#marauder x y/n fluff

[luveline]

Jade can I please get a chatty af yapper sunshine girlfriend with Sirius?? Like May be someone tells her she talks a lot so she's super quiet around him cuz she's worried he'll get annoyed and break up with her but poor Sirius he misses his chatty girl and just angst with fluff

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k

James Potter means well. Honestly, you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body, so you try not to take it to heart. 

Unfortunately, your attempts to do so don’t work. They really, unquestionably don’t. By the time you’re outside of Sirius’ flat that afternoon, James’ small comment is all you can think of. 

“You’re so chatty I’m surprised you don’t run out of breath,” he’d said. Not without love. You’d bumped into him in Sainsbury’s and ended up talking for ages about one thing or another, you know him well, you’d even say you were friends, though he’s of course Sirius’ friend rather than your own. “But I’m the same. God, Sirius used to hate how much I talked, he’d be sick of me. I think I numbed him to it over the years.” 

You can’t imagine it. Sirius and James are best friends. With Remus, they’re the most in love threesome of friends you’ve ever met, and it’s nice; it makes you very proud to have a boyfriend who cares for others as deeply as Sirius cares for them. It’s like a constant demonstration of how he’s a good man. 

But you’d never stopped to consider that they weren’t always so seamless, and you’ve regrettably never considered that your constant talking is something that could put him off. 

You talk to Sirius about everything. There isn’t a word to describe the excitement of having someone waiting to listen to you every single night. You could tell him every detail of a day down to what colour socks you wore and you know he’ll sit there listening with his hand on the small of your back, or his fingers twined between yours. You’ve never felt so loved as to be able to just talk about everything and have him talk back. 

But… what if, this whole time, he’s been wishing for a little bit of quiet? 

What if eventually, the talking becomes too much? 

He must be with you for a reason. You aren’t holding the poor guy hostage, he acts like he’s mad for you ninety percent of the time (while the other ten percent is spent sleeping on your shoulder). 

Like now —you knock his door and you can hear him scrambling up from the sofa, the sound of a book dislodged or a remote hitting the rug, you’re not sure. The door yanks open and Sirius smiles at you, pulling you in through the gap with a familiar hand on your hip. 

“Hey,” Sirius says, tucking you against his side, “hey, did you get lovelier over the weekend?” He shoves the door closed and gives you a hug with one arm, pausing in the hall. “Sorry I couldn’t see you. I don’t think we should miss another weekend.” 

You have a lot to tell him. It’s been ages since you spent nearly three days apart, but James’ conversation stays at the front of your mind. 

You decide to be less overwhelming, but not less loving, curling your arm behind his head to pull his cheek down for a kiss. “I don’t think so, either.” 

Sirius tilts his head away from you in an invitation for more kissing. 

You’re at home in his flat. You take off your shoes and hang up your jacket. You change into a pair of jogging bottoms with loose legs and let him hoist you onto his bed for a few stolen kisses, though he isn’t propositioning you, and you end up laying across his bedspread with one of your legs in his lap as he tells you about his days without you, his thumb sliding with pressure down your calf. 

“Mostly I wished I’d asked you to come over anyways, even if it was just to sleep together at the end of the day. Maybe next time we can do that?” he asks. 

“Of course we can.” You smile at him indulgently. “I’d come over for twenty minutes if it was all I could get.” 

“Or I can come to you,” he says, “even if it’s just twenty minutes.” 

He smiles, a beaming thing, and leans down slowly for a soft kiss. 

“So,” he asks, his breath on your lips, “how was your weekend? Lonely?” 

“So lonely,” you tease lightly, eyes fluttering closed as he continues his massaging of your leg. “But it was okay. I missed you, really, and didn’t do much else.”

“No?” he asks. 

Your voice takes on a shine as he squeezes your knee, “Missed your hands.”  

“I missed your everything.” He grabs for your forearms and pulls you into a sitting position. “But everything was okay?” he asks more seriously. 

“Everything was fine.” 

He raises his eyebrows, but eventually lets them relax. “Well, okay. Good, sweetheart, I’m glad it was okay.” 

He persuades you into the kitchen to sit with him as he makes dinner, refusing to let you help, and yet insisting you be there in the same room, as though you’d like to be anywhere else. Sirius makes your favourite of his usual rotation, offering you spoonfuls for tasting, gaps of silence stretching as he struggles to find new conversation. You start answering his questions but remember time and time again that Sirius could become totally sick of you. He might already be. 

Sirius puts the food on a low heat and washes his hands. He wipes them dry, but when he takes your face, dampness lines the inside of his fingers. 

“I’d like for you to tell me what’s wrong,” he says gently, stroking at the line of your startled frown, “before it gets worse. Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Please don’t, lovely. If I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. I want us to last forever, and we can’t do that if you won’t tell me when I upset you.” 

“It wasn’t you,” you say instinctively, then regret it. 

“So someone has?” he asks, still so gentle as his hands coast down your neck like he’s sculpting you, coming to rest on the slopes leading to your shoulders. “You can tell me anything. You don’t have to keep it to yourself… please.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Sweetheart.” He frowns deeply. Couldn’t look more upset. “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

You chew it over, not wanting or willing to cause ructions between Sirius and his oldest friend. “Well, I saw James today at the shop, and… we were talking about you…” 

He waits. “And?” 

“And he told me you– you don’t like talking. That you didn’t like talking, that James used to make you sick of it. So I know I talk too much and you’ve never made me feel like I shouldn’t, but I guess I got into my head thinking you’d get sick of me, too.” 

“When we were younger I didn’t like much of anything.” He curls an arm behind your neck to hold you in place, but it’s not a dominant sort of movement, only protective as your noses inch together. “Did you ever read that poem by Bukwoski? Let It Enfold You?” 

“What?” 

“I’m not very good at explaining myself. I thought if you knew the poem, you’d–” He laughs near your cheek. “I hated everything. It wasn’t James’ fault. He did make me sick of it sometimes, but I just wanted to hide from everything.” He breathes out slowly. “I’ve never wanted to hide from you. I can’t get sick of you. Do you get that? I can’t get sick of you. Listening to you is the best part of my day, you’re my personal chatterbox.” 

“Chatterbox,” you repeat teasingly. 

“You could talk for Wales,” he says. “And I love it, I don’t want you to stop, because I’ll never be sick of it.”

“I don’t want it to be some secret resentment.”

“I don’t resent you for anything. I knew exactly who you were when we met and I love it.” He takes your face again. “I love it,” he repeats. 

You steal a little kiss against the corner of his lips. “What was the poem?” you ask. 

“I’ll find my book, and you can read it to me. What do you think?” He takes a slow kiss as you had in the same place, words like honey. “I miss your voice.” 

He’s basically pleading. It’s not like Sirius to plead, but you pull it out of him. 

“Can I have my dinner first?” 

“The one I made while you deprived me?” he asks. “Yes, if you must.” 

He takes another kiss, but you’re happy to give it. 

[moonstruckme]

hi my love i’m obsessed with all your works and this is my first request!

poly! marauders and cuteness aggression. like maybe reader coming home a bit tipsy from girls night and just seeing her boys and losing it. grabbing remus’ face and just kissing all over his cheeks, gnawing on james’ biceps and playing with sirius’ hair or tracing his tattoos.

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!

cw: alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 589 words

You leave a trail of things down the hallway that you swear you’ll pick up in the morning. Your bag, both shoes, your jacket. There’s no time to put any of it in its proper place, not when you know your boyfriends are all cozy and waiting for you in your bed. Everything else is secondary. 

The moment you get your eyes on them, it’s already too much. Remus is reading while Sirius chats to a nearly-asleep James, and you don’t know whether to scream or hug them or burst into tears. One feels more socially acceptable than the rest. 

