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middle-of-the-night-rain · 27 days ago

Note

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?”

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middle-of-the-night-rain · 27 days ago

Text

Bags II

sirius black x f!reader ! - 1,459 words masterlist bags masterlist a/n: hello! when this is posted i will be entering my test! test day treat for you all… i did wanna take a moment to thank all of you for ur support and ur kindness, it means so much more to me than u might imagine! i also literally cant believe Bags is finished- this is lowkey such such such a cheesy ending but it made me feel warm... this isn’t the end of bags, don’t fret! i have some bonus chapters planned both pre!bags and post!bags which im excited for… love u guys lots xoxo

Being in love with Sirius Black was the worst thing that could’ve happened to you. It was hell. Moving in with him was a close second on that list.

He was charming, awfully so. With his wolfish grin that made goosebumps crawl on your skin and your legs feel like jelly. Waking up to his shirtless self making you coffee the way you liked it, his head disheveled and unruly from bed, with his hand always on your hips or your waist. Squeezing, or pulling you, rubbing circles on the soft skin, tracing shapes and words. His stupidly soft lips on your neck, small ministrations that made shivers run down your spine and giggles escape your throat.

You thought about this, about him, as you packed your bags. The empty boxes sat in the middle of the lounge and the trunk sat half-full next to the couch.

You would soon be walking out the door with your bags.

You paid the small pang of sadness at the pit of your stomach no mind. It was just nostalgia after all.

You went slowly, unsticking pictures from the walls, making sure there was no sellotape residue as you filed them all into a box. It was a careful process, one that you half aided with a flick of your wand, clothes slowly floating out of your closet halfway across the apartment before folding themselves into the trunk.

Sirius thought about your face as he packed. There was not much else he could think about at this moment. The soft curves of your skin, the full of your cheeks, the way your lips glistened and swole up under the bite of his kiss.

He thought of your laugh as he packed his bags by hand, each item of clothing being folded back in, each shirt, each pair of pants, even the singular sock without a pair. He thought of the way your hair pressed to your face as you slept, of the soft mumbles that left your mouth in the middle of the night, and the way you pressed him closer to you. He took the picture of you off his wall, the sellotape sticking to his finger as he looked at you. He flipped it around-

Darling brushing her teeth, 1st night in #717

He chuckled to himself, you had been so mad after he took this picture. Yelling at him about how disheveled you looked despite the toothpaste in your mouth. You kept laughing as he decided to take more- whilst you yelled at him. He put it up next to his bed after he got it developed.

Sirius always thought you looked gorgeous. He smiled to himself as he finished taking off the small bit of tape on it and put it away in the box with the rest of the pictures. It would go on his new wall no matter what.

He looked around his room. The one he felt as if he had just unpacked into, his home for almost three years. The walls were bare, pictures and posters tucked away in a box for safe transportation, clothes arranged and folded into the trunk next to the couch, his helmet on the kitchen table, and both your keys on the counter.

Soon he’d be walking out the door with his bags.

“Are you ready to go dollface?” Sirius finally popped out of his room, after one final sweep of the flat. The emptiness of the walls made his voice bounce, he smiled brightly.

“Godric yes- help me up” you looked up at him from the floor, extending your hands so he could pull you up. He pulled you swiftly, in one smooth motion you were chest to chest with him.

He pressed a kiss against your lips. Even after months of being together, months of cloying nicknames, and hours cuddled in bed. Months of practically moving into his room, waking up with his hair on your face, or with his face buried between your neck and the pillow. Even after so long, your fingertips still buzzed at his kiss, your skin still reddened at his touch, and a smile never failed to break from your lips as you laid eyes on him.

“Are you ready too?” You asked, breaking the kiss. He let out a whispered yes, the words drowned when he reconnected your lips together. You’d never get tired of it, the way he held you steadily against him, the rush of blood to your cheeks as he playfully bit your bottom lip, the way he trailed kisses down your neck. “Should we go then? Remember we have dinner with our godson tonight-”

“There’s no rush baby-” Sirius said in between kisses. You hummed in agreement, carding your fingers through his hair. It was threatening to go past his shoulders.

“Your hair is getting longer,” you noted

“Don’t you like it?” He bit at the base of your neck and you slapped him with a laugh. He shot his head up from your throat, a naughty smile on his lips like he got caught taking a cookie out of the jar before supper. His arms pulled you impossibly closer, hearts beating against each other, his hands interlinked behind your back.

“I do,” you smiled “I just think Harry might pull it into oblivion- maybe you should put it up tonight”

“Ah yes, my cheeky little godson and his awful tendency to try to make me bald-” you let out a laugh, he couldn't help to laugh too as yours shook through his chest. “He’s on a mission that one”

“I doubt he’ll be very successful with that- you got more hair than I do” You ran your hands through his soft locks again.

“Don’t be jealous sweetheart- I’ll give you all my tips, we can share shampoos now” his face got closer again,

“Not that we weren’t already-” you said rolling your eyes, your noses slightly brushed against each other

“Ah so that's why it seemed to evaporate out of the bottle hm?” his words were soft, almost against your lips, the bow of his lip brushing against yours ever so slightly.

“I fear so-” His hands were steady as they disconnected and roamed, fingers splayed across the small of your back. You sighed against him, a smile evident over your lips that quickly pulled at the corners of his own.

“Stop distracting me Black- we got things to do” you tore away from your boyfriend, a pout jutting out as you left his lips. “None of that- come on,” you pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He groaned out an elongated fine, mocking, and silly as he let you go, hand laying a little pat over your bum.

“Keep your hands to yourself-” he shot you a cheeky smile as he grabbed your hand to leave, his other kept a tight grip on your shared trunk.

It was barely a blink, as the air spit you back out with a soft crackle and pop, and you stood outside the small house in Godric’s Hollow.

“Not bad right?” You turned towards Sirius, a smile on your face as you caught him already looking at you.

“I think the word you’re looking for is perfect doll,” Sirius scoffed, and you hummed in agreement. You couldn’t help the smile that seemed to be perpetually on your lips, he pressed a short kiss against it.

“Here you go love-” he hung the keys from one of his fingers, the small silver dog keychain he gave you after graduation newly attached to it.

He dropped it into the palm of your hand, lips breaking into a wide smile.

You couldn’t help but press another kiss to his lips, chaste and giddy as you thought of your new life together. With one room to share, with one bed to sleep in, bare walls asking to be littered with pictures, books, and a tv that would probably still sit on boxes to watch shitty soaps in. A space asking to be full of your closest friends, of the people nearest to your hearts.

You felt like a real adult, with a house of your own and the closest of friends living down the road with your godson. No jobs and fewer trips on the tube, but with a motorcycle parked out front, and English lavender still on the windowsill. Maybe you didn’t have some stuffy muggle office job, maybe you didn’t dress in crisp slacks or skirts, maybe you didn’t talk with your dad anymore, maybe you would simply spend your days with Sirius. Carefree, still young. Adults now, but somehow still stupid. Very much full of joy.

So you went, walking through the door with your bags.

tags ; @thatlittlered @giuli-in-earth @notsolong-pause @niceonejames7 @caspiankingofnarnia @ilovejamespottersomuch @bmyva1entine @lanadelreykt @froggiedragon @stanzie @theendofthematerialgworl @featherlightfairysworld @plk-18 @coldthinghairdobakery @3sriracha @obixix

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

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middle-of-the-night-rain · 28 days ago

Text

Seducing A Scrooge | Jegulus

“Oh, my sweet girl. What has that madman done to you now?” Regulus cooed, crossing the room to you.

feat. poly!jegulus x reader

SUMMARY: Regulus is having a hard time getting into the Christmas spirit this year, so you and James devise a plot to spread some holiday cheer.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut with zero plot, established relationship, being tied up with Christmas decorations, group sex, praise kink, mix of sweetness and rough-ish stuff, lots of spit swapping, switch!reg and softdom!james

divider by @issysh3ll

“Jamie, this might be overkill,” you mumbled through the ribbon between your teeth.

“Nonsense.” He stuck a present bow to the top of your head. “Unless your uncomfortable,” he amended, wiggling his fingers between the tinsel and your skin to ensure it wasn't wrapped to tightly around you.

You shook your head, your thighs clenching together when he adjusted your position by lifting you by your festive bondage.

