#azkaban angst

[fircbolts]

Last post of the year!

hiii it’s been a while but i wanted to share this piece i worked on last week. I hope everyone is doing great and i wish y’all a wonderful new year filled with happiness and success. i will be more active next year hopefully cause i really want to prioritize drawing and creating in general! Sorry about the angsty post haha but i kinda needed to draw this, i had it planned for a while now but i only had time to work on it now haha. anyway! see y’all next year! 🫶🏼

[exhaustedcatte]

You’re a Wizard.

Remus bit his cheek, the juvenile words “Detention, Prewett” died on the tip of his tongue.

No, he reminded himself harshly. That’s Fred and George Weasley. Not Fabian and Gideon.

I’m not a Prefect, I’m the bloody Professor, Remus grit his teeth.

Luna Lovegood floated into the room and Remus saw unwelcome visions, the present melting away to accommodate the past. Regulus Black was there, guiding Pandora when she was batting her lashes at Xenophilius Lovegood.

Draco Malfoy was an amusing mixture of Lucius and Narcissa. He stuck his nose up and raised one manicured brow like his mother, but his ugly words and prideful manners were all his father.

Remus laughed guilelessly, what was wrong with him. Fraternising with the enemy, Moony? A very familiar voice chirped in his head.

It hurt so bad.

Every time Hermione Granger raised her hand, to the chagrin of the rest of the class, Remus saw Lily Evans. Her fierce intelligence and determination a weapon to dismantle the prejudice faced by Muggleborns. Lily would’ve loved her.

He wiped his face with tired hands.

Honestly, Remus was never meant to survive this. He was simply unfortunate, unlucky. An anomaly.

Hah, now suffer.

There was Neville Longbottom, with ears that stuck out like his father and a shy smile to match his mother’s. I’ll watch over him now, Remus promised the smiling Alice and Frank in his memories, apologising for the years gone by.

Then there were the little things.

Snape always caused a spark of his old Marauder spirit to overtake his senses. It also brought forth very vivid sounds of two devils whispering into his ears. Potter and Black, always at the crime scene.

No, no. He batted that thought away before he could spiral.

Remus found himself shocked by the streaks of white in Minerva McGonagall’s hair, which 15 years ago that would’ve caused an uproar. Not even his own greying roots had caused him so much sadness.

His heart ached when he saw Madam Pomfrey pressing her knuckles into her strained back. How much had he missed while hiding from this wretched world?

But what struck a raw nerve was Harry Potter, of course.

The toad green of his eyes and the bird’s nest of his hair. It had been so long but all he could see in the young Potter boy was his friend. A friend who had betrayed him, but his friend nonetheless.

I know you, he pursed his lips to prevent screaming that when he was addressed as Professor Lupin and not Unc’e Moo’y. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t the one who could get Prongslet to burp or take a nap anymore. He was the weird, mismatched man for a teacher.

You know Harry doesn’t think of you like that. Ah, Lily, wise as always.

The James in Harry Potter stuck out like a sore thumb, much like his hair, when he whizzed across the quidditch pitch with innate talent, when he couldn’t hold back his tongue while talking to Snape, when he faffed about in lessons. But it pained more to see Harry stand up for his friends, like his father had always done, and when he went searching for trouble despite being explicitly warned against it.

Oh, how I miss you Prongs.

He sat back in his chair, creaky and hard as it was. There was only one person he hadn’t found in his students.

Remus closed his eyes.

Sirius Black grinned at him from behind his eyelids. Miss me, Moony?

[sun-kissy]

sit together | s.b.

tw: angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: inspiration really struck with this one! was feeling sad about poa sirius so i decided to write this :) enjoy!

summary: sirius is back from azkaban, but things just don’t feel like they used to

“I wish I knew how to talk about it,” you murmur, gaze fixed on the tearing leather of the couch as you thumb it absentmindedly, like it were the most interesting thing in the world.

Sirius looks up from where he slouches on the other end, surprise flashing across his features. “What?”

He’s startled, really, that you decided to start a conversation. It’s something you haven’t done once in these past few days.

Sirius presumed you’d be happy to have him home, glad to be reunited with your lover after twelve long years. But ever since he returned, he’s felt a constant craving for your affection.

The truth was that he didn’t feel much different right now from how he did in Azkaban.

Hours spent tirelessly longing for you - for the touch of your soft skin beneath his calloused hands, the feel of your tender lips on his chapped ones. It was how he survived, dreaming of who was waiting for him on the other side of the cruel metal bars.

It had felt like he was going mad sometimes, crazy for you. Hands grasping at what he thought was the fabric of your dress. Fever dreams and hallucinations of soft moans, whispered promises. Loud sobs racking his body because he envisioned a glimpse of your death. But you were here, now, sitting stoic in front of him.

You weren’t the same anymore, though. You were no longer the person he had left behind when he was taken away. You weren’t his.

What had once been stolen kisses and longing stares had turned into accidental touches and pulling away. Late night heart-to-hearts about rings and cradles had been replaced with small talk, mindless rambling for the sake of conversation.

Where there had been love, there was now a barrier. And Sirius couldn’t tell if it was a mental one or a physical one; considering that you now slept with two doors separating you.

He wished he could say all of this, express the twinge of pain that tore through his chest every time he looked into your lifeless eyes. But all that he managed to croak out was, “What do you mean?”

“This,” you gesture between the two of you, finally mustering the strength to meet his steady gaze. You wish you hadn’t. The torment in his eyes was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

Everything had changed, it was as obvious as the rising of the sun. His departure had left you like a rag doll, solemn and still as though the life had been sucked out of you. It was more than a decade ago. But you had felt the anguish grip you every minute of every day from the time he was taken away.

He had left you with so much anger, so much hatred for the circumstances you were left in. You knew deep down that it wasn’t his fault, of course it wasn’t. But you weren’t about to direct your fury at anyone else. Not at Remus, the pathetic bloke who had just lost his best friends. Not at Peter - he deserved nothing, not even your emotions.

So you channeled your rage at Sirius. Because you were so desperate to get the image of his pleading eyes out of your head, so fraught with the need to kill the longing ache that filled your body when he double-crossed your mind. You couldn’t bear the pain of loving him, so you convinced yourself to hate him. Told yourself that he killed James and Lily. He abandoned you and was never coming back.

But he was here now, looking at you like his universe began and ended with your love.

You suck in a shaky breath and continue, convincing yourself that if you didn’t have this conversation now, you never would. “I don’t know how to talk about this. About us. Nothing’s…. nothing’s the same anymore.”

Sirius’ eyebrows bunch in concern, and you don’t miss the slight quiver in his lips as he bites down on them. He breathes sharply, blinking away what looks suspiciously like tears.

“Well,” he starts, gulping down a lump in his throat as he continues to train his eyes on you. “You don’t- we don’t have to talk about it.”

“I don’t?”

“No, you don’t.”

“We can just… we can just sit together,” he blurts out, seeming puzzled at his own words for a moment as he averts his gaze to the ground.

But then his expression clears up, and he looks back into your eyes, surprisingly firm. “If you’d like to, I mean. If you’d like to sit together.”

“Sit with you?” you repeat.

“Sit with me,” he says again.

“Okay.”

Sirius lets out a tense exhale, visibly relieved. He gives you a terse yet encouraging smile, patting the spot next to him.

You take a deep breath, pressing your palms into the couch as you move yourself towards him.

The next moment, your indent in the couch is melding with his, knees touching the other’s. He extends his arm behind you, unsure. But when you don’t protest, he wraps it around you gently, pulling you into his side with all the care in the world.

“Okay?”

Uncertainty.

“Okay.”

Hope.

You feel your walls start to collapse, involuntarily melting into Sirius’ touch. This is what it used to be like, this is how you used to spend your days.

It was engraved into your very bones, the feel of his skin against yours. Etched on your soul were the hearts he used to trace with his slender fingers, the marks of where he left his kisses. Visible to no one but you and him.

He sucks in a trembling breath and you fear he’s going to start crying. Worse, you think you might just crumble into a pool of tears yourself. So you do what your heart is screaming at you to, and wrap your arms around him tenderly.

