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agreeeeeeeeeee · 2 days ago

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A Weekend at the Weasley's

| George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you and george become best friends after a poorly timed prank. george has been pestering you for weeks to stay with him at the Burrow for a weekend over the holidays, and you finally cave.

cw: smut (18+), dead parents, pining, Percy being a weirdo, quidditch injury and bruising, george still has two ears and a twin, lots of dirty talk and petnames, equal parts fluff and smut

an: george and reader are over eighteen in this fic. timeline is def wrong. but who caaaaaaares bc it's not me!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“C’mon, feathers,” George begged, shifting from his place on the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of you. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“George, I don’t—”

“Would I ever put you in harm’s way?”

You scoffed. “Well, there was the time you lit my potions homework on fire, and the time you transfigured my chocolate frog into an actual frog. Or the time you and Fred—”

“Besides that!” He huffed, resting his chin on your knees, blinking up at you with round eyes. “Pleeeeaaasssseee, y/n? Come to the Burrow with me.”

You sighed, ignoring the way the Gryffindor common room fireplace made his brown eyes almost golden, freshly brewed espresso with nutty foam. You couldn’t deny George was handsome, most girls at Hogwarts fawned over him or his twin, or both. But George was your friend, as you often repeated to yourself in moments like these, when that mischievous smirk softened to a smile just for you.

“Bloody hell. Fine!” You shoved him off of you to escape his puppy-eyed trap.

“Yes!” He whooped, jumping to his feet. “It’s about time my mum meets my best girl—shit!”

You chucked your Potions books at his head. “Not your girl,” you huffed.

“Says you,” he teased, returning the book to you before flopping back down on the red couch, legs draped across your lap.

“Read the damn pages, Weasley.”

You tried to reimmerse yourself in your studies, but can’t seem to fall back into the reading, losing track of each sentence before it’s finished. George had been pestering you for weeks to spend a portion of the upcoming holiday break with him at the Weasley household, and up until now, you’d successfully resisted. But then he found out your grandparents were going on a trip to Spain for two weeks and became unbearable.

When George set his mind to something, he was stubborn as an ox.

And, despite yourself, you wanted to spend a few more days with him. You loved the Weasley siblings you’d met at school, and heard countless tales of Molly Weasley’s unbelievable Sunday roasts. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

You were reserved by a nature, a studious and creative Ravenclaw from a muggle household. All things that stood at odds with one, ginger-haired George Weasley. But when a prank in fourth year set for Professor Snape backfired on you, his top student, and ruined your robes, the twins felt so awful they’d taken you to the Three Broomsticks for what George dubbed a “Butterbeer of Forgiveness”.

An unexpected friendship bloomed, and you’d been close with the twin’s ever since, George in particular. You loved Fred, and had countless memories with him, but you and George connected on a deeper level. From the moment you’d met, it was as if you’d always known one another. You could read him almost as well as Fred could, and George could read you better than anyone.

It was unnerving, exhilirating, and by far the most important relationship in your young life. Which is why you squashed any wandering thought about his freckles, his jawline, the way his forearms flexed while he read, or the way his chest heaved after a Quidditch match, his hands spidered with veins after hours of gripping the Beater’s Bat.

And when he called you things like his ‘best girl’, it turned your knees to jelly, your mind inside out. There was no way you’d finish your work now.

“I’m going back to the Tower. I have no idea how you Gryffindor’s get any work done with all this gold.” You stuffed your books into you back and stood, adjusting your robes.

“I’ll walk you,” George said, tossing his book aside. It looked like he hadn’t made any progress either.

“No, no. Finish your work. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast, bags packed.”

“It’s a date!” He called as you walk away, and you can practically hear the grin on his face.

“Not a date!” You tossed over your shoulder as you stepped through the portrait.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“My darlings!” Molly cooed, collecting her youngest two children into a massive hug at the train station terminal. You hid behind George, hoping somehow that she’d overlook your presence entirely. But of course, George wasn’t having it.

“Mum, this is y/n!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and thrust you out in front.

“George,” you hissed, but Molly was already upon you.

“Oh, y/n! I’ve heard so much about you! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. We were absolutely delighted when George’s letter arrived telling us you’d be accompanying him,” she chirped, fussing with your h/c hair and blue and bronze scarf.

“It’s lovely to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley,” you said, smiling at her and her quieter husband, who was busy chatting with Harry and Ron.

George slung an arm over your shoulder, wafting his cinnamon-y cologne over you. “Shall we?”

You scowled up at him as he dragged you along behind his family, oblivious to your hesitation, or willfully ignoring it.

The crowded car ride home was chaotic, with everyone speaking loudly over one another, George and Fred the loudest of all in either ear, and by the time you arrived, you heart was thrumming loudly in your head, your chest tight with anxiety.

All you could think about was throwing yourself out of the car door and running back to Hogwarts on foot.

Everyone poured out of the car, bounding across the lawn and up to the slightly crooked, red-roofed home, smoke buffeting cheerfully from the many chimneys.

“Y/n?” George said, pausing when he realized you weren’t in step beside him. Something in your expression gave you away, and his smile fell. “Hey, what is it?” he asked, jogging back towards you and placing his hands on your arms.

“I, it’s…” words failed you as emotion pinched your throat.

“Too much?” he asked, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You nodded, shame scorching your cheeks as you looked down at your feet. The tips of his boots were touching yours, so much larger, a worn brown leather juxtaposing your shining black.

“It’s going to be alright, love,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, even if it’s a bit overwhelming. But, hey—” he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at his handsome, wind-bitten face. “They love you already.”

“You told them about me?” You asked, your nerves alchemizing from wasps to butterflies.

“Of course I did.” He chuckled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re probably sick to death of hearing about you, honestly.”

“Like how I’ve been tutoring you in Potions for two years?” you taunted.

“I’m sure they assumed after I told them your were the brightest witch in our year.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, ginger hair falling across his brow, and your heart gave a new sort of thump. One that made you a bit queasy with it’s intensity.

“I don’t know about brightest,” you argued as he tucked you under his arm once again, leading you toward the open front door.

“I do,” he murmured, ushering you inside and into his mother’s waiting embrace.

“C’mere, sweetheart. Help me with these rolls.” She tugged you down the hall, leaving George to be ambushed by his brothers.

“Who’s the eagle?” You heard what you assumed it be the eldest ask before you were whisked into the hearth-like kitchen.

Twenty minutes later and you were back at George’s side, sandwiched between him and Ginny at the dinner table, while everyone fought for a foothold in the conversation.

George’s thigh was warm against your own, familiar and grounding, and you resisted the urge to lean into him fully for shelter. Dutifully, he started filling both of your plates as dishes went by, allowing you to sit and take it all in. He snagged the bowl of garlic potatoes from Ron and added a giant scoop to your plate, knowing they were your favorite.

“Thank you,” you mumbled to him, and he gave your shoulder a light bump in response.

“So, y/n. George mentioned you’re a Potions whiz?” Arthur asked through a mouthful of roll.

Heat crept up your neck as everyone’s attention swiveled to you. “It’s my favorite subject, yes sir,” you answered sheepishly.

“She passed her Potions O.W.L. in fourth year,” George said proudly, beaming down at you. “She’s onto custom lesson plans with Snivelus now.”

“George!” Molly corrected, but he only laughed.

“That’s impressive,” Percy said, nodding at you from across the table. “Brilliant and beautiful.”

“I, uh, thanks,” you stutter, stuffing a forkful of potatoes into your mouth.

George stiffened, but his smile never wavered. “That she is.”

“So, what do your parents do? Were they in Ravenclaw as well?” Arthur asked.

The blood drained from your face. You had so hoped this wouldn’t come up.

George’s hand fell onto your leg, his long fingers looping around your pinky and twining your hand with his. “She lives with her grandparents. Muggles,” George said, the finality in his tone ensuring there would be no further questions.

Arthur stuttered an apology, and the rest of the table looked away nervously. But Molly smiled proudly at her son, a slightly flush to her round cheeks.

Again, your heart gave that brutal pang, and your hand squeezed his a little more tightly.

The meal continued on, and you blessedly fell into the background while the other’s talked about their work and the school year. Or, you at least thought you fell into the background, but every time you glanced up, you found Percy’s gaze lingering on you, hawkish.

You had met the third eldest brother on many occasions, as he often escorted you from the Gryffindor common room to the Tower when curfew struck. But he’d never looked at you like that. And frankly, it made your skin crawl.

You weren’t naive. You knew you were beautiful, intelligent, witty, all of the things that drew a wandering eye. But Percy was far from someone you’d be interested in. And you were here with George, after all, even if it was for purely platonic reasons.

You shifted a little when Percy’s gaze lingered a fraction too long, and accidentally alerted George to your discomfort. He leaned down towards you, his height ensuring your head barely reached his shoulder.

“Okay, feathers?” He murmured, but caught Percy flinching his gaze away at the same moment. “Percy bothering you?” he whispered, and you shook your head no. An obvious lie by the way you shifted marginally closer to George when Percy’s gaze returned. “I’ll handle it.” George straightened, slipping back into his ongoing conversation with Fred and Charlie, but you felt his hand skim past your leg, brushing against your calf as he reached for his wand.

The contact sent a tremor through your muscles, your nerves stretching towards every point of contact with him until it was all you could think about.

“George, what are you—”

He coughed something that sounded an awful lot like ‘incendio’ into his elbow, wand hand flicking under the table at the same moment. Percy leapt up, the crotch of his trousers igniting with flame.

Everyone but you and the twins scrambled up, Molly quickly tossing the cauldron of water at Percy’s pants.

“Could’ve been a little more subtle,” Fred chastised George with a smirk.

“I wasn’t going for subtlety,” George replied. “I was going for ‘burning his bollocks off’.”

You hide your snicker behind your hand, the last of your anxiety unraveling. George was with you, you were safe.

Once the fire was out, dinner was disbanded with the twins being sentenced to dishes duty, since it had to be one of them that set their brother’s trousers on fire. You were whisked off on a house tour by Ginny, who eagerly showed you the in’s and out’s of the Burrow until you were dragging your feet, eyes heavy with exhaustion. But you had to admit that you were feeling more at ease, the Burrow and it’s residents wrapping around you like a favorite blanket.

You collapsed into bed just after midnight, a flickering glow in your chest, and a red-haired trickster in your thoughts.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Two more days passed at the Weasley residence, filled with games, oversized meals, books, and antics. There was never a dull moment with the twins and Charlie around.

But the best part, by far, was watching George’s mischevious walls come down, and seeing the softer, more relaxed version of him step forth. He was a devoted brother and son, often forgoing his own needs to help his mother reach something in the kitchen, or offer Ron a bit of girl advice. He spent many hours in deep conversation with is father and older brothers, speaking to a wide breadth of subjects you had no idea he had any knowledge about.

George, that bottomless bundle of fizzing energy, seemed even more lively around his favorite people, his heart on full display. And, if you were honest, it was doing funny things to your head and heart.

You found yourself searching for his eyes across the room, smiling at silly things he’d said hours prior, ghosting your fingers over the places he’d brushed against you while passing by. You’d even take a whiff of his coat when he’d come in after a walk with Charlie and tossed it onto the banister.

He seemed older somehow, more mature than you’d ever given him credit for, and it was undoing the years of resolve you’d cultivated to preserve your friendship.

It didn’t help that he constantly referred to you as ‘his girl’, and any number of tooth-aching pet names. Could he really mean it? You always assumed it was part of some joke you were the butt of, but now…

“George and y/n!” Molly called across the dinner table, breaking you from your thoughts. “Dishes, please!”

Your heart skipped a beat. You and George hadn’t had a moment alone since you’d arrived, and you were eager to soak up some undivided attention.

“Yes, ma’am,” George said cheerfully, rising to start collecting the plates. You hopped up to join him, and everyone else filtered out of the kitchen, arguing about what game to play that evening.

You scrapped while he scrubbed, and fell into easy conversation about the past few days.

“My mum really loves you, y’know,” he said, dunking a plate under the soapy water. “Dad too. He was raving about your thoughts on electric kettles yesterday.”

“I like them a lot too,” you replied, turning to hide your blush while tossing a half-eaten roll in the bin.

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing down at you. “I really hope you’re enjoying yourself. I know I sort of forced you to come, and then you were so anxious. And I know the house is loud and drafty, and the meals are a bit chaotic, and fucking Percy can’t keep his damn eyes to himself—”

Not knowing how else to soothe his worries, you stood on your toes and pressed a kiss into his cheek, derailing his rant into stunned silence.

“I’m really glad you brought me, Georgie,” you said, holding his wide-eyed expression for a moment before reaching for another dish.

He caught your wrist in his soapy hand, turning you back towards him. Your heart leapt into your throat at the intensity of his gaze, his jaw feathering with tension as his eyes searched your face. They were so dark, nearly black from his dilated pupils. His dry hand rose slowly, as if afraid you might startle. He dragged the back of his fingers along your cheek before sliding them into the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Tell me if I’ve misread this,” he murmured, tilting your head up towards him, his lips close enough that you could feel his warm breath across your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

Your heart galloped away, your mind turning to goo as the full scope of his longing came into focus. Heat unspooled through you at the way he angled your head to accommodate his towering frame, in complete control, but giving you every opportunity to stop him.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you gave a small shake of your head. No, please don’t stop.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his nose brushing against yours as he drew you closer. You pressed your body to his, desperate for his solidity, his warmth, as you trembled with anticipation. He guided your hand to rest around his neck, and you dug your fingers into his hair.

“George,” you breathed, his name a plea, a desperate prayer.

He closed the last millimeter of distance, caressing your lips with his, a delicate, wishful kiss. More cautious than you’d ever seen him. You tightened your grip on his hair, rising onto your toes to kiss him back a bit harder.

You felt the tension in his body unwind and his hand grasped your waist, his tongue sliding along your lower lip, teasing, promising, and your bones turned to mush, your lower belly fluttering with excitement.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and you sprang away from George, grabbing a plate as if they hadn’t seen what you were doing. Bill leaned against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face. “Father has requested that y/n joins him for a cuppa before the chess tourney begins. Something about doorbells?”

“Oh! Of course!” You replied, dropping the dish into the sink and drying your hands on the towel over the stove. “Thanks, Bill!” You hurry past the eldest Weasley son, cheeks absolutely flaming.

You could barely hold a conversation with Arthur, to fixated on the way your body hummed in the wake of his son’s touch. You were eager to finish what you’d started, but by the time you and Arthur emerged from his study, George was wrapped up in a game of Wizard’s Chess with Ron.

George’s eyes tracked you as you moved into the room, perching on an armchair by the fireplace. Bill shook his head, elbowing Charlie, who chuckled into his whiskey.

“Y/n, want to play against me?” Fred asked from his spot on the floor, crisscross in front of a chessboard on the coffee table.

“Sure,” you said, happy for the distraction.

“Losers rotate out until the winners from each table play one another,” Fred explained as you sat across from him. “Percy always wins, but he’s sulking in his room.” Fred winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Quickly, you lose yourself in the game, and it doesn’t take long before you have Fred’s Queen cornered, a path to victory clear. In a final move, you take Fred’s Queen and win the game in ten minutes flat.

“Merlin, she kicked your ass!” Ron shouted, and the room bursts into laughter.

You flushed under the praise and start reorganizing the pieces. Despite yourself, your eyes flicked toward George, but found he was already looking at you, a warmth in his dark eyes that made your hands quit working, and you knocked over the piece you just arranged.

“My turn!” Ginny said, shoving Fred out of the way.

“Anyone need anything from the kitchen?” George asked, rising to his feet after swiftly defeating Harry.

A chorus of no’s rang out, but you’re already absorbed into the game, finding that Ginny was much better at chess than Fred. You started to make your third move, finding an opening, when you felt a calloused hand brush along the side of your neck, sliding beneath your hair to rest heavily against your skin.

“Need anything, love?” George whispered in your ear, and the blood rushed from your head, leaving you vaguely dizzy, eyes sparkling when you blinked up at him.

“N-no, I’m fine. Thank you,” you stuttered.

“A tea would be nice, darling brother!” Ginny said, jerking you back to the present, and the move you forgot entirely.

“Coming right up.” George’s hand squeezed your neck lightly before falling away, and he disappeared into the kitchen.

The rest of the night carried on like that, lingering glances and scalding touches, the heat between the two of you bordering on incendiary.

You were taking a small break from kicking Weasley ass when Percy emerged from his room, leveling a challenging glare at George. “I’ll take next round,” he said, fixing Charlie with a look.

“Fine.” George made his final move, knocking over Charlie’s queen. “Have a seat.”

Charlie vacated the spot, muttering something about ‘fucking dorks’, and Percy sat across from his younger brother. The energy shifted in the room, going from jovial and teasing to almost hostile. Weasley’s were competitive by nature, the twins in particular, but the tension heightened considerably beyond that as they sized each other up.

Piece by piece, they started moving around the board, an even match as far as you could tell. But based on the murmurings of the family, Percy was off his game a bit, and you had a feeling it had something to do with the way his eyes kept drifting back towards you.

Interesting, you thought, rising from your place on the couch to circle their table, feigning curiosity in the game. Percy visibly tensed, his eyes darting from you to the board and back again. George, however, relaxed, his typical cocky demeanor easing back into his body language.

Thanks to your distraction, Percy missed an easy move, giving George the first upper hand of the game. You leaned a bit into Percy’s space, and his hands began to tremble. When you walked away, he compensated for his hesitation with a rash move, exposing his Queen.

You knew George noted it but he opted for a subtler move, then leaned back in his chair to watch Percy squirm, a slight smirk on his face. When Percy realized what he’d done, he flushed with irritation, his shoulders squared and tight.

And for my final move…

You leaned down to George, nearly resting your chin on his shoulder. His spiced cologne greeted you, tinged with the cinnamon punch of the firewhiskey he’d been sipping on throughout the games. “I didn’t know you were so good at Wizard’s Chess,” you murmured, close enough that your lips grazed the shell of his ear.

His smirk grew as Percy fidgeted, unable to pick a move, struggling to not stare down your sweater. “I have many talents you’ve yet to experience,” he replied, voice low enough that only you could hear him. A thrill rushed through you, so you bowed out before you took things too far, leaving George to deal the killing blow.

Shortly after, you won your final match against Bill, who you suspected threw the game in your favor, and suddenly it was you sitting across from George, the whole family crowded around the table, watching with bated breath.

“Hello, darling,” George cooed, smiling.

“Weasley,” you clipped, all business.

His eyes flashed at the challenge, and he took a slow sip of whiskey. “Ladies first,” he said, setting the glass down.

You started him off easy, confident that you had this in the bag. George was smart, but most of his skill came from his ability to disarm, not his ability to play chess. You, as it so happened, were skilled at both.

It didn’t take long for George’s cocky smirk to fall, his brow to knit together with focus as you guided him slowly into a trap of your own design.

His brow suddenly quirked up, the corner of his mouth lifting, you knew you’d been caught.

“Clever girl,” he purred, moving his Rook and collapsing the trap you’d spent ten rounds constructing. “Almost had me,” he taunted, leaning back in his chair. His legs reached all the way across to yours in his languid position, his sock feet tapping absently against the legs of your chair.

You only hummed in response, crossing your legs. While searching the board, you stretched your stocking-covered foot towards him, sliding it along the inside of his calf. His muscles tensed for a moment, his eyes widening a fraction, before he settled down, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You made your move, but didn’t stop dragging your foot up and along his knee, skimming his inner thigh. He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at the board, and you expected him to make his move, when you feel a hand clasp around your ankle, his touch a brand even through your thick stockings. His eyes lifted to yours, and the hunger in them stole your breath.

You’d never seen your sweet, good-natured friend look so menacing.

“I should know better than to play chess with a Ravenclaw,” he said, making a weak play with a pawn. “Starting to feel like I don’t stand a chance.”

His family laughed, reminding you that you were, in fact, completely surrounded by his parents and siblings, and you dropped your foot. That fucking trickster, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

“I don’t know,” you said, stealing the pawn and trapping his King. “You’re doing better than I expected for a younger twin.”

A chorus off oooh’s met your dig, and George huffed a laugh before freeing his King. “You’ll regret that,” he warned with a devilish smile.

“And you’ll regret that.” George fell right into your trap. You skirted his King, stealing his Queen right out from under him. His jaw dropped, and the family erupted into cheers.

“We have a new champion!” Molly cheered, hauling you up to celebrate.

You grinned, allowing them to parade you around. George smiled up at you, a real, proud smile, and it made your stomach somersault. Then, the grandfather clock chimed midnight, rattling the house on it’s structure.

“Alright, enough excitement! Everyone off to bed!” Molly ordered. George’s eyes locked on you, gauging what you would do next. For the first time, you cursed sharing a room with Ginny, and cursed Fred for being born.

As everyone grabbed their things and scattered off to bed, George managed to catch you at the second stair landing before Ginny’s room, startling you.

“Well played, feathers,” he said, brushing his fingertips over your forearm as he looks up at you.

“You were a formiddable opponent.” You shivered under his touch, the heat from earlier instantly flaring back to life.

He stepped up a stair, bringing himself a head taller than you, close enough that you could smell the fire whiskey on his lips.

Could I taste it too?

“Goodnight, love.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before breezing past you and bounding up the next set of steps to his shared room with Fred.

You leaned against the wall to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest. This was not the turn you expected this trip to take, but you couldn’t pretend that a part of you hadn’t wished for it. That it wasn’t why you tried so hard to avoid the trip all together.

But now that you and George had crossed that line, you couldn’t imagine what you’d been so afraid of. You only wished you’d done it sooner.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The following morning, you’re one of the last to drift down to the kitchen, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, too worked up to sleep properly. You rounded the corner and come to a stop, surprised to find George alone in the kitchen.

“Morning,” he said with a lazy smile.

“Good morning.” You padded towards him, accepting the coffee cup from his outstretched hand. “How’d you sleep?” you asked, blowing gently on the steaming brew.

“Didn’t,” he said, shifting closer to you. His hair was still a little messy from sleep, or lackthereof, his expression soft and voice gravelly.

“Why not?” You asked, taking a tentative sip before setting the mug down on the counter.

“Couldn’t stop thinking...” He dipped his head towards you, his nose brushing your temple.

“About?” The word came out breathless, the coil of want you'd been battling all night tightening with a vengeance.

“What it would feel like to kiss you again,” he murmured, kicking your heart into overdrive.

“And why don’t you?” Your hand creeped along his t-shirt, feeling the muscles along his abdomen sculpted by years of Quiddtich.

“Gotta set up the pitch. We’re playing this afternoon.” His demeanor shifted, all playful and energetic innocence. “See you out there!” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then hurried outside, leaving you wet and bewildered in the overheated kitchen.

An hour later, you were perched precariously on an old broom, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. Ginny rocketed past you with ease, nearly throwing you off balance.

“I think you need a new nickname,” George teased, steadying you. “Feathers may not be apt.”

You risked removing one hand to show him what a real bird looks like, and he barked a laugh before banking away from you.

Soon, the game was in full swing, with you, Ron, Fred, and Charlie against George, Ginny, Harry, and Bill. You had only ever ridden a broom in first year, so you were massively out of your depth.

You were given the role of Seeker, opposite Harry, and had no hope of accomplishing a damn thing. Harry was like lightning on his Firebolt, and you bobbed around like a lame pigeon.

Thankfully, none of them seemed to be taking the game very seriously. You were content to float around the property, occasionally remembering that you we're supposed to be looking for something small and golden.

After awhile the boys started to get rowdier, pushing and shoving and bludgeoning.. You tried to steer clear, watching George whack the hell out of any bludger that dare cross his airspace. You would not want to be on the other end of one of those.

“Y/n, watch out!” Ginny cried.

You looked back from where you were staring off into space, just in time to see George barreling towards you, a bludger about five feet in front of him.

You tried to move, to steer the broom literally anywhere, but it wouldn't cooperate. At the last second you managed to pull up, but not far enough. The bludger hit you square in the stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs and nearly forcing up your breakfast with the power of it. Stars danced behind your eyes, your grip began to slip from the handle as darkness raced towards you.

Something else slammed into you, wrapping itself around you—

“Y/n? Baby, are you alright?” George. You could tell you were moving, but couldn't seem to make your eyes focus, keep your body from trembling. Your cheeks were wet, the breeze frigid against your damp skin. Am I crying?

Then you were on the ground, blessed ground, and then you were up again, cradled against George's chest.

He was shouting at someone you couldn't see. “I swear on fucking Dumbledore, I'm going to beat you bloody with that fucking bat—”

“George!”

“Get her some ice,” he barked at someone else. “I'm right here, love, you're okay. Just try and breathe.”

You clung to his dampening shirt, the shock and pain keeping you teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. You could hear other people talking, but your whole world narrowed to two points: George's heartbeat and the blinding pain radiating from your stomach.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, barely recognizing the pitiful sound of your own voice.

“I know, love. I know. I’ve got you, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, soft and trembling. A moment later, he laid you on the couch, careful not to jostle you more than necessary.

Molly passed something into George's hands. “For the pain,” she whispered.

George crouched down next to you, holding the edge of the cup to your lips. “Take a sip, sweetheart.” You shook your head, your Potions safety training overpowering your reason. “Please, y/n. Let me take the pain away.”

You took a small sip, the tea pungent and floral, but immediately the edges of the pain began to soften. But the relief was short-lived. Exhaustion followed close behind it, dragging you down into a dreamless sleep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you come to, the Weasley house was dark around you. The only light came from the moon spilling through window panes and the smoldering fire across from the couch.

A light snore drew your attention, and you looked up to see George above you, his head lolled onto the back of the couch, sleeping soundly. Your head was resting in his lap, his sweater piled under your head as pillow, and his large hand was stretched across your stomach, fingers splayed from your ribs to your hip bones.

God, your stomach. You moved to sit up, memories of earlier filtering through the fading grogginess of the Potion Molly gave you, but surprisingly, your stomach was only a little sore. More like an overexerted muscle than rearranged organs and cracked ribs.

George stirred, lifting his head to peer at your through half-closed lids.

“What are you doing down here?” you asked, sweeping a strand of red hair from his brow.

He came fully awake then, straightening. “How do you feel?” He asked, caressing your cheek, then running his hands over your arms, your ribs, the swell of your hips.

“The Potion did its job, I feel mostly fine,” you said, catching his hands to stop their exploration, and the buzzy desire they coaxed to life.

“Are you sure?” His features softened with relief, his fingers twining with yours.

“I'm sure. Thank you for saving me.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring the slight protest in your abdomen muscles.

“Always,” George said, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I'm sorry I wasn't close enough to stop it from hitting you in the first place. It happened so fast—”

“Love, it wasn't your fault,” you shushed, reaching out to cup his face and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone.

“I just…” he trailed off, leaning into your palm. “I always want to be there to protect you. Or for whatever you else you might need. Do you need anything now? Water, tea? Are you hungry? You missed dinner—”

“George,” you cut him off. “Right now, I need you.”

Desire eclipsed the worry on his face, his eyes shading. “Are you sure you're not in pain? No fogginess or headaches—”

You leaned in and kissed him, a light, floaty peck, silencing his incessant questioning. You appreciated his concern, but there were other parts of you that needed his attention far more. He immediately took charge of the kiss, shifting his weight to lay you back onto the couch. His body rested heavily between your thighs, his mouth devouring yours in fervent, searing kisses.

His tongue lapped at your bottom lip and you opened for him, allowing him to take everything he sought. He kissed you like he didn't know if he'd get another chance, like he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment. It stole your breath, made your toes curl and your pussy pulse with excitement, slick already collecting between your thighs.

You nipped at his lower lip, earning a soft grunt in appreciation. His hips canted forward a fraction, though it seemed he was holding himself back. His lips traveled along your jaw, down the valley of your throat with teasing licks and love bites and you arched into him, a moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Shh, baby. You have to be quiet f’me.” George nudged your shirt up with his fingers, kissing along the purplish bruises marring your stomach. “My poor girl.” His thumbs traced the curves of your stomach softly, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. so perfect. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, to feel you beneath me, fuck, hear the pretty little sounds you make for me.” He was rambling now, lost in the act of worshiping your body, his hands and lips traveling gently over your skin.

“How long?” you asked, breathless, raking your fingers through his hair while he nursed a mark just under your right tit.

He looked up at you through is lashes, his lips leaving your skin with a pop. “Since that night at the Three Broomsticks,” he said, shifting upwards so he could look you in the eye.

“The ‘Butterbeer of Forgiveness’?” You mouth fell open, shock rocking through you.

He snickered. “Of course, why do you think I kept sending Fred to the bar?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ran your fingers over his jaw, feeling the rough stubble against your skin.

“I—” his voice caught, his gaze averting from you. “I loved you too much to risk losing you.”

Elation soared through you, and you couldn’t stop the smile that split your face. “George,” you said, bumping your nose against his. His eyes flicked back to you, watery and rimmed with red. “I love you too.”

