edb954

[edb954]

ABSOLUTELY PERFECTION as always!!

Me because every time theirs an update:

Shadows of Affection

warnings: despriction of death

slow burn Coriolanus Snow x reader, slight Felix Ravinstill x reader

Chapter 14: Slow Start

The Capitol news found short-lived relief by streaming footage of the plaza in front of the arena, where concession stands had been set up to sell drinks and sweets to citizens watching the Games on two massive screens flanking the entrance. With little happening inside the arena, most of the attention ended up on a pair of dogs whose owner had dressed them up as Lucy Gray and Jessup.

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t understand why people were so obsessed with them—especially Lucy Gray. The girl wasn’t anything special. She was a glorified carnival clown who just happened to be good at singing.

Bored and having nothing else to do but monitor the Games—which weren’t progressing at all—you barely noticed the approach of one of the Gamemakers until they cleared their throat beside you. You turned to see a frazzled-looking assistant clutching a clipboard.

“Dr. Gaul is busy,” they said hastily. “She needs you to do a quick interview with Lucky Flickerman.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why me?”

The assistant gave a helpless shrug. “Because you’re available.”

You exhaled sharply. Of course. You had nothing better to do. Might as well entertain the masses. “Fine.”

A few minutes later, you were seated across from Lucky Flickerman, who looked a little too relieved to see you. He’d become visibly frazzled under the strain of keeping the coverage going despite the stagnant Games, and you figured he was desperate for any content to fill the gaps. The countdown began—three, two, one—and the camera’s red light blinked on. Lucky threw up his hands in bewilderment.

“So, what gives?” he exclaimed, forcing a smile. “What’s up with these slow Games?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you turned directly to the camera, ignoring his performative frustration.

“Some of you may be wondering about the slow start to the Games,” you said smoothly. “But let me remind you what a wild ride it’s been just getting here. Over a third of the tributes never even made it into the arena, and those who did weren’t exactly powerhouses. In terms of fatalities, we’re running neck and neck with last year.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Lucky admitted, still smiling, “but I think I speak for a lot of people when I say—where are the tributes this year? Usually, they’re easier to spot.”

You could almost feel a vein popping in your forehead. You inhaled through your nose, schooling your expression. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten about the recent bombings,” you said icily. “In previous years, the areas open to the tributes were largely restricted to the field and the stands. But last week’s attack opened up any number of cracks and crevices, providing easy access to the labyrinth of tunnels inside the arena walls. It’s a whole new game now—first finding another tribute, then luring them out of some very dark corners.”

Lucky’s smile faltered. “Oh.” He blinked, visibly processing the explanation before quickly rebounding. “So we might have seen the last of some tributes?”

“Don’t worry.” You smirked slightly. “When they get hungry, they’ll start poking their heads out.”

Lucky didn’t seem thrilled by the answer, but he pressed on. “That’s another game changer, isn’t it? With the audience providing food, these Games could last indefinitely.”

You arched a brow. “Indefinitely?” You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Maybe you can pull another magic trick to keep people interested.”

Lucky stiffened. He clearly didn’t appreciate the jab at his little gimmicks, but instead of acknowledging it, he forced out a chuckle. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, recovering. “We all want a good show, after all!”

The interview wrapped up shortly after, and as soon as the camera light clicked off, Lucky shot you a quick, dirty look before standing up.

You merely smirked back at him, entirely unbothered.

At 5 o’clock, Dean Highbottom dismissed the student body, but the remaining 13 mentors with tributes stayed behind, largely because the Communicuffs only worked through transmitters at the Academy or the Capitol News station itself. This also meant the Gamemakers including yourself had to stay as well, much to your annoyance. By 7 o’clock, a real dinner appeared for the so-called "talent." Your excitement and hunger quickly vanished as you looked at the pork chops and potatoes. The meat looked tasty and fresh, but all you could think about was Marcus’s corpse. The image of his lifeless body, left for the maggots, flashed through your mind, and your appetite disappeared entirely. Felix, however, had no problem digging into the food.

He shot you a curious glance between bites. “You okay? You’ve barely touched your food.”

You shrugged, stirring your potatoes with your fork. “Not that hungry.”

Felix leaned back in his chair, dramatically sighing. “You know, we had dinner plans tonight. Somewhere nice, just the two of us. No blood, no bombs, no corpse-inspired loss of appetite.” He gestured around the room. “And now look at us. Stuck here.”

You gave him a small smirk. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect the games to go on this long either. But surely, they’ll only last another day.”

Felix quirked an eyebrow. “You never know. Might stretch overnight.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “Doubt it.”

“Optimistic as always.” He flashed you a teasing grin before going back to his meal.

As Felix finished up, some activity in the arena pulled the mentors back to their seats, and you decided to stay with them, trusting that the other Gamemakers could handle things for a little while. The Gamemakers’ screens showed Circ, the District 3 boy, crawling out of a barricade near the entrance. He looked around before waving someone forward—a small, scruffy girl with dark, frizzy hair scrambled after him. Above them, Lamina, still napping on the beam, cracked one eye open to assess their threat level.

“No worries, my sweet Lamina,” Pup cooed at the screen. “Those two couldn’t climb a stepladder.”

Apparently, Lamina agreed, because all she did was shift into a more comfortable position.

Lucky Flickerman appeared in the corner of the screen, dabbing a napkin at his collar where a smudge of blueberry clung to his chin. “For those just tuning in, our District 3 tributes are finally on the move! That’s Circ—the boy who claims he can ignite things with his glasses—and, uh…” Lucky glanced off-screen for a cue card. “Test… Teslee from Three?”

“She’s being mentored by our own—” Lucky looked off-screen again, searching.

“That would be our own Urban Canville,” grumbled Urban from the first row. his parents were some sort of scientists—physicists, maybe. Urban was ill-tempered and universally resented for his perfect calculus scores. You, in particular, had a small rivalry with him, since last time you checked, he was just one point behind you in class rank.

“Honestly, could they get a professional?” you muttered under your breath.

“Unfortunately, we didn’t see Turban—uh Urban and, Teslee—at the interviews,” Lucky said quickly, clearly flustered. “Because she refused to speak to me.”

“Somehow immune to his charms,” quipped Festus from the back row, earning a round of laughter. Even you let out a small snicker.

“I’m sending Circ something now—no telling when I’ll see him again,” Io announced, working her Communicuff. You noticed Urban doing the same. You shot the Gamemakers a look that silently screamed, Don’t mess up the drones this time.

Circ and Teslee skirted around Marcus’s body, crouching down to examine the wrecked drones from earlier. Their hands moved delicately over the equipment, assessing the damage, probing over compartments most people wouldn’t have noticed. Circ pulled a rectangular object—you thought it was a battery—from one of them and gave Teslee a thumbs up. She reattached some wires, and the drone’s lights blinked to life. They grinned at each other.

“Oh my!” Lucky exclaimed. “Something exciting happening here?”

“It would be more exciting if they had the controllers,” Urban muttered, though he looked a little less irritated.

The two tributes were still examining the drones when two more flew in, dropping bread and water nearby—thankfully, without crashing this time. As Circ and Teslee gathered their gifts, a figure appeared deep in the arena. They consulted briefly before each grabbing a drone and scurrying back to the barricade.

The figure turned out to be Reaper, who ducked into a tunnel and emerged carrying someone in his arms. As the cameras focused in, you recognized Dill. She looked smaller, curled into the fetal position, her sun-dappled skin drenched in sweat. A wet cough brought a strand of bloody spittle from her mouth.

Felix leaned over. “I’m surprised she lasted the day.”

You hummed in response, feeling a pang of pity. She was already dying—a slow death by disease. Putting her in the Games was just adding salt to the wound.

Reaper stepped carefully around the debris from the bombing, carrying Dill to a sunny patch of ground and laying her on a charred piece of wood. She shivered despite the heat. He pointed up at the sun and murmured something, but she didn’t react.

“Isn’t he the one who promised to kill all the others?” Pup asked.

“Doesn’t look so tough to me,” Urban scoffed.

“She’s his district partner,” Listeria reminded them.

“She’s almost dead now. Tuberculosis, probably,” Urban added.

That quieted everyone down. A bad strain of TB still cropped up in the Capitol, barely managed as a chronic condition. In the districts, it was a death sentence.

Reaper paced restlessly for a moment, either eager to get back to hunting or unable to bear watching Dill suffer. Then, he gave her one last pat and turned toward the barricade.

“Shouldn’t you send him something, dummy?” Vipina asked Clemencia.

“What for? He didn’t kill her, he just carried her. I’m not going to reward him for that,” Clemencia shot back.

You, who had been avoiding Clemencia all day, decided you’d made the right choice. Something was off with her—maybe the snake venom had altered her brain.

“Well, I might as well use what little I have left—it’s hers,” Felix said, tapping at his cuff. Two bottles of water flew in by drone. Dill didn’t even seem to notice them.

A few minutes later, the boy from District 7—the juggler, Treech—sprinted out of a tunnel, his black hair flying behind him. Without breaking stride, he grabbed the water and disappeared into a crack in the wall.

“A last drink for her,” Felix mused.

“That’s good thinking,” Vipina said approvingly. “Saves me money. I don’t have much to work with.”

The sun sank toward the horizon, casting long, crimson shadows over the arena. High above, the carrion birds wheeled in slow, lazy circles, their dark silhouettes stark against the fading light. Below them, Dill’s frail body convulsed in the throes of a final, violent coughing fit. A gush of blood soaked through the front of her dress, staining the fabric in a macabre bloom. You swallowed hard, horror and revulsion twisting in your stomach as the life drained from her small, fragile frame.

Lucky Flickerman’s voice cut through the tension, his usual airy tone laced with the false solemnity of a showman. “And with that, our dear Dill, the girl from District 11, has succumbed to natural causes. A tragedy, no doubt—but that, my dear viewers, does mean the end of Felix Ravenstill’s tenure in these Games.” He brightened, clearly pleased by the segue. “Perhaps we can hear a few final words from our departing mentor?”

Someone pulled Felix out from Heavensbee Hall, and a camera zoomed in on him. He didn’t look particularly upset. If anything, he looked resigned. “Well, it isn’t a shock, really,” he said with a careless shrug. “The girl was on her last legs when she got here.”

“I think it’s enormously to your credit that you got her through the interview,” Lucky said sympathetically. “Many mentors didn’t even manage that.”

His words made you feel sick. A girl—a child, no older than twelve or thirteen—had just died. And not from the Games, not from a weapon or a trap or another tribute’s hand. She had died from an illness, something that had been festering long before she ever set foot in the arena. And Felix—Felix didn’t seem to care.

He’s his father’s son, you thought. The man who keeps the Hunger Games going. The man Felix idolizes and wishes to become.

You wondered if Lucky’s high praise had more to do with Felix’s bloodline than his mentorship. But you shook the thought away as the cameras cut back to the arena. The sky had darkened completely now, leaving only the faint silhouette of Laminia, still perched on her beam. Dean Highbottom dismissed everyone, advising mentors to bring a toothbrush and a change of clothes for the future.

One by one, the mentors approached Felix, shaking his hand and congratulating him on a job well done. Most of them meant it—today had bonded them in a way few outsiders would ever understand. When it was your turn, you hesitated, then finally stepped forward. “Congrats,” you said, though the word felt hollow in your mouth.

Felix grinned. “For what? Getting my tribute killed by tuberculosis?”

You rolled your eyes. “For making it through the day. Though, I guess that’s a pretty low bar.”

He chuckled, but his gaze softened. “You heading home?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna walk.”

Felix’s expression turned incredulous. “What? No. It’s late—it’s damn near nine o’clock. I’m not letting you walk home by yourself.”

You sighed. “Felix, I’ll be fine.”

“Just let me call you a driver,” he insisted. “Come on.”

You gave him a flat look. “Really, Felix?”

His jaw tightened, and for once, there was no humor in his voice. “Please.”

You exhaled. “No. Seriously. I’m walking home.”

He studied you for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. “Alright. But call me as soon as you get home.”

“Fine.”

He hesitated, then leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away. “Be safe.”

You gave him a small, almost reluctant smile before turning and heading out. He watched until you disappeared into the night, then climbed into his waiting car.

You had barely taken three steps when a voice rang out behind you. “Miss Royce! Miss Royce!”

You turned, frowning as a Gamemaker came running out of Heaven’s Hall, his face pale. “What’s going on?”

The arena was quiet. The tributes had all bedded down for the night. Nothing should be happening right now.

“It’s urgent,” the Gamemaker panted. “Dr. Gaul needs to speak with you immediately.”

Your stomach twisted, dread curling through you. “Why?”

“She didn’t say. Just that you need to come. Now.”

Something was wrong.

Without another word, you followed them to a waiting car. The drive to the lab was silent, save for the hum of the engine. No one explained anything. They didn’t seem to know, but their nervous glances and stiff postures told you everything you needed to—Dr. Gaul was angry. And that was never good.

When you arrived, you were ushered through the sterile halls, the scent of antiseptic burning your nose. The moment you stepped into the lab, you knew something was very, very wrong.

Dr. Gaul stood by a monitor, her expression thunderous. The moment her eyes landed on you, she barked, “You need to put a leash on your deluded, demented friend.”

You blinked. “What?”

Dr. Gaul’s hands slammed against the monitor, and the screen flickered. Your breath caught as the image became clear.

The arena. But—no.

A figure was inside. A figure who wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Sejanus,” you whispered. Your stomach plummeted.

“How did he even get in there?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why is he in there?”

Dr. Gaul’s face twisted in fury. “I’m working on finding the Peacekeeper he bribed to let him in. Once I do, I’ll remove their tongue myself.” Her voice dripped venom. “In the meantime, someone needs to get him out.”

You stared at her. “Send Peacekeepers. What do you expect me to do?”

Dr. Gaul leaned in, her eyes gleaming. “Oh, I expect you to go in there.”

A chill crawled up your spine. “You can’t be serious.”

“I will not have these rebels making a mockery of my Games,” she snapped. “If the districts see us lose control of the arena, it might as well be an invitation for revolution.”

You barely heard her. Your mind was racing. Sejanus—what was he thinking? And more than that… who else was in there with him?

Dr. Gaul’s voice yanked you back to the present. “I’ll freeze the feed for an hour. That’s all the time you’ll have.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The shock had rooted you to the floor.

Dr. Gaul’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t have time for this. Move.”

Your heart pounded. You couldn’t do this alone.

Your hands trembled violently as you reached for the nearest phone and dialed a number you had known all your life. You pressed it to your ear, but your grip was unsteady, slick with sweat.

“Hello?”

“Coryo,” you gasped, barely able to force the words out. “I need you. I need your help. Now.”

There was silence on the other end. Then, cautious, “What? Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“Look at your screen,” you choked out, pacing in frantic, uneven strides. Your breath came in short, panicked bursts. “Please. Just—just look.”

You heard a shuffle, a pause, then a sharp inhale. “What the hell—”

“Meet me at the arena,” you rushed out. “Right now.”

“Y/n, slow down, tell me—”

“No, Coryo, we don’t have time for this!” you snapped, your voice shrill with fear. “Just get to the arena! Please!”

“Y/n—”

You slammed the phone down before he could say another word.

Time was running out.

[edb954]

Because you love me… (Coriolanus Snow x Fem! Reader)

(Heavily based on a TikTok Audio!)

Masterlist : Request Info

(Summary: Coriolanus and you were in love that was until you found out he had killed Lucy Gray & Sejanus. That's until you meet again 3 years later)

Word Count: 845

(Warning: Bad Writing💀,Typical Hunger games themes, guns mentioned, Sejanus and Lucy Gray death mentioned, sexual themes)

~~~~

   You loved him but when you found out he had killed Lucy Gray and sent Sejanus to the hanging tree. You hated yourself for it. For loving him and caring for him so you ran and hid. One rainy afternoon off a beaten trail you were sure he wouldn't find you. You stayed there for weeks until you thought it was safe and when you finally decided to return back to the covey it turned out he had already been sent home.

  It was 3 years before you saw him again. Somebody had taken interest in one of your fashion pieces a year after he had left. Which had land you in the capital little did they know you had joined the rebellion. You were sick of kids killing kids and for what? What purpose?

  It was a summer night at a gala, when rebels attacked which you had not known was going to happen to busy sewing people's dresses for said event and in your mincts of hiding. Hiding so they don't think you're apart of it but in that very room Y/n would come face to face with Coriolanus the boy she had loved once. Who was now pointing a gun at her.

~~~

"I was wondering when I'd see you again.." Coriolanus said. Holding the gun directly at her. Y/n froze Turing around seeing the scene bestowed upon her.

She remembered when he had promised her that he would never hurt her but a lot can change in just 3 years. Y/n thought for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"You mean you're actually going to kill me?" Y/n said, shaking as she saw Coriolanus pointing a gun at her.

  All he did was stare with eyes that said he would do just that. It had been years since either of you saw each other. Since you left him.. all he could do was stare.

"Well.. go ahead.." She said, looking at him.

  Coriolanus looked at her slightly shocked. But not lowering the gun. "I'll do this my own way..."

"You won't do it.." y/n said, realising the clarity of what they both still felt for each other.. even if they both denied it.

"You can't pull the trigger.."

  Slowly and hesitantly coming in front of him with the gun against her chest.

"You can't pull it because you still love me.." Coriolanus froze, looking her in the eyes.

"I-it takes a very Brave and a Very Cold man to do that...Coriolanus..." Y/n said, now fully in front of him.

  She knew he was cold.. but if he still felt something other that pure hatred he wouldn't do it..

  Coriolanus eyes looked into hers and a million thought running through his head.

"I don't think you can..." y/n said with tears she did not realize perking in her eyes. "Isn't that true?"

  But as the gun stayed where it was Y/n let out a shaky breath before closing her eyes letting the silent tears fall as she awaited the bang that would end it all.. but for her to hear the safety click back on and the gun being pulled away and thrown onto the table nearby. Her eyes widened in shock as she was pulled into a kiss.

  She pushed him away to look at him taking in his features, he had grown more handsome his hair now combed perfectly... but his eyes stayed the same showing the same emotion from those years ago. The love, passion they had once had.

"It's True.." Coriolanus said, almost aggravated and desperate.

   Before he pulled her back into another kiss and she let him even deepen the kiss fuelling the passion. He backed you up into a wall if anyone would come in you would be sheltered. Her leg was on his hip her dress bunched up. Clothes became undone. Panties pushed to the side. Neither of you need to say more. Yes, there was a lot to say but nothing could compare to the raw passionate love that had been lost and was now found. The only sound was from both of your lips. Whether it was from splotchy wet kisses or the pleasure becoming overbearing. You both came undone a short while later.

  Before Coriolanus snuck you both out hand in hand taking you to his private penthouse apartment where the night continued between silky soft expensive sheets. Going into the wee early hours of the morning until exhaustion overtook the both of you. Laying side by side wrapped in each other's arms. Falling into a blissful sleep. Putting the worries of the future behind and basking in each other's embrace. Waiting for morning to come where you had to face reality.

[edb954]

Can I request a fluffy Steve Harrington x fem! reader oneshot where Steve is playing hide and seek with their daughter and he pretends he doesn’t know where she is but he can hear her giggling and he eventually sneaks up on her and grabs her and starts tickling her and reader watches and thinks how adorable he is with her and how much their little girl adores him?

Spring Days (Steve Harrington x reader)

(Summary: While Steve plays hide n seek with your and his daughter. Y/n watches them admiring how their daughter adores her father.)

Word count: 868

Masterlist : Request info

(A/n: I hope you liked it! It's short and sweet! You are literally my first request so I really hope you like it and feel free to send more requests!!)

