#fixing azkaban

[thebean394]

Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Percy Weasley & Luna Lovegood, Percy Weasley & Other(s), Penelope Clearwater & Percy Weasley Characters: Percy Weasley, Penelope Clearwater, Luna Lovegood, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Roger Davies, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Garrick Ollivander, Ron Weasley, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Marcus Flint Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Family Drama, Family Feels, POV Second Person, Reconciliation, Fixing Azkaban, Redemption, Political Revolution, meaningful scars, Percy Weasley-centric Summary:

You are not courageous. Your dreams have always been the bravest parts of you.

[Percy Weasley, post-war, pre-reconciliation. The world is broken and he knows it better than most, but Percy's also broken as well. Fixing one might just mean fixing both.]

[tigrrliily]

They are my roman empire

Someone asked me for the details in this one…so here you go enjoy the pain🥲

I wish I had the time to draw more again but university is forcing me to actually work…so here you go, enjoy our tragic love bugs

[messrsrarchives]

slightly nsfw?

but i imagine the last few months before halloween were rough. and i imagine any of the physical contact that wolfstar had was rough too, they're touching out of desperation still, but not for each other. and i imagine a lot of shoving, and hair pulling, and tangles etc etc.

which is cute because then, when sirius returns, i imagine remus taking the utmost care detangling his hair. multiple bottles of conditioner, refilling the bath numerous times, refusing to cut the hair no matter what.

and then i imagine that remus never pulled sirius' hair again. i imagine that it was swapped out for pushing it off of his face or tucking it behind his ear and then their aftercare would be sirius with his head in remus' chest and remus detangling it.

"sirius loved his hai-" oh boy not as much as remus did i fear.

[a-sunset-outside-my-window]

fic rec friday

Professor Black

by Haunted_Forest on Ao3

Kreacher's unending loyalty has allowed Regulus to survive the Inferi. In order to destroy the horcrux and ensure Voldemort's death, he goes back to Hogwarts, this time as a Potions professor. Years at this position give him new insights, even as the papers rave about how both the Blacks were traitors to their sides.

When Sirius gets loose from Azkaban, Regulus knows one thing: he is not going to let his lunatic brother hurt his students.

I'm back on my bullshit lol so expect maybe a lot more poa fix-its because they are my all time favourite and I'll be damned if I don't rec them all at some point!

favourite tropes included:

professor regulus black

hurt and comfort

good teacher reggi

heh, fixing things

remus and regulus friendship

some good old angst

bill weasley is a cute little bean

as always leave lots of love and kudos to the author and have an amazing rest of the week <3

[my-current-obsession]

I VERY rarely do this kind of thing but I have to rant a little about this hp drarry fic. Mostly because I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about it, but said thoughts and feelings are very mixed so I couldn't bring myself to leave a comment since I don't want to come off as hating/critiquing, but I have to vent about it SOMEWHERE.

I really enjoyed it in the beginning, and I want to say I ultimately still like it. But I WANT to love it and just can't, because it frustrates me. Literally every person in this fic, including all of Draco's friends and even his mother, is on Harry's side of the situation. And that just isn't right.

I understand that "everyone" can see that Harry is in love with Draco and wants to be with him, which is why they keep trying to steer Draco towards him, but personally I think the conflict and onus to fix things is very much on the wrong person.

I don't care how obvious Harry supposedly is. There is a difference between being obvious and being explicitly clear. It should not be up to Draco to magically REALIZE Harry has feelings for him, it should be on Harry to clearly, explicitly tell him. If Harry wants to be with him so badly he needs to put his feelings into words instead of just implying things.

Because OF COURSE Draco wouldn't realize how Harry felt when he was so explicitly rejected before. Why the hell is it on the person who was hurt - possibly even heartbroken - to figure out that the guy RESPONSIBLE for that hurt actually DOES like him now so they can be together?

The entire conflict of this story comes down to Harry's inability to clearly confess his feelings and Draco's inability to understand them WITHOUT said clear confession. And that sucks because the rest of the plot and the character writing is SO fun and engaging, but I feel personally wronged by this conflict and the fact that literally everyone keeps trying to push Draco at Harry instead of seeing his viewpoint and going either "well, Potter screwed up and has missed his chance now" or just freaking confronting Harry and making it clear that he NEEDS to confess or Draco will never understand because he was so badly burned by him before that he's completely blind and/or willfully ignorant to the idea of Harry ever loving him, and no amount of just flirting will break through to him.

To be clear, I'm not inherently against fics where the conflict is just that the pining idiots won't admit their feelings. My frustration here is that Harry is BLATANTLY pining and making moves so clearly he wants to make something happen with Draco yet STILL doesn't do the obvious thing of just confessing. It's one thing to withhold your feelings if you DON'T want the other person to know or your relationship to change. But Harry DOES, which makes him sitting on his confession and getting hurt every time Draco doesn't notice his dangled hints upsetting.

Basically, one or both parties having a chronic case of Cannot Spit it Out is fine, but here, where one party is clearly pursuing the other but the other is oblivious? In general that's fine too but this fic has a REASON Draco is oblivious. I feel like it makes perfect sense NOT to expect/want anything romantic from someone who rejected you before, so since Harry made that bed now he has to lie in it.

Maybe it's a stretch, but this to me feels lowkey like victim blaming. It's clear that Draco liked Harry in the past and was incredibly hurt by the fallout of their one-night-stand, yet rather than sympathizing with him or trying to make the relationship happen on Harry's end, everyone in his life is just telling him to trust Harry now and that he won't be rejected. Which then led to him opening up just a little bit before a misunderstanding happened that led to him getting hurt and feeling rejected AGAIN.

I really do want to love this fic, but as someone who has BEEN hurt and rejected, I just don't understand how everyone in Draco's life can side with Harry. I don't understand why it's up to Draco to realize Harry loves him without being told, instead of up to Harry to verbally convey that.

[jadedandconfusedao3]

Creative Accounting

The charity fundraiser was a roaring success and Regulus spent the next week enjoying the thanks and praise of his fellow teachers. They had raised enough galleons to purchase new materials for every class and Regulus had made a tidy profit off his time in the dunk tank. A surprising number of people were happy to pay to get him wet time and time again, and by the time the day had finished, he’d practically turned ascending out of the water like a mermaid into an art form. He’d made sure that the white shirt he’d worn for the occasion turned artfully see-through when wet.

As it was, he was about halfway toward raising the money he would need to have his dark mark removed. The balance still seemed huge, but he was confident that by the end of the year, he would be able to scrounge up the rest. It was the only thing keeping him sane when the mark itself had been itching and inflamed for the entire week. Poppy had been able to do very little about it and it was driving him insane.

He stalked through the corridors in a foul mood, scratching at his arm and avoiding children where he could. He was hiding in an alcove, after avoiding his most inquisitive and curious student, Miss Hermione Granger, when he heard two very familiar voices.

“Have you seen the new Arithmancy teaching guide I was able to order from Belgium? It was written by a truly revolutionary man who has broken a lot of new ground in the area. What did you buy with your funds, Severus?”

Regulus peaked out of the gap in the curtains to see Lily and Severus strolling past. Severus had been a right prick all week. He had looked suspiciously at Regulus when the amount of funds raised were announced. Regulus knew that he had been careful and that no one could possibly know that he had pocketed the majority of money from the dunk tank but if anyone was going to find out it was Severus.

Severus snorted. “My supplies are far more expensive than the amount allocated to my subject. It made very little difference. That said, did you not think it odd, that the fundraiser did not raise more than that?”

