You can just call me 'Elle'. While my blog name is 'AllTheSmutL0vers', or my occasional sign-off, 'SmutL0vers', those can be kind of a mouth full.
My pronouns: She/Her My age: 25 My house: Gryffindor
What I write: Primarily, I write Harry Potter/Slytherin Boys content, but I also write Supernatural content.
My favorite Slytherin is Regulus, but I love all of them. My favorite Gryffindor(s) are Fred and George, obvi. But I love a good morally grey Harry. 🫣
My favorite books
The Hunger Games series (so stoked for Haymitch's book!) But I also really love dark romance, if that isn't obvious. I loved Credence, Haunting/Hunting Adeline, Sick Boys/Evil Boys/Vile Boys, and the Salacious Players Club series.
My favorite music
My favorite band is 'A Day To Remember,' but I love all punk-rock music, especially from the early 2000s and 2010s. I also love country music, Taylor Swift, Gracie Abrams, and divorced dad rock. Daughtry, anyone?
I am writing my own novel
It's a dark romance, RH, College Bully, Supernatural-inspired novel. Release TBD.
Rules for my blog
Please read the few rules I have for Requests/Asks, and interactions with my stories. All pretty much go without saying, but please read them anyway.
No kink shaming
No kink shaming of any kind will be tolerated. My blog and my stories are safe spaces for everyone. That's why we have cw's. It's okay not to like a certain kink/fetish/trope. But it is not okay to shame someone for liking it. Don't yuck someone else's yum, and all that.
Specify if you want 'Fluff' or 'Smut' when making requests
I'm pretty sure this one goes without saying, but I'm going to put it down anyway for anyone who may be new, or just might now know to specify. If you do not specify, I'm going to just assume 'Smut' since it is the majority of what I write. Please also include any kinks/tropes you specifically want included.
Anon Asks are not there for you to be a dick
Again, this one goes without saying. But threatening/harassing/bullying in my anon asks will not be tolerated and will result in a temporary suspension of the service until I'm ready to open them up again. (Warning Notice post will be posted beforehand, and DM anon requests will still be available.) Which brings me to my last rule.
My DM's are open for requests and suggestions. Keep it friendly.
If you want to ask me a question, send a request, or even leave a nice comment or suggestion, that is completely fine. However, please follow the same guidelines as the previous rule, and be respectful. I am in a happy, committed, and monogamous relationship with my long-time Slytherin boyfriend. 🥰🖤
Slytherin M.list Slytherin Taglist Elle's Nav. Guide
Story Status: Active Summary/Moodboard Chapt. One Prev. Chpt.
cw: mentions of death, alcohol consumption, murder justification
an: This chapter is a little shorter. My coworker broke his shoulder, so I've been working extra shifts, but I hope you all enjoy it 🎀🖤
RIP Sawyer, my baby boi 🥺
Chapter Five
The late-night, autumn air in Hogsmeade is cool, and the warm lights from the shops spill out onto the cobblestone streets. Most shops are closed, with almost nobody out this late to shop.
Though a few spots remain open, The Hog's Head Inn, thankfully, is one of them. A dark, yet welcome reprieve for five exhausted and branded Slytherins.
The Dark Mark on Juliet's arm is hidden by the sleeve of her cloak, the dark magic still smoldering under her skin as a constant reminder of her contract to serve the Dark Lord.
Blaise opens the door to the Hog's Head, holding it open for Draco and Mattheo as they pass through before he turns his head to look back at Harry and Juliet.
“We'll be right in, Blaise,” Harry's voice comes from beside Juliet, low and protective. Not asking, telling.
Blaise nods at Harry once, before he shifts his gaze to Juliet with an understanding and sympathetic expression on his face that would be missed by most anyone else. His dark eyes watch Juliet as he steps into the doorway. “Anything you need tonight, Juliet.”
Blaise shifts his gaze back to Harry, nodding once more before he follows Draco and Mattheo's path inside.
Harry turns to face Juliet, coming to stand in front of her. His presence is familiar — warm, under the dark protectiveness behind his emerald eyes.
So many questions flood Juliet's mind, all of them already answered for her by the brand under her sleeve.
She's made her choice; she made it years ago. She trained hard, obeyed horrific orders, and spent hours standing in silence, pretending that the heavy and inescapable misogyny didn’t make her want to burn everything to the ground.
But the look on Sawyer’s face as she had brought him back? That utter hurt and betrayal on his face.
Juliet's stomach twists with nausea at the fresh memory. She could see in Sawyer's brilliant blue eyes that he had been at peace with his death until Juliet ripped him back against his will, violating his peace. Only for her to be forced to kill him a second time.
“You can't blame yourself for Sawyer,” Harry's low voice draws Juliet's attention back to the present, his hand coming up to gently rest on her arm. “He made his choice.”
“He made his choice.”
Harry’s words echo in her ears. Something about those words makes Juliet's stomach churn more violently. She had made a choice tonight, too. Only her choice kept her alive.
“But why, Harry? Why would he turn against everything and everyone he's ever known?” Juliet finally looks up, meeting Harry's gaze with a furrowed brow.
Harry's fingers tighten slightly on Juliet's arm at her question, not painfully, but as if trying to ground himself as he takes a slow breath.
“I don't know why,” Harry’s voice drops to a low murmur.
Juliet looks off to the side, only for Harry to gently catch her chin and turn her gaze back to his. There's a darkness behind his eyes that Juliet has only seen when Harry is at his most serious.
“What I do know is that he spoke to Dumbledore,” Harry's voice drops lower, quieter in the night air as he takes a step closer. Juliet's stomach suddenly stops churning, becoming a weight once again. “And he did it behind closed doors.”
Harry's fingers tighten slightly on Juliet's chin before he gently releases his grip, letting his hand glide to cup her cheek.
“Severus said that he, Lucius, and a few other higher ranks started information tracing. Too many missions were being sabotaged by Dumbledore and his damn cronies,” Harry explains in a hushed tone. He glances around their surroundings before he continues. “And when the last round of missions was assigned…”
“Sawyer's mission was the one that was sabotaged,” Juliet finishes Harry's sentence for him as she puts the pieces together in her mind, her voice shaken with shock and a bit of dismay. “It exposed him as the traitor.”
Harry nods once, his thumb gently caressing Juliet's cheek as he looks down into her eyes. She didn't need to know this tonight — it could have waited until tomorrow, or maybe never. But she deserves to know the truth.
Juliet exhales shakily, swallowing hard despite the sudden dryness in her throat. Lucius had said Sawyer betrayed the Dark Lord, but a mole? It's unheard of in the Death Eater circles and the pureblood societies. It's blood in, and life out in this world they’re in.
“I need a drink,” Juliet steps back, letting Harry's hand drop from her cheek.
Harry's hand on her arm slides around to rest on the small of her back, his body turning to let her lead them both inside. She may have to walk and stand behind him as a Death Eater, but outside of missions and meetings, he has always made it a point to let her lead the way.
“Me too, pretty girl,” Harry chuckles lowly, shaking his head. “Let’s get you inside.”
Inside the Hog’s Head, the air is thick and filled with the heavy scent of tobacco, alcohol, and dust, which masks the smell of the goats that Aberforth keeps as pets. There are a few patrons in the pub: a wizard in dirty robes, hunched over and passed out on the bar counter, an old witch muttering over her glass in the corner, seemingly talking to no one.
And in the back corner of the pub, Blaise, Mattheo, and Draco are already seated in their favorite booth that is always ready for them.
Draco looks up as Harry and Juliet join them. Juliet slides into the booth next to him, Harry sliding in on her other side. Draco notices the numbness in Juliet’s eyes as they meet Mattheo’s across from them. She’s stiffer than normal as she reaches for her drink and throws it back in one motion.
Mattheo whistles lowly across the table as Juliet’s glass meets the table again. “Trying to catch up quick, are we?” He drawls sarcastically as he takes a long drag from his cigarette before tossing the pack on the table for open grabs.
“Fuck you, Matt,” Juliet quips sharply as she snatches his pack from the middle of the table, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with the tip of her wand. She takes a long, slow drag before slowly exhaling the smoke slightly above their heads.
Draco’s fingers tighten on his glass, frosting it with his fingertips. He knows that Juliet is more than capable of handling herself and Mattheo, but to Draco, it’s not the night to make his usual shitty jokes.
