TRIGGER WARNING - Blood - Violence -
Chapter Ⅵ
Vengeance Is Mine, Saith Those Wronged By The Serpentines
Severus glowered from his spot in Dumbledore's Office, half-listening to the ramblings of the other teachers. He could always just watch what had happened later; he was, after all, an accomplished legilimens and occlumens, therefore having a damn-near perfect recall of multiple situations.
Currently it was Quirrell that was speaking, his infernal stuttering just as annoying as the heavy stench of garlic and fumes that hung around the man. He was butchering his tale about the classes and how the OWLs and NEWTs students were doing well and coping with the mass amounts of assignments that they were given. Which the same could not be said for the students in Severus' students, who handed in assignments that were scrawled messily and he'd seen more than one student bent over potion books looking ready to keel over despite it being only the beginning of November. (To those he was more lenient too when grading their assignments, but they had better perform good on the actual potion making otherwise he deducted extra points- his sympathy came with conditions)
Pulling himself back into the conversation, he leaned forward more as he forced himself to pay attention to the problems that were being listed by Filius in the 6th year syllabus as well as a suggestion for a dueling club. Not that the Headmaster would have done anything but the short man still carried on, dutifully reciting a list he seemed to have committed to memory.
Dumbledore smiled at Filius from his place behind his cluttered desk, peering at him from behind his moon spectacles. "Now, Filius, I understand the concern for the students, but I do not believe that they could take any more practice or stress on their crammed minds. Perhaps next year we may be able to implement your suggestions, I do believe that the students may benefit from a dueling club, but it is best to wait to allow them to ease into their schedule; we do not want them to become distracted and slacking off on their work."
Severus laughing bitterly internally; he knew for a fact that the dueling club would, in fact, be beneficial for the students with allowing them to vent their frustrations and stress out on an inanimate object rather than have multiple breakdowns within their time at the school. Not that the Headmaster cared but still, it was something that most teachers were aware of which is why they heavily promoted study groups and schedules, even though they really couldn't slack off on the assignments. They already were giving the students half the recommended work and they couldn't do less without getting the Board involved.
Pomona Sprout piped up, voicing Severus' thoughts. "I believe a dueling club would be very good for the students this year. We could organize it over the Christmas Break, while the students are relaxing. It would allow them to work of some steam and give them more focus during classes. Also, it would allow some time for inter-house unity, especially with the Slytherins and Gryffindors."
The Headmaster's eyes twinkled full force which typically meant that he did not like the idea at all. The Potions Master knew this very well, after all he'd seen the elder man in states that nobody else would think was possible. More when he was being probably the worst manipulator in history, hiding behind his façade of a grandfather in all his great wisdom and many mistakes. He wondered how many fools had been led to their death while following the man.
Green eyes flashed in his vision and his heart agonized while he shoved the visage of a beautiful young woman he loved greatly out of his mind.
Dumbledore hummed. "Of course. Perhaps we should... If you do not mind filling out the paperwork and organizing the club, I will sign off on it and get the signatures from the Board of Governors."
Severus knew that it wasn't going to happen.
Minerva joined in, only this time her inquisition was directed to him. "Severus, how is Miss Granger and Messrs. Weasley and Potter faring?"
The entirety of the staff gathered looked at him and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ms. Granger is doing quite well; many Slytherins do not seem to agree with the action that had been taken but no assailant has stepped forward as of the moment. I am working my way through the upper years while searching for any confirming marks of who it may be. Potter and Weasley are doing well for the most part, they are left alone bar the few antagonists who seem to want to provoke them but seeing as who Potter is and the fact that Weasley is a pureblood, even if only a blood traitor, that hold them back from doing any physical harm." The lies spilled from his mouth without a second thought, not that any of his colleagues knew due to his ever present Occlumency shields.
All of what he had said was grossly untrue considered how many times the two had come to him for healing, including Weasley and his missing tongue. That had been truly terrible and that particular Slytherin had been scrubbing cauldrons for a month until they could glisten from the light of the shadows, which meant that he left with hands red and raw from muggle cleaner and materials, having done it all with no gloves. But none of his colleagues would've helped, not that they could've done anything with how powerful some of the students were, seeing as most of them had powerful relatives who have done nothing to help with their conduct no matter how many times Severus wanted to write them and list out the appalling behavior of the students; it would simply be a waste of his time and Severus Snape detested wasting his time on worthless activities that would have no beneficial outcome.
"And Mr. Potter is doing well with the rest of those in his year?" Severus sighed once more. Only this time his displeasure was directed at the Headmaster.
"He is amicable towards those who treat him civilly but does not engage in further association with his peers bar those two. Though they do engage in a study group of sorts, he does not actively seek out the company of any of the others."
Dumbledore seemed to relax and Severus knew that he had only asked, not out of worry, out of concern for the fact that his little 'Golden Boy' was associating with those who were in the Dark House and were very well connected. He feared that his figurehead had been going dark. Which was really quite hilarious because if Potter had been sorted into any house other than Gryffindor, the Headmaster would've feared something was wrong with Potter.
If he had been sorted into Ravenclaw, the Headmaster would've feared him to be far too curious in pursuit of knowledge; many ravens don't care for what the knowledge is, only that they know. Whether it be determined as evil or dark. It was knowledge and that was all they cared about. And that sort of pursuit was heavily encouraged by Filius, who didn't mind the pursuit of knowledge and the comprehension of subjects that some perhaps wouldn't think to study.
If he'd been sorted into Hufflepuff, the Headmaster would've thought his soft and weak, which was untrue in many aspects. There were a handful of Hufflepuffs in the Dark Lord's service, and they were gifted in torture in ways Severus didn't even try to comprehend. They were loyal to what they believed in, and if you hurt them, they burned you until you were but a scorch mark on pristine marble. The torture methods that were employed easily made them the gatherers and informers of the Dark Lord with how easily they gathered information from those they were tasked too. They worked hard and were determined, and he knew many Hufflepuffs that could have done great damage but didn't for the sake of loyalty. It gave him a great respect for the House and all those sorted within it.
The Headmaster hummed and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "Well then, I supposed this meeting is adjourned. I do hope you enjoy your evening." He gave them a bright smile, eyes twinkling madly. Severus turned on his heel and marched out of the room, ignoring the call of his name from the other staff members.
There was a house meeting to conduct at 7pm which was in exactly 27 minutes and 49 seconds and pending. He needed to get to the dungeons quickly and organize his notes for the meeting. It was imperative that the entire house be addressed with the issues current and upcoming. It also allowed his a chance to do legilimency on a few unsuspecting ones that he had reason to believe were involved in the deed committed against Ms. Granger.
