#Remus lupin x pureblood!reader

[bitchyycapricorn]

Pathetic

Remus Lupin x Pureblood! Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2.7K

Synopsis: “Bite me Lupin.” You challenge, raising your head to look into his amber eyes.

Remus smirks, leaning down into your ear. “I’m going to fuck the pure-blood out of you.” He growls.

“Do it then.” You snap back, feeling Remus’s hand on your bare thigh.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

Warnings: Smut!, enemies to lovers trope, angst, cursing, P in V, fingering

AN: lightly edited

It was your glare that caught Remus’s attention. The way your eyes narrowed the moment the two of you made eye contact. You sat across the hall at the Slytherin table, chatting with your friends and poking your food with a fork that some idiot let you have. Remus didn’t trust that you wouldn’t stand up at any given moment and come stab him in the neck with it. He had every right to not trust you with sharp objects of course, since the moment your eyes locked with the brown haired boy you couldn’t help but think about dragging the fork down his throat and watching his filthy half-blood self beg for his life.

“You’re staring Lupin.” You taunt from across the room.

“Well clearly so are you L/N.” Remus counters proudly. He sat up a little more in his seat as a smirk fixes on his face.

“Yes well,” you smile, “I was just wondering how your whore of a muggle mother was doing. Still spreading her legs in hopes for something magical?” Your voice was dripping with venom as you mock Remus’s family life.

Remus clench’s his jaw, his hand bawling into a fist of rage . “You-“

“She’s not worth it mate,” James mutters, pulling his friends attention away from your proud face. Remus knew they were right, there was no point in arguing with you again. You always seem to win after all. No matter how many times they call you out for you skewed views on blood status, you always manage to shoot back with how at least your family loves you because you weren’t some blood-traitor or half-blood freak. At that point the boys would accept there was just no changing your views on these matters.

To make things even worse, you were a favorite in the Slytherin house. Many of the student’s believe you’ll be the next heir of Slytherin after all, between your family status and that fact you were a parselmouth. These factors made it nearly impossible for the boys to ever get back at you for your snarky remarks. The whole house would be up in arms defending you, and you’d just set a snake on poor defenseless Peter again. Remus backs down from the fight, looking back at his plate and resuming his eating. You sat proudly with your friends, laughing about how pathetic Remus was, not even standing up for his own mother. Laughter fills the Slytherin table until everyone is dismissed to go back to class.

+++

Remus was back in the library for the third time that day. It’s been a few days since the lunch table incident and Remus found the only way he could escape your taunting was by hiding deep in the bookcases of the library. He was enjoying hiding behind a bookcase and reading up on the new D.A.D material that was assigned when a figure turns the corner and bump into him.

“Ugh. Seriously?” You huff as you gather your books back into your arms. “Watch were you’re standing loony Lupin. God, you’re such a menace you know that?” You grumble.

Remus startles at your sudden presence, feeling the color drain from his face as his eyes met yours. “I was here first,” he squeaks out. A blush spreads across his face while his eyes search for an escape route.

“You think I care if you were here first? A filthy, disgusting, half-blood like you shouldn’t even be standing in my presence, let alone in my way while I’m trying to retrieve my books.” You spit. Your face was bright red as you push past Remus’s frozen body. He could feel every ounce of dignity he had left leave him in that moment.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch you know.” He mutters under his breath as he begins to leave.

Your head snaps in his direction as a scowl spreads across your face “Excuse me?”

Remus turns to face you, attempting to stand a little straighter in the process. “You heard me. I said, you don’t have to be such a bitch.”

Your body was shaking with rage, ‘how dare such an inferior half-blood speak to me in such a manner’ you thought as you clench your jaw. “Say that shit again, I dare you.” Your voice was sharp like a blade threatening to cut Remus open. He winces, backing up slightly.

“We both know its true. You are a bitch. A pure-bloo-“ Remus couldn’t finish his sentence before he was being thrown back into the bookshelf. Your body slamming against his roughly, books falling as you and Remus make impact with the shelf behind him.

“You think I’m a bitch? I’ll show you bitch.” You seethe, your first bawling around his now disheveled robes. “Fuck you Remus Lupin.”

“Fuck me?” Remus growls back. You pause for a moment at his words.

“You want me to what?” You tease, a small laugh escaping your lips.

“Shit. No that’s not what I-“ Remus groans, feeling you release him from your grip.

You back away from Remus, your eyes scanning his body up and down in the process. His back was still pressed up against the bookshelf, his hair is messed up and his robe was thrown open. Your eyes lock on his very obvious boner, causing your face to flush an even brighter red.

“You’re fucking disgusting Lupin.” You grumble, grabbing your books from the table and walking away.

+++

It had been a week since you saw Remus in the library, you were avoiding him at all cost. You’d never admit it, not even to yourself, that you were highly attracted to the scarred Gryffindor boy. Something about him made your knees weak and your body feel like it was on fire. You knew it would never matter how hot and bothered Remus made you, your family would kill him on sight if it weren’t a crime. So you held your head high and made his life a living hell.

The bell rang, dismissing everyone from their classes for the day. You gather your potions books and watch as students file out of the classroom. Professor Slughorn wishes you a good rest of your day as he exits the classroom as well, leaving you alone.

You continue to gather your books and put away your materials until you hear the door slam shut. You look up to see the Marauders on the other side casting a blood lock spell on the door. Your heart drops as you realize you’re trapped in the potions room until either Slughorn returns after supper, or until tomorrow morning. “Bloody hell,” you mutter, slamming your book on to the table.

“Really? You’re mad? They accident left me in here with you.” Remus grumbles as he appears from behind the far wall of the classroom holding some extra ingredients that were reserved only for the upper class potion students.

“Of course I’m stuck in here with the freak.” You groan, glaring at Remus as he approaches your table. “You know, nobody likes a scarred freak. Obnoxiously tall and built and…fuck” you mumble turning your head away from Remus realizing that if you keep talking you’ll only embarrass yourself.

“Tall and built? Didn’t know you had the capability of complimenting someone.” Remus teases, a sudden surge of confidence coursing though him as he continues to walk towards you.

“Fuck off Lupin, you’re the one who said you wanted to fuck me the other day.” A blush spreads across your face as the words leave your mouth. You can still vividly remember just how hot Remus looked pushed up against the bookshelf. The way his hair was a mess and his robes hanging off his perfect body.

“I did say that didn’t I? Also, I want you to know I’m not any happier about being stuck with you L/N. You’re an obnoxious stuck up brat.” Remus tosses his ingredients onto the table before turning to face you. “All you do is bitch. Complaining about others not being ‘good enough’ because they aren’t some snobby pure-bloods. You think you’re so much better than everyone else is that it?” Remus teases as he pins you between himself and the empty table behind you.

“Bite me Lupin.” You challenge, raising your head to look into his amber eyes.

Remus smirks, leaning down into your ear. “I’m going to fuck the pure-blood out of you.” He growls.

“Do it then.” You snap back, feeling Remus’s hand on your bare thigh.

“I’m going to ruin you.” Remus taunts, his hand sliding up your thigh now. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re nothing more than a pathetic mess underneath me. Begging me to keep going, to keep ruining your perfect little pure-blood self.”

You let out a groan, hands gripping the table behind you. His hand burns your skin as it travels further up your skirt, the heat traveling all the way up your body and leaving a pool in your underwear.

“You like the sound of that don’t you Y/N? You want a half-blood to fuck you, don’t you? What would daddy say if he saw you like this? Hot and flustered for me.” Remus presses a rough kiss to your neck, biting down on the tender skin.

“I-“ you let out a moan, pushing your body up against Remus’s.

“Use your words.” Remus’s hot breath hits your neck and sends a shiver down your spine.

“Yes Remus, I want you to fuck me. I want you to ruin me, please.” You moan as Remus hand slides your now soaking underwear to the side.

“Look at you, such a good girl using her words.” Remus teases as his middle and ring finger slide into your hot cunt. You throw your head back at the feeling. Your hips jerk forward, rocking ever so slightly on Remus’s fingers. Remus slowly pulled his fingers out of you before pushing them back in. You let out another series of moans as you rock your hips desperately.

“Remus please,” you beg as his fingers slide in and out of you.

“Please what?” Remus groans, his fingers getting faster.

Your voice is barley as whisper “Fuck me, please.” You moan.

“I can’t hear you clearly….” He says teasingly, pulling away from your body slightly. “Just say it louder, and more clearly so I can hear you love…” He whispers into your ear with a smirk on his face.

“Remus please,” you beg.

"Please... what my love? Please tell me what you want." His voice is dark and teasing now.

“I want you to fuck me” you whimper.

His smile widens, his eyes fill with lust as he takes you in. He pulls you closer, his fingers fucking you mercilessly, he whispers into your ear once again. “I can't hear you my love..."

“Fuck you Remus. Fuck me please,” you cry, moving your hands from the table to grab onto his Gryffindor robes.

Remus smiles, his eyes fixing on yours. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He spoke as he kisses down your neck. “You want me to fuck you? Is that what you want.. My love?”

”Yes Remus, please. I need you please” tears brim the bottom of your eyes as Remus’s finger continue to slide in and out of you roughly.

"As you wish my love..." He pulls away from your neck and connects your lips passionately. His fingers curling inside your aching cunt, never slowing for a second. "I'm going to fuck you until you can’t stand anymore..." Remus pulls away from you, removing his fingers completely. Your eyes go wide in a confusion. You felt so empty without Remus’s fingers inside of your, or his body pressing against yours. You watch as Remus loosens the tie around his neck, pulling it over his head. He begins to shed his robes, his undershirt coming of next. You pause, admiring how toned his chest was, and the way light pink scars litter his chest and abdomen. “Quit staring and start stripping love,” Remus smirks as he pulls off his trousers.

“Shut it,” you grumble, loosening your tie as well before pulling it off completely. You follow his lead, stripping yourself completely naked. Your eyes meet his again before he pushes you up and onto the table. Your legs are quick to straddle Remus’s hips, pulling him closer as his lips attack yours hungrily.

“I’ve wanted you for so bloody long,” Remus groans, lining himself up at your entrance. His cock just barley enters you when a cry of pleasure escapes your throat. You bite down onto his shoulder harshly, trying to quiet yourself as Remus fully enters your aching cunt. His warm skin pressing against yours as his hips snap back and forth. His hands travel under your ass squeezing roughly as he lifts you off the table so he could thrust up into you.

Another cry escapes your lips as Remus helps guide you up and down his hard cock. You feel your whole body shaking as he pound up into you. His lips just barley ghosting kisses over the skin of your neck and shoulders, leaving a hot burning sensation spreading all throughout your body. Throwing your arms around his neck your fingers find their way to his hair, gently tugging on the fluffy brown strands.

A string of moans fall from your swollen lips at the feeling of Remus inside you. You could feel every inch of him as he fucks you senseless. Your mind is hazy as the world around you seems to disappear. The only thing your mind can register is the feeling of his cock thrusting in and out of you. Your walls contracting around him as he hits all the right spots deep within you.

“Fuck Y/N,” Remus moans, setting you back down on the table. Remus pulls out of you slowly before pulling you off the table and flipping you around.

“Oh my..uh,” you let out a whimper as your body presses against the cold table. Remus pushes into you from behind, placing one hand on your lower back and the other on your hips. His thrusts pick up again as he slams into you from behind. Small moans and whimpers escape your lips as your body is pushed up and down against the table. Remus’s thrusts are hard and forceful, pushing deeper and deeper into you each time. Groaning, Remus digs his fingers into your hip, leaving little red marks from the force.

“I’m close,” Remus groans, pounding into you with more force than before. “I’m going to fill you up, ruin you like you deserve to be ruined.” You let out another cry at his words, placing your cheek against the cool table, submitting to Remus completely. Within a few more thrusts you can feel Remus twitch cock twitching inside you. Letting out a grunt, he finishes in you, pushing himself as deep as he possibly can. “Fuck,” Remus heaves before picking his thrusts back up.

“Fuck-oh Remus!” You moan as his hand travels down your back and the inside of your leg. His fingers dance across your heat before dipping between your folds so he can rub your clit. The sensation sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body as your cunt squeezes around his still throbbing cock. “Remus please don’t stop,” you beg, feeling your orgasm approaching quickly. Remus keeps up his thrusts as his fingers toy with your clit, making you cry out with pleasure. “Remus I’m-I’m” you sputter felling the coil in your stomach snap as your orgasm washes over you.

Remus lets out another grunt, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he pushes deep into you before cumming in you for a second time.

“Fuck,” He sighs, pulling out of your limp body. You let out a small moan in response, too fucked out to respond properly. Remus ran his finger down your spine slowly, a grin spreading across his beautiful lips. “You’re so pretty when you’re not being a total bitch.” He laughs.

A dry laugh escapes your lips as you find your strength to sit up. “And I suppose you’re pretty hot for a half-blood freak.” A teasing smile settles on your lips as you stand to face him.

“Fucking pure-blood,” Remus mutters, placing his hand on your cheek and bringing you in for a kiss.

You pull away for a moment to smile at him, “your pure-blood now dumbass,” you smirk, connecting your lips with his once again.

Remus laughs against you lips before mumbling “what’s daddy going to think?”

You shake your head, still pressing kisses to his lips as he talks. “Just shut up and kiss me Lupin.”

+++

TAGLIST

[unconventional-lawnchair]

A request for you!

Is just Remus helpin a newly werewolf infected reader learn how to deal with it (either back in school or as adults) and they have some heart eyes for each other (or are already together with some added anst that Remus feels responsible because she got targeted because of him or he infected her)

Go wild uwu

N/A This is perfection, kinda went the Angsty route, and by now, you know my pureblood obsession. This has become so much more then it originally planned to be LOL - Not proof read

Think like a Lupin

Iris The Goo Goo Dolls

Remus Lupin x Werewolf!Slytherin!Reader

Wc- 11536

Cw; Use of Y/N Sexual themes and actions, Cussing, themes of ptsd aligning with assault, arranged marriages, abusers doing abusing, continuity issues (mostly wolfbane during Remus's school years)

You always used to enjoy your walks. The one time you were allowed peace, away from your rancid family and their overbearing presence. 

They were always simple, slow, and just a lap around your parents' garden. The {L/N} manor was huge, and the property was far bigger. The trail, however, was just around the fountained hedges and back. It was the only path you were allowed to walk without a chaperone, so you relished in it.

It was just around the garden.

It was safe.

It should have been safe.

It was foggy, cold, your limbs buzzing numb and your lips chapped. Your father had just came back from his week-long ministry endeavor, working to ban those infected with Lycanthropy from the more popularized highlands. He had no shame in his views on them, and for the longest time, you believed them too..

You had a lot of regrets like that.

Your father was furious, his bill wasn't passed and he, as usual, had taken it out on your mother the second he entered the threshold of the place you called home. The verbal attack that started was horrendous and you wanted no part in it. So here you were, as far away from home as you could get. 

You wanted to walk for hours, but the trail was only about long enough to allow you to avoid your fathers fury, that was pushing it.

Once you were behind the hedges, and you knew no one was watching, you sat down. Looking up at the full moon you lifted your hand as if you could catch it. 

You didn't feel the eyes on you.

You don't hear the rustling on the outer line of the property. 

Maybe if you did, it would have been different. Maybe if you didn't go out alone, it would have been different. 

Maybe if you didn't go out alone, the imprint of Greyback’s jaws wouldn't be permanently etched into your skin.

~~~

Being a pureblood had never been necessarily difficult when you were younger. Occasionally you weren't allowed to play certain games or be around certain people, but it remained plausible. As you got older, specifically when you got to Hogwarts, you suddenly had weekly letters informing you of their expectations. It was crushing, from your parents expecting updates from the professors, to them giving you a letter with a list of all of the approved students your parents allowed you to associate with. Merlin forbid you make friends with muggleborns and halfbloods. Living with that for six full years was destroying you.

You preferred that, however, when you heard news that after your seventh year you were to be married off. Your parents didn't even permit you to know who it was.

Being left with your thoughts was favorable, knowing once the year was over, you were to be married off and a child wasn't an option, more of an obligation. The idea of bringing a child into a world so cruel, to face the same fates, with the possibility of your inflection? It was keeping you up, despite how you tried to keep the thoughts away.

You were laying in the cott, as Madam Pomfrey tried to quiz you on how all of this happened. She didn't say it, but she had this horrible feeling that it was a certain boy she knew, and the guilt he would feel if he heard of it would destroy him.

You didn't answer, just kept denying it. The scars along your face and chest throbbed, your very skull ached from your first ever transformation. Your parents had made you promise to keep it quiet, not wanting to disgrace their name and ruin your betrothal. No one was to know, especially staff, so you kept your mouth shut. Pomfrey tutted and shook her head before she stood. Giving a startled breath when the doors crashed open. 

Your eyes tightened in pain and you lifted your good hand over your eyes to try and drown out the raising sunlight. 

You groaned and looked up at the doorway. You saw four boys, boys you unfortunately knew very well. The Marauders. If it was to be anyone coming into the hospital wing with no explanation, at this ungodly time of the morning, it would be them. You didn't notice Madam Pomfrey’s familiar and routine movements as she left your side and hurried the boys into the cott next to yours.

You closed your eyes and let out a low sigh as you tried to ignore them. Luckily, the tallest one, Remus, seemed just as over it as you by the way his friends hushed around him.

“I'm fine, guys, you can head off, it will be breakfast soon.”

Remus’s voice sounded strained. Not that you paid particular attention to it before now, you could even hear a bit of crackle in the base of it, clearly over used. You slowly peaked one of your eyes open and spotted Remus’s form sprawled out on the bed just a yard or two away from you. You wondered if she did it on purpose. 

Now, your ideals didn't align with your parents, you had long since grown out of that phase. But that didn't mean you still didn't put up a front to anyone you weren't close to. The Marauders and you didn't really care to involve yourself with each other, the only one you knew vaguely was Sirius, but that was due to your relationship with Regulus. Both of them were dramatic shouts, but Regulus was at least charming about it. You couldn't say you knew Sirius well enough to know it.

Not that it mattered.

His name was nowhere on your parents list.

“Are you sure, moony? We can get you anything you need.” James fretted like the mother hen he was. You rolled your eyes and began to roll over, giving a low hiss of pain as the bandage that littered your skin rubbed against your raw flesh. 

It was then that the boys noticed you. Your back was now to them, and it seemed they took that as a sign to go. You heard the three shuffling away with low whispers of something you couldn't quite catch.

You tried to steady your breathing, as your ears narrowed in on Remus’s breath. Ever since that night, while you were still in denial, you noticed how your eyesight increased tenfold, your hearing was beyond sensitive, and Merlin your nose seemed to find new and powerful scents everywhere. Taking long deep breaths through your nose wasn't helping. 

That was, until you smelt something strong. It wasn't a smell you were able to place, but it was amazing. Calming and numbing, like you could fully unwind and let yourself take the backseat because something was here to protect you. Something was there to stand guard, you didn't have to anymore. You tried to hush this utterly annoying whining in your ears, telling you to go closer to the source, like there were claws wracking against your temple.

You curled up within yourself, holding your head, trying to block out every sound and smell, it was overwhelming. Your body ached, your head throbbed, your nose felt cold and raw with every breath. You wanted to forget tonight, figure out a glamour to cover up your damned scars, and go back to class. But that could all be done tomorrow. Now, you just wanted to sleep.

“Is it loud?” Remus called over to you in a low tone. Still, you flinched at the unwelcome and piercing intrusion it caused. Remus’s voice traveled down your spine and warmed your stomach. Whatever this was, you needed it to stop. You don't even notice the hesitance and slight pain in his voice. 

“What?” You whispered back with narrowed eyes. 

“The voice.” He challenged. Remus Lupin was smarter than most, not that it took too much thought to figure out what was happening. You looked a lot like him, when he was first nursed back to health by Pomfrey.

“I don't have a clue what you mean.” You snapped back before you carefully rolled over to look at him. You hid your wince and grimace perfectly, but you couldn't hold an angry expression with Remus. Especially when his eyes locked with yours. The voice got so much louder, demanding and begging she go to the boy infront of her. You did your best to ignore it, flinching hard, and covering your temple with a huff.

You don't get a chance to notice how Remus seemed to be going through the same. The second he walked through the door, your scent hit his nose and he knew. He knew what you were before he realized who you were. {Y/N} {L/N}. To him, the only thing notable about you outside of your pureblood bordering on royal status was the company you kept. 

You were one of the many who couldn't stand Severus, but you hung around Regulus Black, Evan Rosier, and even Barty Crouch Jr. you seemed to only be friendly with purebloods, but you never went out of your way to pick on anyone else. It was like you lived in your own little world, as far away from ‘tainted blood’ as possible. He only remembered you as the girl who hexed Avery for calling Lily a Mudblood, then receiving a howler from your parents about it the very next day. You avoided anyone who wasn't a pureblood since.

The only exchange he had ever had with you was when Barty had cornered a few first years in the hall, Gryffindors with a loud mouth, having called out Regulus for Slytherin cheating during the game. 

The marauders just so happened to be walking down the hall at the time, and before they could do anything about it, you walked in from the courtyard to the scene. It was almost scary, how you simply calling the boys names retracted them from whatever they planned to do. Well, Barty planned to do, Regulus held his usual look of indifference and likely didn't seem too interested in any outcome.

“Then, what are you in for?” Remus prodded with an amused look. You huffed as his voice became more soothing the more he spoke. You wanted to ignore him, you knew you should. That voice in your head did not like that idea, it seemed. Desperate for any bit of attention Remus would give you, and he seemed willing to hold a conversation. It latched onto that.

“I'm.. sick.” Okay, maybe you weren't a genius, but you certainly weren't that dumb. That damned voice speaking louder then any thought in your head. 

“You're .. sick?” He prodded with a smirk and you bit your cheek.

“Uh huh.” Might as well stick to it.

There was a long pause between you two, you eventually gave a low groan and he smiled. “Well, I usually wouldn't suggest this for just sick girls.” He started and you peaked one of your eyes to glance at him. He was sitting up, back propped up by pillows. The second your eyes met your lungs suddenly refused to work properly, and he seemed to stutter for a moment.

“What?” You whispered.

“Calming drought. And a few drops of deflating drought. I take it before I get,” He gestured to his bandages, much less then yours. “Sick too.”

Your eyes widened at his remark. Eyes trailing down his form a bit, not noticing how it made him squirm. Your jaw went slack for a moment before you corrected yourself. He was a werewolf too? Who else knew? They allowed him at school? Regretting your own stupid excuse now. But you listened to his every word intently. You bit your bottom lip and slowly sighed. “Ah. Well, a little over kill isn't it?”

“Is it?” He chuckled and gestured to your current state. “I also do something to relieve stress, you know, before I get sick.”

You quirked your eyebrow at him and hummed. “Relieve stress?”

“Mhm.. I can give some suggestions, I can help you too, if you need.”

“You forget yourself, Lupin.”

Remus seemed baffled by your response before his jaw went slack. “W-woah, not like that.” He laughed and you couldn't help but smile at it. The crinkle of his tanned skin in the corner of his eyes made your heart throb helplessly against your ribcage. What had gotten into you?

“That's a real shame.” You continued to tease and Remus seemed thrown for a loop, before he quickly caught himself.

“Sorry, princess, I usually like at least one date before I go to such extremes.”

“How very proper of you, I wouldn't of expected it, considering the company you keep.” You smirked and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“I could say the same to you.” He tried to joke, but that remark made you pucker your lips a bit.

“Not exactly my choice.” You mumbled and he slowly frowned. The wolf in him whining helplessly as he seemed to upset you. He used to have it under control, but it seemed the company of other werewolves was weakening his resolve and strengthening Moony’s.

A silence followed, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He actually hadn't felt more at peace in months. You either.

“Wolfsbane.” He remarked and you looked up at him. 

“What?” You whispered and he smiled at you. 

“Wolfsbane. It's a potion to help with our sickness.” He muttered and you clicked your tongue.

“Have you ever used it?”

“Can't afford it.” He remarked quickly and you took a breath in, sharp. Forgetting to be conscious of your privilege.

“Ah… what does it do?” You asked carefully, and the conversation continued like that.

Your conversation faded into nothing but familiarities after a while, from your shared sickness to random facts. Almost like you were old friends catching up with each other, you learned of his parents, his friends, his childhood. It was simple and you were practically strangers, but by the time you had dozed off it felt like you understood a bit more about who Remus Lupin was.

You didn't share much about yourself, you hoped it didn't show just how desperate you were for his voice. You didn't even have time to think of blood status, how your parents would react to you making a friend of a halfblood.

It felt like you had an ally, someone you could lean on. It helped that his presence alone seemed to sooth the manic thoughts in your head.

~~~

It had been days since your encounter with him. You couldn't seem to get that stupid boy out of your head. So what was a good distraction when you couldn't get your thoughts straight? Studying, of course. The only reason you found yourself ducking into the library was Barty wouldn't be caught dead studying, less people think his brains were more than just a Merlin given gift. You found yourself smiling slightly at his utter ridiculous reasonings. Regulus could keep him entertained while you were away, you were sure of it.

You had to be careful with the two, Evan was easy to fool, too focused on trying to be on par with Barty, or too focused on making a name for himself, but the others? You didn't want them to narrow down what was happening to you. You didn't exactly know how they would handle it. Regulus was still young enough his mothers words meant the world to him, and Barty and Evan had expressed interest in more extremes then just arrogance. You chose to ignore those thoughts, because you loved the boys, no matter how foolish they were. You didn't claim to be the bastion of temperance. You didn't have all the answers for them, you certainly didn't have enough experience or evidence to the contrary, you just knew you cared deeply for them, and abandoning them for ideals imposed upon them was never an option in your book. 

Walking into the library, the scent hit your nose like a ton of bricks. That familiar and soothing smell. It was intoxicating, having to catch yourself as your body moved closer without your consent. Your eyes locked with his almost instantly, as if he was looking for you too.

Remus Lupin was with his usual friends, though you noted Lily and Mary were with them as well. It wasn't anything big, as you knew Lily had started dating James Potter after years of embarrassing pining. Though, Mary was sitting awfully close to Remus. The voice in the back of your head did not like that. All of them took a full table for themselves, and as your body had started walking towards them, you suddenly realized you had stopped in the middle of the aisle staring at Remus. And he you.

It took an awkward cough from someone at the table and that seemed to break you and Remus’s staring contest. You looked over at where the noise came from and you saw Sirius Black, giving you the dirtiest look you had ever seen. You give a ‘hmph’ and look away from them, walking right past their table to one of the smaller ones near the window. 

You didn't notice how Remus’s eyes trailed after you, nor did you notice when Sirius gave him a look of confusion, looking for an explanation. Remus, however, simply looked down at his parchment and waved him off.

“What was that about?” Sirius hissed at Remus, that was hard to ignore.

“Nothing.” Remus muttered. Even though his voice was lower than Sirius’s, you heard it more clearly than anyone else’s in the room.

They continued to talk among themselves, and being just a few tables down it was hard to ignore. It was mostly about whatever they were reviewing, it seemed Sirius gave up on trying to pry out Remus’s explanation. Eventually, it went quiet. You gave a sigh of relief, body unwinding. The voice in your head seemed to quiet down a bit, being in close proximity of Remus calmed it down. 

This was a bad idea. 

You tried to focus on your work, you truly did, but writing a 12 inch on the migrating patterns of horned slugs was as boring as it sounded. Could you even call moving from one side of a city to another migration? Sounded like a bit too much credit. Not that you could think of that for too long, soon enough, Remus was invading your mind again. The voice was becoming less and less content with the distance between you two. You rubbed your face and sighed. You have been at this for twenty minutes and you already wanted to go back to your dorm and forget this ever happened.

There was shuffling behind you, and you prayed Remus and his friends were leaving. When you heard books hit the desk next to you, you knew Merlin had a sick sense of humor. 

You turned to look at whoever had the audacity to sit next to you, and your eyes locked with Remus’s. 

“Hey.” He whispered to you and that voice shot down your spine like a bolt of lightning. You turned to look at his friends and saw that all of them seemed to be staring at you two, baffled. You quickly looked away, body stiff as you looked right back down at your parchment. You ignored him for a few moments, before you finally spoke up. 

“Why are you here, Lupin?” You muttered, glancing over at him and noticing with a start that he had been staring at you already. 

“To calm the voice.” He whispered, maintaining a stern and serious eye contact that almost strangled you. When did Remus Lupin get so confident?

You hadn't even noticed how the voice in the back of your head stopped, until it began to send pleasant rumbles threw your entire chest, like a purring cat. Oh, you were done for.

“Y-you forget yourself.” You whispered out in a stammer and he smiled bright at you, denting his cheek with his tongue. “You have that effect on me.”

You scoffed and looked away, covering your cheeks with your wrist and tried to pretend his words didn't rattle you. Cocky little- 

“You can call me Remus.” He whispered to you and you closed your eyes and began to steady your breath. 

“I will do no such thing.”

“Why not?”

“Have you forgotten who you're speaking to, halfblood?” You snapped back at him, turning to face him once more and you flinched at the surprised look on his face. The voice gave you a sharp bout of pain down your neck as if to punish you for hurting him. 

There was a moment of quiet, before he turned to face you fully, both of you having forgotten your audience. He hung his arm around the back of your chair and that did nothing to calm your battering ram heart, as if it was trying to tear away from your chest to Remus. “You know.” He whispered, leaning closer as if he was telling you a secret.

You could have fainted right then and there.

“I don't think you really believe that, do you?” He whispered and you snapped you out of your thoughts. His smell. Please please please, whatever cruel gods were watching stop this torture already. “If you did, you wouldn't have hexed Avery. You wouldn't have talked to me in the hospital wing. And you would have long since hexed me for coming to you.”

“I'm still debating that, Lupin.”

“Remus.”

“Lupin.”

“Moony?” He offered and you looked over at him in utter stupefaction. You narrowed your eyes before one eyebrow arched in questioning.

“Moony?” You muttered, not noticing the shiver that went down his spine at that. “Moony.” He confirmed.

“Sounds ridiculous.” You huffed and he gave a brighter smile this time.

“Sounds amazing when you say it.” He whispered and before you could shoot something back, a voice called out behind you.

“Yo, {Y/N}! The bloody hell have you been!?” 

You didn't know if that voice was a gift or an additional plague from the gods above. You pressed your thumb to your cheek and sighed. Preparing yourself for another shiver of discontent from your wolf, you leaned your head back to glance at Barty, and he was smiling, not for long, when he noticed Lupin with his arm practically around you, leaning into your space. His expression hardened.

“You! Get your damn hands off her!” He shouted to the entire library. You groaned and quickly stood up, Remus’s eyes still on you, as if he could care less about the scene to come. Barty was quick to make his way across the room and began to, and rather forcibly might you add, pack up your things for you. 

“Is he bothering you?” He pried and inserted himself between you two, the growl from Remus was almost missed. You quickly shook your head as he put your book bag over your shoulder. 

Barty huffed at your answer and put his hand around your lower back. “Bold halfblood.” He spat at him and began to escort you out of the library. You quickly paused, looking back at Remus as a realization hit you.

“Lupin.” You called over to him, and your breath got caught up for a moment, noticing he was watching you without ever moving from his seat. 

“Remus.” He whispered back to you and it felt like he whispered that right against your earlobe. You took a sharp breath. 

“Remus.” You whispered back and he sat up straighter. “I-I took your advice.” You whispered out, your hands gripping your book bag harder. You didn't think about why you said that. Maybe you were looking for praise? Merlin, what was wrong with you?

He just smiled at you and toyed with his lip, wetting them. “Good.” He nodded and you took a deep breath, about to say something further before Barty quickly hooked his arm more forcibly around your waist and pulled you away from the library. This would be a long year.

~~~

Weeks later, you were laying down on your bed and rubbing your temple. The green sheets that enveloped you were hardly soothing to your throbbing head. The voice, who you learned from Remus was indeed as you suspected, the wolf, had been furious with you. Between tests and studying, and not to mention Barty’s new found protectiveness over you, you weren't able to see Remus, outside of the stolen glances in the halls.

Barty refused to let you anywhere near the Gryffindor quartet, having told Regulus and Evan's that very night when he walked you all the way back to the Slytherin common rooms. Evan's was appalled, but Regulus seemed more disgusted then anything else.

It was like they formed a schedule to keep you away from any undesirables, every day, from potions to history of magic, they escorted you from class to class, and the voice was growing very impatient with their insistence. Even Regulus involved himself with the two’s foolish plans. 

You loved the boys, but you didn't know how to explain that it physically pained you to be away from him. It was bizarre, you hardly even spared him a glance through the entire school year, he was just James Potter’s friend, someone to avoid. Just another person who didn't match your parents standards and thus, you needed nothing from. Now, it was like the very idea of going back to that was blasphemous. The wolf in the back of your mind howled out in displeasure at your own thoughts. What you would give for everything to be quiet.

As if to mock you, there was a firm knock on your door. You huffed and sat up, only for the door to be thrown open and Barty to let himself in. “Got something for ya! Looks like it's from your parents.” He announced as he plopped the package down, your bed dipped under its weight, and  the sound of glass clinking filling the room. You huffed and stood up, arms crossing as you glared at him. 

“Has waiting for me to open the door ever once crossed your mind?”

“It did, once, it scared me.” 

You scoffed and tried to hide your smile. “I could of been changing!”

“Nothing I wouldn't like to see, dear.” He purred with a wink. You reached back and grabbed a pillow, pelting it at his face and he laughed, throwing his head back. 

“Out! Out of my room!” You shouted, unable to help the giggles that left your lips. Despite the joy, you felt this familiar dread fill your chest. Your voice agreed with it, you didn't want to be alone with anyone. Not right now.

“And if I don't?” He smirked and held the pillow still. You bit your cheek, another horrible attempt to hide your laughter. Trying your best to ignore how a toad made its home in the back of your throat. You felt like you could cry, you didn't know why, Barty had never once made you feel unsafe, and despite his jokes, he respected you more then you figured to be normal considering how purebloods usually were. He was definitely your favorite RavenClaw.

“I'm calling your boyfriend.” You teased and he gave a dramatic gasp, his smile twitching a bit as he noticed your eyes growing glossy.

“Oh no, whatever will I do? It's not like he agrees with me or anything.” He attempted to continue the joke, but when tears actually began to shed, he stopped fighting, letting you shove him to the door. That comment alone seemed to effect you more then you let on. He paused, about to ask you something, before you groaned, managing to get him out the door. 

“Begone!” You shouted and slammed the door in front of his face.

“Hey- Wait-” He called from the other side of the closed door, you could just barely make out Regulus call for Barty to leave you be from the common room.

You pressed your back to the door and tried to calm your breathing. Closing your eyes tight to dispel your tears and gather yourself. Breathing becoming heavier, and slowly sinking against the floor. What was happening? Why were you so panicked? Your wolf paced in the back of your mind, making your breathing harder to steady. You gave a gasp and curled up tighter. Your hands were shaking, your throat was scratchy, and you were sure you would pass out if your hiccups paired with the heavy gasps had anything to say about it.

You wanted to sleep, you wanted it to stop, but you had a feeling you knew exactly how to calm yourself.  

~~~ Remus’s POV ~~~

It was like they were brandishing you like a trophy of some kind. He didn't want to think about it like that, like you were just some prize to be won, but it was getting harder. The looks Barty and Evan would shoot him in the halls while keeping you as far away from him as possible. 

He was dying here, Moony wouldn't just shut up about you, and the boys kept harassing him about you too. Still not over the interaction he had in the library. It got worse when he admitted you were the one who laid next to him in the hospital wing.

“I mean, she's a pureblood, she acts like everyone else doesn't exist, you think she'd give Remus the time of day?” Sirius spoke up, ever the skeptic. He was laying on his back on the floor of the common room, tossing a pair of folded socks above his head. “{L/N}s would eat our poor moony alive.” Sirius smirked and tossed the sock pair at Remus who lifted his hand sharply and caught it without looking.

The taller boy was laying on the couch, sprawled out to try and ease the tension in every limb of his.

Sirius let out a low, impressed whistle. They had also found his new wound up Moony’s reflexes fascinating. Sirius especially.

“Have you seen the way they look at eachother? Like star crossed lovers.” James sighed fondly from where he sat in front of the loveseat, head resting in Lilys lap as she braided bits of his hair. Lily gave a fond eye roll, looking over to Remus. 

“Starcross what now? Honestly, Remus, if you're shagging her you can just say that.” Sirius snickered but quickly his chuckle was caught in his throat when Remus sent him a deadly glare.

Sirius bit his cheek and slowly smirked. Interesting.

“He really does seem fond of her. Infatuation, maybe?” She teased and Remus groaned. “I am right here.” He grumbled and glared over, Lily giggled.

She was the only one he told about what had been happening, so she was surely just taunting him. He rolled his jaw and opened his mouth to speak before there was a soft knock on the portrait. The fat lady’s voice soon came, gasping and scolding whoever was trying to get in. 

“Woah, after curfew?” James muttered, looking to Lily. “As heads, we should probably do some scolding, hm?” He prodded and Lily gave a dramatic hum of thought, pressing her finger to her cheek. “Hmmm…” 

She glanced up at Remus and saw how his body stiffened and he sat up a bit. He was staring at the door like a patient and loyal dog. Her eyebrows raised in amusement before she shook her head. 

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p.’ “We're off.” She cheeked and James gave a chuckle and leaned his head back against her plush thighs with a content hum.

“Sounds good.”

There was another, much less confident knock.

No one moved, Peter looked around the group from his homework before he groaned as all the eyes landed on him, safe for Remus. He stood up and walked over to it. He was gone for a few moments, before he walked back with an amused look, Remus was already getting up.

“Remus your…” Peter trailed off as he watched the taller boy quickly walk past him and out of view of his friends. Lily smirked and James tilted his head curiously at her.

“Remus is getting callers, soon enough, we'll have to set up a dowry.” She hummed in a serious tone, Sirius throwing his hands up. 

“What? I always have callers! What's my dowry?”

“We have three chocolate frogs for whoever will settle down with you.” James remarked and Lily gave a startled laugh, covering her smile as James looked up at her like she was the one to gift him sight.

Sirius pouted.

~~~

You knocked, just once more. You didn't know why you expected them to be up, but the wolf in the back of your head was calming slowly, you had a feeling you knew why. When the door opened, the warm air seemed to pour from the common room, the very air wrapped around you in so much comfort. The smell came with it, and you could have fainted with how loud the voice became. Your hands found purchase on your skirt when you made eye contact with Peter Pettigrew. You both stared at each other bewildered. Right. It wasn't just Remus here. 

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and lifted the small paper bag in your hand, “I uhm,” You cleared your throat again. “Remus. Something for Remus.”

Peter slowly smirked before he nodded and hurried back into the room. You looked away and began debating with yourself. If you ran back to the dungeons, would he catch you before you got there? Your hands were still unsteady but your breath was finally growing even. What were you even planning? Give him the Wolfsbane and beg him to stay with you a little longer? Because him standing near you was calming? Merlin you should've thought this through. You sounded insane.

Your head snapped up when you heard the portrait open again. You locked eyes with Remus, both a bit too stunned to know what to say. You opened your mouth a few times and began to grow frustrated with yourself as you continued to try, and no sound left. You took an even breath and Remus gave you a small breathtaking smile. This bastard.

“A-actually, this was a mistake, I'll-” Your words were cut short when Remus reached out and grabbed your arm to keep you in place. His hand was much larger than you expected. You turned back to look at him and when your eyes met, your breath was once again snatched from your chest. You let out a whine that was so audible it was humiliating. “R-Remus…” You whispered out his name and that seemed to really ignite something in him.

He tugged softly at your arm to gesture you in. You toyed with your bottom lip before you obeyed him and followed. He lead you into the common room, and you met his friends look of utter bewilderment, and they matched your expression.

Remus ignored them, leading you right up the stairs to his dorm. You heard a wolf whistle from Sirius before the door closed behind you. 

Everything else happened so quickly, but so carefully. He backed you into the door and you stammered out his name. You couldn't think clearly, with how intense your wolf was becoming. Like it was whimpering in excitement. You huffed as Remus gave you a look that sent danger signed flaring in every part of your body but your mind. 

Your left brain was utterly useless around him, you decided.

He caged you in, and leaned his nose against your neck and took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of your shampoo and body wash. He seemed just as dazed as you did. You pressed your legs together, hard, and you squinted at the light above you, allowing him to take you in.

After what felt like hours, he pulled away. You felt so cold, you resisted the urge to pull him back. He leaned down over you, face just a few inches from yours. 

His eyes glanced down at the paper bag in your hand and your mouth dried. “Got something, Princess?”

You closed your eyes tight and lifted the bag. He looked between you and it, not that you noticed. “For you.”

“For me?” He asked in a soft teasing voice. Taking it from your palm and opening the bag. His breath caught in his throat and he snatched it out, holding the blue grey sludge like potion in his hand. “Is.. is this?”

“I-I listened. Like I said, and my parents sent me far more then I would ever use in a school year so.. so I figured it would be a waste.” Your voice grew lower as he gave you a look you couldn't describe. Would you be honest? That you lied to your parents to request double knowing they wouldn't question it? To offer Remus just a bit of relief? Even if it wasn't much? You doubted it. But the way he was looking at you now, it felt like he knew. He set the bag down and stepped closer to you. 

You reached for the door knob but he beat you to it. Leaning down as his lips hovered over yours, you held your breath, your fingers trembling. Slowly, moving to rest on his chest. He smiled, it was so small, so soft. You took a shaky breath and slid your hands from his chest to his shoulders. “Can I?” He whispered and you let out another ungodly sound.

“Yes.” 

When his lips landed on yours, everything else went blank. You reached around him and gripped at the back of his uniform with desperate clawing motions. It was flashes filling your head. Flashes of Remus against your neck, then you on his bed. 

You had no clue what was happening you just knew you'd didn't want it to stop. Ever. When he shifted on top of you, however, you noticed his hesitance.

You were both red, deep with rushing blood. His hands that were once around your waist were now to your wrists. He straddled your hips, but he didn't move beyond that. When did he take his shirt off? When did yours go?

It seemed to hit Remus, how foggy you truly were. He slowed down and let go of you. Carefully,he crawled off and sat down in front of you with a low groan. You slowly and carefully sat up. It was hard, with how little your core seemed to obey you. “R-Remus?” You muttered and he covered his face with his hands.

“This is a bad idea.” He mumbled and you pouted a bit.

“What?”

“You can't think straight. Neither can I.” He whispered. “I won't regret this. But I know you will.” 

You paused for a moment and considered what he said. He was right. If he had continued, you surely would have gone far further then you were willing. You didn't know how many people would of been able to make that call.

You fall on your side on his bed and groaned. It smelt so much like him. Your eyes closed and you buried your face in the pillow. He slowly smirked.

Climbing up onto the bed and wrapping his arm around your middle. You leaned your body fully against his and he sighed. “Is this okay?” He whispered, nose to your neck and voice desperate. You nodded, rolling over to hide your face in his chest. Everything was calm again, for both of you. No voices. No howling or clawing, no thoughts of anyone but who was in front of you. He waved his wand and closed the canopy drapes for privacy. 

You knew you'd feel safe with him.

~~~

You woke up feeling amazing. Too bad the other three were there to greet you two with teasing and vile innuendos you had never heard before. And you were friends with Barty Crouch. You couldn't deny how funny it was, so when Remus apologized you could only laugh.

You and Remus made a habit of it, meeting up together and finding comfort in the calm you brought each other. Only on weekends, as you weren't allowed to go to Hogsmeade on most occasions, so the boys didn't question you when you said you would be keeping yourself busy.

Busy you definitely kept, when they left in the mornings, you made your way to the empty Gryffindor common room, straight to Remus’s room. Thats were you were now. Laying in his bed and fiddling with his hair. He was laying between your bent knees and nuzzling his head into your stomach. You flinched a bit as he rubbed against the mostly healed bite mark. He lifted his head and gave you a concerned look. You bit your cheek and slowly lifted your shirt, showing off the large bit of mangled skin to him again. He had seen it before, several times by now. Usually due to him throwing a shirt of his at you the second you walked threw the door. It was kind of adorable. 

His eyes fully took it in, running his thumb against your jagged and twisted skin, clearly confused. His wound healed when he was young, yours seemed to be getting worse. “My mother healed it the best she could.” You whispered and his face twisted in confusion, eyes meeting yours. You bit your cheek.

“My parents didn't want anyone to know so.. that meant no St Mongos.” You whispered and he seemed surprised, like a deer in headlights. You gave a reassuring smile.

“It's alright, pretty boy.” You cooed and ran your fingers threw his hair and tugged softly at the roots. He gave a low sigh and closed his eyes. 

“There are rules for that, to keep the doctors quiet, you know.” He whispered and you slowly nodded, biting your bottom lip. He peaked one of his eyes open and tugged your lip from between your teeth. “I know.. my parents are pretty paranoid.” You mumbled.

He nodded and slowly got up to his knees, running his free hand along the scar, rolling you over onto your stomach, you obeyed easily. He leaned down and kissed the bottom half of the scar, making you smile into the pillow you were hugging. “Do you…” His voice trailed off and you hid a bit into your pillow. He frowned and crawled up further to kiss the back of your neck. As if to tell you he was there. You were safe. No one would hurt you while he was here. 

