This Is A List Of Curses Severus Crafted For The Dark Lord During The Last Six Years Of Their Death-Eatership.

So did I, Severus thought but didn’t say aloud. They had a busy schedule. They kept up with many duties at once. When the werewolf invited them for coffee they dismissed the idea out of hand, but as they found themself free this afternoon (what a coincidence! How often did a hole in their schedule appear unannounced?) they threw on an old pair of jeans and a shirt, their feet taking them down familiar London streets before they fully realized what they were doing. Or rather, why they were doing it.

The last time they properly set foot in the muggle world was so long ago Severus couldn’t place it accurately. Despite this, they merged into the comfortable flow of foot traffic as seamlessly as they would if they’ve never left. The difference between London’s streets and the silent, furtive shuffle of Diagon’s was unsubtle. It was like the war had disappeared behind them, as real as a troubling dream upon waking. Severus disliked spending more time here than they absolutely had to. Juxtaposed with this comfortable illusion of safety, the reality of their everyday life reimposed itself tenfold.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Dropped his gaze to the table instinctively, then looked at the werewolf, at the hand gesture. Fine, he thought, dragging the metal chair back to take a seat. Fine, then he motioned for the waiter to get him his own coffee (black, no milk, no sugar) and sat down.

He crossed his legs at the knees. Leaned back, elbow resting over the back of the metal chair. He fought the urge to fiddle with his silver earring. ‘ I almost decided this was a joke, ’ he said, the corner of his lips lifted in a smirk. ‘ One last cheap shot for old times’ sake. I haven’t ruled that out yet, just so you know. ’ He watched the werewolf silently, hand close to his wand. Waiting. Wary, but an ever-present anger moving beneath the surface. ‘ What’s this about? ’

WHEN: sometime shortly after Severus joined the order WHERE: muggle coffee shop CLOSED for @wrongdeor

Remus Lupin is not a man of many regrets. In fact, blinding Gryffindor as he is, he’d rather puff out his chest and act like a massive dick, saying he’s never done any wrong, rather than admit to some things he’d like to change in his past. But there are things. Pride sits high up in his chest and refuses to let the words form on his tongue on most days, but he has things to apologise for. In particular, the one time he was, in fact, a monster.

He’s never been proud of hurting people; every time he’s lashed out at his friends through the years, every time the full moon has made its home amongst the stars and some greater evil within him has tried its best to tear apart his friendships, he always crawls back and begs for forgiveness the morning after. He’s not a monster, he doesn’t want to be. Except the one time he is, the one time he’s done one of the worst things he could do, he hides behind his friends and doesn’t think about it ever again. There are layers upon layers of denial that sit atop of whatever foggy memory he has of the prank. He felt used by his friend, like a killing machine upon a leash; he felt inhuman for the first time in years; he was a monster who had nearly killed someone. It was easier to push all of it away, deal with none of it, and act like it didn’t happen.

It felt like that, until Severus joined the Order. Seeing them more often made the lump in Remus’ throat grow, the guilt and the resentment flooding up his brain until it was a headache he couldn’t get rid of, an ever present ache he was fighting against. He isn’t a man of many regrets, yes, but he’s not going to walk around like a coward, barely able to meet Severus’ eyes. So he sets up a meeting.

“I thought you weren’t gonna show up.” He greets, when Severus finally arrives. There’s a scone forgotten on his plate and a half-empty cup of some overpriced cappuccino concoction in front of him. He blinks up at the other, almost as if dumbfounded by their presence, before he gestures to the seat across from him. “Please." 

helloxhestia​:

Hestia’s eyes became slightly glazed when Severus said the name. But, no, not from fear. That name, over the past six years, had slowly developed a Pavlovian response in her. The words “Bellatrix Black” meant it was time to go to work.

But, his next words reminded her there was a real reason to be afraid. Liverpool.

Gideon.

Hestia instinctively looked at Moody with a pointed expression at the mention of Liverpool, and knew exactly why she’d been called so urgently. 