“Ah, just impatient?” James teased, setting you a bit more upright against the headboard. He skimmed his cool fingers over his work, the tinsel and lights wrapped around your body in complicated twists and knots, digging into your soft flesh and leaving a dusting of glitter over your skin. “We'll unwrap you soon enough, love,” he hummed, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

“How much longer will he be?” You whined, not in a hurry to be released, but already desperate for your lovers to touch you. James’ slow, deliberate ministrations while tying you up had set your body on fire, which he refused to quell before Regulus could play with you himself.

“Not much longer. Do you need anything while we wait?” He kissed down your neck, illuminated pink by the LED’s, featherlight and teasing. The tight ball of arousal in your stomach tightened further, your clit damn near aching clenched between your thighs.

You let out a soft whimper when he grazed his teeth over your pulse point. “An orgasm?” You ventured, and he chuckled against your skin.

“Sorry, darling. Watching you squirm is far too enjoyable to cut short.” He gave you one last peck on the cheek before rolling off the bed. He waved his wand to light the fireplace and start up some soft Christmas instrumentals on your muggle record player.

If Regulus heard “Jingle Bells” immediately upon entering the cabin, he'd turn straight around.

Your boyfriend, who was tempermental on a good day, seemed to have descended into full Scrooge this holiday season.

You and James had tried everything to infect him with the holiday spirit, from decorating your shared flat floor to ceiling in the gorgeous, vintage-holiday style he preferred, to going on romantic walks to see the lights, all bundled up in heavy coats and scarves. You'd even planned an elaborate date night to see the Nutcracker ballet, with coordinated outfits and a fancy dinner, but he was clearly only indulging your efforts, not actually enjoying the festivities himself.

So, you and James concocted a last ditch effort to raise his spirits, festive or otherwise. And now here you were, done up like a slutty Christmas tree.

Both of your ears perked at the sound of a bell chiming, enchanted to ring whenever one of the three of you arrived home.

James gave you a salacious grin. “Stay here,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before darting out to meet Regulus at the front door.

“Like I have a choice,” you grumbled yourself, shifting slightly and feeling the slick collecting between your legs.

“Welcome home, love,” James said, his voice warm and gentle, and you heard Regulus murmur something in response. Your muscles bunched with tension, and you bit down on the ribbon to stifle any sounds you might make.

“I should have known better than trying to go to the fucking shops two weeks before Christmas,” he grumbled, dropping his things on the dining room table. “Absolute insanity.”

“I can imagine,” James chuckled, and you could hear his arms wrap around Regulus, his coat crinkling against the taller boys chest. “Glad you're home,” James said softly, and your heart swelled.

After a few moments of quiet, you heard Regulus speak again. “Where's y/n? I bought her something.”

You sucked in a breath.

“A Christmas present?” James teased, and Regulus scoffed.

“No, just a regular present.” He rummaged through some bags, and withdrew something that sounded like clothing.

James gave a low whistle, and heat scorched your skin. “Oh, Reg. She'll love that,” he gushed.

“I thought so. Where is she? Over at Remus'?”

“Bedroom,” James replied, casual as could be.

The next second, James was opening the bedroom door and Regulus strode in, a gorgeous, red velvet dress in his hands. He froze when his eyes finally landed on you, widening a fraction before his beautiful face split into a wicked smirk.

“Oh, my sweet girl. What has that madman done to you now?” He cooed, laying the dress on the chair before crossing the room to you.

“It was her idea,” James chuckled, leaning against the doorway.

“Not entirely!” You mumbled around the ribbon, and Regulus’ smile widened.

Regulus’ fingers traced the tinsel over your thighs, over your soaked apex, and up to catch your chin, tilting your face towards him. “This true, darling? Did you two conspire against me?”

Your eyes widened, fixed on his dilating pupils, blackness overtaking the soft green irises. There was something about Regulus that never failed to make your brain shut off, and you found yourself struggling to formulate a response.

“Well, what a lovely little pair of trickster elves you are.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, more a caress than a kiss, leaving your skin tingling in his wake. “And what a pretty Christmas decoration you make.” Regulus pulled back, admiring James’ work, and the way your curves strained against it.

“She was so good while I tied her up. Barely moved a muscle,” James praised, easing himself onto the bed beside you and running hand over your thigh, the muscles jumping at his delicate touch.

Your pussy was practically thrumming with anticipation, their words only amplifying your needy state.

“That so?” Regulus removed his shoes and coat, revealing the tight, black turtleneck and expensive jeans underneath.

You nodded, trying hard not to squirm as James started kneading your flesh with his big hands, slowly inching closer to your center.

“Although,” James hummed, his hand pausing. You held back a strangled whine, your hips flinching closer to his fingers. “She did start to get a little impatient towards the end. Even asked me to get her off before you got home.”

You glared daggers at James, earning a sly smirk.

Regulus tsked. “Jamie, be a dear and hold her still for me.”

Without another word, James stripped his clothing, revealing his tanned, muscular torso and matching cock, already at attention, before climbing into bed. He arranged you both so he was sitting behind you, your head leaned against his chest. His hands settled on your hips, squeezing gently in reassurance as Regulus approached.

“Did James tying you up make you that desperate?” He asked, and you nodded, your heart racing. “You like being at our mercy? Ours to treat however we please?” He dragged the tips of his fingers over your skin, making you shiver against James and forget your words.

“Yes or no, lovey,” James encouraged, his lips against the shell of your ear.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Undo her legs,” Regulus ordered.

Excitement washed through you, and James was quick to literally tear the tinsel off of you, throwing it onto the floor beside the bed while Regulus carefully unwound the lights. Then James tucked his hands under your knees, pulling your legs apart and back towards him, exposing your sodden cunt to the warm air of the room, and the sticky mess you made along your inner thighs.

The stretch felt exquisite after an hour of being locked in place, and a soft moan spilled from your lips.

“Seems our little love really likes to be tied up,” Regulus mused, kneeling on the edge of the bed and shirking his sweater. “Drooling all over my expensive duvet,” he chastised, though his words dripped with approval.

“To be fair, I didn't make it easy on her,” James said, pressing affectionate kisses along your shoulder and neck.

“I'm sure you didn't. You're as insatiable as she is.”

James chuckled, the rumble making your tits bounce, and Regulus’ eyes darkened further. James caught his expression and dragged his hands up your body, cupping your tits, framed by a harness of lights, in his long fingers.

“So fucking pretty,” he hummed, grazing his thumbs over the hardened peaks, making your back bow as pleasure zapped through you.

“Like a piece of art,” Regulus added, lowering his face between your legs, his black curls tickling your thighs.

You fought against the ribbon in your mouth, attempting to dislodge it. James hooked a finger into the knot and unraveled it, freeing you instantly.

“Please, Reggie, please, please touch me,” you whined, knowing how much he loved to hear you beg.

“What do you think, Jamie?” Regulus asked, dragging the tip of his nose along your sensitive skin, breathing you in.

“I think she might combust if you don't,” James snickered, pinching and rolling one of your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. You arched off of him, cursing under your breath as your pussy throbbed.

“Well, we can't have that,” Regulus hummed, his breath ghosting over your slick lips before his tongue laved through you, turning your thoughts to static.

He licked up and down your pussy, skirting around your clit in a wide arc. You melted onto James' embrace, his fingers plucking at your nipples while he mouthed at your throat, sucking marks across your skin.

“Reggie,” you whined, your fingers itching to thread through his hair, to reach back and hold James, but unable to do anything it grip the tinsel that binds them.

You felt Regulus smile against you, and he finally sealed his lips to your clit, nursing softly. You nearly come undone then and there, lifting off James with a cry as sparks flash behind your eyelids.

“So sensitive,” James said, snaking one of his arms around your waist to hold you in place. “He makin’ you feel good, lovey?”

“So f-fucking good,” you moaned, throwing your head back against James shoulder.

“You taste delicious, amour,” Regulus hummed, lapping at the pool of moisture collecting at your entrance. “Sweet as honey.” Regulus sat up briefly, catching James’ chin and kissing him, licking into his mouth. You watched their tongues dance, spit and your slick mixing in their sloppy exchange, James cock pulsing with excitement against your lower back.