“... My father was at the ministry. He uhm..” You felt pathetic, like what happened was something you deserved. You one agreed with your father, so what did that make you? You were just as bad as his mindless arrogance. 

“He was voting on the bill, and donated a hefty share to get.. people like us banned from the highlands.” You whispered and you felt as his lips stilled against your lower neck. Before the kiss slowly deepened, almost bruising. “I-I guess there were people there that didn't like that. Fenrir Greyback followed my dad back home and- I guess it just so happened to be a full moon-” 

Your words were getting caught in your throat. Suddenly it felt like you were being strangled. You quickly sat up and he moved off of you quickly. You turned to face him and gave him a sigh of relief. “S-sorry I- I couldn't see you, I just-”

“Shhh..” Remus tried to calm you. Leaning forward and rubbing your back carefully as he offers you his hand. You grabbed it and used it to yank him against you. You missed the security of being under him. He pressed his nose to your shoulder and you sniffled slightly. 

That night was the closest you felt to Remus. It was a shock to learn his father also earned Greyback’s wrath, in much the same way. 

You didn't want to leave the dorms that night, so, for the second time, you found yourself tangled up with Remus in a much more affectionate way, less intimate and more careful. That's not to say that his lazy open mouthed kisses against your skin were anything but love. And his deep thumb prints against your abdomen where he focused the frustration from your slow and careful kisses were anything but lust. 

You both agreed not to label what you had. It was clear that most of what it was came from the shared experiences, the shared inflection, and of course, the terribly desperate wolves that would rather kill you both then be without the other. 

It was getting harder, however. As the months went on, how you both would focus on each other after every full moon, how being tangled with each other was more gratifying than any prank Remus could ever pull, leaving his boys behind most nights, how you both couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

When Remus became a prefect, your meetings went from every weekend to every other night. You were falling for eachother, hard. You were sure you wouldn't recover from this, but instead of breaking your heart early, you simply caved to his every desire. Every question, every look, every touch was reciprocated. In turn, he caved to his obsession. Letting you consume what little sanity he had left. 

Your friends noticed the change, the marks on your nape and throat, the bruised lips, the skipping breakfast and even dinner at times. 

His friends noticed it too, Sirius seemed all for the idea of 'tainting a pureblood’ and James seemed happy Remus seemed to be love struck. He had spent all of his years at Hogwarts refusing love, but it seemed he fell into this one so fully and so helplessly, he had forgotten who you were.

You did too.

When summer finally came. It was like they were strangers again. You didn't even spare him a glance. Remus was desperate, it was like he was going mad without you. He knew you had called it off. He knew why you did too. He felt cheated, the one time he lets himself fall so fully and she belongs to someone else. You two had talked, you told him the last thing you needed was your parents finding out about you two. That after the last night, there was no ‘us,’ that you two never happened.

Remus was devastated, but kept it to himself. He knew by the look in your eyes that this wasn't the outcome you had hoped for. You both got too distracted with each other, with the fantasy of it all. You two never labeled what you had, so there was nothing to fight for. He wondered if you did that on purpose. 

The next day after your conversation was the last night you snuck off to his dorm. It was mostly you watching him pack, the way his mother had taught him. He was telling you stories of his mother, how strong and resilient she was. How she taught him even the most mundane tasks were best done slowly. He said it in a tone that made you wonder, what exactly he could mean. 

When he was finally done he crawled into bed with you. Once again, you fell asleep in eachothers arms. It was peaceful and content. It brought a smile to your face, trying to ignore the biting pain of knowing this was the last you'd have of Remus Lupin. A strange lecture and a night together.

He had changed so much of who you were, he had taught you so much more than you would've ever known alone. You were grateful life gave you him, even if it was just for a moment.

The morning would come too soon.

~~~

You loaded your things on the train, with no true attachments to anyone you were allowed to see, it was easy to just leave. 

That's what you told yourself, anyway. When you sat down, next to Barty and across from Regulus, you fiddled with your book instead of reading it. Tears gathered in your eyes as Evan and Barty continued to debate who you had been seeing the past few months. 

Regulus seemed not to be entertaining the conversation, focusing more on you as you sniffled. Quickly, you dismissed yourself to the bathroom. Leaving the compartment and ignoring their calls to you. Hurrying past students you didn't know with their varying looks of confusion and concern. You didn't even have time to think before your arm was grabbed. 

Looking back and up you saw Remus. He was guiding you to a storage closet, you both said nothing. 

He pulled you in and closed the door, and you came undone in his arms. You had kept strong about the separation, but it was tearing you apart inside. Remus had taught you to tame the voice in your head, so you knew now your reckless emotions were your own. You clung to him and sobbed, he held you close and you heard his own sniffles into your shoulder. 

You were there for a while, eventually, he used his thumbs to dry your eyes, you looked at him and saw such terrifying love in his eyes. You bit your cheek and shook your head. It wasn't just love. It was desperation. Like he was begging you for an answer you surely couldn't give. You pulled away and his head hung down in defeat. You stared at him. Say it. You thought. Say it and I'm yours, Remus.

You both sat in silence for another minute or two before you sighed. Turning to open the door, still no words passed between you both. 

As you walked out, your head down, you were greeted with a pair of polished black shoes. Your eyes slowly trailed up to meet the eyes of a shocked Regulus Black. His jaw tensed when he saw who was behind you. You hadn't known he followed you. Fuck.

“Regulus, it's-”

“Blood traitor.” He spat the vile insult and you felt like he slapped you. Your breath hitched and you reached forward towards him. He was young, he didn't understand. You knew the only experience he had with this was his cousin and brother both of whom, he confided in you, he felt abandoned him. You didn't know how to explain what had happened. You didn't know what to tell him. You don't know what to say. Your entire body was lit up like a live wire, and Remus spoke in a low tone.

“What was that?” He prickled and you quickly shushed him. Remus seemed startled but didn't say anything. Scoffing as Regulus marched off with another much lower repetition of the insult. You sighed and covered your eyes, feeling even more miserable now. 

Remus reached out to you, wanting to comfort you again. Anything to keep you close to him. “I knew this was a bad idea.” You gave a heart broken whisper and Remus froze up, staring at you with wide eyes. 

He didn't say a word as he walked to your side, moving some of your hair to behind your ear. Muttering a soft goodbye, one he figured would be his last, before he turned and walked away. Back to his compartment. He didn't want to cause any more damage.

You made it back to your compartment, Barty and Evan greeted you with concern and you waved it off. Your eyes on Regulus who was glaring at you. Luckily, the boys were distracted with their hundredth conversation of the night.

You turned to look down at your book once more. It was one Remus had given you, just to borrow, you wondered if he thought it would be an excuse. To see eachother again.

~~~

A week of being home, you were finally slipping back into routine. The first thing you knew you wanted to do was return Remus’s book. Once you did, he had lettered you back almost immediately. You knew you shouldn't, but it was hard when every part of your heart ached just to read his words. You exchanged letters with him several times over the week. With nothing else to do but write and wait for your betrothal announcement, there were days when three letters between you two simply wasn't enough. 

Eventually, over the weekend, you convinced your mother to allow you to go to Hogsmeade. One hour of freedom to finally explore before your marriage, to your surprise, she agreed. You had finally gained ownership over your own vault so she allowed you to roam as long as you returned within the hour.

You did not go to Hogsmeade. You met with Remus, outside the Potters. You knew it was risky, there was a war brooding and you shouldn't be caught dead entertaining him, but you were weak. You would always be weak to him. It was just an hour, the worst mistake you had ever made. It just reinforced what you already knew. You and Remus were dangerous together. You found yourself not caring about who may have been watching. It was just a conversation and a few stray touches, but it ruined you.

Once you made it home, you watched the house elves scatter around, avoiding you. Your parents had sent you up to your room the moment you walked through the doors. They were in the living room with the Blacks, specifically Walburga and Orion. 

You hadn't seen your father so furious before. Once you heard the door open, you watched through your window as the two devilish figures apparated away. You turned to your door as it slammed open. You straightened your back and avoided his eyes. “Father-”

“ ‘In the safety of our nights, I reveled in your presence. Knowing another werewolf was near brought a comforting embrace. And in your exquisite beauty, I found my heart forever captivated. You are captivating.’ “ He announced to the room and your blood ran cold. Your eyes snapped over to the drawer of your desk and realized it was open. Remus’s letters.

You looked to him and saw your mother avoiding your gaze, holding the small stack of parchment and your heart sunk to the floor. 

“Father-”

“Where were you?” He demanded and you took a sharp startled breath.

“Hogsmeade, I asked mother-” 

Before you could finish, he snapped his fingers and the parchment in his hand was lit ablaze. Ashes gathered at his feet and you couldn't help but let out a yelp. Covering your mouth and clenching your chest, watching as the last of Remus was burned in front of you. 

“ ‘Each moment apart feels more arduous than I ever imagined. Could there be a chance, however slight, for our paths to intertwine once more?’ “ Your father spat Remus’s words back to your face and you flinched. “Where were you?” He demanded again.

“I-I went to the Potters. I went to the Potters to meet with Remus Lupin.” You sobbed out and your father gave a condescending laugh.

“You've involved yourself in filth. Do you understand that?!” He snapped at you, snatching the letters from your mother with so much force some of them flew around the room. “You have been a plight on this family since you were born! I should have sooner raised a son! I was this close to being rid of you, now the Blacks won't even take you for their disgrace of a fallen heir!” 

You closed your eyes tight, bowing your head as your mother spoke up. “Where did we go wrong? You were such an obedient girl when you were younger! You used to be such a good girl, {Y/N}.”

“Don't lie to her! I will fix this. I will fix this problem. You want to entangle yourself with filth? I'll show you filth!” Your father boomed. With a wave of his hands every letter ignited. Shriveling them up to nothing but black spots on the carpet. You slowly fell to the floor and hugged yourself. Sobbing out in desperation, you wanted to go back. You wanted everything to stop throbbing and the pain to go away.

You wanted Remus.

~~~ Remus POV ~~~

Two months. Two months and none of his desperate letters got any reply. He wasn't ready for that hour to be his last goodbye. He wasn't ready to be without you yet. He wasn't ready to lose you. 

He thought if he kept pushing it, kept going past the boundaries you set for yourself, you would eventually say you wanted him too. You wanted to be his and he wanted to be yours. Why was that so hard? 

He spent those months moping around in his room. Bless Sirius’s soul for all he put up with. Remus would only get up to write, Sirius had to force the rest out of him. The black haired boy finally managed to drag Remus into the shower, then into the living room. Forcing him to spend time with them. 

“There is a war waging! Stop worrying about that girl and drink for tonight at least.” Sirius shoved a wine glass in his hand and laughed as Remus curled up his nose in disgust. Lily walked over and pulled Remus over to the table, ready to play one of the many random muggle games she brought. Remus felt like he was going through the motions for the most part. Just doing as he was told.

There was a tap on the window, Remus ignored it. Long since learning his lesson about getting his hopes up. He focused on the cards in front of them as Lily dealt them. She had a sneaky hand, notorious for slipping them in her sleeve. His thoughts were only interrupted as Sirius muttered his name. Low and cautious.

He looked behind him and stared at Sirius who was holding up a parchment of paper, he recognized it instantly. {L/N}’s. It wasn't any normal letter. It was more of a card. “What is it?” Remus whispered, dread filling him. He knew what it was. He already knew what it was, but there was this small bit of hope that he was wrong.

Sirius looked to James who was reading it over his shoulder with a grimace. “Uh… are you sure you wanna know?” James asked cautiously, and Sirius winced. 

Eventually Remus stood up and snatched the paper from them. His eyes widened and his heart stopped, slowly muttering the words to himself before Lily cautiously stood up. “What is it?”

“I don't think-” James began, and Sirius watched as Remus read it out, interrupting James.

“We, the noble and long standing house of {L/N} cordially invite you to the engagement party of..” Remus felt his words stop in his throat and Lily looked to James for an answer, he began to stutter out and over himself, before Sirius spoke up this time. 

“{Y/N} {L/N} and Fenrir Greyback.” Sirius whispered and Remus crumbled the letter in his hand. No. This wasn't happening. Remus threw the invitation away and began to pace the living room, hands tangling in his hair as he clung to what little sanity he had left. 

“Okay, well, let's figure this out.” James declared and Remus stopped his pacing and looked over at James with bewildered eyes.

“What?”

“Let's go crash a wedding. Well, a wedding party.” James mused and gestured to the four of them. “When is it?”

“It's tonight. Must of sent the invitation to me as a fuck you.” Remus muttered before he looked across his friends faces, slowly smiling. “You'll do this for me?” He asked softly and Sirius walked up to him, patting his shoulder. “Remus, I'll do anything to stop doing the dishes again.”

Remus gave him a glare as Sirius smiled cheekily up at him, before he turned to James who shrugged. “She makes you happy, man.” He offered before Lily leaned forward with a chime. “And no one deserves to marry Greyback.”

Remus slowly nodded and felt a rush of adrenaline. “Yeah. Yeah, let's do it.” He turned to the three, “What's the plan?”

~~~

“So let me get this straight.” Lily mused as she looked into the passenger hanging mirror, as they drove down the street like muggles. “Greyback turned this girl into a werewolf? And her parents are just going to.. marry her to him?” She scoffed and Remus nodded, clenching his jaw as he slipped his wand in his waistband. 

“That's foul.” Sirius hissed with his head half out the window, smoking a cigarette. Remus once again muttered something in the affirmative. 

James glanced back at Remus from where he was driving. “Okay Moony, you sure this will work? Just going to walk out with her?”

“If she'll have me.” Remus muttered and leaned back fully with a sigh. “Thanks for coming.” He mumbled. 

Sirius nudged him and Remus looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Anything to ruin another pureblood legacy.” 

“I'm starting to think this is more about that than helping me, Sirius.” 

“Can't it be both?”

“Certainly not.”

“I'm sure it can.” Lily mused from the front seat.

“Certainly can.” James remarked and Remus groaned, followed by a fit of giggles.

“I can't believe she likes you guys.” Remus mumbled and Lily gave a startled gasp. “What? Awe, she likes us!?” 

“Oh look, we’re here.” Remus interrupted her and she gasped. “Remus Lupin!” 

“See ya.” He chuckled and climbed out.

The celebration was at the {L/N} manor. As Remus walked up, he was ushered in past the people getting their names checked. Not at all jarring, might you add. 

His coat was taken by a house elf and another handed him a drink. He gave a small thank you and then winced when one looked at him with surprise and the other like he was dirt. His eyes scanned the full room, and they landed on the man of the hour.