Blaise clears his throat, drawing their attention as Mattheo runs a hand through his dark, messy curls. Blaise looks at Juliet, who is looking down at her glass. “Juliet.”
Juliet looks up, meeting Blaise’s gaze. He doesn't use his powers to calm her down or manipulate her perception of this night as anything more than more trauma that they, and especially she, have had to endure.
“Where is your head at right now?” Blaise asks calmly as he holds up a hand to Aberforth for another round of drinks for the table. His dark eyes focus on her, ready to listen intently to any answer she has to give.
Juliet leans back in her seat, taking another long drag from her cigarette. Blaise notices the way her eyes don’t quite focus on anything for more than a few seconds before she looks at him.
“I did what I had to do,” Juliet shrugs as he exhales the smoke, rolling the cigarette filter between her fingers. “It’s no different than any mission we’ve been trained for or sent on.”
It’s a blatant lie. Juliet knows it, and so do they. Nobody speaks for a few moments, letting the lie hang in the air between them. Yes, they have all had to kill before — but not like this. Not someone they personally knew, even if it was just as an ally. The people they killed were few and far between. Mostly Death Eaters who have become too reckless. Expendable. Justifiable.
Juliet finally breaks the silence again after Aberforth drops off their next round of drinks, her soft voice low and thoughtful. “I still just don’t understand why Sawyer would turn against us.”
Draco stiffens next to her, along with Mattheo sitting across from them. Draco’s sharp, silver eyes snap to Harry on Juliet’s other side. “You told her?” Draco’s voice comes out in a harsh whisper.
Harry straightens in his seat beside Juliet, his green eyes firm behind his glasses. “Yeah. I told her about the tracing, and about Sawyer talking to Dumbledore,” His voice is calm, but firm. Harry knows that any one of them would have done the same, even if Draco is upset. “She deserves to know. Especially now that she’s officially a member.”
If there is one thing the five of them don’t do, it’s keep secrets from each other longer than absolutely necessary.
“She would also appreciate you not talking about her like she’s not here,” Juliet snides sarcastically, though there’s no real heat in her tone. She ashes her cigarette as she takes a sip of her drink, sipping instead of throwing it back like the first.
“Then answer Blaise’s question,” Mattheo prods from across the table, one eyebrow raised in a slight challenge to match his tone as he swirls the amber liquor in his glass. “And we’ll stop.”
Juliet’s jaw tightens as her eyes meet Mattheo’s; his dark eyes aren’t quite sparkling with his usual mischief, giving way mostly to playful but genuine concern. Juliet sighs before she takes another drag from her cigarette, rolling the smoke across her tongue as she exhales.
“Fine,” Juliet finally concedes. She knows she can’t get out of answering truthfully, not with them. The five of them have always checked in with each other after a particularly hard task — and Sawyer and tonight in general, definitely fit that bill.
“It’s harder this time,” Juliet’s voice drops a fraction as she looks down at her glass, taking a sip of the amber liquid and savoring the way it burns her throat. “Not just because it was Sawyer. Not just because he died, but because I had to bring him back and...”
Draco’s chest tightens at Juliet’s trailing off sentence. “Father shouldn’t have made you do that,” Draco murmurs beside her as he slides the remainder of his glass to her. Lucius very rarely denies himself or Mattheo anything. And tonight, he knew Lucius would tell him to stand down, that Juliet had to bring Sawyer back and kill him again, but he still had to try.
Juliet downed the rest of her drink, foregoing her decision to sip it this time. She doesn’t need to recount the horror and the pain of the night, not to them. They witnessed it.
Harry’s hand finds hers under the table, his warm fingers wrapping around hers in an unwavering and supportive grip, his thumb brushing against the backs of her knuckles.
“No fucking shit, Draco,” Mattheo scoffs across the table, shaking his head. “It was bullshit.”
Juliet picks up Draco’s glass, downing it as well. The Ogden’s burns a bit more on its own instead of in a mixed drink, but it’s not an unwelcome sensation.
“It was bullshit,” Juliet agrees as she sets down the glass a little harder than intended, raising her hand again for another round already. “It was cruel, and painful, and violating. Not just for him, but for me too.”
Harry’s fingers tighten around Juliet’s as her voice rises, subtly reminding her where they are. The Hog’s Head is a reprieve for them, but it’s still public. Besides, nothing will ever beat the privacy and comfort of the Chamber of Secrets, a space that they have claimed as their own over the years.
Juliet exhales heavily as Harry’s grip grounds her; her own fingers tighten around his for a moment, letting herself have a moment to gather herself.
Juliet turns her head to look at Draco, seeing the guilt in her cousin’s silver gaze. “Thank you for trying to say something to him.”
The softness and forgiveness in his cousin’s voice make Draco’s chest tighten further, his sharp jaw ticking as he tries to keep his cold, emotionless mask in place. But it’s incredibly difficult when Juliet is sitting here, thanking him when he didn’t do a goddamn thing.
“You’re welcome,” The words leave Draco’s tongue flatly as he straightens the cuff of his cloak, straightening in his seat. “Though I still believe I should have done something more.”
Mattheo laughs across the table, the genuine humor in it slicing through the tension like a knife. “Yeah, and gotten yourself an early grave for it, dumbass.”
The corner of Juliet’s mouth tugs upwards in a smile at Mattheo’s comment, grateful for his ability to cut his way through serious moments with sarcasm and his own personal brand of chaos.
And for the rest of that night, the five of them drink their way through bottles of alcohol and reminisce on easier times. For the rest of the night, they’re not Death Eaters, or heirs; they’re simply five students out way past curfew, drinking in a pub that has maybe one too many goats roaming around and eating straw off the floor.
Slytherin M.list Slytherin Taglist. Elle's Nav. Guide Story Status: Active Summary/Moodboard Chapt. One Prev. Chapt. Chapt. Five
cw: death, murder, indoctrination
Chapter Four
“Intrinsic Magic Studies and Defense. What a ridiculous name for a class.”
Mattheo drops his bag on the floor before ploping down on one of the elegant leather sofas around the fireplace, snickering at Draco’s dramamatics. “Problem, brother?”
Draco’s sharp grey eyes lock onto Mattheo in an icy glare. “I don’t have a problem. I’m merely suggesting that the school give a more proper name.”
“Oh, because this one is so uneducated, right?” Harry drawls sarcastically as he flips open his pack of cigarettes, taking out two as he leans against the fireplace mantel.
Juliet laughs as she plucks one of the cigarettes from between Harry’s fingers. “Be nice, Harry. In case you’ve forgotten, nothing is good enough for my dear cousin unless he does it himself.” She smiles as she pulls the filter to her lips, lighting it with the tip of her wand.
Frost crystallizes on the tips of Draco’s fingers as he looks between the three of them. Cold rushes through his body as his anger flares, and he has to take a moment to settle his breathing and even out his body temperature. “Forget it.”
“If you’re all finished torturing our resident blonde, we have a meeting to attend,” Blaise says, his voice smooth and steady as he looks among his friends. “In case you lot have forgotten.”
The energy shifts at Blaise’s reminder. The air feels heavy with the weight of their responsibilities outside the safety of Hogwarts. A reminder of their legacies and all the darkness that comes along with it.
They knew it was coming, of course. The five of them had spent the majority of the summer training, watching, and learning how to be worthy Death Eaters, how to prove their loyalty to a dark lord that has seemingly disappeared from the world.
The smoke curls around Juliet’s face, and the nervousness in her expression is hidden behind a calm, almost soft expression. “This one is about me, isn’t it? It’s my turn.” It’s not a question, not really. She knows as well as they do that her time has been coming. She’s trained, she’s obeyed, she’s stood still and listened for hours on end.
Harry stiffens beside her, his fingers tightening around the filter of his own cigarette, and he has to consciously stop himself from shocking the filter and setting it ablaze. His dark green eyes watch her carefully, looking for any signs of hesitation or that she may have changed her mind. He can see the faint apprehension under her mask, but her eyes are filled with resolve.
“It is,” Blaise confirms as he clasps his hands in front of him. “My mother shared with me that they’ve made a decision. Tonight, you either join the ranks or…”
“For fuck’s sake, Blaise,” Mattheo scoffs as Blaise’s voice trails off. Mattheo shakes his head before he throws back a half-glass of Firewhisky. “Try to sound a little less confident, huh?” His voice drips with sarcasm. “Our little resident grim reaper is sure to get in.” He winks at Juliet with a smirk.