Lily slapped Severus on the shoulder. “How dare you belittle all the work Regulus did. He practically worked himself to the bone. He was in that dunk tank for hours and I don’t think he even knew how it was working. He went above and beyond, and you should be happy that he is so dedicated.”

Severus had a coughing fit at that and made a strangled sound in response. “Did you just say that Regulus is a dedicated teacher?”

Lily crossed her arms across her chest. “Yes. His methods may be a little unorthodox but most of the children say they thoroughly enjoy his classes and he’s done marvellous things with that Malfoy boy. Harry said that he’s been rather nice this year.”

Regulus grinned. He couldn’t wait to drop that truth bomb on his young cousin. It was becoming one of his favourite pastimes to rib the uptight little so-and-so, and he knew exactly what face he would make if Draco found out that Lily had said, Harry thought, he’d been rather nice.

Severus sighed. “I don’t think I have ever seen a worse teacher than Regulus Arcturus Black. I seriously question Dumbledore’s sanity for even bringing him here. I think it had far more to do with the present danger from his psychotic brother than any real expectation that he could do some good.”

Lily gasped. “Severus, he is your friend! Friends do not say things like this about their friends.”

Their voices faded away down the corridor as the blood began to rush into Regulus’s head. It didn’t matter that Severus was probably correct. He had very little teaching experience. He had put about as much effort into getting some as he had put into buying Kreacher new kitchen supplies, but Severus was supposed to be his friend. He knew that the man was an arsehole, and who was physically incapable of not saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time but that didn’t excuse this.

He stepped out of the alcove and went in the complete opposite direction toward the staff room. He needed a nice cup of tea, a biscuit and something small and fragile that made pretty sounds when you smashed it. He was reasonably assured that the kitchen would hold all of those things.

When he entered the room Remus was perched on the windowsill blowing smoke through a crack in the window. He looked Regulus up and down with a frankly sinful expression and moved to stub the cigarette out in an ashtray that he removed from his pocket. Regulus simply ignored him and began to make his tea. When he was satisfied that it was exactly as he liked it, he removed the first saucer he could find and threw it against the wall.

He took a couple of deep breaths and repaired the offensive piece of chinaware, before picking it up and throwing it again.

“I had no idea that was a familial habit.”

Regulus glared at him. “Shut up.”

He turned and picked up another saucer and threw that against the wall as well.

Remus whistled. “Sirius used to do the same thing.”

Regulus turned on him with a snarl. “I am nothing like my brother.”

Remus backed away with his hands raised and Regulus turned back to his porcelain. He continued to repair and smash the saucers until the rage started to fade and his arms ached. When he was done, all that remained was the hurt he felt from Severus’s betrayal. Especially considering Snape had been bad mouthing him to Lily, just when it seemed she was warming up to him too.

“Bad day?”

Regulus swivelled round and glared at the man in the corner. He had almost finished another cigarette in the time period it had taken for Regulus to work through his anger. Remus was wearing a wry smile that pulled up the edge of his mouth giving him a rakish air. He leaned up against the windowsill, his lanky frame splayed out in front of him as though he had not a care in the world. His entire attitude made Regulus want to destroy him. To break him. To see something other than the cool and collected individual he always appeared to be.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Regulus hissed.

Remus slowly pushed himself up to standing, his long limbs seeming to take forever to raise him up to his ridiculous height. Honestly, if Regulus were to ever start something with the tall DADA professor, he would probably have to climb him like a tree to get even close to those lips. Not that he was considering it. Regulus shook himself. No, he wasn’t even thinking about it.

Remus dug around in his pocket and held out a spliff to Regulus. “Would you consider a different kind of coping mechanism?”

Read the rest on Ao3

[life-to-the-seed]

[ivedonemywaiting]

It was NeVeR NoT yOu

Brb sobbing

"It was never not you."

A Wolfstar micro-fic

~~~♤~~~

And there Sirius was: his clothes and hair dripping from the rain, his eyes wide and his hands curled tightly into fists.

He was shaking, Remus couldn't tell if it was from the cold or from the fear. Probably both.

"I'm sorry." Sirius whispered again, "You don't have to accept it. I know I haven't given you very many reasons to. But I am. I swear I am. These last twelve years have been torture for me, Moons. I'm sorry I let you down. I don't expect you to forgive me or to let me make it up to you, but I hope you'll give me the chance to try."

Remus stayed silent.

He wanted to tell him everything, wanted to confess that a life without Sirius was never a life at all. He wanted to tell him that it didn't matter how long he needed to wait, he would always wait, he would wait for Sirius until the end of time if he needed to.

Remus knew Sirius wanted an answer. He wanted to know if Remus could ever be friends with him again.

But it was more than that. Remus didn't want to go back to the way things were, to the nervous touches and shy silence. He wanted more, he wanted everything. If he had to endure more time without Sirius than he'd ever spent with him then he didn't want to waste another moment.

But how could Remus explain the emotions swirling inside of him?

How could he explain that his love of anything in this bleak, dull world came from his love of this man?

How could he explain that he started smoking again just to keep the panic attacks at bay? That if he closed his eyes it was almost like they were kids again, young with nothing to lose but each other, sharing a cigarette under the light of the half moon.

How could he explain the weight he had lost? He'd spent years timing his meals with Sirius' to make sure he was actually eating, and once that was gone he couldn't seem to bring himself to do it anymore.

How could he explain that he couldn't manage to step foot in the library or the three broomsticks again, knowing he would scan the tables for his old best friends?

How could he explain that he still searched for Sirius in the strangers passing by? He searched for shining silver eyes and jet black hair, for muggle rock band shirts and the glint of the white gold in his jewelery.

How could he explain the pain in hearing Sirius' name whispered by people around him? The pain in reading about him in the papers.

And how was he to explain the nightmares that had consumed him? When he woke every morning for the better half of a decade with Sirius' name falling from his lips, the memory of his touch like ghosts on his skin.

Would Sirius understand the desperation crawling up inside of him? Would he understand this hunger, this need to have him close and never let him go again?

But even if he knew how to say all of this, he knew he couldn't get the words out. Staring at Sirius, seeing his emotions so raw and his heart laid out for Remus, it was too much.

So he did the only thing he could think of

He leaned forward... and kissed him.

Sirius didn't startle the way he'd expected him to. He didn't jump, didn't shy away or stand confused and still.

He kissed him back.

And there was that desperation Remus had felt for nearly twenty two years, since the moment he first laid eyes on Sirius.

It was gripping clothes and tears mixed with raindrops and oh so utterly perfect.

"I love you." Remus whispered, he knew he should have waited, but they'd done their waiting hadn't they? "I love you, Sirius. I love you so fucking much."

He kissed him again, relishing in the mumbled 'I love you too' against his lips.

And in that moment, in this rain, he knew he would never feel anything as strongly as he did now. A love to overpower the twelve years of grief and regret and betrayal. A love to make him whole again.

"I'm never letting you go." Remus told him as they lay together later that night, Sirius tucked safely in his arms.

"Good, because I think I'd die if you did." Sirius whispered back.

"How long have you known?" Remus tucked a strand of hair behind Sirius' ear, "That it was me you loved."

Sirius smiled, a bright smile that made Remus' chest tighten,

"Moony... it was never not you."

~~~♤~~~

[my-castles-crumbling]

fix-it - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 281

"Sirius had betrayed you," Dumbledore said gravely, peering over his fingertips and Remus's crumpled form. "As you know, he was the Potters' Secret-Keeper. And he passed that information to Voldemort."

It was so blunt. The way Dumbledore spoke, ignoring the sobs falling from Remus's body, it was like he was happy. He figured, to most people, it was a happy day.

But Remus was broken.

