#let’s go with kreacher

[rayssion]

James and Sirius went to visit Grimmauld place to get some books for Remus, the same place that Sirius swore not to return to but nonetheless he was here.

When they entered the house they were greeted by cob webs and a lot of dust, in their way to the library they threw glances around the rooms to find most of them in ruins, dirt everywhere and broken furniture.

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows thinking about what happened in this house, as he remembers his mother loved everything to be shining at least.

"you can take the books, I'll go check on the house elf"

James announced and left the room, Sirius knew he was going to the kitchen where he told him earlier the old elf's room reside.

But as he started Collecting the books, James broken voice reached him.

"S-Sirius!"

Sirius tossed what was on his hands before running to where he heard the voice, wand tightly in hand as he bent to enter the elf's room.

There stood James, eyes wide in horror as he stared terrifyingly at the corner.

Sirius knows, his brother disappeared years ago, probably became a death eater and now he may be Voldemort's right hand.

But when he also looked at the corner he knew.

He knew what he saw was a 16 years old Regulus Black's skeleton laying there, a knife through his ribs.

[my-castles-crumbling]

clean - may 27 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 298

“Regulus, what’re you doing?”

He was so far in his head that it took him a fair few seconds to swim out of his own thoughts. Floundering in the depths of his own anxieties, but the time he burst to the surface for air, he found himself turning to see four pairs of eyes focused on him. “Erm…what?” he asked softly, trying not to turn bright red with embarrassment. The truth was, he’d been moving on autopilot.

It was James who saved him. It seemed like a pattern, these days. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“Guests don’t clean in this house, love,” the older boy explained softly, standing and taking the dirty plate in his hand, slowly moving him from his position at the sink. “Go relax in the other room with your brother, yeah?”

“I–” His stomach was in knots at the idea of leaving a mess. Though Kreacher usually did the bulk of the work, any slack was picked up by the children, and he hated the idea of seeming so useless to Euphemia and Fleamont. Why would they keep him here, otherwise? 

But James pressed a kiss to his head so gently he almost shook with the touch, then whispered in a quiet voice meant just for him, “Go. I’ve got this. You’re okay, I promise. Nobody’s leaving, nobody’s judging.”

The breath he let out was shaky, and he had to turn to wipe an infuriatingly embarrassing tear.

But after James squeezed his hand, he followed Sirius into the other room, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to focus on his brother’s encouraging smile and not the thought of the pile of dirty dishes. 

By the time James finished cleaning, Regulus was asleep on the couch.

[padfootastic]

can’t help but think of how, if we choose to go by sirius’ characterisation as a private, arrogant teen who only lets a select few into his circle, sirius’ post-azkaban life just have been such an utterly humiliating experience for him.

especially OoTP. when he has all these near strangers in his childhood house, that he hated and loved and ran away from and couldn’t ever escape. if he spent his entire pre-azkaban existence building a cold and aloof persona, not letting people know what his home life had been like, then to have all of these people get a front row seat to it because of kreacher and portrait walburga’s shenanigans must have been near unbearable. to have the entire order, including snape whom he disliked and mistrusted, hear the kinds of names he’s being called.

not only does he have to deal with the retraumatisation of his childhood, but also the fact that he’s flayed open for everyone to see. it’s not only his freedom, innocence, dignity that has been snatched from him but his privacy also. it’s such a cruel thing to experience, on top of everything else.

to have literal children, his godson who he has been kept away from all this while, whom he presumably wants to be able to look up to him, to have him see into the deepest parts of his soul. to have to be so weak in front of him. not only is he subjected to such vileness but he also cannot do anything about it.

sirius has not had a moment of peace in all the time we knew him. it is indignity upon indignity that is heaped onto him. every other character has gotten a moment of respite but him. it fully breaks my heart.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 blanket fort : harry potter

▰▰ pairing: harry potter x fem!reader

harry's stressed while staying at grimmauld place, y/n tries to distract him by planning a cozy sleepover night.

author: this is me begging for more harry appreciation like actually please

He's stressed. She knows. He has been in a bad mood the whole week, snapping at people, storming out of dinner and staying in his room most of the time to avoid everyone.

The thing is, she can't really blame him. Grimmauld place seems to have that effect on people, the place is dusty and dark, full of tension because of the war. This has taken a toll on everyone, but mostly on Harry.

She's seen Harry going against powerful wizards and defy death multiple times, but watching him crumble under the weight of the upcoming war breaks her heart. She knows that if anyone deserves a break, it's Harry. And she's determined to give it to him.

It's certainly difficult, it's not like she can wave her wand and make his problems disappear. She would if she could, but it's simply not possible. But maybe she can provide a distraction, something simple to get him to forget about his problems at least one night.

She's eating her dinner in between an order meeting, Sirius and Molly screaming at eachother for whatever reason, when the idea comes in. Her face lights up, and she practically wolfs down her food just so she can excuse herself from the table.

Harry didn’t have the easiest or happiest childhood, she knows that. And, as his best friend, she always makes sure to provide fun moments were she can make amends for everything he lacked for in his childhood. She's sure a blanket fort is a perfect way to keep doing that.

It takes her a long time because she hasn't build a blanket fort in forever, but after maybe an hour, she finally has a perfect fort that she knows for sure won't fall down because she begged George to use his magic to help her since she can't use her wand outside of Hogwarts.

She raids the house for pillows to have inside her fort, and she even ends up finding fairy lights, which is a total shocker to find on that gloomy house but at least it helps her to bring a comforting vibe to the fort. Then, after arguing with Kreacher for at least ten minutes, she was able to find some snacks and make some hot cocoa.

It's late in the night and everybody else has gone to sleep when she finally knocks on Harry's door, not even waiting for him to answer before she cracks the door open, slightly peeking inside. "Harry? come with me for a second, please"

She knows he's not asleep yet, so it isn't surprising when he replies. "y/n i'm not really in the mood for.."

He's not able to finish his sentence before she interrupts him. "Come on, humor me for just five minutes, I promise you'll like it. If you hate it, I'll let you sulk in peace, deal?"

Harry huffs, but he's immediately standing up from his bed. In the past few days, she's the only one he hasn't snapped at. Harry can't help it, she is far too sweet even when she's being pushy.

Before he knows it, she's already taking his hand and pulling him with her through the dark, guiding him up the creaky stairs. When they reach the room she has been staying in, Harry almost expects a half lecture about talking about his feelings just like the one Hermione gave him.

Instead, when the door cracks open and she pulls him inside, he stops short once he sees what she's made of her room. His eyes immediately fall on the fort, blankets dropped over chairs and tugged into corners, glowing fairy lights hanging from the edges, pillows piled in the middle making it look like some cozy nest.

"What is this?" Harry asks quietly, taking a tentative step towards it while y/n closes the door.

"a blanket fort, obviously." She replies with a grin. "we're having a no-war-allowed sleepover, the only rule is that we are not able to mention war at least just for tonight."

Harry looks at her, his face a mix between confusion and surprise. He wants to tell her that this is ridiculous and go back to being alone in his room, but then he sees her smile and his heart skips a beat. She worked so hard for this, only for him, so he doesn’t find it in himself to be the one ruining it.

"This is just ridiculous" he mutters, but he still steps inside and sinks into the pillows.

"You're smiling." she points out, feeling her chest swell with pride once she's able to see the first smile from him in weeks.

"I'm not." He says even though his smile only gets bigger when she settles down beside him.

He doesn’t even know how, but she pulls two mugs from behind the blankets and offers him one. The mug is still warm when he takes it, and he gives her a little appreciative smile when he sips and the taste of hot cocoa fills his mouth.

They fall silent for just a moment until Harry talks again. "Can you tell me what the order discussed today at dinner? Did they-"

"Ah-ah" y/n interrupts, holding up a finger with mock sternness. "What did I say? No war talk tonight, it's a rule."

Harry huffs, but he doesn’t try to push it, because he knows how determined she can be when she wants to. "So what are we supposed to talk about, then? quidditch? school?"

She wrinkles her nose playfully. "No. How about this? We're making stories about the people in the order. You know, the lives they would have if they were... normal people."

Harry stares at her, amusement flashing across his face. "Are you serious?" He asks, even though he's one hundred percent sure she is.

"No! Sirius is asleep." She jokes, this is obviously a joke she picked up from Sirius himself. "Come on, It'll be fun! i'll go first." her face lights up as she hugs a pillow against her chest. "I think professor Lupin would totally own a bookstore. A cozy bookstore pilled with all kinds of books, and he would have a cat or two."

He rolls his eyes, laughing when she falls silent and gives him a pointed look. "Okay, I'll try. Let's see... Molly would own a bakery." He begins. "She would spend hours trying crazy recipes and she would most likely end up burning some things around, but people end up loving everything she bakes. She doesn't let anyone go without a free treat."

y/n seems delighted as she claps her hands together. "Yes! that's totally spot on, see? I knew you could do it!" It's her turn now, so she pauses for a second before smiling again. "If Sirius wasn't stuck here, he would be some kind of rockstar. He would travel around, throwing crazy shows and even crazier parties. And you know he would totally own a motorcycle, too."

"He would." Harry laughs for a moment until he falls silent. She thinks it's only him trying to come up with some other story, but then she's able to see the moment his face falls, smile disappearing. "You know, if things were normal, my parents..."

He doesn’t have the strenght to keep going, but he doesn’t have to. She knows. If Voldemort didn’t exist- if the order were just normal people, Harry's parents would still be alive. He wouldn't be the chosen one. He wouldn't have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

She wants to tell him something, anything to try and make everything hurt a little less, but she knows no amount of words could ever do that. Instead, she scoots closer and wraps her arms around him in a hug. At first, Harry being Harry, he stiffens but after a long second, he melts into her.

"I'm sorry." She whispers once his forehead falls on her shoulder. He knows she's not apologizing for anything she's done, but rather for everything he's endured.

For a while, they sit there, silently embracing eachother. She rubs soothing circles on his back, her heart breaking at the thought of not being able to do anything to ease the pain.

She should talk. Tell him something, but she knows Harry, he won't want to open up about his emotions. At least not yet. The last thing he needs now is more sorrow, he just needs a way out of it, if only for a couple of hours.

"You know" she starts, her voice light. She knows she has to do this for him. "Maybe in another life, Snape runs a hair oil empire. He's definitely the type to use that rubbish on himself. That's why his hair's so slimy."

Harry seems caught off guard at first as he pulls back to look at her, but then a laugh escapes his lips. "His slogan would be something like 'Smooth as silk, greasy as a cauldron bottom.' and he has the ad campaigns nailed down."

y/n laughs so hard that she has to cover her mouth, fearing that Kreacher would hear and appear just to scold them. "If Snape hears you say that, he'll make sure to leave you bald."

"Better bald than greasy." He jokes, and she's just glad to see him happy again.

And just like that, the fort is filled with laughter again, the heaviness retreating a little while longer as they share stories and joke about members of the order, allowing themselves to forget about the upcoming war for just a while.

Harry had forgotten how easy it is to talk to y/n, she's always able to see right through him and ease his pain. No matter what he's going through, she's always able to get a laugh out of him. Around her, Harry can just be himself- not the chosen one, just Harry.

She's laughing about some kind of childhood story she's sharing with him, and he just can't help but stare at her for a little too long.

"What?" She ask in between giggles when she caughts him staring.

He shakes his head, a soft smile grazing his lips. "Nothing. Just... Thank you."

She tilts her head a little. "Why?"

"For this. I didn’t realize how much I needed this." he admits, feeling lighter than he has felt in weeks. "you just- you have a way of making everything feel better."

"You deserve it, Harry. You deserve more than this." She smiles, taking his hand to give it a soft squeeze.

"You're amazing, you know that?" The way she looks at him when the words leave his lips, the shine in her eyes, it makes his heart race.

And he knows it then. He loves her. Always has, like it was something so natural for him to do that he didn’t even realize it until he has to sit there and watch the blush creeping on her face. He loves her.

"I mean, I'm pretty proud of this fort—" She starts, but her words are cut off when his lips meet hers.

It's unexpected, the feelings of his lips takes her breath away for a long second until she's suddenly leaning into the kiss. Time seems to stand still for Harry once he allows himself to get lost in that exact moment, in the way her lips feel so soft, sweet against his. So comforting.

It's in that moment that he realizes, this isn't just a distraction. It isn't just a fleeting moment to forget about war. It's more than that. She is more than that.

She's his anchor. When the world feels like it's falling apart, when the weight of it all feels unbearable, she's always there— steady, unwavering, like some kind of safety net. Always waiting for Harry to fall into the comfort of her arms.

When he pulls apart, y/n is ready for him to start panicking, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he lets himself lean into the comfort she offers. He presses his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and relaxing to the sounds of her slow breathing.

"Stay." He says suddenly, and she's not sure if he's asking for her to stay tonight or just forever.

But anyways, she replies. "I wasn't planning on leaving."

And for the first time in his life, Harry believes it's okay to share the weight with someone.

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FIVE

05 : SIRIUS : FIRST DAY

CHPT. SUM. : Sirius goes to Hogwarts and his sorting causes a stir at school and at home.

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : fluff ; hurt/comfort ; marauders origins dob ver. ; friendship beginnings ; mini-therapy session with the sorting hat ; regulus being a cutie ; sirius finding his place ; regulus needs a hug ; first day at hogwarts ; orion being the worst husband and father ever ; momma bear reader ; not canon compliant

← PREV. | 04 : BEGINNINGS | SERIES M.LIST

1st September 1971

Sirius smiles faintly at his younger brother, the two of them separated by the window of the Hogwarts Express. For a moment, all of the excitement that had been bouncing around in his stomach suddenly compressed into a weighted ball of anxiety. Hogwarts was going to be a fun, new adventure, you had reassured him of such that morning, however, seeing Regulus looking up at him through the window made his stomach drop into an unknown abyss.

"Take care, Siri," Regulus smiles toothily, having to tilt his chin up to see his older brother better. He didn't want to forget a single detail about how his brother looked. It was an unreasonable fear but Regulus was scared stiff over forgetting a single thing about his older brother.

"'Course! You take care too, Reg," Sirius looks up at you for a moment but you don't meet his eyes, seemingly distracted by something that catches your eye in the crowd, "I know Mother is different now but I'm worried about you..."

Shocked by his brother's concern, Regulus feels a small urge to look over his shoulder and observe you in the hopes that the swelling of apprehension in his stomach can settle, somewhat. It's easy to trust you now but it's also just as easy to fall back on being guarded, for his own self-protection — with Sirius gone, his only brother, who often acts as his shield and protector, fear is one stray, all-consuming thought away from devouring them both. They've never been without the other for any extended period of time. This was going to be a first.

"I know..." Regulus nervously tugs on the hem of his sleeves, trying to ground himself with the action, "but I don't think she'll change back... and besides, I have Kreacher," Sirius' lips pull into a thin line. Yes, he's started getting along with the house elf a lot better recently, mainly due to Regulus and his mother's influence but Sirius knows the truth. If Kreacher was ever forced to choose between Regulus and his mother, Kreacher would pick you, the Matriarch of the Black family. His little brother is too naive and soft-hearted for his own good.

"Write to me if anything goes wrong, okay?" Regulus only nods before they silently decide to let go of the tense subject and, at least, part on a lighter note, "I promise I'll write to you about everything that happens, I won't miss a single detail!" the two grin at each other, "By the time I come back, you'll be an expert about Hogwarts and you won't be fumbling around and making mistakes like me on your first year,"

A sharp whistle tears through the air and the brothers share a tearful look before Regulus rushes back to cling onto your skirt, the both of you keeping your eyes solely on Sirius whose heart can't stop clenching — in distress or excitement, he cannot fathom what the emotion behind it all is. In the distance, he watches his mother's lips move to form the words 'I love you'. It's like she's whispering it to him, loving and kind and full of warmth, like the wonderful mother she's suddenly become. Just one month... he wishes you had been whispering that endearment to him for longer than that.

Despite his worries about what may happen to Regulus in his absence, Sirius meets your eyes with a smile and whispers an 'I love you' back. Deep in his chest, his heart settles in content, happy and blissfully optimistic over your disposition. Your eyes hold such bountiful amounts of love, that he feels slightly ashamed for thinking the worst of you. There's no way you would dare lay a hand on Regulus the way you used to, in a cruel means to elicit 'appropriate' behaviour. Not when you adored cuddling him so much, not when you adored pressing soft kisses into his head of curls, not when you catered to his preferences for every meal ever since that fateful day, and especially not when you would always be the first to step in between him and their father during every irate spat.

The train begins to move away from the platform, leaving you and his brother behind but Sirius occupies his seat unworried. His little brother and mother are good with each other. They're perfectly fine. Looking around him, Sirius observes the completely empty compartment aside from himself.

As the train journey continues, he stays alone. Anyone who pops their head in immediately turns away at the sight of him, fumbling with the half-hearted excuse of already having found an empty cabin elsewhere. He almost rolls his eyes at their behaviour. His family was feared for their status and 'etiquette' but that didn't mean he was the same, he was still a kid. Then again, those who peaked in were kids too...

This was going to be a long journey.

James Potter wasn't one to waste time, he was a doer. So when he finds himself unable to find a free cabin along with another two blokes, both rather shorter than him, one with brown hair, who's swamped under a grandpa sweater while the other adorns sandy-blonde locks and a neatly pressed polo shirt with slightly tattered ends, he takes charge. He leads them from one end of the train to the other, all in the search for a free cabin. The hunt was looking bleak at first but that was another thing about James Potter, he wasn't one to easily give up... even when the only cabin that seemed available was the one occupied by Sirius Black.

"Do you mind if we sit with you?" James asks, trying to mask his tense attitude towards the pureblood wizard, "It's full everywhere else,"

"Go ahead," Sirius smiles with a slight tension to his shoulders as well, gesturing to the empty seats around him. James sits directly opposite Sirius with Peter beside him, while Remus takes the seat opposite Peter and beside Sirius. It appears as though Peter knows who Sirius is and Remus is completely oblivious, his polite but blithe smile directed at the Black family firstborn being the main indicator.

"I'm James Potter," James finally introduces, confident and with his chest. The three greet him back before introducing themselves in return. The round, sandy-blonde bloke was Peter Pettigrew, the brunette dressed like a grandpa was Remus Lupin and the last of them, neat as a pin with paper-pale skin, sharp features and shiny black hair was Sirius Black but most people already knew that.

"Aren't you part of that really old pureblood family?" Remus mentions cooly, as if not understanding the gravity of his question as a muggle-born (or half-blood, James doesn't know yet).

"Yeah," Sirius replies, not appearing too pleased with the observation and remains quiet.

"You'll be in Slytherin then?" Peter blurts without knowing, catching himself only after he's voiced his invasive thought and claps his hands over his running mouth. Beneath his hands, Peter's cheeks glow a bright pink and he avoids all eye contact with everyone in the cabin, his limbs beginning to shake in fear the longer Sirius holds off on answering to his thoughts.

"I don't really want to end up there," Sirius shrugs and turns to stare out the window, perfectly happy to occupy himself with the passing scenery. He's fed up with everyone's judgemental attitude. Can't a single person give him a chance?! He isn't asking for the world!

James was shocked, "Really?!" it made him stammer how far he'd misjudged the Black family's first son.

"I'm not like the rest of my family,"

"Thank Merlin!" James dramatically sags his shoulders in relief before grinning toothily and leaning forward to clap Sirius over the shoulder, "I thought you'd be another dark pureblood prick with a stiff lip and no sense of humour,"

The tension is completely broken as soon as Sirius throws his head back and laughs without restraint, clutching his belly and shaking at the shoulders with mirth. Even Peter is relieved at Sirius' reaction, momentarily pausing in his frantic rummaging through his shoulder bag. Remus only seems to have realised the previous tension in the air from the dramatic shift it takes but continues smiling anyway, this time with more ease than before.

Sirius returns his grinning gaze to James, who mirrors his expression, "Not a prick and definitely not stiffed lip. Sense of humour, you'll have to find out later on," all those high society wizard dinners, events and soirees could have been spent in better company, James and Sirius realised. If only they dared to approach each other sooner, without their family's prejudices hanging over them, puppeteering their actions. They could have shared laughter, made fun of the boring atmosphere and become close friends. But regrets like these were minimal in the grand scheme of things. They had a full year at Hogwarts to make up for it and grow the friendship they'd missed out on.