A grin spreads over Sirius’ face as you crawl clumsily up the bed, so you go to him first. 

“Hi, baby.” You smear a kiss over his lips, burrowing your hands in his lovely, silken hair. It smells like his conditioner, smokey and heady and just slightly sweet. You wish you could snort it up into your nose like a drug. 

“Hi, baby,” Sirius says back at you, amused. “Did you have a good night?” 

“No,” you lament, though you think you might have enjoyed it at the time. 

Impulsively, you move to Remus, clambering across James to get on your quietest boyfriend’s lap. He’s already set down his book, so there are no barriers to your whims as you take his face between both hands, squishing his cheeks up and kissing them all over. You think you can hear the other boys laughing somewhere beyond your lovesick haze. Remus’ skin grows warmer with each ardent press of your lips. 

“None of you were there,” you go on. It’s impossible to articulate the full extent of this injustice. “You were here, being so lovely and perfect and lovely without me.” 

“That’s lovely twice.” Remus seems to recover somewhat from your surprise attack. His hand comes to rest in the middle of your back, a touch just for touch’s sake. “How much have you had, dove?” 

You make a petulant, whiny sound, burying your face in his neck. There will never be enough of them, your lovely boyfriends. Or maybe it’s that they’re enough, but you just can’t get enough. Regardless. You’re doomed to remain just on the brink of satisfaction. 

“Enough to know that I missed you a lot,” you say pitifully. 

“Awe, babydoll.” James’ laughter is at odds with his compassionate tone. “Come here, m’love.” 

This sounds like a grand idea to you. You wish they’d simply all squish together so you could lay your affections on them one by one, in rounds. 

James puckers his lips as you approach, readying for a kiss, and so is taken entirely aback when you forgo his face entirely. 

“Oh, well,” he says as you suck a hickey on his bicep. “I feel properly objectified.” 

You’re too pleased with yourself to be sorry. He flexes playfully, eliciting a string of giggles from you as you latch on tighter. 

“Do you think she’s been drugged?” you hear Remus ask. 

“Dunno.” James’ tone is fond. His big hand lands on the back of your head. 

“No, I sort of get it,” says Sirius. The mattress dips slightly, and then you feel him plant a wet kiss on your shoulder. “You just need to get it out of your system, yeah, sweetness?” 

You hum in affirmation. You wrap your arms around James’ middle, squeezing tight. 

“I love you so much,” you mumble into his skin. “I’m gonna kill you.” 

Your boyfriend’s frame rumbles with laughter. “Okay, lovie,” he says indulgently. “You go right ahead.”

[singmyaubade]

the greatest heist

james potter x female!reader

summary: when james's girlfriend decides to fuck with you, your only other choice is to fuck with her.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, wearing, jealousy

a/n: this story was an OLD draft and i kind of wanted to finish it so yeah. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

THE sun peeked through the curtains of your dorm room, casting a warm glow that made your bed feel like the most comfortable place in all of Hogwarts.

You groaned as you felt someone shaking your bed, a voice calling out urgently.

"Y/N!” They yelled again, the bed shaking more forcefully.

“For fuck’s sake!" you mumbled, sitting up and squinting against the bright light. "What do you want?”

"Wake up!" Dorcas stood there, clearly annoyed. “We have astronomy in two minutes!”

That definitely jolted you awake.

You practically leaped out of bed, catching sight of Dorcas rushing to button her shirt. “Fuck!” you exclaimed, quickly slipping into your tights and skirt.

“Why did nobody wake us up?” you asked, frustration bubbling as you glanced at your roommates. It was a mix of annoyance at them and yourself.

“Bloody fucking twats,” Dorcas muttered. “I’m going to stick my wand so far up their arse once I get to that tower.”

“Count me in,” you replied, hurriedly putting on your shoes—still not fully laced—and adjusting your tie.

You grabbed your book bag. “Come on!” Dorcas urged, already heading for the door.

You both practically ran to the stairs, unready for the most strenuous workout of your life. You both huffed in frustration as the stairs moved.

You looked up at the seemingly endless flights of stairs, frustration boiling over. "These stairs are a fucking safety hazard," You hissed. "Do they not care if we die?"

Dorcas crossed her arms, panting slightly. “Dumbledore is definitely getting my letter of complaints,” She ranted. “I mean, I understand we’re young wizards and witches, but Merlin, are these stairs really bloody necessary?”

You chuckled as the stairs set in place and you both rushed to the top quickly.

You both huffed, clearly out of breath as you both pressed on, each step feeling like a small victory.

With a force of urgency, you opened the door to your Astronomy class as the entire class turned their heads to you. You could hear several students snickering, specifically the Slytherins as you flipped them off.

Professor Adair turned to you both with a sigh. “Nice to see you, ladies. May I gift one of you a watch for Christmas?” He asked sarcastically, prompting a few snickers from the class.

Desperately trying to catch your breath, you replied, “Apologies, Professor. I’m afraid my alarm didn’t go off.” You quickly took your seat next to Sirius, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Mine too!" Dorcas argued, "And to be fair, I mean this class is pretty high.” She moved next to Dorcas.

Professor Adair rolled his eyes, continuing with the class with a mutter about the two of you.

“You know,” Sirius leaned into you, “If you need a proper alarm-“ He slyly said, hand almost touching your thigh.

You stomped on his leg as he groaned, touching the injured limb.

“Note taken.” He hissed.

You smirked as you started writing down a note in your notebook which you made into a paper plane, flying it over to Lily.

She looked at you hesitantly, opening it.

Why did you not wake me or Dorcas up?

She looked at you, looking confused as the angry look on your face never faded. She began writing down her response which she sent to you.

Emma told us all that she would wake you both up and when she came to Astronomy, she said she did.

A fuse blew inside of you, of course Emma was behind this. It makes sense that she would be the one to do it considering how she treated your entire friend group.

For context, Emma was all of your supposed “best friend” which would be a fine label if she didn’t sabotage anyone who she thought was a threat.

At first, she considered Lily a threat because of how much others loved her especially James Potter. So instead of asking Lily to put a good word in for her with the others and James, she started spreading horrid rumors about her.

And everyone being cruel teenagers believed her, berating her wherever she went.

It took the entire girl group and the Marauders to make people back off and debunk these rumors.

Although you and the rest of the girls knew that Emma had done this, she had gaslighted Lily into thinking that it was obviously some bitter Slytherin that were jealous instead of her and eventually, the situation turned boring and died down into nothing.

But that wasn't even the end.

Soon after, she considered Mary a threat due to how smart and confident she was and decided to get her absolutely hammered before OWL'S.

And it caused her to get a poor score which resulted in her not leaving her bed for weeks.

But again, Mary had blamed herself and told everyone that it was "her stupid decision" that led to this.

After that, it had been Marlene.

Then suddenly, it had been Dorcas.

And now you were clearly her new target for what reason? Merlin knows.

The only reason she didn't wake Dorcas up was because she knew she couldn't single you out. Emma knew you disliked her from the moment you met her and you weren't as nice about it.

Now, you may not know why she was targeting you at the present moment but the boy in front of you laughing with Remus could've been a huge clue.

James Potter.

Golden Boy, Heart-throbber, Fit, Kind, Funny, Brave, Determined, Bold.. I mean did you really have to go on?

The man that Emma had been in love with for years and had been dating for the present moment.

And not only was no girl allowed to approach James without dealing with Emma but she would pay hell for even making eyes at him.

Unfortunately for you, James had been struggling a bit for charms and enlisted your help in studying. At first, you had gave him a 'fuck no' before moving in order to not get his girlfriends wrath but when he pleaded and begged,

You forfeited.

You were hoping that he would keep it a secret but James being the dumbass he is mentioned how much of a good time it was to the entire group, Emma grew as red as a tomato.