Stepping down another stairwell, he turned and breathed in a deep breath of the slowly humidifying air as he got closer to the dungeons. It was most annoying really, to be placed so far from the Headmaster's office and just about everywhere else in the castle. Though he imagined the tower for the Ravenclaws wasn't exactly helpful when trying not to be late for potions on occasion, seeing as they had to travel through basically the entirety of the castle to get to his class. The thought gave him a slight satisfaction; he wasn't the only one rushing through the large maze castle attempting to get to appointments and meetings on time.
Not that he really cared but he always made a point of punctuality, something that had been ingrained into him since he was a child.
Severus came to a complete stop when he got to the door of his office, whispering the password softly. "Asphodel." The door swung open and he stepped inside, stalking over to his desk. The notes were there, sitting in a neat stack and he ruffled through them, picking through the major points of the meeting.
There was the discussion for the hierarchy, with Mr. Bradley taking up the position of Slytherin King and Mr. Moray moving into the betrothal rooms with Ms. Amhad; the attack on Ms. Granger was to be assessed as well; there were a few minor points like the re-done study group schedule with the prefects for some of the younger years, a control lesson for the students with dark cores and needed exercising with them. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and put all the necessary items into the file he had made for this specific reason.
He put the file into his robes and walked out, looking down only to check the little box that he had installed next to his office for Ms. Granger. She had come to his office multiple times with questions about the physics of magic and how it all worked together as well the theories behind charms and transfiguration, seeing as the other professor's hadn't given her the answers she was interested. He had ended up discussing 3 hours worth of topics with her, a very in-depth conversation that he'd never even had with any of his peers, never mind a first year. But her thirst was refreshing before quickly becoming exhausting when she would flounce in every chance she got with more questions than he had the brain capacity to deal with.
He emptied the slips and rolls from the little box, going through them to find that 4 of them were from a 7th year with questions about astrology and a 4th year with a question about the Dark Arts. The other 7 were from Ms. Granger and all her questions and inquiries. He set them on his desk, a silent reminder that he would need to answer them later.
Walking out, he entered the Common Room to find that most of the students were gathered around, the top of each year counting to make sure that all of them were there. His godson was counting the first years, looking a little annoyed at having to do that. Severus frowned as he scanned the newest ones and saw that there was no sign of Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, or Ms. Granger.
A soft tingle ran up his spine and spread to his shoulders, and he closed his eyes, hoping it wasn't what he thought it was. His Evan's Temper senses. It happened ever since he met Lily, he always got a soft gauge of her temper, when it was flaring, and when it was erupted, and somebody was being faced with an angry dragon. It happened every time somebody insulted one of her friends or somebody decided to make her monumentally angry and be put on the wrong side of her magical abilities.
The tingle sharpened and flared suddenly, and Severus prayed to Merlin, Morgana, Hekate, and every fucking deity he knew, that the Harry Potter didn't get the Evan's temper and turned into an angry little dragon. Because if he had, he had severe damage control to take up if he decided to use his Legilimency. And whatever gifts that his pureblood father might of given him with all the families he's related too directly and distantly.
Severus cleared his throat once it reached 7 and waited for all the Slytherins to come to attention. "Are all Slytherin's in attendance?" He gave his godson a withering look when he opened his mouth, effectively shutting him up, and turning to Felix Kravets as the top 6th year, seeing as the 7th year had said nothing which meant that all were accounted for.
"Just MacNair, sir. But I do believe he is serving as an aid to Professor Sinistra for a possible apprenticeship due to her gift in Astrology." Severus nodded, marking her absence on his chart. There were no 5th years missing, a there were two 4th years missing from a run in with 3 Gryffindors all of which were 6th years and were in the Hospital Wing. All 3rd and 2nd years were accounted for and Draco had taken great glee in informing him that 3 of the first years were missing.
Not that any of the other Slytherin's seemed to care, judging by their sneers and mutterings. Ignoring it, Severus pulled out his file and flipped it open, noting that immediately all the students became quiet.
"The first thing to address is the demoting of Julian Maretti to the position of Slytherin Prince and Alex Bradley takes the position of Slytherin King. If anybody has a complaint they may state it now and then it will be proposed as a duel." A few people shuffled, some glared, but nobody spoke. Severus nodded. Easy enough.
"Very well; Mr. Maretti, if you could give your signa to Mr. Bradley." Standing, Maretti carefully made his way to Bradly, holding out his brooch to the dark boy. Bradly smiled and pinned it to his sweater, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. Maretti bowed his head and turned, going back to his previous spot.
Severus sighed. Next part of the meeting. "Now, I am sure that most of you know of what happened to Miss Granger? If you are not aware, then allow me to explain it to you. On Samhain, or Halloween, Ms. Granger was ambushed, tied up, and nearly killed." He hissed the last word and he gave all of the a frosty glare, using part of his magic to wash over them. He always did this when he wanted to make a point to them.
"You are all made aware of the rules the moment you step foot into this common room, the moment your physical being passes through that doorway, you are a Slytherin. And spare me the indignities of sharing a House with a muggleborn, it doesn't matter. She was put in Slytherin by magic older and far more complicated than your minds could dare to comprehend. Who are you to even dare to question it?" They shrunk back at his glare and Severus didn't even try to push his fury behind his Occlumency Shields. He was barely able to keep the vulgarity out of his words, he was just that enraged at the actions that were taken against one of his snakes.
His wand spun in between his fingers, and he stared at all of them, breathing in deeply through his nose. "And this isn't the first time she was attacked; she has been attacked multiple times, by many of you. Mr. Potter and Weasley as well for that matter. And it is appalling just how many of you have decided to attack an 11 year old female when she has known about magic for not even half a year! When most of you have known about magic the day you were brought into this world and I wonder what made you think it was something to be proud of, to know that you have successfully injured, humiliated, and harmed someone who hasn't known about magic until they got their Hogwarts Letter." He sneered at them.
Why hadn't he decided to lecture them earlier? Why had he decided to wait so long to even bring this issue up? He had thought about it constantly when he was healing them or when he had seen one of them hexed, but it was always pushed away. How could he have been that foolish? And didn't that thought hurt, but it was the truth. He shouldn't have waited this long to lecture them. Perhaps he should give out a few detentions.
"All of you are fools; complete and utter fools." Severus noted the enraged expressions on some of their faces and he scoffed; a few of them dared to even open their mouths, no doubt to threaten him with their parents and families. "Tell your parents, if you wish. Write them and tell them everything that I said that I dared called you a fool. And when they floo me, I will simply explain to them the entirety of the situation. Perhaps even mention all the spells an 11-year-old had to learn because their child has no dignity and pride."