Sirius immediately tugs you impossibly closer, burying his face in your hair. You feel the yearning in his embrace, his hungry craving to hold you close. His tears wet your hair as you nestle your face in his chest.

The both of you stay like that for what feels like forever, making up for all the time you should’ve had. At one point you start to rock him as he cries, trying to pretend like his muffled sobs didn’t send daggers through your heart.

“I love you,” Sirius breathes shakily, a while after his bout of tears has passed.

Silence.

He seems to understand, seems to accept it. He gently rakes his fingers through your hair. “Do you love me?”

It’s less of a question, more of a plead. You think he might already know the answer. And you know he’d continue to love you either way.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, feeling the guilt squeeze your chest.

You feel his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, a hint of heartbreak in his voice. He lays his head on your yours and closes his eyes as he squeezes you just a little bit tighter. “You don’t have to love me. Not now, not ever. But… until you do, we can just continue to sit together, you know?”

That earns a soft chuckle from you.

“Sit together,” you muse, feeling your lips start to curve upwards. Your agreement is obvious from the smile in your voice.

“Sit together,” he echoes, smiling softly.

Sirius would love you for the rest of his life if you’d let him. But until you did, he was content to just sit next to you with his arm around your shoulder and head resting on yours.

[uhhlifeig]

Gift - Feb. 25th - word count: 293 - @wolfstarmicrofic

“Here,” Remus said, handing Sirius a small box. 

“Aww, is this for me?” Sirius cooed, opening the gift. Inside was an elegant hair clip- silver, with intricate designs.

“Shut up,” Remus hissed, turning a bright red. “I noticed your hair was in your face in Potions, and-”

“And you got me jewelry!” Sirius screeched. “Prongs and Lily’ll have a fit when I tell them, oh my gosh.”

“Shush.” Remus rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m proposing or anything.”