"We put our trust in the wrong person," Dumbledore said softly. "But we will move forward. And Sirius is in Azkaban. He will pay the price of his actions."

This news broke Remus from his crying, causing him to look up. "When is the trial?" he asked, determined to look Sirius in the eye. To demand that the man he loved, the man he thought loved him, give him an explanation. Because it was so so wrong. So wrong he couldn't even believe it.

"There will be no trial."

It was this that made Remus pause. For some reason, a picture of Sirius popped in his head. A memory of 12-year-old Sirius smiling softly at him, telling him he didn't care if he was a banshee or a vampire or a werewolf or a troll- they would always be friends.

So Remus set his face in a stubborn expression and murmured. "He should have a trial. I...we need to be sure. It's the law, Albus. He needs a trial. We can't break laws. Even now."

And years later as he looked back on that moment, he was never more thankful for the blind love he had for Sirius Black. Because he shuddered to think about what might have happened if Sirius had been denied a trial.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Marauders and Lightning Era Masterlist

started - 08.13.2024

last updated - 11.13.2024

Reqs: Open! Can be as specific as you'd like, or as vague as Youd like! i write both xreader and canon x canon. all LGBTQ forms of requests are welcome!

Credit for Dividers

All triggers and small summaries listed in the fanfiction

Matured audience advised

Random fic ideas

Faceclaims

HARRY POTTER and CO.

-In The Absence of Goodbye (Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort - Enemies to Lovers to Strangers to..)

Bartemius Crouch Junior x Fem!reader

Summary: Concept- After being sent back in time to spend a year in the Marauders Era, reader is thrown forward in time and has her memories erased. But was she truly sent home? Aka: Dumbledore underestimates Barty's absolute disregard for order when it comes to his vixen.

-HIATUS We'll Heal Together (Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort) 13/? parts Remus Lupin/Sirius Black x Reader

Part 1-9 can be read as a standalone. Summary: Harry Potter grew up without the warmth of a family he should have known. A father in James Potter, a mother in Lily Potter, a God Father in Sirius Black, and an uncle in Remus Lupin. Oh, and let's not forget, a godmother in {Y/N} {L/N} Alt Summary: Starts at the end of Chamber of secrets and into the Prisoner of Azkaban with the first chapter, Harry meeting his father's old friends, and starts learning the fate of {Y/N}, who has long since been presumed dead. there seems to be more of a story hidden behind her disappearance, and in turn, her reappearance.

POLY!SHIPS

-Poly!Marauders+Lily x Fem!Reader - Zombie Apocalypse Au

Part 1 Summary: You find a group of survivors who could really use your help} Part 2 Summary: Someone had been hiding something fatal} Part 3 Summary: Reader has sometime with Remus, before she is sent out alone with Sirius} Part 4 Summary: Reader and Sirius go to gather water

-Jily x Slytherin!Reader

Part 1 Summary: An interesting situationship with Jily}

-Sirius/James/Remus Band Au

Summary: Reader has a horrible encounter on stage and the boys comfort her

-What's Your Name? {Sneak Peak}

Moonwater Fluff

REMUS LUPIN

-Spoiled Brat (Pt 1?) (Lil Angsty, +18, fluff)

Summary: When your escapism over the summer turns a bit more real, as you fall in love with a half blood your father would never approve of}

-Think like a Lupin (Angsty, lotta angst, happy ending! fluff +18)

Summary: Your parents are planning to marry you off the second after you graduate, but after an unfortunate encounter with a werewolf, plans change.

-Break a Leg Not My Heart (Some angst, mostly light hearted fluff)

Summary: You get hurt during Quidditch practice and Remus doesn't leave your side. Friends to lovers.

-Meeting Royalty (Fluff, Suggestive)

Summary: Meet cute but make it royalty}

Part 2

-Too Late (Angst, no comfort) {Pt.2}

Summary: Remus comes to terms with a love lost to his own insecurities.

-Stray

Summary: Post war Remus finds home for his heart

JAMES POTTER

-Fall in Love in a Night (A lil angst, basically just a fluffy fluffy love story)

Summary: College AU, Muggle AU, James falls in love with the some of the worst parts of you }

-Fix it Yourself (All the Angst, lil comfort) +18

Summary: Falling in love with James Potter was a whirlwind affair full of lies and heartbreak. Everything comes to a head when he asks you to fake date someone so Lily will give him a chance.

-Little Lupin (Fluff)

Summary: James has a little crush on little Lupin

SIRIUS BLACK

-Casual (Angsty, fluff at the end) +18

Summary: Sirius falls for his most recent hook up, and she refuses to cave to what she wants}

-Fix it Yourself (All the Angst, lil comfort) +18

Summary: Falling in love with James Potter was a whirlwind affair full of lies and heartbreak. Everything comes to a head when he asks you to fake date someone so Lily will give him a chance.

-Like my father {Blurb}

Summary: Reader wants a man to love her like her father loves her mom. She just hasn't met him yet.. maybe.

FRED WEASLEY

-Summer Talks

Summary: Fred lets you know what he's waiting for

HERMIONE GRANGER

-Invisible (Lil Angsty, basically just fluff) Blurb

Summary: Reader is a bit of a punk like Sirius, with Remus's insecurities. She doesn't believe she deserves a girl like Hermione. No real plot just Angst straight into fluff

MATTHEO RIDDLE

-But daddy I love him (Lil Angst, fluff)

Summary: Harry finds out his sister is dating Mattheo Riddle Ft. James, Lily, Remus, Sirius - No war au }

" Dinner Party " (Pt 2)

Summary: The Potters throw a dinner party; Mattheo meets the family} Wc- 4142

BARTY CROUCH JUNIOR

-The boy I knew {Sneak peek}

Summary- When Barty knew love

-The Boy I Knew {Part 1} (Angst, Fluff, +18)

-Traitor (Fluff, Angst) wip

Summary- The four times he should have said love, and the fifth time he lost his chance.

REGULUS BLACK

-Monarch butterfly (Hurt/comfort) wip

Summary- Monarch butterflies only live for up to six weeks. Their life brings an unspoken joy to the people who witness it, a peaceful feeling to the life that last so much longer then their own. They bring smiles to the faces of children, they bring good luck for those who choose it, they bring so much value to lives they will never truly be a part of. Your butterfly was, and always would be, Regulus black.

BLAISE ZABINI

-Before a Stranger

Summary: Friends before a stranger

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Five-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Toxic Behaviours, Possessive Behaviours, Mentions of GunPoint (enchanted gun but still), Italian, Flirty!Theodore!Nott, Angst, Sexual Tension.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"I don't know about this, Em..."

Giggles danced through the air, originating from your blonde companion, currently immersed in a thorough investigation of your shared closet. Her voice, laced with amusement, murmured something indecipherable, the words muffled by the solidity of the wooden door. A long sigh escaped your lips, a potent release of pure exasperation.

"This is crazy," you muttered to yourself. "Nott is going to need an entire bloody medical team when he catches sight of me..."

The enchanting red dress, a gem sourced from a privy boutique in Hogsmeade under Mattheo's explicit direction, molded itself to every contour as you confronted your reflection in the mirror. As your eyes traversed the fabric's journey, or rather, the lack thereof--there was no escaping the undeniable truth; the dress was exquisitely tight, sparing no nuance of your silhouette to the imagination.

"Doubt he'll even get the chance..." Emily replied, finally reemerging from the closet, "lover boy will likely claim his head the moment he fixes his gaze on you for too long."

Emily's cheeky response added a layer of playful anticipation to the charged atmosphere, earning an exaggerated eye roll from you in response as you fought hard to suppress your smirk.