His smile was like the first sun after an endless winter, and he kissed you like the first torrential rain of spring. The heat of summer came quickly though, and soon you were gasping for him again, your hips pressing against the hard ridge in his pants.

“Need you,” you whined into his mouth.

“I’m here, love.” He kissed down your throat again, pausing for only a moment to nip at your taught nipples through your shirt before continuing his downward decent. “Lift up for me.” You lifted your hips, allowing him to tug down your jeans, exposing your sodden red panties to his greedy eyes. “Gryffindor red, huh?” he teased, and you threw your arms over your face to hide your blush. “All for me?”

You nodded, your heart in your throat.

“It’s a shame I’ll have to ruin them.’

“What—” Riiiip! The cold air lapped against your slick pussy, chased by the heat of George’s tongue as he dragged it through your folds. “Oh, fuck—”

“Shhh,” he warned, before flicking his tongue against your swollen clit.

You bit down on the back of your wrist to keep from crying out when he switched from licking to sucking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing. He moved down, flattening his tongue against your entrance and collecting the wetness that pooled there. He gave a light hum of pleasure that had your eyes crossing, his tongue delving deeper in search of another taste.

“So fucking good,” he mumbled against you, the vibrations of his low voice making your sensitive clit tingle. You tugged on his hair, encouraging him to pay attention to where you needed him most. “I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, teasing you for just a moment longer before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking hard.

You very nearly cried out, having to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Pleasure shot through you, singeing your nerves and liquifying your muscles. So quickly you were unraveling for him, going stupid under his ministrations.

A long digit prodded at your entrance, collecting some wetness before easing inside of you. Your cunt welcomed him gladly, clamping down around his finger.

“Merlin, baby. You're so tight,” he panted, shifting to watch you take another one of his fingers, slick already running into his palm. “Relax, love. Shh, “ he soothed, curling his fingers to pet the inside of your walls, making your mind go blank as bliss washed through you. “That's it, darling. Just like that.”

The knot in your stomach began to wind tighter, burning through you as you fought to relax, to be good for him. But your orgasm was so fucking close, just a little more—

His lips found your clit again, sucking in time with your racing heart as his fingers coaxed you open, and the knot severed. Your peak slammed into you, stealing your breath so you couldn't even cry out to warn him, to sing his praises the way he deserved. Your muscles locked, your cunt bearing down as him as pleasure tore through you until you could do nothing but shiver beneath him.

“Shit, y/n. That was fucking beautiful,” he cooed, easing his fingers out of you and lapping up the release coating him to the wrist. “You alright?” He shifted upwards, kissing your bruised abdomen before pecking your lips, your eyes still glassy and unfocused.

“I've never come that hard,” you pant, throwing your arms around his neck and raining kisses over his slick-soaked face. “What the fuck.”

He chuckled, flushing under your attention. “Happy to oblige.”

You caught the last word in your mouth, kissing him deeply, desperately. Your body was already keying itself up again, and by the twitching length against your hip, he was desperate for you too.

He hooked an arm under your back and hauled you up to straddle his lap, his back pressed against the couch. “This okay?” He asked, sliding his rough hands under your shirt to skate along your skin.

You nodded, rolling your hips to drag your bare pussy along the bulge in his jeans, a skitter of pleasure making your breath hitch.

“Fuck, y/n,” he hissed, hips bucking up against you.

“Yes, please fuck me.” You kissed along his jaw and nibbled at his ear lobe, reaching between your bodies to find his zipper.

He did the same, helping you undo the button and tug down the zipper, his cock springing free from his boxers. The head nudged against your clit, hard and heated, and you whimpered.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he lifted you slightly, guiding the head to your dripping entrance. Slowly, he eased you down into him, your pussy more than ready to accommodate his length. A rough groan resounded from his chest, and you silenced it with another kiss. His cock stretched you open, hitting that spongy, sinful spot before sliding deeper until he bottomed out, the head nudging your cervix.

“So fucking tight, baby. Bloody hell,” he whispered, voice strained.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whine, grinding your hips against his.

George buried his face into your neck, stifling a moan. His grip loosened, allowing you to start lifting and lowering yourself, riding him slowly, savoring every inch of his cock as it dragged through you.

“M’not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he warned, mouthing at your neck with sloppy kisses.

You smirked, bracing your hands against the back of the couch to pick up the pace, your thighs and abs burning from the exertion. But he felt so fucking good, stretching you open, the root of his cock dragging along your clit.

His lifted up again only to snap his hips against yours, his hands a vice on your waist as he started pounding into you from below.

“Oh, fuck, Georgie—”

“Quiet, love. You don't want the whole house to hear how good I make you feel, do you?”

You nodded, a whine escaping through your teeth. One of his hands came up to cover your mouth, silencing the sound and infringing on your air supply, callouses rubbing against your kiss-swollen skin.

“I’d love nothing more than for Percy to hear you screaming for me, but this is just for us,” he whispered, breathless as he fucked into you. “Gonna come for me again?”

Your fingers dug into the couch, another peak racing towards you. You bounced with his movements, desperately chasing your high, the ache in your abdomen long forgotten.

“That's it, love. Fuck, m’gonna come.” He threw his head back, a strangled groan accompanying the kick of his cock inside you, stretching your further before pumping you full of his release.

The hot surge of his orgasm sent you flying over the edge, ecstasy pulling your under while your cunt milked him dry with vicious pulls. You muffled your cry into his shoulder as he fucked you through it, until you both collapsed onto the couch, thoroughly spent and panting.

His lips found your forehead, your temple, his hands gliding along your spine, over your hips, soothing you as you trembled against him.

“I love you,” he breathed into your hair. “I can't believe you're here with me.”

You grazed the racing pulse under his jaw with your nose. “I love you, too.” It was exhilarating to say, almost as thrilling as the orgasm you just shared, a massive weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“So, can I call you my girl without being corrected now?” He teased, tickling your ribs.

“I suppose.” You giggled, pecking the corner of his smirk.

The following morning, you descended from your room to find George at the bottom of the stairs, shirtless, twirling his Beater Bat in his right hand. The same hand that brought you the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.

“What on earth are you doing?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his cheek, admiring the violet mark you left above his clavicle.

“Waiting for Ron,” Fred supplied from the kitchen.

“Who’s waiting for me—oh fuck.” Ron stopped dead at the top of the stairs, still dressed in his pajamas, staring wide eyed at George, or more specifically, the bat in his hand.

“I just want to talk,” George said, gently moving you aside before prowling up the stairs towards his younger brother.

Ron took off up the stairs, their steps thundering through the house as George gave chase.

“George! Shit,” you huffed, glancing at the rest of the family who'd come to see what the fuss was about.

“I'll let ‘im get a good whack in,” Molly said, smiling at you. “Since you're his girl and all.”

Your cheeks flamed, but they only met you with warm hugs and laughter, like they'd been expecting this from the beginning.

Crack!

“Ow!”

"That's for hurting my girl, you git."

Fin. 🐦‍⬛

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #weasley twins #weasley twins smut #weasley twins fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #weasley family #the weasleys #harry potter smut #smutty smut smut #smutty fanfiction

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unconventional-lawnchair · 2 days ago

Text

Not Quite Poison

Barty Crouch Jr. X Potter!Reader

Summary: after a chance meeting in the library; a whirlwind love affair between Barty Crouch Jr and the youngest Potter blossom, but neither of them were prepared for how life would go after.

AN: MONTHS. I have finally finished this after MONTHS. Sorry if the writing style is a bit whiplash, I have changed a lot since then. I can't get away from Barty he owns my whole heart

CW: not proof read, no use of Y/N, Obsessive!Barty(implied obsessive reader), sexual themes and scenes, graveling and begging, Protective Sirius and James, fighting, lying, self indulgent, cursing, Remus x reader if you squint, angst, angst with slightly happy ending, fem reader, not cannon complacent, sexual innuendo, underage drinking, major character death (unless...?)

WC: ~17k

You never felt as bold or as powerful as you did at Hogwarts, walking the halls with your older brother and his friends.

Shamelessly you always thought they were the coolest. The Marauders, James Potter; Head Boy, Remus Lupin; Prefect, Sirius Black; one of the most clever and strongest duelists in the school, and Peter Pettigrew; the sweetest boy you'd ever meet.

They had a reputation for themselves even before you came to the school a year later. Not that it surprised you, your brother had always been a moth to the limelight. You were just happy he never aimed that at you, being fiercely protective of his little sister. They all were pretty defensive when it came to ‘little Potter.’

But, there was only so much their help could do.

“Dreadful! A Dreadful on my potions exam!” You groaned as you wiggled the parchment in front of you, as if shaking it enough would change the ink that was etched on the page.

“I have never gotten such a low score in my life!” You whined and hugged the paper. Giving a small sigh as Sirius ruffled your hair. “Calm it, Bambi. It’s just a practice test. You're becoming Moony.”

Sirius gestured behind his back to Remus, who was wearing an offended look.

“I'm sorry I couldn't help you more.” Lily called over from under your brother's arm, sending you a sympathetic look. You just mumbled.

“It’s alright, Red. If even you can’t save me, I’m well and truly done for.” You groaned and Remus nudged you with his elbow.

“I could always give you a hand.”

You shook your head and bit your cheek. “Nah, think it’s best I crack on alone. No distractions.” You waved your hands out dramatically, full of resolve. Enough to make Sirius laugh at you and Lily to roll her eyes fondly. The redhead looked up and smirked at James who seemed to be lost in his own little world, staring at her.

“Jamie, dearest?”

He blinked out of his daze and smiled at her. “What's that?”

“Were you paying any mind to your little sister?”

“She was talking?” He muttered and looked over at you, greeted by a bird that wasn't under his arm, instead poking from between your index and ring finger. “Ah, so I’ve finally learned to tune her out. Only took me seventeen years.”

“Sod off.” You stuck your tongue out at him and he blew a raspberry back, before Lily gave him a reprimanding smack on his shoulder.

“You're meant to be head boy.” She huffed and you just smirked.

“How they let him get that badge, I’ll never know!” You shouted up to your brother who made a mocking face at you with his eyes crossed. Remus snickering from your other side.

“Oi, James, keep it to yourself,” Peter mumbled, shuffling out of spitting range.

“It's like watching two first years go at it.” Sirius mumbled and Remus shrugged. “I don't think they ever left that age.”

You rolled your eyes fondly at the jabs as Lily grabbed your brother's face and squished his cheeks, leaving him a smiling fool.

“Okay, I'm heading to the library.” You offered and got a variety of responses as you left. “Got to make sense of this disaster of a grade.”

Their echoes of conversation faded out as your shoes hit the path to the library. Once there, you were shocked to see how many people were studying in the now cramped hall. It was fair to say that everyone here had a poor score on their test.

What was worse is you didn't recognize a single person. Not well enough to sit with.

You walked down the long path between the aisle and tried to spot an open seat somewhere. That was, until you spotted an empty table. An entirely empty table with a few spare books shoved across the old oak. You lit up and hurried over to take the seat closest to the wall. Setting up your things to begin to study, not noticing how people had been avoiding that table like the plague.

As you set up your books and notes you were oblivious to any presence around you, until the seat right next to you was pulled out. “You know…”

You looked up quickly and you were greeted by a pair of piercing green eyes that made your heart stop. What was it with Potters and green eyes? You'd never know.

“If you wanted my seat that bad, you could have just asked.” You were suddenly snapped to your senses when you recognized the voice.

Bartemius Crouch Junior. Fuck.

You didn't talk to many RavenClaws, you hardly talked to any male classmates considering how often your brother would scare them off. Sirius wasn't much help either.

However, Crouch had a special reputation. Hanging around dangerous Slytherins, loud, dangerous, obsessive and as smart as a damned whip. You only knew what Sirius told you about him, which was nothing good, considering how both of them absolutely despised each other. James didn't like him either, but Lily spoke highly of him.

Lily spoke highly of almost anyone, though.

You only realized you had been staring at him when he arched his eyebrow.

“Cat got your tongue, Potter?” He teased as he took his seat and you snapped out of your thoughts. Still just blinking owlishly at him. This made him chuckle softly, leaving him to simply shrug and get back to work.

With how he behaved around most of the students you expected him to chase you off or bare his fangs- maybe bite you. Who knows? People described him more like a rabid animal than a proper student. Yet you had sat in his seat, at his table, pushed aside and even stolen one of his books, and he was as calm as a cat.

“Er- sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.” You whispered and he glanced over at you. Meeting your eyes with a slowly growing smile.

“So she does talk?” He teased and you pursed your lips.

“When she wants to.”

“That's not very Potter of you.”

“It's very me of me.”

His smile only grew as your banter continued. His shoulders seemed to relax and he became a bit more playful. You felt like you might be insane, were there two Crouchs? There is no way this is the same boy who almost beat Sirius to a pulp over a remark about his own brother.

“So… do you mind if I study here?” You asked softly and he shrugged, going back to his paper.

“I don't mind a pretty face.”

This time it was your turn to smile, rolling your eyes a bit fondly. You got back to your notes, writing down each problem you had gotten wrong and looking for the proper potion recipe, starting with Wiggenweld. You began to mutter to yourself as you looked across three different books. Rubbing your temple in irritation as you tried to understand the ingredients and grew more and more infuriated.

“You're doing it wrong.” You heard Barty mumble from beside you. You snapped your head over to glare at him and it only served to make him chuckle.

“I don't think I've ever seen a Dreadful in my life.”

You flushed a bit and moved your wrist to hide your marks. “What happened to you being nice to me?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled and shifted his seat a bit closer to you, looking at the books. “What's got you confused?”

“I just..” You sighed and gestured to the books. “Every one of these say something different! Salamander blood until it turns yellow, then orange, then green. But this one says Unicorn horn and Lionfish spines. And then this one says Sloth-”

“Woah woah woah, pretty girl, breath.” He pushed and you took a sharp breath. No one but Sirius had ever called you that, and certainly not in that tone. He lifted his arm and you got a good view of his bare forearm from where his sleeve was rolled up, showing off a tattoo, a snake wrapped around a magpie, you think. He smiled at how you took it in. “Did it myself.”

Your eyes widened and looked at him in shock. He seemed giddy with excitement at your interests. “That and this,” He mused and stuck out his tongue, using his middle fingers to press it flat against his lip. Showing off his tongue piercing and his black nails. Your eyebrows shot up to your hair line.

Him and Sirius were scarily alike. It was almost comforting.

“Woah…” You mumbled and he laughed. Smiling ear to ear.

“Look here, kid.”

“I'm your age-”

“Shhh, I'm spitting wisdom.”

You couldn't help but laugh and relax fully as his fingers lined the pages of one of your books. “The reason they are so different is the one thing Professor Slug on my Horn doesn't tell you,” You laughed a bit in surprise at the vulgar nickname, “Is the potions you study under him have several different ways to make it. Salamander blood being the one taught in class.”

You looked back at the books and tilted your head a bit. “Why wouldn't they tell you that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I don't even use those recipes, I made my own.”

You looked over at him in shock and he just smiled at you.

You knew Crouch was a genius, he made sure everyone knew. But to have your own concoction for the potion you couldn't figure out how to brew according to instructions? You were baffled.

“Really?”

He nodded and you furrowed your brow. “Why Wiggenweld?”

His lip twitched and you could see as the smile left his eyes but not his lips, slowly biting his cheek. “I'm prone to.. accidents.”

“Your fights.” You whispered and he shrugged.

“Those too.”

“Typical Crouch behavior.” You murmured, a hint of amusement creeping into your voice. Talking to him was feeling more natural by the second. “Always getting into trouble.”

He grinned at that, leaning back in his chair with a casual confidence that was slightly charming. He had a way about it, how his sleeves were rolled up and his tie was loose. Robe discarded and undeniably handsome- “What can I say? It’s a talent of mine.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling more at ease as you continued to chat. The tension from earlier with your potions exam began to fade, replaced by a curiosity of learning who this Barty boy really was. It was a strange feeling, considering the reputation he had, but he seemed different here, away from the majority of the school, he was so gentle and sweet.

“So, what’s your recipe for Wiggenweld?” You asked, hopeful for a bit of help. You leaned in closer, the books between you momentarily forgotten.

“Alright, but you have to promise me something,” He whispered and leaned all that more closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You can’t tell anyone I’m teaching you this. It’s our secret.”

“Deal!” You nodded, your excitement bubbling over. You didn’t care about the implications of keeping secrets; you were just grateful for the distraction and the chance to understand potions from a different perspective. Definitely not to keep talking to him, not at all, he was just so damned sweet.

“Well, I use this version of it.” He gestured to your test, “But no Salamander blood. Just Horklump and Dittany.”

“What?” You whispered in shock and he sent you a playful wink.

“Trust me, yeah?” He gestured to the pages. “You just need to stew them for no longer than ten minutes. Stir it the first two- Potter?”

“Yeah?”

“You should be writing this down.” He teased and you quickly scrambled for your quill, cheeks flushed as he found you just staring.

You quickly scribbled down the details, heart racing as you focused on Barty’s instructions. The way he leaned in, so close that you could catch a whiff of his cologne, made it hard to concentrate. You tried to tune out the little voice in your head that reminded you of his reputation; all you wanted was to absorb the knowledge he was sharing. Nothing more.

“Okay, so after you’ve stewed the Horklump and Dittany, you need to add a pinch of powdered mint. It has to be powdered, if you add any fresh mint the juice will wind both of us in detention.” He continued, his voice low and steady, as if he were sharing a well-guarded secret. “But don't tell anyone that. It's just to get the color Slug likes so much.”

You couldn't help but smile at his goofy antics. “We?”

“Hm?”

“We'd end up in detention?”

He gave a chuckle. “Can't let you get in trouble for my secrets, can I? How could I live with myself?”

“What a gentleman.” You cooed and he gave a playfully solemn nod.

“Truly, I am.”

“I would totally let you take the fall for my antics.” You countered and he put a hand over his chest with a gasp. You giggled and he couldn't help but smile at your look.

“You're much prettier than your brother.” He hummed and you paused, turning to furrow your eyebrows at him with a bright smile. Clearly, he had no shame in what he said.

“Watch what you say, my brother may disagree with that.”

Barty smirked, clearly unfazed by the warning. He seemed so.. shameless. “Let him. I’ve dealt with worse than a jealous Potter before.” He leaned in a little closer, his tone playful, yet there was an undertone of seriousness in his eyes. “Besides, I would hate to disappoint him. But my type is more.. about your height, your hair color, your eyes. Have to say, the only thing wrong with you… your name.”

You felt your cheeks flush with warmth at his compliment, the boldness of his words making your heart race. Who was this guy? “Oh really? What’s wrong with my name?” You asked, trying to keep your tone teasing, but the stutter in your tone betrayed you.

“Potter is a lovely name.” He hummed, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “But if you are looking to try out something different, I have some ideas.“

“Is this you flirting, Crouch?”

“Call me Barty. And if you have to question it I might just have to up my game.” He lit up like a child and your heart clenched hopelessly. He didn't even attempt to play coy with his new found attraction, you wondered hopelessly how many people had told this boy no. Certainly not enough.

Thank Merlin for that.

You couldn't help but laugh, trying to mask the fluttering in your chest. “Well, Barty, I don’t know if you’re just charming or if this is some elaborate scheme to distract me from my disastrous Potions exam.”

He leaned in closer, resting his chin in his hand, eyes focused solely on you. “Maybe it’s a bit of both.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting to suppress a smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re delightful,” He shot back without missing a beat. The intensity in his gaze made you feel a little dizzy, like you were the center of an exhilarating storm. Like you were worth all his attention.

You had only been speaking for an hour and it seems he made up his mind about you so quickly.

“Okay, Mr. Charming.” You said with a smirk, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Let’s focus on Potions before you completely derail my study session.”

“Fine, fine.” He chuckled, leaning back into his chair but not breaking eye contact. “What's your next question?”

You spent the rest of the day with Barty, drilling on about the exam and your potion questions, falling into an easy and familiar rhythm. Eventually, even when your questions were answered and the library was empty, you two stayed. Even as it grew dark outside and the only lights came from the candles on the table. You two keep droning into easy conversation.

“You know.” Barty hummed. “This isn't the first time we've met.”

“Really?” You asked, your head in your arms as you leaned on the table over your books. He nodded. “Mhm. We met before, when we were younger. Before Hogwarts.”

“Before Hogwarts?” You echoed, trying to piece together the fragments of your memory. “I don’t remember meeting you before then. Are you sure?”

Barty chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sure. It was at Diagon Alley.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to recall any memory of him. “Diagon Alley? I don’t remember that at all.”

“Yeah, it was ages ago. You were with your family, and I was there with my mum.” He explained, with such a sweet smile that reached his eyes. “You had just gotten your first wand. You were so excited, waving it around like you were already a pro. I was upset because my magic hadn't come in yet but you and your brothers came around the same time.”

You felt a spark of recognition at his words, completely baffled he would remember something so utterly small and insignificant to him. “I do remember being really excited! I think I accidentally turned my brother’s hair blue for a week after that.”

Barty burst out laughing, the sound bright and infectious. “See? You were a little troublemaker even back then.”

“Hey, it was an accident!” You protested, laughing along with him. “I was just a kid.”

“Still, it’s good to know you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.” He muttered and bit his cheek. Suddenly so.. thoughtful and distant.

“... how did you remember that? I hardly remember it and it was the day I got my wand.” You have a small nervous laugh.

“You really don't remember?” He laughed and you just furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Woah, I'm that forgettable?” He teased and laughed as your eyes widened in horror. “I'm only teasing.”

He rolled his jaw a bit and laid his head on the table to look you in the eyes. “I was throwing a fit, you know. I wanted a wand so badly. You walked past me on the street and you pointed your wand at me. You shouted; ‘tears be gone and magic be strong!’ And just toddled away after your mother.”

Your jaw dropped a bit before you slowly covered your face in embarrassment. Giving a low groan as you began to laugh. “I don't remember that. But that's what my mum always told us when we got hurt. Said our magic would heal our owies.”

He chuckled and nodded. “I stopped crying. When I got my magic the next year I was sure it was your doing. I'm not surprised you don't remember me.”

“It's not that you're forgettable-”

“Heavens no, not that. Just… you are always doing small things like that. You don't know how much it means to people.”

You flushed a bit at his statement and looked down, unable to keep his eyes anymore. “You're exaggerating.”

“I'm not. Everyone just adores you.” He mumbled and you shook your head.

“And everyone is scared of you.” You challenged. “Not everyone knows what they are talking about.”

“They are scared of me with good reason.” He corrected and you shook your head defiantly.

“You're not scary.”

“I can be.”

“I'll believe it when I see it.”

“I guess you'll never believe it then.”

You tilted your head a bit and looked up to meet his eyes. He was smiling so softly, so sweet, eyes gentle and almost suffocating. “I would rather die than scare you.”

You stared at him, a bit stunned. Struggling to catch yourself but all you could muster was. “You could never scare me.”

“Good.” He whispered in earnest with a nod of his head. “Good.” He smiled.

Before you both could continue talking, you heard the grand doors creek open, both of you looked up like deer in headlights. You saw Remus poke his head in and he smiled at you, before giving a grimace of a look at your company.

You stood up as you saw Remus leave, giving a low sigh. “Sorry, I kept you here so late.”

“Don't worry about that.” He muttered as he began to help you pack up. “I'll put your books away for you.”

You gave him a surprised look before you furrowed your brow. “Are you not heading out as well?”

“Not now. I have a few assignments to look over.” He mumbled and your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Wha? Oh! Oh, Barty, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you.” You whispered and he shook his head, chuckling.

“It's alright, you can make it up to me.” He muttered and you nodded vigorously. “Distract me again? Tomorrow? Same seat?”

You were stunned for a moment before you slowly smiled to match his. “Time?”

“I'll be here all day.”

“Understood.” You smiled and gave him a small wave. “Goodnight, Barty.”

“Goodnight, Star.”

When you made your way out of the library and noticed James, Lily, Remus, Peter, and Sirius. You tilted your head a bit curiously when you saw James with the map.

“What's this about?” You hummed and James pointed at you like an accusatory child.

“Nuh uh! You and Crouch? Gross! No!”

You furrowed your eyebrow in confusion and looked over to Sirius who was glaring at you. Peter looked nervous to meet your eyes.

“You upset your brothers.” Remus muttered to you and you tilted your head.

“It would seem so.” You mumbled back and Lily gave a little giggle. James didn't appreciate your mellow response.

“Bambi that boy is no good for my little sister.” James huffed and you could have sworn if you rolled your eyes any harder they would fall from your head.

“Oh Merlin, here we go.” Lily mumbled.

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at James, trying to keep your expression calm. “You mean the boy that helped me understand Potions better than I ever have? The same boy who’s been nothing but nice to me? You guys really need to relax.”

Sirius chimed in, his tone teasing but serious. “Nice? Junior? He's a walking red flag, love”

“And you’d know all about red flags, wouldn’t you, Sirius?” You shot back, a smirk creeping onto your face. You couldn’t help but needle him a bit, knowing full well his own history.

Lily laughed, trying to diffuse the tension. “Come on, you guys, let her have some fun! She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

“Lily!” James huffed and gestured to you. “She's only 17.”

“18 in two months.” You put your hands on your hips as Remus smirked. “58 days.”

“Right on.” You mused and you and Remus shared a high five.

“Wha- I- no! No, I don't like it!” James whined like a child. “He's a Death Eater.”

That killed the fun chillingly fast. The hall was silent- in truth, no one knew anything about who was truly what. The only people you guys knew to be those monsters were the ones who claimed it. Like Mulciber, Avery, and even some of the other younger Slytherins.

The only evidence they would have to that would be the company Barty chose to keep.

“You watch your mouth.” You snapped quickly at James who looked a bit caught off guard that his usually sweet playful sister was so serious. Your blood was boiling with anxiety and inching for you to back down, you just wouldn't. To be in the middle of a war and to use that word so freely?

“You don't know what rumors like that can do to someone! And, I'll have you know, he is the sweetest boy I've ever talked to!” You snapped at him and his jaw dropped.

“Not you, Remus or Peter.” You reassured and they nodded in agreement.

“Not me.” Peter smiled at his friends and earned a smack from Sirius. Remus had the good sense not to say anything.

“You're such a git, James! And I won't be letting you continue to dictate my social life!” You snapped and the second Sirius opened his mouth you glared at him down. “You either greaser!”

Remus snickered and you shook your head. “I'm going to my dorm!”

Lily scurried up to follow you, giving the boys a playful ‘hmph!’ As she passed.

Remus was about to say something before Lily grabbed his arm and dragged him along. Leaving the three older Gryffindor's alone in the hall, baffled.

~~~

You stomped right up to your bed and slipped across it with a groan. Remus was next, mocking your childish stomps before he laid the proper way across your mattress, arms behind his head. You glared at him before Lily sat beside you and patted the side near her, coaxing you closer.

You sighed and sat up, wiggling closer.

“Baremius, huh?” She prodded and you nodded, leaning on your palms beside your knees. Her tone was always so soft and patient. She was always so… peaceful.

“It's not like that. But James- ugh! He just gets on my nerves.”

“Not like that?” Remus spoke up from behind you two. “He looked like he was about to kiss you.”

“I have that effect on people.” You cheeked, quickly trying to cover up your heating cheeks. “He was helping me with potions. Nothing more.”

“Well, that's good.” Lily muttered and you half glared at her.

“Good?”

“I can't believe I'm about to say this.” She muttered. “I agree with your brother on this one.”

You gawked at her before you looked at at Remus who suddenly looked nervous.

“And you?”

“In my defense, putting aside the rumors and.. his behaviors. He's a guy.” He shrugged and you gave a scandalized laugh.

“And you're not?”

“I'm a man.” He hummed and flexed playfully, showing off his arms and making you laugh, laying back and across his stomach. Lily rolled her eyes playfully and laid her head on his chest, looking at you with a soft smile.

“And in my defense, honey, I know him. He's friends with those horrid Slytherin boys and…” She looked away for a moment. “Snape. I know you can't judge someone on their friends alone but…”

“It says a lot.” You muttered and slowly hid your face in Remus’s stomach. He lifted his hand to ruffle your hair and you gave a loud and annoyed groan, looking back at Lily. “Do you really think-”

“I haven't seen any proof.” Lily quickly hushed you. “But just.. be careful, yeah? May want to keep him at arm's length.”

“...” You sighed and began to pick at the cables of Remus’s sweater, earning a smack from him. “I'll keep my distance.”

“That's our girl.” She smiled and leaned in to kiss your temple, making you laugh.

“You have to marry my brother now.” You insisted and Lily gave a snort.

“Oh, look at this.” Lily mused and reached behind her, the second you lifted your head she flung a pillow at your face, leaving you to fall against Remus’s stomach. He let out a sound that resembled a balloon deflating and it left you and Lily giggling like fools.

You stared up at the ceiling as Remus and Lily began to chat aimlessly. You began to pick at your nails and pause. You wondered if there was any truth to it, the rumors and his actions.

“I would rather die than scare you.”

His words replayed in your head over and over. What did he mean by that? Was it just you? Was his persona an act? What made you the exception?

The way his head tilted and his eyes looked into yours, it was something so genuine. Scarily affectionate. You wondered if it really was just that conversation. That day you met and that comment you made to him about magic.

Was he really not used to such simple compassions?

“Earth to bambi.” Lily called out and you looked over at her with a curious look. She smiled.

“So you won't get tangled up in him, yeah?” She prodded and you bit your cheek. You must have missed a lot.

“Yeah.. I'll be careful.” You muttered and she smiled.

“Good. I'm off to my patrols.” She hummed and sat up, grabbing her books and saying her goodbyes.

Remus looked down at you to see that distant stare again. Giving a weak chuckle and patting, giving a hum. “Wanna braid my hair?”

You sat up wordlessly and flopped on the pillow next to him. “Actually.. Can you read to me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, bambi.” He mused and grabbed one of the books from your coffee table. Shifting up so you could lay your head on his chest, listening as he started the same book he's already ready you a million times.

