#Harry Potter fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marauroon · 3 days ago

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𝟏 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟎𝟎 — 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃-𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 (𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐡-𝐬𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐭).

there’s always a few hours where you live in blissful ignorance on your return to hogwarts. it never lasts.

eventual james x fem!reader | 2.7k | series masterlist.

main masterlist.

CW | the marauders suck (it won’t last forever dw) and they bully people bc ofc they do, james is so annoying in this

The Hogwarts Express was packed as always, the air thick with the mingling scents of pasties, fresh parchment, and the damp wool of students’ robes.

You had barely set foot on the train before you were dragged into a compartment with Lily, who was already complaining about the boys.

“They’re insufferable,” she huffed, arms crossed. “I saw them at the station, and James was acting like he’d come back from summer with some grand revelation about himself,”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh no. What is it this time? A new Quidditch move? A newfound respect for the rules?”

Lily snorted. “Worse. He’s taller now,”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she said grimly. “And he won’t shut up about it.”

You shrugged. “How bad can it be?”

Lily gave you a look that told you everything you needed to know.

—

By the time you arrived at the castle and made your way into the Great Hall, it became painfully clear that she hadn’t been exaggerating.

James Potter was tall now, and he was making it everyone’s problem.

From the moment he stepped into the hall, he was on a mission. He strode over to the Gryffindor table like a man on a mission, and before Remus could sit down, James was pressing against him shoulder to shoulder. “Oi, Remus, hang on,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “Did you shrink over the summer?”

Remus didn’t even look up as he took his seat. “No, James,”

James leaned in, mock serious. “You sure? Because I swear you were at least this tall last term,” He held his hand up next to Remus’s head, shifting it ever so slightly higher than necessary.

Remus sighed and turned to Sirius. “Are we humouring this?”

Sirius, lounging in his seat, smirked. “Absolutely not. Don’t give him the satisfaction,”

James, undeterred, moved on to Peter. “Pete, my good man,” he said cheerfully, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “How’s the weather down there?”

Peter swatted him off. “You’re barely taller than me!”

“But I am taller,” James pointed out, practically buzzing with energy. “And that’s what matters,”

It didn’t take long for his newfound height to become the central theme of his personality. It was as if, over the course of one summer, he had discovered his life’s purpose: to loom over everyone who was even an inch shorter than him and let them know it.

And it wasn’t just his own friends he tormented. No, James was equal opportunity about it.

Throughout the first week, you saw him standing next to anyone and everyone, sizing them up with exaggerated curiosity. “Ah,” he would announce, stepping back and rubbing his chin as if making a great discovery. “Short. Tragic,”

Some people laughed. Others rolled their eyes. A few, like Severus, scowled and stalked away, though that only seemed to amuse James more.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter suffered the worst of it.

“You know this is just going to encourage him, right?” Remus muttered after Sirius nearly punched James for his latest “short people” joke.

“I don’t care,” Sirius growled, rubbing his temples. “I’ll break his stupid tall nose,”

James, now leaning casually against the Gryffindor table, grinned. “Merlin, it must be so hard being so small,”

Sirius lunged, and James yelped, dodging behind Remus. “James, I swear—”

“—that you’ll thank me one day when you realise you were standing next to greatness this whole time?” James finished smoothly, winking.

Peter groaned. “I hate this. I hate this so much,”

“It’s been five days,” Remus muttered. “How much longer can this possibly last?”

As if to answer that question, James caught sight of you across the room. His eyes lit up.

Uh-oh.

“Ah, excellent,” he said, striding over with purpose. “I haven’t tested my theory yet,”

Your fork was halfway to your mouth. You lowered it slowly. “What theory?”

“The one where you are also, tragically, shorter than me,”

Lily, sitting next to you, let out a long sigh and rubbed her temples.

You stared at James. “Potter, you just had to run from Sirius. Do you really want to start this with me?”

James beamed with all the brightness of the sun. “Absolutely,”

You glanced at Lily, who was already shaking her head.

Then, with all the calmness in the world, you turned back to James and said, “Would you like to be short again?”

James frowned. “What?”

Before he could react, you flicked your wand under the table and whispered a spell so quietly it was almost imperceptible.

James didn’t even have time to register what had happened before his calf seized up violently. His smug expression flickered—then his leg gave out entirely.

With an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp, he keeled over.

A few heads turned. Sirius, seeing his friend crumpled on the floor, burst out laughing. “What the hell was that?”

James, groaning, pushed himself up onto his elbows. “My leg,”

Lily stifled a snicker. “What a tragedy,”

You speared a piece of roasted potato with your fork. “Hm. Not so tall now, are you?”

James glared up at you. “That was rude,”

“Was it?” you asked innocently. “I thought it was a very appropriate reaction.”

Sirius practically howled with laughter.

James groaned again, flopping dramatically onto his back. “This is bullying,”

Lily leaned down with a smug smile. “Welcome to our world, Potter,”

—

After the Great Height Incident—as Sirius had started calling it—James seemed to learn precisely one lesson: messing with you and Lily was fun. Unfortunately, that meant you, Lily, and Severus were now prime targets for the boys’ endless shenanigans.

It started subtly at first. You’d be in the library, peacefully reviewing your notes, and suddenly James would happen to walk by, stretching extravagantly. “Merlin, I keep forgetting how much taller I am than everyone now,” he’d say loudly, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

Sirius would nod solemnly beside him. “It’s tragic, really,”

Peter would sigh dramatically. “So difficult being so much better than everyone else,”

And then Remus, without even looking up from his book, would mutter, “You lot are insufferable,”

But that was only the beginning.

Soon enough, they were showing up everywhere. You, Lily, and Severus had your usual study spot under the large bay window in the library—a quiet, peaceful place where you could actually focus. Or at least, it used to be.

Now, the second you pulled out your books, the four troublemakers of Gryffindor would materialise.

“Alright, what’s on the syllabus today?” James asked one afternoon, plopping himself unceremoniously onto the bench across from you.

You sighed, not looking up from your parchment. “Potter. Go away.”

Sirius slid into the seat beside him. “That’s no way to talk to your study buddies,”

“You’re not our study buddies,” Lily said, exasperated.

James gasped, clutching his chest. “Evans, I’m hurt. You wound me.”

“I can fix that,” Severus muttered, reaching for his wand.

Remus—who, unlike the other three, had actual academic aspirations—had the decency to look somewhat guilty as he pulled up a chair. “I do actually need to study, but, er… I doubt they’ll leave if I don’t come with them,”

“Correct,” Sirius confirmed cheerfully.

You narrowed your eyes. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

Sirius grinned. “Very much,”

They didn’t even pretend to study. James spent ten minutes balancing his quill on the tip of his nose. Sirius kept tossing sugar quills into Peter’s open mouth. Peter missed all of them. And Remus, bless him, tried to read, but his attempts were constantly interrupted by James tapping his shoulder every three minutes just to point out glaringly obvious things around the room.

By the time Lily slammed her book shut in frustration, you were about two seconds away from hexing the whole lot of them. “Honestly, can’t you go bother someone else?” she snapped.

James grinned. “Why would we, when you’re so fun to annoy?”

Severus shot him a glare so venomous it could’ve melted through stone. “You have a death wish.”

Sirius leaned back lazily, propping his feet up on the table. “Nah, we just have excellent taste in entertainment,”

You turned to Remus, the only reasonable one. “Can you control them?”

Remus sighed, rubbing his temple. “No,”

Lily groaned. “This is unbearable.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” James said. “We’re simply enriching your academic experience,”

“I will enrich you straight into the hospital wing,” you muttered.

Sirius cackled. “See? Fun.”

And just like that, your peaceful study sessions were gone.

—

It started, as most things did with James and Sirius, with boredom.

You were vaguely aware of their antics throughout the day—whispered conversations in the corridors, Sirius elbowing James in the ribs while the two of them barely suppressed their grins, Remus sighing deeply whenever they entered a room. The usual signs that something stupid was about to happen.

You just didn’t expect it to happen to Bertram Aubrey.

No one really knew why James and Sirius chose him. Maybe he’d said something mildly irritating in class. Maybe he’d taken the last good seat in the common room. Maybe he’d simply existed in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever the case, Bertram became their next victim.

And unfortunately for him, James and Sirius had decided to test a rather bold hex.

It happened in the courtyard between classes. One moment, Bertram was minding his own business, chatting with a group of Ravenclaws. The next, James had flicked his wand and muttered, Engorgio Skullus!

For a split second, nothing happened.

Then Bertram’s head swelled.

Like a balloon.

A very large balloon.

His eyes widened—quite literally—his glasses stretching to accommodate his rapidly expanding skull. A strangled, horrified yelp escaped him as his head reached twice its original size. His expression twisted somewhere between panic and outrage as the entire courtyard exploded into laughter.

“Oh Merlin,” Peter wheezed, clutching his stomach.

Remus dragged a hand down his face despite being the one who supplied the two with the spell in the first place. “I am not involved in this,”

James, barely holding back his own laughter, clapped Sirius on the back. “Brilliant work,”

Sirius gave an exaggerated bow. “Thank you, thank you,”

Bertram, meanwhile, was screeching. “What have you done?!”

The laughter quickly turned into a scramble for safety as a very large-headed, very furious Bertram Aubrey came charging after James and Sirius.

James yelped. “Run!”

The two of them bolted, Bertram lumbering after them with the grace of an enraged troll. His head made it impossible for him to move properly—his balance was completely thrown off, his steps uneven, his weight shifting dangerously every time he turned a corner.

They didn’t make it far before a thunderous voice rang out across the courtyard.

“Potter! Black! Don’t even think about turning that corner.”

The laughter immediately died.

McGonagall had arrived.

By the time you heard about it, James and Sirius had already been sentenced to double detention.

You were sitting at dinner when the news broke, passed down through whispers and amused glances. James and Sirius trudged into the Great Hall, both looking exceedingly pleased with themselves despite the fact that James’s left hand was now stained entirely black from whatever punishment they’d been assigned.

You sighed, shaking your head as they collapsed onto the bench across from you. “What did you think was going to happen?”

Sirius smirked. “We were hoping for more running time, honestly,”

James flexed his ink-stained fingers with a dramatic wince. “But worth it,”

Lily scoffed. “You permanently traumatised Bertram Aubrey, and for what?”

James grinned. “For science,”

“For chaos,” Remus corrected, still looking exhausted from association alone.

You snorted despite yourself. “You deserve whatever detention McGonagall gave you.”

James shrugged. “Maybe. But admit it—you wish you’d seen it.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

—

A sensible person might have learned their lesson by now.

James Potter, however, was not a sensible person.

It had been a few days since the Aubrey Incident, and though James and Sirius were still suffering through their detentions, neither of them seemed particularly remorseful*.* If anything, they were emboldened*.*

Which was why, despite multiple warnings, despite physical evidence that you were very capable of hexing him, James still thought it was a good idea to try the height joke again.

You were in the common room, comfortably curled up with a book, minding your own business. Lily was beside you, finishing up an essay, while Sirius lounged on the floor, flipping a stolen Chocolate Frog card between his fingers.

James, fresh from another detention and looking far too smug for someone who had just spent two hours scrubbing cauldrons, sauntered in and immediately made a beeline for you.

“Oh, excellent,” he announced dramatically. “My favorite short person,”

You didn’t even glance up. “Potter.”

“Just thought I’d remind you how tragically small you are,” he said, grinning as he loomed over you. “Must be so difficult, looking up at greatness all the time.”

Lily sighed. Sirius smirked.

You, still not looking up from your book, flicked your wand.

There was a sharp crack!—and then a very loud yelp*.*

James immediately stumbled, nearly toppling over as his knee buckled under him. He barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the couch, eyes wide. “Oi!”

Sirius howled with laughter.

“James,” he gasped between laughs, “I swear—you’re going to get hexed every single time you pull that.”

James groaned, rubbing his leg. “That was just plain mean,”

“You deserved it,” Lily said primly, dipping her quill into her inkpot.

James shot her an indignant look, then turned back to you. “You didn’t even look at me!”

You turned a page. “Didn’t have to,”

Sirius collapsed against the couch, still cackling. “Oh, that was beautiful,”

James sighed dramatically, dropping onto the floor beside him. “Still worth it,” he grumbled.

You hummed. “If you say so,”

He stretched his leg out with a wince. “I do,”

Sirius elbowed him. “Tell me, oh mighty tall one, how’s the view from down there?”

James groaned, flopping onto his back. “I hate you,”

Lily snorted. “You should hate yourself.”

James just sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “One day,” he muttered, “you’ll all see how truly tall I am.”

“Not if tour leg cramps permanently,” you replied absently.

Sirius grinned. “Brilliant. I can’t wait for next time,”

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter fluff #james potter angst

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 days ago

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ONCE AGAIN A VICTIM TO MY OWN INABILITY TO CONSUME MEDIA FOR GOODNESS KNOWS WHY. A TRUE SHAME I HAVEN'T READ THIS SOONER BECAUSE IT IS BOP A BANGER A SHOWSTOPPER A STUNNER AND I AM IN NEED OF A NEW SET OF PANTS

The sun crested the horizon, shades of violet, clementine, and rose, and still, Bill and the others hadn't returned from Hogwarts.

Oh my GOSHHH 😫😫😫😫😫😫😭😭😭😭😭 I say this all the time but GOSHHHH you can really tell if a fic is gonna be good from the first sentence and how they open the story. I so fucking sorry for breathing the same air are you my goddess. Am I bothering you? Also wtf bill in Hogwarts???? Did he leave his homework or smth?

The full moon lingered at the edge of the sky, obstinate in its refusal to dip below the trees. You'd begged Bill not to go out while the moon hung bloated in the sky, an unusual, ominous shade of red.

If there's one thing a man does best is the exact opposite of what you tell him to. How many stories would be rewritten so drastically, how many lives would be saved if you just listened to women 🙄🤚 choke

But he'd gone anyways. Which was fair, you supposed; he wasn't yours to order about. You weren't a couple, despite the simmering tension between you, heightened by the deep connection you’d forged through over a decade of friendship and work and suffering and joy.

Situationship headass 🙄🤚 miss me with that bullshit. NOT THE WE ARENT A COUPLE I WOULD DEADASS ASK BILL WHAT ARE WE THE MINUTE HE LAUGHED AT MY JOKES ID RATHER BE PRESUMPTUOUS THAN BRAIN DEAD *STARTS CHAINSAW*

It was Harry, Lupin, and Tonks that arrived back first, bloodied and beaten, singed by the glancing blow of curses.

WAIT I KNOW THIS i don't BATTLE AT HOGWARTS? OK WE ARE SO ON TO SOMETHING (I've seen edits HAHAAH) it's fine it's ok I don't need background I understand perfectly

Molly ran out to them, screaming for her children, but Remus was quick to assuage her.

.... I know I shouldn't be thinking this but all in thinking is 🫦🫦🫦 hi rem... How are you... Want a baby?

“We don't have a choice,” Remus said, gently nudging Tonks aside and cupping your face. You forced your eyes to focus on his forehead, his crooked nose, his scars, his eyes. “Can you do this?” Remus asked.

OMG TONKS 🫣😅 HI NOT THIRSTING OVER OUR- EH- YOUR HUSBAND also dkskskksksn IDK WHAT I HAD TO SAY BUT HOT. IM TOO BIASED. REMUS I LOVE YOU WE LIKE DIS 🤞 but also tonks 🥺 shes so mother so caring and gentle. Remus being frantic and hot in my head is clouding whatever I wanted to fucking say about this part

No one was sure if he'd been bitten. There was one wound on his right thigh that looked suspicious to Remus, but Bill was in too fragile a state for them to test anything.

... Remus so smart.... 🫦 ITS NOT MY FAULT IM SO DISTRACTED

So you waited, and waited, and waited. Four days of burning fever. Four days of changing head-to-toe bandages. Four days of ladling broth between his chapped lips. Four days of praying to anyone that would listen to spare him. To bring him back to you.

Ok but this was beautifully vivid albeit torturous for YN... Is ok... It's for the plot shhhhh *pushes finger onto lips*

You knew he'd be different, no one suffered an attack like that and remained the same, but you knew that you'd love him anyways. The scars on his skin would pale in comparison to the scars left on his psyche, and you would find whatever strength you needed to help him through it.

Embutido core. Also 🧐🧐🧐🧐🤨🤨🤨🤨 FUCK YOU MEAN ALWAYS LOVE HIM???? UR NOT TOGETHER. GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS SITUATIONSHIP TRUTHER

You'd stitch him together with your own muscle and bone if you needed to.

Oh my gosh

But now that I'm remembering the situationship context.... Cringe as fuck

“Where is she?” He bellowed.

Its giving

MARTHA WHERE IS SHE LOL. I think supes says it tho

He groaned low in his chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and heaving a deep breath. His knotted muscles immediately went lax, and he looped an arm around your waist, hauling you into the bed with him. You were shocked at how much strength he still had after a week of bed rest.