He looked as slimy as he remembered. Like a sore thumb in a place like this, it just seemed to push how much of a punishment this must of been. He looked around the manor and noticed you were nowhere to be found. He remembered from your letters, your room was on the first floor. Well, time to go hunting.

~~~

You were in your room, sitting by your vanity and trying to push back the time as much as you could. Your debut was happening in thirty minutes. It was like the clock was taunting you. You sat in silence, with your mother putting the final touches on your makeup. 

“You should have listened to me. You shouldn't have lied.” Your mother spoke in a cruel tone. Tutting out about your features as she did. “This wouldn't be happening. You could of been happy with that Black boy, he is friends with that Lupin kid too, you could of-”

“Could of lied to myself? Become an obedient housewife? Or sneak off with my husband's best friend behind his back?” You snarked in a calm tone and she scoffed. “If that's what you wanted, you could have had it. You are a {L/N}, yes, but you are my daughter. You should have known how to make this work for you. Without making us bring his kind into our family.” 

“Ha! His kind? Mother, I think you've forgotten! I am his kind! And you're about to marry me off to the man who made me one!” You shouted, met with a firm slap across your cheek. You lifted your hand to touch the tender skin as your mother stood up and stomped to the door. “Finish up and be out here in 20 minutes, I will not wait longer than that.”

You were left in your room. It was quiet again. Your head leaned back to stop the tears that threatened to pour. You resisted the urge to cry, straightening up when you heard your door open. Taking a deep breath, figuring it to be your father. “I am still not ready.” You whispered.

“You look bloody magnificent, what else is there to do?” 

That voice. Oh Merlin please. 

You shot to your feet and turned to face him, startled. “R-Remus! What are you doing here?” You asked quickly, walking over to him to yank him fully into the room and close the door. 

He instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist and smiled bright at you. “I've come to get you.” He whispered and you took a deep breath. “Remus, what are you talking about?” You whispered and he gave you a determined look.

“Do you trust me?”

“... yes?” You whispered and he lit up.

“Good enough, do you love me?”

“Remus-”

“Do you?” He pried and leaned closer. You took a deep breath and slowly nodded. “Yes.” 

He gave a large and exaggerated sigh of relief, pulling a giggle from you. “Thank Merlin, I thought this was for nothing.” He whispered and pulled out a box from his coat pocket. Your jaw dropped and you looked around quickly before you rapidly shook your head. “Remus, don't be foolish.”

“The only thing foolish about me is not asking you to stay with me. I know this is fast, but I think I've known for a while.” He declared and opened the box. It was a modest ring, very unlike the large stone on your hand now. 

“Remus-”

“Princess, I know. For once, stop thinking as a {L/N}. Think like a {Y/N}. Better, if I beg enough, would you think like a Lupin?” He begged and you gave a watery laugh. Covering your mouth with your gloved hand and shook your head, this time in amusement as he got down on one knee. He seemed to light up at your delight.

“You look like a fool.” You giggled out and he shook his head.

“Only thing that could possibly make me look like a fool now is if I brought back my mothers ring with no one attached to it, princess.” He implored and you gave another laugh. It sounded like heaven to him. 

“Unless you want me on both knees? I can do that, darling, I can.” He declared and you shook your head. “Remus, get up and put the ring on my damn finger.”

He gave you the most dazzling smile as he stood. Taking your hand and throwing Greyback’s ring across the room. Giving you a goofy look as he slipped his mother’s ring on your finger. You gave him a bright smile and bit your lip. Before grabbing him by his lapels and yanking him down into a kiss. It lasted no longer than a moment before you both pulled away in a fit of giggles. “So, what's your plan to get us out of here?”

“Simple, really.” He mused and scooped up your hand and walked backwards to the door. “We run.”

Your jaw went slack and your eyes widened. “You're mad!”

“Think like a Lupin, darling.” He teased and yanked you out of the room. You have a startled yelp when you came face to face with your mother. Surely there to bring you to your debut. You looked at Remus who bit the corner of his lip and yanked you along.

In another fit of giggled and young foggy foolishness. You both ran. Ran past your mother, who made no move to stop you, past the ballroom, past several guests, when you were finally noticed you ran right past your shouting father and a rather angry looking Greyback.

You ran after Remus, eventually he stopped by a car, and you laughed. “You came in a muggle car!?” You exclaimed in delight and he smiled. “Get in, will ya!?”

You hurried in and bumped into Sirius, looking up at him with wide eyes as Remus closed the door behind them, “Drive!” 

“Congratulations, pretty girl.” Sirius spoke up. “Lovely dress.” 

“Thank you.”

You gave him a bright smile and looked to the front seat, James focusing on the road and Lily looking behind her seat and waving. “Hey! We met once before, nice to meet you officially!” She introduced herself with a calm that was certainly not matching the manic sounds outside the car. “My name is Lily! Lily Evans. Looks like we match.” She mused and flashed her ring. You couldn't stop smiling like an utter fool. “Nice to meet you!”

“This is Sirius Black.” She introduced, and Sirius leaned forward with a nod, you have a brief greeting, before she turned back to the front and put her hand on James’s arm. “This is James Potter, my lovely fiancé.” She chimed as your eyes locked with a stupid love sick looking Remus. 

“Have I mentioned how I love your friends?” You whispered and he leaned forward and took your lips for his own.

Lily was curious when you didn't respond and glanced back, just in time for Sirius to complain. “Merlin, why am I stuck back here with the horny teens!?"

[valentinetypewriter]

Me and My Husband

This includes casting, chapter masterlist and summary

Sirius Black x Remus lupin x reader

My Main masterlist

Marauders era masterlist

Chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 /

Summary

Sirius Black III the usually flirtatious boy had become completely infatuated with someone he knew he could never have, but tied to someone he never thought he could love.

Remus john lupin the self hating Werewolf who doesn't believe he's worth loving, but his heart aches for two people who he thinks he doesn't deserve

Y/n l/n has hated love ever since she was young, a pure-blood family like hers doesn't get love, they only have to keep their blood pure. But maybe she could make something good out of this

Set during the marauders 7th year and onwards, canon divergent, just changing a few things up to make the fic work a bit better. This fic will be filled with unnecessary angst and drama because I'm a horrible person

Casting

Casting will include movies/shows for a more specific look for major character

Ben Barnes as Sirius Black (Dorian grey)

Andrew Garfield as Remus lupin (Never let me go) and yes this is exactly how I imagine remus to act/talk - A link for a YouTube video since clips of his character are hard to find

Aaron Taylor Johnson as James Potter (kick-ass / Nowhere boy)

Dane dehaan as Peter pettigrew (Kill your darlings)

Timothée Chalamet as Regulus Black

David Tennant as Barty Crouch Jr

Maxence Danet-Fauvel as Evan Rosier

Supporting cast

Sophie skelton as Lily Evans

Alicia Vikander as Marlene McKinnon

Sofia Bryant as Mary McDonald

Louis Garrel as Severus Snape

[sunnami]

❝watch me, don't touch me, love me, don't hurt me.❞

[title is from ive's accendio. gif not mine.] summary. you are the fop of the wizarding society, known for your shallowness and careless display of wealth, but as hogwarts faces another threat, the marauders and lily, find themselves drawn to you and the secrets hidden under your facade. (harry just wants to know what is going on.)

pairing/s. marauders x reader. (james potter/lily evans/remus lupin/sirius black/reader.)

wc. 24.1k.

tags. enemies to lovers, angst, hurt but the comfort is later, fluff(ish), i try slow burn for the first time (it hurts.), this is highly self-indulgent idgaf, set during goblet of fire but i decide what goes, voldemort isn't the only character who can revive from the dead, BITCH. OH, LMAO I FORGOT, THIS IS FOR THE DILF AND MILF LOVERS SDKJFHSF they're married, but remus and sirius keep their name for legal and plot reasons. adult marauders and adult reader! and i was careful this time to not use any specific pronouns or gendered terms so everyone can enjoy the pain!! every1 is hurting 2nite. proofread kind of, so we die like. . . harry potter?

cws. here we go... canon-typical violence, vivid description of injuries, pain, and blood, emotional abuse, trauma, self-destructive tendencies, minor character death (non-canon), pureblood society practices, voldemort is his own warning, brief mention of war, brief scene with abducted children, panic attacks, depictions of mental illness, suic!dal thoughts, bellatrix lestrange is also her own warning, morally-grey reader.

a/n: this is inspired by my most favorite finnick odair fic EVER! obviously, i won't ever reach that level of greatness, but i've had this idea in my head ever since i read that story. sometimes, i just want to cry at night to feel something, LMFAO. halfway through writing this story, i got insecure, so thank you to this eye-opening comment on reddit that i found that will forever change how i look at reader inserts: “for me, a reader should be faceless, but not soulless.”

to my dearest friends and readers, i hope you enjoy this world that i've written for you ueueue. (the next and final part is fluffier, i promise.) will upload to ao3 soon!

act i. dear god, please save the little man.

“RITA, DARLING, do get your wretched little quill for this one. I heard from a wee birdie that Vittoria Zabini was spotted in Rome, and not just wearing last season’s designer collection, but on her honeymoon, of all things! Can you believe it, dearest? If I remember correctly, this must be husband number five now.”

Like a wingless canary in a gilded cage, you are forced once again to sing for red-lipped witches and their grating laughter, and for wizards with their fat bellies, graying hair, and leering eyes. How kind of Narcissa Malfoy to host these decrepit creatures in her manor garden—and thrust the role of main attraction onto you. There you are, lonesome badger, dressed in the finest tulle for everyone to ogle at. A ballerina in a music box, turning, and turning, and turning.

(When will your cursed lullaby finally end?)

Isadora Bulstrode cackles. “Gold-digging wench must be at it again.”

As predicted, Rita Skeeter greedily whips out her Quick-Quotes Quill. The bloodthirsty journalist preys hungrily at your every word—and you’re more than willing to satiate the irritable, little pest. “Riveting.” She pushes her glasses upwards with a quirk of her lips. “We may have tomorrow’s front page in our hands.” 

Lavinia Nott brings the teacup to her mouth, her gaze slicing towards you. “Do tell us more. Where ever do you get your information from?”

You hide a coy smile behind the fine porcelain. “Why, Lavinia dearest, if I reveal my secret now, I might have to kill you!” The drove of ladies giggle amongst themselves as Lavinia sips her tea impassively. You play these people like a fiddle, and they’re none the wiser. But even vile women have to play their parts in the cruel world forged by mad men. Yours happens to be the most ill-fated of them all. 

“A shame you decided not to pursue the same path as your mother, but that is alright—not every one is fit to work.” The Selwyn matron raises her brow, offering you a tight-lipped smirk.

“Oh, Elinor, my love, I’m surprised you’d even suggest such a horrible thing!” Your grin grows wicked and wider. You know perfectly what the wizarding society thinks of you: the orphaned heir, the shallow socialite who only cares for gallivanting about in pureblooded extravaganzas. A status you’ve so carefully fashioned; utterly beloved and adored by these people, flowers falling at your feet with so much as a whisper from your lips. 

Your gaze drifts to a familiar crowd of people to the side. It’s the pack of lions and The-Boy-Who-Lived. There they are, the marauding bunch and their displays of loyalty and whatnot; hideously coordinated outfits, but capturing the world’s attention constantly and effortlessly. 

How repulsive.

In spite of that, you are intrigued. They are the section that plays out of tune in the orchestra you have been conducting for years.

And so you bid your goodbyes to the witches; they fawn and beg for you to stay for an hour more. You pout your lips and say with faux sympathy, hand flying to your chest.  “Oh, don’t worry, my dears! I’ll be back soon enough after greeting some of the other guests. You lovely ladies might tire of me if I stay for too long.”

Melina Traverse brushes you off. “We could never! You know you’re like family to us, pet!”

With a delighted gasp, you say, “Don’t tell Narcissa, but you’ve always been my favorite Slytherin.” The venom flows endlessly from your lips. You owe your life to only a handful of people. Narcissa Malfoy, who raised you when your mother no longer could, is one of them. Finally, you’re able to sneak away from their freshly manicured talons as they tittle-tattle amongst themselves.

Once your back is turned to the rest of them, you roll your eyes until your head begins hurting. 

What a bunch of insufferable fools. 

Still, the show curtains are wide open and the sun is yet to set. You have another audience that is awaiting your next number. 

“Oh, my, my, my! Is it truly the Chosen One in our midst?” You approach the horrid family of Gryffindors—nearly doubling over in laughter at the speed with which their faces fall at the sight of you. How refreshing, you think to yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve seen people who wore their hearts on their sleeves. “Cissa and I didn’t think you’d even respond to our invitation—but this is just brilliant! Lily, darling! How long has it been? That dress looks utterly divine! Is that Charmeuse silk? The purple simply brings out the color in your eyes! And your skin, my love! Just glowing! Tell me—have you been trying those snail facials? I hear they’re all the rage nowadays.”

Sirius grimaces, cheeks turning ashen. “Bloody hell, I’m going to need a drink for this. A strong one, too.” 

“You’re at a garden party, Sirius darling,” you remind in jest, flamboyantly motioning to the grazing table. “The elves are serving Darjeeling, jasmine, chamomile, berry blends, spiced orange, silver needle, and my personal favorite, chocolate mint!” There are strings of lights wrapped around the tree branches; floating lanterns and the hydrangeas creeping on the stone walls. You put a hand over your heart, smiling knavishly. “From the Malfoy family, to yours, we sincerely hope you enjoy your brunch.” 

Lily deeply inhales as she intertwines her fingers with James’s, a polite smile on her face—an odd pang in your heart at the show of solidarity. (She questions how sincere can a Malfoy really be.) “Y-Yes, well, it’s so good to see you, too. We’re grateful for the invitation, especially since it’s for a rather honorable cause.” 

Ah, pure-hearted creatures really do get on your nerves. Lion hearts; words dripping in honey, limitless bravado. You’ve changed your mind, you’re sick of it all. A flash of vindictive glee crosses your face as you abruptly grab her hand, wrenching it away from her husband’s. “We just knew you’d see it that way! You probably see yourself in those Muggle children, eh?”

Lily recoils, as if struck by hot iron, shoulders tensing; slowly, she peels away her hand from yours, long lashes blinking away her shock.  “You and Narcissa must be raising a lot of money, then.” She eyes the marble fountain adorned in white roses, the harmonizing gnomes nearby, self-playing harps, and the scrutinizing stares from afar. “I never knew you cared so much about Muggle children.”

“Well, I suppose it must be done for all the pudgy-cheeked brats in the world,” You callously wave away her words with a sigh. Unbeknownst to most, all the charity proceeds come from your own Gringotts account. That is the one real thing left in your miserable life.  “As staff at Hogwarts, the children must come first, wouldn’t you agree, Lily flower?”

“Quite,” replies Lily, lips firmly pursed.

James enters the fray, hand snaking around Lily’s waist; jaw taut, seeming to regret ever entering the snake den. “Have you met our son, Harry, already?” He turns to the fourteen-year-old at his left side, gently patting Harry’s back with a crooked smile. “Haz, this is an old classmate of ours.” James gestures to you, and you offer the Potter spawn an amused smile as he blinks owlishly at you. The poor thing has gone frigid from the wintry cold, despite the summer sun overhead and blooming coneflowers; and you wonder if he must have run into Draco and Lucius before coming to the garden.

So this is the child the Dark Lord failed to kill, you muse. You only wish that you could have seen that monster fall to the ground lifelessly, defeated by an infant and his courageous parents. How fitting for men like Lucius Malfoy to follow in his footsteps; the blind leading the blind. Your grin stretches from ear to ear as you take his hand in yours. Clearly, he’s never held a girl’s hand before, as he limply shakes your hand, awkwardly spluttering his greetings. “What an honor it is to finally meet the savior of the wizarding world.” 

“Why, you look just like James when he was younger, always strutting around the corridors.” Your eyes drift to the lightning scar on his forehead, a testament to his and Lily’s survival against the killing curse. “And such clear-cut emerald eyes; truly your mother’s son. Tell me, Harry dearest, you must be quite the heartbreaker at Hogwarts.”

His doe-eyes harden, and your brow quirks in curiosity. (So the littlest lion can growl, after all.) “Oh. . . not really.” His hand hangs back at his side, fists coiling. The robins chirp merrily as they fly by, his parents carefully watching the scene unfold; water endlessly splashing in the fountain. Harry’s voice deepens as he continues, “I couldn’t be. My friends and I barely have time for anything else. There always seems to be something going on at the castle, apparently.”  

“How interesting—Elsie!” You bark at the quivering house elf as Harry stumbles on his words. “Get Mister Potter and his company a plate of macarons—serve them our finest tea, as well.” 

Harry winces as the elf apparates at once. “There’s r-really no need for—”

Your gaze, sharp as a knife, slices to him, as the corners of your painted lips bend contemptuously. “Have you heard the news, dearheart?”

Harry looks to his father before shrugging. “I don’t think so.”

“If Mister Lupin here has so graciously informed you,” you begin tantalizingly, eyes cutting to the rugged werewolf at Lily’s side; his back stiffening at the mention of his name, “Otherwise, keep this between you and me, Harry darling. Hogwarts will be hosting a rather important event this year—and I do love a good party—so you must have noticed the rise in appearances from the Ministry.” You gesture to the top Aurors at the DMLE towering over Harry, Sirius and James. “More than that,” you continue with a sly cant to your voice. “There will be a few new additions to Hogwarts’ staff. Among them, of course—is yours truly!”

“And to do what, exactly?” Sirius blurts out incredulously.

“Be a teacher, of course!” you feign ignorance, bashfully furrowing your brows. “Why else?”

“Brilliant!” Sirius chuckles scornfully. “So, the children will be learning about French designers and frilly dresses then, I presume?

“Is that truly all you think of me?” you ask, gasping melodramatically as you circle the rim of your empty teacup. 

“You want to know what I think? Or what everyone thought behind your back at Hogwarts?” Sirius scoffs with a cock of his head. “You’ve always been the belle of the ball, no bloody doubt about that. But I’ve always wondered if there was anything more to your head than just air.” 

He runs a hand through his dark curls, lips twisting into a sneer. “But I reckon nothing has changed since then. You’re just the same insufferable, vapid wench as you’ve always been.”

“Sirius. . .” Remus quietly calls. “That’s enough.” 

Your expression falters—but your mask cannot afford even a moment of rest. A jarring note in the lullaby plays as the ceramic ballerina stops turning. You let the minutes pass by fleetingly; it seems the self-playing chordophones have changed their tune, as well. You watch as the canary diamonds in your bracelet glint against the sunlight. (You are growing tired of the blinding show lights, unrelenting crowd, and never-ending play. Where is the reprieve, you wonder, for the tormented primadonna and her aching soul?)

The strings are now dipped in blood as your tears polish the stage. Your joints have twisted, bent, and danced. You wonder, how long must it be until you are rid of the starring role?

You muster a coy smile, fluttering your lashes at the heir of the most noble and ancient House. “Such crude language, Mister Black,” you say, albeit your voice has gone mellow; nails drumming against the table surface as the guests mingle with one another. The unbearably dull conversations buzz in your ear. You notice Draco and Astoria Greengrass heading for the glasshouse. You consider stealing her lace parasol and whacking Sirius with it, and the thought fills you with immense joy. 

Unfortunately, they are your guests, and you are nothing if not the most polite host. “Perhaps, I am not the only one who hasn’t grown out of their immature habits,” you say, eyeing his shoulder-length hair, spiky ear piercings, and leather jacket. That damned leather jacket of his. It irks you that he and his kind can show insolence freely without bearing any repercussions. (But you’d die before you ever feel envy for a man like Sirius Black.) The sun fades behind the clouds, and your mask slips perfectly into place once more.

“What is it that happened again? Between you and Severus Snape in sixth-year?” You tap your chin pensively, taking cruel satisfaction in the stutter in Sirius’s breath and Remus’s parted lips, ever stupefied. You gaze fiendishly at Remus. “Oh, silly me, I’ve gone off topic. Well, anyhow, I just wanted to say, I believe the students are in rather good hands this year. I just hope Dumbledore doesn’t accidentally let an infected beast roam the halls of Hogwarts.” 

Your eyes flash impishly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Lupin?”

Lily curls her lip viciously. “Just what exactly—?”

“Elsie has returned, master.” The house elf bows her head just as the antique bistro table is circled with macarons, cucumber sandwiches, miniature cocktail buns, and slices of pound cake. Lily retracts her hand, grinding her jaw as she swallows the words in her throat.

“You may go, Elsie, thank you.” With a guileful smirk, you levitate the teapot towards James and Harry, dutifully filling their cups; steam soon arising from the Chinese porcelain. You nod at the group. “It’s jasmine pearl,” you explain haughtily. “Carefully handcrafted tea from harvested leaves and flowers. Such exquisiteness that you won’t be able to find anywhere else.”

“Do enjoy your tea; Cissa and I made sure to spare no expense for our guests.” The teapot carefully lands back on the table. The sinfonietta ends, and so does your time with this particular audience. What misfortune, that you won’t receive your flowers for today’s performance. You pivot on your heels, flinging them a lukewarm goodbye. “Do excuse me, for I must tend to the new arrivals. I believe I see Missus Parkinson over there by the koi pond. Cissa might have my head if I neglect my responsibilities.”

You turn your head, tossing a wink at Lily. “Today, after all, is for the children.”

Alas, it is not Persephone Parkinson you head towards. 

You briefly exchange tepid pleasantries with Lavinia Greengrass before walking past the koi pond to the edges of the garden, far beyond prying eyes and ears. There, like a brooding Dementor drifting through a frozen lake, waits your true target. Sadly, it is only a dour-faced professor, a long time confrère of yours, to be precise. There are only a handful of people to whom you are indebted. Severus Tobias Snape is one of those few. 

With a flick of your wand, you covertly cast the silencing charm upon the elusive spot Severus had chosen. There is no need for these edacious vultures to prey on your conversation. They are better off with their tête-à-têtes and syrupy pikelets. You drown out the chamber orchestra’s symphony, the clinking of champagne glasses, the rustling leaves and ringing wind chimes. “Severus darling,” you say liltingly, feet shuffling to his side as you playfully ghost your palm against his nape. He barely spares you a glance as a breeze courses through the rippling lake water. “You’re missing out on the festivities, you know.”

“Have you finally finished tormenting Narcissa’s visitors?” he drawls, at long last acknowledging your presence and sharply raising a brow at your saccharine-sweet smile.

“Why, I’d never dare to do such a thing,” you reply with a theatrical sway of your head. “I simply conversed with the ladies and had a delightful run-in with your old flame, Lily. Do you remember her, my sweet? Ghastly red hair, pale skin, and, oh, those green eyes. It must be infuriating to look like that,” you rattle away to the only entity willing to listen to you in his company: the wind.

“Spare me,” he drones, lips curved impatiently.

You moue. “Ever the bore, you are, Severus. Shall I fetch you a platter of brandy snaps?”

“Shall I sit around while I wait?” Snape’s lips contort into a sour grimace, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “The Dark Lord himself might even find time to rise from his grave.”

“Severus dear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to tell me something.” You eye him slyly, mouth tipping into a smirk as a dragonfly hovers by the waterline, avidly stalked by the dwarf frog on a lily pad. “So,” you pry, “did you have something important to tell me? I promised Mister Goyle I’d have a drink with him.”

The frog splashes into the lake, and the dragonfly flutters away without a care. Severus clandestinely slips a piece of paper into your palm as he swivels around, dark cloak billowing. “Ensure that nothing traces back to you,” he snarls. “Clearly I do know better, Severus.” You toy with the paper between your fingers, a sense of exhilaration running up your spine. “Not to worry,” you say with a clipped smile, a serpentine glare in your eyes, “I always do as I am told.”

(Severus, not for the first time in his life, wonders if the Sorting Hat made a mistake when it sorted you into Hufflepuff.) 

act ii. tonight, let’s start the masquerade.

THE NIGHT GROWS weary, and so do the alleys of Knockturn; neglected as your hooded figure navigates through the brick road, only the caged owls and flickering stars to notice your presence. You fainly traipse amongst the shadows, a moment of surrender from the spotlight and malignant eyes; a brief interlude in the performance. Past the hanging doll heads in the windows of Borgin & Burkes, you find a lonely shop. Inside the locket of your ring, lies a slip of paper that had been given to you earlier this afternoon. Well, Severus, you think to yourself, idly twisting the ring on your finger, let’s see where you sent me to this time.

And so, the stage actor calls for a costume change. “Alohomora.”

With one last glance at the dimly-lit passage, you enter the boutique. The brass shop bell accompanies your entrance, but no owner appears to greet you—and if there was, well, you have quite a unique way of saying hello. Your fingers feather across the dusty bookshelves, eyes raking through the broken staircase, the faint scent of ginger, rosemary, and mugwort pervades the room; a shattered crystal ball sits in the center of the shop desk, ripped paintings on the wall. A grimace pulls at your lips as you come across a familiar ivory mask. A Death Eater mask—it’s warm to touch; recently worn, perchance. You bury the strong urge to set it on fire. 

There’s a shift in the air, a creak in the floorboards—in an instant, you whip your wand out from its leather holster. 

“Reveal yourself,” you whisper curtly.

To the naked eye, there is only one intruder in the dingy parlor. To you, however, there is an obscure silhouette of a stranger covered by a glimmering veil. You hold onto your wand resolutely. If it was an enemy, you’d be blown into the walls by now. “This isn’t an ensemble stage, you know,” you chuff impatiently, “I’m not fond of sharing the spotlight with lineless extras.” 

The disillusionment charm slowly unveils, and you wait unblinking, until you see a familiar face standing before you. Mid-length curly hair that falls over gray, dagger-like eyes, the irksome scent of tobacco, and a frightening similarity to his elder brother. 

There are exactly five people you’d risk your life for, and right now, you’re digging the tip of your wand into their neck.

“Mister Regulus Black,” you greet with a playful edge to your voice, eyes narrowing. “Severus didn’t mention we’d be running into each other tonight.” 

“That’s because I didn’t tell Sev I’d be here,” says Regulus, dimples poking out as he swats your wand away from his throat. “I might go mad if I have to stay inside for another bloody week, there’s only so many times I can re-read Good Omens—and by the way, did anyone ever tell you how dramatic you are? Lineless extras, really?” 

You hide a fond smile with a roll of your eyes, whirling around to browse the glass cabinets and leather journals on the table, returning to the task at hand. “And so you thought going outside and risking someone seeing you in the open was a good idea? Reggie darling, I often think about the possibility of Walburga dropping you on the head as an infant.” 

Regulus shoves his hands inside his trouser pockets as he hovers over your shoulders like a lost, overgrown duckling. “Wasn’t it Cissa’s soirée today? Did you jinx the statues like I told you to?” 

“Who do you think I am?” you say haughtily, pausing in your search to half-heartedly glare at him. And after a moment’s pause, you jerk your shoulder and coyly respond with a side-smirk, “Of course I did. The young Mister Flint nearly screamed his head off.” You hum reminiscently, “truthfully, it’s been quite a while since I heard Draco laugh like that these days. For breakfast, I hear about the Granger girl, and then for lunch, I hear about the Weasley children, and for dinner, it’s an hour-long spiel on the famed Harry Potter.” 

Regulus chortles in amusement as he hops onto the shop counter, kicking back his chunky boots. “And, then? Did you see my brother?” 

“Oh, darling, I did more than that,” you mutter offhandedly, leafing through the paraphernalias and foul-smelling potion flasks. 

“How was he? Is he doing well? Merlin, I think it’s been so long since I saw his face.” There’s a lapse of silence between you and Regulus. A lizard scurries across the room, chasing after a line of ants. The younger wizard taints the quietude with a long, frustrated sigh. “Sorry, I just. . .” He slumps his shoulders in resignation. “I wouldn’t have to ask so many questions if. . . if I could just. . .”

“I don’t understand why I have to hide from my own family.” With a jagged whisper, he says, “I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like I can’t believe that I’m really here, I don’t even know if I exist sometimes.” 

You grimace as you turn to look at him, hand flinching as if wanting to reach out to him. Instead, you avert your gaze and continue scouring the room. “It’s for—”

“My own good, I know,” Regulus blows a strand of hair away from his forehead. He jumps off the counter with a hardened stare. You glance at his back as he bends to pick at the marks on the floor. At times like this, you remember how small and young Regulus had been when you found him moribund from lake inferis. What a cruel price to pay in exchange for his survival, you think. 

For Regulus Black has to remain dead to the wizarding world, stuck in an interminable masquerade, waiting until the hour is up for his performance. 

All the world’s a stage, and for the best of the actors and actresses, it seems the production never ends. 

“How long do you think it’s going to stay like this? For you, me, Sev? For Cissa?” As he stands on his toes to inspect the top of a dusty cupboard, Regulus veers his head to peek at your expression, frowning when he finds none. (You’ve no answers for him, after all; the entirety of your life was spent wondering that exact same question. All you know is that the show must go on until the audience tires of the starving artist.) “Never mind, let’s just focus on finding whatever you were trying to find here.” He walks past his reflection in the vintage carved mirror. “What are we looking for, anyway?” 

You wish to offer solace to a cherished friend, but duties are meant to be fulfilled. For now, to do what is right must come first. Your fingers slither up the side of a bookcase, a wooden ladder resting against the shelves. The mahogany is freshly varnished, the stench of glue is prominent, and deep scratches indent the floor. It’s an empty treasure cove, barely anything displayed on the racks. You grit your teeth as you realize it’s been well-maintained compared to the obsolete state of the room. “Here,” you rasp, abruptly snapping your head to look back at him.

He furrows his brow. “What?” 

You beckon him to the corner of the room from where you stand, wooden planks creaking as you push at the bookcase. “Help me with this, Regulus. There could be something behind it.” You clench your jaw as you lean your weight onto the cabinet frame.

“Why don’t we just, I don’t know,” Regulus cocks his head as he waves his wand in the air. “Use magic?” he offers discreetly, as though divulging a century-old secret. “I suggest Bombarda for maximum efficiency.” 

You stare at him vacantly. “Regulus dearheart, I hold a stupendous amount of tolerance for you, but there is absolutely no way we are drawing attention to ourselves via explosion spells in the dead of the night.” 

He grins boyishly before ushering you away. “Alright, alright, I was only taking the mickey out of you.” Soon after, Regulus deftly mutters a levitation charm, his wand steadfast as the bookcase slowly detaches from the floor. You take a couple of steps backward, lips pursed as you observe Regulus concentrate on his work. 

You note to yourself to have a conversation about Regulus’s restlessness with Severus. It could pose a liability and pull the curtains on the entire pasquinade. “Careful,” you keep a tight watch on Regulus’s pinched brows, his hovering wand, and the steadily moving bookshelf. 

“Like taking jelly slugs from a first-year,” he says flippantly, beaming at you as his dark curls sweep over his eyes. 

You give him an exasperated scowl before side-stepping his quip as you descry a faint outline of a door in the plastered wall. You feel a rumble in the ground, muffled noises behind the shrouded entrance.  “Ready your wand, Regulus,” you say grimly, hand reaching for the doorknob, looking back in time to catch his smirk fade into a distant expression, “I believe what awaits won’t be as simple as that.” 

A grave tenor disquiets the room, your free hand already grasping for your wand. Regulus stands at your side, nodding as you take a sharp breath. He offers his back to you, in spite of the looming danger. (A sadistic part of you finds comfort in his presence tonight, but neither of you can truly share the burdens of your harrowing façades. Tomorrow, you play the lone star once more; and he, the dead brother and son. But today, you must simply share the stage.) 

You twist the knob until a click pierces the heavy silence.

You wait with a bated breath, expecting creatures and spells to come hurling in your direction. The room ahead is enshrouded with darkness. You share a terse nod with Regulus as a ball of light appears at the tip of your wands. Regulus moves to take a step forward, but you block him with your arm. “I’ll go first,” you say breathily, curtly glancing at the Death Eater Mask. “It could be cursed the moment we step inside.” Regulus presses his lips into a white line, clearly unhappy with your decision, but relents nonetheless. 

Rough, travertine flooring begins where the woodwork ends; a gust of wind howls into the dark chamber. Wordlessly, you call for your patronus to investigate inside; thin, silvery wisps floating in the air, its light hauntingly beautiful against the unilluminated dungeon. You hear heavy chains dragging across the ground and the harmony of timid footfalls. A drop of water falls onto the cracked stone. Regulus grinds down on his jaw as he readies his wand. 

After an eternity of waiting, you snap your wand to set the torches alight. 

A pronounced chill runs up your spine; a stutter in your breath. You nearly stagger at the sight unveiled before you. If you had been a weaker wizard, you’d have dropped your wand already. “This. . .” you say hoarsely, eyes wide, blood simmering in your veins. 

Children.

Little ones as young as ten-years-old, barely coming up to your stomach, staring up at you with bloodshot eyes. Their skinny arms are covered in grime and wear pathetic rags for clothes. Moss grows in every corner of the room. Emaciated mattresses on metal beds. “Bloody hell,” Regulus growls, chest heaving. “What the fuck?” 

“It’s a prison,” you whisper, horrified. There must be more than twelve children standing before you. Bile rises to your throat. You worry about your wand breaking in half, but the overwhelming sense of dread traps you in position. 

“Are. . . are you with the bad men?” A brave, young girl with owlish eyes protectively steps forward in front of her companions. “No,” you answer gently, bending down on one knee to meet her eyes. You were neither good, or bad, but there is no magic on earth that would make you harm these children. 

Regulus calls your name. “They’re Muggles,” he hisses angrily. “I don’t sense any magic from any of them.” He exhales in frustration. “What the hell are they doing with Muggle children?” 

You grind down on your teeth, nearly dizzy with anger. You forgo a response to Regulus in favor of clasping your cloak around the trembling child. Soon after, you blanket the room in a warming charm. “Tend to their wounds,” you say sharply. “I’ll see what I can do about the chains.” And you will do something about those shackles, if it’s the last thing you do. “We’re going to get you out of here, I promise,” you tell the girl, stolid as you pat her head.

Except, the brass bell rings once more and everyone stiffens in alert. The children begin whimpering amongst themselves. Slow, deliberate footsteps reverberate from the shop into the icy-cold room. The hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“Move out of the way!” you yell, veins straining against your neck, just as you’re blown into the stone walls. 

Regulus screams out your name, but you barely hear anything over the ringing in your ears; through blurring vision, you see the children and Regulus unharmed. Relief floods through you as you sluggishly rise from the floor. There’s a large crater in the wall from the impact; luckily, the tethers to the chains were demolished, as well. “Get them to the safehouse,” you order, blood trickling from your lips. You hardly feel your arms and legs; there’s an ache in the back of your head, your spine feels as though it’s been snapped in half. You’re definitely going to feel this tomorrow. Regulus hesitates to leave, hands laid on the shoulders of the children as he glowers at the newcomer. “Now!” you bellow gutturally. 

A muscle ticks in Regulus’s jaw, but as he finally apparates with as many children as he can, you finally stop holding your breath. “It’s okay,” you reassure the wee boys clinging onto each other for comfort, limping to their side. “I’m rather strong, you know. Stronger than any of the bad men.”

In every duel, you allow yourself to be hit only once—driven by your inhuman desire to feel something other than the  emptiness of your unbroken charade. 

(And for years, you have waited for anyone to say these two specific words: Avada Kedavra.) 

“Go,” you instruct gently, brushing away the tendrils of hair from the little boy’s forehead. “Hide and wait until my companion comes for you.”

“And as for the ill-mannered invader,” you crane your head towards the entrance of the chamber, eyes raking over the tall figure’s bloodthirsty stance and flittering cloak. There’s a lack of silver mask, but you know well the stench of foreboding decay and malignity. At the speed of light, you aim your wand, “Confringo!”

You watch with a spiteful grin as the stranger is blasted across the room. The walls and ceilings threaten to crumble, and you can only hope that Severus won’t be too cross with you in the morning. You point your wand at the uninvited guest’s heart. Nothing will trace back to you, that much you are certain of.

After all, no one would suspect a vapid, insufferable boulevardier to be the greatest spy of the wizarding world.

A firebird caws in the distance.

And, scene.

act iii. where’s your soul? where’s your dream? do you think you’re alive?

“APPEARANCES ARE OF utmost importance.” You stand in the front of the Great Hall, sun rays streaming through the large, stained windows, wooden tables pushed to the walls; accoutered in a black velvet capelet with gold trimmings and vintage dragonhide boots.  The sleeves of your blouse are lined with handwoven, gothic lace; trousers made of the finest yellow satin. It is a testament to your House—the cete of badgers. (You seize everyone’s attention—whether the two Aurors in the corner like it or not.)

After a descanting introduction, you are given center stage before the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin. With a swing in your step and a wrest in your voice, you continue, “That is why the Headmaster, Dumbledore himself, invited me to personally facilitate this year’s Tri-Wizard Tournament. As hosts of the event, excellence is expected of us. Professor McGonagall has graciously allowed me to take charge of your lessons, particularly in the art of dancing.” Your eyes gleam as you offer the young fourth-years a graceful reverence. “And our first lesson begins straight away.”

The crowd of students transfigure into a sea of curious eyes and flabbergasted whispers. You derisively watch the chaos unfold with an amused grin. Yet, you’re not the least bit worried. You’ve charmed even a flock of Dementors before, the creatures having been drawn to your voice, ostentatious stature, and the dark depths of your soul; like a bee to a field of flowers. A class full of awkward teenagers should be more than easy for you. 

“Now, now, children,” you clap your hands as you make your way to the heart of the room, leaving a trail of softening murmurs. “The Yule Ball is a revered tradition, an exhibit of togetherness that has lasted for hundreds years.” You lift your nose up in the air as the girls look at one another, barely able to hide their giddy smiles and discreet glances across the hall. “As such, it is my venerable duty to oversee your etiquette in and out of the ballroom.”

(Sirius rolls his eyes from where he sits besides James.)

“Mister Filch, if you please.” With a flutter of your lashes and a poised smile, you beckon for the school caretaker who flounders to the gramophone. You wink at the young miss Pansy Parkinson who stares up at you in awe. Soon thereafter, you hear the soft melody of Léo Delibes’s Valse. Coppélia, you simper to yourself—a story close to your heart. (You’ve always found a winsome irony in a marionette like you dancing to the enamel-eyed girl’s song.)

“A dance, while enjoyable by one’s lonesome, is best savored with a partner,” you begin vivaciously, eyeing the gentlemen in particular. “Your date for the night must be aware that you’ve chosen them out of your own volition and undue necessity.” Your stare drifts to the coterie of young Gryffindors, tittering mischievously. “Shall we have a demonstration from the House of courage and splendor?”

“No one?” You raise a brow curiously when you’re met with silence and averted gazes. You then utter the scariest phrase a professor could say to their students: “I’ll choose the lucky student myself.” 

You survey the pack of lion cubs, drifting through the tuffs of flashing red hair; gangly boys raucously kicking and pushing at each other to volunteer for your teach-in on ballroom dancing. You flash the students a vexatious grin. “Mister Harry Potter?” you call out to the ashen-faced boy with your hand outstretched. “Why don’t we let the Chosen One set an example to his peers?” 

Hollers and cheers break out across the hall; not withholding the mirthful giggles of the doves on the other side of the room, wonderstruck by his green eyes and lightning scar. You motion for Harry to join you on the pseudo dance floor. The Weasley twins take delight in clapping and wisecracking into his ears until Harry reluctantly rises to his feet, a blooming shade of red on his neck and cheeks. 

“As you approach your partner with the grace of a majestic stag,” you acclaim to the class whilst Harry approaches you with a wry grin and hands shoved inside his robe pockets, “And not a newborn foal.” You place your hand in his, “You may now invite your lady to dance.”

“Or your beau,” you add spiritedly, eyes gleaming as Harry chokes on his saliva.

You pat his back as the music comes to a sweet-sounding crescendo. “Dancing is about connection,” you turn to the students with a stern gaze. “If your posture crumbles, there goes your confidence, as well. At all times, you must maintain eye contact,” you say sharply as you tilt Harry’s chin and correct the arch of his arms. “Remember, it’s not ballroom if there’s no trust. Lean onto one another, and then. . .” You lay your palm onto his shoulder. “The feet should follow the music.”

Unfortunately, Harry runs on two left feet and both persistently evade the music. On the umpteenth time he stumbles on your shoes, he’s appraised by snickers and low whistles from either side of the  hall. The Weasley twins in particular seem thrilled by Harry’s flailing arms and bewildered expression. Along with the two Aurors who’ve skipped their aurorly duties to patrol the castle in favor of heckling their ward. “You’re doing it wrong, James!” shouts Sirius through cupped hands, shoulders shaking in laughter. 

“Why don’t you try it, Padfoot?” Harry retorts back to him; thick hair flopping over his eyes as he grates his teeth. You’re given no warning as Harry extracts himself from your grip and stalks over to where Sirius and James sit comfortably. 

You blink, dumbfounded. “Harry dearest, I don’t believe that is necessary—!”

“Go on then,” says Harry, jerking his head. “Show us all how to do it.” 

To the side, Ron guffaws into his fist, brought nearly to tears. (Earlier he was apprehensive about the class. “We’ve got a whole new professor just for twirling around and all that girlish stuff?” he had asked in disbelief before entering the Great Hall.

“Shut your mouth, Weasley,” growls Draco Malfoy as he shoves past Harry and Hermione to head inside the hall.)

Sirius grins roguishly, having the gall to bat his eyes in confusion. “Who? Me?” He chuckles before forcibly slapping James’s back with the flat of his palm. “No, no. The honor should go to the debonair of his time.” Trenchant eyes flicker with mischief. “Have at it, James. How will the children ever learn without a proper demonstration?” 

“Go on, Sir Prongs!” exclaims one of the red-headed twins. “Show us how it’s done!” 

Alarmingly, the bespectacled man resigns to his fate, a deafening ovation as he shrugs his robes off, generously revealing his broad shoulders in a tight, black turtleneck; a leather wand holster across his chest; long legs framed by pleated trousers. You bite down on your tongue as James draws closer to you, a hint of a smirk on his lips. With an unerring arch of his back, he holds out his hand for you to take, “May I have this dance?” 

Your breath stutters—if only for a moment. One cannot deny that James Potter is deviously more appealing to the eye than the dance partners you’ve had during Narcissa’s galas. Perfectly-carved cheekbones and golden hoops dangling from his ears; bright, hazel eyes girdled by rectangular glasses. “Well,” you say, pursing your lips as you slip your palm into his. “If you must.” 

In contrast to his son, James needs little-to-no guidance from you. You’d have assumed that much, considering that both James and Sirius grew up in pure-blood customs. The warmth of his hand on your back is scalding. He spins you along to the song’s aria; the two of you gliding effortlessly through the soapstone floors. Any more closer to him and you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. “There will be lifts, turns, and dips during a waltz,” you inform the class as you demonstrate a twirl vine. “You will rise and you will fall together with your partner. Understand?” 

James chuckles at the wistful sighs and horrified groans that erupt through the Great Hall. “You’re good with the children, you know,” he remarks cheekily as he gently lowers you to the ground, hand steadfast on your waist. You hear his unsaid words clearly: Sirius thought you’d be downright rubbish at it. 

“Well, Mister Potter,” you say breathlessly, clasping your arms around his neck once more. “To some of the students here, frilly dresses and French designers are their entire world.” Your chin all but perched atop James’s shoulders; the scent of his famed Sleekeazy potion and vetiver—dew on fresh grass on a warm sunny day—fills your senses. You cast a sniffy glare in Sirius’s way, to which he responds with a raised brow. 

“Bit shallow, isn’t it?” he murmurs, chest rumbling and his breath hot on your ear. 

You scoff. “One could argue the same for a young Seeker who’s been given their first ever broom.” 

James Potter has the nerve to smile at you. And as you move to extricate yourself from his hold, James mindlessly lets his hand fall from your waist to your hip—incidentally, where you’ve been nursing a heavy fracture. Sore bruises from chasing vampires the night prior as you were out hunting allies of the Dark Lord from the first wizarding war. Although you had drowned yourself in pain relief elixirs, it seems you’re more sensitive and hurt than you thought. 

Even statues of white gold chip and fade over time—you’re reminded of this fact quite painfully. You roughly push James away from you, hissing in pain as you cradle the left side of your hip. Memories of crimson-stained teeth and rotten, pale skin flash before your eyes. You remember the stench of blood, and the feel of their nails slashing into your thighs. But most of all, you remember their ear-piercing shrieks just before you drive the stake into their chests, one by one, until you have left a graveyard of vampires in the outskirts of an abandoned mansion. 

James furrows his brow immediately as you cave in on yourself. (Even Sirius surges to his feet.) “What’s wrong?”

Occlude! Occlude—you must occlude immediately! 

With a sharp inhale, you close off your emotions for anyone else to see. “It is nothing of your concern, Mister Potter,” you respond blankly, as though your soul is locked far away. “I do believe we’re done here.” You step further away from him. Your attention shifts to the students as you fold your hands behind your back, lips curling into a virulent smile. The weight of your mask is comforting; you’ve forgotten how to breathe without it. “Now, let’s have the students pair up and practice what they’ve learned so far. I’ll have no patience for dilly-dallying and nescience on my watch. You’ll dance until I tell you to stop. You’ll practice until the soles of your feet are sore and raw.”

That, after all, is how you learned.

The class goes by accordingly; you maintain a distance from Sirius and James, turning a blind eye to their burdensome sympathy. (Gryffindors and their bleeding hearts—it always unnerves you how easily the avowed Marauders get deep under your skin.) You nip at the students’ heels, righting their poor footwork; looping the music until you are certain they’d hear it in their nightmares. To your surprise, the round-cheeked Neville Longbottom takes all your instructions in stride. From the moment that you allow Filch to lift the tonearm, the students practically fall to the floor, heaving; some forsaking their long robes and tying their hair in flimsy ponytails. 

As the students retreat from the Great Hall, you slink away into the crowd of Slytherins, desperate to avoid a particular duo of Aurors—no doubt ready to probe you with questions. A numbing panic claws at your chest; black spots swallowing your vision. Emotions—how putrid. The students’ discordant chatter overwhelms your hearing, more than the ringing in your ears. The unyielding, outré stone walls feel like they’re closing in on you. Still, you keep your head above the water, enduring every staggered breath. You must. 

What’s wrong? 

The question echoes in your head. 

Ha! 

You scream inwardly, if they only knew! 

While you had been expecting either James or Sirius to ambush you, you do not expect to see Draco Malfoy shouting your name as you flee down an empty corridor. 

The miniature Lucius Malfoy stands before you, grimacing as he clenches his fists tightly. “Are. . .” Draco’s expression contorts morosely. “Are you alright? Theo and I were worried that the blood traitor upset you.” he spits his concern as if it were acid. Little snakes and their keen eyes. 

“Mind your language, Draco,” you reply cuttingly, eyes flashing as you lift your chin. And for his question, one that you’ve been asked numerous times over the years, you have only ever had one answer. Despite the scars on your back, the tremors in your hands, the aching of your heart, and the endless bruises on your limbs, you tell him: “And do not ask what is not needed to be.” 

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” he presses further, mouth pinched. “Don’t treat me like a dim-witted child because I’m not!” 

A hand lays on his shoulder, and to your chagrin, Severus makes his appearance, lips downturned and his gaze filled with subdued apathy. Your day is about to get worse. “Perhaps, it is best if you leave this discussion to the adults, Draco.” Snape drones, leaving no room for debate. He tightens his grip on the younger wizard. “I will not be inconvenienced to explain to Minerva as to why you were dawdling in the corridors.” 

In true Malfoy fashion, Draco sneers in disdain. He rips himself out of Snape’s grasp with a scoff. As he storms past you, you sigh and pat his side. 

When Draco disappears into the corner, you release a deep breath as you prepare for the onslaught to come. “Just get it over with, Severus,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, the pounding in your head growing more unbearable by the second. 

You see his nostrils flare as Severus turns to glare at you. “I wonder,” he says through gritted teeth. “If you are actually capable of following direct orders—of using that near-empty brain of yours!” His upper lip curls back into a snarl, as he scours the empty hallway for any prowling ears. “Your stunt made it to the Daily Prophet. You were asked to proceed tactfully, were you not?” 

You lean against the wall, rubbing at the temples of your head. “And I’ve done my part. Every last one of them—dead by my hands. A problem you failed to deal with for the last two months. That I settled last night. Remind me why you’re still chittering into my ear, Severus darling?”

“Do not play coy with me,” he replies brusquely. “I’ve heard the students tattling about it as though it were the most interesting event in their pathetic, insolent lives. The Embris Mansion burnt down to the ground. There are talks of a vigilante, a good-for-nothing do-gooder. You got sloppy!”

“And if I did—so what?” You retaliate, chest heaving as you step into his face. Truthfully, this isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with him. Over the years you have left some sort of mark on your work. Not a phoenix, but a firecrest. Wings outstretched in flames. All eyes are on the ungovernable hero, the Firebird—and never on you, the foppy socialite. “Would it be so perverse to want even a slither of recognition, Severus?” 

“Do not forget your duty,” he taunts venomously, the cords in his neck going rigid. “To the greater good you so earnestly fight for. Your duty to your mother.” 

“Do not talk about her!” you all but shout, magic sizzling in the air around you. 

“Then see to it that there are no more mistakes going forward!” Severus juts his chin, baring his teeth in contempt. 

After a few long moments, he continues with a resigned exhale, dragging his palm down his face—as though you are the perplexing one. “This. . . Moody has developed a habit of emptying my cupboards.” 

“And why, pray tell,” you retort gruffly, “should I care for this oh-so special cupboard of yours?” 

“It contains ingredients for Polyjuice potions!” he proclaims angrily. “Get to the bottom of this. I’ll not have a blithering fool like Pettigrew get to the students again. Do what you must, I have no interest in understanding the workings of your mind—as long as you do not draw unnecessary attention to yourself.” 

The sound of footfalls break you apart as Severus nimbly lifts the Notice-Me-Not charm he had cast earlier. Within seconds, you find Remus Lupin rounding the corner. He’s dressed in his usual baggy, gray jumper; jaw clean-shaved, and pinkish scars against his skin. A well-loved quilted coat over his shoulders—handmade by Lily, you presume. You notice the mismatched otter socks peeking from his loafers. Remus saunters down the hallway with tired eyes and a feeble smile as he stops right in front of you and Severus. He has a rather tall frame, slender even, despite his hunched shoulders. 

“Snape,” Remus nods to him, gaze flickering back and forth as he attempts to discern what had transpired—well, you’re certainly in no rush to tattle and cry into his arms. 

“Professor,” he says to you, an ever curious smile on his face. “You’re looking quite peaky. Is something the matter?”

“I am most certainly sound and fine, Mister Lupin,” you respond, irritated, as you wobble on your feet. You are at your wit’s end—how bothersome of it all. “Should you not be on your way to your next class, Professor?” you bite tiredly. 

Remus shrugs, hazel-eyes crinkling in amusement. “Mad-Eye is taking over my next class. I thought it would be good for the students to learn from a veteran Auror. I’m sure he has much more experience to offer than me.” 

You scowl, his humility smothering you painfully. “Well, I’ve no interest in dragging my feet around. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a prior engagement with my cat and I’m afraid I’ve left her alone for too long.” 

And as fate would have it, when you make haste for your quarters, you falter in your steps; lurching as your vision goes blurry. Your breath snags in your throat as Remus catches you by the waist. “Perhaps, we should get you to Lily,” offers Remus as he sets you upright, brows pinched worriedly, ignoring Snape’s eye roll in the background. 

“I said I was fine!” You blurt out, cradling the front of your head as you sway backwards; now seeing two Lupins and two Snapes. “Merlin, are all Gryffindors this bloody meddlesome? Must I repeat myself? I am fine—!” 

Turns out, you are not fine. 

The last thing you see before losing consciousness is a pair of brown eyes with flecks of gold, more beautiful than any full moon you’ve ever seen. 

 —

You wake up to a dry, sore throat; the bitter scent of infirmary disinfectant—a Muggle’s touch, no doubt—and concoctions of various healing potions. Your head is still pounding, but somewhat bearable. The room is small, privy to only teachers, you conclude—although, it is the very first time you have ended up in the infirmary. Remus Lupin would feel your wrath, you’d make sure of it. Your back stings as though it were doused in Dittany recently. As you nearly break the flower vase in an attempt to reach for the empty glass, the door creaks open—and in comes Lily Potter with her husbands.

“Am I in hell?” you eye them bitterly. 

“No,” says the youngest matron, dressed in her own version of the nurse’s uniform. Red vest over her white blouse, and a long, plaid skirt with pockets. Soft red hair tied back with a pink ribbon. Albeit, her expression is anything but sweet and delicate. “But you’re in my office, which means you are now under my care—therefore I’d like you to explain why you have vampire toxins in your blood.” 

“And I would like to return to my quarters now, please,” you respond haughtily, referring to the private bedroom professors were offered in the castle. “I’ve nothing to explain to someone who administers the diagnostic charm on my person without explicit permission to do so!” you exclaim, releasing a shuddery breath as your head throbs agonizingly. 

“You will listen to me—seven hours ago you were this close to paralysis!” Lily shouts right back, eyes glaring defiantly—she may have adhered to you in Malfoy’s territory, but no power holds more authority than an acclaimed healer over a patient. “If you had been a Muggle, you’d be dead ten times over.”

“Well, now that we’ve established that I’m alive and well, I suppose we have no more pleasantries to exchange, Lily darling.” You tear the flimsy blanket from your legs, grimacing at the bandages covering your skin. 

“Not before you tell us where those bruises came from,” Sirius demands, voice low and knife-like eyes on you. 

“Must have been the Nargles,” you reply sarcastically. No one would care for a bonny doll ripping apart at the seams and gathering dust on a child’s shelf. “They’re quite frisky this time of the year, didn’t you know? My good friend Xenophilius wrote about those creatures a long time ago. Good read, I’d say.” 

