a while ago I saw a post that pointed out that Snape would have treated Harry differently if he had been a girl and looked like Lily and I’m so horrified at the truth in that statement that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it
I’m a total sucker for fics where Harry is dark and gets sorted into Slytherin, but I’m also really disappointed with how Ron and Hermione are treated in them
So: dark au where the trio is sorted into Slytherin
Hermione, who wants to use knowledge to change the world
Ron, who wants to finally be free of his family’s shadow
Harry, who wants to be great, to be admired, to be free
The teachers adore quick, clever Granger, but Severus worries when he sees the way she eyes the restricted section, how her mind is filled with deadly recipes and the ways to use them
The purebloods learn not to badmouth the halfbloods, not to bully the muggleborns, because Hermione knows forbidden magic, Hermione knows the untraceable poisons and the painful curses-and Hermione knows how to avoid being caught
No one outside of Slytherin pays attention to Ronald Weasley, so quiet compared to his brothers, and that’s a mistake
Ron casts his first dark spell and the power takes his breath away, Ron sinks into the comfort of blood rituals and makes outlawed sacrifices to forgotten gods
Ron wonders how his family could abandon this happiness in favor of a flickering light
Harry, the chosen one, the special one, the abandoned one
Harry looks at the light, looks at the people that did nothing for him, and dives into the dark
Lockhart dies drinking poison, Snape finds the trio huddled around Peter’s body, the aurors that find Umbridge’s remains vomit, and the Wizarding World doesn’t notice
Voldemort rises and does not face an old man and a group of do gooders
Voldemort rises and faces a witch with a brilliant mind and no taste for mercy, a wizard that delights in bloodshed and manipulates people like he moves chess pieces, and the broken, bloody boy that’s won their loyalty
i feel like everybody who stans one direction turned out to be not straight….. like people thought we were being Straight and ‘going boy crazy’ liking 1d just bc of their looks…. no liking one direction is gay culture anyone who has ever listened to end of the day and strong is gay that’s just a fact
“I’m really glad you’re taking her, Harry, she’s so excited.” And she moved on down the table to sit with Dean. Harry tried to feel pleased that Ginny was glad he was taking Luna to the party but could not quite manage it. | Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
Can we just talk about Harry somehow getting Sirius’ old motorbike and fixing it up because it’s in disarray.
And Draco scoffs because “What on earth are you gonna do with that old scrap metal?!”
Harry shrugs shoving his hands in his pockets. “Fix it,” he mumbles.
But then he starts to resent the bike because Harry spends hours in the shed fixing it up and won’t let anyone near him. It takes him months and Draco is close to setting the shed on fire because that damn motorbike has taken ALL of Harry’s attention and the only thing that stops him from complaining is the way he catches Harry looking at old photos in the middle of the night, and he knows Harry needs it.
And then finally, fucking finally, Harry finishes. It’s the first day of March and absolutely freezing when he invites Draco for a ride. He has absolutely NO desire to go anywhere near that enchanted muggle death trap but Draco just sighs and agrees.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” he groans, putting it off for as many minutes as he can before finally pulling on his jacket and scarf.
But when he steps outside the sight before him takes his breath away because Harry is leaning back against the motorbike and yeah te motorbike looks absolutely impeccable but it’s Harry he can’t take his eyes off. Harry in his worn denim pants and soft white t-shirt with a leather jacket over it all that makes Draco feel hot and flushed all over.
Then he’s holding his hand out, beconing Draco closer. And as Draco climbs on, inhaling the accent of leather and Harry’s shampoo, wrapping his arms around him from behind and feeling the muscles in Harry’s back ripple against his chest as Harry starts the bike he can’t help but think this might have been one of the best ideas Harry has ever had.
Malfoy looked up from his desk, quill poised over the parchment as his son hovered by the study door. Aware that he was frowning, Draco lifted his expression into something more neutral. He was vaguely aware of his own father always frowning whenever he’d tried to talk to him as a boy, and he didn’t want Scorpius to one day think the same about him.
“Come in, come in. Shut the door, you’ll let the heat out.”