First of all. HOT. second of all. SITUATIONSHIP AHHH FUCKIN

“There you are,” he whispered, a throaty purr against your pulse. He drew another deep inhale, nose pressed against your jugular, and you suppressed a shiver.

SNSIIDJSJKS SNIFFING??????????????

“Don't care,” he said, his lips charting a scalding path up your neck, days of stubble scratching mercilessly against the tender skin.

WKSKKSKKKSN WHAT ^^^^^ LAST GIF X2

“It can wait,” Bill snarled, glaring at Remus over your shoulder. “Now get the fuck out.”

IS IT THE WOLF JUMPING OUT OF HIM.

OH WAIT I FORGOT TO ASK COS THE TAGS IS LIKE EARLY STAGES OF WEREWOLF FOR BILL I WAS LIKE HE CANONICALLY BECOMES A WEREWOLF??????? OR IS IT A FIC THING I'm realizing as I type this it's probably a fic thing.

ANYWAY BILL BEING JEALOUS? OF REMUS 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 OK BUT DID YOU WRITE THIS FOR MEEEE TWIRLS HAIR SMILES LIKE SPONGEBOB WAIT ILL GET THE PIC

UHM THIS WASNT THE ONE I HAD IN MIND I WAS THINKING WITH A RAINBOW but I realized it was probably an amalgamation of a bunch of different spongebob images so yeah

Tonks caught you at the end of the hall, grabbing you by the arms. “He's asking for you, but you have to—y/n, listen to me,” she snapped, and you stilled, coiled and ready to flee. “You have to be careful—that kind of trauma…he might not be the Bill you love.”

🥺😭💔 NO CUZ IM CRYING FOR TONKS SHES SO GENTLE AND KIND AND CONCERNED AND WHAT WAS THAT LIKE TO LOVE REMUS LIKE THIS FKJDUDJDJDJ FUCKING HELL *smokes cigarette* (DONT SMOKE)

An uneasyness settled over the house. No longer a question of will he wake up, but what will wake up.

😃 nice 👍

On the seventh day, Bill woke up screaming.

POOR BOY. also I know some of these are out of order. I can't be bothered to reorder them let me slide ily

“Bill,” Remus said, hardening his voice.

🫦 he can join

You weren't sure what it meant, this sudden clinginess. If it was the trauma of almost dying, a head injury making him forget you weren't actually together, or something…else.

🙄🤚 u being hesitant is so telling of ur situationship. AT LEAST YOUR SELF AWARENESS

His family came in next, a cacophonous, emotional ordeal that made your heart ache with relief. With them, he seemed more like himself; the good-natured, charismatic man you'd fallen in love with, and some of your uncertainty ebbed.

My boy

But clearly not 🫵YOUR🫵 boy 🙄🤚

You hadn't hated the intensity from earlier though, quite the opposite, actually. You just wished you knew what caused it, and why you.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🤚 SITUATIONSHIP FINAL BOSS

Eventually, Bill declared that he wanted to properly shower, and everyone filed out to give him some privacy. When you stood to leave though, his hand tightened around your wrist.

BRUHHHHH SOMEONE PLAY SILVERSPINGS BY FLEETWOOD MAC. PLS SHES NOT STEVIE NICKS BILL IS 😭😭🤚 LORDIE

“Oh, I am. For probably the first fucking time,” he growled, patience wearing thin. “I’ve loved you for ten fucking years, and I almost lost you. So forgive me, darling, I will not be letting you go again.”

Ngl I'm a petty ass who's into schadenfreude and masochism I'd be like AKSHALY NO FUCK OFF 😭😭😭 (I need a lobotomy)

“Bill, we aren't…together,” you argued weakly, a rabbit negotiating the terms of its release from the jaws of a catamount.

IM SAYING WE BEEN KNEW and my gosh my gosh RABBIT ANALOGY???? INSANE WORK DAFAQ OK QUEEN SORRY FOR EVEN TRYING TO WRITE

“Something I'd like to remedy, if you'll have me.” His other hand ensnared your waist, pulling your body flush to his.

NO. EW YUCK. WHAT AM I EASY?

“Are you going to make me beg?” His breath fanned across your lips, balmy and disorienting. Headier than any hit you'd taken from a roll or a pipe.

Yes. I would make you wait and carve your heart out because you need to work for it this is happening too quickly (I SAY AS THEIR SITUATIONSHIP HAS BEEN FORGED A DECADE AGO 🙄🙄🙄🙄🤚🤚😭😭😭😭😭)

“I love you too,” you breathed, and he smiled, bumping his nose against yours before dragging it down your cheek, his hair tickling your lips.

Weak piece of shit 🫵 make him beg

“I know,” he hummed, —

POMPOUS PIECE OF—

— the hot muscle of his tongue laving over the pulse point beneath your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

— SIR IM JUST A HOLE

You gasped, arousal hitting you like a clap of thunder, your thighs squeezing together against your blooming cunt.

SUDDENLY IM NOT MAD AT HER AT ALL I AM HER. I DONT KNOW WHY IM LIKE THIS EITHER WHY AM I MAD AT HER FOR FOLDING FOR BILL SO QUICKLY WHEN I WOULD HAVE THROWN MYSELF AT HIM LIKE SNAP WHAT THE FUCK

He chuckled, the sound low and viscerally pleased. “Can smell that too, baby. Little heart’s racin’ like a rabbit.”

ITS FINE IM FINE HAHAHAH

“You're trembling again,” he said, softening a bit as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”

YES I CAN'T BE ATTRACTED TO A MAN THAT DOESNT SCARE ME A LIL I WILL JUMP YOUR BONES

You shook your head. “Should I be?”

🥺 they're so gentle BUT IM OVER HERE LIKE 🫦🫦🫦🫦 BARK WOOF GRRR

“No, love. Of course not. I'm still me.” He smoothed the hair from your forehead, palming the side of your skull with his long-fingered hand. “But Remus should be if he tries to get between us again.”

🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 REMUS MENTIONNNNNNN HE CAN JOINNN DONT BE A KILL JOYYYYYYY HAHAHHAAHA WHYS HE SO PRESSED OMG YOU WROTE THIS FOR MEEEEE DIDNT YOU YEEEEEEEEEEE WEEEEEEEEEE RAHHHHH

He leaned down, catching your laughter with a lissome press of his lips. The last of your reservation dissipated, dripping out between your thighs as the kiss deepened. His lips were pillowy, tongue tinged with iron and herbs, you leaned into his embrace, content to let him devour you whole.

BILL WEASLEY IN MY ROOM RN CHALLENGE: FAILED 😔😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😫💔

CONGRATS ON HITTING 1K, you deserve all the love you're getting and more <3333 for your celebration could i get a thousand stitches with bill? Your writing of him has been completely brilliant, i love the way you characterise him <333

hi my darling!!! thank you much!! I'm so grateful you're here and I hope you enjoy 🫶

1000 stitches | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x reader

cw: MDNI 18+, injuries and blood, near-death experience, early stages of werewolf!Bill , love confessions

1000 things prompt list (closed!) | masterlist

The sun crested the horizon, shades of violet, clementine, and rose, and still, Bill and the others hadn't returned from Hogwarts.

You'd loved him all your life, and he wouldn't be Bill Weasley, the man that held your heart hostage, if he didn't plunge headlong into danger, especially where his family was concerned.

Always eager for the hunt.

It was Harry, Lupin, and Tonks that arrived back first, bloodied and beaten, singed by the glancing blow of curses.

Molly ran out to them, screaming for her children, but Remus was quick to assuage her.

“They're right behind us—Molly, you must—Molly listen to me,” Remus snapped, shaking her gently. “Ron and Ginny are fine, but Bill—Greyback got a hold of him.”

You clutched the rusted porch railing of the safe house, limbs going numb as the blood drained from your brain.

“He's alive, but barely,” Remus continued, keeping Molly upright by sheer force of will. “And we don't know if he was—”

“Bitten,” you finished, your voice little more than a whimper. Remus looked up at you, nodding solemnly.

He looked like he was going to say something further, when the others suddenly apparated into the clearing. Ginny ran straight into the house, shouting for the medic assigned to the safe house. Ron and Neville held a body between them, the figure limp as a freshly killed stag and twice as bloody.

Bill.

Your ears began to ring, a monotonous, consuming sound, drowning out all of the shouting. You couldn't breathe.

Was he breathing?

You took a sip of air, lungs burning. You'd breathe for him.

Remus grabbed hold of Molly, keeping her out of the way as they carried Bill into the house. Up the stairs and towards you, five steps away, three, one—Ron caught your eye as they passed, looking for too guilty for a boy of only 18, but he quickly looked away, struggling under the weight of his much larger brother.

More members of the Order ran out to help carry him, relieving the boys of the burden, and you could only stand there, staring down at the twin smears of blood where Bill's feet had dragged across the threshold. Staining the stone forever.

Tonks was speaking to you, her hands on your shoulders, but you couldn't hear her, could only stare at the red, red, so much red. Too much red. How could he have anything left?

“We need more hands!” You heard someone call, the words filtering in through the din in your mind.

Hands, hands. You had hands, you could help.

“Tonks—”

“I don't think that's a good idea—”

“I-I can,” you affirmed, your voice sounding far away. Like someone else had spoken through your mouth.

“Good, let's go.”

It took more than five hours to stitch all of Bill's wounds. He'd been savaged, butchered, by Greyback. Almost unrecognizable under the swelling and bruising and gore.

The fact that he survived was nothing short of a miracle.

No one was sure if he'd been bitten. There was one wound on his right thigh that looked suspicious to Remus, but Bill was in too fragile a state for them to test anything.

You'd stitch him together with your own muscle and bone if you needed to.

On the fifth day, many of his wounds had finally healed down to pearlescent, puffy scars thanks to the medics magic. Deep gauges littered his torso and arms, creating new dips and valleys along the lean muscles of his body, a topographical map you could study for eons. The slashes across his face was healing better than anyone dared hoped, and he finally was beginning to look like Bill again.

But the wound on his thigh remained stubborn, pulpy as rotten fruit and refusing to knit together, growing more putrid the more magic that was thrown at it.

An uneasyness settled over the house. No longer a question of will he wake up, but what will wake up.

On the seventh day, Bill woke up screaming.

You were in the kitchen, helping Neville prepare the evening meal, when a roar shook the cedar bones of the old house.

You dropped the dish in your hands with a crash, roast and root vegetables exploding all over the grubby tile floor, and leapt over it, flying up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I don't care.” You yanked free from her hold and dashed down the hallway. You burst into the room Bill was being kept in, a white-washed guest room on the quieter, darker end of the house, and found Ron, Arthur, and Remus desperately trying to restrain a frantic Bill on the bed.

“Where is she?” He bellowed.

You shoved Ron aside and flung your arms around Bill's neck, throwing your weight on him in the hopes of keeping him down.

“I'm here, I'm right here,” you soothed, not bothering to hold back the tears of relief streaming down your face and into his ruddy hair.

“There you are,” he whispered, a throaty purr against your pulse. He drew another deep inhale, nose pressed against your jugular, and you suppressed a shiver.

“Are you alright? You didn't tear anything open—”

“Don't care,” he said, his lips charting a scalding path up your neck, days of stubble scratching mercilessly against the tender skin.

“Bill,” you argued, a fire sparking in your lower belly. You tried to push back a bit from his hold so you could inspect his bandages, could escape the intoxicating effect of his newfound affection. His grip tightened, bordering on painful, and a rumble resounded from the barrel of his chest. Something carnal, possessive, and you immediately dissolved back into his arms. Helpless to resist him.

“A ripped stitch isn't going to kill me,” he mumbled into the downy space behind your ear, his voice so much softer than whatever beast had been roused moments ago.

“Bill, we really need to do a full examination,” Remus interrupted gently. “What you've gone through—”

“It can wait,” Bill snarled, glaring at Remus over your shoulder. “Now get the fuck out.”

You gasped, shocked by his crude language, the aggressive edge to his voice. Bill was hardly the delicate sort, but you'd never seen him be outright hostile. Especially not towards his friends and family.

“Bill,” Remus said, hardening his voice.

“Please, just let them check you,” you whispered, stroking his cheek. “It'll give me and your family peace of mind.”

His eyes fluttered closed as you soothed him, his breathing leveling out. From bestial to docile in the span of a few heartbeats. “Only if you stay,” he answered finally, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I'm not going anywhere,” you assured, and he finally let you untangle yourself.

The medic came in first, checking all of his stitches and his vitals. Besides the wound on his leg, he was mostly healed, just some soreness and a slightly elevated temperature and heart rate.

His hand only left your body when the doctor needed it for something, otherwise he maintained contact through the entire examination.

You weren't sure what it meant, this sudden clinginess. If it was the trauma of almost dying, a head injury making him forget you weren't actually together, or something…else.

You hadn't hated the intensity from earlier though, quite the opposite, actually. You just wished you knew what caused it, and why you.

Eventually, Bill declared that he wanted to properly shower, and everyone filed out to give him some privacy. When you stood to leave though, his hand tightened around your wrist.

“Don't go,” he said, drawing you back towards him. He was standing, propped against the bedframe for support.

“But you said you wanted to shower?” You blinked up at him, completely perplexed by this dramatic shift in his demeanor. Bill had never been very physical with you, besides platonic hugs and shoulder bumps.

“Help me,” he murmured, tilting your chin up.

Your heart stopped. “W-what?”

“Are you going to make me beg?” His breath fanned across your lips, balmy and disorienting. Headier than any hit you'd taken from a roll or a pipe.

“Bill, we aren't…together,” you argued weakly, a rabbit negotiating the terms of its release from the jaws of a catamount.

“Something I'd like to remedy, if you'll have me.” His other hand ensnared your waist, pulling your body flush to his.

“I'm not sure you're thinking clearly—” you tried to take a step back, but his grip turned to iron.

You liquified, muscles and bone turning to simpering goo in his arms. You didn't care if it was the pain medicine, or a head injury, or lycanthropy. All you'd ever wanted was to hear those three little words.

“I love you too,” you breathed, and he smiled, bumping his nose against yours before dragging it down your cheek, his hair tickling your lips.

“I know,” he hummed, the hot muscle of his tongue laving over the pulse point beneath your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

You gasped, arousal hitting you like a clap of thunder, your thighs squeezing together against your blooming cunt.

He chuckled, the sound low and viscerally pleased. “Can smell that too, baby. Little heart’s racin’ like a rabbit.”

Oh, fuck. You swallowed thickly, throat closing as fear pumped through your blood, mixing into a strange ichor with the ever-present desire for him.

“You're trembling again,” he said, softening a bit as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”

You shook your head. “Should I be?”

A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it, inundated with both dread and delight.

#bill weasley #harry potter fanfiction #bill weasley x reader

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hirayalore · 3 days ago

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( 01. ) IN THE WAKE OF US.

when the passing of james and lily turns your world upside down, sirius is determined to face it with you, taking it upon himself to be the person that you need now that your older brother is no longer here.

amidst balancing shared grief, unexpected responsibilities, and a blooming familial dynamic with him and harry—you suddenly find yourself forging an unexplainable deeper bond with sirius that you’re not sure what to make out of, especially when other... odd emotions get involved that can’t be easily ignored.

pairing: sirius black x potter!reader

word count: 2.1k

rating: 18+

content: angst, fluff, nsfw | muggle au, modern au, brother’s best friend trope, forced proximity trope, childhood sweethearts trope (if you squint lmao), slow burn!!!! | ft. forensic scientist!sirius, artist!reader; philosophy professor!remus

warning/s: james and lily death (car crash, not detailed), grief, swearing, mature themes

[ chapter index. ]

CHAPTER ONE: YOU

The only thing grounding you at this moment is Sirius’ touch, his palms pressed on your knees as he’s crouched down in front of you. You’re sitting on the bench provided in the hospital hallways, still spiralling, still convincing yourself that maybe if you pinch your skin hard enough, you’ll jolt awake and all of this will be over.

“____,” he says your name, the sound of his voice enough to coax you to flutter your eyes open, meeting his gaze that is uncharacteristically soft.

You blink.

It’s funny, the more you think of it. The first person you never thought you’d call in an instance like this is Sirius. Mostly because… well, he’s Sirius. He’s the more annoying version of your brother, the bad influence, the one who only had to smirk and you’d automatically know that he’s trouble.

But perhaps if there’s also something you know about Sirius, it’s that his bond with James is something else. The two of them have always been more like brothers than friends, this unexplainable connection they had so seamless and natural that being part of Sirius’ life and him to yours was eventually easy too.

You feel his thumb gently rub against the material of your pants.

“Hm?” you weakly ask, dazed and exhausted.