(Warnings: Pure fluff!, NOT FULLY PROFF READ)

~~~

   It was a perfect spring Sunday not to cold and not to hot. Y/n and Steve had decided to do some spring cleaning around the house. They had almost gotten everything done except the kitchen. Sitting down at the island for a mini break, when they hear little foot steps come running in to see their 4 year old daughter Layla with a giddy glint in her eyes.

"Daddy! Please come play hide n seek with me!" Layla pleaded giving her father puppy dog eyes.

  Steve looks at Y/n as if asking if it was okay. Y/n giggled before nodding.

"Alright only for a little. You better go hide!" Steve said, as Layla shouted "yay!!" before running off to hide.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like I'm making you do everything." Steve asked. Y/n waved him off before leaning in and whispering.

  Little well known fact about Steve he never wanted to be one of those boyfriends/husbands that made their wife to do everything around the house or in general. Whether it stemmed from his own father and his actions or for his actions in the past. So when occurrences like this happens he needs a bit of a reassurance.

"You don't make me do everything plus I'm just cleaning. You are awful at that especially the kitchen! Which is what I'm doing now." She said in a joking manner. Hoping to lighten his guilt.

  Steve huffed at her comment.

"I'm not that bad..." he said.

"At cleaning the kitchen yes you are!" Y/n giggled. "Now go play hide n seek with our daughter." He smiled.

"Alright! Ready or not here I come!" Steve shouted lightly before getting up off the stool at the kitchen island.

He checked around the downstairs before going upstairs and as he was about to walk past Laylas room going into Layla's room until he heard a giggle. Smirking as he headed inside.

"Hmm.. I wonder where Layla is? Is she under her bed?" He said as he checked. "Hmm nope not under there." As he heard another little giggle.

"oh no! She's not under there either! Oh where oh where could she have gone? I guess she's not in here!" Steve said playfully trying to full his daughter. As he neared the closet. Hearing a sweet little giggle again.

Before she slowly opens the door and he grabs her. She lets out a surprised scream and starts laughing as Steve tickles her.

"Ahh! I found you!" Steve said, ticking her as she laughed.

  Layla manages to stands up. "You scared me daddy! But I am so happy you found me!" She said! Wrapping her small arms around his neck.

"Oh I'm sorry I scared you.." Layla pulled away ever so slightly. "It's okay! I forgive you!" Before going back into the hug.

"I love you daddy!" She whispered. Steve smiled hugging and give her a kiss on the forehead.

  Neither of them noticing Y/n leaning on the frame of the door way as she watched how much their daughter adored her father. Steve looked over smiling which Y/n returned.

"Alright. Layla can you please go clean up your toys in the playroom?" Y/n asked. Layla pouted not wanting to do it. Looking at her father with big eyes.

"Layla you have to do it... and after we can go get ice cream!" Steve said trying to bribe her just a bit. Laylas eyes lit up before getting out of her father's arms.

"Okay I'll do it!!" She said excitedly before running out of the room.

Y/n giggled. Giving Steve a 'are you serious look?' Which Steve shrugged his shoulders. Coming up and wrapping his arms around her giving her a kiss on the lips. She kissed back. Leaning against the hug smiling up at him.

"She absolutely adores you. You know that?" Y/n said. Looking at Steve in admiration.

"Well we did have experience before hand." He said, remembering the group of kids who are now all out of school and pursuing their own careers. After everything that happened. They still were all okay.

  Y/n laughed remembering her brother and his friends that coincidentally they both ended up looking after taking the roles of the 'babysitters'.

"And to think of it wasn't for my little punk of a brother we would have never met." Y/n said.

"I really have a lot to thank that little shit for.."

y/n laughed.

"That little shit is going to be your brother in law." She said. Steve sighed before laughing."Now come on you promised us ice cream." Grabbing his hand pulling him away to get their daughter. He laughed shaking his head.

  Thinking how he wouldn't have it any other way...

@borhapgirlforlife19

[edb954]

Masterlist

Request info

Started: 03/13/2025

Last Updated: 03/13/2025

Total Works: ?

Stranger Things🩸✨🧇

Henry Creel

Short Imagine:

You being Jonathan's & Will's sister and Henry being obsessed with you

Long Imagine:

The secret

Taking Back What’s Mine

Never Gonna Lose Me

Back to you/Banshee

Snap Out Of It

Seven Wonders

Like Her 1 2

Steve Harrington

Spring Days (Requested)

Harry Potter⚡️👓

Barty Crouch Jr

Short Imagines:

I Beg You Don’t Embarrass Me

Long Imagines:

Theodore Nott

None

Hunger Games/Tbosas🏹♟️

Coriolanus Snow

Imagines

Because you love me

Series

None

Finnick Odair

None

Other🌊🐺

Stiles Stilinski

None

JJ Maybank

None

[edb954]

I Beg You Don’t Embarrass Me (Barty Crouch Jr. x Black!Reader)

(Summary: reader is part of the black family and everybody teases her about dating Barty but he doesn't embarrass her.)

Word count: 314

(Warnings: Not fullyproff read, Short & Sweet, fluff, teasing)

"Heartbreak is one thing my egos another I swear you don't embarrass me motherfucker.."

~~~

"It must be so embarrassing for you dating somebody like Junior.." Bellatrix cackled.

Ever since fifth year when Y/n started seeing Barty it was always the same thing.

"It must be so embarrassing to ever date that fool!" A student said, after Barty had caused a ruckus in the great hall.

"Sis I love you. I do but.. Crouch? Really?" Sirius/Padfoot teased.

"I'm going to have to agree with Sirius on this one.. even though Barty is a good friend of mine.." Regulus Agreed with Sirius. Y/n rolled her eyes as she saw Sirius smirk.

"Wait.. you're seriously dating him?" A Ravenclaw guy who had kept trying to ask her out asked.

Has lead to this very moment, to Barty realising maybe he is an embarrassment for her and that his father was right. Just like everyone else..

"Maybe this isn't meant to be.." Barty said, his eyes and head lowered.

One thing about Bartimus Crouch Junior is as much as he acted like he didn't care. He did.. it got to him like his father has multiple times. Which makes him second doubt.

"Hey look at me." Y/n said, lifting his head. Making him look at her.

"Heartbreak is one thing my egos another. I beg you don't embarrass me... Bartimus Crouch Junior." She declared placing a soft kiss on his lips. She pulled back giving him a small smile only for him to pull her back in.

"You have a way with words black." He said, smirking. Pressing a kiss to her jaw.

"Don't I know it, Crouch." She replied. He pulled her down flipping her onto the bed as she squealed and laughed.

[edb954]

Snap Out Of It (Henry Creel/001 x Fem! reader)

"I wanna grab both of your Shoulders and Shake, Baby say snap out of it.."

Masterlist : Request Info

(Summary: You start Dating a guy named Lucas and Henry gets jealous.. well because you are his and his alone and he doesn't like to share.. things get steamy..)

Word count: 1.7k

(Warnings: Not PROFF read, bad writing, Jealousy, smut, possessive)

~~~~

You were 20 when you started at the lab or well was forced, so that you could be one of the nurses. You were highly trained and freshly out of college being only at a two year school that had been year round school you had no breaks except a few weekends or for special holidays. Which was stressful but got the four years you needed to become a nurse before you ended up in this hell whole.

But there was a upside you had made good friends with the other nurse close to your age Shelly Wheeler she had helped you getting to know the office space. But there was one person that helped you the most and that was Peter/Henry you had met him on your first day. He had shown you around and since you both had grown a very deep connection..

Neither you or Peter/Henry expected this to happen especially not Henry, but he could sense something different about you. You didn't treat him differently than the others at the lab.. you weren't like the others at the lab at all.

Not like the other pests of the world..

Their was connection so deep that it went as far as sneaking into each others rooms late at night when you would have to stay late, long deep conversations, lingering touches, all the way to making out in the nurses office or one of the empty closets, and well also...

For months until, Brenner was starting to get suspicious. Which resulted to you not staying at the lab and instead going home immediately after your shift for. While he even had one of the orderlies walk you out as soon as your shift was over. To having one of them walk you everywhere. He had even threatened you with both of you getting hurt and even your family as well as friends.

So you had asked Henry to meet you slipping a note in 011s file handing it to him. He had came during everyone's lunch break and you told him that you guys couldn't do this anymore. That you couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't let him or your family and friends. He had tried to tell you that he wouldn't let anything happen but you knew or so you thought he couldn't do anything about it.

He guessed he had to try and wait ever so patiently for you to snap. out. of. it..

Before, he had left you kissed one last time or so you thought . Since then your days had been lonely and boring so when your one friend Alison out side of the lab said something about her setting you up with someone. You had excepted.

You, Alison, and Shelly were all very good friends so the night before your big date they had helped you pick out a stunning dress that you could change into after work before your date. You remember that night so well.. it was after your shift and you were just about to leave.

You were just finishing up a few finishing touches. Before the door open, you looked over your shoulder to see Him.

"You look stunning." Henry said , quietly coming up to you. You turned your head away sighing.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, trying not to get pulled in.

His fingers traced up and down your arm. You had grabbed his hand softly before turning around still holding his hand, before lowering it and letting it go.

"We can't do this.." you stated, while Henry eyes were flickering from your face to your body, taking in your form.. everything about you.

He hated that you of all people couldn't trust him and that you kept denying your wishes.. he wished he could grab both of your shoulders and shake snap out of it. And That you would snap out of it.

Before you had left, you told him you had a very important dinner to get too. He had grabbed your wrist spinning back to him before kissing you possessively then bring his lips to your ear whispering.

"Don't forget who you belong too..."

His voice was so dark and sinister like. Completely unlike the soft angelic voice he has. It made you shiver before you got your purse and left.

It turns out that Alison had set you up with Lucas. You had both been hanging out with each other a lot recently lately but never got to the date part.. well until now..

After that night, you both hit it off really well it was the perfect first date. You both had started dating.

Now, it's a few weeks later and here you are on your lunch break with Shelly gushing over your relationship.

"I can not believe you are dating Lucas! I mean you told me that you had hangout but how or when did that even start?" Shelly one of the nurses at the lab asked.

"I-I honestly don't know how or even when. It just happened. We just started spending a lot more time with each other just never got to the point of a date.. well until Alison." You replied, with a slight nervous laugh. While you could practically feel a certain someone's eyes burning into you.

  Henry was furious he overheard Shelly talking about you being in love or well near enough.. He just wanted to grab both of your shoulders and shake you to snap out of it. You were his and his alone.. the thought of another guy being with you or around you. Drove him wild..

  He was going to get you back.. and teach you who you belong too and make sure this time he doesn't let you out of his web..

  Once your lunch break was over you said goodbye to Shelly and started walking back to the office before you were dragged into a room that had been abandoned that you were passing. And Shoved up against a wall with harsh possessive lips attached to yours. You pushed them away already knowing that it was Henry. You looked into each other's eyes both filled with lust and want.

Snap...

  Before, your lips attached again harshly and passionately while he picked you up legs wrapping around. Arms held up. Clothes discarded. Henry's lips went down to your neck nipping biting sucking leaving marks all over you. While one hand went down to your slit and started rubbing in a circular motion earning those beautiful sounds he loves..

"It's time to show you who you belong too.. for good." He whispered in a dark husky tone, which almost sent you over the edge.

  Henry wanted to tear you apart. Make you his. Make sure you never think about another guy. Never let another guy touch or make you feel the he made you feel. He wanted to you to know who you belonged too. He wanted to snap you out of whatever you had with this guy Lucas. leaving him. Denying him.

Out...

  He ripped you off the wall and onto the floor before removing the rest of your clothes and thrusting into you at a hard fast pace making you cry out in both pain and pleasure. You got used to it quickly. Fluttering eyes shut before he grabbed your face making you look at him then making you look down. Making your eyes go wide and blow with more lust as he made you watch he fucked you. He lifted your head back while you breathlessly  moaned eyes fluttering shut eyebrows furrowed.

  While you took him in feeling as his cock stretched you perfectly feeling how far he was in you feeling him hit your cervix. He moved a hand and presses down where the bulge of him in your abdomen. You gasped, in pain while he pulled your hair.

"Yeah you feel that?." Henry asked you whined.

"That's my spot.."

"I own it..."

"own all of it..."

"I own You.." Henry growled with each thrust. Making Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Of...

    He went faster up till the only sound was skin slapping noise coming from both of you and panting. You were about to come before..

"Nuhuh. Tell me Y/n who do you belong too?"

  Henry knew exactly what he was doing and he wanted to make sure you knew. Exactly. Who. You. Really. Belong. Too.

"Hmm? Tell me darling." He said with a hard thrust with his hand around your neck.

"Uhh.. you.. always you."

"No I want you to tell me who you belong.." he growled while biting your spot on your neck that gets you the most. You gasped in pain and pleasure.

"You! Henry I belong to you.." You cried out.

"P-please let me cum.." you begged. He smirked while slamming in and out.

"Come for me darling.." He whispered.

  You let out a pornographic moan loud enough he put his hand over your mouth as the knot in your abdomen burst sending a huge wave of pleasure and relief. He helped you carry out your high, while still chasing his high.

"Going to cum in you. Hmm.. you that you me to fill you up? Hmm?"

  You cried out.

"God your perfect." He started to slowly slow down thrust getting sloppier. Shoving himself deep inside you spilling his seed. Marking you as his once and for all.

And he finally made you Snap Out Of It..

It...

[edb954]

Seven Wonders (Henry Creel x Reader)

(Summary: In where you have more powers than anyone else in the lab, and Brenner puts you to the ultimate test, while also being in a secret relationship with Henry/001..)

Masterlist Request Info

Word Count: 1.6k

(A/n: A lot of you said yes then excepted to my poll so you wish is my command! And yes this is based off of Seven wonders in coven😂)

~~~~

Brenner couldn't understand it. He had tried everything! Everything to contain your powers the chip that he had given Henry, multiple chips, he even tried to make you brain dead, NONE OF IT WORKED! That was until one of his coworkers came up to him with a possible solution.

"Come in!" Brenner shouted hearing a knock on his office door.

"Sir, I may know how to help with 000." Calvin one of his orderlies said as he stepped inside. Brenner sat back in his chair looking at him.

"Go on.."

"Well, the other workers and I have been doing a lot of research as well as thinking. Sir, Her Powers go all the way back to the Salem Witch Trials.."

"They say that in each Coven there is a particular witch with these powers.. they are called the Supreme Witch, the way to find out is running this test called the Seven Wonders." Calvin said while sliding papers to Brenner.

At first, Dr. Brenner thought it was a joke, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense so he did his own research and decide, that September. 30 which was tomorrow you and only you. Would be doing the Seven Wonders.

"Alright, Y/n the first thing you are going to do is... Telekinesis.." Brenner said, as he put a candle stick on the table across the room from you. "I want you to move this candle stick to you."

You nodded and with ease, taking Barley any energy from you the candle stick swiftly lifted off the table and into your hands. Some people in the room were shocked on how easy it was for you seeing no energy be taken away.

"Okay, next.. Concilium,.. also referred to as mind control or coercion. I want you to make Dean do something.."

Once again with ease you made Dean slap himself hard. You never really liked him, he was always a complete and udder ass to you. Some people laughed before composing themselves quick and writing down your progress. You decided to make it more fun and make Connor slap Dean, then to make them start fighting.. Brenner glared at you, while Henry/Peter watched intrigued as well as fascinated.. you had spooked his interest even more than before.

"That's enough y/n!" Brenner spoke. You heard Dean make a comment and decided to make him slap himself one last time.

"Hm.. this is fun.." you breathed out a laugh.

"Next, is something not a lot of you have seen before.. Transmutation.. also known as Teleportation." They all looked at Brenner some scoffed not believing it.

"Y/n you will teleport to my office and get me your file." Brenner finished, and without a blink, you turned around and disappeared, lights flickering.

  They were shocked, as they saw on the tracker you were in fact in Brenner's office only for a second later you were back in the blink of an eye and dropped the files at Brenner's feet with a thud. Brenner looked down in shock, not excepting that. Just like everyone else, while Henry/Peter looked more intrigued and amused.

"Right... g-Good job.. now next is.. Divination is the power to acquire knowledge about an object, person, or location without the user's physical senses. Y/n I want you to use these three items that are laid out on the table. And find who they belong too."

  You nodded, while going over to the table and hovering your hands over the objects. Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes locating through them to see who they belong too.

"The items belong to the nurse Lydia." You told them as you opened your eyes and moved away your hands.

"That's correct, excellent y/n." Brenner said, while him and some other orderlies set up the next test/experiment.

"This one also another that no one in here has seen.. not even myself.. Pyrokinesis the power to create, control, and manipulate fire with the mind.. what I want you to do Y/n is to light all these candles all at once.." Brenner said.

  Some of the orderlies strayed back getting ready to bolt just in case. You took a deep breath feeling yourself get a bit more exhausted and flexed your hands while lighting all the candles at once not missing one. The orderlies relaxed thankful that nothing had gone wrong.. the only ones who knew you could do it was Lucas and Henry/Peter.

  Brenner. He was starting to get nervous. You were almost completely done with the Seven Wonders, he was amazed and proud. Yes, but he didn't know what would happen or what that ment and he didn't like that.. he didn't like how he couldn't control you like he could with Henry and you doing this test. Is going to determine whether or not you are what they call a supreme..

"Right... next is.. Vitalum Vitalis... It includes balancing the scales between life and death. Witches can drain their life force in order to restore health, heal injuries, or even resurrect a dead person.." Brenner said.

"Y/n, you will need to bring back 005. He had an accident and didn't make it.. I want you to resurrect him.."Brenner said, as two orderlies brought in 005s corpse.

  You were in shock not sure if you could do it.. I mean yeah sure you brought back insects and animals... but never a person. Henry/Peter gave a concerned look towards you knowing that this would drain or could possibly kill you. You caught a glimpse of it and mouthed 'I'll be okay. I promise..' he did not by it. You took a deep shaky breath before walking towards the table.

  Closing your eyes putting your hands up so that they were hovering over the body. Before, inhaling deeply leaning towards the corpse and exhaling all of your breath. You could feel this take a good amount of your energy. Then taking a step back, tiredly as Henry grabbed you so you wouldn't fall. Then, 005 shot up gasping for air and breathing heavily. Everyone  stared at in amazement you had actually done it.. you brought him back.

"Dean. Lucas. Take 005 to the infirmary make sure he's okay." Brenner ordered. They got to work helping 005 up and taking him to the infirmary.

"We will give you a break... before we do the final.. part of the test.." with that everyone left except Henry.

"How do you feel?" Henry asked, while giving you some water.

"Tired. Just can't wait to be done with this.. I don't even know what will exactly happen after this.." you spoke after taking a few big sips of the water.

"..I don't think Brenner knows either.. that's why he's scared.. he can't control you.." Henry said almost a bit jealous but worried.

"Just promise me not to over do it.. and come back to me.." "I promise.. I won't over do it.. and I will come back to you.." You promised as he pulled you closer giving you a quick kiss before moving away when the others come back in.

  That's how your relationship worked, the little moments like that.. or the big moments..  but they rarely happened. You could never read him.. but you could tell he worried and cared about you.. or... at least you hoped he did..

"Now, y/n this part of the test is the most dangerous ones you will need to use a lot of your energy for this.. the next part of the test is... Descensum.. the power to project one's soul to the afterlife and the use of astral projection.. you will need to lay down for this last part and say Descensum when you are ready.." Brenner explained.

   You took a deep breath and nodded as Henry and Lenny helped you lay down. Taking another long deep breath before saying "Descensum..." with that you were gone and into the project.

  When you opened your eyes, all you saw was red it looked like the real world but back wards with red vines everywhere... and creatures with a face of a flower.. then you got a glimpse of another creature it was tall looked like it used to be... human...

"She's been under for awhile.."

"What happens if she doesn't come back?"

  We're all the orderlies we're talking about.. Henry knew you could make it back and tried his damnest not to listen to them. He was lured out of his thoughts when the lights started to flicker a lot, he saw you moving the suddenly you raised up gasping for air when everything just stopped.

  Henry/Peter sighed in relief, knowing he was right that you were okay. He was still worried about Brenner's plan for you and knew that he had to start his plan to escape with you soon..

  Once again everyone was shocked, especially Brenner. You had just completed the Seven Wonders the one thing that was almost deemed impossible to survive through.. but here you are still alive. It was true you are the Supreme Witch. Yes, Brenner was hoping that this test would kill you so he wouldn't have to worry about you anymore.. but that didn't work..