Regulus pulled away after a few moments, a string of spit connecting their lips before he lowered himself back between your legs.

“C'mere.” James grabbed your jaw and angled your head towards him, capturing your lips in a simmering, languid kiss, the taste of you and Regulus lingering on his tongue. His licked at your lower lip, sucking it between his teeth to nibble on the tender flesh.

You moaned into his mouth, Regulus’ tongue doing something that made your brain short circuit, pushing you that much closer to your peak.

Regulus made a low hum in his throat. James broke the kiss to look down at him between your legs, his lips swollen and shiny with spit, eyes blown wide with affection.

“Gonna come for him, sweet thing? Shit—you’re trembling, love. Doing so good, Reggie.” James carded his fingers through Regulus' hair, and he leaned into his touch, practically purring with contentment against your sex.

It was so tender, so indulgent, you felt like you were glowing brighter than the Christmas lights, the most delicious heat spilling through you.

Regulus increased his tempo, so eager to make you come on his tongue while James held you together, soothing and loving on you both through the rising tide.

“Oh, god…f-fuck, m’gonna come. Yes, yes, yes!” You cried out as your orgasm rocked through you, electric pleasure frying your fragile nerves, making you twitch and convulse in James’ arms.

“Atta girl. Worth the wait, hm?" James praised, holding you tightly as your body shuddered through it, Regulus lapping up every drop he’d wrung from you, prolonging your release.

“Beautiful, amour,” Regulus purred when you finally settled, peppering kisses up your stomach to kiss you, his face damp from your release, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He turned to kiss James, who dragged his tongue up Regulus' cheek to taste you.

“Switch with me,” James murmured to Regulus, sliding out from under you.

You trembled as you sat up, your body still recovering from that slow burn release, your muscles fatigued from the bondage. Regulus slipped behind you, quickly undoing the tinsel that held your arms so you could move a little more freely.

You moaned in relief as you sagged against him, stretching your arms overhead. He took one of your hands, massaging each finger gently before kissing your knuckles.

You nearly forgot about James, so fixated on Regulus’ attentive touch, until James lifted your hips, shifting you higher onto Regulus’ chest.

“Jamie, what are you—oh fuck,” Regulus loosed a strangled moan, and you felt his half-hard cock slap against your sensitive cunt, suddenly freed from his pants.

James shimmied Regulus’ jeans down his legs, tossing them aside before settling back between your thighs. Gingerly, you removed James’ glasses and set them on the end table before smoothing his curls out of his eyes.

Regulus wrapped his arms around you, one holding your hip, the other cradling your throat. Not applying pressure, just feeling your pulse, your breath, under his fingers. He kissed along your cheek, licking at the shell of your ear.

“You know how much you mean to me?” He murmured, skimming your jaw with his thumb so you looked at him.

“Enough that you'll tolerate our festive shenanigans?” You grinned, pecking his cheek.

“Even more than that,” he hummed, pressing a loose, light as air kiss to your lips. Suddenly, his hips jerked, his teeth nearly knocking into yours. “Fucking hell, Potter—” James’ name fractured into a low groan, and you felt James nose brush your sex as he took Regulus into his mouth.

“Oh-oh,” you moaned when James lifted off Regulus to lick up your slit, his tongue dragging between the two of you. He pressed Regulus’ shaft against your slit, rocking between your slick folds as he began thrusting against James’ mouth, the combined friction making your eyes cross.

“Merlin, so f-fucking good, babe. So wet and warm,” Regulus moaned into the side of your neck, his lips latching onto your skin and sucking.

You weren't sure who he was talking to, but both you and James preened at the approval, James emboldened in his efforts to feast on you both simultaneously.

If anyone could pull off such a sexual feat, it was James Fleamont Potter.

You tightened your grip on James’ hair and reached your other hand up to hold Regulus, sliding your fingers into the damp curls at his nape. The contact kept you grounded while James worked to send your body to the moon.

“I wish you two could see this,” James said after coming up for air, breathless and starry-eyed. “So fuckin’ hot seeing you both dripping.”

Regulus made a whimpering sound in his throat, his hips canting up with a little more insistence.

“Jamie, want him inside me,” you begged, rocking your hips in time with Regulus’ movements.

“Fuck, please, amour,” Regulus' added, and James gave a smug grin, his plan having come to perfect fruition.

It never failed to amaze you how quickly the always-cool Regulus Black would fall apart under your or James' touch. How quickly you could work his Royal Highness into brainless, desperate putty.

Not that you were in any position to talk, James was the only one of you who could keep a level head during sex. Which was why he often was the one to take the lead once you got into it.

You watched James grip Regulus’ cock, stroking him a few times. “Lift your hips, lovey,” he said, and Regulus lifted you for him, gripping your hips . James lined the two of you up, and with a nod, Regulus speared you slowly onto his length.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, his cockhead grazing every delicious inch of your channel before bumping against your cervix, the feeling of fullness wonderfully intense.

Regulus moaned, a string of mumbled french spilling from his lips as your pussy sucked him deeper, soft and pulsing around his rigidity.

“Such a good girl,” James praised, practically drooling from his front row seat. “Taking him so well.” He leaned forward, licking a stripe from Regulus' base to your clit, and you both cried out as a new height of pleasure crescendoed, clinging to one another. You felt Regulus’ cock throb inside of you, his body trembling with the effort of holding still.

“James—” Regulus hissed through his teeth when James did it again, torturing you both.

“Fine, fine. Can you blame me? Prettiest sight I've ever fucking seen,” he said, sitting up and holding his arms out to you. “Come here, darling. Let me help you.”

Regulus eased you up onto your knees and you wrapped your arms around James, his strong arms embracing your waist as you buried your face into his neck. He smelled of sex and his spruce body wash, so very James, and you melted onto his arms, knowing he could bear your weight with ease.

You felt James nod his head, hold tightening, and Regulus snapped his hips upwards, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Oh fuck!” You cried as Regulus pounded up into you, his cock ruthlessly filling you over and over again while James kept you steady. All the sweetness cast aside in desperation.

“Good girl, that's it. Just hold onto me and take it,” James purred, reaching one of his hands down to grope your ass, delivering a stinging slap to the jiggling fat.

“Feel so fucking good,” Regulus growled, his grip on your hips hard enough to bruise. “Petite putain d'allumeuse.”

“Jamie,” you whined, struggling to vocalize the thoughts spilling from your mind while Regulus used your cunt like his personal fleshlight.

“What, lovey?” He cooed, smoothing your hair from your face.

Your mouth hung open, beautifully pink and wet. Begging to be filled.

He grazed his thumb over your lip. “You want something to suck, precious?” He dipped his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly sucked it, eyes fluttering closed. “Ah, thought so.” He stared adoringly down at you, letting you nurse for a moment before removing his hand.

“Lean forward, love,” Regulus directed, his voice rough with exertion, and James stepped off the bed, letting you fall forward off of Regulus' cock. A low growl rumbled through Regulus' as he sat up behind you, his hands gripping your ass and spreading your cheeks. “Seven fucking saints, you're gorgeous.” He dragged his tongue through your sloppy cunt before straightening, lining up his cock once more before filling you back up, hitting a new, toe-curling angle deep inside of you.

“Mmph, Reggie,” you moaned, rocking back against his hips. “So b-big.”

Regulus grabbed the remaining restraints around your torso, forcing you up onto your hands, head forward where you were greeted by James’ pretty cock, flushed pink and dripping pearls. “Open, amour,” he ordered, but your jaw was already dropping, tongue out as you looked up at James through your lashes.

James spit on your tongue, slapping his cock head against it before easing himself into the wet warmth of your mouth. “Fuuuuuuck, love,” he groaned, head falling back on his shoulders as you started to suck him, Regulus’ thrusts forcing you further down James’ shaft. Regulus was manhandling you like a puppet, using the harness of tinsel to slide you up and down his cock.

You head completely emptied then, your body taking over as they fucked you from both ends, dominating every inch of you: mind, body, and soul. The pleasure was overwhelming, winding through every inch of you until it felt like you were cracking apart, your soul spilling out for them to take.

You heard them kissing above you, moaning and growling into each other's mouths like dueling animals, pummeling you between them.

You reached a hand between your legs, your clit begging for stimulation, and you began to rub tight circles over it, moaning around James’ length as your orgasm barreled closer.