It's then that Sirius' vision is suddenly invaded by Peter's outstretched hand and a singular, colourfully wrapped chocolate on his palm, "I'm sorry for speaking out like that," Sirius smiles and accepts the gift happily.

"You're not bad, Peter,"

Seemingly spurred on by Sirius' show of forgiveness and kindness, Peter launches into a joke he had memorised for the sake of calming his nerves at the thought of struggling to make any friends, "Hey, so why do you think toddlers are so bad at magic?"

His statement seems to be taken seriously by the three boys at first as they ponder thoughtfully for a moment. But ultimately, with no answer in mind, they shake their heads and look to the portly bloke for the solution.

"Why?" Remus prompts.

"Because they can't spell!"

It was a bad joke, so bad that Remus released a small giggle while James and Sirius laughed boisterously, more so at Peter's expectant expression than the joke itself. They couldn't believe that he thought that joke would land well but his eagerness to elicit laughter was all they needed to lose themselves in the merriment. The four of them quickly dive into meaningless but fun conversations, sometimes splitting off into conversing pairs before returning to speak as a group again. Remus tended to be quiet and leaked a more nervous disposition than others whereas Peter eagerly tried to partake in whatever conversation was around, trying to land more jokes and input his opinion wherever, even if the mismatch of tone and timing wasn't always ideal. James and Sirius were the most enthusiastic and smoothly went from one subject to the next, it was a seamless river of constant conversation that was occasionally interrupted by chewing on the delicious treats carted over by the trolley lady, as well as the need for easy silence — a necessary, trouble-free pause.

Hours passed like this and eventually, an older prefect was knocking on their compartment door to peek in and ask that they change into their school robes.

"We'll be arriving soon,"

Everyone's robes were black and didn't adorn any of the Hogwarts house colours. For now, they were a small group of friends, eagerly awaiting their new chapter of life to begin.

Sirius stood on the edge of the lake as a deep sense of anticipation churned within him, replacing the excitement evoked by getting dressed on the train. Pulling on those robes and seeing his mother's capricious but careful stitches brought a realness to the situation — he was going to be attending the most prestigious wizarding school in all of England. It felt surreal but oh so tangible from where he stood.

The small boats that would ferry the many first years across to Hogwarts bob gently in the water before them, each one enchanted to move with a simple command. Beside him, Remus, James and Peter also look forward with James appearing to be the only one still in possession of his earlier eagerness. The journey to Hogwarts was incredibly long and, by now, it was already nighttime. There was a chill in the air as the sky draped over them, coloured in the deepest twilight hue with a scattering of stars spread across it. Looming ahead was the prodigious silhouette of Hogwarts Castle. Its many turrets and towers stretched up, trying to pierce the sky as its many windows were alit with a golden glow from within — inviting and warm and magical. Once again, the excitement was back...

It appears as though the constant fight between his enthusiasm and terror of the unknown will be giving him unsteady feet and fidgeting hands for the rest of the night.

Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant gamekeeper and groundskeeper steps into a boat with his rusty, incandescent lantern and encourages the first years to follow along behind him. Everyone was to be seated in one of the many boats as a group, some as strangers, some as newly made friends. Luckily Sirius had already found his group of friends and they were one of the first to follow along behind the half-giant. Peter was a bit scared to step into the boat but with some encouragement and light teasing, they were soon setting sail with everybody else.

"See? It's not so bad, is it, Peter?" James grins, catching sight of the sandy blonde's entranced expression as he gazes into the lake's glimmering, moonlit waters.

"We don't even need to paddle," Sirius shares a look with James and the two grin widely.

Peter musters a taut smile and nods, attempting to calm his racing heart. He seems to finally find some comfort in the glittering waters below them, "Y-yeah, not so bad,"

"Be careful not to lean too far over the edge though," Remus warns politely, "overtipping the balance might capsize the boat," Peter pales and hastily rights himself, earning a chuckle from everyone on board.

"Capsizing the boat, huh? What an adventure that will be!" James laughs brightly. He's a carefree spirit, one that Sirius can't help but be entranced by. Being around James is addictive. It's a new experience being in the presence of someone so opposite to his family's disreputable 'noble' ways. It's gotten a lot better because of his mother's recent change of heart but James is the type of person who elicits a lasting impression. Looking around the small boat they share, Sirius can tell that he's not the only one; Peter and Remus seem to be just as enchanted by the messy-haired boy's charm.

Steadily approaching Hogwarts makes the castle's colossal size more apparent. It's a massive, ancient structure that breathes with so much magic, that there's an evident vibration in the air surrounding it that makes the hairs on his skin stand up. Seeing the impressive castle in person was overwhelming but in the best way. A feeling of adventure begins to bubble in Sirius' lower belly and slowly begins to rise through him — a feverish anticipation for what he may get up to within its stone walls. It's a place where he can be truly free... finally. His mother's new attitude has been a solace and a comfort and has given him a small taste of what freedom was like but there was always the danger of his ill-tempered father. Here, Sirius feels as though he can finally, truly be free.

What a feeling...

Beneath the castle were a set of docks that the boats smoothly slid into. Hagrid was already out of his boat and holding his lantern up by the time they managed to reach him followed by the other first years. After clambering out of their buoyant vessels, Hagrid proceeds to lead everyone up a winding path, all the way up to the castle's front entrance. Its large front doors creak open and they were quickly ushered into the Entrance Hall. The vast space was cool but also warmed by the fire torches strategically placed about the perimeter, their dancing flames casting across the polished stone and giving rise to the first years' blended shadows. There's an apprehensive but electrifying buzz in the air as Hagrid bids them a temporary farewell, leaving them to a teacher.

Professor Minerva McGonagall is who she introduces herself as, the deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor House. No wonder she was the one tasked with leading them into the Great Hall. She stands as a figure of authority and elegance.

McGonagall was not yet old. Her sharp, angular features were softened slightly by the subtle laugh lines framing her observant eyes — she isn't a stranger to smiling, though Sirius was finding it a little difficult to envision her with a grin. Her hair was a deep brown that pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, with not a single strand out of place. Her meticulous appearance only added to the impression that she was someone who did not tolerate nonsense. And yet, there was something about her that made Sirius believe she wasn't just a disciplinarian. There was an underlying warmth to her, hidden by her strict exterior as a prestigious Hogwarts professor. It's a warmth that spoke of the deep affection and care held for her students. He could see it in her eyes the same way he saw it in his changed mother's eyes — although sharp, they seemed to soften ever so slightly when looking over the younger students.

Her robes were made of a rich and heavy fabric, a dark emerald green that was almost regal in its fashion when draping over her silhouette. She moved with a grace that tactically concealed the strictness in her demeanour, each step was purposeful and her posture remained impossibly straight — the kind that his previous etiquette teacher desperately tried to force upon him, with no such luck; he was too stubborn for his own good, and he had the faded welts to prove it.

"Behind these doors is the Great Hall. And it is where you shall be sorted into your houses. There are four: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin," she explains briefly, "I will call out your name and one by one, you shall be seated and sorted by the sorting hat before the student body. You shall then sit with your house where you will wait until everyone is sorted and then we can have the opening dinner," she spoke with a clear and precise voice that had a very slight Scottish lilt to it, making her spoken words crisp and authoritative. Her voice was similar to the one his mother once had, it was the kind that cut through the chatter of a room with ease, immediately silencing those she cast her unwavering gaze upon. His mother's voice has since become much warmer and gentler as of late. And, although such an imperious voice usually made Sirius stiffen up with alertness, McGonagall didn't prompt any sort of reaction from him. She embodied a form of discipline he was familiar with but there was something more to her, and she balanced those opposing features very well.

With that, McGonagall led the group of first years into the Great Hall. Above him, the ceiling was enchanted to mirror the night sky he had just witnessed on the boat across the Black Lake, however, instead of blinking, distant stars, the night sky of the Great Hall was illuminated by floating candles. Four long tables stretched and occupied a vast amount of space in the large room. Most of the chairs by the tables were predominantly occupied except for the ones closest to the front of the room, near where the teachers had their own table, gazing over the students and smiling fondly at the first years walking in for the first time, led by the deputy headmistress.

The many students that were already seated were dressed in similar black robes but had embellishments of differing colours, colours that differentiated them into their different houses, one red, another, blue, the other, yellow and finally green. The students' eyes eagerly followed the newcomers, the youngest in the large pond that was Hogwarts. To the front of the hall, there was a raised platform with a singular stool on it, where an old hat sat — the sorting hat.

Sirius's heart pounded violently against his chest as he assembled behind the stool with the rest of the first years. McGonagall stepped up to the left of the stool and was given a scroll of parchment that listed all the names of the first years who were to be sorted. Without wasting a second, she immediately began to call them out. It was in alphabetical order according to surnames so Sirius knew that he would be one of the first to be sorted. Nevertheless, the few that came before him had a very welcoming experience. It was simple enough. Once seated, the hat would be placed on their head and after some time or very little time at all, the hat's voice boomed through the hall, echoing its final and irrevocable decision of where the student should be housed. The student was then met with the loud and welcoming cheers of their fellow housemates, who eagerly beckoned them over to their table while the head of house clapped and smiled from their seat by the rest of the staff.

Sirius's hands clenched into tight fists as he waited. The tension paralysing his limbs was unbearable. He knew what was to be expected of him. Slytherin, like all the Blacks before him. But the thought of even joining that house, of being surrounded by the same cold, pureblood superiority that he had grown up with made his intestines knot themselves up and his stomach fall into a bottomless pit. However, inside him raged an inner battle... Sirius remembers the kind softness of his reformed mother, the vivid image appearing in his head along with the ghost of her warm embrace and loving kisses — he didn't want to disappoint her. He's been granted such happiness by her recently, he didn't want to have that stolen away from him all too suddenly because of his house sorting. He wouldn't know what to do if he should be faced with the familiar disappointment and rage in her eyes once more—

Suddenly, his name was called.

"Black, Sirius!"

Silence swept the hall as Sirius stepped forth. Hundreds of eyes lingered on him all judging and wondering and evident with the same supposition he had grown up with — Slytherin. He even saw some eyes drift away after the initial call of his name. It was as if they knew what would come of the sorting and felt he didn't need the assistance of the hat to be put in a house.

As Sirius climbed the steps and sat on the stool, bitterness over the expectation placed on him, not just by his family but by complete strangers too lit his heart ablaze with stubborn denial and renunciation of the elitist house. The hat decedent far enough to cover his eyes, done past his nose, blackening out the rest of the world as the hat's voice began to ring between his ears and within his mind.

"Ah, another Black," the hat mused thoughtfully, "But not— your mind is different, you, yourself are different, aren't you? Not like the other Blacks..." The statement from the hat makes Sirius' heart skip a beat and soar higher than the sky. It was a relief, a validation of his circumstance that he deeply yearned for without even knowing until that moment. He lets the words echo in his ears and hopes to permanently stamp them into his brain. "And you're happy about that are you?" the hat chuckles, somewhat, condescendingly at him, "But you're plenty cunning and ambitious too, much like your many kinsfolk," his heart stutters in his chest again, this time with dread. The hat's words steal his breath and make his mind race with alarm. There's a pause, the hat seeming to delight in Sirius' inner conflict, his scrambled mind being the perfect entertainment for the tattered garment, "And yet, it cannot be denied how different you are, also," Sirius calms ever so slightly, able to breathe again, "yes, brave... with a fierce independence. You want to prove yourself, that's very easy to tell, to be more than what they expect or is it merely petty disobedience?"

Sirius holds his breath once more.

"Well then," the hat says decisively, its voice doubling and suddenly coming from two places at once, "it better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

His irrefutable house placement was shouted aloud, the shock giving way to a momentary, extension of silence before the hall erupts into massive applause. Sliding out from under the hat's cone body, a broad grin splits across Sirius' face.

Gryffindor! Not Slytherin!

He rushes down the steps and hurries to the Gryffindor table, who cheer wildly and smile broadly at him becoming a member. They were happy, cheering and in celebration of him. The moment he sits down, he's immediately bombarded with congratulatory slaps on the back and introductions. A boy who looked a little older than him clapped him on the shoulder with a bright grin, "Welcome to Gryffindor, mate!"

"Thanks," Sirius replied, breathless from the experience. A weight had lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in his life, he was presented with solid evidence that he was nothing like his many other rotten family members, and it felt... incredible.

The sorting ceremony continued without pause and Sirius eagerly awaited for the sorting of the friends he had made on the train. Lupin, Remus a little while after him (Gryffindor). Pettigrew, Peter came soon enough (Gryffindor). Right after him, Potter, James was sorted (Gryffindor). All of them were sorted into the proud house of the lion, symbolising bravery and courage, their robes immediately donning scarlet and golden accents.

"What luck!" James expresses as soon as he sits by them again. They share a look, their eyes twinkling and their grins pinned high up on their youthful cheeks. To think that they would be in the same house after becoming friends on the train!

Curiously, Sirius glances back at the other tables, quickly skimming over the blues and yellows to land on green accents. The Slytherins pinned him with narrowed eyes, their expressions ranging from surprise to outright disdain. Their transparent judgement, however, was easy to ignore, he wanted nothing to do with them anyway. Instead, he focuses on his fellow Gryffindors, his found family at Hogwarts. These were his people now, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of the lion's crest on his chest.

The feast began shortly after the last student was sorted. The tables were filled with an array of food that made Sirius' mouth water. Roasted chicken, platters of mashed potatoes, steaming bowls of vegetables, and an assortment of pies and puddings appeared before him — all accumulating into a delicious combined fragrance. There was no hesitation when it came to piling his plate high with every dish his heart desired. The food looked delicious but...compared to the loving and hearty meals his mother had been cooking for him the past month, only the sheer amount he was able to consume was able to satiate him after the long journey. The carefully curated flavours and the touch of a mother's love weren't there anymore. He supposes not everything can be perfect. Thankfully, the atmosphere was alive with chatter and laughter, an infectious combination that distracted him easily.

The night wore on, the food slowly disappearing from the tables, and when many of the students were no longer occupied by their food the Headmaster finally saw it fit to make his welcoming speech. Albus Dumbledore rose from his place at the staff table, surrounded by his many other professor colleagues and calls for silence. Almost immediately, the room quieted and all eyes were trained on him.

"Welcome," Dumbledore begins, his voice ancient like a dust-covered book but amiable, "welcome to Hogwarts, to those of you who have just started, I hope that the reception was favourable. And to those returning, hopefully, you are just as thrilled to spend another year with us as we are. I trust that after the long journey and heartily filled bellies, you are all ready for bed." He raises an arm and prompts the rise of several older students donning embellished badges decorated with their house colours, "your prefects will be the ones to escort you to your dorms,"

A password is required to gain access to the Gryffindor common room where only Gryffindor students are allowed. The password this time is 'sola libertas' (solitary freedom). It was exciting like having a secret place nobody else was allowed into except Sirius and his many other Gryffindor brethren.

"Your dorm rooms would have already been assigned to you and your luggage, moved accordingly," the prefect begins telling the first years as the older students head to their respective dorms, already assigned to them in their first year. Sirius can't help but feel slightly anxious at the idea that he may have to depart from his already close group of friends. Looking around, Peter, Remus and James appear to share the same sentiment; at least he wasn't alone in that regard, "these shall be your dorm room assignments for your entire education at Hogwarts. The boys' dormitories are on the left, up the staircase and down, the girls are the same but on the right," Sirius would have eagerly taken in the aesthetics of his new house's common room if he wasn't so anxious about who he would be sharing a dorm with for his entire seven years at Hogwarts. Rushing up the left staircase and down another set, he quickly finds the dormitories and goes searching for where his belongings should be, however, there wasn't any need to. On a few of the dorm room doors were a piece of paper that listed the new students that were to occupy the space. The dorms that didn't have a piece of paper attached presumably belonged to the older students who were already settled in.

Sirius scans the first door but doesn't find his name or any of the others. The second door, however, made him grin brightly. Looking over his shoulder, he attempts to turn and call out to his three new friends but is met with their curious expressions and already-approaching figures.

Catching sight of Sirius' grin, James breaks out into a light sprint, matching Sirius' grin with one of his own, "are we all sharing a dorm then?"

"You bet we are!" With a cheer, the two raise their arms to drape across one another's shoulders before facing Peter and Remus together. As soon as the remaining two heard the good news, all of them were eager to step inside and begin unpacking.

Entering the rather generous space, they find that their sleeping arrangements have already been chosen for them with their trunks placed at the foot of their beds. Everyone had a single bed to their name, a desk area, a full-length mirror, a wardrobe, a bedside table and a tall, standing lamp at their other bedside. One side of the dorm had tall windows to let in some natural light but it seemed as though a majority of their lighting would be coming from the lamps or candelabras littered about the room. At the centre of the space was a freestanding, cast iron fire heater to keep everybody warm on cold days. Most of the room was left sparse for them to decorate as they wished, there were even some empty plant pots available for those with green thumb hobbies. Or maybe it was in anticipation of a future herbology project? Nevertheless, the space was cosy and Sirius immediately felt at home as he began to unpack his things with the rest of the boys, occasionally joining in idle conversation to pass the silence.

James brought up the question of what everyone would like to do for the rest of tonight, other than unpacking. Remus was happy to just sit and read before bed, Peter simply shrugged his shoulders, already appearing exhausted by the day's events. It was up to James and Sirius to commence a game of exploding snap.

2nd September 1971

You've already sent off Sirius' letter, congratulating him on a job well done for his first day, you've even included a little gift to commemorate his sorting into Gryffindor. Thankfully, you thought to arrange everything in advance or else you wouldn't have gotten it to him on time – the prototype stage was very tedious but incredibly worth it. You only hope Sirius sees your effort and wears it religiously or else all that work would have been for nothing.

It was lonely to be in the house without him but you and Regulus are managing, it helped a lot that you still had your youngest with you — he was so incredibly precious and sweet; he almost managed to sweep your mind clear of Sirius at some points. Your developed routine didn't change much, once Regulus was in his appointed tutoring session with Peony, you went about your errands, sometimes, it required getting out of the house so you needed to be careful with your timing. You weren't comfortable knowing that, if you were late, Peony would be gone and Regulus would be home alone with his wretched father.

Over time, your sudden change of heart has had an adverse effect on Orion, who wasn't very good at hiding his anger regardless of how much he tried to suppress it. His mounting outrage was set to explode soon enough so you weren't surprised to hear his raging voice booming through number 12 Grimmauld Place, shaking the tenuous walls with his ferocity.

It didn't take a genius to foresee such an outburst and, because you knew about Sirius' sorting beforehand, you easily remained composed in the heat of Orion's violent rage. The sounds that came from his home office were unmistakably the destruction of a vase following the overturning of furniture, as well as the breakage of other miscellaneous things. You couldn't tell the extent seeing as you remained as far away from his office as much as possible, the way one would avoid a radioactive area. Orion himself was made of pure radiation.

Soon enough, Orion's seething figure barrelled out of his office with a force that had the door slamming against the wall. Stepping through, his imposing silhouette was ablaze with dark flames that were rooted to his sizeable, shaking shoulders. He didn't seem satisfied with the rampage he had in his room and immediately went to throw about the hallway furnishings as well. What a baby... (Eye roll).

Regulus should be in the home library reading up on material Peony asked him to review, a diligent and bright student, your perfect baby boy. However, when you turn in the library's direction, you see Regulus peeking out with the most horrified expression you've ever seen. It breaks your heart and quickly make your way over to him, ignoring your pathetic excuse for a husband.

"I'm sorry about your father, dear," you whisper as soon as you get to his side.

"M-mother—" his stutter comes to a stop when he sees you shake your head and observes your soft expression. You've been able to sense his thoughts a lot more clearly, always attentive to his needs and wants, like a good mother should. You assume he was feeling at fault for his father's rage when he couldn't be further from the truth.

Just in case, you reiterate the fact to him, "It's not your fault, sweetheart," bringing him into an embrace, you give his shaking figure an assuring squeeze while you press a kiss to his temple, "Let's go to your room, okay? Ignore your father," you didn't wait for an answer and whispered a 'muffliato' charm around his ears. Rather than hearing his pathetic father's rage, he is accompanied by you and a slight buzzing sound whilst traversing the hallway from the library to his bedroom.

