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cherryslyce · 1 year

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Second Son (XIV) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Y/N joins Contessa Zabini for tea. Luna and Y/N make way to Reine, Norway. Y/N remembers something important about Regulus.

Part XIII / Part XV / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: The Zabini's and Baroque architecture just makes sense to me. Also uhhh have fun <3.

The cranberry tinted cup that sat in front of you made your tea flush like diluted blood, the glass flared at the rims to resemble a blossom, imposing on the matching saucer that you couldn’t draw your eyes away from.

Luna sat perfectly quaint to your left, eyes running across the opulent clusters of furniture that accessorized the already extravagant room. Intricate carvings lined cream pillars that pinched the rounded windows in front of you, each imposing structure veiled by heavy blush curtains. The wooden table in front of you was polished spotlessly, matching the ornate chair that sat sturdy underneath your rigid body. On the opposite wall, you’re suddenly aware of the colossal gold-trimmed mirror that was no doubt reflecting your squared shoulders.

Blaise was living in a baroque daydream. Damn him.

Your tongue was doing a funny thing, tipping between sensitivity and leathery roughness. That would be of your own doing, having immediately drawn your lips to the scalding tea in an effort to diffuse the tension in your shoulders. Despite the abrupt burn, you had held in the sputtering that twisted in your throat in order to maintain some semblance of decorum.

The silence was becoming unnerving and you could tell that Blaise agreed, the usually composed slytherin was twitching to twist his rings for the nth time. Unexpectedly, when you all had arrived at the Zabini Manor, you were met with a rather unimpressed Theodore Nott. Blaise had quietly whispered that the boy was well-liked by his mother and was often a guest at their manor.

It felt like you and Luna had become prey trapped in a den full of beguiling predators. The Contessa sat across from you with Blaise to her right, the woman not even batting an eye when Theodore chose to round the table and sit next to you instead.

Easy access to attack you or was he also intimidated by the elegant woman?

“So you were at a wedding, dear?” The Contessa’s voice was smothered in a richness that complemented her unflinching gaze.

Clearing your throat lightly, you lean forward to meet her keen eyes, “Yes.” Your tone was mellow–formal, and the lack of embellishing in your answer seemed to both amuse and vex her.

Not giving up so easily, the woman stirs her tea without breaking eye contact, “I see, and you were both making a quick trip to Diagon Alley afterwards?” The question would have seemed innocent if it were coming from anybody else (perhaps with the exception of Voldemort), but you could practically see the gears in her head turning.

“A little disruption ruined our appetite for celebration.”

The woman raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at you, “Oh? What’s a wedding without a little family drama?”

You felt like someone had taken a bludger and scrambled your brains with it, high society was truly not for the weak to stomach. You weren’t even sure if the Contessa was teasing you or trying to prod for information.

It was likely the latter, and the thought made your stomach twist a little. Your exchange of letters had always been polite, borderlining strained pleasantries that involved Hogwarts classes, your research, and plans to meet up (that you were hoping to never attend).

“Family drama would have been preferable, I’m afraid,” Your tone lifted ever so slightly, but the small smile pulling at your lips hid how irritated you were becoming with the tango of words.

You shoot Blaise a small glance and see him watching you both with an unreadable expression, though his intense eyes unnerved you a bit. Like mother, like son.

The Contessa’s lips purse thinly and you get the impression that she is also becoming increasingly irate with your resolution, but then her face settles into a sharp grin.

Humming lowly, she tilts her head to assess you before speaking, “You impress me, my dear. It would seem that Blaise is getting better at picking his companions,” You see her shoot a small approving glance at Theodore, who merely sips his tea nonchalantly, “Theodore, Y/N – I hope you both will continue to look out for Blaise. We Zabini’s pride ourselves in our unflinching loyalty and we always return what is given to us threefold.”

Chancing a peek at the boy next to you, you see Theodore meet your eyes evenly. Your move.

Nodding at the dignified woman, you smile genuinely for the first time that evening, “It would be my honor, Contessa Zabini. However, my devotion to Blaise would have continued without question, he is quite-” you raise your eyebrow at the boy, “-fascinating, after all.”

By fascinating, I mean half as scary as you and ten times more approachable. His wicked sense of humor is also a plus.

Blaise narrows his eyes goodheartedly and drops a sugar cube into his cooled tea, “Thanks.” The dry response has Theodore hiding a small smirk in his tea cup, while the Contessa merely shoots an unimpressed look at her son’s sickly concoction.

“Indeed, you are quite personable, Y/N. I can’t help but wonder though, what is your stance on the current political climate? It would be ever so insightful for me.” The woman smoothly questions, the calculative glint in her eyes flashing under the chandelier lights.

Translation: Are you going to induct my son into Voldemort’s goonies or Dumbledore’s sycophants?

Stirring your tea absentmindedly, you decide to answer honestly, “I have my own motivations that don’t exactly align with the polarized ideologies of our sphere. Of course, I have a preference for who I wish to see come out on top, but either way, my own interests outweigh my desire to participate in politics.”

Your answer seems to catch everybody off guard (except for Luna who smiles like she’s known all along), and you see consideration paint the Contessa’s face, “Interesting. Blaise has indicated that you are quite close with Harry Potter, yet you declare neutrality?”

“Neutrality for as long as my interests continue to hold my attention, but I hold no ounce of admiration for the Dark Lord or his underlings.” You hesitate to continue, feeling shifty with how easily your words were spilling out.

Blaise seems to grasp onto your words and leans forwards to prod you, “But?”

“But, I do not think that certain knowledge and teachings should be tabooed.”

Theodore speaks up for the first time to confirm what you were insinuating, “The Dark Arts.”

You nod and lift up your tea cup, sipping carefully despite how tasteless it was due to your burns.

“And these interests of yours, do they involve the Dark Arts?” The Contessa swipes a manicured nail around the handle of her cup, eyes no longer shrewd.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you lean back before answering lightly, “They might. I cannot say for certainty that they do. However, it does involve unusual magic.”

“I see. It makes sense now why you asked to see those Norwegian tomes.” The woman’s eyes are alight, a glow that made it seem as though an investment of hers bloomed to fruition beautifully.

You shuddered imperceptibly. Was it an honor or an omen that she seemed so intrigued by you?

Theodore perks up and he turns to you with wide eyes, “Norwegian tomes?”

The boy’s eagerness for knowledge was palpable, and you couldn’t help but be amused by his antics. It was so familiar because you saw it often in Regulus.

Regulus. You winced. You wouldn’t think about it anymore.

“Yes,” Turning to face the Contessa, you weigh your options, “If I may, I was wondering if I could borrow an owl for a letter. I want to inform my other friends of my plans going forward.”

Blaise raises his eyebrows and frowns, “Plans? Are you not meeting up with them soon?”

“Actually, I-” Luna turns to you with determined eyes at your slip up, “-we are heading North.”

“North?” Blaise looks exceedingly unimpressed and you knew you wouldn’t be going anywhere until you satiated his curiosity.

“Yes, up North.”

“Where up North, pray tell?” He drawls with crossed arms.

“Norway. We’re going to Norway.” Your tone was flat, eyes conveying your exasperation.

Blaise sputters indignantly and barely restrains himself from throwing his hands up, “Norway? We have school in two weeks! How long are you planning to be there for?”

“Indefinitely. It’s for my personal research.”

“Well, I’m coming with you.” Blaise’s declaration has you darting your eyes to the Contessa with bated breath, watching the woman cross her arms.

“Absolutely not. You have school, caro.” Blaise frowns deeply at his mother’s refusal and sits back in his seat, shoulders sagging in defeat, unwilling to argue with her. Theodore looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, likely considering if he would be able to leave school early too with the excuse of sabbatical.

The Contessa turns to you, ignoring her son’s fit, “Of course, I’ll have one of my house elfs fetch you some parchment and ink. I’m sure Blaise wouldn’t mind if you borrowed his owl,” The woman suddenly rises from her seat and shoots you all a pleasant smile before smoothing out her dress, “This evening has been quite insightful. I look forward to our next meeting, Y/N. Safe journeys, don’t be a stranger.”

Without waiting for a response, the woman spins on her heel and struts towards the double doors, calling for an elf as she crosses the threshold, “Viren, bring some parchment and ink for my guests.” The door clicks shut behind her as her last words reach your ears, and you slump in your seat as exhaustion soars through your veins.

Before a disgruntled Blaise or an eager Theodore – the bloody ravenclaw in snake skin, can get a word out, a light pop draws your attention towards a rather properly dressed house elf, parchment and writing supplies in tow.

