric Diggory | Complete

i think people who enjoy tomarrymort long fics with a 'softer' tom would like this fic. i enjoyed a lot of the concepts around 'dark' cedric!

Cedric demands only the best of himself, and for himself. The best marks in school, the best position on the quidditch team, and the best reputation. When it's time for him to begin dating, he won't settle for less than the best partner, as well.

Proximity by Phantomato | Aberforth Dumbledore/Tom Riddle | Voldemort | Complete

a sweet look at an unconventional pairing! rarely do we receive a glimpse into his youth that is treated with tenderness. tom deserves some soft love too 💕

Tom gets a weekend job washing dishes at the Hog’s Head, falls in lust with its proprietor, and learns the value of patience.

Gaunt by Name, Gaunt by Nature by Blood_Stained_Fingers | mostly Tom-centric, also (one-sided) Merope Gaunt/Tom Riddle | Complete

a compelling story about who tom might have been if merope had lived to raise him. the world needs more AUs where tom's character is explored in new ways that aren't tethered to romance plots

It ends the way it was originally supposed to. Merope Gaunt dies due to her son. But this time he is seventeen years old, closer to eighteen than a mere twenty minutes old and still covered in afterbirth. -- If Merope lived would she be in love with her son?

Seventh Horcrux by EmeraldAshes | canon ships but weirder | Complete

i have rec'd this fic before but i swear it is so good and so FUNNY. my sense of humour vibes with this story. i need to reread it soon

The presence of a foreign soul may have unexpected side effects on a growing child. I am Lord Volde…Harry Potter. I'm Harry Potter. In which Harry is insane, Hermione is a Dark Lady-in-training, Ginny is a minion, and Ron is confused.

#asks #anonymous #fic rec

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the-paper-monkey · 1 year

Text

Thanks for the tag @duplicitywrites and @cindle-writes!

Tagging @laeveteinn and @kazuza-art

Rules:

1. Post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular),

2. your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year,

3. your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year,

4. your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year,

5. and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

5 works

So, um, I don't actually have five fics written in 2022 up on my AO3 at the moment. I did finish a fic in the last 2 weeks of 2021 though so I'll just chuck it in.

Bluebeard (34,850 words) | Complete

Secrets, old and new, threaten to shake the very foundations of Draco's fragile new life in the 1940s.

This was the sequel to the Travelling Cabinet which I told every commenter I wasn't going to write and then went ahead and wrote anyway. Very much in reference to the Bluebeard fairytale, only instead of dead wives it's dead... everyone else 🤣

Definitely was a bit of a challenge—in relationship conflict, morality and emotional complexity. I rewrote the last 10k... many times. It also kinda has a plot 😲

Blood (8,216 words) | Complete

Outside, the world burns. But Draco isn’t watching.

Dipped my toes into heavier angst with this fic as all my previous works are predominately light-hearted, even if they have serious elements. I intended it to be Dracomort but it ended up gen to preslash at most because anything else didn't feel right.

Alley Cat (31,707 words) | WIP

In which Draco attends Hogwarts with Tom Riddle and inadvertently saves the world.

This is my current WIP, a Draco & Tom same age AU. Fun fact: this actually started as a fem!Tom fic lol, but it felt like too many twists away from canon to serve any particular point, so I figured it had to either be Abraxas/Fem!Tom or Draco/Tom generation mash.

A Generous Minute (6,975 words) | Complete

Abraxas Malfoy is in love with himself. Tom Riddle is planning a murder. Possibly ten.

Or: when one walking red flag meets another

My one fic without Draco (so far). Named for Abraxas's impressive bedroom performance, of course. Had a lot of fun writing Brax here in all of his oblivious, unredeemed narcissism. Probably would've killed him off if that wouldn't have consequently led to erasing Draco's future existence.

Edible Horcruxes (2,913 words) | Complete

Poor decisions from meddlesome grandfathers leave Lord Voldemort acting as nanny for Draco Malfoy, a cherubic baby with a taste for dark artefacts.

Technically published in 2021 but who's counting? Another gen baby-focused fic entirely written because I wanted to write baby Draco chewing on the Locket Horcrux.