When you'd embarked on the hunt for the ideal dress, you had brought Emily along for her valuable opinion. As your gaze fell upon this specific piece, uncertainty gripped you, convinced it might be a touch excessive. Yet, Emily staunchly opposed that notion. Her unwavering belief in its perfection became a contagion, subjecting you to prolonged minutes of relentless persuasion. Gradually, her infectious enthusiasm chipped away at your resistance until, inevitably, you succumbed--reluctantly handing over Mattheo's gifted galleons.

"And do I truly wish to burden my conscience with the death of the schools most popular Italian playboy? And not to mention Riddle's certain Azkaban sentence...all but a couple months from graduation?" you deadpanned, fingers instinctively rising to massage your temples in an attempt to alleviate the burgeoning headache. "Maybe I should just borrow something from your-"

"Absolutely not," Emily interjected, her voice cutting through your proposal with firm decisiveness. She approached you, a sparkle in her eyes, and added, "you look perfect. Trust me on this."

Meeting your eyes in the mirror, Emily's irises shimmered with a warm reassurance. She adjusted her flowy emerald green dress, a garment she had acquired at Tom's request--they were going to the masquerade together, though the status of their relationship still remained uncertain.

Emily, ever the advocate of going with the flow, a concept apparently foreign to Tom, said she wasn't in any rush to make things official, understanding that perhaps it would look a tad bit odd for him to start dating her after he'd just paraded you around to all of his friends, merely less than a few weeks go.

And as a result of this, you and Emily had a long, in depth heart-to-heart conversation where you made sure to unravel any lingering issues--the liberating honesty and the comfort of having someone in your corner again felt tangible. Although initially perturbed by the extended secrecy, Emily eventually grasped the rationale behind your discretion, acknowledging the protective measures taken for yourself and your desired career.

The depth of your longstanding friendship played a pivotal role in fostering this understanding, and you'd never been more thankful to have such a wonderful, supportive friend in your life.

"What do you think Michael will do when he spots you wearing traitor colours?" you teased, an impish grin playing on your lips as you watched Emily fix her long blonde hair, adjusting herself in the reflection.

"I reckon he'll be rather unamused," she snorted, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But he'll be in for a real surprise when he sees you cozying up with Theodore Nott, the traitor extraordinaire."

"Cozying up with Theodore?" you retorted with a smirk, feigning innocence. "Absolutely not, I just recently cleared my conscience, I intend on keeping it that way."

"I wouldn't underestimate the Italian playboy; word on the street is he can be quite insistent..." Emily spun back around to face you, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. "My suggestion is that you tell him about Mattheo before he unwittingly finds himself sharing a bed with Berkshire."

Your expression sank, and a twist formed in your stomach. "Oh, gods, Emily, I need to change," you exclaimed, spinning around and making a beeline for the closet. "Surely there's a garbage bag or your grandmas old moo-moo hidden in here that I could wear instead, right?"

Emily's sudden snort echoed through the room, reverberating far louder than you'd expected. With swift precision, she wielded her wand, slamming the closet door shut before you could reach it.

"Come on, it's going to be fun," she teased, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Give those cocky Slytherin boys an experience they've never had before. Making them squirm is a rare opportunity--after all, they're not used to being denied anything."

You hesitated, a reluctant smile crawling across your face at her words as you silently considered the prospect. Mattheo had always made it abundantly clear that girls were typically within arm's reach for him, and he could have anyone he desired. The idea of driving him to the brink tonight, knowing he couldn't do a thing about it after explicitly instructing Theodore to ask you, ignited a rebellious spark within you.

"Alright, but this better not turn into a disaster," you responded, your internal thoughts dancing between uncertainty and a subtle thrill. "If the mafia comes after me because I smacked their most prized possession, I'm blaming you."

"You look fucking hot. Own it," she encouraged, a playful smile dancing on her lips. Turning her attention to the door, a sudden realization struck her. "I've got to run. Promised Michael I'd help him with his bloody tie--but don't forget to check the mail. Something arrived for you earlier."

With a swift goodbye, she whisked away, grabbing her matching emerald green eye mask, leaving you to contemplate the mysterious package. Not one to dawdle, you approached the table by the door, spotting a small brown box with your name inscribed on it.

With eager anticipation, you unwrapped the package, unveiling a stunningly bejeweled red mask. A note accompanied the alluring accessory, bearing the cryptic message:

"Something about me, I fucking hate the colour yellow."

A smirk played on your lips as you extracted the exquisite gift from its velvet cradle. The crimson mask lay in your hands, a stunning creation adorned with gemstones that caught and reflected the light with each subtle movement. Blush flooded your cheeks as you approached the mirror, slipping the mask on. Turning your head in every direction, you marveled at the way it enhanced your features, making you feel like a mysterious enchantress.

The beauty of the mask was beyond words, and even though the logical part of you knew it had to be from Mattheo, the sheer magnificence of the gift made it feel almost surreal.

After what felt like an eternity lost in the mirror, admiring the stunning mask, the realization hit that you needed to meet Theodore. He'd mentioned waiting for you at the entrance to your common room, so as swiftly as possible, you adjusted your dress, attempting to cover up your chest, and gracefully slipped out of your room, navigating the familiar halls with a sense of purpose.

The chilled corridor welcomed you as you emerged, and after a brief moment of searching, there, like an awakening spell, you spotted Theo--and your stomach nearly leapt into your chest at the sight of him.

"Holy shit, Nott...are you...are you actually wearing enemy colors?" Your jaw dropped as you beheld Theodore in a Ravenclaw blue suit, a sight you'd never expected in a million years. "Hold still, I need to take a bloody picture of this."

Theo's arrogant response came with a sly smirk, his dark eyes tracing hungrily over your figure. He stood before you in a pristine suit, accompanied by matching vest, and a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The ensemble was adorned with exquisite gold links and buttons, showcasing his impeccable taste. His confident demeanour suggested that he indeed cleaned up more than nicely, and this was only a slight indication of his professionalism.

"Sure, have your laughs," he quipped, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. His eyes moved deliberately, scanning the curves of your figure. "Enjoy the view while it lasts, little bird. This suit's debut is a one-time thing—I might just set it ablaze once the night is over."

"Well you certainly know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?..." you teased, grin stretching past your ears as you took another step closer. "How honoured I am to accompany you in this suits first and only outing."

"Your wit is far too sharp for a Ravenclaw," Theo huffed in amusement, his stormy eyes glistening behind his dark blue mask. "You look properly fucking flaming by the way...do pardon my French."

You snorted, gracefully taking his arm as he offered it, intertwining yours around his. "French? I was under the impression you were Italian, Signor Nott."

"You speak it?" Theo raised an intrigued eyebrow, briefly glancing down at you as the two of you strolled towards the ballroom.

"Partially," you replied, a playful glint in your eye, your attention split between the conversation and the challenge of navigating gracefully in your black heels. Each step resonated with a confident clack on the school floors. "I dabble in a multitude of tongues...a side effect of an inquisitive mind."

"Is that so?" he said, pure intrigue in his tone. "Talk to me in Italian then,"

"Are you serious?" You snorted, far louder than you'd intended, waiting for him to say he was joking. He simply looked down at you, eyes locked on yours behind the mysterious mask.

"Absolutely serious," Theo chuckled, the breathy tones dancing in the air, a subtle spark of challenge in his eyes. "A little ball of knowledge, huh? Prove it."