~~~

You kept your promise and you avoided Barty. Everything went back to the status quo. At least for the first few weeks.

James had let it go a week or so later and Sirius was still weary of leaving you alone for too long. Ever since he started staying at your house in year five, he had become just as hovering and doting as your brother. But with Lily and Remus as reinforcements they never pushed it too far.

Then came the full moon. Remus would never allow you too far from the Gryffindor towers the nights leading up to it. No one, really.

He would sooner see you in detention then letting you out of the dorms and especially not near the dark forest the night of the full moon. However, even if you couldn't help the night of, the very next morning no one could stop you from rushing down to the shrieking shack with breakfast and water for the boys.

It was never anything complicated, just a few biscuits and water before you all were lugged back for classes. This morning was no different. As you walked with the boys out of the shrieking shack and towards the school.

The sun was shining bright, casting warm rays across the forest floor as you made your way back toward the castle. The air was crisp, fresh from the night’s chill, and you felt a sense of accomplishment in being there for your friends.

“Thanks for this, lil Potter.” Remus mumbled, his voice still a bit hoarse but warm with affection as he took a sip of water. He was leaning heavily on his crutch that he still tried to insist he didn't need. The other boys were busy sharing their own sleepy banter, but you just smiled. “Of course, Moony. I wish you'd let me help more. I feel like I've become an animagus for nothing. I can still taste the mandrake leaf, I'll have you know.”

“I told you he wouldn't let you help like, five times!” James shouted ahead as he slipped back on his shirt. Remus strayed behind in his slowed step. Sirius shook his head.

“If we had it our way, and you weren't so spoiled, you wouldn't be one at all.” He snarked in all his grumpy morning glory and you gave a sarcastic laugh.

“What got up your ass this morning? Hopefully not Remus in his state.”

Remus began to choke on the water you had given them and Sirius gawked at you. James let out a laugh so loud it startled a few birds from the trees.

Remus rolled his neck before he nudged you a bit and gave a low groan. “It will keep you safe. Just in case… you know, anything happens.”

“Nothing will happen.” You assured and he shrugged, always ready to believe he could hurt you guys at any second.

“You never know.”

“You'd never hurt me, Remus.” You whispered and locked your arm with his. He shook his head.

“Moony would.” He challenged and you shook your head back at him.

“No, I mean, you wouldn't be able to. I am simply getting that good at self defense magic, didn't you hear our new professor? Could wipe the floor with em.” You cheeked and Remus gave you the most sour look you had ever seen, making you giggle.

“Can I?” Peter whispered from beside you and you handed him your water easily, giving a laugh when he threw it back and chucked the damn thing.

“Thirsty?”

“We shouldn't have drank.” He muttered and your jaw dropped.

“You four drank? That has to be illegal. More- more so illegal than whatever we have been doing so far.” You scolded and Remus just gave you a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, looking off into the forest with a playful huff. Only for you to pause when you saw some bit of blue behind you guys.

You began to slow down more, furrowing your brow at the figure you swear you saw, just following you guys. Your arm untangled from Remus’s and he paused, looking back at you. Then, you saw cigarette smoke. You trailed back a bit more before you turned sharply.

“I think I dropped something! I'll catch up!” You called back before you hurried down the trail. Looking along the tree line. Only then did you spot exactly who you thought you saw.

Barty looked at you with wide eyes, from the thicket of the trees. You two locked in a staring contest for a few moments before you heard Peter’s voice call out to you.

“You okay, Bambi?” He shouted and you quickly ran into the proper tree line. Grabbing Barty by his lapels and pushing his back against the nearest tree. He gave a small ‘oof’ as you took the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it on the ground, stomping it out.

He didn't react much besides rolling his head in annoyance and looking up at the leaves above you as you attempted to hide him. “What are you doing here?” You whisper hissed, assuming the worst.

He sucked his teeth a bit before looking down at you with a quirked eyebrow, “Can't take a morning stroll?”

“Were you following me?” You asked incredulously, stepping back from him as he fixed his uniform. “Not.. initially.”

“Yo! Bambi, you alright?” Sirius called down and you pursed your lips, giving Barry a once over. He looked.. sad. Almost bored. Nothing like the playful boy in the library.

“Uhm… yes. Yes!” You shouted back. “Wardrobe malfunction! I have a spell for it, just run ahead!”

There was a long pause before Remus shouted back. “Alright!”

As you listened to the boy’s voices finally fade out into the background you slipped your hands in your robe pockets.

“Why are you out here?” You finally asked and he looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. He walked over to a well worn log and sat down. Looking back to the path one more time you finally sat by him, hugging your cold knees.

He took off his robe and threw it over your lap. Before you could protest he took a letter from his pocket and handed it over to you. Taking out a box of smokes and starting another one.

You looked over the letter carefully, the envelope was beige but it had a blue stamp. Carefully, you unfolded it.

Bartemius,

I find it utterly disheartening that I must waste my precious time addressing your incessant foolishness yet again. Your childish antics are a stain on our family name, and quite frankly, I am beyond exhausted by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation. Another fight within a week? Pathetic.

How dare you presume to send a personal letter to my office as if your juvenile escapades warrant my attention? If I sought updates on your disgraceful behavior, I would have asked your mother- though I suspect she has long since learned to ignore your antics. It astounds me that you continue to associate with those beneath you, dragging my name through the mud and jeopardizing the reputation I have painstakingly built in the ministry.

Your conduct is an embarrassment, not just to yourself but to me and our entire lineage. I expect to see a marked improvement in your behavior, though I have little hope that you possess the maturity to effect any real change. If you cannot rise above your base instincts, you will remain nothing but a disappointment. Do not insult me further with your incompetence.

You felt your heart clench tighter with each line you read. It was like someone had cut out the devil's tongue and used his linguistics to verbally lash the pages, and the lack of warmth in the words left you feeling hollow. It was hard to reconcile the boy you’d just been speaking with- the charming, playful Barty- with the boy described in this letter.

Let alone a boy as sweet as Barty could be subject to this. Your thumbs began to crease the page the tighter you held it.

You knew you were lucky to have a father like yours. He would never speak down to you like this, he was the one who begged you to write. About anything and everything.

“I wanted him to know I got all O’s.” He muttered, gesturing to the letter. You looked over to him in surprise as he tightened his jaw but kept his expression unreadable. “Should of known it wouldn't have impressed him.”

“Barty…” You whispered, looking up at him with concern etched across your features. You felt your eyes begin to sting and your vision blur. He was staring off into the distance, tense as he took a deep drag of the cigarette. How could someone be so cruel to him?

You schooled your expression, giving a sniff or two as you used your sleeve to dry your tears. Then, your turned to face him fully, pressing the letter firm against your lap.

“You impressed me.” You declared in a stern tone. He furrowed his brow and looked at you curiously. You kept a straight face. “It's impressive, Barty. It's impressive and.. I'm impressed.”

He gave a weak, almost scandalized laugh before he bit his cheek, trying to hide a smile. “You are?”

“Mhm.” You nodded earnestly and he gave a low chuckle as you began to sniff again to try and keep your tears back.

“So.. is that why you'd been avoiding me?” He mused and your shoulders sank a bit. You have a deep sigh and hugged your knees. Burying your face in his robe still draped over your legs.

There was a moment of pause before you finally gave in. “You're not.. you're not a bad person. I don't think you are.” You whispered. “But my brother does. And his friends.”

“So what?” He asked softly, no malice in his tone just genuine curiosity.

You hesitated, the weight of your words hanging in the air. “So... I don’t want to get caught up in whatever is brewing around you. I know there's something. They care about me, and I care about them. I can’t just ignore it. And Lily she's...”

Barty’s expression shifted slightly, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. “You think I’m dangerous?”

“I think you have a reputation.” You countered, trying to keep your tone neutral even as your voice wavered. “And it’s not just who you hang around with. It’s the way people talk about you- like you’re some kind of monster. I've.. heard things. What you've done, I mean.”

He chuckled softly, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose I’ve earned that.” He admitted. “But I’m not dangerous. Not to you.”

You felt a pang of something- so heavy and tight in your chest at the way he said it. There was an honesty in his voice that made you hesitate, and for a moment, you saw not just the boy with the reputation, but someone who seemed genuinely weary of the way others perceived him. No.

The way you perceived him. The hypothetical danger he posed to you. He was more concerned with how you felt about him then anyone else.

“Then why do you hang around with them?” You asked, trying to understand. “You could easily distance yourself from them, you know. They are.. they are monsters, you know what they did to Mary and Lily. They are important to me.”

Barty shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that didn’t quite match the tension in his expression. “They’re... my friends. They understand the game. It’s easier to be with those who don’t expect me to be anything other than what I am.”

“But that's not fair.” You huffed boldly. “That's not fair to me. I won't pick between anyone and my friends because my answer will be my friends.”

“Yeah..” Barty took another long drag of his cigarette. “Me too.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you two, a heavy silence stretching out as you both considered the implications. You had to let yourself realize that with a father like his… his friends were truly all he had. You watched as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, the tendrils swirling in the sunlight filtering through the trees. His face was partially shadowed, but you could see the conflict in his eyes- caught between the reputation he had and the reputation his friends built.

“So, you’re saying that you’d rather be with them, even if it puts you in a bad light?” You asked, your brows furrowing in concern. “Is that really worth it?”

Barty leaned back against the tree, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Not all of us can be Sirius Black.” He chuckled dark and your lip twitched. “Not all of us have a Potter waiting to save us and I'm not leaving Regulus alone either.”

You furrowed your brow at him and he just shrugged. “Why didn't Regulus come along?” You whispered softly and he shook his head.

“Wrong question star. It's not my job to question him. I'm the one who's there for him.”

You stared at him for a moment longer and Barty met your eyes. It was like a stalemate for a good few minutes.

At that moment, you wondered if the houses were truly picked properly. Because you had never known anyone braver and more loyal than Bartemius Crouch Junior. You gave a low sigh and then smiled at him. He slowly returned it and your smile only widened.

Giving a small giggle he tossed his finished cigarette and held his hand out to you. You took it and he pulled you up, tossing his robe over his arm.

“You should run off now, yeah? Before your brother finds me defacing his sister's reputation.”

You shook your head with a bitter laugh. Taking a moment to appreciate him up close. Eventually, you gave in, getting on your toes and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. One that seemed to stun him.

“You really are remarkable, Barty.” You whispered and he couldn't hide his goofy and bright smile from you.

“And you, Star Potter, are a beautiful experience, everytime.” He said, his voice low and earnest, a spark of genuine warmth in his gaze. You felt your heart flutter at his compliment, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this small pocket of time.

“Now, run along.” He whispered, his tone teasing as he stepped back, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “Don’t let them catch you talking to me, or they’ll think I’m corrupting you.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to walk back toward the castle. “You wish you were that lucky!” You called over your shoulder, feeling lighter than you had in days.

He watched you go with a small sigh. Shamelessly he put the robe to his face he could smell the faintest linger of your perfume. His eyes closing tight, as the scent reminded him you were real.

“Merlin, I really do.”

~~~

Sneaking around was your brother’s bread and butter, not yours.

But you found it harder and harder to really stay away from Barty. His persistence didn't help.

Small things started happening. Like chocolates began to appear in your books, flowers showing up on your desk, and other small things that were undeniably Barty. You couldn't get away from him. Whether it was the shared glances or the way he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race, it was undeniable how much you were starting to fall for him.

You’d see him in the halls between classes, his eyes catching yours briefly before he flashed that charming smile. Sometimes he’d join you at the library, his presence both comforting and slightly thrilling. Each time felt like a secret shared in the quiet corners of Hogwarts, a world apart from the repetitive life of your friends. Not that you didn't love them- you adored them.

But the attention was nice.

“I got an Outstanding!” Lily sang as she held up her test, smiling ear to ear. James gave a wolf whistle to make Lily laugh, earning a shove for it.

Sirius looked at his parchment and gave a low whistle before carefully setting it back down, making the group laugh.

“That bad?” You cooed and Sirius smirked at you.

“Yeah? And what did you get, bambi?”

You bit your cheek and looked down at your parchment. Slowly turning it over with one eye closed, only to give a delighted gasp. “Ha! Outstanding!”

You flashed the paper to the group and Remus gave a laugh, Sirius playfully glared at you and snatched the paper away from you. “Horseradish! You cheated.” He insisted and you laughed.

“I did not cheat!” You protested, trying to snatch your parchment back. “I just studied really hard!”

“Sure, sure,” Sirius said, grinning as he held it just out of your reach. “What’s your secret? Did you bribe Slughorn?”

“That didn't cross my mind, actually.” You cheeked, and Remus clicked his tongue with a playful shake of his head. “Disappointed.”

Sirius laughed, holding your parchment a little higher. “You could have had him eating out of your hand with some chocolate frogs, you know.”

“Next time, I’ll be sure to bring him a whole box.” You shot back with a grin, finally managing to snatch your parchment back.

“Look at my little sister!” James piped up, pinching your cheeks. “I knew you had brains in there somewhere!”

“Sod off!” You huffed and he just laughed, letting you go.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at the actual cause of the O. As your brother and everyone began to get back to their idle chatter, you looked across the hall to the RavenClaw table, but you didn't see him. As your eyes drifted across the hall to the Slytherin table, you found your eyes trapped by a pair of stormy gray ones. Regulus Black simply nodded to you and looked down.

You wondered if he knew.

You pouted a bit before you looked back to the group. “I think I'll spend my free period at the library.”

“Awe, booo.” Peter called across the table.

“Come on, Bambi, don’t be a hermit!” James chimed in, trying to coax you back into the conversation. “You just got an Outstanding! Celebrate a little, you'll turn into my Evans!”

Lily gave a scoff.

“Yeah, you deserve a break.” Sirius added, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “How about we all go to Hogsmeade this weekend? A little fun to reward your hard work?”

You hesitated, torn between the prospect of hanging out with your friends and the nagging feeling that you wanted to see Barty again. “I would like to. But I really should review.”

“Come on, bambi!” Sirius pleaded, leaning forward with that infamous grin of his. “You can study later! Hogsmeade is a perfect way to unwind. Plus, we’re all going together. It’ll be fun!”

You bit your lip, glancing toward the Ravenclaw table again, half-hoping to see Barty’s unmistakable figure. He still wasn’t there. “I really should-”

“Should what?” James interjected, crossing his arms in an exaggerated manner. “Your grades won’t crumble if you take one break. Besides, you’ve been studying like a madwoman. You deserve a little fun. We haven't really hung out since you started this new study obsession.”

“Yeah! What’s the point of getting good marks if you can’t enjoy yourself?” Sirius chimed in.

You sighed, biting your cheek. While you loved your friends and cherished the time spent with them, the thought of Barty lingered in your mind. “I just think I can study more effectively if I focus on Potions right now.”

“Come on’, you can’t keep avoiding social interactions forever!” Sirius exclaimed dramatically. “You’ll turn into a hermit! Just imagine it: ‘Bambi, the hermit of Hogwarts’- it has a nice ring to it, actually.” He mumbled.

You giggled despite yourself, but the thought of Barty won over. “Sorry boys.”

“I think it's a good idea.” Lily hummed and you felt a bit guilty. Giving a firm nod and gathering your things and hurrying out of the hall before they could continue to protest.

The soft breeze from outside pushed back your hair a bit as you walked. The smell of the great hall flickered out and was soon replaced by the not entirely pleasant dampness of the dungeons. You weren't walking down the halls for long before you were suddenly yanked into a broom closet so fast you squealed.

Quickly a hand came over your mouth and you- like a normal person would- freaked out. Slamming your head back into the unseen attacker’s face. You heard a groan as he let go and spun around, only to stare at Barty with wide eyes. His hand covering his bruising nose and smiling at you.

“You scared the daylights out of me!” You scolded quickly, pushing away your embarrassment and annoyance with him- especially since he got such a strong reaction out of you. He just smiled and chuckled at you.

“Sorry, sorry.” He muttered. He had such a pretty smile, even when he was being an absolute moron. Oh, you owe Lily so many apologies. His hands slipped into his pockets as his shaggy hair fell a bit over his face.

“Just had to see you.” He whispered and you nodded.

“There are better what's to get a girl’s attention.” You muttered and he couldn't stop smiling at you. “Does it still hurt?”

You muttered softly and he nodded, leaning down a bit to your height. You smirked and raised your finger as if it was your wand. “‘tears be gone and magic be strong.” You whispered and he gave a low hum.

“You know…”

“Hm?”

“I'm not a kid anymore.” He chuckled and you flushed a bit, rolling your eyes.

“You could've had me fooled. What do you want me to do? Don't pull girls into a closet- no, don't pull anyone into broom closets.” You scolded and he just laughed, again, the most beautiful sound you'd heard all day.

“How about you kiss it better?” He pushed and you gave a snort.

“So you are a kid?”

“Come on.” He whined and gave you his best puppy dog eyes. “You hurt me, star.”

You held back a laugh, though the urge to playfully shove him away was strong. Instead, you gently cupped his face, watching his expression soften as you leaned in, pressing a quick, light kiss to his nose.

He closed his eyes, humming contentedly at the contact. “Again.” He murmured, barely opening his eyes.

“Needy.” You teased, but obliged, giving him another small kiss. He muttered the same request, and you rolled your eyes, leaning in to pepper his nose with a flurry of quick kisses, each one lighter and faster than the last.

But then, just as your last kiss hovered, he lifted his chin, guiding your lips to his. You gasped softly at the unexpected move, but he only pulled you closer, hands shifting from your hips to your waist, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t help but smile against his mouth, warmth flooding through you as you melted into him.

“Cheeky.” You murmured against his lips.

You felt the gentle rumble of his laughter as he held you tighter, closing every bit of space between you until it felt like you’d always belonged there, tangled in his arms, with nothing left between you but the sound of his heart beating against yours.

“Congratulations on potions.” He mumbled and he stepped a bit closer to you. Leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

You giggled and slipped your hands up his arms, grabbing his biceps and your laughter getting louder as his kisses became a bit more sloppy and messy. From your temple to your cheek to your neck. Devolving you both into laughter and loving kisses.

“Barty?” You whispered and he kissed from where his lips we pressed to your ear.

“Mhm?”

“You should kiss my lips again.”

He paused and slowly his lips curled up into a smirk against your neck. “Anything you want, star.”

He slowly kissed a trail up your neck, to your chin, to you cheek. You were growing a bit impatient, but you couldn't bring yourself to be mad about it. It was slow and sweet. The opposite of him.

The anticipation built with each gentle kiss, and when Barty finally pressed his lips to yours, nothing else mattered. The kiss was everything you hoped it would be; soft, warm, and filled with all the excitement from the sneaking around you had been doing.

You both pulled back slightly, your foreheads resting against each other as you shared a quiet moment, the sound of your mingled laughter still lingering in the air. He was warm, he always was. Just quiet and content. "I've been wanting to do that for a while.” Barty admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his confession. "Me too."

After a moment of pause, Bart slipped his hands out of his pockets and around your waist. You slowly opened your eyes to see he was staring at you so obviously. So much affection and.. pain in his eyes. Carefully your reached up from his shoulders to tangle in his hair.

“Baby.” You cooed, watching as the black pupils of his eyes grew twice their size.

“I love when you call me that.” He whispered and kissed you again. This time, with a bit more hunger for it.

The intensity of the kiss took you by surprise, yet it felt natural, as if this was where you were always meant to be. Barty's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase any lingering distance between you. The world outside the broom closet faded away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, private moment. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that mirrored the emotions you'd both been holding back for so long.

When you finally broke apart, both of you slightly breathless, Barty rested his forehead against yours again. "I need to know.” He whispered. “You're my girl, yeah?”

“Yours.” You confirmed without hesitation. “Your girl.”

Barty's eyes softened, and a relieved smile spread across his face, as if the weight of uncertainty had been lifted. You hadn't realized that for these past few weeks, despite all the flirting and stray touches, the meetings and secret rendezvous you'd never confirmed what felt so obvious to you.

"Good.” He murmured, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek. "Good.”

The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, savoring the stillness and the shared understanding that had only deepened. It was rare to find moments like these at Hogwarts, where every day was bustling with activity and noise, but here, in the quiet confines of the broom closet, you had carved out your own little haven.

"We should probably get back before they start wondering where we are.” You whispered reluctantly, knowing that duty and friendships couldn't be ignored forever. If Remus or anyone went looking in the library for you it was over, Merlin if they pulled out that map they loved to use on you so much you were done for.

Barty nodded, though he made no move to let you go just yet. "I suppose. But we’ll have more time together soon, right?"

"Definitely.” You assured him, smiling as you reluctantly stepped back, already anticipating the next secret meeting, the next shared glance across the crowded halls.

As you both emerged from the broom closet, the world seemed a little brighter, the halls a little more welcoming. And as you parted ways with a lingering look, you knew this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

~~~

You never thought Barty was capable of restraint- his affections for you were never a secret. He had been bold from the start, confessing his feelings on your first meeting as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You assumed he couldn’t hold back if he tried. But the truth was, you had underestimated him completely.

You were a Potter, you were no stranger to a love that burrowed into your heart like a bug. James was a prime example, but he had nothing on your father. You knew love like you knew the sunrise, Potters were love. That still didn't prepare you for the love of Barty Crouch Junior.

The moment you became ‘Barty’s girl,’ subtle gestures turned into grand, unrelenting declarations. Flowers appeared on your bedside in ornate bouquets, chocolates transformed into extravagant assortments, and he began slipping you old notes from his classes, annotated with messages he thought you’d enjoy. Sometimes, you’d find an anonymous love letter tucked between the pages of your books, though you always recognized his handwriting. It was a whirlwind of adoration that grew so excessive even your friends couldn’t ignore it.

The rumor spread quickly: you had a secret admirer. A very devoted one.

What started as stolen glances in the hallways and whispered words in broom closets evolved into something deeper. He became a constant, pulling you into hidden spaces where he’d kiss you like you were the only real thing in his world. His kisses were desperate, his hands always seeking some part of you to hold, as if he feared you might slip through his fingers.

Your world shrank to accommodate him. It was thrilling, yes, but also overwhelming. Each secret meeting was marked by a mix of exhilaration and dread that only lended to thrive in you, every touch, every breathless encounter behind closed doors, reminded you how deeply tangled you were becoming in each other. It was intoxicating and dangerous, like standing too close to a fire.

When he looked at you, it was like he was trying to memorize your every detail, like you were his only source of light.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” He murmured one night, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead against yours. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing the curve of your jaw as his eyes searched yours with raw intensity. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’d burn the whole world down if it meant keeping you.”

You shivered, his words igniting a heat in your chest. “Barty…”

His lips crashed against yours, swallowing the rest of your words. The kiss was frantic, a collision of need and longing, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Your knees buckled slightly, but his arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you, grounding you.

“You’re mine,” He whispered against your lips, his voice low and fervent. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.” You breathed, the words spilling out before you could stop them. And it was true- somehow, he’d claimed parts of you you didn’t even know existed. You couldn't even fathom were your breath started and his ended.

He sought you out in the quiet moments, trailing his fingertips down your arm when no one was looking, writing your name in the margins of his notes when he thought you wouldn’t see. You began to realize that to him, you weren’t just a girl he fancied; you were his anchor, his sanctuary in a world that seemed determined to tear him apart. He was becoming yours too.

Your eyes searched for him in every room. The way he flashed you that sickeningly slick smirk when he caught you staring. How he would follow you out of any room you happened to share, just to steal you away from whatever task he deemed not more important then his time with you. Shushing you in empty corridors as his hands found a spot just above your skirt. Ruffling your tie in slight frustration and marking skin no one would see but him. All while looking at you like you were his last salvation.

~~~

The fire crackled in the hearth as you sat cross-legged on your bed, your Transfiguration book open in front of you. Lily sat at your desk, rifling through her notes, while Remus lounged on your bed, one arm thrown casually over the back of a pillow. The three of you had settled in for a relaxed study session, but conversation had drifted away from studies.

"So, are we ever going to find out who it is that's got you all flustered lately?" Remus asked with a teasing grin, nudging your ankle with his foot. Lily looked up from her notes, her eyebrows raising with interest.

"Oh, Remus, give her a break," Lily sighed with a small smile, though you could see the curiosity twinkling in her green eyes. "She’ll tell us when she’s ready."

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, and you gave Remus a playful kick back. "You’re both ridiculous," you said, trying to keep your tone light. "There’s no one."

Remus rolled his eyes, his smile widening. "Sure, and I'm the Minister of Magic."

You shook your head, flipping open your Transfiguration book to avoid his gaze. "Fascinating. The Minister and all- and you can't even tell me which wand motion is the proper technique to transfigure my desk. Study don't pry into my very uninteresting love life."

"Uninteresting, huh?" Lily asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "I don’t know, those flowers you’ve been getting seem pretty interesting to me."

You opened your mouth to retort when something caught your eye; a folded piece of parchment, carefully tucked between the pages of your book. You furrowed your brow as you pulled it out, unfolding it to see the familiar slanted handwriting of Barty.

Meet me in my dorm. I’ve got something to show you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly folded the note, trying to suppress the smile threatening to spread across your face. You slipped the parchment under your pillow, feeling both Remus’ and Lily’s eyes on you.

"What’s that?" Remus asked, his smirk only growing.

"Nothing," you said quickly, giving them both a bright smile. "Just a reminder for myself."

Lily narrowed her eyes playfully, clearly not buying it, but she didn’t push. "Alright, fine," she said, glancing at the clock on your bedside table. "But I think I should be getting back to my own dorm soon. I promised James I'd meet him."

You nodded, swinging your legs off the bed. "Yeah, I should… um, I’ll be back in a bit."

Remus gave you a knowing look but didn’t say anything as you grabbed your robe and made your way towards the door, feeling the folded note burning against your skin. You slipped out of the room, trying to keep your excitement in check as you made your way through the castle.

Not long after you left, James appeared in the doorway, his hair as untidy as ever and a bright smile lighting up his face. "There you are, Evans," he said, striding into the room without knocking. "Ready to go?"

Lily stood, gathering her notes, but before she could respond, James’ eyes flickered to your bed, where the edge of the note you’d tucked under your pillow peeked out. His eyes narrowed slightly, and with the mischievous curiosity that had always been a part of him, he reached over and pulled it out.

"What’s this, then?" James asked, more to himself than anyone else.

Lily turned, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the note. "James, put that back. It's not yours."

But James had already unfolded it, his eyes scanning the words. His playful smile faltered slightly, his brow furrowing as he read the message. “... she's meeting someone. At night.”

Remus wasn't proud of himself, but he felt his body jolt forward at the idea. His brow furrowing as he looked at the handwriting.

“Surely not.” Lily muttered skeptical, walking closer and pouting. “James, whose handwriting is that?”

“Don't know.” He mumbled before he glanced at Remus who grimaced a bit. “I know how to find out.”

~~~

The sun had long since set, plunging the room into shadow. The lone candle on the nightstand burned low, its golden light flickering uncertainly across the walls, casting fleeting glimpses of the intimacy shared within. You lay beside Barty on his narrow bed, his body curled protectively around yours. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb tracing gentle lines as if memorizing your face. His other hand gripped your waist, not possessively but securely, as though grounding himself in the reality of your presence.

His green eyes, bright and intent, held yours with a tenderness so consuming it made your chest ache. The world outside seemed to vanish in this space- no war, no sides, no betrayals. Just the boy you loved, smiling softly at you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

"What are you smiling about?" You teased, brushing your nose against his, your fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck. He sighed at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before fixing on you again, filled with the kind of raw vulnerability he showed to no one else.

This was your Barty. The boy who could switch so drastically between needing every bit of your skin against his own, and loving you like you were a fragile truth.

"Just you." He murmured, his voice thick with affection, his smile deepening. "Thinking about how breath taking you look right now.."

Your heart swelled at his words, at the way he looked at you as if you were his last breath. You pressed your lips to his, slow and soft, letting the warmth of his embrace spread through you. His arms tightened around you, his desperation seeping through the way he held you close, as though he feared you might disappear.

