Severus stirred awake beneath a thick layer of cotton sheets, his limbs tangled lazily in the warmth of the bed. The room was silent, save for the soft crackle of the enchanted lantern on the far wall. Dim morning light filtered through the old curtains, casting pale lines across the wooden floor.
His eyes blinked open, and for a moment, he lay still.
Something felt… off.
Not unpleasant. Just different.
It wasn't Christmas cheer, that much he was sure of. He had long since detached himself from the idea of festive joy. There was no family waiting for him with gifts. No warm traditions or stories by the fire. He was alone in both of the worlds, and he had made peace with that years ago.
Still, there was an undeniable glow inside him today. A strange, almost electric energy humming beneath his skin, curling softly in his gut like the aftermath of firewhisky and velvet.
He exhaled slowly, staring at the cracked ceiling. Not Christmas, he mused. No, this feels… internal.
And he understood why.
Fleur.
His fingers brushed along the side of his neck and paused. Faint. Barely there now, but he could still feel the outline of her bite marks. His skin was already healing, the half-demonic blood in him weaving the tissues back together with unnatural efficiency.
The scratches down his back were gone entirely.
He sat up slowly, letting the sheets fall from his bare chest. Cold air met his skin, but it didn't bother him much. His reflection in the wall mirror drew his eyes, pale torso, lean lines, and blonde hair tousled from sleep. His features, angular and sharp, bore no immediate trace of his creature lineage, but he knew better.
He wasn't just human.
Not anymore.
The results were impossible to misread: one of his parents had been human… and the other, an incubus. A creature so absurd, most magical scholars dismissed them as mythical footnotes in ancient texts.
Yet there it was, inked in cold black letters on the parchment:
Parentage: Human-Incubus Hybrid
His body bore the mark of that bloodline. The unnatural healing. The subtle charm in his gaze. The intoxicating pull he radiated – passive, almost invisible… unless he let it slip.
And last night, with Fleur. He hadn't let it slip, not intentionally. But he wasn't foolish. He had seen how she looked at him. Felt the way her body had responded. He'd tried to keep it reined in. He always did. But some part of him, that hungry, instinctive half, had rejoiced in the closeness. In the touch. In the unspoken surrender.
He didn't like it.
No, he hated the idea that any part of her desire might have been coaxed unnaturally. That she hadn't chosen him freely.
Still… she had been the one to kiss him. And it hadn't felt artificial.
Severus dragged a hand through his hair and rose to his feet.
The chill of the wooden floor greeted him. He padded to the narrow bathroom and stepped into the shower, letting the water run hot as steam fogged the mirror. He scrubbed himself clean, his thoughts quieter under the spray. When he stepped out, a towel around his waist, the day had properly begun.
And so had the owls.
Two of them, tapping insistently at the window — one with the standard cream-colored band of the Daily Prophet, the other in sleek, uniform Ministry brown.
He sighed and unlatched the window. The birds fluttered in, deposited their payloads on the desk, and promptly helped themselves to the saucer of owl treats by the side.
Severus reached for the newspaper first, running a brief detection charm, before tossing it aside. Nothing dangerous. Just another day of propaganda and panic.
The second letter, however, bore weight.
The wax seal of the Ministry gleamed red on the parchment envelope, the seal of the Minister himself stamped into the center.
Frowning, Severus broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Office of the Minister for Magic
Official Correspondence
22nd December, 1994
To: Mr. Severus Blackwood
Current Residence: Room 7, Leaky Cauldron, London
Dear Mr. Blackwood,
On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, and under the direct instruction of Minister Cornelius Fudge, you are cordially invited to attend the Annual Ministry Yule Ball, to be held tomorrow evening, December 22nd, 7:30 PM, at the Atrium Hall, Ministry of Magic Headquarters.
This year's Gala coincides with a special Yule Ball hosted by the Ministry to honour interdepartmental collaboration, international guests, and notable contributors to magical society. Your presence is considered both welcome and significant, given your recent collaborative efforts and formal engagement in international magical affairs.
The Minister further expresses his intent to make formal announcements regarding recent agreements between your person and the Ministry. Your attendance is respectfully requested.
Dress code: Formal wizarding attire. A guest may accompany you, should you choose. Entry will be managed via the Ministry Floo Network; security clearance has been pre-approved.
With best regards,
Basil Crowley
Senior Secretary, Office of Magical Affairs
---
Severus leaned back in his chair with a long breath.
"Another ball," he muttered dryly. "Marvelous."
He folded the letter and tossed it onto the desk beside the paper. Part of him wanted to ignore it entirely — to stay here, in this quiet room, the scent of last night still clinging to the air. But he knew better.
Fudge wasn't asking.
He was summoning.
Severus dragged a hand across his face and stood. His half-demon blood might have been humming with satisfaction, but politics never took a day off.
He would go. Of course he would. He had his own plans and staying in the Ministry's good books for now was part of that strategy.
But first…
His eyes flicked toward the newspaper. What rubbish they printed now?
The Heartthrob romance
There are some nights that history may forget, and others that become the stuff of legend.