Luna is quick to gather the supplies and quietly thank the elf, smoothing out the parchment in front of you.

“I still want to go with you.” Blaise’s voice is soft, and you’re unable to detect any irritation.

Peering up from your writing, you smile lightly at the two boys, “Sorry. You two need to hold down the fort. I didn’t say anything earlier, but the Ministry has been infiltrated by Voldemort and his followers, that’s why we left the wedding in such a hurry. Scrimgeour is dead as well,” You heave a sigh and flick the quill casually, “I suspect Hogwarts is going to be overtaken next, and Harry and I wouldn’t be caught dead there this year, we’d be like little crup puppies in a ball pit.”

Both slytherins look stumped by your straightforwardness, and Blaise huffs out a little ‘well shit’ that has you nodding.

Theodore stares deeply into the translucent pool of tea in his cup, voice barely above a whisper, “The war is going to end soon.”

“Yes, and Harry’s going to make sure Voldemort is damned all the way into the afterlife.” If either of the boys were unconvinced by your conviction, they didn’t let it show, opting to share a look of understanding with each other before turning to you and nodding lightly.

Blaise rounds the table and drops his hands onto your shoulders, “You better not die. And I guess I can take care of our ward for the time being.”

“Ward?” Theodore sounds (rightfully) perplexed by his best friend’s words.

“Little Draconis,” you supply, much to Theodore’s bewilderment, “And Blaise, stop making it sound like we’ve adopted him!”

You wave your friend off and finish up your letter, leaning back in satisfaction as you hear Blaise clamber away to fetch his owl.

Prongslet (and co),

Luna and I are going to redeem our meal tickets (not as bizarre of a gift as one may think). We may not be back before darkness falls. Tell the old menace I said hello, and that I will make good on my promise to him. Stay safe and stay together.

- Someone’s beloved Birdie

Norway was incomparably arctic to Britain, the frigid winds bit at the tips of your fingers with fervid rushes, and you were positive that your legs were now flesh icicles. Despite how ardently your body protested against the climate, you couldn’t help the serene smile that mapped the muscles of your face. The chill was not the only difference the region had over Britain, and its tranquility was almost foreign to you.

Now more than ever, Wizarding Britain seemed to have a miasma of doom looming over the country and the change of pace was almost tangible.

“Here we are,” Luna’s airy voice was a welcomed sound amidst your inner exultation. You couldn’t help but draw similarities between the mysticality of Luna’s magic and disposition, and the blankets of fog that permeated over the lake in the far distance.

Both were curious in their own aspects, but you couldn’t help but want to melt deeper in the feeling they both surrounded you with.

You pulled your overcoat tighter around your body, thanking Merlin and those above that Blaise practically tore his closet right to left to find suitable clothing for you and Luna before you both departed from Zabini Manor.

Stepping closer to Luna, you hum as you observe the view in the distance, “It’s beautiful.”

Reine was truly idyllic. The fishing village was cupped by snowy peaks that towered over the clots of buildings which mottled the shores of the lake – a place truly untouched by the withering fog of petulant human conflict.

The apparition was quite tiring and you could feel fatigue coiling around your muscles, urging you to quickly seek refuge.

“Couldn’t have picked a better place really: picturesque, remote, and lauded for proficiency in multiple languages.” Your words are light and playful, spurning a grin to bloom on Luna’s face.

Dumbledore practically handed you a bubble-wrapped opportunity served on a golden platter.

The both of you begin to trek towards the village, not wanting to risk apparition in case you were seen by any locals. To your knowledge, this Anders Fiske was the only magical folk in Reine, holing himself away from densely populated regions for reasons only Merlin knows.

As you approach the banks of the waters and the largest building amongst the cluster, you inhale shakily as you see a sinewy man exit the building. The man seems to pause and do a double take, fully turning when he realized that you weren’t a figment of his imagination.

“Hello,” His voice is gruff and gratingly neutral, only weakening your resolve.

Talking to people was hard. But you survived a – conversation? interrogation? with Contessa Zabini, this should be a piece of cake.

“Hello, we’re looking for someone named Anders Fiske,” your tone is even and you try your best to look as friendly as possible. Luna simply stares off into a red house in the distance, seeming to look straight through the man in front of you.

Immediately, you can see the man tense before he forcibly relaxes his stance, pinching his eyebrows together as he surveys you, “There is no one here by that name.”

You would have believed him. If you were a dolt, of course.

“Are you certain? It’s rather important, and he’s the only one that can help us.” The man doesn’t falter and you frown when you feel something inch towards you.

Helga almighty.

He had a magical signature. The man in front of you was clearly a wizard, whether he knew it or not.

Before you can ruminate on your discovery, the man speaks up, “Yes. So you both should leave.”

A subtle bone in his body, there was not.

Feeling your eye twitch, you decide to do some searching on your own terms. Releasing your magic, you slowly blanket the surrounding buildings in search for another magical signature. It was clear enough that the man in front of you was not who you were looking for – unless Dumbledore wanted you to have some grilled monkfish with the most conspicuous wizard ever to roam the earth since Godric Gryffindor himself.

As you continue to scavenge the village with your magic, the man in front of you shifts from side to side, clearly becoming wary of your sudden silence and blank stare.

Before you can continue, a thunderous slam has you flinching out of your concentration. Peering around the looming man, your eyes meet a guarded gaze. Tilting your head, you sidestep and assess the newcomer, smiling slowly as you realize that he was another wizard.

The new man was much older and you could see the way he leaned on his right leg as if his left one was aching from the slightest pressure. He was hunched in the pathway of the red house Luna was observing, mouth set into a deep frown.

“Bingo,” Without waiting for the younger man to say anything (or possibly toss you into the lake), you stroll over toward the older man who was slowly retreating back into his house.

Luna follows after you and nods happily to herself, starting to skip by your side.

Stopping a few yards away from the man, you roll your shoulders to ease your soreness before jumping into the golden question, “Are you Anders Fiske?”

The man appears to be ready to vehemently deny your question, but Luna speaks up before he can even utter a mumble, “Dumbledore sent us!”

“Dumbledore?” The man’s harsh wrinkles smooth over ever so slightly, and your former headmaster’s name seems to roll off his tongue instinctually.

“Yes. In his will, he told me that I needed to seek you out for a…meal? I’m in need of your help,” The man seems nonplussed by your declaration, and you purse your lips before sweetening up your words, “Please.”

You see the man’s eyes flicker behind you and back rapidly, seeming to mull over everything.

Without a word, the man dips into the shadow of his house with one last glower.

Excuse me, what?

“Come,” You’re startled out of your stupor by a familiar deep voice, and you can only trail forward, mouth hung open, as the younger man leads you and Luna inside.

As the younger man closes the door shut behind you, an array of lamps flicker to life around the room, illuminating the perimeter much to your amazement. The room was cozy and frazzled in a similar fashion to the Weasley’s home, and your eyes couldn’t help but trail across a wall of tomes the size of your head.

“You shouldn’t be here,” The older man – Anders, grumbles from the middle of the room, sat at the dining table with a demeanor you found synonymous with Moody during meetings at Grimmauld Place.

Smiling coyly, you watch Luna as she wanders almost weightlessly towards the small corner kitchen, “You shouldn’t have revealed yourself, Anders.”

The man lets out a low grunt and you almost have to physically restrain your eyebrows from floating off your face. This man was literally Moody in a different, older font.

“You would have figured it out anyway. Could feel that magic of yours suffocating the whole place from in here.” His tone was rough, but you wanted to believe that there was an impressed shine in his eyes.

The younger man who was (surprisingly) still behind you, decides to interrupt your conversation, “Father, who are these people?”

Anders places his elbows on the table and gives you and Luna a once-over, “Magical folk.”

“A threat?” Anders’ son carries an edge to his tone that has you nearly rolling your eyes.

You were about to blast him through the window, but you couldn’t let this opportunity slip away because of unbridled temptations.

“That remains to be seen.”

Anders’ reply seems to placate his son for the time being, and he heads off towards Luna as the girl hunches over to study a chipped teapot on the counter. You shift and make your way to stand in across from Anders, not exactly sure what approach to take.

The yellow lighting bounced off the man’s face and gave him a sickly complexion, emphasizing his stress lines and suspicious eyes as you drew closer.

“So, Dumbledore is dead?” He sounded almost regretful. Either that or you knocked your head on the way in.

“Unfortunately. War is not forgiving, especially to martyrs.” Your tone was not nearly as sad as it probably should have been, but it seemed to be of no trouble for the older wizard.