You mentally cursed James, knowing that your life was already going to become a living hell.

Fortunately, you kept most stuff to yourself and never confided in Emma with anything.

There was nothing that Emma could do to incriminate you with but you just knew that she wouldn't back down and there was nothing you could do.

You did do your best to keep away from her but Lily couldn't stop hanging out with her which made the rest of your group completely vulnerable.

At the same time, you couldn't blame Lily for being so gullible and kind-hearted but it made her a pushover and Emma could guilt trip her way out of anything.

So if Emma was going to play this game, you were alone.

And you had to be the best player.

The bell chimed, bring you out of thought as you began packing up.

Emma came over to you, "Y/N! I'm so sorry that I didn't try harder to wake you and Dorcas." She hummed, "I thought you were fully up by time the time I left." She faked a sincere smile.

"Yeah Emma, I think it would be best if you never enlist yourself to such a task again, I'm afraid it requires a bit more of a brain hmm?" You sweetly said, leaving the conversation as she scowled towards you.

You rushed over to Remus, "Remus, please tell me you have the notes for this class." You pouted, grabbing ahold of his arm.

"Of course." He told you, beginning to grab his notebook out of his book-bag.

"Thank you so much," You gratefully said as you began walking with them.

"Wait, why didn't you ask me?" Sirius asked, pouting.

You let out a snort, "Have you seen your handwriting?" You derided as James and Peter laughed.

Sirius fake sniffled, "One day Y/N, you will appreciate my beauty and brains." Sirius dramatically hair flipped.

"You know there's nothing up there." James said, knocking on Sirius's head as Sirius swatted his hand.

You rolled your eyes as Remus handed over his notebook to which you thanked him with a kiss on his cheek.

"Hey! Wheres mine?" Peter asked, "I gave you the notes for potions."

You rolled your eyes again, giving Peter a peck on the cheek as well.

Your eyes locked onto Sirius, already knowing what he was gonna say, "Well, you just insulted me, I think you owe me one." Sirius said, tapping his cheek.

You clenched your jaw, pecking his cheek quickly as he grinned from ear to ear.

"Wait where's mine?" James asked as your eyes widened, "Don't wanna be left out," He fake sniffled.

"Your girlfriend will quite literally harvest my organs." You scarily said, putting the notebook in your bag.

"It's just a kiss on the cheek!" He argued as the whole group shook their head.

"Mate, I'm going to have to agree with her on this one," Sirius patted James on the back, "She will bloody kill Y/N and us for letting it happen." Sirius said.

There was a rumble of protest in his throat but a part of him knew that you both were right. He didn't want you to be faced with the fire on Emma based on his actions.

"Fine, guess you guys are right," He muttered as he dragged his feet.

You groaned, reaching over to James and pecking him on the cheek as he grinned.

“Everyone's been kissed now,” you sighed, your voice trailing off in frustration. “Can we just—” But before you could finish, a sharp voice sliced through the air.

“Y/N!” Emma screeched, her anger prominent as the group recoiled, hissing in surprise. She stormed toward you, her face flushed with rage.

You were begging Merlin that she hadn't seen the peck you gave to James.

“Did you just kiss my boyfriend?” She laughed harshly, her grip tightening on James's arm as he shot you an apologetic look, guilt written all over his face.

“Oh, maybe it was Sirius instead?” You quipped, trying to deflect with a joke, but Peter’s snort only deepened the tension.

“Real clever,” Emma shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she stepped closer, invading your space. “A good friend wouldn’t do that, Y/N. I don’t take betrayal lightly.” Her tone was sharp, a warning laced within it.

You matched her intensity, moving closer until your breaths mingled as you spoke, “And I don’t take threats lightly.”

“Okay, let’s all just calm down!” Sirius intervened, wrapping an arm around your waist while James did the same to Emma, but the heat between you and Emma crackled like a campfire, neither of you backing down.

“It was just a peck, sweetheart,” James cooed, wrapping an arm around Emma as you rolled your eyes, arms crossed in disbelief.

Emma pouted, “You know how protective I get about you.” She nestled into his chest, and the sight made your stomach churn.

“I know, baby,” he said with a smile, holding her close, while the rest of the Marauders looked on, barely able to stomach the scene unfolding before them.

“As entertaining as this little drama is, I need to get ready for the party tonight,” you announced, desperate for an escape.

"The party isn't until tonight!" Peter said, confused.

"Mentally prepare!" You joked.

“Wait!” Emma’s voice pierced through your thoughts just as you turned to leave, and you sighed, bracing yourself for her next act.

Her expression shifted, all sweetness now. “I’m sorry for misreading things with James,” She said, feigning concern. “I know you’ve never had a boyfriend,” She added, her tone dripping with condescension. “But, you can get a bit... jealous. But we’re friends, right? So I shouldn’t act like that.”

You clicked your tongue, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes even harder.

“And as your friend,” She whispered, pulling you into a tight hug, “I just want to warn you. If you so much as talk to James at the Gryffindor party tonight, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

She released you, her smile wide and disingenuous, and before you could even muster a response, she skipped back to James, leaving you fuming.

Fury coursed through your veins as her words echoed in your mind, the unfairness of it all burning like a fire inside you.

Ever since Emma had walked into your life, she had fucked with everything around you.

Your friends, your reputations, your social life, hell even your sanity.

And if nobody else was gonna put a stop to her.

You guess it would have to be you.

-----------

Are you really ready to wage war with her?” Dorcas chimed in from the closet, her tone skeptical.

“Dorc,” You began, frustration creeping into your voice. “Emma has been terrorizing us since third year. Are you seriously going to tell me that taking her down doesn’t sound appealing?”

She sighed, contemplating. “Okay, fine, you’ve got a point. But how exactly are you planning to take her on?”

A sly smirk crept across your face as you revealed the outfit you’d picked: a black corset paired with the shortest black skirt you could find, topped off with fishnets. Dorcas’s jaw dropped sarcastically. “So, you’re going to out-dress her?” She asked, incredulous.

“No,” You replied, rolling your eyes. “I’m going to use her worst fear against her. I’m going to seduce James.”

Dorcas nearly choked. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Listen, I would never usually even consider looking at another girl’s boyfriend, but this is different. James is the one thing that will shatter her, and honestly, it sounds cruel, but so is she!” You shot back, your resolve hardening.

“And if she tells the whole school what you’re doing, you’ll look like a homewrecker and be exiled,” Dorcas countered.

“Which is why it has to look like it’s all James’s idea,” You insisted, undeterred. “He’s been my friend since childhood; it’ll look innocent.”

“I don’t think this idea is as foolproof as you think,” Dorcas muttered, slipping into her red dress with an exasperated sigh.

“Dorc, trust me, she can’t hurt me,” You reassured her, the fire in your belly fueling your confidence.

“Well, if everything goes south,” Dorcas said with a reluctant smile, “I’ve got your back.”

You beamed at her. “What would I do without you?”

Just then, a loud bang echoed on your door. “Hurry up before all the firewhiskey is gone!” Marlene called, her voice a mix of urgency and excitement.

You and Dorcas shared a laugh, gathering your belongings and heading down to the common room, adrenaline buzzing in the air as you prepared to face the chaos of the night ahead.

The lively atmosphere of the common room was a familiar backdrop for you all; it felt like there was always a party, whether an event warranted it or not. You, Marlene, and Dorcas scanned the room and spotted your usual crew gathered around the couch. With a burst of energy, you hopped right next to James.

His eyes widened in surprise as he took in your outfit, but before he could say anything, Sirius swooped in.

“Y/N, have I ever told you how much I’m attracted to you?” He drawled, causing you to snort.

