anmasca

snape’s memory of the marauders is biased because it’s HIS memory and he doesn’t like them

one of snape’s students biggest fear was him

snape bullied students based off their parentage and their looks

snape still held prejudice against muggles and muggleborns

snape was happy for james and harry to die in favour of lily surviving

Hi!

It’s been a while, huh?

To tell you everything, I’ve had three very intense months. And I don’t even know where to start. But rather than going through it all, I’d rather skip straight to the conclusion: I moved. 😚

For a bit of backstory: I’m Parisian. I’ve lived in Paris my whole life. And for several months now, that life just wasn’t working for me anymore. So... to make a very long story short, life in Paris might seem romantic and super cool, but in reality, it’s a city packed with qualities, but also a lot of flaws.

I think being a tourist or visiting Paris a few times in your life can be wonderful. But when you’re in it all the time, the stress and anxiety take up too much space. Some people love it. Me? I’d reached a point in my life where I needed as little of that as possible.

So one morning, I woke up and asked my best friend, my soulmate, to help me to move, plain and simple.

And today, I’ve left my tiny Parisian studio to live alone in a house, right in the middle of the forest, in a remote corner of eastern France. And honestly... I think it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life.

The best decision because I’ll get to start over in so many ways. And God knows I needed a fresh start.

So it’s been twelve very intense weeks of searching, house hunting, visiting places, negotiating, buying furniture, waiting for furniture deliveries, chasing after a new couch that disappeared into thin air.... and just handling the move.

And then... it’s also been weeks where I got to spend time with my family, my friends, my nephews whom I love so much. And realize that sometimes, very often, the best things are simply being surrounded by the right people.

So, in conclusion: I have a huge new art studio, and I’m absolutely ecstatic and so excited to start painting in it.

And of course I missed painting Jily 🫠 So, here’s a little watercolor full of tension, flushed cheeks and scarlet ears.

There you go.

This bit is exactly what Sirius was talking about when he said "Nah, she didn't" in response to Harry lamenting that Lily hated James lol.

Because you can't convince me that our girl wasn't staring at James Potter that afternoon by the lake just as hard as he was staring at her. She brings up him playing with the Snitch as if it's something he does all the time — when literally just minutes earlier, Remus asked James where he'd gotten it. Her eyes were glued to that boy.

Talking with each other about their day doing nothing just still being crazy in love. (and me pretending it hasn't been 2 years since I drew them!)

“Elain is boring”

“where is he?” “where is lorcan?”

“i will always find you”

“she’ll be killed”

“she had come for him. had found him, somehow, in this endless battlefield”

ELRIEL

“i’m getting her back”

“then you will die”

“i’m getting her back”

“are you hurt?”

“you came for me”

I get that ACOTAR got people back into reading. I really do. I didn't realize people had STOPPED reading but listen, any reading is better than none you know?

But this 10 yr gap in people's reading history is SERIOUSLY crippling reading comprehension. And then it's taken to social media, and the insanity spreads 😭

Like ONE person said "I love Tamlin", invented a whole other story in their head about his apparent greatness and infallibility.... and now suddenly there's hundreds of women placing this literal ABUSER on a pedestal.

The amount of times I've seen:

"Well what tamlin did wasn't really that bad he just locked her in a house"

"Feyre is ungrateful she doesn't deserve Tamlin"

"They're so mean to Tamlin kicking him while he's down"

"Tamlin deserves a full redemption arc - give him Elain"

STOP. Like I don't care how much you love this weak willed man. THE WORDS SAY A DIFFERENT STORY.

Like I can say I love Draco Malfoy all I want, but I know he was lowkey a dick the entire series until he redeemed himself in the end. And he's mainly forgiven because HE WAS A CHILD.

TAMLIN IS 300 yrs old. The whole point of the romance in ACOTAR vs ACOMAF was to show Tamlin prioritized himself, HIS pleasure, HIS court, HIS image.

The romance with Rhys showed us how Rhys prioritized FEYRE. He taught her how to use her powers. Taught her how to read and write. Gave her the tools to become the powerful high lady she is today. He never trapped her. Never raised a hand on her.