“If she doesn’t get in, she’ll be killed, Mattheo,” Draco snaps sharply. “Remember that.”
“Why are you snapping at me?!” Mattheo scoffs in exasperation and points an accusatory hand at Blaise. “He’s the one that suggested—”
“Enough,” Juliet’s voice cuts through the bickering like a knife, soft yet sharp. All of their eyes slowly shift to her as she commands attention.
“Bossy little thing,” Mattheo mutters under his breath in amusement as he leans back against the sofa.
Juliet steps forward, giving Mattheo a pointed glare that finally shuts him up before she shifts her gaze back to the four of them as a whole. Draco watches her from behind an armchair, his fingers curling into the back of it, and Harry straightens subtly behind her.
“I wanted this,” Her voice is sure, determined. She lets them hang in the air for a moment before she continues speaking. “I trained for this. I had to work twice as hard as any of you, and for twice as long. I wouldn’t have wasted my damn time if I wanted to be a damsel in distress.”
A small, proud smile pulls on the corner of Blaise’s lips.
“I want this. It’s not exactly the life I want, but I’ll survive,” Juliet takes another slow drag from her cigarette. “I can’t protect you idiots if I can’t be around.”
Juliet’s words hang heavier than Blaise’s reminder. A promise she’s kept since she joined their inner circle.
Harry’s chest tightens with a familiar ache. He knows how much work she has put in to get to where she’s at. He knows how much trauma she has been forced to endure, not just physical trauma, but emotional trauma, too. Many of the same nightmares that plague her mind plague theirs as well.
Draco straightens up to his full height, looking at his cousin with a softness he reserves for her and his mother alone. “You don’t need to protect us.”
“I do,” Juliet responds simply, shifting her gaze to Draco. He’s always protected her, always looked out for her. “You’re my cousin, we share the same blood. But the four of you together is the closest thing I have ever had to a real family.”
Mattheo’s usually charming persona drops as it rarely does in serious situations, his expression unguarded. “We are family.”
Juliet softens again just a fraction at Mattheo’s low reminder. “That’s exactly why I’m doing this.”
Blaise steps forward, his step measured and calm. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll be there.”
“Always,” Harry adds softly from behind her, flicking the filter of his finished cigarette into the flames of the fireplace.
…
The candles that light the grand meeting room at Malfoy Manor cast an eerie glow over the space, as if the various Death Eaters aren’t ominous enough on their own. The light casts long shadows along the cold marble walls, and the cold stone evaporates any warmth that comes from the light. A long, sleek black table spans almost half the room, with matching, high-backed chairs perfectly lined up on either side. A larger, almost throne-like chair sits singularly at the head of the table, where the Dark Lord used to command from.
A war room fit for pureblood society.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stand proudly off to the side. The two of them are a perfect, matched set, Hogwarts sweethearts who married just after graduation. Standing with them is Severus Snape, Harry’s guardian, looking as stiff and emotionless as ever in his long black robes. Along with Madam Zabini, Blaise’s mother, a woman who exudes elegance while draped in black silk robes and glittering gold jewelry.
There are some other prominent Death Eaters gathered as well—at least those who aren’t dead, locked away, or ashamed after the first war. Among them are Alecto and Amycus Carrow; the Carrow twins and Corban Yaxley, along with other pureblood names like Goyle and Avery.
All their attention shifts to the wide, double doors as they open.
Draco and Mattheo step inside first, as the respective heirs to the Malfoy and Riddle names. Draco walks with sharp, calculated steps, his face a mask of cold control. Mattheo walks with heavy, proud steps, his signature cheeky smirk replaced by one that’s almost challenging, as if daring anyone to question his place.
Behind them comes Blaise, his steps careful and with purpose. His face is a mask of indifference, but his eyes take in everything and everyone around him, not just himself but the group as a whole. He notices the way Yaxley looks at them with a certain degree of disdain—or maybe jealousy for their youth and power, whose to say? He confirms the exits, knowing they won’t be of use should they need them, but he knows of others.
Harry and Juliet walk in last. Harry positions himself slightly in front of Juliet. Partly because she can’t walk ahead of him, and partly in an effort to shield her from the others for as long as he can. Juliet walks behind him, her steps quiet enough that they are almost unheard. But nothing in this cold, echoing room could ever truly be silent.
Lucius steps forward, his cold eyes void of any emotion as he steps to the table, the other Death Eaters following suit. His long, ringed fingers curl against the back of his chair, not sitting yet as he addresses the others in the room.
“Welcome,” Lucius’s smooth voice carries amongst them, his eyes stopping on Draco for just a moment before he starts the meeting. “To my home. We have much to discuss tonight.”
Lucius motions for the others to sit before taking his seat. Narcissa stands behind his chair, obedient and silent, but her sharp eyes scan the room, her ears ready to listen. Like all girls and women in the Death Eater society, she’s forbidden from sitting during meetings and formal gatherings.
Draco sits beside Lucius at the table, Mattheo taking position on Draco’s opposite side. How many times had he and Mattheo run through these very halls, playing tag and hide-and-seek? The echoes of laughter are fond memories. His fingers curl on the edge of the table, and he can feel the etched initials that he and Mattheo had made when they were eight. Lucius was livid, while Narcissa had only laughed and hugged them both.
“Look at them, darling. Eight years old, and they’re already leaving their mark on the world.”
A small nudge from Mattheo’s elbow in his ribs snaps his attention back to the present. The cold, hard present.
“Miss Black. Step forward,” Lucius’s hard eyes focus on Juliet standing behind Harry’s chair. It’s not a request, it’s an order that makes her stomach feel like lead as she steps back and walks around the table to Lucius.
Lucius stands, his elegant dress robes gliding against the floor. He watches every step Juliet makes as she steps forward. Are her eyes forward and her chin down? Is she taking measured steps? Where is her wand?
Juliet can feel every silent critique; she expected as much before tonight. She’s seen enough initiation rituals to know what to expect. But even with all of her preparations, all of her training, her heart still hammers in her chest. There’s no going back after tonight. Especially not with who she is.
Juliet comes to a stop a few feet from Lucius, her feet shoulder-width apart, and her wand ready to draw at her side. This is it, this is her moment.
“Are you Juliet Astra Black?” Lucius asks firmly, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Yes.”
“Are you prepared to surrender your magic, your intelligence, your mind, and your life to the Dark Lord?”
Juliet can feel every set of eyes in the room on her; most are like added weights as she sinks deeper into the depraved and vile world she was brought up in. But her friends, her family, are there too, which brings a small amount of comfort in the cold war room.
“Yes.”
Lucius’s shoulders relax a fraction of an inch at her answer. She knows her uncle doesn't care much for her, just enough to not want her to die.
A cough comes from Yaxley as he clears his throat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “And why exactly should we trust you? Your father’s word didn’t mean a damn thing in the end,” Yaxley’s voice drips with undiguised disdain, his eyes locked on Juliet. “You should have been hunted down with him, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Watch your mouth, Yaxley,” Harry warns, his voice low and charged as small, static currents run through his fingers. His fingers curl around the armrests of his chair, resisting the urge to singe the wood.
Yaxley turns his attention to Harry with a sly smirk and an equally disdainful expression. “Ah, yes. Of course, you’d defend her; you’re the reason we’re without the Dark Lord in the first place. All because your filthy, mudblood mother couldn’t step aside.”
“Silence!” Lucius commands loudly, his sharp voice cutting through the air like a knife. His nostrils are flared with anger, his eyebrows tightly knit together as he looks between Harry and Yaxley.
“Yaxley,” Lucius’s voice lowers back to his calculating and detached tone as he focuses on him. “You’ll do well to remember your manners in my home. Have you forgotten who the Dark Lord left in charge in his absence, or do you need a reminder?”
Yaxley’s jaw tightens. His temper flares, but he knows better than to show it here.
Lucius nods once at Yaxley’s silence before returning his gaze to Juliet. “You have one final test. Are you prepared?”
Juliet straightens her back, her hand resting at her side, ready to draw her wand. “I am, Sir,” the words feel like poison as they roll off her tongue.
