thinking of an au where lily evans has reached her breaking point. she is so smart, and so talented, and so beautiful, but all anyone sees is her blood. her last name. her ‘impurity’.
even james, who is supposed to be in love with her or something, waxes poetry about how he will protect her from those nasty purebloods. how she’s such a good muggleborn. she’s risen from the dirt of her past. that horrible little town on the midlands. she’s so smart and beautiful. what a lovely wife she’d make.
even severus, her best friend for so many years, someone lily had trusted above all. he was drifting apart day by day, waxing poetry about how she doesn’t understand. the purebloods have so much knowledge, so much magic, so much money. he worships her and spits on her friends in the same breath. she’s different through. beautiful and smart. what a lovely little wife she’d make.
she snaps. tired of being forced upon a pedestal she never climbed onto. she snaps and her chipped nail polish gets dirtied with blood. maybe she pushes snape off the astronomy tower during an argument. maybe she slips something into a potion not meant to be there, stepping to the side as the explosion rips through the boy she grew up with, blood splattering across her wide eyes and hidden smile. so caught up in her performance of agony she doesn’t notice grey-blue eyes watching.
maybe potter pushes too far, grabs her arse and leers down at her at a party with too many people and too many drinks. a small vial tipped, and a gentle suggestion of quidditch, to show what he can do. the idea flashes through his addled mind, and he leaps up. lily loses herself amongst the congregation following the potter heir, the overconfident student, the talented quidditch star. so many things but he falls like any other. bones snapping against cold hard earth. screams echo and she can’t believe it worked.
behind her, someone brushes her back, a whiff of cigarette smoke acrid in her nose.
“nicely played evans.” deep and playful and vanishing as she span around. her heart pounded in her chest, breath coming short. someone knew.
hogwarts moved on through the recent tragedies, whispers following the remaining troublesome trio as they wandered the halls. each with red eyes and quiet voices. the thrill of success tampered with the fear of the unknown. letters appeared amongst her belongings, snippets of poetry, quotes and odes to lily herself. never traceable. always there.
grass green eyes scanned and cataloged and wondered. whose writing was this? why hadn’t shebeen reported? in the chaos of recent events, her darling innocent mary slipped through the cracks. returning one evening with empty eyes and a rumpled skirt. no blood. thankfully. this time. lily’s jaw clenched as she soothed her sobbing friend, vowing it would never happen again.
the gossips of hogwarts reported mulciber’s bragging, discussed that poor muggleborn not knowing what she got herself into. wondering how far he’d go next time. what they didn’t discuss was the red-haired vengeance stalking through silent hallways. wings replaced with a cloak, but fury no less unceasing.
he was large, a brute with a horrible wicked streak. arrogant. and as he lay prone in the corridor, white shirt stained red, he was terrified. a chuckle echoed, deep and playful and vanishing as she threw jinxes into the dark corners. shit.
mulciber lived, eyes darting to the shadows, twitching when someone moved too fast. his bulk thinned, eyes sinking deep into his skull as he lay prone in fear. rumours swirled and lily frowned. apparently it was a curse. she definitely didn’t do it.
some time later, after mulciber began to smile again. another body turned up. rope taught against mottled skin, eyes bulging and limbs loose. a cousin. one he grew up with. in front of half the school, mulciber dropped to his knees and howled. this wasn’t her either.
a note appeared in her bag, scratchy writing and directions to a classroom in the east tower. what awaited was her attempted victim chained and prone and eyes bleeding.
“how do you like my gift?” that same voice, haunting and mocking her for months. a violent swipe of her wand and a ring of fire released, illuminating her stalker. her admirer.
barty crouch jr, hair dyed and shockingly pale eyes, he lounged across a desk, head tilted and smile playing across his lips.
her wand at his throat, his poking between her ribs. he pressed closer, pupils round as he watched lily. spoke of her kills, of her planning, of the way her eyes narrowed as she surveyed her prey. how her teeth bared and how she was the most captivating person in the school. this was his present. his request. his offer.
they took turns, screams silenced and blood thickening the floor in a shiny lacquer coat. mulciber didnt last long. neither did lily as barty knelt between her legs and made her cum so hard she forgot her own name.
in the days and weeks to come, investigations were launched, nothing came of them. the two were far too clever to leave anything behind. and so exams came and went, suspicious blue eyes peering from behind half-moon spectacles. but they were free.
barty crouch sr didn’t live much longer. he didn’t make to the end of june. the house burnt, and with it any possible redemption for lily evans and barty crouch (no longer jr, the only one left) crumbled like ashes. as if they cared. they had people to hunt.
(this was inspired by @anything-for-my-moons posting about a bartylily scream au)
annaxmalina
2087
izzy806