“Are you capable of taking anything seriously?” cuts Sirius with a snarl, tendrils of hair curling around his face; hints of tattoos peeking out from his leather jacket. Vermillion satin shirt clashing against his pale skin. The lingering smell of lit cigars only reminds you of Regulus, and so you tear your gaze away from Sirius. 

“Sirius, let’s not scare her off now, love,” Remus admonishes, softly resting his palm at the back of Sirius’s neck, before he stares at you with honey-dripping eyes. You have a desperate need to run away. They’re an uncharted danger that you aren’t familiar with navigating—and you figure young Harry wouldn’t appreciate you treating his parents like a rabid vampire. “We just want to know what happened, you looked worse for wear when we brought you to Lily and Madam Pomfrey,” Remus placates, treating you like a crow with its wing snapped in half. 

You sneer. “If I am not dead, then these wounds hardly matter to me.” 

Lily gasps, a sound so soft only the wind could have possibly heard it. “How could you say that?” she asks, hand flying to her lips. “Of course it matters, you had lost so much blood while we tried to get the toxins flushed from your system.” She stares at the puncture mark on your arm, before peering over at Sirius. “We nearly couldn’t find a match to your blood type. Sirius. . . Well, he’s a universal donor and he didn’t even hesitate in giving you his—”

“Giving me what?” you echo lowly. “What did Sirius give me, Lily?”

“Blood,” Lily says firmly. “He gave you his blood so you could live.”

“How dare you?” you seethe, chest rapidly rising; digging your nails firmly into your palms as you stare furiously at Lily. “You had no right!” You scream until your throat is sore; your magic overflowing until it shatters the nearby vase of butterfly weeds. 

Rage tunnels your vision; heart hammering against your ribcage as you move to carelessly rip at the bandages over your wounds. “You had no right! You had no fucking right! I would have never done the same for you! Get out! Get out!” 

“Get out!” You hurl the glass at the wall across from you, narrowly avoiding Sirius’s head; anguish tears itself from your voice and you barely notice James flinch from the intensely flickering lights. 

“You think I’d be grateful?” you scoff, a burning heat spreading across your chest. “You think I’d be indebted to any of you after this? Is that what you wanted? What a fucking joke!” You laugh irately as you gasp for air. “I’d rather die!” 

When you run out of items to throw at them—pillows, shards of glass, and crumpled flower stems—you sit on the bed, shoulders violently shaking as you cough yourself sick. 

“I. . .” Lily begins, swallowing the lump wedged in her throat. “I understand. . . But I am the castle’s nurse, as long as you are under Hogwarts’ protection, I am keeping you alive no matter what.” 

“I don’t bloody care,” you snide.

Her eyes flash to James. “We’ll leave you to rest, then.” 

You stay silent, vacantly staring at the reddened welts on your hands. It’s not until you feel James’s arms around you and his chin hovering above your head that you realize you’ve stopped shivering. “I’m sorry,” is all that James whispers into your ear as he lays you to sleep with an inaudible charm. The chill of his magic is the last thing you feel before your eyes flutter to a close. 

—

You wake up in the infirmary once more. This time, you lay stiff on the mattress, absentmindedly gazing at the plain ceiling; your chest falling and rising ever-so slowly. The stink of a Calming Draught is painstakingly familiar. A low humming sound tells you that you aren’t alone—but you barely flinch from their presence, too tired to do anything but close your eyes. “Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me. . . . something. . . they’re okay,” murmurs one Sirius Black, tapping on his thigh as he rests his back on the rustic chair. 

If Sirius wants an encore, he’d have to drag the fight out of you. You’re utterly drained from your emotional palaver earlier. “Didn’t know you were into Muggle songs, Black,” you chortle bemusedly.  

Sirius halts in his singing as a forceful silence falls over the room—you distinctly hear the moment Sirius’s hand drops to his thigh, most likely taken aback by the sound of your hoarse voice. You feel the weight of his eyes on your bandaged arms and legs. A few seconds pass before he responds, his words but a faint breath. “After today, I believe that there is much to be uncovered for the both of us.” 

You don’t bother replying—you’d have Obliviated them instantly if it wasn’t illegal to use on Aurors. 

“We know it was you,” says Sirius out of the blue—your blood turns icy-cold on command, wondering if he’s figured out about the wizard behind the Firebird. “On the first day of term, someone had left a basket of freshly-brewed Wolfsbane potions enough to last him for the entire year,” he explains further, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stares at you unwaveringly. “I almost didn’t believe it, but a Marauder has his ways.” 

(His son with an invisibility cloak and a handy, enchanted parchment.) 

“Thank you,” he says, guttural with emotions. “It means more to Remus than you think.”

“Your gratitude is misplaced, unfortunately,” you rasp, coiling your fists tightly, stubbornly intent on avoiding his eyes—not wanting to get caught in the storm within. You exhale with a ragged sigh. Severus was right, you had been sloppy. And this is what carelessness leads to. “Don’t delude yourself, Mister Black, I couldn’t care less what happens to you or your family.”

Sirius chuckles, like he’d expected such a response from you. “Well, do what you’d like with my gratitude, I don’t care, just know that you have it,” he says, rising from his seat. “It’s past midnight, by the way. Lily’s left you some dinner in case you woke up hungry.” 

Your eyes drift to the nightstand. There’s a steaming bowl of spinach rice with mushrooms, and a plate of honey cinnamon bars. But your gaze lingers on the bouquet of snapdragons and orchids placed in a ceramic vase. 

“She believes home-cooked meals help the patients heal faster,” Sirius tells you, carefully observing your reaction—but there’s none to be found. He purses his lips into a thin, white line.

As he makes his way to leave, Sirius pauses, hand resting on the doorframe. “You know,” he begins quietly. “The thing about magic—it can fool the best of us into thinking we’re indestructible. But, you’re not as inhumane as you’d like us to think.” Sirius veers his head to look back at you. “Take that mask of yours off sometimes, yeah? You’d see the rest of the world clearly if you did.” 

That is all you hear from him before the door clicks shut, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

How arrogant.

How very Gryffindor of him. 

You push the flower vase closer to the edge of the bedside table, indignantly eyeing the watercolor art. The room reeks of Lily’s kindness. Lions and their constant need to see the goodness in everyone. Take off your mask? You’d give your entire Gringotts account to wear the kind of rose-colored lenses they have—they’re more pestilent than you realized. No matter, it’s high-time you reintroduced yourself to the Marauders, anyway. 

If you take off your mask, they would find nothing but a barren soul.

—

It seems your newfound parasites have forgotten who you truly are—but you have no qualms in reminding them why exactly you’re called the pureblood society’s darling. 

For the week or so, the Daily Prophet features you out in luxurious restaurants, a new partner each night hanging off your arm. International Quidditch players, foreign models, esteemed opera singers, and even Muggle celebrities. Men and women are captured in moving photographs, avidly fawning over you. 

You’ve missed three classes in favor of shopping in France; Flooing back to Hogwarts, stinking of bordeaux and rosa centifolia. Painite gems nestled around your neck, glittery sapphires lining your wrists. On more than one occasion, you’ve seen McGonagall lift her chin in distaste at your behavior. 

“Well, that’s certainly a speedy recovery,” says Lily one afternoon as the owls take the Great Hall by storm. Rita Skeeter’s new article about you is plastered on the front page, apparently you’ve gotten into a catfight with an Italian seamstress. She risks a glimpse of you from the other side of the long table, laughing away with Professor Sinistra. The sound is scraping against her ears, yet Lily can’t help but feel disappointed.

Your desk is littered with mails from admirers, invitations to galas and fundraisers. The students can’t help but notice this fact as they’re brought to the dance floor each morning. (Each day, you rewind Coppélia’s song—her wishes, and her pain—but you plan to ignore the ballad until blood trickles from your ears.)

“Mumma’s just about ready to send her a Howler,” you hear Ginevra Weasley saying in passing after class. The young red-haired girl nearly bumps into Hermione’s shoulder as Ginny dips her head low, prattling excitedly, “Called the Professor a tart, even.”

Hermione stops walking, scrunching her nose. “Really?”

“Yes, yes,” Ginny nods. “But enough about all that—have you seen the news this morning?” 

Hermione looks up, lips wrinkled in thought. “The one about the Professor being seen in Muggle London? I thought that was rather stale for a headline.”

“Not that one,” Ginny says exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. “The article about the Firebird. Remember what happened during the World Cup? When You-Know-Who’s followers came and raided the entire campsite?”

“That would be pretty hard to forget, Gin,” Hermione replies softly. 

“Well, the Firebird’s gone and hunted a few of them,” Ginny tells her, eyes brimming with awe. “Found their hideout and left them half-dead for the Ministry to find. No Malfoy, though, which is a bloody shame.”

At your desk, you sip your jasmine pearl tea with a knowing smirk.

On the first of October, your previous Head of House invites you to the greenhouse for an overdue get-together. Naturally, you greet Pomona Sprout with gift baskets overflowing with glacé treats, packets of tea, scented candles, and dried berries. She huffs in fond exasperation before instructing you to grab a pair of cotton earmuffs and gardening gloves. And, well, you don’t mind playing the part of a slap happy third-year under her gentle care. It’s a role you enjoy more so than others. 

“You’ve been worrying me these days, dear,” Professor Sprout tells you earnestly as she wrestles with the Flitterblooms. Hoo-hoo chicks flutter around in their cage while the uprooted baby Mandragoras screech nearby. You feel the weight of her gaze, much like a knitted blanket draped over your shoulders on a cold, autumn noon. “The other staff have been expressing their. . . concern,  as well.” 

You busy yourself with planting the Wiggentree in its pot, allowing only a moment to raise your walls of Occlumency. You know that she couldn’t possibly be a threat, but you would not allow someone else to expose you bare for others to see. (You loathe the thought of Sirius’s blood flowing through your veins.)

You know that concern is shallow at best, forged from fear of the students being influenced by your frivolous escapades. 

At your silence, Sprout continues on, “We always tell the children that their Houses will be like their second family during their time at Hogwarts.” You hear her draw in a long breath, gingerly placing the flitter tentacles on the ground. “I hope you understand that the same is true for the professors. We take care of each other, substitute teacher or not.” Pomona’s hand is leaden on your shoulder. “After all, you were our student before anything else. The Sorting Hat gave you to me, and what a darling blessing you have been, even until today. When I look at you now, I see the same young first-year student who was afraid of everything and afraid to come out of their shell—but do not forget, I will always be on my children’s side no matter what.”

How poignant that the first person who truly welcomed you to Hogwarts, is one of the only people who can see through you despite your protective barriers.

And so, the puppet show begins—like a lifeless ragdoll, you peel the deer-leather gloves off your hands, blinking away any hints of emotion. You stand tall before Pomona, dusting flecks of soil off your dovetail skirt. “No one has been on my side. Not then, not now,” you say as you snobbishly arrange the brim of your sunhat. “But do not be mistaken, Pomona. I have been fine on my own and a change still remains to be seen.” 

In another life, you would have happily embraced her comfort and affection—but the fate of a lonely starlet is cruel. You’ve made your bed of thorns and wilted roses, and there you shall lay when there is no one left but yourself. 

“Today was lovely, Pomona, thank you.” It is one truth you’ve permitted yourself to offer—a shred of humanity in exchange for her kindness. The dirt beneath your nail beds is real; so is the ache in your back and the sweat dripping from the side of your head to your chin. But you cannot feel any more than that—you forbid yourself. The Mandrakes fall silent, and you bid your goodbyes to the professor.

The sunlight on your skin is real as you step outside, and so is the sound of clamoring students heading for the greenhouse. Sixth-year students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hurry down the hill. Their unrestrained laughter and carefree smiles are real. And so is the unwashed blood on your hands; the killing curses that have fallen so easily from your lips, and the ghosts that haunt you as the moon arises. Perhaps, you could withstand it all if it means the children would live through a real future without the sins of people like you. 

(But why is it that every time you distance yourself. . . there always seems to be someone calling out to you?) 

Cedric Diggory, your godson, yells for you with a grin that stretches from ear-to-ear. You watch as his yellow scarf swings with each hasty step he takes. Cedric crosses the gap between you in under a minute, strands of wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glimmering eyes. It’s an unsolved mystery as to how you and him were sorted in the same House. 

“Your shirt is wrinkled, Cedric,” you tut, straightening his tie. “Do you go riding Hippogriffs in your spare time?” 

Cedric chuckles wholeheartedly. “Father told me to tell you that you’ve been invited this weekend for a dinner at Hogsmeade,” he says, cocking his head as a cheeky simper erupts across his face. “That is, if you aren’t busy.” 

You raise a brow—sly little badger, he was. Harrumphing uppishly, you swivel to turn your back to him and say, “Tell your father that I’m choosing the venue, lest he chooses some primitive pub in the village.” You draw out the distance between you and Cedric, tossing your parting words into the chilly breeze, “Tell him I’m paying for everything, too.” 

His hearty laughter cuts through the hillside as you make your way back to the castle. Thinking you have the last word, you don’t expect him to yell once more: 

“I’m going to enter the tournament this year!” 

You’re certainly taken by surprise, but you don’t slow your pace. An imperious smirk tugs at your lips—well, at least you know where you’re placing your bets. 

A day before the esteemed guests are set to arrive, you run into Sirius and James—much to your annoyance. It’s just your luck that the evening prior you were hunting down a known member of Greyback’s pack. You played a little cat-and-wolf deep in the depths of a forest, hungrily isolating him from the rest of its family. Though this lycan was unturned, you walk away with claw marks on your back. Still, you hope that Greyback licks his wounds and feels the burden of this particular loss. However, you feel that dealing with James and Sirius will be much more difficult than bringing a werewolf to its knees.

After all, this is the first time you come face-to-face with them, nearly a month after your incident in the infirmary. 

“Auror Black, Auror Potter,” you say liltingly, the rhinestone tassel clinking in your hair as you swirl to face them with a devious leer. “What can I do for you today?” 

Sirius scoffs in disbelief. “So it’s like that, then? Like nothing ever happened?” 

“Partying around, missing your bloody classes, parading all over the castle like you’re better than everyone else. We thought you changed. You know, I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that,” he punctuates his words with a harsh laugh, sneering at your blinding jewelry. “Guess we were the fools, eh?” 

James stares at Sirius, a grim expression flashing across his face, before he shakes his head. “It just doesn’t make sense. What we saw at the infirmary—that’s not something anyone forgets.” He gazes at you with grief in his eyes. “It’s like you’re two different people.” 

“It’s disappointing, really,” Sirius bites, his lips curling into a snarl.

They’ve made it all too easy for you. 

“What are you so frustrated for, darlings?” you say in faux sympathy, stalking towards them as you tap at your chin; a sickly-sweet pout on your lips. “What were you hoping for? For all of us to become friends? We’re not children anymore, my loves!” you exclaim histrionically. “Did you actually fall for my little trick at the infirmary? The care parcel I left your husband? Didn’t you know my mother drafted the anti-werewolf bill?”

Sirius staggers.

“The real me?” you giggle incredulously. “What you see is what you get, dearest—don’t go searching for what doesn’t exist. It’s not my fault you fall so easily for a pretty face.” You tilt your head, fluttering your eyes as you drag your nail up James’s chin. “Not every damsel is in distress, you know.”

Your eyes slice towards Sirius with a coy smile. “Maybe if you had followed your head more often than your naive, little lion hearts—you wouldn’t have driven Regulus to his death.” 

James recoils away from your touch just as Sirius flinches, eyes flashing with anger—Sirius digs his nails into his palms, chest heaving as he stares at you in disgust. You expect another stab in the chest from him, and so you lift your head up high, daring him to say another word. (You hope they stopped trying after this—that they would leave you alone to rot in your stage of lies and dutiful sacrifice.) But you don’t plan for James to step forward, shielding Sirius away from your gaze.

“You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen,” says James, words dripping in sincere revulsion. “Can’t believe I thought anything less than that.” 

You smile widely, despite the tightening sensation in your chest. “Are we done here now, gentlemen?”

They would learn—this is who you are beneath your masks and pretenses. 

The thirtieth of October brings about a cold you’ve never felt before. As you await the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, the outside corridors are teeming with students, eyes hungry with anticipation. You lean against the wall, exhausted physically and mentally, hugging your worn-out shawl closer to your shoulders. 

The skies are exceptionally gray today—you’ve had to drag yourself out of bed earlier this morning, limbs heavy as lead. The teacup in your grasp is scalding to the touch—you find that nothing hurts more than the ache in your heart. The children are particularly rowdy at the moment—each time you close your eyes, you see the hatred in James and Sirius’s eyes. 

Has loneliness ever felt so suffocating before? 

When winged horses make their way from the heavens, the clamoring grows louder—yet all you hear are their words. 

‘You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.’

‘I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that.’

You would not weep—not for yourself, and not certainly for them. 

Sometimes, you wondered if you were hurting too much to even be considered alive. Did your marked flesh even count as skin anymore? Worthy to be cherished with gentle touches and tender lips? How much more did you have to do until the guillotine finally fell? 

When does duty end? And when does life begin? 

Madame Maxine and her drove of Veelas descend from their carriage; awestruck gasps and intrigued murmurs echoing along the corridor. When the Beauxbatons Headmaster comes to stand before you, you instinctively sink into the role of a diplomatic host—that is, after all, why Dumbledore hired you. With a nod of your head and a pleasing smile, you greet the first of your guests to arrive. 

“What a relief that you made it safely to Hogwarts, Madame Maxime,” you tell her in a saccharine-sweet tone. “If you please, Mister Filch here will guide you to the dormitories where you’ll be staying while Hagrid will take care of your horses.” 

You want to go to sleep already. 

Finally, as a large ship emerges from the Great Lake—a sense of relief floods through you. Only one more person to greet and you’ll finally be able to return to your quarters, welcoming feast be damned—you’ve done your part for today. Igor Karkaroff and his students make their presence known; imposing statures and foreboding glares. The castle nearly crumbles from Viktor Krum’s entrance, Hogwarts’ Quidditch players eager to catch a glimpse of the prodigal Seeker—well, you could care less about such a barbaric sport. 

Karkaroff presents you a slimy leer as he presses a kiss to the back of your palm—the dig of his long nails into your skin is a pleasant feeling, to your surprise. “Dumbledore did not inform me we would be greeted by such beauty. We would have arrived earlier, otherwise.” 

You miss your cat. 

(Sirius’s eyes roll all the way to the back of his head when you giggle and melt in Karkaroff’s wretched compliments.) 

You want to die.

—

Chaos erupts the next day. The Goblet of Fire has chosen a fourth champion—Harry Potter himself. No one is more enraged than his mother, Lily. The Aurors on duty, James and Sirius, struggle to contain the students’ horror and verbal lashings. Some have taken to accusing James himself of putting Harry’s name in the goblet in the name of family prestige—predictably, it’s Draco and Pansy who lead that revolt. But you don’t expect for Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan to be swayed by the baseless gossip. So there’s a crack in the pride’s loyalty to one another, you surmise to yourself. 

Like a Niffler drawn to shiny objects, you follow the Headmasters and professors into a room, away from all the ruckus. 

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” the wise Professor Dumbledore asks calmly.

The atmosphere is beyond wintry—you note the biting criticisms in their eyes, particular between Fleur and Madame Maxime. Lily hides Harry from their scrutiny, proud and unyielding despite being shorter than the Beauxbaton champion. Across the room, you find Severus and Remus engaged in a muted, albeit wound up argument. 

Everyone looks to the morose Bartemius Crouch Sr., awaiting his decision with a bated breath. You sympathize with the man—for a fleeting moment—for if looks could kill, Sirius’s tempestuous glare would have dragged him six feet under. 

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

Your blood runs cold.

Ludo Bagman appears to be pleased with his colleague’s decision—you see no reason why he shouldn’t be, he’s only ever put his odds in the thrill of the game. “Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front!” 

Dimwitted fool.

You scoff. “In a room full of Headmasters and Ministry leaders, surely one of you can find a way to unbind young Potter’s name from the tournament.”

“Err. . .” Ludo’s gaze flickers from Dumbledore to Crouch Sr. Madame Maxime and Karkaroff nod emphatically in agreement, forcing him into a corner with a ragged chuckle. “There’s nothing to be done, the Goblet of Fire has gone out.”

“Do you or do you not have a wand, Mister Bagman?” you reply, piqued; crossing your arms over your chest. “If the rules were written by a wizard, surely it can be unwritten by a wizard. Teaching an Unforgivable to a first-year would be more difficult than that.” “It is not as simple as that, Professor!” Bagman cries. “But you are welcome to try a hand at it.”

“So we just let a child run to his death, then?” you seethe, nostrils flaring. “I never knew the Ministry was teeming with incompetent men. Shall I steal your job from under your nose, Ludo dear?”

(Harry’s brows pinch in confusion. He does not expect for you to care so much.)

“He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?” says Alastor Moody as he limps across the room, flask in his hand. You fall silent, an unnerving chill slithering down your spine. Something about this man did not sit right with you. You pull the sleeves of your blouse further down your arms. 

“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” Moody growls in response to Fleur. “Over my dead body!” James snarls, veins rigid against the column of his throat, eyes simmering in anger. 

“Yes, yes, Potter, we all know you’d die for your son,” Moody remarks offhandedly, taking a large gulp of the liquor in his flask. 

“It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it,” Dumbledore counters in an attempt to placate the tense atmosphere. Lily’s sharp sob engulfs the outraged clamors of the two other Headmasters. “Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do. . . .”

The glass sculpture of a long-haired mermaid shatters into fragmented pieces as you bump into the table; just about ready to flee before you do anything rash like point your wand at Crouch Sr. himself. Before you exit the room, you catch sight of Cedric’s eyes—worry and uncertainty pooling within his gaze. You slam the door hard enough until the wood splinters. 

Harry Potter is imprisoned by his fate as the Chosen One—and it seems time has imprisoned everyone at Hogwarts, yourself included. 

The first task for the tournament arrives defiantly, without care for Harry and his loved ones. You have only been to the Quidditch field twice—today happens to be the second time. Everyone is bundled in their wooliest sweaters and warmest jackets; although, Hermione did have her portable bluebell flames. You stare at it with envy. 

“Oi! Professor, over here!” One freckled Weasley twin—Fred, you guess—beckons for you to sit by their swarm of red and gold. He pushes Ron away to make room for you beside Minerva. 

“Thank you, Mister Weasley,” you say quietly, sniffles falling from your frost-bitten nose. 

It’s quite odd—you’d have expected to be sitting with Professor Sprout and Amos, amongst your sett of badgers. But it’s not half-bad. You don’t erupt in flames when Minerva holds onto you, shrieking, as Fleur narrowly avoids her dragon, awoken from its trance. You don’t particularly mind either, when the Weasley twins bump their chests and holler into Ginerva’s ear when it’s time for Viktor Krum to face the Chinese Fireball.

“We got a traitor here!” George snickers when you flinch and yelp for Cedric as he fights shy of the Short Snout’s fire, and cheering breathlessly when he eventually captures the golden egg. You glare at George mirthfully, wondering where your fight and heat has gone. 

“Please excuse me for a moment,” you say, rising to your feet as the judges mull over their scores for Cedric. “Minerva,” you nod to her, and she offers you a hint of a wrinkly smile. (McGonagall thinks that if anyone can talk back in the face of a Ministry chairman in defense of her students, then perhaps she’s misjudged a professor or two.) 

Your cheeks grow numb from the cold as you cross the swarm of Beauxbatons students, past the flock of Ravenclaws. Harry’s match is underscored by the deafening cheers; the stands  rumbling from the yells for his name. You’re nearing the territory of yellow banners and black insignias, trumpets blowing into your ears, when the clamor and hurrahs turn into terrified gasps; students rushing back from the edge. You don’t understand the fuss until you look back at the arena. 

Harry’s dragon has broken free from its chains. 

You join Professor Sprout and Severus in herding the students away from danger—spotting James and Sirius across the arena, hastily reinforcing the protective barriers around the stands, uttermost precision in their wandwork. While Harry dances a life-threatening waltz, you hurriedly clear out the space closest to the banisters. Your breath hitches as the Hungarian Horntail wreaks havoc below, inducing quakes and showers of fire. 

But more frightening than any dragon, you hear the bloodcurdling scream of a student.

“Daphne!” 

The Greengrass heiress, Astoria, cries vehemently as Draco holds her back from rushing to the front of the stands. 

You scour the area frantically—there, only a few feet away from you, lies a fear-stricken Daphne Greengrass, staring right into the eyes of the Horntail. Its teeth bare, growls like thunderstorms, and the rising scent of embers and ashes. 

“Daphne, get away from there!” 

You hardly hesitate—you run to her, desperation pushing at your legs, terror holding your heart captive. As the dragon screeches in preparation to breathe fire, the nearest Aurors miles away—each gasp for air is torn from your throat. In a blink of an eye, you grab Daphne into your arms and shield her from the Horntail. The crowd bellows in fright—you close your eyes, preparing for even the most excruciating of pain. 

But there is nothing. 

Just you, Daphne, the Hungarian—and Remus who’s pointed his wand at the onslaught of flames, redirecting it up into the sky as Harry grabs the Horntail’s attention, now zipping freely on his broom. 

Remus looks back at the both of you in relief, drawing his wand back in his pocket. “Are you alright?” he asks you first, a weary tenderness in his eyes. 

You tear your gaze away from him, checking on Daphne instead; cupping her pale cheeks and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Are you alright, Daphne? What do you feel? Come, darling, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey—can you stand? Here, put your arm around my shoulder.” 

“T–Thank you, Professor,” stammers Daphne as Astoria rushes to her, the pair of sisters blubbering and crying. The blonde-haired girl nods to you and Remus, “Both of you. I–I don’t know how I’ll repay such kindness.” 

“Don’t worry, Daphne,” says Remus, smiling as he offers her a lemon-flavored treat. 

He steps back to make way for Lily to fuss over Daphne, his eyes straying to you, oozing with sincerity as he rubs his handkerchief to your cheek. He grins at you and your heart skips a beat. “My kindness is freely given.”

Has kindness ever felt so real before?

act iv. you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. 

“THE CHILDREN ARE terrified, Missus Fawley. Just last week, we had another incident. All the windows in the kitchen—shattered! The little ones couldn’t sleep for days.” 

You hear the orphanage matron’s voice behind the bedroom door. You’re allowed but a moment of playing with your ragged, plush animals, before the matron comes barging inside. (How rude, you think to yourself. Hasn’t she ever heard of knocking before?) Although, unlike all the other times, she has a lady right on her tail. This woman is much taller than Sister Thompson, certainly more beautiful-looking, too. Not that you have anything against Sister Thompson’s wrinkly face and foul smile. 

No, this woman walks with her head held up high, dressed in a burgundy leather coat that clearly costs more than the thin rag you call a shirt. This must be Mrs. Fawley, then. Her black heels click against the rusty, wooden floor; you watch impassively as she bends down to your eye level. She takes you by surprise when she grabs ahold of your chin, slowly turning your head from side to side. 

“So this is the child,” Mrs. Fawley muses, red lips quirked. Haunting blue eyes stare back at you; hair dark as ebony falling to her waist. “You may leave, Sister Thompson. I would like to get to know my future ward.”

The matron widens her eyes. “Missus Fawley, I strongly advise against—!”

“You misunderstand me, Sister Thompson,” says Fawley, a sharp edge to her voice. “That was not a request.”

A strange sense of victory fills you when Sister Thompson bows her head in response, tossing you just one sour glare before exiting the room. The rickety door clicks shut and Mrs. Fawley returns her attention to you with a low hum, eyes raking over your form once more. You wonder what she’s thinking about; wondering if it’s the vast difference between her neatly-pressed clothing and your rumpled dress shirt. Many have visited the orphanage before, but none have spared you a second glance, not with Sister Thompson scaring them all away. (You suppose there is no appeal in adopting a child with temperamental issues who can make other girls’ noses bleed.)

“Show me,” Fawley commands, breaking the quietude; her voice stern, yet hypnotic. Much like the first notes of a pied piper’s song. For a few moments, you don’t understand what she’s asking for, until realization dawns upon you. You drop the plush toy’s limbs—seconds later, the teddy bear waves its hand as though it’s gained a soul. If this had been a wooden doll with a long nose, it would be saying: ‘I’m a real boy!’

Fawley chuckles, leaning back with a pleased look. Your head falls to the side in confusion—when you had shown this little trick to Daisy Anne and Annaliese, they’d begun to throw stones at you, screaming and saying that you were a witch. You don’t try to play with the other children anymore after that. Rather than being afraid, Missus Fawley seems to be happy with you. “My name is Agatha Fawley, special adviser to the Wizengamot, daughter of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” she tells you, and you don’t have a lick of comprehension. “What do you know about witches and wizards, darling?” “I don’t know, maybe. . .” You scrunch your nose, making the stuffed elephant twirl the bear with just a glance—Fawley tilts your chin upwards, demanding your utmost attention. “That they aren’t real? Or if they are, they should be burnt at the stake?”

Agatha Fawley hisses, a low sound that sends shivers down your spine. You wonder if you’ve angered her. The toys fall back to the floor lifelessly. “Damned Muggles—! Is that what they teach these days?” She shakes her head. “No, never mind. What matters is what happens from now on.” “Are you going to adopt me?” you dare to ask, gaze falling to the floor, heart hammering against its confinements.

“I will,” she affirms and your eyes grow wide, breath stuttering in your throat. “But if we are to become family—there is one thing you must do for me.”

“Anything!” You all but scream in her ear, a plea for her to take you away from the orphanage; far, far away from hurtful words and a room that echoes your loneliness back to you. 

“Never lower your eyes.” She smiles, teeth bared into a snarl, reminiscent of a prowling fox. “You are magic, my darling. And I will be your mother. No one on this earth can make you kneel in surrender.”

You believe her.

You believe her with all your heart.

But, you would learn that even monsters can call themselves ‘mother’ and embrace you with open arms. 

The Fawley Manor is large—larger than the orphanage, and that was a place you couldn’t fully explore due to its largeness. There must be a thousand rooms, as far as the eyes can see. It’s like a princess castle coming to life—akin to the ones you’ve read about in storybooks. Missus Fawley’s home nearly touches the sky. There are tall trees, wide grassfields, and glimmering lakes. You gasp and cover your eyes with your hands as the chauffeur drives past the marble sculpture of naked ladies. (“Think of them as Goddesses bare to the mortal eye, dearest,” says Fawley when you yelp and sink into the leather seats.) Then, the family butler, maids, and chef come to greet you, all smiling at the new addition to the manor. 

You meet Elsie, the house elf—your first real encounter with magic. Well, besides Missus Fawley turning paper into crystalline butterflies in the car. Elsie is a tiny, wrinkly creature who wears five different-colored knitted hats atop her head. She can’t seem to stop shuddering while speaking, too, as if drenched in cold, invisible water. But you look into her big eyes and you decide to be her friend forever. 

“Get settled into your room, and then we’ll have you acquainted with the rest of the staff,” Fawley says after she ushers you into a room—a bedroom just for you, where you won’t have to listen to anyone else’s snoring or fight to the death for a blanket on a cold winter storm. The bed is bouncy and soft, not unlike the cardboard they’d given you at the orphanage. Your shelves are stocked with toys and books. 

Then, you remember that in exchange for all this, you must do your best in school. That is one thing you aren’t looking forward to. 

But, how bad could a school be if it’s filled with magic? 

You happily imagine smelly trolls, dashing unicorns, talking ghosts, and floating crayons. 

For your first week in the manor, you enjoy glazed desserts, fluffy pillows, and silken clothing—and on your second week, you are reminded of your duty to the family you’ve been brought into. Something bigger than studying in a faraway magic castle. Missus Fawley introduces you to her long line of ancestors. You stumble on your footing as the portraits shuffle around and gaze upon you with curiosity, some with a more heated glare than others. They call you a funny term as you walk past. Mudblood. But, Fawley tells you not to worry. You are now her child before anything else. 

The family crest is chiseled with gold; you squint your eyes to make sense of the inscription: Virtus in Arduis.

“Virtue in hardships,” Agatha explains in her dulcet tone. As you featherly trace the emblem with your fingers, Fawley leans down to your height, clearing her throat; her expression impossible for you to read. “I brought you to this family because I saw potential in you. I sensed great magic from your person. But we all have our duties. Magic gives, and magic will take.”

“The wizarding world is in grave danger,” she tells you firmly, gripping the curve of your jaw with an intensity that frightens you. “Will you help me fight for the greater good?”

You blink.

You just got here and now you have to fight for a world that you never even knew that existed?

“Greater good?” you echo in disbelief. “F-Fight? Fight who? I’ve never even fought in my life! Making Daisy Anne’s nose bleed w-was just an accident!” 

“I will be with you every step of the way,” she vows fiercely, the tips of her nails digging into your cheeks. “Tell me, do you understand? You will do what is right without any recognition at all. Think of it as a performance, my love. And I’m preparing you for your role in this world starting now.” 

The ingénue in this act you have to play involves studying endlessly, practicing your wand work until Fawley is satisfied, and familiarizing yourself with every shelf in the library from dawn until dusk. You don’t understand why you must memorize every charm and every incantation—but Missus Fawley reminds you that you are bound to her and your responsibilities. You don’t want to go back to the orphanage, cold and alone—so, you acquaint yourself with parchments and quills, swallowing the discomfort when the nib harshly rubs your skin raw. 

On your tenth birthday, Missus Fawley gifts you with a closet overflowing with chiffon, taffeta, and organza. Lace parasols, pretty shoes, and wide-brimmed sun hats. The chef surprises you with a three-layered cake, the constellation icing charmed to flicker like real stars in the night. It’s the best birthday you’ve ever had. For the first time, you feel like your life is actually celebrated. 

The next day, your adoptive mother says with utmost exigency, “This time next year, you shall be off to Hogwarts, but that means your debut in society is drawing near. The wizarding world will officially acknowledge you as my child.”

“When that happens, vultures will flock to you as though you were a corpse.” Her eyes flash dangerously. “And you will become one, unless you learn how to fend for yourself. The most ruthless of us all can be adorned in pearls and dressed in ball gowns. Appearance is everything in this world—do not let them see that you are afraid.” 

And so, you don’t tell her that she’s petrified you to the bone.

“As the sole heir to my fortune and properties, you must understand how to navigate, not only the wizarding world, but this treacherous domain, as well.” Missus Fawley straightens your back, harshly tapping you once more to spread your legs at a more acceptable distance. “To be envied by all—the perfect host must always be ready to receive their guests with attention and politeness.”

When you wince, or move to massage your sore muscles, she barks at you, “You must always be composed, even in near-death. If you crumble—if you let even a single person know what you’re truly feeling, all this will be for naught.”

The burden of her words is heavier than the textbooks she shoves in your hold. 

“Control them before they can control you,” Fawley explains as the seamstress measures your waist and arms. “Exert your influence in a conversation. Not only in words, but your stature. Present yourself accordingly. Jewelry and clothing can be your armor when you cannot draw your wand.”

You grumble under your breath when the seamstress accidentally pokes you with a needle for the nth time. 

“Smile when flattered, giggle when offered a dance, and curtsy when greeted.” Fawley glares daggers at you when you hiss in pain. “But most of all, do not let any of those cretins know that you are fully aware of the power you wield over them. Anyone can be a puppeteer if they want to be. You’ll just be the greatest of them all.”

(But even a master of puppets has someone pulling their strings from behind the curtains.)

Elsie stays up with you each night, carefully pouring ice-cold water over your head, and playing with the floating bubbles to distract you from the ache in your legs and arms. “Elsie will give Master her hat!” the young elf says one evening, pulling the topmost beanie from her head and laying it on yours. She tells you a bedtime story before tucking you beneath the covers of your queen-sized bed. You fall asleep to the sound of grasshoppers chirping and portraits murmuring to one another. 

Then, you get your first taste of a pureblood skirmish. Missus Fawley had taken you to Diagon Alley, months away from the first of September—a letter in your hand with all the materials a first-year would need for their classes. Safe to say, you’re more than excited. (“Oh, mother, look!” you exclaim, pointing to the various shops—and also remembering the rule of calling Agatha mother out in public. “A sweet shop! Fortescue’s ice cream parlor! Mother, can we go there? Please, please, please!”) Fawley smiles at your wide-eyed wonder, your hand in hers—today is a special one, she decides. You’re allowed a bit of fun. Especially since you’ve shown unfathomable progress in your studies. 

You get your very first wand at Ollivanders—and now this world of grumpy goblins and jumping chocolate frogs becomes even more real. You hardly let go of your wand, a tingle of exhilaration running through you each time you brush your fingers against the finely-carved wood. Even Missus Fawley is pleased with the wand that chooses you. Later, you’ll be given three hours to practice your charms again, but you find that you don’t mind—not when you’ve learned that you can now read books under the covers when Elsie turns the lights off.

As you exit the shop, breathless and flushed with a hunger to explore more of this world you’ve been given access to, you and Fawley run into one of her friends. This must be one of the scary people she’s warned you about. Sharp cheekbones, unfriendly gray eyes, and a stern demeanor. You immediately suck in a breath and school your face just as Agatha has taught you. 

“Walburga!” Fawley greets with a lovely smile, but you notice that it doesn’t reach her eyes, not like when she smiles at you for growing another inch taller. She brings her hand onto your shoulder. “What a pleasant surprise, my dear.” She peers at the two young boys hiding behind her, much like you were doing now. “Oh, my! Is it that time already? I’d forgotten young Sirius was set to go to Hogwarts this year. You must be overjoyed.” 

Walburga is a tall lady, taller than Agatha, even. She hums, lips quirked, chin held up high. “Fawley,” Walburga responds, rather displeased. “Talking my ear off, as usual.” Her trenchant eyes land on you and her smile curves into a sneer. “And who might this little one be?” 

You risk a glance at Missus Fawley before offering the other woman a sweet, half-curtsy. “Madam Black, how do you do?” you smile at her, gaily revealing your name and the gap in your front teeth—the two boys snicker and your eyes instantly narrow into a glare. 

Walburga stares you down harshly. “How adorable.” Her eyes slice to the two boys behind her. “Sirius, Regulus, introduce yourselves.” 

Missus Fawley laughs, a grating sound—much like warning bells—as her eyes flash dangerously at her, hand tightening on your collarbone. “What a relief to know that Sirius will at least have one friend already before they arrive at the castle.” 

“But—oh, dear, look at the time.” Agatha quickly casts the Tempus charm before looking at you aghast, eyes wide as saucers, mouth parted dramatically. “I promised the Daily Prophet a photoshoot today! It is my thirty-first birthday soon, after all. I’d give you tips on how to capture this look, but, Walburga, it seems you’re embodying the housewife fashion perfectly.”

“Ta-ta!” She plants two, airy kisses on Walburga’s cheeks before waving the three goodbye. 

“That,” Fawley whispers into your ear as she snuggles the side of your face. “—is exactly how to do it.”  

You collapse in your bed that night, wondering just what you’ve gotten yourself into and what kind of world you’re about to live in.

How confusing.

All this time, you thought that Missus Fawley had been preparing you for an intense entrance exam. Why else would she make you study twenty-five hours a day and eight days a week? But as it turns out, all you had to do was sit on a chair and have Professor McGonagall put a talking hat on your head.

“Hufflepuff!” the Sorting Hat proclaims, and the table of yellow and black welcomes you with open arms. You sit next to a boy named Amos Diggory. Later in the night, you’ll share a dormitory with a kind girl named Amelia Bones. 

(Hogwarts is the best!) 

The holidays arrive in the blink of an eye and you find yourself standing at the steps of the manor once more. Agatha Fawley waits for you by the door, engulfing you instantly in a hug that shields you from the falling snowflakes and biting winds. Hot cocoa with marshmallows and gingerbread cookies await you in the grand dining room; you even get a crotchety greeting from Isolde Fawley the Third’s portrait. Elsie crumples to the floor and sobs at your arrival. 

“So you were sorted there,” Fawley mutters to herself, a worried expression contorting her face. The fireplace crackles as a winter storm rages outside the manor. You lay on her lap as she absentmindedly pats your head. Stories of your first few months at Hogwarts fall from your lips without pause. “This would go smoother if you had been sorted in Slytherin, however; but no matter—it’s not what I expected, but we can make do. The Diggorys and Bones’ are purebloods, so maybe not all hope is lost. But you need to get more acquainted with the Greengrasses and the Malfoys, Druella Black’s daughters as well.”

You hide your frown against her legs. You really liked Amos and Susan, Bellatrix was just downright mean to everyone, even calling this one girl, Lily, a Mudblood, too. But if mother wanted you to try, you might, but only once. If Bellatrix didn’t want to be your friend, then there’s no helping that unhinged witch. (At least the Prewett twins’ pranks were funny. Bellatrix once snuck inside the Ravenclaw tower to leave a dead pig’s head in the girls’ dormitory just because.)

On the twenty-fifth of December, Agatha Fawley throws a gala just for you—masqued as a fundraiser for Muggle children in need. (None of the families cared about them, you would realize later on.) The ground nearly rumbles from the number of guests she’s invited. From your bedroom window, you spot a few familiar faces. Sirius Black, who stands out from the crowd like a pale bean sprout; his cousin, Bellatrix, who’s already taken to yelling at the staff; Lucius Malfoy, the Flints, and the Parkinsons. Your head goes dizzy. 

As long as you don’t trip during your entrance, everything should be fine, right? Right?

(You one-hundred percent trip in front of everyone as you descend the stairs. The sound of James Potter and Sirius Black’s laughter haunts you.)

But other than that, the Yule event goes by smoothly. You don’t fall flat on your face when greeting Cygnus Black and Druella Black née Rosier, and mother is thoroughly satisfied when you smile in the face of Walburga Black and Abraxas Malfoy. You stay in the corner after welcoming your guests, sitting in your chair like an abstract painting forbidden to touch; whilst the Prewett twins and James teased Elsie until she cried from anxiety. Sirius also goes out of his way to congratulate you for growing all your teeth in. 

You don’t understand why Mother is so scared of these people.

But you’ll understand virtue in hardships soon enough when you receive your first tutoring in ballroom dancing. Instead of sapphire earrings or a trip to France, Missus Fawley has a different gift in mind for your fifteenth birthday. She surprises you with a tutor—you’re bewildered at first, arguing that you’ve consistently been at the top of your class. (“Madam Hawthorne is not here for your academics, my darling,” Fawley explains with her red-lips stretched in a foreboding smile. “Dance is a beneficial skill for any host to have. You’ll practice until your footwork is perfect. You will dance until I say you can stop. And when your feet are aching and bleeding, you will keep dancing.”) 

Each night for your summer holiday, you go to bed, sobbing into your pillows, body trembling from Madam Hawthorne’s cane. 

Everything changes on the eve of your sixteenth birthday.

Like all the years before, Missus Fawley invites the entirety of the pureblood society to the manor. 

You stay with Narcissa and Andromeda, gently placating their concerns when they ask about your unnatural quietness—truthfully, you could no longer breathe in the flounced dress you’ve been forced to wear; the sides of your feet raw from constantly practicing with Madam Hawthorne, head aching from the lights and obnoxious perfumes; stomach gurgling. Bags under your eyes from revising endlessly for your N.E.W.T.S. 

Eyes drooping and neck craning from exhaustion, you don’t at all expect for James Potter to emerge from the crowd; wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glasses, wine-colored suit melting into his dark skin. He holds out his hand to you with a boyish grin. “May I have this dance?” 

You blink, frozen solid for a few moments until Narcissa softly nudges your side. “Y-Yes, if you must,” you splutter, placing your palm in his. 

He leads you to the dance floor as the orchestra plays a song perfect for a waltz along a flower field; your eyes glued to his back. The chandelier hangs overhead as James settles your arms around his neck in one swift motion. You almost step on his feet, spluttering your gratitude when he steadies you by the waist, the heat of his hands permeating your layers of clothing. 

“Isn’t it odd that the birthday celebrant wasn’t dancing all this time?” he says, pulling you in for a twirl. 

“I assume the others were all too afraid to deal with my mother,” you reply timidly. “She’s quite overprotective, you see.” 

“Who? That tall lady over there by Missus Black who’s currently glaring at me?” James chuckles into your ear as you step closer to hear his heartbeat. “She couldn’t possibly terrify me.”

“Lily says thank you, by the way.” 

“Oh? For what?”

“Letting her copy off your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay—she’s downright shite at the subject. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

You laugh along with him, and you find that you could rest in his arms forever.

But, as your dance with him comes to an end, so does your wistful reverie. 

When most of the guests have left the scene, and when the lights have dimmed, Mother presents to you her real gift—your debut in the wizarding society. She leads you to a room, one where you’ve never ventured before. It’s deep past the cellars, where cobwebs and dust bunnies grow. (Before you enter, Narcissa grips your hand firmly, a look of dread and urgency in her eyes. “Be brave,” is all that she says, encasing you in her arms.) 

In this dark room, you see Abraxas and his wife, Walburga, Cygnus, the Notts, the Goyles, and more people you recognize, all dressed in their finest black cloaks—as though it were a funeral instead of a birthday. In the center of it all, is your mother, Agatha, with a man kneeling in front of her. 

“What is this?” you ask in alarm, frantically searching for answers. The man struggles against his rope, binds, screams and pleas muffled by the cloth shoved in his mouth. The sight of his bruises makes you all but retch. “Mother, what is going on?” 

Walburga is the first to step forward, her lips painted blood-red against her ashen skin, curving into an edacious smile. She cradles the back of your head to her chest. “My lovely dear, it has been the utmost privilege watching you grow. Your mother is certainly proud of you, we all are. Tonight, just as our sons and daughters before you, we offer you our blessing on this very special day.” 

“You know of the Unforgivables, right, my child?” Her voice is a sweet, ruthless cadence in your ear; her touch, like worms crawling on your skin as she places your wand in your hand. You bite down on your tongue, swallowing each breath as the walls threaten to cave in on you. Your fingers forcibly shake in terror and you worry that you might snap your wand in half if you aren’t careful. “The Cruciatus, the Imperius, and—?”

“The killing curse,” you breathe out, ever-so stiff in her hold. You watch as Abraxas kicks the man to the ground; you dig your nails deep into your palm to keep from flinching. 

“That’s right, little one,” says Walburga, tracing your jaw with a morbid sense of satisfaction. She holds your chin in place as Abraxas tears the cloth from the man’s mouth. It’s worse now. You hear his desperate begging and his guttural cries for help. “Muggles,” she spits the word out like venom. “Look at them. They’re filthy. Infecting our blood with theirs.”

“Kill him,” Walburga says, a delicate whisper, as though she had asked for a cup of tea. “Kill him and you’ll have proved your worth to us.” 

“No! No, please!” The man struggles against Abraxas’s arms. “Please! I have a family! A c-child!”

You stagger backwards, nearly losing your grip on your wand. You look to your mother for help. “I—!”

“Kill him, pet!” Bellatrix cackles from across the room, teeth bared viciously, eagerly beckoning for you to come forward. “Make sure you mean it! Otherwise it won’t hurt!”

“You know the words,” says Walburga, lifting your pliable arm—a puppeteer controlling its ragdoll. “Say it.”

The man before you is real. He’s a real person with a real family anxiously waiting for him to come home. His children worried sick for their father. How can they just stand there and expect you to kill him? “Mother, please—I can’t. I w-wont.” Your breathing grows labored, hot tears pricking your eyes; the man screams and yells, and the sound echoes ceaselessly in your ears. “I don’t. . .  I don’t understand.”

Agatha Fawley closes her eyes, and you understand perfectly. 

Each sob wrecks your body and the tears endlessly flow from your ears, you hiccup and shiver; blood pooling from the bite in your tongue. “I can’t do this—please!”

“You will.”

You close your eyes just as a flash of unforgiving green shoots from your wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

The man falls limp to the floor, and so does your wand. Walburga coos and drowns you in a sea of shallow praises, the men offer their congratulations, but all you hear is the sound of a lifeless body dropping to the ground. 

A man who you just killed by your wand, in your home. 

That night, the four walls of your bedroom bear witness to your anguish—you cry until you throw up on the floor, body lurching and quivering on the freezing red oak. 

“Do you get it now?” says Agatha as she enters your room, the faintest of sunlight streaming through the windows. She bends down and cups your face in her palms. “This is your world from now on.” 

You rip her hands away from you, gritting your teeth. “I don’t want to live in your world—not anymore! I don’t care about all this! Magic, wealth, and all these things mean nothing if I have to kill innocent people! You’re a monster!” 

“Good.” Fawley’s voice is cold as she stands up, lifting her chin as her eyes glaze impassively. “That means you’re ready for your next lesson.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said I was done!” you retort, sore from crying.

“Don’t you see?” says Fawley, pausing underneath the door frame, gaze ruthlessly slicing towards you. “We will destroy them from the inside out. Walburga, Abraxas, Tom Riddle. All of them, one by one. That is our true duty.” 

As she turns to leave, she adds coldly, “Ready yourself. I’ll be teaching you Occlumency during your summer break.” Then she slams the door shut, leaving you all alone in your room. 

When you return to school after the winter holidays, you’re forced to pretend that you hadn’t taken the life of an innocent Muggle. 

‘Do not let them see you are afraid.’ 

“Unfortunately, flaming red hair and hand-me-down robes will not complement my dress—it’s crimson taffeta, you see, handcrafted only by the finest tailors in Italy,” you say dismissively to the ragtag of Gryffindors before you, Vittoria Zabini and Isadora Bulstrode giggling at your side. The Prewett boy visibly wilts and you almost give in—almost. But everyone must play their part in this world. You know that if you show a sliver of weakness, Vittoria and Isadora will be happy enough to report to their mothers—vying for the pedestal you’ve been put on by their parents. 

For the final blow, you scrunch your nose in disgust, slamming your Divination textbook close. “Can you even afford anywhere in Hogsmeade for a date, Prewett?”

(Walburga would Avada you herself if she caught you in such a place with such a wizard. You’re more terrified of what she might ask you to do to Gideon—someone she deems as a blood traitor. You refuse to utter another Unforgivable. You just won’t.) 

“Oh, you cruel wench!” Marlene McKinnon steps forward and before anyone could take another breath, she slaps you in the face. And, finally, you feel something other than the guilt of taking someone’s life.

Your cheek stings from the impact, your ears ringing with the sound of your friends asking if you’re alright and Dorcas Meadowes roaring about how you deserved it—well, you’re not about to disagree. You move your jaw about, cradling the side of your face as you sigh impassively—oh, it’s nothing compared to the etiquette lessons of Agatha Fawley. “My mother will certainly hear about this, McKinnon.”

“You and your mother can kiss my arse!” she shrieks, eyes ablaze.

“Gideon didn’t deserve that, and you know it,” Lily argues fervidly, eyes sickle-shaped as she looks back at the Prewett twin’s dejected expression. “How could you even say that?” 

“How could I not, Lily darling?” you reply off-handedly with a roll of your eyes.

Lily flinches. In her gaze, all you see looking back at you is the Muggle father who had cried out relentlessly for one last glimpse of his children. She stares at the badger emblem on your cloak with disdain, and you with a great deal of pity. “You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.” 

She has the softest voice you’ve ever heard, but it hurts you all the same. 

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw in the bath, hoping that you’d wash the feel of your sins off your hands—it’s all for naught. Agatha might be a monster in your eyes, but you’re the fool that played right into her act.

You get to your feet, meeting her eye-to-eye. In a low whisper, lips close to her ear, you say, “There are far worse creatures out there, Evans. You’re lucky you’ve been born only a Muggleborn.”

Fortunate that she won’t ever have to play the role that you’ve been forced to. You feel an overwhelming envy towards her—effortless beauty, pure and untainted hands, a kind heart that draws in every one and every person. Compared to her, you must be a dirtied, black swan in a lake that’s only meant for white swans like Lily Evans. 

And she will have more charming princes and truehearted fairies on her side than you could ever hope to gain. 

“Say another word and I will tear your hair from that pretty head of yours,” Marlene snarls, pushing Lily behind her.

Oh, how easy they make it for you. 

You smile in delight. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Marlene lunges.

(You are so tired of it all.)

Every night of your summer holiday, you spend it writhing on the floor, Agatha’s lessons on Occlumency taking its toll. She grows harsher, stricter, and more apathetic than the sun beating down on the manor windows. (“Again!” Fawley demands as you collapse to the ground, drenched in sweat and your head numb from her probing. “Do you think the Dark Lord will be lenient with you? Get up! We’re going again! If you want this to end, you will endure this without error!”) 

While your peers are out swimming in lakes and racing around in Quidditch brooms, you’re stuck within the confinements of your home. But you are not that naive, you’ve seen the headlines of the Daily Prophet. A coalition known as Death Eaters have begun making their mark on the wizarding society. There are rumors of a great, sinister power rising. People go missing everyday, and you worry that this might be the world that your mother has been preparing you for all this time. 

But why you? Why must you carry this burden all alone? Who will pick up the pieces of your battered soul when the weight of your burden crushes you entirely? 

There are times when you wish you never left the orphanage at all. 