“Merlin, help me through this,” she thinks to herself as Lucius nods and turns his head toward the door on the opposite end of the war room.
“Bring him in,” Lucius calls out to the door.
The door opens, the old wood groaning sinisterly as Fenir Greyback walks in, dragging a large male alongside himself, and Juliet’s stomach drops two floors. She recognizes him as a Durmstrang student, the same age as herself and her friends.
Sawyer.
Lucius must see the recognition on her face, maybe even the shock that Sawyer is her test. Because he clears his throat, grabbing her attention. Juliet schools her expression to a mask of trained indifference, but nothing can ease the wrench in her stomach.
“Sawyer Hollis. You have been found guilty of conspiracy against the Dark Lord. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Lucius turns his attention to Sawyer, whose chiseled features are now bruised and bloodied, his blonde hair stained with red.
Juliet’s eyes widen in horror and shock at Lucius’s accusation, and her head whips to Sawyer, who doesn’t even try to deny it. She then turns her head to look at Harry behind her. His emerald eyes are dark and watchful, flickering between Sawyer and Lucius before landing on Juliet.
“Eyes forward, pretty girl,” Harry’s voice echoes in her mind, using legilimency to speak to her. A reminder of where they are, and her duty.
“I did what was right,” Sawyer’s gruff voice draws Juliet’s attention again. He cries out as Greyback growls and kicks the back of his legs, forcing him to his knees. “I have no regrets either, you bastard.”
Lucius steps forward, looking down at Sawyer with a venomous fury. “How dare you suggest such insolence could be right. You have been given everything,” Lucius lifts Sawyer's chin with the tip of his wand. “And you have returned with nothing but betrayal and defiance.”
“Pity,” Lucius sneers as he steps back, lowering his wand back down to his side. “You had potential.”
Lucius turns to Juliet, lifting his chin as he addresses her. “Your final test is a mirror of your father’s betrayal.” Lucius’s cold words make her stomach sink impossibly further.
“As he betrayed the Dark Lord, you must kill a betrayer yourself. Prove that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to ensure the Dark Lord’s success and our way of life,” Lucius continues. “No matter who you must kill.
Juliet’s eyes find Sawyer’s. She expected to see fear in them, but instead she sees only resolve and a calm finality in his blue eyes. What could he have done to be seen as a betrayer? Who did he talk to? What did he say?
“Does it matter how?” The question leaves Juliet’s lips like a dead weight. If she’s going to do this, she needs to detach her mind, forget Sawyer, and who he is. Or, was.
Lucius stiffens off to the side, his fingers tightening around his wand, ready to punish her should she fail. “A death is a death, Miss Black. You’ve been given an order.”
Juliet turns her body to Sawyer, who is looking up at her with the same resolved expression on his bruised and bloodied face. Her fingers wrap around the hilt of her wand, and she draws it, pointing the tip at Sawyer’s chest, which rises and falls in deep, steady breaths.
The familiar feeling of dark magic rushes down her arm as Juliet sets her intent, her slender fingers tightening around her wand.
“Avada Kedavra.”
A burst of green light erupts from the tip of her wand, landing directly over Sawyer’s heart, and his body crumples against the cold, stone floor with a sickening thud.
Juliet stares at Sawyer, his brilliant blue eyes still open. His lifeless pupils focused somewhere behind her. He wasn’t a close friend, not like the others. But he was an ally, and those are extremely hard to come by in a life like this.
“Very well,” Lucius drawls smoothly as he looks down at Sawyer’s body before turning his gaze to Juliet. “Now, bring him back, and do it again.”
Juliet’s gaze snaps to Lucius, her eyes widen with a mixture of shock and the faintest hint of despair.
“She’s done enough, Father,” Draco’s cold voice comes from the table behind her, and she can hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he stands.
Lucius shifts his gaze to Draco, his beloved son, his mirror image. For a split moment, his eyes soften an inch, as if he’s considering his son’s words. He recognizes the subtle fear in his son’s voice, but it isn’t enough to keep his cold mask from snapping back into place.
“That is not for you to decide, Draco,” Lucius straightens his back impossibly further, deliberately avoiding Narcissa’s sharp gaze.
But it should be enough.
It’s supposed to be enough.
One kill in front of the older and highest-ranking Death Eaters. That is supposed to be the test. It’s the same test every Death Eater has been given before her, so why is she different?
“She will do it,” Lucius continues, shifting his attention back to Juliet once again. “Because she was ordered to. To ensure the lesson never to disobey sticks.”
“Permanently.”
Juliet turns her head to Sawyer and takes a small step forward. She’s done this before, brought someone back. But that was training, and most of the time, she could bring them back. Her scores depended on it.
But this? Bringing Sawyer back just to kill him again?
This one hurts.
Not sharp like a knife, but deep and full, like a blow right to her chest. This is cruelty, plain and simple.
This is what she chose.
Juliet kneels beside Sawyer, the stone floor cold against the skin of her knees as she slides her wand into the holster on her hip under her black cloak. Her hands tremble subtly as she presses them to Sawyer’s chest and closes her eyes.
A heavy cold fills her mind as the sensation creeps up her fingertips, the feeling of connecting with Death makes the hairs on her arms stand up, and a wave of nausea washes over her.
She channels her power to focus on Sawyer’s magical core; she can feel the faint, pulsing glow that emits from the center of his energy, and she gently tugs on it with her own magic. She’s looking for any sign his soul is still attached to his magical core, part of her praying it isn’t—that Sawyer has already moved on.
“We’re waiting…” Yaxley sneers impatiently from somewhere behind her.
Juliet focuses harder, tugging harder at Sawyer’s core until she feels his essence, almost evaporated now. She grabs onto it, wrapping her magic around his soul to bring it back. It wouldn’t be too painful to feel this death; she’d hardly feel anything at all since it’s so quick.
But then she’d have to kill him all over again. She’d have to look into his eyes and cast another killing curse that would add to the multitude she already has on her hands. Maybe she should let him go, lie and say she couldn’t bring him back. How would anyone know anyway?
But how did anyone know Sawyer was a betrayer?
Her magical grasp tugs on Sawyer’s soul, pulling it back to his core. Just as it reaches his core, the pull on his soul stops, requiring Juliet’s payment for bringing him back.
Juliet takes a deep, steadying breath, her eyes still closed as she opens the channel of her power, allowing the flow of energy that Sawyer experienced in his death.
She sees glimpses of herself and Lucius from Sawyer’s eyes in the moments before his death. Juliet can see the subtle grief in her own dark eyes, the whites of her knuckles under her skin as she grips her wand, and she hears the faintest crack in her own voice as she casts the killing curse.
Then, she feels the hit of the curse—sharp, final, and instant.
Sawyer gasps in a breath of air as he shoots up into a seated position on the floor, gasping and sucking in oxygen with one hand clutching his chest. His eyes dart around before landing on Juliet, and the resolve that once his eyes held before has given way to something that looks suspiciously like betrayal and hurt.
He'd thought he was free.
“I’m–” Juliet cuts herself off before she can finish her apology. There’s no room for apologies in this life, not with people she isn’t closest to. And certainly not with so many eyes on her.
Lucius clears his throat, his wand still resting but ready at his side. “Do it.”
Sawyer turns his head back to Juliet as she rises from the floor, turning her back to Sawyer as she takes a few steps away. “Juliet… please.”
Sawyer’s voice chips away at something deep inside of Juliet, a lump forming in her throat as she draws her wand again. The raw emotion in his tone catches her off guard and makes her stomach twist painfully as she turns to face him again, slamming her cold expression over her face.
Juliet raises her wand to point at Sawyer’s chest once more. It’s easier to channel the intent this time, knowing that it’s final, that Sawyer will go somewhere… different. Maybe even somewhere good, not that any of them deserve that.
“Avada Kedavra.”
Juliet turns away from Sawyer as his body hits the floor for the last time. She looks at Lucius, who seems almost… relieved.
“Well done, Miss Black,” Lucius beckons her closer with an extended hand before pulling a vial from the pocket of his robes. The potion emits a bright green glow from the vial as Lucius holds it up between his long fingers. “Take this.”
Juliet stops a few steps away from Lucius, her eyes focused on the vial as he offers it to her, his gaze watchful and calculating as ever. This is it. This is the ritual she has trained so hard for.