How could she have been so reckless? To finally get what you want, only to wish you’d never asked for it. If he had to face down Bellatrix on his first mission back, he might never go back on the field again.

She didn’t want to give Black any power over her and her teammates, but data was data, and Black’s track record spoke for itself.

Perhaps in response to Hestia’s look at Moody, Severus told her he’d already agreed. She nodded solemnly at this, and returned her attention to Severus.

Then, she heard their action plan.

She’d considered taking Gideon out of the field all together, but perhaps this could be a good compromise, sending Severus out with them, without wounding Gideon too deeply. They did believe in him, of course, no one did more than her, but… 

…it was Bellatrix.

As a response, Hestia opened her mouth slightly as though to ask “are you sure?” but remembered who she was talking to. If the past eight months of working with them had taught her anything, if Severus was unable to do something, they would have told her.

She looked them in the eye and almost imperceptibly nodded before turning back to Moody.

“I sanction it. Now, who’s going to talk to Prewett?”

madeyed-andmoody​:

Like Hestia, hearing the name ‘Bellatrix Black’ had instilled a visceral reaction in Alastor, one thay was neither shirked, nor ignored. Yes, he was shocked, but he also wasn’t. In some part of his mind, Moody had prepared for the inevitably of Bellatrix of another of the higher ranking Death Eaters to appear, though not, perhaps, for this mission.

He could feel Hestia’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but he refused to look at her, just then. Alastor leaned forward, hands braced on the table top, and listened as Severus recollected the past few moments. Hestia and Alastor both knew who they were speaking about, and their fears were staring them in the face.

However, Moody had told Gideon just yesterday morning that his involvement in these missions was his choice, that they would support him. The very real terror of Gideon freezing on the field – of Emmeline or Marlene or James, too, but certainly Gideon, now, with the…change in their relationship – was one that set his heart tripping over itself in his chest. And this, he thought, was why he had refused for so long to care.

(“But that wasn’t the truth, now, was it” the voice in his head hissed. “What of James? Of Gwendolyn and Lily, Severus, the Longbottoms? You care for them all, Moody. Do not lie to yourself.”)

Hestia sanctioned Severus’s joining Gideon’s team, and Alastor let out a breath, nodding his head. He still had not looked at Hestia, though he did now. Alastor did not need to check with Severus. He knew they could take care of themself.

“I will. He asked to come run something by me before the mission earlier. Sent me a message earlier at the office.” Alastor’s voice did not waver, nor did his gaze. “Gideon will be told of Severus’s move to thos team, and of the report. I will allow him to decide what his choice will be.”

If Gideon chose to stay, Alastor knew, at the very least, that Severus would be a deadly, efficient ally.

Severus looked at both their companions for a moment. Tomorrow loomed heavy before them all, but they felt confident in their ability to meet it head on. They were as prepared as they could be. They were devoted to the mission. There was nothing more they could do now.

Severus gave them each a brisk nod. ‘ I’ll see you both in the morning, ’ they said. They turned around and strode out the door. They had a lot of preparation to do.

END.

promptfairy·:

❥     𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒    [   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂    ]   .

headcanon prompts with questions based on plants   &   what they represent in flower language .  happy roleplaying !!  ♡

abatina :   is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time   (   due to becoming more educated on the topic ,   certain experiences  ,   etc .   ) ,    or that they   would   change their mind about under certain circumstances ?  

acanthus :   is your muse deceptive ,   or willing to lie or deceive to achieve certain means ?   why or why not ?   

aloe :   how does your muse handle grief ?

amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ?   how do they express that pride ?   

anemone :   how does your muse view the world ;   as a cruel   &   unforgiving place ,   a land full of wonders ,   or something in - between ?  where does that world view come from   (   what experiences ,   life lessons ,   etc .   ) ?  

angelica :   where does your muse draw inspiration in life ?   what motivates them ?

apple blossom :   how does your muse go about expressing or not expressing their sexuality ?  