“Don’t care. I’m going to cherish this forever and ever and ever and ever-”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Remus sighed, grin evident in his voice. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Sirius was incredibly grateful for having such a wonderful boyfriend, and he showed it later that day- well, night.

~~~~~

Azkaban was cold.

It wasn’t a put-some-more-layers-on type of cold; it was the gaze-upon-me-mortal-and-despair kind of cold.

And oh, Sirius was despairing.

His bones were rattling in his skeletal frame, and he hadn’t gotten up from the stone floor in days. 

Every time the Dementors passed by his cell, he relived finding James and Lily’s dead bodies.

James was first, he remembered. Splayed out on the staircase, glassy eyes looking at something no living person would see.

Then it was Lily, strewn across the floor. Dead, so that Harry would be safe.

And Remus- Remus definitely thought he’d been betrayed.

His best friends, dead. Peter, whom Remus probably still considered a hero, was dead too. 

And Sirius was here, in Azkaban.

The day that James and Lily died, he had a ring ready. He would have proposed three days after, on his birthday- but now he’d never get the chance.

He was rotting away on a cold stone floor, wishing on the moon for another chance.

@estellethewriter is this sad pookie

[wingedhallows]

i was a kid ; harry potter

pairing: harry potter characters ( no particular pairing ) | 0.6k words plot: molly seems to forget that war happened before prompt: "i was a kid" authors note: i love molly, really, but i've alway wanted to yell at her in that one scene in order of the phoenix. so, here u go (also the dialogue isn't accurate to the movie)

navigation

Your hand clasped the cup of firewhiskey for dear life. It’s been fifteen years, yet it felt harder than before. You were ready to fight and give your life just like fifteen years ago you’re ready to do that again, of course, but your body reacted differently. Your mind was plagued, plagued with nightmares, with images of death and so much more.

You were on the edge when Lily and James died, when Sirius was locked up for something he didn’t do. All of that just swam around in your head once more, while you sat at this table. 

“There’s something coming, something bigger.” Sirius spoke. Your hands began to become clammy, your eyes closed as you kept quiet. You knew that he was back, stronger than ever. You knew what that meant, of course.

“Then I want to be a part of it, I want to fight.” Harry spoke, chair squeaking as he leant over. 

You were seated between Sirius and Harry. Your breath quickened. You were just like him in the past. Impulsive, you all were. You had sprung to your feet that night, a smile on your face as you almost begged Albus to make you a member.

You wished he had turned you away. Harry on the other side needed to be a member, he was the prime target, you’d protect him. Those kids were in danger and if you could protect them you would.

“There you have it.” Sirius spoke. Your breathing began to speed up, if more was possible right now, your hands held the cup so tightly you might dent it.

The anger cursed through you as Molly huffed and protested. Your head became light, as you pressed your eyes shut. They weren’t there when it all came together, when members died left and right. “Y/N.” You could hear Remus, his eyes on you.

“Enough, they’re just kids.” Molly interrupted and that was just too much. You scoffed, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

“Kids.” You said, face in a sour snarl.

You lifted yourself off the chair and looked at the people in the room. Your eyes focused on Molly.

“You think Voldemort cares if they’re kids?” You said, the room uncomfortably quiet. 

He hadn’t cared then either. 

“You think just because they’re kids, they won’t be murdered?” 

Molly frowned at you and placed a hand on your arm, you shook her off.

“Y/N, please.” Your face held nothing but disgust. 

“This is war, Molly. People die when they don’t know shit, they get murdered. No matter if they’re kids or not” Molly sighed and tried to get a hold of you.

“They’re just kids, they shouldn’t have-”We were kids too!”

You said, a bit louder. No one said anything, too stunned by your outburst.

“I was a kid.”

You whispered as a tear made its way down your face, features twitching in sorrow. “I was a kid when war struck.” You paused to bring a hand to your chest, eager to stop your heaving.

“I was a kid when I was tortured. When-When My friends were murdered, when Sirius was locked up for something one of us betrayed us for, when all hell broke loose.” Molly gasped, hand grabbing at a chairs rest.

Your eyes found hers as you gulped, pushing the emotions back. Sirius and Remus looked at you, tears in their eyes. It had struck all three of you, so hard, all those years ago.

“So don’t tell me they’re just kids.” You paused before grabbing your cup and chugging the rest of your firewhiskey down. 

“It doesn’t matter what age you are when war strikes.”

[rogata453]

I’ve seen so many comments and posts speculating about how Sirius would have acted after Regulus’ death. As a Sirius kinnie, and someone who’s experienced the loss of a very close person, I think he would’ve cried for a few days, overwhelmed with the immediate shock. But after that, he would have just... moved on. Not because he wanted to, but because the grief didn’t hit him. He was numb, disconnected from the pain, almost like he couldn’t allow himself to feel it. He would’ve gone on with life, pushing through, maybe thinking he had processed it. But the truth was, he hadn’t. Not really. It would’ve taken maybe a year or two—possibly even in Azkaban—for the reality of Regulus’ death to truly crash down on him. In the isolation of his cell, with nothing but time and his own thoughts, the weight of it would finally settle. He’d sit there, unable to escape his mind, and the thought would hit him like a tidal wave: ‘Regulus is dead. My baby brother is gone. He’s not just on a vacation, he’s never coming back.’ It would be in that moment, after all that time, that he’d feel the full force of the loss—something he couldn’t have processed earlier because it was too much to bear in the moment. And the worst part was, he would have had to face that grief alone, in the dark silence of Azkaban, with no one left to share it with.

[sidegly]

I think sirius black's patronus is a dog (like padfoot) cause his happiest memories are with the marauders

Tho he was never able to cast one again after azkaban

Thats it thanks for coming to my ted talk🤗

[kandradragon]

Truth may seem but cannot be

@wolfstarmicrofic Mars 12 - Wrap

Remus usually spends the day after a full moon wrapped in a blanket, with a huge steaming cup of hot chocolate and a book. It’s the only luxury he treats himself to these days, as he otherwise spends most of his time trying to find a job that won’t kick him out after a month or two, when they inevitably realize what he is. 

The owl finds him just like that on a sunny morning in early august, knocking incessantly at the window until he reluctantly unwraps himself from the blanket and goes to let it in. The red wax seal is familiar, even though it’s been 16 years since he last saw it. He smiles fondly and feels his throat tighten as he opens the letter and reads:

Dear R. J. Lupin.

I hope you have given our previous conversation earnest consideration. Trust that your concerns have been thoroughly considered and discussed among the faculty and that we all would welcome you here with open arms. As I mentioned, Severus has agreed to brew the Wolfsbane potion for you every month to ease the transformations, and has also graciously offered to take care of your classes during your absences. 

There is no one I’d rather see at the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher come September. 

Send your answer with the owl, her name is Cwtch and she loves beak scratches. 

Yours sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

P.S Minerva wanted me to emphasize that teachers are not to encourage the student’s pranks and mischief – however impressive their spellwork might be. On the bright side, you will find that you are now permitted to walk around the castle freely at night at last. You’ll be proud to hear that young Harry has… taken up his fathers mantle in that particular hobby. 

A tear lands on the parchment and blots the ink. Harry. He hasn’t seen Harry in almost twelve years. When he last saw him he was zooming around on a toy broomstick that was given to him by the man who had sworn to protect him if anything ever happened to his parents. Instead that man had made sure his parents were dead, and little Harry was sent to live with Lily’s awful sister and her husband. Remus had met them once, the experience had been anything but pleasant. Though they had agreed to take Harry on… Lily always said that her sister cared for her, deep down. But the one who should've cared for was his godfather. If things were different. If he hadn’t been the one who betrayed them.

Twelve years. Twelve long years to grieve, rage and question. In the beginning Remus had wanted to visit him in Azkaban. To get answers. To scream and curse at him. To hold him tight and pretend that none of it was real. He was told it wasn’t possible. Only spouses were allowed visitation. He might’ve been able to persuade Dumbledore to get him in anyway, but he never did. Perhaps that was cowardly of him, but by the time he could actually function enough to interact with the world again it felt like the time for questions had passed, and he just wanted to move on and build a new life for himself.

Dumbledore had contacted him a couple of days ago, asking him if he was interested in teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, since the previous teacher had ended up at St. Mungus due to severe memory loss. He had told Dumbledore he needed time to consider the offer, but in truth he’d made up his mind as soon as he was asked the question. Of course he would come back to Hogwarts. He had already started to make lesson plans and refreshed a few spells that would come in handy. 

Wiping his tears Remus scribbles down his answer on the backside of the letter, then he gives Cwtch some well earned beak scratches before he sends her away. He wraps himself up in the blanket again, and while he finishes the hot chocolate he tries to figure out how he would go about acquiring a hinkypunk for the students to observe…

It’s early evening when he apparates into Diagon Alley. There’s one more moon before school starts and he’s running low on blood-replenishing potion. It’s not always needed, but when it is… He’s learnt the hard way that some things are always best to have on hand, just in case. Like chocolate. What will it be like, he wonders, to not have to deal with the wolf taking over during the moon? He’s heard of Wolfsbane of course, it made headlines when it was introduced, but he never thought he would be able to benefit from it himself. It’s too complicated for him to brew safely himself, and far too expensive to purchase. Imagine – being able to keep his sane mind, not being a danger to anyone, waking up without bruises, cuts and bitemarks…  Almost too good to be true. No more dreading the full moons. 

There had been a time when he didn’t dread the full moons, at least not as much. When his friends had joined him on reckless nights in the Forbidden Forest, the wolf happy and free. Prongs, Wormtail… Padfoot.

Padfoot.

Remus stops in his tracks as a sudden movement on the wall outside a shop selling used cauldrons catches his attention. He blinks, banishing the memories that must’ve played a prank on his eyes. 

But no. He’s still there, staring right at him, just as he remembers him from twelve years ago. The same picture that haunted him from every newspaper during the days after Lily and James’ murders.

Why is it here?

Without thinking he rips the picture from the wall and takes a closer look. Not at the picture, he’s way too intimately familiar with that face as it is, but at what’s written underneath. It has an official Ministry seal and is dated a few days back, and as he reads Remus feels chills running down his back.

Murderer on the loose!

Sirius Black, notorious for the coldblooded murder of  twelve muggles in 1981, has escaped Azkaban. All sightings should be directly reported to Ministry officials. Keep your doors locked and wands close. Do not approach this man. How he escaped is not yet known. The dementors are searching for him. Do not approach those either.

Escaping Azkaban is said to be impossible. It has never been done before. Of course Sirius bloody Black would manage it. With shaking hands Remus folds the poster and puts it in his pocket. He thinks of Harry. Wonders if he knows. If he’s scared. Should he be scared? Surely Sirius wouldn’t want anything to do with him. And even if he did, he’s not sure fear is the right word to describe what he’s feeling. He’s angry. Furious. But also… deep down, a part of him he’s tried to ignore for twelve years, there’s doubt. It’s an awful feeling –  James, Lily and Peter all died by his hand and Remus’ stupid teenage crush still makes him doubt the truth. 

Did Dumbledore know? When he asked him to come to Hogwarts this year, did he know?. He must have. Perhaps it was the reason. Did that mean he trusted him to make the right decision if faced with Black? Or did it mean he wanted to keep an extra eye on him, in case he turned out to be a secret accomplice? He should’ve told him. Remus, of all people, deserved to know about Black escaping Azkaban. Perhaps Dumbledore thought he already knew.

Remus slowly makes his way to the Leaky Cauldron, his hip is hurting from the transformation. He gets a bottle of Firewhisky and tries not to listen in on the conversations around him, but everyone seems to be talking about it. Sirius Black. Escaped from Azkaban. He grabs a discarded Daily Prophet before he apparates back home. 