Last evening's Triwizard Yule Ball, hosted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is certainly the latter — a spectacle of music, magic, and mystery, but none more spellbinding than the entrance of one particular pair who, by now, have set every gossip circle from Paris to Diagon Alley ablaze.
Yes, dear readers — Severus Blackwood, the enigmatic wizard already known across Britain's magical world for his growing list of miraculous feats, arrived as none other than the date of Fleur Delacour, the stunning Veela-descended champion of Beauxbatons Academy.
For those who've been living under a particularly dense rock, allow me to remind you: Severus Blackwood is the very wizard who revived Fleur Delacour from near-death after a tragic magical accident at Beauxbatons left her clinically dead for five whole minutes. Yes, five. Her heart had stopped. He brought her back.
In a revelation that has left students swooning, professors baffled, and gossip columns bursting at the seams, the mysterious and fiercely private Severus Blackwood, the brilliant young mind known for revolutionising potion healing at St Mungo's and secretly taming werewolves has stunned the wizarding world once again. And this time, it isn't with a potion vial or a dramatic rescue.
This time, dear readers… it's with romance.
Yes, you read that correctly.
Severus Blackwood, elusive prodigy and the future rumoured recipient of the prestigious Emerald Cauldron Honour, was spotted arm-in-arm with none other than Fleur Delacour, the dazzling Beauxbatons champion, and former near-death patient of his. .
Some say she owes him her life. Others suggest she's offering her heart instead.
According to whispers from Beauxbatons students and a few sharp-eyed Hogwarts girls, Fleur Delacour has been enchanted by her dashing rescuer ever since her miraculous recovery. The Yule Ball appearance confirms what many had suspected. The cold, calculating Blackwood might not be so immune to charm as once thought.
And oh, what charm there was!
Eyewitnesses say the pair's first dance was nothing short of hypnotic. The enchanted ceiling dimmed just as they stepped onto the floor, as if the heavens themselves conspired to set the scene. Miss Delacour, in a sleek sapphire gown that shimmered like the sea, twirled in his arms as the orchestra held its breath.
Several onlookers were seen fanning themselves as the two danced far closer than what is typically expected at a school event. One fourth-year from Hufflepuff reportedly dropped an entire bowl of pudding onto her lap.
My dear readers, it wasn't just Miss Delacour who found herself drawn into Severus's web of mystery. But perhaps what makes this tale all the more scandalous or thrilling, depending on your constitution — is that Severus Blackwood did not confine his attentions solely to the French champion.
No, readers. The man waltzed his way across the Hall like a dark comet of temptation.
He danced with Hermione Granger, the brilliant Muggle-born witch accompanying Durmstrang champion Viktor Krum. Their exchange was brief but intimate. Our witness reported "a hand around her waist and something whispered that made her flush to the roots."
Next came Cho Chang, the graceful Ravenclaw Seeker and date of none other than Mr Harry Potter. Sources observed that Mr. Potter was not entirely pleased to see his date twirling, rather enthusiastically — in the arms of Blackwood. In fact, the Boy who lived was seen gripping his pumpkin juice rather tightly for the remainder of the evening.
As if that weren't enough, Severus Blackwood also shared a surprisingly long and intense dance with none other than Iris Potter, the sister of Boy Who Lived. Clad in emerald green and known for her shy demeanour, Miss Potter seemed quite transformed under Blackwood's attention. The pair were spotted laughing together near the orchestra before returning to the floor, where she remained in his arms for no less than three full songs.
Is he noble? Is he dangerous? And perhaps more relevant… is he available?
Sources close to the French delegation reveal that Madame Maxime herself offered personal thanks to Mr Blackwood after the event, commending his "magical finesse" and "quiet grace." But others, including a few unsatisfied suitors from Beauxbatons and Hogwarts alike weren't so sure what to make of his presence.
"I don't trust him," one seventh-year said, choosing to remain anonymous. "No one that good-looking and that powerful is that quiet unless he's hiding something."
Indeed, readers — what is Severus Blackwood hiding?
Perhaps it's just his own privacy. Or perhaps it's something darker… something deeper. A connection to ancient magic? A bloodline unspoken? Or perhaps it's simply that Severus Blackwood prefers letting others talk, while he acts.
Whatever the truth, one thing is clear: this Yule Ball has changed everything.
Mr Blackwood has gone from potion-maker to heartbreaker, and the world is watching. It will be a delight to see.
We'll be following the story closely in the days to come.
— Rita Skeeter
---
Severus folded the paper slowly, a grimace barely tugging at his lips.
There it was — everything he had done since arriving in Britain, twisted, spotlighted, and fed to the masses with sugar and scandal. He had expected attention, yes. But this? This was tabloid fire.
He should've known Rita Skeeter would pounce.
At least she doesn't know about the incubus blood, he thought, eyes narrowing.
That, for now, remained his only blessing. And a secret he intended to keep.
Thankfully, he had charmed the Shrieking Shack against visitors when he and Fleur had sex. The last thing he wanted was for their naked photographs going on it, in the front page. The thought of it suddenly made his cock twitch.
He cursed himself. Remembering of Fleur and his night, only made him harder. Gods! He really needed to deal with his new bloodline and hormones.