Anders sighs and leans back in his seat, one hand coming to clutch his shoulder unconsciously, “The old fool knew what he was getting into,” He raises his eyes to look at you appraisingly, “Can’t imagine why he’d send you my way, anyway.”

“I’m researching. Something that is unfortunately, extremely niche. Dumbledore said you might be able to enlighten me on the subject.” Your determined tone seems to draw in some interest from him, and you have to mask the victorious feeling that washes over you.

That’s right, scholar to scholar. Hook, line, and sinker.

The man waits for you to continue, so you slowly pull out the chair in front of you and sink down across from him, “It’s about magical essences. It seems that you are quite sensitive to magical signatures, seeing as you could sense me releasing my magic earlier,” Anders gives a brisk nod, and you clench your hands as you continue, “A few summers ago, I encountered something strange–special. I found a portrait that was imbued with magical essence, and this portrait, he was extremely sentient.”

You feel a knot lodge in your throat at the reminder of Regulus, the wound of his destruction feeling painfully raw again. Seeing your sudden hesitance, Anders raises a scruffy white eyebrow, “And where is this portrait now?”

Your gaze drops to the table, your eyes blazing right into the worn wood, so marred and aged, unlike the one at Zabini Manor.

“Gone, then? I don’t know how I’m supposed to be of help in that case.” You raise your eyes and meet his cold gaze, clenching your jaw at his stoic expression, “You both can stay the night in the basement, for the sake of doing an old friend a favor. I expect you to be gone by daylight, tomorrow.”

Without pause, Anders pushes himself off the chair and limps further into the house, leaving you to awkwardly stew in your rejection while his son and Luna linger behind you.

Anders’ son breaks the tense silence first, “Sorry about him, he’s…”

“Stubborn?” Luna offers.

“Honest.” You reply at the same time.

Whirling around in your seat, you will away the veil of exhaustion and hurt that clouded your mind and look up at Anders’ son, really seeing him for the first time. You see the resemblance between the both of them, from their narrowed eyes to their thin noses, and the unmistakable metallic chill engulfed in both of their magic.

Slowly rising from your seat, you send a fleeting smile to the boy, “Don’t believe we know your name.”

“Asger,” His tone is much less taut than before, from pity or understanding, you didn’t know.

“Nice to meet you, and thanks.”

The boy–Asger, waves off your thanks and simply juts his shoulder forward, silently telling you to follow him. Feeling all of your survival instincts switch off, you tread behind him with glassy eyes, barely aware of your surroundings even when Luna tucks her arm around your body, guiding you around the unfamiliar environment.

It appeared that Anders utilized his magical prowess and performed a disappearing act by the time you reached the basement, the older man being nowhere in sight despite the fact that there was only one door in the back of the house–which led to the basement.

You and Luna got settled in, not bothered by the loose threads of your blankets or the dusty boxes that rested against the walls. You were both given a (surprisingly) comfortable mattress to share, and you almost wanted to cry when Luna started to draw patterns on your palm as you both stared up at the spackled ceiling.

“Our journey has not ended yet,” Luna’s voice is small, but still fueled with conviction.

“Thanks, Luna. I don’t even know where I’d be without you.”

A comfortable silence descends upon you two, and you shift to get comfortable in your spot, realizing that Blaise’s overcoat was making it difficult to turn over. Slowly sitting up, you shrug off the thick material, and fix your jacket, realizing it was slightly askew from your movements. As you smooth down the material, you freeze as your hand moves over a thick bulk in your inner pocket.

Portrait…?

No. Of course not.

Ignoring the cold sinking of your stomach, you fish out the object and search blindly for your wand.

“Lumos.”

Your breath hitches.

Regulus’ journal. The one you found stuffed between his mattresses. Swallowing harshly, you slowly run a hand over the wrinkled cover.

How could you have forgotten?

As you try to maneuver your wand to allow both of your hands to be free, a gentle tug has you swiveling your head to the side. Luna merely smiles at you before looking back at the journal, nimbly holding your wand over the book so you could flip through it.

“I can look away if you want,” Luna’s gentle voice slices through the air with a warmth that you viscerally feel in your chest, and you smile at the girl in gratitude. As she turns her gaze to the darkness, seemingly becoming entranced by nothingness, you slowly furl the first pages open.

Property of Regulus Arcturus Black

You turn the page, fingers twitching as you resist the temptation to trace the swirls of his name.

3 November, 1976

Today is Sirius’ birthday. The first year he will celebrate away from home, as a disappointment to the family name. Mother and Father were particularly cold today. I just have to try harder. Sirius has stopped replying to my letters, and he avoids me in the halls.

I think I hate him.

Your heart pounds furiously in your chest as you reread the entry, struck by the unfamiliar loathing coated in his tone. Sirius was sixteen when he left, so seventeen in 1976. Regulus was only fifteen when he wrote this, and already so tied down by his family and abandonment issues.

The next few pages contain similar entries, all filled with abhorrence for Sirius and bitterness towards his parents.

Then the year changes.

8 September, 1978

The Dark Lord is going to change the world, make it a better, purer place. Mother and Father were pleased when I announced that I would be taking the mark soon, already having made strides among his growing forces.

Sirius would hate it. I know he would. But he would expect it. He should, anyway.

He already hates me, what damage could this do to our already broken relationship?

He should hate me.

I hate myself. I hate him.

I hate him so much.

17 December, 1978

Visiting my portrait was eventful. I can feel him growing stronger with every meeting. I think I’ll have to repaint it soon, looking at it and seeing a reflection of who I used to be never gets easier.

The next repaint, I’m going to finally do it. Hopefully, all my research will have paid off. Uncle Alphard’s book on magical essences was more helpful than I could have ever imagined.

The room is complete, and I can feel my magic all over it. If I can imbue it into my portrait as well, it will be perfect.

Maybe then he can forgive me. If I explain. If I try.

The Dark Lord is expecting me soon.

3 January, 1979

The repainting was a success. My hand will be sore for the next few days, but it was all worth it. I finally figured out how to key the room. The only person who will be able to access it now is Sirius. That is if he ever returns home.

My portrait is so like me, it’s truly uncanny. Perhaps I can publish my findings after I graduate.

My mark aches often.

I miss Sirius.

5 March, 1979

The Dark Lord tried to kill Kreacher.

After everything I’ve done for him. After everything I’ve sacrificed.

Sirius was right.

Kreacher keeps talking about a potion and a locket. I need to understand. I have to.

It is imperative that I impart everything I know to my portrait, so Sirius will know that I tried. That I finally understand.

Is this my punishment? Must I suffer so for forgiveness? If he does not forgive me, will it all have been for nothing?

I need to find out what the Dark Lord is hiding. It will be my repentance.

19 May, 1979

Horcruxes.

Such vile creations, a defiling of one’s soul. The Dark Lord has a horcrux. I need to destroy it.

My portrait grows restless with me. To think it was even possible. He only has the faintest ideas of my current ambitions, but I feel everyday that he is growing to be someone I never could be. Someone that Sirius would be able to forgive.

I’ll destroy the horcrux and accept the conditions tied to it.

There is no other way.

8 June, 1979

Everyday I grow closer to executing my plan.

I have given my portrait everything he needs to know.

I wonder, is all soul magic as abominable as horcruxes? I begin to see parallels with magical essences and soul magic. Yet, they feel completely different.

Or perhaps I have finally lost all sense. I have always been a hypocrite.

I wait with bated breath.

I will destroy it even if it kills me, and it will be glorious.

28 July, 1979

I fear that if I wait any longer I will go back on my conviction.

Mother and Father are growing increasingly vexed with me. I think they want to marry me off by winter.

It will be before then.

I have stopped confiding in my portrait about my deeper feelings. I fear that my weakness will be obvious even to him.

I have read more about magical essences to distract myself. Even the Dark Lord is not omniscient. Magical essences have ties to one’s soul, the bounds of such revelation I do not know. Yet, I have learned of something even the Dark Lord is ignorant to, and because of that, he has debased himself with horcruxes.

A small victory, and an inkling of how it will feel when he’s gone.

When he falls.

14 August, 1979

I will do it in autumn.

I hope it will all be worth it.

26 October, 1979

My portrait can cast magic.

I wonder if Sirius will be proud.

29 October, 1979

I wonder what being in love feels like.

2 November, 1979

I never really had aspirations outside of what was expected of me.

Have I always been so pitiful? Was I the only one who couldn’t see it?

15 November, 1979

I hear that the Potters are expecting their first child.

I wonder how Sirius will treat their baby.