You don't immediately release the muffliato charm from Regulus' ears. The first priority was getting him into bed, nice and cosy, the next was soundproofing the room with the imperturbable charm and ensuring that the door was locked, just in case Orion wanted to invade Regulus' space too. As an additional measure, you call for Kreacher and ask him to warn you if Orion ever sets his eyes on Regulus' bedroom, to which the house elf immediately obliges. With everything set, you finally lift the muffliato charm from Regulus.

"What's father upset about, Mother?" Regulus curls in on himself beneath the covers, tucking his chin over his knees as his arms wrap around his covered shins. The sight makes your heart clench painfully. He looked so scared and small, he didn't look like your bright and shining boy anymore... Orion that prick!

"Your father received news of Sirius' house sorting," the dreaded look that crosses Regulus' face saddens you further. You do your best to calm him down by sitting at his bedside and combing your fingers through his hair. "Your father isn't setting the best example by throwing a tantrum over something so trivial," the comment was your attempt at distracting Regulus from the situation, "don't worry about him, okay? He's only being a big baby for throwing such a fuss,"

"H-he can't do anything to Sirius though..." Regulus responds, his mind far too occupied with worry for his older brother, "he's all the way in Hogwarts, Father won't be able to get to him," your youngest's pleading eyes blink up at you for confirmation, seeking comfort. His only comfort is the knowledge of his brother's safety.

"No, he can't," Regulus relaxes ever so slightly as you press another kiss onto the crown of his head, "Not to worry, my dear, everything will be okay," with some gentle prodding, you manage to get Regulus into your lap where you lock him in a comforting embrace and begin to hum a random but soft tune. Your pathetic excuse of a husband should know better than this, he's being such a sensitive little prick. No wonder Sirius had such issues with his anger before you got here. It was all Orion's influence... and probably the original Walburga too.

"What a bad influence he is..." you mutter absentmindedly, the bitterness in your expression tangible.

"You're not talking about Sirius are you?!" Regulus looks up in alarm, pushing against you so he can stare into your eyes and seems to want to pull away completely.

"Of course not," you reassure in a hurry, wanting to curse yourself for being so loose-lipped. He's still pulled away slightly and you thought it best to allow him to return to your embrace in his own time, "I was talking about your father," Regulus watches with observant eyes as you shake your head disapprovingly and tut, "even though Sirius has been angry for a long time, he's gotten much better with managing his emotions, don't you think?" Regulus nods and slowly begins to fold into your arms again, "I bet you that Sirius would respond much better to bad news than your father,"

"...what happened mother?..."

With the happiest smile, you whisper the news against your youngest's soft, inky locks, "Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor,"

Regulus pulls away in shock but his eyes are sparkling with wonder, "really?!"

"Really,"

"That makes him the first one ever in our family,"

Nodding enthusiastically, the both of you share a smile, "yes it does, aren't you proud of your big brother?" you ask with a giggle. Naturally happy for Sirius, Regulus nods without missing a beat.

"You're proud of him too, mother?" you almost miss Regulus' concerned tone due to your own excitement.

"Always," you hold him close and squeeze him once more, "I'll always be proud of my beautiful sons. Seeing the two of you grow into your personalities and into men will always be cause for celebration," Regulus wraps his arms around your shoulders and presses his face into the base of your neck, inhaling the new fragrance against your skin — his mother never used to wear such gentle fragrances, Regulus doesn't believe his mother ever used to wear fragrance at all but having such a pretty and pleasant scent to associate you with after your change of heart makes him so happy.

"You won't be mad if I'm sorted into a different house like Sirius, right?"

"Never." you were resolute and felt the smile curling Regulus' lips against your skin.

"Not even if I'm in Gryffindor too?"

His cheekiness makes you laugh freely, "It'll be tough being outnumbered by two Gryffindors but even then... even then, I'll be so proud and so happy for both of you,"

Your moment is broken by the sudden appearance of Kreacher who warns you of Orion's approaching figure, as promised. The warning has you jumping to your feet and tucking Regulus back into bed. His small hand reaches for your own and you easily weave your fingers together for comfort.

BANG!

For the man to have the audacity to kick at Regulus' door makes your blood boil. Living in such a magical world, you know that the door wouldn't stay locked forever so you step over to block Regulus' view of Orion, subsequently hiding Regulus and keeping him from the danger that was his father's irate gaze.

"LOCKING DOORS IN MY HOUSE?!"

"Get out, Orion," you order plainly and with an unamused expression.

"WHAT?!"

"Regulus and I have every right to lock our doors if we don't want your company, especially when it's so unpleasant. Now, get out,"

Ignoring your words, Orion steps to the side and makes direct eye contact with Regulus, who begins to shake. His small hand clenched around your fingers with such force that your circulation gets obstructed but you pay it no mind – whatever he needs to feel safe in that moment.

"If you don't go to Slytherin, you're going to be as big of a disappointment as your no-good brother!"

"Orion!" you shout in disbelief, too shocked at the asshole's audacity to do much else.

"You shan't go anywhere else! I'll throw you into the vault for an entire month otherwise! And then you're gone from this family! DO YOU HEAR ME?! LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M SPEAKING TO YOU REGULUS!"

Rushing forward, you push Orion back with such force, that he almost makes it out of the door. And before he can protest, you continue pushing him until he is out in the hallway. If it wasn't for Regulus being there, you would have clobbered him the good 'muggle' way but you had to set a good example for Regulus and managed to repress your emotions until the bedroom door was closed. Finally, you and Orion were alone in the hallway.

"Walburga you—!"

"Calm yourself, Orion! You're frightening Regulus and you're frightening me! Stop it this instant!" Orion looks at you with utter disbelief, his eyes, still ablaze with anger, gradually mixed with swirling pools of shock and perplexity. The woman who stands before him is not the wife he married and disciplined his sons with.

"Have you not read the letters?!" Orion tries to put logic behind your actions, his befuddlement completely disorienting him — thankfully, he's managed to lower his voice, somewhat.

"Of course I have!" you hiss, lying through your teeth. The night of Sirius' first day, the letters already started to pour in but you hadn't opened a single one, already knowledgeable of the news you were going to receive from them. With a dramatic huff, Orion crosses his arms and looks at you with an expression of 'well?', silently asking you to explain yourself but instead, you're turning away completely. "I'll be right back," I have something more important to address right now.

"Walb—!" you pay the bastard no attention and re-enter Regulus' room. On his bed, you find your youngest shaking in fear and with the most distraught expression you've ever seen him wear. His appearance peaking out from the library couldn't match the astronomical distress he was now experiencing.

Regulus is definitely more important right now...

"Don't worry, my darling," you whisper, embracing him as soon as you seat yourself at his bedside once more, "let mommy handle him. You're going to be alright, I promise. I won't ever let him harm you or your brother," kissing his forehead, you call for Kreacher once more and request that he keep Regulus company while you have a talk with Orion.

"Kreacher will be happy to stand by the young master Regulus," in your peripheral, you see the two share a small smile with Regulus's coming out much more hesitant and shaky. He's such a sweet, brave boy it makes your heart swell with pride but also ache with remorse that he's having to be like this at such a young age.

"I'll be right back, dear," you make sure to give him another kiss on the forehead before leaving. In your periphery, you glimpse Kreacher reaching out to take his young master's hand.

"How dare you speak to my son that way!" you finally burst with rage, pointing an accusatory finger at Orion and poking into his chest with your nail repeatedly, "Threatening him is not the right way to raise him! Leave Regulus out of this! I can't believe you're throwing such a huge tantrum over a school house! You aren't setting a good example! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Orion, despite his bafflement, is quick to talk back with just as much bite and snark, "What in the world are you talking about?! Are you telling me that you're willing to accept that our son was sorted into Gryffindor?!" Orion is shocked at his wife's hypocrisy. There was a mounting urge within him to confront her new attitude, however, the matter of Sirius' sorting was much more urgent for the time being.

"It's a Hogwarts house, Orion, it's not the end of the world," his jaw hits the floor but you simply roll your eyes at him, "Our blood running through his veins is enough. Knowing that he's our son is enough. He should be free to live in the house the sorting hat puts him into — and you should be happy, being sorted into Gryffindor means that Sirius is brave and chivalrous, both are amazing qualities for our son to have!"

"It also means that he'll be spending most of his time around blood traitors and mudbloods who will surely corrupt his mind!" you try not to outwardly cringe at his use of such derogatory terms, and in such a spiteful tone too. This man is so full of hate and menace – it isn't safe to have him around your sons. "I'm making a trip to Hogwarts tomorrow! Whether you accompany me or not will be your choice! I'm sending the letter to Hogwarts tonight!"

He storms back to his office without allowing you the chance to retort or offer your opinion on the decision. His blatant disregard of you and Regulus makes you bristle with rage, you feel like a cat who tensed up in warning. If he bothers you again for the rest of the day, you'll drop-kick his sorry ass. Thankfully, a few deep breaths were good for placating your annoyance — besides, this occasion gave you the perfect opportunity.

"Kreacher," you call in a calm voice. In a heartbeat, your dedicated house elf stands before you, willing to obey. The smile you wear is a complete contrast to what you ask of him and you almost have to keep yourself from snorting in amusement when his eyes make to pop out of their sockets from shock.

"M-mistress be wantin' a s-s-separate room?"

"Yes, Kreacher," it was plain and simple, "Please transfer all my belongings as well. I won't be able to stand sleeping next to such an idiotic husband," Kreacher flinches at the insult as if it was directed at him personally. The wrinkled house elf has never seen the proud patriarch and matriarch of the Black house argue to the point of demanding separate rooms. It was already such an insult for the Mistress to request a sleeping elsewhere that it was almost unnecessary to call the Master an 'idiot' after that point. "But before that, would you mind clearing up Orion's mess in the hall? — Not his office, however, he can clean that disaster up himself,"

"It be best if Kreacher transfers Mistress' room first t-to avoid Master Orion's wrath..." Kreacher only realises what he's said after he'd already spoken the words. He couldn't believe he had felt comfortable enough—impudent enough to suggest doing the tasks differently to how his mistress directed, it goes against how house elves should behave! Before you can react, Kreacher drops to the floor and grovels at your feet incoherently. You're only able to make out the words 'sorry', 'bad elf' and 'punishment' before Kreacher crawls to the hallway bannister and begins aggressively hitting his head against the railing. The awful sound of his head making contact with the bannister makes you gasp and rush forward to stop him, hauling him back by his small shoulders.

"Kreacher stop that!" you plead, worried eyes falling over his forehead as your hand goes up to gently trace the area, "Goodness, there's no need to punish yourself for making a helpful suggestion, Kreacher," you release a breath of relief when you hardly see any lasting damage. Thankfully he was built tougher than steel. Kreacher continues to look at you with widened eyes and parted lips. First, it was his Master Regulus being kind to a lowly elf like himself, and now, it was his Mistress. He's such a blessed elf, he can't help but feel joy from being given such kindness so freely, "I was going to say that it's a good idea and you should do it in the order you feel is best. But now I demand that you rest for an hour, at least, I'll get you some dittany to put on your bump,"

"K-Kreacher will do it, Mistress! Mistress is already being too kind to this unworthy house elf,"

"Unworthy?" you arch a brow and kneel before the elf with a frown, "Kreacher, you have served me and my family well for many years. Regulus thinks of you as his friend and you've been getting along well with Sirius too. You even put up with my idiotic husband," you offer a gentle smile, "even if you weren't those things, everyone deserves rest and to be treated with care when they are hurt. It'll only take a moment, I'm not angry at you—" you move to stand back up and make your way to the potions cupboard downstairs but Kreacher is already shaking his head in protest.

"Mistress is too kind, Kreacher will do it!" he states firmly and disappears with a snap of his fingers. For a moment, he looked a little taller and not so gloomy. The image makes you smile slightly before sighing in defeat — what a stubborn elf you have.

You have Regulus in your arms once again, the two of you sat atop his bed and against the headboard. Thankfully, Orion hasn't been as disruptive after isolating himself in his office and you were able to lift the imperturbable charm from the door.

"You've got nothing to worry about, my love," combing your fingers through your youngest's dark curls, you whisper the assurance into the air. You've notified him of what Orion plans to do the next day and he immediately freezed up again. It was a reaction you anticipated and wished you didn't have to deliver the news at the foresight, but it was always better to be honest. And you're sure you wouldn't be able to hide the news for long, seeing as his father would be taking action by early morning, tomorrow. "Nothing bad will happen to Sirius, I'll make sure of it,"

Regulus still has his face pressed up against the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he clings to your figure for dear life. His worry was evident and, although it was saddening to see, your heart soared knowing of the close bond the brothers had. You won't allow them to have such a horrible falling out in the future, knowing that they care for each other so deeply, "Sirius is so lucky to have such a caring and thoughtful younger brother like you," Regulus sniffles and pulls away to look at you with glassy eyes, his lip slightly wobbly. He feels guilty for basking in your praise and feeling so happy by it when Sirius was in danger. Gently swiping your thumb under his eye, you whisper an alliance, "Let's promise to protect Sirius together tomorrow, okay?"

"We're going to see him?" Regulus couldn't believe his ears. Hope began to wrap around his heart. The feeling was and allowed him to smile once more, blinking away his tears as he did so.

"Your father insists on it,"

"I thought it was only father going,"

You shake your head and smirk deviously, "we're going too~"

For a moment, Regulus really thought Sirius was going to be harmed by their father but, knowing that you plan on accompanying him, was a comfort. And you planned on taking him with you too! Regulus doesn't know what he'd be capable of doing when it came to protecting his older brother but he had full confidence knowing that you would be there with him. The two of you share a smile — a silent union with the same purpose.

"What would you like me to read to you tonight?" you ask ever so softly, a gentle way of diverting the subject matter for the sake of Regulus' bedtime.

"The Wind in the Willows," Regulus immediately answers. It was an enchanting tale and nothing like the stories from 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Muggles were really creative and, although it was bizarre trying to imagine forest creatures living a lot like how humans live, it was enchanting. Regulus was grateful that you were willing to read him books written by muggles — he wouldn't have known how wonderful their stories were, otherwise.

"You really like that story don't you?" you joke, already accio-ing the book into your hands. It was one of your favourites growing up too and you always dreamed of reading it to your future children. Now that you had Regulus and Sirius for sons, they weren't about to be the exception.

Regulus flushes a soft pink beneath his adorable freckles, "it's just so charming,"

Kissing his temple, you smile and open the book to the first chapter, "I understand, darling, you have amazing taste," he looks away when you send him a wink before finally beginning his favourite storybook. 

2nd September 1971

Breakfast was just as grand of an affair as the previous night’s extravagant first dinner. Again, the food didn’t have as much loving care put into it nor were its tastes carefully curated for his palette, unlike his mother’s home cooking. However, Sirius was still managing to satiate himself with second helpings. Some students were still dressed in their pyjamas for breakfast, which made perfect sense, considering breakfast was from 7:30 to 8:50 in the morning – getting their stomachs filled was far more important than getting dressed earlier than necessary.

“Have you guys tried the pancakes?” Peter raved through a half-eaten mouthful of said pancakes.

“Oh yeah!” James responds, also with a half-eaten mouthful of pancakes. Remus manages a weak laugh at their display, clearly not a morning person as he sips his tea and slowly butters his toast before reaching for the jam. Sirius and the boys, like many other students, were still dressed in their pyjamas from the night before. Morning announcements were relayed to them by their respective house ghosts, who made brief introductions the night before, after dinner and on the way to their common rooms. It was a good thing too, because Sir Nicholas –the ghost for Gryffindor House– had the horrible habit of showcasing his near-headless-ness as if he was tipping a hat in greeting. It was a fascinating sight but not when everyone was enjoying their meal.

“First years are to spend the first half of today with prefects touring the castle,” the ghostly Nicholas announces, thankfully having the decency to repress his usual urge of tipping his head.

“Thank you, Sir Nicholas,” Remus smiles politely over the rim of his tea cup. The ghost nods in acknowledgement before proceeding to the other first years further down the table.

Breakfast continued with the usual chatter between mouthfuls until a slew of hoots permeated the air and owls swooped through with a flourish. Some delivered newspapers to the teachers at the staff table, but groups carried a stack of parchment to the head of each house table before dispersing. Groups of prefects sorted through their respective house stacks, grabbing piles of each and proceeding to hand them over to the other students. For the names they didn’t seem to recognise, the prefects carefully shouted them out and asked for a raised hand. In due time, the boys received their timetables. First-years were told that today was the only exception to the schedule as they were going to receive a tour of the castle from the prefects, who were being overseen by the head boy and head girl. There were excited whispers between those who were especially eager, about doing their best with the tours so that they may be able to become next year’s head boy or girl.

From all the activity, it seemed that most people were finally beginning to blink away the sleep from their eyes and gain some alertness for the day. Sirius thought most of the activity was done with, however, already loading up his plate for his third helping when another hoot sliced through the air. It was Owletta, Sirius’ owl. When everyone looked up, they saw the elegant barn owl swoop down and gracefully deliver Sirius’ letter along with a small, neatly wrapped box. She was gone as quickly as she had entered, all in a looping ribbon of gold and white feathers.

“A letter already?” James asks, the surprise evident in his wide-eyed and jaw-dropped expression, “It looks like you got a gift too, I’m kinda jealous,” he teases as whispers erupt from the Slytherin table.

Sirius turns his chin over his shoulder, curious about the whispers and immediately meets the smirking gaze of his elder cousin, Bellatrix Black. She’s openly snickering at him and doesn’t break away from his stare. Her eyes are dark and challenging, daring him to open his letter and see what’s inside, eliciting a feeling of dread from deep in Sirius’ stomach. The panic and fear and unease had been building since the previous night’s sorting ceremony. It never seemed to calm despite Sirius’ countless efforts to ignore it. He stares down at his letter and the small gift beside it, both vibrating in his hold, appearing to build towards their timely detonation. But they weren’t going to explode… Sirius realised it was because of his own hands shaking.

Surely his mother was disappointed in him, right? That was what the letter would say…but why a gift?

“Aren’t you going to open them?” Remus prompts as the two other boys look on with piqued interest, Peter disregarding his plate to do so.

Sirius does not answer as he continues to observe his postal deliveries. The letter doesn’t appear to be a howler. Instead of the screaming letters’ signature red envelope, his letter was in a simple off-white envelope — a normal letter. His gift was decorated in matte-black wrapping paper. It was wrapped in such a way that the folds crossed over each other in neat and crisp lines, creating a design that was immediately recognised by James.

“That looks like the gifts I got wrapped when buying stuff in Japan on a family holiday,” James alerts with interest, “but it never came with a plant,”

Sirius pulls out the arrow-shaped plant with it’s stems tucked in the crisp folds. It had many small leaves and a slightly bumpy stem, “what plant is this?”

“It looks like a fern to me,” Remus inputs helpfully.

“I see…” Sirius finds himself staring down at his letter and gift once more. He’s stalling.

“It feels too pretty and neat to unwrap, doesn’t it?” James asks from experience, remembering how he didn’t have the heart to undo the artistry put into wrapping the gift, “I felt that way too but you’ll be missing out on your gift mate. Open it,”

“Yeah! It must be special since you’re getting it so early,” Peter adds, eagerly leaning forward to closely observe what Sirius may unravel. Steeling his nerves, Sirius forces his hands to stop shaking before proceeding to carefully unfold the carefully wrapped gift, on the table the delicate sprig of fern it came with.

Unwrapping the black paper revealed a small, sturdy box that looked as if it held precious jewellery. After a brief moment of pondering what may be inside, Sirius finally lifted the lid and revealed a beautiful red pin, shaped like a shield with gold accents sitting on a black velvet cushion. The metal pin was decorated with a gold, standing lion in the middle. It was a sleek and minimalist design that begged to be picked up and put on. Turning the pin over in his palm, Sirius gasps at the message engraved on the back, his heart racing in his chest as he fights off a beaming smile and the flood of tears threatening to streak down his cheeks in rivers.