  Before,  you could catch your breath or relise your surroundings again Brenner had a few guards take you away forcefully. Only seeing Henry's face for a split second before passing out.

[edb954]

Y’all said yes and shall receive. Get ready for more Henry/001 x reader💀 And might also post my Coriolanus snow story.(at least what I have) definitely will be more especially of the other characters!

[edb954]

Send Requests!

Masterlist

Who I Write For:

(For Now)

Henry Creel (Stranger Things)

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things)

Coriolanus Snow (Tbosas)

Finnick Odair (THG)

JJ Maybank (Outerbanks/Obx)

Barty Crouch Jr (Harry Potter)

Theodore Nott (Harry Potter)

Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

What I WILL write:

(Scenarios, One shot, Preferences, ect)

Fluff

Angst

Smut

Fem reader

Gen Reader

Angst w/ Happy ending

Sad endings

Yandere

Dark themes : Gore, Possiveness, If I can’t have you no one can. Stalking

What I WON’T write:

Male Reader

Ships

Threesomes +

Rape scene/ SA scenes (will mention it but will NOT write it!!)

[edb954]

I Look Like Her…

(Summary: you and Henry are 011 real parents. Henry not knowing but, 011 reminds him of you..)

Masterlist Request info

(Part 2 of Like her!) Part 1: Like Her

(Warnings: NOT Proofread, Subtle dark situations, bad writing! Typical Stranger Things themes., Think that’s it?)

‘I Look Like Her…’

———————

"Do I look Like her?" 011 asked, looking at Brenner.

Brenner paused trying to remember what you looked like. "Well yes. I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"He always talked about her and..." 011 paused her eyebrows furrowing sadly. Like yours did.. "That day w-when I set him free he said that I looked like her.."

....

"But then a woman that I had never seen before had showed up. It turned out Papa forced her to work here too. She was trapped just like I was..." Henry said, looking off sadly. 011 scared but confused.

"Papa had found out about us and took her away.. I never saw her again... but I knew.. know that Brenner-Papa killed her..." 011 looked wide eyed as scared but almost felt sorry for him..almost..

  Henry was now in front of her. His eyebrows furrowed sadly for a moment. "You look like her.."

...

Brenner sighed. Looking at her but before he could say anything the alarms of the lab started going off and sounds of gun shots echoed through the hallway. Similar to that day those 5 years ago.

Brenner grabbed 011's hand and pointed up to a ladder. "Go up you'll be safe.. it'll help you get free." He instructed.

011 stared at him for a moment before climbing the ladder and opening the door to freedom. She was starting to make a run for it. Until she heard gun shots around her. She paused for a moment realising that they were shooting at her.

She quickly started trying to redirect the bullets while trying to find the source to see a helicopter in the sky with two men. She used her freshly renewed powers to make the helicopter crash into part of the lab. 011 collapsed using energy that she hadn't used since 4th of July at the star court mall. Not knowing that somebody picked her up until she heard gun shots fired that brought her back to see papa fall as she was in his arms. A group of men in a circle surrounding them using more energy 011 surged her power making them fly back hendering them unconscious.

  011 went over to papa holding his hand in his final moments.

"I-I am sorry 011.." Brenner said in a shaky voice. Before pulling out a small envelope and handing it to her. "It h-has everything you need to know.."

  011 took it. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she was brought out of her thoughts hearing a vehicle she turned around ready to face them only to come face to face with her family. She me Will half giving him a big hug and taking Mike's hand and leaving to Hawkins after she had explained almost everything.

"What's that El? In the envelope?" Mike asked, curiosity getting the better of him and Will would be lying if he said he wasn't interested too.

"I-I'm not sure.." 011 replied.

  Before slowly opening the envelope to reveal multiple photographs, a note, and her actual birth certificate. Mikes and Will's eyes widened in shock at all of the stuff that was in the small envelope.

  Will picked up a photograph that had fallen his eye brows stitching in confusion.

  "Who's this? Do you recognise them?" He asked, giving el the picture. 011 took it looking at it in shock it was her parents...

...

"Come on Henry. Let's take a picture!" Y/n said, cheering quietly.

  Y/n had found the camera in one of the storage room that was full of film. She moved closer to Henry, while holding the camera out smiling.

  Henry looked at her smiling a real smile. Before putting his arm around her and smiling slightly.

...

  The old photograph worn now laid in their daughter's hand. 011 turned it over to see writing in the back.

'February. 25, 1970

The day I truly fell for you ~ n/n'

"I-it's... my real parents..." 011 said. Will and Mike looked at her in shock before she handed them photo.

  In the pile of photos 011 was going through one particularly caught 011s eye. It's has picture of just her... Y/n.. her mother. Mike and Will sat next to her looking at the photo.

...

"Look what I found." Henry said, pulling out the camera that they had found year prior to this one.

  They got caught with the camera and got it taken away as we as punished for having it or having had 'stole' it as one of the guards accused since he was missing a similar one.

"Where did you find it?" Y/n whispered, jumping up her eyes sparkling.

"In the storage closet again." Henry said, y/n reached out for it but he pulled it away. She gave him a confused look.

"Sit." Henry demanded. Her expression widened slightly as she sat down.

"Now look here.." He instructed towards the lens. She laughed slightly a small blush creeping on to her cheeks. She smiled softly as the flash went off.

...

"She looks just like you.. your mom.." Mike says, Will nodded his head in agreement. 011 looked at it noticing some features. Her doe like eyes, her smile, the little furrow in her brow.

  It was true.. she looked like her. She kept looking through the photos. 011s mind racing with a question lingering: Did her actual mom put this envelope together or was it just another file papa had kept?

— Time Jump —

  "You were different... like me.." 011 said,As she hung from the vines in his layer. Trying to get Henry's attention away from Max but it didn't work once she saw his long claw like hand go over Max's face.

"I know what happened to her!!" 011 yelled. "The lady you told me about... the one you said i looked like.."

  Henry froze stopping what he was doing as he slowly retracting his hand but keeping max in place unconscious. As he turned around to fully look at 011.

"After, papa found out about you two... theirs a reason why I look like her.." 011 said, her eyebrows furrowed tears spilling from her eyes at the thought.

   Henry looked confused before his eyes widened and his mask slipping in the slightest way as he realised what she was implying. The memories he hadn't thought of in the past 4 years all came back and his heart ached.

"N-not long a-after she had me. She got sick.. really sick.. papa tried to help her.. but i-it wasn't e-enough.." 011 said, tears streaming down her cheeks. Henry's mask quickly came back his face hardening.

"He may have not killed her but he took her and everything from me... including you.." Henry turned back to Max lifting up his hand.

"Would Y/n have wanted this? Would she have wanted you to do any of this?" 011 shouted, in pain and anger. Henry hesitated only slightly before his expression turned more dark.

"She's gone.. and has been for a long time." Henry spoke.

  Before, his claw like hand latched onto Max's face and that's when 011 realised you were the only light in his life. Now, no one not even his own daughter could help stop him from his own deranged ways.. even if 011 looked like her..

Tag List:

@zealousdazementality

@believeinthefireflies95

[edb954]

I honestly meant to make/mention this a while ago but I forgot💀

BUT!! Here is my wattpad where I have 2 stories that are both published a Coriolanus Snow Fanfic and a Henry creel/001 Imagines+others. That I am slowly working on them! So no i didn’t forget!! and my TikTok where I make edits!! 🫶🏻

So please go check them out and follow (if you want💀😂) :)

Links:

[edb954]

Like her…(Henry Creel/001 x reader!)

(Warnings: Bad writing, Brenner, 001/Henry, mentions of death? NOT PROFF READ!)

(Summary: You and Henry are 011 real parents. Henry not knowing but, 011 reminds him of you..)

A/n: I got this idea off of a TikTok💀😂

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2k

“Papa, I’m chasing a ghost… I don’t know who she is…”

~~~~~~

"Am I going to get in trouble?" 011 asked, her doe eyes looked at Henry with sad expression. The same way you used to when one of the children got hurt..

"No.. no why would you think that?" Henry asked in a sickly sweet voice.

~~~~~

During the 'game', it was 002 against 007, who was only 5 at the time. 002 had thrown him hard against the wall with a hard smack.

Y/n looked at the little boy with her sad doe like eyes with an equal sad worried expression. Once the session was over and all the kids went to the rainbow room.

She left to the nurses station to check on 007. She was glad to see him wake but he had bruises slowly forming. She gave 007 a sad smile.

"Look who's awake." Y/n said with a comforting smile. 007 opened his eyes again with a small smile. "I'm really glad you're okay. And I have something that i think is well deserved."

Y/n said leaning forward slightly in the chair whispering to him. 007 looked at her with a curious expression. As y/n reached into her uniform pocket holding out a piece of candy. 007 eyes widened with a smile. Before jumping up and hugging her.

"Thank you, mummy." 007 said. Y/n's expression halted as tears formed in her eyes and wrapped her arms around the little boy.

"Keep it a secret. Okay?" Y/n said, as she pulled away. 007 nodded hiding it in his sweatpants pocket. "Get some rest."

Y/n smiled as 007 nodded laying back down cuddling up next to his stuffed animal.

Y/n got up and walked over to the station getting it ready for the next shift. She closed the door wiping her tears once she got to her room evidently was the one without any cameras. Not noticing the figure that had been waiting for her.

"Why are you crying?" Henry asked concerned. Which caused y/n to jump started by the voice. She let out breathy laugh.

"You really know how to startle someone.." she said. Turning to look at him. He was right in front of her.

"What happened?" He asked/demanded, whipping away the stranded tears with his finger.

"It's nothing. I promise." She replied, Henry was not convinced but let it go. Wrapping his arms around and kissing her.

~~~~~

"You remind me of someone..." Henry said, while sitting next to 011.

011 glances at him her eyebrows furrowed with a little crinkle between her brows. The image of you came into his mind.

~~~

"I-I just don't get it.." Y/n said, eyebrows furrowed with a little crinkle between her eyebrows.

"They are so young and have so much ahead of them. But instead they are pit against each other in some sick game.. and some of them aren't even old enough to-" She looked over to see Henry looking at the ground. Y/n sighed.

"I'm sorry.. I just wish that I could help them.." y/n said , the second part barely a whisper.

Henry grabbed her arms and kissed her forehead. She laid her head down on his chest and his arms wrapped around her.

"Someday we will..." he said..

~~~

"Who?" 011 asked Henry.

"A girl I used to know. She was confused just how you are now. When she found out what papa was doing... but that story doesn't have a happy ending I'm afraid.." Henry said, his eyes drifting off sadly.

"What...what happened to her?" 011 asked hesitantly. Henry looked at her.

"How about we save that story for a different day.." Henry said, giving the confused girl a slight smile.

  And if Henry was being honest he didn't know the whole story of what happened to the woman he loved for a long time.

~~~~~

  Henry heard 011 got attacked and snuck off to the nurses station to check on her. He saw her and all he could see was you. How her face looked calm and collected yet with a hint of pain etched on to her face. So tired that she couldn't keep her eyes open. Those doe shaped eyes with the long lashes just like you..

~~~

"What happened?" Henry demanded his voice almost sinisterly yet also concerning.

  Y/n furrowed her brows slightly in pain as she sat up. Eyes drifting closed and opening. Henry grabbed her before she could fall laying her back down against him. Her head on his chest.

"That day when you saw me crying. I was with 007 i-I gave him a piece of candy and somebody heard him call me..." y/n heisted the last part.

"Call you what? What had lead to this besides you giving him candy?" Henry asked.

  Y/n sat up steadily her doe eyes drifting off. Whipping the tears that were starting to come.

"Somebody heard 007 call me mum..." She whispered.

  Henry's eyes widened slightly looking at her. He gently pulled her back so she was lying on his chest as he ran a hand up her arm comforting her. Not long as she drifted off to sleep her face calm and collected but with a slightly pained expression from the torture he had to endure not so long before he found you.

  That night Henry made a silent vow to get you out of that hell hole. And make a wish for you to come true.

  Neither of you knowing that, that wish, that want was already alive and growing.

~~~~

"Mama is dead." 011 slightly snapped at Henry.

"And who told you that?" Henry asked. His eyebrows raised with a knowing look.

"Papa!" 011 Whisper shouted. Henry gave her a knowing look. 011 eyes widened with realisation, just like you used too. "Who doesn't always tell the truth..."

~~~~

Y/n's eyes widened with realisation as she realised why she has been so tired and nauseous lately. Y/n paled at the fact she just bestowed upon.

"Hey, you okay?" Henry asked. As he noticed how pale you had gotten. Y/n nodded slightly before collapsing. Henry caught her as her eyes rolled back.

...

"You can't see her." A nurse said blocking Henry from seeing her.

  His eyes drifted to see Brenner giving him a stern look and whisper to a guard. As the guard took him away. That was the last time he saw you.

"You will be put into a secluded room and will be watched and taken care of during the 9 months and when you have the baby it will become part of the system." Brenner said sternly. Y/n nodded slightly before looking away with tears.

~~~~

"I didn't lie 011. When I talked about your mother." Brenner said. 011 looked at him confused.

"Your mother is gone. She had died not long after she had you. It's wasn't because of you.. she got sick." Brenner said. 011 realised.

"Henry said that I reminded him a woman."

"That woman was your mother... and Henry.." 011s eyes widened as she processed the information.

"No.." She whispered. Staring at Brenner in horror.

"Yes 011. Henry is your father and that wom- Y/n is your mother. They were secretly together when they were in the lab. And that is how she had you." Brenner said.

  011 swallowed hard before asking the question she's been pondering on.

"Do I look like her?"

[edb954]

I don’t know if you taking requests but I have one if you are!

Charlie Mayhew x fem reader; they are married and the reader finds out everything and on top of that he is cheating on her with Megan (aka Lois was right) and leaves him without him knowing until he gets home and finds her and all of her stuff gone. She later finds out she’s pregnant (though she was told that she couldn’t before) while she’s staying with Lois and Charlie finds out the hard way when she’s in the hospital either something happened like she gets attacked or something but she doesn’t lose the baby OR she’s in their for a check up or had said baby.

I love the way you write him and absolutely love Haunted!! Also you can change it however you like!!

BACK TO BLACK

Summary: You and Charlie have been married for a few years, but something feels off. You've been growing distant, caught in the struggle of trying to expand your family through adoption. But then, something happens—something that changes your life for the worse.

Author's Note: I’m honored by this request and hope you enjoy what I’m preparing for this fanfic. If it goes well, I can certainly guarantee more chapters. The story will include betrayal, marital issues, and pregnancy. Engage if you like it! I would like to say that other requests are welcome and that I loved writing this chapter. If you like the chapter, interact. The chapter will contain inappropriate language and explicit adult content. Minors should not interact.

AO3 LINK

ONE (+18)

At times, you have wondered how one knows when a marriage is over—if there is a sign that marks the end or if you simply wake up one day and decide to leave the man you love. For better or for worse seems far too abstract. Even now, as your husband holds you gently, pressing his body against yours. Once again, he has returned from work with a heavy expression, carrying the scent of a sweet perfume. If only he weren’t so handsome in that white coat, perhaps you would be able to think clearly enough to question him.

"My hermosa esposa, how did you spend your day?" Charlie asks, his hands settling on your waist as he embraces you from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck.

"Aunt Lois took me shopping. She advised me to start buying furniture for our child’s room," you say, turning to look at your husband, who does not seem pleased.

"I don’t like you getting ahead of yourself about having a child. Buying furniture and clothes is premature. That imaginary child does not exist yet," Charlie replies, his tone edged with bitterness, as if the idea of preparing a nursery had been weighing on him for some time.

"I should have known you would react this way," you say, pulling your husband's arms away from you. It is almost as if, little by little, he is becoming a stranger—a complete stranger.

"If this continues, it would be best if we abandoned this altogether," you say, your gaze serious as you look at him.

"You want to give up on the idea of adoption?" Charlie asks, and you watch him closely, trying to decipher his thoughts. Deep down, you are almost certain he is relieved at the mention of giving up.

"Perhaps I want to give up on my husband," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. Charlie’s expression remains unreadable for a moment, his sharp eyes studying you in silence. Then, ever so subtly, the corners of his lips twitch—not quite a smirk, not quite a frown.

"Don't speak like that, mi vida," he says, holding your face and pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. "You are the reason I live." Charlie’s voice is low as he leans in, his fingers tracing gentle patterns against your skin.

"I love you, Charlie, but if you don’t want to build a future with me, then it’s best that I move on with my imaginary child, and you with your own life," you murmur. It hurts to say it. You don’t want to give up on your marriage—but with each passing day, it feels as though the man before you is slipping further away.

"Forgive me if I gave the impression that I don’t want a future for us. I just think what we have now is already good," he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, and finally your lips. Your eyes close, surrendering to his touch. It’s always like this.

"What we have now is you being a successful doctor and me being a journalist who gave up the column I was responsible for because it required too much time away from home. I thought at least one of us should be present to care for our child—but we don’t have a child yet. And I remain here, waiting for some form of company," you confront him.

Some time ago, you tried to conceive, but due to a medical condition, none of your pregnancies survived. Eventually, the weight of it began carving an emotional void within you, a void that only seemed to push Charlie further away. He never put words to what he was feeling, and perhaps that was what hurt the most.

"I can keep you company now," Charlie says as he puts his hands on the strap of the dress you're wearing. He slowly pulls your dress down as you believe you should be discussing your relationship, but feeling his gentle touch on you, you feel like you can connect with him once more. "Eres deliciosa, I hope I'm being clear about this," Charlie says as he finally gets rid of your dress.

"As much as you're praising me, I don't know if fucking now will help us, mi esposo ," you speak with a shaky voice as you feel the touch of Charlie's hands on your exposed breasts. His cold fingers touched your nipples, causing you a pleasant sensation as he went from caressing your nipples to lightly squeezing them. You bite your lip holding back a moan that is almost escaping your mouth.

"Mi vida, being between your legs, feeling your juicy pussy around my cock, will always be the best option to help," he says as he pulls your neck. Immediately his lips capture yours, before you can even say anything. And quickly you feel something soften inside you, not just your legs but your heart. Charlie's arms hold your body, naked. By chance, you were without panties and bra, because the dress you were wearing was tight. He lifts you off the ground, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. His fingers pressing into your ass with a force that makes you gasp, while you cling to his neck, kissing every detail. You can't remember the last time he held you in his arms, that he wanted to be so close to you. "Doctor Charlie Mayhew, you are overdressed," you murmur in his ear as you nibble on his earlobe.

"Why don't you help me with this, Mrs. Mayhew?" he says as he places you on the edge of the bed. His body raised in front of you, his cock visibly erect covered by his pants so close to your face. He then takes your hand, putting two of your fingers in his mouth and sucking. The erotic look he gives you is enough to make you hot inside, you remove your fingers from his mouth and hurry to help him take off his clothes. You remove his lab coat, then unbuttoning his shirt and taking off his tie.

"Tell me how much you want to have me inside you, mi vida," he says as he gently pushes you down onto the bed. Then he gets on top of you, licking your lips and then kissing you deeply. His tongue entering your mouth and sucking yours as you lost yourselves in each other in the middle of the kiss. He uses his hands to separate your legs, running his fingers over your pussy, making you shiver slightly. Your pussy is wet, you can feel how easy it is for Charlie to run his fingers under it, as if he's just teasing you.

"Stop teasing me and fuck me," you mutter. He chuckles as he gently presses two fingers onto your clit, while kissing your neck. He sucks the skin on your neck as he enters your pussy with both fingers, inserting them into you slowly.You arch your body slowly, feeling pleasure build inside you as his fingers they come in and out of you faster and faster. You moan slowly as you watch him give a naughty smile watching you squirm. You feel your orgasm approaching, as you make increasingly loud noises at the stimulation Charlie is giving your pussy. You dig your nails into Charlie's back as you scratch him, feeling him inside you with so much passion. He then takes his fingers out of you, licking them and slapping your pussy, making you grunt.

