@mayhemxmugglesxmagic out here giving me hella big feels about Gregory Goyle. Laina's done such a good job of developing him into a vivid, nuanced, three-dimensional character, and I love the weird little friendship we've developed between Greg and Theo!

@mayhemxmugglesxmagic​ asked:  📜 (Pansy and your choice of muse, Ron)

Ron puffed himself up a bit, defensive at her insult about his strength. “Physically, yes, I could fight a bird. But emotionally? Imagine the toll.”

“ 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜                                     𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚒𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎.”

Independent & selective Harry Potter Multi-Muse                                                                                  est. 2020

☠️   10+ years of RP experience ☠️   canon divergent ☠️   oc and duplicate friendly ☠️   written by Laina

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the yule ball

plotted starter for @mayhemxmugglesxmagic || Millicent & Gregory

There was a bitterness in her mouth, hidden by an expression of repose. Millicent sat in her formal wear, looking out towards the crowd, longing to be one of the bodies amongst them. The other girls of her house and year were, Pansy with Draco, Daphne and a Durmstrang whilst Tracey sported a boy from Beauxbatons.

No one had asked Millie to the Yule Ball. She had tried to garner the affections of some, but she came across as too sharp, prickled edges and a fiery spirit none seemed to tolerate. Millicent Bulstrode wasn’t about to change for any boy, but still… Sitting alone eating way too many canapes but things in perspective. Filling the gap with food probably wasn’t helping, but it tasted good and in turn felt good, even if that feeling was temporary.

Perhaps she should just go to bed. It would be easy enough to slip away, to head back to their dormitory, wipe off her make up and curl up in bed. But she didn’t put in all that time of prettying herself up for it to go to waste.

And she did look pretty.

Despite what she thought and felt, ever comparing herself to her friends – Millie actually looked good, stunning even. She had her hair down in loose waves, the features of her face highlighted with light natural make up. The dress she had on was cream coloured lace and tulle, fitting way better than her Hogwarts uniform.

Stubbornness convinced her to stay, determined that by the end of the night she’d have one dance, even if she had to grab someone and demand it of them.

@mayhemxmugglesxmagic​ from “your hands are trembling.”

“ So they are. “ She replied, voice -- icicles in may. Her ever thinning french accent almost undetectable. Jolene had tried so hard for so long to erase the parts of herself their world deemed unacceptable -- her accent, her drive, her blood, and it had brought her here, to the center of a war she wanted no part in. All her lies, the fraud, the endless dodging of questions, it was catching up to her. Glaciers migrated from the base of her spine to the hollow of her throat. If she was going to do this, it would be now.

The former Ravenclaw lowered her wand. It was no secret, her friendship with Narcissa, her connections to people who’d kill her in an instant if they learned the truth of her blood status...  if her secret keeper spilled even the smallest bit of information everything would come tumbling down. And while Jolene trusted Narcissa, she did -- she also knew her. ‘Cissa would not hesitate to let the world know if she learned of Jolene’s betrayal, of her affair with Lucius, of her pregnancy.

“ I have information that I think you’ll want to hear. ”

Perhaps it would be the more prudent thing to just turn her away. Especially with the way the war was affecting everyone’s temperaments of late, Alice had certainly seen colleagues or co-conspirators shy away from informants they didn’t absolutely know they could trust. Maybe that was circumspect and wiser.

If being reckless and gentler did her in, in the end, she couldn’t say she’d entirely regret it.

After a long moment of consideration, a wary frown pinching otherwise round eyes, Alice nodded and stepped aside enough to let Jolene inside. “Alright. Come in, and I can listen.”

She didn’t remember the younger girl much at all besides the vague half-recollection of a face in the social circles of little up-and-coming blood supremacists a few years below her at school; by the time Alice might’ve been more aware of the lowerclassmen, she’d been more distracted with her classes. But... the girl looked genuinely scared, she thought. ( And it wasn’t as though she couldn’t handle herself if she turned out to be ,ore of a threat than she looked. )  “I could fix something... You look like you could use a cuppa.”

@mayhemxmugglesxmagic Liked for a starter From Regulus To Jolene

He leans against the wall, forgotten. Ignored. Maybe to some, they would say he looked like a bad omen. To others, they'd say he looks like a ghost. And just maybe, he is. The ghost of a Slytherin, a ghost of a younger brother, a ghost of a boy. Every other part of him is cold, from the tip of his nose down to his fingers but his throat is burning. He had a gravitas lent to him by his name and a fair amount of deference was paid. Though said deference was faked at best, no one feared Regulus. Regulus Black who was as quiet as a mouse and as memorable as a note spelled to the wall. No, people feared his family. A mother who ruled with an iron fist, a father who's fury could be seen clearly within his eyes as if he'd gone mad and a brother who was just as cruel as any other Slytherin even if he was labeled a failure.

