#a useful tool

[notwhelmedyet]

aw sweet, more ao3 filtering options

[mysnarkyslytherinsecret]

What would Severus have done if he were unable to spy as a Death Eater (ie. If Voldermort did not accept him back into the fold after GoF, or if he were outed later as a double agent)? What would Dumbledore have done with him?

Severus would probably have been relegated to a Potions master and spell-maker. He’d probably do other underground work that would require quiet and solitude.  He’d still be very useful, especially since he can brew Polyjuice and use it to look like literally anyone he needs to in order to carry out tasks.

That is, if Voldemort didn’t have a “kill switch” built into the Mark. I have a particularly dark headcanon that the Mark itself can be used to literally burn you to death from the inside out if Voldemort wishes it. It’s quite literally a leash.  If that was the case, Severus would have been dead the moment he found himself in Voldemort’s presence. 

[thored]

It's basically diagram porn if your into that sort of thing.

[v-p-potts]

A useful tool

Her mind was a singing white field.

Thoughts flew from the moment Loki’s magic touched her skin and swept away all of the unnecessary debris that cluttered Pepper Potts’ life.  Which of my contacts trusts me best, and dislikes Stark the most?  Which ones would be the best to protect Loki?  Where are the sinews of the neck anyway: in the front or in the back?

She watched Iron Man’s hands try to pull at her wrists, and as she put the first dent in his helmet, this thought came to her:  He built my armor to be stronger than his own.  It was a fact laid down with a click like a gaming tile.  How slowly must I pull at this helmet to best display the tearing sinews for Loki?

“It’s going to be okay,” Iron Man said to Pepper.  He loves me and I have not turned this to my best advantage yet.  She twisted to get a better grip on his helmet when his head suddenly jerked forward, his visor lifting.

Tony Stark kissed Pepper Potts.  His lips were soft and his moustache scratched in a way that sent something hot curling through her belly even as she jerked away, vaguely annoyed that he would be so familiar.  For the briefest moment the feeling of that touch curled up through her lungs and made her faintly aware of other things behind the white field of her mind: the blinding pain of her injured face, a distant keening sorrow.

It was pleasant when Loki’s magic overcame this to wipe her clean again.  If she could get her hand beneath Stark’s visor, she could tear it away and then he would finally begin to bleed.