"I'll give you what you wanted so much, hermosa," Charlie speaks as He removes his belt from his pants and lowers his pants and underwear with admirable speed. You place your hand under his cock, stroking his cock with your hands and gently squeezing the tip of it. He mutters "mierda" while feeling your hand stimulate his cock, feeling his pre-cum lubricate your hand making the movements more slippery. He squeezes your breasts as he massages them, causing you to let out a soft moan. Quickly, he holds your hand, kissing the hand that was previously on his dick and without delay, puts his cock in your pussy. His first movement is slow, as you get used to his cock inside you, but quickly amidst your attempts to assist with his movements, he begins to thrust his cock in you more quickly. You can't contain your moans as you feel him nibble on your neck and hold your legs upwards, to bring your body even closer to his. You drag your fingers down his back as you force him deeper into you, grinding slightly. You pull on Charlie's hair as you feel your orgasm coming, feeling the sweat from your bodies mix as your husband continues to explore your body with his hands. You let out a loud grunt as your husband thrusts deeper into you, as your cum melts his cock.

As you cum, he squeezes your ass tightly, making you even more horny for him. His balls slapping against your pussy as he still thrusts his cock into you, while your pussy is sensitive from cumming. You hold on tight against him as you try to keep your legs steady on his waist even though you feel a slight weakness in your body as you recover from the orgasm. Charlie says your name as he cums inside you, and you feel his cum spurt inside you hard, making you let out a loud involuntary moan. Charlie licks your neck moving up to your face and kissing your lips.

"I hope you're ready for round two, mi vida," he says as he runs his fingers down to your pussy, feeling his cum dripping down your pussy and pressing his hand against your sensitive pussy, giving it a light slap under it. You sigh as you prepare for another round of sex with your hot husband.

"I'm always ready for more of you," you whisper against your husband's lips as you feel him take control of your body. He has always had this power over you—the power to ignite you, to give you exactly what you need to feel whole. Sexually, the two of you share an otherworldly connection.

But then the night fades into dawn, and once again, your husband slips out of bed. It isn’t a medical emergency—his pager never went off—but you definitely heard him receive a message.

After several long minutes of pretending to sleep, you wait for him to leave before following him. You are certain now—he is hiding something. It has been weeks since Aunt Lois first warned you that something about Charlie felt off, and now you need to know what is so important that he had to leave your bed in such a hurry.

You remember all the advice Aunt Lois gave you for moments like this. You’re using your own car, keeping a safe distance, wearing a disguise. And yet, Charlie doesn’t seem the least bit suspicious.

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you see where he finally parks. Megan Duval’s house. More specifically, Detective Megan Duval. She and Aunt Lois are partners, though their relationship has been strained ever since Lois suspected Megan was angling for a promotion. Thinking back, Megan used to visit Aunt Lois’s house often. And Charlie never minded going there either. Coincidence or not, Charlie suddenly became too busy to attend Aunt Lois’s dinners—just as Megan stopped going as well.

Then you see him. Charlie steps out of his car, smoothing his tousled hair—hair you ran your fingers through just hours ago. He straightens his shirt, a fleeting effort to compose himself before heading toward her door.

Your body tenses as you watch him smile, a smile you once thought was meant only for you. He nearly rushes to her, and she opens the door as if she had been waiting, as if this were routine. Without hesitation, she throws herself into his arms, and he kisses her. Passionately. His hands find her waist, pulling her close with a familiarity that makes your stomach turn. Then, slowly, one of them slides down to caress her backside.

Your heart shatters. Your blood boils. Tears blur your vision as you watch them disappear inside, and the weight of reality crashes down on you. The man you built your life around, the man you sacrificed for, the man you loved—he is gone. Or maybe he was never truly yours.

Every instinct screams at you to get out of the car, to tear her house apart, to make him regret this betrayal. Years of devotion, of trying to give him a child, of bending yourself to fit the shape of his life—wasted. You want to scream. You want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But more than anything, you want to be free. And that will only be possible if he never sees it coming.

Your hands grip the wheel tighter as you drive home, heart pounding in your chest. The moment you step inside, you move with purpose. A suitcase—essentials only. Clothes, documents, enough to disappear for a while. But as you pack, rage takes over.

You shatter every framed photo of the two of you, as if breaking the glass could erase the years you wasted on him. You tear apart his favorite clothes, rip them to shreds. His expensive colognes? Smashed, their luxurious scent mixing with the bitter stench of betrayal. Then, an idea forms. If Charlie takes his time realizing you’re gone, it will be even easier to slip away. With renewed determination, you grab every bottle of alcohol he cherishes and pour them over the furniture, the floors, every surface in sight. By the time your bag is packed into the car, the house is drenched in liquor.

Standing at the door, you flick open a lighter—one you haven’t used in years. You quit smoking when you started trying for a child, when you still believed in the future you were building together. That future is gone now. So you let the past burn. The flames catch instantly, licking hungrily at the alcohol-soaked wood. You took the batteries out of the smoke detectors. There are no neighbors nearby. By the time Charlie realizes what’s happened, he’ll have nothing left. You slide into the driver’s seat, heart racing, and dial Aunt Lois.It’s time to tell her everything. As you drive away, the fire glows in your rearview mirror. But you don’t look back.

Months later, you struggle to carry a package into your new home. Aunt Lois made your escape possible, securing a false identity and forged documents so you could start over. You relocated to the family's countryside house in another state, renting it under your new name for a modest sum—just enough to avoid suspicion.

They never found your body in the fire, so you were declared missing. You abandoned your car in a river before boarding a train that took you close to your new home. Now, you drive a rented car, living in this secluded house, far enough from prying eyes. The people in town seem to like you—you’re not sure if it’s because of your demeanor or because you're a pregnant woman living alone.

Yes, Charlie managed to get you pregnant—perhaps in one of the few times he hadn’t even tried. Now, you spend your days working as a waitress in a local restaurant and ghostwriting for a newspaper. You need every bit of income to prepare for the arrival of your child.

But something is wrong. There’s someone inside your house. You spot the intruder from a distance, rummaging through your belongings. Your pulse quickens as you slip back to your car, your fingers closing around the gun in the glove compartment. You don’t give him a chance—once you have a clear shot, you fire.

He collapses, blood pooling beneath him. You approach, cautious but steady. He’s still breathing, but barely. Then, as you turn his body over, your world tilts. "Y/N... is it really you?" Charlie rasps, his voice weak, his hand grasping at your leg as if trying to convince himself you’re real.

You stare down at him, heart pounding. "Charlie," you whisper. Your hand instinctively moves to your belly, feeling your baby stir inside you. What a cruel twist of fate.

[edb954]

wait a damn minute…

[edb954]

I’m the one that requested this and OMG THIS IS SO GOOD AND I AS WELL AS EVERYONE ELSE WOULD LOVE A PART 2!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hello! Could you do a Barty Crouch Jr. x Fem! Potter! Reader.

Where they are both in Ravenclaw and get close and end up dating in secret because of the Slytherins and the marauders. But then something happens and they break up but Barty shows up at the readers house years later to warn her about Harry, James, and Lily. They rekindle (smut if you write it. Or leads to that?)

And I was thinking about two different endings.

Ending 1: The reader later finds out she’s pregnant and has to raise their child on her own until the triwizard tournament where their child meets their father?

Ending 2: The reader goes to godric hollow that night to try to help them but ends up dying and Barty finds her and holds her?

Or if you like both you can do two different Barty x reader!

Love your fics by the way and I am Hooked to the series!!

Making Mistakes

Barty Crouch Junior x Potter!RavenClaw!Reader

Summary: (See above) After a horrible break up in 7th year, Barty and you haven't spoken a word to eachother. Then, he comes barrelling back into your life begging for forgiveness, will you trust him?

Wc: 16.8k

CW: Angst Heavy. Hurt/Comfort, Barty and the reader are messssy. Sexual themes and scenes. Mom!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Dad!Barty, Non canon complacent, The first part of the fanfiction is focused on the reader- second is focused on Ophelia(your daughter).

The Potter Manor, once warm and full of life, now felt cold and empty. The high ceilings and ornate decorations that had once felt grand now only magnified the silence. The vibrant reds and golds of your family crest seemed muted, much like the life that had once filled these halls.

Your brother, James, was hiding somewhere even you couldn't name- hardly able to visit outside of special occasions. Your parents had been gone for over a year. The house was far too big, far too quiet, and far too lonely. It wasn’t just the emptiness of the space itself- it was the absence of the people who had made it a home. You’d told yourself that time would help, but the grief lingered, stubborn and heavy, refusing to fade.

Even now, curled up on the couch in the living room- the one you used to complain was too cramped- you felt the space around you stretch endlessly. With a blanket over your knees, the fireplace crackling softly, and a book resting on your lap, it should have felt cozy. Instead, it felt hollow. You ran your fingers absentmindedly over the cover of your book, your other hand drifting to the necklace around your neck, the small charm resting just above your heart- a lone magpie. 

It matched your patronus. Well, it matched what your patronus had become. Once, it had been a darling doe- calm and serene, a reflection of your regal- that's what Sirius had said. Now, it was the magpie: small, fierce, and energetic. It suited you, or at least the version of you that remained. You’d felt yourself change, slowly but surely, in the years you knew a love so dangerous it tore off parts of you that you no longer remmebered.

Your fingers traced the delicate charm as your thoughts wandered to the person who had given it to you. Barty. The weight of his name still felt the same, a complicated tangle of emotions that hadn’t untwisted no matter how much time passed. 

You could still see his face the night you’d told him you couldn’t do it anymore. The way his sharp features had frozen, the defiance and anger creeping in as soon as the words left your mouth. You’d said you couldn’t keep hiding, couldn’t keep pretending that what you had didn’t matter. You’d told him you were tired of the stolen glances, the whispered promises, and the constant fear of being caught. 

But you knew now that what had hurt him most wasn’t the ultimatum- it was the fear. Fear of admitting to the world what you meant to each other. Fear of what he might lose if he dared to love you openly. Fear that his world and yours were too different, too far apart to ever coexist. 

Now, as you sat there in the flickering firelight, your thumb brushed over the charm, the memories tugging at your chest. The book on your lap remained unopened as you stared into the flames, the ache in your heart as familiar as the necklace around your neck.

~~~

The flickering candlelight painted Barty’s sharp features in gold and shadow as he lay beside you, his bare chest rising and falling steadily. The heat of your bodies still lingered in the cool air of the room, your skin damp against the soft sheets tangled around your legs. His fingers toyed with the charm resting against your collarbone, his touch so gentle it made your heart ache.

“Crow, can we talk?” You whispered, your voice soft but firm, breaking the fragile silence that had fallen between you.

Barty’s hand froze, his fingers brushing against the charm one last time before he let it fall against your chest. His jaw tightened, his green eyes refusing to meet yours as he shifted slightly, feigning casualness. “What’s there to talk about, birdie?” He murmured, his voice smooth but unconvincing. Unsatisfied your little exercise didn't make you truly forget what you intended to talk about. “We’re here. Together. Isn’t that enough?”

You sat up slightly, leaning on your elbow as you looked at him. “No,” You said softly, the word carrying more weight than you’d intended. “It’s not.”

He finally glanced at you, his expression guarded. “You’re overthinking again,” He said lightly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Can’t we just- can’t we just enjoy this?”

“Enjoy what?” You challenged, your voice trembling slightly. “Hiding? Pretending? Barty, we can’t keep doing this.”

He groaned softly, falling back onto the pillow and running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Why do you have to ruin the moment?” He muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. “We’re happy, aren’t we? Isn’t that what matters?”

“Are we happy?” You shot back, sitting up fully now, the blanket slipping from your shoulders. “Because I don’t feel happy, Barty. I feel like I’m suffocating.”

He sat up abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he fixed you with a desperate gaze. “Don’t say that,” He snapped, his voice rising slightly. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” You said firmly, though your voice broke slightly. “I love you, Barty, but I can’t keep pretending this is enough. I need more. I need us- the real us.”

“This is the real us,” He argued, his voice frantic now. He reached for you, his hand gripping your arm as if holding onto you could stop you from slipping away. “This is how we work, birdie. This is how we survive. You think the world would let us be together? You think they’d let us have this?”

“I don’t care what the world thinks,” You snapped, your own desperation rising to meet his. “I care about us. But this- this isn’t sustainable. We’re tearing each other apart, Barty.”

“Of course you don’t care,” He spat suddenly, his grip tightening as his green eyes blazed. “You wouldn’t. You’re a Potter. You come from your perfect Potter family with your perfect, golden life. You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to have a family like mine- to be a Crouch.”

His words cut deep, the bitterness in his tone like a slap. But you didn’t flinch. Instead, you stared at him, your voice steady as you said, “Don’t you dare.”

He blinked, startled by the fierceness in your tone. “What?”

“Don’t you dare use my family as an excuse to run from what you deserve,” You said, leaning closer. “Just because my parents loved me, just because James and I grew up with something good, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve that too.”

He scoffed, the sound bitter and sharp. “I don’t deserve that. Not with who I am. Not with my name.”

“Yes, you do,” You said fiercely, your hand finding his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “You deserve love, Barty. Real love. Not this shadow of it we’re living in. But you have to believe that, or none of this will ever work.”

He stared at you, trying to read your expression, his jaw so tight you swore you could hear ticking. His grip on you was bruising, but you ached for it. You ached for his want, his desperate need, because without it- you felt like you were falling apart.

You leaned into him, your once hot skin chilling against the air of the room. On instinct, his hands slipped away from your arm and he wrapped them around your waist. Your hands found his chest and you moved all that bit closer. “Wouldn't that be a dream, Barty?” You whispered, voice strained and tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “If- if our kids,” You choked out and his eyes widened at your admittance of something solid. That was your dream. To be so true, so real, that starting a family was the obvious next step. “Our kids talk about us how I talk about my parents? That our son- our daughter- our little wix. They knew what a love like ours could do.”

Your words hit Barty like a physical blow, and for a moment, he looked utterly stunned. His hands on your waist tightened instinctively, pulling you closer as though the sheer force of your desperation could tether him to the dream you had just dared to voice. 

“Our kids,” He echoed, his voice hoarse and filled with something you couldn’t quite place- something between longing and disbelief. His wide eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the certainty he couldn’t feel within himself. “You really think… that we could have that?”

“I know we could,” You said, your voice trembling but resolute. “But only if you let us. Only if you stop running from it.”

He shook his head, his hands trembling where they gripped you. “You don’t get it, birdie,” He said, his voice breaking. “I’m not… I’m not good like you. Like your parents. I don’t know how to be that kind of person.”

“You think my parents were perfect?” You asked, your voice rising in frustration, shaking. “They weren’t saints, Barty. They argued, they made mistakes- but they never stopped trying. They never stopped fighting for what they believed in, for each other. And you can do that too.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound almost choking on its way out. “You don’t know what you’re asking. My family isn’t like yours, okay? My father only believes in appearances, in power. He’d never accept this- he’d never accept us. And if he found out…” He trailed off, his expression darkening as a shudder ran through him.

“I don’t care about your father,” You said fiercely, your hands cupping his face. “I care about you. And you’re not him, Barty. You’re not your father.”

His eyes closed at your words, as though they hurt to hear. “I don’t know how to believe that,” He admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to be what he wants, and even that’s not enough. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“You don’t have to be,” You said, your thumb brushing softly against his cheek. “You just have to be you. And you have to let yourself believe you deserve more than what he’s made you think you do.”

He opened his eyes then, and for a moment, you saw the cracks in his carefully built walls- the vulnerability he worked so hard to hide. “And what if I can’t?” He whispered. “What if I ruin us?”

“Then we fight through it,” You said, your voice firm even as tears threatened to spill. “We keep trying, just like my parents did. Just like I know we can. You don’t have to be perfect, Barty. You just have to let yourself love me.”

His breath slowed, his hands sliding up your back as he pulled you into a desperate embrace. His head dipped into the crook of your neck, and you felt the wetness of his tears against your skin. “I do love you,” He said, his voice raw. “I love you so much it hurts. It scares the hell out of me, birdie.”

“I know,” You murmured, your hands threading through his hair. “I know, Barty. But love isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be worth it.”

For a moment, you thought he might let himself believe you. His arms around you felt solid, grounding, as though he was holding on to you for dear life. But then, just as quickly, he pulled back, his eyes filled with an anguish that made your chest ache.

“I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve,” he finally muttered, his voice trembling. “And I can’t bear the thought of failing you.”

“You’re not failing me,” You said, reaching for him, but he was already pulling away, retreating back behind the walls he had built to protect himself.

“I am,” He said, his voice cracking as he shook his head. Pushing you back and getting to his feet. “I already am.”

You watched, your heart shattering as he put on his clothes, back to you. Your eyes trailed the path your nails made against his back, your silent claim on him that he always begged you for. “Barty, Barty, please.” You sobbed out and you saw how stiff he grew. “Barty, my love.”

“I hear you, Birdie.” He whispered and buttoned up his shirt. Walking back to the bed, but staying out of reach from you. “Always such a beautiful song.” He whispered before he leaned in and stole a kiss. “I'm sorry.”

“Barty-” You strained and he kissed you again. Over and over until he managed to push you back against the bed.

“I love you Birdie.”

“Barty-”

“But I'm.. I'm not who you need.”

Your heart broke with every word that fell from his lips, each one chipping away at the fragile hope you'd tried to build between you. 

“Don’t do this,” You whispered, your voice trembling as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. “Don’t say that, Barty. Don’t leave me like this.”

He closed his eyes as if shutting out the sight of you would make this easier, though you both knew it wouldn’t. “I have to,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “If I stay, I’ll ruin you. I can’t do that, Birdie. I can’t be the reason you lose everything.”

“You are everything,” You choked out, grabbing his wrist in desperation as he made to pull away. “Can’t you see that? You’re what I choose, Barty. You’re what I want.”

His breath stopped at your words, and for a fleeting moment, you saw the war raging within him. His body was tense, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. But then he shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with a tortured finality.

“You deserve more,” His voice breaking as he leaned in to press one last kiss to your forehead. It lingered, soft and agonizingly final. “You deserve a love that doesn’t hurt like this.”

“I don’t care about perfect,” Your hands clutching at his shirt as though you could physically anchor him to you. “I care about you.”

He pried your hands off of him gently but firmly, his touch reverent even as it was devastating. “And I love you,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But love isn’t always enough.”

You shook your head vehemently, trying to reach for him again, but he stepped back, his retreat like a knife slicing through the air between you. “Barty, please,” You begged, your voice breaking entirely now. “Please don’t do this.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his own tears threatening to spill, but then he turned away, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each step was a battle. 

He paused at the door, his hand on the frame, his back still to you. “You’ll always be my song, Birdie,” He said quietly, the nickname a bittersweet ache on his tongue.

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the room that still smelled of him, your heart breaking in the silence he left behind. The only sound was your sobs, muffled by the pillow you clutched to your chest, the magpie charm pressing cold against your skin- a painful reminder of what you’d just lost.

~~~

You gave a low shaken sigh. Trying to still your shattering heart and gather your voice before it all became too much again. 

You looked up at the mantle above the fireplace, unable to stop the smile that curled on your lips. The photos, of your parents on their wedding day, of James’s first birthday, then yours. Then a photo of Lily and James’s wedding, of Harry’s first birthday- just three months ago. 

You stared at the photographs for a long moment, your fingers tightening around the magpie charm at your neck. The smiles in the photos were so vivid, so full of joy, that it felt almost cruel. Your parents, James, Lily, even baby Harry- they were all looping so present in the frozen moments captured by the camera. Yet here you were, alone in the vast emptiness of the manor, the weight of their absence pressing down on you.

The photo of Harry’s first birthday caught your eye. His tiny hand reaching for the cake, James’s laughing face as Lily leaned in to kiss Harry’s cheek. You could almost hear the sound of their laughter echoing in the back of your mind, a memory you clung to desperately. 