‘A Shield To Protect My Brave, Daring And Noble Son’

Above the quote was his name in beautiful cursive and below the quote, in the same elegant handwriting read: ‘Love, Mother’.

Others who observe his state, look on in concern, not knowing what’s happened as Sirius curls in on himself and clutches the pin to his chest with both hands. Worried for their new friend, James, Remus and Peter look at each other with worry. It was Remus who was the first to react, however. The brunette brings up a hand to softly pat Sirius on the back, being the one closest to him in the seating arrangement.

“Did it say something bad?” Peter gently brings up, frightened at the prospect of upsetting his emotional friend by bringing up the subject.

“I don’t think so,” Remus observes and responds in a whisper.

James keeps his focus directly on Sirius, frowning deeply at the sight of his friend’s suddenly much smaller frame, “What’s wrong, Siri?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong…” Sirius manages to smile up at them, blinking away the tears and biting his lip in a vain attempt to suppress his beaming smile. Finally seeing his smiling face, his three friends breathed a synchronised sigh of relief.

“Don’t scare us like that, mate,” James laughs weakly and claps him on the shoulder, “we thought something horrible happened,”

Sirius only shakes his head before looking upon his still unopened letter. He thinks he can finally have the courage to open it now. The handwriting belongs to his mother so, with the knowledge that the pin was a gift for his sorting, Sirius concludes that the letter’s contents can only bode the same congratulatory message… right?

When Sirius finally unfolds the letter and reads its contents he begins to cry silently. His vision gets blurred by the river of tears falling from his wide, disbelieving eyes and he has to rapidly blink them away to try and read his letter intelligibly; he has to know that the words on the letter paper are real and that it isn’t an illusion his mind conjured up to cope with the thought of losing his newly loving mother’s affections. Growing concerned, James and Peter cross the table to stand behind Sirius and look over his shaking shoulders to read what the letter says along with Remus.

‘My dearest son, Sirius,’ 

The letter opened, the tone already loving and so so proud.

‘I have received the wonderful news of your sorting and to say that it brings me such great joy would be an understatement. My beautiful son, sorted into the house of lions, brave and courageous — today, I am given the blessing of being an even prouder mother than I already stand.’

Sirius chokes back a sob and ends up releasing a strangled laugh instead. He could never have anticipated such a letter from his mother. Ever. To read the words on the elegantly decorated parchment felt surreal.

‘In celebration, I have prepared a gift for you. I hope it gives you protection and good fortune. Please wear it with pride, the same way I will happily announce to the world that you are my son and the first son in the Black family to be sorted into Gryffindor house. How special you are! And how lucky I am to be the mother of such a noble and brave son.’

The words make Sirius’ heart clench in an almost painful joy as his chest swells with pride and relief. For a moment, he goes about attaching his pin to his robes but finds that his hands are too shaky and his vision too blurred to be able to do it properly or safely. Disregarding the task altogether, he returns to reading his letter with a defeated laugh.

‘I wish I was there to see you sorted personally. Although, I’m afraid I would have embarrassed you in front of your new friends if that were the case, for I would have been the loudest to cheer in the entire hall,’

Remus, James and Peter chuckle from behind him and over his shoulder when they read about your suspected reaction.

“That would’ve been a sight,” Remus comments with a suppressed chuckle.

“The thing is… I think my mum would have been the exact same,” James adds with a lopsided smirk, showcasing his singular, asymmetrical dimple.

“Y-your mum sounds so different to the rumours…“ Peter whispers almost too silently, making Sirius’ breath hitch. He’s so glad for his mother’s change in demeanour, he can hardly remember the last time she scowled in disappointment or disgust at him — he doesn’t care much for trying to remember such a sight however; his mother’s loving smile is so much more suited to her face and so much easier to remember.

‘Regulus is just as thrilled at the result of your sorting. The both of us are current rivals in the feelings of pride and joy over your destined house. I believe that he’s become especially eager to join you in Gryffindor one day.’

Sirius chuckles at the prospect, laughing through the tears as he imagines his younger brother, soft-hearted and demure but witty and sharp as a knife in, both, knowledge and humour, sorted into Gryffindor. If Regulus were to be sorted in the same house as him, Sirius would happily accept the result with open arms. He loved his brother so much that being able to spend time with him at Hogwarts, in the same house, breathed promises of the most fun times and precious memories he could ever experience.

‘If that were to come true, I’m afraid I’d have my hands full being completely outnumbered by two Gryffindors in the house. You’ll have to excuse this mother’s inexperience but I’ll be happy all the same, so it can’t be too bad of an outcome, can it?’

The good humour makes Sirius giggle to himself, overcome with a dopey enchantment he just can’t seem to shake. His tears have dried up and left behind were a pair of rosy cheeks, glittering silver eyes and a beaming grin. His friends share in his happiness, the loving and prideful words on the paper seeping beneath their skin and influencing their moods as well.

‘Without any further embellishments, all I want you to know, my darling son, is that I am proud of you. And so incredibly happy too. You were always very daring and valiant, you had the heart of a lion without even knowing it. It was an unexpected sorting but I can’t say that I’m too surprised. A mother just knows these things. You are where you belong, I only hope that they treat you well there and that you continue being as audacious and fearless as you’ve always been. I love you, Sirius, please never forget that. Love, Mother’

Sirius tucks the letter back into its envelope sleeve before placing it in the breast pocket of his pyjamas, along with the custom pin, carefully stored back in its cushioned box. He will treasure these two simple items forever. He didn’t believe happiness like this could have ever existed but here he was, experiencing it first-hand. It almost felt too good to be true but when he reads it over and over again as soon as he returns to his dorm room to change into his school robes for the day, the realness of the letter and the gift are reinforced over and over.

“I forgot you’re in a family full of Slytherins,” James comments absentmindedly as he throws on his robes without much care for their alignment. Sirius mirrors the action, the lack of care for his appearance is new but freeing and he enjoys it, guilt-free. “I bet you’re relieved to receive a letter like that, considering what most of your family were sorted into,” Peter is nodding along in the background, flashing Sirius a moderate smile, still finding it hard to act freely in most interactions — it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with some valuable time spent together.

Remus perks up and eyes Sirius with sympathy, “That is a relief then…your mother seems to really love you though,” Sirius nods in confirmation, elated that he can share things about his mother happily like this. It no longer feels right to complain about home negativities nor did he feel as though he could openly disgrace his mother’s name.

He’s spoiled by happiness and love, now, even if it was only for a short period of time. And he’s slowly growing a greed for it. Sirius wants to keep making you happy and knowing that all he has to do is be himself, like he was at the sorting ceremony, allows a grin to spread over his lips in pure joy.

He cannot wait to receive your next letter…

NEXT. | 06 : POTIONEER → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : what a long chapter that was, but very appropriate for my official come back eh? how was it for you darlings? are you excited? I'm sorry about what happened to reggie and what may happen to sirius but we're going to be there for them so don't worry too much, this is a fix-it-fic after all! hehe~ i hope you're excited for what'll happen next because i certainly am! there's so much i still have planned so i don't think there'll be many slow chapters in the future, I'm just a little worried about my execution -- nevertheless, i'll do my best! 

lastly, thank you, everyone, for your support of this series so far! it means so much to me to know that this is being received so well and that more people than i originally thought are enjoying the plot. i was originally going to write a simple imagine/timestamp of this and just leave it at that, but I'm happy my friends encouraged me to turn it into a series. thank you again, my darlings! see you in the next chapter! 

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[hpdabbles]

DADA Professor: Mr. Black, do you remember the spell to defeat a Boggart? Regulus: Yes, it's Riddikulus. DADA Professor: Very good. Okay, step up and face your Baggoart. Barty: I bet his worst fear will be something stupid, like taxes on the rich. Evan: I bet it's his mother telling him she married him off. Baggart: *Shapeshifts into Orion* Son, I have to sell Kreacher- Regulus: YOU CAN'T SELL ANYONE IF YOU'RE DEAD, OLD MAN. FIENDFYRE! Students: *screams* DADA Professor: Mr. Black! Stop! It's not real! Regulus: I'LL KILL EVERYONE IN THIS HOUSEHOLD BEFORE I LET YOU LAY ONE FINGER ON KREACHER! I WILL BURN YOU LIKE THE WITCHES BEFORE US! DADA Professor: MR. BLACK! Barty: Ohhhhh, so that's the Black madness. It manifested in a way I was not expecting. Evan: Are...are we going to die? Barty: Probably, but we lived a good life. Evan: We're thirteen! Barty: Which is a good number to stop at! It's associated with a lot of magical properties!:D

[bradleysass]

sunrise - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 1k

“Hey, Weggie, wake up!”

A small hand shook his shoulder insistently. Regulus groaned softly, curling deeper into the warmth of his blankets. But Sirius was nothing if not persistent, and the shaking grew stronger.

“Reg… come on.”

Regulus blinked his sleepy grey eyes open. The dim pre-dawn light filtered weakly through the curtains. He rubbed his face, frowning a little. “Siri…?”

But Sirius wasn’t waiting. At the crisp age of five, Sirius Black was already a force of nature. He was tugging insistently at Regulus’s arm, practically hauling him out of bed.

“Gotta show you somethin’.”

Regulus stumbled forward, the soft weight of his favorite blanket still clinging around his shoulders like a cape. He didn’t protest; he was too tired, his body too pliant in his brother’s grip.

They made their way up the creaky stairs, the old house groaning around them as if warning them to get back in bed. But Sirius was undeterred. He stopped at the attic door, looked over his shoulder with a conspiratorial glance, then pushed it open.

“Kreacher didn’t see,” he whispered triumphantly. “Mum and Dad are still asleep.”

Regulus nodded sleepily, trusting his brother implicitly as Sirius opened the trapdoor leading up to the roof. The ladder extended with a faint metallic groan. Sirius scrambled up first, peeking around as if expecting the night itself to catch them.

“C’mon, Weggie,” he whispered again, reaching down.

Regulus hesitated, but Sirius’s hand was waiting, warm and certain. He let himself be pulled up onto the cold shingles. His small feet padded after Sirius as they settled near the ridge.

The world felt… enormous up here. Above the dark tangle of trees in the garden, above the wrought iron fences, above even the grim weight of Grimmauld Place.

“Siri…” Regulus started, still drowsy, still unsure why they were here.

“Look.”

And Sirius pointed.

Regulus followed his gaze—and froze.

The sky was bleeding into color. Gold spilled like melted treasure across the horizon, streaking into pinks and purples, burning away the heavy blue of night. Wisps of clouds shimmered like brushed cotton, their edges glowing. The sun hadn’t quite crested the rooftops yet, but its arrival was undeniable, bold and beautiful.

Regulus’s mouth parted softly. “Oh…”

Sirius grinned beside him, proud. “Told you. Magic, huh?”

Regulus nodded wordlessly, leaning his head against Sirius’s shoulder, blanket still wrapped tight around him.

For a moment, neither spoke. Just two small boys on a rooftop, watching the world wake up before anyone else could claim it.

“Promise me somethin’,” Sirius said suddenly, voice low.

Regulus blinked up at him. “What?”

“When we’re big,” Sirius said, “we’ll go find better places to watch the sun come up. Far away from here.”

Regulus was quiet for a beat, considering it. Then he smiled softly, sleepily.

“Okay.”

-

The sky was still dark when Regulus stirred awake, the faint rustling of sheets beside him pulling him from sleep.

“James?” he murmured, voice hoarse from the night.

James turned, silhouetted in the faint glow of the streetlamp outside their window. His hair was a wild mess, sticking up in every direction. “Didn’t mean to wake you, love.” He smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to Regulus’s temple. “C’mon. I wanna show you something.”

Regulus groaned, dragging the covers tighter around himself. “It’s so early…”

“I know.” James’s grin widened, coaxing now. “But trust me. You’ll like this.”

Regulus sighed—he always sighed when James got that particular glint in his eye—and, grumbling under his breath, allowed himself to be tugged out of bed.

James handed him a hoodie and socks, already pulling on his own jumper over a faded Gryffindor tee. Together, they climbed the narrow staircase of their little flat, up to the rooftop.

The air was chilly up here, brisk with early spring’s bite, but James slung an arm around Regulus’s shoulders, warm and solid.

“Look.”

And Regulus did.

The city stretched beneath them, quiet and still in the pre-dawn hush. Lights flickered in distant windows. A cat darted across a rooftop. And above it all—the sky began to bloom.

First a shy pink, then a cascade of soft gold, bleeding into lavender and deep coral. The clouds caught the colors like watercolor paper, diffusing and stretching them wide across the horizon.

James watched it unfold, awed every time, as if he hadn’t dragged Regulus up here for the same sight a dozen times before. “Beautiful, right?” he whispered.

Regulus didn’t answer at first. Something had lodged in his throat—a memory rising, unbidden, from the depths of him.

“Look!” Sirius’s voice, gleeful and proud, a lifetime ago. A small hand pointing at the sunrise over Grimmauld Place. The cold shingles beneath him. The warmth of a brother’s shoulder.

He swallowed thickly.

“Yeah,” he murmured at last, leaning into James’s side. “Beautiful.”

James pressed a kiss to his hair, squeezing him closer. “Glad you woke up for it.”

Regulus smiled faintly, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of James’s arm, the solidity of it.

He wasn’t on a grim old rooftop anymore. He wasn’t wrapped in a fraying blanket, staring at the sky beside a boy who would one day leave and never come back.

He was here. With James. Safe. Warm. Loved.

And maybe—maybe in some small way—this was keeping the promise Sirius had once asked of him.

Better places. Better sunrises. Far away from there.

And this time, Regulus whispered it aloud, so softly James almost missed it.

“Thank you for showing me.”

James turned to him, puzzled. “Every time, love.” He paused. “But… what for?”

Regulus only smiled, eyes still fixed on the sky.

“For everything.”

And as the sun crowned the horizon, flooding the world with light, Regulus let the memory settle gently inside him—part of him, always—but no longer heavy.

Because here, in this moment, watching the sunrise beside the man he loved, Regulus Black finally understood what it meant to see the dawn.

And what it meant to keep a promise.

[yasministration]

Wishing you were somehow here again - Remus Lupin

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Phantom of the Opera

summary: you bring remus home to meet your parents, introducing him as your finacé. luckily for you, your parents approve of him, and you take remus out on a stroll in the vast gardens whilst your parents deliberate the wedding details. wc: 3k+ cw: smut, semi-public sex (in a garden, but there is privacy)

“Okay just smile, that’s what my mum wants to see. Plus, you’ve got a very handsome one, so you’ll win some extra points.”

Remus remembered the words you told him last night over dinner as you ran your fingers through his hair to make sure every single strand was in perfect place. He felt as though you were preparing him to meet your mother in that instant, but reminded himself to calm down; he had more than twelve hours.

But now, as he stood in front of the large, wooden double doors of the Black Manor, he felt as though he took those hours for granted, wishing you were somehow here again, with him. Preparing him like a pig for slaughter. Remus swallowed thickly, loosening his grip on the bouquet of blue tulips he held. Your mother’s favourite, according to you. When Remus finally knocked, the doors took less than three seconds to swing open, but instead of being invited inside, you slammed the doors shut behind you as you joined Remus outside.

Remus smiled at you nervously and you returned the smile, taking in his appearance from head to toe. “You look amazing.” You mumbled, quickly pressing yourself on your tippy toes to gently kiss him. Remus grinned; he knew he looked amazing. After all, you had insisted on dragging him to your family’s tailor to get him a fresh new three-piece suit.

“You got me a ring, let me get you this one thing.” You had pleaded, but your eyes warned him that there was no room for argument.

Satisfied, you reached for the door handle behind you, welcoming Remus into the house just in time for your mother to come into view, not a single wrinkle on the long dress she wore. As per usual. “Mother, this is-” “Remus Lupin. Pleased to meet you.” He said with a gracious smile. A smile that seemed so well practiced, just like every pureblood child had mastered. Except his was authentic.

Remus — forgetting his practice — offered your mother his hand for a hand shake but he quickly caught himself when she presented him her hand, palm facing the floor. He shook it awkwardly, bowing his head down before eagerly letting go. He tried hiding the blush on his cheeks by giving her the bouquet of flowers.

Your mother deeply inhaled, her nose snug against the flowers, closing her eyes as she relished in their scent, and sighing deeply. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, hesitating before informing her “He is my fiancé.”

Walburga summoned Kreacher to take the flowers away, and for a long moment she stared at you and Remus with menacing eyes that turned into slits, walking around the pair of you like a predator would to its prey. Finally, she put on an artificial smile, tilting her head to the side with friendliness she couldn’t make look natural even if she tried. She ignored your announcement, fixing her gaze onto the tall man, daring him to look away. “Remus, dear, I have to say, when I heard through the grapevine that you’d been spotted around my daughter, I came rushing to see you perform. So did Orion.” As though at the mention of his name, your father came strolling into the room, his chest puffed up. It didn’t take brains to know that he owned the place; held the power in the family. “That we did!” You father gruffly said, adjusting the lapel of his blazer.

Both you and Remus held your breath.

You approached your fiancé, linking your arm through his, hope fluttering in your chest. Your parents’ opinion on Remus’s performance would be their deciding factor on whether they would allow you to get married. “We thought you were absolutely wonderful.” You didn’t bother hiding the relief on your face, but Remus had more class than you, smiling politely at your parents.

“I’m glad to hear that. Mr. and Mrs. Black, I know it wasn’t very traditional to propose to your daughter without asking first, but I still want your blessing for her hand in marriage. Otherwise, I don’t think we’d be able to go through with it.” Remus looked back at you, and you nodded solemnly; all an act to make your script look convincing enough.

Your father stepped forward, clasping a hand on Remus’s shoulder. You couldn’t read his face, blank and neutral.

Terrifying.

“Remus Lupin,” He started, staring at the taller man directly in his eyes. “Welcome to the family, young man.” Your arms fell by your side in relief and you glanced towards your mother, who was making her way over to hug you. Just like you and Remus had to keep up your act, so did she. It was unusual for her to be affectionate, whether it was for show or now, but you would take it. Turning around to look at Remus, who was just being released from your father’s tight handshake, you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around him in a tight hug, digging your face in the crook of his neck.

Remus’s face flushed brightly and your mother laughed, scolding you softly. “Oh don’t embarrass the poor boy.” You sighed in annoyance at her words, but Remus was quick to get rid of your forming frown by ducking his head down to press his lips against yours softly. “Oh, never mind what I said, he isn’t shy in the least!” Remus kept you close to him even after you parted from each other, a soothing hand on your waist.

“Sweetheart, how about you show Remus around the grounds while your mother and I discuss important matters before dinner?” You nodded obediently, fingers sliding into Remus’s hand, intertwining with his as you dragged him back out the front door and into the enchanted gardens. Walburga huffed at the informal gesture when you turned your back, but Orion chuckled “Oh, let them celebrate. She doesn’t have any suitors or families to impress in her own home.” Walburga spun on her heels, and her husband immediately followed her into the living room to discuss the terms of your engagement.

Not only would the wedding details need sorting, but so would business negotiations. It was about time a theatre was named after the family name in Charing Cross, and that could quickly be arranged as a celebration of the news of your marriage. Besides, some people owed your father a couple of favours.

Outside, Remus cursed quietly as he tripped over the steps in front of the intimidating front doors of the Black Manor. His stress subsided into laughs, reflecting the ones that were flying out of your mouth as you dragged him further down the garden and into the tall hedge maze, where you’d debatably get the most privacy on the entire property. You didn’t stop running for a while, turning sharp angles to drag Remus down a memorised route, practiced steps leading you into the hedge maze’s centre.

Finally, you came to a halt, letting go of Remus’s so you could spin around, throwing your arms over his shoulder to slam your lips onto his. Remus gasped against your lips, hands coming down to rest on your hips. He chuckled quietly, breathing heavily into the kiss. Your hands trailed down until you were cupping Remus’s cheeks, humming into the kiss.

Remus broke the kiss, raising a hand to rest on the side of your neck, thumb caressing your skin softly. “We did it.” He whispered in a celebratory tone, a boy-like giggle ecstatically flying out from between his parted lips. One of your hands lowered to wrap around Remus’s wrist with the hand on your cheek. You pressed yourself on your tippy toes, kissing him softly again.