He glowered at them before snapping his file shut and putting it back in his robes; he was much too angry to even contemplate continuing this meeting. "If they decide that they want revenge, I will not punish them. I will leave you to their mercies and Madame Pomphrey's care; no help will you receive from me if you decided to attack them." Sweeping his eyes over the rest of them, his eyes landed on Antonius Rowle, who looked angry and afraid in equal parts. 'Coward...', he thought. "I am aware that perhaps some of you do have dignity and pride, and chose not to harm Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, or Mr. Potter. However, if I do hear about any misdeed you committed against them with the intent of causing them harm, you will quickly find that I do not tolerate those who think they can harm my snakes and get away with it."
"They are Slytherins, and they will be treated as such." Severus turned and strode out, trying to quell the rapid beating of his heart that was spreading the anger around his body like a wild fire. It would not do for him to look so uncontrolled in front of his students; it would surely reflect badly on him and his long tested control. He threw the file onto his desk, uncaring of the mess it would create. It would be completed and cleaned later.
He began making himself a cup of tea, a simple herbal drink that his mother had drunk when she was in need of a calming drink but did not have a potion on hand. Grabbing the honey, he placed it on his table and filled the kettle with water. Flicking his wand, his stove lit softly, and the kettle floated over while he grabbed the little container of dried flower petals. He cut up some ginger and skinned it carefully with his knife. It was far better to do things by hand when angry, because the familiar motions soothed the person while they allowed themselves to be pre-occupied. Another lesson he had learned from his mother. He measured out 2 small spoonfuls of chamomile flowers and placed them in his mortar.
Grinding them, he listened for the whistling of the kettle to signal that the water was ready and hot. Grabbing a cup, he poured the water inside, carefully not to burn himself on the hot edge. He put in a scoop of crushed chamomile and dropped in a tiny handful of ginger. He stirred it with his spoon, counting out the entirety of his potions ingredients cupboard, and listing the amount that he had in each container. Dropping in two thick globs of honey, he stirred it again, casting a weak heating charm to reheat the cooling cup. He put the rest of the ginger and chamomile in the kettle with the water, sipping his ready drink carefully.
Turning the stove off, he dropped in a fair bit of honey and charmed a spoon to stir it for exactly 137 seconds. Sitting down, he sipped his tea, pulling his Occlumency shields down in the privacy of his quarters. Even he couldn't keep them up all the time, lest he become truly unfeeling from hiding his emotions all the time. A torrent spilled and the feelings crashed together like the waves of the chaotic sea. It was times like this that made Severus feel older than his 31 years. He felt as though he had lived for an eternity yet still, he found no reprieve from the chaos and horrendousness reality of life.
His wards chimed and he sighed, drinking the rest of his cup in a single gulp. Pulling his shields up, he stood and walked out his quarters and into his office.
There truly was no rest.
(-)
Jason Travers stretched as he slid out of his bed, shaking the sleep out of his heavy limbs. Waving his wand, his pajamas flew over to him. He hadn't meant to fall asleep while studying but all the homework was weighing down on him and it was horribly exhausting trying read when all his mind wanted to do was shut down and rest. Covering his yawn with his hand, he turned on the water in the shower and stripped of his mussed uniform, and stepping into the steaming water.
Lathering the soap, he washed quickly but efficiently, refusing to got to sleep smelling stale. He rubbed his face and turned off the water, grunting as he tripped over his feet. He must be more tired than he thinks if he's tripping over his feet. Standing in front of the mirror, he brushed his hair, thick brown waves that was styled appropriately for the heir of the House of Travers, however minor it may be. His amber/gold eyes were the only thing that stood out, the only thing that he didn't get from a long line of Traver's. They were the burnt irises of the Selwyn family, something he had inherited from his grandmother.
He rubbed his facial cream over his face, smoothing it out in the places were it collected until it was a smooth clear layer over his face. He dabbled it under his eyes carefully, knowing it would burn badly if he got it in his eyes. Jason hummed in approval when he was done, inspecting his work carefully when he was done with a sharp eyes and delicate touches with his fingertips.
Tapping the top of his head, he turned, slipping his pajamas on easily. He frowned when the light in the bathroom flickered randomly, looking around for McCathy who had a habit of trying to scare him to mock him for trying to hurt the mudblood. But seeing as McCathy was a fucking halfblood with a mudblood grandmother, it wasn't much of a surprise he would attempt to dissuade him from running the dirt out of Slytherin. Weasley and Potter had no place in Slytherin either, a bloodtraitor and the fucking Golden Boy of the light. It was a wonder that the Hat had even thought of placing them in Slytherin.
Groaning with the lights shut off completely, Antonius flicked his wand and the tip lit with a wordless Lumos. Holding the bottom of his wand between his teeth, he twisted the ends of his hair to get it to stay in its style for the night. "Nox." His wand light went out and he walked over to the door, only to tug on it and it not open. Growling, he tugged harder and twisted the knob relentlessly; his fist clashed on the wood and he hissed in pain. "McCathy, this is not amusing! Open the fucking door you insolent shit!"
Shoving the door, he stumbled back a bit and lit his wand again. Turning around in a circle, he looked for the runes that McCathy no doubt had inscribed somewhere. "Fucking stupid; I'll fucking ruin him for this..." Mumbling threats that only he could hear, he scoured the bathroom for runes or arithmancy codes but found none. Standing from where he was on his knees, Jason turned to the mirror.
Fear suddenly gripped his heart as he stared at the rotting corpse that was looking at him, maggots crawling from the ears and nose offices, skin peeling to reveal decaying flesh; the eyes were pure white and shiny, the hair choppy and limp. The corpse smiled at him, revealing black teeth and holes in the gums. Jason shrieked.
The darkness seemed so suffocating and all he could see was the corpse, the was staring back at him with a horrifying smile. His wand clattered on the floor but went unnoticed as he scrambled back, his body collided with the hard stone wall that had been behind him. His chest heaved and he screamed again when the corpse seemed to come closer. Darkness wrapped around him and choked him, his eyes locked on the smiling, rotting, corpse. His chest was heavy and no air came into his lungs, no matter how many heaving gasps he would take.
His ears rang and the corpse reached out to him, the fingers so close...
Jason screamed as loud as his lungs would let him.
Terry McCathy stumbled into the bathroom to find a passed-out Jason Travers with the putrid scent of piss wafting in the air. Coughing, he waved a hand in front of his face to stare at the mirror with shiny blood red words on it, akin to those that had been in the bathroom when Travers had strut in bragging about the vile stunt he'd pulled with Rowle and others.
ARE YOU SCARED OF THE DARK?
It wasn't a question.
It was a warning.
(-)
For 7 days after the warning, the Slytherins were on edge, waiting for the Trio of a bloodtraitor, the mudblood, and golden boy to attack them. But they never did.