A warm flush crept up your cheeks as you stifled your laughter. Theo had a charm of his own, a natural way of drawing people in much like Mattheo, although the troublemaking wizard had a slightly more breathtaking allure with those dark, intoxicating eyes and that unruly mop of chocolate curls. It wasn't a shortcoming on Theo's part--it was simply the irreplaceable magnetism that Mattheo possessed, but you couldn't deny the way Nott was making you feel.

"Alright, you want me to put my money where my mouth is, I respect that." You teased, clearing your throat as you pondered an Italian phrase that might leave an impression. After a brief moment of contemplation, it dawned on you. "Non c'è rosa senza spine."

(There is no rose without thorns.)

"Buona scelta," he replied with a smirk, his tone holding an air of both appreciation and subtle challenge. "Sei più astuta di quanto pensassi."

(Good choice; you’re more clever than I thought.)

"You underestimate me, Nott," you chuckled, a surge of pride coursing through you. "Consider that your first mistake."

"You know, the more I get to know you, the larger my desire to figure you out becomes,” he said, dropping his tone into a husky whisper as the two of you turned a corner. "You are...intriguing."

It was at this moment, as the two of you entered into the bustling main hall, that you were extremely thankful this event was a masquerade. The mask provided a welcome veil of anonymity, shielding you from the prying gazes that threatened to make you uneasy. It seemed you were blending seamlessly into Theo's arm, a part of the enigmatic allure rather than a subject of scrutiny.

"You couldn't figure me out in a million years," you retorted, a sharp edge to your tone, the corners of your lips subtly playing with a hint of a smirk. "Better men have tried."

Theo, as expected, didn't like that response. "Don't tempt me, little bird...I will make it my life's mission."

You rolled your eyes, chewing on your cheek. "You're far too sure of yourself, Theodore."

"Look at that, Bella...you're already using my first name," he quipped, smirking. "I'm making progress without even trying."

You fought the urge to smack him, your eyes narrowing in a playful challenge. "To know me, Signor Nott, I'll put you through hell...just ask Riddle, he can certainly attest."

"Mm, thats precisely the thing, little bird..." he said, his smirk holding a touch of intrigue. "Riddle's a closed book when it comes to you. Doesn't spill a damn thing, makes me wonder what secrets the two of you are hiding.”

"Quite a conspiracy, I'd say," you chuckled, relishing the light banter between you two as the distant sounds of music and laughter from the ballroom grew louder. With a nod and a playful smile, you gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

Theo nodded, a playful glint in his eyes, as he released your arm and extended a hand to the small of your back, ushering you forward. "After you, milady"

Upon crossing the threshold into the ballroom, a breathtaking scene unfolded before your eyes. The room was adorned with vibrant spring decorations, an enchanting celebration marking the approaching end of the term. The fragrance of fresh flowers wafted through the air, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns bathed the room in a warm, golden radiance. Hogwarts students from all years, dressed in their finest attire, wore a dazzling array of masks, each one a unique work of art.

As your eyes darted around the room, the search for familiar faces led you to a moment of anticipation. The diversity of masks, ranging from intricate designs to whimsical shapes, made it challenging to discern familiar faces.

Finally, your gaze landed on the only man you'd ever go out of your way to search for, his distinctive chocolate curls drawing your attention like a magnet amidst the sea of masked enchantment. The mere fucking sight of him, cloaked in newfound sophistication, sent a thrilling pulse through your veins, awakening sensations in your body that you were unprepared to face.

He stood there, like a fucking silhouette of elegance, adorned entirely in black--black mask, black suit pants, a sleek black dress shirt, and a finely tailored black suit vest. The only splash of colour adorned him in the form of a satin red tie, perfectly mirroring the shade of your dress. The entirety of your being froze in place, your throat resembling a parched desert, the sole reminder to keep moving coming from the steady pressure of Theo's hand on your back, coaxing you forward through the enchanting crowd.

As the two of you veered closer to them, the tension in your body was almost painful. Truth be told, it wasn't the singular presence of Mattheo that set your heart racing like a high-performance sports car on race day--oh, no, the true accelerant was his fucking date. The very girl from the washroom, the one you had directed him to accompany, and the vibrant colour of her long, flowing dress:

Yellow.

"Riddle, Malfoy," Theo uttered, initiating a firm handshake with each of his Slytherin comrades as they exchanged greetings. "Parkinson, Lanalock."

"Nott," Parkinson remarked, a smile gracing her features. "Never expected to see you in blue. You could easily pass for a Ravenclaw, you know."

Theo's response carried a touch of cunning arrogance, sneaking you a glance. "A choice made with utmost consideration, you might say."

In the midst of the social dance, your gaze and Mattheo's remained locked, an unbroken connection that felt more like a silent conversation than a mere exchange of glances. The unspoken tension between you two hung thick, and in that charged moment, it was uncertain if either of you had even blinked. Your heart pounded not only in your throat but also seemingly echoed in another, more intimate part of you as well.

Mattheo had never looked more fucking captivating, and the longing for him intensified by the millions--that merciless irresistible force effortlessly working to pull you closer.

Just as the tension threatened to become all-encompassing, Professor Dumbledore's voice reverberated over the lively chatter, his warm tone weaving through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the enchanting Spring Masquerade. I hope the magic of the night unfolds to your desires. Now, if you would kindly make your way to the dance floor, we are about to commence the first slow dance of the evening. So, let the celebration begin."

The resonance of Dumbledore's voice snapped you from Mattheo's visual captivity, prompting a few deliberate blinks and an expelled breath laden with tension. Theo, with a gentle glance, took your hand, guiding the group to choose spots on the dance floor directly adjacent to one another. It required every fiber of your being not to steal a glance at Mattheo, aware that the mere sight of him holding another girl would induce a wave of nausea within you.

Your attention became an exclusive affair with Theo. As he placed his hands on your hips, his grip was tender, a sensation entirely distinct from anything you'd experienced with Mattheo. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the elevation of your arms, led your palms to find a gentle perch on Theo's shoulders. In the depths of his stormy blue eyes, you unintentionally delved, oblivious to the intensity of the eye contact you established--you were so lost in your own thoughts that a bomb could go off in this very room, and you were certain you wouldn't even flinch.

Then, Theo's voice broke the silence. "Little bird, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes," you blinked, your voice escaping your throat in a cracked whisper, as though each word were a struggle for breath. "And you?"

"More than," he quipped, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

Your watchful eyes tracked the journey of his gaze, starting from your eyes, sliding leisurely to your lips, lingering provocatively before venturing lower, dipping over your chest with a seductive grace before sinuously slithering back up. The subtle intimacy of the visual exploration ignited a warmth within you, and you glimpsed his lips, recalling Emily's advice from your dorm. Make these men squirm.

"Glad to hear it," you mused, a playful edge to your tone, your fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders as he delicately drew you closer. "Wouldn't want the Italian playboy to be anything other than alright."

His grip tightened perceptibly, the sensation almost tangible as if his nails could breach the delicate fabric of your dress. The room plunged into a soft dimness, signaling the beginning of the slow dance. The shift in atmosphere was unexpected, enough to make you jump slightly. For a fleeting moment, you locked eyes with Mattheo, finding his gaze fixed on you, his hands scarcely making contact with his date.

Hastily looking away, Theo's voice reached your ear, dangerously close, "Italian playboy, hmm? Is that what they're calling me these days?"

"Don't act like you weren't already aware," you chuckled softly, the resonance carrying a hint of mischief. "Though, I must say, the rumors might be onto something."

Theo smirked, his voice a low murmur tinged with arrogance. "Well, uccellino, despite the rumors, I assure you I am a proper gentleman..."

A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as his nails dug deeper into the fabric of your dress, compelling you closer as the two of you gracefully swayed to the music.