But even in this fragile moment, reality intruded. Your lips trailed down his jaw, leaving a line of soft kisses along his neck. As your hand slipped beneath the sleeve of his shirt, your fingers brushed against something rough, foreign. You froze, your heart stuttering as your fingertips traced the unfamiliar texture.

"Barty, what’s this?" You asked, pulling back slightly, your brow furrowing as dread began to creep into your chest. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

His entire body went rigid. His eyes snapped open, the warmth in them replaced by something colder, darker. His hand shot to your wrist, gripping it with startling intensity, though his touch remained gentle. “It’s nothing.” He said- no, demanded quickly, but his voice cracked, and his gaze flickered away. The tension in his jaw, the way he avoided your eyes. It betrayed him.

He couldn't hide from you. Not after he'd given you every way to see him.

"Barty.” You pressed, your voice trembling now. "Show me."

For a long moment, he didn’t move, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the faint twitch of muscle. His eyes darted to yours, filled with a fear so raw it sent a chill through you. Slowly, with trembling hands, he rolled up his sleeve.

The world seemed to stop.

Etched into his pale skin, dark and stark against the flickering candlelight, was the unmistakable mark of the Death Eaters. Your breath hitched, the air in the room turning ice cold as you stared at the symbol that now defined him. The room, once warm and safe, felt suffocating, as though the walls were closing in around you.

"No.” You whispered, shaking your head, your voice breaking as tears stung your eyes. "No, Barty, tell me this isn’t real. Tell me it’s a joke. Please."

He reached for you, his expression desperate, pleading. "It’s not what you think.” He whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his own guilt. "Please, just listen- fuck, let me explain."

"Explain?" You choked, the word a bitter laugh as you scrambled to sit up, the sheets tangling around your legs. “You’re one of them, Barty. A Death Eater. The people who are trying to kill my brother, who would destroy Lily, who hate everything I stand for. How could you? How could you do this?”

He flinched as if you’d struck him, his hands trembling as he reached for you again. “I did it for them,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “For Regulus. For Evan. They needed me- I had to protect them.”

Your laughter came out hollow, bitter. “Protect them? What about me, Barty? What about us? Did you think of me when you let that thing be branded onto your skin? Did you think about what it would mean? About the promises we made?”

“I love you.” He pleaded, his voice breaking on the words. His eyes, wide and glistening with unshed tears, bore into yours, his desperation bleeding through every syllable. “I love you more than anything in this world. I did this for us; for you. I thought I could keep you safe.”

You shook your head, your chest tight, every word he spoke only twisting the knife in your heart. “Safe? You think this is keeping me safe? Barty, you’ve tied yourself to the very people who want to destroy me, my family, my friends. Dorcas got out. She didn’t need to join them. She did it for Marlene! You had a choice, Barty. You could have chosen me.”

“Don’t do this.” He begged, his voice trembling as he sank to his knees in front of you, his hands clutching at yours. “Please, don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I can’t- I won’t survive it. You’re all I have.”

His raw vulnerability shattered something in you, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to humanity. But even that couldn’t change the mark on his arm, the choices he had made. You tore your hands from his grasp, stepping back as tears streamed down your face.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to hold yourself together. “I can’t be with someone who’s made that choice. Picking that side. Not when it means standing against everything I believe in. I love you, Barty, but this…” Your voice broke. “This isn’t love. Not when it costs so much.”

His face crumpled, his body trembling as he clung to the edge of the bed like it was the only thing holding him up. “You are my side,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re everything to me. Without you, I’m nothing. Darling, please. You have to trust me.”

Your heart shattered at his words, but you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t let your love for him blind you to the truth of what he had become. Turning away, you moved toward the door, each step feeling like a physical wound.

“Please.” He whispered one last time, his voice so broken it nearly stopped you in your tracks. “Please don’t leave me. I’ll fix it. I'll fix us, darling, my love.”

You hesitated, your hand on the doorknob, tears blurring your vision. “I’m sorry, Barty,” you whispered, your voice trembling with grief. “But you’ve chosen a side. And it isn’t mine.”

With that, you stepped out of the room, the soft click of the door behind you sealing the final break between you. Each step down the hallway felt like walking through fire, the ache in your chest consuming you. You pressed a hand to your mouth to stifle a sob, the image of him- broken, desperate, lost- burned into your mind.

But you kept walking, because if you turned back, you knew you’d never leave. And that was the one thing you couldn’t allow.

Not when his love came with a price you could no longer bear to pay.

~~~

It was well past curfew when you stumbled back into the dormitory, your body heavy with exhaustion and your heart feeling as though it had been shattered into pieces too small to ever put back together. Every step echoed hollowly in the silent hallways, the sound swallowed by the crushing weight in your chest. You didn’t care about the risk of being caught; the only thing propelling you forward was the desperate need to collapse, to sink into the safety of your bed where the world couldn’t reach you.

But the sight that greeted you when you pushed open the door wasn’t the solitude you craved.

James stood with the Marauder's Map clutched tightly in his hand, his face flushed with a mix of anger and worry that twisted painfully at the sight of you. Sirius paced like a caged animal, his jaw tight, his dark eyes alight with barely restrained frustration. Remus sat perched on the edge of your bed, his brow furrowed with concern, while Lily lingered by the desk, her green eyes soft and filled with sympathy. Peter, as always, quiet. Hovering in the background.

"There you are!" James's voice rang out, sharp and filled with barely contained emotion. The sound made you flinch, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He crossed the space between you in two quick strides, holding up the map like a damning piece of evidence. “You want to tell me what the hell you were doing in the Ravenclaw dorms? Or should I save you the trouble? I know who you were with.”

The accusation in his voice hit like a physical blow. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The fight you would usually summon to deflect his concern- the sarcasm or sharp retorts; was gone. It had crumbled under the weight of the truth you could no longer avoid. Your shoulders slumped, the tears you had tried so desperately to hold back beginning to blur your vision.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, James.” You muttered, though your voice was a faint shadow of its usual strength. It trembled, hollow and lifeless, like it no longer belonged to you.

James scoffed, his frustration boiling over. "Don’t have to explain? You’ve been sneaking around with him! Don’t you see what he is?” His voice cracked, the anger giving way to something far more fragile. "He’s one of them, isn’t he? A bloody Death Eater.”

His words were a knife twisting in your chest. You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath, your body trembling under the weight of his accusation. But you didn’t deny it. You couldn’t. Because James was right. He had been right all along.

"Say something!" Sirius’s voice cut through the silence, raw and desperate. He stepped closer, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his pacing halted by his need for answers. His sharp gaze burned into you, searching for some explanation, some reassurance that you hadn’t fallen so deeply into something so dangerous. He couldn't bare to see you follow, not after losing Regulus to it. “Anything.”

Your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you whispered, “You were right.” The words came out broken, each one heavier than the last. “You were both right… about everything.”

The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of your admission pressing down on everyone. James’s expression crumbled, his anger dissolving into a mix of heartbreak and understanding. He moved toward you, his voice soft and filled with pain. “Oh, sweetheart…” He murmured, reaching for you.

That was all it took. The dam inside you broke, and a sob tore its way out of your chest. James pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your knees buckled beneath you. You clung to him, your sobs muffled against his robes, your whole body trembling.

“I thought he loved me.” You choked out, the words spilling from your lips in between gasps for breath. “I thought- he said he loved me. But he lied. He lied to me.”

James’s arms tightened around you, his own tears slipping silently down his face. “I know,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I know, Bambi. I’m so sorry.”

Sirius stepped forward then, his anger replaced by an aching sadness. His hand rested on your back, tentative at first, before he let out a shaky breath. “We were only trying to protect you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “We didn’t want this for you. We didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Lily knelt beside you, her warm hand brushing against your arm as she looked up at you, her eyes filled with sympathy. “We’re here now,” she said gently. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’ve got you.”

You turned to her, your tear-streaked face trembling as you met her gaze. “I don’t know what to do now,” you admitted, your voice small and broken.

Remus, silent until now, stepped closer and placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was steady, grounding. “You take it one step at a time,” he said softly, his calm voice a lifeline. “Just breathe for me. Ten in, ten out. We’ll figure it out together.”

You nodded, trying to follow his guidance, your breaths still shaky but slowing little by little. The sobs subsided, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest that felt impossibly heavy.

“Come on.” He whispered, his voice filled with a protective warmth. “Let’s get you into bed. You don’t have to think about anything else tonight.”

You nodded with a distant look, letting him coax you into your bed. You felt like a child.

“Jamie, let's head back to the dorms, yeah?” Lily said quietly, her eyes flicking to James, who stood near the foot of your bed, still looking worried.

“But..” James started, staring at your slightly trembling form, reluctant to leave you like this. He wanted to protect you, to make sure you were okay, but the look Remus gave him was enough to hold him back. Remus’s gaze was gentle but resolute, silently reassuring James that he would be here, that he’d stay by your side tonight.

James sighed, his reluctance clear, but he finally nodded. He glanced at Sirius, then back to Remus, letting out a slow breath. “Right. Let’s let her rest then?”

“Yeah,” Lily whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the back of your head. She lingered for a moment, her hand still gently stroking your hair. “We’ll be back in the morning.”

Sirius looked like he was about to protest, his expression torn between wanting to stay and knowing he had to let you rest. But Remus quietly reached for the familiar book on your nightstand. He shuffled slightly, getting comfortable next to you. Remus turned his head to look at Sirius, offering a reassuring nod.

“I’ve got her,” he said softly, his voice calm and steady. It was enough to ease some of the tension in the room. Sirius hesitated for a moment longer, then gave a small, reluctant nod. He exchanged one last glance with James before following Lily towards the door.

James lingered just a heartbeat longer, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Get some sleep, alright?” He whispered, his voice filled with love and concern. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Goodnight, Bambi.” Peter mumbled from the same spot he stood earlier, slowly shying behind James as he left. And with that, they left the room, the door closing softly behind them. The silence settled back over the room, and Remus turned towards you, his presence a gentle reminder that you weren’t alone. He carefully opened the book, his fingers brushing over the worn pages.

His voice, quiet and soothing, filled the room as he began to read, his words wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You turned slightly, facing Remus, his voice becoming a soft rhythm that helped to steady your breaths, one at a time. His free hand rested near yours, close enough that if you wanted, you could reach for it. He didn’t push. He simply stayed, his calm presence anchoring you. Eventually, as his gentle voice lulled you, the weight on your chest seemed to lighten just a fraction, and you let your eyes drift shut. For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to let go, to let the exhaustion take over. The sound of Remus’s voice, the warmth of his presence, made it feel just a little bit more bearable.

~~~

You woke the next morning to soft murmurs drifting through your dormitory. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting the walls in a gentle glow. For a moment, the warmth tricked you into thinking everything was fine. But then the memories of the night before came flooding back. Barty’s betrayal, the heartbreak, the fight- and the ache in your chest returned with full force.

You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing at your stinging eyes. Across the room, you saw Lily and Remus speaking quietly near the window. Lily noticed you first, her soft smile tinged with sadness. She crossed the room, settling beside you and placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“Morning.” She said gently, her voice careful, as though she were afraid you might shatter under the weight of it all. “How are you feeling?”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t know,” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Your body felt heavy, like every muscle was pulling you back down into the mattress, but the weight wasn’t comforting- it was suffocating.

Remus moved closer, offering you a steaming cup of tea. “Take your time.” He mused, his gaze steady and kind. You accepted the cup with a small nod, letting the warmth seep into your hands even if it couldn’t reach your heart.

You hesitated before asking, “James?” The one person you were dreading facing.

Lily and Remus exchanged a glance. “He’s alright,” Lily said gently. “Probably caught up with Head Boy duties. He’s just worried about you.”

You nodded, guilt twisting in your chest. “I didn’t want to upset him…”

Lily squeezed your arm. “He loves you. He just needs time to process everything. He’ll come around.”

Remus gave you a soft smile. “How about some fresh air? It might help clear your head.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. Staying in bed wouldn’t make anything better, and maybe the cold air would numb more than just your fingers. You wrapped a robe around yourself and followed Remus and Lily out of the tower, their steady presence keeping you grounded as you moved through the quiet castle halls. Each step felt like a small victory against the chaos inside your heart.

Just as you began to feel the chill of the air prickling your skin, a familiar voice shouting down the hall made your blood run cold. The words were indistinct, but the rage behind them was unmistakable. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you quickened your pace, your pulse pounding.

When you turned the corner, the scene stopped you in your tracks. James had Barty pinned against the wall, his fist gripping the collar of Barty’s shirt. His face was twisted in fury, his voice shaking as he snarled at him. A small crowd of students had gathered, whispering and watching the spectacle unfold.

“You think you can just hurt her?” James spat, slamming Barty against the stone wall. “You think there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Barty didn’t fight back. He stood there, taking every shove, his face pale and hollow, but his eyes- his eyes betrayed him. They weren’t empty; they were frantic, burning with guilt, fear, and something that terrified you when they flicked to your own. He didn’t even seem to register James’s words. His entire focus was on you, standing frozen in the hallway.

Sirius leaned casually against the wall nearby, a cigarette dangling from his lips, though his sharp eyes were anything but relaxed. “Go on, Prongs,” he muttered, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Give him hell.”

Your voice cracked as you shoved through the onlookers. “James, stop!” You shouted, panic lacing your words. But James didn’t hear you, his rage blinding him as he shoved Barty again, his voice trembling with emotion.

“You don’t get to treat her like that, to use her, and walk away like nothing happened!” James’s fist cocked back, and you screamed again, louder this time. “James!”

Sirius turned, startled by the desperation in your voice. He immediately straightened, stepping toward James. “Mate,” Sirius hissed, grabbing James’s shoulder. “She’s here.”

James froze, his chest heaving as he turned to look at you. His face softened the instant he saw the tears streaking your cheeks, but the tension in his body didn’t fade entirely. He let go of Barty’s shirt with a sharp shove, his hands falling to his sides.

Barty stumbled back, his hand reaching up to rub his neck, but his eyes were locked on you. His voice was hoarse and trembling when he finally spoke. “Please…” His gaze was raw, desperate. “Please, just talk to me.”

You froze, the pain in his eyes tugging at something in your chest even as you recoiled from him. “I don’t want to-”

“She doesn’t need to,” Remus’s voice cut in, low but firm as he stepped in front of you. He placed a steady hand on your arm, keeping you rooted beside him. “That's all, Crouch.”

Barty flinched at the tone in Remus’s voice, but he didn’t look away from you. “I just need a moment,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Just one chance to explain- she has to know that I didn’t mean-”

“Bartemius.” Remus said sharply, though his tone never rose. His calmness was like a dam, holding back the chaos in the room. He stepped forward slightly, his hand still on your arm. “That's all.”

Barty’s shoulders sagged, his face crumpling as he looked at you one last time. “I love you.” He whispered, his voice so broken it sent a chill down your spine. “You have to know that.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Remus gently tugged you closer to him, shielding you from Barty’s gaze. “Come on,” he murmured softly. “Let’s go.”

As Lily took your other side, guiding you down the hallway, you could feel Barty’s eyes following you, like he was clinging to the sight of you as his last lifeline. Behind you, Sirius muttered something sharp under his breath before stomping out his cigarette and following James, who stood frozen, his jaw tight as he stared after you.

You felt like a pathetic child. Being ushered around and babied, but you didn't fight it. You wanted this nightmare of a year to be over.

So when Regulus and Evan finally came, and the Black brothers shared some hateful words- and Lily dragged James away from the impending fight, you stayed hidden under Remus’s arm. The yelling and the arguments just sounded like buzzing in your ears. Leaving you to stare blankly off at the mess you had created. Watching as Evan took Barty away and Regulus glanced at you with an expression that flashed between sour, sympathetic, and careful. Turning on his heel to hurry after his friends. You wanted this year to end.

~~~

The rest of your sixth year at Hogwarts passed in a haze. After the confrontation between James and Barty, you felt like you were living in fragments- moments of warmth with your friends interrupted by long, suffocating stretches of numbness. James, Sirius, Remus, Lily, and Peter had rallied around you, protective and supportive, but the pain lingered. Barty’s betrayal, his mark, the weight of his choices. It all clung to you, no matter how hard you tried to shake it.

The school year ended with bittersweet farewells. James and everyone graduated, leaving behind an emptiness that Hogwarts couldn’t fill. On the train ride home, James gave you a fierce hug, his voice low but steady. “You’re going to be okay.” He whispered, as if saying it enough times would make it true. “We’ll all be okay.” His determination was a promise: he would fight, protect, and do whatever it took to keep you and the people he loved safe. It terrified how how devoted to the war he became, he hated to leave you at Hogwarts alone.

But the summer brought its own heartbreak. James and Lily joined the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius, Peter, and Remus close behind- throwing themselves into the war. The house was too quiet without James’s booming laugh or Sirius’s teasing remarks. Letters from James came sporadically, and the tension in his words bled through the parchment.

Then, not long after James and Lily’s wedding, your world shattered. Your parents got sick and you hardly left their bed side. They died days apart and you wondered if that's what it looks like; real love. Not able to be apart for even a week before returning to one another no matter what disaster they left behind. Though, you knew it wasn't true, just your own comfort. James, crushed under the weight of his grief, threw himself further into the Order. You rarely saw him. Remus kept you company as best he could, but even he had missions that pulled him away. Sirius made sure to remind you that James just wanted to protect what little family he had left, it killed you to not be there with them. The isolation was unbearable, every goodbye feeling like it could be the last. The ache of losing your family was only worsened by the fear that the rest of the people you loved would follow.

When you returned for your seventh year, Hogwarts felt hollow, almost unfamiliar without James, Sirius, or the others. But Dorcas Meadowes was there, refusing to leave you to fend for yourself. She became your constant companion, the person you leaned on most. The two of you forged a quiet understanding- she never pushed you to talk about Barty, and you never asked about the darkness she’d left behind. Dorcas was the girl who had escaped the worst parts of her legacy, a beacon of strength and resilience that kept you grounded.

Still, no matter how far you tried to distance yourself from Barty, he remained a presence in your life. Letters appeared on your bed, scribbled with frantic apologies. Flowers were left outside your dormitory door, wilting reminders of his desperation. He cornered you in empty corridors, his green eyes burning with longing as he begged you to listen.

“I love you,” He whispered one evening, his voice breaking as he blocked your path outside the library. “I’ve always loved you- since we were kids. You have to know that. What I did- it wasn’t about hurting you. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought…” He trailed off, his hands trembling at his sides. “I need you, star. I can’t do this without you.”

You clenched your fists, your chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. His words always left a mark, reopening wounds you were desperately trying to heal. “Barty.” You whispered quietly, your voice shaking. “You need to let me go. This… this isn’t love. Not when it hurts this much.”

He flinched as though you’d slapped him, his eyes filling with tears. “It is love,” He insisted, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve never felt this before- it's terrifying. I haven't been in this much pain before. I’d give you anything- everything- if you just came back to me. Star I can't do this.”

You shook your head, your breath hitching. “That’s not what I want. I don't like feeling like this either, Barty. I wanted you, Barty. But you made your choice. Your cause- what they have done to my family alone-”

Despite your protests, the line between you blurred one night near the end of the school year. He found you in the Astronomy Tower, the only place you could escape responsibility. The sight of him made your heart ache. He looked so much like the boy you had fallen for; tousled hair, eyes filled with a longing so fierce it made your knees weak. And for a moment, you forgot yourself.

“I hate what I’ve done to you,” He confessed, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “I hate that I’ve hurt you. But I can’t stop loving you.”

The vulnerability in his voice cracked something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, your lips met his. The kiss was frantic, desperate. His hands cradled your face as though you were something sacred, something he couldn’t bear to lose. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself drown in him, in the memory of what you once had.

But as quickly as it began, reality crashed over you. You pulled away, your breathing uneven as tears blurred your vision. “We can’t.” You whispered, stepping back. “This isn’t right.”

Barty reached for you, his voice trembling. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t walk away again. I’ll change- I’ll leave everything behind if that’s what it takes. Just… don’t leave me.”

The sincerity in his words nearly broke you, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “If you loved me, you would’ve chosen me before it came to this,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “But it’s too late, Barty. You can’t undo what’s been done. We both.. we both know if it came to me or Regulus- me or Evan.”

“That's not fair.” He croaked.

Your eyes flicked up to his as your tears rushed down your face. “It isn't.”

His shoulders slumped, the light in his eyes dimming as your words sank in. For the first time, he seemed to realize that no amount of pleading or promises would bring you back to him. “I’ll always love you.” whispered, his voice hollow.

You turned away, your heart shattering as you walked down the spiral staircase, leaving him alone in the tower. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You knew if you did, you’d lose your resolve.

When the train pulled into King’s Cross at the end of the year, you were greeted by the sight of your brother and his friends waiting for you. James’s grin was wide as he swept you into a bear hug, and for the first time in months, you felt like you could breathe again. Sirius ruffled your hair, Remus gave you a reassuring smile, and Lily’s arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders.

Even as you smiled, as you let yourself feel the warmth of their love and support, a part of you still ached. A part of you still thought of the boy you had left behind. But as the summer sun warmed your face and James’s laughter rang in your ears, you realized that some chapters had to end, no matter how much they hurt.

~~~

The kitchen was warm, filled with the comforting smell of breakfast and the sound of soft laughter. Lily twirled Harry in her arms, humming along to the radio as James danced beside them, making ridiculous faces to elicit another bright giggle from his son. Harry’s laughter rang out like a bell, pure and joyful, filling the room with a happiness so genuine it felt almost untouchable.

June 24, 1981. The day meant nothing and yet everything, because for a fleeting moment, life felt like it was untouched by war. Even without Peter, the Potter manor felt like home again.

Sirius leaned against the counter, a mischievous grin lighting his face as he watched James spin Harry dramatically before dipping him like a proper ballroom partner. “Fancy a dance, Bambi?” Sirius asked, holding out a hand to you with an exaggerated flourish.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Only if you promise not to step on my feet, Black.” You placed your hand in his, letting him pull you into the center of the kitchen. The music was upbeat, and Sirius matched it with absurdly exaggerated movements, twirling you around with flair that made you laugh so hard you had to clutch his shoulder for balance.

Sirius finally let out a mock sigh, fanning himself. “Too much for me, little Potter.” He joked, stepping aside. “Your turn, Moony. Show her how a real gentleman dances.”

Remus chuckled softly, stepping forward with a shake of his head. He took your hand with a gentleness that made your heart ache, pulling you into a slower, steadier rhythm despite the lively tune still playing on the radio. Even with his weight pressed heavy on his crutch, and your movements small and slow, it still felt all the same. His gaze lingered on yours, his hazel eyes soft and filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

"You deserve this.” He muttered quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. “To smile like this every day.”

The warmth of his words filled your chest, but it was bittersweet, a reminder of all the times you hadn’t felt this light. You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a small smile. “You do too, Remus.”

He returned the smile, spinning you one last time before James swept in with dramatic flair, lifting you off the ground. “One more dance before breakfast!” He announced, making you laugh despite yourself. “No sad faces allowed today. We’re celebrating.”

It was perfect- the kind of moment you could tuck away and hold onto when the world outside felt unbearable. Lily danced with Harry in her arms, Sirius joined in with exaggerated moves, and the room filled with the kind of happiness you hadn’t felt in so long. For a brief, fragile moment, it was enough.

But then the music stopped.

The radio cut out abruptly, replaced by the somber voice of a news broadcaster. “We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an urgent update on the latest casualties in the ongoing conflict. The names of those lost in the recent skirmish include…”

The warmth of the room vanished, the light dimming as everyone froze. James set you down gently, his expression hardening as he turned toward the radio. Lily instinctively clutched Harry closer, her face pale. Sirius’s grin disappeared entirely, his hand hovering near the dial as though he could will the news away.

The list of names continued, some familiar, most not. Each one was a reminder of the growing cost of the war, of the lives slipping away like grains of sand.

And then you heard it.

“...Evan Rosier, Bartemius Crouch Junior…”

The words echoed in your ears, louder than anything else. The world seemed to stop. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, as the name repeated in your mind, over and over. Barty.

The boy who had loved you so fiercely, who had been so lost, so desperate to make you stay. He was gone. Evan too, another name tethered to your past, but it was Barty’s that struck you like a knife to the chest.

At first, you laughed. You could of sworn James looked at you like you had lost it; you wouldn't blame him. It was ridiculous. The boy you knew, the magnetic and ethereal wizard who you gave your all too couldn't possibly be dead. He was your age. He was a kid. You had both just graduated- what in Merlin's name could they possibly be on about?

Your laughter slowly died down into a choked gasp and a sniffle, your body stiff. You closed your eyes tight and tried to stifle your sobs. “No…” Your knees buckled, and James caught you instantly, his arm tightening around your shoulders. Sirius reached out, shutting off the radio with a harsh click, the silence that followed deafening.

“He…” Your voice cracked, trembling as you forced the words out. “He’s really gone?”

Remus stepped closer, his expression pained. He placed a hand on your shoulder, steady and comforting. “Yes,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lily’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she rocked Harry gently, trying to keep him calm. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. The sound of her grief only deepened the ache in your chest.

James pressed his nose to your temple, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’m sorry, Bambi,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

The tears came before you could stop them, spilling freely as your body trembled. You clung to James like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, your sobs muffled against his shoulder. The memories of Barty overwhelmed you; the way he’d looked at you, like you were his everything; the way he’d held you, as though letting go would destroy him. The thought that you would never see him again, never hear his voice or feel his touch, crushed you.

“I thought I was over him.” You whispered through your tears, your voice trembling. “I swore I was. But now…”

Sirius moved closer, his arm wrapping around you and James. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’ve got you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your throat felt too tight, the lump of grief choking you. You lifted your head to look around the room, at the faces of the people who had been your family for so long. They were blurry through your tears, but their love was palpable, a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

Still, the ache remained, deep and unrelenting. Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you had moved on, a part of you would always carry Barty. His loss wasn’t just his death; it was the loss of what could have been, the love that might have saved him if only things had been different. If only he chose it. Because you and Barty were a Hogwarts fling, everyone knows they don't last forever. But even if it crashed in a blazing glory, even if you both turned bitter, if the break up destroyed you. You'd rather feel that.