They were ignored, given barely a glance, and the trio seemed content to stick to the sidelines of the Common Room, away from the glowing warmth of the fire. The older years skirted carefully but quickly became complacent. 'There is no possible way that three little firsties are going to be able to get revenge on us.' they'd gloat. The memories of spells a bit darker than what was normal flying at them seemed to leave their memory and it would come back to bite them.
Severus Snape watched the entire house silently, chuckling at the arrogance of the older years despite his warning. He saw the gleams and sparks in the shadows of the group's eyes when they looked at the older ones, the old book of potions that the girl had taken too rather strongly. (Albus forgot that some of the darker books aren't all in the Restricted Section; you could still find them if you just knew where to look) Some of the younger years were especially careful, though the second years hadn't really done much so they were ignored by the three, only given a cursory glance but there were no gleams or sparks. Severus was especially glad to know that they wouldn't take out their frustration and vengeance on those that didn't deserve, he would be having words with them if they even dared to do so.
The first attack came in the middle of the Great Hall. It was a Saturday afternoon, and there were no classes for the day. The Slytherins normally attended lunch together for the sake of appearances and protecting some of the younger years from any who thought to come up to the house of snakes. It came in the form of Eliana Borgin, a 5th year with long brown and white hair and dark eyes, who began shrieking in the middle of lunch, clawing at herself as if the devil was skinning her with a dull spoon.
Her shrieks were short and panicked, her eyes wild and fearful. The Professors had immediately leaped up, the other Heads ushering their houses out quickly, while Professor Snape kneeled by the spelled girl. Waving his wand, his cast a general diagnostic spell that showed a simple 'Fear Spell'which was easily confirmed by a horror filled screech from the girl, the whites of her eyes turning red as the blood vessels looked ready to burst. Severus cast a silencing and sleeping spell though her sleep was rather panicked because Fear Spells tended to pass over to sleep and cause horrendous nightmares.
From the looks of things, it was definitely over a Class 2 Fear Spell which was rather powerful, meaning it had a very specific counter curse or the castor could remove it easily. But, going by the look in the eyes of the smirking muggleborn he had passed, Severus suspected she had no intention of removing the curse. Then he was on damage control it seemed, to make sure that Dumbledore never found out that it was the three Slytherins who were causing lots of attention to be cast onto his house.
Levitating the girl, he stalked to Hospital wing, ignoring the interrogations from the bumbling old fool behind him. As he walked, he wondered what Borgin had done to Ms. Granger to warrant such a strong curse. He had no suspicions about Borgin being involved with the bathroom attack but, even though it pained him to admit such, he might have missed something that could've pointed her in the direction of suspicion. Mr. Potter might have told them about his skill with Legilimency and gone into her mind perhaps? That would've allowed him to see the attackers though Ms. Granger had no chance of seeing them if they had attacked as fast as Severus thinks they did.
Severus walked into the Hospital Wing and laid the girl down, casting straps to loop around her ankles and wrists to prevent her from causing herself to bleed with how hard she was scratching herself. Not that he really cared because he had given them all warning, but she did have studies that needed to be completed as it was her OWLs year again, and next year was her NEWTs so it was imperative that she continue her studies.
Madame Pomphrey bustled over, fretting over the young girl though there was really nothing she could do without a counter. Severus, already having his suspicions about which fear spell used, cast a deep diagnostic spell only to frown when no spell came up. His Evan's senses tingled again, only this time it was that feeling when Lily would get this twisted joy as she got revenge. Praying that Mr. Potter hadn't done anything monumentally difficult, he left with a quick excuse of checking on his house for more spells before dashing out the Hospital Wing like a bat out of fire.
Suddenly cursing the fact that the Slytherin Common Room was so far from the just about everything else in the damned castle, Severus let out a stream of words that would make even the oldest people in Cokeworth blush. His robes swirled around him as he ran and he cut through the multiple passages in the castle that was shown to every Slytherin in their first year. Not even Ms. Granger had been left out of that, it was basically a rite for the first years; they were taught to help them keep away from the other houses who would happily corner a lone first year because they didn't really know any spells other than a levitation spell basically.
Severus knew the moment he had gotten closer to the dungeons because the air had become a lot colder by a drastic amount and the air staler. Coming to a stop in front of the hidden wall, he growled out the password. "Jörmungandr." The wall slid open and the first thing he heard was incoherent babble and a very tense atmosphere. Stepping in, his eyes zeroed in on Mr. Potter who was staring very intently into the eyes of Antonius Rowle, who for the second time, was under the power of an Unstoppable Legilimens. Severus rubbed his temples but made no move to stop him. He still had Occlumency lessons with Mr. Potter and he was under no hurry to be under the power of his Legilimency but this time with the intent of hurting his mind instead of trying to get out in a ball of mass panic.
Rowle was a mess of writhing limbs and teary eyes, babble of pure nonsense coming out his mouth as Mr. Potter stared at him with glazed eyes that were still fiery with anger. So much like his mother... his traitorous mind whispers. Multiple students were staring with wide fearful eyes, all the first years were crowded behind the older years but many of them were looking around them to watch the scene. Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger were standing behind Mr. Potter obviously aware of what he was doing but waiting for him to be done.
A pained shriek from Rowle informed him the Mr. Potter had exited, now covering his eyes as he curled into a ball of pure inadequacy. Severus stepped forward when Mr. Potter turned his eyes on another in the crowd, his eyes downright murderous and a poisonous green. Mr. Weasley stepped forward too and placed his hands over the green eyes of danger. With a voice filled with all the stubbornness and rightfulness that he could muster, the redhead said, "No more tiny dragon anger."
Severus choked on his breath, staring as Mr. Potter turned and stared at the tall 11-year-old with a single brow quirked up, which was returned with a stubborn look. Mr. Potter rolled his eyes but gave a lazy nod, before meeting Severus eyes. He took that as his que to talk. "Mr. Potter, my office please. I do not need anymore withering students to try and explain. Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger if you would please go with him. " The three nodded and walked out of the common room, even if Mr. Potter seemed very reluctant and was tugged along harshly by Mr. Weasley.
Looking at the huddle of students, he eyed Rowle with disinterest before stepping over him gingerly so as to not get any of his fluids on his robes. He would hate to have to buy another set of them because he got urine on them. The eyes of all his students were on him and his eyes flickered to Draco who was pale and trembling. Severus took a deep breath and stared at the gathered students. "Not a word of this will leave the castle." His voice was soft and barely above a whisper; he knew, though, that they all heard him. "You are not to tell siblings, parents, anybody who is currently not in Slytherin, about what has happened here. You will not tell anybody that the Boy-Who-Lived is an Unstoppable Legilimens." He knew that telling them exactly what Mr. Potter is would help them understand exactly why they were not to tell. Unstoppable Legilimens were rare enough when they existed but then they were thought to be extinct because they only happened in certain bloodlines around the world and there had been none to begin with. Now there was one in Britain, which was made a mockery of by all the other communities simply because of the fact that the magical community is stagnant. Severus could not blame them, but if he could keep this a secret simply because of the sheer danger Mr. Potter will be in from the Ministry, he would do it.
