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thebestofoneshots · 6 months ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

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Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.7 K Warnings: The angst is still angsting Prompt: Alone, desperate, lonely. How did you end up like this? How will you recover? Is recovering even possible? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it Proofread by Lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 55: Noone Together

I'm mostly scared, I am mostly unprepared, I'm a mess I lost most of myself as the waves came crashing down, I'm a wreck

I've bought up all my dreams and sold off most my heart I've been lying to myself just to bury all my thoughts

-Mostly (Vian Izac)

Monday, January 10th, 1977

You looked around your trunk until you found something that would look as wizarding as possible. You didn’t want people to spare a second glance your way, so you took a cloak and a pointy hat and pocketed your money in your trousers. There weren’t many students in Diagon at this time of the year, and you did not want to look like one.

Thankfully you hadn’t gone out with your parents that often since you moved to England and while most people knew Silas had a daughter, they had no idea how she looked. A point in your favour, you wouldn’t have to hide.

You would have used a warming charm, but bought tea with a warming potion instead. Accidentally burning yourself with Nina’s wand was not the way you wanted to go down. You finished it at the restaurant, the lady who did Tarot readings was sitting with a young woman, probably in her late 20s, and she was reading her cards for her, although she kept looking at you as you drank your tea. Especially when you accidentally picked it up with your injured hand and cursed loud enough for her to catch it. A waiter came around, offering you some food, but you declined, you were far from feeling hungry, if anything, you were still slightly nauseated. You could have done with a drink, though.

When you were done, you were quick to stand up and leave the inn, walking straight towards Ollivander’s. The shop was closed and you instead walked towards The Apothecary. “I think I’ve sprained my wrist,” you told the young man on the other side of the counter. He had a pair of round glasses that reminded you of James, and short, but elegantly styled hair.

He extended his hand and you pushed your hand towards it. He adjusted his glasses and stared, moving your hand a little and then passing his wand over it. He nodded. “It seems so. How did you know it was just a sprain and not something else?”

“I’ve gotten hurt a few times in the past months. It felt like a sprain.”

He looked at you and smiled. He was handsome. Not nearly as handsome as either Sirius or Remus. Not even as handsome as Minho, or Tom, but he had a straight nose and a charming smile, a la Reyansh Atwal, but Caucasian. “It was a great guess,” he said as he eventually let go of your hand and carefully placed it on the counter. He turned around and started to look through his shelves.

“Most people come here with a terrible idea of what they have. I had a person with a cold telling me they thought they had dragonpox. And one time a person who said they’d had a broken leg when they had barely a big bruise.” He pulled one of the small doors of a cabinet open and then pulled something from the inside. “Are you from around?”

“I’ll be staying in London for a couple of days,” you said, as you stared at what he did, almost condescendingly. He seemed to have a bit of trouble while trying to find the right thing, and you had been spoiled with the very capable hands of Madam Pomfrey just weeks past.

He grabbed a thing, and with an air of triumph, turned around. “I think I might have a pixie around here moving all my stuff,” he excused. “It’s harder when you don’t have house elves for help, you know?”

“I suppose,” you replied, not bothering to fake much interest.

“Allow me,” he said as he pulled back his sleeves, bending them carefully and methodically. “I’m going to put this ointment on your hand.” You nodded, although you were quite sure an anti-swelling potion, like the one he had on the left side corner would have done the trick. He placed both hands around your wrist and carefully massaged it. While you stared, you could barely stop thinking of Sirius’ firm grip, or the soft way Remus would always hold your hand.

They are happy now, you reminded yourself, together.

“And there you go,” he said after finally pulling apart. Your hand was still sore, Pomfrey would have probably had it fixed a lot faster.

“Thanks,” you said with a half-smile. “Can I also get a Swellendrake Draught?”

“For your wrist? You won’t be needing that, come back tomorrow and I’ll give you another treatment with the ointment.”

If only you had a fucking wand, you would have done it all yourself.

“For someone else,” you lied. “And also some Warming Brew.”

“Oh,” he adjusted his glasses. “Of course, of course. I was under the impression you were here by yourself.”

You hummed in return, “How much?”

You were out of his The Apothecary the second he handed over the change. Your hand was still bringing you a slight discomfort when you used it to push the door open to The Magical Menagerie. Inside you bought food and snacks to feed Reese. An old man with a strong German accent handed you your food and change with a smile and asked you about the type of owl you had.

You lied, telling him it was a tawny owl, but that she liked fancier treats. Reese was a barn owl, not as common and especially fancy to have as a pet since they were pickier eaters (which meant more money to maintain) and they were incredibly good hunters in low light, which meant they were especially talented at delivering letters. Had you mentioned he was a melanistic barn owl, the man would have probably begged you to meet him (they were even less common and coveted since they could blend into the night almost seamlessly).

“Well, you better take good care of her,” he said as he packed the bag of treats. “Don’t spoil her too much, either.”

