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miryum · 4 months

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A Green and Silver Ring (Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

An arranged marriage between you and Mattheo, one that might lead to something beautiful

Word Count: 10.3k

I know I haven't posted in a long time but I have a plan trust the process. Also, this is me coming out and saying that I love Mattheo Riddle and he's amazing

Warnings: Swearing, bad and manipulative parenting from both Mattheo and reader’s parents, a lot of misogyny (a bit from Mattheo but he gets better by a lot and it’s not that bad), arguments, Tom isn’t Mattheo’s brother and Tom is a creep, arranged marriage, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, greek mythology reference, talk of kids, needing kids to carry on family lines, and kids. Mistress is the feminine term for master (so reader isn’t Mattheo’s side piece when I refer to her as mistress), old timey talk a bit, reader is a bookworm

From the desk of Ginevra

My dearest friend,

My parents have informed me of your engagement. I was ecstatic, yet surprised, when I heard the news. I was of the assumption that your parents were allowing you to choose your husband as your family line is secure in your brother and his wife. Yet, once I learned who your husband-to-be is, I was trepidatious.

My thoughts are with you, my darling friend, and I pray for you to write to me the moment you get my letter.

I hate to break the news, but you and your fiancé are the talk of high society. Never before have two such families been intertwined. Even I have had to scold my brothers for their gossip. They seem to forget that our families are close friends.

I do not ask why your parents have made such a decision. I know they are intelligent adults and surely must have a motive, but I admit that I am blind in that regard. Your engagement seems sudden and unwarranted to me. When questioned, my mother sighed and said I would understand when I grew older. My mother continues to baffle me. I have borne two children and a third on the way! If I am not mature now, I better gain some knowledge quickly.

Always remember that I am by your side. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you. I am sure Harry will agree.

I love you, my friend.

Ginny

From the office of Lorenzo

Miss. L/n,

I believe we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m saddened to say that this letter is as formal as we’ll get - at least until your wedding. I am sure you must be taciturn and mercurial as of now. My father has told me much about you and I believe we’ll make excellent friends and confidants in our hectic world.

You’re to be my new half-sister, aren’t you? My relatives and friends are petulant to meet you.

Before any rumours (either about myself or your fiancé) hit your ears, I’ll put a rest to them. Bellatrix, your fiancé’s mother, had an affair with my father. They produced me and in return, I have the privilege of being your fiancé’s half-brother.

Being a bastard child, I’m no stranger to being ostracised and ridiculed. To be blunt, I’m sure that you will be ostracised alongside me and I believe that is one reason we can connect.

For rumours of my half-brother, I simply say this: do not fear him. He relishes in the consternation he places in other people, yet when he heard he was to marry you, I saw panic in his eyes like no other. It seems the tables have turned. He is hesitant to be wed, but you are not the problem. He simply doesn’t want to have the responsibility of another’s life on his. Your fiancé is used to belittling people - not supporting them as a husband should.

Any questions you have about your fiancé and my half-brother (whom in case I didn’t make clear, are one and the same), refer to me without any qualms. I am eager to meet you and hopefully make your transition into the Riddle family smoother.

I am well aware you have also lived your life in the upper echelons of society. But, as I’m sure you know, there are multiple circles in our complicated community. The L/ns, the Weasleys, and the Potters, for example, have grown their fortunes truthfully and innocently. They have earned the respect of their people and those whom they employ. The Riddles, Blacks, and Berkshires, on the other hand, have climbed the ranks in unconventional means and by skipping a few rungs on the ladder. They thrive and make their living on the terror and duress they cause those under them.

I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Lorenzo Berkshire

P.S. I hope I haven’t scared you off.

From the office of L/n

Daughter,

You’ll be pleased to hear the engagement has gone through. Your mother and I met your fiancé last night. He seems like a nice man. He will be able to provide for you. His family is influential.

We will return home late tomorrow evening. You will depart for Riddle Estate in a week. Begin packing.

Your father

From the desk of Ginevra

Y/n,

You worry me with your lack of communication. Usually, you can’t wait to gossip with me. We have such fun at dinners and balls, yet with the most important aspect of yourself, you don’t respond. I’m simply worried, my friend. Are you alright? I can envision you curled in your bed, not letting anyone, even your nursemaid, into your room. Please do not let your impending marriage affect your state of health. It will turn out alright. Everyone I know (even me!) had apprehensions about their marriage. And with everyone I know, it turned out alright.

Misters Sirius and Remus visited Harry and I the day before last. They came to see James and Albus, but I know there was a hidden reason as well. They know of our friendship and came to ask if the rumours are true. As much as my husband adores them, Sirius in particular can be prone to gossip. The pair tittered and tsked when I told them of your fiancé. Sirius wishes to distance himself from his family, and I know he has pre-existing thoughts of the Black family, and by extension, the Riddles.

Sometimes I take a moment to gaze at the family tree upon my drawing room wall. It is full of interconnected lines and squiggles that sometimes, it makes my head hurt! The web of family ties is complicated and if we’re not somehow related already, I know that we will be once your marriage takes place. It seems the Black family spreads its roots into the Weasley family and the Riddle family- the latter of which you’ll soon be synonymous with.

Give yourself some grace. Your fiancé falls far from the tree; I am sure of it.

Please write to me. I need to make sure my closest friend is doing well.

Best wishes,

Ginny

P.S. Hermione wishes to inform you that, from what she’s heard, your Mr. Riddle is quite attractive. I have yet to hear any of the rumours myself, but at least your husband will be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it will make the marriage more bearable.

***

Mattheo strode leisurely through Riddle Manor. It was one of the many estates his family owned, and it was soon to be officially his. Just as soon as he married the L/n girl.

The manor was spacious, which Mattheo couldn’t help but detest. How was he and a wife supposed to fill this void of empty rooms and dark halls? He knew servants and cooks would move in, but they wouldn’t occupy the dozens of upper rooms that were vacated.

For a brief moment, Mattheo couldn’t help but envision a set of children running around the halls. One of the children would run up to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!” Mattheo would scoop the child up, grinning, and would carry them to their room. The room would be bright and cheerful, and maybe, just maybe, you would be sitting on a settee, cradling a newborn or helping an older child with their school work.

But for now, the room was dark and uninviting and he had yet to meet his future wife. He had seen a portrait of the L/n family and while they were in lavish, colourful clothing, Mr. and Mrs. L/n seemed cold and stoic - just like his parents. The children, an older son and younger daughter (whom he presumed to be you), seemed kinder and by their body language, Mattheo could tell that the two siblings were close.

Mattheo slowly made his way down the hall. There were three wings of the manor; two were residential and the other was designed for taking guests. The East Wing - in which he and Miss. L/n would stay - was also fit with an office for him. He was expected to take over half of the family business once he got married. The West Wing would remain empty for now, sans for a large library and the furniture in the bedrooms.

The boy knew that his bride was to arrive later that day. She would stay at Riddle Estate until the end of the week. Just three short days before they were to be wed in name. Mattheo would move into Riddle Manor tonight, giving servants time to wipe the dust off of tables, shine the silverware, and fluff the pillows.

Mattheo walked the halls of his new home. His mind was devoid of any thoughts. Perhaps it was simply because he was always numb. Even when he heard of his engagement, Mattheo didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t remember thinking anything. Nothing such as ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her!’ or even, ‘I can’t believe mother and father are arranging my marriage! She better be obedient.’

No, Mattheo had thought nothing of the sort. He had spent his childhood quietly observing his father and mother, noticing the amount of fear they could inflict on people just by silence. You didn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be powerful. You simply couldn’t be afraid to follow up on your promises - however deadly they were.

The only question Mattheo had asked when Bellatrix informed him of his engagement was, “and what do we gain from the L/n’s?”

Bellatrix had shot him an callous and apathetic look. “Do not ask questions you needn’t the answers to, boy.”

Mattheo had glowered, but shut his mouth.

As he neared the foyer, Mattheo couldn’t help but think how marriage was a component in all aspects of his life. When he got married to the L/n girl, he would inherit a portion of his father’s estates, company, and wealth. Mattheo chucked to himself. Maybe he should’ve gotten married sooner.

***

“Pray tell, why weren’t you here when she arrived?” Bellatrix snarled as she gripped Mattheo’s arm. Her nails dug into his suit as she dragged him towards the drawing room.

“I was busy,” Mattheo replied harshly. Love was not a thing that came instinctively to his family.

“Doing what? Planning your suidide?” Bellatrix scoffed. “I would march to the Underworld and choke Hades to bring you back.” Mattheo glanced down at his mother, hesitantly surprised. But he knew better than to raise his hopes and dreams. “We need this contract with the L/n’s,” Bellatrix continued and Mattheo’s jaw ticked. Of course. She didn’t love him; she never had. Her son was purely business. He should’ve known better.

“Maybe if you would tell me what the L/n’s provide for us,” Mattheo pulled Bellatrix back before she threw open the door to where you were. “Then I would be more complacent.”

Bellatrix sneered. “You think you’re smart, boy. You think you have everything figured out in that pretty little head of yours. But remember: you’re nothing without the Riddle family name backing you up.” She paused and licked her lips. “But if you must know,” Bellatrix sighed, giving into Mattheo. “The L/n’s just came into some very… lucrative land that we could gain from if you marry Miss. Y/n L/n.”

Mattheo’s eyes flickered to the drawing room door. After a moment, he asked, “is that her name? Y/n?”

Bellatrix stared at him, aghast. “You didn’t bother to learn her name?!” She scoffed. “With a son like you…”

She pushed open the drawing room doors and Mattheo trudged after her, muttering, “at least I know her name now.”

You had been waiting for seven minutes and thirty nine seconds in the drawing room of Riddle Estate, the trackage of time dependent on the old grandfather clock standing ominously in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth continuously as its second hand ticked by. Mrs. Riddle had left seven minutes and thirty nine seconds ago to fetch her son.

While the room was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust on even the highest chandelier, it was still a cold and morose room, yet oddly epochal. The wood was the darkest mahogany you had ever seen and the lights cast odd shadows on the dark green wallpaper that had inlays of gold.

Your teacup that you were trying to hold steady was filled with a sad excuse for tea. There was a ring of gold around the mouth of the teacup. On the table beside you, a notch that looked as if someone dug a knife into the surface caught your attention. It was the little things like this that you noticed when you had nothing else to do. Your mind was trying to distract you.

The door then swung open and there stood your fiancé, his stare daring you to oppose him.

“Uh,” you stood, your teacup and saucer still in hand. You quickly placed them on the table, right over the knife nick. “Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself. You bowed your head in an informal curtsy.

Mattheo’s eyes flickered over your face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he said coldly. His voice was practically velvet. You didn’t mean to look him up and down, but you couldn’t help it. He was to be your husband, after all.

Mattheo’s hair coiled at the end and his eyes were just as dark as his curls. His nose had a scarred cut on it that looked as if it was just beginning to heal. Your fiancés cheekbones were practically sculpted from marble and for a moment, you believed that the gods had simply breathed life into a statue. Did this make you Pygmalion and Mattheo Galatea?

If it weren’t for their lethal eyes and stern posture, perhaps more would be friendly to the Riddles.

Mattheo spoke, “you’re to be my fiancée.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” You had the urge to add ‘sir’ at the end, but you bit your tongue.

Bellatrix hissed something to Mattheo and thrust a small object into his hands. Mattheo rolled his eyes and stalked towards you. “My family ring,” he grumbled. He held out an intricate silver ring with three bands interweaving. A green jewel cut into a thin diamond shape sat steadily in the middle. “It has been in the Riddle family for generations. It’s tradition to pass it down to the wife of the firstborn son. And now that is you…”

He trailed off and handed the ring to you, it laying flat on his palm. You took it from him, trying to minimise contact with Mattheo. You nodded in thanks and slid it into your ring finger.

It seemed too concrete to fathom.

Mattheo stared at the ring on your finger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My… wife,” he murmured halfheartedly.

***

Three weeks had passed since the wedding and it was as if you had never gotten married in the first place. Yes, it was unsettling to wake up in a bed that wasn’t your own next to a man that you were supposed to call your own. But other than necessary, Mattheo had hardly uttered a word to you.

In the three weeks you had stayed there, you had seen Mattheo a total of twenty eight times, including mornings and nights when you were forced to sleep in the same bed.

Your mornings, afternoons, and nights were all incredibly boring. You took long meals, pushing your food around. Sometimes you just sat by the window and watched the wind blow bits of grass and dirt past the window. The servants were still extracting the dust between the couch cushions and you tried to stay out of the way, but it only made you feel more isolated.

Mattheo was holed up in his office day in and day out. He had now inherited a large portion of his father’s company and Mattheo was determined to uphold the honour bestowed upon him. He had drafted contracts, sold and bought land, and even hosted a few dinner parties for his associates.

You detested the dinner parties. Thankfully, Mattheo had yet to invite you to one - hell, he had yet to speak to you about the dinner parties. You had learned of the first dinner party when you had wandered downstairs one late evening because you were thirsty. You had stared at the group of strangers, all dressed in elegance, as they stared back at you in your night clothes. Not saying a word, you had sighed and returned upstairs.

You hadn’t been eager for the marriage, but wouldn't it befit Mattheo to show some affection? Or at least acknowledge your presence?

While you had continuously tried to get your husband to open up to you, his answers had been short and venomous.

It had been a long, monotonous day for you. You had returned to the master bedroom about two hours earlier than you normally would have if you were at home.

With the wealth that you came from, the opulence was sure to be evident, but you had underestimated the Riddle family’s prestige. When Mattheo had first shown you your shared bedroom, you had to allow a flicker of surprise break through your facade. The bedroom was larger than any room in your old home and had a large bed in the middle. The lamps on the bedside table were always dimly lit and the design of the room was the same as the rest of the house - dark and bereft of love and care.

Your hair had been brushed enough, but you kept brushing simply for something to do while Mattheo finished up in the bathroom. Mattheo walked out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. His curls were plastered to his forehead and a bead of water ran down his sternum.

Your eyes flickered to his figure through the mirror, taking in the dips and curves of Mattheo’s muscles as he silently got ready for bed. You tore your gaze away, berating yourself.

You built up your courage and tried to think of a conversation starter. You commented, “my parents wrote to me today.” After no reply from Mattheo, you continued, “they asked me when we would give them grandchildren.” You set your hairbrush down and stared at Mattheo through the mirror, looking for some sort of reaction.

Mattheo hummed noncommittally and put on some sleep pants. He used his towel to begin drying his hair. “It would be behoove us to produce some heirs,” he spoke. His tone was dismissive, as if children were nothing more than an obligation or duty to fulfil.

“Right,” you muttered, knowing that an uninterested reaction was all you were going to get out of him.

You stood and moved towards the bed. “Goodnight,” you whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking yourself into bed. Mattheo was still putting on his nightclothes and had yet to get into bed.

As you turned off the light and got into bed, Mattheo finished drying himself off and slid into his own pyjamas. He sat down beside you, but didn't bother turning off his own lamp. Instead, he laid against the headboard, reading a book. "Goodnight," he finally mumbled, not even looking at you.

You curled into your blanket. After a moment, you asked quietly, “what book are you reading?”

He looked at you over the top of his book. "None of your business," he replied curtly.

You simply uttered, “okay.”

Mattheo felt an unwanted and unusual feeling root itself deep in his stomach. He scoffed and said sarcastically, "fine. Go ahead and keep asking questions all night long if it amuses you so." He opened his book again and pretended to read.

A longing and lonely pang resonated in your chest at his harsh words. You didn’t respond and instead turned your face into your pillow. You had known that your marriage was to be loveless, but it still hurt at every unspoken word. Perhaps, if you had been five years younger when you married Mattheo, your spirit would still be alive with the juvenile belief that you could stand up to him.

Mattheo huffed and his gaze turned up to stare at the wall ahead of him. “If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just leave?” he snapped, not even bothering to hide his bitterness. “I am sure your family would simply love to have you back.” He flipped another page in his book, not even bothering to look at the printed words.

“I never said I was miserable,” you answered quietly, even though Mattheo knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps, though, you believed it to be true. You took a steadying breath, closing your eyes.