An unexpected whine broke out of Remus’s chest and you gasped as his fingers gripped your hips tightly, pushing you back until your back hit the edge of a pedestal, the sculpture placed upon it looming over you both. Remus gently sunk his teeth into your bottom lip and you parted your lips for him, opening your mouth slightly to meet his tongue in a passionate dance.

Remus tilted his head to the side so he could deepen the kiss and you cried out as his hands explored your body until they landed on your ass, groping at the flesh eagerly. One of your hands shot out to grip the collar of Remus’s shirt, tugging his body closer to you until it lay flat against yours. You desperately thrust your hips forward, grinding them against Remus’s. Your fiancé separated his lips from your momentarily as a primal groan rumbled in his chest.

“Are women in the Black family also expected to wait until marriage?” You breathed heavily, grinning up at him with a mischievous twinkle in your eye despite his question being sarcastic. “If they are, I’ve already broken that rule.”

Remus chuckled against your lips, a silent question lingering in the air. “So, are you going to touch me or not?” Remus’s breath got caught in his throat as you asked the question, almost unable to believe that the words were stumbling out of your sophisticated mouth. “Yes, I’d love to. I-uhm, I’m just not exactly sure how to.”

An unexpected laugh tumbled out of your mouth and Remus’s eyes widened as he realised what he’d just said. “Not in that sense! Not in-Your dress! Your dress is just so… elaborate.” Indeed, it was. The long layers of your dress went past your feet, so the tip of your heels were barely exposed when you took long, elegant strides.

“I don’t want to ruin it.” He added with a sheepish mumble. You curtseyed slightly, lowering your body down so you could grasp the bottom of the skirt of your dress. Remus stepped back, watching as you pulled the skirt higher and higher, until the lacy top of your stockings were exposed, held up by the garter that lay snug around your waist, underneath the structured torso of your dress. Remus gulped, an arm hooking around your waist to pull you towards the other side of the statue, where you would be hidden if anyone were to take a peek into the entrance of the hedge maze’s courtyard.

You gasped, eyes drawn to Remus’s hands which were quickly working to undo his leather belt. His trousers were quickly falling to his thighs, and you had to fight the urge to reach out to take his boxers off yourself. You gulped thickly, watching as Remus’s cock sprung out of his boxers. Before you could help yourself, your fingers were already wrapping around his length, stroking him teasingly.

Remus’s hips thrust upward at the sudden pleasure, leaning deeply into your touch, nosing at the soft skin of your neck as he inhaled deeply, a guttural moan ripping out of his chest. Remus blindly searched for the hem of your underwear beneath the skirt of your dress you were helplessly holding up for him. His breath was shaky as he pulled your panties down, a loud rip echoing in the space. Remus’s eyes shot open and he was instantly apologising, unaware that his desperation had gotten the best of him, causing him to use more power.

“It’s okay Remus - just - put it in.” You let go of his cock, unconsciously licking your lips at the sight of the beady pearls of cum dribbling down his thick length. “Okay, fuck.” Remus cursed, eyes glued to your pussy, wet with arousal. Your knuckles were white with the tight grip you had on your dress, allowing Remus a full view of your cunt.

As Remus’s tip caught on your entrance, he brought his second hand down to rub unforgiving circles on your clit. As he pushed deeper into you, Remus let go of himself, a hand coming up to rest on the sculpture’s base next to your head. You moaned quietly, sighing in satisfaction as Remus dipped his head down to kiss you.

You brought a hand up to the nape of Remus’s neck, letting one side of your dress to fall back down, giving you partial modesty as your most private parts were covered back up. Remus leaned down a little bit, but he kept your lips linked in a thirsty kiss as his hands trailed to the back of your thighs. Suddenly, he picked you up, and you moaned loudly as he pressed your back against the sculpture behind you, gravity driving you down onto his cock with indescribable force.

You cried out loudly into the kiss, both hands flying to grip Remus’s shoulders, your dress bunching up around your connected pelvises. You broke away from the kiss, resting your forehead against Remus’s, eyes glued shut as a string of pleasured moans flew from your parted lips.

Remus grunted with every thrust of his hips into you, cock driving into you with a power you couldn’t understand. A choked out moan was stuck in Remus’s throat, his eyebrows furrowing at the feeling of your constricting walls sucking him into you, every ridge of his cock driving deeper into you.

“Faster, please.” You whimpered, guiding Remus’s face back towards yours in a desperate, open mouthed kiss, your tongues immediately tangling together in a messy kiss.

Remus was conflicted.

Your lips felt so good against his, and he revelled in the feeling of your tongue dancing with his. But he knew he would cum faster if you kissed him for any longer, and he didn’t want this moment to end, no matter the risk that someone may walk in on both of you. Either way, Remus continued kissing you, feeling as though he was a teenager again, having his very first kiss from the way his lips tingled, a knot of pleasure rolling in his gut.

He obeyed your request, driving his hips into you at a faster pace, bouncing you up in his arms so he could get a better grip on your body. One of his arms flew around your waist tightly, the other one snaking underneath your dress to caress your thigh before snaking up and grabbing a handful of your ass. He pushed his body further against you so that your body was propped up between him and the structure behind you, the base of his cock driving further into you so he pushed deeper into you with every drill of his cock.

You keened loudly, the only sound in the air apart from you and Remus’s moans being the slap of his meaty balls against your ass. “I’m so-” But you couldn’t finish the sentence, words getting stuck in your throat as you panted heavily.

But Remus got the message, moving one hand down to your front to abuse your clit with the tips of his rough fingers. He gasped loudly as your cunt clamped down on his cock, driving his hips forward and stilling his movements as a rush of pleasure overcame him, spilling his pleasure into you. He cursed loudly, increasing the speed of his movements on your clit as he realised he was coming before you.

However, at the realisation that your thighs had begun shaking, pussy fluttering around his cock as you suddenly let out a high-pitched cry of his name, Remus slumped in shoulders in relief, seeing you come undone in front of him. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead in a long, reassuring kiss.

“Fuck, I love you.” Remus mumbled, gently returning your legs to the ground. He kept a secure arm around your waist, just in case the muscles in your legs had failed you, but you were solidly standing, picking the layers of skirt off the two of you so Remus could pull out. “I love you more.” You finally replied with a sigh, leaning your head back against the stone behind you.

Remus chuckled with a shake of his head, muttering “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He crouched down, reaching underneath your skirt to pull your underwear back up from where it resting around your ankles. There was almost no use though, the lace holding several holes in the fabric due to Remus’s rash movement.

“Give me a kiss.” You requested, reaching out to hold Remus’s jaw gently. He obliged, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, loving kiss. When you pulled away, you ran your hands down Remus’s chest, pulling your wand out of a secret pocket in your dress and muttering a quiet spell.

Instantly, all the creases that had been made on Remus’s suit disappeared, and with a repeat of the words, so did the creases on your dress. “Just so you know, when we return to the house to have dinner, my parents will probably have the wedding sorted out.”

Remus’s eyes widened and he laughed nervously, spluttering “Really!?” You hummed, guiding Remus to sit down on a stone bench with you. Running your hand through his hair, you pushed the strands back into place. Your eyes were filled with admiration as you stared at the man in front of you. He picked up your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“That’s probably what they’re discussing.”

Remus grinned, standing in front of you and offering you a hand. “Well in that case, should my fiancée and I take a walk whilst her parents organise our wedding?” Giggling, you took his hand, letting him pull you off the bed.

“Mhm, let me show you my bedroom. I won’t be living here much longer if I’m getting married.” Remus wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you to his side snugly, but before you could wander far away, Kreacher apparated in front of you.

“Mistress Black has advised for Miss Black and her fiancé to come inside for dinner.” “Oh, thank you Kreacher.”

You shot Remus an apologetic look, but the man seemed happy nonetheless, giving you a sly wink. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to go explore your bedroom.”

“Okay. If they ask any questions you don’t have answers for, make it about your successful career, okay?”

taglist: @rory-cakes, @stta-princess, @arielthee-potterhead, @lettertovera, @bininisiwi, @superlegend216, abhootghiihii, @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Do you think harry could've done the horcrux hunt by himself?

As a Harry fan, I want to say yes. See, if Harry went alone, it would've gone very very different from canon with a completely different timeline. And you know what, I found this concept interesting, so let's explore this:

For starters, if Harry wanted to go alone, he would've packed his bags and left before Bill and Fleur's wedding (which is what he wanted to do anyway). So Harry still arrives at the Burrow as usual and then the night before the wedding, he packs his bag and leaves with the hope the others won't look for him immediately due to the wedding (very possible Ron and Hermione are stopped from chasing after him immediately the next morning by Mrs. Weasley, though they likely would go after Harry once they can slip away).

So, we have a lone Harry that apparated away somewhere. I think he could still find himself at Grimmauld Place, but he'd probably intend to not stay there long so Hermione & Ron won't follow him. Now Harry has no one to talk to, so he doesn't say 'Voldemort' and the snatchers don't appear. If he gets to Grimmauld, he likely still figures out R.A.B (as he does in the book) and gets Kreacher to tell him the story. If he hears about the ministry takeover, it's only by parsing it out from Daily Prophet articles (which I think is highly possible).

If he's indeed in Grimmauld, Kreacher will try to convince Harry to stay and say he can get Mandungus (for the locket). If Harry can ensure no one will find him at Grimmauld, he'd try to do that, if not, there is a chance Remus or Ron & Hermione, or both are going to find him there and try to join forces then. But we want Harry on the quest alone, so, we'll say he finds a way to hide from them or block them from entering the house. In canon, Harry says Voldemort's name inside Grimmauld and it doesn't activate the taboo, so we don't need to worry about that.

So, he figures out Umbridge has the locket, I think it's fair he can get that out of Mandungus. But now Harry would have to figure out how to get into the ministry on his own. He might have the Tales of Beedle the Bard and Hermione's stolen Horcrux books if he stole them from her before leaving (which is a maybe since he knew about them). Let's say he didn't take the boatloads of polyjuice potion Hermione stole either.

So, he'd spend a few days, watching the ministry under the invisibility cloak like in canon, but his plan would be different and he'd enact it way faster since he doesn't have Hermione's patience.

So, this ministry break-in would likely look very different. He'd go under the invisibility cloak, and maybe Imperio someone (so more similar to Gringotts) so he could follow and use them to open doors. I think he could still get the locket (since he practically does that on his own in the book). Since he'd go into he ministry earlier (without Hermione there will be less planning time), it's possible he doesn't encounter the muggleborn trials, but it's possible he reveals himself to free them before making a break for it. Again, without Hermione, if a DE holds onto him, Harry won't immediately apparate to the woods but will try and obliviate the DE/stupefy and then interrogate him. (how successful that is or if the DE has brain damage, doesn't really matter since the DE isn't a secret keeper to Grimmauld). But Harry would have the locket, no way of destroying it, and he isn't camping in the woods, and maybe also Moody's eye if he sees it. Yay.

Now, Harry's first instinct in the quest for Horcruxes, even before the wedding, was toward two places — Godric's Hallow and Hogwarts.

So, he'd still go to Godric's Hallow which is the less risky of the two (maybe he'd take Kreacher with him? it's also possible this happens before the ministry) since it's so much earlier (Hermione and Ron aren't there to tell him 'no' for a few weeks), Nagini is likely not there yet and Bathilda is still alive. Harry in this scenario wasn't at the wedding, so he wouldn't hear all of Aunt Muriel's stories, nor know to associate Ignotus' grave and the Deathly Hallows, nor would he have his talk on the subject with Xenophilius — but Bathilda would know all of it. Basically, Harry could get the story of the Deathly Hallows, Dumbledore & Grindlewald, and some of his own family history from Bathilda (plus her copy of the Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore).

Harry, would, as in canon, become obsessed with the Deathly Hallows and become convinced Voldemort is after the wand (he is right, of course), and do so months earlier. Once he has the vision of the thief from Voldemort and/or from Bathilda's stories, he'd put two and two together and realise Dumbledore had the Elder wand, this time though, Voldemort won't learn this information at the same time.

But this is a depressed Harry walking around with a locket he can't destroy who reads of Dumbledore's betrayal (Rita's book) alone with only the locket's whispers. He might consider breaking Dumbledore's grave to get the Elder Wand, believing it could destroy a Horcrux. "he clearly wanted Harry to have it. If he didn't, why did he gift the book with this tale to Hermione..." would be Harry's rationalisation, and the locket canonically influences Harry to be more reckless in his depression, so I can see Harry getting to the wand first. (Though, he'd be way nicer than Voldemort about getting it from Dumbledore's tomb, he'd try not to desecrate it too much).

(He can get to the school grounds under the invisibility cloak through the whomping willow passage, so that isn't an issue either. Plus, it's before the curfew is enacted in Hogsmead in May because we're just in November or December)

He'd also figure the ring is the stone and that Dumbledore put it in the snitch like in canon, but he wouldn't really be able to do much about it yet.

Now, the first thing he'd try to do with the Elder Wand is destroy the locket. Now, if he determines to cast a killing curse, and actually means it (which is possible, I don't think he'd know or think of Fiendfyre, but AK is fair game since he's familiar with the spell), I think it would kill the horcrux. I mean, it killed the Horcrux in Harry, I see no reason it won't work with the locket (it doesn't have to be with the Elder Wand, I think, but Harry would think it helped, even if it didn't).

So, Harry has a dead locket around his neck, the three Hallows, and two wands. The locket, the ring, and the diary destroyed, the snake, the cup, and the diadem to go (and Harry, but he doesn't know this yet).

Now, Dumbledore's grave is near Hogwarts, and he already thinks Voldemort hid a horcrux there, he just doesn't know if it's Hufflepuff's cup or the final unknown Horcrux ("something of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor"). Harry has the Marauders Map and the invisibility cloak so he could sneak into the castle undetected (which could be fun to see how the school runs under Voldemort’s reign. Harry might chose to go to Hogwarts and Dumbledore’s grave during Christmas break, though, when the castle is practically empty, but that's not as interesting, so we're still before the break). He could try and get Peeves to bother the Carrows, or maybe harm them himself if he thinks he won't be found out and no one else would get blamed.

Now the question is if he could figure out how Ravenclaw's diadem looks like, because once he sees it, he'd know where it is because he'd recognize it from 6th year.

He could locate Luna, Neville, and Ginny, but he'd probably want the least people as possible to know he's there, so he's the most likely to approach Luna out of these three. (When Harry wants to not attract attention to himself, he steers towards Luna. Plus, he'd feel bad about breaking up with Ginny and probably not want to see her out of guilt).

So, if Harry asks Luna if Ravenclaw had some hairloom, she'd mention the diadem and could easily describe it, making Harry suspect the tiara he saw in the RoR. As they're not in a rush like in canon, I think he and Luna would have the time to just check there, where Luna will indeed say it's the diadem. There might be a little fight with the horcrux, Harry AKs the Diadem with the Elder Wand and Luna gets to keep the diadem and Voldemort is still nonethewiser Harry is destroying his Horcruxes.

Now, we get to the tough part — the cup.

Becouse I don't know how Harry could learn about the cup without ending up at Malfoy Manor. Luna could tell him about the taboo, because besides her, he wouldn't really have a situation where he'd say the name to someone outside of Grimmauld Place.

Harry: "That was Vol —" Luna: "No! Don't say it," H: "Why?" Luna would then explain the taboo

So, how can he learn about the cup's location?

We have a few options, but we're getting a little more contrived here on out, I fear.

Option number 1, back a few points ago, if a Death Eater does follow him from the ministry, Harry could try and interrogate him. Said Death Eater might know Bellatrix is keeping something important to their lord in her vault, though he won't know what.

Option number 2, while at Hogwarts, he overhears a conversation between one of the Carrows and/or Snape that mentions Bellatrix keeping the sword in her vault and that she keeps something else for their lord there. (Harry spends so much of these books overhearing conversations under the invisibility cloak, why change that?)

Or anything else that gives him a vague idea there is something important at the Lestrange Vault. because he'd immediately jump to the conclusion it's a Horcrux.

Now Harry would either camp out in the RoR or go back to Grimmauld to prepare a Gringotts break in. The preparation would be one day of scouting, see Death Eaters in the bank, and decide he can't trust the goblins.

This break in would be similar to the ministry one in this what if. If he has this DE with him, he'd imperio him, and go under the invisibility cloak to Gringotts, or he's just under the cloak and imperios 4 people once at the bank like in canon. All he really needs is to get a Goblin with them and then he can imperio the goblin to take them wherever. If Kreacher tells him about the Thief's Downfall and Harry uses a shield charm to keep everyone under the Imperius, great, if not, the alarm is raised and they fall down and Harry imperios them again. He would still get into the vault, where there'd be the cup and the fake Gryffindor's sword which he doesn't know is a fake, so he'd take them both.

If the alarm is indeed activated, his exit won't be as much of a mess as he's just going to stay under the invisibility cloak and attempt to slip away. If he has his broom with him (shrunken down in his pocket or pouch), he might as well fly up to the surface on it and then slip out the bank. With maybe a few more imperios for good measure.

So, Harry kills the cup once he's out and he basically destroyed all the Horcruxes except Nagini and himself and Voldemort just now heard of it. And it's only Christmas, so the year isn't close to being over and we're ahead of schedule. Voldemort knows the cup and the sword were taken, the goblins didn't see anyone, but he's sure it's Potter.

Harry tries to destroy the cup with the sword, realises it's a fake and AKs the cup too with the Elder Wand.

Now, he has no choice but to lead Voldemort out to fight him because he needs to get to Nagini. And Snape is still trying to figure out how to get the sword to Harry, but he doesn't know where he is.

Ron and Hermione are also on the run (maybe they joined Dean and Ted?) and they're more in touch with Neville, Ginny, and Luna who belatedly tells them she helped Harry get something from the RoR but she doesn't know where he is now.

Ron: "but we don't know where Harry is —" Luna: "Oh, I saw him two months ago," Ginny & Neville: "What?" Luna: "Harry Potter.... I saw him two months ago, where you talking about another Harry?" Ginny: "No, why didn't you mention it until now?" Luna: "Oh, you didn't ask," :)

So, everyone and their mum is searching for one Harry Potter who's trying to figure out the best way to lure out Voldemort and his snake with the least casualties. Harry wants to only endanger himself in this.

Now, again, we have multiple options for this.

Voldemort just realized his Horcruxes are in danger, so, like in the book, he'd go check on all of them, and Harry will see it through their connection, which he got better at controlling in the past few months. If he can use it to determine where Nagini is (she'd be hidden as Bathilda now waiting for Harry or at Malfoy Manor), which he probably could since Voldemort would think about her too. So while Voldemort is running around to check the cave, and Hogwarts, and the Gaunt shack, Harry could go after Nagini.

But even if we say he kills Nagini and waits for Voldemort to return to Godric's Hallow (informed by Nagini), Harry doesn't know he too is a Horcrux. I like to place their final confrontation in Godric's Hallow in this AU. It's where everything started and where everything will end.

Just, imagine Harry waiting for Voldemort, Elder Wand in his lap, sitting in the destroyed nursery where Voldemort tried and failed to kill him the first time. Where Voldemort died the first time.

Voldemort might call his Death Eaters as an audience to him killing Harry (since he loves doing that). This would finally tell Snape where Harry is and he would, in turn, make sure the Order knows to get there too. He wouldn't really know how to ensure Harry dies, but he'll be there.

Harry would still gloat, tell Voldemort he found his Horcruxes, and the wand of destiny Voldemort searched for, and that it's over for him. They would duel.

Harry would be fighting with the Elder Wand and Voldemort would likely be using his own yew wand. It's possible the priori incantatum happens again, just like in the graveyard, it's also possible it doesn't happen because Harry is using a different wand.

Regardless, I'm not sure what happens in detail. Becouse it's possible Harry would cast a Killing Curse. He has a mission and just in the last post I mentioned how it is in character for him to do so. It's also possible the Elder Wand takes some initiative and kills Voldemort for Harry.

Regardless of how it happens, I believe Voldemort is dead.

After Voldemort dies, the DEs run away, except for Snape. Snape, who still has his last mission from Dumbledore. Voldemort is a wraith, but as long as Harry lives, he can return, and he has loyal Death Eaters, still around, willing to return him. He'll show Harry the memories, all the same, and the two would probably go to Dumbledore's portrait and explain the change of situation.