“We have to contact Lily’s family,” he says. “I’m not sure if you have her sister’s number but—”

“I have it,” you say, sighing and rubbing your face with your palms. “I mean, I think I do. I used the number to contact Petunia before when I was helping out with Lily's bachelorette party, but she never responded.”

“Well, it’s still better to try.”

“Yeah, of course.” You take your phone out and go to your contacts, scrolling, but as you do, Sirius grabs the device from your fingers and moves to take the vacant spot beside you.

“I’ll handle it,” he explains, taking his own phone out and transferring the number to his.

You nod and go back to staring at the floor, no energy to argue when you can’t even think straight.

It’s a good thing that a pediatric nurse took Harry in the meantime as you gather your thoughts. She probably saw how messed up you were earlier when you were crying in Sirius’ arms, or maybe it was protocol for situations like these, when family members with children didn’t have the emotional capacity to look after them that they just volunteer to do the job for a few hours. You’re not sure. You’re just grateful that you don’t have to balance being a caring aunt and a mourning sister amidst everything at the moment.

“You want me to call Moony?” You hear Sirius speak again, your phone being handed back to you.

You swallow hard. More people being told about what happened would make it more real. Still, you nod. “Okay.”

“Alright.” He does a motion of standing up, though halts halfway, his bottom falling back on the seat as he touches your knee again.

You look at him. You see the cracks of pain in his eyes that he’s somehow doing a far better job with holding it together unlike you are. “Don’t,” you mumble and he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t start saying sorry like the shit people do when they discover someone from your family died.”

A halfhearted snort escapes him. “That wasn’t what I was going to do.”

“No?”

“No.” He shakes his head, a few strands of his dark hair falling from where it’s tucked behind his ear.

You take a slow breath. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like a guy who’s concerned about you?” He points out. “I’m just making sure you’re alright, ____,” he says, his features softening up in a manner that appears so unusual, “which I know sounds stupid because it’s obvious that you’re not. Nobody in the right mind would be.”

Your eyes begin to water again, the reminder of why you’re in this horrible state filling up your head.

At the sight, Sirius curses under his breath, wordlessly bringing a hand on the back of your head to bring you closer, holding you as you pathetically find yourself crying for the hundredth time. “Look,” he begins, speaking against your hair, “you have me, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. There’s no bloody manuals with these things, is there?”

“There should be. Something titled Grief for Dummies—or How to Survive When Every Family You Have Is Dead.”

“Stop that.” He hisses.

But it’s true, you want to say, with the exception of Harry, of course. Other than your nephew? No one is here anymore. Your mother died giving birth to you, your father died a few years shortly after, and now James is gone too. You’re having a hard time grasping how you’re supposed to live your life moving forward.

“I’m scared, Sirius,” you murmur, not knowing why you’re on the roll with the vulnerability tonight, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “I wish… I wish this was just easier. That it didn’t have to happen. Or it was me who was—”

”Hey,” he interjects, pulling away and placing a warm hand on your cheek. It smells faintly of cigarettes, and if it wasn’t for the fact that your body seeks for comfort right now, you would have shoved it away. “I mean it. Stop it. I won’t tolerate this kind of shit talk.”

“Or what?” you deadpan. “At this point, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

His lips press in a thin line. And then he brings you under his chin rubbing a thumb on your arm and letting you breathe in and out.

You don’t know how long the two of you sit there, but time has been moving far too slowly since James and Lily’s death. Eventually, you find yourself being led to the pediatric observation room of the hospital where Harry is, Sirius’ steady arm on your shoulders, like he’s afraid you’d collapse on the ground if he doesn’t hold you tight enough—which to be fair, you would agree with.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” he says just as you’re about to approach the doors leading to where your nephew is, “I’ll handle James and Lily’s funeral arrangements. I’ll be in charge of calling any relatives or friends that may want to know about their passing too.”

You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, continuing on.

“If you’re worried about the expenses, I have it handled. We can talk about the cost after everything is done if you want to split it—or not. You don’t have to pay it back, I don’t really care. I just want you to know that you don’t have to think about that right now, ___.”

You frown. It seems too much to let Sirius handle like that when technically it shouldn’t be his responsibility. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, but—” you sigh, combing your fingers along your hair— “if you’re short on money or whatever—I’m not sure how much it’s supposed to cost—just tell me, okay? Maybe they have life insurance that we can—” You feel like rambling again and it’s Sirius’ hands on your shoulders that grounds you back on your feet.

“Hey,” he says and when you look up, there’s a hint of that familiar mischievousness in his eyes, “do you really think I would run short on money?”

You scoff out a halfhearted laugh, the first of the evening. “Show off.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know who you are.”

“That’s not—” He chuckles, rolling his eyes, while the ends of your mouth twitch. “Anyway, we’re clear on that, okay? I handle the funeral arrangements.”

You nod. “And what about me? What am I supposed to do?”

“Start finding a lawyer. For legal custody over Harry.”

Your head begins to pound at the reminder of another thing you have to stress over. “Yeah, fuck. I thought those things were automatic.”

“I can give Regulus a call. He might know someone.”

You can’t help but gape at him. “Since when did you become all chummy again with Regulus?”

“Since Walburga died.” He shrugs, mentioning the name of his mother without any hint of sadness or regret. “Turns out having both of our parents dead would make it easier to be brothers.”

Your mind flashes back to four years ago when Walburga died. You discovered it through James who broke the news like he was only informing you that your favorite cereal was out of stock at the market. And you can’t blame him for the showcase of indifference, not when to his eyes and yours, the rest of the Black family are not exactly the type of people you’d mourn about.

You knew that from the moment Sirius, at the age of 16, arrived at the doorstep of your household, announcing that he ran away from home and that he could no longer live in the same space as his horrid parents.

Still, you sent a text to Sirius when you heard about his mother’s passing, and he replied with a remark about finally being a freeman that you snorted to when you read it.

“So, you want me to call Reg?” he asks, and the nickname throws you off a bit.

You take a long inhale. “You’ve already been doing so much for the last five hours.”

“And?”

“And I think I can handle finding a lawyer on my own.”

“You think?” His piercing gray eyes analyze you like he has you memorized inside and out. “You might be forgetting, but my family has a law firm. One that Reg is co-managing right now.”

“Stop flexing how rich you are, Sirius,” you say as a joke.

He smirks. “It’s not a flex, it’s a fact.”

“Shut up.”

The smirk widens. “That settles it then. I’ll call Reg too, and I’ll forward you the number when he refers me to a competent family lawyer.”

“You don’t have to—” You stop talking when he raises a brow. “I just—it’s too much. You’ve already been doing so much,” you reiterate.

“____,” he says your name in a gentle tone, a tone that doesn’t match the ruggedness of his exterior, “let me do it. I’m not only doing this for you and Harry. I’m doing it for James.”

Your throat tightens and there’s a pressure building between your eyes.

“He wouldn’t want me to let his kid sister do this on her own,” he adds.

You huff, staring upwards and blinking to prevent any tears from spilling once again. “I’m not a kid.”

“I’m well-aware.”

With that, the conversation leads to you giving him the greenlight to talk to Regulus about finding a capable family lawyer, and Sirius gives you a tired smile before heading to the parking lot to make his calls and probably to have a smoke too, judging from how he’s already placing a stick between his teeth as he stalks off.

That leaves you to enter the pediatric observation room where Harry is bundled in, sleeping and completely unaware that it’s just you who he has now. You talk to the nurse and thank her, saying she can take a break and that you’ll call her again when you need her, and she nods and offers a warm smile.

Once the door closes, you look at Harry, caressing his head as a shaky breath escapes you.

He coos, opening his green eyes for a millisecond and then reaching out, causing you to go ahead and present an index finger to have his little hand fist around it.

At that, your heart melts and your eyes begin to get glassy once more. Suddenly you find all the motivation you need to keep going, to push back any selfish and negative thoughts you had earlier about not knowing what to live for now that James is gone.

Your mind brings you back to when your father died and James was perhaps in the same position you are at this moment, clueless at the age of 20 on how he’s supposed to take care of himself and his younger sister without the guidance of anyone but Google or Reddit. Even though he and Lily were already together, and that her presence gave him all the comfort and strength to be strong, you understand now how it must have taken all his courage to step up and never let you see even an ounce of devastation in his state.

“Guess you’re stuck with me, buddy,” you murmur.

Harry’s hand tightens.

You try to hold it in, but a sob escapes, shaky and quiet. You wipe them away with your free hand hastily, promising that as soon as you wake up tomorrow, you’re going to get your shit together and be the best person your nephew will have by his side.

Just like James was.

You’ll spend the rest of your life making sure of it.

note. see the parallel???? SJDSHDJS just dropping by to say that i’m so excited for this series but also want to apologize if updates go really slow sometimes!! unfortunately my day job also requires a lot of writing so please forgive me if i do not have the brain cells to write for this one <3

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

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rottenherbs · 1 day ago

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Clouded Sunrays

Paring: D.M x Hufflepuff! Reader Tags: Sunshine x Grumpy trope // Request: "fluffy (a lil angst if you want) draco x hufflepuff!reader i beggg. grumpy x sunshine of course, draco extremely down bad. no specific plot. you have complete creative control, i know it’ll be so good no matter what 🫶" W/C: 2k A/N: this was cute! Leaned more into the internal struggle of Draco idkkkk. Thank you for requesting <3 [masterlist] Much love, Saige

The first time Draco Malfoy realized he had a problem, you were standing in the middle of the Great Hall, sunlight catching the edges of your hair like a halo, laughing at something Longbottom had said. And Draco, miserable, jaded, and permanently unimpressed, felt his chest tighten in a way that was neither pleasant nor easily ignored.

It got worse from there.

You were a Hufflepuff—and not just any Hufflepuff. No, you were the type who smiled at everyone, helped first years who were struggling with their books, and actually enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures. You were insufferably kind, perpetually bright-eyed, and worst of all, completely immune to his brooding glares.

Draco tried everything to make you frown. Sarcasm, snide remarks, even the occasional well-placed jab about your House. Nothing worked. Every time he threw a storm cloud in your direction, you batted it away with nothing but a tilt of your head and a ridiculous, knowing smile.

"You're in a mood today," you'd say, voice warm, like you were talking to some poor stray in need of affection.

"I'm always in a mood," he would snap back, only to regret it when you laughed, like he'd said something terribly amusing.

It was infuriating... yet endearing.

But the real problem? The real problem was that Draco Malfoy was completely, utterly, devastatingly obsessed with you.

He hated the way his chest clenched when you tucked a stray curl behind your ear. He loathed the way his face burned when you touched his arm in passing. He despised that he had memorized the exact shade of your eyes, the way your lips pursed when you were deep in thought, the way your nose crinkled when you laughed too hard.

It was absurd. He was absurd.

And yet, here he was, letting you drag him by the wrist down the corridor, your fingers curled around his as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Where are we going?" he grumbled, even though he already knew he'd follow you anywhere.

"The courtyard," you chirped, throwing him a sunny glance over your shoulder. "You need fresh air."

"I need a potion to put me out of my misery."

"Tsk., Draco," you sighed theatrically. "You're so dramatic."

He rolled his eyes, but he didn't pull away. Because the thing was—he liked your hands on him. He liked the way you said his name, like it wasn’t something sharp and bitter, but something warm and worth saying. He liked being pulled in ways that challenged him both emotionally and physically.

Merlin help him, but he was so far gone.

The two of you emerged into the courtyard, where the late afternoon sunlight cast golden patches across the stone benches. You pulled him toward a secluded corner beneath a tree, the shade offering a welcome reprieve from the lingering warmth of the day.

"Sit," you ordered, nudging him onto the bench before plopping down beside him, far too close for his sanity.

Draco let out an exaggerated sigh but obeyed, watching as you tilted your face toward the sky, basking in the sunlight filtering through the leaves. His fingers twitched at his side, resisting the ridiculous urge to reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"See? Isn't this nice?" you hummed, stretching your arms before turning to him with that impossibly bright smile.

Draco scoffed. "Define nice." He pursed his lips, holding any visual expressions of pleasure he was in fact having.

You bumped your shoulder against his, grinning. "Admit it, Malfoy. You enjoy spending time with me."

He turned his head sharply, glaring at you like you had just insulted his entire lineage. "I tolerate you."

"Mhm," you hummed knowingly, eyes twinkling with mischief. "That's why you're still here instead of sneaking off to sulk in the dungeons."

Draco groaned, throwing his head back against the bench. "You're exhausting."

You giggled, and something in his chest tightened painfully. "And yet, you always find yourself next to me."

Draco refused to dignify that with a response, instead choosing to stare at the swaying branches above. But Merlin, you were right. He did always find himself next to you, drawn in by something he couldn’t quite name.

In the beginning, it was your confidence. The way you weren't inherently afraid of him or his status. Then he became comfortable around you - your presence and repetition was something he sought out and even looked forward to.

The silence between you stretched comfortably, filled only by the distant chatter of students and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. He risked a glance at you, only to find you watching him with an easy smile, as if you had all the time in the world just to sit there and look at him.

His throat went dry. What was he supposed to do with that? With you? With the way you just—existed, all warmth and softness, melting down the jagged edges he had spent years fortifying?

Before he could stop himself, he reached out, brushing a stray leaf from your hair. You blinked in surprise, lips parting slightly, and he quickly looked away, suddenly finding the stone pathway very interesting.

"You had—" He cleared his throat. "A leaf."

"Oh." You touched your hair, your fingers ghosting over the spot he had just touched, and for a moment, Draco was convinced his heart had stopped altogether.

You tilted your head, considering him. "You know, for someone who pretends to be so grumpy, you’re actually quite sweet."

Draco made a sound of protest, but you simply laughed, reaching over to poke his arm playfully. "Don't worry, I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret."

—------

Draco Malfoy was in a foul mood.

At first, he didn’t know why. Breakfast in the Great Hall was the same as always—Blaise was reading the Prophet with mild disinterest, Pansy was droning on about something he didn’t care about, and the usual hum of conversation filled the space. Everything was normal. Except it wasn’t.

Because you weren’t there.

Draco found himself frowning at the Hufflepuff table, where you were supposed to be sitting, laughing at some absurd joke, filling the air with that insufferably warm presence of yours. But your usual spot was empty, your absence unsettling in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Not that he cared. Of course not. Why would he? It wasn’t as if he had grown accustomed to the way mornings felt lighter when you were around. It wasn’t as if he looked forward to your stupid smile, the way you always seemed to brighten the dreary Hogwarts castle with nothing but your presence.

He scowled and stabbed at his eggs, ignoring the way his appetite seemed to have vanished.

“You look like you’re plotting someone’s murder,” Blaise commented lazily, flipping a page of the Prophet.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Brilliant observation.”

Pansy leaned closer, smirking. “Who’s the unlucky sod? Don’t tell me it’s Potter again—”

“No one,” Draco snapped, feeling irrationally irritated. He shoved his plate away and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Where’s the fire, Parkinson?”

Pansy snorted. “I was just going to say that if you keep glaring at the Hufflepuff table like that, they’re going to think you’ve hexed one of their own.”

Draco tensed. Had he really been staring that long? He forced himself to look away, feigning disinterest. “Like I care what a bunch of badgers think.”

“Sure,” Blaise drawled, raising a knowing brow.

Draco shot him a sharp glare that immediately shut him up.

Still, the irritation remained. Where were you? Had something happened? Were you ill? The idea didn’t sit well with him, and before he could stop himself, he was turning back toward your table, scouring the room for any sign of you.

Nothing. Not even a glimpse of your ridiculous, sunshine-filled presence.

He hated how restless it made him.

And then—finally—there you were. Strolling into the Great Hall as if you hadn’t just disappeared and left him drowning in a sea of irritation and unease.

Draco barely managed to school his features into indifference, watching from the corner of his eye as you slid into your seat, laughing at something one of your friends said. You looked fine. Happy. Completely unaware of the fact that your absence had nearly ruined his morning.

Merlin, he was pathetic.

Before he could think better of it, you turned, locking eyes with him across the hall. Your face lit up instantly, and with an ease that sent his heart into a tailspin, you raised your hand in a small, enthusiastic wave.

Draco barely resisted the urge to groan. But despite himself—despite everything—his fingers twitched ever so slightly in response.

—-----

Draco Malfoy was losing his mind.

He sat alone in his dorm room, the dim candlelight flickering against the stone walls, casting shadows that seemed to taunt him. His elbows rested on his desk, fingers tangled in his hair as he glared down at the parchment before him. His quill lay discarded, ink drying at the tip. He had an essay to finish, but his thoughts were elsewhere—on you. Always on you.

It was pathetic. He was pathetic.

You were a Hufflepuff. Kind, warm, bright—everything he wasn’t supposed to want. Everything that didn’t fit into the life that had already been carved out for him. His family had expectations. His peers had assumptions. And none of them involved him being utterly, helplessly drawn to someone like you.