"How gentle you are, indeed," you mumbled, chewing your lip as you met his gaze, the two of you dangerously close together.

Theo's gaze deepened, his lean frame bending down as his lips brushed against your ear. "I may be a gentleman, Bella," he murmured, the words a seductive whisper. "...but if you keep looking at me like that--with those big eyes, biting on your goddamn lip...we might just be fucking on the nearest surface I find."

Oh, no. This was bad. Your response stammered out before you could even think to stop it, panic flickering in your eyes.

"I-I, excuse me," you stuttered, hastily breaking away from the dance just as the song was nearing its end. The abrupt departure carried a mix of flustered embarrassment and a desperate need to collect yourself.

Seeking refuge, you maneuvered toward the drink table nestled in the far corner of the room. The dim light and distant chatter provided a momentary escape as you began to slam back drinks, attempting to drown the intensity of the encounter with Theo.

As the remnants of a calm facade settled within, a subtle shift in the atmosphere stirred your senses. A tingling awareness compelled you to glance over your shoulder, only to find yourself ensnared in the dark, intoxicating depths of Mattheo's eyes. A strange yet undeniable wave of relief washed over you, despite the fact that he stood looming directly behind, adopting the guise of casualness while pretending to grab a drink.

"Mattheo," you breathed his name, the syllables escaping your lips like a breathless sin, a recognition of the forbidden allure that surrounded him. "What are you doing?"

Mattheo's breath, a tantalizing whisper, brushed against the nape of your neck, setting your nerves ablaze. "I can't stand the way he's touching you, Raven...I can't even stand the way he's fucking looking at you..."

Your lungs seemed to stall. "This was your idea, Matty..."

"I'm well aware," he hissed, the energy radiating from him palpable in the charged air. "Fuck, you look so fucking sexy...you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?"

"I'm not sure I do..." your heart melted, a subtle heat pulsating through your thighs. "I think I need you to tell me again."

"You are so, so fucking beautiful..." he muttered, his voice a deep husk, strained with lust as it left his throat. "You are the most captivating girl in this entire fucking room...I can't stop staring at you...I can't stop needing you..." you gasped as his hand grazed over your ass, subtly, but a feeling you'd never miss. "What do you think you're fucking doing to me, hm?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip, the flush of blood coloring your face. "At this moment...nowhere bloody close to enough."

Mattheo's voice, saturated with desire, responded, "You're absolutely right, princess...and I can't wait to have you all to myself, as soon as this dumb fucking dance is over."

A soft hum escaped you as your lids fluttered, reveling in the warmth of Mattheo's body behind you. "Unless Nott gets to me first..."

As though a switch had been flipped, Mattheo's hand seized your wrist with a subtle yet undeniable warning, a silent caution against uttering anything remotely similar again.

"Don't even joke about that, Raven," he growled, the intensity in his voice cutting through the air. "I swear to Salazar himself, what I did to Berkshire will pale in comparison to what I'll do to Nott."

"So jealous, Matty..." you purred, smirking as he slowly released your wrist. You couldn't deny that his possessive tendencies did something to you, however fucking insane they were. "So angry..."

"You like that, don't you?...dirty little slut..." you could practically hear the smirk on his perfect fucking lips, your entire body vibrating with need. "Keep tempting me, princess...I'll bend you over this table, fuck you in front of the whole fucking school...I'll point my gun at Notts fucking head and make him watch, on his knees in front of you as I fuck you stupid...how does that sound for jealous, hm?"

Breath eluded you, the sheer intensity threatening your consciousness. "Godric, help you..."

"Sorry, Raven, but the only help from above that I believe in is a sniper on a rooftop..." Mattheo's voice, a deep, honeyed drawl, slipped from his lips. "And just so you're aware, I know eighty different ways to kill a man--and I can make an easy seventy nine of them look like a bloody accident...understand?"

"Fuck..." your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. It had been days since his last touch, and the way he spoke now made you crave him more than the very air you breathed. "I don't think I do...I think I need you to tell me again..."

"I've never been a jealous man, Raven..." Mattheo's gaze swept the surroundings, ensuring no lingering gazes were watching. Satisfied, he shifted slightly, his lips now at your other ear. "I've never envied someone for what they have or who they're with, and yet, I'm damn jealous of every asshole you smile at, everyone you openly converse with...I've never fucking wanted something that I couldn't have, a girl I couldn't get...so this, all of this...is fucking maddening."

Your lungs seemed to stall, a momentary freeze as if he'd submerged you into the heart of a raging inferno. A surge of warmth flooded through every fiber of your being, an intoxicating heat.

"I need you," your voice murmured, the words dripping with a desperate longing. "I need you in every fucking way imaginable..."

"Mm," Mattheo hummed, the warmth of his touch tracing the curve of your hip. "Such a delightfully dirty mouth for a princess..."

Feigning innocence, you lifted your gaze to meet his, a coy smile gracing your lips. "Perhaps...but even princesses have their secret pleasures, don't they, Matty?"

For a moment--a fleeting, beautiful fucking moment--your eyes locked, and it was in that secret realm, where slight smirks played on each of your lips, and the tension was fucking so thick that you could hardly breathe--where you both knew you've found what the whole fucking world was still carelessly searching for.

And it was there, that you knew--no man, no job, no fucking career could ever make you feel as happy and needed and treasured as Mattheo Riddle did. In his own, crazy, fucked up way.

Mattheo blinked. "Meet me in the washroom in forty minutes.”

—————————

Chapter 26->

[pearlynia]

Canon is so scary like what do you mean Sirius black spent more time Azkaban than with his friends

What do you mean the marauders didn't live happily ever after with their lovers

What do you mean Sirius and Regulus never fixed their relationship and died thinking one hated the other

What do you mean Peter wasn't the cool uncle who bakes cake for Harry and Luna

What do you mean Lily Evans wasn't a swiftie and will never know who Taylor Swift is

Like, WHAT DO YOU MEAN??

[eleadore]

a very quick thing for the isle of ogygia by @citrusses ft. draco's fluorescent green windbreaker. read for an incredibly charming setting and draco pov + romance + THE SEA

“It’s actually quite cosy in here, isn’t it?” he says.  Draco lets out a derisive snort.  “It is!” Potter says. “There’s a fire, and it’s kind of like a storybook, with the rain and the lighthouse in the middle of nowhere?”  Draco fixes him with a cold stare. “You said you wanted to know I wasn’t somewhere worse than Azkaban? Well I’m not. I’m alone and hungry most of the time, and I don’t have anything to do except whatever the Ministry tells me to, but I’m not in Azkaban. So I have that. But please don’t tell me this gods-forsaken rock is ‘cosy,’ Potter. It’s better than prison. That’s it.”  Potter looks down at his hands. Draco almost feels sorry for a moment, then he remembers that he hates Harry Potter and he’s glad to have made him feel uncomfortable. 

[a-sunset-outside-my-window]

fic rec friday

hope in a heart attack

by Swoops on Ao3

In the end, it’s Molly who realises Scabbers is a fraud.

In which Remus is adopted by his professor, Arthur is a good husband, and Peter is a very, very bad rat.

It's another fic rec friday and today I have a shorter, fluffy fic for you! This is pretty much what it says on the tin, one of my favourite kind of fics to read, just a little fix it for my soul!

favourite tropes included are:

fixing what is broken

Sirius getting out of Azkaban

a happy and healthy marriage

COMUNICATION (I can't express enough how much I love this)

amazing Minerva McGonagall

Remus beeing forcefully mothered

wolfstar healing

as always, leave lots of love and kudos to to the author and have an amazing rest of the week <3

[slytherizz]

Fight or Flight - Sebastian Sallow/F!MC

Summary: Sometimes sleeping dogs don't lie.