Your lips quirked into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “James would tell me to get up and stop being so dramatic,” You muttered to yourself, shaking your head. “He’d probably say something ridiculous like, ‘You’re a Potter, we don’t mope, we plot.’”

The thought of your brother’s mischievous grin brought a pang of longing. You missed him fiercely- his energy, his unrelenting optimism, and even the way he teased you mercilessly. James had always been your anchor, the one person who could pull you out of your darkest moments. But now he was miles away, hiding with Lily and Harry, fighting a war you couldn’t see but could feel in every corner of your being.

Your gaze drifted back to the fire, the flames dancing and crackling softly. The silence in the room felt deafening again, the weight of your solitude settling back over you. You tried to distract yourself by opening the book on your lap, but the words blurred together, meaningless against the storm of thoughts raging in your mind.

You closed the book with a frustrated sigh, setting it aside as you leaned back against the couch. Your fingers traced the magpie charm absently, your thoughts inevitably returning to him.

Barty.

His name echoed in your mind, and with it came a flood of memories- his rare, boyish smiles that he reserved just for you, the way his green eyes softened when he thought you weren’t looking, the way he held you like you were the only thing tethering him to the world. 

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as the memory of his voice played in your mind:

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, and you quickly wiped it away. Crying wouldn’t bring him back. Crying wouldn’t change the way he’d walked out of your life, no matter how much it hurt. 

But Merlin, did it hurt. 

The knock at the door startled you from your thoughts, the sound sharp and sudden against the heavy silence of the manor. You froze for a moment, your heart leaping to your throat as dread washed over you. The wards. You reminded yourself of the countless layers of protection James and Lily had insisted upon. No one with ill intent could step foot near the manor. Still, it took you a moment to move.

Your fingers tightened around your cardigan as you approached the door, peering cautiously through the window. Relief and confusion mingled as you saw Remus standing there, holding a bundle of flowers and looking chilled down to the bone.

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into a smile, the first genuine one in what felt like weeks. Remus always had that effect on you, with his quiet strength and steady presence. You opened the door without hesitation, the chill of the winter evening brushing against your skin as you pulled him inside.

“Remus!” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him tightly before he could say a word. The flowers in his hands crinkled against your shoulder, and he let out a low, startled chuckle.

“Hello to you too,” He murmured, his arms coming around you after a brief hesitation. His embrace was warm and grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself rest in the safety of his hold. He cradled you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid might break if he squeezed too tightly.

When you finally pulled back, his sharp eyes roamed your face, scanning for any cracks in the mask you hadn’t realized you’d been wearing. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers,” You hummed softly, trying to inject some lightness into your tone as you gestured to the bouquet.

Remus gave a sheepish smile, shrugging slightly. “I thought it might brighten your evening,” he admitted. “But if I’d known the hug was part of the deal, I might’ve come sooner.”

You let out a laugh and furrowed your brow further, unable to help how the cheeky comment brightened up your night that little bit more. “I see Sirius has gotten into you. Come in, let's go to the kitchen.” 

The kitchen glowed softly, the warm light reflecting off the polished wooden counters and copper fixtures. The steady hum of the kettle was a comforting backdrop to the quiet conversation you and Remus shared. You busied yourself preparing tea, your back to him as he leaned against the table, his long limbs relaxed but his eyes watchful.

“You’ve redecorated,” He remarked, gesturing to the new curtains hanging over the window. “I’m not sure the maroon suits the Potters, though. Sirius would call it RavenClaw overkill.”

You smirked over your shoulder, a hint of genuine amusement breaking through the lingering heaviness in your chest. “Sirius would call anything not leather or black an abomination,” you retorted, setting two mismatched mugs on the counter.

Remus chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that filled the room. “Touché. Though I do think the blue adds some warmth. This place could use it.” He glanced around, his expression softening. “It feels different without… everyone.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. The truth of them settled deep in your chest, an ache that had grown all too familiar. “It’s been a bit lonely,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I’m not used to all this space- just me.”

He nodded, his gaze heavy with understanding. “I think they’d hate to see you like this. Especially James. He’d insist on dragging you to some ridiculous Quidditch match to cheer you up.”

You smiled faintly at the thought, a flicker of warmth chasing away the cold for just a moment. “He would,” You agreed. “He’d bribe me with chocolate frogs and promise not to embarrass me in front of the team, only to shout louder than anyone else in the stands. Calling us the seeker twins.”

Remus’s lips quirked into a small smile, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression- something that felt out of place. Nostalgia, yes, but also something deeper, something almost... reverent. His fingers drumming against his cup as he sat down at the table.

“You’ve always been good at making people laugh,” He said softly, his tone different now. His gaze lingered on you in a way that made your fingers hesitate as you poured the tea.

“You give me too much credit,” You hummed lightly, though his words sent a faint blush creeping up your neck. “James is the funny one. I’m just the stubborn one.”

He tilted his head, his smile turning crooked- letting his fingers graze your wrist and fixing your cuff as you poured him his tea. “It's a Potter trait. But I think it’s more than that.”

You turned to face him fully. “What are you getting at, Remus?” You narrowed your eyes, your tone teasing but your curiosity piqued.

He took the mug, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and for a moment, he didn’t reply. He just studied you, his hazel eyes unusually intense. “You’ve always had this way of making people feel seen,” He said finally, his voice softer now. “Like they matter. Even when they don’t think they do.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “That’s… kind of you to say,” You managed, looking down at your tea as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever been particularly good at- ”

“You're selling yourself short, Birdie.” He chuckled. The nickname slipped from his lips so naturally, so casually, that it took you a moment to process. When it hit, your breath caught in your throat, and the air between you seemed to still.

You set your mug down slowly, your mind racing even as you fought to keep your expression calm. You turned back to the sink, gripping the edge tightly to ground yourself. “...What did you just call me?”

Remus stiffened, and you felt his gaze burn into your back. “What do you mean?” He mumbled, his voice suddenly cautious.

You turned around, your heart pounding- only one person called you by that name. “Why are you here?” You crossed your arms, your voice steady despite the storm building in your chest. “And don’t tell me it’s for tea.”

His expression faltered for just a second- just long enough for you to see through the carefully constructed façade. “I’m here because I wanted to see you,” His tone was measured. “To make sure you were all right.”

“No,” You scoffed, shaking your head as the pieces clicked together. “No, you know I'm not a fool.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. “Why are you here, Barty?” 

His eyes widened, and for a moment, the mask slipped entirely. The careful demeanor, the warm smiles, the familiar quirks- it all fell away, replaced by a raw, vulnerable intensity that made your breath stop.

“You always were too clever for your own good,” He muttered, leaning back in his chair with a resigned sigh. “Guess there’s no point pretending now.”

Your chest tightened as the truth settled in. You gave a disbelieving scoff before you ran your fingers through your hair. Pacing slightly before you paused, a scary truth settling over you. “How did you do it?”

Barty rolled his neck and leaned further into his seat to face you again. His expression neutral- the natural arrogant energy coming from him felt horribly wrong coming from Remus’s stolen face. “What exactly, birdie?”

“Don't play coy.” You snapped. “How did you get as piece of Remus for the potion you used to lie your way past my wards and into my home, Crouch?”

“... I hate when you call me Crouch.” Barty's response was almost petulant, his lips twisting into a pout as he sat back in the chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the porcelain mug he had barely touched. He tilted his head to the side, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you, the faintest ghost of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“You always know how to wound me,” He continued softly, his tone a mockery of vulnerability. “But then again, you've always been too good at that, haven't you?”

Your stomach churned at the way he looked at you, like you were something to be admired and consumed all at once. It was too much, too familiar, and yet so far removed from the boy you once knew. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, grounding yourself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

“Answer the question, Barty,” You said sharply, your voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. “How did you do it?”

He sighed dramatically, as though the act of explaining himself was some grand inconvenience. “Remus has always been predictable,” He snarked lazily, his gaze never leaving yours. “He's a creature of habit, like clockwork. It wasn’t exactly difficult to collect what I needed.”

Your blood ran cold at the casual way he spoke about violating the trust of someone you cared for. “You stalked him. You used him,” Your voice trembling with anger. “You used him to get to me.”

He smiled then, a slow, deliberate curl of his lips that sent a shiver down your spine. “I did it for you, Birdie,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed murmur. “For us. You don’t understand how much I’ve missed you, how much I’ve needed you. Every single day without you has been... agony.”

“Agony?” You repeated incredulously, your voice rising as your anger boiled over. “You don’t get to talk to me about agony, Barty. You left. You made that choice, and now you want to waltz back in here, pretending like nothing’s changed?”

“Because nothing has!” He shot back, rising from the chair so suddenly that it scraped against the floor with a harsh screech. He moved toward you, and despite yourself, you took a step back. “You think I stopped loving you? You think I ever stopped thinking about you? Every second, every breath, it’s always been you.”

“Stop,” You said firmly, holding up a hand to keep him at a distance. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz in here, steal someone’s face, and act like you’re some lovesick hero.”

“But I am lovesick,” He said, his voice trembling as he closed the space between you. “I’m sick, Birdie. Sick. You’re the only thing that makes me feel alive, the only thing that’s ever made sense. Don’t you see? I’m here because I love you.”

“Love?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t even know what love is, Barty. Love doesn’t manipulate. It doesn’t lie. It doesn’t use people. Get out.”

His expression switched to one of complete shock. As if he didn't expect to actually be sent away. You turned on your heels and walked down the hall, ignoring the stunned boy for a moment before he began to follow after you, taking a heavy breath. “Baby, birdie, don't walk away. Princess.”

Merlin, you hated to hear that coming from Remus’s mouth. It made your skin crawl.

His voice followed you like a shadow, echoing in the high ceilings of the manor. “Birdie, please,” He pleaded, a mixture of whining and anger that grated against your already frayed nerves. You didn’t turn around, your footsteps quick and determined as you ascended the stairs. “Don’t walk away from me!”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Every part of you screamed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between you and the man who was once everything to you. Your grip tightened on the banister as you climbed, trying to block out the sound of his voice.

“Stop ignoring me!” He shouted, his tone sharp with frustration. He was right behind you now, his steps uneven and frantic. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want to be like this?”

At that, you stopped abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to face him. “Do I think this is easy for you?” You snapped, your voice trembling with barely contained fury. “You’ve made it abundantly clear, Barty, that you’ll do whatever you want- no matter who it hurts.”

He flinched at your words, the rawness of them cutting through his desperation. But instead of backing down, he stepped closer, his expression a twisted mixture of anguish and determination. His face flickered again, the remnants of the Polyjuice Potion struggling to hold as patches of his sandy hair and pale skin replaced Remus’s softer features.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” He said, his voice breaking. “I’m trying to fix this. To fix us.”

“There is no us,” you spat, your hands shaking as you stepped back. “There hasn’t been for a long time. And that was your choice, Barty.”

“No,” he said firmly, his green eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. “You don’t get to put this all on me. You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted to-” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists, his body trembling with barely restrained emotion. “I didn’t have a choice, Birdie. You don’t understand-”

“You’re right,” You interrupted, your voice rising. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand how someone who claimed to love me could leave me to pick up the pieces of a life we built together. I don’t understand how you can come back now, pretending like you didn’t shatter me.”

He took another step forward, his hands outstretched as though reaching for something he couldn’t quite grasp. “Because I had to,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Don’t you see? I had to protect you. From my father, from the world we were in. I-”

“Stop,” you said sharply, holding up a hand to cut him off. “Don’t stand there and pretend you were some kind of martyr. You weren’t protecting me, Barty. You were protecting yourself.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then his shoulders slumped, and the fight seemed to drain out of him. “Maybe I was,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. That I’ve always loved you.”

“Love?” You echoed bitterly, shaking your head. “You call this love? Breaking into my home, stealing someone else’s face, manipulating me into letting you in? That’s not love, Barty. That’s obsession.”

At that, something in him seemed to snap. His entire body tensed, and he closed the space between you in two long strides. “Fine,” he hissed, his voice low and trembling with barely contained anger. “Call it what you want. Call me a monster, call me obsessed- but don’t you dare tell me I don’t love you.”

Before you could respond, his knees buckled, and he sank to the stair landing at your feet, his hands clutching at your covered thighs as though it were a lifeline. His chin pressed against your skirt, looking up at you with those eyes a young girl you knew once spent hours of her time lost in. Those brilliant and calculated eyes. Here he was; Bartemius Crouch Junior, with an ego to rival the gods and the mind and skill to back it up- on his knees. Looking up at you like an obedient dog. “How can I not love you?” He whispered. “Birdie. My beautiful song bird. How?”

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him, his once-imposing figure now crumpled before you, hands gripping your skirt like you were the only tether keeping him from falling apart completely. His words, dripping with desperation, clawed at your resolve. 

“Barty,” You whispered, your voice trembling, a mixture of anger and grief thick in your throat. “You need to leave.”

His eyes shot up at your words, his green eyes wide with disbelief. He stared at you as if you’d just struck him, his lips parting slightly, searching for something to say. “No,” he said softly, his voice unsteady but growing firmer. You watched as the full potion effect dropped away. “I can’t leave. Not like this. Not when I know you still love me.”

You flinched, his words cutting deeper with his true voice, but you didn’t waver. “This isn’t about love,” you said firmly, though your voice cracked. “This is about you not knowing when to let go.”

He rose slowly, his movements deliberate, careful, like a predator trying not to spook its prey. He hovered over you now, his height casting a shadow that made the grand staircase feel suddenly small. His hand reached out, trembling as it moved toward your cheek, and you instinctively stepped back, pressing yourself against the banister.

“Don’t,” You warned, your voice sharp.

His hand froze mid-air, his fingers curling slightly before he dropped it to his side. He exhaled shakily, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. “Birdie, please,” He murmured, his voice barely audible, his lips forming words you couldn’t make out. His shoulders hunched as if the weight of his own need was too much to bear. “Please don’t send me away.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over as you fought to keep your composure. “You don’t get to do this,” You hissed. “You don’t get to break into my home, throw yourself at my feet, and demand I fix you. You’re not my responsibility, Barty. Not anymore.”

His hands twitched at his sides, his jaw clenching as he fought some inner battle you couldn’t see. Then, in a single motion, his hands reached for you again, his movements quick but not violent, desperate but not forceful. Panic surged through you, and before you could think, your hand flew up, striking his cheek with a sharp slap.

The sound echoed in the hollow silence of the staircase. 

He staggered back slightly, his hand flying to his cheek, but instead of anger, a strange expression crossed his face. His lips curved into a slow, almost delirious smile, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just surfaced from drowning. 

“That,” He murmured, his voice rasping with something unhinged, “felt real.”

Your stomach churned, the unease twisting tighter as he stood straighter, his demeanor shifting. His hand dropped from his cheek, and he let out a low, almost relieved laugh, shaking his head. “That’s the Birdie I know,” he said softly, his tone dangerously gentle. “The one who knew what our passion meant- I miss her. Can I talk to her?”

Your chest heaved with the weight of his words, the deranged calmness in his voice sending your heart into overdrive. His smug, unhinged smile made the bile rise in your throat as your fingers curled into fists at your sides. 

“You miss her?” You snapped, your voice sharp and trembling. “The Birdie you claim to miss is the one you destroyed, Barty! She’s the one you left behind when you decided to join them!”

The smile faltered slightly, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something like regret flicker across his face. But it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough to erase what he had done. 

“You made your choice,” you continued, stepping toward him now, your fury overriding the trembling in your hands. “You chose to follow him. You chose to become a monster, to fight against everything I stand for, everything my family stands for. You don’t get to waltz back into my life and pretend none of it happened.”

“I did it for you,” His voice rising, his green eyes blazing as he stepped closer. “Every single thing I’ve done was for you, Birdie! To protect you, to keep you safe, to make sure you’d never have to know what it’s like to be weak. You think I wanted to join them? You think I wanted to-”

“Don’t you dare,” You cut him off, your voice trembling with rage. “Don’t you dare try to make this about me. You didn’t join them for me, Barty. You joined them because you’re too much of a coward to stand up to your father. You wanted power. You wanted to prove to him that you were more then him. But you didn’t care who you hurt along the way, did you?”

He flinched as though you’d struck him again, his jaw tightening as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” He hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t know what it’s like to live with the weight of that name. To have no choice but to-”

“You had a choice!” You screamed, the words tearing from your throat as tears stung your eyes. “You always had a choice, Barty! And you chose them. You chose power. You chose to stand against me, against my family. Against James!”

He froze at that, his eyes wide and his breath hitching as though you’d struck a nerve. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop now, not with everything bubbling to the surface. 

“You think I haven’t thought about you every single day?” You demanded, your voice breaking as tears began to spill freely down your cheeks. “You think I haven’t wondered if there was something I could have done, something I could have said to stop you? To save you?”

“Don’t,” He whispered, his voice trembling now, the bravado in his tone beginning to crack. “Don’t say that.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to say,” You spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “You don’t get to tell me anything anymore. You lost that right the moment you turned your back on me.”

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly as the weight of your words pressed down on him. And then, suddenly, he moved. 

Before you could react, he closed the distance between you in a single stride, his hands gripping your face with a desperation that took your breath away. His lips crashed into yours with a force that stole the air from your lungs, the kiss searing and frantic, as though it was the only way he could express everything he couldn’t say. 

For a moment, you froze, your mind racing as the heat of his mouth overwhelmed your senses. You wanted to shove him away, to scream at him, to remind him of all the reasons this was wrong. But then something in you broke. 

Your hands flew to his chest, not to push him away, but to pull him closer. The kiss deepened, raw and terrifying, a collision of anger, grief, and longing that neither of you could control. His hands slipped from your face to your waist, his grip bruising as he pulled you against him as if he could fuse you together.

The kiss deepened, and soon words no longer mattered. There were no more accusations, no more pleas, just the raw, unfiltered intensity of everything you’d both been holding back for far too long. It wasn’t tender or sweet- it was desperate, filled with the kind of longing and pain that made it impossible to think about anything else. His hands mapped out every inch of you as though he was trying to memorize you, to hold onto something real in a world that had been slipping away from him for years. 

And you let him. You let yourself forget, if only for a moment, what he’d done, what he’d become, and the mess he’d left in his wake. You let yourself feel, because Merlin knew you couldn’t stand the ache of silence anymore.  

It wasn’t long before the tension gave way to something more, something equally terrifying and exhilarating. Clothes were discarded hastily, his lips tracing paths of fire along your skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence of the manor wasn’t suffocating. It was electric.

You didn’t speak a word to each other the entire time. The only sounds being your soft gasps and his inaudible murmurs- ones that sounded more like pleas than anything else. You couldn’t give him more then that. Words would have only reminded you of the impossibility of it all, of everything you’d both lost. Words would have shattered the fragile bubble you’d created, where nothing else mattered but the two of you.  

When it was over, you lay side by side in the fading moonlight, your bodies tangled in the sheets as the world slowly came back into focus. His breathing was uneven, his hand still resting on your waist as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. But you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. You stared at the ceiling instead, your mind a chaotic storm of emotions you weren’t ready to unpack.

~~~

The morning light filtered in through the heavy curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gold and grey. You stirred slightly, the ache in your body a reminder of the night before, but you kept your eyes closed, willing the world- and him- away.  

You heard him moving about, the rustle of fabric as he dressed. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought he might leave quietly, that he might spare you the agony of facing him after everything that had happened. But then he spoke, his voice low and hesitant, as though testing the waters.  

“I’ll come back later.”  

You scoffed softly, rolling over to face the wall, your back to him. You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak without breaking, without letting the storm inside you spill out.  

“Birdie…” His voice was softer now, almost pleading, but you didn’t move. You kept your breathing even, your expression neutral, even as your heart clenched painfully in your chest.  

The air felt heavier as the silence stretched, broken only by the soft creak of the floorboards as Barty lingered by the door. His shadow loomed across the threshold, hesitant, like a ghost caught between staying and vanishing. 

“Birdie.” He whispered, his voice raw and strained, as though dragging each word out of his chest cost him a piece of himself. “One last thing.”

You didn’t respond, your body curled away from him, but he knew you were awake. He always did.

“You have to tell James.” He sighed, the words tumbling out in a quiet rush. “About his Secret Keeper.”

Your breath stopped, but you didn’t move. Every muscle in your body tensed as his words settled over you like frost, cold and unforgiving.

“Barty, what are you talking about?” You finally whispered, your voice hoarse as you turned just enough to glance over your shoulder. He looked so different in the pale morning light, the shadows on his face accentuating the cracks in his armor, the boy you once loved bleeding through the man he had become.

“Just promise me,” He cut you off, his tone suddenly sharper. “You'll.. warn him not to trust them.”

You stared at him, searching his face for answers, but all you found was that same haunted intensity you’d seen last night. He wasn’t lying- at least, not about this. But that didn’t make it any easier to believe. 

“... okay.” You muttered. “I will.”

Barty stared at you like he wanted to say a million different things at once. Instead, he turned, the door closing behind him. You hugged your knees to your chest and willed away as much of reality as possible. Begging for any sense of normalcy to return; even the painful loneliness.

But nothing truly worked.