“Eyes off, Black,” You shot back playfully, just as Marlene whacked him with a pillow.

“Why do I even try?” He lamented, sinking dramatically into his chair.

Marlene grinned mischievously. “You know, I’d sleep with you, Black.”

Sirius’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, if you pay me and wear a cloak,” She teased, sending the group into fits of laughter.

Sirius scowled at Marlene while Lily pinched his cheeks, only for him to swat her hands away with a playful glare.

“You do look good, Y/N,” James murmured, his voice sincere.

You turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “Now what did I do to deserve a compliment from James Potter?”

He chuckled softly. “Well, after what I put you through this morning, I think you deserve more than just a compliment.”

“Speaking of this morning,” you leaned in closer, lowering your voice, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

James shrugged, a hint of frustration flickering across his face. “We got into a fight after you left. I tried to talk to her about her manners,” he said, his tone casual but the weight behind his words was clear.

“But you guys were literally snuggling when I left,” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, well, that was before I realized how messed up her behavior was. Jus'... embarrassing, you know?” He gulped down his drink, and you couldn’t help but notice the guilt etched on his face.

It twisted your heart, seeing him upset. James was your best friend, and the thought of anyone hurting him made your stomach churn.

You hated seeing him like this, torn between loyalty and the flaws of the person he cared for. It felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on both of you, and all you wanted was to lift it.

"Well," You spoke as he looked at you, "If you want me to forgive you, I think a dance would do," You said, standing up and extending a hand to him.

A goofy smile plastered on his face, James said, "Anything for M’lady’s forgiveness."

You scrunched your nose at his corniness as he took your hand and led you onto the dance floor. He twirled you around, making you giggle before pulling you back in to sway together.

"You’re such a dork," You snickered.

"And how many years have I proven that to you?" He shot back, laughter in his voice as you rested your head on his shoulder.

His fingertips grazed your back while you swayed, and he whispered in your ear, "I miss us hanging out."

Outside of Charms tutoring and classes, you never got to see James and it always hurt you. You both knew why you couldn’t and voicing it would only make it worse.

But it had been hard not having a proper hangout with just the both of you since third year.

You felt warmth spread through you, flustered. "I miss hanging out with you too."

Looking at him, you noticed how beautiful he looked—his messy hair and that infectious grin. There was always a gleam in his eye, and everything about him radiated warmth. It felt like summer when you were together, and butterflies filled your stomach.

You knew he was just your best friend, nothing more. And that would always be the truth, as long as you told yourself that.

Suddenly, James twirled you again, but this time you spun out of his grip and fell onto the suddenly slippery floor.

You fell with a hiss, "Shit!" you moaned, wincing in pain as James rushed over with the rest of the group, the crowd parting to give you space.

"What the fuck happened?" Sirius asked, concern etched on his face.

"I don't know!" James replied, kneeling beside you. "She just slipped!"

You hissed as you tried to stand on your sprained ankle.

"Let me see," James muttered, inspecting your foot as you groaned.

"Maybe it's her leg," Marlene added.

"Well duh," Sirius shot back, earning a playful hit from Marlene.

"Can we just get her to Pomfrey?" Lily huffed, and the boys nodded in agreement.

Sirius tried to rush over to you, but James waved him off. "I got her," he said, lifting you bridal-style.

You winced at the jolt to your ankle, nuzzling into his neck as you caught a glimpse of Emma in the back of the room, her expression burning with rage.

You knew then that the games were just beginning.

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Fem!Reader ☼ 946 words

The way I'm thinking I need to have a universe for these two

“He’s precious! He looks just like his daddy.” Miriam gushes, leaning in closer to Henry. James cringes as his baby boy flinches away, burying his head into his father’s chest and eyeing the woman with uncertainty. Henry's tiny hands clutch James’s shirt, seeking comfort and protection from the unfamiliar face.

James knows Miriam from school, but they have never been close. She has always been the life of the party, a role he once embraced during their Hogwarts days. Now, her enthusiasm feels overwhelming, especially to his shy and sensitive son. Perhaps he has mellowed more than he realizes since then—having a child at 20 would surely do that to you.

Miriam straightens up, placing a manicured hand on his bicep. With a slight pout to her lips, she says softly, “I heard about what happened to you and his mum. It must have been devastating.”

James tenses, his gaze shifting nervously to the store entrance, where he hopes Sirius, Remus, and you will hurry with their shopping and rescue him from this unwelcome conversation. The thought of discussing his ex, who left him and their son behind because she wasn't ready for motherhood, fills him with a mix of frustration and anger. The memory of her sudden departure still stings, and he isn’t eager to relive those painful moments, especially with someone he barely knows.

“Yeah, it’s been tough, but we’re doing just fine without her,” James replies, his tone steady but strained. He takes a deep breath, summoning the courage to gently suggest that Miriam give them some space. “Anyway, Miriam—”

“That’s so unfortunate that he doesn’t have a mum in his life,” Miriam continues, her lashes fluttering flirtatiously at him. James immediately grasps where she is going with this. It’s not the first time his role as a father has attracted unwanted advances, but her bold approach leaves him momentarily stunned. If she had asked him out directly, it might have been different—though he doubts it would have made much of a difference.

“Miriam! Still hitting on unavailable men?” Sirius’s voice rings out with a teasing edge. James turns to see Sirius and Remus emerging from the store. Remus is scanning the receipt but looks up, startled at Sirius’s voice. You must still be browsing in the store.

“Unavailable?” Miriam repeats, her eyebrows raising in surprise. James can’t help but question the same thing, the word echoing in his mind.

“Very much so,” Sirius says with a firm nod as he and Remus come to stand beside James. Remus shoots Miriam a polite hello, but his expression reflects his lingering dislike for her from their school days.

“I didn’t know you were with someone,” Miriam mumbles, and James thinks about clarifying that he didn’t know it either.

The bell above the shop door chimes, announcing someone’s departure. James’s reaction to your voice is immediate and revealing; his eyes brighten, and his posture straightens as he turns to you. It’s clear from his response that he is deeply enamored with you.

And it isn’t just James. His son mirrors his father’s excitement. The little boy’s eyes light up with the same warmth, and he reaches out eagerly toward you. Henry babbles what sounds remarkably like “mama,” his tiny arms outstretched in an unmistakable plea for you to hold him. James hopes you don’t catch what his son is trying to say.

Your sweet voice rings out, “Jamie, I know you said not to spoil him, but they had the most adorable knit sweater—” You trail off, blinking in surprise as you notice Miriam’s disapproving gaze, her brow furrowed in irritation. You come to a stop next to James, missing the way his son is staring you down.

“You bought him another sweater?” Remus asks, his tone a mix of surprise and amusement. You shoot him a halfhearted glare, silently reminding him that he shouldn’t be commenting on it.

“Hi, Miriam. How have you been?” You greet her with a warm smile, though a hint of unease tugs at you. Miriam’s gaze feels unusually intense, leaving you slightly unsettled. You recall that you both got on well in school, so you’re unsure what might have shifted between you.

“Good. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you all, Jamie and I were just talking about—” Miriam trails off, her gaze fixed on James as he smoothly takes the shopping bag from you, allowing you to take Henry. Had you been fully listening, you would’ve frowned at the use of your nickname for James.

The transition is so effortless that it’s clear it’s well-practiced. You settle Henry comfortably on your hip, deftly rummaging through your purse until you find a pacifier. You gently pop it into his mouth, and Henry’s head droops onto your shoulder as he begins to suck contentedly, letting out a sigh that suggests he’s found his perfect spot.

James’s gaze is lovesick as he watches you. His heart catches in his throat as he sees you effortlessly produce a pacifier for his son. He’s well aware that your purse likely holds other baby essentials, even if you’d deny it. As he observes you, his thoughts drift, overwhelmed by the profound realization that Henry has a mum in his life— you.