A week into your summer break, you find out that your mother is dying. Violent coughing, dizzy spells, jaundiced skin, her eyes bloodshot, and the healer frequenting her bedroom quarters. You’re not allowed inside, of course, but you can hear her feeble voice and the doctor’s stern orders. 

You also learn that she’s absolutely insane—but that is a fact you’ve come to terms with years ago. One night, during dinner, you’d let it slip that you have your suspicions of a classmate being inflicted with a lycan’s curse. Agatha Fawley reacts just about as one would expect her to. 

“A werewolf? In Hogwarts?” Fawley staggers to her office, the tower of neatly-piled documents and research reports from the Ministry now fluttering to the floor. “No, no, no. . .” she utters to herself, panic seeping within her skin. It’s the most frazzled you have ever seen the great Agatha Fawley. You stare at her unraveling from the threshold of the room, unsure of what to do. “Dumbledore has gone mad! That old loon! What was he thinking? Sheltering a beast within the castle!” 

“Don’t worry, my dear,” says Agatha as she reaches for you, a ghastly smile on her face and a near-empty look in her eyes. Your brows pinch together in confusion—you hadn’t been worried about that student at all. “I’ll have that monster out of the castle in no time. The Ministry will have no choice but to listen to me.” 

“That’s it,” she mutters, haphazardly grabbing for her feather quill and blank parchment. “Perhaps a law to forbid werewolves from ever integrating into society. School, house properties—can you imagine if they manage to infiltrate the Ministry? Everything I’ve worked so hard for!” 

“Mother?” you call out hesitantly, crossing the distance, hand outstretched as Fawley slips on her footing, a muttered profanity under her breath. The woman before you is unrecognizable, a sallow casing of a moribund soul. “Mother, please, Remus is no threat to the castle,” you plead, ripping her hand away from the quill. “You can’t do this!” 

“Do not tell me what I can or cannot do!” Agatha seethes through her teeth, chest heaving as she glowers at you. “Everything I have done, I have done for you! Yet, you still continue to fight me? I should have left you in that orphanage to rot while I had the chance!” 

“Well then, why didn’t you?” you scream, pushing her away as the words force themselves out of your throat. “Maybe that Muggle father would have still been alive if you did! Maybe I wouldn’t have to suffer so much! To hell with you and your duty!” 

Fawley laughs to herself, a weak and feeble sound. At first, you think it’s in response to you, but then you watch her drag her palm down her face, unblinking when her fingers appear to be drenched in blood. You take a step forward and there’s crimson trickling down her nose, a pallid contrast against her skin. “Ha,” she chuckles once more, keeling over to the ground as she stares up at the ceiling, blood on her flesh. “Merlin, what have I done? I–I’ve gone too far—even the Gods cannot save me.”

The despair in her voice is confounding. “Come here, my love,” she croaks from the floor, reaching out to you with bloodstained hands. Reluctantly, you sink to her side, gnawing on your lower lip as she cups your face in her palms—how many times have you been in this position before? “I’m sorry,” she sobs, shoulders trembling. “Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. I’m afraid I’ve doomed the both of us.” She traces the frame of your jaw and cheekbones. “My child, my beautiful child. What have I done? Will you forgive me?” 

You realize that this must be the consequence of living in a constant lie. To be an imitation of a human person, with no room for grief, rage, fear, hope or even a semblance of love. You stay silent, drowning in the arms of your adoptive mother. “I am to die soon,” says Agatha with utmost finality, eyes boring into yours. “But you are better than me. Braver. Far stronger than I have ever been. I know this must be the heaviest burden a child can carry, but you must understand that the fate of this world is at stake. I am so sorry, my love, but I must leave this duty to you.” 

She lets her head hang limply. “I-I am tired, as well. I’ve pushed away everyone and anyone for this. To do what is right, to endure what is hard—that is what I’ve lived by all these years.”

“And so must you.” Agatha has been mourning all this time, but not for her life. 

You hate her. 

You hate her with all your heart. 

But even monsters need a heart to breathe. 

A month passes by in a blur, and you are now set to meet the ill-famed Tom Riddle. You know that he was a student of Professor Dumbledore; that Narcissa is extremely terrified of him, and that Lucius Malfoy idolizes him to a fault. (“This is the moment I have been preparing you for all these years,” your mother tells you, shields of Occlumency glimmering in her deep blue eyes. “Do not let him in no matter what.”) Soon thereafter, Missus Fawley apparates the both of you to the Malfoy manor. 

The dining room is bleak, befitting of a Malfoy; curtains drawn, fireplace idly crackling, and hushed murmurs upon your arrival. All eyes are on you, and you’re lucky to have dressed in your Sunday best. At the head of the table, you see Tom Riddle, with Abraxas and Cyprian Nott sitting on each side. You hear something large slithering across the polished floors—your breath hitches at the sight of a monstrous serpent curling around Tom Riddle’s chair. The glass chandelier chimes overhead and you wish it would fall from where he sits on his shrewd throne. 

(You find Regulus Black sitting beside Narcissa, cheeks flushed, body quivering as his skin pales to a deathly color; holding onto his left arm for dear life. And, your heart just physically breaks. You don’t understand why this is the world you must live in.) 

“Come here, my dear,” Tom Riddle hisses, urging you forward with a serpentine leer in his eyes. You feel like a circus lion forced to perform its tricks. 

Tom Riddle is handsome—you notice begrudgingly. A menacing kind of beauty that entices the weak and preys on the vulnerable. (You would not be one of his victims, you vow, raising your own walls against him.) His gaze drills into your own—instantly, you feel his magic snaking around in your head, searching for hidden truths. The sensation is staggering, dizzying, and you’re nearly brought to your knees. You clench your jaw at his Legilimency—obstinate bastard. 

“This one is lasting longer than your son, Abraxas.” Riddle chuckles, his finger tracing the curve of your jaw, as Abraxas forces a smile. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he leaves your mind. You release the breath you’ve been holding for the last thirty seconds. He finds none of your secrets, and you suppress a vindictive grin. Riddle glances at your mother. “How fascinating.” 

You wonder if his intrigue will keep you alive for another day or bring you closer to your death. 

“My Lord,” you greet windedly as you press a kiss to the cold signet of his ring. “What an honor to stand before you today. Although, I could have done with a more polite greeting from you.” 

Bellatrix snarls at you in warning. “Do not speak to the Dark Lord that way, you insolent brat!” 

“Enough, Bella,” Tom rasps, flicking her concern away, barely so much as sparing her a glance. “I’ve no need for a little girl to come to my defense.” She visibly wilts at his dismissive words and you almost feel pity for her—almost. Then, you remember this is the man who treats the Cruciatus curse like a treat to give away freely to children—now, you pity Bellatrix fully. The curly-haired girl twitches at the sight of him toying with his wand, Nagini’s forked tongue flicking in anticipation. 

“Tell me, my dear,” says Riddle, trailing his gaze down to your arm. “Has your mother arranged a marriage for you yet? Much like our dear Cissa here.”

You grow frigid in his hold. “Not at all, my Lord. Mother thought it best if I focused on my studies before anything else.” 

Tom hums in thought, eventually releasing you from his clutches. “I see. . . Then, have you considered other ways of pledging your allegiance to our cause?” 

Instinctively, you hide your left arm from his sight. “My Lord,” you begin, wondering how much longer you can address him as such without throwing up in his lap. “The only reason there isn’t much backlash to your. . . merciful endeavors is because Mother and I have ensured that the Daily Prophet’s eyes are elsewhere. The Ministry is blindsided, and no one expects a mondaine darling to be under your influence,” you say, desperation pouring from each word. 

You don’t want to carry his Mark. Not ever. You can endure it—you can endure it all so long as you aren’t eternally condemned to his name. 

“Take that away, and you’ll face significant repercussions,” you threaten boldly. “I promise you that. They look away because of me.” 

For every village and family terrorized, you had shifted the public’s attention to your facetious behavior. Throwing galas left and right, appearing out in public with various partners—you had done it all to bury the looming war. Rita Skeeter is at your beck and call. For every attack, your face is plastered on the front page. For every cry for help, the Ministry is busy dealing with trivial matters that your mother has proposed—such as anti-werewolf bills. 

And Voldemort would never notice that you’ve been thieving covert information from right under his nose and delivering it anonymously to a rising organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. 

(You’re also not pleased that they share similarities to your non de plume, the Firebird, but you suppose that is the least of your worries.) 

If Molly Weasley comes across a sealed letter on the steps of Grimmauld Place, with complete details and addresses of Death Eater hiding places, it is no one’s business but the Order’s—and yours. 

For every life taken, you remember that Muggle father in your mother’s cellar. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow—but you’ll dismantle the pureblood society yourself. All of them, one by one. 

Tom Riddle smiles, and you realize that no one threatens him and gets away with it unscathed. 

A day before you’re set to return to Hogwarts for your seventh-year, the Malfoy Manor is pervaded by your gut-wrenching screams. 

There you are, little Firebird with your wings clipped, writhing on the floor of Lucius Malfoy’s guest room—the Cruciatus curse surging through your veins like molten lava threatening to burn you from the inside out. You hear Narcissa and Missus Fawley’s voices blend into a cacophony of panic. They’re shouting for various things: warm towels, bandages, essence of Dittany, and water. Regulus’s hold on you is tight, near-suffocating, even. 

But you don’t feel anything other than the mutilated flesh of your arm. 

You scream, cry, and scream again—you feel his magic over and over again. Branding you. The ink blends into your skin—but it’s not your skin anymore. A part of you now will always belong to him. 

Bile rises to your throat. 

Tears fall from your eyes. 

(How cold is the floor? You don’t even care anymore.)

And, the worst part is that no one can see it. Riddle charmed it perfectly to coalesce against your skin tone. But you see it. You see the skull and the stupid, wriggling snake. You see Tom Riddle’s monstrous glee as he drives his wand into your arm—Abraxas and Lucius holding you down as you thrash and flail. Your only reprieve was your mother was there, cradling your head to her chest, blocking out their malignant laughter. (You can’t believe you never noticed, but your mother had been branded, too.) 

“I’ll. . . kill him,” you say to yourself, blood and saliva trickling from your lips. If it is the last thing you’ll ever do, you will have Voldemort’s head on a silver platter. 

“Don’t be foolish,” Narcissa scolds, tipping your mouth upwards to swallow the drops of Dittany. “None of us have the power to do that. We just have to make do with the life that we’re given.” 

“I promise. . .  you,” you gurgle through the searing pain, gasping for air, clawing at her arms. “I’ll destroy them all.” 

You pass out in her arms. 

When you awake, you’re on a train to Hogwarts, left arm bandaged and hidden under the sleeve of your school robes. 

You don’t bother attending your classes—seeing no more purpose in Transfiguration and Herbology when you’re just a pawn in someone’s, everyone’s plans, apparently. The professors express their concern when you no longer turn in your homework or assigned projects. Once again, you barely see the need to. Your meals during breakfast, lunch, and dinner go untouched. You stay away from Narcissa, Vittoria, Isadora, Lucius, and Regulus. Your only friends, Amos and Amelia, stay away from you, too, having seen news of your promiscuity in the Daily Prophet. You scoff internally—you’ve never even had your first kiss yet. But even that seems like a distant dream. 

You are tired. 

How much longer do you have to play this part? How much more of yourself do you have to give? 

You’re only seventeen—how can you even hope to defeat Voldemort like this? 

The castle walls have dulled, and you drift through the corridors like a wearisome ghost. The once colorful world that you have been brought into now pales in the face of curses, spilt blood, and the Mark on your arm. You wonder what would happen—if you just run away now. 

Why should you be the one to bear the burdens of this duty thrust upon you? Why do people like James Potter and Sirius Black find loyalty and a real family within Hogwarts, and there is no one willing to fight for you? 

Perhaps, you have no one else to blame but yourself. 

Rita Skeeter publishes her article on the growing rift between you and Vittoria Zabini—claiming that you had stolen her beau from her.

You toss the newspaper into the fire. 

Some nights, you don’t bother returning to the Hufflepuff dormitories anymore. You know what they think. You know what they say behind your back. 

For the third time this week, you find yourself at the top of the Astronomy Tower, legs dangling from the edge of the window, eyes blankly staring at the horizon—if you run towards there, you wonder how long it will take before they find you. The cold nips at your cheeks, but you barely feel anything other than a gnawing emptiness.

Your gaze falls to the ground below, thirty, fifty meters from where you sit. 

Maybe. . . 

If you move a few inches forward. . . 

If you just fly. 

You’d be free. 

“Oh, I didn’t know this window was occupied.” You loosely turn your head to find Remus Lupin standing before you with a crooked grin, hands shoved in his pockets as he awkwardly shuffles one foot over the other. He raises his arms up in surrender. “I guess I’ll. . . find somewhere else to brood.” 

I don’t care. 

Go away. 

I want to die.

If I disappear, would you care? Would anyone? 

You rest your head back on the windowsill, hugging your legs to your chest. 

Starlings chirp and fly past you—how liberating it must be, to soar in the skies. But all you can do is watch enviously. Powerless, little songbird with no more lullabies to sing and no more wings to fly with. 

You let your weight shift over the window. 

Maybe if you fall, you could see what it’s like to fly. 

“H-Hey! Don’t—!” Remus quickly snatches your hand and pulls you into his embrace—the both of you tumbling to the floor. You feel his chest heaving, arms trembling around you, and the sound of his rapid heartbeat. His eyes are wide as he looks over your face for any injuries. “Why would you do that? Are you mad?”

You sigh. 

Maybe tomorrow, then. 

“Oi!” Remus pokes your shoulder. “Don’t just ignore me! You scared the piss out of me, you know? Bloody hell.” His shoulders slump in relief, and he takes another peek at you—just to make sure you’re still in front of him. “A-Are you okay?” he asks softly, afraid to spook you further away. “Do you want to talk about it or anything?” 

You shrug. “Nothing to talk about.”

His gaze flickers from you to the window ledge. “I think that’s a big something to talk about, honestly. B-But I get it. Really. No judgment.” 

An unwilling chortle escapes past your lips. Remus Lupin and his marauding bunch of lions would never understand the burden you have to carry each day for the rest of your life.

Remus scratches the back of his head with a wolfish grin. “Hey. . . listen. We don’t know each other all that well—so this is going to sound terribly weird. But would you like a hug?”

He opens his arms wide enough for you to fit—and you stare at him in horror. “C’mon, then. It really seems like you need it. And honestly, I kind of need it, too, especially after a scare like that.” 

You stay silent. 

He shakes his hands, beckoning you forward, golden hair flopping over his eyes. “I don’t bite. Promise. One hug and we’ll go on pretending like we don’t know each other tomorrow. Marauder’s honor.”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve your kindness,” you say with a prominent sneer—certainly not kindness from him. It must be another prank of theirs. You wait for Peter Pettigrew and Sirius to jump out and spray you with garlic juice. 

Remus smiles. “I think you’ll find that my kindness is freely given.” 

You nibble on your bruised lip. 

Could you really? 

Maybe just this once. 

You’re only human, magic as you are. 

You take one step forward. 

Then another. 

Another.

Until you fall right into his arms, and you inhale the scent of honey, milk raspberry chocolate, and cedarwood. The warmth of his arms around you is real. His voice is real. He whispers cruel words into your ear, “You’re alright, love. Let it out. I’m here.” You burrow your head deep in the crook of his neck. The sound of his heartbeat is real. He tightens his hold around you, and the ground underneath feels real. For a few moments, you don’t feel like you’re floating away into oblivion. 

Maybe you’d stay alive—for a few more days. 

To do what is right. 

To endure. 

Perhaps, tomorrow will be easier—if such kindness is real, maybe you’re allowed to seek it for yourself every now and then. 

But your nightmare doesn’t end when you’re awake—it takes you by the throat when you find yourself summoned to the Malfoy Manor on Hallow’s Eve. 

You’re not the only one caught by surprise. One by one, Tom Riddle’s followers apparate into the dining room, stumbling inside with a bewildered expression. Their Dark Lord has called for them in the dead of night—it must be for something important. You stiffen, sinking into Lucius’s shadow. You search for your mother but she doesn’t appear to be anywhere in the room. Someone brushes their hands against yours—Narcissa. She stands by your side, face impassive, her pupils frantically trying to make sense of the situation. 

Then, Tom Riddle finally apparates into the room, startling you for a fraction of a second. Not far behind is Abraxas, Cyprian, the Lestranges, Bellatrix, and finally—

Your mother. 

Fawley looks worse for wear, her skin sinking into her bones, clothes tattered, and her face littered with bruises. Bellatrix drags her across the floor, hair wrapped around her hands. 

You move to stop Bellatrix, anger blinding your vision—Narcissa tightens her grip on your wrist, subtly shaking her head. You rip your hand away from her. 

“We have found a traitor in our midst!” Bellatrix cackles, throwing your mother to the ground—your fists clench, swallowing each lump in your throat with rage blinding your vision. “I caught the bitch helping the McKinnons escape!” 

“No,” you whisper, dread knocking you backwards—it just isn’t possible. The two of you had always been careful. Bellatrix hits her again, and you have to restrain yourself from marching forward and cursing her from where she stands. 

One moment of weakness, that is all Tom Riddle needs. He finds you in the crowd with ease. The crowd of Death Eaters part like the red sea, and you steel yourself with Occlumency before you are sharply pulled forward, the mark on your left arm blistering as though a hundred needles are driving into your skin repeatedly.

“If the mother is a blood traitor, the child is sure to follow!” Bellatrix hisses, spit flying into the floor, her eyes gleaming with maniacal glee.

Voldemort cruelly holds your jaw in his hand, nails digging into your flesh, threatening to break through your bones. “Is this true?” he asks, drawing blood from your skin. “Tell me!” 

“No!” you cry out, kicking and punching to get away from his hold. “It’s not—let me go! That is my mother! You’re hurting her! She’s sick!”

“That,” Riddle’s eyes flash with hostility, breath hot on your skin, “is a betrayer to our cause.” 

“She’s not!” you scream.

“How did she find out, then?” Voldemort flings you to the ground—immediately, you rush to your mother, gathering her in your arms. Tom Riddle cocks his head and you’re blasted into the walls—you feel his Legilimency trying to force its way in, exploiting your pain and shock. But you won’t let him in. He’ll have to pry your memories from your cold, dead body.

The pain is searing—you’re being torn apart from limb to limb. Your mark is burning, head throbbing from a concussion, and still fighting against Riddle’s magic. Through your blurry haze, you see Lucius holding Narcissa back from running to you. “We’re not traitors!” you cry out desperately, crawling pathetically to your mother’s listless body. “I swear!”

Voldemort sneers just before he points his wand at your mother. “Crucio!”

“No! No! Stop it! Please! Please, stop it!” you beg on the ground as your mother helplessly writhes on the floor, the Cruciatus curse reducing the once austere Agatha Fawley to a whimpering mess. “You’re killing her!”

Tom snarls, “Good.”

Bellatrix digs her claws into your neck, her laughter resounding throughout the manor—you swallow the sobs down your throat as she drives her wand into your flesh. “Your mummy over there is done for. But you—our precious jewel, you can still prove your loyalty to our Dark Lord.” 

She puts your wand and closes your fist over the wood—your eyes grow wide as you thrash in her hold, screaming as she forces you to look at Fawley. “Kill her. And you may live.” 

“Just say it,” Bellatrix whispers in your ear. “Two little words. You’ve already done this before, pet—the second time should be easy enough!”

“No!” you knock your head back into her nose, slipping away as her hold loosens and she screams profanities at you—but to your misfortune, Voldemort captures you, like a defenseless bunny running into a starving snake. 

“Mum, wake up, please!” 

You cry out helplessly, sobbing as Voldemort forces you to watch the life gradually fade away from her blue eyes. Her magic envelops you—and you remember warm holidays spent by the fire, Muggle storybooks before bed, surprising you with breakfast in bed for your birthdays. It’s a warm feeling, a stark contrast to Tom Riddle’s invasive magic. Her voice echoes in your head one last time.

“Thank you for showing me what love feels like, if not for a moment. I am sorry I could not show it as a proper mother would.”

“Kill her!” Voldemort rages into your ear. 

You watch as Fawley’s eyes drift to a close, an act of resignation. “It’s okay, my darling,” she whispers tiredly. “I. . . can rest now.”

For the second time in your life, you point your wand at someone’s heart—this time, it’s your mother’s. 

“What are you waiting for?” Bellatrix asks, twitching menacingly. “Kill her! Before I do it myself!” 

There’s a faint smile on her face. 

“I’m. . . sorry.”

Those are Agatha Fawley’s last words before you take away her life.

The incantation falls so delicately from your lips, an act of mercy for the woman you once called your mother and your greatest tormentor. 

But your eyes are on one person and one person only.

Tom Riddle. 

“Avada Kedavra!”

He will know your pain.

Not today, not tomorrow.

But you’ll destroy them all, one by one.

a/n: THERE IS KISSING IN THE NEXT SCENE I PROMISE.... AND TRUST MY LILY LOVERS WE WILL GET OUR REDEMPTION ARC SKDJHFGKJH and sirius lovers too,, but yall are well-fed every day so.. next part has the yule ball, likee,, there's no way THAT becomes angsty.. if you saw a plot-hole, no you didn't just CRY and enjoy sdhgsdf... come tell me what you thought!! (if you have any constructive criticisms, just come to my dms BUT PLS BE VERY GENTLE.... oh and don't hesitate to tell me if i accidentally wrote anything super specific like height, skin color, etc.!!) i promise to better in the final part!!!! (there's only two parts to this fic.) I LOVE YEW I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY AAAAAAAAAAAA

[lives-between-lines]

With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean - poly!marauders x slytherin!reader

─

Summary: Preparing for the dreaded OWLs proves to be a difficult task for one tightly-wound Slytherin. How do Remus, James, and Sirius each offer assistance, and how does she handle it?

Notes: No Voldemort, but pureblood elitism is still very much a thing. Story starts at the end of the Marauders and Reader’s fifth year. I don’t know the most about all the Marauders Era headcanons so I kind of did what I wanted, sorry if you don’t like it. 

Tags: Angst, fluff, traumatized Slytherins, pureblood elitism, slightly mean!reader

Words: ~7.8k

p.1

─

I huffed as I reached for another heavy book on the shelf from one of the dark back corners of the library. I wasn’t in the restricted section just yet, but getting close to it. Between the weight of the other five books stacked in my arm and the height of the shelf I was trying to reach I nearly dropped them all. 

“Careful, there, Princess. Might break something lugging around all those books,” someone said next to me. I nearly jumped as I hadn’t noticed anyone come down this same aisle. 

I shot a glare at him for startling me. It was none other than Remus Lupin, one of those pesky Gryffindors who was constantly fighting me for my space at the top of the class. My glare intensified when I realized who it was.

“Yes, and it would sure be a shame if I managed to drop these on your foot and break something there,” I snarked. 

He looked amused at me. “Whoa, Princess, no need to get feisty with me. I was just going to offer my assistance.”

“And what kind of assistance should I accept from you when you’re just as likely to try and trick me?” Lupin gave me a weary look. Typical of Gryffindors to think everyone is as blindly trusting as them.

“No tricks, Princess, just offering a bit of help,” he said with a shrug.

“Would you stop that? Stop calling me that,” I snapped at him before turning back to the book I needed. Before I could make a second attempt to reach for it, Remus stepped up next to me and I froze. But then he grabbed the book for me and set it on top of my stack then took a step back. 

“Not a fan of your nickname?” He was of course referring to me being known as Slytherin’s Princess. Sometimes I like to pretend the nickname came about because I’m always top of the class, making my house proud, but I know the real reason is because I come from a wealthy, pureblood, Slytherin family and everyone thought me rather spoiled. 

“I am not some simpering girl in need of a man to save her and it’ll do good for the people in this school to remember that.” Despite his significant height, I lifted my chin to Remus Lupin and dared him to say otherwise. 

“Of course, of course,” he agrees, nodding his head and holding up his hands. “But you are Slytherin’s Princess, aren’t you?” His eyes light up in amusement at my frustration. 

My nostrils flare as I hold back my anger. It doesn’t do me any good to blow up at some stupid Gryffindor, not when that is exactly what he wants and I am not in the business of giving Gryffindors what they want.

Instead, I turn to walk away. Take the high-ground as they say. 

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry!” Remus calls after me, quickly catching up to and following me. “Seriously, dove, I’m sorry. I was only joking. Please, let me help you with whatever on earth you could possibly need all these books for.”

I stop abruptly and turn toward him. “And why should I accept help from someone like you?” I nearly growl at him, barely holding back my frustrations.

Remus looks taken aback by my words. “Someone like me? You mean a half-blood?”

It’s my turn to be startled by him. “I mean a Gryffindor,” I bite out. This was exactly why I couldn’t stand this brutish group, they were always so quick to jump to outrageous assumptions, thinking the worst of someone like me just because I’m in Slytherin.

He looks relieved and confused at the same time, but I don’t really care to help him unpack his complex emotions about the exact reasoning behind why I don’t trust him. 

I dump my books down onto the table I had claimed earlier and began to scour the table of contents in the first one. Uninvited, Remus took the chair next to me and began looking over my shoulder at the book. 

“Can I help you, Lupin? Or are you just interested in being a nuisance?” 

“I’m glad to be a nuisance any day, but as I’ve said before I was actually hoping to help you.”

“And as I’ve said before I’m not looking for any help.” 

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Is that this close to our OWLs you’re scouring books for something that you think you’ve missed, but you’ve been at the top of our classes all year, so I highly doubt you’ve managed to miss anything of real importance.” I give him a confused look, trying to discern how he’s figured me out so easily. Except he’s wrong, of course, I did somehow manage to lose the year a specific herb was realized to have certain medicinal properties. “So now I’m trying to answer the question of what does little miss Slytherin Princess think that she desperately needs to know, and will that really be the determining factor in her score on her OWLs?”

I glance around to make sure no one else is listening to me admitting defeat in front of a Gryffindor. “I don’t have the year we began to use hyssop to treat earaches,” I murmur. 

Remus’s face seems to fall at my admission. “That’s what you’re so concerned about? A minor herb’s medicinal use? Not even that, you already know that, but what year that was discovered? That is such a niche detail, there is absolutely no way Sprout asks us that.”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously Sprout’s not going to ask us about that, it’s Binns that I’m worried about,” I explain. Although I really shouldn’t be giving my enemy any help in preparing for our upcoming tests. I was just as desperate to best him on these tests as I’m sure he was me. 

“Binns?” He asks, outraged. “Binns would never ask about that in a million years.”

“You don’t know that, no one knows that. We had a lecture on the history of medicinal herbs, hyssop was one of them.”

“And so you really think that from that one lecture he’s going to ask us when hyssop was discovered to help with earaches?”

“I was reviewing my notes and I had written down the year but it got smudged.”

“You’re actually a raving lunatic,” Remus tells me. He looks around the library like he might get up and leave, but then he turns back to me. “I realize these are the most important tests of the year, but I think you have way overestimated the difficulty of the questions that will be on them.”

“And I think you can never be too safe.”

We hold each other’s gaze for several moments. Remus finally blinks and then sighs. “Confound it all, fine. Hand me one.” He holds his hand out expectantly. 

I stare at him, confused. 

“Well? Are we going to look for this blasted year or not?” I blink out of my stupor and hand him one of the books I had grabbed. 

We sit in silence for a long while, pouring over the texts. The only sound in this part of the library is us turning pages. The first book I look through doesn’t contain my answer, and neither must the book Remus has. Although I am tempted to go back later and double check he didn’t find it and not tell me in an effort to trick me. 

After I get through two more books and Remus goes through three, I can’t stop myself from asking the question that had been nagging in the back of my head the entire time. 

“Why exactly are you helping me? Surely you’d much rather be focused on your own studying.”

Remus slowly pulls his attention away from the book in front of him. He blinks at me and then furrows his brows. “Sorry, I know you said something, I just didn’t quite catch what,” he admits. 

I can’t help the small laugh at his honesty. “Why are you helping me? I thought you’d want to be studying for your OWLs.”

“I am studying for my OWLs,” he replies, tauntingly. I roll my eyes at him. 

“Come on, you know what I meant,” I push. 

He shrugs and I think that’s going to be all the answer I get, then after a pause he says, “you’ve intrigued me. I’m curious now to find out when we started using hyssop for earaches.” There’s something about his tone that’s off, but I mark it down to him just teasing me. “Besides, I’m already plenty prepared to get a perfect score and take my spot at the top of the class.”

I laugh at his taunting. “Clearly not prepared enough if you’re not well versed in the history of hyssop,” I tease back. 

He gives me a winning smile and something in my chest stutters at it. I must just be unsettled by his obviously false flattery. 

“Can I ask you something in return?” He asks after a moment. 

I consider him, then reply, “I don’t promise to answer, but you’re welcome to ask.” 

He smiles again and this time it feels like my heart has been squeezed just a bit. “Well I suppose that’s fair. But are you always so…” he trails off and I get nervous at where he’s going with this. “Well, are you always so intense about knowing every little detail?” He finally finishes. 

It must be relief that floods my veins when he doesn’t ask anything backhanded or rude. I actually give him a smile before glancing down at my lap. 

“I have to be, don’t I? There’s one way to stay where I am and it’s by rigorous study,” I admit. 

“Is it really so important to stay at the top that you have to obsess like this, though?” 

I think back to what happened when I would slack off with my studies at home before coming to Hogwarts. I can’t help the way my face falls at the memories. 

“I suppose it might not be so important to a Gryffindor, but success is a high priority in Slytherin,” I finally respond. It seems when I don’t know how to react I lash out, although Remus is lucky to have caught me in a good mood as I let him off rather easily. 

Nonetheless he still looks a bit dejected by my response. I feel a bit bad for shutting him down when we had been starting to get along rather well. 

“We should probably focus on the matter at hand, though, if we ever want to find our answer before curfew,” I say, returning to the book in front of me. 

“Right…” Remus murmurs. Part of me expects him to leave at that point, after all that’s when everyone else does. He surprises me when he stays and doubles down his efforts. 

I open my mouth, to say what I’m not entirely sure. I close my mouth again when I realize that I want to apologize. There’s no way that Remus wants some half baked apology from me. 

Time passes in silence, the both of us occupied with our search, but my mind keeps wandering to the way I had snapped at Remus. I didn’t understand why he had sat down to help me, but I shouldn’t have antagonized him for asking a simple question. It wasn’t his fault that the answer wasn’t so simple. 

I can’t help stealing glances of him every few minutes, which significantly hinders my speed in reading my book, but Remus doesn't seem to notice and I can’t get myself to stop. This means that I notice almost immediately when Remus freezes suddenly. I try not to react, not wanting to have been caught looking.

“Holy shit!” He nearly shouts, someone nearby shushes him loudly, but he’s too busy jumping out of his seat to mind. “Oh, Merlin’s beard I actually found it!” He whispers loudly this time and pumps his fist. Standing at his height above me while I sit next to him I have to strain my neck to look up at his face, but it’s such a beautiful sight with how excited he is.

“You mean you actually found the year?” I ask, matching his excitement.

He nods enthusiastically at me then points to the line of text that contains the answer we’d spent hours searching for. “Yes, yes, look! It’s right there.”

We celebrate as quietly as we can and I quickly jot down the information into my notes. 

“Oh, thank you, Remus! You’ve just saved me probably three hours.” I stand to join him. It’s then that I finally check the time and realize just how close it is to curfew. “Ah, shit,” I murmur. “We should turn in for the night. I don’t fancy having a run-in with Filch tonight.”

“Let me walk you to your dorm?” Remus offers.

“What? It’s nearly curfew, you’ll risk getting in trouble with Filch. No, I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to my dorms for the night,” I reply firmly. 

“Don’t worry about me, dove, I can handle myself. Let me walk you to your dorm.” This time Remus sounds more like he’s telling me than asking me. Nevertheless I nod in agreement and we make our way to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. 

On the way down, Remus teases me lightly about how obsessed I must be to dedicate so much effort into finding such a small detail. I tease him back about him being a nerd for helping me look for the answer. It’s lighthearted and easy and part of me thinks I could get used to having Remus as a friend. Another part of me questions what it would look like for me to be friends with a Gryffindor and whether my parents would approve or not. Then the first part kicks the second part for being such a self-obsessed ass. 

Just outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room I wave goodbye to Remus and wish him a good night. I try not to blush when he calls me “dove,” and dart into the safety of the common room. 

─

The next few weeks Remus seems to make it a habit of running into me in the library when I would otherwise be alone. In the past I had tried studying with Narcissa or Andromeda but the pair of them had bad habits of wanting to chat while I wanted to actually study, so my time in the library had previously been spent alone. 

Remus was different, though. He understood my desire to focus on the material in front of me and not whether or not his hair was looking frizzier than normal. 

Before I knew it I had come to rather enjoy his company. It felt almost reassuring that there was someone else who was similarly interested in studying, but wanted to do it with me. Somehow it was like studying at the same table as him made studying that much better, even if nothing of substance had changed. 

─

On a Saturday morning, a couple weeks before we were to begin taking our OWLs, I went out to the Black Lake just before the sun rose. I had slept fitfully, getting more and more nervous for the tests ahead of me. There was so much pressure to do good on these, I didn’t know what I would do if I were anything less than perfect. 

I don’t know why exactly I came out here, I just knew that I needed fresh air. Without much else of a plan, I sat down at the trunk of a tree and pulled out my wand. I practiced a couple small charms and transfigurations on the branches and rocks around me. 

“I’d say that rock doesn’t stand a chance against you, but I’d like to know what it did to deserve such treatment in the first place.”

I dropped the spell I had been using to propel the rock in the air and it fell swiftly. There likely wasn’t anyone in the school who I would not have been shocked to see, but I was especially shocked it was none other than James Potter. He’s a fairly popular boy my age in Gryffindor, mostly known for his outspokenness and disruptive behavior. If my memory serves me right, which it always does, he’s actually friends with Remus Lupin.

“What are you doing out here so early?” I can’t help but ask.

“I could ask the same of you,” he points out. I finally take him in at that moment. He’s wearing loose shorts and an old Gryffindor quidditch t-shirt that he’s cut the bottom half off to show off his athletic build. His curly hair is a mess atop his head, but I get the notion it’s always like that. When I meet his eyes I’m struck by how blue they are that I can notice even with him standing several feet in front of me. I can’t help but think to myself how pretty he is. He gives me a dorky smile, as if used to the attention but still not sure how to respond.

“Couldn’t sleep so well. Thought some fresh air would do me some good,” I finally answer, not acknowledging how I’d just been looking at him.

“Some fresh air and tormenting rocks?” He teases.

“Is that all you think we Slytherins do? Torment everything?” I huff. 

His face twists at my response. “No, no that’s not what I meant at all. It was just a joke, most people laugh at them.”

I sigh and lean back against the trunk of the tree. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit on edge,” I admit, though I’m not sure why I feel the urge to open up to this next to perfect stranger.

James takes a few steps closer and I tense up, but he just takes a seat next to me under the tree. “What’s got you so on edge?” 

“Is that another one of your jokes? The OWLs obviously.”

“Oh, right. I suppose those are coming up soon.” He pauses and tears some grass in front of him. “What’re you stressed over those for?” 

My brows pinch together and I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “They’re only the most important tests of the entire school year, of our entire schooling career thus far! These will determine our entire futures.”

It’s James’s turn to look at me like I’m crazy. “They’re just another test, though. And I really don’t see how they’ll determine our entire futures,” he says plainly. 

I scoff and roll my eyes. Leave it to a Gryffindor to blow off something so important. 

“Look, I know you’ve got this whole thing about being perfect in every subject and staying ahead of everyone else, so I’ll make you a deal.” I turn to him, my interest piqued. “If you do any less than perfect on each of your OWLs, I’ll turn all the professor’s hair purple,” he offers.

My jaw drops at his suggestion. “What on earth would that accomplish?”

“Well I figure people won’t be talking about what grade you got on your OWLs if they’re too busy talking about Dumbledore with a lilac beard,” he’s laughing even as he says it. I laugh, too, at that image. 

“Make it bright pink and I’ll help you,” I reply through giggles. 

James gives me his award-winning dorky smile and I can’t tear my eyes away. 

“Seriously, though, I’ll bet you’ve already gotten perfect scores on every other test this year, there can’t be anyone else more prepared than you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, not used to outright compliments that weren’t also an insult. My gaze falls to where James is still fiddling with the grass. “A bit antsy, are you?”

“Sorry,” he sighs, “I’ve been trying to work on that. I actually came out here to go for a run, it helps me burn some of my extra energy before the day so I can focus a bit better.”

I can’t imagine wanting to start the day by burning through energy, I often woke up with barely enough to make it through the day. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to be keeping you. I can go back inside if you want to run by yourself,” I offer and even before I finish talking, I’m pushing to stand up. 

“No, no you’re fine!” He’s quick to reassure me. “Please, stay. Actually if you want you could join me, it might help you clear your mind.”

I consider for a moment before deciding to agree. There couldn’t be much harm in it, it was still at least another hour before most people would get up for the day and I didn’t have anything better to do. 

While we run I can’t help glancing over to James, who’s clearly in his own world.

The sun began to peak over the horizon, slowly illuminating our path. At one point the sun is behind James when I steal another glance at him, and the way the light catches on his features makes him look like a real life angel.

James proves to be right, the run did help me to clear my mind. When we stop back where we had started I’m feeling significantly lighter than before, even if I am breathing significantly heavier. 

“That was… fun,” I am slow to admit. “Thank you, Potter.”

“Anytime, darling.” He gives me another goofy smile. “Feel free to join me whenever you like, I come out at the same time everyday.”

“I just might take you up on that.”

─

I don’t know what makes me do it, but I take James Potter up on his offer every day for a week straight. I quickly come to enjoy the ritual of it, waking up before dawn, sneaking out of my dorm, getting the fresh air and clearing my mind before the day. 

James’s presence was a reassuring one, even if we didn’t always talk much. I had the sense that he would listen to anything I needed to say and offer encouragement. 

As our OWLs loom ever closer I come to rely on our runs to center me in the mornings more and more, but I also question how long James will continue to let me join him. He never says anything to indicate he doesn’t want me to join, though, so I take him at face value and keep meeting him under our tree every morning. 

─

The night before we’re to start our OWLs I find myself unable to sleep for even a minute. Of course this wasn’t a problem for my dorm mates who had fallen asleep at least two hours ago. 

I toss and turn, thinking that maybe if I could just get comfortable I could get to sleep. Of course I have no such luck. Eventually I decide that drastic times call for drastic measures. 

I don’t have to worry about being too quiet as I climb out of my bed, pull on a jumper, and slip on my sneakers. I’ve mastered this routine from sneaking out for my morning runs. 

Two years prior Narcissa was sniffling and sneezing her brains out, but didn’t want to wake Madam Pomfrey for medicine. Andromeda insisted we could take care of her ourselves, she just needed a good, hot cup of tea to clear her system. I never knew where she learned it, but she showed me a way to slip into the kitchens undetected. She then showed me which cabinet to find the herbs in, and also which herbs were the right ones. And then she showed me how to use the kettle. 

It was amazing how much better Narcissa was able to sleep after she finished her cup of tea, and the next day she was right as rain. I quickly became obsessed with the simple magic behind a “good cup of tea” and asked Andromeda to tell me everything she knew about the different recipes and ingredients. When her knowledge proved to be rather limited I went on a rampage in the library until I was satisfied─ a good two weeks later. 

My plan was a simple blend to help me sleep and settle my nerves. Chamomile and cinnamon was sounding particularly tasty, although I was considering whether I might like lavender with rosemary more. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice at first there was already someone else in the kitchens. Thankfully when I did I only jumped a little. 

Confused, I stared at Sirius Black as he took a kettle off one of the stoves. He gave me an amused look in return. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He guessed.

“No, I’m quite afraid not.”

He gave me a sad smile in understanding. “Have a seat, I’ll make you a cup,” he offered. I can’t say why I listened, but I did. Maybe in a moment of weakness before a highly stressful event I didn’t care that I didn’t know him much, I just wanted to let someone take care of me. 

“Any preference on what kind?” He asks.

“Hmm, I was debating between chamomile with cinnamon or lavender with rosemary,” I say. Then, because I can’t help myself, I proceed to list off my many thoughts on the benefits of each ingredient and what might best suit my current situation. 

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice that Sirius has made a decision for me and already started steeping the herbs in the water. I’ve somehow veered off onto what might make a good combination if Sirius was having a headache, or if his headache was caused by a cold and he had other symptoms what could help with that. 

To his credit, he never once interrupts or even looks bored. In fact the entire time he seems to regard me with mild amusement, and I begin to get the impression that everything he encounters in life amuses him. 

I don’t even stop rambling about tea when he sets my cup in front of me. After taking a sip, I start to tell him how very fond I am of lemon balm, then pause when I finally realize the cup of tea is already made. 

For the first time since Sirius asked what kind of tea I wanted, he is finally given a chance to say something. “Are you sure you weren’t meant to be in Ravenclaw?”

I scoff at his suggestion. “Don’t be absurd, Slytherins can be just as studious as Ravenclaws, we just typically hold our cards a little closer to our chest.”

“Right.” He nods. “This was you holding your cards close to your chest?” He then questions.

“Well it’s not like there’s any great secret behind tea. And besides, even if I haven’t been able to sleep I am quite tired.” A yawn escapes me just then to prove my point. “Narcissa always complains about my tendency to ramble when I’m tired.”

“Why would she complain? I found it rather entertaining,” he says, lightheartedly. Even though his tone has a hint of joking to it, I feel like he’s being honest. 

I give him a small smile before taking another sip from my cup. It’s still quite hot, but the flavors are still strong. “Mmm, this is quite delicious,” I compliment. “Is it chamomile with… rosemary?” 

Sirius gives me a proud grin. “Ten points to Slytherin,” he jokes. A smile falls on my face. 

“What have you made for yourself?” I ask, glancing at his cup. 

“Vanilla and rose.” 

“That sounds lovely. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that before.”

“James’s mum makes it for us all the time. Do you want to try a sip?” He offers. I nod quickly and he passes over his cup. Sure enough it’s a delightful mixture. I tell him such and he tells me the measurements so that I can make it for myself. 

“So what’s keeping you up on this otherwise peaceful night?” Sirius asks.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I groan. He looks at me dumbly, confused as to what the obvious answer might be. “We start our OWLs tomorrow,” I scoff. 

“Merlin, you can’t really be this stressed about it.” He sounds disbelieving, though I’m not sure why. 

“I can and I am,” I say, matter-of-factly. He rolls his eyes and turns to begin putting away the tea kettle. “Why are you up, if not because of the OWLs?” I then ask.

“Not for any good reason. Have always had trouble sleeping,” he says, but the tightness in his voice, and the way he tugs at a lock of hair behind his ear tells me there’s something else he doesn’t want to share. I can’t fault him for that, though. “Which of your OWLs do you feel most prepared for?” He asks after a moment of tense silence. 

It throws me off for just a second. Most people want to know which test I’m most nervous for, want to know what area I’m weakest in, where the chip in my armor is so that they might strike there. I consider for a moment, not wanting to say something that I end up bombing. Eventually, I decide on my favorite subject. Sirius seems to accept that answer without pushing any further, so I turn it on him. 

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he answers almost immediately. “I want to be an auror,” he brags. 

I roll my eyes at the proud smirk on his face. “Of course you do.”

“Well? What do you want to be?” Sirius asks as if expecting a lame answer such as archivist. 

“My parents want me to be an alchemist,” I reply in what I would guess is a lame answer.

“That’s great for them, what do you want to be, though?” Looking into his eyes at that moment feels as if he’s staring into my soul. 

“I… I don’t know,” I mumble slowly and my brows furrow. I can’t help but look at my cup of tea, half empty at this point. No one had ever asked me what I wanted before, not when it came to something so major. It was always assumed I would follow the path my parents laid for me. 

When I find the courage to look back up to Sirius he has a sympathetic look on his face. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap.

In return, Sirius’s face pinches in anger. “I wasn’t looking at you any type of way,” he defends.

“Yes, you were, you had this look on your face like you were sad for me,” I accuse. “Don’t be sad for me.”

“I’m not sad for you─”

“Good, because you have no reason to be. My life is great and everything is perfectly fine.” The way I say it even Sirius can tell that I’m trying to convince myself more than him at this point. I let out a frustrated sigh. I want to say something about how I’m a great witch and I’m meant to be an alchemist, but another voice in my head whispers to explain how I really feel.

“Look,” I start, then trail off. 

“It’s complicated,” he finishes for me. “I get it. I’m sure you know about my family, you know I get it.” His voice is so soft as he talks to me, as if I’m a frightened animal. But despite my flaws I am still a Slytherin, and I do not appreciate being treated like a frightened animal. 

“Leave it to a Gryffindor to be so self-absorbed they assume everyone knows their tragic tale of woe. Maybe instead of staying up late to make tea and trying to relate to girls you hardly know you should work on your form for your smokescreen spell.” The words spill out of me before I even consider them. I don’t even take the time to be shocked at my outburst. Instead I storm off. 

“Yeah, you’re one to talk about self-absorbed, Princess!” He shouts at my back. I nearly flinch at the nickname, but keep going out of the kitchens and straight back up to my dorm.

─ 

The morning before the first day of our OWLs testing I follow my same routine. I wake up early to run with James, and he tries to ask if I’m feeling alright, but I brush him off and neither of us acknowledges the way I push myself harder on this run than I ever had before. 

After our run, I go back up to my dorm to shower and get ready for the day. My dorm mates still haven’t caught on yet that I’ve started getting up hours earlier. They do ask if I’m feeling flush and press their hands to my forehead, though. I shove them off with a grumbled, “I’m fine,” and shove my things for the day into my bag. 

In the Great Hall I can hardly stomach a plain slice of toast, but I just manage to get it down with some orange juice. I feel a bit queasy, but today is too important to pay that feeling any mind. 

On my way to the first test of the day, I think back to Remus’s reassuring words from our study session the night before. 

“Look, I know trying to reassure you that you’ll do great won’t get through to you, even if I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Remus says softly, almost hesitantly. “Instead I hope you know that it will be okay if you aren’t perfect.” My heart hits my stomach and I drop my quill. I start to shut down, prepare to lash out. Why would he say that? He thinks I won’t be perfect? 

“Maybe other people will have different opinions, but I will still be your friend and I know that everything will turn out okay for you.”

Oh. My heart flutters back to life. We’re friends? 

For once in my life, I do not lash out at someone for trying to get closer to me, for saying something honest that I wasn’t ready to hear. 

I give him a sad smile. “Thanks, Remus.” I pause for a long moment. “I’m glad you’re my friend,” I whisper. Then, because I’m not sure how to proceed after that, I stiffly turn back to my notes. Remus, ever the gentleman, goes back to his book and doesn’t push me any further. 

I don’t think anyone had ever told me before that it was okay to be anything less than perfect, but his words become my mantra for the day. 

“It will be okay if I’m not perfect,” I think to myself as I walk into the classroom. 

I take a seat next to Narcissa. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

The professor instructs us to start. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I read over every question three times. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I double check each of my answers. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I finish the last question. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I walk up to the front of the class and turn in my test. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

As I leave the classroom I’ve almost convinced myself that it will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

My stomach begins to churn and I walk straight to the nearest bathroom, into one of the stalls, and promptly begin to lose my breakfast. I hear the door open behind me when I’ve stopped heaving. 

“Think you’ve found yourself in the wrong bathroom, Princess,” someone says mockingly. Footsteps come closer to me. “Oh shit, are you okay?”

I hadn’t bothered to lock the stall door behind me, so I’m able to turn and see Sirius Black. Again. I give him a horrified look. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing in the girls’ room?” I nearly shout at him.

“Actually you’re the one who’s walked into the boys’ room,” he informs me. I give him a disbelieving look until he shifts and my gaze falls on a line of urinals behind him. My face blushes profusely and I stare at Sirius, mortified. He gives me a pitying look. “It’s okay, pretty girl, you’re clearly not feeling well. Stay there for a moment.”

Still in shock, I stay put. I hear the sink running for a moment, then Sirius comes back with a damp towel. He hands it to me to wipe my face. 

“Thanks,” I murmur. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he replies. With a tender hand, he helps me to my feet when I’m ready. “Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey, then.”

“Oh, no, that’s really not necessary. It must’ve just been something I had at breakfast,” I lie. 

Sirius gives me a disbelieving look. “You’ve clearly worried yourself sick and we both know it.”

I don’t reply as I follow him out of the bathroom. My plan was to start going in the direction of the hospital wing, then double back to the library to keep studying. Sirius’s plan was to follow me.

“I’m more than capable of walking myself to the hospital wing,” I say tersely. 

“And I’m more than capable of walking with you. I’m glad we’ve determined our abilities for this excursion.” 

I shoot him a glare that would scare off most other people. Sirius doesn’t even blink at me. My new plan: ignore Sirius as he insists on walking me to see Pomfrey. 

“How did you feel about it?” He asked after a moment. 

I don’t respond. 

“I personally thought some of the questions were a bit repetitive, like I had to explain myself multiple times.” 

I stay strong. 

“But maybe that’s a bad sign that I didn’t do as good as I thought.” 

Just keep staring straight ahead, he has to shut up eventually, I think to myself. 

“On the second question─”

“Would you just shut up already?” I snapped. I was stressed enough over how I did without reliving it with someone I didn’t even like. 

Sirius holds his hands up defensively. “Someone’s cranky,” he says with a laugh.

“I am not cranky, I just don’t particularly care to discuss the test with you.” My eyes roll of their own volition. 

“What should you care to discuss then?” He asks. 

“With you? Not much.” Maybe if I can discourage him enough he’ll grow bored and wander off. 

“It’s a bit of a trek to the hospital wing from here, though, and I’ve found conversation to be a great way to pass time.” Of course, I should know that Gryffindors are not so easily discouraged.

“I’ve found that there’s no reason for you to walk all the way to the hospital wing with me.” 

“Wow, are you like this all the time?” He finally snaps back.

“Like what?” I pretend to be ignorant. 

He scoffs at me. “Rude, Princess. Are you always so rude?”

I flare up at the nickname. The way he says it, it feels like he knows I don’t like it. 

“Nobody asked you to pester me,” I say. 

“Most people would consider this an act of kindness, not pestering.”

“How unfortunate for you that I am not like most people.” 

“It would do you a bit of good to learn something from them, maybe you could start with some manners.”

“I’m perfectly well mannered, thank you very much. You’re the one who didn’t listen when I told you I was fine to walk by myself, and you’re the one working yourself up by staying with me when you could bug off to literally anywhere else.” With that I begin to speed up to leave him behind.

Sirius actually stops for just a moment, as if really considering my words. Then he rushes to catch up to me. “No, I want to know what’s so bloody great about you,” he says. 

I give him a strange look. “I never claimed for anything to be so great about me.”

“Maybe not but you sure act like it, so tell me: what is so bloody great about you? What makes you so special that you think yourself better than everyone else here?”

It’s my turn to stop in my tracks. “Who the hell said I think I’m better than everyone?”

“No one has to say it, Princess.” The way he says Princess feels like venom on his tongue. 

I want to hit him. Punch him in the face and give him a great bloody nose. I want to hex him. Maybe knock him off his feet. I want to scream at him. Scream that I don’t think myself better than everyone, that I’m just an imposter pretending to be perfect all the time. 

It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

Tears start to well in my eyes. I haven’t cried since I was eleven and my family was getting ready to drop me off at Hogwarts for the first time. 

“Do not cry, darling, it’s unbecoming,” my mother says to me. “Soon you will be sorted into Slytherin and prepare to continue your family’s legacy. You must show strength at all times, even if you do not feel it. We can not be perceived as weak.”

A single tear snakes out of the corner of my eye and down the apple of my cheek. I look down and it falls to the ground by my feet. Another tear falls, and before I know it I am fully crying. I start to struggle to breathe. 

When I look back up to Sirius he looks terrified. He must think he’s what’s made me cry. The truth is it’s the last five years that have built up to weigh on me continually. It’s the way my life was gilded and no one had ever cared to look below the surface until a few weeks ago when Remus Lupin offered to help me study. Until James Potter offered to go for a run. Until Sirius Black offered me a cup of tea. 