The kitchen felt colder now, the warmth of the morning replaced by the sobering weight of reality. And yet, as James held you tightly, as Sirius and Remus stayed close, as Lily hummed softly to soothe Harry, you knew you weren’t alone. Even in the face of heartbreak, you were still surrounded by love. And somehow, you would find a way to carry on.

~~~ Bonus Scene~~~

The house was suffocating in its silence.

Your childhood home, once filled with laughter and the chaotic warmth of your family, now seemed cold and lifeless. James and Lily were busy with their own lives, preparing for the future that everyone whispered about in cautious tones, and Sirius had left for good reason you couldn’t fault him for. You were alone, and the empty hallways of the Potter Manor only amplified the echo of your own thoughts.

It had been days since you’d learned the news of what befell Barty.

After the shock ran over you it took days of Remus coaxing to get you out of bed. Then days to be able to face a mirror. Everyone was supportive, helpful, but you felt just as pathetic as you did in school.

The ache in your chest felt heavier tonight as you climbed the stairs to your old room. The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting long, pale shadows across the walls. You reached your room and pushed the door open, slipping inside and locking it with a flick of your wand. It was habit more than anything; no one else was here.

You set your wand on the bedside table and turned toward the window, intent on shutting the heavy curtains, when a hand clamped over your mouth.

Panic erupted within you, and instinct took hold. Without thinking, you threw your head back as hard as you could, the satisfying crack of impact reverberating through your skull. A sharp, pained grunt followed, and the grip on you loosened.

Spinning around, your heart hammering in your chest, you braced for a fight- only to come face to face with the last person you’d expected to see.

“Bloody hell, star,” Barty groaned, one hand pressed to his nose as he leaned against the wall for support. Blood trickled between his fingers, but his lips still curled into that maddeningly familiar smirk. “That’s twice you’ve done that. Are you always this violent, or am I special?”

The air left your lungs, your body frozen in place. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head as if the motion could erase what you were seeing. “No. You’re- You’re supposed to be dead.”

Barty let out a low chuckle, straightening up and swiping at the blood on his face. “I think.. we should talk.”

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777heavengirl · 2 days ago

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the one with the post mortem

sirius black x reader ! - 1,244 words masterlist bags masterlist A/N: i cant tell if i like this or not but its the only thing I've been able to put out in days and its... yea no comment. also pls refer to this post about my update schedule and what I'm dealing w rn!

“You’re a bloody idiot Padfoot” James paced back and forth, hands on his hips as he scolded Sirius. “I just don't understand what you were thinking- they could’ve killed you”

“It's just a bruise Prongs can we relax here?” Sirius sighed as he held the frozen pea package to his face, he could already feel the tender skin around his eye bruising. The splitting headache he was now suffering from made him cringe as James's voice boomed around the living room.

“I think what James means to say is that-” You said as you walked back from their kitchen with tea in your hands, seamlessly passing the hot mug from your hands into his as you sat next to him on the Potter’s couch. “We are thankful it didn’t go past some shouting and a punch- Right James”

“Fuck no-”

“Come on-”

“No! It’s just-” James rubbed his temple, a frown etched deep within his features “Don’t put yourself back on their radar Sirius, I don't understand why you would want to go in the first place! You hated the woman!”

“We just don’t think it was the smartest idea to waltz into the funeral honey-” Lily said while rubbing circles mindlessly over her pregnant belly, her baby blue peplum top barely hiding the bottom slivers of her belly as she leaned back in her plush chair.

You stared at her round belly, a fleeting giddiness passing through you at the thought of the baby arriving soon. You had been scared you'd send her into labor when you knocked, dragging a bruised Sirius in, but she remained the calmest you had ever seen her, merely sighing as the two of you tumbled inside. Like it was just any other day. You guessed having James Potter as her husband meant he often brought home some excitement, to say the least.

“And then you also had the bloody brilliant idea of bringing y/n with you-”

“James-”

“No,” He shook his head, brown eyes staring straight into yours. “He shouldn’t have brought you! For Godric’s sake, they know you’re a muggle-born y/n! Merlin knows what they could’ve done-”

“I convinced him to let me go with him, James! I wasn’t going to let him go alone-” James continued to lecture you, you did your best to concentrate on his words. But all you could focus on was Sirius's blank stare towards the floor.

You knew James's lecture came from a place of love and care. James was so much like his mother, you could almost see her. The way he argued with his hands on his hips, a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder. Nothing but care and love, and worry seeped into his words. You knew he meant well, you knew he just did not understand why Sirius couldn’t just leave it alone. It frustrated James, it always had. They were brothers, no one could deny that. But a piece of Sirius, small and deep within him, hidden from the world, would always belong to the most honorable House of Black.

And it not only tore Sirius apart but James too.

As much as Sirius was a part of his family, as much as he called Euphemia mum and Fleamont dad, as much as they were brothers in every way but blood. As much as they had built many memories together, happy Christmases, and bountiful birthdays, with many more to come. Endless days together, growing old together, like brothers, like family. Hell, Sirius was in the Potter’s family portrait. But even through all of this, they could never erase Sirius’s past. It would always be there, like an ugly inky stain on an otherwise pristine white shirt.

But you understood. Somehow. You knew what it felt like, the need to go crawling back to the parent that makes you feel worthless, hoping and praying it'll be different each time.

Sirius craved to be seen by his mother just as much as you did your father.

You guessed that was why you didn’t fight him on going, why you decided to go with him.

“He’s right,” the room went quiet as you all turned to look at Sirius, his eyes were now closed, one covered by the frozen bag. He felt exhausted, like his arms and legs were made of lead, his heart felt heavy with guilt and grief. “I shouldn’t have agreed to let you come, hell- I shouldn’t have gone in the first place but that’s my bullshit to deal with, not yours, love”

You scoffed, “Since when do we deal with bullshit alone-”

“Since you decided that we needed to lead separate lives y/n” He snapped now, dropping the bag on his lap as he turned to look at you.

“Oh grow up Sirius” You turned away now, away from how his features twisted in frustration and regret. You did your best to keep your face flat and monotone, afraid to let even a single sliver of emotion slip through. You hadn’t talked about it, yet. Avoiding the theme altogether for the last couple of days since he came home. But the tension was there, palpable and thick. It permeated every conversation and every interaction. It made everything feel heavy, the way that rain would drench and turn your clothes heavy.

You couldn’t take the silence anymore, with a sigh you got up, pulling down the edge of your black dress. Lily and James merely stared, wide-eyed and shocked at the outburst from the both of you.

“I’ll see you two later-” Your words had barely rang out as you apparated away, the faintest crack of the air following you.

Sirius groaned, dropping his face into his hands.

“So no, you haven’t fixed it yet-”

“It’s not that easy Prongs,” Sirius melted into the couch, fingers tracing patterns into the corduroy.

“Why?” Lily stared at Sirius, a glint in her eye that was no stranger to Sirius. He narrowed his eyes at the red-head. “Why isn’t it easy Sirius? She loves you an obscene amount- watching the two of you is gross”

“What are you talking about Lilykins?” Sirius played with the edges of the soggy bag of peas, a childish pout on his lips.

“Lils is right, the two of you are worse than we are and we are married pads,” James sat on the arm of Lily’s armchair. Sirius scoffed-

“Come off it- no one’s worse than you two” They both rolled their eyes, a small smile on their lips they tried to repress.

“I’m not wrong though- the two of you are disgustingly cute- always fawning over each other, whispering things to the other- you know you should really confess Sirius, tell her how you feel-” Sirius sat up, eyes wide,

“Tell her how I feel? Is pregnancy melting your brain Evans?”

“Oi! It’s Potter now, thank you very much-” James feigned hurt but Lily burst into laughter,

“God- the two of you are meant for each other,” James and Sirius stared dumbly at Lily, uncontrollable laughter shaking her body, she slapped James’s thigh excitedly “You really do- I can’t believe, Merlin-” She continued to laugh, starting to wipe tears from the corner of her eyes as she let out full spurts of laughter. “I can’t believe the two of you said the same thing-”

But as fast as she started she suddenly stopped with a small, oh, green eyes wide-

“W-what is it-” James stood, staring at his wife “Is everything okay?”

“I either just peed myself" Lily grabbed onto James's forearm to attempt to stand up from her recliner chair "or my water broke— currently leaning towards the latter”

“Oh fuck-”

taglist ; @thatlittlered @giuli-in-earth @notsolong-pause @niceonejames7 @caspiankingofnarnia @ilovejamespottersomuch @bmyva1entine

let me know if you wanna be added ! or if i missed you

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #the marauders era #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #padfoot #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black series #sirius o black #sirius #sirius black x reader #sirius orion black #sirius black #sirius black drabble #sirius black angst #sirius x you #sirius x reader #padfoot x you

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issues4him · 2 days ago

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𐙚 height difference headcannons

IN WHICH - draco is oddly obsessed with your guys' height difference. (i'm short & have a thing for tall guys - this one's for me ok? ok. call it a kink if you will)

warnings - fluff, smut 18+

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

- you have always been quite short for your age. you stand at just 5'0 (152 cm) tall.

- you always been shorter than average. you get mistaken for a first year quite often. if you get stuck in a crowd of them, there's no luck finding you.

- draco has always been quite tall for his age. standing at a magnificent 6'4 (193 cm), he's always seemed to be the center of attention.

- this is a source of great pride to him as he enjoys any opportunity to show off, whether he's standing on his tip-toes, or towering over anyone, especially you

-you noticed when you first started talking that draco definitely had a 'thing' for your height.

- you couldn't lie - you did too. it was the first thing you had noticed about each other.

- he'd always call you 'tiny', 'shorty', and 'pocket-sized'.

- the first thing he said to you was, "wow, did you drink the shrinking potion on accident?"

- after the first couple times you talked, draco nearly made it routine to poke good fun at your height

- he wasn’t so subtle with the flirting lol

- like he wanted to compare hand sizes all the time

- not slick at all, malfoy

- you found it so blush-inducing when draco picked you up like you weighed nothing.

- it made draco feel strong.

- your sex life was a struggle at the beginning

- the only way you could have shower sex was if draco held you up against the wall with your legs hooked around above his arms.

- 69 was pretty much a no-go. either one of you was getting head or not at all.

- BUT... cowgirl seemed to be draco's favorite.

- he loved the way he could see himself inside of you, bulging from your lower stomach.

- he also loved the way your hands and mouth fit around his dick

- it just made him feel bigger lol

- people always ogled at your height difference

- girls would constantly tell you they were jealous of the distance between you two

- omg draco LOVESSS the way you absolutely drown in his clothes.

- you once put his robe on & the bottoms of it were on the floor, sleeves entirely too long, and hood covering your entire face

- Draco couldn’t help but take a picture

- he keeps that picture by his bed

#draco is so effing cute #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #gryffindor #slytherin #ravenclaw #sirius black #ron weasley #hermione granger #golden trio era

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delusionalme8 · 2 days ago

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Read this, because it's worth it!

but i’m a fire, and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm by societysgot on ao3

Harry wanted to recoil into the long reeds, enveloping himself in his own grief, far away from the prying eyes of others.

But, he stopped himself. He knew her eyes. Warm, candescent eyes - ones which he had sought numerous times over the past year - for comfort, for a laugh, for some sort of solidarity. And they hadn't failed him yet.

(Or: the story of how Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley became friends.)

CanonCompliant, set in and around OotP, Missing Scenes, Harry/Ginny.

#read this #it is amazing #harry potter #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #harry potter fanfiction

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aurynsia · 2 days ago

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Like Real People Do

Remus Lupin x Animagus!Reader

Summary: Fox Animagus!Reader falls in love with Remus after waking up next to him in the hospital wing...

Warnings: Mentions of injuries and scars, reader is fem presenting and referred to with she/her pronouns, mostly fluff with a sprinkle of angst, only one mention of the other Marauders

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Streams of light trickled down your face, soft skin slick with sweat that reflected the natural glow beaming from the window above. A beating pulse ran through your head, only worsening with every slight move you made to sit up in a bed that wasn’t your own.

You groaned at the feeling of hospital sheets weighing your body down, cascading down your form to pool around your hips as you straightened your back to stretch.

Your body ached with harsh evidence of the night before, and a pained cry bounced around the walls as you twisted and turned. A cry that was not your own.

Blinking once, twice, you turned your attention to the figure sat beside you, positioned to mirror you in a bed adorned with thin sheets that had crumpled under the weight of a restless sleep.

Remus Lupin stared wide-eyed at your torn body after stretching a muscle or two, gaze flickering from your face to the scars trailing down your back. You observed him with a similar curiosity, memorising every cut and tear blessing his soft skin.

“Seems we both got into some trouble, then…” you mused, voice laced with the remnants of sleep. The Gryffindor gazed at you with a shy blush dancing on each cheek, smiling bashfully despite his aching pains.

His gaze fell below yours once again, eyes growing wider before looking away towards his own torso. You followed his previous stare with a puzzled expression before grabbing at the sheets around you to cover your exposed bra, blushing in a deep embarrassment that Remus could only describe as endearing.

“I suppose you also…transform?” He said cautiously, careful to not expose himself as an Animagus if he misjudged you. “Yeah I- transform,” you responded with his own word choice, “Though sometimes I can’t control it, last night wasn’t meant to happen…” you trailed off.

He gave you a pitiful smile, shifting to face you while stretching his arm behind his neck, “I know what you mean, I transform every full moon…” he hints.

Remus was a quiet, caring boy, completely unlike his Animagus form. You had spoken a handful of times before about your shared love for Defence Against the Dark Arts. You had clearly underestimated your overwhelming similarities that you unpicked like the sleeves of an unraveling sweater over the unlikely pillow talk that followed your chance encounter.

You quickly discovered that you were the sly, red fox to his dark, brooding wolf, a fact that made you all the more drawn to the boy. You carefully moved to sit on his hospital bed despite your growing pains, whispering in soft understanding as you both awaited Madam Pomfrey’s dotting care.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A few months later and the leaves have shifted to a golden hue since that bright summer’s morning, only visible under the full moon. You stalked through the forbidden forest, walking in line with Remus’ large dorm.

Aching from a night of battles and mischief, your sleek auburn body began to shift uncomfortably in your pace as you found yourself becoming more human by the minute.

You had grown all but inseparable with the werewolf after that fateful morning, quickly falling into a comfortable routine of tracing each other’s scars while muttering praises of admiration.

The bright moon illuminated your path, your boyfriend’s fierce eyes softened with a lidded gaze under the rays of light.

The sun threatened to tip over the horizon in a mere few hours as you slunk home side by side with the strong wolf. You fought back sleep, foxy red hair shining in Hogwarts’ glow as you clambered along the stone path.

You had never longed for the awkward feeling of hospital fabrics across your aching body as much as you did on this tiring night. Your monthly visits to hospital beds were no longer lonely as you entered hand in hand with the tall boy every time, relaxing under the cooling touch of mattress to skin.

Fully transformed and gripping the walls of the castle, you groaned as you began to sulk in the direction of Madam Pomfrey, as you had done every other treacherous night out.

“L-love, wait a minute,” Remus called in a stutter, “why don’t we just tend to ourselves tonight?”

Stopping in your tracks, you pondered his proposition for a moment, head aching as you turned to look between your boyfriend and the entrance to the hospital wing further down the hall.

“I’ll fix you up while you tend to me. We…we can fall asleep in each other’s arms, just for one night,” he continued to hiss and groan, holding his side with one hand while reaching for you with the other, “Like a- a normal couple…”

Silently, you nodded at the pleading boy with a pained smile, moving into lean against his tall body, adorned with scars. You limped in tow towards the Gryffindor dorms, contact unwavering at his decorated side.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The door to the Marauder’s dorm closed with a soft thud, Remus making sure to not alert his roommates to your arrival.

You tossed yourself onto his bed, closing the surrounding curtains as Remus fetched various remedies from his desk. He slid between the fabric enclosure as you muttered a silencing charm before letting out a pained sigh.

Remus made quick work of your wounds, applying ointment to your bare back before you did the same. The night air pushed a refreshing breeze through the dorm’s open window that shifted the fabric surrounding you like waves over land.

Overwhelmed with relief from the mutual healing, you pushed yourself down to splay across the bed, joining your boyfriend with your head to his pillow.

“We are a normal couple, you know,” you murmured, “well, as normal as we can get. Hospital wing visits will never change that.” Remus gazed into your glossy eyes, slick with sleep. “I know, love, I know. It’s just- nights like these make me want to fall asleep with my girl in my arms, like real people do…”

You hummed at his reply, lips forming a soft smile as you inched closer to the werewolf. “We are real. This is real.” You planted a delicate kiss to his pink lips, his eyes fluttering closed at the contact, in sync with your own.

“This is real.”

You encircled his legs with your own, blending your face with his chest and your hands with the back of his neck. He nuzzled into your hair, muttering sweet nothings as you drifted to sleep.

“I love you, sweet fox,” he spoke softly, only to be met with the quiet snores of his sleeping girlfriend, before joining you in slumber.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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mywhisperingwords · 3 days ago

Text

almost | george f. weasley

summary: george and yours relationship was the definition of almost word count: 6.8k masterlist

It started with laughter.

Not yours—George’s. That low, rolling sound that always seemed to carry through the corridors of Hogwarts, chasing away any gloom lingering in the air. You didn’t know how he managed it, but wherever George Weasley went, he brought the sun with him.

And you? You were content to stay in the shade.

Your paths had crossed so many times that it felt inevitable. You shared classes, the Gryffindor common room, countless Quidditch matches, and a mutual knack for being in the right place at the wrong time. George always seemed to notice you in those moments—the way your head tilted when you were thinking, or how your lips curved ever so slightly when you were holding back a smile.

And then there was the teasing.

“You know, you’d be brilliant at a joke shop,” he said once, sliding into the seat beside you in the library. “With that sense of humor you’ve been hiding, you could put even Fred and me out of business.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t deny it. There was something about George that made you feel like you could be a little sharper, a little bolder than usual. He brought it out of you without even trying.

But you never let it go further than that.

Not when his gaze lingered on you a little too long. Not when your heart stuttered every time he gave you that crooked grin. Not even when he sat beside you at every Gryffindor party, leaning close as if the rest of the room didn’t matter.

Because you knew George. He was everything you weren’t—reckless where you were careful, loud where you were quiet, bold where you were hesitant. You were convinced he was destined for something far brighter than the mundane life you imagined for yourself.

But one evening in your sixth year, as you sat together on the Astronomy Tower steps, watching the stars and listening to the hum of the castle below, you let yourself wonder.

“What’s it like?” you asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

George turned his head, the moonlight catching the copper in his hair. “What’s what like?”

“To be you.” You gestured vaguely, as if that explained anything. “To be fearless.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t his usual bright laugh—it was softer, quieter. “I’m not fearless, you know.”

You raised a brow, unconvinced.

“I’m serious!” he insisted, his grin faltering. “I just… don’t let it stop me. That’s all.”

You didn’t realize how closely he was watching you until you turned to meet his gaze. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you and the vast, endless sky.

But before you could say anything, before the moment could stretch into something more, George stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his robes. “Come on,” he said lightly, holding out a hand to help you up. “Fred’s probably wondering where I’ve gone off to.”

You hesitated, staring at his hand, before finally taking it. His grip was warm and steady, and you found yourself wishing he wouldn’t let go.

But he did.

And that was how it always went with George Weasley. Close, but never close enough.

It was easy to get used to George’s presence. Too easy.

He had a way of slipping into your life, filling spaces you didn’t realize were empty until he was there. Like tonight, at the edge of the Black Lake. The two of you sat on a crumbling old log, shivering slightly as the early spring breeze rippled across the water.

“I swear, if Snape gives us one more essay, I’m going to feed him to the giant squid,” George said, tossing a pebble into the lake with a dramatic flourish.

You snorted, hugging your knees to your chest. “The squid doesn’t deserve that. It’s innocent.”

He turned to look at you, his grin widening. “You’re right. That was cruel of me. Maybe I’ll just charm his robes to flash neon pink for a week instead.”

“Now that would be brilliant,” you said, smiling despite yourself.

Moments like these had become your sanctuary—just you and George, away from the noise of the castle, away from the world that always seemed to demand more from both of you. You weren’t sure when it had started, but somewhere along the way, this had become your unspoken ritual.

“Hey.” His voice broke the silence, softer now. “You ever think about what you want to do after all this?”

You glanced at him, frowning slightly. “After Hogwarts?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the stars. “Fred and I—we’ve got plans, you know? Big ones. But sometimes I wonder if I’ll… I don’t know. If I’ll actually go through with it.”

You blinked. “You? Not go through with something? That doesn’t sound like the George Weasley I know.”

He laughed, a little self-conscious this time. “Yeah, well, it’s different when it’s something that really matters, isn’t it? You start thinking about everything that could go wrong.”

You didn’t reply right away. Instead, you looked out at the lake, watching the moonlight dance on its surface.

“I think you’ll do it,” you said finally.

George turned his head toward you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “You’re George Weasley. You’ll figure it out.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, out of nowhere, he said, “What about you? What’s your big dream?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t a question you were used to answering, and the words felt foreign in your mouth. “I don’t know. I guess I’d like to… see the world. Do something that feels like it matters, you know? Something worth remembering.”

George tilted his head, his gaze steady. “You will.”

You gave a small, rueful smile. “You don’t know that.”

“Course I do,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re you.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your scarf.

“Tell you what,” George said suddenly, sitting up straight. “If you ever feel like you’re stuck—like you can’t do whatever it is you’re meant to do—you tell me. And I’ll fix it.”

You raised a skeptical brow. “You’ll fix it?”

“Yep.” He grinned, utterly confident. “Whatever it takes.”

“George, you can’t just—”

“Promise me,” he interrupted, holding out his pinky.

You stared at him, incredulous. “A pinky promise? Are we five years old?”

“Hey, don’t underestimate the power of a pinky promise,” he said, wiggling his finger at you.

You sighed, but there was no resisting that grin. Hooking your pinky with his, you said, “Fine. I promise.”

“Good,” he said, his voice unexpectedly serious. “Because I mean it.”

And for some reason, you believed him.

The common room was quieter than usual. The muffled sounds of laughter and chatter from the dormitories seemed distant, leaving the space feeling oddly intimate. You and George were seated side by side on the old, worn sofa, the firelight casting flickering shadows across the room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” George said, breaking the silence. His voice was softer than usual, missing its typical teasing edge.

“Do what?” you asked, looking up from the parchment in your lap.

“Keep all of this together.” He gestured vaguely, his hand brushing the air. “Homework. Prefect duties. The whole ‘saving the school from falling apart’ thing. It’s… impressive.”

You laughed lightly, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not,” he said, his tone earnest. “I’ve always known you could handle anything.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, the air between you shifted. His gaze lingered on you, softer and steadier than you’d ever seen, and you felt it—the weight of something unspoken, something you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

“You’ve always known?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

George’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Yeah. Always.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that made your heart race, the kind that felt like a question waiting to be answered.

His hand was resting on the edge of the sofa, just inches from yours. Neither of you moved, but the space between you felt impossibly small.

“George,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. “Yeah?”

You didn’t know what you were going to say. Or maybe you did, but the words were stuck in your throat, tangled with nerves and the fear of ruining something that had always been… undefined.

Before you could find the courage to speak—or before he could, either—the sound of footsteps on the staircase broke the moment.

Fred appeared, his expression unusually grim as he glanced between the two of you. “George,” he said, his tone clipped. “We’ve got to finish up. Now.”

George pulled back, the warmth of the moment dissipating in an instant. “Right. Be there in a minute.”

Fred hesitated, his eyes flicking to you as if debating whether to say more, but then he nodded and disappeared back up the stairs.

You frowned, looking at George. “Finish what?”

George hesitated, and you could see the conflict in his expression. He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the sofa. “I was going to tell you earlier… Fred and I are leaving.”

The words didn’t make sense at first. “Leaving?”

“Hogwarts,” he clarified, his voice quiet. “We’re not coming back after this weekend.”

You stared at him, your mind struggling to catch up. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he said, his tone steady but tinged with regret. “We’ve been planning it for a while. The shop’s ready, and… we just can’t stay here anymore.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I’m telling you now,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to leave without saying something. Not to you.”

The words were meant to comfort, but they only made the ache in your chest worse.

“And what?” you asked, your voice trembling. “You were just going to leave and hope I’d understand?”

“I thought you would understand,” he said, his voice growing quieter. “You’ve always been the one who gets it. Who gets me.”

You couldn’t find the words to respond. The hurt was too raw, too fresh.

George shifted closer, his hand brushing yours for just a moment before pulling back. “This doesn’t mean goodbye forever, you know.”

You looked at him, searching his face for something—reassurance, hope, anything to ease the ache in your chest. His eyes softened, and you thought of that day by the Black Lake, the promise you both made that had lingered between you ever since.

“You’re still holding onto it, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, understanding what he meant without needing clarification. “Of course I am.”

“So am I,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’ll still be there when we see each other again.”

It wasn’t the confession you wanted. But it was the only one either of you could offer, here and now.

The first few months without George felt like a puzzle missing its most vital piece. Life at Hogwarts carried on, but without his presence—his laugh echoing down the corridors, his clever remarks that made you bite back smiles in even the most serious situations—everything felt muted.

You tried to throw yourself into schoolwork, into your duties as a prefect, into your friendships. But no amount of distraction could stop you from replaying that last night in the common room, the quiet promise he left hanging in the air between you.

It’ll still be there when we see each other again.

The words haunted you, both a comfort and a curse. How long would “when” take? And what would “it” look like when you found it again?

You didn’t owl him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to—it was that you didn’t know what to say. What could you possibly write to someone who’d carved himself into your life so completely, only to leave? So you stayed silent. And, maddeningly, so did he.

Then the war began to loom over everything. Whispers of Voldemort’s return became shouts, and the weight of fear settled like a fog across the castle. The once vibrant halls of Hogwarts grew darker—both literally and figuratively. Students were no longer concerned with petty rivalries or Quidditch matches; they were concerned with survival.

You told yourself you didn’t think about George much anymore, but that was a lie. In the moments of quiet, when the threat of war felt heaviest, your mind wandered back to him. You wondered where he was, if he was safe, if he ever thought of you.

And then the war came in full force.

The news of Dumbledore’s death shook the castle, and the arrival of the Carrows solidified the nightmare. You tried to be brave, to stand strong, but bravery was harder when you didn’t have someone like George by your side to remind you that the world could still be good, still be funny, even when it felt like it was falling apart.

You fought, of course. You stood beside your friends, doing everything you could to resist the tyranny that had overtaken Hogwarts. But you felt the loss of him like an ache in your chest, a hollowness that you couldn’t quite fill.

When the war finally ended, and the dust of the Battle of Hogwarts settled, you didn’t feel victorious. You felt exhausted, broken, and adrift.

The first time you saw George again, it wasn’t planned.

You’d stepped into Diagon Alley on a whim, needing to pick up a few supplies. The destruction from the war was still evident in the cracked cobblestones and the boarded-up windows of shops that had yet to reopen. It was quieter than you remembered, the air heavy with the echoes of what had been lost.

You weren’t even sure why you stopped in front of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else. Either way, you found yourself staring up at the garish purple sign, at the brightly colored window display that seemed so at odds with the somber mood of the alley.

And then you saw him.

He was standing behind the counter, speaking to a customer with a faint smile on his face. His hair was longer than you remembered, a little shaggier, and there were dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there before. But he was alive. He was George.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you considered turning around and walking away. What would you even say to him after all this time? But before you could decide, he looked up—and his eyes locked onto yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then his smile softened, something unreadable flickering across his face, and he waved you over.

“Look what the Nifflers dragged in,” he said when you reached the counter. His voice was lighter than you expected, but you could hear the tension beneath it.

You laughed softly, though it sounded more like a sigh. “I didn’t mean to stop by. I just… saw the shop.”

“And thought, ‘Why not see how George Weasley’s holding up?’” he teased, though the question felt heavier than it should have.

“Something like that.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, just looking at each other. The war had left its mark on both of you, in ways that words couldn’t fully capture.

“Fred told me you fought,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “That you helped protect the castle.”

You nodded. “I did what I could.”

“Sounds like you did a hell of a lot more than that.” His gaze softened, and for the first time in years, you saw the George you remembered—the one who believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.

“What about you?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. “How are you holding up?”

His smile faltered, and he looked down at the counter. “Some days are better than others.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

That day, you didn’t talk about what had happened between you—not yet. But when he offered you a cup of tea in the backroom, and you accepted, it felt like the first step toward something.

Not a new beginning, exactly. But maybe the start of healing.

It was never a conscious decision, the way you and George fell into each other’s lives again. It wasn’t planned, wasn’t something either of you sought out. But it happened—slowly, quietly, like the tide creeping back to the shore after the storm.

It began with the little things.

A lingering glance across the shop. The sound of his laugh breaking through the dull ache in your chest. The way he always seemed to know when you needed silence or when you needed a distraction.

You weren’t sure if he realized it, or if you were just too aware of it yourself.

One evening, after the shop had closed and Fred had disappeared upstairs with a quick “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” you found yourself in the small backroom again.

George was finishing inventory, scribbling on a clipboard as you sipped tea at the worn wooden table. The shop was quiet now, except for the scratch of his quill and the occasional creak of the chair as he shifted.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” he said eventually, not looking up.

You glanced at him, at the way his brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t mind,” you replied. It was the truth.

His quill paused, just for a moment. “Alright,” he murmured, returning to his list.

It was like that most nights. He didn’t ask why you stayed, and you didn’t offer an explanation. You just…did.

But somewhere along the way, the silence between you shifted.

One night, as you leaned against the counter while he reorganized a shelf, he turned to you, his expression softer than usual.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet.

“About what?”

“Us. Before.”

Your heart stuttered at the question. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, even though the weight of it was almost too much. “Sometimes.”

He nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Me too.”

You wanted to say more, to ask him what he thought about, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you looked away, pretending to study the box of biscuits on the counter.

“Do you think it would’ve worked?” he pressed gently, his tone almost hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

You exhaled, the breath shaky in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Maybe.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Neither of you said anything after that. But the moment lingered, hanging in the air long after the silence returned.

Over the next few weeks, the rhythm between you shifted.

It was subtle at first—the way his hand lingered near yours when he handed you a cup of tea, the way his smile softened when you laughed.

One evening, as you sat on the worn sofa in the backroom, you found yourself leaning closer to him, your knees brushing against his. He didn’t move away.

“It’s strange,” you murmured, staring down at your cup.

“What is?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “It feels…”

“Like it’s where it’s supposed to be,” he finished for you.

You looked up at him, startled by the certainty in his voice. His gaze met yours, steady and unguarded.

Your breath caught, but you forced yourself to smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”

He nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve missed this,” he said quietly.

Your heart clenched at the admission. “Me too.”

It wasn’t a declaration. It wasn’t a confession. But it was enough.

And slowly, without either of you realizing, you began to slip back into each other’s orbits.

The first time you noticed the shift was on a particularly quiet evening.

You were helping George restock the shelves, your hands brushing more often than they should. Every time it happened, he glanced at you, his expression unreadable but warm.

When you reached for the same jar of powdered moonstone, your fingers collided, and neither of you moved for a moment.

“You take it,” you said softly, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Alright,” he replied, but his hand lingered on yours a beat too long.

Later, as you sat on the sofa with him, a shared blanket draped over your legs, you caught yourself leaning into his shoulder. It felt natural, effortless.

But that night, as you walked home, the weight of it hit you. You were falling for him again—if you’d ever stopped.

The turning point came quietly, slipping into your life like a thief in the night.

It was Fred who noticed first.

“You two are ridiculous, you know that?” he said one evening, watching the way George’s gaze lingered on you as you laughed.

“What are you on about?” George replied, but his ears turned pink, and he avoided Fred’s knowing grin.

Fred just shook his head, muttering something under his breath about hopeless idiots.

The letter came in a crisp white envelope, bearing the emblem of the prestigious Parisian institution. When you unfolded it, your breath caught.

It was everything you’d worked for, everything you’d ever wanted. And yet, the words on the page felt heavier than you could have imagined.

You held the letter in trembling hands as you sat on the sofa in the backroom of the shop. George was across from you, scribbling notes for a new product, utterly unaware of the storm brewing in your mind.

“George,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, concern flickering in his eyes the moment he saw your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, holding the letter out to him. He took it, his brows knitting together as he read.

When he finished, he looked back at you, his face carefully neutral. “This is incredible,” he said, though his voice lacked the enthusiasm you expected.

“It is,” you said, forcing a smile. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“But?” he prompted, tilting his head.

“But…I only just got back to you,” you admitted, your voice cracking at the edges. “How can I leave again? How can I walk away now, after everything?”

He didn’t reply right away. He leaned back in his chair, the letter still in his hand, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the room.

Finally, he sighed. “You have to go,” he said quietly.

The words hit you like a Bludger to the chest. “What?”

“You have to go,” he repeated, looking at you now. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and I—” He paused, his jaw tightening. “I can’t be the reason you don’t take it.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “But what about us?”

“What about us?” he echoed, his voice softer now. “We’ve always been ‘almost.’ Always just…missing each other. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to look back and regret not going because of me.”

You shook your head, the tears spilling over now. “I don’t want to leave you.”

He stood, crossing the room to kneel in front of you. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears.

“Do you remember the promise we made at the Black Lake?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

You nodded, your heart aching at the memory.

“We promised we’d fix it,” he said. “And this…this is me fixing it. You need to do this.”

“But what about you?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be here. The shop will be here. And if it’s meant to be…” He trailed off, his gaze searching yours.

“If it’s meant to be, we’ll find our way back,” you finished for him, your voice trembling.

He nodded. “We always do, don’t we?”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. Neither of you said anything for a long time, the silence filling with everything you couldn’t say aloud.

Finally, he pulled back, his hands dropping to his sides. “Go,” he said firmly, though his voice was laced with emotion. “Go make your mark in Paris. And when you’re ready…come back.”

You nodded, though it felt like your heart was shattering with every breath.

It wasn’t what you wanted, not really. But deep down, you knew he was right.

You had to go.

You didn’t expect the shop to feel so foreign.

When you left a year ago, you promised yourself you’d come back. You didn’t imagine how much could change in the meantime, or how distant you would feel from the place you once called home.

The bell above the door chimed, and you stepped inside. The familiar scent of sugar, sawdust, and something faintly explosive greeted you, pulling a small smile from your lips.

“Welcome to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes!” a voice called cheerfully from behind the counter.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, you thought it was George. But as you looked up, your stomach dropped. It wasn’t him.

The girl standing there was about your age, with blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail and a bright, effortless smile.

“Can I help you find anything?” she asked.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I’m—uh—I’m looking for George.”

She tilted her head, her smile faltering slightly. “Oh, he’s upstairs, working on a new design. Should I get him?”

Before you could answer, you heard his voice from the staircase.

“No need, Ella, I’ve got it,” George said, appearing at the top of the stairs.

He froze when he saw you.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice catching in your throat.

“Hey,” he replied, his expression unreadable as he descended the stairs.

It had been a year since you’d seen him. A year of letters exchanged sporadically, each one growing shorter and more distant. A year of wondering if the promise you made still held any weight.

George reached the bottom step, his hands shoved into his pockets. He didn’t look at you right away, his eyes darting between you and Ella, who was now watching the two of you with open curiosity.

“I’ll—uh—just stock the shelves in the back,” she said quickly, giving you both a polite smile before disappearing into the storeroom.

You and George stood in silence, the air between you heavy and uncertain.

“You’re back,” he said finally.

You nodded. “I’m back.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he glanced toward the storeroom door where Ella had vanished. “When did you get in?”

“This morning,” you said, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “I wanted to see the shop.”

“And how was Paris?” he asked, his tone casual, though there was something beneath it you couldn’t quite place.

“It was…” You trailed off, searching for the right word. “Lonely.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the guarded expression on his face cracking ever so slightly.

“But you did it,” he said. “You lived your dream.”

You nodded, though it felt hollow now. “And you? How’s everything here?”

“Good,” he said, his voice tight. “The shop’s doing well. Fred’s…Fred.”

“And Ella?” you asked before you could stop yourself, the name tasting bitter on your tongue.

He blinked, caught off guard. “She helps out around here,” he said simply, though the way he shifted on his feet made you wonder.

“She seems nice,” you said, forcing a smile.

George didn’t respond right away. Instead, he studied you, his gaze searching your face like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he said quietly.

“Neither did I,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more. But the door to the storeroom swung open, and Ella reappeared, carrying a box of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

“Where should I put this?” she asked, oblivious to the tension in the room.

George cleared his throat, stepping back. “Uh, by the display in the front.”

Ella nodded and walked past, her presence a stark reminder of how much had changed.

You took a step back, too, your heart sinking. “I should go,” you said quickly, your voice wavering.

“Wait—” George started, but you were already at the door.

“It was good to see you,” you said, forcing a smile you didn’t feel. “Really.”

Before he could say anything else, you slipped out the door, the bell chiming behind you.

As you walked away, you realized that the shop wasn’t the only thing that felt foreign now.

So did he.

The first time you ran into George again, it was at the Leaky Cauldron. He was alone, sitting at the bar with a Butterbeer in hand, lost in thought. He looked up as you passed, his gaze catching yours, and for a moment, it felt like the past year hadn’t happened.

You both hesitated, each waiting for the other to speak.

“Hey,” he finally said, his voice soft.

“Hey,” you replied, your heart stumbling over itself.

It wasn’t much of a conversation. Polite smiles, an exchange of awkward pleasantries, and then you were gone again, the weight of his presence pressing against your chest long after you left.

The next time, it was in Diagon Alley. He was with Ella.

You hadn’t meant to stop, but the sight of him—of them—froze you in place. She was laughing at something he said, her hand brushing against his arm, and it felt like a knife twisting in your gut.

He called out for you, noticing you before you could slip away.

Ella turned, her smile bright and welcoming, blissfully unaware of the history standing between you and George. “Hi! It’s so good to see you again.”

You forced a smile, nodding at her before meeting George’s eyes. They were unreadable, as always.

“Hi,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Have you been well?” George asked, his tone careful, like he was afraid the wrong word might shatter whatever fragile thread was holding this moment together.

“Fine,” you lied, your throat tight. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.”

You didn’t stay long.

It became a pattern after that. You’d see him at the shop, or out with mutual friends, or walking through the Alley. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he wasn’t. The encounters were brief, stilted, like neither of you knew how to exist in the same space anymore.

And then, one night, everything came to a head.

The rain came down in relentless sheets, drenching the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. You hadn’t expected anyone to show up on your doorstep, least of all George, but when the knock echoed through your flat, some part of you already knew.

You opened the door, and there he stood—soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his eyes holding something that made your chest tighten. Neither of you spoke at first, the rain filling the silence between you, as if it could drown the years of longing and missed chances.

“George,” you finally said, stepping aside to let him in. He hesitated, his hand gripping the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping him upright, before crossing the threshold.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he muttered, brushing past you.

You closed the door behind him, your mind spinning. “What’s wrong?”

He turned to you, his expression unreadable, but his hands—his hands trembled. “This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between you. “This has been wrong for years, hasn’t it?”

Your heart sank. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” he snapped, his voice louder than you’d ever heard it. “I’ve been trying to move on—Merlin, I thought I had. And then you came back.”

You flinched, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” he interrupted. “Didn’t mean to show up and turn everything upside down again?”

The anger in his voice mirrored the storm outside, but it wasn’t just anger—it was pain, and it made your throat tighten. “You think this is easy for me?” you shot back, your own voice rising. “I never stopped thinking about you, George. Not for a single day. But you—you had someone else. You made your choice.”

His laughter was bitter. “You think it was that simple? That I just—what? Stopped caring about you because Ella showed up? No. I tried to forget you because you left!”

“I didn’t leave you,” you said, your voice cracking. “I left for me. Because I needed to, and you told me to go.”

“And look where it got us,” he said, his voice breaking as he raked a hand through his damp hair. “You’re back, and everything’s worse than it’s ever been. I thought I could pretend. I thought if I saw you enough, it would get easier. But it doesn’t.”

You took a shaky step closer, your pulse pounding in your ears. “Why are you here, George?”

“Because I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t stand seeing you, and I can’t stand not seeing you. It’s maddening.”

The air between you crackled with everything unsaid, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance. “Then stop pretending,” you said, your voice trembling.

He froze as your words hung in the air. You were so close now, you could feel the heat radiating from him, see the way his jaw clenched, how his breathing quickened.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft or sweet or anything you’d imagined all those years ago. It was desperate, filled with anger and longing and all the things you’d both kept bottled up.

But it wasn’t right.

You broke away first, stumbling back, your breath ragged. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

George’s chest heaved as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Why not?”

“Because this isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” you said, tears pricking at your eyes. “Not like this. Not when you’re still with her.”

He ran a hand down his face, his frustration evident. “I know.”

Your heart twisted, the revelation sending a jolt through you. “This is wrong. We’re wrong.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice breaking.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. “Fix this, George,” you said, your voice trembling. “Fix us.”

You were begging him, begging him to keep his promise from all these years ago.

His gaze softened, but the pain in his eyes didn’t fade. “I don’t know how to fix us,” he admitted, the words cutting through you like a blade.

The silence that followed was deafening, and when he finally turned to leave, you let him go, tears streaming down your face.

When the door clicked shut, you sank to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down on you. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. You were falling apart, and for the first time in years, you weren’t sure if George would be there to pick up the pieces.

The days turned into weeks, and somehow, miraculously, your path and George’s didn’t cross again. Not in Diagon Alley, not in the pubs, not even through your mutual friends. It was as though the universe had decided you both needed the space to finally breathe.

At first, it felt like suffocating. You’d always thought the hardest part was seeing him, knowing he was there but not yours. But the silence—the void he left—it was worse. There were no chance encounters to brace for, no stolen glances to both dread and crave. Just emptiness.

You threw yourself into work, into anything that could keep your mind occupied. Yet, every time you returned to your flat, the quiet was unbearable. You found yourself staring at the spot where George had stood that night, hearing the echo of his voice.

“I don’t know how to fix us.”

You hated him for that. And yet, you couldn’t blame him.

Healing wasn’t linear. Some days you convinced yourself you were better off—stronger for having walked away from something that would’ve broken you in the end. Other days, you broke all over again, mourning not just George, but the version of yourself that had loved him so completely, so recklessly.

Months passed. Then a year.

You didn’t know when the ache dulled, only that one day, it hurt just a little less. The rain no longer reminded you of that night, and Diagon Alley became just another street. You stopped looking for his face in the crowd, stopped imagining what you’d say if you saw him.

And then, of course, the universe brought him back.

It was late spring, the air warm but still carrying the crispness of a lingering chill. You were on your way out of Flourish and Blotts, balancing a stack of books in your arms, when you heard his voice.

“Let me get that for you.”

Your heart stopped.

You turned slowly, and there he was. George Weasley, standing before you, his hair a little longer, his smile softer, and his eyes—those same eyes—holding a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name.

“George,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He reached out, taking the top few books from your stack without waiting for an answer. His hand brushed yours briefly, and it sent a shock through you, one you hadn’t felt in so long.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, his tone light, almost careful.

You laughed, though it came out more bitter than you’d intended. “That’s a loaded question, don’t you think?”

His smile faltered for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”

You both stood there, awkwardly, as the world moved on around you. For the first time in years, you didn’t know what to say to him.

“Ella’s gone,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Your breath caught, but you forced yourself to stay composed. “Oh.”

“It’s been a while now,” he continued, his voice quieter. “I thought… you might want to know.”

“Why?” you asked, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the books in his arms. “Because I didn’t want you to think I hadn’t changed. That I didn’t learn anything from… from us.”

Us.

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the books in your hands. “And did you?”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the noise of the street seemed to fade. “I think so.”

It was such a simple answer, yet it carried the weight of everything you’d both endured—apart and together.

“I thought I’d run into you sooner,” he said, a ghost of a smile returning to his lips.

“Maybe it wasn’t time,” you said softly.

“Maybe.”

The pause stretched between you, but it wasn’t heavy this time. It felt… necessary.

“You look good,” he said suddenly, his smile growing a little. “Happier.”

“I’m trying,” you admitted. “It’s not perfect, but… I’m getting there.”

“Good,” he said, and the warmth in his voice made your chest ache.

For a moment, it felt like old times. Like you could slip back into the rhythm you’d once had, but you knew better now. You both did.

“Well,” you said, adjusting the books in your arms. “I should get going.”

“Yeah,” he said, handing his share of the books back to you. But before you could turn, he stopped you. “Wait.”

You looked back at him, your heart racing.

“I still don’t know how to fix us,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the street. “But if you want to try… I’d like to figure it out together.”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope.

You gave him a small smile, one that felt genuine and warm, despite the lingering ache in your chest. “Maybe this time, we’ll get it right.”

He nodded, and the smile he gave you in return was filled with something you hadn’t seen in years. Not certainty, not closure, but something close enough to start again.

And as you walked away, you didn’t look back—not because you didn’t want to, but because you finally felt like you didn’t need to.

#george weasley #george weasly x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #harry potter #fic #george fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #imagine #romance #angst #angst with a happy ending #weasley #weasley twins #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff

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wizardingworldlibrary · 3 days ago

Text

Jegulus Microfics Masterlist

inspired by @jegulus-microfic & @into-the-jeggyverse

animagus - @genderqueer-giraffe 333 words

Autumn Leaves - @sweetmoonlight7 370 words

body - @starchaserwrites 291 words

call - @ultravioletbrit 352 words, NSFW Content

enough - @coyotelip 350 words

fee - @hidden-for-reg 406 words

Headache - @siriustar8 235 words

profound - @jamespotterbbg 129 words

owl - @hidden-for-reg 283 words

slide - @my-castles-crumbling 283 words

#wizardingworldlibrary #harry potter fanfiction #masterlists #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus micrfofic masterlist

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riddlesgrl · 2 days ago

Text

i’m boutta OHHHH

#riddlesgrl #benjamin wadsworth #moodboard #slytherin boys #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #mattheo riddle

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twsssmlmaa · 11 hours ago

Note

If you post a pt 2 (and I really hope you do this is amazing) could you tag me?

Hi! I've been thinking a lot about hufflepuff!fem!reader biting more than she could chew whilst practising new spells and opening a portal to a new dimension (think of the multiverse) and ending up in Gotham where she meets Nightwing during one of his patrols, where he was helping out the rest of the Batfamily pin point the spot where an anomaly created by her was detected...thanks! xx

Falling First

AN: I am SO sorry, I realised how long it was this will likely be a two parter- but OMG I dropped everything this idea was too cute

WC: 6077

CW: Use of {Y/N}, vivid panic attack, blood, rat mishandling

“Are you going to keep reading that dumb book?” Damien’s judgmental voice called over to Nightwing from the other side of the rooftop. He was practicing his form, swinging around Nightwing’s staff as if it was one of his swords.

Dick was leaning against the concrete wall, holding a soda and reading a book propped on his lap. The title? Hogwarts: A History.

“Dumb book?” Dick scoffed playfully, leaning further back. "It's fascinating!" He raved, not taking his eyes off the pages. "Besides, who doesn't want to read about wizarding worlds and magical creatures? The.. the interesting ways in which students have harmed themselves. I wonder if there is another volume..” He began to mumble.

Damien rolled his eyes, still twirling the staff with practiced ease. "We deal with real villains and real threats every day. I don't see the point in wasting time on make-believe. And did father even say you could take that here? It's evidence.”

Dick glanced up from his book, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, some day, you'll learn to relax. It's just a light read. Helps keep the mind sharp and the imagination alive."

With a final, flashy spin of the staff, Damien stopped and faced Nightwing, raising an eyebrow. "Imagination? You sound like Grayson. Oh wait, you are Grayson.”

Dick chuckled, shaking his head. "And you, my dear Damien, sound like a mini Bruce with a side of extra grumpiness."

Damien huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just don't see the point."

"Well, in fairness, you do need a signal. Has it happened yet?” Oracle’s voice called out from their earpiece. Dick leaned back and pressed two fingers to his ear. “Not yet, it's still stable.”

Damien huffed and walked over, sitting down on the concrete wall and snatching the bag of open puffs. “We'll be here all night. What's the point?”

“To find more anomalies, Robin.” Barbara sighed and leaned back in her seat, spinning a bit from the large computer screen and sliding over towards a glass display, showing off several random items that had been appearing on the roof top for months now.

Scrolls, weathered and tampered. Random blue crystals, which Dick’s newest favorite book called ‘moonstones,’ quills, and even what seemed to be a wand carved from hazel wood. All of which had appeared on that rooftop with a spark of terrifying energy.

"Right, anomalies.” Dick smirked, sitting up a bit straighter and closing his book. "We can't have mysterious artifacts just popping up all over Gotham. That would be bad for business."

Damien gave a reluctant nod, munching on the puffs he had taken from Dick’s bag. "Still, I don’t see how reading that book helps us."

"Knowledge is power, Damien." Dick cheeked, taking a sip of his soda. "Even if it's from a 'dumb book'. Besides, it might give us some insight into what we're dealing with. These items don’t exactly scream ‘normal’."

Barbara’s voice crackled over the earpiece again. "He's right, Damien. Understanding the lore and history behind these artifacts could be crucial. It might help us figure out where they're coming from and possibly even how they are getting here.”

“Yeah yeah..” He mumbled.

“Besides,” Dick smirked. “Who's to say we can't have a little fun on the-”

Before he could continue, lifting the book, it began to spark and flicker in his hands. As if its very file was corrupted but somehow managed to manifest physical energy. The book glowed with an eerie yellow and pink light, and the pages began to flip rapidly on their own.

"Uh, guys?" Dick called out, his playful demeanor shifting to one of concern. "I think we might have another anomaly on our hands."

Damien immediately leaped up and snapped his attention around them, pulling his katana from his sheath and getting ready.

Dick got up next, taking his staff and looking around cautiously.

“We are getting it here too!” Barbara ’s voice was hardly audible, the lights around the city began to flicker and wave, as if he was staring at a terrible simulation on the break on destruction.

Barbara stood watching the other artifacts from the batcave, seeing them flicker and spark with life as they began to glitch from place to place.

Suddenly, there was a loud crackle from above Dick and Damien, and then a loud squeak.

“Shit.” Dick hissed and shot him, using his staff to propel him and catch whatever was falling before it hit the ground.

He found in his hand, a fat brown and white rat.

Just like that, the glitching stopped. The lights around them returned to normal, and they were left with a new friend.

Dick got to his feet, holding the rat much like you would a can of soda. Staring at it curiously as it squeaked and wiggled about in distress.

"Well, this is new," Dick remarked, raising an eyebrow at the squirming rodent. "Meet our latest anomaly." He showed Damien the squirming thing.

Damien sheathed his katana, looking unimpressed. "A rat? Seriously? This is what all that chaos was about?" He wandered over and held his hand out for it, Dick smirked and pushed his head away, stepping back with a chuckle as Damien tried to steal the rodent from him.

Barbara's voice came through the earpiece, much clearer now. "Dick, Damien, are you both okay? The readings just spiked and then dropped off the charts."

"Yeah, we're fine," Dick snickered and held the rat higher, still holding Damien off. "But it looks like our anomaly this time is a... rat."

“You're not holding it properly!” Damien hissed, muffled against Dick’s palm as he tried to get to the distressed animal.

"A rat?" Barbara repeated, puzzled. "That's odd. Any idea if it has any special properties?"

"Well, it did appear out of thin air." Dick noted playfully before he looked up at it, holding it flat on its stomach now. “Speak!”

It only seemed to huff in response and Dick shrugged. “Looks like a common city rat.”

“That's not a city rat!” Damien snapped. “Look at its patterns! It's domestic.”

“A pet rat?” Barbara muttered before she crossed her arms, confused. “So we started with random items and now a living creature?”

“Sounds like experiment progression to me.” Dick cooed at the rat before he lowered his arms. “Ima call him Mr. Squeakerson.”

Before he could stop him, Damien finally stole the rat from him, shielding the creature against his chest. "He's not a toy, Grayson," Damien snapped, glaring at Dick. "This is serious."

"Alright, alright," Dick relented, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

Barbara's voice came through the earpiece again. "Damien's right. If this rat is part of the anomalies, it could be important. We need to figure out where it came from and why it's here."

Damien nodded, cradling the rat gently, running two fingers down its back. "I'll take him back to the Batcave and run some tests. Maybe there's something special about this rat that we haven't identified yet."

"Good idea.” Dick agreed, his expression turning serious. "I'll keep an eye out for any more anomalies up here."

Barbara hummed. "I'll continue monitoring the readings. If anything happens, ring me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Both Dick and Damien called into their ear pieces.