Your husband smirked and leaned against the headboard. “What do you call your attitude, then? Why are you so downtrodden and defeated? Surely, you can’t blame me for being frustrated by it.” He knew that he should be taking account of making you feel this way, but he still tried to justify his behaviour.

“Goodnight,” you reiterated.

Mattheo sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” he grunted. He closed his book, threw it on the nightstand, and turned off his lamp. The room was encased in darkness except for the dim moonlight coming through the window. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure a noticeable gap was between the two of you.

He thought back to your conversation. “Why don’t you just leave?”

It was too late now to apologise.

***

Mattheo let the door swing shut behind him, returning to Riddle Manor after an outing with friends. He glanced around, waiting for a servant to take his coat, but no one answered. An eyebrow cocked, Mattheo slowly walked up the stairs, hearing you instruct the servants on something, every other sentence of yours either containing, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Up on the landing, he found you directing a servant who was pulling a rack of your clothing. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your damn mind? Are you trying to send a message or something?”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in me, so I’m trying to make this marriage as civilised as possible,” you said diplomatically. “I believe that if I move to the West Wing and leave you in the East Wing, it will benefit our marriage.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this piteous attempt at attention?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you think it’ll make me want you more?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning incredulously. “You’re delusional if you think that’s even remotely possible.” He stepped closer to you, towering over you with anger in his eyes. “This is not some game, L/n. This is marriage. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

“I’m aware that we’re married, Riddle,” you retorted. “And don’t refer to me by L/n anymore. I am now a Riddle - just like you. However, I am not going to live in a state of constant sorrow and dejection. Having a wing of the mansion to myself may help.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, irritated by your resistance. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t expect me to come running after you when you decide you want attention. You’re on your own now.” He turned away from you and walked into his now solo bedroom. “Just remember - this is your choice.”

You felt your anger inflate. “I thought you would like this!” Your voice rose and you tugged a hand through your hair. It was the first time in your marriage that you had fought back. “I have done everything I can to please you, yet nothing is enough for you!” Your voice turned desperate. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around with surprise and disgust on his face. “Dammit, Y/n! Don’t yell at me like that!” His voice thundered, stepping towards you. “I never asked for any of this! I didn’t ask for a wife or for you to try so hard to please me! All of this is ridiculous.” His hand slashed through the air to make a point. “All I want is some space. Space to figure out what the hell I want. But let’s make one thing clear: I don’t care about you.”

“Am I not giving you space?” Your fists clenched at your sides. “I am moving out of the bedroom and out of your way. Yet, you erupt at me and get angry over nothing! You send me mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”

Mattheo took a breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. “I am not erupting! Lord, you are so sensitive!” he snapped, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you listen for once? I am not sending you mixed signals. I am trying to figure out my place in this unorthodox situation we’re in.”

After a beat of silence, you asked firmly, “did you talk about me?” After seeing a flicker of confusion on his face, you clarified, “when you were out with your friends, did you talk about me? Did you rant about how annoying I was? Did you complain about marriage?”

His lips parted before taking a breath. “Yes, I talked about you,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I complained about how frustrating I find you and how frustrated I am with my parents for arranging this senseless marriage.”

“What did they say?” you insisted. “Did they sympathise? Did they laugh at me? Did they add fuel to your fire by commenting about how… how ‘needy’ and ‘sensitive’ I am?”

Mattheo made a low sound in his chest and rubbed his temples, frustrated by your persistence. “They agreed with me, yes. A few believed that you are too emotionally attached and sentimental. Others chalked it up to the pains of an average marriage.”

Your anger flared up and you said, “Let me tell you this: I never wanted marriage either. But I at least tried. I tried to be a nice and loving wife and a kind human.” You turned on your heel, marching out of the bedroom and towards the West Wing.

Mattheo watched you go, an unwanted feeling of guilt washing over him. He sighed and walked over to the window. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is everything so damn complicated?”

For the next couple of weeks, you stayed true to your word. You avoided Mattheo and his office and stayed in your wing of the mansion. After a week or two, you decided to explore the mansion, stumbling upon a magnificent library. You inhaled in veneration when someone cleared their throat. Mattheo stood behind you, raising an brow. After a silence, you said recalcitrantly, “you never told me that Riddle Manor had a library.”

He smirked at your thinly veiled hatred, amused despite himself. “Well, now you know,” he said dryly. “It’s a perk of living in a Riddle household.” He walked over to a bookshelf and began browsing for a book he required for a contract that was being drafting. He showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort at your presence. “You may use it whenever you want. But don’t expect me to join a book club or anything juvenile.”

“I would never dream of it,” you said sarcastically. You step further into the library and can’t help but gape at the vastness. You trailed your fingers over the book spines, breathing in the smell of old books. You crouched down to examine a series of poetry titles. “I can read any of these?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded and leaned against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feel free to read whatever you would like. They’re here for the entire household. Well, the servants don’t have time to read books, so in a Riddle household, the parents and children use the library the most.” Your hand faltered over the titles. “If you find something that catches your eye, go ahead and take it. I won’t stop you.” There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, as if he wished to know what topics and books piqued your interest. You hummed quietly, not fully acknowledging his words. You were already picking up a book and leafing through it. Mattheo watched you for a moment, his eyes softening briefly.

Everyday, you returned to the library. It was an escape from the walls of your room and the walls that Mattheo had put up around his heart.

Eventually, the servants recognised your routine and began to start a fire in the fireplace to keep you warm. They moved a loveseat in front of the fire that you gratefully used. You devoured the poetry collection, including Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and started on the classics. Every once in a while, Mattheo would come into the library, but he wouldn’t talk. He simply took a book and returned to his study. Sometimes, you wondered if he remembered you lived in the mansion with him.

Mattheo found himself frequenting the library more often, looking for books he had never needed before. A swell of pride filled him whenever he saw you by the fire, knowing that something in his home brought you such comfort. He still refused to speak to you, maintaining distance and ignoring your existence, but he found himself increasingly drawn to your presence.

One day, on a whim, he decided to take a risk and left a stack of his favourite books on the table next to your chair. That afternoon, you found the stack of books. You smiled despite yourself, though you didn't make any comment to Mattheo. You picked up the first book, sat down in the chair, and began to read.

A week later, Mattheo was hosting a dinner party for his associates. He didn’t say a word about it to you, though you heard the servants preparing for it. You decided not to go, opting to stay in your safe haven of the library.

After an hour or so of faint music, you heard the door to the library squeak open and your head whipped up. You saw one of Mattheo’s friends, Tom, enter and look around. He spotted you and his lips curled up into a smirk. “So you’re the wife we’ve heard so much about?”

Your stomach clenched and you replied, “I guess so.”

Tom’s smirk grew wider as he took in your terse response, enjoying your obvious discomfort. He approached you with a lecherous gaze in his eyes before asking, “and how do you find life as Mrs. Riddle? Are you enjoying your… arrangement?” His words dripped with sarcasm, not believing for a moment that you and Mattheo were married for love.

You stared at him. “It has its perks,” you said simply.

Tom laughed derisively at your response, not convinced by your nonchalance. “And what are those perks?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Extravagant gifts? Luxurious vacations? Or simply the privilege of being married to such a powerful man?”

You squared your shoulders. “I am powerful without a man,” you said sharply. “I do not need a man to determine my worth and prowess.”

Tom scoffed. “Really? How exactly did you become powerful on your own?” he asked, challenging you. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever achieve anything significant without the backing of a powerful husband behind you.” He leaned in closer, grinning.

You closed your book with a snap. “The L/n family,” you said, talking of your maiden lineage, “has had control over many estates and affairs for decades. Without Mattheo Riddle, I would’ve inherited half of it, second only to my brother. I would’ve had four auspicious companies at my ready disposal, capable of doing most anything. So, yes, sir, I would have been momentous without him.”

Tom’s smirk faded as he recognised your family name. He remained undeterred, however, stating, “that explains why your husband was so eager to marry you. He must see you as a valuable asset to his business empire.”

As you opened your mouth to retort, the door banged open and Mattheo strode into the library.

Mattheo had noticed Tom’s absence from his party, but when it became too long to be excused as a restroom break, Mattheo had asked his brother, Enzo, if he had seen where he had gone. Enzo had smiled a small smile and whispered, “Tom went to the library. Where your darling wife stays hidden.”

Mattheo saw red.

He barged into the library, a deadly, lethal, and borderline possessive look deep in his eyes. When he saw Tom flanking you, Mattheo’s expression darkened and his hands clenched into a ready fist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Mattheo demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is a private wing of my home - not some place for you to bother my wife.”

Mattheo moved closer to you, placing himself between you and Tom as if to protect you from further harm.

Tom quickly stepped back and placed a confident demeanour on his face. “I was simply having a conversation with your lovely wife here,” Tom gritted his teeth.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, showing clearly that Tom was lying and intruding. You saw Mattheo’s eyes flicker down to you, his eyes softening reassuringly before snapping back to Tom, malice in his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mattheo snapped at Tom. “There’s no need for any sort of interaction or conversation with my wife unless I am present.” Mattheo placed a hand on the top of your chair, his fingers gripping it and his bicep flexing slightly to warn Tom.

Tom’s eyes flicked with something you hadn’t seen before: fear. Fear commonly associated with the Riddle name. He adjusted his collar and straightened his posture. “Of course, Mr. Riddle,” he said bitterly.

You raised a brow. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” you said, your face stoic. Tom bowed his head slightly before exiting the library. You didn’t look up to meet Mattheo’s eye. You murmured, “you didn’t have to do that. I had it covered.”

Mattheo watched Tom until he completely left the room before turning to look down on you. His voice was threatening, “you may have been able to handle Tom, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or harassing you while you’re under my roof. Consider this a warning - if anyone tries to cross you again, they will regret it.”

“Perhaps you should tell your coworkers that. Not me,” you replied.

Mattheo’s expression was cold. “Fine. I will,” he growled. “I will not sit idly by and allow anyone to disrespect my wife.” He let go of your chair and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. As if in a business meeting, he said, “And consider this another warning: if you continue to act so stubbornly, I won’t hesitate to remind you of your place in this marriage.”

“My place in this marriage is your wife!” you cried out, finally standing up. “Your equal! Something you seem to forget until it’s convenient for you. Or until another man threatens your… your property! I doubt you see me any differently than this house or your assets.”

Mattheo grabbed onto your arm tightly, pulling you close and leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Do not ever speak to me like that. You are not my equal - you are my wife and I decide what is best for both of us. If you cannot accept that, then you should reconsider your place in this marriage.” He released your arm and turned away from you, striding towards the door. “I suggest you reflect on your behaviour,” he added icily, leaving the room without looking back.

After he left the library, you let out a scream of frustration. You shoved the pile of books that Mattheo had carefully curated to the floor. They tumbled down, book after book, covers opening and pages bending. Tears pricked at your eyes as you examined the scene.

You slumped into your chair, the fire in front of your crackling softly, emitting a calming warmth.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the chair, tear stains on your cheeks. In the morning, you woke to the serene morning light filtering into the room - a vast contrast to your mood. The fire had dissolved into crackling embers. Tucked on top of you was a thick blanket and the stack of books that you had pushed over had been re-piled and stood majestically atop the table.

You sighed, knowing you should thank the servants for taking care of you and cleaning up.

After you walked to the kitchen, your footfalls heavy, you thanked the servants, who were finishing preparing breakfast. They exchanged glances and one piped up, “Ma’am, while we appreciate the sentiment, we didn’t do that. We weren’t aware that you were still in the library. We believed you had retired to bed before the social last night.” They paused and then added, “however, Mr. Riddle didn’t go to bed. He was in his study until morning light.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bid them an awkward goodbye before entering the dining hall.

Mattheo was already seated at the head of the table, his expression exhausted and distant. He didn’t acknowledge you when you approached, focusing instead on the uneaten plate of food in front of him.

You sat down opposite him and muttered, “the servants informed me that you blanketed me last night and cleaned up the books.” You hesitated and finally said, “thank you.”

Mattheo looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t respond directly. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You should not be cold and uncomfortable in your own home.” He doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation beyond that. Something was weighing heavily on his mind and he seemed preoccupied by it.

You hummed in response. Eventually, you stood and whispered to your husband before walking out, “you are not as cold as you want to seem. You needn’t keep the facade up with me.”

Mattheo looked up briefly before returning to his food. His expression relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

***

Later that day, Mattheo sat in his study as he always did. A knock came from the door and he glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for lunch to be delivered, but he announced, “come in.”

The door creaked open and your head peeked into the room. Mattheo’s brows furrowed - not with malice, but with scrutiny. You entered and sat in one of the two seats next to his fireplace. Silently, you cracked open a book you had brought and began to read.

Mattheo watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he took in every detail of your face. He tried to find any acrimonious intent behind your actions, but you looked so peaceful. He found himself noticing the details of your face and your beauty as the fire cast warm highlights on your eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked eventually, his voice holding an armour of needed suspicion.

“Reading,” you said simply.

Mattheo frowned, not convinced by your answer. Why would you read in his study after the way he had been treating you? He leaned back in his chair, his work forgotten. “Isn’t there something more important that you could be occupying your time with?” he challenged.

“Not particularly,” you responded. “You’re in charge of the companies and estates. I have nothing to do. I thought I would accompany you. You must get lonely in a study by yourself.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, but ultimately nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But don’t think I will stop working simply because my wife is here.” His posture grew taut as he began looking over documents again. “This is still my office and I expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I’m simply reading,” you murmured, a smile inching its way up your lips.

Henceforth, a routine was established. Every morning, you would knock on Mattheo’s study door, usually an hour or so after he began working. There was rarely conversation, the silence being broken by Mattheo’s scratch of a quill or you turning pages, occasionally being disrupted by the loud crack of a log in the fire.

One day, you had finished your book (it was an excellent book, one from the pile Mattheo had recommended) and stood to go retrieve another one. At the sound of your footsteps leaving his office, Mattheo’s head darted up and he suddenly asked, “where are you going?”

You paused and turned back to him. “I’m to get a new book. Unfortunately, as wonderful as this one was, it had an ending like all books do.”

Mattheo frowned and a hint of vulnerability broke through his exterior. “Get a servant to do it,” he offered.

“Well, I don’t know which one I want,” you counted, raising a brow in a smirk.

He huffed and shook his head, returning his eyes to his documents. He grumbled, “I will commission the servants to build you a small bookshelf for my office. You can keep your books there.” You stood, watching him for a moment, admiring him until his gaze snapped up. “Well, go get your book,” he said sharply. “… but hurry back,” he added in a mumble.

You finally smiled at him before exiting and Mattheo gazed at the place you once stood, trying to memorise how your lips curled up and your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

He rather liked it when you smiled.

***

“Are you alright?”

You sniffed and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m being foolish.” You wiped some tears from your eyes. “My book is very good.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly. “And what made you cry, hm?”

“A daughter and father interaction,” you replied quietly.

“Was the father cruel to the daughter?” Mattheo laughed tersely, shaking his head at his documents. “Are your feelings not strong enough to withstand their wrath?”

You frowned at Mattheo, setting the book down. “No,” you corrected slowly. “The father was being kind to his daughter. He was supporting her and loving her; as a father should.” There was a pause as Mattheo looked up at you. “I know that the Riddles are a harsher family - I’ve known ever since I knew I was to marry you. But… but are you alright?”

You felt absurd asking the question. Yet, when Mattheo couldn’t meet your eye, a wistful sadness blanketing the room, you felt as if you should’ve asked the simple question weeks earlier.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then Mattheo turned in his chair so his back was facing you. "I'm fine," he finally answered, his voice rough and strained. "I am used to dealing with it, I suppose." Despite his insistence that he didn't need anyone's pity or concern, your words seem to have affected him more deeply than he wanted to admit.

“May I ask a question?” you asked softly.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes never leaving the window as he spoke. "Ask away," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then cleared his throat and said, "but I won’t give a warm and fuzzy answer."