None of his feelings matter, not in the grand scheme of things everything would go according to plan. 

The slug club party was in full swing, chattering and creating connections, which Slughorn reveled in. Regulus is immaculate as always, his hair parted perfectly, dark black dress robes easily allowing the shadows of the wall to eat him up. He looks almost skeletal in the bluish glow of the fairy lights overhead, the shadows beneath his cheekbones slashing sharply downward, the hollows of his sunken eyes gaping like fathomless pits. He was a black hole, a star that exploded, eating up every single thing around him to fill the emptiness within himself. He watched them all from behind silky black hair, the strands falling into his eyes like streams of ink. Grey eyes of liquid mercury land on the form of a familiar girl, Jolene Marie Delacroix. Who had claimed to be descended from the Bonaccord. A lie. A decent lie he had known, for he had watched her, and watched her like he had watched many others. 

Everyone always underestimated what Regulus noticed.

They always underestimated him and one day, he decided silently to himself, one day it would come to haunt them all.

@mayhemxmugglesxmagic continued from {X} She sighed softly, she knew what he was undoubtedly thinking. That word, she hated it, no despised it. It had been carved in her skin as she had endured tortures weaker witches and wizards had succumbed to. The war had changed them both, it seemed. She was no longer the wide eyed innocent bookworm that only cared about good grades and the next bit of knowledge, and he was no longer a blind follower of the dark lord. She could be petty, refuse him out of principle, and yet….she had been fighting so long for a sort of rehabilitation program for the former followers, ones who volunteered anyway. And so far been denied. She needed to set an example and he needed this permit to come through. A small cautious grin split her lips as she sighed, studying him, sitting across from him in the ministry’s version of an interrogation room, she tilted her head, studying him. “I am trying to set up better programmes for former followers, but so far they have all been turned down. I need a poster child, someone who goes through it and comes out the other side changed for the better.” She began, looking at him as she bit her lip. “I will help you, if you agree to be that person for me. We would be working very closely together, of course, I would expect weekly reports in, tests to make sure you did not practice dark magic, the usual, but in exchange, I could have your permit approved and expedited for you. What do you say, Mr. Goyle? You scratch my back…” She trailed off. They all knew the rest of that saying. She hadn’t always been like this, once she had been nicer, less jaded. Then she had watched her friends die and been tortured.

; Beings of reason

@mayhemxmugglesxmagic​ from here;

Andromeda was only here because Narcissa had asked her to come. It was the first time in years that she had seen her little nephew. He was younger than her Dora, of course - but still no less a grown adult and capable of making his own decisions. He looked like a carbon copy of Lucius, back when he had been strutting about the school… same grey eyes and same, pale and pointed chin. But there was a mildness to that mouth of his. The mildness that came with Narcissa. Back in those simpler days when Narcissa would laugh in wonder at all her stories. 

The dark-haired woman sighed. I need a strong glass of Elf-made Wine. She didn’t think she could have this conversation with her no-longer estranged nephew sober.

“A reason to smile, hm?” She began, almost whimsical. Almost as if she was speaking to herself and not a total stranger. She was also counting down feeble little reasons to smile. Teddy was her biggest reason to smile right now. Her small grandson with his chubby cheeks and hair that changed every second or so. He reminded her that her heart still worked. That she hadn’t just buried her heart with Ted’s, Sirius’ or Dora’s memory.

Narcissa, who had long pretended that Andromeda had not existed for the better part of two decades, had suddenly reached out. Maybe when you were faced with impending loss, you held on to things- even unwanted things.

Cissy’s desperate to save him…

Andromeda had stopped reading the Daily Prophet, unable to keep up with the rising mania out on the streets. With loss came anger and confusion and in that state of despair… it invited violence. She did not want to be a part of that. Whilst she knew Malfoy’s name was mud, she could only stare kindly at her nephew, caught in the crossfire of an ugly war.

“A reason to smile… maybe you should make that your next goal in life, Draco. The fact that you’re alive is enough to make my sister smile. So live well.”

@mayhemxmugglesxmagic​ asked “i’m trying to have a nice night and you just had to waltz in here and ruin everything, didn’t you?” - 

"Because the whole universe obviously revolves around you, Malfoy?” Blaise sneers, having had no such intentions. He was also certain that he hadn’t been waltzing anywhere, simply entering their common room after spending some time with a fellow student in an unoccupied classroom for much of the evening. “Whatever you’re plotting, it’s not going to do shit anyway.”