That night, the nightmares are back. The ones that haunted him, awake and asleep, during the months after Lily and James died. Sirius, standing over their corpses laughing. Sirius blowing up the muggles. Sirius murdering Peter, brave Peter who did what Remus could not. If things had been different, if he hadn’t been away on a mission, Peter wouldn’t have had to die alone. Remus would’ve been there too. And Sirius… Sirius would’ve killed him.

Because Sirius Black chose to serve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. 

The nightmares continue through the night, Remus waking up trembling again and again, trying to keep his breathing even. But as the first rays of sunlight peek through the curtains, his dreams shift. There’s Sirius teaching Peter to play gobstones. Sirius and James hugging after a Quidditch match. Sirius crying as Lily handed Harry over for him to hold for the very first time. Sirius kissing him in a stolen moment neither of them dared to speak of again.

A great black dog appears at his rundown cottage, and in this dream Sirius is innocent. In this dream he gets to embrace him, tell him all the things he never did, and he’s finally not alone anymore.

What wouldn’t he give for that to be true?

[also on ao3]

[eden-writes-stuff]

Remus woke up in the middle of the night, sweating, tears streaming down his cheeks.

It had been two years since Sirius had returned into his life and still everyday he was worried to wake up without him again.

And every time he found him cuddled up next to him. Just like today. Gently, he pulled him closer by the hips. Sirius immediately snuggled closer, burying his face in his chest.

"Moony? Why 're you 'wake?" he mumbled, tilting his head slightly upwards.

"Nothing to worry about. I'm just glad you're still here."

"Of course I'm still here. It's two in the morning, you big freak."

Remus just smiled softly, pulling him on top of him like a second blanket. "You can go back to sleep. I'm fine."

"Promise?" Sirius made an effort to open his eyes.

"Promise," Remus answered.

[raphael-angele]

Queen

NOTE: Post-Azkaban Sirius. He was proven innocent. Did time for around 5 to 6 years. Remus has been raising Harry for that time. They're taking Harry out clothes shopping.

Kid Harry: Oooh! Paddy, can I have this one? *shows a blue jumper with a yellow star on it*

Sirius: Aww, of course, Harry. Put it in the basket.

Harry: Yaay!!

Remus, coming from another aisle: Aw, whatcha got there, Haz?

Harry: It's a jumper! It's cute, right?

Remus: It's very cute.

Sirius: Oh! Harry, look! *shows him a Queen T-shirt*

Harry: *tilts his head a bit* Q-Qu-Queeeen. Queen!

Sirius: Yeah! Let's put that in there *puts shirt in the basket*

Harry: *points to Freddie* Who's that?

Sirius:

Remus:

Sirius: What?

Harry: Who's that?

Sirius: ...Remus...

Remus: Yes?

Sirius: Why does my godson not know who Freddie Mercury is?

Remus: Uhm...

Sirius: I was gone for 6 years. He was in your care. And this is what I come home to?

Remus: Sirius, don't you think you're pushing this?

Sirius: No. Cuz I cannot believe that you would raise him without proper music. What were you playing for him? Disco?

Remus: Sirius.

Harry, confused and scared: D-did I do something wrong?

Sirius: No, Harry. *picks him up* No, you didn't do anything wrong. *kisses his head* I'm sorry. How 'bout we go find you some socks?

Harry: ...mkay...

Remus: *follows from behind with the basket*

---Later---

In the kitchen:

Sirius: ...hey

Remus: Hey. You want some tea?

Sirius: Yeah, sure.

Remus: *gives him the cup* Here.

Sirius: Thanks.

Remus: ...wanna talk about what happened earlier?

Sirius: ...I just- *deep breath* I can't believe you.

Remus: Pads, it was just music. He's a kid. He's gonna wanna listen to music for kids. You're blowing this out of proportion

Sirius: It's not just the music. He barely knows anything about me. And I get it; you want him to know about James and Lily and what they were like, which is great. But I'm like a total stranger to him. When he was a baby, he loved it when I carried him around and played with him. Now, it's like I'm just someone living in the house.

Remus: Pads...

Sirius: It would've been nice if you told him a few stories about me.

Remus: Sirius, you were in jail for murdering his parents and conspiring with the Dark Lord. How was I gonna tell him stories about you in that situation?

Sirius: ...so you really believed that I did that.

Remus: Of course not. But...sometimes I did. I really didn't want to believe that you would do something like that. But if you did, I didn't want Harry to think I was defending you for what you did.

Sirius: Then what about the house? Don't think I didn't notice how there's almost nothing here about me. We lived in this house together for 3 years but there are no pictures of me around, none of the vinyls and records, nothing.

Remus: ...It was hard. Sirius, believe me when I tell you that I wanted to tell Harry about you. I wanted him to know how amazing his uncle Padfoot is. I wanted him to know everything about you. But it was hard for me to talk about you. It was hard for me to look at all those pictures of us together without feeling so empty. I can't listen to those songs without thinking about all the times we danced to them. I can't even get up in the morning without thinking about what it would be like if you woke up beside me. I wanted Harry to know you. I just didn't know how I could have done that.

Sirius:

Remus:

Sirius: I'm sorry. I should've thought it through. I guess, I'm still getting used to being out...I should've thought that that's how you're feeling, too.

Remus: ...if it makes you feel any better, Harry knows about Padfoot.

Sirius: Yeah?

Remus: Yeah. He saw the dog bed and the squeaky toys. He asked me how come I had them if I didn't have a dog. So I told him about Padfoot.

Sirius: What'd you tell him about Padfoot?

Remus: That he's loyal, and kind, and loving...and a troublemaker

Sirius: *chuckles*

Remus: I would really love for Harry to get to know you, Sirius.

Sirius: Yeah, me, too...I love you

Remus: Love you, too

Harry, coming in, groggy from sleep, holding his stuffed snitch: Paddy...Moony...

Sirius and Remus: *get up and approach*

Remus: *picks him up* Harry, what are you doing up? It's past your bedtime.

Harry: *yawn* Couldn't sleep...

Sirius: Okay. Let's get you back to bed.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 23 - Anticipation

@wolfstarmicrofic December 23, word count 155

It had been twelve years since he’d last set eyes on Remus Lupin. He knew the second Remus entered the shrieking shack. The familiar scent of chocolate and pine trees wafted up through the cracks in the floorboards directly to Sirius, where Harry held him at wand point.

Remus came clattering up the rickety staircase when the girl had screamed out that ‘Sirius Black was here’, and the anticipation was killing him. 

He dragged his eyes away from Harry. It nearly broke his heart; he looked so much like James, but Lily’s murderous glare shone out of her green eyes. 

The footsteps hit the landing, and he held his breath as the door banged open, its hinges shrieking in protest, and there he was, greyer than ever, but Sirius had no doubt that the man stood before him with watery eyes was the man he’d loved ever since he was fifteen years old. Remus Lupin.

[zelcii]

[halloween special, 2.8 words]

lie to girls | sirius black

the first time she’d seen sirius black, it was as though her world sharpened around him. the first year gryffindors were mixed into her class with the rest of the ravenclaws and there he was, just a boy in the back of transfiguration, head thrown back in laughter as he huddled with his friends, facing away from professor mcgonagall. he moved with a casual elegance that looked effortless, as if he was simply born knowing how to take up a room and make it his. and from the moment she saw him, her heart picked up its own rhythm, matching the pull he had over her head.

the next time would be in hogsmeade on a chilled sunday afternoon. from a distance, she watched him then, and the desire that rose in her was nearly painful, visceral, something she hadn’t felt before. he was a paradox of rebellion and charm, his manner both enticing and dangerous in the same breath. it was a heady kind of longing, the way she felt herself gravitate toward him even as she stayed rooted in place. he simply wasn’t someone you could approach. sirius black was the kind of boy people waited for, the kind they longed for, knowing he could break their hearts with a smile.

she told herself it was just curiosity at first, just fascination with the way his presence seemed to cast shadows and light in equal measure. he was quick with laughter, but his eyes held a darkness she wanted to understand, a mystery that felt like it held the secrets of a thousand lifetimes. everyone else around him seemed bewitched, but none with the same hunger she felt for him—an intense, electric want that she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling.

on a particular february night, the castle was steeped in an unusual quiet, the kind that made the halls and staircases feel almost secretive. her prefect rounds had been dull, with only the crackling torches and her own footsteps for company. something in the chilly air—a restless thrill—had urged her to climb the winding stairs to the astronomy tower, an impulse she couldn’t quite explain.

as she reached the top, she found him there. sirius black sat perched against the edge, his silhouette stark against the star-lit sky, dark hair tossed by the wind. And of course, she knew he wasn’t allowed out of his room at this time of night—let alone gryffindor tower—yet she couldn't find the words to send him back. even more, he looked uncharacteristically subdued, his eyes distant and fixed on the sky. there was something so vulnerable about the way his eyes glided across the stars. something so human. something so kind.

again, a part of her thought she ought to send him back to bed, but the sight of him, cloaked in moonlight with that rare, unguarded expression, stopped her. maybe it was the slack in his posture or the stillness of the night itself, but something about that moment convinced her it would be a good idea to sit with him. so she did.

“patrol?” he asked, his voice soft but clear as she settled beside him.

she nodded, tucking her robes closer to block the chill. “and you? don’t tell me james quit.”

he flashed her a grin, that familiar spark of trouble glinting in his eyes. “not quite,” he said, shrugging, though his gaze never left hers. “couldn’t sleep. thought i’d find something worth watching.” he leaned back, his gaze flickering briefly to the sky before meeting hers again. “though, i might’ve just found it,” he whispered, so quietly she could have sworn it was only a trick of the wind or a figment of some half-dream stirred up by that pull she’s felt since their first year.

after that night, the two only seemed to grow closer. what had once been fleeting exchanges between classes grew into conversations that stretched long past curfew, their voices mingling in whispered confidences neither would ever admit to in daylight. only the walls of the astronomy tower bore silent witness to their growing fondness, to secrets exchanged under starlight and half-formed wishes that faded with the dawn. with each encounter, she found herself left with a new piece of him, but somehow, it was never enough. every moment they spent together only left her wanting more, craving the answers to the questions he kept locked away behind that easy, charming smile.

but she was patient. she kept her distance, watching, wanting, her heart caught in a quiet wait. she knew he’d love her eventually. and when he finally did, laughing a little too hard at her smallest jokes, eyes lingering on her with a warmth she could never dream up, she felt the whole world tilt, as if he’d cast a silent spell, binding her to him in a way she would never escape.

but now, sitting across from him in a quiet muggle café, the thrill was harder to find. she watched him from beneath lowered lashes, studying the way he fidgeted with the sugar packets, occasionally glancing up and offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. that’s normal, she’d insist.

“i’m sorry i missed dinner last week,” he said rather sheepishly, as if he hadn’t missed each one in the past week. sirius’ eyes flickering between his hands on the table and the hint of grief in her eyes. “things got... complicated.”

she nodded, pushing down the twinge of disappointment. she was smart enough to know it was more than that. “i understand,” she replied, though her heart whispered questions she refused to voice. he was here now, wasn’t he? and that should be enough. it had to be enough.

he looked up at her, his gaze warm, but as she tried to meet his eyes, he seemed to falter, focusing instead on his coffee. a pang of uncertainty twisted inside her, and she wondered—just for a moment—if he was holding something back. he would tell me, she thought, though she’d never heard such confidence in something she was so uncertain about. she forced herself to look away, reminding herself of the boy she’d known since hogwarts. her first love. that carefree, wild-hearted sirius who had made her believe in a version of love that could withstand much of anything.

the days stretched on, slipping into weeks since the last time she’d properly seen her sirius with only occasional letters flying through her windows. each time she told herself it would be enough—that he’d made time for her, that he cared, even if he couldn’t always show it. But she��d last seen him mid-september, and it was already nearly halloween. she reminded herself of all the reasons she’d fallen for him, all the glimpses of the man before lonely nights and empty beds, and bent her truths to match the love she held for him.