I think I’m going crazy.

17 November, 1979

Tomorrow.

You flip through the journal hastily, and you feel your eyes sting in the darkness at the crushing realization.

Blank pages. Empty and unfeeling, and so telling of his fate.

You weren’t going to leave tomorrow.

Anders would have to drag you kicking and screaming. You wouldn’t give up on Regulus, not after everything he sacrificed.

You will do whatever it takes.

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amalythea · 2 months

Text

「 stars 」

⤷ info: kazuha, traveler, venti x gn!reader (separate) || angst-ish || wc: 1180

⤷ warnings: mentions of death (not reader), v sad thoughts, i tried to keep traveler themselves as gn as possible too but please do tell me if i missed something, writing for traveler actually killed my braincells

⤷ extra: i used the prompt xiv. “she’s talking to angels, counting the stars.” from @thexianzhoujade 's personal memoires (of the dearly beloved) event!!

kazuha.

In the tranquil solitude of the night, beneath the vast expanse of stars, you sat on the ground, your silhouette outlined by the gentle glow of moonlight as you gazed up at the stars above. Your heart ached with the weight of loss, your thoughts consumed by memories of your one love Kazuha.

Once, he had been the light of your life, his laughter like music to your ears, his gentle touch a source of comfort in times of need. But now, he was gone, taken from you by a cruel twist of fate, leaving behind only the echo of his presence and a void that seemed impossible to fill.

Every night, you would come to this secluded spot, the one you used to visit together, where the stars seemed to shine just a little brighter. It was here that you had shared your dreams, your hopes, and your love. And it was here that you felt closest to him, as if his spirit lingered among the celestial canvas above.

With a heavy heart, you whispered Kazuha's name into the stillness of the night, your voice barely louder than a breath. "Kazuha," you murmured, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Do you see the stars, my love? Are you watching over me from beyond the veil of the heavens?"

You closed your eyes, letting the memories wash over you like a gentle tide. You remembered the way Kazuha would hold your hand as you sat together beneath the night sky, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul. And you remembered the promise you had made, to always be together, even when the world conspired to tear you apart.

But now, that promise lay shattered, scattered by the winds of fate. Kazuha was gone, his laughter silenced, his touch but a distant memory. And yet, you could not bring yourself to believe that he was truly lost forever.

For in the depths of your grief, there was a glimmer of hope, a belief that somehow, someway, Kazuha had found peace in the afterlife. You imagined him reunited with his dear friend, the two of them laughing and reminiscing beneath the eternal light of the stars.

And so, each night, you would come to this sacred place, your heart heavy with sorrow yet warm with the belief that Kazuha was watching over you, his love a guiding beacon in the darkness. And as you gazed up at the heavens above, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that wherever Kazuha was, he was not truly gone.

For as long as the stars continued to shine, so too would the memory of your love burn bright, illuminating the darkest corners of your soul and reminding you that even in death, your bond would never be broken.

traveler.

In Teyvat, where the winds whisper secrets and the stars tell tales of heroes, there once was a traveler from a distant world. This traveler had been searching for their sibling, and in the midst of their search had found someone else they cared for: you.

Your love knew no boundaries, spanning across the nations and beyond the reach of time itself. But fate, like a capricious deity, had other plans. Your lover, in their quest to protect the fragile balance of Teyvat, met their end in a valiant battle against a formidable foe. And as their spirit ascended, leaving behind a world engulfed in sorrow, you were left to wander Teyvat alone.

Every night, as the sky painted itself with the luminescence of countless stars, you would go up to the highest peak you could find. There, beneath the blanket of twinkling lights, you would sit, your heart heavy with longing, your eyes searching the heavens for a glimpse of your lover.

"They're among them," you would whisper to the ethereal void, your voice carrying both sorrow and hope. "My love, shining bright among the stars."

In those moments, you would feel a familiar warmth wrap around you, a fleeting sensation that whispered of your lover's enduring presence. You imagined them traversing the celestial expanse, a celestial wanderer among the constellations, watching over you with tender affection.

As time unfurled its tapestry, you found solace in your nightly ritual. The stars became your confidants, the silent witnesses to your whispered prayers and tearful confessions. And though your lover's physical form had departed, their essence lingered in the gentle caress of the night breeze and the shimmering radiance of the cosmos.

And as you gazed upon the heavens each night, your faith unshaken, you found solace in the belief that your lover had returned to their celestial home among the stars, finishing their search at last.

venti.

In Mondstadt, where the winds sing their eternal melodies and the stars dance in the night sky,

Venti, the mischievous bard of Mondstadt, was known for his jovial spirit and melodious songs that enchanted the hearts of all who listened. But amidst his carefree nature, there was one whose heart he held dearer than any other – his lover, a gentle soul whose love for Venti burned like the brightest star in the night sky.

Your love was as boundless as the vast expanse of the heavens, and together, you would spend countless nights beneath the vast expanse of the sky, nestled in each other's arms as you gazed up at the twinkling stars. Venti would weave tales of ancient myths and celestial wonders, his voice carrying across the night like a gentle breeze.

But fate, like the ever-changing winds, can be unpredictable.

One fateful day, Venti's song was silenced, his laughter stilled. News of his passing spread like wildfire, leaving behind a trail of sorrow that even the wind could not carry away. Your heart shattered into a million pieces, each shard a painful reminder of the void left by your beloved bard.

In the wake of Venti's passing, you found solace in the memories you had shared under the starlit sky. You would sit by the edge of the cliff overlooking Mondstadt, watching as the stars sparkled like fragments of Venti's soul scattered across the heavens.

In the quiet solitude of those nights, you would recall his words, spoken with a whimsical smile and a twinkle in his eyes. "If ever I should depart from this world," he had said, "fear not, for I shall join the stars themselves, and from there, I shall watch over you always."

And so, as you gazed up at the luminous tapestry above, you couldn't help but smile through your tears, for you believed with all your heart that Venti was among those celestial beings, guiding you with his eternal light.

Though the ache of loss never truly faded, you found comfort in the belief that Venti's spirit lived on in the stars, a constant reminder that your love was as infinite as the universe itself. And so, you continued to watch the stars every night, knowing that somewhere up there, Venti was watching over you, his laughter echoing in the celestial chorus that danced across the night sky.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

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hismourningflower · 2 months

Text

— personal memoires (of the dearly beloved)

the library is quiet, dimly lit by a few burning white candles that cast a golden glow on the nearby surfaces. it smells musty but the most distinguishable feature is the empty shelf in the far corner, missing a particularly unusual series of books that would otherwise stand out among the thick fiction in the library.

reading these memoires will fill you with mirth, joy and conflict. you will see the stories of those who no longer walk with us, in worlds other than your own. do you dare to locate these missing memoires?

“welcome to kai’s 200 mutual collaboration event! thank you so much for 200 followers! as a token of my gratitude, i’m working with my mutuals to provide a series of fanfictions that are prompted by lyrics - personal memoires of people's lives that you may live through. now, should we start searching?”

— rules.

i. mutuals only for this event! ii. fluff, angst, platonic and suggestive are allowed but do tag your memoires appropriately for the minor audiences. iii. you do not have to use these lyrics as dialogue - it can merely inspire the memoire. you are also free to interpret these lyrics as you wish, they’re not assigned to a genre! iv. you are free to do as many entries as you like, the more the merrier you don't have to do only one prompt each! v. this event is closed! when you post your memoire, please tag me and use the event tag:

⊹ ࣪ ˖ personal memoires ⟢

— prompts.

i. “but does he really know me when the lights are on?” | he loves me, he loves me not. ii. “i’d give the world to you, ‘cause i know the sun, the moon, the hurt falls with you.” | eclipse. iii. “everything i used to love, decayed over the years.” | unsweetened lemonade. iv. “you’re too sweet for me.” | too sweet. v. “you got me misunderstood, but at least i look this good.” | we can’t be friends. vi. “i’m here, i’m there, i’m everywhere. but you can’t catch me now.” | can’t catch me now. vii. “the role of a king is a lonely one to play.” | lonely king. viii. “it’s okay if you can’t catch your breath, you can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest.” | atlas: two. ix. “hold back the river, so i can stop for a minute and be by your side.” | hold back the river. x. “ain’t no prayer, ain’t no god, that could save us from our love.” | lovers in the dark. xi. “my love, are you the devil? i would worship you instead of him.” | the fruits. xii. “you are the best thing that's ever been mine.” | mine. xiii. “he did it all to spare me from the awful things in life that comes.” | murder song. xiv. “she’s talking to angels, counting the stars.” | waiting for superman. xv. “oh? did i almost see what’s really on the inside? all your insecurities, all the dirty laundry.” | unconditionally. xvi. “nervous, trip over my words. you’re so pretty it hurts.” | i’m yours. xvii. “i don’t want what you ain’t in, and i don’t wanna go unless i’m going there with you.” | my promised land. xviii. “there’ll be happiness after you but there was happiness because of you.” | happiness. xix. “i don’t wanna lie awake with only you here on my mind.” | on my mind. xx. “do we look like lovers or partners in crime?” | partners in crime.