"This must be kept a secret; Slytherins protect their own so protect him from the Ministry because all of you know just as well as I do, that the Ministry will not take kindly to Mr. Potter's power, merely because of how dangerous it is. It is vital that you keep this to yourselves because this allows Mr. Potter to grow into a very powerful wizard and Slytherins are cunning and ambitious. Stay in his good graces, and perhaps you will find yourselves with a very good future. Do not focus on what he stands for but what he is. There is a very large difference and I expect you all to know the difference."
His eyes swept over them and Severus turned, only to stare at the unconcious body of Antonius Rowle. How the boy is one of his Slytherins, he will never figure out. Nor does he wish to try to figure it out. "And somebody take him to Madame Pomphrey; make a plausible lie please and make sure you are a decent actor." With that, he stalked out the Common Room and to his office. He had more damage control and a tiny boy who inherited his mother's temper to deal with.
xXXxXXxXXx
Magic didn't follow the same set of rules that the Muggle World did.
According to Science, the gravity of the Earth said that nothing could float or feel weightless like it did on the Moon.
Wizards said that as long as you hopped on a broom, you could touch the clouds or a quick charm and you would weigh as much as a feather.
Potions, however, had a clear set of rules and logic that Hermione easily fell in love with. There was simple set of rules to it, that charmed her just like complexities of the Muggle World. You cut a certain way, ground to a certain type of grain size for sugar and had to stir it exactly this many times lest it explode on you or just ruin. It was a simple logic; action and reaction, that was all it was. Every move she made had a consequential action that either resulted in something good or bad.
The books she'd found, showed worn photos of potions so bright and pretty, that it was impossible to think they were dangerous. But they were. They was so much danger is the pretty potions that were a swirly green and white, like grass spreading out and meeting the softest of sand; a brilliant blue so shiny and clear that you could see the very bottom of the cauldron through its ripples; a scarlet so scorching and fiery that Hermione half-expected the cauldron to burn from the intensity of the flame color. They were just so devastatingly gorgeous and trilling, that she couldn't help but fall in love with the beauty of it.
And so she brewed. She brewed in the old, abandoned girl's bathroom that nobody went into because of the ghost that lived inside.
"What are you doing in my toilet? Are you hear to make fun of me like everybody does? Sad and pathetic Moaning Mrytle in need of even more tormentors even though she's dead." The ghost floated in front of her with watery eyes though her lips were curled in anger and annoyance. Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly.
Instead, she ducked her head, fingering her satchel that held all her tools and equipment. She came here for a quiet place to brew her revenge, not be annoyed by a ghost who couldn't get over live children picking on her. "I would never! I just... I just needed a quiet place to brew; Nobody likes me anyway, cause I'm a mudblood." She spat the word out, fingering the edge of her tie in hopes that the ghost would notice the green and silver stripes. And notice it she did.
"OH a muggleborn in Slytherin! That's never happened. I'm not a muggleborn, I'm a half-blood and in Ravenclaw but I was killed by a Slytherin y'know. Obviously, it's a very bad house and I feel very sorry that you have to deal with that." All the self-importance in her voice made her sneer though she hid it.
"You were a Ravenclaw! You must know so many things! Could you tell me? I won't tell honest." She nodded eagerly, forcing her eyes wide as she stared at the ghost.
The girl snorted. "Nobody ever wants to learn from Moaning Mrytle. And I don't have much I could tell you that you would understand anyways." The ghost pushed up her large glasses, and turned away, diving into a toilet with a large splash.
Grinning, Hermione settled in a smooth and even portion of the bathroom, but in a spot where she could survey the entirety of the bathroom without being seen. 'Except by the ghost, but she shouldn't really be a problem.' Eager, she flipped began taking out her ingredients and tools methodically, then placed her books to the side. She could not wait to see how it came out.
Hermione sighed and carefully swiped the edge of the cauldron that was glistening with a few drops of her potion. It wouldn't do for there to be droplets and small potions of evidence of her brews in the bathroom. It would surely cause some trouble if any of the other teachers found out.
Grabbing the small bowl of crushed ginger root, she sprinkled it lightly over the potion, careful not to put too much. She wasn't gifted in potions like Harry was, who surveyed the blackboard and never looked back up from what he was doing; always changing ingredients when others had tried to sabotage his potion but always coming out with a perfect one regardless; cutting, dicing, and grinding like it was the easiest thing in the world, always knowing the best of ways to get the most of each ingredient.
While she didn't have that gift, she had pretty potions that never blew up and never melted, sloshing perfectly in the crystal phials they were put in and reflecting the sunlight like an irradiant gem every time she held it up in pride. Hermione decided she didn't need Harry's prodigious skill in Potions to make a perfectly useful potion that would shrivel skin with a single touch.
This potion was something she'd found in the very back of the little worn journal, deadly enough it should've made puke but now all she could do was smile and thing about all the ways she'd burn hurt and humiliated.
It was a concoction that made their insides burn and heat until their organs melting, and their blood steamed. It was horrible actually, to know that a recipe to do that to someone existed... but it was just so pretty that how could she resist making it?
Perhaps that it is just a bit darker than she normally makes them, but she had just been so angry and needed a vibrant potion to cheer her- it had enticed her with a potent smile and threads so soft and silky they couldn't possibly hurt her. It reminded her so much of her mouth with her Russian brogue so thick and heavy, dangerous eyes paired with a sweet smile that had caused so many who crossed her pain, and delicate, deliberate touches that would either lift you up or be your downfall; Hermione was weak to that and could never resist. So, she sat and brewed with practiced but tender movements and eager eyes.
It was thinner potion, not thick and gel like, or smooth but like cake batter, no it was a purple that was somehow a as dark as amethyst in the shadow, a shiny lilac at just the right angle, and a very soft lavender in the low morning light. It twirled around the edges of the cauldron as she stirred it, a little vortex in the middle swallowing and swallowing the belladonna leaves as she dropped them into the swirl. The potion flushed a captivating deep Egyptian blue before returning to it's previous purple color.
Turning off the burner, she gripped the handle of the cauldron and lifted it up with great care. The potion moved around wildly like a purple ocean, as she turned with the potion and began lowering it, the tips shiny after being touched by the potent liquid. The bottom of the cauldron touched the tile delicately, as Hermione slowly released the cauldron from her grip after carefully making sure that none of the liquid had touched her.