it was a crisp afternoon when she finally saw him again. the autumn leaves crackled beneath their feet as they strolled through an overgrown garden near the edge of town, the golden hues a reminder of the time they’d let slip by. he looked tired, shadows etched beneath his eyes, and she found herself resisting the urge to reach out, afraid he’d turn away.

“you look... tired,” she said, her voice soft with concern.

he chuckled, brushing it off with that familiar smirk. “long nights, you know how it is.”

“do i?” she pressed, searching his gaze. he laughed, but it didn’t quite ring true, and he glanced away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “you haven’t been home in weeks, sirius…” he spares no answer.

“you’re too good for this, you know?” he said suddenly, and there was something in his voice she couldn’t place. her heart clenched, an echo of her own fears mirrored back at her.

“oh, don’t say that,” she whispered, reaching out to brush his arm. “i’m right where i want to be.”

then he looked at her, his expression unreadable, and she felt the weight of a truth hanging heavy between them, unspoken. maybe she wanted him to argue, to tell her that he felt the same, that he was right where he wanted to be too. but he only gave her a sad, knowing smile that sent cracks through her carefully held illusions.

she looked at him, brow furrowed, feeling that familiar worry settle in her chest. “how’s… how’s harry?” she asked, her tone soft, her eyes watching for the shift she knew would come.

sirius’ face lit up, and for a moment, all that weariness seemed to be left and forgotten. “harry’s brilliant,” he said, a real smile breaking through. “james says he’s trying to talk now—mostly babbling, but you should hear it, darling. the kid’s got lungs.”

she found herself smiling, warmth blooming at the sight of his joy. it was almost magical how just the mention of his godson could bring him back to life. but a pang of jealousy couldn't help but twist inside her, unexpected and uncomfortable. sirius could light up at the slight mention of the child, yet somehow he couldn’t even bring himself to come home, to their shared life, for more than these fleeting moments. but the guilt of it—feeling that pang in the face of everything he was carrying—only left her aching and frustrated.

instead, she forced herself to focus on the way his grin left small wrinkles by his eyes, nodding along as he told stories of harry’s latest antics. he looked lighter somehow, talking about the infant’s laugh, james’s silly impressions, lily’s latest frustrations with their son’s constant wiggles. she watched him, studying the way his eyes softened with each memory, even as she felt a familiar longing take root. for weeks now, she’d felt him slipping away, held back by something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—talk about. every letter had only deepened the gap, and now, with him right here in front of her, she still felt that distance, thick and unspoken. and though she’d never admit it, as he spoke, it was painfully clear that all he could possibly want was a family—a life that was bigger than the two of them. and she simply wasn’t sure if that was something she could provide.

“do you miss it? home?” the words slipped out before she could stop them, and for a moment, she regretted it, watching his face for a hint of his response.

his smile faltered just slightly, then he caught it, masking it behind a veil of sincerity. “you know i do. just… so much to keep an eye on, yeah?”

she nodded, the answer feeling thin, the ache of it lingering. “of course,” she whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear the sting in her voice. she wanted him to see that she understood, that she knew he was dealing with something, but a part of her wanted him to feel her hurt too. weeks without him had left her feeling almost invisible, but asking for anything more felt selfish. she could wait, she thought. she has done it before.

still, she wished she could reach him, even if only for a second. he could be so close and yet feel miles away, and the urge to ask—to demand he let her in—warred with her instinct to let him keep his secrets. he must’ve been protecting her. maybe he simply didn’t want her to see the weight he carried. but merlin, did it hurt to feel so helpless beside him.

before she could lose herself too much in the thoughts, she felt his hand slip on to her waist, squeezing gently. she blinked, startled out of her reverie, and looked up to find him watching her, his gaze softer than she’d seen in a long while.

“i’m here now, aren’t i?” he said, voice quiet, almost uncertain, as though he feared that it would never be enough.

“yes,” she murmured, a small, strained smile surfacing. she forced herself to hold onto that single word like a lifeline. she felt her pulse steady under his touch, her breathing slow just a little, and she tried to take comfort in his presence, even if it was fleeting.

they stood like that for a while, the unspoken things hanging in the air around them. it wasn’t everything she wanted, and it wasn’t the full return she craved, but for now, it was enough.

that night, there was a knock at the door that came rather unexpectedly. when she opened the door and saw him standing there, bundled against the night chill, her heart leaped. he offered her a lopsided smile, his eyes carrying that familiar warmth that always seemed to melt away her doubts, at least for a while.

“thought i’d surprise you,” he said, holding up a small bouquet of half-wilted flowers as a peace offering. she laughed, pulling him inside, and they spent the evening in a cosy blur of shared laughter and soft touches. the world outside seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them, wrapped up in their own quiet happiness with only the four walls of their flat to bear witness.

later, they lay in bed, her head resting on his chest, tracing lazy circles on his skin as she rambled on about a random thing she read that morning. he held her close, his hand brushing through her hair in gentle strokes. in that moment, everything felt complete, as if they were suspended in time, untouchable by the fears that usually lingered between them.

“stay,” she whispered, eyes heavy with sleep and a hope she knew she shouldn’t hold on too tightly.

he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his hand stilling in her hair. “for as long as i can,” he replied softly, though she felt his words sink into her like stones, each one carrying a weight she didn’t want to face. but she closed her eyes, letting his warmth lull her back into the illusion that this could be enough.

the next morning, she woke up alone. the space beside her was empty, his warmth already fading, and though she told herself not to worry, that he’d left to do whatever the order had asked of him, a lingering dread settled in her chest.

several days passed without a word. she tried to go about her life, but the silence gnawed at her, each hour feeling heavier than the last. but the lack of an owl by her window after each passing evening left her feeling sick. what felt worse was that she’d spent her halloween in bed, alone with the memory of his warmth. 

then, one evening, she flicked on her muggle television, hoping for a distraction. the flickering screen settled on a breaking news story: the murder of a young couple, identified as james and lily potter. the anchor’s voice sounded distant, hollow, as they spoke of sirius black, now named as the prime suspect, accused of betraying his closest friends.

she froze, her mind going blank as she watched the images flash on the screen. lily’s face, laughing and full of life; james, his grin bright and full of nothing less than joy. and then, sirius, captured in a haunting black-and-white photo, his face hardened and unreadable, the look of a man she barely recognized. 

then an owl came.

she stumbled to her window, frantically reaching for the latest on the daily prophet. there, in bold letters across the front page, was his name, branded with accusations and whispers of betrayal.

her heart hammered as she scanned the page, each line chipping away at her defences, tearing down the walls she’d built to protect her fragile hope. it didn’t make sense. none of it made any sense.

she sank to the floor, clutching the paper as her mind replayed their last moments together—the way he had looked at her, his reluctance to stay, the things he had left unsaid. and she realised, with a cold clarity, that this must have been what he’d been hiding all along. the uneasy glances, the sad smiles, the way he couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

it had all been there, plain and clear, but she had lied to herself, bending his truth into something far more digestible. she had convinced herself that the man could do no wrong, that he would always come back to her, that they had a future worth waiting for. and to be fairly honest, that was still what she hoped for.

but now, with the truth laid bare before her, she couldn’t pretend anymore. he was gone, taken from her by choices he’d made and secrets he’d carried, and she was left with nothing but the hollow ache of loss.

in her mind, the news made perfect sense and yet felt utterly impossible. there was no way in hell that sirius—her sirius—could do such a thing to a family he loved more than their own. she couldn’t reconcile the words she was reading with the feelings she’d felt only nights before. and now, she simply didn’t know what to believe anymore.

when i said this was roughly inspired by lie to girls i meant roughly roughly. this is also not proofed lol.

tell me if you wanna be on my hp tag list :))

[starmoondany]

When Remus told Sirius that Freddie Mercury had died during the time he was in Azkaban, Sirius didn't cry, he didn't say anything, but he felt a horrible lump in his throat that went all the way to his chest. He felt in some way that everything he had ever loved, when he was still young and happy, was abandoning him. Slipping out of his hands. And so it was. Death seemed to be infatuated with him, chasing him but never catching him. Killing all of his loved ones but not him.

“He died, Sirius.” Remus said in a gentle voice, as if he was afraid of hurting the fragile, skeletal man in front of him. Sirius looked at him, silently, as if in shock, and some tears began to run down his cheeks when a thought came to his mind; Oh, death, don't take this one from me. Not this one.

[sun-kissy]

mouth wide open | s.b.

tw: major character death

post-azkaban sirius x reader

summary: your husband, sirius, returns to you after twelve years. but at what cost?

A million different memories flash in your mind as you stare transfixed at the man in front of you - intertwining your fingers together when you first entered Hogwarts at 11. Smiling into the first kiss the two of you shared at fifteen. Being held in his arms as you sobbed into his chest when he proposed at twenty-one. Once memories to treasure had now morphed into memories to desperately grasp onto as they were snatched away from you.

“You just wait and see, love. I’ll leave you with your mouth wide open,” he used to say confidently, a grin on his face before he went and did something stupid to impress you. A small smile forms on your lips as you recall how often he claimed that in your teenage years.

It felt surreal, the moment you had dreamt of for years finally taking place right before your eyes. Twelve years, to be exact. You continue to stand there dumbly, quietly taking in his features and timeless beauty. His long, silky black hair, now unruly and messy with lack of care. His hypnotising grey eyes, now sunken and without a spark. Hey, what about that smile of his - the one which always made your heart flutter? You lock your eyes on his lips, eyes lighting up as you see the corners of his mouth tilted up in that familiar, teasing smirk. The familiar sensation of butterflies soaring in your stomach takes over your senses as you look him up and down.

Sirius Black. A name you had grown so accustomed to calling, but a name that had never left your mouth for the past twelve years. He was here now, after all this time. Sirius kept his promise - he said he would return to you, and he did. Your prayers had been answered. The world had brought your husband back to you.

But oh, how you wished he had been brought back to you alive.

“Miss?” the mortuary worker asked irritably, her voice filtering through the haze in your head, causing you to snap back to reality. “Is this your husband or not?”

You glance at her, inhaling sharply. The taste of blood is metallic in your mouth as you bite your lip to stop it from quivering. “Yes,” you murmur, your eyes glossing over as you reach over and gently close his eyes. “This is my husband, Sirius Black.”

“Good,” she mutters to herself, scribbling something on a piece of paper before grabbing the cart carrying his dead body and wheeling it out of the mortuary. You silently watch as he leaves you again. He had left you with a broken heart, crushed soul, and true to his words - your mouth wide open.

[uhhlifeig]

Heartbroken - Feb. 16th - word count: 315 - @wolfstarmicrofic - inspired by @equippedtolove and my earlier conversation

Remus sat in his dingy, dark flat, staring at the half-empty Firewhiskey bottle in his hand. 

The past few days- weeks?- were a blur in his memory, starting when he had gotten the call from Mary on that fateful Halloween night.

James and Lily, dead. Peter, dead. Sirius, a murderer.

Honestly, Remus was heartbroken. How could he not be? The love of his life- his husband, actually, since they had gotten married two weeks before that cursed day- was a murderer. A serial killer.

And the worst part? Remus still loved him. He still loved the killer of his three best friends, the spy in the Order who had murdered the McKinnons in cold blood, the man who had slaughtered twelve Muggles and Peter with a singular spell.

He should have stopped loving him the moment Sirius started acting weird, but no. He was concerned.

Remus scoffed and downed his Firewhiskey.

Pure blood really did run Black.