~~~

“No!” You sobbed out as the portal disappeared, staring at the middle of the shrieking shack in distress.

“We can always try again next full moon.” Luna Lovegood’s airy voice called over to you. You gave another groan, walking over to one of the discarded desks and sitting down.

“It's not working! I just don't get it.” You huffed, looking over the tomes and scrolls you both had splayed out on the floor and tables, ones you had pinned and scraped together, littered with muggle sticky notes and ink that traveled between the pages as if to etch out a map.

Tomes of old magic with modern magic, the deep theory of apparition. And even some old muggle studies of what they would call inter dimensional travel. You began to scatter over the pages, stepping over the moonstones you had gathered, the fine line of black sand that had now crystallized with the energy of the portal, making it almost glass.

“What a waste of Diricawl feathers.” You whined and let your head hit the desk, Luna reaching over to rub your head to try and comfort you.

It had been months, months of you trying to create a portable form of Floo Flames, something safer than apparition and more accessible to the masses. You were turning 19 soon, you were so close to having to leave Hogwarts behind, and thus all the free materials needed to continue your experiments.

Luna continued to pat your head gently, her presence a small comfort to fight off your frustration. "You got closer this time." She breathed.

You sighed deeply, lifting your head just enough to glance at the scattered notes and artifacts. Lazily lifting your hand to grab one of your quills. "I know, Luna. It's just... I was so sure this time. We've been working on this for months, and it feels like we're no closer than when we started."

Luna gave you a dreamy smile. "Progress isn't always visible. Sometimes, it's in the small things. Like today, we didn't lose anything to the portal.”

You slowly smiled, lifting your head. “I guess so.” You mumbled. “And it was bigger this time. I could almost put my hand through.”

“That's the spirit.” Luna hummed and stood up, waving her wand as she began to set the items to collect themselves from the floor. You pouted a bit and Luna turned to smile at you.

“Still miss your wand?”

“Deeply.” You huffed and sat up, fixing your tie. “And that history of Hogwarts book is going to set me back a few galleons to replace.”

Luna tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Oh, I did forgot to mention. My father still has his old copy. He said he'd love to have you for tea, lend it to you. I can ask him if this coming holiday works."

You smiled at her, feeling your heart throb at her thoughtfulness. How could anyone hate this girl? "Thanks, Luna. You're always so helpful. I just hope we can figure this out before I have to leave Hogwarts."

Luna nodded, her brows furrowing. "We'll get there."

Just as she finished speaking, a soft glow appeared on the desk beside you. A small, shimmering portal flickered into existence for a brief moment before winking out. Both of you stared at the spot in surprise.

"Did you see that?" You whispered, as if speaking too loud would wake you up from a dream, your smile growing tenfold as Luna’s brows only furrowed deeper.

“It materialized! On its own!” You lit up and quickly got to your feet, scrambling for your journal.

“Oh that can't be good.” She muttered.

You paused, looking back at her with confusion. "What do you mean, can't be good? This is a breakthrough!"

Luna's expression remained serious, her eyes scanning the spot where the portal had flickered. "If it materialized on its own, it means the magic is becoming unstable. It might be reacting to something we don't understand yet."

Your excitement dimmed slightly as you considered her words. "Luna, it's a marvel!” You insisted. Luna hesitated, seeing her mother’s fire in your eyes. She took a steady breath and frowned a bit, turning into a pout, as you slowly relaxed your shoulders.

“It's a breakthrough.” You insisted. “And it happened after 3am, is that it? Did we have the witching hour wrong?”

As you began to scatter around the room, Luna watched with a worried look, before she could speak up about her concerns, you reached out your hand to your table. “Templeton! Quill!” You called out. But when the quill didn't hit your palm, you looked around confused. Where had your rat gone?

There was a moment of pause before you looked back at Luna. “Looloo? Where did Templeton go?”

Luna looked around the room before she slowly eyed the circle in the middle of the room. You felt your heart drop.

~~~

The majority of the day you had been moping. You missed your rat.

It was all you could think of, through every class, you couldn't shake the worry gnawing at the back of your mind. You had grown quite attached to Templeton, and the thought of him being lost somewhere unknown was unbearable. Was he alive? Was he eating? Was what he was eating safe? Was he safe?

Luna tried to cheer you up during lunch, but even her whimsical stories and odd facts couldn't lift your spirits. "We'll find him.” She tried to reassure you. "Maybe he's on an adventure of his own."

"An adventure?" You muttered, poking at your food. You had already started pushing the peas out of your food for Templeton. "I just hope he's safe."

As the day went on, you found yourself increasingly anxious. What if the portal had sent Templeton somewhere you couldn't reach? What if he was scared and alone? Cold and wet? What if he was missing you as much as you were missing him? The questions swirled in your mind, making it hard to focus on anything else.

---

Back in Gotham, Damien was busy running tests on the rat in the Batcave. He had set up a small, comfortable enclosure for the creature, complete with food and water. As the automated scanners did their work, Damien couldn't help but notice how the rat seemed oddly calm, almost as if it was used with all the testing.

"Any luck?" Dick asked, strolling into the lab area with a curious look. He was out of his costume, just in sweats and a black shirt.

"Nothing yet.” Damien mumbled, keeping his eyes on the monitors. "But there's definitely something different about this rat. It's too comfortable around all this testing. And his heart is on the wrong side.”

Dick nodded, looking at the rat with interest. "Any signs of where it might have come from?"

Damien shook his head, glancing at the rat. "Not yet. But the fact that its heart is on the wrong side suggests it might not be from around here. It's an anomaly in itself."

Dick frowned, leaning in closer to the rat. "So, it's not just any rat. That makes things more interesting. We need to figure out where it came from and what it means."

As the rat continued to explore its new enclosure, Damien's eyes narrowed. "... it's really friendly. Doesn't seem to like it kibble, keeps trying to eat what Alfred brings me."

Dick nodded. "I've been cross-referencing the data from the anomalies with our existing records over the years- wait, have you been letting it out of its cage?”

Damien flustered, stammering for a moment. “It's a small enclosure!”

Dick chuckled, shaking his head at Damien's defensiveness. "Seems like Mr. Squeakerson is already growing on you. What? Don't have enough strays?"

Damien scowled, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't get too attached. We still need to figure out where he came from and how he got here." Barbara's voice came from behind them. She pushed herself down the strip walk way in her wheelchair, getting back to her monitors with a yawn. Looking over to the cage and smiling as the rat seemed to get excited at her return. “He's smart. Very friendly.”

"Yeah, a bit too friendly for a rat that just appeared out of nowhere." Dick noted, watching the rat scurry around its enclosure with curiosity. "What do you think, Babs? Any theories?"

Barbara adjusted her glasses and leaned closer to the monitors, tapping a few keys to bring up the data. "It's definitely unusual. The heart on the wrong side, the comfort around humans, and now it's showing signs of higher intelligence. This isn't just any ordinary rat. That has only been seen once before.”

“... you mean when Lex Luther-”

“Exactly.” Barbarainterrupted and gestured to the display. “A wand. Stones, papers and tomes, even quills? All of them tie back to your book.”

Dick furrowed his brow at her and she then gestured to the rat. “What was it your book said? You could bring pets?”

“A rat, an owl, or a frog.” Dick mumbled before Damien seemed to catch one.

“Are they…”

“From another universe.” Dick concluded with a slack jaw.

“One where their organs mirror our own.”

Damien's eyes widened with realization. "So, you're telling me this rat might actually be from a parallel universe? One where magic is that common?"

Barbara nodded, her expression serious. "It's starting to look that way. The items we've found, the anomalies- they might all be connected to this other world. And if this rat is any indication, living creatures can cross over as well."

Dick looked thoughtfully at the rat, now affectionately named Mr. Squeakerson. "If that's true, then we need to figure out how these portals are opening and why. There might be more at stake here than just a few random artifacts."

Damien nodded and Barbara sighed.

“I think we need to call in the others. Tell Bruce what we know.” Barbara mused and gestured to the rat.

Dick walked over to the cage and opened it, a bit surprised when the rat ran up his arm and straight to his shoulder. Like it knew exactly what he wanted.

“Huh.”

“I'll call the others.” Damian nodded, turning before Barbara called over. “Don't forget Jason!”

She could hear his groan echo off the walls.