(A little bit of the potion had slipped down the edge; it landed on the floor with a soft splattering sound. She didn't notice)
Hermione smiled, ladling a small amount of the potion into a phial. She cooed, wondering if Ron and Harry would approve of the potions she made. Thinking back to Harry flashing green eyes after tearing into Rowle's mind with glee in comparison to his gentle probing his hers, and Ron's ecstasy glazed eyes as he showed her the fear spell she'd used, she thought that maybe they would even want to create the delightful creations with her.
A soft squeaking caught her attention and her eyes widened at the rat that had scurried near a little drop of her potion. Her heart began beating rapidly and she watched, enraptured, as the rat licked the potion. It was very nice of the rat to volunteer itself to test her potions; she always did wonder if they had come out properly despite their proper color, viscosity, and smell.
The rat began squeaking rapidly and she watched as it collapsed, writhing around as the tiny beady eyes bulged and blood began seeping from its ears. The legs went limp as it began quieting, the fur soaking with the mass amounts of sweat the tiny body was producing. Finally, the rat went still, and a pink goop began coming from the ears, mixing with the blood.
It was fascinating really, how many fluids the rat had and just how much it could expel in attempts to regulate its body temperature. She giggled, watching the blood, so much bright red blood that was neither light nor dark, stream through the cracks of the tile in gentle rivulets, before dripping down the drain with an echoing drop into the deep settling silence.
Staring at the rat, the little body that was still and unmoving, she found enthralled by the blood, the damage that she had reeked with her little potions and poisons.
Hermione giggled, unable to stop herself, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at the dead thing.
Grasping her book tightly, she began flipping through, wondering if there was an unraveling potion that mimicked the unraveling of her clothes from a 5th year. Just perhaps with a few bloodier parts.
(Such a simple logic really)
(Every time she heard a comment by Pansy Parkinson, she glared at the pug faced girl, wondering what she would look like with dead eyes and pink goo sliding from her ears; she reveled in the image, the fury inside of her crooning happily at the thought.)
(Harry knew though, she knew that he knew, from the way he would tip his head forward and look at her with a smirk; then he would look at Draco Malfoy who was spewing his newest bratty complaint, and his eyes would gleam with such a viridescence that she longed terribly for a potion in such a pretty color)
(-)
Ron fumbled with his quill, scowling at his sloppy writing. His letters were spaced but he knew that many were probably backwards. Groaning, he skimmed over it, trying to focus on the letters as best he could. The floaty letters couldn't win all the time, even if his mother thought he was stupid just because he had always had a hard time learning when he was little.
He puffed his cheeks out, pressing his lips together as he glowered at the words. It was a book that Hermione had left lying around, and while the pictures perhaps were a good guess on just what sort of orientation this book represented, he was trying to read the rituals that were in the middle/back of the book. Harry had been really interested in the rituals, especially the Aura Sight, so maybe if he studied enough, he could surprise Harry over Christmas and say that maybe they could, do it? If not during the Holidays than maybe during the late/early school year. It would definitely help a lot because there were still stray curses that would hit them in the hallways, and it was getting annoying having to find Professor Snape in the middle of the day because they had shattered arm or something.
Sighing, Ron flipped through the book, rubbing his eyes in attempt to get them to focus. If he told his mum the reason his essays were so bad was because the letters were all floaty, she would definitely cuff his ear, tell him that he was being stupid, and that he just needed to focus harder.
Hermione and Harry were already helping him more than he had expected, both taking note that his spelling and handwriting was super bad and began helping him. Hermione would read aloud the text, slow enough that he could follow and sound out the words mostly correct in his head, and Harry would spell out the words he had trouble with and gently point out where he got it wrong; both of them seemed to have endless amounts of patience with him and he nearly burst into tears the first time they'd helped him.
Ron nibbled on his lip and took the tip of his quill and began tracing the letters after making sure that there was no ink on the tip. His mind tried to register the signs and motions his hand was tracing over, spelling the words out and tacking them down with his other hand. Slowly, he managed to decipher what he was reading, though it was painstakingly long and difficult when the letter began floating randomly or flipping themselves over to make him see the wrong thing.
After a while, when his stomach began rumbling in reminder that he had missed lunch because he was in the library, he packed the books away and looked at the parchment with his carefully written letters. There were a few mistakes and lots of ink blots, but it wasn't a complete mess. Ron grinned like an utter loon. Harry and Hermione would be really proud! He was sure of it.
He rolled it carefully and put it on the side of his bag, hoping that it wasn't wrinkled and crumpled by all his books. He didn't want all his work to be ruined by the time he got to them; they probably wouldn't believe him without the proof or Harry skimming into his mind.
Harry's Legilimens gift was scary, like his glowy eyes but he had promised not to look into their minds without their explicit permission. It had been a bit scary at first, when they'd first been told about Harry's power. But he'd looked both of them in their eyes and expressed honestly that he wouldn't go secret searching in their minds. Ron had been a bit weird about it but trusted Harry's word after he went into Hermione's head, and she said it was like a gentle rifting through her head that followed a continuous path. Obviously, he hadn't lingered or drifted around in her head.
And his exit had been easy and gentle, nothing like the violent ripping that he had done in the Common Room, pouring with tiny dragon anger. Hermione had sighed afterwards when they were alone but didn't seem very concerned for Rowle's well-being. Not that Ron was, especially after what had happened, but did liking the pain make him like the twins? Who had laughed countless times after he'd screamed from their pranks and harmful actions, shrugged off the pleas to stop from all their other siblings, him, and their parents.
Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he hefted his bag up, going to the other rows of books in the library. He pulled off some books on simple and mundane charms like feather light charms along with a beginner's book on runes. It would definitely help him in his quest for the ritual, if he could understand the runes and placements. Madame Pince checked them out with no trouble, looking more amused that he checked out a book on Ancient Runes, but she did recommend a book that listed most types of European Runes, which he eagerly went back to get.
Reminding of the date that he had to bring them back by, she gave him a tight spasming smile before he dashed off, trying to make it to the Great Hall in time. All Slytherins had to be in the Great Hall by a certain time otherwise something happened to you, and while Ron had no clue what it was, he was in no hurry to find out exactly what it was.
He pushed the doors open and sighed in relief when he saw that some Slytherins still hadn't arrived, yet which meant that he still had some time left. Sitting next to Hermione, he piled his plate with food, his stomach demanding compensation for missing Lunch. Head of Houses were allowed to control what foods made it onto the plates of the students, so the Slytherin House was controlled by Professor Snape who allowed very little junk foods onto the Slytherin Table.