Draco let out a slow breath, clenching his fists. This was a problem. A distraction. You were nothing but a distraction.

So why couldn’t he get you out of his head?

He could still see the way your face had lit up when you spotted him in the Great Hall earlier that morning. That stupid, effortless smile of yours. That wave, that ridiculous little wave that had sent something sharp and unbearable clawing at his chest. He should’ve ignored you. He should’ve turned away, given you nothing. But instead, his fingers had twitched, as if some invisible force had yanked the response from him against his will.

Draco groaned, shoving himself away from his desk. He paced the length of his dorm, frustration tightening his jaw. This was dangerous. This was reckless. He had spent his entire life being told who he was supposed to be, who he was supposed to associate with. A Malfoy did not fall for a Hufflepuff. A Malfoy did not entertain such foolish, sentimental attachments.

But then there was you. Always you.

Your laugh haunted him in the quiet moments. Your voice, soft and teasing, slipping through the cracks in his carefully built walls. You were everywhere, and it was driving him mad.

What would his father say if he knew? If he so much as suspected? The thought sent a chill down Draco’s spine. He had spent his whole life trying to prove himself, to live up to expectations that felt like shackles around his wrists. His name meant something. His reputation meant something. And yet—

And yet, when he was with you, none of it seemed to matter.

Draco collapsed onto his bed, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed to stop this. He needed to bury whatever ridiculous feelings had taken root before they grew into something even more dangerous.

And they were about to get dangerous

As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, exhaustion started to creep in, wrapping around him like a thick fog. He tried to think of anything else—his classes, his father’s expectations, the endless pressure to be the perfect Malfoy. But his mind betrayed him.

Instead, he thought of you.

He thought of the way your eyes crinkle when you laughed, the way your nose scrunched up when you were deep in concentration. He thought of the way you tilted your head when you listened, as if whatever someone was saying truly mattered to you. The way you walked through the castle, as if every hallway belonged to you, not because of arrogance, but because you made every place feel like home.

A warmth spread through him, uninvited yet impossible to push away. He wanted to believe he could control this, that he could force himself not to care, but lying there in the quiet of his dorm, with nothing but his thoughts and the lingering ghost of your presence in his mind, he felt himself slip further into the inevitable.

His eyes fluttered shut, and for the first time in a long while, sleep found him easily.

Because, even in his dreams, you were there.

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aetherraeys · 2 days ago

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expectations

(a night to remember pt1, pt2, pt3/this)

sirius black x fem!reader ⊹ 7.7k

cw ⟢ suggestive, fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, mentions of sex, no actual smut, alcohol, sirius is so sweet, reader is in denial.

the one time you let yourself get sucked into the fast and fleeting pleasure of life, it had to be with him, and whatever started between you and sirius was doomed from the start.

a/n: part 3 of a night to remember is finally here!! im acc shocked ppl even wanted a part 2 to begin with, i had sm fun writing this ENJOY MWAH!!

A cup of tea.

A singular invite in for a cup of tea started this.

Well, maybe it was more than just the invite, maybe it was the drunk staring and dancing, or the drunk kiss, or the next morning’s tension and teasing—it didn’t really matter what brewed whatever was going on between you and Sirius.

Because it was nothing.

False—not nothing, but not something. An impossible contradiction.

And anything so fickle, so paradoxical, was bound to end badly.

It was never in your nature to do things like this, to partake in things you knew would be fruitless, that you knew would temporary, short and fleeting. But there as just something about him, so unbelievably, undeniably magnetic—an irresistable lure of the reckless, carefree pleasures that life had to behold. The embodiment of everything you’d always denied yourself.

Sirius Black.

You’d only dipped your toe in the water, but he was all-consuming, dragging you in to the deep depths of an endless ocean when you didn’t know how to swim.

Worst of all, you couldn’t even deny it, you were enjoying yourself—ignorant to the rising water around you, woefully ignoring the way your limbs struggled to keep you afloat. Always so in your head about things, taking extra precations, drawing boundaries or just avoiding things all together—accept for the one time you needed to.

It started with relatively small things, even that night he kissed you with such vigour, so intense yet his hands held you as though you’d crack, unfairly tender, and it made your head spin.

Sirius had given you a glimpse into the delights of the unknown, to joys of possibility. You were always one step ahead, reserved, calculate. And he’d gone and dulled your sense like an external force—he was charged with being your wreckening and you were basking in it.

In the span of the week after your kiss, you’d seen him five out of those seven days. His name always popping up on your phone screen before you’d finish work, asking what you’d eaten, if you were busy, if you wanted to go for a late-night drive.

And that continued for weeks—progressing into him checking your rota weekly or when you’d visit James, he’d always find a reason to stay in the living room, loitering around to spend time you.

Even going as far as him showing up outside your house at random points on your days off, playing it off as he was just in the area, looking for a driving partner—and it didn’t matter what obscene time of day it was, you just couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. Relenting with a playful sigh and roll of your eyes as you let him put on your helmet for you, giggles ringing high in the air as you drove off into the quiet roads.

He was always so relaxed, so easy-going and charming. Bringing the spark of entertainment into your life that you didn’t know you lacked. You’d hear the revving engine of his bike outside your house, and rush to the door—heart thumping loudly in your ears, a burst of adreneline bursting through your veins.

The hum of his motorcycle beneath you, the cool night air sharp against your skin, the scent of leather and wind whipping around you as you held onto him, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket just a little tighter than necessary. Sirius Black was reckless, and he made you reckless too.

And yet, it was never just about the drive.

Because it wasn’t just one type of thrill he gave you, those late-night drives somehow so frequently ended with you and him, skin on skin—

Your back hit the door the moment it shut behind you, the resounding click echoing in the silence before his lips found yours, all teeth and tongue and unrestrained hunger. He kissed like he lived—wild, consuming, like he had all the time in the world and yet, somehow, none at all.

You let him.

Let him steal the breath from your lungs, let him press his body flush against yours, let him unravel you, his grin against the skin of your neck was so lazy, so smug.

“You’re awfully eager,” you mused, tilting your head as he dipped closer, lips barely brushing against yours.

Sirius hummed, pretending to think. “Well, you wore that jacket.” His fingers traced the collar, warm against your throat. “It’s very distracting.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile was impossible to fight. “You have zero self-restraint, you know that?”

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

And you weren’t. Not when he kissed you again, slow at first, just a press of lips, a silent question he already knew the answer to. Then deeper, more insistent, like he was pulling you under with him. Laughter echoed off the thin walls of your living room, giggling against his mouth when he tugged your jacket off with too much enthusiasm, nearly toppling the both of you in the process. “Merlin, you’re impatient.”

“You make me impatient.”

It was ridiculous. The way he could say things like that so easily, like it was nothing, like it didn’t send heat pooling in your stomach. But there was no time to dwell on it—not when he was pushing you toward the edge of your bed, not when he was pressing you down into the mattress, settling between your legs like he belonged there.

“Godric, you’re so smug.”

“I have a lot to be smug about,” he said against your skin, lips dragging along your jaw, your throat, lower. “Can’t really blame me.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the laugh that left you melted into something softer, breathier when his hands skimmed beneath your shirt. His touch was slow, teasing, deliberately unhurried. For someone who prized themself in their almost prophetic ability to tell how things were going to end, it was like you’d been blinded. Sirius had a way of pulling you into the moment, of making you forget that there was anything beyond this.

Beyond the way his touch became to hypnotisingly feverish, a sharp inhale, your head tipping back against the wood as his mouth trailed along your jaw, down the column of your throat, the scrape of his teeth leaving goosebumps in their wake. He chuckled against your skin, the sound rich, knowing.

Clothes lost between hurried touches, between lips tracing paths across bare skin, between the way his hands pressed against your hips, grounding you even as he sent you spiraling.

There was something intoxicating about him—the way he moved, the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing worth his attention. It made you reckless. Made you selfish. Made you want to keep him like this, to keep the way he murmured your name like a secret, the way his hands roamed your body like he was committing it to memory.

There were a million ways this could go wrong, each more unforgiving than the last, but you still did it, everytime—like an addict, high on the wave of Sirius and everything that came along with him. Even though he took his time, he never stayed—relishing in the warmth of your skin on his, while your chests rose and fell quickly and in sync.

Still trailing breathless kisses along your neck, hand wrapped firmly around your waist, body still trembling with the remants of pleasure. Always lingering long enough to enjoy the afterglow, and then, after he’d cleaned you up when you hung on the edge of sleep, he’d whisper his goodbyes.

He’d slip away—pulling on his jeans, running a hand through his hair, flashing you that easy, careless smirk before disappearing into the night like he hadn’t just unraveled you.

And you let him.

For no particular reason, it was just how it was. This little arrangement was never meant to be more that some small stolen moments and whispered touches.

But so unfortunately for you, things changed.

One night, he didn’t move.

He stayed, stretched out beside you, one arm draped over his face trying to catch his breath. Exhaling a low chuckle as he turned to you, just as out of breath, eyes half-lidded and blinking slow. He reached up a hand, every so gently brushing away some of the stray hairs that had stuck to your forehead, with an uncalled for fondness in his eyes.

“What?” you asked, pulling the cover up over you, tilting your head up at him—pupils still blown, content sighs slipping as your lips as you nuzzled into your pillow.

“You,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and something else, something unreadable. “You’re just…too comfortable.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s such a you problem, Black.”

And yet, he didn’t move.

Didn’t slip out of bed, didn’t reach for his clothes. Instead, he kept is gaze on you, studying you like he was seeing you for the first time. His hand found your waist again, thumb stroking absentminded circles against your skin.

“You want me to go?” he asked, voice quiet, careful.

You should have said yes.

Should have told him to leave, should have drawn the line like you always did. But instead, you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Stay if you want.”

It was dangerous—this thing between you, this game you were playing so ignorant to the rules. But in that moment, with his body warm beside yours, with the air still thick with the remains of lust, of pleasure and the scent of him clinging to your sheets.

It was your first mistake.

And although it wasn’t a secret per se, the little situation you had going on with Sirius, it was nothing serious, and therefore not common knowledge.

It wasn’t until Marlene came by one day to pick up a parcel she’d got delivered to yours, that she noticed it. Sirius’ bike parked in at the front of your house—and when she used her spare key to get into the house she noticed something else, too.

His leather jacket, tossed haphazardly over the back of your couch. His boots, lazily kicked off by the door.

Her sights eventually falling on him.

It was one of those mornings where the lines between sleep and awakeness were firmly blurred. The kettle was humming softly on the stove, steam rising in tendrils, and Sirius was leaning against the kitchen counter, rubbing his eyes like he hadn’t slept a wink in ages. He was still a little dazed, hair tousled in every direction, his usual carefree grin replaced by a half-awake, sleepy smirk. Two cups sat on the counter, waiting for the tea to brew, a simple gesture that felt strangely domestic.

Sirius didn’t notice Marlene at first—she was just standing in the doorway, eyes narrowing in silent observation. The moment stretched on, the sound of the kettle’s whistle cutting through the silence.

Clearing her throat, Marlene made her presence known.

Sirius blinked slowly, still half in a dream, and as casually as if he were talking to you, he mumbled, “I’m making tea, love. You want two sugars today?”

Marlene raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest. She took a step into the kitchen. “You’re not making that for me.”

His eyes snapped open, the sleepiness clearing in an instant as he looked at her, finally registering that it wasn’t you standing there. The shift was instantaneous—he straightened up, looking almost too casual. “Oh, hey, Marlene,” he said, his tone still nonchalant as if nothing was amiss. “Didn’t realize you were here.”

She studied him for a moment, giving him a smirk that said she knew everything. “Clearly,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement.

Sirius, ever shameless, shrugged. “It’s early.” He shot her a playful grin. “Can’t be expected to function before my tea, can I?”

At that moment, the sound of soft footsteps padded down the hallway. You appeared in the doorway, the oversized shirt you were wearing—Sirius’ shirt—hanging loosely off your frame. Your hair was a little messy, eyes still sleepy as you mumbled, “Is the tea ready?”

And then you stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes widening when you spotted Marlene standing in the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh,” you said, voice faltering as you froze, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Marlene... what—what are you doing here?”

Without missing a beat, Marlene raised both eyebrows, her smirk widening. “You told me I could pick up the parcel anytime, so I let myself in,”

You still stood dead in your tracks as she continued, “But now it seems like I’m here to make sure Sirius isn’t taking advantage of you,”

You immediately flushed, mortified, and quickly grabbed Marlene’s arm, tugging her away from the kitchen with a little more urgency than you meant to.

“Come on,” you hissed, pulling her into the bedroom. “Let’s go talk.”

Sirius, still leaning against the counter, didn’t seem fazed by the interaction at all. In fact, he leaned back with a satisfied smirk, watching you drag Marlene off with a mixture of amusement and something else.

Once inside your bedroom, you closed the door behind you with a sigh, rubbing your hand over your face as you tried to salvage what little dignity you had left.

“I thought you’d text me when you were coming,” you mumbled under your breath, but she was already taking in the state of the room.

She raised an eyebrow, glancing around with an expression of equal parts amusement and curiosity. The bed was a mess—sheets twisted and bunched, pillows strewn about in a chaotic heap. A scattered reminder of the night before, of everything you and Sirius had gotten up to.

Marlene shot you a knowing look, and you groaned, covering your face with both hands. “It’s not like that, okay? It’s just a bit of fun. No big deal.”

Marlene wasn’t convinced. Her gaze softened just a fraction, but the teasing smile never left her lips, humming back “Right. Just a bit of fun,” Before you could say anything else, she gave you a quick, sly wink and turned back toward the door.

“Oh, and by the way,” she added, her voice dropping to a whisper, “I’m watching you, Black.”

Sirius, still in the kitchen, gave her an innocent look as she passed him, a wink of his own playing at the corners of his lips. “Always a pleasure, Marls.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving you standing in the aftermath of her visit, groaning inwardly to yourself as you flopped onto the bed.

You and Sirius fell easily into a routine—him picking you up from work, late-night drives that turned into late-night kisses, wanting touches that led to waking up tangled in each other. Spending virtually every day together for months, whether out of habit or convenience, it didn’t matter—neither of you were in a rush to change anything.

So when Marlene invited you to a small get-together at a friend’s place, you figured a night out that wasn’t spent wrapped up in Sirius wouldn’t be the worst thing. “It’ll be chill,” she promised, linking her arm through yours. “Just a few people, some drinks, some music. Nothing crazy.”

But the second you stepped inside, it was clear that Marlene had lied. The house was packed, bodies pressed together in the chaos of dancing, mingling, drinking. As music pulsed through the walls, laughter and shouts cutting through the thrum of conversation. You shot her a look—Really?—but she just shrugged, eyes wide and innocent like she had no idea this would happen.

“You know how these things go,” she said, barely containing her grin.

Rolling your eyes, you made your way to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of cranberry juice. The moment someone asked what you were drinking, you answered without hesitation—“Vodka cranberry,”—opting to lay off the liquor for the night.

Still, as you sipped your very much non-alcoholic drink, you couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered around the room, scanning the crowd without thinking. It was almost instinctual, like muscle memory at this point. Was he here?

Marlene caught it instantly.

She leaned in, smirk playing at her lips. “You looking for someone?” she asked, voice all too knowing.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “No.”

“Right,” she drawled, clearly unconvinced, but before she could press any further, a loud voice cut through the crowd.

“There you are!”

You barely had a second to react before James was bounding toward you, all long limbs and drunken enthusiasm. He practically tackled you into a hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you in a dizzying circle.

“James!” you yelped, gripping onto his shoulders. “Put me down!”

He only laughed, setting you back onto your feet, hands still gripping your arms like you might disappear. His cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with the telltale signs of one too many drinks.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” he grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he led you and Marlene further into the chaos. “C’mon, we’ve got a party to enjoy!”

It was fun, more fun than you’d excpected, so painfully aware of the drunk bodies that bumped against your sober one—and despite Marlene’s efforts to get you to sip on her drink, you’d held your ground quite well. Even when she did mutter, “Party pooper,” under her breath, you just snickered at her, dragging her through the path in the crowd that James had successfully parted.

The music thumped, bass reverberating through the walls, but it was nothing compared to the laughter bubbling from your throat. James, in all his drunken glory, had taken it upon himself to be the life of the dance floor, flailing his limbs dramatically as you and Marlene followed suit, spinning and swaying wildly to the rhythm.

Your giggles rang high above the music when James, with absolutely no warning, grabbed Marlene’s wrist and spun her with a flourish, dipping her so low she nearly hit the floor.

“James Potter, I swear to Merlin—” Marlene shrieked, flailing as she tried to right herself, but James only grinned wider, holding her firm.

“Dance with me, darling!” he declared theatrically, waggling his brows before attempting to spin her again.