~~~~~

Sirius curled up against the cold stone floor of his cell, shivering. 

He had stopped pleading his innocence to the Dementors and the occasional prison guards a while ago- or not very long ago. He didn’t remember. 

Time was hard in Azkaban. 

The only way he could tell if it were night or day was through a small window in the uppermost corner of his cell. 

He as good as had the blood of James and Lily on his hands, after convincing them to switch to Peter.

He was the one responsible for everything. He had probably broken Remus’s heart-

Remus.

Sirius could just barely see an image of him in his mind, his warm amber eyes and his bright smile. It was fading fast, though, darned Dementors. 

He held onto the last wisps of Remus’s tearful “I do” at their wedding and fell asleep.

By the time he was up again, the memory had long since vanished.

@estellethewriter

[cursedmoon-doll13]

Blackhearted

(Sirius Black x Reader)

Cw: Noncon, Angst, Smut, Afab Reader, Dark!Sirius, PnV Sex, Somnophilia, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Crying, Forced Orgasm, Tender But Nasty™️, References to Alcohol Abuse, Reader has head + pubic hair, this got kinda bleak and depressing

READ WITH CAUTION

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: 12 Grimmauld Place is a miserable home.

But for now, it is yours. A lost and vulnerable soul, you find refuge in the owner of the house; a man as troubled as yourself. Unbeknownst to you, he’s sunken his teeth in far deeper; clutching onto you like a lifeline, and the dark, harrowing isolation of winter may drive him to commit acts unforgivable…

Ao3 || Masterlist || Dividers by @/saradika

In mid-February, it’s so cold, so desolate, it reminds him of sharp, icy fingers, clamping down on— His childhood home, decrepit with neglect and age, is the last place Sirius ever hoped to return to. It’s lost, crumbling into undignified ruins, deteriorating into filth. With his pest of a house elf still clinging to the old family values, it’s properly gone to the dogs, and he’d gladly let them pick off the carcass. 

But now you’re hiding alongside him - not by choice - you’ve taken it upon yourself to try and ‘fix it up.’ Sirius almost scoffs at the mere thought of it— At you, whose nose wrinkles distastefully at the grime and mould that gracefully adorns his kitchen. You don’t understand that the disease has progressed far beyond the point of recovery. It’s everywhere; it’s in the air you breathe, in the walls, in the carpet. It’s lurking inside the very infrastructure, festering like cancerous growth. The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, haunted by its rotting opulence: the decaying decor, the cursed, priceless artefacts, the tattered, hateful portraits, courtesy of mum. 

Sirius, who has long since forgotten the luxury of owning his own clothes, wraps himself in the same mothball ridden finery his father died in. Sometimes he feels— He’s eaten alive by the fabric. By vestiges of the past. It still stinks of stale drink, and on nights like these, Orion’s son glares down at the bottom of an empty wine bottle, and thinks that he might be following in his footsteps after all.

On a night like this, the aged floorboards squeak under his heels as he prowls the dilapidated halls. Sirius’ stalking route leads to you, as it usually does, far past midnight. Your bedroom door is sealed tightly shut - probably to keep the heat in - but you never lock it. As if he isn’t dangerous. 

Gripping the weathered knob, he twists it, and lets himself in. The dim, yellowy glow of the gaslamp bolted to the corridor wall is his only light, flickering as it pours into the musty guest room he’s lent you. Sirius lingers on the precipice, his fingers still curled around the handle, sobering up rapidly. 