“I won’t,” you said with a smile and handed him the money. “I’m sure Selig will love these,” you said as you raised the small bag and then walked towards the door, and then as if it were an afterthought, you turned around and looked at him, “Do you happen to know at what time Ollivander’s opens?”

“Ollivander’s?” he asked and turned to his clock. “He should be opening now, if not you can knock on his window a couple of times, sometimes he falls asleep on his desk.”

“Thank you,” you said as you walked towards the door.

“Kein problem, Schatz.”

Once outside you walked towards Ollivander’s. The door was now open, and a small bell at the top rang as you walked inside. There was no one else, as you expected. And the very peculiar smell of wood and magic prickled your senses as you walked inside. Ollivander, who was looking through some boxes, turned and seemed surprised when he spotted you.

“Daughter of Silas.” You panicked, thinking you’d have to leave and find somewhere else to stay, perhaps muggle London. Perhaps you could ask that nice girl at Daunt Books if she knew somewhere, even if you’d have to hold back on using magic almost entirely so as not to call the attention of the ministry. He must have seen the distress in your eyes, your careful stepping back towards the door, ready to run the fuck away, again. “Worry not, Child. I do not have any political affiliations as of now. If you wish for your identity to remain undisclosed, then so shall I maintain it…” He gave you an airy look, as if to make sure you’d stay and then proceeded. “You know, I never forget a wand, and it’s a very peculiar one that you have in your pocket.”

“It’s not mine,” you said as you pulled Nina’s wand and placed it on his counter. “That’s why I’m here, my wand broke and I need a new one.”

“I beg to differ,” he said simply, as he stared at Nina’s wand, he was twirling it in his wand, and inspecting the details on it.

“Pardon?” you asked, confused.

“You do not need a new one, Child. You said this one isn’t yours, and I beg to differ. Its loyalty belongs entirely to you.”

You turned to look at him with a frown, “Impossible. I’ve tried using it and I almost got attacked by a chair.”

“You know this is a rather peculiar wand,” he said thoughtfully, almost ignoring what you said entirely. “14 and a half inches, English Oak,” and then, in a much lower tone, he added, “Thestral tail hair.”

You frowned, “Thestral tail hair?”

“Indeed, indeed. I too was surprised when the wand picked young and sweet Nina Blythe.” Your breath hitched in your throat when he said her name. He noticed. “That might be why it’s not working for you even though it’s yours.”

“I don’t think I followed.”

“Thestral tail hair wands are fussy, it is said only witches and wizards who were capable of accepting dеath could use these kinds of wands. Miss Blythe was muggle-born,” he said. “But her father diеd in a car accident when she was about 4 years old, she was in the car with him then, she told me when I told her about core and its meaning. The wand seemed to love her almost instantly.”

“Accepting dеath?” you mumbled. You didn’t want to do that, you didn’t want to accept what happened, even if it had. Even if you’d seen it, it was easier to pretend it to be just a terrible dream, to ignore it and fake it and–

“I’m afraid so,” Ollivander said. “I believe you’ve had some dreadful encounters with her lately and��”

“I’d like to get another wand,” you interrupted him, a little rudely.

“Another wand?” he asked, confused.

“Yes, this one won’t work. I’m sure.”

He hummed at that, something that sounded a bit like he disagreed with you entirely. He picked the wand up again and looked at it closely. “No wand here will ever be as good for you as this particular one,” he said. “You know English Oak has an affinity with magic of the natural world? It is said the Great Merlin had a wand made of Oak.”

You took a deep breath, and you tried not to grit your teeth, “My wand used to be oak.”

“And? I believe I did not sell it to you…”

“No,” you admitted. “We got it while travelling… It was thunderbird tail feather.”

“Oh, she must have been absolutely delightful to work with,” he said, with a bit of sarcasm. “Did it take you long to get used to her stubbornness?”

“She was never stubborn with me,” you said simply.

“You must have had an excellent matching with it then,” he said with a bit of a mischievous smile. “I can assure you it will be as good– if not better with this one. Had you come here before Miss Blythe, you might have taken it yourself. I’d dare say it’s like she was made for you.”

You looked at the wand with slight reluctance and then picked it up. You pointed at a small pencil on the table and whispered, “Wingardium Leviosa.” Rather than carefully floating as you intended for it to do, the pencil flew backwards and stabbed one of the shelves with a sharp thud. You quickly left the wand on the table again. “See?! it’s pointless.”

Ollivander used his wand and whispered “Reparo,” allowing the shelf to restore itself and the pencil to return to its spot. “I’m afraid you have to accept what’s happened for her to work properly. But I cannot sell you another wand.”

“Then how?” You said, slightly exasperated.

“Sit down, and cast small spells with her. Like this one–”

“I could have stabbed someone!”

“Nature Magic has strong connections with emotions. Perhaps the magic is so aggressive because you feel like you need such protection.”

You sighed, you’d come for a wand, not for therapy.