“Close, hm?” Regulus purred in your ear, his front pressing against your back, and you nodded around James’ cock, gagging on a particularly deep thrust.

“Merlin, me too,” James groaned, fisting your hair as he fucked your face, sweat gleaming on his muscular chest, his dark hair a wild mess. “Gonna come down that hot little throat—fuck!”

A jet of cum blasted against your tonsils, his cock bucking against your tongue as his orgasm washed over him, his handsome face screwed up in ecstasy.

You greedily swallowed it all, sucking him until he was trembling and crying out, his body going limp as you overstimulated him.

“Your turn,” Regulus growled, speeding up his thrusts until you collapsed onto the bed, a screaming, shaking mess as he forced an orgasm out of you, the brutality of it knocking your soul from your body, splitting your mind in half as the room fell away and you ascended.

Distantly, you felt Regulus come too, his cry broken and loud enough to vibrate your ears as he fucked his spend into your quivering channel.

He collapsed onto you, breathing raged and skin sweaty. Slowly, your brain pieced itself back together, your muscles turned to goo, your skin tingling and sensitive as James rubbed small, soothing circles over your back.

“So good, lovey. You did so well,” you heard James murmur, pressing kisses to your and Regulus’ faces while he undid the last of your bondage.

Regulus curled around you, burying his face into you back of your neck. “I take it all back, I fucking love Christmas,” he mumbled, reaching out to tug James into the cuddle.

“I knew it,” James grinned, pulling your head onto his chest and wrapping an arm around you both, your legs tangled together. He twined his fingers with Regulus’ hand on your hip, guiding them to rest over his thundering heart.

“I think you just love pussy,” you teased, lazily grinding your ass against Regulus.

“That too,” he huffed a laugh, nipping at your earlobe.

“Well, I love you both,” James pressed a kiss to your forehead and brought Regulus’ knuckles to his lips.

“Love you,” you hummed, kissing James’ chest.

“Je t'aime,” Regulus shifted up to kiss James before dropping a kiss to your temple. “And thank you for showing me the true meaning of Christmas.”

“Pussy?” James asked.

“Pussy,” Regulus affirmed, and you snorted a laugh.

Thanks for reading!

763 notes · View notes

middle-of-the-night-rain · 29 days ago

Text

lay me down | r.l., s.b., j.p., & l.e.

pairing(s): poly!marauders + lily x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, sexual and nonsexual intimacy, mentions of war, near death experiences, mentions of child abuse, mentions of scars, talk of death, using potions for pain management, fingering (f receiving), piv, talk of pregnancy, Lily’s pregnant ???, the human need to fuck after a traumatic event, this started as one thing and then took a really weird turn — ends abruptly bc i needed to finish this :/

word count: 8.3k

masterlist

war leaves none untouched

Your hands shook as you smoothed a dittany balm over James’ newest magic induced injury.

Tonight has been a close call. Too close.

Lily was still arguing with the others in the living room, voice pinched and pitchy, eyes lined with livid tears. You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face as if to will away the adrenaline. Things were getting worse.

“Hey,” James caught your other hand, his thumb tracing gentle patterns into your skin. You observed the action with glazed eyes. All you could see was the Death Eater, wand spouting an all too familiar green spark before you were tackling James away from its trail. There’d been so many of them.

So many trying to kill you these past few months it was going to eat you alive. They’d keep coming, and you’d keep fighting, even if it ended with you six feet under.

“We’re alright, sweets. Alive and whole.” You glanced up at his face. Earnest, and worried, with a crinkle between his brows that nearly had you reaching out to smooth it.

“You almost died.”

The words were a broken whisper as they left your lips. His eyes softened further, reaching to pull you into a solid embrace as Lily continued to rant on about recklessness and careless stupidity. Tears burned at your eyes so you squeezed them shut, burying your face in James’ neck.

“I know we made some terrible decisions, but we’re gonna live to see another day, yeah? Promise.” You huffed, responding with a shaky giggle.

“I don’t know, Remus and Sirius might not with the lashing Lily’s giving ‘em.”

He chuckled and squeezed you against him, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You breathed in deeply with the hope of settling your frazzled nerves. James’ scent washed over you, a combination of his favorite cologne and sweat, lulling you into a place of safety you never wanted to leave.

“There you are.”

Lily’s frigid voice drew you away from James. He turned towards her, watching her with a sheepish apology written all over his face. Remus and Sirius ducked into the bedroom behind her, both wincing at her tone. You moved, leaving James and crossing over to the other two, taking stock of any potential injuries. Lily had done a little, though you knew she could’ve done more. Holding your tongue, you grabbed your first aid supplies, motioning for the boys to sit so you could heal their scrapes and cuts.

Sirius’ were minor, a scrape along his left arm and a cut on his right hand, plus a few bruises here and there. You kissed his forehead when you finished, moving on to your tallest partner.

Remus at least had the decency to wince when you started working on his worst injury, though part of that might’ve been his increased sensitivity with the approaching full moon. You gnawed on your inner cheek. His upper left thigh held a deep cut still oozing blood, the skin red and angry around the wound. You slipped into the bathroom, ignoring Lily and James as you passed by them, wetting a fresh rag and returning to clean the offensive gash.

You were used to this. Lily and you were the healers of the bunch, normally passing around the first aid kit like it was your calling, healing and cleaning as you went. Your mouth pressed into a tight line as you worked, a silent, wandless spell already closing up the majority of the injury. A dollop of dittany balm across the now much shallower cut worked like a charm, and soon all that remained was a pinkish scar.

Remus watched you as you went, cleaning any wound and healing it just as fast, goosebumps covering his skin. It took you a few moments to realize that the room had gone silent, and that all of them were looking at you expectantly.

You blinked, mouth twisting into a frown. Remus reached for your hand, a gentle grasp on your wrist as he guided you to the bed next to him.

“Are you alright?” The words were soft as they left him, warm, honey colored eyes seeming to stare into your soul. You drew in a sharp, shaky breath.

“I’m fine. Promise.” There was a weak smile plastered onto your lips that you were sure looked fake, but you couldn’t muster any energy to make it look real. Exhaustion gripped your very bones, and all you wanted to do was take a quick shower and go to sleep.

“You don’t have to pretend-“ Lily was the next to speak, though James was already shaking his head, eyes never leaving you. If there was one person in the room who could pick up on when to press an issue, it was him.

“Come here, sweets.” You finished packing the first aid kit, leaving it on the bed as James tugged you towards the bathroom, the shower already started. The mirror began to fog up, steam rising to the ceiling as you undressed. James followed suit.

You stepped into the shower; time seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. Water rushed over your sore limbs, working better than any spell to ease the tension between your shoulders. You sighed as James entered the shower behind you, warm hands coming up to caress your ribcage.

“‘M tired, James. Tired of having to fight all the time.” He smoothed his hands over your shoulders, simply letting you vent as he lathered up soap and a wash rag before handing it to you. You went silent again, cleaning the dirt and sweat off of your body. A panic had settled into your chest when the war started, and it seemed as though with each passing month, it coiled tighter and tighter around your heart.

“I know.” Those simple words were enough to break the dam you’d been keeping strong. A sob bubbled up from your throat and before you knew it you’d thrown your arms around James and shook in his grasp. He held you close, rocking you through every sob and hiccup as though he could somehow soothe away the fear.

“You’ve been so strong, sweets, let us take care of you.” You sniffed, thankful you were in the shower and not out in the bedroom, where everyone would’ve seen you crying. There was not a part of you that hadn’t held steady since everything went to shit. You’d been the one to comfort, the one to help, the voice of level reason. You haven’t stumbled once.

But the thought of losing James, or any of them?

You would never recover.

He pulled away from you, pressing a watery kiss to your forehead before washing himself. You stepped out from the water to let him rinse off, though your fingers twitched with the need to comfort yourself by touching him. A lopsided grin made its way to his face, though it was obvious to you that he couldn’t see a damn thing. Some part of you warmed at the fact that James couldn’t really see you with his glasses off. Your shower cap and snotty face was not exactly an image you wanted out there.

“I’m gonna go check on the others, okay? Gotta get some food together.” He pulled you towards the warm water again, his fingers running over the skin of your arms.