My quiet tears begin to turn into choked sobbing as I realize how sad my life really was, that these three Gryffindors had shown me a kind of genuine caring that I hadn’t known could exist. 

Hesitantly, Sirius takes my hand to lead me over to a nearby bench so I can sit down and try to collect myself. It takes several minutes for me to control my breathing, and several more for my tears to subside. I finally look down to notice that I’m still holding Sirius’s hand, that I’d actually been holding it quite firmly. 

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice hoarse, as I release his hand from my grasp. “You were right. Everything is so very complicated.”

Sirius gives me that same look he did last night, and I realize. He wasn’t sad for me, he understood me. But how was it fair that he would get to leave, when his brother and I were left behind with our authoritarian families? Selfishly, I think maybe he could show me the way.

I sit there, lost in my thoughts, for a long while. Sirius stays with me. Eventually the bells toll to indicate it was time for lunch. When I glance up at Sirius, he’s already looking at me. 

“Can I make you an offer?” He asks. 

I grow weary at his words. “I would suppose that depends on what the offer is.”

“Well, your eyes are red and swollen and you’ve got mascara tracked down your cheeks,” he starts and I grow horrified as I realize what I must look like. There was no way I could go into the Great Hall looking like the mess I surely am. He lets out a small laugh at my expression. “Why don’t you go clean up, and I’ll grab us some lunch from the Great Hall. We can meet in the south courtyard.”

I was amazed that even after I’d been so mean to him, he would still be so kind to me. 

“That would be quite nice actually. Thank you,” I reply softly. 

Sirius gives me a swift nod, then helps me to stand up. We go our separate ways, me to my dorm to wash my face and apply some fresh mascara and concealer, and Sirius to the Great Hall. 

─

I’ve just sat down in a corner of the courtyard for a couple minutes when Sirius shows up. I try not to look too shocked when James and Remus appear with him. Of course, I knew they were all friends, they went galavanting around the entire school proclaiming themselves marauders, but I’d never interacted with all three of them together. 

It suddenly occurs to me that they likely share a dorm, and very well could have planned this all to be some grand prank on me. But they had all seemed so genuinely kind to me until this point, and I was so tired of constantly second guessing everyone’s intentions. I decided that if this were some prank I would let them have their fun at me, then show them the real wrath of Slytherin. 

The three of them quickly set up a small picnic and begin lighthearted conversation. James compliments the way my hair looks today. Sirius teases James for the way his hair looks everyday, although I would argue it flatters him I don’t say that aloud. Remus gives me a knowing look as the two begin bickering. 

Spending time with the three of them is easy, and feels right. Like it was always meant to be the four of us all together. None of them mentions my earlier breakdown, or even anything to do with our tests. I wonder what Sirius told them before they all came out here. Whatever it was, none of them shows me any judgment so I can guess he must have skipped over my rude behavior. 

I’m sad when the bells ring again to signify the end of lunch. We clean up our area of the courtyard, then head back inside. Over the course of my time with the boys I feel my spirits lifted significantly, feeling much better and ready to face the next two weeks of tests. 

It will be okay if I’m not perfect, I think to myself again, and this time I really do believe it. Because even if I’m only just getting to know Remus, James, and Sirius, I know that they are my friends and they’ll be there for me.

[dreamingofmarauders]

𝐘𝐨𝐮!

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚

James Potter x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Next Part Series Masterlist

Summary: In which James Potter is beyond shocked to see you introduced as the newest Order member. After all, to him, you’re nothing but a cruel, cold, pureblooded Slytherin

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: House stereotyping/prejudice (I think that's it, if not, let me know please!)

A/N: The inspiration for this came while I was reading @ellecdc's Sirius Black x Reader series called Come Back, Be Here and it was such an amazing read! Go read it if you haven't already! <33

───※ ·❆· ※───

The Order of the Phoenix, a secret society founded by the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was gathered once again in another secret location. All the members were seated in their respective seats, looking at the Headmaster to begin speaking.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” Dumbledore said, his voice bouncing off the walls, “I received a tip that revealed a death eater meeting is to take place tonight, not too far from Diagon Alley.” He said. “I will have to arrange a few members to be sent to scout out the meeting, but before that, I have an important announcement.”

Everyone in the room exchanged glances, a nervousness settling for what could be bad news to be revealed.

“I have recruited a new member, who has already proven what a great asset she will be to our team.”

“Who?” Sirius asked.

Albus Dumbledore gestured towards the door, “Come in.”

You strutted in, dressed in dark clothes with your wand twirling between your fingers as a smile sat upon your lips.

“You!”

And two sets of chairs screeched as two individual wands were directed at you.

“What are you doing here?!” James shouted, Sirius nodding as he backed his best mate.

“Charming. Quite a nice welcome you’ve all prepared for me, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled as he directed his gaze from you to the pair of Black and Potter.

“Wands down, boys. Y/n L/n will henceforth be joining us from today.” He said, declaring it to the whole room.

“But, Professor!” James exclaimed, “Y/n’s a Slytherin!”

“Gee, thanks for noticing.”

James glared at you before he turned his eyes onto Dumbledore, his expression having turned into one of desperation. “You can’t possibly let her join!” He practically begged. “They’re all the same, the treacherous snakes can’t be trusted!”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply but you beat him to it.

“Well not everyone can be so dimwitted that they would end up in Gryffindor.” You said, making both James and Sirius scowl.

"We are very intelligent, thank you very much!" Sirius interjected, making you shoot a look in return that said are you really though?

“Plus," You continued "Not everyone is the same because even a lion could be a snake in disguise.”

James’ eyebrows furrowed together, “What do you mean to imply by that?”

You merely shrugged, earning a scoff from James.

“That’s enough now.” Professor McGonagall called out sternly, making both you and James fall quiet and take your seats.

“Now that we have exchanged small pleasantries,” James and you loudly scoffed, “Onto the mission. I will be sending out Remus Lupin, James Potter, Benjy Fenwick, Dorcas Meadowes and Y/n L/n.” Dumbledore gently smiled, “This tip was given by Y/n herself and this proves how much of a help Y/n’s addition to the Order will be.

A cry of protest sounded from the young Potter, “Headmaster! How can you believe her? For all we know, she could be sending us into a death trap!” James exclaimed, glaring at you, who stood up with a scoff.

“And that is the exact reason I am coming along! If something happens, I will be there too!”

“Nope! Not happening! Headmaster, I refuse to go if she goes!” James said.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, “Stop behaving so childish. Miss. L/n will be going and that is final.”

James grumbled and muttered, “Fine.” Knowing by now that Professor McGonagall could get real scary when she needed to be.

“Good, now get going.”

James glared your way to which you only smirked at him, irking the young Potter even more.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

The mission was partially successful as like the tip you had given, there was a death eater meeting. However, they sensed the presence of Order members too early and before you all could even cast a spell their way, they had gone.

Most of the Order had been kind and accepted you in, after all, if Dumbledore trusted you, what reason did they have not to? Well, everyone except for Sirius Black and James Potter. 

Especially James Potter.

He loathed you. Simple as that. Your mere existence irked him, like it has been since your shared days at Hogwarts. You always had a way that managed to annoy him, and he had been always determined to get under your skin every time he caught sight of you within the castle.

James wasn’t sure when it started but the interactions between the two of you had become frequent since fifth year. He despised you for being a Slytherin, after all you were just like the rest, acting as if you were superior. But it was also the way you winked at him or that teasing smile that crawled onto your lips. Or how you would speak in a playful tone, flicking your hair over your shoulder every time you walked away or how you twirled your wand teasingly between your nimble fingers.

It infuriated him.

Everything about you annoyed James Potter to no end.

Henceforth, why he was so against your arrival into the Order and how he was determined to get at you every chance he could get.

"Wow, L/n, I'm surprised you haven't melted yet." James said later one evening at an Order meeting.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, "Meaning?"

"Meaning my burning hatred towards you, I was expecting you to have skedaddled out of here."

You gave him a weird look, "Well, that genuinely made no sense, Potter. Now excuse me." You said, returning to your conversation with Remus.

James grumbled, turning towards his best mate, "Moony! Stop hanging out with her!"

Remus let out an exasperated sigh, "Listen, Prongs, I love having you as a friend, truly I do, but if you're going to keep this up, I won't hesitate to hex your arse off the planet."

James stared at his best friend, dumbfounded, while you doubled over laughing.

"Moony," James muttered out hollowly, "How could you? You're my best friend!" He accused Remus in an over dramatic manner.

"And Y/n is also a friend of mine."

This threw James off completely, "She's WHAT!?"

"A friend. She was nothing but polite to me throughout school and I have no reason to be rude to her."

You shot Remus a smile of gratitude before moving your gaze to James, eyes turning cold as you stood up.

"I love to annoy you, truly, but I find it unfair how you're always taking out what most of my house has done against me. Not everyone is the same. I'm not like them." You breathed out, your voice wavering near the end.

James suddenly felt a weird sensation wash over him and he watched you turn around and go.

"Mate," James looked at his friend, his attention snapping from you to Remus, "You don't need to be so mean to her. She has gone through a lot."

James scoffed loudly, "I doubt that."

Remus gave his friend an expression of what looked like pity and exasperation. He patted James on the shoulder before walking away. James stood there, lost within his own thoughts. He shook his head vigorously after a few seconds.

No, to him you were merely one of them. You were from a family of death eaters. You were from the house that turned out all the dark wizards. You were just one of them and nothing more. And he hated them all.

"I hate you." He whispered.

Although, James' perception about you would be challenged as the next Order mission would bring an unexpected twist.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A/N: Ok, so I had this idea of this one scene and I was planning on just a oneshot but instead I decided to go ahead and make a mini series, just so I can write more about James and Reader in this enemies to lovers sort of trope. I've never really written for James before, so I hope you all liked it and stay tuned for the next one because it's going to be good! Love you all and take care! <33

Love, Serina ❤

[soleilnewspaper]

Just maybe

Series masterlist

Summary: Sirius, Remus and you take the time to talk things over up in the astronomy tower. You agree to give things a chance. However, you find it difficult to find your place in an already existing relationship. Meanwhile, Regulus tries to come to turn with things.

Pairing: poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

Warnings: early stages of a throuple, light teasing, swearing, mentions of feeling insecure of place in relationship, rifts in friendship, angst with comfort.

Word count: 3.7k

AN: Sooo this may or may not be turning into a series. Organically this was meant to be the last part, but because it’s close to 5k, I split it into two. Alas, we have the third part. Hopefully you enjoy it. Please make sure to like, reblog, comment and follow if you do. Thank you lovelies.

The first time you ever spoke to Sirius Orion Black seams like a lifetime ago. If you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it would have been the summer before your third year began. Regulus invited you over to spend a weekend at their house.

Granted you had seen Sirius in passing multiple times over the years. Not solely at Hogwarts but at the countless times you had been forced to attend a Pureblood High Society event. You’d know both brothers since before you could talk. Yet, a part of you felt you didn’t know them at all.

You would not meet Remus John Lupin until you began your first year at Hogwarts. It seams silly, really, to remember something so vividly.

Platform 9 and 3/4 was not difficult to find with your family urging you along. A kiss on your check from your mother, one which held no real affection was the last thing she gave you before shipping you off. Whilst your father barely offered you any attention. To them beinging Hogwarts was no greater achievement than being born. It meant nothing to them. Therefore, you had to stop yourself from letting them see you cry.

Sure, they weren’t the warmest of families, but they were still yours and all you wanted was some sense that they’d miss you. Of course, you were deprived of that feeling.

You remained strong all the way through your walk to the train. Fear had creeped through your spine every second that passed. Finally, it consumed you when you were alone in an empty compartment. That’s when Remus found you.

He was no more than elven years old, having a similar but very different fear to you about starting Hogwarts. A chocolate bar was offered to you, which you took but then left the compartment to go find your sister. Later three boys found Remus who would unknowingly become the greatest friends he would ever have.

Throughout your years at Hogwarts you had little to no interactions with them both. Yet that didn’t stop you falling in love with them. You had thought you could keep it under wraps.

Sirius thought of you as nothing more than one of his brother’s friends. A Slytherin pureblood. So you let him believe that. You let him begin to hate you. In turn you began to hate him. It was easier this way, that’s what you had told yourself every time your heart threatened to betray you.

Remus was harder to ignore. He saw through the walls you put up. Even if it was only through glances and the occasional smile in the library or halls. He made no effort to befriend you which you had thanked Salazar for almost every day.

Few noticed your affection that you so dearly had for the boys. Your friends for one had teased you on occasion but nothing ever came from it. Pandora would try to get you to open up but her efforts fell short.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find enjoyment in learning things about them. From a far of course. The way Sirius wore cologne that was so strong it overtook all your senses. Or how sometime around third year he started to get a wet dog fur smell for some odd reason. It didn’t take you long to figure out he had become an animagus. The boys were hardly subtle. Besides Regulus, Pandora and you had joked about going through the process yourselves already. To which you did later on.

The library was Remus’s favourite place and it had secretly become yours because of the few times where he’d offer to get a book off a high shelf for you. You hated how he towered over you. To be fair he towered over everyone.

Through it all, you had thought your feelings were in vain. The word delusional was thrown around more often than once.

Never did you think that Amortentia would be the cause of your feelings finally being revealed. A whole month had passed since that moment and you had hoped and prayed that word hadn’t reached your parents. The thought was irrational in truth, as there was no chance anyone was going to gossip to your parents. Alright, maybe it wasn’t completely irrational. Purebloods did love to talk. If a single person blabbered to their parents you knew it would’t be front paper news or anything. But the thought still scared you nonetheless.

As much as you held affections for the two, you knew your parents would not be pleased. A blood traitor and a half-blood broke. You could practically hear your mother’s voice inside your head when Remus had asked you to be their third.

“Ok.” You managed to chock out, barely.

Whilst Remus was staring at you with his beautiful honey eyes which appeared golden with the sun shining down on him. Sirius seamed still, to still, almost as if he feared if he moved this would all go away. Crashing down on him. He was as scared as you were, you realised. You two were more alike than you had originally thought. Both of you had made each other hate in order to avoid your attraction towards each other. Remus was scared too, you knew that, but he was trying to be calm to keep you both from going haywire. You appreciated that more than he would ever know.

Despite every reason not to, you had said yes. It was if your heart had taken over your mind and you hadn’t even fully comprehend the words before they were serging out of your mouth.

“How will-dose-this work?” You corrected yourself mid sentence, clutching onto the straps of your book bag.

“Er, hmm, maybe we should find somewhere more private to talk about this all.” Remus suggested gently.

“I think I’d like that.” You replied.

“Probably for the best.” Sirius tuned in avoiding eye contact with you both.

“Right, then, guess our dorms are out of the question. Considering…” Remus eyes wondered to your green tie and back to their red ones.

“I know a place.” You smiled turning on your heel with both boys following you.

The ‘place’ had happened to be the astronomy tower. It was your friends and your favourite spot in Hogwarts. The marauders had the Shrieking Shack, the black lake and every secret corridor in Hogwarts. But this, this was your spot.

Yours, Regulus’, Pandora, Barty and Evan’s that is. All of you had chosen spots up here too, evident by the blankets and pillows hidden underneath old equipment in a corner. Which you had put an enchantment on to keep your things safe. One Pandora had made herself, completely original. You and Barty were the ones who brought everything up here. Regulus was the one who suggested it. Evan had just gone with the flow, but you all knew he loved it just as much.

It felt almost wrong to have Sirius and Remus up here. The Astronomy tower was a public place, every person in Hogwarts had access. Yet in your mind it was still your special place, and you felt as if you were betraying your friends by bringing them up here.

You knew you were betraying Regulus in some way. The same way James felt he was betraying Sirius with Regulus. Although that was a topic for another time.

Remus leaned against the railing, and pulled his sandy brown waves of hair out of his face. The sleeves of his sweater over his school shirt tattered from use.

It felt like an eternity had passed since one of you had last spoke. In reality it was as much closer to a few minutes, fifteen if you had to guess.

Sirius’s eyes had never left yours in all that time, until now that is. He remained his distance from you as you did to him. Still trying to wrap your head around all this.

“So, exactly, how does this work?” You started, voice far higher pitched than you’d have liked.

“I suppose it’s like any other relationship, just with three people instead of two.” Remus smiled and you were happy that the smile reached to his eyes, telling you it was genuine.

“S’m not complicated at all.” Sirius joked.

“Definitely not.” You responded shaking your head in faux seriousness.

“We all agree to be in a romantic relationship with all parties consenting.” Remus spoke gently, nodding his head slightly. His elbows leaned on the railing.

“Surely there needs to be rules to this.” You stated completely baffled that you were even allowing yourself to entertain this idea.

“You really know how to take the fun out of things, don’t ye, dollface?” Sirius smirked and you wanted to be annoyed truly but you couldn’t find any reason to be.

“Structure is what makes things work, Black.” You snickered in response but your voice showed no signs of being upset.

“You’d know, would’t ya?”

“Merlin, you’re both bloody children.” Remus sighed softly.

“Sod off, Moons.” Sirius replied and Remus rolled his eyes.

A laugh escaped your lips at their interaction, you loved watching them together. Perphas if this worked out you’d be to do that more often.

“I propose we agree to open and honest communication with each other. If we are to go through with this.” If you were to continue to entertain this idea for yourself, you wanted to at least do it right.

“Well I for one.” Sirius stated, pointing a finger at himself. “Would be chuffed to get to know you outside of a ball or Hogwarts hallway.”

“Chuffed you say?” It was your turn to smirk.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t in fact hate you.”

“Good, because I don’t either.” You smiled before stumbling over your words. “Hate you I mean-I don’t hate you either.”

“I know what you meant, love.” You blushed at the use of the pet name.

“I’d also love to get to know you before we jump into anything.” Remus chimed in.

“So, we agree, to take things slow.” You nodded looking to both boys before continuing. “And let things develop naturally.”

Remus’s eyes met yours and you swear you felt safer than ever before. Before you knew, Remus was taking steps towards you. Reaching for your hand.

“Would it be alright if I gave you a hug?” Remus’s voice was full of affection and your heart warmed and the thought.

After receiving consent from you in the form of a head nod, you felt his arms around your torso. Initially, the hug felt awkward but as time passed the two of you found your rhythm and eased into it. Allowing yourself to melt into his chest. The warmth was only further advanced by Sirius joining in. Remus made steps to allow him to join in. You became sandwiched in between the two of them.

You knew this would not he easy in the slightest but you had hope for the future. Maybe, just maybe, this might work.

The ‘honeymoon’ phase of your relationship had passed and it had been weeks of intense emotional intimacy.

No one said polyamory would be easy, nor did anyone bother to tell you how hard it would be.

Being the last person to join a polygamous relationship meant you weren’t apart of the already established rhythm. Which did not account for you. In your mind, you would always be second best. Before you had come along, Remus and Sirius were perfectly happy. You only served as a disruption to their happiness. If not for the Amortentia you wouldn’t even be in this relationship in the first place.

Remus and Sirius had history, their relationship had been years in the making. From the beginning it had been like that. They met before they met you. Their friends were the same people. The sorting hat had sorted both of them into gryffidor, and they just do happened to share a dorm for almost six years now.

Their relationship had taken them from friendship to romance, with trials of pain and suffering within. How could you ever compete with that?

Both of them shared common interests, and despite you trying to find a connection with them it always felt like you were being overshadowed. It wasn’t the boys fault at all. You refused to blame any of this on anyone but you. But it’s not like you could back now. Not when you took such a risk to be in this relationship. Years of pining after them and they had asked you to join their relationship.

You were sure your relationship wouldn’t last much longer, the day would come when they realised their mistake. Yet you made no effort to make any change, because you were far too afraid.

The great hall felt smaller than usual, as if the walls were closing in on you. You tried to shrug the feeling off as your brown babydoll shoes presented against the stone brick floors. A smile found its way to your face when you spotted your two boyfriends sat around a Gryffidor table with their friends.

That’s another thing, their friends. You could tell they were all extremely close. Knowing that before you entered the relationship but it didn’t make it any easier when hanging out with them. Especially since they were always together. Wherever James and Peter were, Sirius and Remus like clockwork. There was no escaping it.

James sat across from Peter dressed in his red and gold Qudditch uniform for today’s game. He was working his ass off to try Qudditch Captain for next year. Lily Evans, beautiful as ever sat next to the boy. Her trio of friends surrounded her; Marlene, Mary and Alice who was joined by her boyfriend Frank.

As per usual, Sirius dressed in his beater gear was situated on the left of James with Peter on the far right. Every so often Remus would offer his own comments to the conversation.

His honey brown eyes met your own and he waved you over. Remus scooted over in order to allow you to sit in between him and Sirius. You offered a smile of gratitude as sat down. Quickly, Remus’s hands found yours and you began playing with his fingers.

Remus looked far from his usual self. Large dark circles had taken up residence under his eyes, which appeared tired. The tone in his voice held a hint of pain if you listened closely enough. This had became a monthly occurrence. Days before he would supposedly fall spontaneously ill or urgently need to visit his ma. Around this time, the boys would also start fessing up excuses for their sudden absences. Lily didn’t seam to be worried by it at all, she knew something you didn’t. Which you had spun to that James and as an extension Remus and Sirius clearly trusted his girlfriend more than your boyfriend’s trusted you.

“How’d ye sleep, dove?” Remus asked gently, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You only hmm in response.

“You alright, dollface?” Sirius asked turning to face you.

“Just tired is all, studying and all that.” You nodded, hoping it would enough to keep the two boys from being suspicious.

Your plan worked for the most part as Sirius returned to his conversation with James and Peter. Most days, Remus or Sirius would force you to tell them what was going on, but not when it was this close to the full moon. Both of them were far too worried about the upcoming full moon.

It had been years since Remus had felt like this. The vague excuses felt all too familiar to the time before the boys knew of his condition. Besides his parents, Dumbledor, Madam Prompery, and the marauders only Lily knew of his secret. No one had told her, she had just simply figured it out and waited until Remus told her himself.

You on the other hand had not figured it out, which was surprising to him given how observant you were. Granted you knew they were hiding something from you, just not what. Which Remus appreciated as he was dreading the day you learned the truth.

Ever since you had began dating, Remus had feared Sirius darkness would cause your breakup. If not that, then him being a werewolf definitely would. He wasn’t ready to lose you, nor was Sirius, they didn’t think they’d ever be ready for that.

“Hey, dove, you still with us?” Remus asked after James and Sirius had called your name multiple times.

“Hmm, sorry.”

“No need to apologise, love.” Sirius kissed the top of your head. “Jamie was just asking who you’re supporting at the game today.”

“More like we want to know who you’re betraying, your boyfriends or your house.” Marlene leaned in making you feel like all eyes were on you.

“Give her a break, McKinnon.” Sirius responded for you though his voice was full of amusement.

“I guess I’m just going have to wear green and red today.” You smiled earning a laugh from the group.

“That sounds perfect.” Remus wrapped his arm around you pulling you into his side.

“Actually, Y/N.” Lily draw your name out to ensure you were listening before continuing. “The girls and I were wondering if you wanted to sit with us for the game. Usually, Mary, Alice, Remus, and I all sit together while Marls, James, Peter and Sirius play.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, dove. We know you always sit with the Rosiers.” Remus said in reference to your usual seating arrangement.

Typically you would sit with Pandora and Evan while the three of you watched Barty and Regulus play. When Slytherin wasn’t playing, the five of you would sit together, though Barty never stayed in one spot for long. Although lately, Regulus was avoiding you. Despite how much you missed your friends and idea of sitting with Pandora and Evan you knew sitting with the Gryffidors might score you some points with your boys.

Qudditch the most notorious sport admired by all in the Wizardry World. House pride created a certain level of rivalry among Hogwarts. The game served as their primary theme for rivalry. Especially between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Red and Green decorated the stands surrounding the pitch. The golden hoops were situated at either end of the pitch.

The excitement from students and teachers could hardly be contained. The sea of Gryffidor students made you stick out like a sore thumb with your green scarf. You had opted for a new look to try Incorapte your support for both houses. Slytherin robes adorned your figure, while a red ribbon tied your hair in a half up hairstyle. You wore a gold bracelet from your mother to honour the other house colours. All in support of your boyfriends. A term you were struggling to adjust to.

For most of the game you zoned out struggling to focus on the players. If someone were to ask you who was willing you’d certainly be unable to answer. Your thoughts clouded your mind leaving little room for anything else.

Quidditch was a rough game, that was no secret. Yet, seeing Sirius practically thrown across the field still earned a wince from you. Remus, though tired, assured you everything would be fine. As if you hadn’t watched a game before, you knew the risks but that didn’t stop you from worrying. Especially since you could tell Regulus was off his game and you weren’t there in the stands to cheer him on like usual. No, you were there to support his brother. It made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it. Granted it could all just be in your head.

“Dove?” Remus’s voice instantly brought you back to the present moment.

Once it did you realised that the game was over. Lily had already left her seat to go check on James, with Mary close behind making a beeline for Marlene. Your eyes wondered to the field before you. The Gryffidor team were celebrating their victory already. James ran to Lily as soon as he spotted her in the crowd. You watched as Marlene lips found her girlfriend’s who giggled in response through the kiss. Sirius and Peter were chatting about something, most likely the game from what you could tell from lip reading.

“Imma go find Sirius, you want to come with?” Remus asked gently, though you could hear how tired he was in his voice.

“I’ll come by for the after party, I think I want to go see my friends for a bit. If that’s alright.” You replied rubbing your hands together to combat the cold.

“S’course love.” Remus kissed your forehead before leaving you to go join your shared boyfriend.

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you began to walk to the Slytherin house stands. Anxiety creeping through your body as you did.

Pandora was the first to notice you, welcoming you with a simple smile. Her twin brother standing in his Qudditch gear next to her with his boyfriend. Barty who was not taking their loss well. Leaving Evan to try calm him down from the methodical ledge he had climbed onto.

“Treasure, thank god you have returned.” Junior ran over to you placing his hands on both your sides. You had missed him, you missed all of them.

“Salvar you’re still in one piece.” Barty sighed dramatically causing Evan to pull him off you gently.

“They’re not that bad.” You stated with a low voice causing Barty to scoff.

“Speak for yourself.”

Your friends hadn’t taken well to your new relationship. Barty didn’t like the fact that your boyfriends happened to be Gryffidor’s but he was still happy for you. As long as they didn’t hog you all the time. Evan had remained silent on the matter but you knew he wasn’t completely fond of it, though he wasn’t treating you any differently. You were still one of his closest friends after all. Pandora, on the other hand, had welcomed your relationship with open arms, happy to see you not pinning anymore.

“You guys will do better next time.” Pandora spoke softy looking to both Barty and Evan.

“S’m only if I have my lucky charm.” Barty said dramatically throwing his arm around you. “Can’t believe you sat with the lions.”

“Where is Regulus?” You asked feeling the absence of your friend. The rosier twins exchanged a look with Barty which told you all you needed to know. Regulus did not want to talk to you.

Most days, you would let it slide. Today, was not most days. You were already feeling insecure and out of place in your relationship. Then there was the fact that your boyfriends and their friends were clearly hiding something from you. Therefore, you did not have the capacity to let one of your closest friends avoid you like the plague. You weren’t going to let all your relationships fall apart, and you knew Regulus wouldn’t talk unless provoked.

Which is exactly what lead you to march down to the Quidditch locker rooms. You peered in through to look for your black haired friend.

Sliver eyes that matched your boyfriend’s met yours. Regulus scoffed upon seeing you and tried to retreat.

“Regulus Arcturus Black.” You use of his full name indicted you were not willing to negotiate here.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/LN.” He responded in the same tone you had used on him.

“You cannot keep avoiding me.”

“I would rather not have this conversation.” Regulus ran a hair through his dark locks avoiding your glaze.

“Too bad, it’s happening.” You held your ground.

Regulus groaned and rubbed his hands roughly across his face a few times before looking at you. You noticed that his eyes had an unfamiliar look to them, he missed you too.

“What possible reason could I have for talking to you.” Regulus cold tone sent shivers down your spine. His body retreated out of the locker room with you hot on his tail. You followed him all the way to the dungeons and into the Slytherin common room.

Students were still out on the pitch so the two of you were alone. The only sound besides your breathing was the roaring fire and sirens from the black lake.

“Let it go, Y/N.” Regulus called out to you as he walked across to allow his body to fall limp on one of the green leather chairs.

“No, I won’t not until you tell me why you refuse to talk to me.”

“Might I kindly request that you abandon this conversation?” Regulus pleaded with you. The way his eyes looked into your soul almost broke your spirt right then and there.

“I cannot oblige your request.” If he was going to use formal cold pureblood tone, then so would you.

“I asked only one thing of you, and you couldn’t grant me that, could you?” Regulus breathed out, standing up from his chair and making steps towards you.

“What are you talking about, Reg?”

Taglist: @maraudersforlife2005 @xlxnq

[starsval]

wonderland

remus lupin x reader

summary: you and remus find wonderland, or, you fall in love, even if it's not perfect.

word count: 7,7k

warnings: remus has a mullet because i said so, kissing, mentions of s*x lol, like, it happened, reader is pureblood so the cruciatus curse ig, punching, remus being mean, reader gets called a b*tch, lower case intended, no use of y/n

a/n: this took forever and i don't even think i like it, but still, thanks to @myriadmoons and @aastonishment for helping me writing this, love u<3

btw idk why i called this wonderland, it was originally called dancing with our hands tied but i didn't end up writing someone that fit, and for some reason there were lyrics of wonderland on the top of the document since i've been writing it so yeah

"how's my favourite girl doing?" sirius talks as he puts an arm over your shoulders, just as james takes the book out of your hands. 

"sirius black and james potter talking to me when we're not at a pureblood party? what's happening?"

"don't be mean, you know we love you" james replies, putting the book behind his back, so you wouldn't be able to get it even if sirius let you go. 

"we realised we rarely talk to you, which is sad because you're one of the only pureblood people we actually like" sirius then lets you go to play with your hair as he talks. 

"so, we wanted to invite you to the party we're throwing tonight, at the gryffindor common room" james says, but he quickly looks behind you and his friend. 

"you invite me to a party, so we can talk?" you ask, taking advantage of james' sudden distraction when regulus walks past to take your book back. 

"yes, we want to get to know you" sirius is the one who talks now, unaware of the reason his friend suddenly stopped talking

"okay, i'll see you there" you tell them, walking away. 

"what? really? was it that easy?" sirius asks, shocked. 

"yes, i'll see you there, bye" 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"they don't know that you always go to the parties?" lily asks as she puts on her earrings, looking on your mirror. 

"i tend to hide from them" you tell them from your bed. 

"why?" she questions, you shrug, unable to give her an answer.

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"so, what's your type?" sirius finds you while you were choosing something to drink. 

"what?" you ask him, accepting the drink he recommends you. 

"what kind of person do you like, men, women, tall, short?"

"tall skinny men with messy mullets, when it looks like they'll break if you breathe too hard on them?" sirius' eyes seem to light up with your answer. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"she's just like you, she likes books and stuff, i swear you'll like her" sirius insists, following remus through the hall, heading to the library. 

"books and stuff? that's all you know about me?"

"i'm telling you i found your soulmate and you care about that?"

"yes."

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

you were in the library, focused on your book when three people sat on your table. you look up to find sirius, james and who you know is called remus, maybe your eyes focus on the last one for a bit when sirius talks. 

"we need help" he says, pulling out a book. 

"what?" you ask, uninterested in anything they have to say. 

"we need help, you're like the smartest person we know" this time james is the one who talks. 

"and why would i help you?" 

"because you're a good person?" you don't change your expression "and we'll buy you chocolate the next time we go to hogsmeade"

"help with what?" this time, the boy that caught your eye talks. 

"we need to learn how to do this charm" he points to the book, and maybe you look at his hand before reading the words he's pointing to. you also notice how sirius and james smile when remus talks. 

"why would you need to know how to turn someone's clothes pink, permanently?" you ask, they all look at each other before looking at you. you sigh "why would i know how to do this?" 

"i'd quite fall in love with you if you did" sirius talks. "but you're smart, you'll be able to learn it" you start packing your things. "is that a yes?"

"what do i win?" you ask, already standing. 

"chocolate" you start to walk away, leaving the book there. "we'll give you alcohol at the next pureblood party" you smile before grabbing the book. 

"i'll tell you as soon as i get it"

they all hear you say goodbye to peter before he sits. 

"why did she talk to you?" james asks. 

"we're friends?" peter explains, getting started with his homework. 

"soooo… do you like her?" sirius asks remus, who just rolls his eyes before getting up. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

the next time he sees you, you're walking to him, who's reading at the library. you put the book with the charm before him, and quickly sit besides him. 

"i know how to do the charm… " you wait for him to introduce himself. 

"remus, remus lupin" he answers, putting his book aside. 

"remus, right" you talk, like you didn't know his name before. 

you explain how to do it, and after he gets the theory right, all there's left to do is practise it. 

"i'll do one of his socks and you'll do the other one" you point at snape, who has glared at you since you've been here. 

"i didn't expect you to be like this" remus says, smiling, before slowly pulling out his wand. 

"what did you expect?" 

"i don't know, sirius and james don't usually talk about you"

"i wonder why" you smile, before quietly charming one of snape's socks, turning it bright pink. "your turn"

remus copies your actions, successfully turning snape's left sock pink. you look at each other, quietly laughing, and quickly pack your things so you can walk out before he notices. 

you walk next to him in the hallway, though neither of you know where you're going. 

"what do you need the charm for?" you ask him. 

"we're pranking someone" he explains. 

"should i be scared?" you question and he chuckles. 

"no, your clothes will be safe"

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

the next time you talk, he's the one who approaches you. 

"can i sit here?" he points at the chair next to you "i want to study but they're being to loud" you nod, and you talk as he sits. 

"why don't you do a silent charm on them?" he chuckles. 

"they'll find a way to be even louder" 

and that's how it starts, neither of you know why, but since then, we you enter the library, you immediately look for each other. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"you're the one who did that research on werewolves aren't you? teachers don't stop talking about how good it is" some guy asks you as he stands in front of you, the table in between you two. 

"yes" he was one of those pureblood guys, who only cared about their status. 

"you didn't talk about them being bad people" you stare at him, trying to find out why he's telling you that. "i just thought you'd like someone to tell you about your mistake"

"it's not a mistake, they aren't bad people" you tell him. 

"well, then you're wrong, they're obviously bad" he rolls his eyes, like it's obvious that he's right. 

"did you just come here to talk shit about werewolves?" you focus on your homework, mentally aiming in case you have to throw something at him. 

"no, i came here to see if you were a respectable pureblood, but let me guess, you fight for elves' rights too?" he seems upset with you, but he doesn't leave, instead, he looks at you like a challenge. 

"what, you want me to join your cause too and fight for arseholes' rights? maybe we should put your face on the banner so they know how one looks" you smile sarcastically at him. 

"what is wrong with you? i just wanted to let you know that werewolves are bad and you're being a bitch" he seems actually upset, his superior grin gone now. 

"oh, so you were looking out for me? what would I do without people minding my business? now just shut up and maybe look into your prejudices instead of my life" you stop looking at him. 

"how can you think that they aren't bad? i thought you were smart" now he seems offended that you aren't like he imagined, but maybe he thinks that he can change you, because he smiles again. 

"sorry to disappoint you. and, something can be dangerous but good at the same time, just because they have claws doesn't mean they'd stab you, but maybe a girl who’s been bothered by you will" you say, as his eyes go to the pen on your hands.

“did you just threaten me?” he has the audacity to look offended as he talks.

“i don’t know, did i? a bitch like me wouldn’t know” you smile, faking innocence.

"you’re fucking crazy” he mutters as he turns around.

when he leaves -not before insulting you again-, neither of you notice a certain tall guy, with scars on his face and a knitted sweater standing around a bookcase, listening to all the conversation.

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

you don’t know how, but james and sirius convinced you to hang out with the marauders, maybe the mention of some boy with honey eyes and a mullet, but still. you find yourself on the gryffindor common room, listening to them as they tell you about their best pranks.

and remus must’ve sensed that you’re cold, because the next thing you know is that hes handing you his sweater.

“what?” you ask him

"you're cold" he shrugs. 

"but, what about you?" you question, not taking the sweater. 

"i'm fine, just put in on love" you obey, thanking him before looking back at james and peter, acting as you're not noticing sirius' smile. 

when you finally get up to go back to your room, while peter, james and sirius are too distracted talking to frank, you take of the sweater and hand it to remus. 

"what?" he asks, frowning. 

"it's yours" 

"you can give it to me other day"

"but i won't need it"

"love, just let me have an excuse to talk to you" he tells you, and you stop for a moment before answering, not believing him. 

"you don't need an excuse to talk to me" he smiles. 

"keep it anyway" 

"if you insist" he kisses your cheek goodbye, and that night you're only thinking about him. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"please just this once" james asks, and it looks like he's actually going to beg you to help them. 

"i don't have time for pranks" you walk away, and the four marauders immediately follow you. 

"you just need to distract him" sirius talks, walking to stand in front of you. 

"and why would i do that?" you ask, going around him. 

"because you appreciate our friendship?" this time is peter who talks, and you actually think about it for a second. 

"i don't-" before you can finish, remus intervenes. 

"love, just this once, okay? then we won't bother you" and you know it's not true, that they will bother you. but every doubt you had disappeared as soon as he talked. so you nod. 

"where is he?" 

and that's how you find yourself talking to binns, asking him about his class, solving questions you never had. 

then you see remus walking towards you, looking so innocent, and you keep nodding at binns, like you're so interested in what he's saying. 

when he turns around due to the sound of an explosion that you definitely had no idea about, remus walks next to you, grabbing your hand, and suddenly you're running down the hallway next to him. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

remus’ face is so close to yours that your noses are practically touching as you giggle.

“why are we hiding?” you ask, a smile not leaving your face and his hand not letting go of yours.

“because, certain friends of ours are bothering me" he closes his eyes, his forehead on yours as he talks. 

"what if they're not bothering me?" you joke, sarcasm in your tone. 

"oh, so you're saying I dragged you into this cupboard?" he pulls away, his hand on his chest as he acts offended. 

"yes, i didn't expect this behaviour from you, lupin" he rolls his eyes at the mention of his last name, as you laugh. 

"then leave" he challenges, but his hand doesn't let go of yours. 

"ok" you say, but you don't move.

when you walk out of the cupboard, both of you hear people talking. 

"do you think they're dating?"

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

you're just peacefully lying on your bed, reading a book remus had lent you when someone opens your door. you assume it's one of your roommates when that someone approaches you, grabs the book from your hands, and turns you so you're on your back. just to lie on top of you. 

"hi" you say, not sure what to do when he puts his head on your chest and closes his eyes. 

"hi love" he replies. and after a while he lifts his head, grabs your hand and puts it on his hair. 

"what are you doing?" you question him. 

"touch my hair" he demands, and you don't, just to mess with him. 

"what if i don't want to?" you smile, and he groans. 

then, when he notices that you're being serious, he puts his head up once again, this time to glare at you. 

he repeats his actions and puts your hand on his hair, and closes his eyes again. 

"don't move"

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"what did you do?" you ask remus as he sits in your bed. 

"they were talking shit" he says as you go to the bathroom to look for the first aid kit you keep in there. 

"you got into a fight because they were talking shit?" you stand in front of him, in between his legs. 

he doesn't answer, instead, he winces when you start cleaning his face. 

"remus?" you insist, waiting for an answer 

"yes?" he acts oblivious, though it doesn't last much, as you start cleaning his face again, you mutter a quiet sorry before talking again. 

"why the fuck did you get into a fight?"

"they were talking sh-" you glare at him. 

"lupin"

"last name basis?" he tries to smile at you, but you turn his face to the side so you can look at the bruise forming on his cheek. 

"yes, answer" he sighs before talking. 

"i told you, they were talking shit" you keep glaring at him until he talks again "they were talking shit about you"

you stop moving for a second, processing the information. 

"you got into a fight because they were talking shit about me?"

"yes" he stares at you, waiting for a reaction. 

"are you fucking stupid?"

"maybe that wasn't the reaction i expected" he mutters to himself. 

"you are actually stupid" you don't talk again, you just focus on cleaning his face, which means he has a lot of time to talk. 

"what did you want me to do? i just couldn't stand there as he was saying how you were a bitch and shit like that" he groans when you don't answer "i warned them, i said that if they didn't stop i'd punch them"

"oh, you warned them, how nice" you reply, sarcastically. 

"don't be mad at me, please" he wraps his arms around your legs, and puts his head on your stomach. 

"what do you want me to do?" you put your hand on his hair. 

"i don't care, just don't be mad at me"

"oh, so i should just congratulate you? thank you so much remus for defending me, should i kiss you to show my gratitude?" 

"you could kiss me, not because of that, but you could" you don't even acknowledge him as you walk to the bathroom to throw away everything you used to clean his face. 

when you come back, he's in front of you, touching your cheek as he talks. 

"you're not gonna say anything?" he asks, as you try your best to not look away from his eyes. 

"about what?" he chuckles, but doesn't move his hand away from your face. 

"about the fact that i said that you could kiss me" you fail your goal, because your eyes immediately go to his lips. and of course, he notices. 

"what do you want me to say?" you ask, rolling your eyes at his smirk. 

"i think the question is what i want you to do"

"you just got into a fight" you remind him. 

"just because you're mad doesn't mean you can't kiss me"

"i know"

and you really know, so you kiss him. and it starts as a sweet kiss, slow, just to prove that it's real. but then one of his hands goes to the back of your neck and the other cups your jaw. 

your hands go to the back of his neck, finding balance when he pulls you closer to him.

you pull away for a second, breathing heavily as you look at each other's eyes. 

"we shouldn't do this" you remind him. 

"i know" he says, slowly walking so you have to walk back. 

"i'm still mad at you" you tell him, sitting in your bed, looking up at him. 

"i got into a fight because of you and you say that?" he smirks, pushing you so you have no choice but to lie down. 

one of his knees rests in between your legs, his hands on both sides of your head. your hands go to the back of his neck again. 

"you wound me" he tells you, before kissing your neck. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

you had plans today, it was friday and you had no classes after lunch, so you were gonna start getting ready and maybe drinking with the girls before going to the party the gryffindor were hosting. 

but those plans got a bit ruined when you got a letter from your family during lunch, which usually meant bad news. 

you don't really remember a lot from the letter, all you know is that you had two choices: marrying barty or getting disowned. 

after reading the letter, all you can do is put it in your pocket and try to stop the tears coming from your eyes. you don't even look at your friends or at the food that remus put on your plate. instead, you think about the words you just read. 

"i have to go" you suddenly get up, grab your things and walk away, not noticing the concerned looks on your friends faces, especially on remus'. 

they all stare at you as you walk out the great hall.

you find an empty hall and sit in one of the windows, finally letting out the tears. you don't long how long you stay like that, but suddenly someone walks next to you. 

"hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay" all you notice are the tears running down your face, and remus' arms around you. as he holds you and tells you that everything is fine. 

once you calm down, he waits a bit to ask

"what happened? do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, and you don't even look at him, not wanting to see the worry in his eyes. 

"no, it's okay" he seems disappointed with your answer, but doesn't stop rubbing your back "thank you" 

"it's nothing" he tries to find something to say, something to comfort you, but before he can even think of anything, you get up. 

"you're going to the party, right?" you look at him, drying your tears. 

"are you gonna go?" he asks, frowning. 

"yes" he seems a bit surprised, because now you're smiling. 

"then yes" you smile even more at his answer. 

"i'll see you there" you give him a quick peck on his cheek before walking away. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

the next time remus sees you, you're dancing, lily and marlene next to you.

he stands away for a bit, not in the mood to dance, but when he sees you're gonna refill your cup for the fifth time since he has been there. he decides to approach you. 

"hi" he says, standing next to you.

"hi remus" you smile at him, drinking from your now full cup. 

"how many of those have you had?" he asks. 

"i don't know, seven, maybe eight? who cares" you tell him, holding his hand and dragging him to the dance floor, but he quickly redirects you to one of the sofas. 

"i do, you're gonna pass out if you keep drinking" he says as he tries to get the cup from your hand, but you quickly move your hand away and frown. 

"i'll be okay"

"no you won't"

"i'm not even that drunk"

"you saw sirius and called him reggie" you smile, remembering the horrified look in sirius' eyes. 

"they look alike" you shrug.

"you should stop drinking"

"i'll be okay" he tries to reply, tries to tell you that maybe you won't, but you get up, and before he can even stand up, you get lost among the people. 

the next time he sees you, you're on the couch, head in your hands as you try to stop the tears from your eyes. 

remus sits next to you. a hand on you back as he leans to see your face. 

"are you drunk?" you nod "do you want to go to sleep" you nod, so he gets up and holds your hand, making your way through the crowd. 

once you reach the hall, he doesn't let go of your hand. he notices that something's wrong, he notices that you haven't complained to sirius about being in a pureblood family, like you do each time you receive a letter from them. he notices that you're trying not to cry. he notices that you're barely holding his hand, maybe it's because you're drunk or you're too sad to. 

and he wants to say something, he wants to help. but he decides to wait until you're in your room. he helps you get your makeup off and change into your pjs. he's folding your clothes while you're sitting on the side of your bed when he hears smalls sobs. 

he immediately sits next to you, drying your tears. 

"it's okay, everything will be alright" he hugs you, mentally cursing when you shake your head. 

"you don't get it" you tell him, in between sobs. 

"then explain it to me" he says, wondering if it's the same thing as what happened at lunch. 

"i can't" you sigh, pulling away from him as you dry your tears. 

"yes you can, i want to help you" his hands go to your face, holding you. 

"you can't-" you insist, putting your hands over his. 

"please let me help"

"remus-"

"i don't care if it's hard, i want to help" he insists, staring at your eyes. 

"let's sleep" he knows better than to insist more, so he just lets you sleep. 

when you wake up, you don't talk, you just walk with him to breakfast, and when you're finished, you walk away, not letting him know where you're going. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"i don't know what's happening in between us, but-" you look away from his eyes "i can't do this"

"what?" he asks, praying that he's dreaming, or that it's a bad joke, praying that you're not breaking up with him, even if you're not together. 

"what did i do? what happened?" he tries to find your gaze. 

"you didn't do anything, i just can't" i have to marry someone else. 

"let me fix it, whatever i did, let me fix it, you can hate me but don't go away" 

"i'll probably leave school as soon as i can" you admit, you don't even know why, you just don't want to disappear without explanations. 

"what? no, you can't leave" he panics, he looks around trying to find someone laughing at him. he doesn't. 

"i'm sorry" you talk, unable to look at his eyes. 

"don't, please, don't apologise" he says, grabbing your hands, in case you want to run away. 

"i'm so sorry" you repeat. 

"you don't have to do that" he insists, because he doesn't want to lose you. 

"i don't want to hurt you" you tell him, thinking about the letter your parents just sent you, thinking about your future, which is already decided, not by the stars, but by your family. 

"then stay, stay here, with me" he pulls your hands, so your bodies are closer. 

"you know i can't" you lament, even though he doesn't know that much. 

"yes you can, you just have to try" he suddenly lets your hands go, taking a step away from you. and you try to get mad at him, but you can't, not when he's looking that hurt, hurt by you. 

"remus-" you try to get him to listen, maybe if he gives you a chance, you'll show the letter to him, you'll explain everything to him. how you have no choice but to listen to your parents. 

"are you even sorry? you don't seem to have tried to stay" you know he doesn't mean it, he knows he doesn't mean it. but it's better that way, it'll be easier if he's mad at you. so you don't answer. you just stare at him.

"you're not gonna answer?" he asks, tears on the corner of both of your eyes. "i thought you liked me" you swear you can feel your heart break as the words leave his mouth. 

"i do-" he cuts you off. 

"then why don't you stay? is it just a game to you? you wanted to play with me?" he keeps talking, he tries to stop, he wants to, but the hurt in his heart makes him keep going. 

"i didn't, remus, it's not that easy" you tell him, begging him to understand. 

"i never said i wanted things to be easy. especially not with you" he fights the urge to walk away, thinking that maybe there's a chance that you'll change your mind. 

"i don't want to hurt you" you repeat, maybe more to remind you than to him. 

"you're already hurting me" 

"you have to understand"

"when you defended werewolves from that guy you already knew i was one didn't you? maybe he was right and you're a bitch after all, did you tell him that just to shag me?" he doesn't even blink as he talks, pretending he's not mad at himself right now, even more than with you. 

"you don't mean that" you say as the tears fall from your eyes. 

"oh, i do" that's what it takes for him to finally walk away, letting the tears out of his eyes. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

you couldn't focus, it was all too much. the pain from the unforgivable curse, the sadness from your own family doing that, the realisation that you could never go back to your house. 

all you could do is try to not pass out as you walk to the potter's mansion. 

once you reach their door, and ring it, you wait. you don't know if it was ten seconds, ten minutes or even ten hours. all you know is that when james opens the door, you practically throw yourself at him, who catches you as he calls for his parents. 

"i'm sorry" you whisper in between sobs. 

"it's okay, you'll be okay, everything's going to be fine" james tries to not show the concern on his voice, he really tries, but everyone must've sense it, because remus, sirius and peter quickly appear, staring at you as effie kneels down next to you. 

when you finally pass out, all you know is that it hurts, everything hurts. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

you wake up with effie folding clothes next to you. 

"oh hi sweetie, how are you feeling?" she immediately sits next to you, touching your forehead to check your temperature. 

"good" you answer, quietly. 

"you have clothes here, you can take a shower and i'll make dinner" she walks to the door as you sit up. 

"effie, thank you so much, you don't have to do this, i'll be okay"

"we'll talk later" she doesn't give you room to talk, instead, she leaves after giving you a smile. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