Hermione filled her plate with a salad, some chicken, and sipped her pumpkin juice lightly though there was a distinct wrinkle of her nose that said that she didn't really like the drink. Harry didn't like it either, so he didn't drink it at all most of the time, opting out for water instead. Ron was the only one who drank it, but that was still only because he was used to the taste having been raised on it.
He nibbled on a little bit of roast, tasting it before putting some more on his plate. He piled a little bit of mashed potatoes on his plate and poured a bit of gravy on top. Hermione pushed a plate of seasoned string beans to him and gave him a pointed look. "You need to balance out your meal just a little bit. And the beans are really good actually, you'll like them." Ron allowed her to spoon some onto his plate, watching as she laid them out in a straight row.
Looking over at Harry, he frowned at the small amount of soup in his bowl. He snatched up some crackers and took note of the potion phial laying next to his bowl. He had been prescribed a nutrient potion by Madame Pomphrey because of how small he was, just to help boost him up and keep him on level with everybody else. Ron crumbled the crackers carefully and sprinkled them on top of Harry's soup, which he was more just stirring around than eating.
Harry looked up at him, a bit startled by his cracker crumb dropping, but pushed the bits into the soup with a small twitch of his lips. Ron pulled a little side plate and put some chicken on it, putting the lightly salted broccoli that Harry liked so much next to it. The plate was deposited next to his bowl and Harry sighed, before taking a piece of broccoli and nibbling on it with the edges of his teeth.
Ron stabbed his beans, knowing he would have to eat this first or else he wouldn't eat them at all. "I think I managed to find another spell that will make illusions like the corpse with Travers, but there are a few other things that go with it... The rituals too, all the diagrams and patterns are generally simple, but it requires a lot more power and intent than I think we can produce right now. Mia, did you find anything on the Curses?"
Hermione shook her head, swallowing the food that she had in her mouth. "No. There are some Class 2 and 3 curses I think are useful, but they deserve a bit worse. Borgin had been practice remember? Even if she did spell my clothes to fall apart like they did, she was still practice and she's currently incapacitated at the moment, even if Professor Snape did manage to find the reverse which he no doubt has. I'm curious though, what are you going to do about the rest of the snakes know your gift, Harry?"
Harry sipped the liquid in his spoon, looking thoughtful for a moment, before looking at her. "I'll leave them; Professor Snape told them, and I did a bit of casting on my own to ensure that they never tell. Yesterday, while I was at my Occlumency practice, I asked if you guys could join us, and he said that it might be better to do it on separate dates seeing as we might have different forms of learning especially considering that it might be a bit herder at first with the meditation and everything." He scrunched his nose at taking a bite of the chicken, taking a few hasty spoonfuls of his soup; Ron snorted at him, meeting the squinted glare easily.
Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered about 'no class and propriety', making him give her a light jab in the side, making her squeal in surprise. Harry stared at her with wide eyes at the sound before bursting into giggles and laughter with sparkling eyes. Ron snorted and Hermione stuck her tongue out but smiled anyways.
He saw the looks that they were getting but said nothing; instead, he focused on Harry's crinkled nose and Hermione's attempted glare that was ruined by her smile. He huffed and took another sip of his pumpkin juice, wondering if there was a way to go to the kitchens and get orange juice or something for the Slytherin House so that Hermione and Harry could drink something else; or he could just go to Professor Snape and ask...
Unlatching his bag, he took out his parchment, biting his lip as he cleared a small spot for it. "This is the ritual that you want to do, Harry. I've looked over the requirements and it might just be possible to do it this year but I am unsure of when... most likely a little bit before summer hols, if at all possible. The diagram, runic patterns and sequences are easy enough, it is just the amount of power and sheer will that needs to be forced into the circle. But it is definitely feasible... did you need to look it over?"
Looking up at Harry from where he was staring at the parchment, his eyes went wide and the look of pure adoration that Harry gave him. "You, Ron Weasley, are an absolutely amazing." His face burned at the compliment, his chest warming at the praise. Hermione snatched up the parchment, looking over it with pleased eyes.
"This is really good, Ron. How'd you know about the runes?"
"My brother; he's a curse breaker for Gringotts and works in Egypt. When he was studying a whole bunch, I read the books that he would leave out or I could sneak them from his room for more information because they're really interesting actually. Like the way that they interact, even with how volatile they are, it's awesome! Like when you combine a fertility rune with a death rune and a strength rune, it depends entirely on the way that you put them together and bam! your result! so it could either result in poor fertility or maybe strengthening the fertility and weaking the sterility of crops maybe. Or like the runes for strength and the elements; it depends entirely on what element you want and don't want, then you put it in the sequence! And again, you have your sequence so- erm yeah..." He trailed off noticing the wide-eyed looks that he was getting from Hermione and Harry. "Er- I'll shut up now... you probably didn't need to know that."
Hermione gave him a look that could only be described as scandalized. "No! I want you to continue and show me everything! Runes sounds absolutely fascinating and i refuse to wait until 3rd year to learn about them properly if you can show me. And besides you seem very knowledgeable so why would I wait when I have an extraordinary teacher right next to me?" She gave him a sharp look, her brown eyes staring at him with a look that made his chest tighten in a pleased way. Harry nodded in agreement, looking just as eager as her.
"Well... I suppose I could show you a few things..."
All his hesitance was made up for by the grins that Harry and Hermione gave him.
(-)
Harry trudged through the muddy Quidditch field, sighing over his dirty shoes and pant hems. His hand tightened on the broom that Professor Snape had unofficially given him, as officially it was Marcus Flint's secondary broom in case his was to ever get broken or harmed. It was the last Quidditch practice before his first game in a little over a week and Flint was booking them for every practice that they could get. During mornings and afternoons and evenings, nobody in the Common Room commented about their appearance when they came back, knowing that Flint ran them into the ground with his training.
It was a little past Dinner and he spotted Hermione and Ron sitting on the bleachers, crowded under a thick blanket that Professor Snape had charmed for them so that they didn't freeze. Hermione waved at him, her hand covered in a solid black mitt with a grey-ish fur trim. All her clothes were rather high-end peices, most of her winter clothes trimmed with fur or lined on the inside with a fleece like material with how soft it was on the inside. She had told them that she often went up North for Winter, as her 'Mama' lived in Russia but sometimes didn't go all the way there but enough that she needed really warm coats to stay outside for longer than an hour at a time. But it made her amazing at ice-skating which she did every winter that she was allowed to see her 'Mama'.