~~~

You were stressed, you were tired. You hadn't slept since Templeton fell through the portal. You went straight back to the shack after curfew, setting everything up once more.

Luna, ever the supportive friend, had accompanied you despite the late hour. She watched quietly as you frantically arranged the moonstones and black sand, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

"You need to rest.” She said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "You'll think more clearly after some sleep."

You shook your head, determined. "I can't rest, Luna. Templeton is out there somewhere, and I need to find him. What if he's in danger?"

Luna sighed but didn't argue further. Instead, she waved her wand, casting a charm that made the various components float into place more efficiently. "At least let me help you. Two minds are better than one."

As you both worked, the night crept into day. Luna pushed more firm this time, asking you to at least rest before you attempt anything.

You agreed to a nap, though reluctantly, knowing that your exhaustion could lead to mistakes. Luna conjured a small, comfortable cot in the corner of the shack, and you lay down with a sigh, the weight of your worry making it hard to fully relax.

Luna sat beside you, humming a soft, soothing tune. "Just a quick nap, and then we can get back to work. Templeton will be alright. I have a feeling about it."

You nodded, your eyes drifting shut as Luna's gentle voice lulled you.

As you drifted into a fitful sleep, Luna kept watch, her wand ready and her eyes scanning the room for any signs of magical disturbances. She hoped that a brief rest would replenish your energy and clear your mind for the tasks ahead.

---

Back in Gotham, the Batcave was bustling with activity. Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake had joined the investigation, each bringing their unique skills to the table. And, unfortunately, their unique attitudes as well.

"So, this rat just appeared out of nowhere?" Bruce questioned, his voice calm but with an edge of curiosity.

"Exactly," Damien replied, holding the rat gently. "And he’s not just any rat. His heart is on the wrong side, and he shows signs of higher intelligence. We believe he might be from a parallel universe."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, glancing at Barbara and Dick. "Any theories on how these portals are opening?"

Barbara nodded, pulling up a holographic display and gesturing out to each spike of energy. “We think it's intentional. Like they are testing portals.”

"Testing portals?" Bruce echoed, narrowing his eyes at the display. "That would explain the increasing frequency and the variety of objects appearing. But why?"

"Could be a number of reasons." Tim suggested, stepping forward with a thoughtful expression. "They might be trying to establish stable connections between universes, or perhaps they're searching for something specific. Like a person?”

Jason, leaning casually against a console, chimed in with a smirk. "Or someone pissed off the wrong wizard and now we're dealing with magical fallout."

Damien shot Jason a glare but didn't respond. Instead, he turned back to Bruce. “Whatever it is, we think it's on purpose.”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. "We'll need to be prepared for anything. If someone- or something- is intentionally testing these portals, it could be a prelude to something much larger."

Dick looked at Mr. Squeakerson, who was now comfortably perched on his shoulder. "And this little guy might be our best clue to figuring out what’s going on. We need to keep him safe and see what we can learn from him."

Barbara interjected, "I'll continue monitoring the energy spikes and anomalies. We need to pinpoint the exact locations and timings of these events. Maybe we can predict when the next one will happen. There may even be more than one at a time.”

Tim hummed and nodded. "I'll look into the possibility of any magical artifacts or entities that could be responsible for the portals. There might be something in our archives that matches the energy signatures we're seeing."

Jason shrugged, pushing off the console. "Guess I'll be on anomaly patrol then. Wouldn't want anything else to just drop out of the sky unannounced."

Bruce nodded in agreement. "Good. We need to cover all the ground we can. Dick-”