— located memoires.

i. located by @yaminohimeyume : prompt xii — aventurine x fem!reader | sfw, fluff. ii. located by @mei-sm : prompt xix — blade x gn!reader | sfw, angst. iii. located by @elatedfool : prompt viii — aventurine x gn!reader | sfw, hurt/comfort. iv. located by @amalythea : prompt i — diluc + childe x gn!reader | sfw, angst. v. located by @amalythea : prompt xiv — venti, traveler + kazuha x gn!reader | sfw, angst. vi. located by @lovingluxury : prompt viii — dan heng x gn!reader | sfw, angst.

vii. located by @xianyoon : prompt viii — wriothesley x gn!reader | sfw, fluff.

viii. located by @heiayen : prompt xviii — scaramouche x gn!reader | sfw, angst

— official playlist.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

#Spotify #⊹ ࣪ ˖ personal memoires ⟢#genshin x reader #hsr x reader #genshin impact #honkai star rail

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streamafterlaughter · 1 year

Text

Fundamental Differing

Masterlist

nav | playlist | main masterlist | pin board

summary: This is the sequel to New Kid, taking place in 1992, six years after you and Eddie graduate from Hawkins High. You’re the vocalist and songwriter for Death Dance Approximately, a punk band of femmes taking the scene by storm. Eddie and Corroded Coffin have blown up in the last few years, and are pretty much a household name. In the Spring, you’re given news of who you’re touring with this year: your ex boyfriend’s band. You haven’t seen Eddie since 1989, and seeing him in this environment has stirred up a lot of old feelings.

warnings/tags: rockstar!gn!afab!reader x rockstar!eddie munson, ANGST, adult themes (drugs, sex, and rock and roll baby) 18+ minors dni, smut will be tagged in each chapter. estranged lovers, mutual pining, mutual heartbreak. this work is in progress

disclaimer: you don’t need to have read NK to understand this one, but it would mean the world if you did! i do not give permission for my work to be posted on other sites. Please inform me if you see my writing posted anywhere besides my own blog (unless otherwise stated.) Reblog to support the author!

this fic is very lgbt coded in many aspects, reader is gender non conforming, has dated both men & women. i ask you be respectful of my choices, it’s fine to read even if you yourself aren’t lgbt, but don’t give my shit for making a character gay/gnc etc, just don’t read it if it’s not for you. thank you!🫶

taglist: keeping the taglist for NK, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed! @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @lilpotatobean2 @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc

Prologue

Chapter I: Everybody Get Together

Chapter II: Like A Lover, Not A Dancer

Chapter III: Bleed the Freak

Chapter IV: All The Love Gone Bad

Chapter V: Why Are You So Far Away?

Chapter VI: You’ll Take My Soul Away

Chapter VII: Soft But Estranged

Chapter VIII: It’s Enough To Startle Us

Chapter IX: In The Morning You’ll Be Gone

Chapter X: It’s All Hate And Money

Chapter XI: Consider This The Slip

Chapter XII: I’ll Call You Beautiful, If I Call At All

Chapter XIII: Home Again

Chapter XIV: Away to Nowhere Plains

Chapter XV: Oh, Sweet Oblivion

Chapter XVI: You’ll Cry But You’ll Never Fall

Chapter XVII: Something In The Way

Chapter XVIII: I Gave My Life Away

Chapter XIX: Time Marches On

Chapter XX: A Fine Line Between Hope and Despair

Chapter XXI: Baby, What Did You Expect?

Chapter XXII: Blood Sugar Sex Magik OUT NOW

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prey-4-me · 2 years

Text

Just here to post/ reblog Yautja stuff Predator Masterlist

Feral Predator

Strange Preferences

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

Part XI

Part XII

Part XIII

Epilogue

Appendix: Courtship Contentions

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

****

Requests

Celtic

Celtic x reader Pt 1/2

Celtic & OCs Pt 2/2

Celtic x fem!reader k-pop idol

Celtic x fem!reader - magical

Celtic x fem!reader & Scar & Chopper

Feral

Feral x Filipina s/o

Feral x Hunter

Nonspecific Yautja

Yautja x autistic reader (gn)

Older Yautja x injured reader (gn)

Bad Blood Yautja x pet!reader (gn)

Taabe

Taabe x fem!reader, marriage competition

****

Other

Yautja x OC

Yeyinde Ch 1

Yeyinde Ch 2

#yautja x human #predator x you #yautja x you #predator x human #predator x reader #feral predator x reader #predator fanfiction #yautja x reader #yautja thirst

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arcanarubinaito · 5 months

Text

Short Story Taglist

I’ve been meaning to compile a list of content tags I will commonly use, and their meanings. This both gives me a handy reference to use when I’m finalizing everything to post—because honestly I blank out on how to tag it once I get to that point, lol—and I figure I’d post it as both a reference for my own readers and a potential resource for other minific authors here on Tumblr.

This list will be updated as needed; and if you have any tag you think should be added, please comment your suggestions!

I will not be adding tags for certain taboo subjects, as that content will never be on my blog and I’m sure those who write it already know how to properly tag it.

I will not be adding ship tags because frankly there are too many to add.

Please note that this list contains Content Warning tags.

Spoiler Warnings

Asra’s Route

Nadia’s Route

Julian’s Route

Muriel’s Route

Portia’s Route

Lucio’s Route

Tales (Insert Specific Tale Here)

Upright Ending

Neutral Ending

Content Warning Tags

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Gore

Suicidal Tendencies

Self-Harm

Torture

Sexually Explicit Content

Substance Abuse

Depictions of Alcohol

Mild/Mentioned Alcohol Use

Depictions of Drug Use

Mild/Mentioned Drug Use

General Content Tags

Platonic Relationship(s)

Romantic Relationship(s)

Comfort

Hurt/Comfort

Anxiety/Comfort

Hurt/No Comfort

Angst

Whump

Cuddles

Fluff

Major Character Death

Minor Character Death

Slow Burn

Series

Miscellaneous Tags

SFW (<18)

NSFW (18+)

[x] Words

Ask Box

Request

Commission

Gift

Character Tags

Reader/OC Tags

GN Reader

AFAB Reader

AMAB Reader

Nonbinary Reader

Female Reader

Male Reader

Transfem Reader

Transmasc Reader

Self Insert

Apprentice OC

Original Character(s)

Main Six

Asra Alnazar

Nadia Satrinava

Julian/Ilya Devorak

Muriel of the Kokhuri

Portia/Pasha Devorak

Lucio/Montag Morgasson

Familiars/Animals

Faust

Chandra

Malak

Inanna

Pepi

Mercedes & Melchior

Camio

Chimes & Flamel

Jaeger

Courtiers

Consul Valerius

Praetor Vlastomil

Procurator Volta

Pontifex Vulgora

Quaestor Valdemar

Side Characters

Aisha Alnazar

Salim Alnazar

Tasya/Anastasia Devorak

Lishka Devorak

Mazelinka

Halinka (A Warm Welcome)

Khamgalai of the Kokhuri

Morga Eirsdottir

The Satrinavas

Nasrin Satrinava

Namar Satrinava

Nafizah Satrinava

Nazali Satrinava

Navra Satrinava

Nahara Satrinava

Nasmira Satrinava

Natiqa Satrinava

Gavin (The Bazar Job)

Minor Characters

Chamberlain (One of the Palace servants. Unclear if ‘Chamberlain’ is his name or his title.)

Ludovico (Palace Guard)

Bludmila (Palace Guard)

Selasi (The Baker)

Saguaro (An acquaintance of Asra’s, from Nopal)

Tilde the Leech Monger (A leech merchant near Mazelinka’s house.)

Barth/Bartholomew (Bartender of The Rowdy Raven)

Aedile Velos (Once slept in the Palace’s haunted guest room.)