Nonverbal RP Starter 💢 (From Pansy)

Cormac jumped at the loud thud on the table and turned his attention away from his date, to his best friend. “Pansy?” He raised an eyebrow at her, but the look on her face was one that he knew well. It was anger. Whatever he had done to piss her off, he seemed to have done it fully. Her eyes were locked on his, silent but deadly and he knew that was his que to dismiss his date. “hey...” he smiled at the girl. “You’ve been wonderful but I’m going to have to ask you to go now if you don’t mind.” The girl looked stunned and didnt move at first. “please, go now.” He basically shoes her away and gestured to her empty seat for pansy to take. “Are you making a habit of interupting my dates with your rage for fun, or have I actually done something worth whatever lecture is about to come at me?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Pansy, darling, would you like to have dinner with me?” His voice was fake sweet, almost mockingly playful.

“  if this is your idea of fun, i don’t know what to say to you.  ” (Jolene to Narcissa)  @mayhemxmugglesxmagic​

She’s not thrilled. Seems upset, even. Though she’s been taught how to mask it well, she’s painfully aware that Jolene could have noticed it. Still, she stands poised, her drink in hand and a tolerable look upon her face, icy almost. Every now and then, giving a polite smile and a curtsy to those who passed her and Jolene. Manners taught, she couldn’t abandon, she couldn’t escape. Her eyes flicker finally to the girl aside her, and for her a shadow of a genuine smile is given.

This wasn’t her idea of fun, either... When she had finally convinced her parents to have Jolene come over to sleep at her place. When she f i n a l l y could show Jolene where she lived. She had expected the night to be a fun girl’s night, giggling and mumbling to one another under the sheets, or-- or sneaking out even...! But nothing like the dull party they ended up attending...

“ It is not. “ she finally softly bit out, brows creasing momentarily before another fake smile is quickly planted back upon her face, another curtsy to one of the guests before she turns to Jolene, a desperate look to her face.

 “I wanted something more thrilling than this. “

Mental health in the Wizarding world

Part of the reason I gave Theo major depression was to explore mental health in the context of the Wizarding world. Based on what we see in the books, the Wizarding world is centuries behind the Muggle world when it comes to psychiatry and psychology. Harry's PTSD goes entirely unacknowledged, which is tragic. I think there's a decent case for Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Severus Snape all also having PTSD, which again goes unacknowledged. St. Mungo's apparently uses electroshock therapy to treat delusions, which is horrifying.

So I decided to give Theo a mental illness -- not one that would be immediately noticeable, but one that would certainly carry stigma if it was known about. That, in addition to my own personal experiences with mental illness, was why I chose depression. I also chose to make it run in the Nott family. Studies estimate that developing depression is about 50% based on genetic factors and heritability, so this is realistic, and it also gives Theo 1) a family secret, and 2) her father as a resource to draw upon so that she's not left completely on her own. (I love her too much to do that to her.)

Her father gives her a name for her illness and shows her how to self-medicate with St. John's wort, which is a fairly effective treatment for mild to moderate depression, though it doesn't work for the kind of severe depression Theo experiences in her sixth year at school. But he also warns her not to tell anyone about her illness, because he knows that she will be judged and ostracized if it becomes common knowledge. Even in our real world in the year 2024, mental illness is stigmatized. I cannot tell you the number of teachers, professors, and even significant others I've had who have tried to tell me that depression isn't real, that I'm "pathetic" or "weak" or "just need to suck it up". My own brother has tried to tell me that my mental illness will be cured by doing yoga. Our current world is still pretty bad for the mentally ill, and I think the Wizarding world must be a hundred times worse.

So Theo keeps her depression a secret. Even following her suicide attempt at age 17, she doesn't mention to anyone that this is not the first time she's felt this way. The only people she's opened up to about it as an adult are @mayhemxmugglesxmagic's Draco and Pansy. In her professor verse, she tries to watch for the signs in her students and intervene as best she can without revealing her own illness, but she doesn't feel comfortable advocating for better treatment for people like her. She's already seen as a maverick for her magiarchaeology work, and she doesn't want the world to write her off as a full madwoman. When it comes to her depression, she's isolated and frightened, which I think must be the case for most of the Wizarding world's mentally ill members.

@mayhemxmugglesxmagic​ asked:  ‘  i don’t care.  ’ (From Draco to Harry)

Harry scoffed and shook his head. He raised his eyebrows before wryly replying, “Oh yeah, those buttons you keep passing out show just how aggressively you don’t care too--isn’t that right?” The buttons got under his skin at first. Not that he’ll admit as much to Draco even under duress. Now that Draco insisted they didn’t matter, they mostly amused him. “I often use hokey charms on millions of tiny objects to insult people who barely register on my radar as well.”