“Take your time. It’s okay to need support.” He pulled the curtain to the side just enough to pop out onto the bathroom mat and dry himself off. You could already imagine his messy black hair and comfy clothing. An ache settled in you that had you turning off the shower and reaching for a clean towel.

It didn’t take very long for you to get dressed, the lotion you used a birthday gift from Lily that you had taken to rationing for special occasions.

You felt like using it.

It reminded you of a certain redhead, of her signature floral and ink perfumes. You breathed in deeply, willing that ache away. It did you no good.

Instead, you let your mind wonder to other things, like the upcoming full moon. Just four days away, not even a week into December, but you knew Remus was having a hard time this month. He’d been jumpy, sensitive to touch, spent. You hoped that the potion you’d been working on would help, but all it seemed to do was dull the pain. That counted for something.

You didn’t have the energy to deal with your hair, choosing to pull it into a loose ponytail at the base of your neck to deal with tomorrow. James had been kind enough to grab some of your clothes; loose pajamas were slipped over your body and socks pulled into your feet and then you were leaving the safety of being alone. The door swung open soundlessly.

Sirius bounded past you, whatever he’d decided to say muffled as he shut the door and turned on the shower.

You sighed. Briefly, you wondered if this is how Remus felt every full moon: every bit a stranger in his own body, aching from head to toe with skin that felt much too tight. You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself and making your way into the kitchen.

Lily was a whirlwind, putting together a meal of omelettes. James dutifully obeyed each of her commands, but you saw the way they both faltered. They were just as weary as the rest of you. Guilt bubbled in your chest as you turned away, choosing to approach Remus instead. You gently pressed yourself into his side where he was practically laying on the kitchen island. He glanced down at you, eyes bleary but far too seeing for you to handle. You buried your face into his arm. The pressure of your face against his bicep was enough to distract you from the tears that threatened to fall once again.

He cooed, shifting your body until your face was pressed against his chest and a soothing hand ran up and down your back.

The clatter of a plate near you had you startling. James rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, though he made a gesture to the plate.

“Eat up. You need food ‘fore you go to bed.”

You huffed, but reached for the fork he offered you anyway. None of you had eaten since early this morning, and even then it was nothing but granola bars and juice. Merlin, one of you needed to go grocery shopping.

Remus watched you eat like a hawk, making sure you ate every bite. Warmth spread across your face. You’d gotten better about remembering to eat, but they hadn’t forgotten about the mission that nearly ended with you in a casket because you went dizzy.

Lily set a glass of juice down in front of you and paused, hesitancy written across her features. You deflated. “Lily-“

Then she was crushing you, arms wrapped tight around your shoulders as she pulled you from Remus’ side into her, body trembling. Today could’ve ended much differently. If you hadn’t been fast enough, it would’ve been James or you that died. You melted into her touch, her soft body melding into yours until you weren’t sure where you ended and she began.

“I’m sorry.” Almost unrecognizable in tone, and filled with unshed tears, you said the phrase that all five of you hardly ever uttered. There wasn’t much else you could say. You wouldn’t promise to never do it again. If it meant saving them, you’d do it a million times over.

“I love you.” The words made you tighten your grip, burying your face in her neck. She still needed a shower, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. It was Lily: she had been there for you the moment you stepped onto the train to Hogwarts, and she’d be there for you until she drew her last breath.

“I love you too.”

She pulled herself from you, a hand coming up to caress your face. Her eyes searched yours for a moment, and when she seemed content with what she found, she went back to her cooking. Your heart ached at the distance, like a mournful puppy, and you slunk back to Remus’ side. He had no problems tucking you into his arms.

“Mine ready yet?” Sirius bounded in like a burst of energy, loud and eyes sharp. Remus scoffed and nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“Dunno, are you finally done with the bathroom?” Sirius smacked a hand against his chest in mock indignation, eyes opened wide with a teasing look of shock. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you suggesting I spend too long in the shower?” Remus shrugged, lips quirked up in a lazy smirk. Another plate was placed on the island and your now empty one was whisked away, James using magic to keep up with Lily’s demands. Comfortable silence settled, interrupted only by the clatter of pans and silverware.

You sipped on your juice while the others ate, and before long, James was waving a wand to clean and put away the dishes. He pulled you away from Remus, ignoring both of your half-hearted protests. His arms wrapped around your shoulders like a comforting blanket, slowly guiding you back towards one of the bedrooms.

You sighed against him.

With the shut of the door and a, “Sweets, let me take care of you,” James lead you to the bed and tugged on your oversized shirt. You shook your head. His grin turned teasing, his eyes sparkling in the artificial light coming from one of the few lamps still on.

“How dirty minded of you, I didn’t even mean it that way.” You shook your head and laughed, pulling off your trousers to just sleep in your shirt and pants. It didn’t take much for you to settle into bed, eyes closed and breath steady.

“Let me hold you?” Featherlight fingers traced over your bare thigh, but nothing could hide the uncertainty in James’ voice. You peaked over at him, his eyes on you even though his glasses sat on the edge of the bedside table. Something akin to grief tugged at your heart. It took a lot to truly shake up James—you couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked like this.

“James.”

That one word, just his name, was enough for everything to come spilling out. A tidal wave of emotion on an already broken shore. Tears pricked at your eyes again and you inwardly cringed, wondering if perhaps your period was nearly here because there was no other reason for you be crying like this.

“You almost died.” James’ words were spoken with enough intensity that it startled you. Sure, James was often passionate about a great many things, but the fire in his eyes burned differently this time. You knew why.

In just six months, you’d almost been killed on three separate occasions, and that was just you. The others had run ins of their own that nearly went south.

Pain twisted James’ pretty lips, his dark brown eyes as focused on you as they could be.

“You could’ve been killed! And it would’ve been my fault. I chose to follow after them, I put us in danger even after you begged me not-“

You cut him off with a kiss far harsher than you meant it to be. He startled at that, but was quick to use his arm to pull you against him, ruffling the sheets you were laid out on. He remained tense despite it, so you continued, kissing down his prickly chin and neck. He’d complain later when he had to shave.

“It wasn’t just your fault, James. I love you, and I don’t blame you for what happened. Were you the one pointing that wand?” You might’ve murmured the words against the skin of his collarbone, but you pulled away to look at his face once you finished speaking. A faint blush warmed his cheeks and neck, a pretty flush on his brown complexion.

You raised a brow. “Well?”

A shaky breath left his lips and he shook his head, fingers coming to play with the hem of your sleep shirt.

“I love you, James Potter. And I always want you around, ‘kay? You can hold me whenever you like.” He nodded, face even redder than before. You nearly giggled, choosing to instead bury your face in his neck and breathing in deeply. “Goodnight, Prongs.”

You woke up to complete darkness.

Well, not complete darkness, if the moonlight shining in through the curtains had anything to say about it. A sigh left you. At least you’d gotten a couple of hours of rest before your body decided being awake was preferable.

Faint snoring could be heard from the other side of the bed, quiet enough to let you know it was Lily. For a split second, you wondered if she’d let you finally run some tests tomorrow. She’d been complaining about sore breasts and nausea she attributed to a late period and stress, but you weren’t of the same belief. It’s not that you wanted her to be pregnant, you were all still so young, but it was bound to happen eventually.

Better her than you.

You cursed softly at the thought before slowly sitting up, careful not to wake up James or Lily as you eased off the mattress and padded across the hardwood floors. The door hinges were silent as you opened it, and then the door was clicking shut behind you, leaving you alone. You breathed in and out deeply.

Water was first on your list of things to acquire, and you settled into the couch with the glass in your hand and a blanket around you. Your books on different kinds of healing littered the living space (much to James and Lily’s dismay), but you almost always knew exactly where each was. You rolled your shoulders.

The minutes ticked by, your books illuminated by your wand as you studied. It wasn’t unusual to find you hunched over a book, eyes scanning every inch of the page to ensure you remembered the information spread out in front of you. The chapter you were currently reading was about the mental effects of certain spells, and it was engrossing enough that you missed the creak of a door opening down the hall.

“You’re up late.” You jumped, your own hand slapping over your mouth to muffle your yelp. Your heart ached in your chest as adrenaline rushed through your veins. Remus chuckled quietly and settled onto the couch next to you. He stretched, wincing as his bones popped before falling limp on the cushions. You bite at your lip before placing your book on the coffee table, choosing to instead shift closer to him. He let you, honey colored eyes framed by dark circles watching your every move.

