sanctimonia vincet semper;

“Look Girl advice 101. If you want to give a girl or a boy something on valentine’s day I suggest you should buy something the day after since it’s gonna be half prince candy after all that but then he or she might break up with you.Yikes…but hey! look at the bright side you won’t have to pay 50 dollars for a full size chocolate heart and a teddy bear….This isn’t 99% helpful though, But this is 99% give ‘Hayden some candy deal if you actually  to do this kind of thing’”

“Are you accusing me of not having enough to afford such a price, Finnigan? Though I might not be entirely familiar with your muggle speak, I’m certain that ‘fifty dollars’ would be within what I can afford. So no, I suppose that your advice won’t be gaining yourself candies from me.”

“You don’t truly believe that, do you? A story, yes. Like the ones our parents would tell us to instill hope, it’s one romantics tell themselves to justify all selfish deeds committed against humanity. A need for power, perhaps, can start with a love for a person. You love your family, I love mine, and there’s only one way to protect them. A love for power, however, only starts with greed.”

“I thought you were clever enough to understand that life imitates art, Gabriel. I, for one, happen to truly believe that. It’s not a story to instill hope, I don’t believe so. Rather, it seems to me to be a warning — a story told to us to remind us that love breeds a need for power, and that need then breeds into greed. It’s not a warning that many of us heed, no, but is that not where our love of power was born from? From love?”

“I’ve been handling this just fine on my own for over a year now, and you haven’t once questioned my ability to succeed. Why question it now? Are you just going to keep pushing until I let you in?” Truthfully, Emma knew her handling of this entire situation had been anything but fine. Perhaps, to those who didn’t know her so well, she hadn’t seemed any different. More aggressive, perhaps, but few cared enough to question. All Emma had done was push down the hurt and the pain, pretending it didn’t exist, and letting it manifest as bitter anger instead of dealing with the root source of it. It was hardly healthy, but she had Quidditch as an outlet, so it had never been a problem. Until, for some absurd reason she had yet to figure out, she’d accidentally opened up to Lucius Malfoy. Who apparently didn’t agree that ignoring a problem was the right solution. Perhaps part of her agreed with him, but Emma Vanity was too proud to admit she was wrong. She was also too proud to admit that she didn’t know any other way to cope than anger and raise her walls higher. After all, if her parents could hurt her this much, what could her peers do? 

Handling it just fine, she had said. Not for one second was Lucius going to believe that, or let her get the last word just because she wanted him to back down. For one, he knew Emma. They might not be the kind of friends who knew each other since birth like they knew the back of each other’s hands, but after late nights spent going through Quidditch plays and the likes, Lucius liked to think that he knew her well enough to know how her mind worked — what her strategy was. After all, it wasn’t just Quidditch that needed a strategy, and he had learned so about Emma Vanity while they strategised about the sport. Everything, in Emma’s head, was a strategy. About fashion, friends, life — everything. That, he imagined, included how she dealt with her parents. “Perhaps,” he responded when she was done. Even if he didn’t believe that she was fine, for the sake of this, he would pretend that she had been doing a brilliant job with keeping up with her strategy. “But you came to me voicing a question, and if you ever for one second, think that I’m ignorant enough to believe that you still are handling it just fine, then you don’t seem to know me at all. Perhaps you were, but surely you know better than to believe that you could fool me by saying that you still are doing so? I know when you handle something just fine, and this, is most certainly not an example of it.”

A genuine question that was about to receive an insincere answer. “I suppose that, for you, I would lie, yes.” The best liars always told the truth, and he was, in a roundabout way, depending on how one dictated the grammatical structure of his sentence. “Yet you haven’t seemed to mention why it is that this has been brought about. Straightforward as the question might be, it is a bit out of place.”

Lucius Malfoy was no imbecile. Hercules Selwyn might be a potential ally, yes, but it didn’t mean that he would ever trust his life in the other boy’s hands. ( Was there truly anyone Lucius would trust with his life? ) And he certainly was not dimwitted enough to believe that the answer the Selwyn boy had given him wasn’t a lie in itself. Though for now, he supposed that he would indulge him. “That’s quite satisfying to hear,” he responded, though he was certain that Hercules wouldn’t miss the dryness of his tone. “Something piqued my curiosity, and I thought that I should ask. There’s no harm in that, is there?”

“Did I now? The only thing I can think of that I may have obliviated would be the memory of your entire body quaking from fear, to spare your pride the shame. I think, what it means, is that your pride is altering your perception of the events. You may have fooled everyone else into thinking you had no fear, but you can’t fool me, Lucius. Even back then you couldn’t.”

“Ah, but if you did obliviate such an event, Adara, you wouldn’t have the memory at all, would you? Which proves that you, cousin, are merely fabricating such a memory to cover your shame of the fear in your eyes. I believe that it isn’t my pride altering the perception of the events. And even if I can’t fool you, what makes you believe that you ever did fool me?”

“Pretty sure I just said you could have it, don’t particularly care about your 7th year courseload, Lucius Perhaps you shouldn’t be so pushy with people who are giving you what you want anyway?.”

“You were implying that I could have it after you were finished with it. Perhaps you should watch your words next time, Regulus. I believe that it would do you some good to learn what to say, wouldn’t you say so?”

♦ also if u wanna do all of them do it but if not then do bellatrix amycus and lucius

feel free to change pronouns , etc . ( )s resemble optional choices . more under read more .

“So demanding. Fine, take it then I’m finished.”

“I’m a Seventh Year. This is for a Potions assignment that I happen to need to get done. I’m certain you understand that, Regulus, don’t you?”

She tried to keep a frown off her face as she pressed the book closer to her chest. “Seeing as I need it too, you can read it after I finish it.”

His brows rose at the girl. Lily Evans, — mudblood — he knew. He recognised her from prefect meetings. “You’re a Sixth Year. I’m certain you’ll survive without it for the time being.”

♦ for any of my muses u wanna do tbh

“I’m sorry, I happen to need it to. You wouldn’t mind waiting would you? Or we could share it if you like.”

“That Potions essay we have is due far too soon. If I intend on getting it done, which I most certainly do, I will be needing it tonight.” He paused. “I suppose sharing it would be better than waiting.”

The Malfoys were powerful. Of that, there was no doubt. But Herc’s loyalty, first and foremost, surrounded around him and his own survival. “They are. And unafraid of toil and all that, which might also be relevant here because you seem to be suggesting that I need to stick my neck out for you for some reason?” 

“It was a genuine question, and I see no harm in asking so. There was nothing implied, nor did I ever suggested that you must look out for me, Selwyn. It was merely a straightforward question which I believe, deserves an answer too. Quite simple, don’t you think, to answer a question with yes or no?”

“Lucius, do you need to visit the infirmary? I’m afraid you’re sounding a bit like you’ve been hit in the head. I seem to remember your hands shaking as I stood next to you, because we were going to face it together, as we do.”

“I appreciate the concern, dear cousin, but I’m afraid that it must be you who have perhaps accidentally obliviated your own memory of the very event we are discussing. I wouldn’t disagree to saying that we were facing it together, no, — it seems like you remember at least that — though my hands did not shake. Just because I stood next to you, that does not mean that I felt what you did, does it?”