bachelor’s button :   does your muse actively seek romantic companionship ,   or cherish the liberties of being single ? 

basil :   does your muse have a love - hate relationship with anyone or anything ?

bay tree :   does your muse seek glory   &   accolades ,   or do they favour a simpler ,   more personal life ?  

begonia :   how cautious is your muse ?   are they prone to noticing red flags ,   or paranoid to the point of untrusting most everyone ?   why or why not ?  

belladonna :   how does your muse respond to silence ?   do they take comfort in soundlessness ,   or seek to fill the void with noise ?   

bluebell :   does your muse learn from their past ,   or are they prone to repeating the same mistakes ?  

carnation :   what is your muse’s relationship with their gender ?   how do they express or not express this relationship ?  

chamomile :   what is your muse likely to take away from a painful experience ?   are they one to be haunted by adversity ,   or to use what they’ve gone through to become stronger ?  

chrysanthemum :   how does your muse express romantic love ?  how do they feel about love as a concept ?  

daffodil :   is your muse one to be loyal in relationships ,   or are they likely to quickly move from one bond to another ?

daisy :   did your muse ever feel as though their innocence had been lost ?   what moment in their life could be described as the end of their innocence ?  

edelweiss :   what was the bravest moment in your muse’s life ?  are they known to be courageous from then on ?  

fern :   does your muse believe in magic or cosmic forces ,   or are they more likely to think their life is ultimately a matter of their own control ?  

forget - me - not :   has your muse ever forgotten something that is or was important to them ?   are they afraid of forgetting things like that ?  

gardenia :   is your muse one to confess romantic feelings early on ,   or to conceal them for long periods of time ?  

gladiolus :   describe a moment from your muse’s life that they will never forget .

goldenrod :   does your muse believe in luck or fortune ?  why or why not ?   where do they believe these things come from ?  

heliotrope :   does your muse believe in soulmates ?

hibiscus :   how does your muse view the gentler ,   daintier things in life ?   as things worth preserving   &   caring for ,   or things only bound to wither   &   disappear ?  

holly :   how strong is your muse’s sense of intuition ?  are they aware of it ?   do they ever fear that it is only paranoia ?  

hollyhock :   how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ?  what’s something they strive for in life ?  

hyacinth :   is your muse athletic ?   does it come naturally to them ,   or have they had to work for their physique and/or skill ?  

hydrangea :   how much does your muse value communication in their relationships with others ?  are they prone to being misunderstood ?

iris :   if your muse could convey one last message to someone they have lost or left behind ,   what would it be ?  

ivy :   what are your muse’s views on marriage ?   do they believe it is something strictly for love ,   or an institution rooted in business   &   social benefits ?   do they desire or have they desired to be married ?

lavender :   how easy is it to gain your muse’s trust ?  once their trust is broken ,   how might one go about mending it ?  

lilac :   what was your muse’s childhood like ?   how has their upbringing affected them as they’ve aged ? 

lily :   how does your muse view their mother ?  

lotus :   has your muse ever felt as though they’ve been reborn ?  have they ever desired the feeling of a fresh start ,   or a better understanding of themself and/or the world around them ?  

magnolia :   describe your muse’s relationship with nature   &   the natural world .  

marigold :   is your muse prone to jealousy ?  how might they handle envious feelings ?  

mint :   does your muse view themself as virtuous   &   moral ?  what do these words mean to them ?

nasturtium :   describe your muse’s relationship with their birthplace ,   or homeland .  

oak :   who would your muse consider the strongest person they know ?  

pansy :   does your muse often reflect on their own actions ?   do they ever think a lot about the past ,   and what they could have done differently ?

parsley :   describe a holiday your muse enjoys ,   and why they enjoy it .

peony :   what would a   ‘  happy life  ’   look like in your muse’s eyes ?

poppy :   what comforts your muse ?

rhododendron :   is your muse receptive to warnings   &   advice given by others ?

rose :   how much does your muse value other people ?   do they wish to have many friends ,   lovers ,   and/or associates ?   are they an easy person to love ?