~~~

As the days went on, the weight of Barty's absence hung over the time that followed like a storm cloud. He hadn’t come back, and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or heartbroken. The last words he’d said lingered with you, haunting your every quiet moment: Tell James. Warn him.

You’d followed through on his warning, albeit reluctantly. It had been difficult to convince James without revealing the entire truth, but the grim look in his eyes had told you he believed you, or at least enough to act. 

Nothing happened at first, but Peter was monitored. It didn't take long for everything to come to light; Peter was working against you. It all worked out. James was ready for him that night, the night he came for Harry, surprising the monster before he could act. Peter tried to run after the news came out, but a furious Sirius tracked him down for a confrontation. One with an explosive end for their former friend, nothing left of the boy but a finger.

It did take a few hours of wrestling with the Aurors, but after being proper witnesses and all of your evidence of treason- Sirius was released. Walking out of the holding cell with a smile that could blunt the sun. Lily and James were safe. Baby Harry, too. Relief and disbelief were all anyone seemed capable of, but you couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate. Not fully. Because in the same breath that the Dark Lord fell, Barty was taken to Azkaban.

You hadn’t dared to ask about the details. Not from James, not from Sirius, not from anyone. Knowing felt like it would only make it worse. But the knowledge of him locked away, cold and alone in a place that stripped people of everything, clawed at your chest in the silence of the manor.

You had lost him all over again, and this time, you knew there was no coming back. 

The days that followed felt like a blur of motion and noise, a sharp contrast to the oppressive stillness that had once consumed you. You refused to let Barty- or the ghost of him that lingered in your mind- define you any longer. He was gone, and you couldn’t afford to let his absence drag you down any further. Not when there was work to be done.

You didn’t go to his hearing. You couldn’t. The idea of sitting in that courtroom, of listening to them talk about him as though he was nothing more than a monster, was too much. It wasn’t that you disagreed. He’d made his choices, and the world would see him for what he’d become. But for you, he was still the boy who had once traced your blemishes like constellations and whispered that you were the only light in his life. 

Even now, looking back, you had always known what that young boy was capable of. The signs were there; and the raking guilt of knowing that you were possibly the only thing keeping him from becoming what he seemed so keen on being, taxed your self worth.

So, you pretended that night didn’t happen. That he didn’t exist. The magpie charm around your neck was tucked away in a drawer, along with the pieces of your heart that still ached for him. You buried it all deep, focusing on what you could control, on what you could fix.

Joining the Order to help clean up the aftermath of the war felt like a natural next step. It was what your parents would have done, what James would have done if he wasn’t busy. Saying he wanted to be a proper father to Harry and a good man to Lily. Lily still stayed close, there wasn't many healers with her talent. But James stepped down. It was what you needed to do. The world hadn’t stopped turning, and there were still Death Eaters to hunt, still innocent people to protect, still so much damage to undo.

The first few missions were grueling, physically and emotionally. You worked long hours, tracking down the last of Voldemort’s loyalists and dismantling the remnants of their operations. It was dangerous, messy work, but you thrived in it. The chaos kept you moving, kept you from lingering too long on the memories that threatened to pull you under.

You found solace in the chaos of the Order. Sirius, always protective, tried to keep a close eye on you, though he seemed to understand your need for space. Remus was steadier, offering quiet support when you needed it most, though you often pushed him away. And James- when he wasn’t with Lily and Harry- was your anchor, his unrelenting optimism a reminder of the person you used to be.

But there were moments, late at night, when the world went quiet, and you couldn’t escape the weight of it all. When you lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, and his voice echoed in your mind. When you caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye that reminded you of him, and your heart clenched painfully before you forced yourself to look away.

And then there were the whispers. The Order didn’t really talk about Barty, he was just another cog in the operation, but you heard the murmurs. About his trial, about Azkaban, about how someone so young and clever could have fallen so far. You kept your head down, pretending not to hear, but the words cut deep.

The recklessness came on slowly at first, creeping into your choices like an insidious shadow. You pushed yourself harder on missions, volunteering for the riskiest tasks, throwing yourself into danger with a desperation that bordered on self-destructive. It was easier to focus on the fight, on the rush of adrenaline and the sharp edge of survival, than to confront the gaping void Barty had left behind.

Sirius and Remus noticed, of course. They weren’t blind to the way you flinched at certain names, or how you worked yourself to exhaustion. Sirius tried to laugh it off at first, making quips about how you were channeling your inner Gryffindor ‘under all that Ravenclaw’. But Remus, ever perceptive, wasn’t fooled. His hazel eyes lingered on you with quiet concern, though he said nothing outright. Not until the mission that changed everything.

It was supposed to be a straightforward raid: infiltrate a suspected Death Eater hideout, gather intel, and get out. But things rarely went as planned. The ambush was swift and brutal, spells ricocheting off walls and sending debris flying. You and Remus were in the thick of it, your wand moving instinctively as you deflected curses and fired back.

Then it happened. A flash of green light, too close, too fast. It was aimed directly at Remus, who had his back turned while shielding a fallen comrade. Without thinking, you moved. You felt the spell hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs as a searing pain ripped through your side. 

You barely registered Remus’s horrified shout as you crumpled to the ground, your vision blurring. The sounds of the battle faded into a dull roar as your consciousness slipped away, the last thing you saw being his anguished face hovering over you.

~~~

Remus paced the length of the ornate carpet, his fingers raking through his hair repeatedly as though he could scrub away the memory of what had happened. Sirius sat slumped on the sofa, uncharacteristically silent, his dark eyes fixed on the fireplace. The flickering flames did nothing to ease the tension in the room.  

Remus’s chest tightened with guilt, each second that passed driving the weight deeper. He could still see it- the flash of green light, the way you had thrown yourself in front of him without hesitation. The moment felt frozen in time, looping endlessly in his mind.  

“Moony, sit down,” Sirius huffed finally, his voice low and hoarse. It was an order, but not a harsh one.  

“I can’t,” Remus replied, his voice taut as a wire. “She- she could’ve-”  

“But she didn’t,” Sirius interrupted, his tone firm. “She’s alive, and Lily is better then any healer we have.”  

Remus halted mid-step, his jaw clenched tightly. “She shouldn’t have had to save me,” he said, his voice cracking. “She- she’s half alive, Sirius. If anything happens to her-”  

Sirius’s gaze darkened, and he stood, crossing the room in a few long strides. He placed a hand on Remus’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “You listen to me,” His eyes were sharp but his voice was steady. “She’s as stubborn as James, maybe more so. There’s no way she’d have stood by and done nothing, and you know it. Blaming yourself won’t change anything.”  

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of the front door opening cut him off. Both men turned toward the entrance just as James entered, his face pale and tense. Harry toddled in after him, clutching his father’s pant leg with wide, curious eyes.  

“Where is she?” James asked immediately, his voice sharp with worry.  

“She’s upstairs,” Sirius said quickly. “Lils’ with her. She hasn't come back down yet.”  

The tension in the room was suffocating, the silence broken only by the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional creak of floorboards as Remus paced. Sirius watched James carefully, noting how his hands trembled ever so slightly as he held Harry close. It was subtle, but for someone as unshakable as James Potter, it was telling.

“I need to go to her,” James said abruptly, his voice sharp and breaking the heavy stillness. He passed Harry to Sirius, who took the toddler without protest, his dark eyes wary. “She’s my sister. She shouldn’t be alone.”

“You can’t,” Sirius said firmly, standing up to meet James’s gaze. “Lily said we need to give her space. She’s working.”

“I don’t care what Lily said!” James snapped, his voice louder now, desperation seeping into his tone. “That’s my little sister lying upstairs, Sirius. If something happens- if she-” He cut himself off, swallowing hard as he fought to steady his breathing. “I can’t just sit here.”

“You think I want to?” Sirius shot back, his voice rising to match James’s. “You think Remus wants to? Merlin, Prongs, we’re all going mad down here, but Lily knows what she’s doing. She’ll call us if- when- there’s news.”

James ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. He knew if anyone could understand even a fraction of what he was feeling it was Sirius- you had endeared yourself to him in a way not many people could. And those people were in this house. “She doesn’t get to keep me from her,” He muttered, his tone dangerously low now. “Not her. Not anyone.”

“James, listen to me,” Sirius snapped, stepping closer, his hand gripping James’s shoulder tightly. “You storming in there isn’t going to help her. It’s not going to help anyone.”

Before James could respond, the sound of light footsteps descending the stairs cut through the room like a knife. All three men turned toward the staircase as Lily appeared, her face pale and her expression unreadable. The sight of her made James freeze, his words dying in his throat. Sirius’s grip on Harry tightened, and Remus stopped pacing entirely.

Lily’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and her eyes darted between the men before finally settling on James. “Can I speak with you alone?” She asked softly, her voice calm but heavy with something that made James’s stomach churn.

“What is it?” He demanded, taking a step toward her. “Lily, just tell me-”

“Please, James,” She interrupted, her voice breaking just slightly as she glanced toward Harry, who was still nestled in Sirius’s arms. “Come with me.”

James hesitated, his body rigid with tension, but the look in Lily’s eyes left no room for argument. He turned back to Sirius and Remus, his jaw clenched tightly. “I’ll be back,” He said, though his voice wavered.

James followed Lily just a few steps into the hallway before she stopped, her back to him as she hesitated. Lily’s words were hushed and inaudible, even to Remus’s keen ears- or maybe, he just wasn't willing to know just yet.

James’s expression shifted from tension to something unreadable, his brows drawing together as he processed Lily’s quiet words. The weight of whatever she had said seemed to hit him all at once, and his jaw went slack, his eyes widening in stunned disbelief.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a quick glance, their concern growing as they watched James stagger back a half step, his hand running through his already disheveled hair. His lips moved as though forming a question, but no sound escaped. Whatever Lily had told him, it had shaken him to his core.

Sirius shifted Harry on his hip, his protective instincts flaring. “What the hell did she just say to him?” He muttered under his breath to Remus, his dark eyes narrowing.

“I don’t know,” Remus replied quietly, his voice tight with unease. James finally looked at Lily, his wide eyes searching hers for confirmation. 

James didn't hesitate after Lily's nod. He took the stairs two at a time, his worry and confusion pressing heavily on his shoulders. His hand gripped the banister tightly as he moved, the wood creaking faintly under his weight. Sirius and Remus exchanged uneasy glances from their spot by the fireplace, the tension thick enough to choke on.  

Lily lingered at the base of the stairs for a moment, watching James's retreating form before turning back to the room. She mustered a soft, reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“She’s fine,” she said quietly, addressing Sirius and Remus.  

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Fine? You call that fine?” He gestured toward the staircase with a sharp nod, where James had disappeared moments before. “Prongs looked like he was about to keel over.”  

“She is,” Lily insisted gently but firmly. “But James.. they just need to talk.”  

Remus frowned, his sharp hazel eyes darting between Lily and the stairs. “If she’s fine, why is he in such a rush? What aren’t you telling us, Lily?”  

Lily hesitated, her smile faltering slightly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not my place to say,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “You’ll have to ask her yourselves when she’s ready.”  

Sirius let out a low growl of frustration, running a hand through his hair. “Great. Love a good mystery. Just what we need after all this.”  

Remus, however, wasn’t so easily placated. His gaze lingered on Lily, his instincts screaming that there was more to the story than she was letting on. But he didn’t press her. Not yet.  

Instead, he leaned back against the arm of the couch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously got James in a state,” he muttered under his breath.  

Lily offered him a small, almost apologetic smile before excusing herself, taking Harry from Sirius, as she headed toward the kitchen, leaving Sirius and Remus to stew in their unease.  

~~~

James reached the door to your room, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he paused to gather himself. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find on the other side. The worry twisting in his chest was relentless, and the weight of Lily’s cryptic words only added to his unease.  

He knocked softly, his knuckles brushing the wood. “It’s me,” He called quietly, his voice trembling slightly. “Can I come in?”  

There was a moment of silence, and then your voice- weak but steady- drifted through the door. “It’s open.”  

James pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes immediately searching for you. You were propped up against a pile of pillows on the bed, your complexion pale but no longer deathly. A soft blanket was draped over your lap, and a steaming mug rested on the nightstand beside you.  

Relief flooded through him at the sight of you awake, but it was quickly tempered by the shadow of exhaustion that lingered in your eyes.  

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.  

You managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Hey, Jamie.”  

He crossed the room in a few strides, pulling the chair closer to your bedside and sinking into it. His hands fidgeted in his lap as he searched for the right words, his gaze flickering between your face and the mug on the nightstand.  

“You scared the hell out of me,” He sighed finally, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You looked down, your fingers picking at the edge of the blanket. “I know. I’m sorry.”  

James shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Don’t apologize,” He said firmly. “Just… talk to me. Please. What’s going on? Lily said you’re fine, but-”  

“Lily’s right,” You cut in gently, meeting his gaze. You were able to see all the true overbearing nature of James Potter. When you were younger his protective nature used to irritate you- he was always on, all the time, brash and loud- a proper lion. Now? You wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and cry. But that's the last thing you could allow yourself to be- weak. “I’m fine, James. Or at least, I will be.”  

He studied you for a long moment, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of concern and doubt. “Lily said.. you needed to tell me something.”

James tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing as he studied your expression. There was something guarded in your eyes, something that made the air between you feel heavier. His concern deepened when you let out a soft, shaky breath and slowly ran your hand over your abdomen.

The motion was small, almost absentminded, but it struck James like a thunderclap. His eyes widened, his lips parting as the realization sank in. For a moment, he was utterly still, his mind racing to catch up with what you’d just silently told him.

“No,” he breathed, the word barely audible as he leaned back in his chair, his face pale with shock. “No.”

You didn’t say anything, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. You simply held his gaze, your fingers resting lightly on your abdomen.

James swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he asked, “Bambi, when?”

The nickname, soft and familiar, broke something inside you. But you held firm, your eyes flickering away from his as you shook your head. “It doesn’t matter,” You whispered, your voice barely above a murmur.

James’s leg began to bounce, his eyes flickering from you to the door a few times before he shot up from his seat and began to pace. “When did you find out?” He demanded sharply, his voice tight with tension.  

“Tonight,” You admitted quietly, your fingers curling around the blanket on your lap.  

James stopped mid-step, spinning on his heel to face you. “Tonight?” He repeated, his voice rising slightly. “And you didn’t think to tell me immediately? Merlin’s sake!”  

You flinched as his voice raised, but you held your ground, meeting his gaze with a calmness you didn’t entirely feel. “I was a little busy almost dying, James,” You hissed, your voice firmer now.  

He opened his mouth to argue but then snapped it shut, his jaw tightening as he resumed pacing. “Fine. Fine,” He muttered, more to himself than to you. “But you’re leaving the Order.”  

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “As if they’d want me back after that stunt,” You shot back. “I’m not exactly in peak condition for fieldwork, am I?”  

James ignored your sarcasm, his hands balling into fists as he continued his relentless pacing. “Good. You shouldn’t be anywhere near this madness,” He said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Not now.”  

Your heart clenched at his words, the overbearing protectiveness you’d come to associate with him hitting harder than ever. But before you could respond, he stopped abruptly, his hazel eyes narrowing as a new thought seemed to strike him.  

“Who is it?” He demanded, his voice sharp and almost accusatory. “Who?”  

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you like a lead blanket. “It doesn’t matter,” You pushed, though your voice wavered slightly.  

James’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he began to pace once more. “Doesn’t matter?” He echoed incredulously, his voice rising. “It absolutely matters, Bambi. You can’t just- Merlin, you can’t drop something like this and expect me not to-” He cut himself off with a growl, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath.  

James's pacing came to an abrupt halt, his hazel eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fall into place. He turned to you, his expression shifting from confusion to a dawning realization that made your stomach drop.  

“The wards,” he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous. “The ones Lily and I put up for you- someone would’ve had to get past them. Someone who knew how to.”  

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as his gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.  

“Who was it, Bambi?” he demanded again, his tone deadly serious now. “Who the hell got past the wards?”  

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice. You looked away, your fingers gripping the blanket tightly as if it could shield you from the weight of his question.  

“Answer me!” James’s voice cracked, a mixture of desperation and anger bleeding into his tone.  

You took a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on the wall as you whispered, “You don’t want to know, James.”  

“That’s not your choice to make,” he shot back, his voice trembling. “Tell me.”  

You finally met his gaze, your eyes brimming with tears as you whispered the name that had haunted you for weeks, for months: “Barty.”  

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your admission hanging heavy in the air. James stared at you, his face a mixture of shock, anger, and something deeper- betrayal.  

“Barty Crouch?” He asked slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak.  

“Barty Crouch Junior?” James pushed and you gave a weak scoff.

“James- yes Junior.” You huffed, your anger boiling over.

James stared at you, his chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping his temper in check. His jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might shatter, but his eyes- those familiar, warm hazel eyes- betrayed the storm inside him. He was angry, yes, but the anger wasn’t directed at you. It wasn’t even directed at Barty. It was directed at himself.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the faint beating of rain against the windows. You could see it, the way his hands trembled slightly as he tried to decide what to say. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

“How long?” He asked, his tone controlled but strained. “How long were you seeing him?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the blanket in your lap. “James-”

“How. Long.” His voice cracked, louder this time, the control slipping for just a moment. He was trying, you knew he was trying, but the weight of everything was too much for even him to hold back.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It started fifth year.” you admitted quietly. “It ended seventh. And he.. he showed up here. He told me about Peter.”

James’s face twisted, and he turned away, his hands dragging through his already-messy hair. He let out a low, frustrated sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Fifth year?” he muttered to himself. “Merlin, Bambi, how did I not see it? How did I-” He cut himself off, pacing again.

You bit your lip, tears stinging your eyes. “James, please-”

“I..” He started but stopped- as if your tears alone tore apart at his flimsy heart. Closing his eyes and taking a steady breath. “So he made it past the wards. He came and told you about Peter and what? You-”

“James please just drop it. He's in Azkaban for life! It doesn't matter.”

James froze mid-step, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as his back remained turned to you. His shoulders heaved with the weight of unspoken words, his frustration palpable in the charged silence that filled the room.

"It doesn't matter?" He finally repeated, his voice low and filled with a quiet, simmering rage. "It doesn't matter?"

You flinched at his tone, gripping the blanket tighter as you tried to steady your breathing. "He's gone, James," you said softly, your voice trembling. "There's nothing left to fight over. There's no point in dragging this out."

James spun around to face you, his hazel eyes blazing with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief. "No point?" He hissed, taking a step closer. "You think I’m angry because of him? Merlin, Bambi, I couldn’t give a damn about Barty Crouch. I’m angry because you didn’t tell me. You’ve been carrying this- this secret- alone, and now you’re trying to push me away again."

"I'm not pushing you away," You shot back, your voice rising slightly. "I'm trying to protect you! You have Lily, Harry- your family. You don't need to be dragged into this mess, James. It’s mine to deal with."