There was a pregnant pause in the air as you gathered your courage up and suddenly thrust your fears upon your husband. “If we ever have children, which we’re somewhat expected to,” you added hurriedly. “I don’t want them to grow up in a household where they feel as if they have to vie for love or attention. And I don’t want me to be the only one giving them attention.” Mattheo turned his head so his face was angled toward you, but his eyes could still stray to the window if need be. “If we have kids, can you promise that you’ll love them? Even if you don’t love me?”

Even though your voice was steady, Mattheo knew of the vulnerability deeply rooted within you.

He nodded cautiously, his expression serious. "I promise," he said firmly. "I may not love you, but I will love our children unconditionally. They will never have to compete for my affection or feel neglected. I may not be a fond father, but I will provide for them and protect them as best I can." A protectiveness filled his veins just at the thought of something happening to his future children.

You nodded once, a sad smile on your face. “Perhaps we’ll have a big family. Enough children to start a sports team.” You smiled at the thought, laughing lightly.

Mattheo smiled, despite himself, imagining a large brood of children running around the manor. It was an oddly appealing idea, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. "We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'd rather have lots of sons; they'll carry on the family name and ensure my legacy continues." He turned back around and attempted to focus on his work.

“And daughters too.” You frowned, staring at your husband, even if he wouldn’t spare you a glance. “Daughters can carry on the family name just as well as sons.” A muscle in your jaw ticked.

Mattheo scowled at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why hadn’t you just fallen into line? "Fine, daughters too," he reluctantly agrees. "But make no mistake, they will be raised to be strong and capable like their brothers. The Riddle name demands nothing less."

“And the sons can be soft and caring and sensitive,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have to vie for affection. I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have needless competition in their life. I don’t want them to grow up… like, well… you.” You finally uttered the words that had been hanging off your tongue dangerously.

Mattheo’s expression hardened as he clenched his fist tightly. "Fine!" he snapped. "They can be whatever the hell you want them to be! But don't expect me to sit back and watch while they become weaklings and failures. We need to teach them to be strong and ruthless like I am." He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process.

You jump up after him, crossing towards him. You whirled to a stop in front of him, jabbing a finger towards his chest. “Listen here, Riddle. Just because someone is kind and vulnerable doesn’t mean they’re weak!” You growled, “and just because you grew up like that, does not mean that’s the type of household I am going to have.”

Mattheo stepped forward and his hand flew up to grip your wrist. His eyes blazed with anger, but then something changed in his expression and he took a step back, looking surprised at his own reaction. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I shouldn't have assumed that being vulnerable meant being weak." He ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed, yet resolute in his decision. "But don't expect me to be a pushover either. I'll still teach them to be strong and independent."

“Strong and independent are good qualities,” you conceded. “Both for the boys and girls.”

"Agreed," he said. Mattheo straightened his cuffs and cleared his throat. "Our children will be taught to be strong and independent, regardless of gender. They will know that they are loved and valued by both of us, equally." He held out his hand to you, indicating that the argument was over - for now at least. "Deal?"

“Deal.” You shook his hand defiantly. It was a business deal, but a good deal at least.

Mattheo exhaled and brushed past you. “I’m to a meeting,” he informed you. It was a simple comment , one that was an offhand remark, but to you, Mattheo had just let you into his life. It was something he had never done before. Even if it was just a response to where he was off to, it was a window into his life. A life that now may have enough room to hold you.

Mattheo paused when he reached the door. “I never knew the way I grew up was wrong until I saw other families. I saw the parents bending down to listen to their children instead of hushing them. I saw parents comforting their children after scraped knees, not pushing them to the kitchen for some rubbing alcohol. I saw parents beaming when their child could plunk out the simplest of tunes on the piano. No one else got berated for being out of rhythm or playing a D instead of an E. I never saw another child get slapped by their parents or scolded as harshly as I was. It was around then I realised that something was wrong. But what was I to do about it?”

Words dried in your throat. You wanted to cry at his words, but you felt dried out. How could someone treat their child like that? It explained so much…

Your husband was a fragile man, you were just realising. And he was trying to pick up the pieces and present them to you in the only way he knew how.

"The stars remind me of you,” he said quietly, the change in conversation sudden. “I mean that in the best possible way.” His voice was the softest and most tender as you had ever heard it. You hoped he would keep speaking the melodies that made your heart sing in tune.

“How so?” you asked, afraid to break the plane of existence that you and Mattheo were carefully standing on.

"They are so beautiful, yet so far away. I may see them, but I can never touch them."

***

The servants didn’t know what to do. The master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, seemed to be at a ceasefire. The cooks lamented at how they had seemed to be doing so well. The maids thought they were destined to doom from the start. The butlers gossiped about Mr. Riddle’s letters to a Mr. Tom, terminating their long-term partnership. The scullery maid still had hope that the husband and wife would come to their senses and live a happy life.

It perplexed the servants when the mistress requested to move her belongings back into the master bedroom and the master looked on, a soft smile on his lips. It confused the servants when the Mr and Mrs began taking meals together and talking in hushed tones late into the night. And it bamboozled the servants when, one summer afternoon, the Lord of the household stood from his desk, cautiously moved to his Lady that was reading by the open window, and asked her to accompany him on a walk. She had accepted.

There was to be a dinner party, this time hosted at Mr. Draco Malfoy’s manor, that Mr. Riddle was expected to attend. Per usual, the master didn’t invite the mistress, but she was content to stay home. A maid briefly heard the madam whisper to her husband, “hurry home, please? I don’t like it when you’re away.” The maid had scurried away before she could hear the reply.

Mattheo returned home that night, just before the sun was setting. He climbed the steps, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie. The soft glow of light was still shining under your shared bedroom - something he still hadn’t gotten used to - and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you still up?” he asked quietly when he entered the room.

“You promised to be home early and I wanted to see you before I go to bed,” you reminded him, a small book in your hands.

“Right, right.” Mattheo chuckled and shook his head, slinging off his tie and jacket.

“How was the dinner?”

Mattheo hummed noncommittally. “Not the worst. A couple of my good friends, Theo and Pansy, were there to help alleviate the pain of socialising. But… I found something odd happening.”

“And what was that, husband?” Mattheo took a moment to relish in the way that word curled off your tongue effortlessly.

“I found myself wishing you were there. Nay,” he quickly corrected himself. “I wished I was here with you.”

“Oh?” Your eyes flickered up towards Mattheo, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. “Why… what do you mean by that?”

Mattheo began to unbutton his shirt and moved towards his closet. “Well,” he admitted, mumbling to himself. “I simply mean that instead of having to socialise with people who are too tightly wound and whose only intent is to take my money,” he chucked his belt into his closet and rolled up his sleeves, “I would rather be at home with my darling wife.”

A smile inched up your lips. “Really? Tell me more about this darling wife of yours.”

Mattheo hummed, stepping towards the bed. He crawled down on the bed, leaning on his forearms to lean up towards you. “My wife… I’ve come to care deeply about her. She is a beautiful, elegant woman, one who has a fiery tongue about her and an intelligent brain that even I cannot rival. She always seems to get her way, even when I try to fight back. It’s as if my wife has a command over me that I have willingly submitted to. And I am not ashamed to say so.” He lightly caressed your arm, sending a trail of goosebumps up your skin.

“You must be careful, Mattheo,” you uttered. “That sounds an awful lot like love.”

Mattheo brought his eyes up to meet yours, the sting of tears building up behind them. His voice cracked as he said, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, Y/n.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I- I didn’t realise. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Mattheo demanded before reaching up to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were soft and meaningful against yours, hungrily trying to gather every ounce of love from you. His kisses were feverish at first, his strong hand coming up to cup your jawline, his fingers just teasing behind your ear, before his lips slowed. Mattheo was a starved man and he wouldn’t let anyone take away his only solace. He shifted so he could be closer to you, gently taking the book from your hands as you surrendered yourself to him. Your hands found his silk shirt, gripping it in your fists. He placed the book on the nightstand and moved so he was hovering over you, never once letting a second go by without feeling your skin against his.

Mattheo slowly, achingly pulled away from you and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. “My darling, my love, my life,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your cheek. “I apologise for everything I have ever done or said that made you feel inferior. I would be happy to kneel for you in front of my associates and family members - just to show them how much power you have over me.” He took a breath before persisting, “I was foolish. I was incompetent. I didn’t realise how much love I held for you. It is, and always will be, only you. I will promise you this: you will be the only woman I ever touch, the only voice I ever want to hear, the only skin I will ever caress, and the only eyes I ever want to see. I will wake and fall, every morning and night, thinking of you. You are the other half of my heart, for it is you who I love. I will place the galaxies and stars in the night sky for you. If you are ever unhappy, my love, I will not rest until I see you smile again. If you are ever mad, my love, I shall smite whatever upsets you, even if it is I. And I would die a happy man if you could give me only an ounce of what I give you.”

Your breath shook and you swore Mattheo had injected ambrosia into your veins for you were sure your blood was singing with the love that was filling your soul. “I wrote a letter to your mother today,” you offered quietly, as if your mere words could ever compare to the love poem Mattheo had just gifted to you. “And I thanked her.” Mattheo’s eyes flashed with confusion. You continued, “I thanked her for birthing such a wonderful husband and for raising him. I know you u wish to renounce your family, but as of now, I want to thank them with all my heart. Mattheo, I love you.”

“And I you,” Mattheo whispered, bringing his forehead down to rest on yours. His nose bumped against your cheek and he couldn’t contain his grin anymore. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he mumbled.

You laughed lightly. “Luck? Fate?”

Mattheo shook his head and his nose brushed light curves over your skin. “No, my wife. Simply love. Pure, unconditional love.”

***

The house was bright, the curtains pulled as far open as they could be. Some servants scuttled around, holding laundry or preparing for dinner. Meanwhile, Mattheo strode leisurely through the halls, smiling lovingly as his nephews chased each other through the halls. “What do I say, boys?” he called after them.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t get caught!” they yelled back before running around a corner.

Enzo jogged after them and grumbled to Mattheo, “it’s not your duty to rule them up.”

“As their favourite uncle, yes, it is.”

“Your wife is in Andromeda’s room,” Enzo told his brother before sprinting off after his sons. Enzo wasn’t usually at Riddle Manor, but today was a special day. It was Orion’s birthday.

Mattheo chuckled to himself before Orion raced up the steps, panting. “Papa! Papa!”

Mattheo grinned widely and scooped Orion up. “Are you alright, hm? What’ve you been up to?”

“Aunt Pansy’s carriage just pulled up!” Orion bounced in Mattheo’s arms, beaming.

“And you’re not even dressed,” Mattheo stared at Orion, pretending to be stunned. “Where’s your mother, Ori?”

“She’s helping Andy get dressed,” Orion announced. Mattheo nodded and carried his son to his daughter’s room. “Mum!” Orion cried out, seeing Y/n standing behind Andromeda, knotting her hair into a braid.

“Oh, my darling,” Y/n tied Andy’s hair up before crossing to Mattheo and taking Orion from his arms. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

Orion hummed excitedly and wiggled down from Y/n’s arms. He darted to Andromeda and wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Andromeda grumbled, but allowed him to cling to her as she finished her hair and rouge.

Mattheo took Y/n’s hand and pulled her back toward him, nudging his nose against hers. “Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to play with the silver and green ring on your finger. “Mine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion from your children, he backed you up and caged you against the wall in his arms. “Seven years with you and two beautiful children to show for it.”

“Hey, mum? Where’s my- eugh!” Andromeda turned around and reeled back from the scene in front of her. “For the love of Salazar, please get a room!”

“We are in a room.” Mattheo smirked, glancing up from the crook of your neck.

“Aren’t you two, if I'm doing my calculations correctly, nearing thirty years old?” Andromeda tsked and rolled her eyes.

“You believe that simply because we’re getting older, I’m going to stop loving your mother?” Mattheo chuckled before pressing a light kiss to your jawline.

You shivered and tucked your face into your husband’s chest. “Matty, spare the poor children,” you chastised lightly. “What do you need, darling?” you turned towards Andromeda.

“You used to call me that,” Mattheo whined. He stepped back from you, letting you out of his embrace.

Andromeda sighed and asked, “where is my white shawl? It’ll go well with the dress I’m planning to wear to Orion’s party.”

“Why does it matter what you wear to Orion’s party?” Mattheo asked, puzzled.

“Because Albus Potter is going to be here,” you said as if it were obvious.

“Harry Potter’s son?” Mattheo asked incredulously. “That scumbag?”

Both you and Andromeda ignored Mattheo and Orion left the room at the sound of Aunt Pansy entering the foyer and shouting out for her favourite nephew.

“Your shawl should be in the library,” you answered. “Ori was using it as a blanket yesterday.”

Andromeda sighed and turned towards the door. “He needs to stop taking my things. Just last week he stole my candelabra so he could read in the dark. Perhaps you should accelerate his schooling. He’s getting bored, you know.”

“We’ll raise our own son, thank you, Andromeda,” Mattheo raised a brow. Andy huffed and and flicked her dress out behind her dramatically, exiting the room. Mattheo turned to you and said, “they get that from you. The love of reading.”

“Yes, but they get their flair for the dramatics from you. And lest us not forget, you keep fuelling our love of literature by buying more books and expanding our library,” you countered.

Mattheo hummed. “‘Tis true. But how could I live without spoiling my wife and children?” He whirled you around in his arms and pressed a long kiss to your lips. “Speaking of children, what would you think of expanding our family?”

You let out a laugh. “You simply like the act of making a bigger family.”

“I love my children too,” Mattheo defended.

You reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face. “Yes you do,” you smiled up at him. “You love your family very much.”

“Always.”

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bey0nd-1he-stars · 3 months

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I know Snape was the only death eater that was able to produce a patrons and I’d just like to beg your pardon.

Snape conjured a patrons based on an obsession. What he had for Lily might have been love once but let be real, we’ve surpassed that phase. Now it feels like it’s just an obsession over her.

Other than Lily, his life was fucking miserable. His father was a prat and his mother was weird. He got bullied at school and he doesn’t really seem to enjoy his teaching life very much.

It’s also portrayed that his patronus is conjured from love and not happiness.

So excuse me if I feel like any other death eater has happier memories than Severus Snape.

Lucius Malfoy, he’s respected at the ministry and has a wife, a son that he at least cares about, a nice ass mansion. He’s wealthy and grew up in a famous, rich family, why can’t he conjure a patronus?

Bellatrix Lestrange, like the only death eater who really enjoys what she’s doing with Voldemort. She straight up laughs when killing Sirius. Why can’t she conjure a patronus?

Regulus Black, whose love for his god damn house elf got himself killed. Why can’t he conjure a patronus?

Narcissa Malfoy, who loves her son more than anything, so much that she straight up lied to Voldemort who can read minds just because there’s a chance her son is still alive. Why can’t she conjure a patronus?

Why can’t any of the death eaters conjure a patronus especially since Harry, at 13 years old, could do it based on a made up memory.

It’s a shit excuse to get people to like Snape more.

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averagewriter-inthedark · 3 months

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Me & The Devil P.1 🌘| Harry Potter Imagine

Set during Order of the Phoenix to DHP2

Harry Potter Masterlist | Part 2 Here

Characters & Pairings: Black!Sister reader x HP characters (platonic)

Content Warnings: death, violence, profanity, angst, slight cannon divergence, mentions of torture and blood, set during the book timeline of the 1990s | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested 📨 yes/no

Premise: Everyone has light and dark inside them. That’s what Sirius told Harry that night in Grimmauld Place. It was how one chooses to act that sets the stone of who they are as a person. It’s something Harry has to remind himself when he encounters Sirius’s cousin, the youngest of the Black sisters, Y/n. After 14 years in a cold, dark cell, Y/n’s accepted she no longer believes in angels. And the Devil himself wouldn’t want to cross her

Note: this is part 1 to a 2 part imagine where I had the idea that Sirius had another cousin, Bellatrix & Narcissa's youngest sister who has quite the age gap between them and was forced to become a death eater but has no loyalty to either side since both failed her. Part 2 should be out later this week so i hope you enjoy this!

—————————

The floors of 12, Grimmauld Place creaked beneath Harry’s shoes as he entered the room at the end of the staircase he had been following Hermoine and Ron down. What drew his attention in the first place was the wallpaper. A green based mural branching out in the form of a tree. As Harry got closer he made out the portraits embedded into the wall, as were their names, birthdates and date of death if they’d passed. Some areas were black, covering up the picture seated above the name.