If people can't tell that, and choose to go with their own theories, whatever. But it's specifically this flow of:

"I think Tamlin is the good guy"

"I think SJM is prepping us for a book where Rhys has been evil all along and Tamlin saves the day"

"You don't think that will happen? Well you're wrong. You're stupid for thinking Rhys is the good guy here. Idiot."

Rhysand told azriel to stay away from elain, asked him about his feelings for mor, told him to go to pleasure hall and fuck who ever he wants to but leave elain alone, warned him about the blood duel, and literally stopped elain and azriel from kissing eachother right when lucien is there in that same house.

but here is what i think... Rhys has lost his own sister, brutally murdered all thanks to tamlin and his family. Mor his only cousin sister took a very drastic step to get out of the marriage drama of her family by sleeping with cassian and she was brutally tortured for it as well.

At that point rhysand didn't have any bonding with nesta but he did have a bond with elain. Him talking about elain's power to feyre in their POV proves it that he is concerned about elain and may be that's why he stopped elain and azriel from doing something stupid while she is still mated to another man, he has seen the closeness of elriel but he is more concerned about the mating bond and what lucien will do or his family will do ( reminder what they did to mor) and what tamlin will do ( reminder killed his mother and sister) if they get to know about elain and azriel's relationship.

His interference might have stopped both elain and azriel from going through a bloodshed and feud that they both are not prepared for.

AU- Elriel Month 2026

Cassian was sprawled dramatically across the couch, remote in hand, sulking like a teenager grounded from a party.

“I should’ve been there,” he muttered for the fifth time in as many minutes. “A girls’ night out isn’t complete without me.”

Azriel didn’t even look at him. “That’s the point.”

Rhysand, perched in his usual armchair with his phone, smirked. “They’re probably having a better time without you.”

Cassian shot him a glare but before he could come up with a retort, Rhys shot out of his seat strolled to Cassian with a smug grin and his phone in hand. “Well, gentlemen, our services have been requested.”

Cassian sat up instantly. “Wait, what?”

“Feyre texted.” Rhys held his phone aloft like it was a sacred relic. “Quote: We need a ride. Do not laugh when you see us. Bring water. End quote.”

“I knew it!” Cassian jumped to his feet, suddenly feeling energized. “Something went down. What happened? Did Amren start a fight? Did Mor make them all do tequila shots?”

Rhys’s grin widened and Cassian was moving and already grabbing his jacket. “I knew Feyre couldn’t keep up with them! Let me get to my girl.”

Rhys arched a brow. “You do realize you’re only the chauffeur, right?”

“Chauffeur, rescuer, hero of the night…I’ll take all the titles,” Cassian declared, already halfway to the door.

Az pocketed his phone, expression deceptively neutral but the corners of his mouth tugged up. “I’ll drive. You’ll scare them if you show up behind the wheel in this state.”

Cassian ignored him, too busy bouncing with anticipation and high on energy drinks.

The SUV purred down the street, Azriel’s hands steady on the wheel and his eyes locked on the road. He was silent as ever, but the faintest smirk tugged at his mouth. Rhys was lounging in the passenger seat, phone in hand and typing furiously. The blue light lit up his smug face.

Cassian, wedged in the back asked “How bad is it? Tell me. Did Nesta fall off a barstool? Did Mor try to bribe a bouncer? Did Amren get us blacklisted from another place? Come on, I need details.”

Rhys didn’t even glance back, his thumbs moving quickly across his screen. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes, then leaned forward like a kid craning to see someone’s test answers. He caught a glimpse of Feyre’s text thread.

Feyre: Where are you? Feyre: Miss you. Rhys: Two minutes away, darling. You look beautiful even drunk, by the way.

Cassian exploded into laughter. “Miss you? Are you kidding me? We’ve been gone, what, an hour? Two?”

Rhys finally turned, slow and imperious, but his ears were faintly pink. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Cassian.”

“Jealousy? No, no, this is straight up secondhand embarrassment. You’re whipped. Completely, utterly whipped.”

Azriel coughed, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror. “Oh, don’t you start smirking, mister. I know that cough.”