sage :   what is your muse’s legacy ?   what do they want to be remembered for   &   what might they actually be remembered for ?  

salvia :   is your muse possessive over people or things that matter a lot to them ?  how do they express that possessiveness ,   or lack thereof ? 

snapdragon :   is your muse merciful ?  why or why not ?

southernwood :   how seriously does your muse take themself ?   do they prefer a solemn   &   intellectual atmosphere or do they delight in jokes   &   banter ?  

sunflower :   what brings your muse the most joy in life ?  

tulip :   how does your muse view people in general ?  

violet :   how does your muse respond to betrayal ?

willow :   how does your muse handle sadness   &   depression ?

zinnia :   how has the loss of fallen comrades and/or loved ones affected your muse ?   has it taught them anything or given them any new perspectives ?

madeyed-andmoody​:

The Goyle estate wards were so easy a toddler could have done them. However, that was not why Alastor had brought Severus Snape with him. No, he’d brought him along because, despite Dumbledore’s assertion that Moody just trust the younger man, Snape still needed to be proven in the field. Thus far, they’d been trustworthy. Thus far, their information had been sound.

Yet something still nagged at the back of Alastor’s mind. It may have something to do with the fact Severus had tried prodding at it every chance they could get. Or, perhaps, the flippancy with which they handled curses and other dark magics - where it was a necessary curiosity for Alastor, one he’d indulged in to learn, Severus’s fascination lay far deeper.

Moody had known Severus would be able to get them the document they’d need from the Goyle estate. He also had his suspicions surrounding the estate and the missing Order members. At the very least, he figured Severus would have an idea.

Without a portkey, Moody and Snape were forced to trudge through the dark and, quite frankly, disturbing woodland. They’d been out for a long while, though the Order knew where they were headed. Both wix were clearly tired, though neither had admitted to the bodily weakness of tiredness. Not in front of the other. And, finally, they had reached the border, the clearing his would allow them to leave just ahead when –

A twig snapped. It wasn’t him, or Snape.

Alastor hunched his shoulders, grabbed fistfuls of Snape’s robes, and tossed him as far as he could - safely, it seemed, behind a broken section of an old arch. Not far enough yet, he noticed as he turned, planting his feet with a snarl, but getting there.

A curse came hurtling toward him from the shadows ahead and Alastor sidestepped neatly, tossing up a protego wide enough to span the opening he was protecting, fishing out his wand as he did. “Snape,” he barked, tossing a look over his shoulder. “Break anything? If not, find us a way out! Now!”

The trip through the private woods was long and tedious, and completely avoidable had Severus been able to replenish his supply of portkeys in time. He was not very athletic — or at all, really — and felt every unnecessary step they took down the woods with deep frustration and exhaustion. Neither of which he showed to his partner, whom he was sure kept one eye on the enemy and one on Severus himself. This mission was a test, and everything he did was, as always, under scrutiny.

A twig snapped. Severus swiveled around on high alert towards the source of the noise, wand at the ready — the weight of hands on his back and shoulder, a twist of fabric — The ground was swept from beneath his feet. Severus blinked. He only had time to be confused before he slammed against the ground a few yards away with a heavy THUD.

He got back up on his feet cursing and huffing and considerably more annoyed than he was only a moment ago. ‘ Fuck off! You bloody brick! ’ He shouted back at the buffoon that threw him across the fucking field, but he was half turned towards the broken arch, wand in motion, spells at the ready. Wards meant to keep people in were only a hair's breadth away from keeping people out. Severus reached into the edge, plucked its strings, and cast a spell, the incantation rolling off his tongue like water. A long string of latin whispered in gentle, coaxing tones, and the edge of the safety clearing shimmered and expanded it’s scope until it covered both himself and the Auror a few yards behind. It would keep their enemies outside of the dome. But more importantly, Severus and Moody can apparate out.