Harry flinched back upon notice of the house elf, Krecher, nestled inside the room. He mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out, then said, “Harry Potter. The boy who stopped the Dark Lord. Friend of mudbloods and blood traitors alike.” Unsure of what to say, Harry just stood looking down at the elf in silence. “My poor mistress--.” A loud voice cut him off.

“Kreacher!” It belonged to Sirius. “That’s enough of your bile.” Waving a finger, he dismissed the elf. “Away with ya!”

Clasping his hands, Krecher lowered his head, “Of course, Master. Kreacher is pleased to serve the Noble House of Black.” He stalked off and away from the two. Passing Sirius on his way out.

Entering the room, Sirius gave an apologetic look, “Sorry about that. He never was very pleasant--even when I was a boy.” There was a slight pause, “not to me.”

Surprise took over Harry’s face, “Wh-wha-you grew up here?”

“This is my parents' house,” his Godfather explained, “I offered it up to Dumbledore as headquarters for the Order.” A hand trailed the edge of the doorway, “About the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.” Dark eyes landed on the mural, seeing it was the object of Harry’s attention, “This is the Black family tree.”

Sirius couldn’t help but land his gaze on the branches depicting his cousins. Andromeda’s was burnt out, much like his. The only cousin he was still fond of.

Well…..she wouldn’t have been the only one.

For Narcissa, under her name was Lucius Malfoy, with a branch leading to their only son, Draco. Sirius’s eyes narrowed on the one beside Andromeda’s.

“My deranged cousin,” Harry picked up on the distaste in his tone. Following Sirius’ gaze where it landed on the portrait of a young woman with wild curly hair and high cheekbones. Bellatrix. Beneath her name was Rodolphus Lestrange. “I hated the lot of them.”

Looking past the next portrait, though Harry caught his posture stiffen when his eyes glazed over it, Sirius maintained his composure. Focusing back on his hateful family, “My parents with their blood mania.” Raising his hand, his fingers brushed over the blackened spot where his face once laid. Sadness laced his voice, “My mother did that after I ran away. Charming woman,” his arm dropped back to his side. “I was sixteen.”

Part of him wanted to question his Godfather’s reaction to the portrait, but knew it wasn’t the right moment. He was curious. Especially since the name was unlike the other members of the House of Black. Like Narcissa, she wasn’t named after a celestial body or constellation.

Frowning, feeling the hurt radiate off Sirius, Harry instead asked, “Where did you go?”

“To your dad’s. I was always welcomed at the Potters,” A small smile curled on Sirius’ lips as he glanced over Harry. Kind eyes the boy had grown accustomed to. “I see him so much in you, Harry. You are so very much alike.”

The next few minutes involved Harry confessing to Sirius his connection to Voldemort. Voicing concern of the possibility he was turning into him. Sirius assured Harry he was a good person, who’s had bad things happen to him. Followed by educating the boy on how everyone had their own angels and demons. Light and dark. Good and bad. How the only thing that matters is what part people chose to act on.

The entire time Sirius explained this to Harry, he thought of the portrait behind him. Almost like her painted eyes were boring into the back of his head. Reminding him of how he failed her. Much like everyone else in their family.

Once good. Turning bad due to the odds against her.

Maybe there was still some good deep down. Sirius prayed so. But the chances of him ever discovering were about as slim as convincing the Minister Voldermort was back.

“Sounds like you know from experience,” Harry said aloud, eyes trailing to the portrait behind Sirius. The one he noticed him trying to avoid. Yet managing to show how deeply this relative affected him.

Sighing, the man turned on his heel, staring at the portrait. No longer able to visibly hide his emotion as he read the name Y/n -- 1967.

“My cousin, Y/n,” his tone lacked malice compared to when he spoke of Bellatrix. “The youngest of the Black sisters. My aunt and uncle were shocked to learn they were expecting a fourth child--nearly twelve years after they had Narcissa.” Fingers brushed over her name, smiling softly as memories surfaced in his mind like a film. “Drove her parents wild with her energy. I was eight when she was born, and as I got older she’d follow me around the house. A little shadow if I must say.” Harry heard him chuckle to himself, “one summer I brought her to meet your father and Remus--didn’t tell her mother mind you. I nearly met my end at the hands of Druella’s wand when we returned that night.” It was as clear as if it were yesterday.

Young 14 year old Sirius with Y/n, aged six at the time, on his hip as they made their way to Diagon Alley to buy sweets she was not allowed to have. She instantly fell in love with James and Remus, as did the boys adore her. She was so different from her older sisters--who had graduated Hogwarts ages ago and were off with their own lives. Meaning the child was alone majority of the time with only the house elves tending to her. Her father worked and her mother did the bare minimum. That’s why Sirius would visit her often. To make sure she was okay. Y/n clinged to Sirius like a puppy. Much like that day where she begged to go with him to meet his friends. She wanted to explore the outside world her parents isolated her from.

Y/n didn’t display the blood mania her family was known for. And when her parents would preach it, the girl kept her attention on her dolls and drawing pictures with her crayons Sirius had smuggled her. The older cousin prayed she’d never turn out like them. Only he knew with the tensions of a certain Dark Wizard making rounds in London, Sirius feared for Y/n’s safety. And sanity. Especially after overhearing Bellatrix’s plans to begin teaching Y/n the dark arts before she entered Hogwarts.

If only Sirius took her away. Brought her to the safety of the Potters like she wanted. “You can’t leave, Sirius,” she cried, the now eight-year old grasping his pant leg to prevent him from leaving the house. Tears painted her chubby face. It broke his heart to see. “Please don’t leave me here--I-I’m scared of them. P-please, cousin. Take me with you!”

Oh how he wanted to. If he did then he’d save Y/n from her fate. From Bellatrix. From Voldemort. But a kidnapping charge he’d surely receive by taking Y/n Black away from her parents would have Sirius spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.

A reality he’d face years later for a different reason.

“What happened to her?” Harry’s voice brought him out his thoughts. The man shrugged his shoulders to shake off the tension in his muscles. A frown painted his features.

“She’s serving a life sentence in Azkaban.” It hurt him more to say it out loud. The reality had sunk in. As though it had been a dream the past 14 years. Sirius remembered how his heart dropped when the news spread of Y/n’s imprisonment. Bellatrix’s was no shock. He’d been hoping his deranged cousin would be locked away.

But his sweet baby cousin who cried when she saw her father yelling at the house elves. That he could’ve never imagined. Even when the headline on the Daily Prophet told him the truth in big, bold letters, ‘Life sentence for 15-year-old Death Eater, Y/n Black. Cousin of notorious mass murderer, Sirius Black and younger sister of Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange.’ Sirius didn’t believe for a second Y/n acted on her own accord.

“She was never like the rest of them,” He told Harry after a moment of silence. Noticing the boy’s worried look, Sirius softly shook his head. “My cousin is a rare case, Harry. A prime example of becoming everything she hated as a result of the circumstances around her. Not a day goes by where I don’t feel regret by not being there for her. Had I been so…,” he pictured what could’ve been, “She’d likely be here with us. The Order.”

Harry pictured it too. Sirius’s tone gives him indication that Sirius still cared for Y/n. Wishing fate had turned out different for her. For both of them.

Hermoine appeared moments later to announce they had to leave. Sirius ended the conversation with a promise to Harry that when all was over, they’d be a family again. Living in Grimmauld Place in peace. With a hug goodbye, Harry exited the room, but not before catching his Godfather gave one last glance to Y/n’s portrait.

Crouched in her cell, hands over her ears like they were most days, Y/n shook from the cold wind. Willing the voices in her head to disappear. A constant battle she faced everyday since the chains were first put on her. Some of them were the distant echo of Azkaban's prisoners below. Others she was sure she kept imagining.

The first two years Y/n cried every day. By the fifth year she stopped reacting to everything around her. Once the tenth year of her sentence passed, only a shell of her remained. Staring at the wall with her hands covering her ears. The same routine. Everyday.

But today was going to be different. The voices were louder than usual. Causing difficulty to keep them at bay.

Suddenly Y/n winced with a light shriek, a burning sensation erupting along her forearm. Gaze dropping down, the ink of where her dark mark laid bolded. The feeling intensified. Y/n didn’t know how to react. Only experiencing numbness at what it meant.

A loud explosion caught her attention on the left side of her cell. Followed by the maniacal laughter of her sister. Rising from her position, Y/n’s bare feet brushed against rocks and freezing water. Rats scurried past as she walked toward where the window of her cell had been. The wind grew stronger with each step, nearly sweeping her off balance.

When she breached the area responsible for the explosion, Y/n had a clear image of the sky above her. The ocean’s treacherous waves beneath her. And dementors flying rapidly in the distance. There was no stopping the smirk from painting her chapped lips. Her eyes that were normally empty pits of nothing, suddenly emerged with an emotion unable to contain.

She was free.

It was the only thing on his mind when he read the paper that morning. Plaguing his thoughts with a newfound fear. Everywhere he went that day Neville saw the headline, “Mass Breakout From Azkaban.” Following the names of the high security prisoners freed from its confines. On the front page below the headline, moving images of two women were enough to have some of the students shivering. Bellatrix, with her wild curly hair, appeared crazed. While the woman in the image beside her was in a state of despair. Neville shuddered when his eyes locked on hers. Y/n Black.

She couldn’t have appeared older than he was now. Fifteen.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Neville turned the page to read up more on the sisters. When he got to Y/n, Neville was shocked to learn the girl had been the youngest prisoner in Azkaban in its entire history. Aged fifteen, in her fifth year of Hogwarts. Juveniles were never sent to the hellish institution. Yet, due to the nature of her crimes and association to Voldermort, the Ministry bent laws to lock her up.

Reading the summary dedicated to her upbringing, Y/n had been sorted into Slytherin House at Hogwarts, skilled in Charms, and is alleged to be an Occulmens. It’s said she failed to return to Hogwarts during what would have been her fifth year. Not long after it was reported Y/n Black had been part of the group to torture esteemed Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom to gain information on Voldermort. Alongside her sister, Bellatrix, her brother-in-law, his brother and Barty Crouch Jr. During her arrest and trial, Y/n insisted she’d been forced to use the curse for fear the others would kill her.

Which was true. Bellatrix made it clear to the young Black what the consequences for stepping out of line would be.

But it wasn’t enough in the Ministry’s eyes. Not when the other Death Eaters, Bellatrix included, testified Y/n had complied with no resistance. And so the first juvenile, the youngest Death Eater, was locked away in Azkaban. The sentence: eternity.

Now she was free.

Later that day, during DA practice, Neville found himself in front of the mirror showing pictures and news articles relating to their cause. The others saying goodbye and making their way out of the Room of Requirement. Neville, however, remained. His stare on the image of the original Order of the Phoenix. His parents.

Harry came up beside him, neither addressing the other at first. Then, after a moment of silence and confidence, Neville confided in his friend.

“Fourteen years ago, a Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange and her sister, Y/n Black, used the Cruciatus Curse on my parents. They tortured them for information, but they never gave in.” Looking down at Harry, Neville added after a pause, “I’m quite proud to be their son, but…I’m not sure I’m ready for everyone to know just yet.”

Harry nodded, understanding what his friend was asking of him. Swearing to secrecy. “We’re gonna make them proud, Neville. That’s a promise.”

The Hall of Prophecies was dark. Eerie. The only light emitting from the group's wands and orbs lightly glowing in their stands. The group had rushed to the Ministry upon Harry’s vision Sirius had been taken hostage by Voldemort, tortured into telling him where the prophecy was. They were in for a shock when they arrived.

Sirius wasn’t there. Neither was Voldemort.

It was Neville who alerted the boy of the glass orb dedicated to him. Grasping it in his hand, the voice of Sybil Trelawney echoed through the silence, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not…..and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives….”

“Harry!” he turned to his friends, finding them frozen as they stared at the figure approaching. Harry pushed past, standing in front of the group. The figure was masked by a silver face, cloaked from head to toe.

A Death Eater.

“Where’s Sirius?” Harry questioned him,his wand raised.

“You know you really should know how to tell the difference between dreams…..” the man removed his wand from a familiar cane, waving it in front of his face to remove the mask. Revealing none other than Lucius Malfoy. “And reality.” Everyone tensed, anxiety starting to consume them. “You saw only what the Dark Lord wanted you to see. Now hand me the prophecy.” Harry stood his ground.

“You do anything to us I’ll break it.”

Suddenly a maniacal laugh entered the scene. Intensifying their unease. The shadow of someone behind Lucius coming toward the dim lights. “He knows how to play. Itty. Bitty. Baby. Potter.” The group’s eyes landed on the face of one of the women plastered on every front page of the Daily Prophet. Neville was the first to address her.

“Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“Neville Longbottom, is it?” she mocked with a wicked smile, “How’s mom and dad?” Lucius rolled his eyes at her antics. Neville, however, was enraged.

“Better now that they’re about to be avenged.” In a split second he lifted his want, hoping to cast a spell on the one responsible for his parents torture. Harry was quick to stop him, just as Bellatrix raised her own wand to defend herself.

“Now let’s…” Lucius slowly held his hands up. “Everybody just calm down. Shall we?” The group lowered their wands slightly, but not completely. “All we want is that prophecy.”

“Why did Voldermort need me to come get this?”

“You dare speak his name?” Bellatrix’s eyes widened, appalled by the boy’s courage. “You filthy Half-blood!!”

Again, Lucius attempted to de-escalate the scene, “It’s all right, he’s just a curious lad. Aren’t you?”

Before anyone spoke another word, footsteps from the side filled their ears. “You know what they say about curiosity?” her voice was raspy and void of any emotion. Almost robotic. Harry slowly turned his head, mentally preparing himself to face his Godfather’s youngest cousin. Beside him, Neville paled. Unable to comprehend being in the same room as the Black sisters. It was suffocating.

Y/n Black’s expression matched her tone. Numb. An empty shell was the best description. Not even reacting when Harry pointed his wand in her direction. She simply stalked toward them, finishing her riddle, “It killed the cat. But….something tells me you might be the lucky bastard to live to see it, Harry Potter.”

“Nice of you to finally join us, Y/n,” Lucius narrowed his eyes, watching her move so she was now in between the duo and group. Harry’s wand merely a few centimeters from her chest. The glowing light illuminating her face.

Comparing her to the portrait on the Black Family Tree, Harry noticed all the striking differences. Of course, nearly 15 years had passed since Y/n was locked away in Azkaban. Her baby fat completely gone, likely due from the malnourishment prison had to offer. However, unlike her sister Bellatrix and Sirius before them, Y/n did not come across as a walking corpse. Much time hadn’t passed since her escape, yet she looked healthy. Teeth white and hair silky. Nails long and painted black. Skin blemish free save for a tiny scar on her lip. She was strikingly beautiful.

Harry then remembered reading in the paper that Y/n was skilled in charms. Rumored to have created her own during her time at Hogwarts. She probably had one to alter her appearance. And considering Bellatrix looked rather unsettling, either Y/n did not offer her talent or Bellatrix refused. Judging by Y/n’s reaction to her associates, it was the former.

She ignored Lucius, answering Harry’s question instead, “Prophecies can only be retrieved by those about whom they are made. Which is lucky for you, really.” Her brow raised slightly, “Surely Sirius told you. He’d be foolish not when he knows the Dark Lord desires it.”

Backing away from Harry, Y/n turned on her heel, nudging Lucius with her shoulder causing him to groan. Focusing back on the task at hand, the blonde narrowed his eyes on Harry. “Haven’t you always wondered what was the reason for the connection between you and the Dark Lord?” He moved closer, hands still raised. It was then the group noticed more Death Eaters surrounding them. “Why he was unable to kill you when you were just an infant?”

Bellatrix trailed behind Lucius. Their associates closing in on the students. Meanwhile Y/n stayed behind, not bothering to engage. Harry caught her gaze a few times, noting how disinterested she was by the entire ordeal.