effie and fleamont sit in front of you as you eat, staring at you and then at each other.

"we want you to stay here" fleamont is the first to talk as soon as you finish eating. 

"what? no, i can't, i'll find somewhere to stay"

"no, you'll stay here, we have your room ready" effie insists. 

"i can't" 

"sweetie, there's no way to stop this now, the faster you accept it the better" fleamont talks as effie gets up and tells you to follow her to show you your room. 

they leave you a moment to see your room before walking in. 

"thank you so much" you say before they hug you, drying your tears before they fall on your face. 

"it's okay honey, you'll be fine" they assure you before walking out of the room. "and, by the way, the boys are sleeping, we'll tell them to come here when they wake up, they're really worried"

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

he thinks it's unfair, remus thinks that it's unfair that you're talking to peter like nothing happened, that you're playing quidditch with james and sirius like you weren't crying in his arms just a few weeks ago. he thinks it's unfair that you haven't even glanced at him. he thinks it's unfair that you look like nothing ever happened, he hates that you're acting like everything it's okay, like you're not hurt by your family, by his words.

he also thinks he's being selfish, by slightly hoping that you're as hurt as him. that you think of him as much as he thinks of you. he hopes that you also have the urge to go to his room in the middle of the night. he hopes that you're as jealous as he is when someone starts flirting with you at the party james organised at his house. 

but he also thinks that none of it it's possible, that you look way too happy to be thinking of him, that if you're planning on getting drunk, you definitely don't want his help. 

he doesn't know if it was between staring at you as you flirted back with that guy, or when he was searching for you while you were nowhere to be found. but he gets drunk.

and suddenly, all the doubts he had about you disappear, because you're next to him, rubbing his back and asking him if he's drunk. and you wouldn't help him if you hated him would you?. 

he just stares at you as you hold his hand and make your way through the crowd, not so kindly pushing people who didn't move. you help him through the barrier james magically applied on the stairs so no one but his friends could walk upstairs. 

when you reach his room, you help him walk to his bed, which is kinda difficult seeing his stumbling tall figure. once he is in the safety of his mattress, you walk to the door, but his voice stops you. 

"i can't sleep with my shirt on" when you turn around, he's smirking. 

"then take it off" you turn your back to him again. 

"i need help" when you turn around, not before rolling your eyes, he's giving you puppy eyes. 

remus lupin. is. giving. you. puppy eyes. 

"you aren't that drunk" you don't even move from the door. 

"yes i am. you're really gonna leave me here, drunk and defenceless?" he lies back on his bed. 

"are you trying to blackmail me?" you frown, leaning your back onto his closed door. 

"is it working?" he asks, hoping it does. 

"no" he sighs, before leaning on his elbows to look at you. 

"c'mon love, just help me take my shirt off" you don't answer, instead, you just get closer to him, and help him sit up, once he is, he doesn't move, he just looks up at you. 

"you're not gonna put your arms up?" you groan, frustrated, when he just smiles at you. 

after a few minutes of work, due to his boycott, you finally take his shirt off, throwing it aside before walking away. 

or that's what you try, because before you can even turn around, his arms are around you. and you don't know how he's so strong, or why you didn't try to fight back more, maybe it was the alcohol. but before you notice it. you're on the bed next to him, and he's hugging you so tight that you have no choice but to fall asleep. 

when you wake up he's still hugging you, luckily not as strong as last night, so you can get up and slowly walk to the door, quietly closing it and making the way to your room. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

remus is almost convinced that it was a dream, he thinks he imagined everything when he wakes up and you're not there, he thinks it was his mind tricking him when you sit next to marlene at breakfast. even though he purposely left the sit next to him free. 

he's basically drowning in his tea when marlene says something that makes him look at you. 

"where were you last night? you left soon" he stares at you, noticing the way your eyes linger at him for a moment before saying that you were tired. and it would be childish for him to admit that it made him happy, that he doesn't even notice the hangover now, that he's smiling so much that even effie asked him about it. 

and it would be even more childish to admit that he's been giving james the idea to throw another party just before holidays end, that he doesn't need to invite anyone, just the group of friends it's okay. and who is james to say no to a party?. 

he spends more time that he wants to admit staring at you. as you talk to lily and mary, as you almost make sirius drop his drink, as you hug james. and especially, as you ignore him. so he does what he knows will make you talk to him, getting drunk. 

it follows the same order as the other night. you approach him, lead him upstairs and help him get ready to bed. 

"why did you leave?" he asks, holding your wrist after you tried to walk to the door. he sees how you think about the answer. and to be honest, he didn't think he was ready to hear it. 

"because that's what a bitch would do" you break free from his grip and walk to the door. he just stays there as you go back downstairs. 

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

the next morning, no one knows why remus looks so miserable, why he's being so grumpy to everyone, except you. why he's putting food on your plate, why he's making everyone put on the movie you want to see. 

they also don't know why you're ignoring him, why you offered the plate to james, why you changed your mind and told marlene to decide what movie to watch. 

but you knew, you knew because you've been listening to him apologise every other minute, you've been listening to him knocking on your door every night. you've been reading his apology letters. 

but that wasn't enough, because just two days before classes start again, he decides that he's had enough, and that he won't leave before giving you a proper apology. so he follows you to the kitchen when everyone is focused on the movie. and he stands on your way to the door so you have no choice but to listen. 

"i didn't mean it, and you know that, you know i'd never think that. and i know it's not an excuse, but it was days before a full moon, and i wanted to hate you, i wanted to hate you for making me love you and then leaving me. and i wanted you to hate me because i wouldn't be able to be around you. and i'm so sorry, i'll do anything to take it back, i need you to understand that i didn't mean it, and that i'm so sorry i ever made you feel bad. there's no day i haven't thought about you, about how much i miss you, about how i ruined everything. so please, give me a second chance, i'll apologise every minute if i have to, i'll do anything for you to forgive me. because i don't think i can stand the thought of what we could've had if i hadn't ruined everything." he takes a deep breath "i'm so so so sorry"

and you know that you shouldn’t, that he’s hurt you as much as you’ve hurt him. but you’re both teenagers, you both make mistakes, and you both miss each other. so you do what everyone would’ve done in this situation, and hug him, breathing him in.

“does that mean you forgive me?” he asks.

“yes, i’m sorry” you close your eyes, your head in his chest.

“you have nothing to apologise for, love”

“yes i do-” he cuts you off by pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“let’s just go to sleep”

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

you don’t know why james drags you from the kitchen, where you were talking with everyone, to your room, with the suitcase half done on the floor. you don’t know why he slams the door. or why he’s staring at you like you told him you forbade quidditch.

but then he talks.

“did you forgive him?”

and you remember the conversation you had with him after spending a few nights here.

“weren’t you two in love?” you’re on his bed, still not used to your new room, you’re both laying on your backs, him throwing his snitch and catching it.

“who?” you ask, staring at the ceiling.

“remus” he says it like it’s obvious, and it actually is.

“i don’t know” you shrug. 

“what happened?” he asks. 

“i ruined everything” you explain. 

“that’s not true” he frowns. 

“how do you know that?” you chuckle. 

“you wouldn’t ruin anything” he says, so sincere. 

“i was supposed to marry barty” the snitch falls and hits his face.

“what?!” he immediately sits up. 

“so i told him i couldn’t do whatever we were doing" 

"and he just accepted it?" he's frowning even more. 

"he was sad at first, then mad, but he stopped talking to me, so it worked" you shrug again, and he gets closer to you. 

"mad?" 

"it's okay"

"i know how remus gets when he gets mad, did he say something to you?" he looks worried, already thinking about punching remus. 

"nothing to bad, the normal when the person you're in love with and it's in love with you dumps you for no reason" 

"what's the normal?" he questions. 

"james, it's okay"

and with that beautiful flashback, you come back to an angry james in front of you. 

"don't dare to move, i'll talk to you later, let me have a chat with remus first" he tries to get out of the room, but you stop him. 

"james wait" 

“stop trying to defend him, and don’t try to walk away, you won’t move until you tell me everything” he stands in front of you, arms crossed. 

"james let me explain" 

"you want to talk? talk, i'm not leaving until i know everything" he sounds determined, and you know that he won't stop until he knows everything. 

"there's nothing to know, just leave it" you insist. 

"what did he say to you?" he takes at step, so he's closer to you. 

"james-"

"what did he say to you?"

"james, stop"

"now, i won't stop until you tell me what the fuck he told you, and why you're together with him after that"

"because it doesn't matter, it's already over"

"it doesn't matter?! you're saying it doesn't fucking matter? after weeks of seeing you miserable, and because of him?" he pinchs the bridge of his nose. "honestly, if you're not going to tell me what he told you, then don't even bother talking"

he tries to walk away, again, but you stand in front of the door. 

"what's the point? i already forgave him, so, what are you going to do, make me leave him?" you question him, praying that he doesn't actually say yes. 

"you don't know what i'm willing to do for you happiness" he tries to walk past you, but you don't move. 

"please don't be mad at me" 

"then tell me what he said to you" his eyes soften, looking at yours. 

"why? what are you going to do about it?" 

"it depends" he avoids your gaze. 

"james."

"maybe punch him" he looks away. 

"james" 

"please tell me what he said" he asks, this time softer. 

and you don't know why, maybe it's the look on his eyes, or the fact that you know he wouldn't let it go until you did. but you say everything to him, from how you approached him, how you were both almost crying, how he walked away. 

and it takes him a moment to react, he's sitting in your bed, and you immediately get up to stand in front of him. 

"james…" he gets up. 

"i need to have a chat with remus" he tries to walk past you, but you don't let him. 

"james."

"what?"

"please, just, stay here with me. you can help me pack" you give him your best puppy eyes until he agrees, sitting on the floor next to you, passing you clothes as you put them in your suitcase.

‧₊˚ 🌕⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

and it all looked perfect. it seemed like james had already forgotten everything by the time dinner is ready. and it seems like he's really happy when he suggests to watch a movie. 

but then something changes. maybe it was remus' hand on your tight, or the fight scene on the movie. but the next thing you know, is that there's a fist right in remus' face. and that fist belongs to james. 

"you said you wouldn't do anything!" you immediately get up, putting yourself in front of remus, while sirius and marlene pull james back. 

"i had to!" he says. 

"james!" you fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

"i'm sorry! but i couldn't help it! i had to do something about it!" he explains. 

"about what?" lily asks, and you stiffen, looking at james with wary eyes. 

"yes, about what?" james asks you, and you glare at him as mary and peter take care of remus' face. 

"about nothing" you immediately say, backing up as they all stare at you. 

and they're complaining about it as soon as you say it, but remus stops them. 

"about me hurting her" no one knows how to react, you just stare at him as he stretches his neck. 

"you fucking hurt her?" lily talks, walking towards him, and it seemed like she had the intention of repeating james' actions. so you step in front of her. 

"it's all forgotten, there's no reason to punch anyone" you stare at james "especially when you promised you wouldn't"

"i'm sorry-" he tries to apologise. 

"it's okay, i deserved it" remus talks. 

"no you didn't?" you tell him, but he just smiles at you. 

"i'm going to sleep"

you all stare at him as he walks upstairs, and when you turn around they're all staring at you. 

"if i forgave him, you can do it too" you say, especially looking at james. "so, i hope you apologise to him, because he deserves it"

when you get to remus' room, he's looking at himself in the mirror. 

"i'm sorry" you sneak in front of him, hugging him as you put your head in his chest. 

"why" he chuckles, hugging you back. 

"what do you mean why, are you stupid?" you questions him. 

"love, it's not your fault" he smiles as you narrow your eyes at him. "i deserved it" 

"shut up" you immediately pull away from him, storming out of the bathroom. 

he grabs your wrist before you can walk out of the room, and as soon as he gets it his arms are around you. 

"don't be mad at me" he pleads, and when you don't answer, his lips go to your cheek. "please" 

when you don't answer he just keeps kissing you. 

"please"

this time is your other cheek. 

"cmon love"

your forehead. 

"just talk to me"

your nose. 

"please"

your lips

"love" 

your neck. 

and you know that he'll start going lower if you don't stop him. and you know that if he does you won't be mad anymore. so you pull away from him. 

"you're stupid, remus lupin" you glare at him "if you ever say that you deserve any hurt ever again i'll be the one punching you instead of james. and i'll also cry" 

"why would you cry?" he genuinely asks, putting one of his hands on your cheek. 

"because you don't deserve anything bad remus. you're literally an angel" 

"don't say that" you frown at him, and he looks away. 

"remus, i mean it"

"i know" he puts his forehead on yours "that's why i don't want you to say it"

"why?"

"because it's gonna make me love you even more"

before you can answer, he's kissing you again, this time for real, when he pulls away, he stares at you. 

"i know everyone already says that we're dating, but can we make it official?" his hands are on your cheeks, and he thinks that he's never been more nervous in his life. 

"i'd love to" this time, you're the one who kisses him, and you stay like that for a while, in each other's arms. before someone knocks on the door. 

when you open, you find james on the other side, with regret in his eyes. 

"can i talk to remus?" you narrow your eyes at him as remus appears behind you. 

"it's alright love" 

you go to the living room with everyone, and before you know it, james and remus are walking in, talking and laughing. 

everyone stares at them as they get closer to the couch. 

"what?" they ask, staring back at you. 

"everything's… fine?" lily asks, and when they both smile and nod, everyone smiles and cheers, a bit exaggerated. 

remus sits next to you, putting and arm around you and kissing you. 

and if before they were dramatic, now it's like their favourite team won the quidditch world cup.

"what?" this time remus and you ask, staring at them. 

"you just kissed?" mary says, not believing it. 

"yeah?" you answer. 

"why" marlene asks, narrowing her eyes. 

"we're dating" remus says, and the night ends between cheers, screams and hugs. 

sirius and james even cry a bit, hugging each other while saying "finally!" "we did it!" 

[lemon-boy-stan]

THE BATTLE OF LIONS AND SNAKES - R.A.B

As the first wizarding war draws near, the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin becomes even more visible. You'd thought that being James's sister and a Slytherin would change things, but it only made things worse. Pairing: Regulus Black x fem!Potter!reader. Genre: fluff, some angst. Warnings: pureblood supremacy, war talk, slightly dark themes? Swearing, Sirius being a dick. YN calls Sirius a cunt.

The Potters and Blacks were, perhaps, two of the most popular wizarding families at Hogwarts; along with the Malfoys, Prewetts and the Notts. Yes, being pureblood had it's privileges, but it was popularity that put James Potter and Sirius Black on the map.

James and Sirius were the kinds of people that no-one disliked. They were good at sports, funny, daring, and over-all good natured people. They might not have the best grades like Remus Lupin or Lily Evans, but they were damn good at making people laugh, and no-one seemed to mind if they lost any house points.

When the Sorting Hat was sorting you into your house, it had mentioned Gryffindor. Out of all the houses, Gryffindor was the house to be in. Gryffindor made stars, and was home to many famous witches and wizards.

James was a leader. He became Prefect in his fifth year and Head Boy in his sixth year, and was the youngest Quidditch player in a hundred years to be made Captain of the Gryffindor team. He was a good friend - always loyal, always listening to the side of everyone's conversations, always making sure everyone was involved. He was a gentleman - when he had his heart set on someone, he knew exactly what to do and how to treat her right (in the later years, of course). Your mother and father were extremely proud of him.

You yourself were somewhat similar, as his younger sister, but you always envied him for finding most things in life easy. James had every opportunity laid out for him. You, however, had to work hard if you wanted something, sometimes twice as hard as the average student; hence why the hat placed you in Slytherin.

Being in Slytherin and being a Potter caused quite an uproar your first year at Hogwarts. Everyone in Slytherin had a bone to pick with James, based on whatever prank he and his friends had done on the house. Because of this, everyone had some kind of opinion on you, except for the first years, who knew nothing better but to be your friend.

You had met your first ever friend on the Hogwarts Express. James had brought you to sit with his friends, the "Marauders", as they liked to call themselves. You'd spent two Christmases with them before coming to Hogwarts, and honestly, they were pretty stuck-up, especially Remus, who was some sort of care-home yob, and glared at you every time you spoke.

Eventually, you left the carriage, telling James you wanted to make some new friends. He didn't mind, and jokingly told you not to make friends with the "wrong sort", although you didn't really know what that meant.

All of the carriages were full of people who looked older than you and scarier. You walked further down the train, wondering why some students were staring at you. You ignored them, looking through all of the carriages. Finally, after quite some time, you came across a carriage that was almost empty.

A small boy was sitting on the left side of the carriage, reading a book about Ancient Runes. You smiled, he looked so peaceful compared to everyone else; and he was your age. You put your hand to the door and knocked. He looked up, frowning.

The small boy put his book down and got up. He opened the door, "what do you want?" His dark eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You smiled apologetically, "I was just looking for a place to sit. My brother and his friends are a bit annoying." The small boy looked you up and down and stepped aside. "You can sit with me."

"My brother and his friends are a bit stuck up, too. I met them on the platform. My name's Regulus, by the way. Regulus Black."

Your eyes widened. This was Regulus Black? The brother that Sirius Black despised so much? Well, he didn't seem quite so decietful and troll-like after all, but perhaps siblings just disagreed with each other. You wondered why he was all by himself.

"I enjoy my own company, normally, but mother said to make friends. You seem like a respectable enough witch... Would you mind telling me your name?" You tried not to giggle at how Regulus spoke. You'd never heard a ten-year-old speak so posh before. You smiled, "YN Potter, nice to meet you."

Regulus's eyes darkened but he shook his head. "You're not bad for a Potter. Let's be friends." Regulus Black held out his hand, and you shook it, sitting down next to him.

The train continued to move through Scotland. "I'm afraid I'll be put in Slytherin," you said after awhile, putting your head in your hands, "all of my family's been in Gryffindor for thousands of years, but the other day dad joked that I was more cunning than bold."

Regulus looked at you, "I think what you did earlier was pretty bold." You scoffed, "what, asking you if I could sit with you?" He grinned and nodded, "yeah. Do you know how many people avoided me just then before you got here? Even in the Slytherin carriage they think I'm some sort of a freak." You frowned, "I don't think you're a freak. You're just a regular kid to me."

Regulus pulled a face, "I'll have you know I'm the second heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, an extremely respectable and non-regular young wizard." You let out a snort of a laugh, "what kind of kid has to be respectable?!" Before covering your mouth. Regulus smiled at you, "the ones who don't snort like that." You giggled.

Regulus started to get more comfortable. "All of my family's been in Slytherin for thousands of years, just like how yours is with Gryffindor. When Sirius was put in Gryffindor two years ago mum went absolutely ballistic. Maybe I might be put in Gryffindor too, but I think I'll probably be in Slytherin... I wish I was brave enough to run away."

You snorted again, "I wish I was brave enough to be in Gryffindor." Regulus laughed loudly. You turned to him, "if I am put in Slytherin, it won't be so bad if I'm with you." And he smiled.

And you were right. With Regulus by your side, you found it easy making friends in first year. Everyone in Slytherin was a pureblood, and was either scared of him (which you thought was truly ridiculous) or they respected him.

As the years went by, it was clear to most people that the two of you were as close as two peas in a pod. You were often seen together so much that on the rare occasions where you weren't together, you were asked where the other one was.

It was in your third year where you realised your feelings for the youngest Black brother was not just those of friendship, but something much stronger. As your crush grew and your Slytherin friends teased you about it, you began to worry and think of what would happen if you were to date Regulus, and what would happen when your big brother and his best friend found out that you were dating the little brother that he despised so.

And in fourth year, as if nudging these events into reality even further, you and Regulus began to date. In fifth year, the two of you became prefects and Quidditch Captains, and it was clear that you were a powerful unstoppable couple. Despite this, however, some people still did not agree with the dynamic of your relationship.

It was during lunch in the middle of your fifth year did the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor really take its poll.

The war was almost in full motion, and it was obvious to anyone with brains that Voldemort did not have good intentions. There had been whispers in the Slytherin Common Room of some older students who had joined Voldemort's side through some kind of ritual.

James and Sirius were convinced that Regulus was one of these people, and as usual, had convinced themselves that they were right.

"What exactly are you trying to say, James?" You snapped. Your older brother put his hands up in surrender. "Don't get mad at me, I'm just the messenger. Padfoot thinks you should reconsider your relationship with Regulus, that's all." Merlin, were you glad that Reg was out in the pitch training. Sometimes his mad Quidditch obsession was a good thing.

You turned to Sirius now, "you think that, do you?" And Sirius shrugged. James jumped in quickly, keen to stop an argument from happening.

"Well you know how Padfoot's family are all very... Traditional," James was picking his words carefully, watching your facial expressions, "and he told me the other day that his folks had been talking about some dark lord for a long time, like, ever since second year, and how they were all going to join him and support him, and Padfoot was just saying-"

"Regulus is bound to join up!" Sirius butted in. James turned to him and sighed. You looked at him. "He means well, but he's easily coeerced into things, and he's always trying to impress mother, and they always brainwash him, I mean, just look at Bella."

You scowled. Sirius's parents may have been horrible people, but that didn't mean everyone else in his family was. Okay, perhaps one or two of his cousins had done some nasty things in the past, and Bellatrix was one of them, but you would always remember her as the girl who cursed some older students for boxing your ears. She'd said any friend of Regulus was a friend of hers and that you could count on her.

"Bella is a perfectly kind and respectable witch. She's really nice, actually." Sirius rolled his eyes at this. "Well, whatever, but don't come crying to me when your boyfriend has suddenly run off to join Voldemort. I'm telling you, all of them are like that. You know, at least ninety percent of Slytherin house are evil!" Sirius threw his arms up and you began to fume.

"But you always forget the main thing, don't you, Black?!" Typical Sirius Black to hate something but to leave an exception. "I'm a Slytherin too! You think we're all just so evil, do you? You think all of us want to join Voldemort? Since Regulus apparently will, maybe I will to PROVE YOU WRONG, you righteous, narcissistic cunt!"

Lily and Marlene gasped but you didn't care. Sirius scoffed even louder. "Oh, that's rich, coming from YN "I don't want to be a Slytherin" Potter! But I suppose after snogging my dear brother everything's fine, is it? Suppose the death eaters will just have to snog you to convince you to join up-"

"CONFRINGO!" The Gryffindors shrieked loudly at the sudden spell. Sirius flew backwards, knocking down the students who were sitting next to him and you knew who it was immeadietly. Regulus was always rather powerful with his magic.

Sirius got up and glared at his younger brother, taking out his wand. Regulus held his chin high, "don't you say a word against my girlfriend." And Sirius scoffed. "Is she really your girlfriend, or is she just someone who you lock lips with in your bed? LEVICORPUS!"

You dove infront of Regulus just before you saw Sirius wave his wand, but forgot to take out your own, and now you were hovering in the air. James let out an enraged roar, getting up. "WHAT THE FUCK, PADFOOT! DID YOU JUST CURSE MY FUCKING SISTER?!" You didn't think you'd ever heard him be so mad before.

Sirius glared at him, "I was trying to get Regulus, but the little weasel doged it just like everything else in his life!" You tried to fight the enchantment, "GO FUCK YOURSELF, BLACK!" kicking at the air. The other students laughed.

"Expelliarmus!" Regulus flicked his wand and Sirius's wand flew out of his hand. "You're just as bad as mother," Regulus hissed, "cursing an innocent person." Sirius rolled his eyes, "oh, I'm as bad as mother? Who's the one still grovelling about her knees and begging for her admiration?! Who's the one who-"

"CAN THE TWO OF YOU JUST SHUT UP AND PUT MY SISTER BACK? FINITE INCANTATUM!" James wove his wand angrily, and you fell back down to the ground. The school had stopped laughing now, and were all just watching intently.

Regulus turned to you, "are you okay?" You dusted yourself off and nodded, "I'm good." You turned to Sirius. "Not that it's any of your business, but Regulus is my boyfriend and I love him. So if you can't deal with that you can just get lost."

James looked the two of you up and down before nodding solemnly. He turned to you, "YN, Regulus, I'm sorry. I didn't see it before, but I do now, and I can tell that you're in love. So, what I'm trying to say is, if you want to be together, I don't have a problem with it anymore." James nodded at Regulus, who still looked a bit taken aback that he was being addressed.

Sirius scowled, "I still do."

This time it was Regulus who rolled his eyes. He then turned to you and grinned, "since you've got such a problem with it, Sirius, watch this." You looked at Regulus in confusion before getting the memo and grinning. Regulus smiled too, grabbing your waist and leaning in, kissing you on the lips. Slytherin house cheered as the others stared in shock.

Sirius scoffed in disbelief, "whatever." And you smiled, kissing Regulus again. James made a sound, "you better remove Regulus from my sister, Padfoot, or you won't have a brother anymore." You giggled softly, threading your fingers through Regulus's dark curls before looking up into his green eyes and pulling away.

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

[dovesdreaming]

Harry Potter masterlist (golden era and marauders) ⟶

Golden era:

“It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live”

Masterlist navigation

Characters:

Harry Potter-

-

Draco malfoy-

-You’re my sunshine: Draco x reader who grew up with pureblood snob parents but grew up to be kind

George Weasley-

-

Luna love good-

-

Blaise zabini-

-

Mattheo riddle-

-Breaking point: Mattheo gets into too many fights and pushes reader over the edge which leads her to end the relationship however, she is still the only person able to get through to him.

-the smallest man who ever lived: coming soon

-fresh out the slammer: coming soon

Theodore nott-

-The softening edge: readers love language is touch but when someone calls Theo weak for it he pushes you away

Marauders era:

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good”

Characters:

Remus lupin-

-Caught between stars: Your Sirius and Regulus’s sister but you’re in love with Remus. Your brothers protectiveness push away the person you love and nearly cause you two to never find each. (4.4k)

-x lactose intolerant reader: coming soon

-reader reveals a secret talent of hers at an event at hogwarts (river dancer): coming soon

-happiness: coming soon

-music boyfriend: coming soon

Sirius black-

-labyrinth: coming soon

-my boy only breaks his favourite toys: coming soon

Barty crouch jr-

-friends to lovers: coming soon

-In the quiet halls: Barty finds you crying in the empty halls. His initial reaction is anger at what caused you to cry but when you look at him with tear rimmed eyes he tries to comfort you.

-rosekiller fanfiction: coming soon

Regulus black-

-

Bellatrix lestrange-

-

Newt scamander-

-A home full of magic: you and newt have settled down into a life full of love, warmth and a dash of magic. You take care of creatures and live a quiet life together.

[fandomwriterstuff]

Slut!

Sirius Black x Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader (Slytherin)

Words: ~3.3k

Heavily inspired by Slut! by Taylor Swift

Seventh year was turning out to be the best yet as far as you were concerned. Sure, you were navigating the landscape of emotionally stunted seventeen year olds that also frequented the Slytherin dungeons and that you called your friends. And you also had your N.E.W.T. exams coming, as well as the inevitable detentions you were sure to rack up with your mischievous friends. And you also had the pressures of your pureblood family, and their expectations of you which were approaching just as fast as your graduation from Hogwarts. 

Alright, so maybe you were looking at a shit show of a year, but you were a girl of many talents. One of those talents happened to be romanticizing everyday things. Your uncharacteristic outlook on life (uncharacteristic for a Slytherin, that is) was what was turning seventh year into the best year. And that was directly related to the two boys you’d attracted with your whimsy, passion, and pretty smile.

Now, you’d dated before. However, you’d never had a friends-with-benefits situation before. And you’d certainly never had that sort of thing with an established couple. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were Gryffindor’s power couple and also the two most attractive boys in Hogwarts. (You were being generous by saying most attractive boys, because you all know that if you’d said people it would have included yourself and one Lily Evans at the top of the list). 

“And that, dear reader,” you wrote in your diary. “Is how I ended up getting invited to a Gryffindor quidditch victory party. A victory which they won against Slytherin.” You were making your last entry before trying to escape the dungeons without Regulus or Barty finding out about it. Both loving in their own ways, they were incredibly nosy when it came to your situationship. They were very protective of you and were already unhappy that the two Gryffindors hadn’t asked you to be theirs yet… Publicly. 

“I do love these victory parties though, I get to dress up for the boys and feel like an absolute goddess when they see me. Though I do wish they would just date me. I’m becoming tired.”

As you touched up your hair and makeup in the mirror before your escape, you wondered what the other Gryffindors thought of the sole Slytherin showing up to their victory fest. (That is, unless Regulus decided to get his shit together and just kiss Potter, then you wouldn’t be alone in there). 

You evaded wandering eyes and snuck out of the common room, wondering whether Remus or Sirius would walk you over. Typically one of them would come find you beforehand and snog you in a closet. You liked the feeling that they couldn’t get enough of you. 

This time it was Remus, sitting on a windowsill at the top of the staircase and holding a lit cigarette between his fingers. Though when he saw you, sheer black tights and impractical shoes peeking out of your Slytherin cloak as you hurried up the stairs, he rubbed the tip of it into the stone and smiled down at you. 

“Hey, dove. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got hiding under that cloak. You know Sirius loves those miniskirts you wear,” voice low in the dim light, you gave him a soft smile. Merlin, he was beautiful in the moonlight coming in through the window. You wished you could have them. Sirius and Remus and you. It was a pipe dream. 

“And you know how much I love when you wear your shirt like this, it’s like you’re trying to entice me,” you murmured, brushing your manicured fingernails against his exposed forearms. He had the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his necktie long gone and hair mussed. You were envious that you weren’t so effortlessly ethereal, but you also felt so lucky you were able to see him like this, touch him like this. You steeled yourself against the encroaching depression that tried to take over when you thought of this… thing ending. Which it surely would. Sirius and Remus were the perfect couple. But you would do anything to make it last, to be theirs, for them to show you off like they did eachother.

Adorned with smoke on my clothes

Lovelorn and nobody knows

Love thorns all over this rose

I’ll pay the price, you won’t

The Gryffindor common room was a raucous place after quidditch games. You were able to slip in unseen, Remus shielding you from prying eyes with his tall and lanky figure as he ushered you up to his shared room. James was likely already downstairs, and Peter always made himself scarce during these things, so you weren’t too shocked to see Sirius shirtless, flicking his wand to dry his freshly cleaned hair. It was always a wreck after quidditch. Somehow the low bun he tied it in always got knotty. 

“Moony, I thought you were coming with my favorite Slytherin?” He teased, and you peeked around Remus’ arm from your spot hidden behind him. “Oh, there you are, princess! I thought he’d lost you along the way,” he smiled as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. “Come on, don’t be shy, let's see the outfit.” He never failed to make you feel pretty, and so you unclasped your cloak and hung it on the edge of his bed before doing a little twirl. Today’s was a pretty little black minidress with a swinging skirt that draped across your thighs in such a way that you had to buy it. You knew they would love it. 

“You’ve no right to be so beautiful,” Remus’ voice from behind you had you blushing. And you’ve no right to woo me like this, like you want to date me, you thought to yourself. You didn’t have time to wallow in your thoughts before he came up from behind you and wrapped his big hands around your hips, thumbs rubbing into your skin and making you forget all the reasons this was a bad idea. Just like every time.

“Maybe not, but she is and we can enjoy the view,” Sirius, shirt still unbuttoned, was approaching you like a lion stalking its prey. But when he was standing chest to chest with you, looking down at you with those pretty eyes, he was nothing but gentle when he reached up to tilt your chin so he could kiss you. He had you like putty in his hands, and as you opened your mouth to let him in, Remus cleared his throat. 

“You two do this every time. They’re going to notice we’re gone,” you could hear the fondness in his voice. 

“I think Rem wants a kiss, princess,” Sirius breathed against your lips and you giggled, turning in their hold to blink up at your taller companion. 

“Is that true, Remmy?” You wondered aloud, smiling up as his sandy hair fell over his forehead. 

“Well I’m never going to turn one down from you,” he smirked before leaning down to press his lips against yours. It was a gentle thing, but when he squeezed his hands where they sat on your waist and pulled you in you gasped, and you were suddenly losing yourself in the taste of him. Smoke and chocolate and his hands were reaching towards your hair when Sirius tutted at him and you broke away.

“Don’t ruin her hair, I’m sure she worked hard on it.”

“I don’t mind,” you said breathily at the same time Remus chuckled with a “Alright, let’s get down there.”

The difference with tonight, which you would have noticed if you weren’t hiding behind Remus on your way in, was that the alcohol hadn’t come yet, and nobody was drunk enough for you to get past them without being noticed. Potter has just come in with some others with their contraband firewhiskey and other beverages, and so when you stepped off the bottom stair, laughing at something Sirius had said, lips kiss-reddened, and heart eyes glowing… Well people noticed. 

You didn’t notice at first, too wrapped up in your two not-boyfriends. But you caught the whispers in the air.

“Isn’t she a Slytherin?”

“What’s she doing here?”

“What’s she doing here with them?”

Now, something you would write later in your diary went along the lines of: “As it turns out, everyone assumed Remus and Sirius were gay and that I was corrupting them.”

But all you could hear in the moment was the muttered “Slut!” from multiple directions.

Now, whimsical and romantic or not, you were a Slytherin and you had generations of pureblood rage instilled in you. You were away from your boys for the first time when you heard it. Uttered in the dim light, drunken words. But then a drunken Gryffindor boy tried to talk to you. 

“So, are you just fucking Lupin? Or Black? Both?” He cocked his head to the side, and your eyes widened in horror before narrowing in anger. You’d pulled your fist back, moments away from knocking his lights out when a strong hand held you back.

“Oh, Remus!” The random boy was too drunk to see how close he’d been to being punched. “Hey, I just wanted to know if she was your girl? Or Sirius’? If not, I’d like a chance to see what’s under that dress,” he smiled and winked salaciously, and you saw red. 

“Let me go,” you gritted out, pulling against the iron grip holding you back. 

The tunnel vision was starting to fade and you were beginning to notice others with their eyes on you, but you were seated in your rage now. 

“Pads, com’ere,” he must have been close by, because Remus hadn’t raised his voice.

“What’s going on over here?” His usually excitable demeanor was mellowed out by the alcohol. However you were red in the face and Remus was quite literally holding you back. 

“McLaggen wants to know whether we’re engaged in a torrid affair with this lovely creature, and if not-”

McLaggen interrupted Remus, clearly confused by the big words. 

“I dunno about all that, just wanted to know if she was with you. Because if not,” he wiggled his eyebrows… or he tried to. But with the alcohol and sweat it just looked messy. You were loosening in Remus’ hold, his strong arms always helping to bring you down from a high. He was like an anchor. 

“She’s with us.” The elder Black brother’s voice was deadly serious, no room for jests, and luckily McLaggen took the hint and fucked off. 

“You need a drink, pretty girl,” Sirius exhaled before turning to grab a new cup. People were beginning to look at you, wrapped up in Remus’ arms, and whisper. You felt the pricking of your tear ducts and you wrinkled your nose up to make it go away, which prompted Remus to gracefully spin you into a corner where he could tower over you and shield you from prying eyes. 

“You alright, dove? Want me to punch that tosser?”

You hadn’t yet unclenched your fists, and the tall boy in front of you used his own scarred hands to pry them open and gently massage your palms where you had little crescent marks embedded. 

“I think she wished you’d let her punch him,” Sirius shouldered his way into your corner, holding three cups of punch in his hands. “It would have been super hot, too.”

“They’re calling me a slut,” you whispered, not one to be easily moved by harsh words, this feeling was new to you. You couldn’t look up at them, still staring at Remus’ hands holding yours.

The two were silent for a moment, probably doing that thing where they looked into eachothers eyes and had quiet conversations. You always assumed it was lovers' telepathy. You were always jealous of that, you wanted it with them. 

“Princess, I don’t care what they say, and I don’t think you should either,” Sirius started, and Remus reached up to tilt your face up to face them. “You’re not a slut. And to be honest, this has been going on long enough,” your mouth dropped open on instinct. Was he about to end your… whatever this was? “We can put the rumors to rest, because we want you to be ours.”

With that, your mouth shut with an audible click as your teeth crashed together. 

“Officially, of course. Because unofficially… we’ve always been yours, darling,” Remus was smiling down at you and you swore he could have been a star in the sky the way he was glowing. 

“You want me?” It came out a little more needy and desperate than you wanted it to, and Sirius cooed at you. 

“Of course, pretty girl. We’re just idiots and didn’t know how to ask. So will you be ours?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded vehemently and used the extra height from your shoes to aid you in reaching up to crash your lips against his. You were mid-kiss when some fucker bumped into Remus who nearly knocked you over. 

“Hey, piss off,” the drunken boy slurred and Sirius pulled away from you (making sure you were upright and unharmed in the process).

“Don’t talk to our girlfriend like that,” the words seemed to come out of his mouth in slow motion and you watched as all the eyes in the vicinity turned to you. And then the whispering started, spreading across the room like a wildfire. 

But if I’m all dressed up

They might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a slut

You know it might be worth it for once

And if I’m gonna be drunk

I might as well be drunk in love

“I’ll take that drink now, Siri,” you breathed, and your boyfriend (your boyfriend!) grinned and passed one over to you before giving another to Remus.

“Cheers,” he exclaimed, and the three of you clinked your cups together. 

What you would later learn (you seemed to be learning all these lessons after the fact) was that once the student body realized that neither Remus or Sirius were gay, it would be hunting season. The only issue was you couldn’t tell who was the prey, you or the boys. 

You weren’t sure if the people sending you withering looks wanted to be you or kill you, but those were somehow better than the saucy winks and up-and-down gazes that made you feel naked. 

Everyone wants him

That was my crime

It all came to a head one Saturday afternoon. You’d been eating lunch with Barty and Regulus out by the Black Lake, enjoying the rare afternoon warmth, a cloudless day. The only way things could get better was if you had your boyfriends there with you. You were excited for a moment when you heard footfalls behind you, but the pace was too quick, the gait unfamiliar. You turned around from your seated position to see two Gryffindor girls you didn’t recognize approaching you, looking rather sour. 

“Salazar, save me,” you sighed, tired of dealing with jealous girls. At your comment, both boys looked around at the two outsiders. Now, typically, having Barty Crouch Jr. and Regulus Black lay their deadly cold glares on you was enough to send you running. But these girls were determined. “Let me handle this,” you muttered before dusting off your skirt and meeting them on your feet.

“What is it?” You cocked your hip, arms crossed, and stared at the two unfamiliar faces.

“We just wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” one started, looking you up and down with a sneer. Not a very convincing one though, you could tell she wasn’t used to squaring up, which meant these were likely girls younger than you.

“Can’t tell why those two chose you though, you’re just a regular boring girl. And a Slytherin at that,” you rolled your eyes at the second girl’s words. 

“What, can’t come up with any better insults? Not going to tell me I’m a slut? That I’m corrupting the school’s favorite golden boys? That I’m too ugly or too dull or too mean for them?” You couldn’t care less about girls like this, but something prompted your two friends to stand and flank you. You weren’t sure what alerted them, but you were glad to have them behind you for what came next. 

“Should have guessed a girl from a family of death eaters would be used to being called names,” one giggled nastily, and you felt your would narrow down to just see them. 

“The boys will leave you once they realize you’re just another follower. Wouldn’t be surprised if you already had a dark mark. Let’s see,” she reached for your arm and before she could touch you, two wands were pointed at her throat. 

“Don’t touch her,” Regulus growled from behind you. 

“You’ll regret it,” Barty followed, gleeful. He loved an excuse to scare people. 

She paled, and her friend scoffed. 

“Typical Slytherins. Let’s get out of here.”

“Run along, and go tell McGonagall that you were harassing another student. I’m sure she’d love to hear that,” you forced out a haughty laugh, and reveled in their nervous frowns. 

You thought it was over, but then you heard one of them mutter: “Of course she has two death eaters doing her dirty work. She doesn’t deserve-” 

You couldn’t hear anything else over the waves crashing in your ears. You were sure Regulus was telling you to let them go, but you couldn’t let them slander your two closest friends like that. 

“Hey!” You were agitated, and pulled the one that was being nasty by the hood of her cloak, effectively spinning her around and throwing her off balance. 

“What are you gonna do? Crucio me?” She laughed, unafraid. 

“No,” you grinned, a shark with blood in the water. “I just came to tell you, you have blood on your collar,” she looked down, confused. As soon as her face came back up to face you, your fist collided with her nose and she went down, blood decorating her pretty white dress shirt. 

“You better keep your fucking mouth shut about things you don’t know about,” you spat down at her as she cried, and you stormed back into the castle. 

You let your sleeves drape over your fingers, hiding your bruised knuckles, as you wandered the halls. You didn’t want to go back to the dungeons yet, but you didn’t want to face your boyfriends. Unluckily for you, they had a magic map that helped them find you. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” you were greeted by Sirius, and you felt a bit of the tension leak out of you as he and Remus steered you towards the Gryffindor common room. 

“Regulus told us something happened but wouldn’t tell us what,” your taller boyfriend said once you found yourselves in their shared room. You pursed your lips and clenched your aching fist, tear ducts stinging as you held back your tears. 

“I punched a girl in the face,” you admitted. You’d talked to the two boys before about how you were afraid of turning out like your parents, violent and cruel and heartless. You never hit anyone before. You stretched out your fingers at the thought, letting your knuckles crack with the effort. 

Soon you were seated on Remus bed, Sirius holding your undamaged hand while Remus tended to the other and you repeated what had happened. 

“Have people been bothering you a lot?” Sirius’ voice was soft and you nodded. 

“They all hate me,” you breathed in deeply, trying not to let it all get to you. 

“Oh, dove. They don’t hate you. They’re just mean-spirited and jealous,” Remus wrapped you up in his strong arms and nestled you under his chin. “If anything else happens, let us know. We’ll deal with it.”

“Preferably before my brother or Junior find out about it. We don’t need any maiming happening,” Sirius joked, and once again the air was alight with love and laughter.

And I break down

Then he's pulling me in

In a world of boys he's a gentleman

Masterlist

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Spoiled Brat

Remus Lupin x Fem!Gaunt!Reader

August Taylor Swift

Masterlist

Summary: When your escapism over the summer turns a bit more real, as you fall in love with a half blood your father would never approve of}

Wc- 3642

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, sexual themes and scenes, cussing, }

A/N- This was an idea I have been toying with for a while, this may become a mini-series if you'd like

Taglist- @otterlockholmes

Part two

If it was one thing your parents stuck into your head when you were younger, it was that you, {Y/N} Gaunt, were better than any other witch in your presence. 

‘The Lost Gaunt’ is what they referred to you as. You, and of course, your parents fed into this idea. People were sure they had died out, either from your family's admittedly embarrassing financial status, or from a few choice family members disgracing your blood line with Muggle blood.

It wasn't a secret, your family's blood soaked history and ideals on muggles of any variety. Your father spoke especially lowly of half bloods, saying they were some of the most loathsome and desperate of them all, with parents who tainted their good family names by giving it to scum. 

Very opinionated, that man.

You were much the same when you were younger. Snappy and spoiled, demanded everything and no one ever fought you on it. Even with your family's position with lack of wealth, when your parents came out of hiding as Voldemort started his horrid flock, your father didn't hesitate to join. There was no lack of support from expected places. Every pureblood with half sense wanted to be in the good graces of the heir of Slytherin, even if she didn't attend the school. Little you was treated like an absolute princess. Even receiving a letter from Durmstrang personally, your father opting for the obvious choice, burning your Hogwarts letter before you even read it. 

It made you an absolute terror when you got to the foreign school. Suddenly, you weren't as special as you were in London. Your name still carried a lot of marit, but so did several other students. You learned to keep your mouth shut, to keep your cards to your chest, and eventually, you unlearned everything your parents taught you. You met half bloods there, stronger than you had ever known witches and wizards to be, making close friends with several other open minded purebloods and friendly half bloods. 

Of course, you still had a family name to uphold. You studied and worked your hardest, eventually making it high enough on a social latter that Gaunt no longer mattered, but {Y/N} did. 

You started your rebellious streak in year 4, when your father asked you if you wanted to return home for the summer. It was the first time he gave you the choice, you refused. Instead, you traveled to Muggle London without his knowing. You went with a few friends, half bloods, they wanted to show you where they grew up. Your father would have your head for this. You thought in amusement as you danced through the market and gawked at all the muggle contraptions. You were sure to them you looked absolutely delirious, but you couldn't care less in the moment.

You wandered down the streets with a few girls who had broken off from the group. When you noticed a record store, your friends waved you off, refusing to join when they knew you'd be in there for hours. A boy who fancied you gifted you a small record player, and since then, you had been collecting muggle records at any opportunity. Thank Merlin your father didn't keep track of your spending.

You walked in with your head held high, you already gave off the impression of someone too good to be there, a force of habit. You walked down the aisle and searched the albums, dismissing people who tried to educate you on what was best, mostly men trying to impress you, you figured. Nothing more charming than being spoken down to. Eventually, you made it to some of the older ones, clearly used and used and used again. A soft yellow album caught your eye from the top shelf. Etta Jones? You thought for a moment. You had never seen it before, but the woman on the cover looked beautiful. 

You got on your toes and began to balance on a shelf, struggling to reach the damned record. You have a huff, ready to give in, before you hear a chuckle behind you. Whipping your head around you nearly spun around completely. Then, you saw him. A boy, he looked to be your age, tanned skin with soft pink scars littering his form, with one large one across his face. He had shaggy sandy blonde hair, almost brown, and the cockiest smirk on his face.

You huffed at him and put your hands on your hips, tilting your head at him. “Not very polite, you know. Watching a lady struggle without even an offer of help.” 

His smirk slowly turned to a dazzling smile. “You want my help? You've been blowing past people who've offered you help this whole time.” He remarked and you scoffed.

“Don't be coy. They weren't exactly being truly helpful. Also, no one here is as,” You gestured to him with both hands. “Vertically gifted as you.” 

He laughed at this and you got another flash of his pearly whites. “That so?”

“I only speak the truth.”

“That I see.”

“So will you?”

“Will I what?”

You scoffed with a scandalized look, gesturing to the album. “Help a damsel in distress?” 

He gave a playful hum and put his hands in his jean pockets, leaning forward a bit in his brown jumper that laid over a mustard yellow button up. “I'm not really the princely type, princess.” He teased and you slowly smirked. “I'm more in line with the monster.” 

“Well, kind monster, would you do your princess the kindness of grabbing her this single?” You hummed and he laughed. “My princess?”

“If you behave.” 

He looked you up and down before he walked over and grabbed the record, looking it over and holding it just out of reach as you tried to snatch it away. “What if I don't?”

You huffed and gave up on trying to swipe it, crossing your arms and biting your cheek. “That's not a very gentlemanly thing to do.”

“I'm not a very gentlemanly person.” He gave you a look that had the alarm bells in your head sounding, but you bit your lip and nodded. “Fine then. What would you like in return, hm?”

“Your name.”

“My name?” You huffed and smiled once more. He nodded with a serious look, but a smile tugged at his lips.

“{Y/N}.” You introduced and held your hand out. “You don't need my last name. You'll never have to call me it.” You remarked and his eyebrows raised in delight. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You mused as he handed you the record. 

“And your name?”

“Remus. Guess I'll skip the last name too. But please, call me Moony.” He remarked and you nodded. 

“Until next time, Moony.”

“Next time, {Y/N}.”

The summer was absolute bliss. You spent it doing all the things your father hated about muggles. Running in fields and jumping in stray bodies of water, going to parties and drinking until you were sick. You kissed muggle boys, went to underground concerts, and even took enchanted pictures for yourself to keep.

Though, you didn't see that record store boy for the rest of the summer. Not from lack of trying, however, going to the store twice a week to try and snag a glimpse of him. Eventually you gave up and went back to your friends.

The next summer, you did see him again. This time, it was a month in, you were out late at a party, and were waiting for the bus to take you to the flat you had bought under a fake muggle name. Well, you say you bought, in reality you had been taking portions of money from your father and pureblood families that wanted your favor, from the start of the school year, saving up enough to be the spoiled girl you were. 

You were standing under a street lamp, leaning against it as you pulled out a packet of cigarettes. You put it to your lips, just as you did, a voice called over to you. “Need a light?”

You turned to face the boy who seemed to sneak up on you in alarm, before you slowly lit up at the sight of him. He seemed puzzled by your expression before recognition covered his features. “Record store princess.”

“Record store monster.” You cheeked and he walked over, leaning down to cover the end of your smoke from the wind, lighting it with a simple flick. You didn't even think about how you didn't hear the usual metallic click of a lighter, instead, a snap. That was how you lit them anyway. 

“Where have you been, pretty boy?” You asked after a long drag, and he watched you breathe the smoke out of your lungs, eyes lingering on your lips. This made you curl them to give him a better view. “Around.”

“Something caught your eye?”

“Someone.” He muttered and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, glancing at the bus station. “I'm heading home, to my flat. Care to make sure your princess gets home safe?” 

He chuckled at the bold offer, rubbing the back of his neck and wetting his lips. There was a pause as he thought about it. “... lead the way.”

That summer was somehow even better than the previous. He spent the night with you, that night, then every single other night. He came and never dreamed of leaving, only gone a handful of days for a few hours at a time for his summer job.

There was this amazing peace, waking up, laying in your stomach, hugging your pillows in your plush massive mess of blankets and pillows, with him. Most of the boys you brought back would be gone in the morning, you preferred it that way, but when you woke up to his arm around your bare back and his nose in the nape of your bruised and bite ridden neck, you couldn't dream of another outcome.

He joked, the second he saw the large canopy bed, about you letting monsters into your private quarters. He seemed to not think so highly of himself, but with every part of your skin he discovered, with every touch and sound he drew from you, he seemed to grow more confident in your situationship. It was dangerous, you knew it, this muggle boy had you wrapped around his finger. Judging by the way he looked at you when you would fall into the clouds of euphoria, he met the same fate.

You had never felt so content, going out and partying, coming home before he did, and spending your nights and afternoons together. With the odd exceptions of a few days out of the months, he was glued to you. Your friends teased you, but for once, you couldn't find it in yourself to be embarrassed. When school came, you had never felt so crushed. You spent the day before lingering in each other's presence without a word. The silence was enough. 

When he brought you to bed, and your skin was pressed to his, his nose to your temple as he whispered sweet words of encouragement and pure infatuation, you were wreathing and gasping in short spouts, you muttered something that drew his rough movements to a stop. You hadn't even realized it, and he noticed how your eyes squished together and you whined with a huff. Fluttering open your eyes, staring up at his knee weakening hazels. He stared at you in silence and you slowly moved to sit up. It clicked to him, you hadn't even realized what you said. You'd never know that those three little words utterly destroyed him. Knowing that tomorrow he would be away from you again. He knew it would be hell.

He huffed and slowly pulled back. He began slowly, taking you in as if he was trying to commit you to memory. Every curve and blemish, every bit of scarred flesh he devoured with an open mouth kiss. You were lost once more to your own ecstasy. 

He wanted to say it back so horribly. 

He wanted you to know he loved you too.