“Fine then,” you said as you grabbed the wand, you were cross, Ollivander could tell. “I’ll see if I can get her to work.”

“I’m certain you will.”

You scoffed and shook your head as you walked out of the store. There was no way in hell you managed to do a Protean charm without a properly functioning wand, so you’d have to buy the enchanted items.

There weren’t many places in which you’d be able to get such powerful and unorthodox magical things, but you had been paying attention and you had heard the whispers. You thought of it as your last resource since it was popular for being a reunion point for dark wizards, but you were running out of options. You’d have to pay a visit to Knockturn Alley.

As you stepped out of Ollivanders, you blinked a few times and started to walk around. It was almost midday, and the streets were buzzing with witches and wizards, far more than there were earlier in the morning. You walked, accidentally bumping your shoulder with other people when you were pushed around.

You knew Knockturn Alley was hidden, but it took you at least an hour to find it. It was still day, but the alley was dark, poorly lit and rather lonely. You saw a few Wizards walking inside a store that looked somewhat like a bar, one of them felt familiar enough, like he might have been at the Christmas Party. You turned your face and stared at the window of one of the shops.

You had not seen the Borgin and Burkes logo at the top, since you had turned as fast as possible but you did see the small price ticket on one of the items in display. It read: Borgin and Burkes: Oddments and Artefacts. And then underneath it: Rarities of the best kind, antiques, charmed items, cursed jewellery and more.

The perfect place, you pretended to look through the window a bit more and when you made sure he was gone, you turned towards the door and walked inside. “Are you lost?” A young man asked from behind the counter, he had brown hair and a disagreeable face.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” you retorted. “I’m looking for an item,” you said, “Or rather two. They need to have a protean charm in between them.”

The man nodded “Jewellery, a journal, matching skulls, a book or bottles?”

“Journal,” you said. He pulled out a black journal, it had golden metal trims and a name engraved at the back.

“This one belongs to someone,” you complained as you handed it back to him.

“But it has nothing written on it,” he retorted and pushed it back at you. You looked at the journal impassively and took it in your hands. You could feel the dark magic screaming inside of it, like it was imploring to be released, you placed it back on the table. “I don’t want it. Anything else?”

The man grumbled something that you didn’t understand, took the journal, and placed it back onto his counter. Pulling out a pair of cufflinks, to which you shook your head. He rolled his eyes and walked towards the back of the store. You took the time to look through the things they had around. You knew better than to get too close to some of them, specifically the item named “Hand of Glory” which also had some kind of magic attached to it.

You looked at it with an air of disgust before you continued walking, they had candles, some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, which you thought would be useful so you bought two bags, and there was a massive display with jewellery too. You leaned in closer, and without touching anything, started to read the label: A ring of oblivion (whoever wore it would forget everything that happened while wearing it), a pair of bad luck cufflinks, awfully similar to the ones the man had offered earlier, a magic absorbing necklace, a hairpin that would let you change your appearance, a pair of blinding glasses (they would disappear whatever you wanted from your field of vision)– hold up. A hairpin that could change your appearance?

You looked at it again and picked it up, moving towards one of the huge mirrors and placing it on your hair. Suddenly you weren’t you anymore, you were still a woman, your age, but you looked nothing like yourself and everything like someone you wouldn’t spare much attention to. Not ugly but not pretty either, in fact, when you removed the pin and saw yourself again, you had almost forgotten what the other face looked like.

“Fascinating item, isn’t it?” the man asked with a smile. “And much easier than making polyjuice.”

You nodded and then turned to him. “Did you find anything?”

“This,” he said as he pulled out a pair of earrings. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “These were designed for listening in to conversations. You ‘accidentally’ drop one of them and you can hear what they’re saying on the other side. I assume that will satisfy your requirements of communication.”

“It might,” You responded, “Does it work backwards? Do both of them do it?”

“Indeed.”

You nodded, “I’ll take them, and the Peruvian Powder and the hairpin.”

He smiled and wrote on a small piece of paper your total amount. You paid, and walked towards the door. When you spotted the same man from earlier loitering outside of the bar, you eyed the man in the store nervously and then turned to one of his trinkets. “What is this?” you asked as you looked at a large, triangular-shaped closet.

The man smiled and walked behind you, “Vanishing Cabinet, they’re becoming really popular lately, lots of people want them in their house in case of a Dеath Eater attack.”

You swallowed, he was careful when he said those last few words, as if he was trying to feel out which side of the war you played on. Thankfully, if there was anything you had learned from Silas, was that to be a good politician; you’d had to lie, and you had to lie so much lately, that it came almost naturally from you. “I bet,” you said with a mischievous smile. “Does this one work?” You asked as you looked at the small chip on the side and allowed the little bit of wood to rise and then return to its place.

The man smiled, “As a matter of fact, it does not, a Witch brought a week ago for us to fix it, but it seems someone put a course on it, dark magic, in fact.”