‘ NOW, ’ shouted Severus over his shoulder. ‘ We have thirteen seconds! ’ Moody had to apparate first, if Severus left the spell would break and the safety border would snap right back into shape.

@asphodelroot

Early January, 1984. Spinner’s End.

The air was damp with the January rain, pouring over the streets of Cokeworth in relentless sheets. The windows of the old house were shut and sealed, the four walls wrapped in wards and heating spells. Brick and mortar didn’t hold magic the way old stone or pine wood did, and so the cold seeped through the cracks as it pleased, slow and unbothered.

When Severus claimed this house after his father’s passing, he’d done so with a bitter heart. He resented needing anything from his father, in life or in death, but by then he was tired of the bare room above the apothecary and had grown wise to the need for distance, for a space beyond the prying eyes of his Master. Thus it came to be that only three years after his dignified march out of Spinner’s End, bursting with pride and purpose, Severus found himself slipping back into his old home, silent as shame, even as the only witness to this humiliation was himself.

And now Lily, too. Who once was witness to all that Severus is and was and could be, thus it seemed fitting that she’d reclaim that role upon re-entering his life.

He set the pot of lentil soup upon the wooden coffee table, along the plate of cut bread, and poured a bowl for himself and another for Lily. They’d spent all morning and afternoon in the library beneath the house, pouring over books and spells as the row of cauldrons sizzled and rolled over a low fire. The scent of hellebore and rosemary drifted up to the living room. The fire crackled on in the quiet room.

He sat on the couch beside her and brought his knees up to his chest. He shook pepper onto his bowl and then lifted the shaker to his friend. ‘ Pepper? Or salt? ’

melancolialunar​:

As expected – perhaps by no one else but himself –, the full moon night had been an absolute nightmare. Remus followed all the steps, he took the wolfsbane potion obediently, then locked himself up in a cage that was a tad too small for the fully grown wolf by now, and then he ignored his father’s nervous footsteps on the room next door. And then he waited. And he turned. The eclipse was a funny thing; it was almost as if the shadow was reaching down, curling a hand around his very spine and shaking him around violently. The wolfsbane potion almost felt like a joke.

Waking up wasn’t any easier, though at least he managed to crawl into a bath, hoping the warm water would soothe the bruises lighting up every spot that his body had thrashed against the metal bars. It didn’t, but at least it helped wash away the blood. Lyall had disappeared, as he often did the morning afters, avoiding his son’s eyes at any cost. Remus preferred it that way, too.

He peered through the peephole first, and opened the door with a pair of furrowed brows. He was positive he looked like a truck just ran him over, but hey, if Severus wanted to study their subject, then they might as well see him at his second-worst. “You brought food.” He echoed, accent thick in his tiredness, eyes focused on the mentioned pot for a lingering moment of silence. “I should ask you something to make sure it’s really you, but that smells good enough that I’m willing to die for it.” He sighed, walking back into the house and letting Severus follow him in.

As someone who dealt in secrets and information, Severus was less than reassured by how easily he was let in, but he walked into the house and let the door fall shut behind him wordlessly. He would lecture about security and stranger-danger when the werewolf didn’t look dead on his feet. Which made Severus wonder about the state of the wards on this house, if they were up to standard — somehow, he doubted Lupin bothered to install a three-tiered blood-bound protective ward around the property, but resolved to ask anyway. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to at least run a diagnostic later too.

Severus set the pot and the plate of warm bread down on the coffee table, and soon enough he was settled on the couch, notes spread out, and a steaming bowl of chicken soup in his left hand extended out towards Lupin. When Mum was sick, those long and dragging years before she passed, the neighbors filed in with pots and plates of food, and pity, which the proud witch did not care for, and one by one she drove them all away with mean-spirited and bitter lashings, and Severus would sit on her bedside with a bowl of soup and a table spoon until she calmed down. She wanted to see him and only him on her last days, and he knew his Mum then in a way he couldn’t for all seventeen years prior. 