“Don’t you want to know the secret of your scar?” Lucius captured his attention once more. “All the answers are there. In your hand.” Lucius encouraged Harry with a look, “All you have to do is give it to me, and I can show you everything.”

“I’ve waited fourteen years,” Harry said, aware of the approaching footsteps of the Death Eaters getting louder. Waiting for the perfect moment.

“I know.”

“I guess I can wait a little longer--Now!!” Simultaneously, the group all shouted, “Stupefy!!”

After a brief fight against the Death Eaters to escape the Hall of Prophecies, the group found themselves falling to what they thought was their death. At the last second, Hermoine casted Arresto Momentum to slow time for them to safely land, grunting as their bodies met the rock. Scanning their surroundings, Harry spotted an archway with an iridescent glow to it. As he moved closer, voices were heard. “Voices, can you tell what they're saying?”

Confused, Hermoine replied with what they were all thinking, “There aren’t any voices, Harry. Let’s get out of here.”

“I hear them too,” Luna spoke, staring at the arch in wonder. It was difficult to hear clearly what the voices were saying. But they grew louder with each step.

“Harry,” Hermoine pleaded, “it’s just an empty archway.” In the distance, the group heard the Death Eaters approaching. “Please, Harry.” Harry spun around with his wand raised.

“Get behind me!” They followed his order, ready to confront the oncoming threat. They unfortunately, however, were blindsided when the Death Eaters in their black smokey form attacked from behind. Grunts and gasps left the teens, Harry dropping to the ground, clutching the prophecy in his hand. About 15 seconds passed before he opened his eyes to discover he was alone.

Dread consumed him, the boy standing to find his friends. He found them several feet away and spaced out. In the hands of Death Eaters. Ginny and Luna to his right, the Weasley girl gripped at the collar by Y/n Black. Neville struggles against Bellatrix Lestrange, Ron and Hermoine manhandled by the Lestrange brothers. A dry chuckle captured Harry’s attention, watching Lucius Malfoy stroll up to where he stood.

“Did you actually believe, or were you truly naive enough to think….children stood a chance against us?” Lucius made eye contact with the wicked smile of Bellatrix, whereas he met Y/n’s vicious glare. Her hold on Ginny wasn’t as tight as the others, almost like she didn’t view the girl as a threat.

“I’ll make this simple for you, Potter,” Lucius held out his hand. “Give me the prophecy now….or watch your friends die.” Harry looked at his friends, their frightened gazes making his heart fall to his stomach.

“Don’t give it to him, Harry!” Neville shouts, only to be hushed by Bellatrix, who snaps her wand from his head to his neck forcefully.

The Boy who Lived draws his eyes to the glowing prophecy. As if to be contemplating his choices, but deep down knew what he had to do. His friends were more important. He couldn’t risk their lives over a tiny orb. Slowly, he lifted his hand and placed the object in Lucius’s awaiting one. A satisfied smirk appears on the blonde’s lips. He had succeeded in his mission.

Or so he thought.

Bright light filled the area, Harry’s eyes widening as he took in the sight of Sirius behind Lucius. Malfoy’s expression turned to one of pure shock, meeting Sirius’s angry one.

“Get away from my Godson.” And before Lucius could react, he was falling to the ground from the force of Sirius’s right hook. More bright lights entered, members of the Order arriving. Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley, and Mad-Eye.

In the chaos, the prophecy was thrown from Lucius’ hand, shattering as it hit the ground in a cloud of blue-green smoke. The man was in disbelief, and fear at what consequences awaited him.

Beyond him, Y/n released her hold on Ginny Weasley, slightly pushing her away causing the girl to stumble off the rocks. At that moment she met Sirius’ eyes for the first time in nearly 20 years. Their last encounter when he ran from home at 16, and Y/n only 8.

She watched the horror appear on his face. Lingering with regret. She could see him fighting with himself on how to react, she too was fighting that battle. Tears threatened to spill from both their eyes, Y/n’s bottom lip quivering. Overwhelmed by the reunion.

Where they were on opposite sides.

His expression read, ‘I won’t fight you, cousin,” which was enough for the woman to turn on her heel and drop to the ground. Ignoring Sirius shouting her name, Y/n leaned against the rock, waiting for an opportunity to run. Above her Sirius and Harry were dueling Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange. Bellatrix was being trailed in the air by their niece, Nymphadora Tonks, her diabolical laugh echoing against the walls.

A curse flew past her, hitting the rock causing Y/n to spin around where she met Lupin’s startled eyes. “Y/n….” the tone of his voice indicated he was surprised to see her. Likely assuming she’d been someone else. The werewolf always had a soft spot for the young Black. Thinking about the times she tagged along with them in Diagon Alley. Or when Sirius brought her to the Potter house and the two played with her in their animagi form to keep her entertained.

Now here she was with the enemy. A completely different person plagued with darkness. Lupin sighed, laced with despair, “Oh, love…what’ve they done to you?” Somehow that question was enough to send Y/n into a whirlpool of rage. How dare he say those words to her. When the Order had every opportunity to remove her from the Black household. When they could’ve placed her in hiding like James and Lily. Anything, to prevent the Death Eaters from claiming her.

“What you all failed to save me from.”

Before they knew it the two were dueling. Flashes of light leaving their wands, dodging those sent by the other. Despite Y/n spending half her life in prison with little combat experience under her belt, she was keeping up with Remus quite well. He noted the woman had yet to send a killing curse his way. Come to think of it, it appeared she was avoiding it all together. Unlike her associates who were not shy to use it.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Y/n,” Remus attempted to convince her to yield. Ducking when she shot a curse at his head.

Scoffing, the woman spat, “Foolish for you to think such, Remus.” Her next attempt to get him away with a curse was more forceful, “I know how this dance between us ends, and I’d rather be sent to hell itself than be chained in Azkaban once more. So either man up and kill me, or turn away so I can get the hell out of here.”

Remus became conflicted, “You know I can’t do that.” He referred to both options. Not having the strength or heart to kill his best friend's niece whom he once adored. But also not allowing her to escape.

“Shame then,” she hissed, “I’ll try not to make this hurt.” After much struggle, where Remus had the upper hand in the dool, Y/n managed to send him flying back several feet, taking her chance to run to the nearest doorway.

“Avada Kedavra!!” Bellatrix’s voice made her feeze, turning around in time to see the green light hit their cousin straight in the chest.

It was as if time had stopped. All fighting ceased. Y/n heard a loud gasp--a scream, realizing moments later she was the one responsible for it. Hand raising to cover her mouth. Frozen as she watched Sirius fall back into the archway. Disappearing forever.

The silence was then interrupted by Harry’s wails. Held by Remus, he fought against him as though he wanted to join his Godfather. Y/n remained still. Processing what just happened.

Sirius was dead. Her sister killed him.

Y/n had to get out of there. No doubt the Aurors were alerted. They’d be arriving any second.

Witnessing Harry take off after Bellatrix, Y/n met Remus’ eyes. The man silently pleading to her, completely distraught over the death of his best friend. With James and Sirius dead and Peter’s betrayal to Voldemort, he was alone.

Y/n shook her head, unable to face him any longer. Instead of running into the main lobby of the Department of Ministries, the Death Eater looked up and allowed the black smoke to consume her, flying away from the Order. Her associates followed suit.

When the Minister and Aurors entered the lobby to the horrifying scene, they understood the future became plagued with an unavoidable truth.

The night officially marked the beginning of the Second Wizarding War.

Rain pelted against the ground, falling from the gray clouds painting the sky. Strolling down alleyways of London, three sisters in black were on a mission to locate a certain home. Hiding behind corners whenever cars and people passed by. The one leading the trio was the reason for this side quest. Meanwhile the one falling back voiced opposition. For the youngest in the middle, she was rather bored. Not caring what would come out of this meeting.

If Y/n were honest, she just hated getting her outfit soaked.

“Cissy, you can’t do this,” Bellatrix hissed, trailing after her sisters. “He can’t be trusted.”

“The Dark Lord trusts him,” Naricssa rebutted, not sparing her a glance. Y/n simply rolled her eyes.

“The Dark Lord’s mistaken.”

“Shhh,” Y/n interrupted. While she may agree with Bellatrix to some degree, she knew better than to question his judgment aloud. Anyone could be lurking.

Children’s laughter filled their ears, the sisters leaning against the brick walls until they passed. Once clear, they turned the corner and knocked on the door. Waiting for him to answer.

Instead of Snape, the trio were greeted by Wormtail--who was visibly surprised to see them on the steps of Snape’s home. Y/n gave one death glare to the man and he immediately opened the door fully to let them inside. Water droplets fell from their coats, Y/n waved her wand to dry herself, feeling satisfied with a low ‘hmm’.

Wormtail escorted them to the library, where Snape sat in a chair reading the Daily Prophet. Folding the paper, the sisters were greeted by his blank stare. “Run along, Wormtail.” With a flick of his wrist Wormtail was pushed out, door slamming in his face. Y/n smirked, overlooking Snape with a raised brow.

He matched her gaze, the two in silent conversation. Like they each had their secrets the other knew of…

In that moment Y/n thought back to the moment she and Snape reunited after her escape from Azkaban. Neither were fools to the other's facade. Both able to mask it with their talents in both Legilimency and Occlumency.

“I know your true intentions, Severus. You are not part of his cause anymore and haven’t been for fifteen years. Do not stand there and lie to me, I don’t take kindly to liars.”

“Make no mistake then, Y/n, you also have motives not aligned with the Dark Lord. You do not care who wins this battle, only that your freedom is the outcome. He’d not take kindly to your…..deception.”

“Then I guess this means you and I….have a lot to lose if we are not careful. I’ll say no word. I expect you to do the same.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

Wine was poured, Y/n and Narcissa seated in chairs while Snape and Bellatrix remained standing. The eldest sister pacing along the fireplace. Narcissa was the first to speak, “I-I-I know I am not to be here,” Pausing she shot Y/n a hesitant look, which was ignored. “The Dark Lord, himself, forbade me to speak of this--.”

“If the Dark Lord has forbidden it, you are not to speak--but it down, Bella, we mustn’t touch what isn’t ours,” Annoyed, the woman placed the object back on the mantel. Giving Snape a look of, ‘there, happy?’ He turned back to Narcissa, “As it so happens, I’m aware of your situation, Narcissa.”

“You?” Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, “The Dark Lord told you.”

Snape briefly glanced at Y/n, “Your sister doubts me.” The woman smirked.

“She doubts everyone,” she felt Bellatrix’s glare, paying no mind. “It’s not personal.”

“Understandable. Over the years I’ve played my part well--so well I’ve deceived one of the greatest wizards of all time.” Y/n sipped her wine to hide the smirk on her face.

For she knew exactly who he was referring to.

Unlike Bellatrix who simply snorted. Snape dismissed her remark, “Dumbledore is a great wizard. Only a fool would question it.”

Y/n examined her wine, acting like it was the most curious thing in the room. Rather bored by the conversation and Snape’s persistence of convincing her sisters of his motives. Bellatrix obviously had her suspicions. Narcissa, however, took the bait.

“I don’t doubt you, Severus.”

“You should be honored, Cissy,” Bellatrix told her. “As should Draco.” Of course her deranged self would see it that way. 16 year-old Draco tasked with the difficult mission to assassinate Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Punishment for Lucius for failing Voldemort too many times. The most recent being the damn prophecy he was to fetch.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel smug at the Malfoys predicament. Lucius deserved all he got. And while Narcissa may have been her sister, Y/n harbored enough anger and resentment to not feel sympathy for her. Draco was the only one innocent in the matter.

Narcissa’s face fell at Bellatrix’s words, pleading to Snape with her eyes, “He’s just a boy.”

“I cannot change the Dark Lord’s mind,” that was true. Nothing could alter Voldermort’s decision once it was made. Snape did have an idea, “But it might be possible for me to help Draco.”

That was enough for Narcissa. The woman rising from her seat, “Severus--.” She was cut off by Bellatrix.

“Swear to it. Make the unbreakable vow.” She moved toward them, circling Severus as her tone turned to mockery, “It’s just empty words.” Now Narcissa’s face read she wanted the same. Bellatrix continued, “He’ll give it his best, but when it matters most,” her chin rested on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “He’ll just slither back into his hole. Coward,” she ended as she passed him.

Y/n stared at her associate, watching his reaction carefully. It was obvious the insult poked deep in his core. Though Snape did not let it show.

“Take out your wand.”

The sisters were pleased. Visibly showing this as they looked at each other. Y/n stood from her chair, moving closer as Narcissa and Snape held each other's wrists. Bellatrix withdrew her wand, allowing the glowing strands to encompass their hands.

“Will you, Severus Snape, watch over Draco Malfoy as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wishes?”

“I will.”

Water glossed over Narcissa’s eyes, Bellatrix continued, “And will you, to the best of your abilities,” her chin rested this time on Narcissa’s shoulder, the two staring him down like a hawk. Y/n sipped her glass, leaning her head against Narcissa’s other shoulder, smirking slightly at the scene. “Protect him from harm?”

“I will.”

Bellatrix walked so she was directly in front of Snape, “And, if Draco should fail…will you yourself, carry out the deed the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?” The pause was longer, Narcissa practically shaking making Y/n move away.

Finally, Snape made the last vow, “I will.”

The glowing strands disappeared, leaving scars on the two. A permanent reminder of the promise made. To protect Draco from harm and finish the job if it came to it.

Otherwise, the Devil would visit Snape earlier than planned.

#Spotify #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin!reader #harry potter x reader #Sirius black x platonic!reader #remus lupin x reader #the order of the phoenix #hp imagine #hp fanfiction #harry potter angst #severus snape imagine #hp angst #marauders angst #bellatrix lestrange #narcissa malfoy #tom riddle #death eaters #house of black

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0blobthefish0 · 5 months

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Masterlist

Welcome to my main masterlist - here you will find links to all the fics I have written - this will update with every new upload :D

Requesting Info - here

Natasha Romanoff

Bucky Barnes

Carol Danvers

Maria Hill

Darcy Lewis

Kate Bishop

Addison Montgomery

Amelia Shepherd

Arizona Robbins + Callie Torres

Sirius Black

Bellatrix Lestrange

Severus Snape

Narcissa Malfoy

Sweet Torture - smut | mdni | narcissa enjoys someone she can have fun with

Johanna Mason (The Hunger Games)

Leighton Murray (The Sex Lives of College Girls)

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malfoysprinces · 1 year

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In The Middle Of A Betrayal, There is Love

- draco malfoy-

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin Reader

Summary: Draco saves you and finds his way back to you.

Warnings: Breakup, Bellatrix Torture, Angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: Feel free to give feedbacks & requests.

“Now is really not a good time Y/N.” Y/N has lost the count of times that she heard these words came out of Draco’s mouth in this past couple of weeks.

He was cold, distant, and bothered. Almost like bothered by her presence.

She has never felt this particular way during their 10-month long relationship or their 16-year long friendship.

Sound of Draco’s feet walking away from her was nothing but an unbearable ache in Y/N’s chest since he started acting this way. Without wasting time, she walked away as quickly.

There she was, walking alone to the Astronomy Tower. A place once belonged to Draco and Y/N, as their hiding spot. Whenever things got too heavy, they always found their way back each other which led them to spend countless nights talking at Astronomy Tower.

“I think I'd rather pitch myself of the Astronomy Tower if I thought I had to continue here for another two years.” his exact words echoed in her ear.

With the rise of the Dark Lord, a lot has changed for Draco and Y/N’s family. Y/L/N’s was as upper class as Malfoys was. They were amongst the Sacred Twenty-Eight and they had a long line of pure blood witched and wizards in the family line. Their loyalty was to no one but Dark Lord.

Although Y/N had nothing to do with the dark side, her faith was intertwined with it. She just didn’t know it,yet.

She knew one day Draco would take over Lucius’s work, but she would have never guessed that he would push her away. And she also didn’t know that she was going to pay for her own father’s actions. Yet.

As she heard footsteps, it was nobody else than Theodore Nott. Y/N’s best friend.

“Theo” Y/N said in a shaky voice.

“Oh, Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Theo asked in a worried voice.

There was no one else who understood Y/N better than Theo did. So, she just spilled the truth.