Major Arcana

The Fool (0)

The Magician (I)

The High Priestess (II)

The Empress (III)

The Emperor (IV)

The Hierophant (V)

The Lovers (VI)

The Chariot (VII)

Strength (VIII)

The Hermit (IX)

Wheel of Fortune (X)

Justice (XI)

The Hanged Man (XII)

Death (XIII)

Temperance (XIV)

The Devil (XV)

The Tower (XVI)

The Star (XVII)

The Moon (XVIII)

The Sun (XIX)

Judgment (XX)

The World (XXI)

#the arcana #the arcana game #arcanarubinaito #rubin rambles #rubin’s writing #taglist #tags #minific tags #fandom resource #tagging resource

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bakubunny · 1 month

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♡ before you follow ♡

i write and interact with nsft content. minors and ageless blogs, do not interact or you will be blocked. if you chose to ignore my boundaries, i will not be held responsible.

tumblr handle: @millennialmagicalgirl nsft: @bbybunnygirll (lewd, proceed with caution) ao3: millennialmagicalgirl

about the blog:

bakubunny is the primary blog for my main handle. likes and asks come from @millennialmagicalgirl. you will find the majority of my writing at @bakubunny.

i keep separate blogs for my two main fandoms, bnha/mha and final fantasy xiv. i’ve started to dabble a little bit into writing jjk, sk8, and tokyo rev as well.

if you’re looking to get updates on all things ffxiv, you can follow @millennialmagicalgirl and find me on ao3.

about my writing:

you can find my work under the first two tags listed on this post, #bakubunny and #millennialmagicalgirl.

i write smut, but i’ve been dabbling into other things as inspiration hits. i’ve also been writing more disabled!reader and neurodivergent!reader.

in terms of bnha characters, i mostly write bakugo, aizawa, and kirishima, but you’ll find many characters represented here.

i write aged up characters. if that bothers you, this is your warning.

i write dark content, daddy kink, ddlg, and age play. while that’s certainly not everything i write, if those things are not something you care for, please read warnings. there will always be some kind of written content warning and it’s often under a cut.

heed tags and content warnings as necessary. i don’t write them for myself, i write them for my readers; what you see in the cws is what you get. see my dark content guide for tags.

unless otherwise specified, i exclusively write f!reader with the occasional gn!reader sprinkled in.

i self ship, and i like hearing about others’ self ships, including the characters i ship with! you’re always welcome to share.

banners i use: @/cafekitsune @/roseschoices @/saradika @/firefly-graphics @/djarrex @/anlian-aishang @/homuras @/benkeibear @/bunnysrph @/neon-gothicc

#millennialmagicalgirl #bakubunny #on fridays we share with the class #pinned info

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tamakigf · 9 months

Text

it’s a match!

XIV. IM CREAMING

pairing: gojo x gn! reader

warnings: mentions of sex, implied sex having LOL

notes: megumi smau is coming very soon!

series masterlist

previous | next

notes:

FINALLY no more slutty gojo

well… yes but no lol

also the way gojo exposed himself by mentioning the nanami date LMFAO

taglist is closed

🏷️ @arcswonderland @no1gojohater @lenasvoid @witchbybirth @sad-darksoul @whats-humanity-lol @kooksmono @sharkiethrts @xhxzgn @hisheadismountfuji @florallyarranged-blog @renardiererin @angelhxneyy @astroswift @idontevenknow129 @babydiamondblog @giannitaa @bbysatoruuu @kaitfae @postmancat @nyfwyeonjun @satohruu @leviiackermansgirl @ritsatoru @iluv-ace @tojirin

italicized couldn’t be added D:

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cherryslyce · 1 year

Text

Second Son (XV) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Y/N remains in Reine. Letters arrive.

Part XIV / Part XVI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Anders lore! I miss Regulus *cry*. Also...emphasis on the canon divergence warning :)

The sun peeked through the dainty window above the kitchen sink of Anders’ house, illuminating the small waves of dust that swirled through the air and bringing light warmth on your back. In front of you, Anders’ stern expression remained unflinching despite how brutally the sun shone onto his wrinkled face.

Behind you, you could hear Asger mumbling quietly to Luna about putting on the kettle. Clutched firmly in your lap, Regulus’ journal seemed to burn into your thighs, reinforcing your resolve. Overnight, you had practically sprouted a new spine of steel.

“What’s in it for me?” Anders’ gruff voice tore through the silence, and you could see how brightly his inner conflict flickered through his eyes.

Raising your head minutely, your flat voice rang through the air firmly, “What do you want?” Your deadpan masked how anxious you were about the conversation, not knowing where you would turn to if Anders denied you again.

Swinging forward in his seat to the creaking protest of his chair, he narrows his eyes into a glare, “The research. What you found and will inevitably find.” His voice was hard and cold, leaving no room for negotiation.

Drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, your voice leaves as a small whisper, “Yes?”

“I want to publish it.”

Your eyes slowly widen and you have to clench your jaw to stop your nose from flaring in irritation. He wanted to take credit for Regulus’ research.

You become increasingly aware of the way the sunlight claws at your back, prickling with a steaming fierceness that matches the sudden burning along your jaws as you bury your fury.

What would Regulus want?

Is this okay to do?

Is there any other choice?

Gritting your teeth, you hiss out your answer without even trying to hide your venomous tone, “Fine.”

Anders’ eyes flicker around your scowl for a few moments before he leans back and sighs, “Good,” He then grins almost mockingly at you before averting his attention somewhere behind you, “let’s eat, then.”

You gulp loudly and try to steady your breathing, afraid that you would hex the man if you stewed further in your anger. There was no time to run rampant and squander your chances, even if the cost was highly unsavory.

You were doing this for Regulus, and he was worth it.

Breakfast, thankfully, went by quickly and without much trouble, even if the fish tasted like cotton pads in your distracted state. As Luna put down her fork with a muted clink, you were quick to snap back into reality.

Anders wipes his mouth with a cloth before throwing it down and hauling himself up with a small grunt. Asger simply observes his father with veiled interest, eyes following the older man as he shuffles over to place his plate in the sink. You straighten up in your seat and turn to face the older man, “Do you have books then? That I can read through.”

Anders grunts before limping towards the front door, only stopping when silence ensues, “I don’t have all day, kid.”

Shooting a flat look at Asger and Luna, they both give you surprised half-smiles in return. Asger wordlessly reaches to collect the rest of the plates, ushering you to follow his temperamental father. As you tread behind the older man, intentionally taking half steps to remain behind him, you decide to try and lift your spirits by looking at the scenery.

Reine was just as breathtaking in the morning as it was at night. The vast blues of the water fluttered in small peaks ever so slightly, reminiscent of the much larger rocky peaks that lined the village around you. The bright snow blanketing the rocky mounds seemed to shimmer under the sunlight, pure and thick, and nostalgic of the winters at Hogwarts.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of clinking chains, raising your eyebrows when you see Anders tugging away a mound of rusty chains from two wooden doors. The small building in front of you was a bit roomier than a shed and had two narrow windows pressed upwards on opposite walls: perfect for ventilation without compromising privacy.

As Anders steps to the side to let you move into the building, you hum quietly as you see a small wooden makeshift table pushed up against the back wall, nearly buried away under mountains of books that rested together like building blocks of a dilapidated building. It was a humble research study tucked away in the nook of the village.

“These are all mine, so don’t damage anything,” Anders croaks.

Raising an eyebrow, your eyes dart sideways in exasperation, “Sure. Have you read through all of these?” You slowly shuffle deeper into the room, occasionally leaning to peer at the titles of some of the books.

“No,” the short reply has your eye twitching.

As you clasp one of the thick books, cringing inwardly at the coat of dust that clings onto your fingers from the action, Anders trudges past you and drops himself onto one of the small stools in the corner.

“Here. This came at dawn, good thing too. The bloody owl would have confused the others.”

Turning to face the man, your face lights up as you see him extending a small envelope towards you, the corner of the paper crumpled a bit from being stuffed away in his pocket. Nodding in thanks, you quickly grasp the parchment and tear through it.

To Padfoot’s pup,

We understand. Stay safe. We won’t be heading out to school because of nightfall. We will not be at home, we are going hunting for the rest.

We miss you. Padfoot is upset with your sudden trip though.

Tell Luna we said hi.

Prongslet and co

You weren’t even sure if speaking in codes was necessary, but the crucial information that Harry just passed to you made you raise an eyebrow.

Hunting? For more horcruxes?

Sighing quietly at the revelation, you tuck away the letter into your pocket. As you shift to get comfortable, book in lap, you quietly amuse yourself by thinking of just all the trinkets you were keeping in your pockets.

You were practically a walking junk drawer.