Dumbledore would iterate that as long as Harry is alive, Voldemort cannot be truly killed. I think Snape would offer to kill Harry (he didn't make an unbreakable vow for Harry's safety and Snape loves punishing himself) and Harry, noble as he is, just might take it.

So Harry is hit with the killing curse, the snitch in his pocket/pouch opens just at that moment. And he dies.

And then he sits back up again blinking becouse, sike, he's the Master of Death and has all three Deathly Hallows and Snape almost had a heart attack.

Wraith Voldemort might just die at that moment too (since he is just a soul that isn't tied to anything if he isn't possessing something, and the moment he won't possess something, he might just die) so it's possible Wraithmort isn't a worry. If he is, Harry would use the connection to track him down, but I think the wraith form won't survive without Horcruxes tying it to life.

Most characters are alive to help Wraithmort if needed and to hunt down rogue Death Eaters (such as Bellatrix and the Lestranges).

So, that's, like, a quick overview on how Harry could've accomplished the horcrux hunt on his own with just a few plot contrivances (that being said, canon has quite a few of those too, so I feel pretty okay about it).

[wisteria-lodge]

I don't understand this Draco hasn't done anything absolutely evil but why does Harry consider him as his archnemesis?

Also, the post about Snape, Marauders, and bullying

Does it mean that what Draco does isn't bullying if Harry and the others fight back?

I'd say the difference between a bully and an enemy is the power dynamic. Enemies have roughly the same amount of power, while a bully has significantly more power then the person they're messing with. Bullies also know that they have more power, and kind of relish throwing their weight around. You can still fight back if you have less power, it just probably isn't going to help much.

Draco actually seems pretty aware of the relative power levels of all the people around him. There is a brief window in Book 1 where he DOES have more power than Harry, just because Harry is SO clueless and so new to everything. For a second, Harry is actually intimidated by Draco.

“Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Malfoy sneered. “Unless you get out now,” said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron. “But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.”

(Draco talks like a baby mobster, I can't even....)

There are also bits like -

Harry didn’t have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

Here, Draco is communicating that HE belongs in this world, and Harry does not (to a comical extent.) Which Harry IS worried about at the beginning of Book 1, so this time the teasing hits.

However... Draco very quickly loses whatever leverage he has. Harry figures out the world pretty fast, does well at Hogwarts, becomes the youngest Seeker in a century, has all this notoriety as "the Boy Who Lived." Draco *tries* to bully him and... fails.

[Malfoy] had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he’d realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed [with Harry]

Draco is trying to use his power to make Harry's life more difficult, only to realize that that he can't. He is flailing around, trying to to be intimidating, trying to tease Harry in a way that will actually upset him, and it's not working:

“I do feel so sorry,” said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.” He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.

Swing and a miss. Harry KNOWS the Dursleys don't want him back for Christmas, and is THRILLED about this.

Draco will sometimes tease Harry about his fame, which kind of works. (“'Everyone line up!' Malfoy roared to the crowd. 'Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos! 'No, I’m not,' said Harry angrily, his fists clenching.") BUT, Draco mostly pivots to going after Harry's friends, people with less societal/social power. People Draco CAN bully. So instead of going after Harry directly, we see him mess with Hagrid, Neville, Ron and Hermione. Very good way to get on Harry's bad side.

Harry does seem to have this continuous low-key obsession with Draco though. When nothing else is going on, he snaps back to What Suspicious Thing is Malfoy Doing Now (lets discuss). He goes undercover to spy on Draco during Book 2, in Book 3 he has all kinds of thoughts about what *Draco* might know about Sirius Black, and in Book 6 he gets Kreacher and Dobby to tail him, all while Harry is stalking-Draco-via-Map. Ron & Hermione tell him to tone it down.

It's not hard at all to take this in a Drarry direction, but even if you don't... yeah, I can see why Draco specifically bothers Harry. Draco is a magical only child, with parents who adore and protect him, who are always writing him letters and sending him care packages. Draco is maybe the closest to what Harry's life would have looked like if James and Lily survived. That the one thing Harry wants more than anything, and Draco didn't do anything to earn all this love and good fortune! Draco sucks!

[my-castles-crumbling]

leaves - jegulus - microprompt challenge - word count: 266 - warning: canon compliant

Regulus sat on top of the windy cliff, contemplating how he'd gotten there. How he'd managed to make this his lot in life.

Only a few short years ago, he'd had a shot at happiness. Warm arms to embrace him, hazel eyes to look at him with love and reverence and adoration. And he'd nearly drowned in it.

But he couldn't enjoy it. Why?

What if he leaves?

That had been his constant thought. Every moment, every day, every ounce of love had been tinged and sullied by the idea that one day, James Potter would smarten up and realize Regulus wasn't actually worthy of the love he gave so generously.

He'd tried to talk himself out of it. Tried to become better. If not for himself, then for him. He'd truly tried his best.

But it hadn't worked. Because What if he leaves? had turned to What if I leave first? And the idea had taken up space in his mind until that was all there was.

So he had.

So he joined the cause to placate his parents and to forget that warm embrace and the way James Potter almost made him feel worth something.

But he couldn't forget. So now, here he was, trying to somehow prove to himself that James's love hadn't been a waste. That even though he hadn't been worthy of that type of unfaltering love, he was worthy of James's belief in him to do good.

"Let's go, Kreacher," he mumbled, standing and walking toward the small cave in the cliff.

The cave which, he knew, hid a locket.

[ultravjiolencee]

Can i request a fred weasley with maybe a reader from black family that doesn’t really like christmas? thank u so much!! (they’re not relatives and kinda in a relationship)

Weasley Warmth Delivery

a.n! thanks for requesting and sorry if this took me this long, but to be honest i still feel into christmas mood. i tried this new ‘format’ of exchanging letters! mention of my previous work

Dear y/n,

Well, look at that—a letter from Black. To what do I owe this honor? Boredom finally driving you mad in that haunted house of yours? Don’t worry, love, I’ve been expecting it.

Grimmauld Place isn’t exactly the Ministry of Fun, is it? And without me around to liven up the place, well, I’m amazed you lasted this long before reaching out.

First, let me set the scene for you here at the Burrow: total chaos, as usual. Mum’s been running around like a bludger on a sugar high, barking orders about decorating and cleaning things that were perfectly fine before she started. Ginny keeps nicking the fairy lights off the tree to “improve” her room (I think she’s trying to charm them to spell out something rude for Ron), and Percy’s been giving us all his patented look of disapproval. Honestly, I think he was born with that expression.

George and I, naturally, have been hard at work testing a few of our newest products. Let’s just say the garden gnomes had a very eventful morning and leave it at that.

But, enough about the Burrow, it’s too normal compared to what I’m imagining for you. I bet Grimmauld Place is a real barrel of laughs this time of year. Bet you’ve got Kreacher croaking out festive insults like, “Filthy blood traitor scum don’t deserve gingerbread.” Or maybe you’ve charmed those gloomy curtains shut tight so you don’t have to look at your delightful family tree. Is my name still scorched off that thing, by the way? If not, I’ll send George over to fix that. It’s our legacy, after all.

I wish I could say I don’t worry about you being there all by yourself, but you know me—I don’t do lying very well. (Or at all, according to mum. But then again, she doesn’t always appreciate my particular brand of honesty.) You’ve got that whole independent, “I don’t need anyone’s help” thing going on, and I get it. I do. But I can’t help wishing you’d pop over to the Burrow for Christmas. Mum would adore you, I promise. Well, she’d probably scold you for being “too thin” first, but that’s just part of the package deal. Once she’s fed you a month’s worth of food in two days, she’ll be absolutely besotted.

And before you go claiming I’m trying to recruit you to our family, let me clarify: yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Because family doesn’t have to be the lot you were born with.

You’ve got us now, whether you like it or not.

Now, enough of this sappy nonsense. You’ll start thinking I’m losing my edge. Let’s talk about important things—like me. Did I mention George and I managed to sneak a prototype of our newest invention past Mum? It’s called the “Crackling Cauldron Cake,” and it’s exactly as dangerous as it sounds. You bite into it, and it pops like a small Firework Charm in your mouth. George claims it’s “too risky for mass production,” but I say he’s lost his Gryffindor nerve. (He was almost a Hufflepuff, you know. Don’t tell him I told you that.)

Oh, and speaking of risky ventures—have you heard from the “adorable” bunch at Hogwarts? Lee says everyone’s still whispering about us switching ties that morning. Apparently, there’s now a theory that we were secretly meeting in the Forbidden Forest for mysterious reasons. Honestly, they’re creative. I’ll give them that. Maybe we should encourage the rumors. Keep them on their toes, you know?

Alright, I should wrap this up before the owl starts biting me again. (Did you train this thing to attack, or is that just a natural Black family trait?) But seriously, don’t be a stranger. Owl me again, even if it’s just to complain about how miserable it is without me around. I’ll write back—promise. And if you’re feeling really brave, you’re always welcome here. I’ll even let you beat me at Wizard’s Chess again, just to keep things festive.

Take care of yourself, alright? And if Grimmauld Place starts feeling too cold, just think of this letter as a little Weasley warmth delivered right to your doorstep.

Yours (because I’ve decided you’re mine to pester now),

Fred

P.S. If you don’t write back soon, I’m sending George over to prank your front door. You’ve been warned ;)

[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 3. Harshness and toughness (and how Sirius Black differs from James Potter). It's long. Really long.

Sirius isn't a soft crybaby. His harshness (and even cruelty) goes beyond the silly teenage pranks we usually see in fanfiction. Sirius is often either whitewashed by newer fans or overly demonized by anti-Marauders fans. Sirius has a tough exterior but a heart of gold. He's not childish and had to grow up early, though he can still be quite fun.

‘Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,’ said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. ‘Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought ... .’

"Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought" – this shouldn't be taken literally. Rosmerta saw many others regularly, Dumbledore, Lily, Remus, and many others, and out of all of them, Sirius Black was the last who could turn to the Dark side? Seriously? Did Sirius walk around with a halo and angel wings?

One trait that is always emphasized in his appearance is his haughty, bored look.

Rosmerta speaks metaphorically, not literally. She saw Sirius once a month or two when they went out to Hogsmeade to have fun and drink. In those moments, Sirius was lively, funny and noisy (especially lively after running away from home), and perhaps he even flirted with Rosmerta in a childish manner, melting the heart of the adult woman.

Sirius can be funny, although his humor is always edging towards dark:

"Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose.’ 

Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset. 

‘Sirius!’ she said reproachfully. ‘Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I’m sure he’d respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he’s got left, and Professor Dumbledore said –’ 

‘So, what are Umbridge’s lessons like?’ Sirius interrupted. ‘Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?’

Moreover, he interrupts Hermione, not letting her finish her point. He sharply outlines if he doesn't want to listen.

"the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards"

Dark humor.

‘Kreacher is cleaning,’ the elf repeated. ‘Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black –’ 

‘And it’s getting blacker every day, it’s filthy,’ said Sirius.

Here he responds with a clear "Black" shade. His mother also loved to talk about filth.

‘Sirius – it’s me ... it’s Peter ... your friend ... you wouldn’t ...’ Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. ‘There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,’ said Black.

And again. And here’s his mother:

‘Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers –’ 

‘Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth ...’

Sirius desperately wants to be unlike the Blacks, but he is still Sirius Black.

‘I thought it was the perfect plan ... a bluff ... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you ... it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.’

Sirius's humor isn't the only harsh thing about him. Even though here he has a reason – after Azkaban he met James's traitor – his way of speaking reflects his overall personality. The way one speaks is a mirror of personality, even if Sirius has PTSD, it only exposes even more vividly what he might control in a calm state.

‘Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.’ (Peeves)

At the same time, yes, he can be cheerful and infect everyone around him with his cheerfulness. If he's in a sombre mood, he creates a quite oppressive atmosphere around him that everyone feels. Just as with a good mood – everyone feels it.

Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas. 

-

Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak’s room, singing ‘God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs’ at the top of his voice. 

-

Sirius’s delight at having the house full again, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious. He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselves as much, if not more than they would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with their help.

But the ability to be cheerful is in no way connected to being very harshn at the same time. This is precisely the case with Sirius.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous (the author wrote about him, “The best-looking, most rebellious, most dangerous of the four marauders”). James was also a bully, but he's not harsh, despite the fact that it was he who pulled down Snape's trousers. Why? I think Sirius was already aware of what they were doing. James – not. Without awareness, it's too early to speak of any harshness and cruelty. Sirius had this awareness and still continued to do it.

Let's consider the reactions of Sirius and James in comparison.

‘Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?’ 

Sirius did not smile. ‘My whole family have been in Slytherin,’ he said.

‘Blimey,’ said James, ‘and I thought you seemed all right!’ 

Sirius grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?’

A small note: Sirius didn't even react to James's "I'd leave", even though he knew his whole family was from Slytherin, and he was likely to go there too.

James lifted an invisible sword. ‘“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!” Like my dad.’ Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

‘Got a problem with that?’ ‘No,’ said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. ‘If you’d rather be brawny than brainy –’

It was Snape who starts the confrontation on a personal level. James in his insults in this memory refers to moral qualities. "Who wants to be in Slytherin?" Only bad people. He is prejudiced against Slytherin because Slytherin is evil. Voldemort is gaining momentum. The first Muggle-born Minister was recently ousted. Attacks are happening here and there. Dark forces are growing. More and more of the pure-blood society talks about "Mudbloods" not belonging in this world. And "amazingly", they all turn out to be from Slytherin. James sees himself as a noble knight "James lifted an invisible sword", and he is against Slytherin not so much personally as against the moral component of Slytherin.

‘Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?’ interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

Sirius immediately strikes at Snape's personality. Sirius is sharp-tongued, self-assured, and likely accustomed to considering others below himself. He probably assessed James as his equal right away. Brave, cheerful, sincere.

'Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment.'

'Oooooo...'

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed.

'See ya, Snivellus!' a voice called, as the compartment door slammed...

James tried to trip Snape. James most often uses physical/magical force. He trips Snape, he pulls down Snape's trousers, he uses most of the spells on Snape in SWM. But it's Sirius who goes after Snape's personality. It looks like James has concocted a "noble justification" for his behavior and attitude and punishes Snape for existing just as he is.

Sirius, on the other hand, hardly uses magical/physical force in memories; he finds painful points in Snape's personality – from character to appearance, intentionally demeaning his personal traits.

Moreover, it was Sirius who focused on Snape's appearance. No one, except him, places such an emphasis on Snape's unattractive appearance and his untidiness.

'Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was,'

Very vivid epithets. Sirius is very eloquent when it comes to demeaning someone he dislikes.

Moreover, it's James who's the attention seeker. It's James who plays with the snitch, drawing attention, glancing at the girls by the lake, and ruffling his hair to show everyone how cool, strong, brave, and awesome he is.

After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn’t tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water’s edge.

While Sirius, likely, isn't much interested in societal validation. Sirius is more reserved, with firmer boundaries, he's not as interested in public adoration as James might be.

Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so.

This is a typical expression for Sirius – bored and haughty. He spent nearly five full years in Gryffindor alongside James, and the bored and haughty expression is still with him. It's not just a random trait in his character – it's one of the pillars of his personality, reflecting his attitude towards random people around him.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’

As I've said, Sirius cuts with his words without a knife. They've been studying together for five years, been friends with Peter, and he jokes about Peter like this. I think they all joked about each other in the same way, just James's "jokes" are blunt and probably he just says whatever comes to mind, whereas Sirius's are more subtle and hurtful.

Moreover, when people say this is the only episode we know of bullying by James and Sirius and that it's the worst in their history, that's not correct. This episode is the worst in Snape's life. And not because they pulled down his trousers. But because he lost Lily forever that day. This episode, likely, was quite typical for the Marauders. They were in a good mood, had finished exams, Snape just happened to pass by, there were no obvious reasons for this bullying. Harry sifted through their detention records, and there were many, very many, and how many more when they weren't caught?

Sirius got bored, and there they decided to "have some fun."

‘I’m bored,’ said Sirius. ‘Wish it was full moon.’ 

‘You might,’ said Lupin darkly from behind his book. ‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here ...’ and he held out his book. 

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

I won't discuss The Prank here, many have written about it. In general, Sirius doesn't show empathy in everyday interactions even with Remus. Sirius has a heart of gold, but his shell, especially as a teenager – tough, harsh, sharp, and cutting. The grown-up Sirius interacts with close people much more politely, though he still occasionally shows his harshness (for example, with Hermione).

‘This’ll liven you up, Padfoot,’ said James quietly. ‘Look who it is ...’ 

Sirius’s head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. 

‘Excellent,’ he said softly. ‘Snivellus.’

I don't want to justify Sirius and James, but for context – Snape is fascinated by the Dark Arts, hangs out with future Death Eaters (= fascist), and they have mutual dislike from the first year. No, the act is immature, but James justifies it in his head exactly like this – Snape is bad for him, so anything goes, and anyway, "so what?" Sirius doesn't need justifications. He's just bored.

Even when James uses all the spells on Snape, he still glances at the lake:

Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water’s edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view.

Why look at the girls by the lake when you're humiliating someone, if you know you're doing something really bad? James genuinely sees himself as a noble knight, deserving of admiration. Moreover, many do admire him (''Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Several people watching laughed''), and Lupin mentioned several times that James was popular at school.

‘How’d the exam go, Snivelly?’ said James. 

‘I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,’ said Sirius viciously. ‘There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.’ 

Again, Sirius harshly targets Snape's personal traits, including his appearance.

‘You – wait,’ he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, ‘you – wait!’ 

‘Wait for what?’ said Sirius coolly. ‘What’re you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?’ 

And again – Sirius strikes with words.

Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened.

‘Wash out your mouth,’ said James coldly. ‘Scourgify!’

And James responds with a spell to what? Snape's insults. He says ‘Wash out your mouth.’ He appeals to the moral side of the issue.

‘I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!’

‘Apologise to Evans!’ James roared at Snape, his wand pointed  threateningly at him. ‘I don’t want you to make him apologise,’ Lily shouted, rounding on James. ‘You’re as bad as he is.’ ‘What?’ yelped James. ‘I’d NEVER call you a – you-know-what!’

This also proves that James is sure he's doing everything right. James is like a volunteer in the allies' army against the fascists, a brave Gryffindor, and his sword is to cast spells on anyone he deems not fitting his moral standards.

‘Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can – I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.’

And from the outside, it looked like this.

‘What is it with her?’ said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. 

‘Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,’ said Sirius.

And Sirius understands it all too well. Who he is, who James is, and what Lily thinks about it all. Sirius knows about James's crush on Lily and finds it even funny that she rejects him. Likely because Sirius understands that they often cross the line. I don’t think Sirius could have stopped Potter. I don't even think Sirius wanted to stop Potter. He found it all funny. Azkaban, on the other hand, softened Sirius in his interactions with others. It knocked down his pride and arrogance. Showed him that life can be unfair and you don't need to act like a haughty jerk who thinks the world revolves around them.

At school, Sirius was more about psychological bullying, while James was about the physical. Given that James and Sirius were very popular at school and within their house, their bullying was likely directed mostly at Slytherins or at arrogant jerks like themselves who they just "didn't like."

And the adult Sirius understands that they were “arrogant little berks.” And he’s “not proud of it,” but his next words speak for themselves:

“ I think James was everything Snape wanted to be – he was popular, he was good at Quidditch – good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James – whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry – always hated the Dark Arts.”

Sirius justifies James while simultaneously praising him. Justifications always imply a partial denial of guilt. Someone fully aware of their guilt doesn’t seek to justify or be justified. Of course, Sirius said this for Harry's sake too. To ensure Harry didn’t think his father was just a bully for no reason. His father was actually “on the side of good,” is what Sirius wants to convey. About himself, he remains silent. But he doesn't miss the chance to insult Snape again “little oddball.”

Even Remus, as an adult, sincerely justifies James.

‘She started going out with him in seventh year,’ said Lupin. 

‘Once James had deflated his head a bit,’ said Sirius. ‘And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,’ said Lupin.