“Draco, he is- he has been distant and cold, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Theo was also a death eater. That he already got the mark. Y/N didn’t know it, just yet.

Little did he know, Theo was there for Draco when he received his mark. Little did he know, he had to lie to Y/N to protect her. As commanded by her father. It was just like the old times. Y/N’s father asked Theo to watch over her. But this time not from enemies, but for themselves.

“Y/N just give him time. He is going through a though time.” Said Theo.

“I know, Theo. ”

“Still, he has been so distant to me for so long, I can’t remember when this all started. It is that long and he is barely speaking to me.” Just when Y/N finished her sentence, Draco approached to them.

The look in his eyes were obvious. Things were coming to an end between Y/N and Draco. It’s just that Draco would have been the one to speak it up.

“Hi Draco, and goodbye. I have to go check something.” Said Theo.

As if he ran away from the breakup between his two friends. As if he ran away from what he has been expecting for some time now.

“Hi” Draco said.

“Hi Draco.” Y/N said.

The rest was predictable. Draco called it quits that night. All I could say is, you could rip all the skin from both of their bones, and it would hurt them less. I leave the rest to your imagination.

Y/N was stuck in the moment she lost him. She could see the breakup coming, but she never would have thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe again. It took everything in her not to fall apart in front of him.

She walked and walked until she reached the Slytherin dungeons. The night was silent. No one was in the common room as she headed to her dorm. As she entered her dorm, Y/N let out a deep sigh. Memories of her time with Draco flooded her mind, making her heart ache with longing. She sat on her bed and buried her face in her hands, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to spill.

Meanwhile, Draco was struggling with his own demons. He had been tasked by Voldemort to complete a dangerous mission, one that could cost him his life. He knew that he couldn't involve Y/N in this, no matter how much he loved her. He had to break things off to keep her safe.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N tried to hold on as best she could. She went to her classes, but her heart wasn't in it. She missed Draco terribly, but she didn't know where to find him. Meanwhile, Draco skipped almost all of his classes, disappearing for hours on end. Still his ass was always saved by Professor Snape, everytime.

As Y/N was going through the worst weeks of her life, her only anchor was Theo. Her best friend was here for her as he always was.

“Mate, she is not doing well.” A voice echoed in an empty classroom.

“Oh really Theo? Do you really think that I can’t see that?” Draco said.

“DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING MUCH I WANT TO BE WITH HER RIGHT NOW?” Draco finally lost it.

“Draco, listen to m-“ Theo was interrupted.

“NO THEO, YOU FUCKING LISTEN TO ME! DON'T GO AROUND LECTURING ME, YOU SAW WHAT I HAVE BECAOME, HELL YOU ARE NO DIFFERENT THAN I AM.”

Draco was in tears.

"Just keep her safe, will you?"

“Of course man, she is my best friend, I knew her before you did.” Said Theo in a comforting voice.

“Y/N” shouted Daphne “Come!”

“How are you holding up?” Daphne asked

“Fine, I guess.” Y/N answered.

“You know, Draco hasn’t even blinked since you sit at the table. His eyes are all on you.” Daphne said in a rather comforting voice.

“Daphne stop. I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Whatever.” Said Daphne.

“Y/N Y/L/N” said Professor Snape. “Your mother is waiting for you in Dumbledore’s office.”

“What?” Y/N was in shock.

The whole group was in shock. It is not common for parents to come to Hogwarts. Actually, they never did.

“Hurry Miss Y/L/N.” Snape insisted.

As Y/N was walking to Dumbledore’s office she heard a familiar voice.

“Y/N” said Theo, stopping her halfway. “I heard that your mom is here, everything alright?”

“I don’t think so. Something must be wrong or else she wouldn’t have come all the way from London.” Y/N answered.

“My father what??” Y/N was in total shock.

“He betrayed the Dark Lord. Now they are looking for us everywhere. We gotta run.” Said Y/N’s mom, trembling.

“Mum, what are you talking about?” Y/N was still trying to understand what happened.

Y/N’s father was working for the Dark Lord, she knew he had the dark mark. But still, what could he have possibly done to betray him?

"We don't have time for all the details now," Dumbledore interjected. "The important thing is that you and your mother need to leave Hogwarts immediately. You're not safe here."

And just like that, Y/N found herself packing her stuff in her dorm room with her mum.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, it is a pleasure to see you here.” Said Pansy.

“Hello, darling.” Y/N’s mum answered. “Sweetie, we got to get going.” She said to Y/N.

“Going? Where?” asked Pansy in a shock.

“Pansy darling, you and Y/N can catch up later. We don’t have much time left.” Mrs. Y/L/N was shaking.

“One last time” Y/N thought. “I need to see Draco one last time.” She said to her mum.

“Sorry, we have to go now.” Mrs. Y/L/N insisted.

And just like that, they were gone.

Not so long after the word has spread. Narcissa owled Draco saying Y/N’s father has betrayed the Dark Lord and Dark Lord is looking for Y/N and her mum everywhere to get back at her father. Bellatrix was helping them, as well. News was traveling fast around Hogwarts. Y/N’s father’s betrayal was the topic all the student were talking about.

The consequences of betraying the Dark Lord were dire, and for Y/N and her mum, the price was high. Betrayal meant a lifetime of running, hiding, and living in fear.

They had been living in hiding for days, constantly on the move, never staying in one place for too long.

But they were caught off guard when a group of Death Eaters found them in the forest one night. Y/N and her mother had been camping, thinking that they were safe for the moment. But the Death Eaters had been tracking them, and they attacked without warning.

Y/N and her mother fought bravely, but they were no match for the skilled Death Eaters. They were quickly overpowered and taken captive.

As they were dragged away, Y/N could see the fear in her mother's eyes. She knew that they were facing an uncertain fate, and she was terrified for both of them. But she also knew that they had to be strong, that they had to find a way to survive no matter what lay ahead.

They were then taken to Malfoy Manor, a place that had become notorious for being a hub of Death Eater activity. As Y/N was being dragged into the Malfoy Manor, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over her. She had grown up with Draco and the Malfoys, and the grandeur of the mansion was a sight she had seen many times before. However, this time was different. This time, she was being taken in as a prisoner, and she knew that her past relationship with Draco would not do her any favors.

As she was led to the dungeon by some low-ranked Death Eaters, she saw Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy waiting for her. The looks on their faces were a mix of curiosity and contempt. Y/N could feel their eyes scrutinizing her, and she knew that they were aware of the danger Y/N and her mum was in. She couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason why they had come for her.

Lucius sneered at Y/N and her mother. "What a disgrace to the pureblood name," he spat. "Betraying the Dark Lord, how could you? You and your father have brought shame upon our community."

As Narcissa watched Lucius mock over Y/N and her mother, she couldn't help but feel a deep sadness. She had known Y/N's mother for years and considered her a close friend. The thought of her being subjected to such cruel treatment made her sick to her stomach. She had always felt uneasy about the Death Eaters, but her loyalty to her family had kept her silent.

Eventually, Bellatrix arrived, accompanied by several other Death Eaters. Y/N and her mother could feel the fear creeping up inside of them as they realized that they were about to be tortured. Bellatrix was known for her cruel and sadistic nature, and they knew that they were in for a terrible ordeal.

Bellatrix sneered at Y/N, "Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Draco's precious little girlfriend. Or should I say ex-girlfriend? Accompanied by her pureblood, posh mum. Oh and she is a dear friend of my sister Cissy." She laughed mockingly as Y/N gritted her teeth. "How does it feel to know that the boy you loved is now a loyal servant of the Dark Lord? Bellatrix addressed towards Y/N.

Y/N clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to lash out at Bellatrix, to scream and curse her, but she knew it would only make things worse. She had just learned that Draco is a death eater, as well.

As soon as he heard that Y/N and her mum was captured, Draco came back running to Manor. Knowing exactly what Death Eaters are capable of.

Draco rushed into the dungeon to see Bellatrix and several other Death Eaters surrounding Y/N, who was strapped to a chair, bruised and bleeding. It was written all over his face that he was scared. His heart sank at the sight, and he felt sick with fear and anger.

"What's going on here?" Draco demanded, his voice shaking with emotion.

Bellatrix turned to him with a sneer. "Ah, Draco, just in time. We were just getting started with your little ex-girlfriend here."

Draco's heart clenched at the mention of Y/N as his "ex-girlfriend." He knew he still loved her, despite everything that had happened between them.

What followed was a brutal and horrific scene, as Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters subjected the reader and her mother to various forms of torture. They were forced to endure the Cruciatus Curse, which sent waves of excruciating pain coursing through their bodies. They were also subjected to the Imperius Curse, which robbed them of their free will and left them completely at the mercy of their torturers.

Bellatrix stepped closer to Y/N, her wand still pointed at her. "Tell me, dear, why did you think it was a good idea to betray the Dark Lord?" she sneered.

Y/N clenched her jaw, refusing to answer. Bellatrix let out a cruel laugh. "Oh, I see. The little pureblood princess is too good to speak to me, is that it?"

Y/N gritted her teeth but remained silent.

Bellatrix continued to circle her; the tip of her wand tracing patterns in the air. "You know, I find it amusing that you were once Draco's girlfriend. It's quite the fall from grace, isn't it? From being the object of a Malfoy's affections to being a traitor."

Draco walked forward, his wand drawn, and faced Bellatrix with defiance. "You can't do this. She's not involved in any of this. Let her go."

Bellatrix laughed cruelly. "Oh, but she is involved. Her father has been conspiring against us for years. She knows things that could be very useful to us."

Draco's heart sank further at the realization that Y/N's family was involved in the Resistance. He knew this would only make things worse.

He stepped closer to Y/N, taking in the sight of her battered and bruised body. "Y/N, are you okay?" he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with pain and fear. "Draco," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Draco's heart broke at the sight of her, and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He knew he had to do something to save her. Draco's eyes flicked to Y/N's mother, who was also being held captive. "Please, Bellatrix, let them go. They have nothing to do with this."

"Please, Bellatrix, let her go," Draco pleaded again, his voice desperate. "They are not involved in any of this. I'll do whatever you want, just please, let them go."

Bellatrix looked at him with contempt. "You think you can save her? You think your love for her will protect her? How sweet."

Bellatrix pulled back, a wicked grin on her face. " We'll teach you the true meaning of loyalty." Addressed to Y/N.

Draco gritted his teeth, his anger boiling over. "I'll do whatever it takes. Just let her go."

Y/N closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come.

Draco’s voice quivered as he spoke, “Bellatrix, please, she’s innocent. Don’t hurt her.”

Bellatrix sneered, “Innocent? You forget, dear Draco, that she is a part of a family of blood traitors. She’s just like her father, a betrayer of our Lord.”

“But she’s not like him. She didn’t know anything about her father’s betrayal. She’s not involved in any of this,” Draco pleaded.

Bellatrix cackled, “Oh, how sweet. You still have feelings for her, don’t you? You still think she’s special.”

Bellatrix raised her wand, “Watch me.”

Draco stepped forward, “No, I won’t let you. If you want to torture someone, torture me.”

Y/N watched in disbelief as Draco stepped in front of her, shielding her from Bellatrix’s wand. Bellatrix laughed, “How noble of you, Draco. But I think we’ll have to do both of you. After all, what’s a little torture between star-crossed lovers?”

“No!” Narcissa shouted. “Draco, you stay out of this” Lucius added.

Y/N watched as Draco stepped closer to Bellatrix, his wand pointed at her. "I'm warning you, Bella. Let her go."

Bellatrix just laughed again. "Or what? You'll hex me? You don't have the stomach for it, Draco. You never have."

Draco was being held back by both of his parents.

Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes as Bellatrix carved the word “traitor” on her arm. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Through gritted teeth, Draco whispered to Y/N, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Draco was in tears.

Y/N'S mother was already unconscious, and she couldn't bear to see her suffer any longer.

As Bellatrix continued to torture them, Y/N and Draco exchanged glances filled with pain and regret. Despite everything that had happened between them, they both knew that they still cared for each other. But in the midst of the chaos and violence, it seemed like there was nothing they could do to save themselves.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack that echoed through the room. Everyone turned to see Dobby, the house-elf, apparate into the room. He was holding a small kitchen knife, but his eyes blazed with a fierce determination.

"You will not hurt Master Draco's friend!” he squeaked, brandishing the knife.

Bellatrix sneered at the tiny elf. "What do we have here? A little rat trying to play with the big cats?"

Dobby didn't flinch. "You will not touch Master Draco's friend and her mother!" he repeated.

Bellatrix laughed cruelly. "Oh, how adorable. And what are you going to do about it, little elf?"

Without warning, Dobby lunged at Bellatrix, brandishing the knife. Bellatrix was caught off guard, and stumbled backwards, giving Y/N and her mother an opportunity to run towards Draco.

Draco quickly took hold of their arms, leading them towards the fireplace. "Come on, we have to get out of here!" he urged.

But Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters weren't about to let them escape that easily. They started casting spells in their direction, trying to prevent their escape.

Dobby darted around the room, dodging curses and hexes. He was small and nimble, and surprisingly quick with the knife. He managed to keep Bellatrix and the others occupied long enough for Draco, Y/N, and her mother to make it to the fireplace.

As they made their way through the streets of London, with Dobby trailing behind them, Draco explained his plan to Y/N. "My aunt, Andromeda Tonks, lives in the Order of Phoenix Headquarters. We can go there and stay until we figure out what to do next."

As they stand in front of the Order of Phoenix Headquarters, Y/N turned to Draco, her eyes filled with fear and gratitude. "Thank you, Draco," she said, her voice shaking. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

Draco's heart swelled with love and relief. "I'll always be there for you, Y/N," he said, his voice soft. "I'll never let anything happen to you."

Y/N nodded, grateful for Draco's help. "Thank you, Draco. You're risking so much for us."

Draco smiled sadly. "I'll do anything to keep you safe, Y/N. I just hope it's not too late to make things right between us."

“I love you and I never meant anything to happen to you. I ended things to protect you.” Said Draco rather in a sad voice.

Y/N looked at Draco, tears streaming down her face. "You can't just protect me by pushing me away, Draco," she said, her voice breaking. "I love you too, and I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Draco's eyes softened as he reached out to cup Y/N's cheek. "I know, and I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I was so scared of losing you, of putting you in danger. But now, I realize that pushing you away was the worst thing I could have done."

Y/N leaned into Draco's touch, her heart pounding in her chest. "So what happens now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Draco took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Y/N's. "Now, we start over," he said firmly. "Together. We face whatever comes our way, and we do it together. I love you, Y/N, and I never want to let you go again."

Y/N smiled through her tears, feeling the weight of the past lifting off her shoulders. "I love you too, Draco," she whispered, before leaning in for a kiss.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n #draco angst #draco malfoy #draco fanart #narcissa malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #harry potter #imagine #dobbyharrypotter #theodore nott #hp fanfcition #slytherin

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 9 months

Text

Bellatrix Lestrange nee. Black Masterlist

Mommy… Master List

Approach at your own risk… smut =* extra smutty =**

One Shots

1 last bye ~Cissy Mourning Bella

Merely a Daydream*

Puppy Play Kink with Bellatrix Lestrange*

Agoraphilia with Bellatrix Lestrange*

Snowball Puppy ~Dom!Bellatrix Lestrange xFem Puppy!Reader* ~Coming Soon (;

Oh and I take Requests, so hit me up with your ideas 😉 Requests & Prompt-List

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hazedwords · 2 months

Text

Chaos Club

Severus: Hello Bellatrix, made anyone cry today?

Bellatrix: Sadly, no. But it’s only 10:00.

Y/N: Lucius is in the common room.

#severus snape #harry potter #marauders era #incorrect quotes #pro severus #slytherin #lucius malfoy #young severus #hp x reader #bellatrix black #chaos club

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gulnarsultan · 1 year

Note

lady black and Cygnus with their daughter Bellatrix

If you want yandere version please feel free to ask. (In my own fiction, Lady Black has two or three sons. Therefore, the fiction I have included them in (in the yandere version of the fiction) I can write if you want.)

~ Your marriage to Cygnus was an arranged marriage. However, in a short time you managed to win the love and respect of Cygnus.