Juliet takes the vial from Lucius, rolling it between her slender fingers for a moment as she reaches out to Harry with her legilimency. “Will it hurt?”
Harry’s voice responds almost instantly, his warm, comforting voice wrapping around her mind like a blanket. “Only for a few moments, pretty girl. I promise.”
With Harry’s reassurance, she opens the vial and brings it to her lips. The potion fills her mouth with a sickeningly bitter taste as she swallows the liquid. For a moment, nothing happens.
Then suddenly, a wave of burning pain engulfs her from the inside out, as if her blood has suddenly turned to magma. Juliet kneels over as the stomach pain accompanies the burning; it’s as if her intestines are being twisted around a fork like pasta.
Lucius grabs her left forearm, his long and cold fingers wrapping around her arm like a vise. If Juliet could focus on anything besides the burning pain, she’d hear the spell Lucius uses as he presses the tip of his wand to her skin, sending another wave of burning as he brands the dark mark into her skin.
Juliet screams, raw and broken, unable to help it as the burning sensation overwhelms her senses.
Harry’s chest tightens painfully at the sound, and it takes every fiber of his being not to rush to Juliet and rip her away from Lucius; rip her away from the pain she's enduring. But he can't.
Not without getting them both killed.
The burning finally subsides like Harry promised, and Juliet takes a moment to catch her breath. Her legs are barely holding her up anymore, but she can't sit.
“Welcome to the Death Eaters, Juliet,” Lucius steps back, his voice only slightly less cold as he looks down at her. “Do not fail us.”
🎶 Though even with the support and family she has found with her best friends, she often finds herself isolated outside of them. Death Eaters don't trust her, and everyone else just sees her as the daughter of one. She's untrusted, underestimated, and cast aside - which is the gravest mistake anyone can make.
🎶 Juliet loves devotedly. It's all-consuming, unguarded, deep. To trust someone so completely that she can surrender herself is, to Juliet, love.
🎶 Just because she has the boys, doesn't mean she hasn't spent countless nights lying awake, wondering why nobody else liked her, why she was so easily cast aside.
🎶 When Juliet finally breaks and unleashes her power, it's game over. Juliet, without her restraint, is deadly, devouring, and final.
Her power
Juliet has the power of necromancy. She can revive someone from the dead, so long as she is able to.
However, she cannot bring someone back if their soul has left their magical core (passed on) or if the body is too badly damaged. If a person chooses to move on, or if their body is too badly mangled, there is nothing she can do.
Her power is incredibly rare, though a few select witches and wizards have also had the same power: Lily Potter and Regulus Black, for example.
This great power comes with a great cost, though. Those with this ability must feel the death of the individual they are trying to revive as a personal cost to Death for bringing them back.
This means: if Juliet is trying to revive someone who was stabbed, she must feel the exact pain as payment to Death. She suffers no physical wounds from this, but the pain and the mental anguish do leave marks on her mind.
Juliet also has a second power, which will be revealed later on 👀
Juliet Astra Black is a character of my own original creation. I hope you all love her as dearly as I do 🖤🎀
Slytherin M.list Slytherin Taglist Elle's Nav. Guide Status: Active Summary/Moodboard Chapt. One Chapt. Two. Chpt. Four
Chapter Three
Seventeen Years Later
“C'mon, Harry! Stop dragging your ass!” Mattheo's loud voice carries across the platform as he leans over the train steps with one hand on the railing.
Harry scoffs as he rolls his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” he mutters. Though he does jog to catch up with his friends, dropping his trunk to be loaded as he hops up onto the steps to board the train.
“Must you be so damn loud?” Harry's chest brushes against Mattheo's as he pushes by him, his green eyes rolling behind his glasses.
Mattheo just smiles his usual Cheshire grin, winking his eye under his dark curls. “I can be quiet, baby. Just say the word.” His hand slaps Harry's ass playfully as he pushes by him.
Harry scoffs at his friend's perverted comment. He's more than used to it after all these years.
“You're a sick freak, Matt,” he laughs as he slides open the compartment door, meeting Draco and Blaise.
“Trouble in paradise?” Blaise muses with a smirk from his seat by the window. The late-summer sun shines through the window, making his skin appear silky and deep. It perfectly matches his eyes, which are always watching.
Mattheo plops down beside Draco, letting his knees spread lazily with a devilish smirk. “Never, Blaise. I love Harry's compliments.”
“Compliments?” Draco scoffs beside him, brushing an invisible speck of dust from the shoulder of his suit. “You're a deviant, brother. There's no complimenting that.”
“Au contraire,” Mattheo muses with a devilish grin. “The compliment lies in being a deviant. Or at least, it's where all the fun lies.” He winks.
“You're impossible,” Harry scoffs in exasperation, though a smirk plays on his lips.
“I'm Mattheo Riddle.”
…
The Great Hall is alive with the chatter of students arriving for another year at Hogwarts. The first-years, aged 13-14, anxiously meet their housemates for the first time.
That is, until they walk in.
The chatter is still there, but more hushed. Secretive just as they are. Some in fear, some in attraction, and some in awe. But all about them.
Draco Malfoy. Tall, lean-muscled, white-blonde hair perfectly slicked back and elegant. His sharp features make him appear as if he were carved out of marble. His silver eyes scan his surroundings with a calculated gaze, his hands resting in his pockets. Cool, detached; as if ice water flows through his veins. I suppose that comes naturally when you're the heir to the Malfoy fortune.
Blaise Zabini. Smooth in a way that feels intentional. His dark skin glows under the candlelight, his expression unreadable as his eyes sweep the hall. There’s no rush in him, no wasted movement—just quiet awareness. The kind that notices everything and misses nothing. His dark gaze feels penetrating when he has someone in his sights, as if he can make someone spill their darkest secrets with the right tilt of his head, or the correct combination of words.
Mattheo Riddle. Son of the Dark Lord, yet vastly different from his father. He pushes his dark curls back with his fingers as he laughs loudly, savoring every set of eyes that follows him. Charismatic, chaotic, and as his friends would put it, “the definition of maniacal”. Dangerous in the most exhilarating of ways.
And last but not least–
Harry Potter.
Most people call him ‘The Boy Who Lived’. But little did they know he's become far more than that beneath the surface.
Harry Potter. The small lightning bolt scar on his forehead is almost as noticeable as his eyes, a striking emerald green that shines behind his round glasses. He's not as loud as Mattheo, but he's not as reserved as Draco or Blaise, either. He's uniquely him; intelligent, sarcastic, and chaotic as hell when he wants to have a good time.
“...I can't believe they came back…”
“He's so handsome…”
“Gods, they're so hot…”
The whispers follow them to the Slytherin table, where their housemates meet them with expressions that range from recognition, familiarity, respect, and the perfect amount of jealousy.
“Finally pull your head out of your ass, Riddle?” Pansy Parkinson sneers from a few seats down, her black hair cropped just below her shoulders. She carries the title of ‘pureblood’ like a crown over her overly spoiled head.
Mattheo looks at her, jutting out his bottom lip in a mock pout. His brown eyes sparkle with mischief. “What's the matter, Pans? Still upset I never called you back?”
“You'll have to forgive a player, love. I thought you knew how to play the game,” He winks with a devilish grin as he slides into his seat.
Harry's gaze shifts away to the other end of the table, distracted by a very different raven-haired girl.
Juliet Black. The outcast of the outcasts. Daughter of Regulus Black— the ultimate betrayer of the Dark Lord.
It's one thing to be a Slytherin disliked by the other houses. But it's another beast to be a Slytherin, hated by most all other Slytherins. What may appear to be a cold and unforgiving house is actually quite welcoming to its own.
But her father did the unforgivable: he broke his vow to the Dark Lord. All they know is that something was stolen — and broken. Something valuable to Mattheo's father before he disappeared.
And unfortunately, the weight of that betrayal falls on her too. Regulus was killed, of course. Hunted down by Severus under Voldemort’s direct orders just a week before Harry's parents were killed.
Her eyes look up from the Quibbler magazine she's holding. Her dark brown eyes meet Harry's and soften with a small nod of her head. A small, almost invisible smile on her lips.
A small warmth spreads through his chest at the sight of her. The long black strands of her hair fall in soft waves of ink black. Her face is soft, yet there are years of careful reservation in her eyes. It's evident in the way that she doesn't sit with them, even after they've brought her in years ago.