Azriel just kept his eyes on the road, “Focus on your own humiliation.”

What Cassian didn’t notice was the way Az’s grip tightened just slightly on the steering wheel as they drew closer to the bar and his heart started beating a fraction faster. Because Elain was there and even though no one knew it yet, she was his.

Cassian had his elbows hooked over the front seats, leaning forward like a gossiping aunt. “Okay, okay, hear me out. Worst-case scenario: Amren started a fight with the DJ. Best-case scenario: Mor sweet talked them into free drinks, Nesta challenged someone to shots, Feyre tried karaoke, and Emerie is now carrying three of them out over her shoulders.”

Cassian tapped the headrest of Rhys’s seat impatiently. “Or—OR—it’s Elain. It has to be Elain.”

Rhys hummed distractedly, still scrolling his phone.

“Think about it,” Cassian pressed on, warming to the theory. “Every male who looks at her falls flat on his face. Remember Lucien? Classic example. Or that male in who nearly walked into traffic because she smiled at him? She doesn’t even try! She just exists and people trip over themselves.”

Rhys sighed. “Cassian—”

“No, no, listen. She never really goes out. She’s like a… a delicate houseplant. You only see her in the sun sometimes, and everyone goes oh wow. But tonight? Tonight she decided to bloom.” He jabbed a finger at Rhys’s shoulder, grinning. “What if she’s finally ready? What if she’s out there finding herself a man to take home?”

Az’s hands flexed minutely on the wheel, but his voice was calm. “You’re overthinking.”

Cassian snorted. “Overthinking? This is a fact. I bet she’s already got the whole bar circling her like a vulture. I give it thirty seconds after we pull up before some idiot tries to carry her off like a prize.”

Rhys glanced sideways at Az, catching the faintest tension in his jaw. He smirked. “Cassian might actually be right for once.”

“Ha!” Cassian slapped the seat with triumph. “See? Even the smug bastard agrees. Elain’s probably the reason Feyre texted for backup. She’s the wild card tonight.”

Azriel didn’t answer. He just pressed the accelerator a little harder as finally the neon glow of the bar came into view.

The bass from the club hit them the moment they opened the door. Cassian inhaled deeply like it was oxygen. “Ahh, yes. The smell of spilled beer, bad decisions, and regret.”

Inside, it was a battlefield. Mor was standing on a table, hair wild and glitter clinging to her like she was the human embodiment of confetti. She was shouting along to a song only she seemed to know, a half empty cocktail glass held dangerously lose in one hand.

Emerie stood below her like a loyal soldier, arms crossed and glaring daggers at anyone who came too close to Mor’s personal stage. At her feet were at least four empty shot glasses.

Amren was perched at the bar like a small, terrifying queen. The bartender looked about two seconds from tears as she waved an empty glass at him. “Do you even know how to make a proper Negroni? Children shouldn’t be allowed behind bars.”

Nesta was beside her, slouched against the counter, perfectly sober except her glare was directed at an entire group of men who were pretending very badly not to be staring at her sister.

“Beautiful,” Cassian muttered taking everything in. “Absolute carnage.”

Rhys scanned the room, spotted Feyre waving from a booth, and his expression softened instantly. She was tucked into the corner, giggling helplessly as Elain tried to braid her hair out of her face. Elain wasn’t drunk but laughing at something Feyre was saying as she gestured wildly with a glowing drink in hand. Elain’s cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly mussed from the heat and the crowd, and her dress soft, floral, and far too pretty for the sticky floor made her glow like she was in her own little universe.

Cassian whistled low. “Called it. Every man in here is staring. Every single one.” He gestured broadly to the bar, and sure enough, at least a couple of males were tripping over themselves to get her attention. “I knew she’d be the wild card. Look at her simply smiling,  she’s practically summoning proposals!”

Azriel’s jaw ticked as he guided them toward Feyre’s booth. Cassian was too busy narrating like a sports commentator to notice Az’s darkening glare. “That one’s looking like he wants to make a move oh, no, wait, Emerie just body checked him on accident.”