4 WIPS

Hmmm honestly, I can't promise to actually release any of my WIPs. However, these are the most recent projects I've been working on:

Secret Garden AU | Tom Riddle & Draco Malfoy

Tom as Mary and Draco as Colin (except they aren't cousins).

Vampire AU | Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Harry is a seventeen-year-old vampire pretending to be seven-hundred. Draco is a would-be victim who thinks his blood is too expensive to be spilt.

The Travelling Cabinet III | Tom Riddle/Draco Malfoy

Tom and Draco go on a camping trip in Albania. Septimus and Cedrella tag along. Not especially plot heavy. Inspired by a commenter on Bluebeard.

Pinocchio | Voldemort/Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle/Draco Malfoy

Set in the early 2000s in a Britain that has been conquered by Voldemort. Features Horcrux!Tom, Death Eater!Draco and a Voldemort who has gone missing without a trace.

I WISH I could write this fic but it just does not want to be written lol. POV issues, for the most part, as well as it being heavier on plot than I typically write. I might get stuck into it in the new year before my grad job starts but I'll probably be writing Alley Cat or the TTC sequel then.

3 Improvements

Writing emotions - when I wrote the last chapter of Bluebeard I realised that I was tackling several emotions that I'd never written before. When left to my own devices I tend to write detached or callous POVs, which is helpful in certain cases (Tom's POV in The Travelling Cabinet or Draco's in Blood) but not in this one.

Completing work - I've been putting a concentrated effort into finishing my work, something I've struggled with in the past. Am easily distracted by shiny new plot bunnies 🐰

Writing consistently - needs no elaboration.

2 Resolutions

Cure my white room syndrome - I tend to be a very economical writer and while I don't see myself ever changing that much, I should like to put more effort into scenery description going forward

Write Drarry - given the amount of this ship that I've read over the past few years, you'd think I'd manage to write for it but that has not been the case lol

1 Favourite Line

"Even if he understood on an intellectual level that the war was over, it continued in a dark, secret place buried deep within him." (Bluebeard, Chapter 3)

#tag game

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sitp-recs · 10 months

Note

I normally only read in-world fics, but do you have any great Drarry AUs. Either non-magical or no Voldermort or historical, whatever (I'm not crazy about things that mess with the actual content of the books, but might love something super clever.) THANK YOU! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hi anon! We’re actually very similar as in I don’t often venture into AUs so chances are you might enjoy these as well :) let me know!

Full AU:

Veðr by @shealwaysreads (M, 2.7k)

Norsemen have ranged far enough inland to find Harry, alone and abandoned by his kith and kin. But they bring far more than danger with them, they bring adventure, they bring magic.

Mad Blood Stirring by provocative_envy (E, 3.2k)

It's not like they've been angrily hooking up on the sly since meeting at a Juniors skills camp in fucking Manitoba four years ago, except that's exactly what they've been doing.

Big Hands by @fw00shy (E, 4.5k)

Draco Malfoy is a pianist who's just moved to Paris. Harry Potter, his new roommate, has the biggest hands he's ever seen. Draco is immediately obsessed.

Trouble by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 7k)

Now Draco’s cock is stirring, and he can’t breathe because all he can think of is screaming Harry’s name while Harry pins him down and mindlessly fucks him into total incoherency.

The Virtues of Hygiene and the Binary of Labour by @piarelei (E, 14k)

Draco does what he always does every autumn; packs his bag and follows a path back home. This time, Potter just happens to travel the same roads.

Give Me a Quiet Mind by calrissian18 (T, 16k)

Draco is Weasley’s assistant. Except for the week he’s not. Whose brilliant idea was that again?

Black Coffee on a Lonely Night by Femme (M, 21k)

Draco owns a café in the city. Harry's a MP who comes in every morning, newspapers in one hand, BlackBerry in the other, and orders a triple espresso macchiato.

Rush (For A Gap That Exists) by @sleepstxtic-drarry (M, 42k)

A story of love and loss that grew amidst the most infamous rivalry in Formula One history: the story of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

In the Bleak Midwinter by @the-fools-errand (E, 105k)

After serving in the border wars for the ever-expanding dominion of Lord Voldemort, Draco and his cousins have returned to Hogsmeade to resurrect the old Black Family name in crime. But when a shipment of wands bound for the front lines falls into their possession, they find themselves at the centre of an investigation backed by the Dark Lord himself.