Ron had come to them, asking if they could help him with some of his winter clothes, which was actually quite fun. They'd spread his clothes on his and Harry's beds, setting up a sewing station, pining station and everything. Hermione had joked that he could become a tailor when he's older with all the practice he's getting now. Ron had flushed, looking slightly embarrassed, making Harry pitch-in and ask for help fixing all his cousin's hand-me-downs, even though he really didn't want to pull them out for them to see.
Hermione had been disgusted to see his clothes, vehemently insisting that he get himself new clothes the next time he goes to Diagon Alley; she was very reluctant to do resizing charms and color changing charms, and while Ron had been less reluctant, he too had agreed with Hermione to burn the clothes the first chance he got and buy himself new clothes that actually fit him.
He had agreed, wondering if Professor Snape wouldn't mind taking him during the Christmas Hols and he could rid of all the clothes from the Dursley's. And when he got back, he could rub his new clothes in their faces and that in itself made him grin wickedly.
"Alright everybody! On your brooms now! Monatogue, Pucey, keep swerving, keep passing, and keep it unpredictable! Warrington, work with me so that I don't feel the need to slam the quaffles as hard as you can and then some! Bletchly, you know what you need to do and get your fucking betrothed out of your head or I will shove my bat so far up your ass you'll be sprouting Quidditch scores until the end of the season!" Harry smothered a laugh at how pale his face was. He coughed a little bit to cover it up when Flint rounded on him. "Potter! Keep your eye on the Snitch and make sure you bloody well catch it!" Harry nodded rapidly, clenching his hand around the broom handle.
Flint nodded and opened the black case that held all the balls for the game. He threw the quaffles and bludgers to the players, before allowing the Snitch to unfurl and fly. Harry boarded the broom and waited for the count to 10 before shooting off, spiraling into the air with a light feeling in his chest. Floating around up top, he dodged the balls that were thrown and beat around the Pitch, watching for the little flicker of gold in the air.
Flint was yelling orders at the other players, looking increasingly annoyed and like he was contemplating beating them over the head with the heavy bat in his hand. Harry floated a few centimetres higher just in case he did need someone to take his frustration out on, he wasn't in sight for a beating with a bat that really looking it would hurt. He rubbed his face between his hands, allowing the friction of his gloves against his cheeks to heat up his chilling skin.
He dove wildly, feeling stiff from floating around for a while. He locked his ankles together and stared at the impending ground, unable to care that he probably looked like he was trying to kill himself by crashing onto the ground. Shouts met his ears, and he brushed them off, unable to care about them. Grinning wildly, he focused his magic and coaxed as much speed as he could out of the broom.
Pulling upright when he was less than a metre about the ground, he shot back up like bullet, twirling around. A flash of gold caught his eye and he shot off, desperate to have a tiny little golden Snitch enclosed in his fingers. Laughter bubbled in his chest as he neared the Snitch, locking his eyes on the Snitch despite the balls that were being fired at him rapidly in an attempt to get him away from the Snitch. Nearing it, Harry held his breath, reaching out for the Ball. Swerving wildly to avoid the Quaffle that suddenly was thrown at him, he cursed violently. He darted toward the Snitch, allowing his magic to pump throw him alongside the adrenaline that was racing through him.
His hand closed over the Snitch and he held up with a shout of triumph.
Hermione and Ron cheered from the stand and Harry grinned at them.
(-)
"At this rate, we're never going to win the Quidditch Cup!" Percy looked up at the distraught voice of his boyfriend, who had entered their dorm with a dramatic shout of woe. He snorted and slotted a bookmark in his book, grimacing at the dirt that was on his training robes. Oliver stripped of his shirt and trousers before pulling on a clean pair of pants. Percy yelped when he collapsed next to him, throwing an arm onto his lap.
Percy sighed before stroking his boyfriend's hair, wondering exactly what caused him to be in a mood like this. "And what is the reason for this?"
"Harry Potter! He's the new Slytherin Seeker and he's better than your brother!"
"Charlie?"
"No, Bill. Of course, it's Charlie! Who the fuck else would it be, Percy?" Percy flicked his ear, before opening his book.
"Well, you are fucked, and most likely not going to get the Cup this year, but you have what? 3 years of practice in dealing with this, so you should be fine I think." Oliver made an offended noise and Percy placed a soft kiss on his lips to silence him. "Hush you. There is no use in complaining about it, so just play a fair game and make sure that you are ready. Maybe he even score enough points that even if Potter does catch the Snitch, Gryffindor still wins. But stop complaining."
Oliver went cross-eyed to keep tracking of the finger he had wagged in front of his face but nodded in assent anyways. "Okayyy- but if we do win, I expect a very special celebration with just to two of us." Oliver rose, leaning forward enough that he was chest to chest with his boyfriend. His heart beat picked up and his breathing hitched, his focus zeroing in on the hand was was stroking the skin just underneath the hem of his shirt.
"O-okay." Oliver gave him the same grin that made his heart turn to mush and make him want to focus all his attention on him, if only to see that smile everytime he woke up.
Percy tugged him down and curled around him, wrapping his arms around a muscled torso. He could finish studying and reading later, he supposed. Right now, all he wanted was cuddles from Oliver.
Author's Note - This fic is not beta'd, so if there are any mistakes I apologize.
Sevvy needs loovveeee- I'll give him love (after i break him but ehhhh)... he needs love but that might take some time for him to get... 3rd year at the very least
alsoooo, do you guys want to see Theodore Nott come into association with the Trio? not as a friend but more as an ally of sorts? Because I can get some really nice POV time in there... but its completely optional because it doesn't really change anything about the story but like- idk, tell me what you guys thinkkk?
Percy is a gay- everybody is gay at this point actually but why does that matter?- anywaaayyyy... it's oliver/percy just cause i want it to be and i really really really like that ship... Did you like the scene?
The Quiddtich Match is going to be fit in here even though it's not really like a priority for me... im going to try to write the match for the sole sake of keeping things interesting and not just focusing on one part of the story but- I'll try to right it, but it might just be written in passing... we shall see...
also quick question? Do we want a Good Voldie or Evil Voldie? Because this story can go both ways but tell me what you guys think? i feel like an evil voldie is the way to go, just to mix up my stories a lil bit because i have 2 good voldies already and i feel like an evil voldie is needed... you tell me and i shall deliver!
There is a surprising amount of research going into this book because im like hellbent on getting the tiemline at least marginally right because some things are going to stay the same despite whatever house Harry is in. Also conjugating is a lot harder than one thinks and tryinggggg to find the right words for a spell... bleghhh... i might as well just learn to speak latin at this rate... probably would be easier...
*sigh*
school is pushing on me but im writing whenever i can login so yay! for that i guess...
Love you guys!
Stay Happy, Hydrated, and Healthy! (And get some sleep if it's late for you meshuggeneh's...)