“Why’re you up, hm?” You gently laid your head on his shoulder, your entire body pressed to his. He let out a tired sigh, letting his head fall to rest on yours. Every inch of him was rigid, like one wrong move and his bones would snap. You reached over to trace circles along his bare legs, his boxer briefs riding up just enough for you to stroke the edge of a particularly brutal scar on his upper thigh. His muscles flexed underneath your hand.

“James didn’t fucking give me time t’see if you were alright.” There was no animosity coloring his tone, just bitter resignation that had you humming, fingers still tracing over his scars. You understood James’ need to confess his guilt, but you didn’t even utter a word to Sirius before you fell asleep. You ran your tongue across the back of your teeth.

“Are you alright? And Sirius?” Remus nuzzled into your head, the action similar enough to a dog you would’ve normally laughed.

“Jus’ tired.” You nodded, hand coming to a standstill on his leg. Remus shifted, not bothering to hide the pained gasp that built in his throat. You pulled away from him, ignoring his whine, and were already crossing the room when he rasped, “What are you doing?”

You opened the potions cabinet, pulling out the last vial from your tester batch. A hopefully potent pain relief you’d been formulating for months. It glittered in your wand’s light, a beautiful shimmering pale blue. You’d originally tried to make a potion to help Remus’ transformations, but when that hadn’t worked, you’d turned to managing symptoms instead. This was basically meant to be a cure all, and a dropper full allowed you to go without pain for a full 24 hours with no side effects.

“My next batch will be ready to decant tomorrow, so I’m making you take this tonight.” Remus nodded, though you weren’t even sure he’d attempt to argue. It didn’t take away the unsteadiness brought about by the full moon, or the discomfort, but the pain was the worst part so you’d do what you could. You handed over the vial, settling down next to him once again. He pretended not to grimace as he popped the lid off of the glass bottle. The smell of bitter greens wafted towards you but you managed to keep a straight face.

Remus brought the bottle to his lips and tipped it back, nearly gagging at the less than agreeable taste. You patted his shoulder. He discarded the bottle and pulled you back against him, arms wrapped around your upper body. One of his hands rested directly above your heart, thumping beneath his palm like a steady drum. His muscles relaxed as the potion began to work its magic.

“Can’t believe you f’cking did that, ya know? Think I nearly had a damn heart attack when I saw that bloody spell almost hit ya.” His thumb ran over the hem of your shirt, edging over your collarbone. You took his moment of silence as a chance to study him. Messy curly hair that had grown just a tad bit longer than he liked, softer waves turning into tighter ringlets the longer he let it get. A newer scar on his cheekbone to add to the few that spanned across his face. It was only when you met his gaze that you knew he was studying you just the same.

“‘M glad you’re alive, dove.” Affection bled into his words, a far more frequent occurrence as of late. You smiled softly.

“Me too.”

The moon slowly moved across the sky, but the two of you stayed sitting on the couch, wrapped up in the comfort of simply being next to each other. By the time you glanced at the clock, it read a simple 3:48am.

You groaned, choosing to instead move your body to straddle Remus, burying your face in his neck. He breathed a laugh, a large hand coming up to rest on your lower back as you got comfortable. You shimmied closer, ignoring his groan because you knew it had nothing to do with the moon. The potion had been working for nearly two hours now.

“We should go to bed.” He nodded sagely at your statement, though his fingers dug into your skin, pushing you down until your clothed cunt made contact with his half hard erection. Involuntarily, your hips rolled. He hissed. You smiled against his skin, arms wrapped around his torso as you pressed as close to him as possible. He let you, the sensitivity brought on by the moon turning him into something that craved intimacy and softness more than anything. Due to your and Lily’s curves, it wasn’t uncommon for Remus to hold either one of you close, basking in the comfort that you offered.

The week leading up the full moon normally saw an uptick to Remus’ sex drive, but two days before, he’d crash, needing nonsexual physical support instead. Any of you would jump through fire to make sure he got what he needed.

“Want you t’let me fuck you.” His soft voice hit your ears, breathy and hoarse with want. You rolled your hips again, cheek pressed to his collarbone.

“You sure?” He hummed, fingers coming to grip your hips. Nights like this made for lazy sex, nothing frantic or quick like what you’d often found yourself doing at school. You drew away from his chest, face to face. His eyes were half lidded, focused on your movements as though he already knew what you’d say.

You lifted a hand and carded your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered shut as you did so, and you wasted no time in moving in to press your lips to his. His fingers tightened against your skin, the fabric of your sleep shirt bunched in his palms. You smiled against his mouth. Remus sighed against you, melting into your touch as you trailed your fingers from the back of his head down his chest, all the way down until your fingers came to the hem of his t-shirt.

“Take this off f’me?” He was quick to oblige. You couldn’t help the girlish giggle that left your lips at his hasty attempt to remove his shirt. You’d had feelings for Remus the longest out of any of your partners, an innocent schoolgirl crush turned deep infatuation. Now, he called himself one of your husbands, and it sent your heart fluttering. He tossed his shirt onto the floor, not caring where it landed. Your eyes honed in on the small chub of his belly from his slouched position, the scars that lined his torso. He nearly jumped out of his skin when your fingers grazed over his happy trail, a soft groan falling from his mouth.

It took you just a few moments to discard your own shirt, your breasts exposed to the chilly air since you’d forgone wearing a bra to sleep. None of your partners ever made you feel anything less than beautiful, and right now was no exception. Remus’ pupils had blown wide, nearly drowning out their beautiful amber colour, dark with desire as he took in your heavy tits. You’d often complain to Lily about back pain from your larger breasts, and while Remus would never want you hurting, he loved the mounds on your chest more than anything. One of his hands came up to your breast, thumb flicking over your right nipple. Your breath hitched and you pressed further into him.

None of you had had the chance to actually be intimate in the past three weeks. Between missions, brewing potions, and healing people, there was simply no time. Exhaustion had sunk its claws deep into each of you, and none had a chance to escape it.

“Always so pretty f’me, dove, always s’perfect.” Remus’ other hand, the one not preoccupied with your breasts, splayed across your lower back, almost as low as your arse. You arched into him, trapping his hand between each of your chests, though you weren’t sure he minded. He let you grind against him, the two of you in nothing but your undergarments. You ran your hands over his back, his shoulders, his arms, anywhere you could reach, simply wanting to feel him.

Heat pooled in between your thighs, pulsing in time with your heart. Remus looked similarly affected.

“Come ‘ere.” He lifted you off of his lap, ignoring your pout, and began to pull down your panties. They were old, a ratty pair you’d normally wear on your period, but you didn’t care. They’d end up on the floor anyway. You moved your legs to pull them off and deposited them by the foot of the couch, Remus doing the same. His dick slapped against his abdomen, the same brown shade of his skin, though the tip was flushed a deep reddish shade that had your mouth watering.

Remus’ fingers gripped your chin before you could move towards it. Something sparked in his eyes.

“‘M gonna ‘ave to prep you first, dove.” You let your head fall to the side as if disappointed, but Remus was skilled with both his wicked tongue and long fingers. You squirmed and clenched your thighs, desperate for some kind of friction that you were currently deprived of.

He smirked, drawing you to him, lips soft against yours. He cupped your neck and jaw, thumb running atop your cheekbone. You were quick to run your tongue along the seam of his mouth. He parted his lips ever slightly, teasing you as if he believed you’d force them apart. Instead, you drew back your tongue and simply deepened the kiss, forgoing any need to breathe. Remus was all you wanted to know, all you wanted to think about.

He moved, lips trailing from the edge of yours down your jaw, coming to suck on the sweet spot at the junction of your collarbone and neck. Your head fell, baring more of your throat to him. He sucked and nipped as he pleased, and it was only when you were trembling beside him did he gently guide your thighs apart. You shivered in anticipation. Rough fingertips caressed the tender skin of your inner thighs, wandering higher and higher until they were right where you wanted them. You nearly keened as Remus ran his fingers over your lower lips, spreading them apart to thumb at your clit.

“Quiet.”