Nightcall by Femme and noeon (E, 116k)

A hideously mauled corpse is found sprawled across the paving stones of Brick Lane in the East End of London. Inspector Harry Potter--widely believed to be the lead candidate for next Deputy Head Auror--is called in to investigate a possible magical crime.

Within the HP Universe:

Intelligence by aideomai (T, 5.8k)

“I don’t believe it,” Ginny said, voice low with venom and fury. “Did you know?” “I knew there was a spy,” Hermione said.

And Save Me From Bloody Men by @blamebrampton (T, 10k)

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart (orphaned, NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels.

All the Ashes Like Leaves by firethesound (M, 21k)

Gossip Boys by mypetelephant (E, 24k)

Confiscated Dark objects have been disappearing from the Ministry, and journalist Harry Potter is on the case. Unfortunately, he has to drag along Draco Malfoy, gossip columnist extraordinaire, whose subject of choice is everyone's favorite desultory hero.

Burn the Curtains and the Wine by @nerdherderette (E, 24k)

There are two versions of Harry Potter: the wizard who is the Ministry of Magic's most dangerous and successful assassin, and the husband who leads a staid life of domesticity with a reformed Death Eater. And never the twain shall meet.

The Good Guys by Frayach (E, 26k)

The Second Voldemort War is limping into its fourth year, and the Forces of Shining Light are slowly turning into the Forces of Expedient Grey. When Draco Malfoy is captured red-handed trying to sell an illegal potion to a clerk at Borgin & Burkes, he is handed over to the Department of Essential and Necessary Truth’s newest interrogator.

The Boy Who Died by @magpiefngrl (E, 27k)

Harry dies in the forest. Sixteen years later, he comes back to life.

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter.

The Secret Keeper by @the-fools-errand (M, 225k)

On Halloween 1981, Albus Dumbledore made a decision that would change the course of history, concealing Harry Potter’s survival at the hands of Lord Voldemort underneath a Fidelius Charm. But when Harry comes of age in the Muggle world, Dumbledore realises too late that the fate of the world may depend on a boy who has never held a wand.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #drarry AUs

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scripts4dreamers · 2 years

Text

A New Day

AN: Was this based on that shifting thing on Tik Tok? Yeah, yeah it was. I love a parallel universe, okay?? Characters: Regulus Black, Marlene Mckinnon variant, Dorcas Meadowes variant Pairings: Regulus Black x reader Summary: What if, instead of drowning, Regulus managed to slip into a new world. Your world.

--------

Regulus had planned for months. He’d double checked all the calculations, practiced until his eyes went fuzzy and then practiced more. He could hold his breath for nearly 4 minutes, do the most complex spells wordlessly and keep almost anyone out of his head. He was ready. No one in the history of the wizarding world had ever understood Voldemort better than he did and Regulus Black was ready for his tricks. He was getting out of this mess and taking Voldemort down at the same time and there wasn’t a damned thing the Dark Lord could do to stop him. He was ready.

Having said that, he’d never expected his plan to actually work. As the mangled corpses dragged him beneath the water and his throat burned with a cursed thirst powerful enough to drive someone mad, Regulus had fully expected to die, but he tried anyway. He’d pushed through the pain, held his breath and began his incantation, ready for the moment that nothing would happen and he would start to drown. If he hadn’t practiced the spell so much that it was almost effortless, he probably wouldn’t have had the strength to go through with it. But he had, so he did and, to his surprise, it had worked. Just when he thought he’d run out of air he felt the hands dragging him down start to lessen, he heard a strange rustling in his ear and a tugging behind his ribcage like nothing he’d ever experienced. The pain of drowning was replaced with the pain of being ripped in two. He opened his mouth to scream, remembering the water a moment too late. It was filling his mouth, filling his lungs, drowning him. Drowning him! At least the pain would end, the terrible terrible pain of it. Merlin, why wasn’t it ending? Make it end! And then-

Well, then he’d landed on an empty road, gasping for air on his hands and knees, with tiny bits of gravel digging into his exposed skin. For a moment he couldn’t believe it was real, that all that work had paid off. He thought it must be some trick, a last cruel game that Voldemort concocted. Give them hope and rip it away, that had always been his style. But as time passed and he caught his breath, Regulus was forced to accept the fact that he’d been right. He’d really done it. The relief was so intense that he didn’t notice that he was laughing until the tears started streaming down his face. It just felt so completely, impossibly unbelievable that he was finally free. He was soaking wet, it was starting to get cold and he was definitely in shock, but Regulus forced himself to look around. He was on a deserted country road, on a hilltop surrounded by long grass and old, gnarled trees. The sky was starting to darken and he could hear the hustle and bustle of a town somewhere in the distance, symphonic with the bugs and the breeze. He pushed himself up, ignoring the protest of his worn out body and stumbled to the nearest tree, collapsing against it so he could watch the sun set on his new world. A world without magic.