You clutched your stomach from laughing so hard, abs burning from the excertion, leaning into James’ side as you caught your breath. “I’m getting a re-fill,” you told him, wagging your almost empty cup in front of his face, still breathless.

James, ever dramatic, responded far louder than necessary. “ALRIGHT, LOVE!”

Rolling your eyes with a fond smile, you slipped through the sea of bodies, the heat of the room pressing in on you. You didn’t notice Marlene right behind you, having taken the opportunity to escape James’ drunken grasp. She followed at a slower pace, weaving through the crowd, her eyes scanning for you as she made her way toward the kitchen.

You were almost there, just a few steps from the counter, when you caught sight of a familiar head of dark curls, towering slightly above the sea of heads.

Sirius.

A small part of you relaxed at the sight of him, a stupid, involuntary kind of relief washing over you. But the moment was fleeting—because then, you saw her.

A hand, fingers trailing deliberately over his sleeve, then curling gently around the lapel of his jacket. Your stomach twisted as you recognized her—Emmeline, maybe?—but before you could process the moment, she was pulling him down, pressing her lips to his.

Something inside you froze, the heat from dancing moments ago now replaced by something cold and heavy settling in your stomach.

Marlene had almost caught up to you when she noticed the way your body had gone still, your wide, unblinking gaze fixed ahead. She followed your line of sight—and immediately saw it. Sirius, standing there, stiff as a board, Emmeline’s lips pressed against his.

That was the first time you felt it, first time you’d notice the sound of the water whossing in your ears, you were drowning—and as the alarm bells sounded, body frozen in place. Only then did you realise it was too late, you couldn’t run from it, couldn’t try save yourself from the vast monopolising sea that was Sirius Black.

You so wished you could feel bad for yourself, to hate the girl who’d had her fingers tangled in his hair, will yourself to be angry at him. But despite the pinched numbing feeling that bloomed in your chest, the way your eyes burned as you tore your gaze away from the scene before you—it was no use.

Like you were seeing something that had been standing in front of you for the first time, something that had been right under your nose—all the pennies had dropped at once and the clarity it gave you, honestly made you want to be sick.

It wasn’t that you thought you were so amazing and special that the notorious playboy, heart-throb Sirius Black would drop everything and change his strips to be with you forever. You didn’t care that much, you knew what you were signing up for, right?

Marlene started, but by the time she reached where you’d stood, you were already gone, swallowed by the crowd.

She cursed under her breath before snapping her head back toward Sirius, storming forward without hesitation.

Sirius had already pulled away, his brows furrowed, lips parted in shock. He looked—almost offended—like he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. Before he could even react, rough hands grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around.

Marlene.

She was seething.

“You’re a right foul git, y’know that, Black?” she spat, voice sharp with fury.

Sirius barely had time to process the insult before she scoffed, turning on her heel and pushing back into the crowd, searching.

“Wait—what?” Sirius called after her, but she didn’t so much as spare him a glance.

Jaw tightening, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, inhaling through his nose—Sirius barely even noticed Emmeline stumble slightly beside him, too drunk to react to the moment, too unaware of what had just happened. She wasn’t smirking, wasn’t looking pleased with herself—if anything, she just looked vaguely confused, glassy-eyed and unbothered as she swayed on the spot.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face before shaking his head, frustration bleeding into his features. Then, without another glance back, he pushed forward, chasing after Marlene—chasing after you.

But they both just ended up standing outside, you nowhere to be seen, name flashing on Marlene’s screen for several rings before eventually cutting itself off—voicemail. All she could do was sigh heavily in frustration, spinning around to find Sirius standing behind her—as she caught glimpse of him, her face twisted into a grimace. Rolling her eyes, shoulders brushing his as she trudged inside to find James.

You were lost in deep thought, pacing all the way back home.

It was silly anyway, just a bit of fun—and you’d been foolish enough to think it was anything more than that anyway. Even if the way his fingers would brush over your skin, tracing nonsense patterns as he held you close night after night—endlessly whispering to each other about the silly and impossible things. The ideas you had, your hopes and dreams. Even if the way he’d breath your name, chest vibrating against you, caressing the tops of your cheeks—gaze too soft as if he were catalogueing every single feature on your face.

Even if just thinking about all those small things, made your throat close up, it wasn’t enough to change the reality that had come unforgivingly crashed upon you.

Really it was your fault for getting lost in a little world of make believe, it was your fault for allowing yourself to be in the situation in the first place, you should have never invited him in, never kissed him, never met him.

The feeling that swirled beneath your ribs was one you couldn’t put your finger on, you didn’t feel sad, you didn’t have the urge to cry. All you wished to do was lie down, suddenly so exhausted. You found your fingertips tracing the outline of your lips as you stood meters away from your door, in a daze, unable to bring yourself a step closer.

Only after several long drawn out moments of the cold wind whipping against your skin, the burning in your soles of your feet to become just that bit more agnosing, did you to finally take your keys out and enter your home.

Completely ordinary, nothing out of place—exactly how you’d left it.

But as you took in the sight of your living room, my stomach lurched, stuck again by your doorframe—traces of him everywhere. The usual mugs waiting on the counter, a jumper laying on the single seater, his jacket hanging over his chair in the kitchen. You even tripped over the slippers you’d bought him at you entrance when you dragged yourself further in.

Shoes disgarded roughly behind you, recklessly tossing your bag in the general direction of the general direction as you pushed through the door to your bedroom. Another obstacle.

No matter how much you wanted to flop onto the bed, let your muscles sink into the plush cushion of your mattress and let the exhaustion of the night swallow you whole, you couldn’t. It was brutal and oppressive, the way his scent wafted around you, taking up too much space—swallowing the room whole, a mark—a stain of his presence.

Almost as if a wave of nausea had hit you, you body tensed pushing down the churn that built its way up into your chest. Fingers rubbing harshly against the base of your throat, eyes darting around the room, the seconds passing like hours with each reluctant step towards the bed.

And as you gripped the edge of your bed sheet, ready to tear them off. It wasn’t even a fraction of a second, the soft fabric in your grasps that had housed him barely a day ago—warm caramel, leather, and a hint of petrol—it sent a shooting pang through the middle of your chest, forcing you to rip you hand away like the fabric burned.

No matter how many times you repeated it, just a bit of fun, it never quite felt like a lie—until now.

Just too much.

A hot shower should do you some good, turning away from your bed and to your wardrobe, even your selection of sleep clothes had dwindled down to more of Sirius’ clothes than not. Your mouth felt bitterly dry as you scavenged through your clothes looking for something old, something yours—something that wasn’t smeered with a thought of him.

You stood in the showere for too long, arches of your feet still burning, water too hot against your skin, and still you stood there. Letting the fast pitter patter of the water dull your senses. Your mind wasn’t overworking, it wasn’t running wild, it was just blank.

Empty, unoccupied, vacant—tired.

Like you held the weight of the world on your shoulders, you head was sunk as you plopped onto the sofa, knees brought to your chest, cradling your head as your arms wrapping around yourself. You sat in silence, for a while, a long while—waiting for sleep to come, welcome you with open arms and wash away the ache that had settled at the bottom of your ribs.

To your misfortune, an incessant knocking began not long after you’d closed your eyes—jolting out of sleep’s sweet embrace and off the sofa in a panic. Eyes burning with sleep, your breath caught in your throat, and for a brief moment, you were frozen in place, listening.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

Your stomach twisted, a strange cocktail of unease and anticipation bubbling beneath your skin. The knocking continued, steady and insistent, like the person on the other side had no plans of giving up.

You willed yourself to ignore it.

Sitting back down, muscles still aching and heavy with exhaustion, fingers fumbling for your phone. 2:56 AM. The screen glowed mockingly in the dark, and you let out a slow, steady breath, willing your heartbeat to slow.

But the knocking continued.

Five minutes.

Then ten.

Each rap against the wood sent a dull throb through your skull, your patience wearing thin as you pushed yourself up again. With slow, cautious steps, you approached the door, peering through the peephole—and felt your breath hitch violently in your throat.

Sirius.

He was standing there, shoulders tense, jaw tight. His knuckles were raw and reddened from the persistent knocking, his fingers flexing at his sides like he was battling the urge to stay calm, composed in his knocking. He shifted slightly, eyes searching, and then he knocked again, softer this time, cautious. Like he knew you were standing on the other side of the door.

You didn’t dare move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

Until he did. Until he said your name, quiet, almost pleading; "Please, love—let me in."

Your chest ached at the sound of it, at the way his voice cracked just slightly at the end. It felt like every cell in your body was screaming at you saying open it open it open it, staring at the handle as if it your gaze could make it vanish, remove the temptation to do so.

"I’m tired, Sirius. Please go home."

The words came out barely above a whisper, but they landed like a punch. You saw it, the way his face crumbled at the sound of your voice. His hands pressed flat against the door, shoulders sagging as his forehead made contact with the hard wood of your door, creating a dull thud. For a moment, he looked lost. Defeated.

But he wasn’t going to leave, Sirius was nothing if not relentless. You knew that much.

And yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to step away from the door, he continued knocking, the flat sound echoing in your ears, ringing between each thump of your heart. You should’ve ignored him. Should’ve let him knock until he got tired—but you didn’t.

With a deep, steadying breath, you unlocked the door and pulled it open.

The second he saw you, a rush of relief flashed across his face, though stress and urgency still burning in his eyes. Instinctively, he reached out—but the moment his fingertips brushed your wrist, you shifted , jerking away as if his touch scalded you. And Sirius felt it—felt the air in his lungs force its way out of him against his will, winded at your reaction. Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, his hand lingering in the airn before slowly letting it drop to his side.

“Do you need something specific, Sirius?”

Gods, the way you said his name, devoid of its usual warmth, its usual playful, fond tone, devoid of you, it made breathing just that bit harder for him. You voice was so flat, emotionless. And your eyes were trained on somewhere near his shoulder, not meeting his.

Sirius hesitated, his brows furrowing, before stepping inside hesitantly. "I need to explain—"

"You don’t need to explain anything to me."

The words were sharp. Final. Matching the heavy slam the door made behind him, and he winced at the unforgiving tone of your words as you continued, “It’s fine. You can do whatever you want”

His brows pulled together tighter, frustration flickering across his features. "But I don’t—I didn’t want that. I didn’t—"

His fingers brushed against your arm again, desperate, and you recoiled so quickly it felt like a physical blow to his chest, his jaw falling slightly agape, voice pleading more breath than words.

"Love, please—"

"Don’t."

It was just one word. One syllable, but it made his stomach lurch, freezing in his space, watching as you backed away, arms folding tightly around yourself like a shield—shielding yourself from him.

"We have nothing to talk about." Your voice wavered, barely audible now. "It was just a bit of fun anyway."

Sirius flinched, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face, twisting into an almost pained frown. “Stop.” voice hoarse.

You didn’t respond.

"Don’t say that." He took a step forward, but you mirrored the movement in reverse, keeping the distance between you. Still, you haven’t looked at him once, almost backing yourself into a corner, tryping to escape his words, his ever intense stare, him.

Your voice came out weak, faintly above a whisper, bordering a beg; “Please just go, Sirius,”

He didn’t listen, just continued forwards wordlessly, watching you—excuriatingly aware of each slow tread he took, until he was just in front of you—barely any space left between you. And it made you hold your breath, you couldn’t go any further, back flush against the wall.

“Look at me,”

Immediately you shook your head, you couldn’t—it would be too taxing, an unfathomable task. He was so painfully close, that same familiar smell, warmth so undeniably Sirius, a whisper of air left between you. He was here, your wreckening, something that you so woefully dreaded.

His voice was quiet, almost pleading—”Tell me that it was nothing more and I’ll leave right now,”

And God, did it hurt. It made that same whoosing gurgling return between your ears, sinking into the depth of the water—fully submerged.

There was something raw in the way he said it, something that sent a deep ache blooming in your chest. It took everything in you to steel yourself, to look up at him, gaze burning and glossy with unshed tears, swallowing the lump in your chest, “It was nothing more than a bit of fun.”

The air around you felt thinner, like it had risen and had become too hard to breath in, denying you of the last tether you had to the room. The frown on his face etched further onto his lips as he breathed in deeply through his nose, muttering as he shook his head; “You’re lying.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. He saw right through you—not the slightest bit convinced.

Your lips parted, an argument on the tip of your tongue, but he cut you off before you could even form the words. His voice louder than he expected,

"Why? Why are you lying? I’m trying to fix this—"

"Fix it?" The dam finally cracked, anger and frustration spilling into your voice, looking up at him with a gaze so burning and intense it made him take a step back. "Why would you want to fix it, Sirius? Stop acting like you care when it was just a game to you anyway."

Your chest was heaving now, emotions bubbling over, forcibly rubbing your hands over your face before they dropped roughly to your sides—but he didn’t look offended. He didn’t look angry. If anything, his expression softened, like he understood—and that only made it worse.

"Is that what you really think?"

You didn’t answer.

And the silence that rung between you had you questioning if you were alone in the room, he was still looking at you—long after you tore your gaze away from his, you knew deep down if your looked at him again, you’d surely shatter.

Neither of you spoke. Not when his presence alone made your chest tighten, made your throat burn with the effort of swallowing back words you weren’t sure you had the strength to say.

Sirius didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t fight you on it. The only thought ringing in your head was that it better this way, easier this way. Maybe you could make yourself believe it.

Then he spoke, and his voice—so raw, so careful—made you flinch.

"Do you really think this whole time I was just playing with you?"

The little breath you had in you stilled in your lungs, sharp and uneven. You didn’t answer, you couldn’t trust your voice, not when it was so hard to swallow the small tears you wished to let out.

Sirius exhaled through his nose, taking a slow step closer.

"Do you really think I’m that cruel?"

His words were quiet, but they hit like a punch to the gut. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as if the sting of it would ground you, anchor you to the decision you had already made—to shut this down before it could hurt more than it already did.

But he was watching you too closely. Too intently. And Sirius had always been too good at reading you. So when he saw it—the wet marks beginning to bloom on the front of your shirt, the silent tremble in your shoulders—he knew. And it panged straight through his gut and through his chest, burning and searing guilt.

He moved then, just slightly. Slowly—so slowly—his fingers brushed against yours, tentative, careful. You sucked in a sharp breath at the contact. But you didn’t pull away. And that was all the invitation he needed.

Sirius took your hand fully in his, his grip steady and warm, thumb grazing over your knuckles as if to soothe your hurting. Then, just as slowly, he lifted it—pressing your palm against the center of his chest, his own hand covering yours entirely, keeping it there, locked against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It was fast. Strong. Alive. And it was beating beneath your hand like it had something to prove, like it was all he had.

The silence that stretched between you now was different. Heavier, laced with a tenderness that had your pulse skipping.

And then he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper.

"Can you feel that?"

You did. Of course, you did. It was all you could feel. The solid weight of him beneath your fingers, the heat radiating through his skin, the undeniable proof of him, of everything he had ever made you feel.

You parted your lips, but no sound came out. Just a sharp hiccuping breath.

Sirius said your name then. So delicate. So soft. And that—that—was almost your undoing. Because of all the times he’d said your name he never said it like that. Never that serious, never so delicate and aching. Like it was something sacred, something important. Like it was the most precious thing he had ever held in his mouth.

He ducked his head slightly, lowering his chin just enough to try and meet your eyes. He physically had to hold back the gasp the threatened to leave him.

Because you looked devastated. Completely wrecked.

Your lower lip was trembling, your cheeks flushed, tear-stained, your eyes filled with something so raw, so deeply wounded, it physically hurt to witness. And Sirius—who had never been afraid of anything in his entire life—felt terror claw its way up his spine at the sight of you like this.

His grip on your hand tightened just slightly, pressing your palm harder against his chest, like he needed you to hold him together now.

He swallowed, throat bobbing as he forced the words out.

"This," he murmured, gaze unwavering, "this heart?"

The beat beneath your fingers felt impossibly loud. Thudding, steady, strong.

"It’s just for you. I promise."

Sirius didn’t let go of your hand. Not for a second.

Instead, he took slow, careful steps backward, pulling you with him, guiding you toward the sofa. His grip was safe, anchoring, your palm still pressed against the center of his chest, feeling every erratic beat beneath your fingertips. And when the backs of his knees hit the cushions, he let himself sink down, pulling you with him until you were sitting so close your knees brushed.

You didn’t look at him.

Your gaze stayed fixed on your hands, on the way your fingers still rested over his heart, like you were trying to memorize the feeling of it. Your mind was screaming at you to push him away, to shut him out, to let self-preservation win. But there was something about the way he held you there—not trapping, just holding—that made your chest tighten under the ache.

"I swear," Sirius started, voice so quiet it barely rose above the silence. *"*What you saw—it was nothing. I didn’t know her. I didn’t want it. I would never—" he inhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I would never want to hurt you."