The Greengrass estate was a crumbling ruin compared to Malfoy Manner, with only half the library and none of the artifacts Draco had spent the last few years archiving and putting safely away behind spelled glass. But for now it was home, chilly stone walls and all.
“Did you want something?”
“Yes.” Scorpius replied, pausing to tug at the hem of his dark shirt. There’s still a bruise under his eye, faded to be sure, but the mere presence of it made Draco’s heart skip a beat. When he’d seen Severus Potter crawling out of the rubble, face covered in blood and no sign of his own son, he’d known terror like no other.
And Draco Malfoy was intimately familiar with the machinations of terror. He’d been hugged by it once.
“Well,” he prompted, setting aside his work entirely and giving his full attention to his son. “What is it?”
“I want my friends to come visit.”
Draco blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Your…friends?”
“Albus Potter and Rosie Granger-Weasley. I would like them to come stay.”
Draco blinked again. Later he’d laugh—somewhat despairingly into a decanter of fire brandy—at the absurdity of the notion that his boy, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was best friends with a Potter and the hybrid off-spring of a Granger Weasley, but the threat of impeding hysterics was quelled under the defiant gaze of his son, narrow chin lifting at some unspoken challenge.
“I see. For how long?”
“A…a week…maybe two…They’re going to France for the Quiditch Cup Primaries…” he glanced down and Draco spied the curled up parchment hidden up his sleeve. “So it wouldn’t be for long.”
Draco glanced at his desk, to the fireplace, then back to his son. “I don’t…”
I want my friends…friends…how often had Astoria lamented his lack of playmates as a child, how often had she fretted that Scorpius’ only interaction had been with adults—or books, or enchanting his own toys for someone to play with. And how quickly had Scorpius’ face crumpled at the utterance of two simple syllables.
“…know if two weeks would be wise, given your mother’s health. She’s still recovering from the move. But I shall discuss it with her, and see what can be done.”
Scorpius stilled, the beaming smile on his face reigned in to something calmer, even now, not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, we will be good.”
Draco snorted at that, remembering the last time a Malfoy, a Potter and a Granger and a Weasley had been together at their age. “Somehow I doubt it. Go on off you go, go see what your mother is up to. She’s enjoying having you home.”
“And I am enjoying being here,” Scorpius replied, in that curiously courteous and stiff way of speaking he’d always had, even as an infant learning his words. “I am happy to be here, with you, and mother.”
“I’m…very glad to hear it.” Draco replied, unsure what else he was supposed to say to such an open admission said so politely like one was discussing the weather. “Now go on, off you go, I need to finish this manuscript before I lose the thought.”
“You’ll talk to mother though, wont you?” Scorpius pressed from his space by the door. “You’ll ask…”
“Yes, yes.” Draco waved a hand, “I’ll ask if the Potter spawn can come stay with us. Just for a little bit. To say thank you for…everything.”
Reassured, Scorpius left, closing the door behind himself with a firm click.
Draco waited several more moments, counting to a hundred before opening up the top desk of his drawer and pulling out his correspondence folder, flipping through them until he found the appropriate manila envelope, writing the address of the Ministry Neatly to the front.
Clearing his throat politely, he composed himself, then tapped it to life with his wand.
“Hello Potter,” he spat with a vicious familiar glee, unable to keep from laughing, “I’m not sure which one of us is going to be more surprised by this turn of events, but I swear to gods if you break my son’s heart by saying no, I will personally send you a red Howler on the hour every hour till the day one of us dies. Now, about dates, the last week in June works well for us…”
confession time: when I was younger and first read the harry potter books, I thought “exploding snap” was “exploding snape” and that all the students just hated snape so much that they made a game where he explodes.
what she means: niall james horan really defied all of the odds and went to harry’s show last night AND he did it lowkey. he didn’t attract too much attention, didn’t really take pictures, took a couple of friends but stayed by himself in a corner and he just watched, like he was truly only there for harry. it wasn’t the first time he saw him perform but it was the first time he watched harry from the outside, from the crowd, where nothing he was doing was really directed at him, and yet he still had that same fond smile on his face which he gave harry so many times over the years before.