As they reached the booth, Feyre threw her arms around Rhys, murmuring something only for him.  Elain caught sight of Azriel before he even made it to her. Somehow, through the pulsing lights and Mor’s chaotic table dancing, her gaze locked with Azriel’s like he was the only person in the room. Az’s heart stuttered at her smiling at him, but his face stayed carefully neutral.

“Hi,” she said when he reached her, her voice calm despite the chaos around them.

“Hi.” His tone was steady, low, as though this were the most ordinary moment in the world.

“You came.” She tilted her head, her curls brushing her flushed cheek.

“Of course.” He leaned in, close enough that only she could hear. “I always will.”

Her blush deepened, and her hand brushed his arm lightly, so subtly that anyone watching would’ve thought it accidental, but Azriel felt it like a brand on his skin. Azriel exhaled slowly and angled himself just enough to block her from the greedy eyes still watching her.

Getting everyone to leave the bar was like trying to herd cats.

Cassian had his arms full of Mor, who was insisting she had to dance to “just one more song.” Emerie looked like she was considering throwing her over her shoulder just to get it over with. Nesta stalked ahead, muttering something about killing them all if she had to wait another second.

Amren, of course, was still perched at the bar with her half-empty glass, lecturing the poor bartender on the ratio of vermouth.

“We said we’d leave,” Rhys called, holding Feyre by the hand as she swayed dangerously close to his side.

“Five more minutes!” Mor hollered from her table-stage, clinking glasses with strangers like she was the life of the party. She hopped down only when she saw Azriel’s thunderous look from across the room. “Oh, fine, dad.”

Somehow, impossibly, they managed to shuffle toward the door. But before they could make it out Rhysand grabbed Feyre by the waist, kissed her, and then didn’t stop.

Cassian groaned. “Oh, come on. We’re in public.”

Mor snorted. “Please. You think they’re actually going home? I give it five minutes before they’re christening the nearest bathroom.”

Nesta made a disgusted noise, dragging Cassian toward the exit before he could respond with something vulgar.

That was when a slightly drunk male stumbled out from the crowd, honing in on Elain. His hair was mussed and his shirt untucked, but his grin was bold as he blocked her path.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” he slurred. “Haven’t even had the chance to talk to you yet.”

Elain blinked at him, polite as ever. “I’m afraid we are leaving.”

The man leaned closer, ignoring the warning shift of a shadow that suddenly darkened the space around them. “Just one drink. One conversation. That’s all I’m asking—”

Azriel moved before Elain could answer, stepping up so close his shoulder brushed hers. His stance was loose and casual to anyone watching, but the set of his jaw and the quiet menace in his eyes screamed otherwise. His shadow loomed and the drunk’s grin faltered for half a second.

“She said she’s leaving,” Az said smoothly, his voice low enough to make the man flinch.

But the drunk, bolstered by liquor and arrogance, puffed his chest. “What, she can’t speak for herself?”

Elain touched Azriel’s arm lightly before he could take another step. Then she smiled at the man, sweet and luminous, the kind of smile that disarmed entire rooms. “It was lovely meeting you,” she said gently, though they both knew it wasn’t. “But no, thank you. Goodnight.”

The man blinked at her, caught off guard by her grace, and finally backed off with a muttered curse.

Az stayed close until the man melted into the crowd. Elain slipped her hand from his arm, though the warmth lingered. She looked up at him with a small, knowing smile.

“I’m fine,” she murmured.

“I know,” he answered quietly, eyes still tracking where the drunk had gone. “But I don’t like people thinking they can try.”

For a heartbeat, the noise of the club seemed to dim around them, just shadows and vines between the two.

And then Amren shouted from the doorway, “If you two are done with your little murder flirting, we’re leaving before I start charging babysitting fees!”

“Move aside, people, don’t you see we’ve got a queen of the night here?” Cassian bellowed, gesturing toward Nesta, who rolled her eyes dramatically while Emerie shoved Mor forward with a smile on her lips. As they moved, Elain let her hand slip back ever so slightly, fingers brushing the air. It was subtle and careful, an invitation she could deny later if anyone noticed.