“Let’s get this straight, I’m only agreeing with this arrangement so my parents would shut up.”

continued || @mayhemxmugglesxmagic Greg & Millie

“ Aye ” he replied, voice low -- wet gravel and cracked concrete in early summer. A small pixie nest, electric and laced with dread settled in his chest. Of course she hadn’t really wanted this -- who would? Yet, there had a been a small part of Greg that had hoped ...

“ noted.”

A calloused hand rubbed against the grain of his facial hair, eye’s -- copper and faded leather lingered on her as she stood across the way. This was Millie. The same Millie he’d carried a torch for since second year when she’d found him and Vince unconscious in the corridor and didn’t tell a soul. The same Millie he’d danced with at the Yule ball. The same Millie Pansy had told him to move on from.

“ You know, Mills” he began again “ I’ve made complete haymes of myself, and me life, I really ‘ave -- but I’m chuffed it’s you. It’s always been you.”

The way Gregory responded… It was almost like he was disappointed at her comment. That was something Millie didn’t understand. Why would Greg, after his years in Azkaban want to settle down and get married to her of all people? He had his whole life ahead of him. He should’ve been living it up and bedding countless women, but no, he was stuck with her.

She couldn’t ignore the fact that she once adored Greg, that he used to make butterflies swarm inside her, but those days were long gone. Too much had changed, their school years bringing out the worst in them. On and off and back on again just for them to fall apart. Now they were being brought together, permanently bound by magical contracts.

Her head turned towards him, inclined listen to whatever the sap had to say. His words made something stir inside her, but Millie was too old and too wise to fall for the sparks of love again. After Gregory she had sworn off love and relationships, instead exploring who she was and growing in her confidence.

“Can’t say the same,” she said, keeping her walls up and her heart guarded. Of course, that wouldn’t last long, not when they were forced to endure each other’s company for the rest of their days. “Can we just get along with it and sign the papers?”

@mayhemxmugglesxmagic​​ from “someone had too much time on their hands.”

” Va te faire foutre.” he spat, accent thick. Standing abruptly, Draco pushed the box of Potter Stinks badges that sat near his feet to the side. It was almost empty. They’d gone much faster than he’d anticipated. “ I don’t see how, how much time I do or do not have is any of your business. Don’t you have a task to prepare for? ”

She blinked, primly, with the unfeigned surprise of someone not often snapped at ( by men, at least. )  “Sale petit gosse!” rolled over her tongue, quick and feather-soft, before his answer had even really registered in her mind.

In the next moment, her eyes narrowed, mouth pulling into a tight line that made her look almost fanged. Fleur flicked a stray lock of midnight-dark hair over her shoulder, crossing her arms overelegantly. “I see. Well, pardonnez-moi for trying to make conversation.”

@mayhemxmugglesxmagic answered:

Soft Affection Meme

@aparecium-muses sent 🖐 for Ron to trace fingers against Lav’s skin or over a scar/other

Fingers -- igneous and warm, like a curling iron left behind in the summer sun fell to Lavender’s chest. They traced gashes of missing flesh -- torn away, lost and dead, canyons of ruin screaming of a future potentially lost and forever changed.

The chilled wood beneath their backs did little to cool her fever ridden flesh. The first full moon since the battle only days away. If she changed, so would everything else. Calloused fingertips danced from collar bone to collar bone before falling softly to her shoulder, thumb pad running in soothing circles, round and round. His eye’s followed the map of her flesh -- a cartographers wet dream. He jumped from the deep jagged ridges of her newly healed neck, to her torn upper lip -- uneven and tender.

They’d been lying there, in the stark silence of the night for hours -- waiting, grasping every moment before the inevitability of tomorrow evening when the sun would set and bring with it truth.

“What if --” Lavender began, voice -- hummingbirds in December. Painted finger tips pulled a loose thread on his jumper. She couldn’t finish the thought.

Ron captured her hand, lifting the fingers that fidgeted with his jumper to his lips. His eyes slipped closed, as he kissed her fingertips, one after the other. He pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand and closed her fingers around it. His kisses were for her to keep, her's to hold and remember that he loves her no matter what.

"I'll be right here with you," he replies voice not daring to speak above a whisper. Either way, if she turned or if she didn't he would stay with her.

They may have broken up at the beginning of the war, but Lavender Brown's painted fingertips had a hold on his heart. He came back for her at the very end of it all, had slept next to her bedside all day yesterday having had enough with morning the loss of his brother. What they were now, he didn't know, they didn't have much time to discuss it- the full moon was only a day away. It was the worst timing, or maybe it was a blessing in disguise? There were far too many people to take care of for the few healers left to notice Lavender was missing thus none of them being able to report her for being a werewolf.

"No matter what I'm here for the long haul, I won't leave you."