As you flipped through the book, acutely aware of Anders’ lingering presence, you can’t help but relieve your mental itch. Without raising your head to look at the man, you casually ask, “So, how did you know Dumbledore?”

The man merely grunts and you release a long breath, both entertained and intrigued. It didn’t seem like Anders held some newfound affection for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he gave in to your persistence earlier.

“You’re a friendly lad.” You muse.

The man barely draws in a breath before retorting, “Nosy kid, aren’t you?” His tone lifted in the slightest, giving you the impression that his words were supposed to be a joke, even if it did sound like he was two seconds away from biting your head off.

Anders shifts and you hear a quiet rustling echo around the room, only drawing your attention away from the sea of words in front of you when Anders sighs loudly.

Squinting in confusion, you peer up to meet his expectant gaze, “Yes?”

“What do you know so far about magical essences?”

He leans one elbow on the desk, pencil hovering over a blank paper as you try and formulate a coherent sentence.

Resting your forearms on the book, you hum out a quiet answer, “Just that one is able to imbue it into objects and in certain cases, rooms.”

“Rooms?” Anders’ voice is edging disbelief.

Nodding slowly, you fiddle with the hem of your coat and reiterate your words, “Rooms. He was also able to key it to only be accessible by certain individuals,” you smile lightly as your eyes wander off, “I was able to find the room though, even though it wasn’t meant for me.”

“Sounds like he was an amateur then.”

Anders’ words have you snapping your head towards him with a venomous glare, eyes only growing stonier at his small grin.

“You don’t know anything about him.” You cluck your tongue, “Besides, I was able to access it because my magical signature was extremely similar to the intended individuals’.”

The man considers your words for a moment before replying, “You love him.” Anders’ words come out as more of a declaration than a question, and you find yourself immediately growing defensive despite how you tried to rein in your emotions.

You snap at him, “So what if I do?”

The man raises a hand to placate you, directing his attention to writing down your previous words, “Nothing. Just…” His words trail off and you take it as a sign of him retreating back into his shell, his burst of chattiness receding just as quickly as it appeared.

You both work in relative silence for the next few hours, and by the time you’re fully aware of the aching in your back and the dryness of your eyes, you still haven’t found anything of use or promise in your book.

It is around midday when Anders stretches up from his stool, “Let’s go eat.”

Feeling the faint aching of your stomach, you don’t argue as you slowly mark your place in the book and follow the man’s lead. The walk back to his house is filled with a comfortable silence for a while until you come to an epiphany, “Wait. There’s already a book about magical essences, so why would you need to publish what I know?.”

“The Norwegian one?”

Balking at his words, you raise your eyebrows as you reply, “Uh, yeah.”

Anders quietly snorts and shakes his head, “Did you actually read through it?”

“Only partially. My life doesn’t exactly allow for downtime.” Which was the truth, even though Regulus helped you find the book during Yule, you barely even made a dent in the reading as you became distracted by horcruxes and school work.

“Evidently,” Anders muses, “most of the information is purely theoretical. Your friend is likely the only person to ever succeed in casting such magic.”

You smile slightly at his words, “That doesn’t surprise me at all. He was truly brilliant.”

“Seems so.”

The next few days stretch by in a similar manner: beautiful casts of weather, small conversations with Luna and Asger, hours of skimming through books, riposting with Anders, and occasional daydreams about Regulus.

It was around a week after your arrival in Reine when you felt a shift in your dynamic with Anders, the older man slowly growing more comfortable with your presence.

“London. 1930.” You slowly raise your head up to look at the man, but remain quiet once you see the faraway look in his eyes, “Dumbledore found me and offered me a place at Hogwarts — that’s how I know him.”

Closing your book, you heave yourself up from off the floor, slowly pulling out a stool opposite of him, “What house were you in?”

“Ravenclaw,” Anders pauses and meets your eyes evenly, “I was a model student in his eyes, so he asked for my help. I was an orphan, and there was a boy in my orphanage who was also a magical child. He was a wayward, deceitful boy, even at such a young age. Dumbledore saw something in him when he came to offer him a place at Hogwarts a few years later.”

The story was sounding eerily familiar, and you suppress a shiver as your shoulders tensed, “Voldemort?”

Anders smiles thinly – bitterly, and nods, “I knew him as Tom Riddle,” the man’s wrinkles seem more prominent than before the conversation started, “Dumbledore asked me to guide him onto a more…conventional path. But he was just a kid, so I…”

You nod and twist your ring around as you put the pieces together in your head, “You underestimated him.”

“I let my guard down, and he was able to siphon information from me about Dumbledore’s intentions.” Anders looks completely worn for wear at the admission, and you feel a pang of pity pool in your stomach.

Shaking your head, you steel your gaze in resolution, “You were just a kid as well. It’s not your fault.”

“Dumbledore said the same thing,” the man murmurs. He sighs and runs his eyes around the ceiling, collecting himself, “But I couldn’t forgive myself. So I left, and fled here with Asger before the outbreak of the First War.”

You had an inkling that there was large chunk of the story being omitted, but decided not to press him on your suspicions, instead adding your own piece to the conversation, “He is adept at beguiling people, there were very few who saw through him, and those who did often met an untimely demise.”

Anders finally meets your eyes and nods, “Speaking from personal experience?”

Your eyes drop down to your shoes at his question, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. Deciding that you didn’t trust your voice to waver, you simply reach into your coat and tug out the picture that Sirius gave you.

As Anders’ eyes scan the photo of Regulus, you see something flash in his eyes.

“Your boy? The portrait?”

You nod and slowly take the photo back, eyes running over Regulus’ face as you fall into old memories. In your stupor, you fail to notice the way Anders assesses you with a contemplative expression.

The conversation seemed to flip a switch in Anders mind, and he slowly began to regard you with more consideration. The sudden shift in your relationship with the older man was a bit bewildering, but not unwelcome. If anything, you felt a slow foundation of understanding and companionship building with him, much to Asger’s delight.

Luna was often kept occupied with exploring and conversations with Asger, the boy becoming enraptured by her sightly abilities and enigmatic words. It was strangely starting to feel like an unusual family.

It was a little over a month after you showed Anders the photo of Regulus when you received another owl, this one all too familiar. The bird arrived at the break of dawn while you were making yourself some tea, the bird perching itself on a nearby post outside of Anders’ window.

As you hurriedly made your way out, you were mindful to not make too much noise, not sure how you would explain the bird’s arrival to your neighbors.

“Hey there, girl. How are you?” Your voice was light as you slowly carded your fingers through the owl’s feathers, smiling brightly when she hooted and nudged her head into your fingers. After a few more pets, the tawny owl flies off into the distance, leaving you with a thick envelope.

Your tea was ready by the time you got comfortable reading the letter, leaning against the kitchen counter as you tore open the envelope.

Dear runaway friend of mine,

Our ward is faring well in light of things, and Theo and I have taken to making sure he eats. The Golden Lions are noticeably absent just like you said. The Carrows have taken up posts as Professor of Muggle Studies and Professor of Dark Arts. Detentions are abysmal as a result, the practice of a certain unforgivable has become the norm.

Our lovely ex-Potions professor is now Headmaster. I must say that I have it quite easy compared to many other students, and I am not too worried about my mail being intercepted, but if you wish to owl back, it would be wise to practice caution.

Mother has passed along a note as well, enclosed to you. Rest assured, I did not peek as I know you would disembowel me for such a violation.

Theodore says hello. He is considering your words from before, and he seems to align himself with your sentiments. Such information should remain discreet given his kin, but I trust your decision-making.

Draco also passed along a note for me to give you.

I hope you are well. It would be best if you stay far away for as long as you can, he is coming soon.

Your friend always,

You are fairly unperturbed by Blaise’s words, having expected Voldemort to move his forces into Hogwarts, but you didn’t quite anticipate the regular use of Unforgivables against students. Voldemort was utterly, and irredeemably insane.

Folding up the parchment and tucking it aside, you reach inside the envelope and pull out another letter, this one coated with a faint sweet scent, likely spritzed with perfume.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter reaches you well. There is talk that a certain group of teenage vigilantes and a certain disgraced Lord have fled elsewhere and are on the run. I will put it bluntly as I have charmed this letter to only appear for you: if you are able to get in contact with them, and they are in need of assistance, I am willing to give them refuge.

I am not one for politics, but the disillusioned individuals that run amuck in our sphere are a disgrace to magic and make British wizards unsightly to the rest of the globe. As someone who chose to live here, I simply cannot have such a reputation besmirch my name.