Az’s lips curved into a fleeting smile almost no one ever saw. He lifted his hand just enough that his fingers brushed against hers, warm and steady. Her hand curled slightly in response, the smallest acknowledgment, and that was enough to steady the ache in his chest. The closer they got to the exit, the crowd surged and pressed closer. Azriel moved instantly, closing the space between them and his chest brushed her back. He let his hand rest lightly on her hip, steering her gently. His breath stirred her hair as he leaned in. The way she subtly leaned into him made his blood boil and his hand on her hip flexed in response.

By some miracle, they made it outside without losing anyone. Rhys and Feyre were nowhere in sight and Mor cackled that they were “absolutely defiling a bathroom right now” so the rest of the group piled toward Azriel’s and Nesta’s SUVs.

Immediately, the fight began.

“I get the front,” Cassian announced, practically lunging for the passenger door.

“You had it last time,” Mor argued, heels clicking faster as she tried to beat him there. “Shotgun is mine.”

“No, I’m the tallest,” Cassian shot back, puffing his chest. “Leg room is a right, not a privilege.”

“You’re also the loudest, which means you belong in the back,” Amren said dryly, shoving him in the ribs as she strode past.

“Amren! Betrayal!”

In the end, Amren solved the problem by yanking open the passenger door and sliding into Azriel’s car without a word. Cassian stood there, slack jawed, as she buckled herself in.

Cassian took the opportunity to sprint to Nesta’s car and sat triumphantly in the passenger seat, grinning broadly. Mor and Emerie, who were already plotting their post club snack raid, climbed into Azriel’s back. Nesta gave Elain a look and steered her by

Azriel pulled smoothly into the driveway, cutting the engine while Mor dramatically sang the last line of whatever song she and Emerie had butchered. Nesta had arrived before him, since he had to make a detour to get greasy food for the wannabe singers.

When everyone had spilled into the house and the evening was staring to quiet down, Azriel stood on the porch and enjoyed the silence. After a few minutes, Elain appeared with two steaming mugs in her hands. She settled onto the porch swing and put the mugs down on the railing.  “I thought you might want one,” she said softly and nudged the tea towards him. Azriel sat beside her, the swing creaking under his weight. He accepted the tea, his fingers brushing hers and for a long moment they just sat contently in each other’s presence, while the swing rocked gently under them.

Elain sipped her tea, eyes on the stars, but Azriel wasn’t watching the sky. He was watching her. Each minute, he found himself leaning closer, first his shoulder brushing her, then his fingers grazing hers when he reached for his mug, or his knee nudging.

Finally, he spoke, voice low and rough. “I hate it.”

Her brows lifted gently. “Hate what?”

“The way other men look at you. The way they think they can just…walk up. Talk to you. Touch you.” His jaw flexed. “As if you’re something anyone can have.”

Elain’s smile widened, teasing, though her cheeks flushed. “And how would you fix that?” She turned her head and her eyes glinted with quiet challenge. “How would you show the world that I’m yours?”

For a beat, Azriel just looked at her and he saw the softness of her mouth, the curve of her neck and the unshakable trust in her eyes. He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t tentative or restrained, it was fire breaking through stone or shadows spilling into light.

Elain melted instantly, her free hand curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. She kissed him back with a sweetness that made his head spin, and a smile tugged at her lips even as their mouths moved together. The kiss broke for only a breath, both of them panting softly in the cool night air. Elain’s cheeks were flushed and her lips parted, and Azriel swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

He leaned in closely, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice rough and low enough to make her shiver. “You’re mine,” he whispered. “And I’m yours.”

Elain’s breath hitched, eyes flicking up to meet his. Heat swirled there as well as need, trust and something deeper that had been waiting all along. The kind of look that burned straight through his shadows.

Az’s hand slid up, cupping the back of her neck, fingers threading into her soft hair. He tugged her toward him again and crushed her mouth to his in a raw and consuming kiss..

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless and their noses brushed affectionately, smiles tugging at their swollen lips. They sat there for a long while foreheads pressed together and their fingers intwined.

snowy day at station