He leaned in, ducking his head slightly, trying to meet your gaze.

"Can you look at me, please?"

Your lips pressed together forming a tight line, eyes squeezing shut for half a second before you forced yourself to meet his stare. God, he was so easy to believe. So convincing. His eyes, dark and pleading, held no trace of deception. He was here, completely and entirely, his sincerity palpable. And you so desperately wanted to drown in him again, let yourself be consumed by the current of everything that was Sirius Black.

But instead, you asked, "What is this?" Your voice wasn’t angry, but there was an exhaustion beneath it, a quiet, vulnerable hesitation. "What are we? Because I can't—" you took a slow breath, "I can't do this again and lose."

Sirius' breath hitched, a flicker of something soft crossed his face. He reached out, taking both of your hands in his, thumbs brushing over your knuckles as his voice came out low, earnest, genuine.

"Y/N, I can't breathe when you're not with me." His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to make sure you were really listening. "You're all I think about. From the moment I saw you I was yours—"

Your breath caught in your throat.

Sirius’ eyes darted across your face, searching, begging for you to see him. And you mirrored him, scouring his features, looking for any hint of deception, any feigned conviction—but there was none.

Only warmth. Only that same tender, devastating fondness you’d spent so long trying to ignore.

"Please say something," he whispered, so fragile you nearly broke again at the sound of it.

Your lips parted, but the words died before they could form, the weight of everything making your chest tight, making it impossible to breathe. Sirius just looked at you—desperate, hopeful—while you struggled, until finally, finally, you managed a single word.

"Sirius."

It was barely a whisper, but it was soft. That same, familiar cadence you used to use when it was just the two of you, curled into each other in the quiet safety of the night.

He felt his shoulders drop slightly, relief settling into his bones.

Cautiously, as if afraid you’d disappear, his hand lifted, fingers ghosting over your jaw before settling there, cradling your face with a reverence that made you dizzy. His palm was warm, radiating a heat that you were so familiar with and your brows furrowed, reaching high on your foread—skin burning under his touch as you let out a shaky breath.

"Can I kiss you?"

His other hand joined, thumbs brushing gently over your cheekbones, holding you like you were made of something precious. You could feel the slow nod of your head before you were even aware you were doing it.

And then he kissed you.

It was different this time.

Not rushed. Not messy. Not laced with laughter and playful teasing.

It was real. It was raw and vulnerable and slow, like he was pouring every single unspoken thing into it, like he was trying to convince you without words. And God help you, you leaned into it. Because you were weak when it came to him, helpless to the way he so easily consumed you completely.

The kiss deepened, a passion—a yearning desperation seeping through as Sirius leaning back, pulling you into his lap, arms wrapping securely around your waist like he was terrified to let go. And just as you were starting to lose yourself in it, his lips parted against yours, murmuring something you couldn’t quite make out.

You pulled back slightly, forehead resting against his, both of you breathless, dazed.

"What?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius’ lips curled into the softest grin, eyes practically glowing even in the dim light of the room. He planted slow, lingering kisses across your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, before finally pressing a last, gentle one to your lips, exhaling into you.

His hands cupped your face, thumbs tracing delicate patterns against your skin as he looked up at you like you were everything, the only thing that tethered him to the earth, the only thing that had ever mattered in that moment and for every moment to come, eyes swimming with a silent promise.

And then, with no hesitation, no doubt, he said it again.

"I said, I love you."

#aetherraeysworks #hp marauders #marauders era #harry potter #marauders fic #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius fic #sirius black #x reader #marauders fanfic #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #marauders fanfiction

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anxiouswriter0 · 2 days ago

Text

who is it? | poly!marauders + lily

↳wc: 3k

↳pairing: poly!marauders+lily x reader (james potter, remus lupin, sirius black, lily evans x reader)

↳Warning/Tags: War, memory of the past resurfaces, Lily cries, betrayal, confusion and guilt, not reviewed.

↳Note: I remember that I had this draft since Nov 2024. Since it’s been a while since I last wrote (due to a massive creative block that is slowly fading), I wanted to finish it. I wanted to start with something different and try not to be so repetitive with certain things, even though it’s hard for me haha. Also, I’m implementing some things like content warnings, which I might still need to work on. Maybe I should accept some suggestions because my creativity is slipping away again…

a/n: I felt inspired by those who write about the polyamorous relationship between the Marauders, including Lily or another character. (I became a fan of it, in addition to liking the Harry Potter books/movies), and sorry if it's short.

═════════★゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜★゜・。。・゜☆═════════

The war was at its peak in the magical world, and the few remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix had taken refuge in the Black house. Among them were James Potter and Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, along with other members like Hestia Jones and the young Metamorphmagus Nymphadora Tonks. The Weasley family was also present, including their son Harry Potter and his closest friends, Hermione Granger and, of course, Ron Weasley.

The atmosphere was filled with tension as the members of the Order of the Phoenix prepared plans for their next confrontation.

At that moment, Harry was with Ron and Hermione exploring the house, as they were new there, and Harry had offered to give them a tour. As they went upstairs, Sirius warned them about the enchanted portrait of the Black family matriarch, who would insult and curse anyone who dared to pass by. However, he also told them to be cautious of his house-elf, Kreacher, as he was an unpleasant creature. (Or rather, Sirius was the only one who thought that way). Harry and his friends began their little adventure exploring the surroundings of the Black house, but what intrigued them the most—or rather, intrigued Ron the most—was Sirius's room. Although Harry wouldn't blame him, he was also intrigued to know what else Sirius was hiding in his room, since only on a few occasions had he entered there under the supervision of only Sirius.

Which was quite strange. Harry, always curious and mischievous, used to inspect every corner of the house without anything stopping him. However, every time he tried to enter Sirius's room, something happened. He always appeared at his side with any excuse to stop him. It wasn't just a one-time occurrence; it would happen every time someone else—be it Remus, James, or even Lily—tried to get in to make sure there were no curses or simply to inspect the place. And, although it was all supposed to be for security, Harry couldn't help feeling there was something else going on. Something that had nothing to do with dark magic or wards, but rather a secret hanging in the air. He wasn't the only one who felt it. His relatives seemed to notice it too, although no one said anything out loud. And that only fueled his curiosity further. It wasn't just a one-time occurrence; it happened every time someone else—be it Remus, James, or even Lily—tried to get in to make sure there were no curses or simply to inspect the place. And even though it was all supposed to be for safety, Harry couldn't help but feel there was something more. Something that had nothing to do with dark magic or wards, but rather a secret hanging in the air.

But he wasn't the only one. I feel like the others were hiding something from him, even though no one said anything. And that only fueled his curiosity.

What were they hiding?

The door to their room was in front of them, and upon entering quietly, they discovered it was a mess. Sirius had told him that he had enchanted the place so that nothing could move, basically a very powerful sticking charm. The room was filled with Gryffindor banners, the bed was messy, and the books were turned into a pile of pebbles, which Hermione instinctively picked up to examine. The place, though chaotic, had a cozy atmosphere and perfectly reflected Sirius's rebellious personality. Another thing that earned Sirius a scolding from Lily at the time was not only having banners and photos of motorbikes but also pictures of Muggle girls in bikinis stuck up there.

Harry was investigating the room, observing every detail with curiosity (except for the pictures of girls). He stopped in front of the Gryffindor banner hanging on the wall. The colorful emblem sharply contrasted with the rest of the house, reflecting Sirius's clear mockery of his family, who had belonged to Slytherin. Harry smiled as he imagined Sirius, young and rebellious, hanging the banner with a defiant grin, enjoying the small victory in his battle against his family's expectations. As they continued exploring, Hermione had picked up a book near Sirius’s bed, but she noticed a box sticking out from under the bed. It looked dusty and somewhat neglected. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she grabbed it, while Ron diverted his gaze from certain photos, looking towards Hermione.

"Hey, what do you have there?" Ron asked, getting closer. This caught Harry's attention as he saw his friends with a box.

"What is that?" Harry asked, curious.

"No idea, it was down there. It must belong to your parents," Hermione explained, handing the box to Harry. He took it without a word and placed it on Sirius's bed. He tried to open it, which he managed to do with a bit of effort. Inside, he found photos and... letters that, based on the handwriting and names, were from his parents.

"Harry, that’s from your parents! Don’t invade their privacy!" Hermione scolded, noticing Harry’s actions. Harry didn’t pay much attention to her words, as he saw the same curious look in her eyes.

Harry sat on the bed, prompting both Hermione and Ron to imitate the gesture. The first photos showed James, Remus, and Sirius together. It was clear they were old; their youthful features and carefree smiles. As they looked through more pictures, they began to notice the presence of his mother, Lily. There were pictures of the four of them together, sharing happy moments. But as they continued, Harry's joy shifted to curiosity when he noticed the presence of another person in some of the photos.

Among the images, there were intimate and family moments: kisses, hugs, and laughter. The presence of this person, unknown to Harry until now, intrigued him deeply. Finally, in one of the photos, Ron took one that left him not only puzzled but also confused.

"Harry, look at this," Ron said, handing him the photo. What he saw left him just as bewildered as his friend. It was the image of that person holding a baby Harry in their arms. Even the moving pictures showed them holding baby Harry, gazing at the camera with an expression of... tenderness and... love.

Who was she? Harry wondered. Why couldn't he remember her? Why hadn't his parents ever mentioned her?

After the meeting, Harry called his family to the living room for a private gathering. The fact that the Weasleys were still there didn’t make him uncomfortable, but he preferred this matter to be between them. At that moment, everyone sat in complete silence, confused by Harry’s unusual behavior.

“Harry, sweetheart, is everything okay?” Lily asked with her maternal voice.

Harry let out a sigh and slammed all the photographs onto the table. Everyone stared, shocked. Lily’s face went pale, and she covered her mouth, while Sirius shifted uncomfortably, looking away. Remus and James let out a long sigh.

“Harry…” Remus murmured, trying to keep his voice steady, “Where did you get these photos?” he asked.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Harry replied in a trembling voice. At that, Remus shot him a stern look, noticing how Sirius seemed to shrink into the sofa.

“Who is she? Why didn’t you tell me there was someone else?” Harry demanded.

“I thought you had thrown them away,” Remus murmured, glancing at Sirius.

“I thought I had hidden them well,” Sirius muttered, not meeting his gaze.

No one responded to Harry’s sudden questions. Then, James, his father, picked up one of the photographs and looked at it with sadness. The image showed Remus, Sirius, Lily, and James together, with baby Harry in the center. Lily was lifting Harry’s small hand so he could wave at the camera, but there was also someone else there, holding him gently and pinching his cheek in a loving manner. This person was right in the middle of Sirius, Lily, and Harry, all gazing at the camera with love.

James and Lily leaned closer to the photo, their faces filled with nostalgia and sorrow.

“Can I know who they were?” Harry asked again, this time looking at his father, James. He ran his thumb over the photo, more specifically over the joyful individual in the picture.

“It’s (y/n) (l/n)… they were an important part... of our lives,” James said in a choked voice. Lily nodded slowly.

“They were someone we loved deeply, Harry,” Lily said, gazing at him with a mixture of tenderness and sadness. “They were everything to us,” she murmured quietly at the end.

“What happened?” Harry asked, his voice full of curiosity and concern. James looked at Harry, then turned his gaze to Lily. She, with a solemn expression, nodded slowly, signaling that she was ready to continue.

Lily took a deep breath, preparing to reveal more details. She glanced at Remus and Sirius, both of whom were holding a photo of (y/n) in their hands.

“What happened was... hard to accept,” she said. “They left after a fight we had. We thought they’d come back, and indeed, they did. But what they did upon returning deeply shocked us.”

“,you left without thinking about the consequences! Do you know how dangerous it is out there? Your actions put our safety and Harry's at risk. Don’t you understand that?” Sirius shouted furiously. You had left the safety of the house despite all the warnings. The decision had been impulsive, driven by your worry and frustration, but in the middle of the war, it was an extremely dangerous action.

“Of course, I’m aware of all the risks, Sirius, but do you think I could stay here knowing that the most important people in my life are out there risking their lives?” exclaimed, their voice filled with desperation and pain.

“We completely understand how you feel, but please, you need to understand that what you did was extremely dangerous. You not only risked your life, but also Harry's life, the secret of our house's location,” Lily said desperately. “What do you think would have happened if we hadn’t gotten there in time?” she added, her voice mixed with anguish and concern.

“We’re under a lot of pressure, and what you did didn’t help. All of this is for your safety, for Harry’s, for ours. Leaving the house in the middle of this chaos is not the solution,” Remus said, disappointment in his voice.

“I was just trying to help,” (y/n) said, their voice trembling. “You’re all out there putting your lives at risk while I’m here hiding, doing nothing—damn it, do you think I don’t fear the thought that you might never come back?”

“We know, darling, and we appreciate everything you do for us. But please, don’t put yourself in danger like this... okay? We’ll always come back to you and Harry,” James said softly.

“And what if you don’t?” said, furrowing their brow and looking at him. “What if you don’t come back? What if one of you gets seriously hurt, or worse...” They hiccupped in the middle of their outburst. No one said anything. (y/n) looked around, and no one spoke… no one looked at them.

(y/n) frowned and scrunched their nose, their frustration and pain evident. Without saying another word, they turned and left the room, heading toward the room they shared.

Lily closed her eyes, the sadness clearly visible as the memory faded. “It was... a difficult night, one where emotions took control and caused more damage than we expected. They just wanted to help, but in that moment, the stress of going on missions and not knowing anything about you, about both of you, not even whether we would come back or not, was so overwhelming... we didn’t know how to handle it,” Lily said, leaving the room in a brief silence.

“That was the night everything happened. We decided to wait a little to let our emotions calm down. Without saying a word, we went to our rooms to sleep,” Remus continued, still not daring to forget that moment. When everyone calmed down, no one said anything to avoid fueling the small flame still burning within them. But that flame almost went out when, upon entering their rooms, they saw (y/n) sleeping, wrapped in blankets, with traces of tears still falling onto the pillow as they slept. That image broke his heart—having made someone cry who only tried to help, even if it meant giving their life for it.

“I remember waking up with a feeling of unease, like something wasn’t right... and indeed, something had happened...” he continued, his voice tinged with nostalgia and sadness.

“(y/n) was gone,” he said quietly.

Remus remembered how fear flooded his being when he opened his eyes and realized that wasn’t by his side on the large bed where they all slept. He thought maybe they were in the bathroom or the kitchen, but something inside him told him that wasn’t the case.

Desperate, he woke Sirius, who was sleeping beside him. Sirius, noticing the concern on Remus's face, quickly looked at the empty side of the bed where (y/n) usually slept and began searching for them with his eyes across the room.

Feeling more and more uneasy, Remus quickly got up and headed out of the room. Meanwhile, Sirius shook James and Lily awake.

“Lily! James! (y/n) isn’t here!” Sirius exclaimed, standing up and rushing to join Remus.

“What?!” Lily exclaimed, panic in her voice. Both James and Lily immediately stood up, their concern growing as they searched the house. They checked room after room, even Lily searched in baby Harry’s room, knowing (y/n) loved to be there at night, but nothing. She couldn’t find that figure she cherished seeing in the middle of the night.

“We quickly deduced that they had left the house, so Sirius and I decided to go look for them,” Remus remembered. “Meanwhile, James and Lily would stay in case they came back, but Lily didn’t want us to go.”

“No, no, please, Remus, we can’t leave now. It’s too dangerous,” Lily said, worry clearly reflected on her face. “We must stay here, all of us, in case they return. We’ll be notified immediately if anyone sees them out there.”

However, the discussions led to no concrete resolution. Anxiety and fear prevailed as they tried to coordinate an appropriate response. It was in the midst of that confusion that an unexpected sound broke the silence—the sound of someone appearing outside the house. The group looked out the window. There, in the dim light, stood (y/n), motionless.

It was a moment of relief when they saw (y/n), nearly everyone rushing toward the door, but something told them to stay.

Then... it was when...

“We saw them raise their wand,” Remus said. “Before we could do anything, explosions started going off in the house. The situation became chaotic quickly.”

The spell they cast caused a violent explosion on the house’s facade. The walls vibrated with the force of the impact, and a blast shattered several windows, sending sharp glass fragments flying around.

“We saw how (y/n) was causing destruction,” Remus continued. “Desperate, we tried to defend ourselves. Lily, instinctively, went to find you to protect you, while James tried to coordinate with Sirius and me.”

The urgency of the situation forced Sirius and Remus to prepare to defend themselves, wands in hand, though their hearts ached deeply, knowing that the cause of all this was someone they had once loved. Lily, her heart pounding, held Harry tightly, determined to keep him safe. James, filled with anguish, tried to coordinate with Sirius and Remus to ensure a quick evacuation.