“Juliet,” he calls for her while maintaining his gaze. “Come sit with us.”
Her eyes light up a bit more at Harry's invitation. She stands up, and the hem of her black and green skirt brushes against her thighs as she walks.
“Well, hello, beautiful,” Mattheo all but purrs from his seat next to Harry, looking Juliet up and down with unabashed appreciation before meeting her eyes. “Been wondering when you'd grace us with your presence.”
Harry rolls his eyes behind his glasses, though a small smirk plays on his lips. “Down, Mattheo.”
“What?! I was a perfect gentleman.”
Draco scoffs from across the table as Juliet slides into the chair next to his. “You don't know the meaning of the word. And what have I told you about eyeing my cousin?” His arm rises, resting protectively on the back of her chair.
“I'm perfectly capable of defending my own honor, Draco. I don't need you to do it for me,” Juliet's voice is airy, light in a way that makes her appear even more ethereal if her other peers bothered to listen.
Her gaze shifts to Mattheo before her eyes sharpen in challenge, darkening to match her hair.
“And since you were wondering, Matt — I came over because Harry asked me to. Not because of you.”
A small laugh comes from Blaise's throat, low and amused. “Better luck next time, mate, hm?” He muses to Mattheo, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he cuts into his steak, earning himself a sharp glance from Mattheo.
Harry laughs lowly behind the rim of his glass at the faltered smirk on Mattheo’s lips just before a wolfish grin replaces it.
Mattheo leans closer to Juliet across the table. “Why don't we go somewhere private, and I can make you call—”
“Enough,” Draco's glass hits the tabletop with more force than necessary as his silver gaze locks on Mattheo with dangerous intensity. “One more word and I'll cut out your fucking tongue.”
"But then she couldn't hear me tell her how pretty she is," he winks at Draco, knowing he's pushing his buttons. It's delicious watching Draco try to keep his aristocratic composure. "All night long."
Juliet's lips curve into a smirk as Draco's hand tightens on the back of her chair, and she slowly shifts her gaze to Mattheo.
"I'm sure I'll survive without it.”
Continue to Chapter Four🎀
a/n: I know this chapter is really short (and so were the first 2 chapters, please forgive me lmao), I just really wanted to focus on introducing the main characters before I dive into the story completely. The chapters are going to be longer from here on out, I promise 💚
Also, keep a lookout for the character posts! I'll be giving each person their own post with personality traits and their powers (as well as a few songs that make me think of them 👀)
Slytherin M.list Slytherin Taglist Elle's Nav. Guide Status: Active Summary/Moodboard Chapter One. Chapter Three
Chapter Two
The gates of Malfoy Manor are grim and elegant against the night sky. The lights from inside loom in the distance down the perfectly manicured drive. No doubt from Narcissa's strict guidance.
“Name and wand,” the gruff order comes from one of the few guards the family keeps on rotation. “Now.”
Severus adjusts his awkward grip on Harry, shifting the small bundle to reach inside the pocket of his cloak. “Severus Snape.”
He holds out his wand in his left arm, turning it to reveal the Dark Mark on the pale skin of his forearm. “Satisfied?” He drawls impatiently as the guard inspects his wand, sending a thin strand of evergreen light connecting the two and reading the core.
The guard narrows his eyes as he raises his own wand, hovering it above the dark symbol to test its authenticity. He grunts in answer to Severus as he steps back.
“Open the gate,” the guard demands to another on the other side, who quickly obeys.
The walk down the drive isn't too long. Maybe ten minutes. Enough time for Severus to question his new role as a…
A guardian.
That's what he tells himself, at least.
"Severus, how lovely to see you," Narcissa greets him as she opens the door. Her face is ever youthful despite the signs of fatigue under her eyes, which widen as they land on the small bundle cradled awkwardly against his chest.
"Come in, come in," She waves him inside hurriedly, closing the door behind her. "Please tell me you did not kidnap a child, Severus..." there's a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her voice.
Severus stiffens slightly at the amusement in her voice, turning to fast her. "I kidnapped no one."
"So... the child appeared out of nowhere?" She muses, arching a perfect brow.
"Nothing appears out of nowhere, Narcissa. Especially children."
Maybe he shouldn't have brought Harry here. Maybe it isn't the safest. But it's assuredly safer than anywhere under Dumbledore's watch.
"He's..." his grip on Harry tightens as the reminder that Lily is dead tightens around his throat like a noose.
Narcissa steps closer, her head tilted in curiosity at her friend's subtle distress. "Severus?" Her voice softens as she reaches out, delicate fingers just out of reach from Harry.
"He's her son..." his voice is rough, fingers carefully gripping the small bundle in his arms.
The gasp that leaves Narcissa's lips is soft, disbelieving. She takes a step back, causing Severus to stiffen further. Her eyes flicker between his and down at little Harry in his arms. "Oh, Severus..." she whispers, shaking her head softly.
He waits for it. For what exactly, he's not sure. Perhaps Narcissa will call for Lucius, or perhaps she'll order him to leave, or even tell him to abandon the small boy in his arms. Toss him to the wolves as if he —or any of them— are anything but.
The pause between them in heavy, long moments of silence hang between them before Narcissa finally breaks it.
"Well... you're going to need some supplies," her words settle deep in his chest, calm and collected. "And some support, of course."
She steps closer again, holding her arms out to take Harry from Severus's clumsy grip. His fingers tighten protectively around Harry.
"Give him here. You're not holding him properly," her calm command hits his ears, loosening his grip on Harry. But his eyes remain locked on Narcissa as she holds him in her arms.
"Come. I'll lay him down with the boys, and we can talk with Lucius," she doesn't wait for a response as she walks further into the manor. Her house heels click softly against the marble floor as she leads him further into the house.
"He's in the drawing room," she nods in the direction with a whisper, rocking Harry as he starts to stir. Her soft hum slowly fades as she walks upstairs.
Severus watches Narcissa's retreating figure as she climbs the stairs with Harry and turns a corner. His hands clench into tight fists at his sides as they disappear from view. What kind of life is this for Lily's son? How could Harry deserve a life like this?
How could he ever live up to the honor of raising Lily's son?
“An aged bottle of Ogden's is a much more practical visiting gift, Severus.”
Severus whirls around, meeting Lucius's gaze. His white-blonde hair frames his sharp features, a hint of friendly amusement in his tone.
“It's no gift, Lucius. He's—”
"Lily's son. I'm aware,” Lucius holds open the door to his private drawing room. “All these years, and you still misunderstand sarcasm, my friend.”
A scoff of indignation leaves Severus's throat as he steps forward. “I don't misunderstand anything, Lucius. I merely find it dilatory.”
“This coming from someone who uses a word like ‘dilatory’.”
The door closes behind them both as they step inside. The space is tastefully decorated with Lucius's desk of exquisite black marble, lined and detailed with touches of deep emerald green.
Various cursed artifacts and banned tomes line the mahogany shelves along the walls. One of the items is an ornate necklace of dark opals and silver.
Lucius sits at one of the armchairs by the fireplace, motioning for Severus to take the chair across from him. “How did you come upon the boy?”
The chair is comfortable but stiff as he sits down. He didn't realize how much his back hurt from holding Harry until now.
His eyes meet Lucius's in a careful gaze, unsure of exactly how much to reveal. He doesn't know much himself.
“Lily and James are dead. Voldemort…” he pauses. He hasn't had time to process that the Dark Lord has fallen, not with Lily's death happening in the same instant.
“He killed them. Killed her…” he continues, deciding to tell Lucius what little he knows. “Dumbledore asked me to take him. To… to raise him.”
Lucius doesn't speak for a few moments. His silver eyes analyze Severus, calculating any multitude of things at once.
“And you… agreed?” His tone isn't harsh, but it is skeptical. What could this mean for them, should the Dark Lord return? Would his family be punished? Would he?
Severus averts his gaze to the fireplace, the orange and yellow flames cracking the wood beneath. “What else was I to do, Lucius? I couldn't say no, Dumbledore would be suspicious.”
“And you still love her.”
Severus clenches his jaw so tightly that his teeth ache. The tightness in his throat returns with a vengeance at his love for Lily.
Severus doesn't respond; he doesn't need to. His love for Lily was painfully well-known during their time at school. Something her husband never failed to mock back then.