Lupin was always sick on the day after a full moon. Severus didn’t think it through when he made and packed the soup and bread this morning, but now, making the offer, it suddenly felt uncomfortable. ‘ I need you focused, ’ he said. ‘ You look like death. ’ 

He picked up his notes and quill, flipped through a few pages, and settled back against the couch. A hand went up to tuck a strand behind his ear. ‘ What happened yesterday? Walk me through it. ’

Let’s switch, said Rosier, and handed him a diagnostics paper and rattled off a list of instructions. Severus looked at the bed and rocked back on his heels, suddenly, like taking a physical blow. He’d fallen from a tree once, when he was young, twenty feet down and it knocked all the air from his lungs. The memory resurfaced unprompted, an echo of this moment, and he tried to take a deep breath. Then he took one step, two steps, and stood by Lily’s bedside.

His hand reached out carefully to touch her wrist, felt the faint pulse in her veins, and watched the air expand and expel from her lungs. For what felt like eternity, Severus stood like this, still as a statue. Waiting for signs she was getting worse. Bruised lungs. Internal bleeding. Broken collarbone. The list of diagnostics went on an endless loop in his mind —

Potter burst into the infirmary, a whirlwind of self important rage and childish animosity. Severus was yanked away by his bloody collar, and it was a testament to his current state of mind that it took him a moment to return to the present. To feel the anger light a fire in his gut. To think, who the fuck do you think you are?! Before he grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and slammed him against the wall of the infirmary, hard enough to rattle the shelves. ‘ Be quiet, ’ Severus said, a soft, quiet tone that belied the violence simmering underneath. ‘ Or get out. This is an infirmary, you fucking delinquent. Who do you think you are? ’

@healerrosier 

Date: June 24th, 1984, just after leaving the Entry Room Location: The Prewett Estate, infirmary  @wrongdeor & @healerrosier

James moved quickly from his argument - possible argument? - with Jones down the corridor to the infirmary. Lily, fuck, Lily. She could be dead. She could be dying. He couldn’t fucking believe that he’d let her end them when he knew it might end up like this between them and they’d be left with nothing but tainted memories. He could’ve had four more months with her. Damn it, Lily.

He was angry and tired and so, so fucking terrified. But he was also keeping his cool, Hestia’s words about how blowing up wouldn’t help him - how Evan wouldn’t let him stay - ringing through his ears. And, by the time he made it to the infirmary, he was almost calm. Almost ready to sit by her bedside and stay out of Rosier’s way.

Until - 

Fucking Severus Snape. As though he was the dragon he’d conjured earlier that morning, James roared with life, a sudden energy renewed in him. Because Snape was standing over Lily’s bedside. Snape was watching her, making sure she had an even rise and fall of her chest. “You!” James snarled, that simmering rage rearing it’s ugly head as he moved over to Severus and yanked on the collar of his shirt, pulling him back, away from Lily. “Get the fuck away from her!”

Severus blinked with a ‘who, me?’ look on their face. ‘ I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, ’ said the cat that ate the canary. ‘ You must be exhausted. Being dead for 5 years will do that to you. ’ They were both products of Slytherin House, where privacy was only as respected as the protections around it. If Black wanted to keep his thoughts to himself, well, with due diligence he certainly could.

Severus conjured a desk chair (wheels, armrests, and all) that they dragged closer to the young man before they sat down, legs crossed at the knee, and leaned back. The air shifted palpably in the room, Severus was no longer interrogating a potential threat, they were catching up with an old acquaintance. A corner of their lips lifted at being called contrary, only a little too pleased with themself. ‘ Just twelve, ’ they said, ‘ for now. ’ If Severus dared to dream of what they would do after the war, it was this: make new spells. And potions, and wards, and artifacts. One day they might outweigh the violent magic they’ve written into the world.

If Severus was taken aback by Black’s following confession — and a confession is what it was, quiet and honest, however else Black chose to frame it later — they didn’t show it. Black had stumbled through epiphanies of his own since Severus had last seen him, not unlike the ones Severus had worked through themself to get here. ‘ What a surprise, ’ said Severus, ‘ look who had a change of heart, now. It’s only been 5 years, Black, what happened to you? ’

Severus listened intently as Black spoke. They watched him without blinking as the words sank in. They remained carefully impassive, face empty of all emotion.