His expression softened for a fraction of a second, but the anger quickly returned. "You’re my family," he said fiercely, his voice breaking slightly. "You always have been. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you face this alone, then you don’t know me at all."

You stared at him, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through your defenses like a blade. Your chest ached, torn between the desire to let him in and the fear of burdening him further. "James, I-" you began, but your voice faltered as tears welled in your eyes.

He closed the distance between you, dropping into the chair beside your bed. His hand found yours, warm and steady despite the tremor in his grip. "Listen to me," he said softly, his tone losing its edge as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. "I don’t care how messy this is. I don’t care how much it hurts. I just care about you."

The dam inside you broke, and a sob escaped your lips as you clung to his hand like a lifeline. "I don’t know how to fix this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to move forward."

James squeezed your hand tightly, his gaze unwavering. "You don’t have to figure it out alone," he said firmly. "We’ll take it one step at a time, together. You hear me, Bambi? You’re not alone in this."

The weight on your chest eased ever so slightly as his words sank in, the overwhelming love and determination in his voice a balm to your fractured soul. You nodded, unable to speak as the tears streamed down your face, and James pulled you into a tight embrace.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to lean on him, to let the walls you’d built around yourself crumble. And as James held you, murmuring reassurances that you would face whatever came next together, you felt the smallest flicker of hope begin to bloom in your chest.

After you recovered, you faced the daunting task of telling Sirius and Remus. Their reactions were nothing like you’d expected. After weeks of being stuffed up in that dingy room.

Sirius, ever the one to surprise you, turned softer than you’d ever seen him. It reminded you of the day Lily announced she was pregnant with Harry. He was standing in the kitchen when you told him, fiddling with a mug of tea. The moment the words left your lips, his eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the mug onto the countertop. 

For a moment, you thought he might pass out, but then his face broke into a beaming smile that almost seemed out of place for the weight of what you’d just told him. “You’re joking,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. When you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly. “Merlin, you’re not joking.”

“I’m sorry,” You began, your voice cracking as the apology spilled from your lips. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I-”

“Stop,” Sirius interrupted, his tone so warm it took you aback. He let go of your shoulders and instead pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever received. “Don’t you dare apologize,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ll be a good mum, do you hear me? A bloody brilliant one.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you clung to him, his words washing over you like a balm. “But Sirius,” you tried again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “The father-”

“I don’t care,” he said firmly, pulling back to look at you. His gray eyes were intense, but not with judgment- only love and determination. “I don’t care who he is, or what he’s done. This baby is going to have the best mum in the world. And they’re going to have me too, whether they like it or not.”

You let out a shaky laugh, his unwavering support lifting some of the weight off your chest. He grinned at you then, that mischievous, boyish grin you thought you’d lost after the war. “Merlin, James is going to lose his mind when he meets them,” He said, his voice laced with humor. “But I’m going to be the favorite uncle, just you wait.”

But then there was Remus.

You found Remus later in the sitting room, a book in his lap, though he wasn’t reading it. His eyes were distant, his fingers absently tracing the edges of the pages. He looked up when you entered, and the small smile he gave you faltered slightly when he caught sight of your expression.

“Remus,” you started hesitantly, sitting down on the sofa across from him. You fidgeted with your hands, unsure of how to begin. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”

He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly. His gaze flickered to your stomach for a moment, then back to your face. His expression was calm, almost amused, but there was a glint of something in his hazel eyes- something knowing.

“I-” you faltered, feeling suddenly uneasy under his gaze. “It’s… it’s important.”

He hummed softly, setting the book down on the armrest. “Go on, then,” He said, his tone light but laced with curiosity. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you.

You took a deep breath, the words caught in your throat. “Remus, I-” You stopped when he lifted a finger to his nose and tapped it lightly, the gesture so quick and casual it took a moment to register.

You frowned, your heart skipping a beat as realization slowly dawned on you. “Remus,” you said again, your voice sharper this time. “You already know.”

His smirk grew slightly, the mischievous tilt of his lips catching you completely off guard. “I might,” he said nonchalantly, leaning back against the couch with an air of smugness. “Though it’s much more fun watching you squirm.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process his words. “How?” You finally managed, your voice a mix of shock and disbelief. “How do you know?”

He shrugged, crossing one ankle over his knee. “It wasn’t hard to figure out,” he said casually, though there was a teasing lilt to his tone. “The scent changed a few days ago.”

“The scent?” You repeated, utterly baffled.

His smirk deepened, and he tapped his nose again, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “Enhanced senses, remember? The subtle shifts, the hormones- it’s all there. Just like Lily. Didn’t think I’d notice?”

You stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You could smell that I was-?”

“Pregnant?” He finished for you, his tone softening slightly. Hearing Remus be the first to break- to finally say the word properly- it brought a smile to your face. “Yes.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning softly as the embarrassment washed over you. “Merlin, Remus, you could’ve said something!”

“And miss this moment?” He teased, leaning forward again. “Not a chance.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only because I care,” he quipped, his smirk turning into a warm smile. He reached out, his hand resting gently on yours. “I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.”

His words melted some of the tension in your chest, and you let out a shaky laugh. “Well, I’m telling you now,” you said softly. “I’m… I’m having a baby.”

His smile grew, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something softer, something warmer. “I know,” he said simply, his voice steady and reassuring. “And you’re going to be amazing.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as his words settled over you, their sincerity hitting you squarely in the chest. “Thank you, Remus,” you whispered.

~~~

Even after everything, it was as smooth as it could possibly be. James, Lily, and Harry all finally packed up from their safe house and moved back into the Potter Manor. 

Sirius and Remus finally stopped torturing everyone and confessed to their little run around of affections. 

The years passed like a dream, each one carrying its own triumphs and heartaches. The war faded into history, though its scars remained etched into the lives of those who survived it. Life moved on, not always neatly, but with a resilience that surprised you.

Sirius and Remus opened a small library nestled on the corner of Diagon Alley and a quiet cobblestone street. It was cozy, with tall shelves of books that seemed to reach the ceiling, a perpetually warm fireplace, and a small reading nook tucked into the back. The name on the window read Padfoot and Moony’s Rare Reads, though it quickly became known simply as “The Den.”

Remus spent his days writing accurate, unbiased Defense Against the Dark Arts books, ones that became staples in Hogwarts classrooms. His name grew to rival even Gilderoy Lockhart’s (though, unlike Lockhart, Remus didn’t need embellishments to sell books). Sirius, of course, claimed full credit for every ounce of their success, though he spent more time charming patrons and hosting wildly popular storytelling nights than actually working.

Your daughter, Ophelia, was the light of your life. She had her fathers eyes- but carried a quiet intensity in her gaze that reminded you of a young girl you once knew. Sirius adored her, and James, ever the doting uncle, took it upon himself to teach her everything he could about Quidditch, much to Lily’s dismay. Harry, now only 6, had taken on a brotherly role, often sneaking her chocolates or helping her catch frogs in the garden when no one was looking.

But it was Remus who seemed to understand Ophelia in ways even you sometimes struggled to. He noticed the way she retreated into her own thoughts, the questions she asked that were far too insightful for her age. He never pushed her, always waiting patiently for her to come to him with her thoughts, her worries, or her triumphs. It was Remus who first noticed how much she loved books, spending hours reading to her in that steady, soothing voice of his.

One quiet afternoon, while Ophelia played on the rug with a stack of enchanted building blocks, you stood at the counter of the library, watching Remus as he worked on editing a draft of his latest book. The sunlight streamed through the windows, catching the streaks of silver in his hair, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” You said softly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Remus looked up from his notes, his hazel eyes warm and curious. “What’s on your mind?”

You stepped closer, your hands resting lightly on the counter. “I wanted to ask if you’d consider being Ophelia’s godfather.”

His expression froze for a moment, his pen hovering above the page. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his face, wide and genuine in a way that made your chest ache with affection. “Are you serious?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Dead serious,” You teased lightly, though your voice trembled with emotion. “She adores you, Remus. And so do I. There’s no one else I’d trust more.”

He set his pen down and rose from his chair, crossing the short distance between you in a few strides. He hesitated for only a moment before pulling you into a tight, warm hug. “It would be an honor,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

~~~

It was late summer, and the warm golden light streaming through the windows of the Potter Manor made the room feel alive, even as you worked through the seemingly endless task of packing Ophelia’s trunk for another school year at Hogwarts. She sat nearby, perched on the edge of the armchair with her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, her head bent over her meticulously written list. 

She was elegant without trying, a quiet sort of grace that seemed inherent in her very being. Even now, as she frowned slightly at the parchment in her hands, the faintest furrow of her brow betrayed her focus; her fingers fiddling with the magpie necklace you gifted her on her eleventh birthday. You couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at your lips as you watched her. She was so much her own person- intelligent, curious, and brimming with quiet determination- but in her moments of focus, you could see glimpses of her father in her too. It made your chest ache with a love so fierce it almost hurt.

“Mum,” She said finally, her voice gentle but tinged with that signature note of exasperation. She didn’t look up from her list as she spoke. “I told you- I need new potion vials. The ones from last year cracked.”

You folded one of her robes carefully and placed it into the trunk, glancing over at her with a soft chuckle. “And I told you, my love,” You hummed, your voice calm and warm, “that you’ll get them when we go to Diagon Alley. Harry and the Weasleys are meeting us there, remember?”

She let out a dramatic sigh, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze. Her sharp, inquisitive eyes- so much like his and yet so uniquely her own- sparkled with that combination of pride and determination that seemed to define her. “I don’t see why I can’t just go by myself,” She challenged, crossing her arms over her chest in that effortlessly regal way of hers. “I’m not a baby, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, the corners of your mouth lifting into a knowing smile. “You’re thirteen,” You countered gently, pausing in your task to give her your full attention. “And while I have no doubt that you could navigate the alley on your own, I’d prefer to keep you in one piece. Humor your mother, will you?”

Ophelia rolled her eyes dramatically, but the faint smile that tugged at her lips betrayed her. “Fine,” she relented, her tone light but tinged with mock indignation. “But only because you insist.”

You laughed softly, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “Thank you, darling,” you murmured, your voice soft with affection. “I don’t know what I’d do without you to keep me on my toes.”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she studied you. “Probably live a very peaceful, boring life,” She sighed in faux aspiration, her words playful but her tone warm. “No dramatic letters about professors or requests for obscure potion ingredients.”

“Don’t forget the long rants about Magic Theory,” You added with a smirk, resuming your task as you carefully folded another one of her robes. “I’d be lost without those.”

Ophelia gave a delicate shrug, her lips curving into a smile that was pure mischief. “Well, someone has to keep you informed,” She said lightly, glancing back down at her list. “You’d be dreadfully out of touch without me.”

“Perish the thought,” You mused, your tone laced with mock horror. But as you reached for another item to pack, you couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in your chest. 

Despite her pride and sharp wit- or perhaps because of it- Ophelia had a heart so full of love and passion that it left you in awe. She was your miracle, your everything, and the reason you had fought so hard to build a life worth living after everything you’d endured. And though she sometimes tested your patience, you wouldn’t trade a single moment with her for the world.

As you worked together in companionable silence, the house around you buzzed faintly with the promise of the day ahead. Soon, the Floo Network would carry her off to join Harry and the Weasleys, and you would meet James and Lily later at the Leaky Cauldron. But for now, in this moment, it was just the two of you, and the quiet love you shared was enough to fill the room with light.

“Ophelia,” You called softly, breaking the silence as you tucked the last item into her trunk. She looked up at you, her expression curious. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

Her sharp features softened instantly, and she set her list aside, crossing the small space between you to wrap her arms around your waist. “Of course I do, Mum,” She murmured, her voice quiet but sure. “And I love you too.”

You held her close, your heart swelling with a love so fierce it threatened to overwhelm you. No matter how many years passed or how independent she became, she would always be your little girl. And in that moment, as the sunlight streamed through the windows and the world felt soft and safe, you were reminded once again of just how lucky you were to have her.

~~~

The cobbled streets of Diagon Alley buzzed with life, the chatter of families mingling with the clink of cauldrons and the rustle of shopping bags. Children darted between storefronts, their excitement infectious, while parents called after them, juggling lists and parcels. But Ophelia paid the lively scene no mind. She moved with purpose, her steps elegant yet determined, weaving through the crowd with a quiet confidence that belied her thirteen years. 

“Honestly, Harry, it’s just a bookstore,” she’d said earlier, rolling her eyes at her cousin’s protests. “I’ll be fine.” Her tone, a perfect blend of exasperation and poise, had left little room for argument. She’d dismissed him with a wave of her hand, her pride unwilling to entertain the notion that she needed an escort for something so trivial.

Now, her prize- a hefty tome on advanced magical theory- was clutched tightly under her arm, its worn leather cover radiating the promise of knowledge. She moved briskly, her dark hair swaying as she navigated the bustling street, her mind already racing ahead to the countless possibilities the book would unlock. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade as she glanced down at the book, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. 

It wasn’t just the content that thrilled her- though the promise of unraveling complex magical concepts certainly did- it was the independence of it all. She’d insisted on going alone, had chosen the book herself, and now, with it safely in hand, she felt a sense of accomplishment she wouldn’t admit to anyone. 

With her head held high and a quiet pride radiating from her, Ophelia turned her steps back toward the group, determined to reunite with Harry and the others before anyone could begin another lecture on responsibility. For now, though, the world felt bright, the possibilities endless, and she relished the brief moment of freedom.

That was when she heard it.

The cheerful hum of Diagon Alley faded into the background as a sharp, panicked cry reached Ophelia's ears. She froze mid-step, her heart skipping a beat as her gaze snapped toward a shadowy alley just ahead. The sound came again, muffled but unmistakably distressed. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the book she carried, and she shifted her weight forward, craning her neck to see.

In the dimness of the alley, two figures stood locked in a tense struggle. The taller one had the smaller pinned against the brick wall, his grip tight around the other’s collar. “You've got nerve, Pettigrew.” The smaller figure’s pale hair fell in messy strands across his face as he squirmed against the hold, his voice trembling. 

“Please,” the blonde figure gasped, desperation lacing every syllable. “I’m sorry! I won’t look for you again. H-he won’t hear of your escape- not from me!”

Ophelia’s breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she took in the scene. The smaller figure’s voice cracked with panic, his pale blue eyes wide and darting frantically. The taller figure, shrouded in shadows, stood silent and imposing, his wand raised. A faint, menacing glow illuminated the tip, the threat unmistakable.

She didn’t think. She didn’t pause. Her wand was in her hand in an instant, and she stepped into the mouth of the alley, her voice cutting through the tense air like a blade.

“Oi! Let him go!” She shouted, her tone sharp and commanding. 

Both figures froze, their heads snapping toward her. The taller man’s wand lowered slightly, his body going rigid with hesitation. The smaller figure twisted his neck, his gaze locking onto hers, and for a fleeting moment, Ophelia saw a flash of something in his pale eyes- hope? Relief?

It didn’t last. 

The blonde man’s lips parted, and before she could speak again, his body jerked unnaturally. The sound of cracking bones and tearing sinew filled the air, a grotesque symphony of transformation. Ophelia’s stomach churned as she watched the man’s form contort, shrinking and twisting. Within seconds, he was gone, replaced by a scruffy, dirt-streaked rat.

“What the- ?” The words barely escaped her lips before the rat lunged forward, its sharp teeth sinking into the taller man’s hand. 

The man let out a hiss of pain, his grip faltering just enough to allow the rat to squirm free. In a blur of motion, it darted down the alley, disappearing into the shadows with a faint, scuttling sound. 

Ophelia stood rooted to the spot, her wand trembling slightly in her grasp. Her wide eyes flicked from the spot where the rat had vanished to the man now turning toward her, his movements deliberate, his frustration radiating like heat. 

As he stepped into the dim light filtering from the street, his features came into view. Sharp, angular lines carved a face that was both striking and unsettling. His dark hair fell messily across his brow, and his green eyes burned with a mixture of irritation and something else- something far more dangerous.

Ophelia squared her shoulders, her heart thundering in her chest but her chin lifting in defiance. She clutched her wand tightly, the poised elegance of her posture belying the unease bubbling beneath the surface. Every lesson her mother had taught her about composure echoed in her mind, steeling her nerves.

“Who do you think you are?” she demanded, her voice cold and cutting. “Picking on someone smaller than you in an alley? How pathetic.”

The man’s lips quirked into something that might have been a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a step closer, his tall frame casting an intimidating shadow. “And who,” he said, his voice low and measured, “do you think you are to interrupt something that doesn’t concern you?”

“I’m the girl who’s about to hex you into next week,” she shot back without missing a beat, her wand steady as she pointed it at his chest. “Back off, or you’ll find out just how much trouble a thirteen-year-old can cause.”

The man hesitated, his head tilting slightly as he studied her. His gaze dropped from her face to her neck, and his sharp eyes narrowed, honing in on the small magpie charm resting just above her collarbone. The faint light caught the delicate metal, and for a moment, his composure faltered.

“That,” he murmured, his voice strained, “isn’t yours.”

Ophelia’s brows furrowed, her hand instinctively rising to the charm. Her fingers brushed over the familiar metal as her mind raced. “What’s it to you?” she retorted, her tone sharp, her grip on her wand unwavering. “It was a gift.”

The man’s jaw tightened, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered across his face- recognition, anger, and a hint of something she couldn’t quite place. “Who gave it to you?” he demanded, his voice rougher now, almost desperate.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she straightened her spine, her wand tip glowing faintly as she met his intensity head-on. “That’s none of your business,” she said firmly. 

He took another step forward, his green eyes blazing with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “I’ll ask you again,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Who gave you that charm?”

Ophelia didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her chin higher, defiance sparking in her gaze. “My mom,” she said clearly, her voice carrying an unmistakable note of pride. Her lips curved into a faint, deliberate smile as she added, “You should know her. I’m a Potter, after all.”

The man froze. His entire body stiffened, his green eyes widening ever so slightly before narrowing again. Something shifted in his expression, a mixture of shock, pain, and anger that he quickly tried to mask. He stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost.

Ophelia arched an eyebrow, her confidence swelling as she saw the cracks in his composure. “Oh,” she said lightly, her tone dripping with mock disappointment, “don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about us. That would be awfully sad- we are war heros.”

The man’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hands twitching at his sides. He took a small step back, his expression unreadable as he muttered, “A Potter.”

“That’s right,” she said evenly, her wand still raised. “And unless you’d like to explain what you’re doing lurking in alleys, I suggest you leave.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and disappeared into the shadows without another word, leaving Ophelia standing in the mouth of the alley, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath.

She glanced down at the charm again, her fingers brushing over its surface. Who was that man? she wondered, a faint chill creeping down her spine. And why did the sight of this charm seem to haunt him so?

~~~

The Leaky Cauldron buzzed with its usual chatter, the comforting scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread drifting through the warm air. You sat at a large table with James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus, laughing at one of Sirius’s over-the-top tales from Hogwarts. The lightness in the room felt like a rare and precious gift, a momentary escape from the shadow of battles fought and sacrifices endured.

The door swung open with a sharp creak, a gust of cool air sweeping in as Harry entered with Ron, Ginny, and Ophelia. Their cheeks were flushed from the bustling streets outside, their movements slightly hurried. Your gaze instinctively fell on Ophelia. 

Something was wrong.

She lingered behind the others, her usual confident stride replaced with hesitant steps. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, as though trying to shield herself from the world. Her sharp features looked drawn, pale, and etched with unease. 

“Oi, there they are!” Sirius called out, raising a hand in greeting. “Took you long enough. Did you stop for ice cream?”

Ron mumbled something about Fred and George dragging them into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but his words barely registered. Your focus stayed fixed on Ophelia as she slipped into the seat beside you. She didn’t look up, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her cloak, her head bowed like she was trying to disappear.

“Ophelia, love,” you said gently, leaning closer to her. “Everything alright?”

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she said nothing. She just sat there, her hand brushing against the magpie charm around her neck. It was a small, almost subconscious motion, but it spoke volumes.

“Yeah,” she murmured after a pause, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “I’m fine.”