A deliberately heavy sigh comes from Lucius, breaking the silence.
“The boy could be a threat to all of us. Should the Dark Lord return, I don't presume he will take kindly to his General raising him. Much less around his heir,” Lucius nods his head to the ceiling, where somewhere upstairs Harry is sleeping with Mattheo, the Dark Lord's heir, and Draco, Lucius and Narcissas’ only son.
“Only if he returns, darling,” Nacissa's voice comes from the doorway, drawing both their attentions. “And even then, he might find him fascinating.”
Lucius's eyes soften in a way they only do when he looks at his wife, extending a hand for her to join them. “I'm only thinking of you and our precious boy, my love.”
Severus shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He's never been one for romantic gestures or sweet whispers. He can't stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“Boys, my darling. We have two.”
Lucius's smile slips for a moment, a slight look of disgust peeking through before his mask slips back into place, his smile returning. “How could I forget? Yes, Draco and Mattheo.”
“For Salazar's sake. Can we please focus on Harry?” Severus's voice comes out clipped, impatient. How is he supposed to know what to do if the two people he came to for help can't stop… whatever it is they're doing. The words surprise even himself, and he clears his throat.
“I mean—can we focus on what I'm supposed to do with him?”
Narcissa smiles a rare, warm smile that is special to her.
“You raise him, Severus. Raise him with the values we ourselves were taught. Raise him to be strong and smart, and with the proper values of our society.”
“I—”
“You can, Severus,” Narcissa steps forward, looking at him as she places a hand on her husband's shoulder. “You'll have us to help you.”
“The three of them will be thick as thieves. They'll cause all the trouble we did at Hogwarts with Barty,” Lucius smirks from his seat, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Narcissa's. “Maybe more.”
i love how u write deannnn can we pls get some headcanons? Could be nsfw or anything you want
I always see Dean as submissive in the way that he makes it his mission to fulfill all of your desires--he cannot even fathom doing something he has to pry for or that you are not immediately interested in. I understand the subby Dean truthers, but I feel like he always wanted a gentle guiding hand so that’s what he wants to be for you
♱ ... dean winchester ... ♱
18+ MDNI
Dean who physically, humanly, could not cum before you. Truly, the thought of letting someone he loves, especially when you're so generous to give yourself to him, go without pleasure so he can take it for himself makes him sick
Dean who, even without a great education, can think of a million and one pet names for you. Pretty, honey, sweetheart, baby, sleepy, princess, dear, and a million more ways that you're his. His sweet girl, his needy thing, his perfect princess
Dean who is always pressed to you when he cums. He might start out in doggy, hands gripping your hips while he admires how you take him, but when he feels the rushing in his abdomen he folds his body onto yours so he can feel as close to you as possible
Dean who is obsessed with car sex and loves driving to an open field where you can be louder and wilder than in a motel room
Dean who is obsessed with panties and treats them how soldiers used to treat lockets of their lovers while they were in war
Dean who has two sides to him. Sweet and loving, or a weapon and sometimes he needs to fuck like the latter. The handles of knives deep in your pussy, strong hand gripping your neck, mean slaps to your ass while he hardens at the moans and whimpers of pleasure that fall from your mouth at the treatment
Dean who is so fucking proud that you’re his girl. He does not care to hide it when he's fucking you or horny for you because he knows that any man would be damn lucky to be in his position
Dean who is obsessed with giving you neck kisses so he can show you, as if you don't know, that he's there for you and cares
Dean who only gets out of bed with you in the morning for crappy diner food, where he sits on the same side of the booth as you so you can slowly wake up on his shoulder
Dean who loves nothing more than watching you fall apart for him so he can see the physical evidence of how good he’s treating you. To him it's proof that he is maybe starting to deserve you, and he won't consider the job done until you push him away
Slytherin M.list Slytherin Taglist Elle's Nav. Guide Status: Active Summary/Moodboard. Chapt. 2
Chapter One
Ashes and ruin. That was all that was left of the small, once lively cottage in Godric's Hollow. Smoke rose into the clouds, and the smell of death and dark magic lingered heavily in the air.
But through it all, little Harry Potter survived where few others have - an encounter with the Dark Lord, Voldemort.
Lily's body lay sprawled on the floor next to Harry's crib - where she gave her life to protect her son. James, a once proud Marauder, is crumpled on the stairs, his wand mere feet away.
Where is Voldemort, you ask? Some say he died. Others believe he's still out there, lurking in the shadows, and waiting for his time to rise again.
But the truth is, nobody really knows what happened that night in Godric's Hollow.
The streetlights on Privet Drive illuminated the dark streets, casting shadows over the figures that loomed outside the gate of Number Four.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." Dumbledore's calm voice carried through the air, matching the twinkle behind his half-moon glasses.
"Is it true, Albus?" McGonagall turned, her usually stern face carrying worry and fear. The way Dumbledore smiled sadly confirming her fears.
"I can't believe this," McGonagall shook her head softly, swallowing back the tears and heartbreak. "James and Lily..."
"Their son lives, Minerva." Dumbledore's hand grasped her shoulder, as if trying to dull the familiar ache that also lived inside him. "Harry. He's alive. Hagrid is bringing him here."
"Here?!" McGonagall gasped as she pulled away, shrugging off his hand. "Albus, you can't be serious. These people, these muggles - they're the worst kind. Horrible and selfish. They can hardly raise their own child-"
Dumbledore raised a hand calmly as McGonagall's voice grew more tense, cutting her off with a small shake of his head.
"It is what must be done," He said finally, his calm voice leaving little room for arguments. "If I'm correct in my suspicion, this is the safest place for Harry. Far away from the Daily Prophet and all of their wild theories."
McGonagall was momentarily stunned for words. How could this man, whom she has trusted for so many years, leave a child in these conditions? What reason could he possibly have? What 'suspicions' could ever justify this?
The silence between them was finally broken as a motorcycle engine roared in the distance overhead.
"How did he get that bike, Minerva?" Dumbledore questioned skeptically behind his glasses. His twinkling eyes narrowing slightly.
McGonagall shrugged as a calm, thoughtful expression washed over her stern features. "How indeed, Albus."
The motorcycle finally landed onto the road with a thudding halt, almost waking Harry.
"Hagrid?! What are you doing carrying him while driving?" McGonagall rushed forward, gently grasping Harry from the half-giant's arms. Her heart ached at the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead, a battle wound.
"Well, ye can't 'spect me to put him in the sidecar, can ye? The little tike would fly out," Hagrid chortled as he adjusted his heavy fur coat. "Besides, he fell asleep right as we were flyin' over Bristol. Loves the bike, he does."
"Now, now, Minerva. I trust our dear Hagrid took the best care of him," Dumbledore smiled as he stepped forward, placing an encouraging hand on Hagrid's shoulder. "Just like the Dursleys will."
McGonagall bristled as she subtly clutched Harry tighter to her chest. The little toddler, still fast asleep, nestles closer to her warmth.
"You can't leave him here, Albus," McGonagall challenged. The magic inside of her crackled like wood over a fire. "I won't allow it." The words were final as she stared Dumbledore in the eyes.
Dumbledore stiffened, his body rigid, before he took a deep breath. A subtle cue that McGonagall struck a nerve.
"And just what do you suggest, Minerva, hm?" Dumbledore stepped closer, his hands clasped calmly behind his back in a subtle battle of wills. "You?"
"I would," The words left her mouth without a second thought. "I will. I'll take him," She continued, her grasp on the young boy tightened, trying to hold on.
Her words hung heavy in the air, an alternative to the horrible people beyond the picket gate. And for just a moment - she had hope.
"No," Dumbledore's head shook as he sighed heavily. "It's not that simple, Minerva. How he survived-"
"You don't know how he survived, Albus. Don't assume to know things-"
"Enough," Dumbledore's voice landed firmly. The magic inside him crackled and sparked as he fought to control himself. "I know enough, Minerva."
"Hagrid?" Dumbledore turned calmly, looking up at the burly man. "Go to Hogwarts, send him here."
"You want him? Professor, I-"
"Go," Dumbledore answered firmly as he turned back to McGonagall.
The motorcycle roared to life once more and took off into the sky before either one spoke. It wasn't until the roar faded away that Dumbledore finally spoke.