~~~

You spent all of your sixth year waiting for summer, but when it came you dreaded it. Your father told you that you were to move back to London and resume your normal life in preparation for finding you a suitor.

He had promised your mother that he would wait until you were at least 20 to start, but her passing this year it seems he changed his mind. So you returned to business as usual, being enrolled in Hogwarts for your last year of schooling, and being undertaken by the Black’s matriarch, Walaburga, to learn how to be a pureblood witch worth marrying.

Every day she would come to the Gaunt manor, quiz and train you on behaviors and etiquette. You hated those meetings, she was needlessly cruel and fake nice, to the point it was painful for you to watch her try and flatter and build your fathers ego. It made you sick. Soon, but not soon enough, the summer was over and at least you would be at Hogwarts and away from that sour faced woman.

~~

Remus had gone to your flat that summer, he stayed there for a week before he realized you weren't coming home. He hated it. He hated how you didn't tell him where you were, where you were going. There was this silent agreement between the both of you, You never told him where you would be and he never asked, Never exchanged much about your current personal lives, just the past. So if someone was to ask him where you were, he wouldn't have a clue.  You promised him you'd see each other next summer, and that was enough. 

At first his bitterness was winning, he wanted to believe you left without a word because you wanted nothing more than what you were that summer. Deep down, however, he knew. He knew by the way you looked at him in the morning, how you would pull him into the middle of the room in your socks and his shirt, like it was a dress on you, twirling around and slow dancing to that record he got you the first time you met. You always got what you wanted, and Remus knew he was what you wanted. When he left, he set a paper folded up between the door and the wall, a simple but desperate note. He needed you.

So when he got back to Hogwarts, he was a wreck. His friends noticed immediately. When he sat on the train, and looked out the window instead of shoving his nose in a book or teasing the others together.

“Moony, you good man?” James spoke up first after the three shared awkward looks. 

“Yeah dude, you look like a kicked puppy. Or James when Lily isn't looking at him.” Sirius tried to joke, looking through his suitcase before he paused and his eyes widened.

Remus was suddenly filled with dread. “Don't-”

“Let me guess, the cool girl you met last summer didn't show up this time? Told you, muggle girls her age are crazy.” Sirius laughed, not looking up, only to get jabbed harshly in his side with James’ elbow. Sirius hissed and held his side, looking at James with a glare before James flicked his eyes to Remus.

Sirius looked over and saw just how broken up Remus seemed to be about it. He sighed and gave him a pained sympathetic look. Watching as Peter took out a chocolate bar and handed it over to Remus. He muttered a thank you and took it. Sirius sighed and shook his head. “Look, I'm sorry dude. I don't mean it.”

“It's fine.” Remus answered quickly. “I was surprised she even gave me the time of day. I guess I always have that summer. I'll be over it in time, I'm sure she isn't missing me as much, as I'm moping over her, maybe that will help me get over it.”

He tried to believe that. He really did. His words were coming out low, he tried to sound wise but he truly sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. She was all he could think about. From the train, to the carriages, to the Great Hall. Lily saw him and gave him a pout, he had written to her over the summer about what had happened. He wanted her perspective about what had happened, where he could have gone wrong, and out of the thirty he sent her she responded in kind to all of them. She walked up to him, straight past James which left the tall boy to theatrics. 

“Sirius did she just-” James gasped and clenched his chest.

“She did, James, she did.” Sirius walked up behind him with a smirk.

“Does she love me anymore?” He turned to Sirius and the shorter boy snickered.

“I don't think so, Jamie. I'll always love you, though.” Sirius indulged his theatrics and caught James (totally not with a struggle, totally smooth, Sirius is very strong) and James gasped. “You will, won't you, pads?”

“Always, my love.” Sirius declared his affections and James fanned his face like a swooning Victorian debutante. Lily rolled her eyes so hard she swore they would fall from her face. 

She turned back to Remus who gave her a painful smile. “I left her a note like you suggested.”

“Anything?”

“Nothing.” Remus sighed and she nodded carefully. 

“I'm sure there is more to it, Remus. Don't let it consume you.” Lily tried to reassure him and he sighed again, making James and Sirius catch up as they sat down. 

“Yeah, there are a million girls in the world!” Sirius tried to cheer him up and both Lily and James winced at that.

“None of them are like her.” Remus sighed and Sirius gave an owl-like look and then gave a breath of shock. “... Damn Remus, that much, huh?”

He groaned and hit his head on the table. “I just want to sleep.”

“We could always ditch the sorting ceremony.” Lily tried to nudge him, he seemed to smile at her a bit at the offer. 

“Yeah, but then you'll miss a seventh year being sorted.” Peter piped up and the four of them snapped over to look at him. 

“What? Seventh?” She asked as she looked up at the kids in front of the hall, before she bit her tongue. “Right.. that Gaunt girl every Slytherin is losing their mind over?” 

Sirius choked on his pumpkin juice before he quickly cleared his throat as James patted his back. “Woah mate!”

“Her! My mom was tutoring her all summer. Regulus told me. That girl, trying to be the perfect bride or some shit? Just another spoiled pureblood.” Sirius huffed and Lily gave a faint nod. “I hate to agree, but apparently she's the worst.”

“Of course, she's the Slytherin heir.” Sirius huffed. “Apparently she went to Dumstrung, and you know how awful they are.”

“Ah.” Lily mumbled and her eyes landed on you past the crowd, nudging Remus. “There she is. Oh Merlin, spoiled and pretty? Dangerous combination.”

Remus sighed and looked over as you sat on the chair. His entire body froze. “Ahh! {Y/N} Gaunt! Slytherin!” 

The hat didn't hesitate. You had a calm blank expression you were tutored on all summer. Looking across the students, almost bored. You stood up and dusted off your robes, before you froze up at the sound of your name being shouted across the hall.

Remus didn't think. He saw you and shot up from his seat. Lily looked at him, startled, looking between the two before her eyes widened at the name. Oh Merlin. 

Sirius was bewildered, James was stunned, and Peter hid his face away from the crowds of students who turned to look at Remus. He got a variety of different looks from everyone, but there was a running theme. Who do you think you are? Talking to Gaunt.

“{Y/N}.” He called again, firmer. You looked like a deer in headlights. Staring at him in a stunned silence before one of the girls you met on the train tugged at your sleeve. You glanced at her and by the time you looked back, Remus was rushing across the hall to you. No no no no no.

“Fuck.” You hissed and snatched your sleeve from her. You watched as he closed in on you. You felt every hair on your neck stand up. “Fuck fuck.” You whispered.

You panicked. And you ran. He was stunned and froze on the spot. You ran straight out of the hall. Remus cursed and turned to his friends, then to the professors. Lily tried to stand and bring him back to sit down, but as if he was a wild animal, the movement gave him a rush of adrenaline. What did he do? What did this absolute stupid and love sick fool do? 

He ran after you. The entire hall was silent, even the professors stunned before his head of house yelled at him to sit down. He ignored them, turning the corner out of the hall and dashing down the hall he saw you run down.

The hall was quiet for a moment or two, before Lily spoke up. “I'll make it up to you, Professors!” She shouted back before she ran after the two. 

“Me too!” James shouted and followed after her. 

“I will not!” Sirius laughed and ran after them, Peter looking at the shouting professor before she made eye contact with him. Peter slowly sat up and she gave him a warning glance, before he quickly scrambled after his friends. 

McGonagall could only sigh as Dumbledore stifled a laugh into his sleeve.

[ellecdc]

HIII, I wanted to know if I could request a poly marauders x festy slytherin reader.Something of how they started or whatever you have inspiration for.I would love another part of that, if you feel up to it. Hope you are taking care of yourself <3

feisty/slytherin reader x poly!marauders is actually my favourite thing to write (followed closely by any ship with whimsical reader) so I was more than happy to whip this up for you! Thanks for requesting! 🫶

poly!marauders x feisty, fem, Slytherin!reader

p1 // p2 // p3

CW: werewolf prejudice, making fun of possible birth defects due to Pureblood's being terribly inbred, swearing

Remus felt that generally, he was a very understanding person. And not just in a compassionate way, but also in a sense that he just understands a lot of things.

He understands Sirius’ need to defy his family whilst simultaneously looking after his brother as if his life depended on it.

He understands James’ need to make sure everyone around him feels as loved as humanly possible, even if it’s at his own expense. 

He understands that Gryffindor’s hate Slytherin’s, but he also understands that not all Slytherin’s are horrible, prejudiced racists.

He understands everyone makes fun of Hufflepuffs for being soft and emotional, but he also understands that Hufflepuffs can be some of the most heartless, ruthless friends you can have.

What Remus has had a hard time understanding, however, was his boyfriends’ sudden interest in you.

Remus could admit that you were quite attractive, but you were also sort of…terrifying?

“What have you boys done?” Lily murmured in quiet horror (quiet awe if you asked James).

“We pranked Slytherin!” Sirius said jovially, as if Lily had somehow missed that key piece of information. 

“I can see that, Sirius.” She said like one might speak to a small child who was quite dumb. “But on portrait day?”

Sirius smiled smugly as he watched Slytherin’s enter the Great Hall for their school portraits. As they passed through the door, they were unknowingly walking under a charmed mistletoe (which was very difficult to find this time of year, thanks James very much) which turned their green and silver robes and ties to a beautiful red and gold. 

The best part is some students still hadn’t noticed yet, and another amazing part was that those who had noticed couldn’t figure out how to turn it back.

“Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, Mr. Pettigrew, and Mr. Lupin. I suppose the four of you have no idea who may be behind this prank?” Professor McGonagall challenged as she looked down her nose at them sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Sirius smirked as he responded “Why, not a clue Minnie. But I’ll keep my eye out and let you know if I see any mischief makers.”

McGonagall let out a long suffering sigh as she took five points from Gryffindor for improper address of a professor. 

“You rotten dugbogs.” Remus heard you screech before he saw you. He had the good sense to cringe as you stormed up to their table whilst Sirius and James grinned enthusiastically. 

“Why hello Y/N, my beautiful angel.” James greeted as Sirius let out a sultry “Don’t you just look smashing in red.” Accompanied by a wink.

“I don’t know what you sods have done, and quite frankly, I don’t care about the rest of them; but you will fix this.” You spat angrily gesturing to your faux Gryffindor uniform.

“But that would be such a crime, dollface.” Sirius lamented.

“You can’t expect us to mess with perfection.” James added.

You shot your hand out and grabbed James’ collar, pulling his face to yours until your noses were nearly touching. 

“I swear to Salazar himself, Potter, if you do not change my robes back, I will cut your dick off and charm it to your forehead so you walk around looking like a limp-dick unicorn. Change. It. Back.”

Your voice was low and threatening, and Peter actually gulped as he hid behind Remus. But looking at James’ face pressed up to yours, you would have thought you had just serenaded him with the greatest love song known to man.

“You have such beautiful eyes.” He murmured in awe. Remus was certain he could see steam forming behind said beautiful eyes, but before it could shoot out of your ears, Sirius came to your rescue.

“Very right, Prongs. She does have beautiful eyes. Unfortunately, I believe her usual green does compliment them better than the red.” Sirius said lasciviously as he cast the counter charm to return your robes to their rightful colour.

You looked down at your form before looking back at the boys skeptically. You seemed only then to realize you were still holding onto James’ collar like a vice and dropped it. Remus almost chuckled at the look of loss that crossed James’ face.

“Right.” You said and cleared your throat, backing away from them as if you weren't fully trusting what just happened. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ head actually reared back in surprise at your thanks and James beamed.

“Anytime angel, truly.” 

James’ pet name seemed to snap you out of whatever trance you’d been in as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Terribly sorry, my love.” He relented.

You groaned in exasperation and carried on towards the Slytherin table.

“Isn’t she lovely?” James whispered in awe, eyes still glued to your form as you bodily shoved Evan Rosier out of what Remus could only assume you had dubbed as your seat at the Slytherin table and sat down. 

“Try bloody terrifying.” Peter shivered in horror as he finally extricated himself from behind Remus. 

“Oi! Don’t talk about our future missus that way, Wormy.” Sirius squawked and swatted at the poor sod with his copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Is he wrong, though?” Remus asked as he let out his own breath of relief.

“Don ‘t worry moons,” James murmured into Remus’ cheek as he pressed his nose into the werewolf’s hair line. “She’ll win you over soon.”

Remus wasn’t so sure.

You were the only Slytherin photographed in proper uniform that day. 

A few weeks later found Remus sitting horrifyingly uncomfortable in Defense Against the Dark Arts as they moved on to the unit featuring Werewolves.

James sat on his right, and though the shaking of his knee under the table gave away his nerves, he spent the entire class rubbing soothing circles along the back of Remus’ hand with his thumb.

Sirius, sitting on Remus’ left, was incredibly stiff and clearly poised to fight if given the chance which did nothing to ease Remus’ discomfort. It also didn’t help that they shared this period with the 6th and 7th year Slytherin’s.

He just wanted this day to be over.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Mulciber sneered, interrupting the professor as they discussed elements of the Wolfsbane potion. 

“What is your question, Mr. Mulciber?” The professor drawled out in a bored tone.

“Why bother discussing werewolves? The lot of them should be culled anyway; euthanize them on site for all I care.” He spat, earning snickers from Avery, Goyle, and Snape. 

Sirius sucked in a breath in preparation of a verbal (and possibly physical, should he be so lucky) spar when Remus dug his nails into Sirius’ thigh. “Please, Pads.” He begged quietly; voice taught with emotions.

Sirius let out a pained sigh and leaned back further into his chair.

“Funny, Mulciber.” A bored tone commented, “I was just thinking the same about you and your lot.”

Remus, James, and Sirius all turned to see the majority of the eyes in the room already on you, though you never bothered lifting your head from your textbook.

“Care to repeat that, L/N?” Mulciber sneered, sitting up in his chair as if ready to lunge at you if necessary.

You lifted your bored gaze from your book and stared at him head on. “Do I need to repeat myself, Mulciber? Mummy and daddy kept it too close in the family tree, huh?” You murmured in faux sympathy. “I was just thinking, most of the Sacred Twenty-Eight ought to be culled. That would save the wizarding world a whole lot of trouble.”

“How dare you compare me to some filthy half-breed. My family is royalty compared to those disgusting creatures.” Avery shouted.

“The only one acting like a disgusting creature here is the likes of you tossers.” You shouted back.

“Alright.” The professor tried (not very hard, albeit) to quell the quickly spiralling discussion.

“I could hardly look at myself in a mirror if I’d been tainted with a curse like lycanthropy.” Snape sneered, pointedly facing the Marauders across the room. Sirius burned with shame and protectiveness, being the reason Snape knew Remus’ secret and the overwhelming need to defend his lover. Remus took that moment to dig his nails into Sirius' thigh again, pinning him to his seat.

“Are you sure, Snape? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather live a life with lycanthropy than have to look at that mug of yours in the mirror every day.” You drawled.

“You insolent little bitch.”

“Hey!” James finally shouted from across the room, far more stern than Remus can ever remember seeing the boy. But you carried on, completely undeterred. 

“I’d bet ten thousand galleons that not one werewolf ever asked to be a werewolf, yet you wake up each and every morning actively choosing to be the ugliest, most hateful, vile, disgusting beasts known to mankind. That is what is despicable. That is what should be euthanized on site.” Your voice grew louder and louder with each word until you were standing behind your desk and punctuating each word with a slam of your fist against the table in front of you. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” The professor finally called; tone booming across the lecture hall intoning no nonsense. 

“Mr. Mulciber, Mr. Snape, and Miss. L/N. Detention with me this evening.”

The Slytherin boys all scoffed and cursed under their breath whilst you offered a bored shrug of your shoulders, returning to your textbook as though this was just a run of the mill day for you.

The boys had been absolutely right; you just won over the affections of one Remus John Lupin.  

[andreafmn]

You'll Feel Better | Remus Lupin Oneshot

Word Count: 3.8K Requested by @blackloveangel13: "Remus Lupin" Paring: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Summary: It had always been a running joke between the Marauders that Remus always had chocolate on him. But (Y/N) didn't know how it had started. After James, in a cruel attempt at a hurtful joke, reveals the reason to (Y/N) she can't help but make it her mission to change Remus' mind about the sweet treat.

A/N:  the request didn't have any specifications, so I ran with a little idea I had been playing around with. I've always found the fandom headcanon around Remus eating chocolate to kill the wolf inside him. To calm that, I decided to put an angsty with a happy ending spin to it. Hope you enjoy! 💖💖 Also, I went with a fem!reader becuase the profile of the requester had the pronouns she/her 😊

The thing about rumors is that sometimes they are true. But the worst thing is when that rumor is spread amongst your own friends about the person you love the most. 

The Marauders all knew about Remus’ lycanthropy. How could they not? He had trusted them with his deepest secrets, just like they had done with theirs. Hell, they had learned how to be Animagi for him.

But no amount of closeness could ever make the teasing die between them, even when it was borderline cruel. Especially when it came to James Potter. Growing up, he had been coddled enough that sometimes, he did not know where the limits lay. Everyone knew that he would never intentionally hurt his friends. Still, sometimes, his words and jokes cut too deeply. 

And (Y/N) could take it most of the time. She was strong enough to face off with him. It was only when it came to Remus Lupin that she found her resolution unable to withstand his jabs. She would grow red with anger whenever James joked about Remus’ careful nature, how he allowed things to simply happen to him. He called him shy and awkward, sometimes scratching the line of coward. And it took everything in her not to explode at him every time. If Remus was there, he could keep her centered. But she would tear James a new one on the rare occasion that he wasn’t. 

(Y/N) knew the side of Remus that their friends seemed to forget. She knew he shielded the witty, calculated, and intelligent side from the rest. It was what had made her fall for him. At first, she believed she simply had an affinity for the Lupin boy, that they had a connection she did not have with the rest of the Marauders. Yet, as time went on, she discovered that the sentiments she felt toward the boy were far stronger than those of friendship. They were emotions she could never tell him about, not without losing his friendship, and that was something (Y/N) would never do. 

It had been a day like any other when (Y/N) had heard the rumor for the first time. It was spilling out of James’ mouth as if it were nothing but a joke. And maybe to him, it was. Peter and Sirius seemed to think so as they laughed at the pureblood’s words. 

“Where’s Remus right now?” the raven-haired boy had asked as he sat on an armchair in the Gryffindor common room. He propped his feet on the armrest, dug into a box of Every Flavour Jelly Beans, and popped one into his mouth. “Ugh, vomit!” 

“I think he went to the kitchens to ask for some chocolate,” Sirius shrugged. “Full moon’s tomorrow, and you know how he gets around those days.” 

“Yeah,” Peter snickered. “His sweet tooth gets activated to no avail. One day, he’ll give himself a cavity.” 

“Oh, lay off him, guys,” (Y/N) said, crossing her arms over her chest. Sometimes, she hated being the only girl they had accepted into their little group. She wondered if it was easier to be with them if she had been on the outside looking in –like Lily Evans, maybe Theresa Berlitz, or even Sasha Monnet. The latter she envied the most. The girl that held all of Remus’ attention, and she didn’t even care for it. “You know it’s hard for him to regulate his system after such a brutal transformation.” 

“Oh, there goes the pup again. Defending her little boyfriend,” Potter guffawed. “He’s old enough to fight his own battles, (Y/N). If you’re not gonna tell him how you feel, let him grow up on his own.” 

“Shove it, Potter. As if you didn’t need my help to get Lily to even look your way,” she spat back. “He’s our friend. I’m defending him against you when he’s not here to do it for himself. I know you have one, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a dick.” 

The other two boys tried their hardest to hide their laughter, but their red faces instantly gave them away. And before they could stop it, they barked out their chuckles. (Y/N) saw how that made James’ face shift. His cocky grin was instantly replaced with an annoyed scowl. But he was never one to stay down for long. He always had something up his sleeve. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time defending him, (Y/N). Maybe you should spend more time saving him from himself.” 

She felt her chest squeeze at his words. Not knowing what they meant made her spiral, going down a thought storm she did not want to face. “What are you mumbling about, Potter?” 

“Don’t you know why he eats so much chocolate?” James answered, a smug look on his face. “I thought you two told each other everything. But I guess he didn’t want you mommy-ing him about it.”

“James,” Sirius warned, seeing as tears pooled on the corners of the girl’s eyes. “Don’t.” 

But the boy simply raised his hand and stared deeply into the witch’s eyes. “Darling, (Y/N). I thought you were smarter than that,” he chuckled mockingly. “You know how toxic chocolate is to canines, right? The poor boy eats his weight in chocolate to try and kill the wolf inside.” 

The words sent a pang to her heart. If they were true, it meant that Remus hated that part of him so much that he would have rather eat himself sick with sweets than accept it. The thought made her stomach churn, but it wasn’t as unbearable as the red-hot anger taking over her. She wanted to lunge at James, beat him bloody until they pried her nails off his body. She would have done it if it had not been for Peter’s hand on her arm. 

“You truly are something else, Potter. He is your friend,” she spat, her tone poignant and enraged. “He’s trusted us with his deepest secret. Trusted that we are here to help him navigate it rather than beat him down over it. And you say those words as if they’re something to laugh at. You can truly be a despicable person, James.” 

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). Stop being so dramatic,” he laughed. “It won’t actually do anything to him. It’s just chocolate. It’s not like I’m telling you he ingested a death potion.” 

“Sod off, Potter,” she responded. “It’s honestly becoming that the first bean you ate was vomit. It seems that’s the only thing you can spew from your mouth sometimes.”

She left her friends with a surprised look on their faces and left for the girls’ dormitories. There was no point in waiting up for Remus to return. He most likely would have returned long after they were meant to be in their beds, and she was too exhausted to face him. 

(Y/N) cried herself to sleep that night, thinking of how much pain Remus had to endure. Not only was he fighting a physical battle, but every day, he fought a mental one as well, and there was nothing she could do. Well, not yet. 

The next day, (Y/N) avoided her friends at all costs. She knew Remus would be excused from most of his classes as he prepared for the long night ahead, and the last thing she wanted was to face James. Even if he seemed to sport an apologetic frown on his face during breakfast. She wanted him to feel sorry. She wanted him to ruminate on the words he had spouted about one of his best friends. She wanted him to never again speak of him –or any of them for that matter–in that way. 

Sirius and Peter were not safe either. Even in their Potions and DADA classes, where they sat either next to or near each other, she acted as though they weren’t even there. They had known that James had said that before. Their faces had told her as much. They hadn’t been surprised when the sound escaped Potter’s mouth. They simply didn’t want her to hear it. In her eyes, they were just as bad. 

As the day passed, her anger had started to dwindle. Mostly because she felt lonely. Her only solace would have been Remus, and she knew she could not be with him. Not until the night had fully passed. She couldn’t even find solace in the rest of her friends. But instead of dwelling in her sadness, she locked herself in the library to concoct a plan. Nothing fueled her more than making sure that Remus Lupin was okay, and she would make sure he was. 

That night felt endless. 

(Y/N) spent hours staring at the enchanted ceiling she had created inside the secret passageway in Gregory the Smarmy’s corridor, watching as the moon moved slowly. It was the place Remus always went to after a transformation, too tired to head back to the Gryffindor common room and face his friends. Sometimes, he just needed some time to himself. 

She clutched the Marauder’s Map tightly in her hands, thanking Merlin that Sirius had handed it over to her without any questions. Once the moon had disappeared in her enchantment, she looked for Moony’s name and watched as it inched closer and closer. And before she knew it, the exhausted boy stood before her. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed with a relaxed smile on his face. He joined her side, sliding down the stone wall until he hit the hard floor. “What are you doing here? You should still be sleeping.” 

“I’ve brought you something,” she said. She pulled a cardboard box out of her satchel and handed it to him. “I made you some peanut butter-chocolate cookies, and some chocolate truffles.” 

“You didn’t have to do that, pup. A chocolate bar or two normally does the job,” he responded, looking at the treats in his hand. At first, he didn’t notice it, but once he turned, it was unmistakable. Her cheeks were stained with old tears as new ones fell on top, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Oh, (Y/N). What’s wrong?”

Disregarding his question, she brushed back a strand of hair that was covering his forehead, revealing a streak of blood falling from a deep slash. “You’re bleeding, Remus,” she said softly, pulling out the first aid kit she always kept on her. “Let me clean that up.” 

“There’s spells for that, pup. You don’t have to go through the trouble.” 

“Hush now,” she sniffled. “Let me work.” 

Her hands were gentle against his skin, working swiftly and gently, making sure not to disturb the wound any further. It wasn’t deep enough to require immediate medical attention, but deep enough that it would scar. She worked until not a drop of blood was left on his face and covered it with a bandage. 

“Eat,” she smiled. “You’ll feel better.” 

“Then will you tell me what’s wrong?” Remus offered, his brown eyes pleading for an answer. “I don’t like to see you this upset.”

“Oh, nothing’s the matter,” she smiled weakly. “Just eat. It’ll make me feel better.” 

With a lopsided grin, he took a bite of a cookie, closing his eyes as he savored the combination of flavors. A moan of delight left his throat, and he rested his head against her shoulder as he enjoyed the entirety of the bite. “Definitely better than a chocolate bar,” he chuckled softly. “But I can’t promise I won’t eat one or two every once in a while. Can’t have you living in the kitchens the rest of the year.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” (Y/N) responded, trying her best to swallow the tears that kept threatening to spill. “I’ll make you all the cookies in the world if that’s what you need.”

“What I need is for you to be okay,” he told her, gently wiping away the streaks from her cheeks. “Will you please tell me what’s wrong? I don’t like to see you like this, pup. It breaks my heart.”

“James,” she finally sighed. “Something he said just rubbed me the wrong way, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“That Potter boy can be too much sometimes,” he said defeatedly. “What was it this time? Please tell me it was nothing directed at you.”

“No, it’s… it was about you, Remus,” (Y/N) admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said something about you I didn’t like. But what angered me the most was that he laughed about it.”

“What was it?” 

“I don’t wanna say, Moony,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me say it.” 

“Darling, it’s James,” he teased. “He’s not smart enough to say something that will truly hurt me. But I don’t want you to carry it on your own. Now, out with it.”

(Y/N) took a steadying breath, sarong at the hand that held hers, tracing the scars with her eyes. “He said that the reason you eat so much chocolate is because it’s toxic to canines,” she confessed, a sob shaking her body. “That you believe that if you eat enough of it, it’ll kill the wolf inside you.”

An oh escaped Remus’ lips before he pulled her in for a tight embrace, trying his best to console her laments. It crushed him that he was inadvertently the cause of her pain. That was the last thing he wanted. 

“Is it true, Remus?” Her voice croaked, breaking any ounce of preservation he still held. “Please tell me it isn’t.” 

“It was at first,” he sighed. (Y/N) was tucked under his chin, and he could feel her body shake as she tried to breathe. He ran his hands through her hair, soothing her tenderly. “When I was a kid, I had read that dogs could die from eating chocolate. That even the smallest amount could do them harm. One Hallowe’en celebration, I gathered as many pieces as I could muster and ate them until I was stuffed. Ultimately, I ended up throwing up this sickly-looking brown mixture, and I thought I had done it. Until the next full moon, where I still transformed.” 

“Oh, Remus,” (Y/N) cooed as she squeezed his waist. 

“I guess I still associate the taste with those thoughts,” he continued, feeling the warmth of his tears trailing down his cheeks. “I can’t lie to you, (Y/N). Every time I feel the sweet melt in my mouth, a part of me hopes that it is weakening the wolf at the very least. That the more I eat it, the frailer it’ll become.” 

“I don’t want you to think that anymore, Moony,” she said. (Y/N) straightened herself and sat before him, her teary eyes boring into his. She took his hands in her and kissed his knuckles. “Even if it takes me forever, I will make sure every memory you have with it is replaced by a happy one. If I have to bake a million chocolate cookies or make a million truffles –I don’t care–I will do it. I will do it until my hands bleed. I will do it until your heart doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

“There’s no point, pup,” he said, his head falling in defeat. “It will not change the fact that I am still cursed. Forced to turn into a monster every single month. Always hoping that the people  I love are safe from me, from what I can do. It’s a life sentence that I will have to face by myself.” 

“As long as I am alive, Remus, you must know that you will never be alone,” she told him, placing a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “I love every single part of you, Moony. Even the parts that you cannot stand.” 

“This is not a life I could wish on you, (Y/N). Not you,” he sniffled. “You deserve so much better.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t find the words to say just how wrong he was. That the only life she had ever dreamed of had him by her side. So, she decided to show him. She leaned in and took his lips on hers in a moment of bravery. For a second, she thought he would push her away and remind her that his sights had been set on Sasha.

Instead, Remus melted into the kiss, pulling her closer to him by her waist. He kissed her as though she was the only source of oxygen in that passageway. As though her lips held the very force he needed to exist. As though she was his reason for being. 

“I don’t want a life that you’re not in, Remus,” she said breathlessly, her forehead resting against his. “I want to walk beside you, for better or worse. And I want to show you that you deserve all the love and happiness in the universe. Even if you don’t believe me.” 

“I’d believe anything if it came from your lips,” he smiled. “And as far as I see it, chocolate has now brought me something I never thought I could have.”

“Yeah?” (Y/N) grinned, popping a truffle into her mouth. “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you, pup,” he smirked before kissing away a speck of chocolate on her lips. “I thought I was bound to live with my feelings for you for the rest of my life.” 

“You thought that? I was under the impression that you were moping over Sasha Monnet.” 

“Where would you even get that idea?” Remus chuckled in surprise. “She’s just a friend.” 

“And why did you think that I didn’t reciprocate your feelings? I’ve honestly believed you were simply ignoring them for my sake.” 

The pair exchanged a knowing glance before bursting into laughter. “Sirius,” they said in unison. 

“I’m gonna kill that boy,” Remus said. “I can’t believe we’ve spent the past five years tiptoeing around each other when we could have been doing this the whole time.” 

“Well, it serves us right for entrusting Padfoot with such meaningful information,” she chuckled. “I wonder if they’ve made bets on when we would notice.” 

“You can best believe they have,” he joined in her laughter before looking down at his watch. “And as much as I would love to stay here all day with you, we, unfortunately, have classes to attend to.” 

“You mean we can’t stay hidden in here all day and make out?” (Y/N) sighed dramatically and fell on Remus. “What ever shall we do?” 

“We can always come back tonight,” the boy smirked. “Put that map to good use while we have it.” 

“I like where your head is at, Moony,” she smiled before placing a soft kiss on his lips. “But I do agree we have to go. I have to stop by the kitchens before breakfast.” 

“I think I’m good on delicious chocolate snacks, pup.” 

“Oh, it’s not for you, my darling Remus. There’s someone I need to eat his words. And I know just the way to do it.” 

After changing into their uniforms, (Y/N) made a detour to the kitchen, bribing a house elf for a rather peculiar request. Remus waited patiently for her outside the doors until they walked hand in hand into the Great Hall. Their friends’ eyes followed their figures until they settled with them, sliding onto the bench as they had done many times before. 

“Good to see you back with us, (Y/N),” Sirius was the first to speak. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we missed you yesterday.” 

“Yeah, we’re sorry for being insensitive,” Peter frowned. 

“And James here,” Sirius said as he shoved his friend’s shoulder. “Wants to say something.” 

“Right,” Potter affirmed, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to make fun of something so serious, (Y/N). You know, sometimes I cross the line.” 

“No worries, James,” she smiled sickeningly sweetly. “And to show that all is forgiven, I’ve brought you this.” 

The witch handed her friend a small box, much like the one she had handed Remus that very sunrise. She watched as James opened it and, as he smiled, took a bite of the pastry inside. Their friends watched in confusion as Potter enjoyed the sweet, savoring every bite. They waited for a surprise. A jinx or a potion laced into the treat. But it never came. 

“Careful, love,” (Y/N) said. “That’s a rhubarb breakfast cake.” 

“So what? I like rhubarb.” 

“Well, wouldn’t want people to think you’re eating it to kill the stag inside,” she smirked. “I thought you’d be smart enough to know that rhubarb is toxic to deer.” 

Sirius, Remus, and Peter burst out in laughter as James’ face reddened in embarrassment. He sent the treat down and busied himself with his food. After that, the boy never again seemed to speak out of his arse. At least, not about his friends. 

Many years later, at 12 Grimmauld Place, an older Remus Lupin sat before a fireplace when Harry Potter joined him. The man fiddled with the ring on his left hand, twirling it as he always did when he was lost in thought. Once he noticed the boy beside him, unconsciously, he handed him a piece of the chocolate bar he had on the coffee table next to him. 

“May I ask you something, Remus?” the boy asked. 

“Of course, my boy. Anything.” 

“I heard some rumors about you and chocolate,” he said, his voice weak. “About why you always carry it with you.” 

“I think I might know what you’ve heard,” Remus chuckled softly. “Something about wanting to kill the wolf inside, am I right?” 

“Yes,” Potter confessed. “Is it true? Does it actually poison it?” 

“No,” he laughed. “Your dear old father made sure that stupid idea didn’t die down.” 

“My dad was the one that spread it?” 

“In a way,” he smiled as he remembered that fateful day. “But do you want to know the real reason I always carry it with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“It reminds me of one of the happiest moments in my life,” he said before the door behind them opened. “I can’t eat it without smiling anymore, and I like to think it’s contagious.” 

“What are you two talking about?” (Y/N) asked as she walked in, followed by an enchanted tray with three cups of tea and a plate of peanut butter-chocolate cookies. “I hope it is age-appropriate things, Remus.” 

“I would never think of speaking of anything else,” he smirked as he accepted a kiss from his now wife. “My wife would never let me hear the end of it.” 

After she chuckled, (Y/N) turned to Harry, inspecting the boy’s exhausted expression tenderly. Looking at him without thinking of James became easier as the days passed. But sometimes, she couldn’t help the confusion in her brain. “Oh, darling,” she cooed. “You look so tired.” 

“I haven’t been sleeping great,” he shrugged. 

(Y/N) handed him one of the teacups as Remus placed a cookie on a napkin for Harry. “Eat,” she smiled. “You’ll feel better.” 

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in any fandom or story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Taglist: @winter-soldier-101 @sunflowerleii @dyslexiccatterpillar @andreaiaafaria @bluetreecloud20 @sapnapsbandana @mushroomelephant @user0ur0mom @lilozg-123 @esposadomd @nocturnalherb16 @then-worship-at-my-altar @yuki254 @nyenye @captainrogers-19

@beckiej0073-blog @cecehensonn @krazyk99 @klf1999 @magimtz23 @adaydreamaway08 @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @thatgirljayy @sugasthreedollarkookie @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @honeywxter @haroldpotterson @kaita11 @gangstalicious06 @multifandomreader73 @euphoria1992 @thecollectorofwords @gabi-princesada1d @zealouscookierebeltrash @laylasbunbunny @aonungsfreak @treatiseofselena @attlas567 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @bibella8swan @itsmytimetoodream @ivory-raptor @unstablekay @fresita1218 @heccatee @evattude @cerejinha @caosfanblr @alyeskathewave @heartfilia01

[hprewetts]

an angsty blurb or one shot with Remus dc what about🩷

i'm so sorry it took me a few days omg, i'm the world's slowest writer. that said, tysm for leaving a request<333 i hope i was enough, i used "you" because it comes more naturally to me but if someone wants third person they can say so and i'll try to suffice. i'm still very new to writing this format of fics but i appreciate the trust, here we go :)

This is not a tragedy

summary: you ask remus to get married after james and lily announce their engagement. his answer does not surprise you. 571 words. pairing: remus lupin x reader tags: non committed remus lupin, angst no comfort, open ending, break up (sort of), use of "you" for reader

"Let's do it," you say, "let's get married."

The air is cold against your cheeks once you step onto the balcony. Your breath comes out in white clouds of smoke, drawing trails of mist that disappear against the winds of winter. The words, too, come out slowly from your mouth.

Remus is smoking a cigarette, leaning onto the veranda. James, Sirius, Lily and Peter left a while ago. It's just you two now.

You wait, expectant. The snow rages outside your little flat. It rages inside you, too.

"We want to do it while we can," James had explained at the table, holding onto Lily's hands. The gesture had you breathless for a moment, painfully aware of how much you are missing. "We might not survive the war, the time for living is now."

And you had thought he had been right, at the time. James and Lily wanted to die without regrets and, in a way, their wedding itself was a defiance against the war.

You can not subdue us, it said, you cannot scare us. A pureblood and a muggleborn would be joined in marriage in the middle of the world's greatest attempt to stop exactly that. There is some sort of irony about it that sits quite right.

It's less romantic to you, really. Your love is but a mundane feeling.

James and Lily are larger than life in contrast; their union a symbol of something rebellious, their love alive against all odds.

You feel a little selfish, after giving it some thought, because the only thing you want is Remus to yourself. But perhaps just loving is enough, during these times of terror.

Remus inhales, then slowly lets out a puff of smoke. You just stare, trying to remember this moment. The way his tousled hair sits against his forehead, that scar on his nose you've always been so fond, the way his scars shine against the moonlight. You try to remember, treasure this instant so it won't be lost forever, knowing that you'll lose him.

"I'm sorry," Remus says without meeting your gaze. It's something quiet and small, you can't bring yourself to blame him. "But I can't."

The blow comes quietly, making your chest hurt. You can't say this is groundbreaking, that the world shatters around you because it does not. You held a little hope that he'd say yes, that his love for you would be stronger than whatever it is he's fighting back.

But it does not.

You were always an outsider, a stranger in your own relationship. Remus had always hidden something from you, something big, that you should have known. He disappeared, for days on end, and would never tell you where. When you asked about his scars, he'd lie, his innermost worries, he'd never tell. Remus never let you see him whole, but you thought he would, with time and patience, and that was your mistake.

You were just never that kind of couple.

"I'm sorry," Remus says again.

"I know," you whisper.

"I love you," he repeats.

"I know," you say back.

You try to remember this moment, record it on your memory, but even as he stands before you, the details have already started escaping your memory.

Remus Lupin was never and would never be yours. But you've known that for so long it might as well not hurt at all.

Except it does. It really, really does.

[aanoia]

Idk if you have anything like this planned but can you do a Christmas one with like a reader who kinda has a toxic family but always goes home. But this year Remus and her are together and he tells her it’s okay if they don’t go home and they end up having their own cute little Christmas just the two of them or maybe with friends up to you! Thank you 💕💕💕💕

𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆 - don't need them

Remus Lupin x reader day nine of christmas advent calendar words; 814 warnings; none really uhm I'm really sorry this is out later than usual and it's kinda bad. i'm really really sorry

I stared intently at the empty trunk sitting on the floor in front of my bed. The open latch seemed to mock me, laughing at the fact that I dread simply going to my own home.  I glanced at my bedside table and smiled gently at the picture of Remus and I kissing. I picked up the picture and caressed the glass, the memory replaying through my head. 

A soft knock on the door caught my attention and I wiped the stray tear from my cheek. 

“Come in.” I said and the door opened. “Remus?”

He smiled, “Hey, love.”

“How did you get up here?”

He sighed as he sat next to me on the bed and placed a long kiss on my cheek, “I don’t want to do anything, I just want to be with my girlfriend before we have to part for Christmas.”

I looked to the floor, “Yeah, I guess.”

Remus wrapped his arm around my shoulders, “Hey, are you okay?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

He got on his knees in front of me and grabbed my hands, “Hey, what is it? You can talk to me.”

I avoided eye contact, “I just don’t wanna go home.”

“Do you want to stay here together instead?” He asked, squeezing my hands.

“No, you should go home to your family.”

“Y/n, you are my family. We can stay here together and have our own little Christmas. Sirius and James are staying, too. It can be a friend's Christmas.” Remus suggested and I smiled, another tear falling from my eyes. He softly wiped it off with the pad of his thumb.

“Really?”  I asked.

“Really.”

“Okay, have a safe flight, bud.” I said softly to my owl after tying the letter to its leg. I pet its head gently and it cooed before taking flight. I sighed and made my way down the stairs, ignoring the chill of the snow falling onto my skin. 

I made my way into the Great Hall and paused at the emptiness. I gazed around, the only table completely full being the teachers table. A few small groups of students sat at the tables, but nowhere near 

“Oi! You gonna come over here and eat or just stand there and gawk?” A voice called out and my eyes locked with Sirius’. I rolled my eyes as Remus smacked his arm.

“I will hex you, Black.” I threatened with a smile as I sat across from him.

“You won’t.”

James laughed, “She definitely will.”

“How are you?” Remus asked and I smiled as I grabbed some eggs.

“I’m alright. I just sent a letter to my parents telling them that we wanted to have a friend's Christmas.”

“We should get a tree for the common room.” Sirius said.

“There’s already a tree.” Peter mentioned, looking up from his book. 

“But we can get another one.” James said, nodding to Sirius. 

I laughed, “Okay, you two do that. I need to go Christmas shopping.”

It was dark when my eyes opened Christmas morning. Excitement filled my body and I shook Remus’ body awake. He groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, turning over. I smiled and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s Christmas.” I whispered and a figure shot up from the bed next to Remus’.

“It’s Christmas!” Sirius yelled and shot out of bed to jump on top of James. 

James groaned and pushed him to the floor, “Sod off, you arse.”

Peter laughed as he slipped on his slippers, “Come on, Santa came.”

“We aren’t five, Wormtail, Santa doesn’t exist.” Remus said as he sat up, his arm wrapped around my waist.

“Who’s Santa?” Sirius asked and I furrowed my brows.

“You don’t know who Santa is?”

“Have you met my parents?”

“Uh, thankfully no.”

“I don’t know who Santa is either.” James said and I sighed.

“Purebloods.” I said, putting on my slippers as Sirius and James ran out of the room. The rest of us followed after them, and I laughed at the happy squeals coming from Sirius and James.

“You guys sound like children.” Remus commented with a smile.

Sirius stuck out his tongue, “We are.”

“Okay, I get to give people their presents.” James said and Sirius scoffed.

“Nuh uh, that’s my job.” 

“No.”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, shut up. I’m doing it.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Wow, Peter. I pick you.”

“Why do you get to pick?” Sirius asked.

I smiled, “Because I’m magical.”

James rolled his eyes, “Technically we’re all magical.”

“You’re just jealous she picked me.” Peter stuck out his tongue.

I sat next to Remus on the couch and smiled as they bickered. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and placed a kiss on my temple.

“Thank you.” I told him and he nodded.

“I love you.”

I cuddled into his side, “I love you.”

my masterlist

If you'd like to be added to my main or christmas taglist comment or DM me!

christmas taglist; @loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins @poetrypirate @ashisabitgay @kodiskisses @whitemanswh0r3 @ultraoreoqueen @miss-mercuryy @peanutbutterinacup @r-scneptune @pheonixfucu @slay345-7 @luannemaru @jluvsjpotts @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @maraudersgirlie @thescarletredwitch @irjdujsksjahhbs @irjdujsksjahhbs @1-800-ididurmum @jennasco @myradiaz @chellyrps @lixiefelicis @ittybittyhogan @lollloki @dreamingofmarauders @everybodyhatesari @agy-mari @wayytoocooll @notaboutlovebyfiona @harrington-potter @little-bubba @mblacksworld @optirizzprime @whoreforlupin @0-cherries-0 @itsjustpoppy-blog @jdoshalablab-blog @mybelovedneilperry @gublers-gf @bellathethirstybitch @poetrynerdsunite @talesof-old