Two years after his uncles death and with Anne missing the last remaining Auror who scents deception requests a testimony from the only person witness to what really happened between Sebastian and Solomon in the catacombs that day. In a bid to protect those memories and keep him out of Azkaban their marriage is arranged - A marriage Sebastian is hell bent on putting a stop to.

Word count: 15,000 (remember when I said I’d keep it under 10k)

Tags/Warnings: Arranged Marriage, 18+, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Angst, Masturbation, First Time

Link: You can find the complete fic on Ao3.

A/N: Sebastian ‘my wife’ Sallow. To the anon who requested this, I’m sorry it’s so late but it was so much fun to write.

Sebastian is almost certain he’d been on the receiving end of a lethal confundus charm. Either that or he was at present suffering a massive life altering haemorrhage somewhere amongst the sun deceptively warming his cheeks and the familiar groan of the dragon bones anchored above them, as it tilted its great head in greeting when they'd arrived in Hecate's office. Full of mysterious tombs and the lingering scent of smoke. Ash trampled so tightly into the grooves in the floorboards he doubted even the house elves could scour out the smell. 

He’d gotten too comfortable. No. Down right complacent as of late and now his psyche in a riotous act of self-preservation was giving him a blistering slap back into reality. 

Pull yourself together. 

Sebastian dug his nails into the soft flesh of his palm. He hissed at the sharp pain as he broke the skin. Felt the blood prickle hot against his sweat slicked palms as it beaded along the thin superficial wound. Uncomfortable. Stinging. And far, far too real. 

“What-?” he managed to croak around a lump in his throat. Praying to Merlin that if this wasn’t a dream it was some elaborate and albeit cruel practical joke. 

“Spousal Privileges,” Hecat repeated. Matter of fact. Her features were drawn and to his dismay betraying no hint of amusement. 

Sebastian choked violently on his own saliva. A hacked cough, raw against his throat. As if the wind had been knocked out of him by a patient and vindictive phantom.

“What this means is you couldn’t be forced to give a testimony or surrender any memories pertaining to anything to do with Mr Sallow. With his sister still missing, the only people who know what really happened in that catacomb are the two of you. If you can’t be forced to corroborate this theory that has been gaining traction at the Ministry that’s the way it stays,” his professor continued to address the witch beside him, unmoved by the blood draining rapidly from his face. 

Her eyes were fixed intently on Hecat, chin raised as she refused to meet Sebastian’s increasingly panicked eye. He shifted in his seat towards her. Turning rapidly back and forth between her and their professor. 

Waiting. A heartbeat and then more passed. Mounting up until it became a deafening drum in his ears. 

He wanted her to laugh. Let it loose. Burst the dangerous tension mounting with every second this insanity stretched on for. Most pathetically of all - he wanted her to save him. Wanted to watch her face crease with laughter at the absurdity of what Hecat was saying. Cling to some sense of normalcy, her stability by his side whilst the rest of him was spiralling out of control.

She was uncharacteristically still in her chair. As frozen as the statue of the mourning lover in the courtyard. Her fist clenched so tightly in the pleats of her skirt her knuckles blanched. A half finished braid she’d been fiddling with behind her ear hung abandoned. Not a shadow of humour remaining. 

“Why now? It’s been years since…”  she asked, with a more measured tone Sebastian felt the situation did not warrant.

She spared him a glance which did little to put him at ease. If anything the serious crease to her brow set him on a razor's edge. 

Sebastian was unravelling. The thread he’d used to stitch back together a semblance of a life was pulling apart at an alarming rate. And the only two people who had any hope of holding him back together were entertaining this insanity. 

“Some of Miss Sallow’s effects were uncovered at the former Feldcroft residence. It seems no one had tended to the home since your Uncle passed…unexpectedly. My contact at the Ministry informs me that there's only one Auror pushing for those memories. Sergeant Tuttle. Old guard. Worked closely with your uncle when they were both juniors in the department. The rest are happy to let Solomon’s memory remain as it has been for the past two years - the heroic final act protecting his young charges from a horde of uncontrollable inferi,” she paused and Sebastian felt the weight of every word. “Personally I am inclined to agree.”

Hecate’s already thin lips pulled so tight they almost entirely disappeared. Her inscrutable brown eyes peeling back the curtain seeing far beyond the truth to the crux of him. Weighing his mettle. And he wasn’t sure she’d be impressed at what she found. 

Because what he was - was careless. Sebastian supposed he could argue that his distress over losing his sister had made it too painful to return. Knowing Anne was not there, Feldcroft seemed rather pointless. 

But really all he’d been was too eager to turn his back on that hovel that had never been his home. Ivy grew thick over its stones and he hoped one day it would pull it down entirely. No one had touched the wards in over a year. Perhaps when he’d boxed up his feelings and shoved them away in his desperation to move past what he had done, he didn’t consider the possibility that there were others out there who, unlike him, may not want to move on so hastily from Solomon's death. 

Anne certainly hadn’t. 

“With you two being so close, this is the cleanest option-” Hecate continued. 

“I don’t bloody care about clean!” Sebastian broke from his stupor. Fist slamming on the table rattling the spoon from where it rested against his saucer. “Tell me the other options. I don’t care how messy they are. I’ll do them.”

“Perhaps I should rephrase,” Hecat said sharply. “This is your only option. And you’d do well not to leap to such dramatics if you want this to work, Mr Sallow. In particular I’d advise against taking such a tone with me.” 

Sebastian didn’t care. He’d already geared up to argue back against this preposterous idea when the statue of the witch beside him suddenly came to life. As if Pygmalion himself had loved her into life just to spite Sebastian. 

“We’ll do it,” she said firmly. 

Sebastian choked again, head snapping to look at her. “You can’t be serious!” 

She simply glared back at him, as if he wasn’t the only reasonable person left in the room. “I’ve kept you out of Azkaban this long-“

Their professor cleared her throat, having little patience for the squabblings of teenagers that was beginning to unfold in her office. It set Sebastian even more on edge. She’d thrown a bomb into their lives and was now regarding him as some petulant child causing a scene. As if instead while he was scrambling to hold it together she expected him to thank her for it. 

“I’d choose your words more carefully in front of an audience but I admire the passion. If you want this to succeed you’ll have to make them believe this. Believe you. You can’t cast any doubt on the reason for any of it. A young couple, so in love they simply cannot wait to be married.”

***

It was like taking a match to a forest doused in kerosine. How quickly word could spread overnight when students kept such close quarters and they were eager for anything to save them from revision. Whispers billowed up from steeped mugs. Steam laced with secrets curled around their lips. Huddled so tightly together they looked like hydras. Each set of eyes alight with amusement. Teeth bared ready to feast on their speculation. 

From the moment Sebastian had stepped into the Great Hall he’d felt it. The oppressive shift to the atmosphere that usually welcomed him each morning. Clouds dark, heavy with the foreboding rain swirled on the enchanted sky. At least it was fitting.

Instinctively he sought her out. Looked for hers amongst the hundreds of eyes turned towards him. Which he pointedly ignored instead following the remaining half who stole glances towards her. 

Blue. Green. Brown. Shifted between them assessing to see what they might do. 

She was boxed into the middle of the table by Onai and Sweeting with Reyes taking up the spot across from them. A vicious hound guarding her flock ensured even the most brazen little wretch who considered interrupting would think twice - give her wrath a wide berth. 

Reyes to her credit - snarling banshee that she was - looked as deeply horrified by the pathetic silver band on her friend's finger as Sebastian felt it deserved. 