“Well,” you looked over your shoulder, the man was gone. “Good luck with that, eh… Mr. Borgin?”

“Burke,” he corrected with an askew smile. Clearly, after he made the sale, he was not in such a terrible mood. And it had been a big sale. You still had enough cash to get by, but you’d need more for the rest of the year. You took a deep breath, you’d have to go to Gringotts. You had your own vault, which was great. Unfortunately, the minute you went, your father would probably know you’d visited, so it had to be the very last thing you did.

“Then thank you for your help, Mr. Burke.”

“Mr. Burke was my father, call me Kieran.”

You frowned but smiled, pulling out a bit of that charm you had used too often with adults, it wouldn’t hurt to have an ally or two in case things went awry.

“Thank you, Kieran,” you said and then nodded at him politely, a small smile playing on your lips as you left the place. You were quick, but calm as you exited the shop, and the minute you were out of Kieran’s sight, you put on your new hairpin and mixed yourself in between the people.

You walked back to the Inn, took the pin off before stepping inside the Leaky Cauldron and walked straight to your room. You hadn’t eaten, and frankly, you still didn’t want to eat. You walked back to the room, and Reese was by the window with a small pack of chocolates and a small note attached to them. He flew towards your place on the bed with it and took his own place on the bed.

“Hey, little one,” you said with a smile as you brushed your hand over his head the way you knew he liked it, and pulled open one of the bags you had to give him a couple of treats. He chirped joyfully when you did, and then leaned down and pecked the letter with his beak, reminding you to open it.

You sighed but did it, taking the note and unfolding it.

Are they feeding you well where you are? They better be. But I know how much you love these sweets, so I stole them from Remus to send them over. I’ll check the chimney at night, I’m sure you’ll have figured out a more than clever way to keep in touch.

Remus and Sirius are still whispering about each other, It’s like they’re scheming something, and frankly, I’ve been feeling slightly excluded. Will you tell me what happened when we find a better way to communicate? But more important than anything, HOW ARE YOU?

Prongs xx

You smiled and wrote a quick note telling him to clip the earring on at about 8 pm, you sent it along with a thank you for the chocolates and then (as a joke, but not actually) asked him if he had some booze. You let Reese go back to the Potters, after giving him some more treats and walked toward the fireplace to turn it on since the temperature was going out as fast as the sunlight.

Thankfully, it was a lot easier this time around, and you curled up, staring blankly at the flames for some time. You had never been this quiet, this inactive. At Hogwarts, you were always distracted by one thing or the other. At the boys’ houses, they were the ones constantly creating new games and things, or talking or telling you something, or even reminding you of homework and things you had to finish, things you had to accomplish.

But there, alone in the warm, but still isolated floor, you didn’t have anything to do, and you didn’t want to do anything either. You tried to pick up a book from your suitcase but abandoned it a little after. You took the journal Lily had given you and wrote barely half a page when tears started to prickle your eyes and you abandoned it as well. You couldn’t listen to music, and you didn’t even feel like trying to get Nina’s wand to work, not with what it entailed.

Yeah, avoiding your feelings allowed you to be able to sit straight and do all the things you’d done without breaking apart, but it was also stopping you from properly processing shit, and so, rather than thinking and crying or whatever, you sat, and blankly leered at the dancing golds and yellows and reds, throwing some wood to liven up the flames as you stared, sad and disoriented, until it was eight o’clock.

You picked up the earring and put it on your ear. On your free ear, you had the crackling of fire, on the other one, you heard the wind blow, heavy and thick, the hauntingly beautiful sound you often heard when you were flying, you missed that too.

There was a doubtful tasking on the other side, before, clear as day you heard, “Vixen?”

“Prongs,” you said, you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. You had been so alone all afternoon, that hearing James had filled you with joy. James, on the other hand, sounded a little cross.

“What the fuck happened?” He asked. You heard the wind become stronger, he was probably flying further away from his house. “We were all at the party and then you go upstairs and then Sirius and Remus are banging on doors and then you’re gone. I was worried sick. They didn’t want to tell me what the fuck happened and–”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said simply. “Sirius and I–” There was a pang in your heart when you said that as if you shouldn’t say those names together. “It was nothing,” you sighed, “but we aren’t a thing anymore.”

“I figured out as much,” James said, still angry. “Why? I thought you loved each other. I mean didn’t the two of you fuck at the fae pool just a couple of days ago? Was it because of that? Because if you thought he was bad I’m sure he can learn and–” James was rambling.

“It was not about that!” you said before he kept going. “And we didn’t end it because he broke my heart, it was I who broke both of ours.” You sighed. “But it is for the best–”

“Like shit, it is for the best!” James retorted. “What happened?”

If James didn’t know, you couldn’t out them. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

“Vixen,” he said impatiently.

“James, if this is all you’re going to talk about–”

“No wait!” He rushed out. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you said, you were sitting on the wooden floor, looking at the fire, you hadn’t eaten, and you hadn’t even showered (you didn’t want to stop smelling the Sirius and Remus in your clothes).