Blinking slowly, he looks down at you. 

You’re lying on your side, both arms grasping the pillow, dressed in that novelty pyjama set (‘to ward off the draught,’ was the unspoken function of it) Tonks had gifted you for Christmas; a sort of consolation prize. Greatest sympathies, to prepare you for the sordid husk you’ll now inhabit— With him, no less, a man you thought at first to be a killer.

And you, well… You’ve been left skittish from whatever you’re on the run from. He reckons that’s why you’ve latched onto him so powerfully, hoping this unredeemed convict will see fit to protect you from the isolation and the horrors. To help fill the long stretches of time when it’s just been the both of you to keep each other company. Sirius can’t deny his own strong attachment towards you. 

Your presence is comforting, and he’s fallen deeply. Too deeply. It’s why he so often finds himself standing here, watching over you. Sirius envies you, the peaceful sleeper. But he also covets you; if only you’d stay and lay beside him, to heal wounds never spoken of… But he doesn’t know how to ask. 

Silently, he crosses the boundary. 

Rising over your unconscious form, he lifts the quilt, a heavy, lumpy thing, and tentatively rests his knee on the mattress. You sleep peacefully on, even as the rusty old bed-springs squeak underneath him. Sirius slides his exhausted body in behind you, and the dark mass of his own scraggly black hair spills over the cushion. For a moment, he lies there, unmoving and quiet. Even at this safe, chaste distance, your body heat, radiating off you in gradual waves, is enough to soothe the permanent chill that’s seeped into his bones… Sirius can’t resist. He shifts, before placing his forefinger over your throat. 

Sirius can feel your pulse, throbbing with blood; you’re a real, flesh and blood human, warm and alive. Merlin, he’s been deprived for so long, a strong vein feels like it’s a lifeline. This is all he’s ached for, but— No... No. He’s already overstepped a line, one he shouldn’t have ever— He needs to stop, he needs to leave, now, before this all goes too far and he ruins it; ruins you, as he knows he inevitably will. 

But he doesn’t. Sirius’ breath catches in his throat as he tilts his chin ever-so-slightly, and he presses his cold mouth against your exposed nape. You twitch, but do not stir. Sirius licks his dry lips and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, as he nudges down the fleeced collar of your pyjama shirt with his thumb. The slope of your neck is covered in fine, delicate hairs, and he can’t help but smile affectionately down at you. Your defenceless state is sweetly endearing. To be so close to you like this, almost holding you, tender as lovers. 

Sirius hesitates, then, squeezing his eyes shut as he endures the lurch of churning revulsion in his gut (he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t—), he leans forward and plants a string of wet kisses over your bare flesh. So human, so vulnerable… You twitch again, shivering as the ticklish brush of his whiskers rubs lightly over your naked skin. Shame burns like acid in his stomach; but his need for you burns brighter, hotter than fire now, all-consuming… He heaves a jagged sigh, and, unable to stop himself, drags the starving flat of his tongue over your neck, lapping up hungry stripes of perspiration. Sirius tightens his grip on you and shudders with relief— He’s finally quenched his thirst, if only a little. Your intoxicating scent, your taste… 

He’s stolen things, too, before this; he’s not proud of it, but he’s done it. It’s convenient enough to blame it on Kreacher, who hoards all sorts of objects in the first place… What is the difference, really, between the Black family heirlooms and soiled knickers from the wicker basket? No, It hasn’t been so hard to convince you it was Kreacher; to lie and to fib— his old, senile house elf is simply a raging kleptomaniac… You trust him so much… And now Sirius has gone and betrayed that trust entirely. 

Merlin, he needs to stop, he needs to… This should be enough… No, it’s not enough… It’s never enough, he’s barely touched you… Sirius groans feebly into the nape of your neck, slipping the palm of his hand under your nightshirt, desperate for your sacred, lifesaving heat, just a little bit— And then he’ll stop, immediately— just a tiny bit more… You shiver once more, twitching repeatedly as the pads of his fingertips skim over your stomach, still asleep… Sirius brushes his lips over your throat again, as he locks you in wiry arms, inching up your shirt, exposing you to the dark and cold. He traces the slats of your ribs, searching further, until he comes to knead coyly at your breast, teasing your nipple. He dips, finding the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, thumping robustly… Proof of life. 

And you’re definitely real, aren’t you? Not a hallucination, not some illusion… He’s sleepless for the nightmares, but the dreams are always worse, because they remind Sirius of everything he can’t have, not ever again… But he can have you. This stray thought, forceful and insidious, leaks into the dark recesses of his brain. Yes, He can have you— It’s his house, his rules, isn’t it? 

Fuck, he’s disgusting. The realisation of what he’d just conceived of, even momentarily, assaults him with a new stab of remorse. Sirius flinches away, pulling his offending hand out of your pyjamas; but the damage has already been done. By now, he’s pressed flush against you, leeching off your comforting warmth, and his dick is straining tightly against his trousers. Merlin… He’s perverse. 

He throws his forearm over his eyes, blinding himself. Sirius intended for this to be a wholesome encounter, to be sweet and innocent. And now… Have all those years of degradation truly rotted him to the core? Is this what he’s become now? A lustful wretch? This has gone too far, too far— He should leave— 

But now, Sirius has known your touch, and it’s embedded itself parasitically into his mind. He’s swiftly hurtling into addiction; he can’t settle for mere table scraps— To retreat with his tail between his legs, only to find a cold and lonely bed, would be unbearable... Sirius rattles a breath, grasping onto that frayed rope of inherited entitlement he’d meant to cut off a decade ago— He deserves this one thing, surely, after a life of torment… Right? 

You twitch again, mumbling incoherently. Sirius grimaces. He needs to be careful… You might be a heavy sleeper, but he’s already disturbed you too much. If you wake up screaming… He wouldn’t like to think of what he might do. But he’ll stop— He’ll stop after this, he swears it to himself, licking his lips, feeling harder and hungrier than ever. 

Sirius’ forearm props up your leg for him to gain enough access, spreading your thighs open. It’s awkward, but he manages. He tugs down the waistband of your pyjama bottoms, just a bit, so he can touch you, feel you so close to him… Sirius’ hand brushes over a soft tuft of your pubic hair, and he twitches a faint smile… So endearingly vulnerable, before dipping his fingers into your pussy. 

You’re not aroused, but the heat of your core is enough to satisfy him, if only temporarily. Sirius hasn’t done anything like this for a long time; it feels unfamiliar, like all human contact does. He nudges away the curls, tracing your labia, before recalling the shape and form of it, and gently rubbing your clitoris. Fondness, mixed in with his sickening shame, rushes into him, and he presses his lips to your nape again, pleading and soothing like an apology. 

Then, Sirius bites his tongue, justifies himself with the excuse of repaying you with sweet dreams, and pushes his index finger deeper inside your pussy. He hums quietly, indulging in your little twitches, the way your walls flutter around him. It’s not particularly romantic to pleasure you without receiving consent, but lying back-to-chest in the darkness, planting scorching kisses down your neck, he can use his mind to fill in the gaps. Easing out his intruding hand, Sirius tastes the heady flavour of your slick— Merlin. He licks his fingers greedily, drenching them in spit, before plunging them back into your warm cunt, spreading wetness over your folds. 

You let out a sleepy whimper at his touch, and he pauses, going completely stiff with alarm. But— But you haven’t woken up… And now he’s uncontrollable, beyond all morality, relishing in your soft, breathless gasps as he toys with your clit, his damp fingers sliding easily in and out of your pussy. You moan faintly, and the noise vibrates straight to his cock. He’s throbbing, now... Groaning, he forces down his guilt and remorse, discarding them as trite, worthless things. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Though you’re still fast asleep— Yes, maybe you’ve hoped for this all along… Secretly. Secretly. Of course, you’ve just been too embarrassed to admit it, but that’s fine… Right now, you’re all his. 

But that’s still not enough. 