You’re so focused on settling Henry that you don’t even notice Miriam’s silence, and James, so absorbed in you, is barely aware of her presence. You smile up at him while gently rocking his son, and James thinks, This is it. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

Miriam turns to Sirius with a lowered voice, “I thought they were just friends. They were in school.”

“They were never just friends. Y/n has always been James’s weakness. Now she’s his son’s too.”

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

Dad!James and Bsf!Reader Masterlist

[sunnami]

the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.

summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.

pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.

wc. 4.1k

tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.

cws: brief mention of violence and blood.

note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.

i. 

SIRIUS BLACK did not love you—not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.

After Peter Pettigrew’s slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peter’s—or yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brother’s plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? He’d have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.) 

He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peter’s body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for death—until the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for you—beholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mind—he could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked him—all of them. 

He wanted—

He did not know what he wanted. 

For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the deserts—mistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing there—Sirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlife—Sirius could care less. He’d have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks. 

Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays. 

No, he did not love you—even as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you. 

“I didn’t know, Sirius,” you whispered—your voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. “Y-You have to believe me. If I knew—Gods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.” 

He thought so, too. 

“Did you know?” Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. “That when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had died—you would have been the last thing I saw.” 

You had not replied. 

Sirius grit his teeth. “Go,” he said, voice hoarse. 

“Go!” he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strike—but it was him who scared you. 

(But you had done so first.) 

When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.

It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you. 

It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brother—Sirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.) 

But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love. 

ii. 

JAMES POTTER had no love for you—make no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trust—defiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harry—he thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddle’s bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the same—if you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.) 

The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive. 

But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it. 

No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his being—that simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (“Poor thing,” McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the members’ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. “We can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .”) 

What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb? 

It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you lovelessly—hands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. “I’m sorry.”

It was a plea this time.

He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for it—but he could not love you. 

Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love you—but he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (“You need sleep, dear,” the matriarch fussed. “There’s nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.”) 

In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. “Wake up,” he demanded. 

“Wake up or else you’re the traitor everyone thinks you are,” James hissed. 

But his words held no heat—and his heart held no love for you. 

Make no mistake about that.

Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parched—a hazy recollection of the weeks before—James made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himself—James had faced him once already, after all—threatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.

 (But not to love.) 

“We need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not care—he just wanted you safe. 

(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brother’s keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his family’s sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, James’s heart and soul had known the truth all along.) 

He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfoot’s way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you. 

James did not love you. 

But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you? 

Not. Love. 

iii. 

REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in him—to wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No. 

Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brother’s crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that. 

“P-Peter?” you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on you—just as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, they’d wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestranges’ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain. 

He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones. 

“They. . .” Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? He’d rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. “They’re looking for him at the moment, love.” 

One question lingered in your eyes: Why? 

Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. “He was a traitor,” he spat like acid. “A traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. He’s no friend of ours. Not anymore.” 

But Sirius knew—better than anyone else—how difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once they’ve gone. 

“No. . .” You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms. 

Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)

“Hush, love,” Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, he’d gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return. 

“Don’t cry,” said James, a shadow cast over his frames. “Not for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get what’s coming to him.” He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. “I’ll make sure of it.”

They all would.

But not because they loved you. 

It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungo’s could offer—as if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile. 

It was the least he could do. 

For failing to protect you. 

But that was not love. 

(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)

iv. 

LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered. 

And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screaming—Lily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a mother’s love was entirely different from any emotion she’d ever felt before. 

This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly crying—screaming, even, every night—red-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at wit’s end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldn’t let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasn’t getting better. 

“Lily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,” worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. “We can call for another Healer from Mungo’s to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .” 

Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. “Might what, Mrs. Weasley?” She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a mother’s perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peter—then let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you. 

She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (“I’m going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said I’d be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I can’t wait to tell Peter that I’ve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungo’s after graduation.”) 

And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)

Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight. 

“There is no one else I trust more with my life,” replied Lily. 

And that was that. 

Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side. 

“Hello, love,” she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much. 

“Is that. . .?” you croaked. 

Lily nodded. “Harry, meet—” 

One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever. 

Lily’s smile wilted. “A friend.” 

Later, she would place Harry in your arms—her little hope embraced by her dream—and Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence. 

For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?

But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.

(She would die for Harry, yes—but she would live for you.)

v. 

YOU did not love them, either. 

The very idea, thought—insinuation—was absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friend—how much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, you’d never know. 

Because you did not love them. 

Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love. 

Surely not. 

Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lily—for all your history together—called you a friend. 

The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common room—there was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawney’s talks of providence and destiny. 

Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel? 

Falling—not in love—for four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows. 

Was love that unkind? That merciless? 

Then, you did not want to love at all. 

Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish. 

You were no different. 

You wanted. 

Oh, how you yearned. 

“I LOVE YOU.” 

You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts. 

“Quite a random thing to say, husband,” you murmured, leaning into his warmth. “What for?” 

“Just because,” he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. “Well, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” 

You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. “I love you too, quite unfortunately.” 

He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. “Let’s go home.” 

–

“I love you.” 

In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and love—James said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him. 

And you had loved him fiercely for that. 

“I’ll be home early tonight,” he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. “Wait for me?”

“Of course,” you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. “I love you. Be safe.” 

-

“I love you.” 

“Are you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?” you teased from where you laid on Remus’s chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remus’s chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice. 

“Both,” he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skin—a miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch. 

You hummed. “Then, I love you, too.” Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.” 

And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remus’s smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.

“My heart, my light, my desire,” Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. “In vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” 

–

“I love you.” 

Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. “But, please, go,” she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. “It’s a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.” 

You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,” you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. “Besides, Harry here has something to tell you. He’s made friends at school. One of them is Molly’s little one.” 

“Oh, you did?” Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. “That’s lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.” 

“That’s not all, Lily mine,” you began mischievously as Harry’s eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. “This friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.” 

“You what?” Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread. 

“Did you really, Harry?” James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. “Good boy. Father approves.” 

“Of course you would,” Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. “And where are you all coming from?”

“Outside,” announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. “Sirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things that’ll make you feel better, Lily love.” 

And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.

You loved them. 

And they loved you. 

a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi!! i saw your requests were open but i was wondering if you’d do a high maintenance reader w any of the marauders?? i just realized that i got my hair done, my eyelashes done, my nails done, and a facial all within a week and now im crying because i can’t afford my lifestyle, and also because i didn’t realize i was considered high maintenance until now :/

“We’re not having this conversation again, angel.” James says as he holds your hand on the walk back to the car.

You frown, catching a glimpse at your nails and smiling before frowning again. “But Jamie, it’s every month!”

He opens the back door for you, letting you slide in before he gets in himself.

Remus is driving while Sirius sits in the passenger seat, hair held back a bun that’s not very effective but makes him all the more handsome.

“It’s not a problem, sweet girl.” James steals a kiss. “We don’t mind.” Remus catches a glimpse at you in the rear view mirror.

“What’s wrong dove?” You pout, not really upset with them but upset at what you realized halfway through your nail appointment.

“All three of you always pay for my things,” All the boys frown, they don’t see the issue. You sigh, your fists banging on your exposed knees under your skirt.

“Every time I have an appointment, one of you comes just to pay. Doesn’t that make you feel gross? Like you’re just here to maintain me?”

Sirius turns to face you first. He’s not the best with words, but he’s always able to get to you faster than the other boys.

“Why would we feel gross about taking care of you? You’re not a thing to maintain and even if we do pay for your things it doesn’t mean it’s a burden.”

Remus nods at Sirius’ words, “We don’t come just to pay either. We like seeing you get all dolled up, lovely girl. It’s a treat for us as much as it is for you.”