Reality bending magic was more advanced than anything Regulus had ever even considered in his youth but, as the war went on and his situation became darker and more hopeless, he figured he had nothing to lose. A million things could have gone wrong, the least unpleasant of which would have been him dying instantaneously, but he did the work anyway. He didn’t have a lot of requirements for his desired new reality. In fact, he only had four: No Regulus Blacks already in that reality, no Voldemort, no death eaters and no wizards. And somehow, he’d gotten it all.

Regulus sipped his coffee absentmindedly, taking a moment to ground himself in the here and now. He let his eyes drift shut and took some deep breaths, the way his doctor had taught him to, letting the cool spring air fill his lungs completely, and then letting it out slowly. Even now, five years later, Regulus could never quite get past the feeling that he was drowning, that the water was right there, outside his lips, just waiting to slip into his mouth and drag him into the depths. But that was just a memory now. He was safe, he was free. The only thing left from his old life was currently sitting behind the glass windows of a bookstore, with a big gold sticker on the front celebrating it as a 20th Anniversary Special Edition.

“Have you really never read Harry Potter?” You asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Hmm-What? No, I haven’t-” he replied with a distracted smile, “is it good?”

You shrugged with one shoulder and took a sip from your drink. You were trying very hard to be nonchalant but he’d known you long enough to recognize the way your eyes lit up . The book meant a lot to you. While you looked at the books, Regulus tried to subtly twist his hand in just the right way, and was rewarded by a rush of steam coming from your cup. You always hated when your drink got cold.

“You love it, huh?” He asked, nudging your shoulder with his.

You blushed and rolled your eyes fondly, “I hate that you can do that. Yes, okay, I love it. Those books practically raised me, but the author is a TERF and there’s a bunch of problematic shit in them and so I also kind of hate them. For making me love them, you know?”

Now that was a relationship he could understand.

“Oh yeah. So, not worth it for me, then?” He asked, feeling the familiar roiling of curiosity and anxiety in his stomach that talking about the book always caused.

You gave him a surprised look, “Oh no, you should definitely read them, just don’t buy them. You can read my old copies, I’ve annotated all the gross shit in the margins.”

“Why’d you ask if I’ve read it? You guys bully me enough for it for you to know.”

“It’s just such a major coincidence,” You said, not for the first time, “I mean, Regulus Black? What are the chances of that?”

He shrugged, “It has to happen sometimes, I mean there’s only so many names in existence. Regulus is a real star and Black is a fairly common surname.”

It was a familiar lie, but it still tasted wrong when directed at you. Some people bought it, some didn’t. He’d been reminded by some of your friends, very gently of course, that there was no shame in choosing to name yourself after a character. People choose new names when they decide to live as their true selves all the time, they would say. Privately, he wished he’d known that before he’d started introducing himself as Regulus Black. A new name would have saved him a lot of trouble. On the other hand, if he’d decided to go by something else, he might never have met you.

—

It still felt wrong to be going out without his wand, but the drinks at these parties were always good, and honestly he enjoyed the company. One of the things no one tells you about being ripped from your dimension by ancient magic and placed somewhere new at the tender age of eighteen was that everyone in your new hometown probably already has friends, and it’s not like you can send an owl to your friends, because they’re all fictional here. And dead, he reminded himself, they’re also all dead. He pushed that thought away with another shot of something foul that burned the back of his throat, and refocused on his surroundings. Thank Merlin for university towns, where he could blend in a little more, and where no one was shocked to meet someone new who didn’t quite know their way around yet. When he’d shown up here four years ago he’d expected a lot more pushback, only to find that it was registration season for the local university. It was quite prestigious, so no one batted an eye at a stranger. A few days of research, some sneaky spell casting and, before he knew it, he was all set up and ready to start classes.