I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve.

For one ferocious moment Severus wanted to pin Black down and empty his mind of all knowledge and memory, comb through his thoughts with tedious care, and pluck it’s secrets out one by one until they found what they were looking for. The moment passed. Reckless, Severus thought. Unlike most of the people they dealt with, Black knew of their Legilimency. A delicate hand was needed.

Severus hummed. ‘ Better late than never, I suppose. Only a few hundred died since your great discovery, but I’m sure you’ll carry their deaths with dignity, and such, and all. ’ They waved a hand to encompass the such and the all. Guilt over strangers did not factor into this at all, Severus suspected. Something happened to someone who mattered to Black, or Black thought it did, or would. That was what sprang the young man from the grave, or else his secrets would’ve died with him. But that was a question for another day. ‘ What did you find? ’

wrongdeor​:

Severus held the other’s gaze as he spoke his name, looking for snippets of memory, a passing thought that would reveal them to be a pretender. There was no distance between the mind he looked into and the name Regulus Black. This was, at worst, someone who fully believed they were the dead Heir of the House of Black. At best —

Doubt, despite itself, dissipated rapidly once Regulus opened his big bloody mouth, and the most ridiculous taunts left his lips. Hm, yes. There he was, the impossible brat. Severus almost grinned, suddenly, but schooled his features back down to impassivity. His shoulders relaxed just a little. 

He raised an eyebrow. ‘ I got sick of being told what to do, ’ Severus said, ‘ and treachery sounded grand. A better question would be why not, really. ’ He waved a hand flippantly. ‘ It goes better with my nature, yes? Halfbloods and their shaky convictions, and all. I suppose your darling Bella was right about me all along. ’

He walked up to the littlest Black, arms crossed, a slight cant to his head. He intended to look menacing, but his guard was down, and his tone was more inquisitive than accusatory: ‘ You, on the other hand, heir to name and to fortune — how does this go with yours? ’ What are you doing here, Regulus?

*

“Oi,” Regulus asked, leaning forward on that couch he’d rather burn than sit on again, “are you in my head?” He looked at the other, scanning their shoulders, their mouth, their general now-lost tension. “You are, aren’t you? You seem very pleased with yourself there, Severus,” Regulus added with a scowl that was patently false in sincerity and transparent to the thing he might label joy beneath it. “Figures you’d go poking.”

Regulus’ head fell back onto the couch, eyes sliding shut against his will yet following it at the same time. The duality of conscious and unconscious desires playing out in that one simple movement. He’d been worried, before, but whatever Severus was here to do, he’d do it without alerting the entire damn estate to it. That was safety enough for Regulus to close his eyes. Not despite Severus, but because of Severus.

“You always were a contrary little bugger,” Regulus agreed. “It was never enough to make one spell, no you had to make, what? Eleven, twelve of the things?” Regulus sighed, rocking his head back and forth on the couch in the best approximation he could of a shake. “Bella did turn out to not be right about much,” Regulus said quietly, “and I don’t think she was right about that.” That was entirely too much honesty for this conversation. Regulus was going to blame the sleep-deprivation if it was brought up.

“Treachery is quite the lark though, I must admit that. Always something done in a flurry of springtime fancy like a Hufflepuff after a pastry. Knees knocking together with the sugar high and excitement of it all.” Regulus shook his head again, choosing honesty, blunt and brittle a tool though it was. “I went researching. Volunteered a friend for something I never should have. Nearly lost him and found more than I should have in those books.”