You frowned, your worry deepening. She was many things- brilliant, fiery, and determined- but never this quiet. You reached into your bag, pulling out a few Galleons, and slid them toward Harry, Ron, and Ginny. “Why don’t you three grab some ice cream for real this time? My treat.”

The three exchanged uncertain glances, but Ron was the first to shrug and stand. Harry hesitated, his concerned gaze darting toward his cousin, but eventually, he and Ginny followed Ron out of the pub.

The second they were gone, you turned back to Ophelia. “You don’t look fine,” you pressed softly. “What happened?”

Across the table, James and Lily shared a look, their worry mirrored in their expressions. Sirius, his usual joviality replaced with quiet intensity, leaned back in his chair, studying Ophelia closely. Even Remus put down his cup of tea, his sharp gaze focused on her.

Ophelia’s fingers twisted together in her lap, her head ducked low. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

“Ophelia,” you said again, your tone a little firmer this time. “You can tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

For a moment, she stayed quiet, the tension in her shoulders radiating like a pulse. Then, in a gesture so small it almost went unnoticed, she leaned into you. Her head rested against your arm, her nose pressing into the fabric of your sleeve. 

You froze for half a second before wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close. She didn’t cry- Ophelia never cried- but the way she clung to you spoke louder than words.  “Mom.” She muffled against your side. As if recharging her spent bravado and bravery in your arms. “Do we know a Pettigrew?”

[edb954]

HOLY SHHHHH THIS IS GOOD!!

Cat and Mouse

Dark!Dad!Barty Crouch Jr. x Mom!Reader

Wc: ~4k

Summary: The reader can never truly get away Barty, no matter how hard she tries. He'll always find his family.

CW: Dark!Possessive!Barty, AFAB!Reader, reader has a young daughter, themes of control and manipulation, being stalked, break in, a brief moment where the reader thinks her daughter is in danger

AN: Heavily inspired by this fic, 1000% recommend

Your daughter's giggles were always your favorite sound, especially so early in the morning. You could swear by it, it was better than any alarm clock.

Today was no exception. As you crawled out of your bed and got to your feet. You couldn't help but smile, wrapping yourself up in your silk robe and slipping on your slippers, following after the lovely sound to your daughters room. You put your hand on the doorknob and leaned down to bring your ear closer, smiling brighter as you heard her giggles persist.

“Is that funny?” You heard a deep voice coo. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Suddenly, the bright sun of the morning chasing away all the dangers of the night felt like a fool’s tale. The shining walls and work you'd done to get here meant nothing. The summer heat that chased away the night chill did nothing to warm you as the feelings of dread overtook you.

You opened the door, trying to school your expression. Your eyes locked on your daughter who turned and smiled wide at you. “Momma! Momma, Daddy's home!”

She always looked so happy. Whenever he would come back, whenever he would find you, your daughter would look at you with those big delighted eyes. The same ones she shared with the man in front of her. You couldn't help but notice a bit of a breeze crawl up your back, not from the stare of the monster before you, but as you turned to discover, your hall window was open..

You don't know what was more terrifying, the fact he was able to get past your wards or the fact he was able to do it without waking you.

“Yeah, princess. Daddy's home.” Barty gushed to his little girl, finally getting you to turn and face him. His eyes were already locked on yours. His eyes said it all, he was challenging you, to say anything, to deny him, to push him over the edge. You had grown familiar with Barty’s looks.

In Hogwarts, he would use them to keep your quiet, remind you not to let people see you get too close to him, to keep you obedient and complacent in the web he meticulously crafted just for you. The web he still had you trapped in all these years later- you struggled, that's all you could do.

Because what could a muggleborn witch like you do to protect yourself from falling in love with a Crouch? To fall victim to his endless worship of you, just to turn around and scorn your blood in front of the people he craved to impress. It was for your protection, he guaranteed, that Voldemort would make an exception of you. That he knew your soul was destined for him and he would make it clear to everyone else that it was true.

“Darling, I'm just going to speak to mommy for a moment, alright?”

Your daughter pouted, holding up her tea cup and he laughed, waving his wand to show her the same thing you assumed he must have been showing her to make her giggle. His bloody magic. The magic you begged him not to expose her to. It wasn't safe, not for you. Certainly not for your daughter, a stain on his family tree.

When he finished he gave her a kiss to her temple, and ruffled her hair. Standing up and walking across the room to you. Quickly, you turned and grabbed your wand from your pocket. Muttering a quick spell on the window as you passed, on your way to the kitchen.

It was the same routine, everytime he found you. Fix whatever damages had been caused, close the blinds, he would dismiss your daughter so you two could talk. You knew Barty could never bring himself to hurt you, in no world would he let any harm come to you or his little girl, but that didn't mean you didn't fear his anger.

You learned what testing his limits could mean. When the war began and you found out you were pregnant, Barty was ecstatic. He bought a home in the Hogwarts highlands, he used you as his get away. He would fight in a war against who you were and come home to dote on you like you were some god. It worked, at first, you were so blinded by love you didn't stop to think about what he was doing.

It was the friends you had closed out that brought you back to reality. Sirius showed up when he knew Barty would be gone, begging you to see reason. He promised you he and Remus would be there when you came to your senses. It took a few days but eventually you packed a bag. When Barty came home you begged him to leave with you, to either join your friend's side of the war or leave it completely with you.

But Barty, he had a way about him. A way that made you foggy minded and willing to forget yourself for hours. When you woke up in his bed, alone again the next morning, you knew it was time.

You'd spent months on end trying to keep away from him. But no matter where you went, he always found you.

Your daughter's giggles echoed in your mind as you moved through the motions, trying to calm down. The warmth of the morning now felt suffocating, as if the very air had turned against you. Barty’s presence had that effect- stealing the light, replacing it with a cold dread that settled deep in your bones.

In the kitchen, you set your wand down on the counter, your hand shaking slightly. You didn’t bother with tea or the pretense of normalcy. There was no use in trying to act like this was just another visit. He always saw through that.

The sound of his footsteps was deliberate, slow and measured as he entered the kitchen behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was watching you, that smug sense of control radiating from him like a dark cloud.

“You’re getting better at hiding,” Barty said casually, leaning against the doorframe as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t just broken into your home and stolen another morning of peace. “I almost didn’t find you this time.”

You tightened your grip on the counter but didn’t respond. Any words you said now would only fan the flames.

“Still,” He continued, his voice calm but with an edge that made your skin crawl, “you should know better by now. There’s no point in running. Not from me.”

“What do you want, Crouch?” You snapped, your voice sharp but low, desperate to keep your daughter blissfully unaware in her room. Your jaw tightened as your heart raced, every muscle in your body screaming at you to act, to escape, but you knew better.

“Ouch,” Barty murmured, the word drawn out like a mockery of your tone. He gave a low, familiar chuckle that made your skin crawl. “No ‘hello’? No ‘it’s good to see you’? Have I fallen so far in your affections, my love?”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in a smooth stride. Your body stiffened as his hand slid over your arm, slow and deliberate, the other curling around your waist. Even as you resisted, he pulled you firmly back into his chest.

You felt his breath against your neck, warm and slow, the press of his nose grazing your skin as he inhaled deeply. “Still wearing that perfume I like,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though you were lovers reunited instead of prey cornered by a predator.

“Let go of me,” You hissed, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t. Instead, he hummed softly, almost contentedly, as if he had all the time in the world. “You know,” He began, his voice silkier now, “I always miss this when you’re gone. The way you fit so perfectly here-” his hand pressed against your waist, possessive, “-like you were made for me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch his cold, calculating eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” You shot back, forcing as much venom into your words as you could muster. “That this is love? That what you’ve done to me- to us- is anything but a twisted game now?”

Barty’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your waist just enough to remind you of his strength. The smile on his lips faded, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous.

“Careful,” He warned, his voice dropping to a whisper, a quiet menace laced in his tone. “You’re upset. I’ll forgive it this time, but don’t mistake my patience for weakness. I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to lose you now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay still. Reacting would only make things worse. He thrived on control, on watching you squirm under the weight of his presence. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction- not now.

“What do you want?” You asked again, your voice calmer this time, though the ice in your tone was unmistakable.

He tilted his head, a flash of amusement returning to his features. “You. Her. Us. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

“There is no us, Barty,” You said through clenched teeth, daring to step out of his grasp. This time, he let you, though his gaze never left you, sharp and predatory.

“You keep saying that,” He mused, leaning casually against the counter as if he belonged there. Watching as you stayed a foot or so away. As if he was unsatisfied with the distance, he reached forward and pulled you back to him.. “And yet, here we are. You, me, and our perfect little girl.” His smile returned, sinister and self-assured. “I hate fighting with you. You know what?” He mumbled, pressing lazy kisses up from your neck to your cheek. With all your fight you couldn't bring yourself to attempt to push him away again.

Because despite everything, he was still the man you loved more then life sometimes. The only person you'd ever care more for now- was the very person tying you to him.

It was the same game every time. Barty would find you, tearing through the fragile walls of peace you’d built, leaving only fragments of the life you’d tried to carve out without him. He’d remind you of who he was- not just with his suffocating eyes or possessive touches, but with the way he’d command your space, your air, your very existence. He loved you the way a bonfire devours kindling, bright and all-consuming, but he swore you were the creatures he warmed by his flames.

In truth, Barty was a forest fire. Unrelenting, destructive, impossible to escape. He touched every tree but left none standing. He created a cage of danger, an inescapable labyrinth of fear and passion that kept you tethered to him. And you- trapped between wanting to run and wanting to stay- played right into his hands every time.

The moment you found a new place to call home, he would be there, clawing his way back into your life as if he had every right to. He’d paw at you like a man starved, eyes ravenous, hands desperate to feel every inch of you again. He’d spoil your daughter rotten, making her laugh and smile in ways that made you both grateful and bitter all at once. And then, when he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d leave.

Every time. He’d leave.

To fight a war against the very thing he swore to love.

And yet, it wasn’t the war that broke you. It was the time in between- the stolen mornings, the whispered promises, the moments where you allowed yourself to believe he could change.

Because between the fights, between the harsh hands and the soft touches, you would melt. You would dissolve into the girl you once were, blinded by the love you still harbored for the boy he used to be. The boy who worshipped you with a ferocity that made you feel invincible. The boy who told you he would destroy anyone who dared to harm you, even as he slowly became the very thing you feared.

And somehow, in the fleeting moments of quiet, you still loved him.

The realization burned like a curse, hotter and sharper than any spell. Because even now, as you stood in the kitchen with his shadow still lingering in on the counter you clung to- as he continued to trial his lazy kisses across your skin, your heart betrayed you. It clung to the memory of his laugh, his touch, the way he’d hold you like you were his whole world.

Your heart ached with a contradiction you couldn’t reconcile, the tangled knot of love and fear twisting tighter with every lazy kiss Barty trailed along your neck. His lips were soft, familiar, stirring a warmth you hated yourself for feeling. Even as your mind screamed at you to pull away, to fight, to remind him that he had no place here, your body betrayed you, frozen under the weight of his presence.

He whispered something, too low for you to hear, his breath brushing against your ear. It didn’t matter what he said; the words were always the same. Sweet nothings designed to make you forget the darkness he carried, the danger he brought into your life.

Your hands gripped the counter tighter, your knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself. But his voice, his touch, the intoxicating familiarity of him- it was suffocating.

“I miss this,” Barty murmured, his tone deceptively gentle as his hand slid from your waist to rest against your hip. “I miss you.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears threatening to spill to stay where they were. He didn’t deserve them. Not anymore.

“You don’t get to say that,” You whispered, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You don’t get to miss me, Barty. Not after everything you’ve done.”

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Everything I’ve done,” he repeated slowly, as if the words themselves amused him. “Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. For that perfect little girl you gave me- thank you.” He breathed, low and condescending, even as you felt his lips curl into that familiar sweet smile. “Thank you for her.”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, tears finally slipping past your eyes. “You don't get to thank me. How dare you-”

"Momma? Daddy?"

The small voice cut through the tension like a spell, making both of you freeze. Your daughter stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed owl, her eyes wide with curiosity and a touch of worry.

Barty turned first, his entire demeanor softening in an instant. The dangerous glint in his eyes disappeared, replaced by warmth and affection so convincing it made your stomach churn.

"Hey, princess," he cooed, crouching to her level. "What are you doing out here? Didn't I tell you to keep practicing your tea party skills?"

Ophelia tilted her head, looking between the two of you. "You were shouting," she said simply, her tiny voice laced with innocence. "Are you and Mommy mad?"

Your throat tightened, and you struggled to find the words, but Barty was faster.

"Of course not, darling," he said, his tone dripping with sweetness as he reached out to her. She took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to pull her closer. "Mommy and I were just talking about grown-up things. Boring, silly stuff, nothing to worry about."

You wanted to scream. To contradict him.

You hated it. How well he treated her, how much of a father he could be. You knew it had to be some form of healing for him, wanting to give his daughter the father he never had. But it didn’t make it any easier for you to watch. It didn’t make it easier to stomach how easily he could shift from the storm that haunted your nights to the warm, doting father who seemed so perfect in her eyes.

"Mommy?" Ophelia’s voice pulled you back to the present, her wide, curious eyes locked on yours. She had Barty’s eyes, that same piercing gaze that could see straight through you. It was both beautiful and heart breaking, knowing what those eyes had seen before they became hers.

You forced yourself to smile, though it felt as fragile as glass- quickly brushing away your tears in hopes she didn't see them. "No, sweetheart," You cooed, your voice soft but tight. "Mommy and Daddy aren’t mad. Daddy’s just being… silly, as usual."

She giggled, the sound like bells in the tense air. Barty gave her a conspiratorial wink, as if the two of them shared some secret that didn’t include you. It made your skin crawl but your heart throb all the same. This wasn't fair.

"See, angel? Everythings alright.” Barty scooped her up effortlessly, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. His expression softened further, the love in his eyes so genuine it made your heart ache. “Mommy just worries too much sometimes,” He teased with a gentle laugh, brushing a stray curl out of Ophelia’s face. “But you don’t need to worry, do you? Daddy’s here to take care of everything.”

Ophelia rested her head against his shoulder, her small fingers clutching his collar. “Promise?” She asked softly, her innocent trust making your chest tighten.

“I promise,” He replied, his voice warm and soothing. His eyes flicked back to you, the unspoken challenge still lingering beneath his tenderness. “Daddy always keeps his promises, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away, busying yourself with the kettle on the counter. Anything to avoid the sight of them together, to ignore the knot of guilt and helplessness that twisted tighter in your chest with every word.

“Daddy,” Ophelia murmured, her voice muffled as she nuzzled into his neck. “Will you stay this time?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as you gripped the edge of the counter. You dared to glance over your shoulder, catching the way Barty’s expression softened further. For a fleeting moment, there was no malice in his eyes- only love, raw and unfiltered.

“For as long as I can, my little star,” He said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She beamed at him, her giggles filling the room again as he twirled her around, the tension momentarily forgotten. But as you watched, the weight of reality settled heavily on your shoulders. This was the game he always played- pulling you in, wrapping you in the warmth of a family you desperately wanted to protect, only to remind you of how fragile it all was.

“Ophelia,” You called, your voice gentle and thick. “Are you hungry, baby?”

Ophelia perked up at the sound of your voice, turning her head just enough to look at you over Barty’s shoulder. “Yes, Mommy!” She chirped, her stuffed owl clutched tightly in one hand. “Can we have pancakes? The ones with the happy faces?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you stepped toward the pantry. “Of course, sweetheart. Go wash your hands first, okay? And don’t forget to set up your tea party things for later.”

She wriggled out of Barty’s arms with the unbridled energy only a child could have, her little feet padding across the floor as she darted out of the kitchen. Her laughter echoed down the hall, leaving a momentary warmth in its wake that quickly dissipated as you felt Barty’s gaze settle on you again.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with gathering the ingredients for pancakes, focusing on the mundane task like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

“She’s growing up so fast,” Barty murmured, his tone soft but pointed. “Every time I see her, she’s more like you. Stubborn, sharp, and so full of life.”

You bristled at his words but didn’t respond, your hands steady as you set a mixing bowl on the counter.

“But she has my eyes,” He continued, stepping closer, his voice lowering to that dangerous, familiar drawl. “Doesn’t she?”

You slammed the whisk down a little harder than intended, finally turning to face him. “What do you want, Barty?” you demanded a final time, your voice low and sharp. “You’ve played the loving father card. You’ve made your presence known. What’s next? What do you think this is going to accomplish?”

He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk that never quite reached his eyes. “Accomplish?” he echoed, as though the very word amused him. “Oh, love, this isn’t about accomplishing anything. This is about being where I belong. With my family.”

“This isn’t your family,” You shot back, the venom in your voice unmistakable. “You don’t get to waltz in and pretend you belong here, not after everything you’ve done.”

His expression darkened, the playful edge to his smirk hardening into something colder. Then, slowly, he smiled. That same boyish charming smile you always thought to be true. He stepped behind you, running his palms down your arms with a low sigh. “I really do hate fighting you, star.”

His hands slid down your arms, his touch deceptively gentle, but his grip firm enough to remind you of the power he held. You froze as Barty leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"I hate it," he murmured, his voice soft, yet laced with something darker. "I hate how stubborn you are, how you make me work so hard to remind you of what we have."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him, to meet those piercing eyes that could always see straight through you. “What we had,” you corrected coldly, though your voice trembled.

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You can say that as much as you want,” he said, his fingers trailing down your sides to your waist, holding you in place. “But we both know it’s not true. We still have it. You feel it every time I’m near, don’t you? Just like I do.”

“Let go of me,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of his presence. You hated how weak you sounded, how easily he unraveled you.

But Barty didn’t let go. Instead, he turned you to face him, his hands settling on your hips as his stormy eyes bore into yours. "You’ve given me the best gift, love,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze flicked toward the hallway where Ophelia had disappeared. “Her. You. You’re my everything. Both of you. And you know that.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as his words pierced through your defenses. “You don’t get to say that,” you choked out. “You don’t get to act like you’re some devoted father when you’re-” Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip, desperate to hold yourself together. “You’re the reason I had to run. The reason she’s in danger.”

“In danger?” Barty repeated, his voice sharp now, his hands tightening on your hips. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to either of you? Do you really believe I’d let anyone touch my family?”

“You’ve already put us in danger,” you shot back, your anger flaring despite the tears threatening to fall. “Your choices, your loyalty to him- you’ve made us targets, Barty. Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. “Everything I’ve done has been for you,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “For us. I took that mark to protect you. I fought for a place in his world so he wouldn’t touch you or her. Do you know what I’ve sacrificed to keep you safe?”

“You don’t get to use that as an excuse,” you hissed, tears streaming freely now. “You don’t get to justify everything you’ve done by pretending it was for me. You made your choices, Barty. You chose him over me. Over us.”

His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as his grip felt possessive, inescapable. “I chose you,” he insisted, his voice trembling with a rare vulnerability. “Every single time, I chose you. And I’d do it again, star. I’d do anything for you.”

“Then let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Let me live my life. Let me protect her.”

“I can’t do that,” He said, shaking his head as his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re mine. Both of you. And I won’t let you take her- or yourself- away from me again.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the space between you, suffocating and undeniable. You hated how your heart ached at the raw desperation in his voice, how a part of you wanted to believe him, to give in like you always did.

“You always do this,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You make me forget how much I hate you.”

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against your temple in a touch so tender it made your chest ache. “That’s because you don’t hate me, love. You never have. And you never will.”

You wanted to scream, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as your tears soaked into his shirt. “This isn’t fair,” you choked out, your voice muffled against him.

“No,” he agreed, his arms wrapping around you as if to shield you from the very chaos he’d brought into your life. “But I’ll make it right, star. I’ll prove to you that this is where you’re meant to be. Where we’re meant to be.”

And as much as you wanted to fight, as much as you wanted to push him away and reclaim the life you’d fought so hard to build, a part of you- the part that had always belonged to him- knew he was right.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you fought, Barty Crouch Jr. would always find his way back to you.

And you would always let him in.