 ‘Even Snape?’ said Harry. ‘Well,’ said Lupin slowly, ‘Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?’ 

‘And my mum was OK with that?’ 

‘She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,’ said Sirius. ‘I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?’

Lupin finds a genuine justification for James. The concept of “violence in any form is bad” isn’t fully grasped by them. They follow an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Lupin even was ready to kill Peter, and he insisted that war is not a playground and that killing is sometimes necessary in war. Remus, though gentler and kinder, and preferring not to engage in conflict, genuinely wished Sirius and James hadn't bullied anyone at school, but yet, he still reconciles with all they do and even justifies James.

In Sirius's mind, James may have acted like a fool, but Sirius doesn’t genuinely condemn it. He just thinks they were too arrogant. And Sirius’s behavior after Azkaban (how he became gentler with others) indicates he truly realized – you don't need to belittle everyone you dislike or even like. Yet, Sirius’s harshness, even after Azkaban, didn’t disappear; it was just redirected towards what he genuinely hates.

‘Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons ... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me –’ 

Black made a derisive noise. 

‘It served him right,’ he sneered. ‘Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to ... hoping he could get us expelled ...’

Remus's reactions are much softer, but Sirius’s reaction, even years later, is harsh and even a bit cruel. ‘It served him right.’ Because it's an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

However, Sirius’s harshness still occasionally breaks through even towards his close ones when he slightly loses control over himself after Azkaban.

‘You’re less like your father than I thought,’ he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. ‘The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.’ 

‘Well, I’d better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs,’ said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. ‘I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?’

Sirius calls themselves “arrogant little berks,” but the peculiarity of Sirius’s arrogance is that it's due to his personal qualities, not external “glamour”.

 ‘I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you?’

He despises Peter for groveling, for weakness, for the same reasons he despises Regulus, considering him a soft idiot. Sirius’s arrogance was never built on finances or blood purity, on popularity, on playing Quidditch, not on his name, although the family dynamics undoubtedly influenced his pride. But overall, his arrogance is of a different level – that of a rebellious spirit, a very strong person, not like the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy is intentionally depicted as the complete opposite of Sirius Black (in character – the most rebellious of their pure-blood circle and the most sycophantic, and in appearance – black and white).

Sirius and Kreacher's story demonstrates that Sirius does not forgive those he hated and can carry hatred through the years. People usually soften over time, but Sirius has an excuse – Azkaban. Nonetheless, the behavioral pattern remains unchanged. Azkaban does not change the essence of people, it makes certain traits more vivid and pronounced. Sirius became calmer towards the people around him who help fight against evil, he toned down his arrogance and pride (even towards Snape, he no longer hurls insults first, it’s Snape who insults Sirius first), but Sirius became even harsher towards those he hates.

‘Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it’s no good looking like that, you know it’s true. I’ve said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did ... and so did Sirius.’

Harry had no retort. As he watched Kreacher sobbing on the floor, he remembered what Dumbledore had said to him, mere hours after Sirius’s death: I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human’s ...

And he himself demonstrates this repeatedly:

At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione’s protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room.

Dumbledore believes Sirius showed cruelty to Kreacher through his indifference and neglect. That is, Sirius could shut off his empathy towards a being, despite generally being friendly towards house-elves.

‘He (Sirius) regarded him (Kreacher) as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike… Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated.’

Sirius was not evil. But the neglect emanating from him was very cruel, harsh, and cold. Sirius can shut away all the good within him towards anyone he despised – “And whatever Kreacher’s faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher’s lot easier –”

‘– comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he’s back, they say he’s a murderer too –’

‘Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!’ said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

However, Sirius likely never killed anyone, even while serving in the "Order."

Regarding his family and even Regulus, Sirius is also harsh. Even if he, like any child, deep down loved his family, it doesn’t matter because his real words and actions are very harsh and aimed at severing ties. The possible love for them deep down only further highlights his harshness and readiness for confrontation.

“I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal ... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them”

Likely, he’s ashamed of them, and his hatred also builds a wall between them and himself.

‘Does it matter if she’s my cousin?’ snapped Sirius. ‘As far as I’m concerned, they’re not my family. She’s certainly not my family. I haven’t seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D’you think I’m proud of having a relative like her?’

And at the same time Dumbledore about James:

‘I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry,’ he said gently. ‘He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it.’

I don’t know how true this is (though likely, the author speaks through Dumbledore here), but considering that Harry himself is a character whose main traits include the ability to understand and forgive others, perhaps James had this to some extent too. But Sirius lacks the ability to forgive, and this is deliberately shown in the book – that he suffered precisely because of his excessive harshness.

In conclusion, Sirius's harshness and toughness is not just teenage arrogance; it's directly a trait of his personality, something that cannot be overlooked when talking about the canonical Sirius, not his sugar-coated substitute in fandom. Sirius had to grow up very early, and all this left its mark on him.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous.

But Sirius was not cruel in a moral-ethical sense, or more precisely – ideologically. There's no reason to believe Sirius is constantly drawn to the dark side or that he's amoral. His constant fight against his family suggests instead that he formed high ideals within himself. No, Sirius is not amoral; he has difficulty with empathy (especially in childhood), a tendency towards aggression and cruelty (mostly in childhood, he controls himself quite well as an adult. Well, for Sirius Black quite well), arrogance, but he very well understands what is right and what is wrong.

‘She’s got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.’

[bonniesfamiliar]

DIMENSION TRAVEL STORY IDEA: Summary: Harriet "Harry" James Potter has travelled to an alternate dimension during a spell gone wrong (Kreacher's actually responsible cuz he cares about Harry since she's the Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black) Harriet knows it's an alternate dimension cuz she finds a newspaper stand and lo and behold, who's on the front cover? Tom. Fucking. Riddle. But not the ugly Voldemort Tom Riddle she killed. No this is young Tom Riddle who grew up FINE AS HELL.

And he's on the front page cuz he's The Minister of Magic and guess what he's talking about.

Dumbledore.

He's talking about Dumbledore.

And not manipulative gramps Dumbledore whose beard is longer than my hair.

No.

We're talking about this one

You know why he's talking about this Dumbledore?

Because Albus. Percival. Fucking. Dumbledore decided to become the epitome of "Be Gay, Do Crime," with Gellert Grindelwald, his husband.

DUMBLEDORE IS A DARK LORD WITH HIS HUBBY

So Harriet is obviously freaking out and does the right thing.

She goes to a pub and drinks her sorrows away in Scottish Whiskey, (Thank you, Minny)

But Harry never makes reasonable decisions so when she finds a quill and paper, guess what she does.

She writes to Misinter Riddle.

But the drama doesn't end there.

Whenever Harriet does anything, whether she writes or talks about Tom Riddle, she doesn't speak in English.

She talks in Pareseltongue.

(Cuz she and tom are the only Parselmouths. I think.)

So Parseltongue.

Harriet writes in parseltongue to the Minister of Fucking Magic on his wrongdoings in her universe.

The letter literally looks like this:

ssss ssss sssssssss ss ssssss s sss ssssssss ssssss sss sss ss ssss ssssssss ssssssss ssss ssssss sssssss ss ss sssssssss and that transcribes to 

"Dear Lord Voldemort, or should I say Minister Riddle, you are an ugly noseless hairless evil snakey bastard in my dimension,"

and cuz she's spiteful, she signs it off with "You-Know-Who"

But the thing is Harriet never mentioned her name or who her parents were.

So when Minister Riddle receives this letter, he freaks out and then does everything he can to find this person.

Not to kill them.

But to woo them.

This kind, thoughtful person has travelled from another dimension just to stop him from becoming evil.

AND THEY'RE A PARSELMOUTH.'

THEY'RE OBVIOUSLY HIS SNAKE MATE. (cuz he killed all of the Gaunts and Riddles so they're not family)

You can bet ur ass he was squealing to Nagini at the thought of having another Parselmouth in the world with him.

He's obsessed.

(He's not tom riddle if he doesn't have possessive issues and his jealousy issues are just as bad.🤭🤭🤭🥰🥰🥰😩😩😩)

Like it's not a want.

It's a need.

He needs the writer of this letter to be with him forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and-

You probably get the idea.

Anyway, 1 year goes by.

Tom Riddle: I MUST FIND THIS PERSON AND MAKE THEM MINE

Harriet Potter: *forgets about even writing the letter* 

Tom is growing more obsessed as the days go by and then he meets a woman at a charity ball held for idk an organisation for potieneers? Potion Masters?

She's chatting up with Lord and Lady Dagworth-Granger cuz she's been working with them cuz they remind her of Hermione and she needed a job.

Anyway, he approaches the couple in hopes of talking to them and Harriet sees Minister Riddle approaching and quickly moves away to head to the drinks table.

And then lets out a breath of relief when she realises he wasn't heading for her.

She schmoozes for a few more minutes before calling it quits and heading out for fresh air.

The party is at the Dagworth-Granger's manor so she goes out to the gardens.

And hears a cry for help.

Her Gryffindor instincts push her to run towards the sound of danger.

But her Slytherin side made her hide behind the wall from where the cry of help had come from.

It was a witch being harassed by two wizards.

One of the wizards was holding her wand, taunting her.

While the other had begun to take off her outfit.

Before it could go any further, she brought the men's attention to her and with a flick of her wrist, Harriet had the men on their knees.

She then walked over to the one holding the witch's wand and grabbed it out of his hand, accidentally snapping his wrist in the process.

She gave the witch her wand back and accepted the shaky hug she received.

Harriet waited until the witch was out of sight before she turned to the men and smiled, watching as their faces fell into horror as they saw the fangs in her mouth.

(I'm in love with the prompt by a post on tumblr where  Basilisk!Harry is hugging Kneazle!Hermione and Dragon!Ron also wants his cuddles. I can't find the person who made it but I've lived by the idea that these would be their animagus forms if they ever performed the spell like James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew had done to become illegal animagi for Remus Lupin)

Harriet rips into their throats, feeds on them and then turns their bodies into ash with the fiendryfire spell.

She grabbed a mirror from her purse to erase the blood from her face and clothes and began to walk away lest anyone come looking for the wizards.

But, Harriet suddenly slammed into what felt like a wall.

A very warm wall.

Regaining her bearings, Harriet looked up to notice that the "wall" was MINISTER RIDDLE.

AND HE WAS HOLDING HER ARMS.

"Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?" She said pasting a smile on her face.

Shift of POV:

Minister Riddle internally sighed at being stuck in another ball instead of being at home, analysing the letter once again.

He was certain it was a woman who sent it as there was a red lipstick kiss on the paper after it was signed sss-ssss-sss (You-Know-Who)

His thoughts are cut off when Lady Dagworth-Granger asks her husband where Harriet is.

Who is Harriet? he muses but when Lord Dagworth-Granger offers to look in the gardens, Tom leaps at the chance to run away from the party.

He goes into the gardens aimlessly walking around for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts of his mysterious parselmouth when a witch comes out of nowhere and collides with him.

He uprighted her by placing his hands on her arms and looked on curiously as she seemed to freeze in place when she looked up to see that it was he she bumped into.

Tom Riddle is the one to freeze when she speaks.

"Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?" She says an innocent smile on her face as if she had no idea his whole world had just flipped on its axis.

Parseltongue.

She's speaking in parseltongue.

She's his parselmouth.

The one from another dimension.

But he had to clarify so he replies honestly for the first time in his life, in parseltongue, "I've been looking for you," 

"Searching for me? Whatever for?"

A boyish smile widens on his face before he forces it into a polite smile.

"The Lord and Lady Dagworth-Granger have been searching for you, Miss Harriet I believe you are?" He reverts to English to test if she notices the change but she doesn't.

She just replies in English, "Ah, I see. I disappeared for too long with my break from the stuffiness of the ball and yes, I am Harriet."

Harriet, he muses in his mind, no last name to give for me.

She extends her gloved hand for him to shake but Tom riddle reaches for both of her hands and turns them over to kiss them gently and forces himself not to give into the urge of nuzzling into her hands (well not yet at least) and without letting them go, he straightens to his full height to tower over her (giving him a thrill at knowing she was shorter, meaning he could easily pick her up and carry her, be it over his shoulders or bridal style) and replies, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harriet. No last name?"

(Harriet has been wearing gloves cuz of the 'I must not tell lies' scars that cover her hands.)

Harriet smiles teasingly towards him and his cold heart thaws ever so, "I couldn't decide on a last name and I've decided I like the mysterious aura it gives me,"

Or maybe she couldn't risk using her real last name because she was from a different dimension, Tom muses in his mind, Nevertheless, Harriet Riddle has a lovely ring to it.

Harriet Potter: *staring confused at Tom Riddle as he smiles down at her

Tom Riddle: *Winter would be a lovely time to get married, wouldn't it?

I'm stopping here cuz it's a summary, not a story. Yes, I'm Evil.

Tell me if you like it tho.

I was this close *makes an inch between her fingers* to making this a Soulmate AU story.

Think of the angst that Harriet would go through all her life knowing that her soulmate's words to her are:  I've been looking for you

And it's an alternate hotter version of Tom Riddle, AKA THE BAD GUY WHO MURDERED HER PARENTS 

And think of how Harriet's words had motivated Tom his entire life to do his best to work hard (and cheat death) to live long enough for his soulmate to see him one day at a place be it a library or a gala or a hallway and ask him: Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?

Huh.

Maybe I should make them soulmates.

I need a timeline. fuck.

Um.

Riddle was educated at Hogwarts from 1938 to 1945, and was sorted into Slytherin House, a nod to his ancestor Salazar Slytherin.

Making Tom 34 cuz 1927 is the year Tom was born in if he went to Hogwarts in 1938 which would make him 11 in 1938 and 38-11 is 27 so 1927 is when he was born.

61-27=34 so Harriet is in 1961 but cuz of the time skip tom is 35 years old in 1962

Harriet was born in 1980 

The Second War technically began on 24 June, 1995, though was not officially announced by the Ministry until nearly a year later on 17 June, 1996, and ended on 2 May, 1998, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after the death of the Dark Lord.

Which made Harriet 18 in 1998, 24 in 2004, 24 in 1961 and 25 in 1962

 but she deserves peace so the year Kreacher sent her back was 2004 which would make her 24 cuz he's horrified that she hasn't attempted to romance anyone since Cedric Diggory.

Tbh, if he was my bf I would never love again.

But then hubby "I would burn the world down for you and rebuild a new one from its ashes" tom riddle is here and I'm like Cedric who?

But none of them compare to (long list of titles, I'll research later.) Harriet James Potter.

[rusalka52]

Disc Discourse

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: An unlikely companionship between you and Sirius begins to form after you two share a cigarette at the annual pureblood Christmas party. Everything seems to be going very well until an argument over whose music taste is better arises.

cw: mention of bloodpurist attitudes, mention of drinking, smoking, Sirius and Reader are both a bit sleazy lmfao, Reader is a Beatles fan

4.5k words

A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic I wrote last year. I really liked the idea but hated how it was written so I redid it. It ended up completely different than the original one but the premise is still the same, enjoy!! 🫘

masterlist

This year’s annual pureblood Christmas party-gathering was by far one of the most boring ones you had to endure and your body was desperately aching for a cigarette. You hope that it will take the edge off and give you a much needed break from all the small talk you had to get through today.

Barty managed to convince his father, Mr Crouch Sr., to let him stay home and not drag him to this stupid party by using the excuse of needing to complete this three page essay assigned by professor Slughorn over the holidays. Or maybe Mr Crouch is a bit too embarrassed to be seen outside with his son’s pierced face and ears, messy hair and disruptive personality.

The Rosier twins, Evan and Pandora, were engaged in a “riveting” conversation with your classmate Mulciber. You would quite frankly rather sit through an entire two hour period History of Magic class, listening to professor Binns talk at length about another goblin war, than hear about Mulciber’s family trip to Venice or Paris or Mykonos or the Bahamas for the thousandth time with no escape.

That left you with your friend, and host of this year’s party, Regulus Black. Reggie was a really really good friend, trustworthy, reliable, helpful, and despite being a year younger than you he was really mature and a great conversation to have. However, regardless of all his redeeming qualities, he was so uptight! He would of course sit with you while you smoked to keep you company if you asked but that also meant having to endure the diatribe he was bound to launch into about all the health hazards of nicotine and its effects on the human body.

You essentially had no choice but to go looking for a quiet, secluded space in order to have a smoke. Your objective now is to find an empty balcony at the Black manor where you could get at least five minutes of peace. You carefully open the door of the gathering room, making sure no one sees you, and you slip out of the room into the long hallway. You scurry down the ornately decorated corridor, eyeing the various portraits suspiciously, praying that they don't decide to question why you're not with everyone else. If your mother finds out you smoke you're dead. Right before you reach the staircase you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Where do you think you're going, young lady? The guests should be in the other room, not wandering the corridors” Mrs Walburga Black asks in a shrill voice. You turn around panicked, your eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. You relax slightly when you see that it is in fact the portrait of her likeness speaking and not the real one.

“Good evening Mrs Black, lovely party tonight, thank you so much for inviting my family.” You reply hoping this distracts her; she stares at you with her gaunt, piercing eyes, waiting for you to continue.

“I was just, uh, looking for the bathroom. I need to touch up on my make-up you see.” You explain looking around nervously.

“Well the guest bathroom is the first door on the left of this hallway. You are not permitted upstairs.”

You are about to give up on your mission when suddenly Kreacher appears from the kitchen holding a tray of cakes.

“KREACHER,” she shrieks, “No, no, NO! How many times do we have to tell you that these cakes are served AFTER the wine, not before, stupid elf.” She turns her piercing gaze to the poor house elf, who just apologises to his Mistress and returns to the kitchen to fetch the wines instead. You almost feel bad for him. Almost because his mistake acted as the perfect distraction for you to slip away up the stairs unnoticed.

You tiptoe up the grand staircase that leads to the upper floors of 12 Grimmauld Place, grimacing at the shrunken house elf heads that were mounted on the walls. Merlin, no wonder Sirius behaves like that in school, if this is his childhood home. Sure, your parents were blood purists too but this was madness!

~

You finally reach the landing of the first floor and you look around, making sure that it’s empty. You make your way towards the door that is furthest down the long hall, admiring the intricate wallpaper decorating the walls. You stifle a laugh as your gaze lands on a framed photograph of Sirius when he was approximately five years old, crying because a lollipop got stuck in his hair. The next photo in the line is him with a shaved head and a pout on his plump toddler cheeks. Your hand lands on the snake carved door knob and you twist quietly hoping that the room is empty. Luck seems to be on your side tonight as you find the drawing room empty — what a perfect place to have a smoke. You enter the long, high-ceilinged room and take a moment to admire the dark olive green striped tapestries on the walls, the lush, expensive looking persian carpet beneath your feet, the roaring fireplace that kept the room warm despite the freezing London winter that controlled the weather outside. You approach the large windows that overlook the street below and, pushing aside the dark velvet curtains, you open the window and step outside, exposing your skin to the harsh elements. You curse at your past self for deciding to wear a short sleeved, knee-length dress because now you were absolutely freezing. At least the thick material kept your core somewhat warm but it was nearly not enough for you to feel comfortable.

You reach your hand into your handbag and pull out a nearly empty pack of Winston cigarettes along with a metal lighter. You put a cigarette between your lips and cup your hand around the lighter in order to prevent the wind from blowing out the fire but, unfortunately, to no avail — the wind was simply too strong. You turn over, facing away from the direction of the wind and looking out towards the courtyard of the Black household, effectively blocking the wind and finally lighting the cigarette, burning your hand in the process. You take a drag from the cigarette, wincing and shaking your hand in hopes it alleviates some of the pain. You look down at the Muggle cars rushing past, people either returning from or heading to various Christmas celebrations.

Your attention seems to be too focused on observing the various cars and couples stumbling down the street to notice the door to the drawing room creak open behind you and the footsteps, muffled by the soft carpet, that are steadily approaching.

“Boo!” You hear a male voice whisper directly in your ear and you jump in shock letting out a noise of surprise. You spin around to face the person that had just startled you, accidentally dropping your cigarette from the balcony. Your gaze lands on the dark grey coloured eyes of none other than Sirius Orion Black staring back at you with a teasing glint and a taunting smirk playing on his beautiful lips.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs rubbing elbows with ministry officials? What are you doing here all by yourself?”