“Oh. My. God, you’re kidding!” The person he was talking to squealed, their eyes widening with surprise, “No way is that your name. Did your parents name you that?” Regulus nodded, pleasantly tipsy and already very used to this conversation. The person gasped again, running one hand through their thick, blonde hair, “Jesus Christ, that’s borderline child abuse. I mean, it’s alright when it’s a wizard-nazi in a kid’s book, but who ever met a med student named Regulus?”

“Well, technically, you just did,” he pointed out, teasingly, ignoring the rush of shame, “a lot of people at our school have, actually. Is it really that bad?”

Marble looked up, their eyes widening in horror as they realised what they’d said, and he couldn’t help but laugh. They were clearly drunk and mortified by the idea that they might have just been rude. It was endearing. They reminded him of another blonde who used to stick her foot in her mouth a lot, a friend of his brother’s. They’d played against each other in Quidditch.

“No! God-sorry-no it’s not bad, it’s just weird is-all. I mean, who’m I to judge, really, my name’s Marble. Granted, I gave myself that one.” They blurted out quickly.

“I like the name Marble,” he replied.

They smiled, “Cheers, mate! I do too. So does my girlfriend, Dora. She helped me pick it, actually. Her and my friend Y/N,” they continued. At your name they gasped and grabbed his arm, smiling like they’d just made a marvelous discovery, “oh my God, Y/N. You have to meet Y/N, she’s going to love this.” they assured him, dragging Regulus through the crowds of drunk university students and towards a group of people talking and laughing in the kitchen.

“Y/N!” Marble called, “Y/N meet my friend, I’ll bet you can’t guess what his name is.”

One of the people turned and Regulus felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. It was like looking at the ocean, he thought to himself, or the sun, that’s how beautiful you were. When you smiled at him and stuck out your hand for him to shake, Regulus felt like he was eighteen again, stumbling around on shaky legs, drunk on his own freedom and terrified at the endless possibilities in front of him.

But he took your hand anyway, because he couldn’t help himself, and he heard himself say, “Hi, I’m Regulus Black.”

—

That had been almost a year ago. The best year, Regulus could say with certainty, of his entire life. He loved his classes, he was finally starting to feel like he’d found his feet in town, he had an apartment and a job. And he had you. Well, alright he didn’t have you, per say. Not the way he wanted to, but he had you in his life, and the friends you now shared, and that was a hell of a lot more than he’d ever expected.

His first two years in your world had been a lesson in self-preservation. Everything he encountered was new, he spent most of his time just figuring out how things worked, how to get places and make food and how to keep himself alive without magic. Not that he didn’t still use magic, he absolutely did, but the problem was that no one else did. Everything he knew from his world was pointless in yours, so getting used to that had taken time.

The next two were about rehabilitation. Deprogramming, they called it. After one of his classes he’d come across an advert for a support group for people who wanted to transition out of hate groups and, well, Regulus had in fact been part of a hate group, so he went. It was a kind of work he’d never done before, like digging thorns out of his skin after the skin had already healed over. It had ached and stung and hurt, but it had also felt good. Freeing, almost. He still went to the support group, but now he was leading meetings, helping other people the way the group had helped him. He remembered when he first got up the nerve to tell you about the group, to tell you what he’d been (in modified terms, at least), and how you’d taken his hand and said you were proud of him for making the right decision.

On bad days, when he felt the water creeping in, he clung to that memory like a life jacket.

“I guess you’re right,” you continued, “It’s still so weird.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “Do you-you think it’s dumb?”

You looked up quickly, blushing again, “Oh God-no, Reg, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” you assured, reaching out to squeeze his free hand, “I love your name. It’s beautiful. That’s not what I meant.”

“Y/N’s a beautiful name,” he countered softly, squeezing your hand back briefly before letting it go.

“Thanks, Reg.”

Without another word you turned away from the bookstore together and continued your slow walk back to the house you shared with Marble and Dora. It was a little private ritual you shared, and Regulus treasured it above almost everything else. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and smiled when he caught you glancing back. Almost everything.

“What did you mean?” He asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Hm?”

“You said you didn’t mean like that,” he explained, “so what did you mean?”