He chuckled at your near silent whine and buck of your hips, urging him to do something other than tease you. He traced along your slit before dipping just the tip of his middle finger into you, testing your wetness. You hummed, rocking onto it, taking him deeper. He tutted softly, palm grinding against your clit, the roughness enough to send little jolts of pleasure through your body.

It didn’t take long for you to take the entirety of his finger, body jerking as he added his ring finger. He curled his fingers, a quiet, broken moan leaving your lips. He chuckled against your skin. Remus let you ride his fingers, scissoring and curling them expertly until his fingertips grazed some spongy spot inside of you. A strangled gasp echoed through the dark room.

Something tightened in your abdomen, your walls fluttering around Remus’ fingers. He grinned, thumb swiping over your clit in a much more targeted manner. Your hips rolled uncontrollably. Remus kept up with the circling of your bundle of nerves, every inch of your body taut as the coil went tight. He smirked as you gripped his hair and pulled him over to you, a clash of lips and tongue as your orgasm washed over you. Your legs tightened around his arm as you ride out the waves of your orgasm, thighs slick with cum by the time it’s over.

Remus withdrew his fingers with a squelch, immediately sticking them in his mouth and licking them clean. You whined, pussy clenching on nothing as he rearranged himself, turning to sit with his back pressed against the armrest of the couch, the cushions to his left. Your grin was hazy with lust and sleep, but you straddled him all the same.

He gave his dick a few pumps, precum spread along the shaft to help ease any pain. Your eyes hungrily took in the way his fingers looked wrapped around his pretty cock. His hands shook as he aligned himself with your opening.

You whined with sensitivity as he gently guided you into his dick, the head prodding at your entrance. You slowly sink down, pausing every few moments to accommodate the girth of him. Remus’ dick was longer than the others, and fairly large all things considered. It took you ages to get used to the feeling. Your pussy stretched, stuffed full as you rocked your hips to ease any uncomfortable sensation.

Remus hissed as you did so, shallowly thrusting to help you along. Soon enough, you’d taken him completely, bodies flush to each other. You clenched hard around him, relishing in the throaty moan that fell from his lips. His hands palmed at your arse, urging you to still as he gathered himself. You tilted your head forward, forehead pressed against his, noses touching. He tightened his grip on you, arms coming to twine around your waist. The closeness had your heart aching.

A few moments passed before you gave an experimental roll of your hips, Remus responding with a sharp thrust. The two of you found a rhythm, grinding and thrusting against one another in an almost lazy manner, relishing in each other’s touch. Heat spread through your entire body, turning your limbs soft and your mind fuzzy. You pressed another kiss to his lips.

Remus adjusted his arms, letting one of his hands come down to your pussy and swiping across your clit. You shivered against him. Pleasure snaked up your spine as he circled your sensitive clit, his body responding in kind. With every thrust, his balls tightened and throbbed, urging him to spill inside of you. You clenched around him again.

“Fuck, fuck-“

Broken groans and gasps muffled only by locked lips filled the space, along with Remus’ murmurs. You let your head fall to his shoulder, the vibrations of his voice lulling you closer to your orgasm.

“S’good f’me, s’pretty, so tight.” He was babbling, his last word punctuated by a sharp thrust, hitting a spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. You moaned, thighs trembling as something deep inside you knotted and tightened. His thrusts turned sloppy and frantic. You rolled your hips in time with his movements, every swipe across your clit sending you hurtling towards an edge.

Remus’ dick throbbed inside of you, and then you were in free fall, gasping and moaning as your pussy clenched like a vice around him. He grunted, following you in climax. He coated your inner walls, still rocking against you as you both came back down to earth.

You shook, falling limp in his lap. He chuckled wearily, both of you hissing as he slid out, pliable in his arms as he nuzzled into your breasts.

“Moony?”

In your chase of pleasure, the two of you didn’t hear the opening and closing of a bedroom door, nor the padding of bare feet on hardwood floors. You nearly jumped out of Remus’ lap in surprise, your head whipping around to face Sirius. He stood in the entrance to the hallway with messy hair and an amused expression. You settled into Remus’ arms again.

“And what do you two think you’re doing?” You huffed, reaching out a hand and making grabby motions towards your husband. He smiled widely, quiet as he crossed the room and settled beside you. His gray eyes swept over your naked bodies, at the wetness that coated each of your thighs and the glow of your faces.

“Could’ve asked me to join.” The words came out petulant, and if it wasn’t 4am you’d be laughing loudly. You hummed.

“You could join us now?” Sleep lined his face, though it was rapidly leaving as the seconds ticked by and you both remained unclothed next to him. Sirius sighed dramatically before shifting his body to curl up next to the two of you. Remus remained quiet, his thumb tracing circles on your left hip.

“Dunno if ‘m up for it…” You buried your fingers in Remus’ brown hair, peppering kissing along his cheeks and forehead. He scrunched his nose at the affection, though his eyes bled a warmth you knew meant he enjoyed it. Sirius halfheartedly pouted next to you. You tugged on the hair at the nape of Remus’ neck, lips trailing down from his jaw to his bobbing Adam’s apple, ignoring the way Sirius squirmed beside you. Remus panted as you continued your ministrations, skin decorated in a mosaic of rapidly reddening skin.

“Nope, enough. My turn.” Sirius all but dragged you away from his lap, tugging you into him like a child would his favorite toy. You rolled your eyes. He nuzzled into your hair, which by now had turned into a haphazard mess from sleeping and sex.

“I’m glad you’re alive, darling.” You nodded against him, sleep pulling at you more harshly than before. You yawned, choosing instead to burrow into his chest and close your eyes. Sirius ran a hand up and down your back—a soothing tactic he’d learned from Remus.

“Tomorrow?” He murmured against your temple. You snuggled closer to him and hummed, blindly reaching out to grab ahold of Remus’ hand. Warm fingers intertwined with yours and you sighed contently, finally letting your body sleep again.

At some point during the early hours of the morning, one of the boys had wrapped you up in a blanket and moved you to lay down. Sirius curled his long body around yours, one arm draped around your waist to hold you in place. Soft voices rose from the kitchen, leaving you groaning as it pulled you from dreamless oblivion.

“Morning, love.” Gentle fingers grazed over your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You preened at Lily’s soft touch. She giggled quietly. James whispered something to Remus, to which the taller man elbowed him in the ribs. He yelped, huffing laughter filling the room. Sirius groaned, tightening his grip on you and forcing you back into the warm cocoon he’d created for you. Lily clicked her tongue.

“Here.”

She offered one of the longer pillows on the floor and the two of you maneuvered it to replace your body. You grimaced at the state of your body. Neither you nor Remus cleaned up afterwards, leaving your thighs a now crusty mess.

Lily laughed, tossing you your shirt as she sauntered into the kitchen. You padded towards them, all too aware of your bare lower half. Remus smirked at your shyness and ran a finger along the bare skin of your arm, shivers following in its wake.

“So what time do you want to leave?” You glanced at the clock. 11:28am.

By now, the sun had well risen, which meant you’d probably see at least one or two other people at the potions ‘lab’. It truly wasn’t even a lab, originally starting out as a storage room at Headquarters.

“Uh,” you scrunched up your nose. “Give me thirty minutes?”

You didn’t leave until an hour later, Sirius still asleep on the couch and the other two pouring over defensive spells to practice. Lily clasped your hand as the two of you apparated away.

The ground disappeared from under you and suddenly reappeared, shiny hardwood floors replaced with dingy old ones. Lily stumbled a little beside you. You eyed her, her pale face twisted from nausea and tinged a faint green.

“Lily, I actually wanted to ask you something.” Her eyes were wide as she turned to you, though you were already moving across the room and offering her a rubbish bin. She took it, a grateful and sheepish expression on her face, as though she wasn’t sure if she would end up puking or not. Candles lined the space, adding additional light to the small window. You breathed a sigh of relief. The two of you were safe here, and potions were something you understood better than any other.

The walls were lined with used and unused bottles, ingredients in large glass jars, and bubbling cauldrons. Vapor from the potions spilled out along the floor, seeming to wrap around the legs of the tables before dissipating. You hummed as you looked from the potion of pain relief you’d been brewing.