With a heavy heart and an overwhelming sense of sorrow, they all stood together, watching what had once been their home. That house, their refuge, where they had shared so many memories, so much laughter and so many secrets, was now crumbling before their eyes. Amid the destruction, a figure emerged from the ruins, and they recognized them instantly. Standing there, wand raised, their face was marked with a mixture of desperation and fury. But before they could utter a single word, the group… simply vanished, leaving them behind, alone.

They reappeared not far from the scene, ensuring that baby Harry wouldn’t be affected by the residual magic. Even from that distance, they could hear the terrifying sounds of their home being destroyed—the splintering of wood, the deafening crash of walls collapsing, and the fierce roar of flames devouring everything in their path.

Lily, clutching Harry in her arms, felt the crushing weight of loss. Not just the loss of a home, but something far more painful—the loss of someone who had once meant everything to them.

As she recalled that night, Lily felt her heart shatter all over again. To love someone, only to watch them betray everything they had once shared, was a wound that ran deeper than any she had ever known. Her tears fell freely, soaking her face, her hands trembling as she tried in vain to wipe them away.

Harry watched in silence, noticing the pain on his mother's face and the tension that filled the room. To him, it was baffling how a single argument had triggered a chain of events that had nearly ended in a massacre. He didn’t fully understand the extent of the conflict, but he could feel the weight of sadness and regret lingering in the air. His eyes shone with a mix of confusion and sorrow as he watched Remus and Sirius holding the photographs where they all appeared together.

Despite the pain, Harry couldn’t deny how important (y/n) had been to them. Even though he didn’t remember them clearly, he felt a connection, as if, in some way, their presence had once been significant in his life. The love and grief etched into his parents’ faces gave him a deeper understanding of the bond they had shared.

He longed to understand what had driven someone so important in their lives to make choices that led to such devastation. A pang of guilt struck him for unearthing a memory his family had tried to bury, yet at the same time, he yearned to have (y/n) in front of him—to hear from their own lips the reasons behind their actions and to find answers that could make sense of the rift and the pain that had torn his family apart.

But where… where were you?

#poly!marauders x reader #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders fic #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #lily evans x reader #hp #hp angst #hp fanfic #hp imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #x y/n

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enzosbabyangel · 2 days ago

Note

OKOK

perv!ron giving into the urge to relieve his boner while sitting at a table at the three broomsticks sounds so hot 😭 HEAR ME OUT. reader whos sitting across from him picks up on this and decides to tease him (and maybe pretends to drop a fork…?👀), while the others at the table are seemingly not paying attention.

ill leave it up to you to decide who theyre sitting with and if they get caught or not 🤭🙀

☆｡° Thinking ‘bout perv!Ron giving into his urges at dinner…

cw: 18+!, mdni, perv!Ron, reader is Harry’s sister, Public masturbation, Ron kind of did things the complicated way because i feel like perv!Ron would be kind of stupid, mentions of Ron watching seemingly unaware reader masturbate, panty stealing, panty sniffing, reader is also kind of pervy, Ron gets caught by Harry lmao

a/n: first time writing in foreverr since the past week has been so busy 💔💔 Hopefully a Draco ask next, then i get to work on my boys Fred and George again ! (hoping to get all asks finished soon !)

The Gryffindor quidditch team sat around at a table at three broomsticks. The sound of celebratory chatter echoing off the walls of the building. Gryffindor won against Slytherin in today’s quidditch game, so the team decided why not celebrate by going to the three broomsticks?

It wasn’t just the team, a couple friends sat around at the table too. One of those friends being Harry’s sister who was sat across from her brother’s best friend.

Your nails were freshly done. The colour sticking out against the silver of the fork in your hand as you twirled the utensil in your noodles. Your focus on your brother as he discussed with the others about whatever one of the Slytherins did during the game that ticked him off. You decided to wear a simple, black off the shoulder short dress.

The cleavage of your breasts was noticeable thanks to the low cut of the fabric- And boy was it distracting Ron, whom, by the way, was your brother’s best friend.

Ron knew it was wrong to look at his best friend’s sister like this, but he couldn’t help it. You always managed to look so effortlessly attractive. And the sight of your cleavage certainly wasn’t helping with the boner he already had due to the magazine he was looking at before coming here.

He could feel the heat in his face spreading to his ears as you looked at him. His gaze instantly changing to look at the side as he ‘innocently’ took a sip of his butterbear.

You grinned as you looked away. Adjusting in your seat to push your chest out more. Sighing as you tuned back into the conversation going on with your brother and his friends, all while watching Ron out of the corner of your eye.

Ron side eyed you to see if you were still looking, letting out a sigh of relief as he saw that you weren’t. His eyes were then immediately drawn back to your chest- which were now more on display for him than before. If he ‘didn’t know better’, he would have thought you’d done it on purpose.

He looked back down towards his food, stuffing a bunch of chicken into his mouth while he eyed the bump straining against his jeans. Fuck, he wanted to deal with that so bad. It was practically painful how hard he was at this point.

Looking back up, Ron’s eyes scanned over the table and faces of his friends before his eyes darted to your cleavage then his pants. He bit his lip, his mind working at a million miles per minute as he debated on what to do.

What was he debating on doing? On relieving his boner in public of course. He would be lying if he were to say that the risk wasn’t turning him on even more. And he’d be a fool to pass up on an opportunity to get off to the sight of your tits that he had right in front of him.

Cautiously looking around the table, he snaked one of his hands down into his lap. Sucking in a deep breath as fiddled with the zipper of his jeans.

Your brows furrowed as you watched Ron’s actions out of the side of your eye. ‘What in the bloody hell was he doing?’ You thought to yourself. Why was he looking around the table so cautiously?

You just closed your eyes and mentally shook your head, looking back towards the rest of the table as you dismissed your curiosity away.

Ron bit his lip, attempting to appear nonchalant as he pulled his zipper down while stuffing a big piece of chicken into his mouth. Mentally cursing himself as he came to his next obstacle: Getting his pants down.

His movements momentarily halted as he sipped on his butterbear. Cautiously looking around to make sure that no one was looking at or near him. Then lifted his hips just enough to get his pants down enough before plopping back down onto his wooden seat.

Eyeing the table again to make sure no one was looking, he planted his right elbow back onto the table and continued eating. All while his eyes seemingly found its way back towards your chest.

Shit, this was risky. He knew it. But it’s not like he was that popular anyways, so who cares? besides if he must, he can use spells to risk away the memory someone would have of catching him.

His breath hitched in his throat as he ran his hand over his bulge, the slight touch already pleasureful.

With his heart practically beating in his ears, he pulled his cock out of his boxers, which were already practically soaked with precum, making for an easy type of ‘lube’ that he could spread over his cock.

He had to bite back a moan as he ran his hand- soaked with his own precum over his cock. Looking downwards and blocking out the conversation around him.

He looked back up towards your breasts and felt his cock twitch in his hand. God, the way the light shined against the roundness of your breasts was bloody beautiful. It made them looked so… shiny? in a way. He bit his lip hard while shamelessly staring at your tits. Imagining that their flesh was the pleasure he felt over his cock instead of his own hand.

“Shit..” He let out surprisingly quiet. Screwing his eyes shut as he imagined the sight of you giving him a blowjob. Rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock and imagining it was your tongue.

You, however, being directly infront of him, still heard his words leave his mouth and looked at him confused, just for even more confusion to envelope you as you saw the state he was in.

Hunched over, biting his lip, food forgotten and face red.

Raising a brow you scrutinized him closely, debating on kicking his leg to get his attention before you noticed the slight movement of his arm.

And that’s when it clicked- what he was doing. Biting his lip.. uneven breathing.. hunched posture.. red face.. you should’ve realized the second you looked at him.

You smirked, attempting to hold back a full on grin from forming on your face. Shifting in your seat as you didn’t bother hiding how you were staring at him. This was the boldest move he’s ever made. Doing something so risky in public. Well, perhaps his second boldest.

Coming first would definitely be when he snuck into your dorm. Thankfully for you, you were messing with your brother’s invisibility cloak, so Ron didn’t see you sitting on your bed while he snuck in.

You remember the night clear as day. You were messing around with the invisibility cloak that you stole from your brother’s suitcase- trying on some new lingerie you bought under it. Then you heard the door open, and instead of seeing one of your roommates, you saw Ron. And you couldn’t lie, you were quite amused watching him stroll cautiously into your room towards your dresser drawer and look around for your panties. Could you say it surprised you? No, not when you’ve caught him getting off to you masturbating and sniffing your panties before. You knew all about is pervy habits.

Your eyes darted down to your butter knife that was along the edge of the table and then glanced back to Ron. What’s the harm in playing along a bit?

You hummed nonchalantly, setting your elbows on the table and ‘accidentally’ knocking the butter knife over onto the floor. The clattering of the utensil momentarily catching everyone’s attention and halting Ron’s movements.

You let out an innocent chuckle and soft “Oops” as you got up to get it. The others laughing at you while your brother rolled his eyes, the chatter quickly starting up again.

Ron, however, watched your every movement as you got up and stepped over to your knife that fell. He could feel his breath catching in his throat as you turned your back to him. Was he really going to get this lucky? When he was already so close to bliss?

And then you bent down to pick up the utensil. Your skirt to your already smaller dress started riding up your thighs and stopping rather teasingly just below your ass.

Ron gawked at the sight, immediately trying to paint the image into his mind, framing it and putting it on a pedestal.

He wasn’t gonna waste this perfect moment, so he continued working his hand on his cock. Letting out a choked noise as he almost let out a moan. Staring shamelessly at the revealed flesh of your thighs. The light emphasizing every curve of your thighs in such a delicious way that had his cock twitching even more in his hand.

You smirked as you grabbed your knife, hearing that noise that Ron let out. Such a shameless pervert, it was cute in its own way.

You leaned back up, fixing your necklace. Leaving your skirt bunched up as you did so. Acting completely unaware to the fact that your brother’s best friend was staring at your body while jerking off in public.

Ron’s mouth gaped open as you got up. Your dress looked so fucking good on you. Hugging your body so perfectly. The bunched up skirt of your dress left your thighs on display for him. His eyes roamed from up to down your body, landing on your black heels. The strap of them wrapping around your ankles.

Jesus, you looked so fucking sexy. He couldn’t help but tighten his grip on his cock as he continued his movements, feeling the coil in his stomach threaten to snap.

You finally fixed the skirt of your dress once you fixed your necklace. Pulling it down your legs and smoothing down the fabric.

With the light and the fabric around your ass tightening as you pulled it down, Ron could see the outline of your thong that you were wearing, fabric straining against the confines of your dress.

That was the last thing he needed to be coming undone. Thick ropes of cum painting both his hand the bottom of his table.

When he came it was like the rest of the world became nonexistent. Missing the way you smirked at his panting form as you sat back down. Thank lord for the loud chatter or else surely everyone would have heard his loud pants.

As his orgasm finally came to an end, he regained his senses. Biting his lip as he stared down at his now soft cock and cum covered hand. ‘Shit… how am i supposed to clean this?’ He thought to himself as he looked up around the table. His eyes momentarily darting to you who was looking at everyone else on the table, smile on your face as you started engaging in conversation with Ginny.

He looked back down at the table towards Harry’s plate, perhaps he had a napkin? But instead of seeing a napkin, he saw Harry staring dead at him. ‘Shit..’

Ron’s eyes slowly made their way up to meet Harry’s, and what he saw was a look of shock, bewilderment and disgust. Harry’s body looking as if it was just hit with a freezing spell as it sat completely still. Only his eyes moving as he examined Ron.

Ron gulped, silently praying that Harry wouldn’t make the connection that he was getting off to his sister.

Harry narrowed his eye slightly as he seemingly snapped out of his intense stage of shock. Shaking his head slightly before continuously looking from Ron’s face down to a spot on Ron’s sweater.

Ron’s eyes immediately darted down once he registered what Harry was saying with eye movements, and he could feel his body freeze.

Sitting right there, on his dark blue sweater, was a splatter of his cum.

He stayed looking there for a couple seconds before slowly meeting Harry’s eyes again. Asking silently with a look in his eyes for help.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . written by enzosbabyangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

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rusalka52 · 1 day ago

Text

Tell me I’m pretty

↝completed

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: You finally go on your date with Sirius, will he act like a gentleman or will he choose to be a dick?

cw: tooth-rotting fluff, slightly suggestive

4.6k words

A/N: So the series concludes! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I have a potential smut one-shot planned out however there is no guarantee it will be written. If you would like to request something you can do so, requests are open for now !!! Don’t forget to like, reblog, comment 💗💗💗 without further ado, enjoy!

The walk to Hogsmeade is quiet. Painfully so. You were talking fine the other times you were left alone, hell, you even had your tongue down his throat before, but now you can’t even muster up anything more than a one word response to all his attempts at conversation. If you continue at this pace he’s going to start thinking that you don’t want to be here!

“Look, if you don’t want to go on this date that’s fine, we can go back to the castle and pretend this never happened…” Sirius says from beside you, sounding dejected.

“No! I do want to go.” You spin around to face him, responding a bit too fast. You’re about to spend at minimum the next two hours with him, you might as well be honest. “I just… I don’t know, I feel really nervous about this, I don’t know why, it’s stupid.” You finish, avoiding his eyes in embarrassment.

“Aww, come ‘ere.” Sirius coos, engulfing you with his arms and pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yeah, it is a bit stupid considering how many times we’ve kissed and you weren’t reduced to a ball of nerves then!” He adds, patting your hair.

“Shut up, Black.” You giggle, slapping his chest, and you two keep walking towards the village.

His hand keeps brushing against your own as you walk side by side, but neither of you seem to be brave enough to fully hold the other’s hand. You can’t help but bite back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. You are apparently bold enough to snog but hand-holding is where you draw the line. It’s way more intimate, you reason.

“You look lovely, by the way.” His gentle voice breaks the comfortable silence that had formed around you and it catches you off guard. Who knew Sirius Black could be so benevolent.

“I- uh, thank you.” You have got to stop stuttering, it’s making you look like a lovesick teenage girl! “You look really handsome too.” You bump his shoulder. This wasn’t an empty compliment, you’re not an idle flatterer, you truly do mean it. His bell bottomed dark blue jeans hung low around his hips and his cropped Ramones shirt gave you a clear view of his lower abdomen, he no doubt cut the shirt himself for that exact reason.

“Eyes up here, darling.” Sirius tuts playfully causing heat to prickle at your neck and flood your cheeks.

“Oh, stop it.” You roll your eyes, looking away from him and biting the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling.

After walking for a couple more minutes in comfortable silence you finally arrive at the entrance to the Hogsmeade village. You look over at the slightly taller boy next to you.

“So what do you want to do first?” You ask, looking up at him.

“Whatever your heart desires, love, it’s up to you. My treat, of course.” He winks, bowing his head over-dramatically.

“Oh my, what a gentleman!” You fawn sarcastically, fanning your face, before continuing. “What do you say we visit The Three Broomsticks first, my kind sir?”

“Mmm, if you call me sir again we can do anything.” He replies wiggling his eyebrows provocatively.

“Black! Stop being crude.” You gasp in mock offense and turn on your heel, heading towards the cozy pub.

“Hey, wait up!” He giggles behind you, rushing to be by your side again.

You push open the heavy wooden door of The Three Broomsticks, the familiar warmth of the pub is a comforting contrast to the crisp early spring breeze, remnants of the icy winter that had passed still lingering in the air. The low murmur of conversation from all the couples occupying the booths and the scent of mulled wine and warm beer immediately filled your senses. You scan the student-filled pub trying to find a seat until Sirius puts his hands on your shoulders and starts steering you in the direction of a snug table for two that was tucked away behind a gaggle of third years. You pull out the seat ready to sit down but Sirius quickly interrupts you.

“Wait!” He rushes over to your side and pushes the chair back in its place. You look at him in confusion.

“What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t pull out a lady’s chair for her to sit?” He explains, doing exactly that.

You shake your head smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Nuh uh, love, I’m single handedly keeping chivalry alive!”

After looking over at the menu for a couple minutes, commenting on the new items they added, Sirius waves over the bartender, orders two butterbeers and immediately pays for them before you could protest.

The initial ice between you two has melted and your conversation flows smoothly while you wait for your orders to arrive. As you two drink your butterbeers you talk about everything and nothing – the upcoming exams and which one you were the most worried about, your plans after graduation, the Quidditch World Cup and who James was betting on winning. You were in the middle of discussing how professor Flitwick’s latest assignment gave you a really hard time, when a head of black braids ducking into the female bathrooms catches your attention.

“Umm, would you excuse me for a moment, I need to use the loo.” You interrupt abruptly, downing the last few sips of your drink, and stand up. If this is who you think it is you will have a fit.

“Cas, what the hell are you do-” You exclaim once you open the bathroom door but instead of seeing just Dorcas you see three pairs of wide eyes looking back at you in horror.

Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon and Lily Evans. You all immediately start bickering.

“Why are you all congregating here, are you fucking serious?” You pinch the bridge of your nose already getting a headache from their excuses as to why they were all hiding in a bathroom.

“No, but she is…” Marlene whispers in Dorcas’ ear.

“Wha- Hey! I heard that! I can’t believe you were spying on us! What is wrong with you!?” You sigh, exasperated from their behaviour.

“Look, in my defense,” Lily begins, “I was out with James, and when he mentioned that you two were going on a date I just had to come and see for myself! I happened to find those two roaming around the village and they tagged along!”

“We’re not a spectacle to be gawked at, like animals in a zoo!” You defend.

“Well, it is a bit out of the ordinary that’s all! Not something you see everyday so of course people will be interested!” Dorcas tries to reason. “And besides, it’s not like we have undercover agents outside trailing you, we’re just your caring friends that wanted to check-in!”

Suddenly the door to the bathroom opens behind you.

“Where is she? I spotted Sirius but not her- oh…” Pandora enters behind you, a sheepish expression morphing onto her face upon realising she’s been caught.

“Oh Merlin, you’ve got to be kidding me… Is everyone here keeping tabs on us, what is going on?”

“Nope, it’s just us four.” Marlene grins, shamelessly.

You’re about to respond when the door opens again. If you see another one of your mutual friends enter the bathroom you are going to go insane.

“Ermm, are any of you waiting to use the toilet, or..?” A fourth year girl interrupts your little gathering, making you all leave the cramped bathroom and disperse with apologies for keeping people waiting, but not before you threaten all four girls to leave you and Sirius alone.

“Notice how she didn’t even try to deny the fact she’s fucking Sirius when I mentioned it, food for thought.” Marlene says to Dorcas astutely, tapping her temple, who in turn just nodded gravely.

While you were dealing with the spies in the bathroom, Sirius had taken note of a couple of prying eyes pointed his way as well.

He tried to ignore the holes being burned in the back of his skull, assuming it was some poor heartbroken girl he had rejected a couple months ago. If she approached he was simply going to tell her to bugger off and get back to his date. As he turned around, however, instead of seeing a wide eyed girl, he saw Peter’s beady eyes peering over at him from the top of a booth seat. Suddenly two hands shot out from next to him to swat at his head. Remus and James were here too, great, Sirius thought to himself annoyed. He quickly looks over to where the bathroom door is to make sure you're not returning to the table yet and he stomps over to the three boys who were whispering to each other furiously.

The other three Marauders were crammed into a single booth seat, which was meant for two people. Half of Remus’ leg was hanging out of the seat and James was pressed up against the pub’s window, while Peter was squished between the two taller boys. As Sirius approached their table and stood over it with his arms crossed, the boys’ whispering ceased and they stared straight ahead while cupping their hands around their butterbeers. If no one moves he might not see us and go away, was the thought process going through their heads.

“Oh wow, Padfoot! What a pleasant surprise! Who would’ve thought we’d see you here!” James exclaims, turning to look at him, an unnervingly wide, fake smile plastered on his face.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” Sirius whisper-yells at them as he takes a seat across the three boys.

“Just getting a drink, mate, no need to get bitchy!” James defends.

“Pete, why are you here?” Sirius asks, turning his full attention to the meek boy in the middle. He was well aware that under any amount of pressure Peter would crack immediately, and Sirius pointing his piercing gaze towards him definitely counts as pressure. Too much pressure, at that.

“Umm, what James said.” he says, averting his gaze and focusing on his drink in his hands .

“Wormtail.” Sirius says, firmer and stricter this time.

“I- uhh, well we just wanted to ermm…” An elbow being shoved against his ribs interrupts his train of thought; he looks over at James and gulps. “A drink. We wanted a drink.” he nods frantically, as if trying to convince himself he's telling the truth.

“Peter Pettigrew, you better answer now if you know what's good for you.”

“Leave the poor boy alone, mate.” Remus murmurs trying to defuse the situation, but he’s not looking at Sirius either, who is progressively getting more and more irritated as the minutes go by.

“Then tell me why you're here staring at us like a bunch of perverts!” He snaps looking at each of the boys in front of him.

James sighs and explains. “Look, mate, we honestly just wanted a drink and we happened to spot you two and well- we decided to see how everything is going!”

“And? What’s your bright consensus?” Sirius rolls his eyes sarcastically, his anger starting to dissipate slowly. He could never stay angry at James. On the one hand he wanted to appear nonchalant and unaffected regarding this date but on the other he needed some outside perspective on how it's going.

“Merlin, is the Sirius Black asking our opinion on a date?” James gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. James knew Sirius like the back of his hand so when he heard him ask his opinion on a date, even if he tried to appear sarcastic about it, he knew he was done for. The boy was completely obsessed with you. He could try and disregard the fact Sirius was raving about you the entire week in anticipation for this date, he could try to forget how Sirius turned their dorm upside down today at six thirty in the morning, he doesn't even wake up for class that early, looking for the perfect outfit for this date, but him asking for their viewpoint was too much.

“Tosspot.” Sirius hisses as he notices you open the bathroom door. He hurriedly gets up from his seat and with long strides makes his way back to his table, shoving a fourth year Hufflepuff out of the way and nearly making him fall over.

“Hey there, gorgeous, long time no see.” Sirius greets you again with his signature half-smile. “What do you say we leave now that we have both finished our drinks.” His smile appears strained.

“Yes, I would like that very much.” You reply looking over your shoulder towards the group of girls, hoping that they don't follow you and, unbeknownst to you, Sirius does the same with his friends.

The moment you two leave the pub an unlikely group of friends forms. Seven people somehow manage to squeeze themselves into a booth meant for four. Dorcas sits on Marlene’s lap, Pandora is shoved in the middle across from Peter and Lily nearly falls out of the booth. James made Remus switch seats with him so he could be closer to Lily, his to-be wife, as he called her.

“Mate, he’s smitten…” Remus mutters, shaking his head in disbelief, as seven pairs of eyes follow you two exiting the quaint pub. The girls had of course joined the three Marauders to their table, ready to unpack everything that had just unfolded before their very eyes.

“I KNOW!” James exclaims loudly, squeezing Lily’s hand from across the table, who just nodded in agreement with a hum.

“So is she!” Pandora adds.

“Did you see how focused they were on one another during their conversation, Sirius didn’t even turn around when Pete knocked over the beer glasses!” Marlene gushes. “And when I mentioned her shagging Sirius she didn’t even deny it she just blushed! It was adorable really-”

“You lot have no idea how worried she was this morning, it was driving us insane, I thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown! Even her hands were shaking. She's never that stressed, not even for the OWLs!” Dorcas points out.

“So was Sirius!” Peter states. “I thought he was going to punch me when he couldn’t find his ‘lucky socks’, it was madness!”

“Prongs, did you bring the map?” Remus asks, unable to hide his interest in his friend's escape.

“Yes of course, it’s right he- CRAP!”

“Jamie, please don't tell me you forgot it in your quidditch bag again…” Lily questions, biting her lower lip anxiously.

Instead of answering James looks sheepishly at each person and just nods slowly, scared of their reaction.

A chorus of disappointed “no”s follows.

The crisp air kisses your cheeks as you walk beside Sirius Black through the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden gleam over the village, and the scent of warm butterbeer wafts from Three Broomsticks behind you as you distance yourselves from the pub and make your way towards the shops.

Sirius was smiling, that signature mischievous sparkle in his eyes. His usual confidence seemed a bit softer today, however, and you couldn't help but smile back, your heart fluttering in a way it hadn't before.

“So,” he begins, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face, “are you here to visit the shops? Or are you here just to see me?” He smirks, interlocking his hand with yours and your brain short circuits. Normally you'd be able to come up with a quick and witty response but this time you seemed to run out of things to say.

“Well, I usually come here to check out the stores, but I suppose I can make an exception just for today.” You chuckle, playfully nudging him as you regain your composure. You're actively trying your best to ignore the way your heart is beating in your ears, the blush threatening to tint your cheeks and the smile tugging at your lips.

“Hm, I’ll take it, I’m known to be quite charming and persuasive as you very well know.” His grin widens. “So, where do you want to go now?”

“Let’s just walk around and see what catches our eye!”

“I like that, who knew you’d be so spontaneous!”

“Not all Slytherin are uptight, rigid twats, you know.” You giggle. “Just most of them.” You add quietly.

After walking down the long flight of stairs at the Hogsmeade High Street, passing by various stores, peering at any shop window that catches your eye, your hand still in his, you suddenly start feeling him tug and manoeuvre you slightly to the left. You catch his gaze shifting towards a shop and you follow his eye. Zonko’s joke shop. Of course. He stays quiet, unsure whether it would be appropriate to bring a first date to a joke shop. He’s about to walk away when you ask. “Would you like to go in? I haven’t visited Zonko’s in ages!” You offer sincerely.

“Do you really mean that? I’d love to go!” He looks like a puppy being asked if he wants to go for a walk, all excited and tugging you towards the orange shop. You can almost imagine a tail wagging furiously behind him as he drags you towards the store’s entrance.

“After you, my lady.” He bows, opening the door and letting you enter, you just laugh at his silly, over the top antics.

“Oh Godric, they have a sale on dungbombs! I really should stock up on some…” He says, more so to himself than to you. He’s like a kid in a candy shop, popping from one shelf to another at lightning speed.

He nudges you affectionately with his elbow grabbing you attention.

“You know Peter once in year three accidentally set off a whole package of dungbombs in the Slytherin common room. It was mental! We only meant to throw in a couple, not the whole box! I hear they couldn’t get rid of the smell for weeks.” He giggles.

“Yeah, I remember that.” You deadpan.

“Oh! I… um- well, ha, look-” He starts to stutter flustered, obviously having forgotten he was on a date with someone who experienced this incident first hand.

“Don’t worry,” you chuckle reassuringly, “ignoring how terrible the smell was, did you know Lucius accidentally stepped on one that didn’t set off? His hair stunk for days after that I thought he was on the brink of having a panic attack every time I saw him! He kept muttering ‘my hair’. We truly thought he would have to be institutionalised at St. Mungo’s.”

“No way, are you serious?” He gasps in shock and excitement, clearly unaware of that event.

“No, you are!” You murmur, embarrassed at how bad this joke is.

“Huh?!” He gasps excitedly, grabbing your hands and turning you to fully face him. “Did you just make your first Sirius pun with me?! My goodness, I’m corrupting you!”

“Shut up- Merlin, are those Frog Spawn Soaps?”

“Yes!” Sirius grabs your hand again, dragging you over to the soap’s display case.

“A year or two ago,” he begins grabbing one of the toys to fidget with “James and I snuck into the prefects bathroom, before Remus became prefect of course, and we dropped three soaps in the water thinking that it would only spawn nine frogs, do you know how many it spawned?” You shake your head no, he looks to be on the edge of his seat to tell you the answer anyway.

“NINETY!” He yells out. “We misread the packaging, it actually said thirty frogs per soap, not three! Common mistake.” He elaborates as you nod in agreement. “We were sure Minnie was going to have our heads when she found out it was us who left the soaps, but she can never stay angry at me, I’m too delightful and endearing, wouldn’t you agree, love?” His flirty attitude was seemingly back, you can’t say you didn’t miss it.

“Hmm, I don’t know, you haven’t really shown me that much charm today.” You tease. You were thankfully back to normal as well after your short shock you experienced previously.

He gasps. “Well, we must surely change that! Let’s get going then!” He leads you out of the shop, slipping a dungbomb in his pocket without the storekeeper noticing.

As you exit the store you notice the sun has started slowly dipping below the horizon, casting a golden haze over the cobblestone lined streets, making everything seem like it was submerged in gold.

“Oh Salazar, what time is it? It’s probably getting close to curfew, we need to head back!” You murmur worriedly.

“It’s almost five.” He says, checking the leather watch around his wrist.

“We should head back! I don’t want McGonagall giving us detention again.”

“Well you’re surely not worried about getting detention together again, right?” He mumbles, tongue in cheek.

You elbow him in the ribs with a huff and walk towards the castle.

“Wait, let’s go the longer way.” He says walking towards the less populated street that leads to Hogwarts. It was more scenic, however, you needed double the time to get to the castle so a lot of students didn’t prefer it. The only ones who used it were lovey-dovey couples and students who procrastinated getting back to school; which category do you fit in, you wonder.

The street is lined with oak trees that had now started regrowing their green leaves after the harsh autumn and winter. You and Sirius follow the winding path hand in hand. The wind has started to pick up and it began blowing your hair all over the place. You duck your head trying to stop the stray hairs from falling into your eye. In your rush to leave this morning you forgot to bring a hair tie with you and you didn’t feel like rummaging through your bag for a potential hair tie, that might not even be there.

“I think it’s time for me to return the favour.” Sirius leans in and whispers in your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand up.

“What do you mean?” You look up at him, quizzically, eyebrows furrowed.

He places his hand on your shoulders, turning you to face him. You attentively watch his movements as he takes a hair tie -your hair tie- from his wrist. You go to turn around, realising what he’s planning to do, but he stops you.

His toned arms wrap themselves around your head, gathering a handful of your hair and pulling it back in a ponytail. He slightly tugs at your hair, making you bite back a moan, as he makes sure all flyaway strands are neatly tucked under the hair tie. His eyes bore into yours and such piercing stare would normally make you avert your gaze, but for some reason you cannot seem to look away this time. His silvery blue eyes look almost like they’re glowing under the setting sun and you can’t help but be captivated.

After he finishes tying your hair, his one arm rests against your shoulder as his other caresses your jawline, rubbing delicate circles against your cheek, and his eyes flash down to your lips. You’re about to lean in when suddenly you think to yourself you shouldn’t give in to his charms so easily.

You briskly turn on your heel, slapping his face with your ponytail, and quickly walk towards the castle, giggling. He just stands there, shell-shocked before shaking his head, a soft smile etched on his pretty lips, before following behind you.

“Stop being such a minx. Why must you punish me so?” He whines in your ear, finally catching up behind you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say, meeting his eye and feigning innocence, as you grab ahold of hand and lead him towards the school.

“You know, a little birdie informed me of a rather odd rumour about you.” You mention, squeezing his hand to grab his attention.

“Hm? And what might that rumour be? Is it the one about me being a sensational kisser and an exceptional shag?”

“No, it’s not that one, although I’ve been informed of that one as well. No, it’s the one about you talking the Gryffindor tower populus’ ear off in anticipation for this date!”

“I- who told you that?!” He asks, alarmed.

“Oh, no one in particular. They did also mention, if I recall correctly, something about my lips looking ravishing and me being intelligent, is that true?” You ask biting your lip waiting for his response, a teasing tone lacing your voice.

“No! I mean yes, but not in that way- well actually in that way, I just-.” He blushes looking like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Oh my god, you’re blushing!” You announce, grinning wolfishly from ear to ear. You love making him flustered.

“You’re so annoying.” He says, unable to hide the mirth from his voice.

You walk the rest of the way, falling into comfortable silence, when you finally reach the nearly empty courtyard, save for some lingering second years that are waiting for their older friends to return from Hogsmeade with candy.

You pause in front of the entrance to Hogwarts castle.

“So,” he trails off, “do I not get even a single kiss after saving your life twice today?”

“When was my life in grave danger, I don’t seem to recall.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Well, once when we met up this morning, you got startled and could have had a really nasty fall had I not been there! And then the second time was a couple minutes ago when there was this extremely dangerous gust of wind. Your hair could have gotten in your eyes and you could have tripped and fallen, injuring your pretty face. However, I was luckily there to save the day!” He explains.

“Hm, I guess you do have a point, those were very noble deeds.” You acquiesce.

“So wouldn’t you agree that I deserve a reward for my chivalry and bravery?”

“I suppose you were a really good boy today and you deserve a treat.” You smirk patting his shoulder.

You lean closer to him and your lips meet his.

His hands wrap around your waist hungrily and you can hear him softly whimper against your lips. This kiss was different from the ones you’ve shared before. The lust and hunger for each other remained unchanged but it was mixed with something deeper, a sense of yearning and desire. It was slower, less rushed, you allowed yourselves to relish in the time you spent together and the time you will spend with one another in the future.

“So,” he pulls away, “same time next Saturday?” He questions waiting with a bated breath for your answer. Before he even asked you were sure whatever you and him had going on would surely become a regular occurrence.

“Yes. Yes, Sirius, I’d like that very much.” You reply and he exhales with relief and you walk into the castle together.

“Wait, I will escort you to your dorm!” He announces ready to follow behind you again.

“I think I know my way back.” You smile. “Good night, Sirius.” And like that you disappear down the stairs. You couldn’t wait to go prove to Regulus how horribly wrong he was about his brother.

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