Cracking open one eye through its leaden weight, Regulus looked at Severus. “I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve. I nearly died for it and didn’t bother sharing it until now.” That eye closed again. “Don’t go blabbing that around, not even to Evans. Especially not to Evans. Strictly need-to-know, that. Might interfere with my future ambitions if it gets out and then I’d really have to hex you with something you didn’t make up.”

perniciouspotter​:

James had been released from Mungo’s three days prior and had spent nearly every waking moment with Sirius since then. The day after his return home - well, to Godric’s Hollow, which was apparently his home now because the Estate had been sold and his flat with Lily was no longer his in the same way she was no longer his - he’d pulled out a bottle of Odgen’s wordlessly looking at Sirius for confirmation that his friend would get drunk with him. It was a bad idea - he was still on pain potions daily for the ache in his joints and the excruciating burning in his wrist - but he didn’t care.

The alcohol mixed with the potions had hit him hard and he’d spent the evening barely coherent, sobbing tears that wracked his body, rambling to Sirius about losing Lily and the dungeons and Remus and Peter and how everything was fucking fucked! Which is maybe why, hungover and bruised in his body and heart, when Rosier had come knocking the day after with a possible solution, James had hardly taken even a minute before he agreed.

Of course, it had to be Snivellus. Fucking Snape, who had conveniently reappeared back in their lives the moment James had left it. James had learned of Severus’ deflection to the Order while still in Mungos - had heard about his remerging friendship with Lily laying in the hospital bed. The day he’d learned it, he’d purposefully turned his wrist over and over again until the pain had caused him to scream out the way he’d been aiming for and the healers gave him something stronger and he’d fallen blissfully asleep.

But he needed Severus, even if he didn’t want to admit it. His wrist had been bothering him since that flower had peaked out and he could no longer use a wand. His non-dominant hand was shit with magic and they were still in a bloody war. So, on the very last day of the month, James opened up his door to Severus Snape and didn’t openly scowl at him. “Sniv - “ he began, old habits dying hard, but he adjusted it quickly. “Snape.” He jerked his head and stepped aside, allowing Severus into his home. “So… you can cure me,” he continued, his tone even, almost monotone. “I’m surprised you want to. Don’t wanna go for the final punch when I’m already down? Why, maybe you actually have grown since school.”

Severus didn’t miss the near slip-up, but far from surprised he was bracing for it. He was ready for this to be the most unpleasant encounter Potter could make, and from experience that was a rather tall order but entirely achievable for the twat he knew — what was unexpected instead was the correction. Severus, graciously, pretended not to notice. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in a clipped tone. He nodded in return. 

He stepped inside, paused in the entrance hall and turned to look at his enemy patient. With a slanted brow, Severus said, ‘ Surprised? War makes for strange bedfellows, Potter. A halfblood with a muggle name would have more to lose and to gain in this war than a pureblood boy with a trust fund. And what I want hardly overlaps with what I need to do. ’ He jerked his chin towards the injured wrist. ‘ You need that hand to fight, and we need you on the field. Ergo, here I am. ’ He lifted a shoulder, the bag shifting with the movement, vials jostling beneath the fabric. He didn’t respond to whether or not he can cure him. That remained to be seen.

Severus looked at the wizard for a moment. Head tilted slightly to the side. ‘ And I never liked unequal fights, if you recall. ’ That was you, Potter. He nodded down the hall, towards what he believed was the living room. ‘ Lead the way. ’

@asphodelroot

june 12th, 1984. the flaming dragon.

Severus didn’t initially plan on coming here at all — it’s a party, and the only way to get Severus to go to one was through the promise of information, opportunity, or a thoroughly studied campaign of coercion by the Malfoys. But he was here now, tucked into his usual table with a tall glass of butterbeer, eyes tracking the movements in the crowd with some interest. It was rare that a large number of the Order was in one place at once, and watching them move and blend together was it's own well of information.

Selwyn flitted through the room, wide smile, drinks sloshing about, but her eyes stayed alert. Jones was at the bar, taking shots with Potter. Lupin slipped through the crowd moments ago, still sour as a grape, and Severus had lost track of him. Severus leaned to the right. ‘ Nine sickles say Lupin’ll punch someone by the end of the night. ’