You heard a hesitant sigh on the other side. “Can’t I come visit?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“My mom’s friend is a bit paranoid about what happened at Christmas,” you lied. How easy did the lies come to you now, one after the other, like a parade, they rolled off your tongue and sounded loud by the end of your lips, as simple as if it were truth. Suppose telling someone you didn’t love them when you both knew you did was all it took to become such a brilliant liar.

“Do you want to talk about that?”

You hadn’t wanted to talk about it, not even when you actually had talked about it with Remus. Rather than responding, you changed the subject, “What did you boys do today?”

Thankfully, James knew how to take a hint –sometimes– and he thought allowing you to process things was best either way, at your own pace. “Well, we had breakfast together and did some flying afterwards. Sirius was going really fast, I think it might have been the fastest he’s ever flown. Remus kept shouting at him to stop being an idiot and slow down.”

“We then went back inside and Remus recommended that I read a book, but I think he just wanted me to get out of the way so he could talk to Sirius again. I wrote a letter to Lily, thanking her for coming to the party yesterday and telling her you were all right. She’s also worried and wants to contact you.��

“Tell her I’m good,” you said. “That I cannot get letters at the moment.”

“Already have,” he sighed. “Anyway, Remus and Sirius are awfully suspicious. Sitting close and whispering about. Can you really not tell me what happened?”

“I’m sorry,” you said. And you really were, you wanted someone to talk to about this, but as far as you knew, you were the only person who knew about Sirius’ bisexuality and among the few that knew about Remus’. “That’s got to do with something that happened between them, I cannot talk about it.”

“But you do know what it is!” James delated. There was still wind, and it carried his voice out a little but you could still hear the intonations you were so familiar with, you knew what he meant.

“But if you ever do find out, then they must be the ones to tell you, James.”

He sighed in response, leaning in on his broom and banging his head against the handle. It seemed like every single person around him was sad, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He hated it. He wanted things to go back to normal, for you to be here, and for both you and Sirius to be all over each other.

Even if he kept complaining about it, he secretly loved seeing you all happy. Even when you cuddled Moony together, invading their room, he felt it wasn’t that often that he saw Moony smile, but he was always smiling when you and Sirius were around, even when you were being annoying by asking him to read you something or convincing him to help with homework or something similar.

“Fine, whatever,” he responded, trying not to sound too cross, he knew you mustn’t have been that well off, he could also hear your voice over the crackling of the fire, and even if you kept claiming to be alright, there was something near the end of your words, not a crack but something almost imperceptible that told him otherwise.

He’d seen you get hit by quaffles and he’d seen you get hit by bludgers, and he’d seen you getting scratched by a werewolf. He’d seen you tired and desperately scribbling on parchment after forgetting homework. Your “All rights” had never sounded as hollow to him before. So devoid of meaning, so filled with air he was sure he could poke a hole and disinflate them entirely.

Of course, James didn’t want that. The last thing he wanted was to push you into desperation by asking and asking questions like he used to do all the time. “Did you like the chocolate?”

“Yeah,” you responded. “Did you get me the Booze? Will you send it over with Reese?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea–”

“Oh, shut up, you’re not my mum,” you said automatically, flipping back to your old self before realising what you had said. No, James was not your mum, you didn’t have one anymore.

James hesitated, he heard the silence, the popping and hissing of the fire next to you and knew you were both thinking the same thing, he bit his lip. “I’ll get you your booze.”

You took off the earring and promised to talk to him again tomorrow in the morning, at about 9, before the boys woke up, so they wouldn’t suspect if James went flying earlier. He could always say he had wanted to entertain himself while they slept.

After your conversation, he flew down and looked through his stuff in the kitchen until he found an old flask and filled it up with his father’s Firewhisky. He knew you liked it and he knew he liked it. He then put it in a small bag and handed it to Reese.

When he walked into the room, he saw Sirius writing something on a piece of paper and Remus correcting his words. They both were on edge and looked like they were about to go at each other’s throats.

“What are you doing?” James asked, confused.

Sirius looked at him, worry in his gaze, and he placed a blank parchment on top of the other one. “I’m writing something for her,” he said simply.

“And I can’t see it?”

“No,” Sirius said plainly.

“But Remus can? I see how things are.”

“James,” Sirius reproached, “I promise you would hate to be involved in this in the way Remus is.”

“Well at least he’s not kept in the dark about it,” James retorted viciously. Sirius had always gone to him with his problems, he didn’t understand what this thing with Remus was, and he didn’t quite like it either. Whatever had happened, you had left his house because of the two of them, and you were far from the “All right!” you kept claiming to be.

“That’s not fair,” Sirius replied.

Remus stood up hastily. “This is none of my business.”