The sound of gagging drew your eyes to Lily, and just a few moments later, she was vomiting into the container. Her eyes watered as she chucked up her breakfast, grimacing at the acidic feeling in her throat. You offered a look of sympathy and a little bag you'd packed just in case something like this happened.

“It’s so gross.”

You can’t help but snort at her dejected words, intentionally ignore her pointed glare.

“Take this.” After pressing a vial into her palm (a stomach soother that had been used by pregnant witches for ages), you begin to gather up all the supplies you’ll need to perform a pregnancy test. You wanted to get this done privately, without the boys hounding you or anyone else noticing.

Lily frowned as you closed and locked the door, motioning for her to take a seat at the large table you’d set up everything on.

“So I have a feeling,” you’d have to broach the topic carefully. A child, in times like these? You were losing a magical war because the Order of the Phoenix refused to fight dirty—not that you would ever say that aloud. But to bring a baby into the world with no certainty that you’d be alive to see them grow? Lily had once mentioned to you that she did want kids. That she’d wanted to be a mother.

You didn’t necessarily share the same sentiment, though you knew the risks of unprotected sex just the same as anyone else. Luck has been on your side up until now.

“I think you’re pregnant.” Time stopped.

Lily’s lips parted and she seemed to be frozen, though the frantic look in her eyes was enough to tell you she hadn’t. You reached across the wooden surface of the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers. She squeezed back, green eyes glazed.

Her cheeks flushed and you moved around the table to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“Are you sure? It could just be stress-“

You raised a brow, motioning to the items before you. There was a chance it was simply a scare. It couldn’t hurt to test it, though the implications threatened to make your heart explode.

“What if…” Her voice was thick with something you couldn’t place.

“It doesn’t matter. It could be a scare, but even if it isn’t, we’ve got time to figure it out.”

Her messy braid bobbed as she nodded, though her face remained dazed. You sighed, running a finger along the shape of her arm. Goosebumps followed your finger but Lily ignored it. With most situations, she’d shake off how she felt and put on a brave face, but a baby was throwing her off more than she must’ve been prepared for.

“Let’s just see, yeah?”

Lily grimaced in discomfort as the two of you apparated back home, trembling with nervous energy. Her free hand and fingers were constantly flexing beside her, eyes still as glazed as they were several hours ago. The only difference now was the way her hand would occasionally drift to her belly, then drop back down as though she was afraid it somehow wasn’t real. You squeezed the hand you were holding, tugging her into you and wrapping your other arm around her shoulders.

“Lils, I’m gonna need you to calm down, yeah? Everything is gonna be fine.” She huffed, but all you could do was grin. Anything was better than the state of shock she’d seemingly gone into. Maybe if you hadn’t been so caught up in the woman before you, you’d have noticed the morose atmosphere of the place you called home.

She squeezed you tighter.

“You promise?” A breath of laughter escaped you before you responded with, “Of course.”

You broke apart, light finally entering her eyes again. A gentle, happy smile crossed her lips. There was movement in another room, but you paid it no mind as you crossed the living room floor, the potion bottles in your bag clinking together. Following a positive pregnancy test, you’d spent much of your time decanting multiple potions while Lily began to brew new ones. She didn’t seem to mind whenever you checked over her work to make sure she did it right.

“James?”

You heard muffled voices down the hall, but it was the lack of response that had you pausing and drawing your wand. Lily did the same.

The two of you pressed forward through the house, apprehension coiling in your gut. Had someone found you all? Were the boys alright? Were they hurt?

You rounded the hallway, entering the only lit bedroom with a resigned face. If they were hurt, or god forbid, dead, what were you going to do? The thought was pushed away as soon as it entered your mind. No, they weren’t dead.

It was the sob that alerted you to something wrong, something that perhaps didn’t involve Death Eaters torturing your husbands. The door swung open to reveal a blotchy faced Sirius, still devastatingly beautiful with his watery grey eyes. James knelt beside him, rubbing a comforting hand on his thigh as Remus half-held him.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

James opened his mouth as if to speak, but was cut off by both Sirius’ glare and voice.

“I’m fine.”

You sighed, pocketing your wand and shooing the boys away. Lily fidgeted, unstable in the emotional whiplash of the last twenty-four hours, and you grabbed James’ arm.

“Lily wants to make a cake. Help her?” He nodded, sending one last distraught look towards his husband before exiting the room with Remus and Lily in tow. You turned back to the raven haired man.

“I thought we promised not to lie to each other anymore.”

He ran a hand over his face, wiping away the tears that streaked down his cheeks. Something lit up in his eyes. A fire you knew well, too well, perhaps. You raised a brow at the anger that rose up within him.

“You weren’t here. Do you have any idea what it was like to wake up after last night and see that you were gone?” Your eyes softened and you moved to sit next to him. He flinched away from you. “I thought I’d made up the whole thing, thought maybe you’d actually died and I had fooled myself into thinking you were real.”

“‘M right here, Siri. I’m alive, and breathing.” He shook his head, shaggy curls frantically moving as he did so. Each of you deserved better than this, you thought. None of it was fair.

“You almost weren’t.” You nodded. Nothing you could say would change the fact that you jumped into harm’s way to protect James. You’d do it again in a heartbeat, though you knew for a fact they would hate to hear that. Sirius picked at the skin by his nails, prying at already inflamed and tender skin.

“Love,” you wrapped a hand over Sirius’ trembling fingers. His expression continued to flash between anger and distress, tears lining his eyes. He kept his gaze on your joined hands. Pots and pans were clinking in the kitchen, punctuated occasionally by Remus’ soft laughter. You glanced out the open door.

“You can be as angry as you want with me, but you’re not allowed to push me away.”

He leaned his head back, swallowing hard. Silence stretched. You let it, focusing on the steady drum on your heartbeat and breath. Sirius fell into your breathing pattern.

With a low, hoarse whisper, Sirius turned to you. “I can’t lose any of you.”

You sighed, opening your arms and drawing him close. He pressed his face into your neck, cold nose pressing against your warm skin. You hummed and threaded your fingers through his hair.

“I promise to do what I can to keep myself alive.”

As you attempted to move, he gripped onto your coat, fingers tight on the dark wool blend. It proved a struggle to get up with him latched onto you, but you managed. The two of you shuffled down the hall towards the kitchen. Remus had pushed James away in favor of helping Lily mix up the ingredients, bumping hips every few minutes and exchanging soft smiles. James pouted off to the side, likely exiled due to his overeager attitude towards anything kitchen related.

Nearly all the prep work had been done already, and you shared a knowing look with Lily. Leftovers from the day before would be eaten tonight, finished off with a cake you’d decorate to let the boys know they’d be fathers. Lily seemed infatuated with the idea, and after convincing you she insisted on using blue frosting in the middle. You sighed against Sirius, leaning into his body. The great thing about magic was you were able to see what the sex of the baby was far earlier. Lily’s gasp and subsequent teary eyes had you agreeing to just about anything.

You discarded your coat along with your bag of potion vials, gently tossing it over the side of James’ favorite armchair, shuffling next to the man. Sirius remained by you, clinging to your form. James wrapped an arm over your shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You buried your face into his chest. The three of you stayed there, wrapped up in each other, as Remus and Lily finished stirring the box cake mixture and poured it into the pan. Remus dropped it gently back into the counter, hoping to remove any bubbles. The oven’s soft beep let you know that it was ready. Your heart turned gooey warm and soft at the sight of Remus putting the cake into the oven and turning to wrap his arms around Lily.

“Heat up the food, would you?” Lily directed the request towards your trio, settling into Remus’ warmth. Sirius huffed beside you. He complied with little complaints, exhausted from the day he’d had. You melted further into James’ side.

Dinner was a quiet affair.

The lot of you spent most of your time actually enjoying the food you’d previously rushed through eating, comfortable silence broken only by the quiet noise coming from the radio. At some point, Remus got up to take the cake out of the oven, setting it on a hot pad to cool.

You glanced at Lily as James asked, “How were the potions?”

She paused, taking a sip of water as her green eyes flickered between the both of you. You sighed.

“It was fine. I got my next batch of pain killers bottled.” James nodded along. Sirius narrowed his eyes at Lily before looking at you expectantly. You shrugged, choosing to get up to check on the cake. You patted Remus’ shoulder as you went. “Anyone fancy a cuppa?”

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