Sirius knows what he truly needs; to bury himself inside of you, to merge with you entirely, to steal your warmth for himself— This aching desire, it’s wrong, so revoltingly wrong, but so is he; the entire expanse of flesh covering his body feels like prison, mired in filth, and he’ll never be clean again… He only wishes you could alleviate his pain— Oh, but you can, Sirius will find solace in your heat even if he has to take it from you. He grinds his palm against his temple as he decides. He fights it, but his selfishness wins… Yes, he needs it, needs you— Fuck, he’s about to do something unforgivable, commit a genuine offence; but he’ll make it up to you, of course he will— 

Sirius carefully shuffles down your pyjama bottoms until they’re bunched up around your ankles, followed by your moist panties. He shifts, now painfully hard and weeping in his trousers, and allows your thigh to fall momentarily to unbutton them and release his erection. Rigid and leaking precum, his dick falls over your ass. He readjusts his position on the bed and strokes himself roughly, before hooking his forearm around your leg and lifting it. You jerk unceremoniously and mumble, stirring, but he ignores you— He’s too close, he’s gone too far now… Gritting his teeth, Sirius guides his cock into you, finding you elusive and slippery in the dark, but— The slick of your folds sliding along his length feels heavenly. Sirius licks his lips, smearing precum over your inner thighs, and finally enters you. 

He stifles a raspy moan into your neck. The hug of your tight, wet heat is almost overwhelming— Shuddering, he wholly eases himself inside you. Merlin, you feel so perfect around him… Sirius, gasping rapturously, begins to move, savouring every long, torturous drag against your gummy walls. You’re rousing, now, slurring confused murmurs— “What, what’s going on, hm…”

Sirius doesn’t miss the flutter of lashes, a sharp intake of breath— But he continues, regardless, thrusting in slow, tender arcs. Flinching, you let out a strangled, high-pitched noise, and that’s how Sirius knows you’re truly awake— But he’ll make it up to you, he will— he spreads your thighs wide, to penetrate further, sucking affectionate bites into your neck as he ravishes your quivering body. You tremble and shriek, and your panicked struggling fills him with guilty regret. But he needs this now, he needs you now, he’s been alone for too long— And he’s not going to stop until he’s finished taking you… Feverish, Sirius’ other forearm digs underneath the pillow you’re clutching onto, white-knuckled. He tightens his grip on you before he sinks in deeper, spearing into your intimate core

You whimper, spasming involuntarily. Sirius rumbles with approval, his lips still latched onto your throat. He grabs your thigh firmly, bracing himself against the old headboard. He growls and snaps his hips upward, hitting that delicious spot over and over, trying to elicit more of those sweet noises from you. Even if you’re being frustratingly reticent - too shy, he pretends - you’re still unable to muffle your cries, twitching and writhing in his relentless grasp.

The bed creaks noisily as he hastens his pace, showering wet kisses on your rapidly bruising flesh. His movements are heated and urgent now, growing increasingly desperate— Now he’s inside you, he must fill you utterly— He longs to feel alive with you, slipping a hand down towards where you join together and connect, feeling the way his cock effortlessly slides in and out of your pussy. He dips further to rub harshly at your clit, and you whine, arching. Sirius strokes you mercilessly, his wrist cramping from the awkward positioning— 

But it doesn’t matter, you’re spurring him on with your ecstatic moans, croaky with tears. He doesn’t let up, teasing in sloppy, frantic circles as he bucks into you, revelling in the stickiness of your skin against his; the lewd, wet sound of flesh-on-flesh is obscene. Sirius groans hoarsely, his hips jerking and stuttering as your cunt squeezes around his dick with his every forceful thrust— You are enjoying this…    

Fuck, he is too— Hot pleasure jolts up his spine like the tightening of a knot; and you, crying out with loud whimpers as your spongy insides clench and squeeze around him— Sirius can’t take it anymore. He forgoes gentleness, pounding into your cunt with beastly intensity. You choke out a sob, lurching away from him, but he overpowers and holds you down, still abusing your sensitive clit— He’s going to fuck you until you cum, whether you want it or not— And his hungry mouth returns to sink livid, red marks into your neck, teeth grazing your artery. Something in the wooden bed frame cracks ominously— 

But he ignores it, his breathing growing laboured and husky as he slams his hips into you, again and again, forcing you to whine until your voice breaks. You’re shaking violently in his grip— He can sense it, and you’re close, so close— He’s getting sloppier; rapidly approaching orgasm, and your reactions are boiling his blood, whipping up a primal frenzy in his brain— Sirius pinches your clit, and you climax. 

Your euphoric moan chokes into a loud sob. Sirius growls at the way you clench around him, and pins you down with his body weight. His hand slips and pushes your leg up high, fucking you harder still through your orgasmic tremors— He’s following right behind you, on the cusp— You’re impossibly tight—

Merlin, you’re so damn tight— Sirius barely remembers to— He pulls himself out with a heavy groan, and his seed spills messily over the inside of your thigh. Hazy static pours over him, smothering the guilt, the emptiness… As it gradually tapers out, he feels the absence of your heat, of your closeness, and it pangs like the pain of starvation. It takes a moment for him to recover, lying beside you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Then, he pushes himself up onto his elbow. 

Panting, Sirius’ damp hair clings to his forehead, stinging his eyes. He wipes it, and fog clears, revealing only desecration.

As if murdered, you lie very still— Or try to, but your breathing is ragged and uneven. You’re glistening with orgasmic sweat, chest heaving as he rests your trembling leg back onto the mattress. You jolt, as if hiccuping, still wracked with sobs. Sirius’ heart aches for you— Merlin, no, what has he done?— He wants to take this moment back, but it’s too late now. The only fix he can think of is practical, like ridding a crime scene of evidence… 

Sirius pulls out his wand, flicking shakily, evaporating his cum, but the scent of your lovemaking still lingers, thick in the air. With as much dignity as he’s able to grant you, he tugs your pyjamas and knickers up your hips. He tucks himself in and buttons his trousers, swimming in post-climax numbness. For a few minutes, he resumes his vigil behind you, as if he’d never done it at all. But you’re colder and distant; farther away than he’s ever felt you. Sighing, he gently strokes your hair. You don’t flinch or shiver away from his touch, but lie still, perfectly still… Your tear-stained cheek is still stuck to the damp patch on your pillow. Sirius passes over it deliberately. You’ve been asleep this entire time, blissfully unaware… That’s a lie he’ll peddle for both of your sakes, until this all melts safely into a nightmare.

It’s agony to tear himself away from your warmth, but Sirius knows he’s ruined everything by violating you, and lingering will only hurt you more. He presses one final, adoring kiss to your neck, yearning to embrace you, then slips wordlessly out of bed.

To forbid himself, he uses magic to bolt the lock.

Morning brings clarity. 

He walks into the kitchen, and the stone tiles clack under his boots, echoing, echoing… You’re there, also, preparing a slow, tedious breakfast.

The silence is heavy. Sirius wants to break it, but the quiet feels impenetrable; a chasm of his own design. For a moment, he frowns, looming uneasily over the dining table, aggravated by the clinking of the jar as you spread jam on your toast, eyes downcast.

Then, he pulls out a rickety chair and sits down. 

You don’t smile at him today. You don’t return his probing gaze. You knife up more slimy jam— Too much, now, and the bread has gone soggy. 

If you’d only burst into tears, he’d gladly take you in his arms to hold you now. Sirius could be your solitary comfort, as you have been his… Only, your new, withdrawn, gloomy state unnerves him. His face darkens… Your bond has truly been broken.

But there’s something else, too. 

Remorse gnawed his flesh until daybreak, and was scarred over by something cruel and hard, burrowing gruesomely inside him like an infection.

He could think of it this way: returning to his old childhood home has done very, very strange things to him. Yes… That’s it. Sirius has never had anything so warm and lovely in this place... And indeed, he’s spent much of his life out of control and powerless… But he does have power over you. It occurs to him abruptly. He does have power over you.  

Sirius leans back in his chair with a squeak. His guilt, hot and shameful, broils fiercely in his gut, but it intertwines with a kind of grim satisfaction. 

It’s his house, his rules… 

So why shouldn’t he have you?