You roll your eyes, disbelieving, “Just this week, I’ve done my hair, had a facial, got waxed and did my nails and you all paid for something.”

Remus nods, driving effortlessly while holding your eyes in the rear view. “We like taking care of you dove. You never ask for us to do it, we just do because it makes us feel good.”

James nods, lips to your temple. “It does. So what if you go do a million procedures a month? Just as long as we get to finance it.”

You sigh long and hard, “But it’s so much.”

Remus shakes his head, voice soothing even as he maneuvers the car through traffic, “Baby, we all argue about who gets to pay for what. It’s not too much for us, we want to keep doing it.”

Sirius cuts you a hard look from the passenger side when he catches your eye roll, “Poppet,” he leans around the seat to look you in the eyes. “We like maintaining you. We like spending our money on you when you want to do something, that’s not an issue to us, got it?”

James speaks softly when you don’t answer, “S’like Remus said, angel. No sense in making yourself feel bad for something we’d practically fight each other to do, yeah?”

You nod, a little bashful under his gaze and when he beckons you forward with his chin, you nearly scramble across the middle seat to kiss him.

Sirius’ hands tangle in your hair and you pull away, “I just got it done yesterday, Siri.” He smiles, all wicked and best pleased.

“And you look all the more gorgeous.” He steals another kiss just as Remus pulls up to your brunch destination. “Now c’mon, we’ve got to show you off after all this.”

Remus turns your face before you get too far, stealing a couple kisses for himself. “No more worrying about us taking care of you, yeah?”

You’re dazed and kisses silly, “Yeah, Remmy.” James gets his kisses last and you have to wait ten minutes in the backseat before getting out with any of them while you hide a smile.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x best friend!fem!reader

Summary: You and James stumble upon an ancient book of spells rumored to enhance pleasure.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm) + hurt and comfort

Warnings: sex while under an 'aphrodisiac' of some kind, unprotected sex, penetration, cock warming, quickie, public (not seen by anyone), riding, insecurities, porn with plot ✨

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

"Someone is gonna see us," you whisper, feeling James Potter's hand in yours, his thumb occasionally soothing circles over your palm as you stumble in the dark corridors under his invisibility cloak.

"That's the point of the cloak, love," James answers, holding in a laugh as he guides you towards the entrance to the library and he mutters the spell for the lock as you hold your breath. 

"Hear us then," you counter, unconsciously squeezing his hand for reassurance. 

James doesn't hesitate to return the squeeze and he smiles when the lock opens with a click. He opens the door and you both squeeze inside.

Once the door shuts behind you, James drops the cloak and you let out a shaky exhale, adjusting your hair. The room is dark and it smells like dust. You hold in a cough as James mutters, "Lumos," and then grins like he'd gone mad.

"Told ya we'd be fine," he sing-songs and kicks your shoe in a playful manner as he walks by you to look at all the restricted books. 

You groan and take out your wand, walking along the shelves as you pick up dust with your index. "Are you looking for something in particular?" you ask, your voice low as you read the names of books, realizing just how dangerous this could become.

James nods. "Yeah, I bet Sirius I could find "Moste Potente Potions" so we could make some Polyjuice potion," he says casually. 

"And you needed me, why?!" you turn to glare at your best friend. 

James looks at you with a smile. "Didn't really. I'just like your company."  

You bite the inside of your cheek and go back to looking at the books. "Polyjuice is dangerous, James. Are you sure you want to meddle with that?"

James nods again and he hums, "I'm top of the class in Potions, I'm sure I can handle some Polyjuice." He sounds smug and you roll your eyes at his behavior.

James is reckless and impulsive and honestly, you're worried about him making that potion with his friends. You don't dare bring it up, because who are you to tell James what to do? You aren't his girlfriend or anything—

"Woah," James's voice interrupts your thoughts as he walks over to you. You turn, standing in front of him as he flips the pages of some old dusty book. "These spells are ancient—and completely forbidden—" he mutters, his eyes round with excitement. 

You tilt your head and read the title; "Antiqua Cantus." Ancient Spells.

"Bloody Hell, there's a pleasure-enhancing spell–like a sexual thing—" James exclaims and holds the book open to you so you can see. You walk over and stand next to him, looking over his shoulder at the spell. James begins to recite the spell and you read along, entranced by the words on the worn-out parchment.

By moonlight's glow and stars above, 

Ignite the flames of lustful love. 

Let passion's heat our bodies bind,

In ecstasy, our souls combined.

Whisper soft this sacred plea,

Unleash our wildest fantasy.

Once he's finished, you glance around the page and frown. "Shit." You grab the book from James and then look up at him with wide eyes, "James, this is a wandless spell!" you whisper and his eyes widen like yours did as he realizes what happened. 

He grabs the book from you and reads the instructions. His shoulders relax and he points to the small print— "It says the participants must have already existing feelings for this to work," he mumbles and looks up at you, smiling reassuringly and unsure all the same. "So—"

"Yeah—" you whisper, stepping away from him.

"I feel fine," James starts.

"I do too," you say, feeling completely normal. 

James shuts the book with a slam and his smile returns. "Thing is probably too old to work, anyways," he says confidently. You nod, less confident than he is but you push those worries down. 

He doesn't like you like that—so why would it work?

Once James finally finds the book he's looking for, you both cram under the cloak and you make your way back to the dorm. You ignore the feeling, but your head feels fuzzier than it should. Every brush on James's arm against yours sends shivers up your spine. You're extra aware of how he smells and it's intoxicating. You bite your lip, hoping the pain will distract you from the pleasure building. 

The spell. 

James looks normal. He's even humming the Hogwarts song under his breath, his eyes trained forward as you make it to the Common Room. It feels so unfair—that he's fine and your stomach twists with butterflies as your nipples harden painfully against your bra. 

It isn't fair. 

As soon as you have the chance, you pull away from James and sit on the couch, pressing your thighs together. You glance up at the stairs to the girl's dorms, wondering if you should run up and take a cold shower to quench the ache.

"Hey, you okay?" James asks, folding up the cloak as he looks you over.

Bloody fuck, his voice. 

"Mhmm," you nod, focusing your attention on anything but how turned on you are or how hot James sounds and looks. How much you want his lips on yours. 

You clench your thighs again, nervously pressing your hands in between them and your breath hitches when James sits next to you, his hand flat on your thigh. You inhale. 

"Are you sure?" he asks, looking at you behind his glasses with a look that makes you want to pounce on him. This is so humiliating. You move your thigh so his hand slips onto the couch and James's frown deepens. "Hey," he whispers again, "What's happened?"

You feel like your entire body is on fire. You need to touch yourself or throw yourself out a window—you can't make up your mind.

"The stupid spell—" you say, your voice soft as you avoid his gaze and stare at your knees, feeling your hands shake. "it's working and I- I can't handle it, James," 

He doesn't answer for a moment until you hear a familiar laugh. "Oh, darling," he says, his hand finding your chin as he turns your head around, grinning. "Look at me." 

You do so but he shakes his head, his eyes shimmering. "No. Look at me," he whispers, his voice husky and deep and your eyes widen when you understand what he means. Your gaze falls from his eyes to the painful-looking bulge tenting his trousers and you inhale sharply, the sight causing your mind to haze over. How had you missed this!?

"Look at what it's done to me, love," James finishes as his thumb strokes your cheek. "We really messed up this time, didn't we?" he hums.

"You messed up," you whisper, leaning into his touch. Thank Merlin no one is in the Common Room at this hour because your desperation is embarrassing.

"I messed up," James says with a strained smirk and he twirls some of your hair in his fingers. "Can I make it up to you, darling? Can I make the ache go away?"