“This is ALL of your business!” James said sternly. “I can’t be the only one that’s fucking worried about her!” Sirius scoffed and Remus remained silent as he threw a look at James. If only he knew. “I thought you were her best friend.” He threw an accusatory finger at Remus. “You’re always around, teaming up on every fucking project. You were there after the fucking Christmas Party. Why haven’t you even tried to contact her?”

“We’ve tried!” Remus responded, voice louder. “Sirius has even tried to do whatever the hell he did with the necklace and all we get is a stupid fire and my fucking jumper. Why haven’t you tried to contact her?”

“I have,” James said.

“And? No answer, right?” Prongs did not say further. “Merlin knows where she might have gone off to. We might not see her again ‘til school and it’s all my fucking fault.”

“What?” James asked, confused, he thought it was Sirius and you thing not a Sirius and Remus and you thing. Sirius threw a reproaching arm slap at Remus and James sighed. “You know what? I don’t care. If you all don’t want to tell me what the fuck happened then it’s going to be on you to fix it.”

Sirius groaned and leaned his head over his knees. Remus gave him a pitiful look and James walked out of the room. When he was gone, Remus placed a reassuring hand over Sirius’ back. Sirius hated how damn good it felt.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’ll get her back, we’ll find a way.”

“She’s convinced we like each other, she wouldn’t have left if she wasn’t.”

“Then we prove her wrong, Pads.”

“It’s not going to work,” he said and turned his head to look at Remus. His cheek was half squashed on his knee and some of his hair was covering his soft features, but Remus could easily see the glistening wet eyes.

He placed his hand on Sirius’ face and carefully pushed some of the hair back, he was being as gentle and reassuring as he had been with you the past couple of weeks, and he found himself thinking something eerily similar to what he did when he held your crying frame.

He hated himself for thinking of how beautiful Sirius looked, for how much he wanted to kiss him and comfort him. He hated that you were right, that he really did like Sirius and it was worse to know that Sirius liked him back and that neither of them would ever do anything about it because neither of them wanted to hurt you. He forced his hand back and onto his knee, tapping on it with his index nervously. Sirius sighed a pained expression on his face, mirroring almost perfectly the one on Remus’.

You had all reached a dеad end. You refused to go back to Sirius because your best friend was in love with him, and you thought Remus deserved the world. Sirius refused to chase his feelings for Remus because he loved you, and he wouldn’t dare to see you sad. He wanted you back. And lastly, Remus refused to lean closer and place a kiss on Sirius’ lips like he was so tempted to do, because he knew you loved him, and there was no way in hell he’d ever hurt you, you had gone through enough, seeing your boyfriend with your best friend might as well be the last straw.

But what about Sirius? Yeah, you were thinking of him, since you thought he liked Remus and he would be happier with him. And of course, Remus was thinking of Sirius, he did all the time, but what both you and Remus failed to realise was how much strain you were putting on him. He was in love with his two best friends, and there was no way he could be with one without hurting the other.

You had made the choice for him, you had taken his agency and stepped out of the way. But Sirius did not want that, neither did Remus. Heck, not even you –with your staggering determination to make them both happy– actually wanted to leave him.

The problem was that none of you would talk about your feelings to each other, because no one wanted to be vulnerable. No one was ready to risk your friendship and hearts in the process. And as a result, you were all miserable.

And Remus, poor Remus wouldn’t even say that he liked you as much as he liked Sirius because if things had gone awry with you just believing he liked Sirius, he assumed that coming clean would only complicate shit further and make everyone even more miserable.

The three of you were sinking, grappling at each other to try and save them but only succeeding in dragging them towards the bottom. A hard, determined grip that was causing all of you to drown in an ocean of emotions. But the three of you were bigger than the sea you were sinking in, all you had to do was open your hearts and sing their longings. Only then would you realise the three of you had the ability to breathe underwater and to love more than one at the same time.

Tuesday, January 11th, 1977

You woke up on the floor, you were sore and had a terrible headache. You removed the sweater from your face and winced as the light passed through the window. You had spent the previous night trying to get Nina’s wand to work, but other than getting it to do a very dim, almost useless Lumos, you had gotten nowhere.

You sat up on the floor a little too fast and your head spun. You had drank the flask James had sent you and upon wanting to swallow your sorrows, used the hairpin to buy a bottle of whatever they had available at the Leaky Cauldron. It was terrible, probably adulterated or mixed up with some drunk-inducing potion. It had tasted like shit, and yet you had drank half of the bottle while you kept trying for the wand to work.

After a particularly disastrous try that had you walk back to the room with a small jar of water, you threw the entire bottle into the fire in fury and had to drink the weird-tasting water from the Inn. You didn’t even have anything to take to subdue your hangover (evidently exacerbated due to the fact that you had refused to eat at all that Saturday). And you still weren’t hungry.