“Oh, um,” You smiled sheepishly, and shook your head “nothing, it’s stupid.”

Oh now he had to know. You had this habit of doubting yourself that made Regulus crazy. He wanted to show you that nothing you thought was stupid, that he loved hearing all of it. Every bizarre dream, every late night rant, every embarrassing story, he wanted to know it all. He stored everything you told him away in his mind like pirate’s gold, along with all the good memories he’d made over the years. Late at night he’d pull them out one-by-one and examine them, like artifacts and try to let them muffle the sounds of his past screaming in his ears.

He bumped you with his shoulder, relishing the brief contact, “Bet it’s not.”

“You’d lose that bet.”

“I’d still like to know,” he assured you softly, “I like to know what you think about things.” he lowered his voice, “About me.”

It was a risky move, but not one he took lightly. Regulus Black thought everything through, he was meticulous, but you made him want the risk. He loved making you smile, making you blush and roll your eyes in that fond way you did. He loved that you let him tease you but, more than that, he loved that you let him in. You told him the things you usually kept private, you teased him back. When you were together, you were happy. He made you happy. A few months ago he’d gotten sick. You’d spent two weeks at his apartment, nursing him back to health and after that things between you were…different. You were more nervous around him, your looks lingered sometimes, like you were searching for something. When you were out with friends, you always ended up next to each other. He hadn’t seen you go home with anyone. It was new, and delicate, and Regulus wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but he knew he wanted it. He knew he wanted you, in whatever way he could have you.

You sighed, but shot him a sheepish look, which he knew meant that you were caving, “You can’t laugh.”

He mimed locking his lips, “Scout’s honor.”

“You didn’t even know what that meant until Edgar told you last month,” you pointed out fondly.

“But I know now, so it counts.”

You laughed gently and the sound made Regulus feel like he was floating.

“Alright then,” you agreed, “I meant it was weird because, when I was a kid, I had a massive crush on Regulus in the books.”

Regulus stopped in his tracks, “I’m sorry, you what?”

Your face was bright with embarrassment and Regulus had to remind his lungs to keep breathing, “What? People have crushes on fictional characters like all the time!”

“You said he was barely even in the books!” He pointed out incredulously, “You said there were only a handful of mentions of him.”

“There were but like,” you paused, covering your hands with your face, “he was cool! He basically took on Voldemort all on his own when he was like 18, that’s awesome.”

“He was a death eater.”

“He joined at 16, and he literally died trying to bring Voldemort down,” you countered.

Regulus snorted, and continued on his way, you falling into step beside him, “Which is barely a redemption arc. One big heroic sacrifice doesn’t undo being a nazi, you know?”

Especially since I didn’t actually die, he thought to himself.

“I know,” you sighed, “but it’s just so tragic. Sirius didn’t even get to hear what really happened.”

Ouch. No matter how many years passed, Regulus couldn’t help but hurt whenever someone mentioned his brother. He should have sent a letter, or a patronus, something. He should have-

“And I think, if he’d lived, he would’ve made the right choice,” you continued, snapping him back to the present. You looked so certain that it made his heart ache, “like you did. I actually think you two would have gotten along well.”

Doubt.

He let the silence sit for a moment.

“Wait so why is it weird? Because I have the same name as a fictional character you liked?” he clarified.

This time you definitely flushed. The sun had barely risen. The whole street was lit up in that early spring morning chill. With the streetlights overhead and you by his side, Regulus thought it felt a lot like magic. Real magic, and he wished he could freeze everything exactly like it was.

“Well, no,” you admitted, “not just that.”

“Then what?” he pressed.

You shot him a helpless look, “Don’t make me say it.”

He frowned, stopping again and reaching out to stop you too. Your house was in sight now, he could just let you go, but he didn’t. There was something sad in your eyes, something he’d put there, and he wanted to know what it was so he could stop it from ever happening again.

“Say what?” He asked, searching your face for clues. When you didn’t answer, he stepped in, holding your arms as though he was steadying you, “Hey, Y/N/N, it’s me, Reggie. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

Your eyes watered a bit, but you nodded, “I know. I do know that, Reg.”

“Then talk to me,” he said softly, reaching to touch your cheek, “please?”