James knows this is wrong. You're both under some kind of sexually enhancing spell—this is so many shades of messed up. Still, his heart and dick yearn for you. Somehow, he's managed to hide it well, most likely because he'd had experience in that department—James was constantly turned on to some level when he was around you. He can't help himself. 

"H-how?" you ask, the idea of giving in to the desires not even crossing your mind. 

James smirks, looking at you as his glasses fall down his nose. He pats his thigh. You look down, your eyes widening. You shouldn't. This is wrong. Still, your body responds to him without your brain's permission as you lift yourself to straddle his lap. Your skirt bunches up your thighs as your arms wrap around James's shoulder. You gasp for air at how sensitive you are and you can't look him in the eye.

You can feel him hard and needy against you and you swallow. 

"Look at me," James whispers once more, his voice husky and deep as his hands grip your hips and he moves you up and down his trousers. You whine and bury your face in the crook of his neck, your skin clammy and flushed from need. 

Suddenly the movements stop and your grip tightens around his shoulders. 

"Look at me," he says again, lips pressed to your ear as he sounds as desperate as you are. "O-or I'll stop," he threatens, not sounding convincing considering the spell is starting to hit him hard and he's about ready to come in his trousers. 

You pull away, looking at him as your mind buzzes and you search his eyes for some hint that you both need to stop this. You see none so you say, your voice strained, "James. Fucking need you, please."

You lift your hips, finding his zipper and fumbling with his trousers as you push aside your panties. It's rushed and sweaty and not at all romantic like you'd planned—not to mention public. You pray everyone else is asleep and won't walk in on you sitting on your best friend's cock.  

With a moan, you press down and he slides in easily. "Shit, you're so wet," James mumbles as he kisses your neck, holding you close as his cock twitches inside you. You both don't even think of the fact he's not wearing a condom or anything. You're too lost in the pleasure for any rational thoughts.

"Fuck," you groan, keeping him inside you without movement for a while. You hold him as close as possible, needing him. Needing his warmth.

James groans, his eyes shut in pleasure as he holds himself back from fucking you roughly. He's going to explode at any moment if he doesn't feel you move. "Y/n," he warns, his hands tightening even more on your poor hips. 

You take that as an invitation and you move, your movements slow and languid in the beginning, feeling every pull and stretch and you can't tell if James's cock just feels so much better than any others you've been with, or if the spell is messing with you. 

Perhaps it's a little of both. 

"Bloody hell," James grunts, losing control, as he moves you with him, his hips snapping up into you. You gasp, falling onto his shoulder as you hold him even closer, the pleasure almost unbearable.

You don't know if it's been hours or mere minutes but once James spills himself into you, his hands around your back as he continues to move your body to his liking, you can't hold it in and your mouth opens, a silent moan catching you by surprise as you finish around him. You feel weak and fuzzy almost instantly as if the string master that kept you aware suddenly cut you loose. 

James's hand soothingly runs in your hair as he pants, his eyes shut. The only sound you can hear is your and James' ragged breaths and all you can smell is the burnt-out firewood and sex. You feel much calmer now as your brain tries to catch up with the events that just transpired, and when it does your blood runs cold.

You sit up, looking down at your best friend. He's looking at you, not daring to speak. You'd just fucked him with such want and need and yet all you can think about when you look at him is how you did all that without knowing the feeling of his lips on yours.

Shame burns your skin and you scramble off him, the feeling of his cock leaving from inside you makes you wince as you hold in all the emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. 

"Hey," James whispers, his hand reaching for yours as he stops you from running away, standing up in the process so he's looking at you. He drops your hand and, clearly embarrassed, tucks himself back inside his trousers. You stare at him, feeling dirty from an experience you'd wished had been amazing. 

And it was more than amazing if you were honest with yourself. You'd never been more satisfied in your life, but it also wasn't what you'd really wanted. Was it too cliché to want roses and candles? A steamy kiss and some swoon-worthy romantic confession? 

Instead, you'd gotten love bites and finger dents.

"What's going on in your head?" James's voice interrupts your thoughts as he moves closer. 

"Hmm?"

"Darling, come on, please talk to me," he insists, wanting to know exactly what you're feeling so he can understand his own feelings. 

You cover your face with your hands, head dipping down as your body finally calms down from the surplus of hormones you've experienced.

"We shouldn't have done that, James—I–it was wrong," your voice fades as his hands find your wrists and he pulls them down. He looks hurt, sad, and guilty all in one emotion painted on his handsome face. 

"Do you regret it?" he asks, his voice wavering. 

You open your mouth to say yes but hold yourself back. It's more complicated than that. "I don't know– I just didn't think it would happen like this and—we didn't even kiss," you ramble, avoiding looking at him. You should have been looking because then you could have seen his next move coming.

James gently takes your cheeks in his hands, pulling you into him so he can kiss your lips. For something surprising, it isn't forceful at all. He doesn't kiss you longer than a few seconds and he doesn't use his tongue. He's delicate with you, making sure he isn't crossing any boundaries.

When he moves away, your eyes are open and you're silent for a moment. Then, you grab his collar and pull him in, crashing your lips onto his. You kiss him like he's your last meal on earth--like you've been starved of him. He feels so good pressed against you, his hands in your hair and then your cheeks again, and then your waist. You feel dizzy and you pull away. Your lips feel swollen and love-bitten and you're a flustered mess.

James continues to hold you close as he presses his forehead to yours, his thumb rubbing your waist. "You're amazing," he speaks so softly as a faint smile graces his lips. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't tell you enough, do I?" James smiles and tilts his head. He leans in and kisses your neck. "You're amazing—so wonderful," he inhales your scent but doesn't comment on it and a shiver runs up your spine. 

"I– we–" You want to bring up the fact you had sex with him but James puts his finger on your lips, his thumb rubbing under your chin and he shakes his head. 

"Stop worrying so much, lovely. It's okay. I promise it's okay. I didn't hurt you did I?"

You shake your head and James's smile turns into a grin.

"Good. So we're okay, hm?" he looks at you expectantly. "You're still my best friend."

Your heart thumps loudly in your ears. Best friends. "Y-yeah, you're still my best friend, Jamie," you say, your voice strained as you smile reluctantly. 

You want to be so much more than best friends.

James can sense your hesitation and he takes a breath. "W-would you want to try to be more than just friends, Y/n?" he pauses, and then his voice picks up, "and I'm not saying that because we just fucked. No. I'm saying this because I'm hopelessly in love with you and I think you love me too. You kissed me like you love me. I want to try to make this work."

You feel like the world is crashing around you. Your skin feels clammy and your head is dizzy. Still, an unfamiliar warmth spreads all around you. You feel blissful and you reach for James's hand, needing to hold him. He lets you hold his hand and he intertwines his fingers into yours. He looks nervous like he's expecting a rejection.  

"I do love you, James. So much. I want to try this too," you whisper, looking at him with a shy smile. 

James's grin widens and he picks you up, spinning you around as he keeps you close when your feet touch the ground again. "I'll do right by you, my love," he whispers in your ear and you hold your hands behind his neck. 

"So no more late-night trips to the restricted sections and trying old, dangerous, spells?" you tease.

James nips at your ear. "I kinda liked this one."

You laugh and swat his pec, your hand trailing down his chest as you fist his shirt and look up at him with a mockingly stern look. "Don't be a smartass, you wanker."

James returns your laugh and kisses behind your ear. "No more trips to the restricted section and trying old dangerous spells. Pink swear."

You pull away and hold out your pinky, which he takes and you grin. 

"We can still have sex though, hm. We don't need a spell to do that, right?" he teases but the question almost sounds serious. 

You roll your eyes. "James."

"I'm just making sure!" 