I have recently been in talks with Lady Malfoy, who shares such sentiments. We are neutral, and like you, are intent on putting our personal interests first. Offering refuge is not a decision I am making due to a change of heart – there is much to be gained if such a gamble pays off.

I hope you are well, dear.

Faithfully,

Contessa Jezebel Zabini

You slowly sip your tea as you scan over the words again, eyebrows gradually raising higher and higher at the offer. It was an auspicious offer to consider, but you weren’t sure if Harry would put his trust in the Contessa.

It was unlikely that the woman would turn your friends over to Voldemort as she had very little to gain from it, especially given how such a decision would put Blaise on the Dark Lord’s radar. Her insinuation that foreign countries were looking down on Britain seemed entirely plausible, and her ties to Italy would make such a prospect risky for her image.

You would send a message to Harry and extend the invite, but it was reassuring to know that the Contessa was willing to risk such a thing because you were friends with Blaise.

Placing the letter on top of Blaise’s, you slowly reach into the now, much slimmer envelope, and pull out a small parchment.

I’m sorry about your portrait.

- D

You nearly choke on your tea at the short note, sputtering a tad into your cup.

It seemed the little dragon was turning a new leaf.

Draco’s terse letter gave you the confidence boost you needed to go forward with messaging Harry. It was very likely that Draco and his mother were put off by the Dark Lord’s regime due to Draco’s previous mission. Reluctant allies, but allies nonetheless.

Folding up all of your letters, you quickly tuck them away into your pocket with Regulus’ photo. Reaching for your wand, you slowly push off of the counter and bring forth your happiest memories.

Regulus. Regulus. Regulus.

‘I’ll find you again, my love.’

‘...my love.’

Inhaling sharply, you wave your wand.

“Expecto Patronum.”

The burst of blue light that springs from your wand is nostalgic, and you realize that the last time you casted your patronus, you were rudely interrupted by an exploding wall. Your sparrow patronus swoops around the room briskly before stopping in front of you, flapping its wings rhythmically.

Twirling your wand upward again, you cast the messenger spell, “Nuntius Harry Potter.”

Your sparrow is engulfed in pale blue wisps that beats as it awaits your words.

Stepping forward, you clear your throat and try to remain succinct, “Harry, Contessa Zabini is offering you and the others refuge. She is aware of your current predicament and reached out to me. She is trustworthy, and I recently had a chat with her – she is disconcerted by the state of the world and puts her faith in you. If you are willing, send Kreacher to Zabini Manor to inform her. Stay safe.”

Those weren’t her exact words, but your friends were smart enough to deduce that Contessa Zabini had a lot to gain from helping them. As your patronus flies out of the house and off into the sky, you allow yourself to release the tension that was clutching at your spine.

Spinning on your heel, you nearly jump out of your skin when you come face to face with a curious Anders. The man moved away from the doorway and trudged towards the table, making himself comfortable before redirecting his attention to your still figure.

“Later, we are going to go hiking.” His words left no room for argument, but you didn’t mind since you were thrilled to explore the environment.

Turning to pour a cup of tea for the man, you can’t help the sarcastic reply that rises in your throat, “Hiking? Sure you can handle it?”

Anders gives you the stink eye as you place the cup in front of him, grunting a retort into his tea, “I’ll have you know that I happen to be a professional hiker.”

“Who’s a professional hiker?” Asger’s tired voice floats into the room as he yawns loudly, bringing a calloused hand to rub at his bleary eyes.

Shaking your head, you incline your head towards Anders, watching as both men share a look, one of bemusement and the other a deadpan. You were saved from their antics when Luna emerged into the room, immediately making her way to give you a hug in greeting. As you wrap your arms around the slender girl, you couldn’t help but become flushed with a wave of affection as you remembered her comforting words to you during the night of your arrival. You truly were grateful to have her by your side during all of this, and your thoughts spur you to give her a firm squeeze.

She didn’t seem to mind.

The hike up one of the neighboring granite peaks was not as tiring as you anticipated, the coolness of the snow permeating across the entire path and quelling the warmth that bloomed from your straining muscles.

Anders was keeping up quite well, and you took the initiative to walk beside him, letting Asger and Luna drift on ahead. The sun was beginning to slink away, painting the sky in gradients of pinks and purples, the first glittering of stars peaking through the layers of colors.

The bundles of red and white houses of the village were slowly shrinking in the distance, creating accent splotches that complemented the sky.

“I can see why you chose Reine. This place is absolutely breathtaking.” Your words come out as a satisfied hum, and you peek out of the corner of your eye to see Anders nodding in agreement.

The faintest traces of a smile tug at his lips as he replied, “Just kept moving around until my heart settled on a place.”

“A little cliche, but endearing coming from you.” You tuck your hands into your coat pocket, clenching your hands to try and keep the blood circulating.

Anders doesn’t speak for a while, but when Luna and Asger look back to indicate that they were planning on trailing back down, the man turns his attention back to you. As the two slowly trek away, you continue on clambering upward towards the peak, Anders grumbling all the way up behind you.

The man’s gruff voice breaks through the air as you reach your destination, “it’ll be hell getting back down in the dark.”

“I can apparate us back to the house.”

As the sun sweeps away and darkness begins to creep into the etchings of the sky, you pull out Regulus’ photo and hug it to your chest. You can feel Anders looking over at your ministrations, but looks reluctant to speak up, so you take the first step, “It makes me feel like he’s here with me. I used to take him everywhere with me, and I don’t want to stop that habit, even if he’s gone.”

Anders’ eyes seem to soften and he turns to face the distance, eyes focusing on the vast waters that stretched on for miles ahead.

“I do the same.”

You tilt your head at his admission, moving to sit on a flat rock nearby. The man follows suit and sits on the rock beside you, hands rustling around in his thick puffer coat.

In a similar fashion to you, he tugs out a folded photo. The photograph is visibly older and more worn than yours, the crease especially prominent from constant unfolding and refolding. The man slowly offers you the photo, eyes never moving away from the distance.

As you peer down at the small image, you feel your chest ache at the sight.

A young couple and a small baby. The man had his arm wrapped around the woman as she positioned the child so its face was visible to the camera, both of them beaming at you with joyful faces.

Anders. It was clear that the young man was Anders, but with fewer wrinkles and an uncharacteristic grin that stretched widely across his face.

But who was the woman?

“My wife, Anne. This place was her home.” You don’t think you could have masked your shock even if you tried, but he doesn’t seem to notice and continues talking, “She was killed by Voldemort a few weeks after we took that photo.”

Your mouth goes incredibly dry at the utterance, eyes flickering back and forth between the solemn man and the delicate photo in your hands.

Anders’ words remain firm as he speaks, seeming to be emboldened by your previous indulgence about Regulus, “Tom…he sought me out specifically. He felt that he needed to erase his past, and I think he felt that I failed him in a way. Anne was a formidable witch, but even she was no match for that monster,” he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing, “Albus helped me flee afterwards, with the condition that I treat him to a meal once I was settled. So, I chose Reine. For Anne. And then I changed my name and Asger’s name to protect us.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You raise your eyes to look ahead, head spinning from the bombardment of news. Voldemort’s talent for bringing pain and suffering stretched far and wide.

“No need, it’s not your fault,” Anders whispers.

Clearing your throat, you run your finger across the photo and memorize each crease and fold as you respond, “Regulus died trying to stop Voldemort. He was a death eater at first, but defected only a year after. I think…I think he’s an inferi now.”

Anders turns to face you at this admittance, lips parting slightly in shock. “An inferi?” He mutters.

You nod and slowly pass the photo back to Anders, tucking away your own photo as you try and compose yourself.

A few beats of silent pass, and you begin to feel as though you divulged too much information to the man.

“There is a ritual that I think you might find useful,” Anders pauses as you glance at him in interest, “It’s an ancient one that was often used to ensure the passing of loved ones to the land of the dead.”

The news has you craning your head to gawk at him, “Like a soul tracking ritual?”

“Yes, I suppose.” He raises an eyebrow at you, “There is very little known about inferis, but I always theorized that they were not truly dead, so perhaps….”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion and you shoot up onto your feet in realization, “When I was in the cave, there were numerous magical signatures bouncing around! I think you might be right.”

Anders murmurs quietly next to you, “Cave?”

Thank Merlin for your sensitivity to magical signatures.

If Inferis were not truly dead…did that mean that they were all trapped in those mangled bodies? Souls tied down to a gaunt shell of who they used to be?

Regulus has been trapped all this time.

“Fuck. Let’s do this ritual.”

Anders lets out a small chuckle at your conviction, standing up to give you a firm nod, “We start at dawn.”

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