When you managed to walk towards the bathroom you realised you had stained the band shirt from Sirius you’d been wearing and almost broke down to cry again. You didn’t want to wash it, but you’d have to wash it, there was no way you used a cleaning spell since your fucking wand was broken and Nina’s still refused to fucking collaborate. You washed your face and your teeth –your breath was disgusting up until then. Then you sat on the toilet seat and stared at the wall while you tried to recollect your thoughts.

You’d have to go back to Hogwarts tonight, the train was almost always the best way to travel there, but you didn’t want to see the boys, and you had heard the Knight Bus drove to Hogsmeade, and from there you could walk all the way to the castle.

But it’s cold, a little voice in your head said. Either way, unless you got the wand to work for you, there was no way in hell you could use a disillusionment charm to walk towards the Honeydukes passage, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to take the one at the Shrieking Shack since they had used new spells to close it.

You sighed and stood up, putting the bits and trinkets you had taken out of your trunk back into it and closing it. You wrote a small apology letter for the chair and left a couple of galleons for the cleaning lady that would have to fix it with reparo. You checked under the bed to make sure you had everything with you and handed your suitcase (whose levitation spell had not worn off as of yet) to Reese.

Once you knew you were ready you took your bag –the one with the undetectable extension charm– and slung it around your shoulder. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy to walk inside Gringotts without calling too much attention, so you dug deeper into the bag and pulled out James’ Felix Felicis. It was as you were looking at it that you remembered that you had promised to talk to him in the morning.

You cursed under your breath and dug through your pockets to try and find the earring and put it on hastily.

“James?” you asked in a low tone, almost hesitantly.

“Vixen?!” you heard from the other side.

“What?” you heard Sirius's voice. “Where?” he added, and then there was more shuffling.

“No,” James said. “I meant– I meant to look at this,” he added, taking something from the table. “She used to love it.”

Remus gave him a distasteful look, and Sirius looked at him with a saddened sort of expression. You, on the other side of the spell, didn’t say a word.

“Maybe next time don’t say her name like that?” Remus suggested. You would be lying if you said that hadn’t felt like a cold bucket of water thrown straight in your face. I mean, it makes sense he wouldn’t want to hear about his new boyfriend’s ex but– you… you were friends.

James, who had absolutely no context of the situation just scoffed, you heard a chair groan as he stood up. “The both of you are absolutely impossible,” he added. “Write her a fucking letter.”

“I have, I don’t have a fucking address to send it!” Sirius retorted. James just walked out. You heard a door, and then running water. Probably a faucet.

Then he muttered a silencing incantation and sighed. “What the fuck, Vixen?!? You said 9! It’s almost twelve.”

“I’m sorry–”

“I was worried!”

“I’m fine,” you lied, James knew it. He couldn’t see you, but your voice had that slight drag it had when you were upset.

James let out an exasperated sigh, “You didn’t drink the entire flask, did you?”

“No,” you lied again, turning the flask upside down and looking at the small drop of fire whiskey that fell from it. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

There was silence, “We’re taking the train today, will I see you there?”

“Probably not,” you responded. “I think they might take me to Hogsmeade.”

“Want me to pick you up at Honeydukes?”

“Please!” There was silence. “But James… Just you, is that okay?”

He sighed. “You won’t fix things if you don’t talk to each other.”

James Potter, the voice of reason, ladies and gentlemen (and anyone in between).

“We just need a little bit more time,” you said tentatively. “You’ll come alone then?”

“Fine,” he said, completely unconvinced.

“Thank you, James.”

“Don’t do anything stupid while you wait,” he warned.

You scoffed, “Look who’s talking.”

“See you around,” he said at last. You took the earring off and placed it in your pocket.

You walked downstairs, handed the key to the man on the counter, and walked outside. You blended in the mix of people and walked straight towards Gringotts. You didn’t know if your father had placed alarms or anything similar, if he would know you’d been there or if he had forgotten that he’d given you the vault altogether, but you knew you had to be fast either way. In and out, if nobody noticed, then it would be for the best. If only you could use your wand, things would be easier.

The long white building stood ahead of you. Threatening like an ancient mausoleum filled with secrets and pitfalls. You had never entered, but you had heard of it plenty. You remembered your mother telling you all about the Goblins and their rebellions and how they were in charge of the most important Magic Bank in England. You took a deep breath and walked inside. The luxurious golden columns were the first thing that you spotted. Tall and mighty, rows and rows of them walking through the long and wide corridor.

You walked inside as if you knew the place, you had to enter the vault since asking for money directly might not have been as easy, you were sure you had accounts to your name, but a large withdrawal would be a lot more evident if you did it through the goblins than if you walked inside your vault, and placed most of the money there.

You walked all the way to the end of the long hall and smiled politely at a hostile-looking goblin. You could see on his name tag the name Thracknok. He finished stamping a paper and looked up at you with a grin that looked more sinister than welcoming. “How may I help?” he asked in a garrulous and nasal tone, every word clipped.

“I would like to access my vault,” you said as you took out your key and showed it to him. “It’s the 718.”