"If I'm right, Minerva," Dumbledore began, his twinkling eyes locked on Harry in her arms. "Then, when Lily sacrificed herself tonight to save young Harry, here, it left a magical mark."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly, studying his every word.
Dumbledore sighed as he leaned against a picket fence. "That mark shielded Harry when Voldemort cast the Killing Curse, rebounding to him, instead."
"What does any of this have to do with these...people?" She nodded towards the house, where the Dursleys remain sound asleep inside.
"Love, Minerva. You see, Petunia Dursley is Lily's sister - as I'm sure you recall - and as her sister, the blood between them will protect Harry," Dumbledore explained thoughtfully as he adjusted his glasses. "He is her blood."
"You called for me, Headmaster?" A familiar, deep, and slow voice sounded from behind them.
"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore turned first, composing his features into his usual calm and gentle mask. "I'm sorry to call you here tonight, but I must ask you to do one more thing for me."
Snape's jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached. And he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his cloak to hide his clenched fists.
"What is it?" McGonagall could swear she heard his voice crack as he spoke.
Dumbledore stepped closer to Snape, his blue eyes shone with remorse and sympathy behind his glasses.
"You must take Harry," He said calmly, motioning for McGonagall to step closer with Harry.
Snape's eyes widened as Dumbledore's words washed over him. His eyes caught a glimpse of little Harry Potter tucked inside a blanket. Something churned deep inside of him, something he swore he turned away from as the idea settled in his brain.
After a long moment, Snape finally spoke. His deep voice carried through the air as the morning sky turned a dark shade of blue.
"Surely there is someone else who can care for the boy," Snape looked away from Harry, but refused to meet Dumbledore's gaze. "You were planning to leave him here, weren't you?"
Dumbledore chuckled half-heartedly as he shook his head. "Minerva doesn't believe that the Dursleys are suitable."
"They're not," McGonagall interjected with a huff as she shook her head and settled Harry in her arms when he started to stir.
"It has to be you, Severus. It's you, or the Dursleys," Dumbledore continued and explained once again how Lily saved Harry's life by sacrificing her own.
"Headmaster, surely you recognize the flaw in this. I'm not blood-related to James, nor Lily," Snape's eyes narrowed as he listened to Dumbledore's explanation.
"But you loved Lily, Severus," Dumbledore pushed gently as he took another step closer. "And though you may not believe it, Lily loved you too."
Snape's head snapped up as his jaw clenched tighter. The thought of Lily loving him made the magic inside of him rumble.
"She did no such thing," Snape snapped.
Dumbledore smiled sadly as he reached out to Snape, only for Snape to pull away and leave his hand hanging in the air.
"Not all love is romantic, Severus. Just because she couldn't return your affections doesn't mean she couldn't care deeply for you," Dumbledore continued softly.
Snape stiffened as he weighed Dumbledore's words in his mind. He loved Lily; he's always known that. But how could he raise James' son? How could Dumbledore dare to ask anything more of him when he hadn't kept his promise?
"You promised you'd keep her safe," Snape's voice came out as a low and rumbling growl. His anger and grief were still flaring inside of him, only adding to the rumble of magic coming from within him.
Dumbledore nodded softly, not denying it, but thoughtfully, as if processing Snape's words. "Then help me make it right."
Dumbledore gently took Harry from McGonagall's arms, cradling him somewhat awkwardly over to Snape.
"If not for me, do it for Lily. For her memory."
Harry stirred as he started to wake; the birds quietly sang their first tune of the day overhead. Harry's green eyes flutter open and land on Snape.
Snape's heart clenched, aching in his chest as he locked eyes with Harry. "He...he has her eyes..." He murmured.
"Indeed, he does," Dumbledore chuckled softly as he handed over Harry to Snape, who accepted him somewhat awkwardly. "Let's just hope he doesn't have his father's humor, hm?"
Snape was too lost in the moment to be bothered by Dumbledore's comment about James. He couldn't think of anything besides the swirl of emotions that were happening within himself.
"Yes, yes, I understand," Snape mumbled along as Dumbledore continued speaking, not paying much attention.
It wasn't until after Dumbledore left that McGonagall stepped forward. Dawn crept over the horizon as she smiled sadly at Snape and Harry.
"He was right, you know, about Lily," McGonagall offered softly as she gently adjusted the blanket around Harry's head with a smile.
Snape's heart lurched once more, and he fought the ball growing in the back of his throat.
"Take care of him, Severus. And please, if you need anything..."
"Thank you, Minerva," Snape said flatly as he cleared his throat and straightened his back while keeping Harry close to his chest.
McGonagall smiled softly as she nodded her head. "Anytime."
With a soft 'pop', it was Snape and Harry alone in the street.
Snape looked down at Harry, who was now more awake. And he made a quiet vow under his breath.
"He'll never use you as he used me."
And with another soft 'pop', Privet Drive was empty before the morning bustle.
Slytherin M.list Slytherin Taglist Elle's Nav. Guide Status: Active Chapter One
Harry Potter was never meant to be a hero.
Raised by Severus Snape instead of the Dursleys, he grew up in the shadows—alongside Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Mattheo Riddle, the Dark Lord’s son.
Together, they are everything Hogwarts whispers about: dangerous, untouchable, and bound by a loyalty that leaves no room for outsiders.
Except for Juliet Black.
Daughter of Regulus Black—the man who betrayed Lord Voldemort—Juliet exists on the fringes of Slytherin, tolerated but never truly accepted. Until she finally connected with her cousin Draco, who pulled her into his circle.
But closeness comes with a cost.
Because beneath the late nights, sharp smiles, and shared secrets, something far more dangerous is taking shape—a plan to turn against the very world they were raised to serve.
And when the truth is finally revealed, it won’t just be their loyalties that are tested—
it will be the bonds they thought were unbreakable.
Continue to Chapter One🎀
Special Magic AU. Dark Harry AU. Slytherin Female OC. Secret Society.
I know some people have been wondering where I went, and I want to say thank you to everyone who reached out and tried to get in contact with me. <3
It's kind of a long story, but I've had a lot of changes in my life, along with my previous health concerns. I just wanted to answer some questions and formally come back to Tumblr, lmao.
(Also a couple of story announcements)
First, to address my health issues that I was talking about last time:
I was having problems with my heart rate being too high all the time. I was constantly dizzy and lightheaded, and I couldn't smoke weed without feeling like I was going to have a heart attack and/or pass out, hence all of the hospital visits.
TURNS OUT, it was Panic Disorder. Apparently, my anxiety disorder going untreated with meds for so long, coupled with all of the stress I was under, and not working, the shit evolved like a damn Pokémon. (Love that for me.)
I'm doing much better now, for the most part. I'm taking Lexapro and Buspar (might change the Lexapro, tho, bc I have like ZERO sex drive 90% of the time). But I'm doing better, and that's a start.
We also had to move, because our house at the time was not safe. There was black mold under the floors and in the area between floors, such as the ceiling of the first floor that was under the bathroom upstairs. We were all super fucking sick, which didn't help my mental health at all. When we were moving, we found literal fungus growing in closets that were hardly used and not close to the bathrooms.
There were also no stairs from the second-story deck down to the ground (fire-code offense, anyone?) And the bottom deck was rotting away and caving in, and they replaced it one board at a time, with untreated wood.
So, yeah. Your girl was stressed.
Where I am now:
We are now living in a safe and comfortable house, no issues!
I am back to work, thankfully. Not a super great paying job, but hey, work is work. I don't have set hours or a set schedule, which will make updating a bit wonky at first (pls bear with me until I get back into the groove again).
I'm getting back into writing again, finally. It's been a bit of a transition getting back into it, and writer's block is not helping when it hits.
Story Announcements:
Beneath the Mark is my most current story that is being actively written. It is a dark Harry Potter reimagining, and I'm really excited to write it! Hogwarts University AU.
Twisted Boys is currently on the back burner. I love Callum, and I will definitely be writing this occasionally when inspiration strikes. And please, feel free to write and create your own story with him 💚 I know a lot of people were excited about him. All I ask is that you tag me and credit me in the use of him.
Lost and Found is coming, but it is in the very early stages of world-building. It is coming right behind Beneath the Mask, maybe written alongside it when BtM gets too dark.
That's all for now! I'll keep you guys updated, and I am so excited to be back!