You rolled your eyes at yourself, “It’s st-”

“Don’t you dare say it’s stupid,” he interrupted, “don’t you dare.”

You pressed your lips together and then sighed, leaning in until your forehead was pressed to his sternum and your arms were loosely hanging on his waist. Instinctively, Regulus wrapped his arms around you, wondering if you could feel the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

“It just isn’t fair,” you started, your voice a little bit muffled by his sweater, “because it’s so obvious right? You have a crush on a book character when you’re a kid and then you grow up, go off to university, meet this incredible guy and he just happens to have the same name? What are the chances of that?” you complained, “But at first it’s all fine and you’re just friends, but then he gets sick and, for a moment there you think he’s going to die and-” you looked up and Regulus could feel the way your breath stuttered in your chest when he held your gaze, “and it sucks because you’ve already fallen for one Regulus in your life, right? So you can’t fall for another one.”

Oh. Oh, you can’t. He didn’t expect anything else, so it shouldn’t fucking break him the way it does, but he feels it like a sledgehammer in his chest. And he can’t cry, because you’re being honest, and you’re still in his arms and that has to count for something. That has to be enough.

“But you do anyway,” you continue softly, “even though you know he’s not being honest with you. And even though he’s your best friend and it’s a huge risk, it doesn’t matter because he tells you your thoughts aren’t stupid. And he holds your hand when you’re nervous and you don’t even need to tell him you’re nervous because he just knows. He doesn’t know how post works, but he knows you better than anyone and you fall for him.” The words are pouring out of you now, and Regulus is trying to process what you’re saying, but all he hears are those last four words on repeat. You pause, “And then you tell him in second person on just a random street and that’s dumb because you probably should have made it more romantic, but it’s done now and you can’t take it back and-”

You Fall For Him.

He kisses you before you can finish. He doesn’t even know that he meant to. Looking back, all Regulus can remember is the way you were looking at him, the way you felt in his arms and the sudden realisation that he was exactly where he was always meant to be. That, no matter what had happened, no matter what path he would have taken, the only place he could ever truly belong was right here, in your arms. So he’d kissed you, because he had to. Because he didn’t have the words to tell you what that felt like yet, and because he really, really wanted to kiss you.

You tasted like your drink, and that first breath he’d taken as a free man and also like the sweets he’d stolen from his brother when he was young. Your hands pressed to his chest felt like running down the stairs on christmas and your lips against his were like catching the snitch in the final match of the season. Everything he missed, everything he longed for, all of it was you. All of it. Everything he had was yours, for as long as you’d have him. In any world, any moment in time, he was utterly and irrevocably yours.

When you broke apart, breathless and flushed, Regulus pressed his forehead to yours, feeling the hot flames of desire as they rushed through him.

“Y/N I-I’ve been-I have-” he paused to collect himself, breathing in impossibility that was his life, the sheer joy of it all, “Merlin, Y/N, I fell for you the moment we met, possibly even before then, but I need to be honest.” he braced himself for the impact, for the pain of losing you.

I’ll get her back, he promised himself. I’ll earn her trust back, no matter how long it takes. No matter what I have to do. This will not be the last time I get to hold her.

“Y/N I-”

“Am not really an incredibly sheltered homeschooled kid who just entered the real world, but am instead somehow the actual Regulus Black from the Harry Potter book series? Yeah, I figured,” you teased, with a breathless laugh.

Regulus’s head shot up, but he didn’t let go of you, “Wha-how-?”

You gave him an incredulous, but still fond, look, and pressed another kiss to his lips. This time it was soft, like the petals of the roses he grew outside his apartment block, or the last rays of sunlight over the hill on that first night. It was a promise of something, of acceptance.

“You’re not subtle, my love. My drinks go from lukewarm to piping hot. Marble’s hair untangles itself. Untied shoelaces get done up, you ‘fixed’ a horrendously shattered vase at Christmas.” you explained.

Regulus felt himself go red, “I thought you wouldn’t notice.”

You took his hand and threaded your fingers together, continuing on your walk like nothing had happened.

“We didn’t notice the magic for a while,” you admitted, “but, come on. How were we going to miss the literal dark mark on your arm, hm? Weird tattoo for a guy who never read the books to get, don’t you think?”

“WAIT THE DARK MARK IS IN THE BOOKS?”

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