They’d transfigured it hastily from a pair of silver spectacles once they’d stumbled out of Hecat’s office the previous evening. One she kept in an odd tangle of items in her satchel and the rushed magic had already begun to tarnish its appearance. It was a wonder anyone actually believed them with how dull and thoughtless it looked sitting on her hand. 

If her smile wasn’t so tight, or her laugh a little too airy she would be executing Hecat’s ludicrous scheme to perfection. 

Sebastian swallowed around the lump in his throat and sheepishly changed course. Rerouted himself away from the group of witches throwing his bag down on the bench and slumping into a seat at the Slytherin table. Which seemed to delight some of the onlookers. Clearly humiliation was a good seasoning for eggs, he thought as he poured himself a cup of tea from the pot and took out his potions essay in an attempt to look busy enough no one would suspect exactly why he was sitting alone. Or worse, try and talk to him. Not that they would dare when his face looked as thunderous as the sky overhead. It didn't, however, stop him from overhearing their animated gossiping. 

‘Do you think she’s…you know?’ 

‘Obviously! Who in their right mind gets married a month before they leave school? Clearly they’re in a rush before she starts to y’know...’ one girl smirked with an exaggerated flourish over her stomach.

Sebastian shot a glare across to the gaggle of Ravenclaw’s in the year below. Who giggled even more loudly when they caught his eye, one turning pink from the tips of her ears to well past the neckline of her jumper. Sebastian on the other hand felt like someone had doused him in a bucket of water from the lake. 

If Reyes didn’t skin him for the insulting piece of jewellery she certainly would if she suspected he’d gotten her favourite flying partner up the kyte. 

Sebastian tried to focus on his potions essay. List even a single ingredient of ‘Felix Felicis’ which was proving to be impossible when behind him a brazen fourth year proclaimed and loudly he’d caught them sequestered away between the stacks of the restricted section - her body bent over a desk. Sebastian’s grip on the quill tensed as he strained himself to write the differing effects between wyrm and dragon scale on a potion - and not a very vivid description of what he apparently looked like on his knees buried between her thighs. Ink blotted on the parchment. 

Sod Hecat on ‘selling it’. Why did they need to go to such lengths when apparently every gossiping vulture was content to click their beak and do all the work for them? 

Surely Azkaban couldn’t be worse than this? 

Well, that was delusional - but if he overheard one more person comment on if her robes looked bigger he was more than likely going to do something that would get him thrown in Azkaban regardless. 

Sebastian had anticipated suspicion but he still wasn’t prepared for how much it would chafe. 

He knew if they were not at the centre of this farce, the two main players on the stage they would have jovially picked apart their performance too. She would have speculated over their sanity as she picked idly at her cauldron cake. Made some snide comment about being too eager to get his leg over. He’d bet her a galleon they’d see the proof in nine months and she would have snorted, undignified unladylike into her pumpkin juice. 

Being the subject of this speculation however was mortifying. 

Would that be next? Bringing a child into the fucking mess he’d made just to cover his own back? If the thought of dragging her into a marriage him feel ill it paled in comparison to the feeling of crippling dread that conjured. 

But would she want that one day? In a young witch's sacrifice to keep him had she truly considered all the things she was giving up in his stead. Things she may not know she even wanted until the opportunity had already been bartered and sold off for the price of his freedom. What kind of man was he to take the hope of any kind of family from someone who already had none to show for it? Take away the chance for someone to love her. 

Or maybe she never intended to give up on that particular dream. And Sebastian would be expected to play his part - the cuckolded husband. 

Work late until the candles burned down to the wick to give her lover time to retreat. Share her with one; or with many. 

Vow now to never let her go without. 

Even go as far as to raise her children as his own. Glamour their cheeks with foreign freckles he’d wish were inherited. Brand them with the Sallow name with ink on thin parchment but not their blood; their ties to him just as flimsy and performative as hers.

Her easy smile as she lathered honey onto her toast set his teeth on edge. Sebastian felt in that moment like he never really knew her at all. Head pounding Sebastian stuffed his ink pot and notes back into his bag. Abandoned his breakfast in a rush to get out of the stifling hall. Away from the whispers that he knew would also be deafening in her ears. Perhaps even more so.

‘I didn’t even know they were courting. It’s a shame he’s off the market.’

‘Here’s the thing - I don’t think they were. Clearly, he’s marrying her to do the right thing. Now that she’s trapped him with a baby.’

She caught his eye, her eyebrows stitched together in concern but it did not offset the rigid lock of her furious ticking jaw. Teeth set, clamped together as if Hecat had clamped a muzzle on a fucking dragon and then handed her chains to Sebastian. 

Shamefully, he couldn’t bring himself to hold her gaze. Couldn’t even bear to face her in that moment despite knowing he was the reason she had to listen to these lies spread. He should tell her he was sorry. But instead he fled. 

Complete fic can be found on Ao3.

[postazkabansiriussupremacy]

Okayyy but hear me out. Sirius as a twin dad. One girl and one boy.

The toddler years include (and are not limited to):

♡ Lots of fighting and quarrels between the two of them. Little kids have big emotions, and they aren’t afraid to express them.

“Come here, little love, let me fix your hair.” Sirius coos at his little girl, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into his lap. “Your mummy will have my head if I let you run around with a bed head all day.”

Charlotte squirms and tries to make a quick getaway (“Noooooo, Daddy!”), but eventually settles and allows Sirius to run a brush through her tangled hair. She—like her brother—was genetically gifted with the Black family hairline: thick, wavy, and easily matted if left to its own devices.

Whilst trying to get a particularly stubborn knot out of the girl’s hair, Sirius is startled by the sudden sound of his son, Sammy, zooming by on his toy broomstick.

“Hey!” Charlotte protests, slipping out of Sirius’s grasp. “That’s mine!”

“No, it’s not!”

“Yes, it is! Get off now!”

“Oh, Merlin..” Sirius sighs, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand. “Here we go.”

♡ Parenting is a full time job, and you don’t get to clock out even after the children are off to bed.

In the midst of undressing yourself for nighttime, Sirius creeps up behind you and snakes his hands around your midsection. His stubble tickles the crook of your neck, causing quiet giggles to escape your mouth.

“Mrs. Black.” He greets quietly, pushing your hair aside and leaving some kisses along your shoulder. “Ready for bed?”

Leaning back into his chest, you tilt your head and smile teasingly. “I think so. My husband should be home soon though.”

Sirius moves with quickness and ease, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you to bed. “Then there isn’t time for waiting.”

You laugh as Sirius lies you on the mattress, neither of you noticing the little footsteps making their way into your bedroom. As Sirius climbs on top of you, he just as quickly rolls off once he hears the bedroom door click open. A little voice calls out, “Mummy? Daddy? I had a bad dream.”

“Damn.” Sirius curses quietly, earning a light slap on the chest from you. Sirius reaches his hand out and scoots over to make room on the bed, his tone shifting to comfort his son. “That’s all right, sweetheart, come on. You’re safe; Mummy and Daddy will protect you.”

Once Sam is safely tucked in between the two of you, the door clicks open once again. A second little voice speaks out, “Where’s Sammy?”

And before you know it, four bodies are squeezed tightly together on yours and Sirius’s bed. Charlotte and Sam snore quietly, and you hear Sirius whisper “You awake?”

“Of course.” You chuckle quietly, your ass hanging off the side of the bed. “I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life.”

“I don’t know about that. Azkaban was pretty uncomfortable.” Sirius deadpans.

“Fuck you.” You grin, still whispering as to not wake the children. “I can never win when you pull that card.”

“I know.” He smiles, never happier to be where he is than right now.