“Top security?” The goblin replied.

You nodded, breath as steady as possible. “I have been sent by my father,” you lied. And then you focused on your voice, you remembered what you’d done to Remus, the intonation, the way in which you had charmed him, and channelled it again. “You must take me there.”

Thracknok nodded, his gaze slightly lost, “I must,” he agreed.

By the time he turned around and took the key you’d given him from the counter, you let out a nervous breath and followed him. He took you all the way into a small, mine-like cart, and motioned for you to sit. In a matter of seconds, you were coursing at top speeds through tunnels and wide-opened spaces. You saw a dragon and went through a waterfall. Thracknok seemed disoriented for barely a second after that, but he continued with his task.

Fae magic and wizard magic, although similar, were not exactly the same, and the Thief’s Downfall had not affected your charm almost at all. Now you had no idea why that waterfall was there, but you had focused on one thing throughout the trip and it was those same words that you’d told Thracknok from behind the counter ‘You must take me there.’

You weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, but something deep inside you told you that you had to be precise with this. Eventually, the cart stopped, right in front of a pair of twin vaults 718 and 719. Both had your last name written at the top.

The goblin approached one of the vaults and placed the key, the vault opened, intricate metal pieces slowly moving to the side, and allowing you in.

“I’ll be outside,” the goblin said and turned around for you to walk in. You walked inside your vault, it was filled with both things you had and hadn’t seen. There were piles of galleons in the corners and several other magical items scattered all around. There were goblets, and jewellery, a bunch of enchanted items. You could feel their magic, even if you weren’t sure what most of them did. You swallowed and picked a handful of galleons and threw them in your bag, then another one and then another one. You hadn’t even made a dent in the pile, but you had enough to get by for the rest of the school year and then some.

You turned to the massive grandfather clock in the corner of the room, it had taken you exactly three minutes and 15 seconds to fill your bag. It hadn’t been that long, you wanted your whole incursion at Gringotts to last no more than 30 minutes, and so far, you were doing an excellent job. You took a deep breath and started looking around. You avoided touching any of the jewellery in case it had tracking spells, but you looked over the rest of the things. Some things had belonged to your Mum, fae relics, and then there were other things that belonged to your dad’s side of the family, ancient jewellery, a game of chess made out of gold, a star trapped in a ring whose shine was almost blinding and even a couple of old books on fae magic your father had bought and studied when he married your mother.

And that’s when you thought about his letter again, the one where he’d told you that he needed space on the family vault for something else. You had thought it was odd then, you even suspected he might be hiding something important. But now that you saw all those fae items and books, you knew that whatever he must have hidden in there was powerful, so powerful it might have been used as a weapon.

What was that old saying? Curiosity kiIIed the cat? Perhaps you should have resisted the urge to find a way inside the other vault, perhaps you should have just walked out of the bank, gone straight towards a small street and called for the Knight Bus. But it was the oddness of all those precious items being taken out and thrown somewhere else, of those items being replaced by something else. There had to be a reason, and you had to see what it was.

You looked around inside the vault, you had read a book about twin vaults, some of them were connected upon the request of their owners. Now, you didn’t see a straight connection between them, but you were certain your father would be the type of person to request such a thing, in the strange scenario he had to get out of the vault a different way than the one he got in.

You took a deep breath and paid attention to everything. The secret passages in your old house had always been odd. The classic book was not secretive enough for Silas. He liked to use weirder things, books that hid information, candies that unlocked secret doors (but only if you put the right amount of them on the scale), elaborate puzzle games that would only open the passage if you followed the exact amount of steps to solve them.

When you were smaller, before the trip to the Occultum and before his political ambitions took over his personality, the two of you used to do puzzles together, elaborate and complicated sorts of puzzles that were far above your age range. But Silas didn’t care, he would convince you to keep trying and trying until you found the way to solve them. Whenever you did solve a puzzle, Silas would smile and praise his talented daughter, tell her how brilliant she was, and then he would give you a wish in return. A wish, you thought.

Right in the middle of the bookshelf, there was a simple book, with the word ‘Wish’ written on its spine. You looked at it for a couple of seconds before you decided to approach it, it was in slow and tentative steps that you reached the shelf and took it in your hands. You swallowed and opened the book.

There was only one written page in the entire book, and it was a riddle.

In shadows deep and whispers soft, A secret lies, though hidden oft. Through twists and turns of mind and fate, Seek the truth, but never late. In echoes old and dreams untold, The key awaits, in tales of old. Through trials dire and trials fair, Only the wise shall find it there. In silence vast and darkness deep, The answer lies, in dreams asleep. But wake ye now, and heed the call, For time is short, and darkness falls. Three paths diverge, yet all converge, To where the truth and secrets surge. Choose wisely, seeker, lest you fail, And in the end, your efforts pale."

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A/N: I questioned myself for making them suffer so much while revising this chapter. Some of Sirius' words are just heart wrenching to me, I swear <3