~ You got pregnant in a short time. You were very happy when you held your first child, Bellatrix. Cygnus was a bit of a disappointment, but got over it quickly.

~ A year or two later, you had your second child, Andromeda, in your arms. You were never angry at Andromeda for not being born a boy.

~ When your last child, Narcissa, was born, your mother-in-law and father-in-law made derogatory comments against you. Your sister-in-law, Walburga, has been very supportive. Your brother-in-law Alphard defended you and your nephews against his parents. After you had just recovered, Pollux and Irma had come to visit again. They began to reproach and humiliate you again. But you were very surprised that your husband protected you. In the evening, when your husband knelt before you and asked for forgiveness, you said that you had resentment in your heart towards him, but that you would try to forgive him.

~ Cygnus would not hesitate to spoil you and your girls financially.

~ Your husband was taking you on expensive vacations and travels.

~ When Orion and Walburga had sons, Cygnus recovered quickly, even though he was angry and upset.

~ He was so proud when all three of your daughters were selected for the Slytherin house.

~ Because of Sirius' behavior and building, he started to show off even more about his daughters.

~ Cygnus wanted his daughters to adhere to their purebred views.

~Cygnus left the task of punishing and training the girls up to you.

~ After Andromeda escaped, she wouldn't let any of you contact her.

~ You were able to e-communicate with your daughter thanks to Alphard.

~ You made a place in their lives by reading the mother figure they never had for Sirius and Regulus.

~ You were very upset after Bellatrix entered the Akzabana.

~ You spend a lot of time with Narcissa and Draco.

~ After your husband Cygnus dies, it becomes your duty to take care of the Black mansion.

~ You are chatting with the portrait of Walburga.

~ You were very happy when you heard that your daughter and Sirius were freed from the akzaband.

~ You live with Andromeda and Narcissa after the dark side has disappeared.

~ You will never forget the pain of Bellatrix. You take care of your granddaughter Delphini.

#harry potter characters #harry potter fanart #harry potter characters x reader #bellatrix black x reader #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #andromeda black x reader #andromeda black #narcissa malfoy x reader #narcissa malfoy #narcissa black #cygnus black x reader #black hose #black family #the black sisters #walburga black #alphard black

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inlovewithgreta · 11 months

Text

Toys — Bellatrix Lestrange x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Synopsis: Bellatrix comes up with an idea to pleasure you during a dark meeting.

Warnings: Spanking, praise, degradation, toy play (internal toy use), teasing, mommy kink, cunnilingus

Word Count: 1.7k

a/n: This is a more softer version of Bellatrix that is also inspired by a scene from Fifty Shades Darker. Also I am thinking about making a part two of this in the future since it is a bit short and I left the perfect opening for it but we’ll see!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You groan when Bellatrix reveals what she has in store for you today.

There was another Death Eater meeting as there usually was every Friday night and as you could expect they were very very boring. But this time, Bella wanted to do something to make it just a little bit more interesting.

You were in your undergarments getting ready for today's events when Bella comes up in front of you and reveals a little surprise from behind her back.

She held up a string with two decent sized silver balls that were conveniently spread just an inch from each other. One sat at one end while the other sat in the middle.

"I want you to wear these." She instantly demands.

"How am I supposed to wear whatever that is?" You point to the object with visible confusion.

The curly haired brunette laughs her usual throaty cackle.

"Good to know I haven't completely corrupted you just yet. They don't work unless they're wet, now open." She demands once again as she lifts her new toy to your lips.

You know better and do just as you're told, opening your mouth while she slips the cool metal inside and your mouth instantly wrapping around it.

"Good girl, now bend over the bed. Go on."

You release the object with a pop and walk quietly to the bed before using your hands to support you up as you gently bend yourself over the mattress.

She makes way behind you and slowly slides your lace panties down your legs.

The toy gets brought between your thighs as she eases its way into your cunt, one silver ball at a time. The pressure hits you in just the right spots, holding back a moan and gasping as she fills you.

"Look at you taking it so well for me."

Once Bella is satisfied, she lifts your panties back into place and gives you a kiss on your right hip.

Standing straight back up elicits another gasp from you as pleasure seems to come from any movement.

"How does it feel?" She asks sincerely.

The one thing she always made sure of was that you were comfortable with whatever it was the two of you were trying when it came to something new. The last thing she wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable and have a bad experience.

"It feels a bit. . . weird." You admit.

"It'll feel even better once you get moving. . . or sit down. . . oh what am I saying, everything is going to set you off!" The brunette cackles to herself before turning around and walking towards the door, "You have five minutes, don't be late!" She shouts over her shoulder before slamming the door shut.

You try to quickly scramble the rest of your outfit together but panic when your bracelet flings under the bed.

"Shit!" You immediately get on all fours and reach an arm under the frame, frantically searching for the missing jewelry.

"No no no, this can't be happening right now."

Fingers quickly feel around the dense carpet for who knows how long.

Taking a peak, you see it just out of your reach and sigh in frustration. It takes the entire length of your arm and a firm press of your head against the bed frame, that was sure to leave a mark, to finally reach the silver bracelet.

Sitting up on your knees, it takes a minute for the clasp to stay together and you sigh in relief. Scrambling to your feet, you quickly step into your heels and stumble out the door without another second to lose.

You do your best to ignore the ache between your thighs while rushing down the stairs, careful not to fall on your face.

You quickly fix your composure before entering the meeting. Luck was not on your side as everyone turned to look at you but your eyes only fell onto a pair of seething dark ones from a certain curly haired witch.

"Apologies. . ." You nearly mumble as you slide into your seat, trying to avoid any other eyes staring at you. It takes everything in you to not moan the second you make contact with the wooden chair.

Bellatrix was right, you did feel them with every move you made.

Doing your best to ignore the situation as a whole, you couldn't help but feel a pair of dark eyes lingering on you.

After taking a peak at the curly haired woman next to you, your eyes are instantly met with hers. She had a sleek eyebrow raised when she noticed you crossing your legs and tapping your foot against the floor.

There was an ache between your thighs and she knew exactly what was happening to you. She knew you were longing to cum but due to your tardiness, she wanted to have some fun with you first.

Her hand slips down to your thighs and immediately separates them. Fingers glide to your center and Bellatrix couldn't help the smirk that spread along her face once she felt how wet you were.

Her fingers slowly toy with you through the thin fabric.

A soft moan barely escapes, causing you to immediately cover it up with a cough.

"Are you okay?" Bella's two-toned haired sister to your left whispers towards you.

"I-I'm fine." You clear your throat, "It's just a tickle."

"I think she's just a bit thirsty, aren't you dear?" Bellatrix chimes in quietly.

"Yeah that's it. . ."

After a few more minutes of Bellatrix getting you all hot and bothered, the meeting comes to an end and everybody goes their separate ways besides you and her.

"Come now, it's time we play." Bella nearly shoves you out of the seat.

The two of you make your way back up the stairs, down the hallway, and back into your shared bedroom.

"You were late." She slams the door, bringing you over towards the bed, "And what do we do to those who don't listen?" She sits down at the edge of the bed.

"They get punished." You answer her.

"That's correct." Bella pats her legs, "Now bend over."

You do as you're told and bend yourself across her legs, leaving your ass sticking out in the air for her.

"Look at you, being good and finally doing what you're told," She says while sliding your panties down your legs, "It's too bad you didn't listen to begin with, now I must punish you like a little whore."

Her hand rubs your bare ass as she prepares to have her fun.

"Aren't you going to take out-"

"Nope."

Smack

Her hand makes contact with your skin that elicits a sharp sting that runs straight up your spine causing you to gasp.

She smirked as she immediately saw you reacting to both the pain and the pleasure mixed together.

She soothes the same spot as before with the palm of her hand.

Smack

Moans slip through as she slowly makes the skin on your ass just a tad bit brighter with every slap.

You could feel your wetness run down your thighs, the pain quickly fading until all you felt was the pleasure.

The brunette instantly noticed the change in your demeanor.

"I can see this punishment is coming to an end, have you learned your lesson?"

Smack

"Yes!"

"And that is?" She smirks to herself.

Smack

"I won't be late again! I swear!"

"Good."

Smack

She rubs your now reddened cheek one last time before helping you sit up on your knees.

Her finger wipes a stray tear off your face as she examines to make sure you were okay.

"Now, my little plaything, lay back on the bed so you can get your reward for taking your punishment so well."

You rise to your feet and crawl onto the bed next to her, slightly wincing once you turn over and your ass makes contact with the mattress.

She chuckles as she gets to her knees at the end of the bed, pulling you by your ankles to get you just a tad bit closer to her. The now soaked panties get taken off completely and tossed aside.

She spreads your legs, and glides her fingers to your entrance and pulls on the toy, gently yet slowly taking it out of you. A deep drawn out moan fills her ears before she sets the toy aside to clean later.

"Look at you, taking it so well for mommy."

Eyes instantly connect with your cunt before she leans her head in for her tongue to lick the strip up your folds with a small hum.

Your fingers help move the crazy curls out of her face. Usually she would hate anybody touching her locks but with you she made an exception.

She always admired the way you fell to pieces whenever she touched you.

She even admired how you tasted against her tongue. You were hers and only hers.

Bella held your legs open with her hands against your thighs as she expertly devoured you in a way that had you trembling.

Her tongue flicking your overly sensitive clit elicited a string of moans followed by a tighter grip of her hair.

Your head couldn't help but lull back. She saw your hips begging to buck and your breathing picked up and she knew you were close.

"Cum for me, pet. Let me get that sweet taste of you."

You were already close after having the feeling of pleasure throughout the night. The second her mouth started sucking and flicking against your clit at an excruciatingly fast pace is what sent you over the edge.

Legs tensed up when you came, Bella wasting no time in licking up your mess, humming when she gets more of a taste of you. She licks you completely clean and you can't help but slightly push her head away at the feeling of overstimulation when she doesn't stop. "Okay okay," You breathe out, slightly pushing her head away which causes her to chuckle.

She licks her lips as she stands up, a wicked smirk plastered on her face. She reaches behind her and pulls her zipper down. Her dress falls down to the floor, revealing her naked body, and she kicks off her heels before swiftly turning and strutting to the restroom, hips swaying to their own rhythm.

"Come shower, little one, it's my turn." A smirk was still plastered on her face as she looked over her shoulder at you and you scramble to your feet after her.

This was going to be a long night.

#bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix black #bellatrix x reader #lesbiansmut #smut #fanfic #no plot whatsoever #oneshot #praise #pwp fics #wlw smut #mommy k!nk #fem reader

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amaywrites · 2 years

Text

Bellatrix: I’m thirsty

* licks blood from her arm*

Bellatrix: refreshing

Tom: you get more weird every day

Rodolphus: Welcome to my world tommy boy.

#bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix x voldemort #narcissa black #the black family #tom riddle #rodolphus lestrange #bellatrix x rodolphus #barty crouch jr #druella black #drarry #draco malfoy #harmione #harry potter x gender neutral reader #narcissa x reader #narcissa x lily #incorrect harry potter quotes

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sunflower-sitara · 10 months

Text

Her Little Secret {Yandere Bellatrix Black x Reader}

[tw: kidnapping, force feeding, usage of amortentia, implied usage of the cruciatus curse (not on reader)]

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You are currently held captive, tied upon a chair and blindfolded.

you have no idea as to who could've done it, and you know you should be panicking right now, which you are doing internally, but-

you wonder, who would've wanted to kidnap you, a mere nobody?

you were always quiet and meek, always slipping through crowds and making sure you weren't seen by anyone.

it couldn't be helped, that was one of your personality traits, after all.

so the question rises again, who kidnapped you?

you get the answer of your question by the sound of a door opening, and heels clacking on the tiled floor.

you hold your breath when you feel your anonymous kidnapper is present in front of you, and you go still when they bend down towards you, their head on your shoulder, and their nose on your neck, sniffing you.

smelling you as you feel them move their head, nose brushing your neck as they heave out a big sigh, borderline sounding like a moan.

you tremble as you try to speak,

"hel-hello..."

a voice shushes you, and the person whispers out your name.

"You do not know how long I've waited for this...waited for you, darling."

"who are you...?" you ask, only to flinch back as your captor rips away the blindfold.

you squint your eyes as you look at her, her wild curly mop of hair is the first thing that attracts your eyes.

Then her face: gaunt cheeks and a sharp jawline, plump bottom lip which she clutches in between her teeth as she gazes upon you with dark, hungry eyes, cute button nose scrunching with mad glee.

Her eyes widen as a doe's, as she tilts her head at a side, pouty lips held with a seductive gaze in her eyes.

Yeah, faux innocence doesn't really suit her crazy look.

"my name is Bellatrix...though you can call me Bella, or anything you'd like." she said with a wink.

Horror spreads you like butter on toast as you remember her familiar face.

she was there, everywhere you were.

and now she took the opportunity and kidnapped you.

she removes the binds around you with a flick of her wrist, and leans down towards you, her hands grabbing the armrests of the chair.

she was leaning too much, and when you felt she was about to kiss your lips, your stomach grumbled.

a tiny blush coated your cheeks as she chuckled, and turned away.

she summoned her house elf and order the poor trembling thing all of your favorite food.

your eyes widen as she side eyed you as you realize she has been stalking you for a long time.

fear finally showed itself on your face as you start to fidget, trying and failing miserably while pleading her to let you go.

you saw how deranged she truly is when her eyes darken, and she let out a snarl.

"what do you mean, let you go? Do you have any idea of how I had to meticulously plan every step to have you here right now, with me? and you dare to plead me to let you go!" she screams.

when she saw your frightened form, her face soften. it was terrifying how she could change her facial expressions so quickly.

"I understand that you must be scared of your new surroundings, darling. but that does not give you an excuse to let you return to that wretched place! this is your home now, you belong to me, and me only."

The house elf popped up with the dishes, and placed them softly on the table that was conjured up by Bellatrix, without a word.

the elf left, after politely asking whether they need anything else.

Bellatrix went near the food, and picked up a plate. she took a spoonful of your favorite food, and held the spoon near your mouth, signaling to open your mouth and let her feed you.

while the food smelt really good, and you like it so much to not refuse, something about the way Bella grinned made you suspicious.

so you did what any other sane person would.

you refused the food.

your lips shut firm, you shook your head side-to-side in an indication of rejection.

her face twisted, an ugly scowl on her beautiful face, as she forced your mouth open with a non-verbal spell and shoved the spoon so that you had no other way but to swallow.

you choked, but managed to swallow the food without making a fuss.

tears strained your eyes as you looked up at her, making her smirk.

then you felt something weird.

your eyes began to give a dreamy haze, stomach tingling as you looked up at Bella, but not with fear or anger this time,

with love.

Bellatrix grinned as she recognized the tell-tale workings of amortentia. she made sure to signal the elf to mix the potion along with the food as she knew you wouldn't love her after what she did.

your dear ones must be in St.Mungo's now that they've been felt the worst pain magic could bestow upon.

Bella's plan is going pretty smooth right now. All she has to do is to make sure no other witch or wizard should know about you.

Her little secret.

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#harry potter #bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix x reader #one-shot #reader insert #gender neutral reader #kidnapping #drugging #yandere #yandere bellatrix #yandere bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix black

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 1 year

Note

Hi. Could you do Sirius Black x reader where his family hurts ger? Angst with some fluff if possible ☺️

thank you for requesting!! i hope you like it 💜 i decided to make it new year's themed given the day

A Black New Year's Eve

pairing: Sirius Black x reader

summary: Sirius invites you, his best friend and a muggle-born, to his family’s New Year’s Eve party. Their reaction is worse than he’d imagined.

tags / warnings: friends to lovers, some mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, fluff, mentions of pain, she/her reader, muggle born reader, bitchy Bellatrix

word count: 3.6k

“Come to our New Year’s party with me,” Sirius asked you as you walked along the Black Lake together the night before you’d all be leaving for the Christmas holiday.

“Has the cold made you go mad, Siri? Your family would tear me apart.” “I’ll protect you,” he winked and nudged your shoulder with his.