“Nothing.” You reply a bit too fast.

“Oh right, nothing…” he walks past you and leans over the balcony rail, “I’m assuming that the still lit cigarette below just apparated here by itself then?” He smirks, turning to gaze at you lazily, supporting himself on the rail with two elbows propped against it.

“I- uh, it’s not- look, please don’t tell anyone.” You plead, you were way too worried about someone discovering your unhealthy habit and telling on you. Sure you were no longer a kid but that didn’t mean you stopped being anxious of your parents. You chew on your lower lip nervously, waiting for his reply. Black finding out was one of the worst outcomes, besides being caught by your parents of course, he definitely could — and would — use this against you.

“And why shouldn’t I?” Sirius asks, a lazy smile plastered on his lips. “I mean, seeing as you are the one littering on private property.”

“Please don’t, my parents will be very cross with me!”

“Alright, I won’t tell anyone…” You exhale in relief, “if you give me a cigarette.” A wolfish grin spreads on his face.

“Are you blackmailing me, Black? And here I thought Gryffindors were honest and virtuous.” He chuckles in response and you dig into your handbag retrieving two more cigarettes. You really didn’t mind sharing, especially now that Sirius wasn’t being a total arse like he was in school. Being around his friends and trying to impress James really seemed to make him act out, but now that he is by himself, with no one around worth impressing and gaining the approval of, he was actually being quite tolerable, you'd even go as far as to say that he was even being slightly pleasant! Probably just trying to make the best out of a bad situation like you, and you can sympathise with that.

You take out your lighter, placing the cigarette between your lips and attempt to light it again. The wind however seems to have other plans once again. Sirius watched you, an amused expression on his face, and he snorts when you hiss in pain as you burn your thumb again.

“Shut up!” You chide, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance as you rub your thumb in pain.

“Here let me do it.” He fishes in his trousers pocket for his lighter and takes out an intricately chiseled silver lighter. You go to grab it from his hand and he brushes past your arm and brings the lighter close to your face. “Allow me.” He whispers; he was so close you could smell the lingering scent of alcohol fanning across your face, and he could no doubt sense the two glasses of wine you managed to sneak without your parents catching you.

“You have to inhale, remember?” He chuckles, teasing you. You quickly do as he says, turning around once your cigarette is lit, hoping that he didn't catch the faint blush prickling at your neck and rising to your cheeks. If he mentions anything you can just blame it on the freezing December weather.

“I know that…” You roll your eyes, mentally berating yourself for acting like such an idiot in front of a guy. You didn’t like him or anything but it still is embarrassing to make a fool of yourself like that in front of anyone, not just him!

You take a long puff of your cigarette looking around at the entrance to the Black family home. The drawing room balcony overlooked the street below and you could faintly make out a couple, tucked away and hiding behind a tree across the road, snogging. No doubt two guests that had snuck out of the party for some alone time. The atmosphere could have been slightly enjoyable had it not been for the dry, winter breeze that picked up as the minutes go by. You shiver, taking another quick drag of your cigarette and expelling the smoke. You just wanted to finish your smoke, go back inside and warm up, and maybe tell your mother that you feel unwell and that you want to return home to rest.

“No need to be so uptight, love, there’s no rush, just enjoy the smoke.” Sirius mentions off handedly from beside you; you almost forgot that he is still next to you. He is being uncharacteristically quiet tonight, especially juxtaposed to his loud, raucous attitude during school.

“I’m not being uptight.” You roll your eyes. “I’m cold and I don’t want to freeze to death on your balcony.”

“Oh, my! Well, where are my manners?” He gasps dramatically, taking off his black suit jacket with a grand, theatrical gesture.

“No- Stop, you don’t have to.” You begin to protest but he dismisses your objections, grabbing your upper arm and turning you to face him, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders.

“Now what sort of gentleman and proper host would I be if I didn’t take care of my guests, hm?” He quizzes, his grey eyes locked on yours and his arms still placed firmly on your shoulders, keeping his jacket on you. His scent engulfs your senses as you breathe in; the perfume he put on before the party started, smelling strongly of musk, leather and citrus, alongside the cigarettes he has smoked and the drinks he has drunk, is making your head spin.

“What’s wrong, love? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, his smirk deepening. You tut and pull away, turning back around to face the balcony, leaning on the railing in hopes he doesn’t notice the blush forming on your cheeks – you can’t blame this one on the cold anymore.

A comfortable silence forms around you two, the only sounds that can be heard is the muffled classical music from downstairs, people laughing and glasses clinking, the whistling of the wind and the rustling of the trees from the park across the street.

“We should go back in…” You sigh, putting out your finished cigarette, and throwing the butt in an ashtray on the balcony table nearby. You turn to go back inside the drawing room when Sirius’ arm stretches out in front of you, trapping you outside on the balcony with him.

“Wait, no! Don’t go.” Sirius exclaims, almost frantically, while putting out his cigarette, discarding it and stepping in front of you, completely blocking your exit. You cock your head in confusion.

“I just- look none of my friends are here and I’m so bored.” He slouches, relaxing his shoulders.

“Alright, can we at least go inside the drawing room, I don’t want anyone coming up here looking for us and seeing two fresh cigarette butts in the ashtray.” He grins at your acquiescence, stepping aside allowing you entry back inside the house.

“Ladies first.” He bows dramatically and, despite yourself, you giggle at his antics.

~

You both take a seat on the mahogany carved couches. It felt almost illegal to sit on such an intricately designed couch.

“You still have my jacket, you know.” Sirius mentions flippantly as you both get comfortable.

“Oh, sorry.” You make a move to take it off and return it to him but he puts his hand over yours.

“No, no, keep it, you look good like this.” He says, his eyes trailing over your body as if you’re not even there.

“Okay…” You draw out. “So what do you want to talk about?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on talking much.” He replies, his tongue sticking out to wet his lips, as he glances down to yours and back to your eyes. You catch his hint immediately and your thoughts start to race. A popular, albeit rude, attractive boy from your school wants to kiss you. Sure it won’t exactly mean anything special, but you’re not looking for that deep of a connection either. You’re both two bored, unsupervised and slightly intoxicated teenagers. Fuck it, what’s the worse than can happen?

“Oh yeah? And what were you planning on doing then?” You smirk playfully.

“Oh, I think you know.” He replies leaning in closer but you pull back, leaning on the velvet armchairs.

“Hm, I don’t believe I do, you’ll have to tell me what you want.”

Without missing a beat, and with no reservations whatsoever Sirius replies. “I want to kiss you.” His piercing gaze makes your heart beat in your ears and heat rise to your cheeks as you try to come up with a witty response, but no words come out of your mouth. You were not expecting him to be so straightforward but with such an arrogant man you should’ve known that this was the approach he would take.

“Can I?” He smiles smugly, taking note of your flustered and startled expression. Trying to outwit Sirius Black was a futile act and you should know that, especially after being in the majority of the same classes with him for the past seven years. You can only muster up a pathetic nod in response to his request.

He slithers over towards you, his one arm wraps around the back of the couch, around your shoulders, and his other rests on the arm of the sofa, cornering you.

He leans down closer to your face, your lips almost brushing and you wait for him to lean in.

“Don’t you want to kiss me too?” You hum in response.

“Use your words please, can you do that for me?” Your breath hitches. You can smell the alcohol and nicotine on his breath and it’s making you reel.

“I want to kiss you.” You reply.

“Well, go ahead then.” Without taking a moment to think about the fact that you're the one leaning in to kiss him and not the other way around, you’re already crashing your lips against his. You feel his lips form an insufferable smirk as you're kissing and you curse yourself internally for giving into his charms so easily.

His arm snakes around your waist as your hands root themselves in his raven hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You both pull away for air but your brief moment separated is quickly gone as Sirius buries his face in the crook of your neck, peppering soft, yet hungry, greedy, kisses along the exposed area of your neckline.

Your eyes glance towards the unlocked oak door of the drawing room and back down to Sirius who was busy planting kisses along your collarbone.

You give his hair a tug, pulling him back as he groans in annoyance.

“What?” He questions, rolling his eyes, his lips red and puffy from the kiss.

“Sirius,” you push the boy away, catching a glimpse of the door again, “someone might come looking for us…”

“They’re too busy downstairs to notice we’re missing, it will be fine, no one visits the upper floors anyway.” He explains, leaning back down, but you put your arm on his chest, stopping him.

“I mean guests, family members, classmates might stumble in looking for the loo, you never know. I don’t want word to spread that we’re shagging or something. You can guess how Slyherins are with rumours.” You roll your eyes.

“We can go to my room. It has a lock. Please?”

You nod in response. Seeing Sirius be so needy for you made your chest swell with pride. He takes your hand in his and leads you out of the drawing room, his jacket laying abandoned on the room’s ornate couch. You follow behind him up the stairs, past the scornful and disapproving look that the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black shoots his great-great-grandson on the second floor.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young man!” You hear him shout from downstairs as you reach the third floor.

“Ignore him, my room is on the last floor.” He tugs your arm, pulling you upstairs quicker, heat rising to his cheeks from his being embarrassed by the portrait’s remark.

You finally reach the topmost landing and you’re faced with two doors; one leading to Sirius's room, and the other to Regulus's. The latter was marked by a sign on the massive oak door — “Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black” —what a dork, you think to yourself. The former had a Gryffindor banner hanging from the top of it and a red tie fastened to the serpent shaped doorknob. It’s painfully obvious which door leads to Sirius’ room.

As Sirius opens the door a sudden foul stench infiltrates your senses. It’s a vile concoction of spray deodorant, wet dog, body odour, unwashed bed sheets, cigarette smoke and dirty socks. You think you are going to vomit. How can boys be so disgusting?

He walks in and turns on his lamp, illuminating the high ceilinged room.

“Ta-da! Welcome to my humble abode.” Sirius says, returning next to you.

“Merlin, Black, do you ever open any windows here?” You turn to look at him, your face grimacing in revulsion.

“Do you open the windows in the Slytherin dorms?” He raises his eyebrow, pushing you inside the room and closing the door behind you, locking it.

“Touché, you know we can’t, we’re under the Black Lake.” You roll your eyes, turning to look at him. “I mean seriously, Black, do you ever clean up in here? The room is filthy!” You continue your complaining, your eyes landing on the mess on the floor. Discarded clothes everywhere and vinyls strewn about next to his shelf, at least his record player is taken care of. You’re pretty sure you can see his underwear tossed on the ground beside his desk. You don’t have enough time to make a fuss about the obnoxious posters of motorcycles and half naked women plastered on his wall when he starts to push you towards his bed –and unmade bed sheets.

“Well I sincerely apologise, your majesty, I wasn’t exactly expecting guests tonight…” He whispers pushing you down on his bed.

“Do you need to have guests in order to clean? These aren’t acceptable living conditions, you're a grown man.” You say, your hands resuming their previous position in his hair as he lays on top of you, supporting himself on his forearms.

“Look, are we going to snog or will you keep chastising me for my unkempt room?” You answer his question by pulling him down by his hair and crashing your lips onto his again. He returns the kiss almost immediately, kissing you with much more fervour and urgency than before. Your one hand is still tangled in his messy hair while the other wraps around his neck pulling him even closer. He bites your lip, making you yelp. He takes advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue in your mouth. His mouth leaves your lips as you take a deep breath. He starts peppering kisses down your face, over your jawline towards your neck. His hungry, drunken kisses turn into light nibbling and sucking in an attempt to leave a mark.

“Fuck, love, I want you so bad.” He whimpers against your neck.

“Oh Salazar, what would Regulus think if he saw you here like this with his brother. Merlin, what would mother and father think if they saw marks all over your neck?!” Your thoughts start to race but still, you’re too caught up in the momentary pleasures you’re feeling to push Sirius away. You feel his hand trail up your thigh, hiking up your dress and at the same time you turn your neck to give him better access. Your gaze then lands on the record shelves by his bed.

You learned about the muggle contraption from one of your classmates in third year and you fell in love with it. The idea that the ridges of a vinyl, when put in that machine could produce such lovely tunes without the use of magic simply amazed you. The record player is perched on a dark oak bookcase that contains at least fifty different vinyls, all from some of the most popular bands of the past two decades. Some of the records are worn out and tattered from the years of use, probably second hand, and they’re placed either on the bottom shelves or they’re messily thrown on the carpeted floor, while others are in pristine condition and delicately placed on the upper shelves of the case, those are his favourites, you assume.

Sirius is, of course, quick to notice the lack of attention being given to him and he follows your gaze.

“What sort of music do you listen to?” You turn back to look at him and you see his hair dishevelled and a strong blush staining his otherwise pale cheeks.

“No offence, darling, but I didn’t bring you to my room to talk about music.” He whispers leaning into your ear.

“At least tell me your favourite band.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll have to go with the Rolling Stones. Can we go back to what we were doing now?” He replies exasperated.

You pause.

“…what?”

He pulls back more, laying on his forearms now, and looks at you quizzically, head cocking like a confused puppy.

“What’s wrong with the Rolling Stones?”

“I mean there’s nothing wrong with them per se but how can you say that the Rolling Stones are your favourite band when the Beatles are right there.” You scoff, pulling yourself up more so you can properly look at his face.

“Ugh don’t tell me you’re a Beatles fan…” Sirius groans, rolling his eyes. You sit up fully now.

“Yes actually, I am.” You continue. “And they’re much better than the Rolling Stones for your information. I mean Paul McCartney and John Lennon are lyrical geniuses!” You explain.

“Oh are they now?” He says, the teasing tone returning to his voice.

“Yes, they very much are!”

“You know,” you continue, “I bet you fancy yourself as another Mick Jagger or something and that’s the only reason you like his band.” You giggle, twirling a strand of his hair at the nape of his neck around your finger.

“Well of course I do, honey, I have the hair, the eyes, and most importantly the sex appeal, wouldn’t you agree?” He teases again, lightly pinching your thigh on the exposed part of your leg after he hiked up your skirt.

You hum in response.

“Go on then, enlighten me. How are the Beatles that much better than the Rolling Stones? Because last time I checked John Lennon wasn’t the one who came up with “Sticky Fingers” or “Let It Bleed”…” He asks, his voice dropping an octave .

“Well, you must be daft if you think those albums are better than “A Hard Day’s Night”! And besides, the Beatles have albums filled with hits while the Rolling Stones have what? Maybe three good songs spread across ten albums”

“Hah, James always says the same thing!” He laughs. “Well, to me it seems that you just have shitty music taste and you hate listening to fun stuff.” He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry in your face. You laugh at his silly antics.

“I’m so sorry that I prefer something with a little more substance and meaning than the Rolling Stones.” You roll your eyes, smile still plastered across your face as your hands bury themselves again in his hair. You pull him back down.

“Oh finally, you’re apologising!” He exclaims in faux surprise, eyebrows raising dramatically.

You shake your head mirthfully. “It’s okay to admit that the Beatles are better than the Rolling Stones, you know? I won’t tell anyone. Promise!”

“But they’re not though.” He mumbles against your jawline, underneath your ear.

“Yes they are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He’s about to reply with yet another “no” when your legs wrap around his waist and a sharp tug on his hair brings his face back up to your lips, making his brain short circuit and completely forget any part of the conversation you two just shared.

[bradleysass]

Grimmauld Place: Part Deux - wc: 898 - @samynnad102687 @accio-sriracha @missmoonfrost

James doesn’t sleep. Not that he could, not with the thought of Regulus still trapped in Grimmauld Place, still there—with her. His stomach churns every time he imagines Walburga’s shrill voice, the Cruciatus rolling off her tongue like second nature, Regulus on his knees—alone, helpless.

He grips his wand so tightly his knuckles turn white.

Sirius watches him from the other side of the room, arms crossed over his chest, the shadows under his eyes deepening by the hour. His wounds are half-healed thanks to Euphemia’s careful touch, but the weight of tonight still clings to him, settling into his bones.

“James,” Sirius says, voice low.

James doesn’t look up.

“James.”

He finally meets Sirius’ gaze.

“I swear to you,” Sirius says, serious in a way that makes James stop breathing. “We’ll get him out.”

James clenches his jaw. “Tonight.”

“Tomorrow,” Sirius corrects, and when James’ expression twists into something close to rage, Sirius raises a hand. “You storm in there now, and you’ll get yourself killed. Then who’s saving Regulus?”

James forces himself to breathe.

Sirius is right. Again.

But patience has never been James’ strong suit. Not when Regulus is suffering.

They wait until the first light of dawn, until Fleamont and Euphemia are awake, until James can explain without shaking so hard he can barely breathe.

Euphemia presses a hand to her mouth in horror as James speaks. Fleamont exhales sharply through his nose. Sirius just stands there, silent.

“He’s still in the house,” James finishes, voice raw, “and we have to get him out.”

Euphemia’s gaze flickers to Sirius, heartbreak and understanding etched into her features. “We’ll help,” she says softly.

“Don’t suppose we can just knock on the door and ask politely?” Fleamont muses, rubbing his chin.

James shoots him a glare.

“No, I figured not,” Fleamont sighs. “Then it has to be careful.”

Sirius nods. “We can’t go in through the front.”

James shifts impatiently. “I know that. Do you still remember how to break into your own bloody house?”

A ghost of a smirk tugs at Sirius’ lips. “You think I didn’t sneak out more times than I can count?”

“Then let’s go,” James says.

They move quickly. James and Sirius fly under Disillusionment Charms, landing on the rooftop of Grimmauld Place just as the sun begins to rise. The house is still dark, but James knows better than to think Walburga is asleep.

Sirius leads the way, dropping down into an alleyway near a side entrance, pressing a careful hand against the old brick. “There’s a service door,” he whispers. “Never used except for the elves. It opens from the outside.”

James barely holds back a snarl at the word elves—he doesn’t want to think about Kreacher, about the way Walburga probably forces him to punish Regulus for even breathing the wrong way.

The door clicks open.

James’ breath catches.

Sirius grabs his arm before he can lunge inside. “Slowly.”

James nods, even though every part of him is screaming to run.

They creep inside, the house unnervingly silent. The air is stale, suffocating. James’ heart pounds so loudly he’s afraid it’ll give them away.

Sirius nudges him forward, whispering, “Reg’s room is—”

But James already knows.

He moves on instinct, weaving through corridors, pressing himself into the shadows, Sirius hot on his heels.

Finally, they reach it. The door is slightly ajar.

James braces himself, then pushes it open.

Regulus is curled up on the floor.

James’ breath stutters.

He doesn’t look hurt—no visible injuries, no fresh wounds—but his arms are wrapped tightly around himself, his face pale, his breathing shallow.

James drops to his knees beside him. “Reg,” he whispers, hands hovering, unsure where to touch.

Regulus’ eyes flutter open, dark grey and dazed. “James?” he breathes, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

James lets out something between a laugh and a sob. “Yeah, love, it’s me.” He reaches out, brushing damp hair from Regulus’ forehead. “We’re getting you out of here.”

Regulus blinks slowly, then shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be here.”

James clenches his jaw. “Not leaving without you.”

“Jamie, you don’t—”

The sound of a door slamming open makes them both freeze.

“Regulus Arcturus Black!”

James whips around just in time to see Walburga storming down the hall.

His blood runs cold.

Sirius grabs his wand, yanking James up. “Time to go.”

James hauls Regulus up with him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Regulus stumbles, still weak, but James holds him steady.

“Move,” Sirius hisses.

They run.

Walburga’s shrieks echo through the house, a curse narrowly missing James’ head. The walls seem to close in, the air crackling with dark magic.

James doesn’t stop. He grips Regulus tighter, pushing forward, chasing the glimpse of daylight through the open door—

Sirius throws a hex over his shoulder, hitting a portrait and sending it crashing to the floor. Walburga’s screech is deafening.

The three of them burst outside.

James doesn’t stop until they reach the alley, until they’re hidden behind the wards, until he can finally, finally breathe.

Regulus sags against him, shivering violently. James cradles him close.

Sirius runs a shaking hand through his hair, laughing breathlessly. “Bloody hell.”

James presses his forehead against Regulus’. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You’re safe now.”

Regulus exhales, eyes fluttering shut.

And for the first time in his life, he believes it.