“I'll patrol with Damien.” He interrupted and Bruce narrowed his eyes for only a moment before he nodded. “Everyone's dismissed.”

~~~

You woke up to flashing lights around you. As you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a bright yellow light, more flashing, then, suddenly, you felt like you were falling.

There was a sharp surge of pain that rocked you when your back hit the rooftop. You gasped, the wind knocked out of you as you struggled to regain your bearings. Blinking against the harsh lights and trying to make sense of your surroundings, you slowly sat up, wincing at the ache in your back. The smell of the city- smoke, asphalt, and something distinctly metallic; all hit your nose at once.

You raised your hand as you felt something warm drip from your nose, only to feel another painful shock run through you. You gave a wail of pain as your body began to glitch, as if you were some kind of faulty Sunday cartoon.

It was unbearable, and you let out a throat tearing sob as the pain rocked through you. No one was around, no one near you anyway, and the glitching seemed to get worse. The lights of the city seemed to flicker in response to your pain, and after what felt like hours, you were able to lift yourself.

Your face was covered in blood, your uniform stained with the red fluid, and your head was light.

As your blurry eyes began to focus, you took in the city around you. It was nothing like you had ever seen before; the buildings were towering structures of steel and glass, illuminated by a myriad of neon lights and billboards- some brighter than the sun itself. The noise of the city was a constant hum, a combination of distant traffic, sirens, and the occasional shout from the streets below.

You staggered to your feet, clutching your head as another wave of dizziness hit you. "Where... am I?" you whispered to yourself, trying to make sense of the alien environment.

Were you in a muggle city? Where were your things? Where was Templeton?

Your breathing grew quicker as you realized, not only did you have no clue if you popped out where everything else had but that portal that brought you here was clearly unstable. You didn't summon it, nor did you think Luna did.

She was right, she always was.

You ran your fingers through your hair with a choked sob. Growing more and more frustrated with your own stupidity- you didn't have a wand, you hardly knew any nonverbal spells, you were in the middle of nowhere, and the backdrop of screaming and rowdy life of the city didn't bring any comfort.

Your breath started coming in short, rapid gasps, each one feeling more shallow than the last. Trying to calm your sobs, only worsening it with hiccups. Your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, erratic beat that echoed in your ears. The world around you seemed to blur, the neon lights and towering buildings warping and bending in your vision.

"I... I can't... breathe.” You choked out, your voice barely a whisper. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you clutched at your chest, trying to will your lungs to take in air. Each inhale felt like you were trying to breathe through a straw, thin and insufficient.

You stumbled, falling back down to your knees and curling up against the concrete wall. Clenching your robe as the horrible and painful glitches returned, the lights and sounds of the city mocking you as the power flickered around with you.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts at once, each one more frantic than the last. Where am I? How did I get here? What if I can't get back? What if Templeton is gone forever? The questions swirled and collided, creating a cacophony of panic that drowned out any attempt at rational thought.

The ground seemed to tilt beneath you, making it difficult to keep your balance. You reached out, grasping at nothing, desperate for something solid to hold onto.

Your vision started to narrow, darkening at the edges as the pain rattled you into nothing but a trembling lump.

As your vision continued to darken and your breaths came in ragged gasps, you heard a voice, distant at first but gradually becoming clearer.

"Hey, are you okay?" The voice was filled with concern, cutting through the chaos in your mind. You tried to focus on it, using it as an anchor to the present.

A figure knelt down beside you, you couldn't make him out but he felt safe. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Just breathe, okay? In and out, nice and slow." The voice was calm and steady, a stark contrast to the panic you felt inside. You tried to will away the tears that prickled your eyes.

You tried to follow the instructions, but your body was still wracked with tremors and your mind was a whirlwind of fear. The figure gently rubbed your back, trying to soothe you.

"It's okay, you're safe now.” His voice reminded you of something. Something soft, something gentle.

As you focused on the voice, you felt a small sense of calm start to push through the overwhelming panic. It was like a lifeline, something to hold onto in the midst of the storm inside your mind.

"That's it, just breathe.” The voice continued, steady and reassuring. "You're going to be okay. I'm right here with you."

You took a shaky breath, trying to match the rhythm the voice was setting. In and out, in and out. Slowly, very slowly, the world around you started to come back into focus. The neon lights were still bright, the city noise still loud, but they felt a little less overwhelming with each breath you managed to take.

As your vision cleared, you saw the face of the figure kneeling beside you. It was a large man. Well, certainly larger than you. He was in a blue and black uniform of sorts, and a symbol on his chest you couldn't make out with your hands in the way. You didn't realize that in your panic to find anything solid, you had reached out and grabbed him. Not that he seemed to mind, looking at you from behind his domino mask with such gentleness.

"Hey.” He said softly, his covered eyes tracing your face. He had such a sweet smile. "You're okay. I'm Nightwing, and you're safe now."

You nodded weakly, now gripping his arm for support. The tremors in your body were starting to subside, your breaths becoming steadier. Nightwing's presence was grounding, his calm helping to pull you out of the spiral of panic with so much ease you wondered if he had done it before.

"Can you tell me your name?" He prodded gently, not wanting to overwhelm you.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, wincing as you tasted that copper flavor, your nose was still bleeding. "{Y/N}.” You managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "My name is {Y/N}."

Nightwing gave you a reassuring smile. "It's nice to meet you, {Y/N}. Pretty name for a pretty girl. Can you tell me what happened? How you got here?"

You took another deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "I... I don't know. There was a portal, and then I was here. I don't know where here is."

Nightwing nodded, his expression serious but understanding, his smile slowly falling. In your sensitive state, you felt your heart clench as you clearly disappointed this definite guardian. "You're in Gotham City. We'll figure out the rest. Can you stand?”

“I-I don't know.” You whispered, your voice shaking and he nodded.

“That's alright, you're alright. Can I touch you?”

“Seems only fair.” You whispered and began to move your hands from his arms.

Nightwing chuckled softly at your remark, glad to see a bit of humor returning to your voice. "Alright, I'm going to help you up. Nice and easy."

He gently placed one arm around your back and another under your knees, lifting you with surprising ease. You felt a bit of a jolt, but his steady confidence helped keep you grounded. As he stood up with you in his arms, you leaned against him, feeling an odd sense of safety despite the chaos around you.

As he carefully carried you towards the edge of the rooftop, you noticed another figure standing there, watching with a mix of curiosity and concern. It was Damien, still holding the staff, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"Another anomaly?" Damien asked, his tone skeptical.

Nightwing nodded, carefully setting you down on a nearby crate, making sure you were steady before letting go. "Looks like it. This is {Y/N}. She came through a portal, just like the other items."

Damien approached, his expression softening slightly as he looked at you. "Are you alright?" He asked, his voice carrying a hint of genuine concern despite his usual demeanor. You didn't notice Nightwing raising his eyebrows in surprise.

You nodded, still feeling a bit uneasy. Nightwing pulled out a cloth and held it out to you.

Raising it to your nose you started to stop the bleeding, watching as he put two fingers to his ear. “Oracle, we found something. Send a car.”

“Car?” You whispered and Damien narrowed his eyes at you.

“You must of hit your head pretty hard, huh?” He prodded and you turned to him with furrowed brows.

“Cars? Like the muggle death traps?” You pushed and the younger boy gave you the same confused look you were sending him.

“Muggles? The hell are muggles?” He pushed and your stomach sank.

Nightwing and Damien exchanged a glance, both clearly puzzled by your words. Nightwing crouched down to your level, his expression softening even more as he tried to understand.

"Muggles?" Nightwing asked gently. "You mean non-magical people, right? Like in the book I was reading?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a bit relieved that at least one of them seemed to understand. Then, your jaw dropped. “You read my book?” You pushed and he slowly nodded.

“I guess that was yours? You have a lot of explaining to do.” He slowly smirked at you and you couldn't help how your stomach fluttered at his look.

“Explaining?” You whispered.

“Those portals have been opening up everywhere. It's messing with our entire power grid.”

“What's a power grid?” You pushed again and his jaw clenched a bit.

Damien gave a huff. “This will be a fun one to explain.”

The second the car pulled up you fell quiet. Looking down the several story drop. You looked between the two boys curiously before Dick smiled at you and easily wrapped his arm around your back. “Go ahead and wrap your arms around me, yeah?”

You gave a small yelp at the sudden contact, making him chuckle, which made you pout, furrowing your brow at him. Still, you listened, and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pulling closer to him much like a cat would. He sent Damien a wink and the young boy groaned, rolling his eyes.

You peaked just past Dick’s shoulder and watched as he pulled out a bat shaped trinket, only for him to shoot it out and latch onto the side of the building. “Tighten that grip, I won't choke.”

“Keep teasing me and I'll actually do it.” You huffed before you gave a small gasp at you own tone, Dick just barked out a laugh in absolute delight at your snark.

Then he jumped.

And you prayed to Merlin for a proper savior.

You watched as the hook began to slow your fall, staring curiously around you with an awe strucken face. Nightwing helped you down again and let you in, instructing the younger boy to go home on foot, it seems there were only two seats.

The ride there was filled with mindless chatter. It was mostly one sided, as Nightwing spoke to a small device in his ear.

You sat in the car, your mind racing to catch up with everything that had happened. The city outside the window was a blur of lights and movement, a stark contrast to the more familiar and magical world you had come from. Nightwing's calm voice was a soothing background as he communicated with his team.

"Yeah, we're on our way to the Batcave." Nightwing said into his earpiece. "We have a guest who might be able to help us with the anomalies. We'll need everyone there."

You glanced at him, your curiosity piqued. You kept your voice low so as to not interrupt what was happening. "Batcave? Is that like your headquarters?"

Nightwing nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "Clever girl. Yeah, go ahead and lean back, we don't know what happened to you.”

You nodded and compiled easily. You found yourself wondering how easy you would be to kidnap, just send you to a foreign place and send in a hot guy who called you pet names and you were done for.

Nightwing continued his conversation through the earpiece, his tone professional yet reassuring. "Oracle, make sure the med bay is ready. We need to check for any injuries or anomalies. And get Bats and the others up to speed."

You felt yourself slowly slipping, the exhaustion form it all catching up with you. As the car sped through the city streets, the combination of Nightwing's soothing voice and the gentle hum of the engine began to lull you into a sense of calm. The adrenaline from your earlier panic attack was wearing off, leaving you feeling drained and exhausted.

"Just hang in there a little longer." Nightwing pushed gently, noticing your drooping eyelids. "We'll be at the Batcave soon, and then we can get you checked out and figure out how to help you."

You nodded weakly, feeling comforted by his presence. The car finally came to a long tunnel, one you couldn't see a thing in. Finally, a light broke through the darkness showing a massive cave. Nightwing helped you out of the vehicle, his grip was firm and the last thing you remembered was seeing the symbol on his chest, much more clearly.

It was a bat- of course it was.

#dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #hufflepuff #hufflepuff!reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #crossover #dc and hp

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bimrwolf · 1 day ago

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Lines We've Crossed (Part 1)

sirius black x reader words: 9,550 warnings: angst??? kissy kissy ... yearning summary: Navigating friendship with Sirius Black has always been tricky—his teasing smirks, his easy charm, the way he always seems to be there when you need him. But lately, things feel... different. Unspoken feelings and jealous glances start to creep in, fueled by a tense confrontation and a heartache you don’t want to name. Between rainy Hogsmeade weekends, stolen kisses that weren’t meant for you, and sharp words you can’t take back, the bond you’ve shared begins to fray. As the shadow of war grows darker at Hogwarts, so do the emotions tangled between you and Sirius, forcing you to face the one thing you’ve been avoiding: the truth about how you really feel—and whether Sirius might feel the same. a/n: yeah so i said i'd never write HP fanfics.... here we are lol Part 1 | Part 2 (coming soon)

Thunder rolled and rain pelted against the stone of the Hogwarts castle. You sat in the Gryffindor common room, pouting as you stared out the window. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, but no one necessarily wanted to trudge through the cold, wet rain. A book you had neglected lay nestled in your lap, while your now-cold hot chocolate sat untouched beside you.

You tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter. That Rowan Fairfax canceling on you last minute wasn’t worth the way your stomach twisted every time you replayed the conversation in your head. He had been the one to suggest going to Hogsmeade together, even offered to buy you a butterbeer. But when you asked this morning if he wanted to walk there with you, he’d mumbled something about the rain and avoided your gaze entirely.

It wasn’t just disappointment. It was the way he didn’t even say, Maybe another time. It left you with the sinking feeling that he wasn’t interested anymore. Maybe he never had been.

The thought burned more than you wanted to admit.

You rested your chin in your hand, trying to focus on the rain instead of the sharp ache in your chest. Normally, you’d brush something like this off. But today, it lingered, twisting your thoughts into knots. Was it you? Had you done something wrong?

Your spiraling was interrupted by the sound of the portrait hole opening, followed by familiar chuckles. Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter sauntered in, their voices carrying through the room.

“There she is!” Sirius called, his voice breaking through your melancholy. You turned, startled, as he strode toward you with that same boyish grin he always wore, sliding onto the couch beside you and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

The contact made your skin prickle with warmth, but you quickly shoved the feeling aside.

“We were just talking about you,” Sirius added with a teasing smirk.

Despite yourself, you smiled. Sirius had been one of your best friends since second year. His presence was so familiar it felt like a safety net—steady, dependable, constant. But sometimes, especially moments like this, it felt like too much. Like you were hyperaware of him in ways you shouldn’t be.

James leaned against the back of the couch, grinning. “We were wondering why you weren’t with Lily at Hogsmeade.”

Your stomach sank again at the mention of Hogsmeade. You frowned, turning your gaze back to the window. “I didn’t feel like getting wet.”

Sirius tightened his arm around your shoulders in an exaggerated gesture, his tone full of mock disbelief. “You know there are these objects called umbrellas?”

You nudged him playfully, rolling your eyes. “To level with you, it’s not just the rain. I guess I’m not really in the mood.”

The boys exchanged looks, and Peter let out an exaggerated gasp.

“This is one of the last Hogsmeade weekends before the end of term!” Sirius exclaimed, leaning forward to meet your gaze. His pale grey eyes, always so soft when they looked at you, were filled with genuine confusion.

You tried to hold his gaze, but something about it made your chest ache. “I know,” you mumbled, shaking Sirius off of you. As you moved away from him, you ignored the way his expression faltered. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I’m okay. Really.”

They all shrugged. Peter sat down and took out a fresh cauldron cake he must have bought at Honeydukes. You started to analyze them and their clothes. Then their hair. “You four came back from Hogsmeade just now?”

“Yes,” they said.

“Then how are you all so dry? You look like you haven’t stepped outside.” Sure there were drying spells, but you would still be able to tell they had gotten wet.

They all looked at one another again, a silent agreement amongst each other. Their eyes wide in panic, clearly hiding something from you. Sirius looked at James, shrugging, but James shook his head vigorously, that if he said anything he’d be dead.

It was always fascinating to see them communicate without words because James, Remus, and Peter decided to go up to their dorm, leaving you and Sirius alone. You didn’t know if Sirius had won the wordless argument, but he had gotten his way somehow. Sirius quickly changed the subject. “Come on. I’ll go to Hogsmeade with you. Let me buy you a butterbeer.” He had that cheeky grin that he always gave you when he tried to persuade you into doing something. You felt your eyes roll and cheeks heat up at his smirk. You were happy the other boys had left.

“Heard that one before.” You let out a sigh.

“Huh?”

You shook your head, kind of grateful he didn’t know. It saved you from embarrassment. “Doesn’t matter.” You bit your lip, looking over at him. “I told you I don’t feel like walking so far in the rain.”

He smiled again, standing up, holding out his arm for you to take. “Do you trust me?”

You raised a brow, scoffing. “Yes but–”

“Then believe me when I tell you the way we’re going, you will not get a single drop of rain on you.” His smile was ear to ear.

Since first year, Sirius was a mischievous boy. And it never helped that James Potter encouraged the behavior. So it really didn’t surprise you when he showed you the secret passage to Hogsmeade. Sirius made you swear never to tell anyone about it. Ever.

The pair of you snuck out of Honeydukes, holding in laughter as Sirius had snagged a candy bar from the cellar you ended up in.

The two of you ran to the Three Broomsticks under an umbrella. Sirius instructed you to find a seat while he retrieved the beverages, which you happily agreed to. You always loved the warmth of The Three Broomsticks. Secretly, you were happy Sirius offered to come with you because the more you thought about it, you’d regret not going.

You found a table, making your way, smiling wide as you imagined the warm butterscotch. You admired the cozy spot you picked out. You felt better already even when you heard a shrill giggle a few tables over. You looked over, still smiling. You had looked away but looked back, doing a double take. Your face fell.

It was Rowan Fairfax, sitting across from some blonde haired girl you’ve never seen before. Your eyes narrowed and you faced forward, fists clenched. Sirius noticed right away when he appeared with his hands carrying two pints of butterbeer. “Everything okay?” He set your cup in front of you, slightly startled when you grasped it aggressively, taking a large swig, wiping off the foam from your lip. He watched you in bewilderment as your chair scraped against the wooden floor. You stormed up to Rowan, arms crossed.

“Not going to Hogsmeade, I see.” Your voice was cool and laced with tiny daggers.

Rowan’s eyes were wide at the sight of you. He laughed nervously. “Oh… uh… it lightened up so I decided to come. See, I was trying to look for you because I thought maybe you still came but I–”

You smiled sweetly at him, putting your hand up to stop him from talking. “Oh no! I understand, don’t worry.”

“You do?” He asked, shoulders relaxing.

Your smile turned icy as you looked the blonde up and down. “Absolutely! It’s not everyday you find a living thing out of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.” You felt bad, the girl looked nice, but you were fuming with rage.

Rowan snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Funny. Seems like you’re managing just fine.” He glanced at Sirius behind you, who looked confused about what was going on. “I admit the rain wasn’t the reason I didn’t want to go with you. Maybe it’s because your hands are already occupied by someone else.”

You furrowed your brows. “What the hell are you talking about, Fairfax?”

“Please,” he guffawed. “Don’t act obtuse. We both know I’m talking about Black! Everyone believes the two of you are already dating.”

You didn’t expect him to say that. Your face softened but it didn’t stop you from feeling the sting of his words. He gave you a pointed look, smirking. “Or maybe you didn’t notice?” He leaned back looking again where Sirius sat. “You don’t really exactly stop the rumors, do you? Here with him alone and all.”

Through clenched teeth you finally answered, “For your information. We are just friends.” The irritation in your voice was clear. “Everyone knows we’re only friends.”

“Not sure that’s true. Look at you. You didn’t even wait two minutes to drag him here. I guess you kind of enjoy it. Letting him be your bi–”

You had had enough. You took the first thing you saw, which happened to be the blonde’s butterbeer. You dumped the rest of the contents all over Rowan. “What the–” The golden liquid ran down his face, soaking into his hair. The girl gasped, but you caught her hiding a smile behind her hand. The entire pub went silent as Rowan sputtered curses at you.

You didn’t look at Sirius. You couldn’t. The only option you had was to storm out.

The cool rain drops burned as it fell on your skin.You had your arms crossed against your chest, looking down at the ground. There goes not getting wet.

It wasn’t long until you heard Sirius calling out your name, his voice was faint at first. He had always been a fast runner, quickly catching up to you. He was breathless but he had gently grabbed your elbow so you’d turn around. He had the umbrella sticking out, letting it shield you from the rain.

He didn’t know what to say, you could tell. He gave you a small smile. “I promised you wouldn’t get wet…” He tried to joke but he frowned when your jaw ticked. “Listen, I don’t know what Rowan Fairfax said to you but… he’s always kind of been a pompous thickheaded toad.”

He was only trying to help you feel better but in some way, he was making it worse. Your anger was bubbling again. Your eyes were locked on the ground. The storm inside you was wild as ever.

“Sirius, I don’t need you to come to my rescue. Not now. Not ever.” You tried to keep your voice steady, and you achieved that by not looking him in the eye.

He blinked, clearly confused. He looked unsure what to say. “I’m not trying to. I was only making sure you were okay…”

Your frustration rolled out of you like thunder. “Why do you even care, Sirius?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “We’re not even a couple. You and me. Right?”

He took a step back. “Of course we’re not. I never said we were. But it doesn’t stop me from caring about you.”

“Oh sure,” you interrupted him. Your voice was sharp. “Have you ever thought about how many boyfriends I’ve had in all my years at Hogwarts?”

“What does that have to do–”

“Just answer my question! How many?” You asked, your heart was pounding against your chest.

He opened his mouth to answer, but quickly closed it. Your lip quivered, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Exactly. None. Not even one. Because apparently, anyone who has ever been interested in me backs off. You know why? Because of you, Sirius. Everyone assumes we’re more than just friends.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”

You ignored how Sirius’ face dropped slightly at the last comment. “I never meant… I didn’t know.”

You wiped your face. You weren’t sure what was rain or tears anyway. “I just want to be left alone, Sirius. Let’s just only associate with one another when we’re in big groups, okay? No more of… everything.”

Sirius completely backed away from you. His jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything else to you as he turned back around to head into Hogsmeade. You were certain he was going to the secret entrance, possibly to get back to the castle sooner. You let out a shaky cry once he was gone from view, feeling more alone than ever. Something ached in your chest, like lightning cracking in your lungs. The storm didn’t feel like it was over.

***

It wasn’t long for the group to feel the tension between you and Sirius. They quickly caught on to the way neither of you looked at each other anymore, how you never spoke directly to him, and how, most of all, Sirius wasn’t all over you. The absence of his usual teasing, his arm slung casually around your shoulders, or even the occasional stolen laugh between you—it was glaring.

They didn’t question it, but it was obvious.

It was the week of the Quidditch Final, and Gryffindor was up against Slytherin. The energy in the Great Hall was palpable, students buzzing with excitement. You, on the other hand, stared listlessly at your plate, poking at your eggs as you sat with Lily far from the boys. You knew they were at their usual spot, probably going on about strategies or Quidditch plays.

Lily was smiling softly, her eyes drifting toward James as she talked about how she had never noticed how fit he was.

You smirked, half-listening, watching the way her green eyes kept sneaking glances across the hall. “Can’t believe you finally caved,” you teased lightly.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone far too innocent as she blinked up at you.

“Please.” You gave her a knowing look. “You definitely fancy James Potter after all these years rejecting him.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she ducked her head, rubbing at her temple. “I do not... I mean...” She sighed, burying her face in her hands. “He’s not all that bad now. He’s less arrogant, and I don’t know... oh god, what am I going to do?”

You chuckled quietly at her melodrama. “Suppose you’re going to the game then?” you asked, trying to keep the tone light.

“If it means watching Slytherin officially lose the House Cup, then yes,” she said, her gaze flicking across the hall to where Severus Snape sat, his expression sour as always.

Normally, Lily was the first to roll her eyes at the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry. But ever since last year—since Snape had called her that name—it felt like something fundamental had shifted in her. You could see it in the way she carried herself, the way her words were just a bit sharper when Slytherins were involved.

You sighed, glancing toward Sirius almost reflexively, even though you told yourself not to. He was on the other side of the hall, a boisterous ringleader as always, getting most of the Gryffindors to join in a chant encouraging James.

Lily smiled at the scene, clearly charmed by the way James tried to hide his embarrassment. Sirius, on the other hand, was utterly shameless, leaping onto the table with Peter and Remus, their arms slung around each other as they swayed to the beat of their own chant.

You couldn’t help but notice the way James’ face lit up when he caught Lily’s gaze. His grin softened into something more vulnerable, more genuine. And Lily, for all her teasing and denial, smiled back, her green eyes gleaming with a happiness you hadn’t seen in her for a while.

You realized, in that moment, that their relationship had shifted. And it would change everything.

You weren’t sure why that realization sat so heavily in your chest. Was it because you envied how easy it seemed for them now? Or was it the fear that everyone was moving forward while you felt stuck?

Your jaw clenched as your gaze fell on Sirius. He was still on the table, completely oblivious to the scolding look Professor McGonagall was shooting his way. He didn’t seem to care. He never did.

And yet, even as McGonagall reprimanded him and took points from Gryffindor, Sirius showed no reaction. He didn’t flinch, didn’t argue, didn’t flash the defiant smirk you’d come to expect from him. He just climbed down, brushing it off like it didn’t matter.

But what frustrated you most wasn’t his reaction—or lack thereof. It was the way he didn’t look at you. His eyes didn’t meet yours across the hall. There was no shared smile, no playful glint.

Instead, he laughed along with James and Remus as if nothing had changed.

Your blood simmered, the boil low and slow, until you realized your fists had clenched under the table. Why does it bother me so much?

You told yourself it was because he wasn’t the same Sirius anymore. He wasn’t your Sirius—the boy who had been your best friend, your anchor. The boy who used to make you feel seen.

It infuriated you because you didn’t even know why it hurt.

Without thinking, you stood up abruptly.

Lily jumped at the sudden movement, startled. “What are you doing?”

You opened your mouth, trying to find an excuse, but nothing came. Instead, you pressed your lips together, the words caught in your throat. “Save me a seat at the game, will you?” you mumbled, your voice tight as you grabbed your bag and scurried off before she could ask more questions.

As you left the hall, your thoughts churned like a storm.

You didn’t want to admit the truth—not even to yourself—but the ache in your chest wasn’t just frustration. It was jealousy, tangled up with hurt and longing in a way that made you feel exposed. Vulnerable.

And it was all because of Sirius.

***

You hadn’t realized Gryffindor had won. The entire game your eyes were glued to Peter who sat by Remus who sat by Sirius who had his arm around a fifth year Hufflepuff, Piper. Your chest felt as if it was collapsing. Your fists were clenched and you were certain if you turned your palms up, indents from your nails would be tattooed into your skin.

Everytime a chaser from Gryffindor scored. But when James was the one to score, his friends would stand up and cheer. Piper would also stand, clapping her hands, a shrill cheer came out of her.

The cheers of the crowd swelled around you, Gryffindor red and gold blurring into a sea of celebration. But none of it reached you. Your focus remained fixed, not on the players darting through the air or the roar of James Potter's spectacular goal, but on Sirius.

He was perched in the stands, his arm slung casually over Piper, his easy smile pulling a laugh from her lips. You hated the sound of it. Hated how easily he could charm her—or anyone, really. Sirius Black, the boy who could make friends with a stone if he tried hard enough, was just there, as he always was, and yet, it felt unbearable.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous. Why should it matter? You were upset about the tension between you, about the argument you’d had weeks ago. That’s all it was. Right? That was the reason your chest tightened every time Piper leaned into him, her blonde hair brushing against his shoulder, her laugh echoing in your ears like a mocking taunt.

But when his gaze flicked over to you, just for a moment, and his lips quirked in that familiar sheepish smile—the one that had always felt like it was meant for you alone—your breath caught. It was as if the world had paused, the noise of the match fading into the background. Your stomach twisted, a strange fizzing sensation spreading through you, warm and dizzying and utterly unshakable.

And that’s when it hit you.

You liked Sirius.

No—liked wasn’t strong enough. You cared for him in a way you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to understand before. It was the way your heart raced when he smiled, the way you felt seen when he met your eyes, the way you always seemed to gravitate toward him, even when you were angry.

It was why the sight of his arm around Piper burned like a brand, why your chest ached with a mix of longing and bitterness. You wanted to be the one sitting there, the one making him laugh. You wanted him to hold you the way he was holding her.

Your stomach dropped at the realization. You had been so careful to keep him at arm’s length, to shove those feelings into a corner of your mind and lock them away. But seeing him now, so carefree and entirely out of reach, made it impossible to deny.

The game continued in a blur after that, James scoring again and again, the Gryffindor stands erupting with joy. Lily jumped to her feet beside you, her cheers sharp and triumphant as she hurled taunts at the Slytherin team. Sirius, catching on, shouted something equally bold in her direction. “Hell yeah, Evans!” And she grinned back at him.

You forced a smile, even as your chest tightened. His pale eyes darted to you, his smile softening, like he was testing the waters between you. For a fleeting second, it felt like old times—before the fight, before the distance. But just as quickly as the moment came, it vanished, replaced by Piper’s giggle as she leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

Your heart sank, your fists clenching in your lap. The truth was undeniable now, sharp and unwelcome, but there it was: you liked Sirius Black. And he was sitting beside someone else, grinning as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

You turned your attention back to the game, blinking away the stinging in your eyes as Gryffindor clinched the victory. Around you, your housemates erupted into cheers, Lily throwing her arms around you in excitement. But even as you hugged her back, the ache in your chest refused to subside.

Everyone waited for the team back in the common room which had been decorated in celebration. Lily waited anxiously, hands fidgeting, peering over the crowd of people as the portrait swung open. As if on cue, Peter, Remus, and Sirius appeared with a crate full of butterbeers and sweet snacks.

Sirius handed you a butterbeer, hands momentarily grazing when you took it… apprehensively. The look he gave you made you swallow the shared secret of how they even acquired a crate full of treats from Honeydukes. No one else knew. And you were sure you weren’t supposed to, but Sirius had trusted you.

A pang of guilt washed over you.

He smiled, teeth sparkling out the corner of his mouth. Maybe you two should talk? As soon as the thought crossed your mind, he had already left you, making his way handing out more butterbeers around the room.

You chugged the glass bottle down, “Are you going to drink yours?” You pointed to Lily’s glass.

She broke from her daze, staring at James across the room. She looked at the bottle in her hand, shaking her head and giving it to you. Her brows furrowed, concerned how quickly you drank her bottle too, wiping the fizz from your lips with the back of your hand. “Okay, what is going on with you?”

You looked away, trying not to give away that your mind was occupied with confusing thoughts that you hadn’t figured out yourself. so you lied. “I feel like exams are looming over us.”

Lily‘s eyes narrowed, scanning you up and down as if she wasn’t entirely convinced. “You do great in all your classes.”

You hummed. You noticed her attention flickered back over to James. “Are you going to ogle him the entire night or are you going to go talk to him?”

She frowned and you laughed at her reaction. “Will you just slow down on the butterbeers.” She commented after you had convinced Peter to give you another one. Her hand gently placed on the bottle. “You’ll outdrink the entire team.”

You waved her off, your cheeks flushing from more than just the warmth of the butterbeer. “It’s a celebration, isn’t it?”

She chuckled, removing her hand. “Fine, but only because I’m hoping you loosen up a little.”

“Loosen up?” you repeated, slightly offended, but she only smirked and gave you a pointed look.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed. It has nothing to do with exams,” she said, leaning closer. “You and Sirius… something’s been off for weeks. Care to explain?”

You froze, your hand gripping the neck of your second butterbeer. “There’s nothing to explain,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Oh, please,” Lily scoffed, crossing her arms. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other when you think no one’s watching.”

Your jaw ticked, avoiding her gaze, bringing the bottle to your lips. Your eyes flicked to Sirius laughing, throwing his arm around James as they cheered. You could hear him telling the crowd a play by play of James. Your lips betrayed you, lifting into a small smile. Your stomach twisted when his gaze landed on you, returning the smile but it looked a little sad. Maybe you should talk to him.

“Lovesick,” Lily nudged you.

“Lily!” you hissed, glancing around to ensure no one overheard.

“Well, am I wrong?” she pressed, arching a perfectly manicured brow.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It’s complicated. We had a… disagreement, that’s all. He’s just a friend. End of story.” Liar.

Lily didn’t look convinced. “If you say so,” she said lightly, but the knowing glint in her eye remained. She glanced across the room at Sirius, who was animatedly recounting something to James and Remus, his voice carrying over the buzz of the party. For a moment, her gaze softened, and you could tell she wanted to say more.

But she didn’t and eventually, she caved. Her and James had found themselves on a loveseat. His arm draped over the back, listening to her talk. You on the other hand, had managed to acquire more butterbeers. You weren’t drunk. You felt lighter. That’s what you told Peter who caught you when you tripped on a corner of a table. “Do… you know where Sirius is? I need to have a few words with him.” You stood tall, attempting to make a serious face.

He looked around. “I’m not sure. He said he was going to get more snacks but that was ages ago.” He frowned, putting a hand on his stomach. “I was looking forward to some Cherry Tarts. I’ll let him know you’re looking for him!” Peter smiled bright at you.

You couldn’t help but look disappointed. “It’s alright. I think I’m going to go out and get some fresh air.”

He gave you a knowing look, patting you on the shoulder. As you weaved through the crowds you wondered if he saw right through you. It was impossible, you didn’t even know what there was to see.

Someone grabbed your arm as you approached the portrait. The grasp wasn’t tight, but firm enough for you to stop in your tracks. Remus towered over you, his face shadowed with forewarning. “Why don’t you go to bed?” His voice was soft, mixed with something else you couldn’t place your finger on.

“Why? It’s not that late.” You laughed. It was a lie. It was really late. Professor McGonagall would soon make an appearance to shut the festivities down. Or maybe she wouldn’t because Gryffindor had won the House Cup and the term would be over soon.

He took in a sharp breath. “You look… will you just go to bed?”

You pulled away from him. “I already told Peter, I’m not drunk. Okay, yes I had a few butterbeers but I’m not going to fall down the stairs or anything of that sort. I only want to feel the night breeze on my face.”

Something was on the tip of his tongue, his lips parted but it stayed stuck there. He was hiding something. Which meant your curiosity was much more important than his concern for your wellbeing. You opened the portrait, not giving him another look as you left the tower. You had expected there to be something dangerous on the other side from his foreboding tone but nothing of the sort was lingering around.

You strolled past different paintings, most of them asleep. You always loved the castle at night. You weren’t exactly allowed to be wandering the halls, but you weren’t planning to go far from the common room. You found a spot, a ledge of the castle where you could see the night sky. You sighed, leaning against the cool stone ledge, willing the breeze to clear your thoughts. It wasn’t as if Sirius hadn’t always been like this—charming, magnetic, always surrounded by people who gravitated toward him like moths to a flame. You had spent years watching it, laughing it off. So why now? Why did it feel like something sharp was wedged under your ribs every time Piper giggled at something he said?

Shaking your head, you pushed off the ledge and wandered back toward the common room, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. But as you rounded a corner, you froze. There they were, just ahead—Sirius and Piper.

Your first instinct was to turn back, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the way Piper leaned into him, her voice hushed and sweet as she whispered something in his ear. Maybe it was the way he smiled back at her, that easy, natural smile that used to feel like it was yours.

And then, before you could look away, Sirius tilted his head, his hands cradling her face as he kissed her.

The sight hit you like a Bludger to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You stood frozen, your heart racing, as a mix of emotions crashed over you. Jealousy, sharp and biting, surged to the surface, followed by an ugly wave of self-doubt. Why her?

Your eyes lingered on the way his fingers tangled gently in her hair, the way her hands gripped his arms as though he was hers to hold. He looked so... confident, so sure of himself. So completely comfortable in a way that made your stomach churn.

Had he ever thought about kissing you like that? The thought burned, and you hated yourself for letting it linger. But as you stood there, unable to tear your gaze away, you couldn’t stop your mind from spiraling.

What does she have that I don’t? She was pretty, of course. A Hufflepuff—bright and cheerful and bubbly in a way that made her impossible not to like. But it wasn’t just that. There was something effortless about her, something easy. She fit into Sirius’ world in a way you never seemed to.

You bit your lip, your fists clenching at your sides. You could feel the sting of tears threatening to brim, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, anger bubbled up, hot and unrelenting. You were angry at him for doing this—angry at her for being the one in his arms—and most of all, angry at yourself for caring so much.

I shouldn’t feel this way, you told yourself. He doesn’t even know. Doesn’t care. Why would he? Perhaps that’s why you were irritated that Rowan mentioned no guy wanted to be with you because of Sirius. No guy wanted to be with you, not even Sirius. You were undesirable.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of a giggle, and it twisted the knife deeper. Sirius leaned closer, his lips brushing against hers again, and you suddenly couldn’t take it anymore.

You needed to leave. To put as much distance as possible between yourself and this scene.

But as you turned, you collided with something solid. Peeves.

“Peeper!” the poltergeist cackled gleefully, his voice loud enough to echo down the corridor. You stumbled back, wide-eyed, your cover blown.

Sirius and Piper broke apart instantly, both turning toward the noise. Piper flushed, quickly adjusting her jumper, her embarrassment clear. But Sirius’ reaction was different. His jaw tightened, his expression hardening as his storm-grey eyes locked onto yours.

You stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot, your emotions a mess of humiliation, anger, and something far too raw to name.

“Brilliant,” you muttered under your breath, cursing Peeves as you spun on your heel and stormed back toward the common room. Your footsteps were quick and loud against the stone floor, but they didn’t drown out the sound of Sirius calling your name.

You approached the portrait, clenching your eyes tight as you tried to remember what the password was.

Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes, burning as you attempted not to let them fall. “Pickle Goblin,” you croaked. The portrait swung open.

The party had fizzled out. James and Lily were still talking. Remus was on the other side of the room, reading. Peter must have already gone to bed. You stormed inside, ignoring a cheerful greeting from Lily.

Remus quickly stood up, saying your name sympathetically.

“Not now,” you choked. The portrait swung open, Sirius’s eyes wide. His hair was disheveled and the little hope you had wanted to believe it was from running after you. He was out of breath, but managed to call your name. You stopped at the door that led to your dormitory.

Bystanders quickly scurried off to their own dormitories, only leaving you, Sirius, and your friends. You turned around, placing a pretend smile on your face. “Yes?”

He swallowed, looking over at James, begging for help. “Are we okay?”

You tilted your head, the smile on your face never reaching your eyes. “Are we okay?” You repeated the words to yourself, looking around the room as if the answer was floating in the air. Your voice was strained and dripped with incredulity.

He didn’t flinch. His gaze held yours but you saw the flicker of regret. Or perhaps it was frustration, you couldn’t tell. “I mean…” he started, running a hand through his hair. “I just want to fix this. Whatever this is.”

Lily started to approach you, but you held a hand up, stopping her. “Fix this? Do you even know what this is? You can’t even say it.”

James shifted awkwardly, tugging Lily back gently by her wrist. "Maybe we should —" he began, but Sirius shot him a look that made him stop mid-sentence.

"Of course I know," Sirius said, his voice lower now, almost pleading. "You stopped talking to me. You-"

Your laugh interrupted him. Remus had stood up this time, saying your name in a warning tone. “Stopped talking to you? Sirius I only told you the truth and you refused to listen to me. I told you we couldn’t do this anymore. We couldn’t do this anymore.”

“What does that even mean?” His voice got louder. He was frustrated.

“Exactly! Don’t you see, Sirius. We’ve always been a this. Always close friends who were always together. Always a little too close always giving each other looks that we only know. But never a this that is anything more. And because of that, no one has or will ever see me as anything but your shadow. Not Rowan, not Piper, not even you. Maybe they’re all right. Maybe that’s all I am. In fact, I think you like it because you know that I will do all of those things with no benefits. ” You broke, and your voice quivered.

Your words hung in the air, suffocating and bitter.

His face shifted and the confusion left. It was unreadable but you noticed the birthmark above his left eyebrow, knowing it only appeared when he was angry. He answered quietly, “That’s not fair.”

"Fair?" you repeated, letting out a humorless laugh. "Fair? You think this is about fairness, Sirius? It's about the fact that you're out there snogging Piper while I'm-while I'm-" You stopped yourself, realizing what you were about to admit, and shook your head violently. "You know what? It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Sirius stepped closer, but you took a step back, your heart pounding.

"No, it doesn't," you said firmly, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Because nothing is going to change. You'll keep being you, and I'll keep being the person no one looks at twice. So, no, Sirius. We are not okay."

For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he was holding back a thousand things he wanted to say.

But whatever they were, they never came.

You turned on your heel, your shoulders trembling as you climbed the stairs to your dormitory. You heard James mutter something under his breath, followed by Sirius letting out a frustrated growl.

But you didn't turn around. You didn't look back.

When you finally reached your bed, you collapsed onto it, letting the tears fall freely now.

Somewhere deep down, you had wanted him to fight harder. To say something, anything, that might have made this hurt less. But he didn't.

***

Much like you expected, end of year exams were dreadful. Time dragged on. Nothing was happening except the alarm that the dark wizard, Voldermort was apparently getting stronger and his army was growing little by little.

There were hushed whispers and rumors that there were Hogwarts students that held allegiance to him. Most of them were Slytherins.

You hadn’t really had time to even notice the lingering ache of unspoken words whenever you would see Sirius. The tension between you was thick, and if it weren’t for exams, you’d probably drown in it, smothered to death.

It was easier to busy yourself with studying and homework. You would spend hours in the library, mountains of scrolls for each of your classes.

Yet, Sirius still found a way to creep into your thoughts. He was unshakeable. It irritated you. Your absentminded tapping against a table forced Lily to stop studying with you.

It was late in the evening when you made your way from the library. You yawned, grateful tomorrow was your last day of exams. The hallways were quiet, and your footsteps echoed, bouncing off the stone wall. You had passed a few ghosts, mumbling about “They’re arguing again.”

You thought it was weird. Anyone could be arguing but when you turned a corner, you stopped in your tracks. Low, heated voices caught your attention. Two figures were arguing near a tapestry. Sirius and his brother Regulus.

Regulus looked much like his brother, dark hair, cool eyes. His robes were adorned in Slytherin green.

Regulus stood rigid. Face stone cold.

Sirius looked like a storm, hair disheveled, hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. ”I’m not returning and it’s final.” Sirius had run away from home in the middle of the summer holiday, before the school term began. You never saw Regulus and Sirius talk much since then. Only pointed looks full of disappointment from both brothers.

Regulus crossed his arms. “Because you’re a coward. You’d rather be running around with your pack of strays. You ran away from your family and your responsibilities–”

“My responsibilities?” Sirius cut in, his voice rising with incredulity. “You mean their leash, their expectations. Their madness. I’m not going to waste my life playing puppet to a cause I despise.” The venom in his tone startled you, even though you’d heard him speak of his family with bitterness before. This was different. It was rawer. More desperate.

Regulus’ face didn’t falter, but his hands clenched at his sides. “You think you’re better than us? That leaving makes you noble?”

“No,” Sirius said, his voice quieter now but no less cutting. “But at least I can live with myself.”

Regulus flinched, his composure slipping for a moment before his expression hardened again. “You’ll regret this, Sirius. You’ll see how wrong you are.”

With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, leaving Sirius alone.

For a moment, you considered leaving before Sirius noticed you. This was personal, a side of him he hadn’t chosen to share with you. But before you could slip away, he turned, his storm-grey eyes meeting yours. The air between you felt electric, charged with emotions you couldn’t quite name.

“How much did you hear?” he asked, his tone clipped, the sharpness in his voice not quite masking the exhaustion in his eyes.

You hesitated, unsure if honesty was the right move. “Enough,” you admitted softly. “Sirius—”

“Don’t,” he said, cutting you off as he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “Just... don’t. I’m fine.”

The lie was glaringly obvious, but his tone left little room for argument. Your chest tightened as you watched him, wanting to reach out, to tell him he didn’t have to go through this alone. But the wall he’d put up between you was unyielding, brick by stubborn brick.

“Are you sure you’re—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. His grey eyes met yours, but they weren’t soft or kind like they used to be—they were cold, stormy. “Why do you even care, anyway? I thought we weren’t even friends.”

The words hit you like a hex, stealing the breath from your lungs. You blinked, stunned, as the sting of his dismissal sank in.

“That’s not fair, Sirius,” you said softly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

“Fair?” he repeated with a bitter laugh, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You made it clear, didn’t you? You don’t want anything to do with me. So why start pretending to care now?”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, anger and hurt warring inside you. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” he shot back, his voice cracking slightly before he turned away, running a hand through his hair again. “Just... leave it, alright?”

The sharpness of his words sliced through you, leaving you frozen in place as he strode down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. You stood there, alone and hollow, as the ache in your chest grew heavier, threatening to swallow you whole.

You couldn’t sleep. The dormitory had settled into a quiet hum of steady breathing but you lay awake, staring at the canopy above your bed. Lily had noticed you were upset, but you shrugged her off, pretending to fall asleep before everyone else.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your place to worry. He didn’t want your help and pushing him would only make him more distant than he already was. It wasn’t that you wanted to stop being friends with him. You guess you just had realized you didn’t know how to be friends with him after learning your friendship was the reason boys didn’t want to date you.

None of your racing thoughts stopped the gnawing worry, watching him argue with his brother, who you knew he was once close to.

Finally, unable to take the stillness of your bed any longer, you slipped out from under the covers and padded down to the common room. You knew someone had the same idea when you saw the fire, low but still glowing, casting flickering shadows across the space.

Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized that person to be Sirius. He sat on the sofa facing the fire, his head resting against the back, his gaze fixed on the dying embers. His hair looked tousled, hanging over the edge. You considered turning back, afraid he might snap at you again. But something in the slump of his shoulders stopped you.

You didn’t say anything, but you walked into view, offering him a half-hearted smile. His eyes, though tired, didn’t hold the same sharpness as before. His face softened, gesturing wordlessly to the spot next to him. You approached cautiously, sinking into the seat.

The silence and tension pressed down on your chest, trying to decide what to say.

“I shouldn’t have been harsh,” he said finally, his voice rough and low.

You shook your head, your throat tight. “It’s okay. I was just worried.”

He gave you a small smile, making you feel that weird fizz in you again. “I never told you why I ran away from home. Did I?”

You shook your head.

He let out a humorless laugh, looking back at the fire. For a long moment, he didn’t respond. He fixed his gaze back to you, eyes heavy with a pain you couldn’t describe. “She wanted me to take the Mark.”

“What?” The air left your lungs in a rush, but your brows furrowed, somewhat hoping it wasn’t what you thought he meant.

His lips pursed. “My mother,” he answered, his tone bitter. “She wanted me to bear the Dark Mark. Pledge my allegiance to V… the Dark Lord. Said it was my duty.” He paused, his hands clenching to fists. “That’s why I left. I didn’t even pack. I left everything. I didn’t even say goodbye to Reg and I know a part of him hates that I didn’t. But if I had… I don’t think I would’ve gone through with it.”

He rubbed his face, sighing. “And now my biggest fear is playing out. Regulus is beginning to truly believe the lies of my family. I’m sure it’s my mothers doing.”

Your heart twisted. “Sirius…” You placed your hand on his. He tensed for a second, and you felt guilty of the weeks you hadn’t been around him that even your touch was foreign to him. He glanced at your hand on his, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. For a moment, he looked like he might pull away, but then his shoulders sagged, and he let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Regulus... he’s my brother. And I hate what he’s becoming, but at the same time, I can’t blame him. Not entirely. He’s just... he’s stuck. Just like I was.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. This wasn’t the Sirius who was loud and brash, always ready with a witty comeback or a rebellious grin. This was Sirius stripped bare, raw and aching, and it broke something inside you to see him like this.

“He’s not you, Sirius,” you said softly, your hand still resting on his. “He’s still young. He still has time to see the truth.”

Sirius shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You’re too optimistic for your own good, you know that?” He leaned into you playfully. Another beat went by, and the sadness returned into his eyes. “I don’t regret my choice to leave. But I miss him,” he admitted quietly. “And I hate that I do.”

You swallowed hard, trying to choose your words carefully. “He’s still your brother, Sirius. That doesn’t just go away.”

His lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You smiled softly, the tension between you easing just slightly. For a while, neither of you spoke, the crackling of the fire filling the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It felt... safe. Familiar.

“I miss you,” Sirius said quietly after a while, his gaze fixed on the flames.

You felt the heat in your cheeks rise and that heavy feeling be placed on your chest again. You swallowed hard. “I miss you too.”

His eyes flicked back to yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something that made your heart race and your stomach twist with nerves. You looked away, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

As you sat beside Sirius in the dim glow of the fire, the tension between you seemed to melt into the warmth of the common room. Yet, the knot in your chest remained, twisting with every word, every glance he threw your way.

The air between you felt fragile, as though any sudden movement might shatter the moment. You tried to focus on the flicker of the flames, but your thoughts were a mess of questions you didn’t dare ask. What did all of this mean? For you? For him? For the strange push and pull that had lingered between you for so long?

Sirius shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. It was such a small thing, but it sent a jolt through you, and you suddenly realized how aware you were of him—of his presence, his scent, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you.

Why is this happening now? you wondered, stealing a glance at him. He looked tired, his face shadowed with an exhaustion that went far deeper than the physical. His confession about the Dark Mark, about his family and Regulus, had cracked something open in you—a deep well of empathy and something else. Something warmer. Something you weren’t sure you wanted to name.

You studied his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair fell messily across his face. He was beautiful. He always had been, but now, in this quiet moment, the thought struck you differently. There was something vulnerable about him tonight, something that made your chest ache.

What if you lose him again? The thought whispered through your mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The weeks of tension between you had been suffocating, but this... this felt like a fragile lifeline. You didn’t want to let it slip through your fingers.

Your gaze dropped to his hands, resting loosely on his knees. You thought about all the times those hands had brushed yours—accidentally or intentionally—how they’d tugged you along on one of his harebrained adventures or steadied you when you’d nearly fallen on the Quidditch pitch.

And now, as you sat here together, a thought crept into your mind. A thought you’d pushed aside countless times before, too afraid to confront it. What would it feel like to hold his hand and not let go? To know what it’s like to kiss him? Your cheeks flushed at the thought, and you quickly looked away, scolding yourself. Don’t be ridiculous. He was your best friend—or had been, before everything went sideways. This wasn’t the time for romantic fantasies, not when he was baring his soul to you.

But the thought wouldn’t leave. It settled in your chest, insistent and impossible to ignore. You had spent years brushing off the idea, convincing yourself it was nothing. A fleeting crush. A side effect of being so close. But now, in the stillness of the common room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than that.

“Sirius,” you said suddenly, the sound of your own voice startling you.

He turned to you, his brows lifting slightly. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, your heart hammering in your chest. Don’t do this. Don’t make it weird. He’s already had a terrible night.

But then his eyes met yours, and for a moment, you swore the world stood still. There was something in the way he looked at you, something that made your breath catch.

“Sirius,” you began again, your voice softer now, “have you ever thought about kissing me?”

The words hung in the air, and the moment they left your lips, your stomach flipped with a mix of dread and anticipation. You braced yourself for his reaction, for the laugh or the scoff or—worst of all—the rejection. But none of those things came.

Instead, he stared at you, his eyes wide and searching. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

You laughed nervously, shaking your head as if you could erase the question. “Never mind,” you said quickly. “That was a stupid thing to say.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse roaring in your ears. “I don’t know,” you admitted, though it wasn’t entirely true. “It’s just... I don’t want to go into seventh year never having been kissed. And... I trust you.”

His eyes softened at that, his surprise giving way to something warmer. “You trust me?” he repeated, his voice quieter now.

“Yes,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “I trust you more than anyone.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the firelight flickering in his eyes. You could see the hesitation in his expression, the way he was weighing his words. And for a moment, you wondered if you’d made a mistake. But then he let out a breath, his lips twitching into a small, uncertain smile.

“You really know how to put a bloke on the spot, don’t you?” he said, his tone lighter now, though his voice was still tinged with something deeper.

You couldn’t help but smile, though your heart was still racing. “So... would you?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you as if he were trying to figure out if you were serious. “Are you sure about this?” he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I’m sure.”

Sirius hesitated, his eyes locked on yours, searching for any sign that you might change your mind. When he leaned in, it was slow, cautious, like he was giving you every chance to pull away. His hand brushed against your cheek, tentative and warm, as his lips met yours in a soft, chaste kiss.

It was simple, just the barest press of lips, but it sent a shiver through you nonetheless. His touch was surprisingly gentle, like he was afraid you might break. When he pulled back, he lingered close, his breath brushing against your skin.

“There,” he murmured, his voice low and almost teasing, though his tone lacked its usual confidence. “First kiss accomplished.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. Something unspoken lingered in the air between you, the warmth of his hand still ghosting on your cheek. The kiss had been sweet, careful... but it hadn’t been enough. Not for you.

“Sirius,” you said softly, reaching for his wrist before he could move away completely. He froze, his grey eyes wide and questioning as you tugged him closer again. “Wait.”

“What is it?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his for the second time. This time, the kiss wasn’t cautious or hesitant. It was fuller, deeper, and it carried all the emotions you hadn’t been able to put into words.

For a moment, Sirius seemed startled, but then he responded, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he kissed you back with more certainty. His other hand moved to your waist, fingers splaying lightly against the fabric of your jumper. You felt his thumb brush a slow circle there, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head slightly, letting the kiss deepen, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer. His lips were warm, soft but insistent, moving against yours in a rhythm that made your heart race. There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed—like he was pouring every ounce of himself into it, like he couldn’t get enough.

Your breaths grew uneven, mingling between you as the kiss intensified. Sirius’ fingers tightened slightly at your waist, and you felt the faint scrape of his teeth against your lower lip as he deepened the angle. It was perfect—messy, electric, and far more than you had expected.

And then, just as suddenly, Sirius pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as he broke the kiss. His breathing was unsteady, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

“Wait,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. His hands lingered where they were, one on your neck, the other at your waist, but he didn’t move closer again. “We should stop.”

You blinked, still catching your breath. “Why?” you whispered, your fingers still clutching his shirt.

“Because,” he said, laughing softly, though there was a tremor in his voice. “If we don’t, I don’t think I’ll want to.”

The words hung between you, heavier than they should have been. You nodded slowly, pulling back just enough to look at him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly swollen, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes that made your chest tighten.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his hand brushing against your cheek one last time before he pulled away entirely. He stood, running a hand through his already messy hair, and gave you a small, lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, watching as he turned and disappeared up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

You sat there for a long time after he was gone, your fingers still tingling where they had touched him, your lips still warm from the kiss. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, but your thoughts were anything but quiet.

The ache that had lingered between you for weeks had softened, but it hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it had transformed into something else entirely—something that both thrilled and terrified you.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t over. Not yet.

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