“Don’t you complain about that party every year anyway? It sounds like a miserable time.” “It is!” You looked at him incredulously. “Then why would I want to go?” “Because even though it’s miserable, I’ll be there.” His tone still had hints of his typically playful one, but he sounded more sincere when he continued, “And if you’re there with me, it’ll go from miserable to pretty great probably. I hate being there, y/n. In that house, with those people. I can’t stand it. But if I did anything about it, my family might actually tear me apart.”

Your heart ached for him. You knew how terrible his home life was, and you knew how special it was that he would open up to you about it. Sirius had mastered acting like everything was alright, like he didn’t have a care in the world when other people were around, but with you, he could be both that silly, nonchalant Sirius as well as the boy who was hurt and broken in ways many people wouldn’t understand.

And you loved every side of him, strong and vulnerable. He was your best friend in the world, but you would be lying to yourself if you pretended you didn’t wish he was more than that.

“Who knows; we might even make a fun time of it,” he chuckled.

You stayed serious because even though you were partly joking before, his family did terrify you. You wanted to be there for him (and to spend as much time with him as possible), but the annual Black New Year’s Eve party was a who’s who of elitist pure-bloods. And you, they would never fail to remind you, were muggle-born.

“You really think they’d be okay with my showing up to their lovely, pure-blood soirée?” you asked sarcastically.

“No. Definitely not. But fuck them. If they’re going to make me be there, then I can invite whoever I want. Besides it’s my house, too, no matter how much they — and I — wish it wasn’t. And I want you to come, so sod what they have to say about it.”

You chewed your lip in worried thought, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“Look, if you don’t want to, I understand. No pressure, love. I mean, for Godric’s sake, I definitely wouldn’t be going if I could get out of it, so I understand the aversion,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but you could hear the desperation underneath his lighter tone. “No, Siri, of course I want to go with you. I want to make celebrating the new year fun for you for once,” you smiled, “I’m just worried about the drama my crashing the party would cause.” “People might look at us funny, might say nasty things even, but you know they’re wrong. Assholes. Idiots. The lot of them. And you get those comments here too, as much as I wish you wouldn’t, and I’ve always admired how strong you are, how you don’t care what people like that think of you.”

“Yeah?” “Of course, love.” His smile, his arm around you, his softer side, it was all enough to warm you up even out in the freezing cold.

“Alright, Black, I’ll be there, but you’ll owe me one. Or one hundred.” “Thank you! thank you! thank you!” he hopped up and down then made his half-hug a full one and kissed your cheek as his he continued energetically, “You’re the best, y/n, really. You’re brilliant. Thank you.” “Alright, alright, you sap,” you giggled, but your beaming smile made it evident you loved his affections.

Time passed, students going home, Christmas coming and going in what felt like a flash to you. New year’s was coming up, with it the party, and as the big day approached, your anxiety grew. Part of you was nervous about attending such a formal event in the first place. These parties might be commonplace for Sirius, growing up like he did, but you were worried about everything from whether your dress would be appropriate to if there would be dancing and, if so, if there’d be fancy steps you didn’t know. Add the whole muggle-born thing on top of that, and you were a ball of nerves by December 31st as you stood in front of your mirror, attempting to straighten your dress and your posture. Sirius had done his best to assuage your worries, answering all your questions in owls you’d been sending back and forth, but you couldn’t help the nerves anyway. You took one last deep breath, one last glance at your reflection, then made your way out to the waiting cab, trying to focus on your excitement at seeing Sirius rather than your nerves at seeing, well, everyone else.

As you pulled up to Number 11, Grimmauld Place, Sirius having informed you not to give the driver his actual address given the confusion its invisibility to him would cause, you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself at the slight absurdity of it all. You were about to attend a party so out of your normal life; you were probably the only person showing up by non-magical means; all of it was just so odd.

You waited for the cab to drive away before making your way to the Blacks’ door. You knocked, your hand shaking a bit as you brought it back down to your side, and waited.

A minute later, you were greeted by the most miserable looking house elf.

“Welcome to the home of the noble and most ancient house of Black,” he croaked.

“Thank you,” you responded, doing a bit of an awkward curtsy as you made your way into the massive foyer.

“Who are you?” A cold, sharp voice snapped at you, jolting your back straight in your already anxious state. You turned and were met with a beautiful but grim looking woman with the most elegant dress, giant jewels, and perfect hair.

You stared blankly at her, shocked speechless for a moment. “Well?” she asked again, not a hint of kindness in her bold voice.

“I’m here for Sirius. He invited me.” “Sirius invited you? and what is your name?” “y/n.” “No, you silly girl. Your last name. Who is your family?” “Oh. y/l/n. y/n y/l/n. You wouldn’t have heard of us, I’m sure.” She frightened you, but you responded honestly without hesitation, having no shame in your background or family.

“My parents are muggles,” you continued, to fill the stifling silence. “You’re a mudblood?” The disdain and disgust were immediate on her expression, turning beautiful features monstrous in an instant. “This must be Sirius’s idea of a joke. He’s getting brasher and brasher, forgetting his place. Inviting a mudblood into our home? completely unacceptable,” she said, more to herself than to you. “Kreacher,” she snapped. “Fetch Sirius.” “Yes, madam.” He bowed low and adoringly, all the while letting out loud phrases toward you, “Disgusting. Disgraceful. A mudblood in my mistress’s house. Filthy mudblood.”

You didn’t know what to do, were desperate for Sirius to appear. A man turned a corner into the entry hall, but your heart sank as you saw it wasn’t him.

“Orion,” Walburga said. “Our son has decided it funny to invite a mudblood to our party. She showed up in one of those barbaric muggle contraptions, no regard for who saw her walking into our house, like she was welcome here, for Salazar’s sake. She’ll be on her way shortly, but I don’t want Sirius to think he’s getting away with this.” The derision rolled off her tongue, clearly very at home there.

Just then, Sirius finally came into sight. Even in the extremely stressful circumstances, you couldn’t help but be struck at how handsome he looked. Regal and beautiful like his parents, but lacking the coldness and contempt that made their beauty off-putting.

“y/n!” He smiled, like his mother was not staring daggers into him, and quickly made his way to you. He hugged you, and it was the most welcome sensation, his familiar intoxicating smell, the warmth that only his contact gave you.

“Excuse me.” Walburga hissed, anger mixing into the now characteristic disdain.

Sirius broke your hug, but kept his arm around you. It felt different than it usually did, and it took you the smallest fraction of a second to identify the difference: it was protective. It was still affectionate, in a Sirius kind of way, but it was firmer, angled a bit strange so that he could maintain, whether consciously or not you didn’t know, his body between yours and his mother’s. “Mother. This is my friend, y/n, and she’s my guest tonight,” he said, as if informing her of an uninteresting fact, in a formal, distant tone you’d never heard from him.

“You think this is funny? Sirius Orion Black, you have no idea what’s coming to you if you keep up this little charade.” A cold washed over your body at her words, the threatening tone not a typical parental one in which the threat was never as bad as it sounded when made in anger. Her threat was real, her anger measured. “No, I don’t think it’s funny. She’s my friend, and I want her here. I won’t bother trying to change any of your appalling views, but I hope you’ll be human enough to let us have a fine time tonight. Now, excuse us.” His bravery astounded you. He brought his arm down around your waist and pulled you with him past his parents further into the house.

It was enormous and elegant in a way that a museum might be. Not only because so many of the items looked like they ought to be on display in one, but also because of the accompanying unwelcoming sense you get in a museum that you should not touch anything. This house was no home, and you held Sirius more tightly at the mere thought of having to grow up here.

Impeccably dressed people were milling about, champagne in their hands, their chins raised in a look you’d come to expect from pure-bloods. You saw a couple of familiar faces — Regulus, Bellatrix and her sisters, a few other fellow students — but mostly, these people were strangers. A few shot strange looks your way, clearly confused at not recognizing you. They all knew each other, of course, and expected a host of the party to have an impressive or at least appropriate date.

“Ignore them,” Sirius whispered into your ear, and a chill shot down your spine, but this one was much more pleasant than the cold his relatives had elicited.

You gave him your best attempt at a smile, and his smile in return only enhanced his handsome features. You walked around a little, not breaking apart, and when you finally stopped in an emptier corner of the room, Sirius turned to look at you and said, “You look so beautiful, y/n. I’m not surprised; you always do, but still, it’s stunning every time.” He paused, scanning your face, admiring you but clearly also curious — nervous even? — to see how you’d react to his compliments. Sure, he was often flirtatious, but this was something else, something further, more intimate.

You didn’t know what to say, so instead you grabbed his hand, entwined your fingers and squeezed. He smiled and you could see some tension leaving his shoulders as he exhaled.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Sorry about my mother. She’s always like that. That was her being nice even.”

“It’s alright. I mean, she was terrifying, but I’m really glad to see you.” “I missed your voice, love.” His thumb caressed the back of your hand still in his.

The tender moment was interrupted by a terrible laugh you’d recognize anywhere. Bellatrix.

“Oh, how sweet! Our little red-and-gold sheep of the family invited his mudblood girlfriend to the party! I’m not interrupting am I? I’d say I’d hate to, but actually, I hope I am,” she smirked. “Save all of our guests the sight of you laying hands on a filthy mudblood, cousin,” she continued, the aggression making its way through the fake amusement. “Honestly. I don’t know how you could have possibly turned out so rotten. I pity your parents; they must be so ashamed of you.”

Sirius’s jaw was clenched, his stormy grey eyes piercing Bellatrix.

“Sod off, Bella. I think I saw Rodolphus somewhere over there. I’m sure he’s missing you. Though, honestly, he’s probably grateful for the break. Enjoying the peace of you not snapping at him and bossing him around like you’re already the bitter married couple you’ll be in a few years.”

“Of course you can’t recognize a good match when you see one. Bringing this to your own party.”

You felt Sirius tense next to you, clearly much more angered at her insulting you than him.

“I mean it, Bella. Sod. Off.”

“Or what? Is little Sirius going to make a scene?” she laughed. “How can you defend her honour if she obviously doesn’t have any,” she scoffed.

“She,” you cut in, “isn’t above making a scene, Bellatrix. It’s not like anyone here would like me even if I didn’t.”

Bellatrix turned from Sirius to you, eyeing you up and down like a predator sizing up its prey, completely unfazed by your confrontation.

“You’re lucky I have sense of decorum, y/l/n. Or I’d show you how magic is used by those of us to whom it rightly belongs.” Her voice was level, somehow more venomous in its indifference.

Sirius’s hand went to his pocket, grabbing his wand, but before anything could escalate, Walburga approached. A part of you expected her to defuse the situation, the parental figure telling the children to simmer down. Instead, Walburga laid a hand on Bellatrix’s should and said, “Bellatrix, darling, would you do us the favor of escorting Sirius’s little friend out?”

Bellatrix’s lips curled into a devious smile. “Certainly.”

Sirius’s grip tightened around you, and though he was usually not one to avoid a fight — sometimes to a fault — he knew virtually everyone in the room would have no qualms about hurting a muggle-born, and one of the few things more important to him than standing up to his family was protecting you.

You, similarly, knew his family would not hesitate to hurt him for protecting you, and you were eager to get yourself and especially him out of danger. “Siri, let’s go. Let’s just go.”

He looked over at you, and for the brief moment your eyes met, a glimpse of warmth softened the stern look on his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come as he looked back toward his mother and cousin.

Without a word to them, he started making his way toward the door, you beside him. You hoped they would just let you go, but Walburga and Bellatrix followed. You weren’t sure why given they could be sure you left without literally walking you to the door, but as soon as the four of you were in the empty foyer, out of sight of her beloved guests, Walburga spoke again. She clearly had not wanted to draw any more attention to you, but now, out of the others’ earshot, she said, “You will stay here, young man, where you will show me you know how to behave unless you wish to worsen the consequences of your little stunt.”

Sirius looked her dead in the eyes and, not showing the fear you knew he must be feeling, he grabbed your hand and walked toward the door.

“Don’t you dare,” came from behind you.

As he reached for the door, a strange light disoriented you, and it wasn’t until Sirius groaned in pain and doubled over that you realized it was a spell that had been cast at him from behind. You spun around and tried to shield him with one arm as the other was already making its way to grab your wand. “You will learn respect,” Walburga uttered, and she raised her wand again. “Protego!” you cast.

“Step aside, stupid girl!”

She cast a spell at your shield charm, eliminating it. You were so focused on her that you didn’t see Bellatrix raising her wand at you until it was too late to protect yourself.

“Crucio!” she cast, and everything went blurry except one thing: pain. You fell to the floor, each second feeling like years as you felt pain you would never have been able to imagine. You could hear Bellatrix laughing, but when her laughter suddenly stopped, so did the excruciating pain.

You looked up to see Sirius, wand pointing toward Bellatrix, having stopped her. There was a look of terror in his eyes as he leaned down to wrap his arms around you, pulling you up with him and half-carrying you out the door in a rush.

Your whole body ached like you’d just been trampled by a stampede, and your legs felt like they would give under your weight any moment. You leaned desperately into Sirius but made it only a few steps before having to lean onto the wall next you.

He helped you and kept you in his arms as he frantically said, “y/n? y/n? Are you alright? Fuck. Darling, are you alright? Talk to me, love. Fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.” “I’m okay,” you tried to say, your voice a hoarse whisper. “I’m okay, Siri,” you tried again, desperate to comfort his panic despite your pain.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I can’t believe I brought you there. I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve known. I should’ve kept you as far from that hell as possible, kept you safe. I’m supposed to protect you, and I’m so selfish, I put you in danger instead. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.” He was frantic.

You lifted your arms, which felt like they were being weighed down with lead, and held his face in your hands, looking straight into his eyes.

“It’s not your fault, Sirius; it’s not. I’m okay. I’m alright.” He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he held you tight. You put your face in the crook of his neck, embracing him. You lingered like this for a long moment, holding each other, both of your breathing finally calming down.

He pulled back only far enough to see your face as he asked, “Can you walk, love?” His expression and voice were all concern, all care and adoration. You nodded weakly and pushed yourself off the wall, needing to lean into him. He held you close as he helped you walk away from Grimmauld Place.

You walked a short distance in the cold night, the streets deserted as everyone was at a New Year’s Eve party this late. Stopping in a small park, grateful for the relief, you sat on a bench.

“Here,” Sirius whispered as he removed his warm formal robes and wrapped them around you. He stroked your back with one hand, held yours with the other. “How are you? I don’t know how to help. Do you need to go to a healer?” You shook your head then leaned it on him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “No, I’m okay. It hurts, but I think I just need to rest.” “I’m so sorry, y/n.” “It wasn’t your fault,” you repeated, and would keep repeating until he believed you. You looked up into his eyes, trying to tell him without words, hoping he would see all the love you had for him there. His hand came up to stroke your cheek. “You can’t go back there,” you told him. He nodded, his face serious but his eyes gentle. “I wish I could protect you,” you added.

“I should’ve protected you. I’ll do a better job of it from now on.” A beat. “I love you,” you whispered.

His thumb stopped on your cheek mid-caress; his eyebrows went up as if he was surprised, his mouth opening but no words coming out. It took him a moment but his lips finally formed a smile, and he said, “I love you too.” You smiled too, forgetting the pain for the first time even if just for a moment at hearing those words from him.

You leaned into each other, and his lips on yours was the greatest remedy to your aching body you could’ve possibly wanted. The kiss was firm but soft, Sirius clearly being gentle with you. He pulled back the smallest bit and looked into your eyes. Sirius was usually smiling, your brightest star, but the smile on his face now was one you’d never seen before, complete joy. He leaned back in and kissed you again, a bit stronger this time, and your hand came up to cup his face as you returned the passion.

Just then, you started hearing voices yelling something — an open window in a nearby flat.

“10! 9! 8!” they started.

“We kissed a bit early, I think,” Sirius chuckled.

“We’d waited long enough,” you replied. You and Sirius laughed through the rest of the countdown, and at “Happy New Year!” he kissed you again ardently.

#marauders #marauders fanfic #sirius black #sirius black fanfic #sirius black one shot #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader #sirius x y/n #angst #fluff #friends to lovers #new year's #reader insert #x reader #x y/n #x you #bellatrix lestrange

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