[brokenmenswhore]

I hate to do asks but like just imagine this! At hogwarts there is a group that’s kinda like a polyamorous relationship but just for s*x and it’s like slytherin and gryffindor students and they decided they wanted someone from like a year younger so they start to slowly talk to innocent reader to get them comfortable around them before starting to get touchy with her (maybe she is a hufflepuff? That’s my house)

i’m a hufflepuff too 🫶🏻 thanks for feeling comfy enough to send me this ask if you don’t usually like doing that!

a proposition | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, and mary)

warnings: none!

a/n: i don’t even realize my sirius favoritism until i proofread a poly story and i’m like damn okay then WHORE

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

Everyone knew about it.

Even though it wasn’t spoken of in the presence of the students not involved, everyone knew about it.

It wasn’t exactly a polyamorous relationship, because a relationship implies more than just physicality, which is what it was. It was purely for sex.

It was started, of course, by Sirius Black. He had a casanova reputation, and after a while, he started looking to the same group of girls when he was in the mood. His best friend, Remus, unknowingly slept with quite a few of the same girls, and a lot of those girls slept with each other.

James didn’t have as much sex as his two best friends, but he quickly became involved. After a while, a group was established.

All of the students involved knew one another well, and were all somewhat close friends that had not romantic desires toward one another, but unashamed lust. It was a sex positive group, and was essentially just a group of students who fucked each other whenever.

Despite the unofficial, non-relationship standing, they all agreed to only have sex with each other. If they wanted to add someone into the group, they all had to agree to it. So, in a way, it was a relationship, but, in a way, it wasn’t. There wasn’t really a label on what it was, but it worked for them.

Everyone in the group was in the same year at Hogwarts, so they all related to each other well.

However, a few of them began to crave something new- someone not so in line with everyone.

Everyone sat in the Gryffindor common room at an hour late enough that most others were asleep. James sat on the floor, his back resting between Dorcas’s legs as she played with his hair, tying small braids from the curly strands.

“We wanna bring something up,” James said.

“We’re doing we’s now?” Sirius scolded, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I just mean, there’s something Dorcas and I talked about, and now I’m talking about it with all of you,” James clarified.

“Fair enough, what’s up?” Mary asked.

“I’m wondering how everyone here would feel about inviting someone new into the group.”

Everyone looked around the room at one another, attempting to gage the energy of everyone else before speaking their own opinions.

“I vote we should bring in someone younger,” Evan added.

“Younger like what? Like wouldn’t that be weird?” Remus asked.

“No, idiot, like a year under us,” Evan retorted.

“Where the fuck are we gonna find someone a year younger than us who would be down to do this?” Mary questioned.

Sirius flicked a spark off of his cigarette, clearing his throat and sitting forward a bit. “I have someone in mind.”

“Has everyone been trying to scope out prospects? Am I the only one who hasn’t thought about inviting in anyone new?” Alecto asked.

There was another shared look, and everyone shrugged. They had all thought about a change.

“Who’d you have in mind, Sirius?” Dorcas brought the attention back to his statement.

“There’s this hufflepuff a year below us, seems super innocent though,” Sirius said, taking a quick hit of smoke, “blushes every time I look at her.”

“Is she hot?” Remus asked.

“No, I’m proposing we all fuck her because she’s not hot,” Sirius snapped, his voice laced with evident sarcasm.

Sirius told them your name, and a few of them already knew who you were.

“She’s super cute!” Dorcas exclaimed, “I’m super down for that. Anyone disagree?”

Everybody was on board with the idea.

────── ☾ ──────

“Go on, then.”

James turned to Sirius and Remus, saying, “why does it have to be me? You go do it.”

“Fine,” Sirius replied, “Remus, go talk to her.”

Remus threw his hands up. “What happened to being set on making James do it?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. “She’s not gonna be sitting at that table forever. You nervous or somethin’?”

“No,” Remus quickly replied, “this is just, I don’t know, weird.”

“How’s it weird?”

“Because I’m about to go interrupt the poor girl in order to talk to her with the intention of later asking her to fuck me and all my friends,” Remus explained, “I don’t know, it’s just a weird thing to do.”

“Fuckin’ hell, I can’t stand you two,” Sirius said, flicking a spark off of his cigarette and walking over to you. He sat down across the table from you, watching you intently as you scribbled notes off a textbook.

You didn’t look up because you didn’t even consider that he was sitting near you for a reason.

“Hey.”

You looked up, and Sirius was looking directly at you. The familiar tint of red crept into your cheeks. “Hi.”

He took a drag of his cigarette, kicking his feet up onto the table. “Seen you around quite a bit.”

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips as they wrapped around the cigarette.

“We do go to the same school,” you quipped, smiling to show it was lighthearted.

Sirius smirked, happy you were responding well to him. “I usually don’t get on with anyone that isn’t in my year.”

“Why talk to me then?” you asked.

“Don’t know,” Sirius said, swinging his feet off the table and leaning his torso over the table a bit, “guess somethin’ just caught my eye.”

He knew his flirtations would make you blush, and they did just that. You smiled as you tilted your head back down, pretending to look over your notes in an attempt to calm yourself.

Sirius’s smile only widened watching you squirm under his gaze. “Whatcha studying?”

“Fwoopers,” you responded, “but understanding seems to evade me sometimes.”

“You know who’s super smart? My friend James.”

“Wh-“ before you could even stop him, Sirius signaled over James, who approached you with Remus in tow.

“This is James, James, say hi.”

James sighed. “I’m not a dog, Sirius, unlike some people.”

“Funny,” Sirius retorted, “do you think you could help my new friend with some Care of Magical Creatures work?”

“Oh, I don’t- I’m all good, I-“

“Course,” James lit up, sitting down directly next to you, “lemme see.”

He pulled the textbook toward him, familiarizing himself with what you were reading as Remus took a seat next to Sirius.

You watched a few girls walk past your table, shooting you dirty looks when they noticed that the boys were otherwise occupied with you. Sirius, Remus, and James has grown to be quite popular, and them speaking with a random, younger Hufflepuff was odd. Remus noticed your shift in energy.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just- I’m a year under you, I can’t do your schoolwork for you or anything.”

Sirius furrowed his brows in confusion. “Why would we want you to do our schoolwork?”

“I don’t know, is that not why you’re all talking to me?”

James diverted his attention from your textbook, looking at you in understanding. He felt a pant of guilt for springing everyone on you at once, and a pang of sadness for the fact you didn’t think they would actually want to talk to you just because.

“You forget James is top of his class,” Sirius said, but James didn’t think the mood called for quips. He shot Sirius a look, taking over the conversation.

“We’re sorry if we came off a little strong,” he started, “we all just wanted to say hey. We see you around a lot and think you’re cute, it’s as simple as that.”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly turning weak.

Sirius was smiling and relaxing back into the chair, amused to high hell with how innocent and blushy you were from such a small little compliment. He was so happy he suggested you.

────── ☾ ──────

The following day, Remus and Lily caught you walking down a corridor during your free period.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” you asked, directing the question toward Remus as they caught up to you.

“Didn’t feel like going,” Remus said, nonchalant.

“You can’t just not go,” you laughed, assuming he wasn’t serious.

“Be careful with this one,” Lily said to you, gesturing to Remus, “he’s a horrible influence. You wouldn’t have caught me dead skipping a lecture last year. He can be very persuasive.”

Something about the way she said it made you swallow hard, suddenly extremely aware of your presence and appearance.

“I’m Lily,” she finally introduced herself, throwing a piece of hair behind her shoulder. She was beautiful, and you became self conscious in her vicinity.

You didn’t respond, just smiled, so she took the opportunity to continue. “My friends and I are all headed to Hogsmeade later. You’re welcome to join if you want!”

“You’d want me to join?” you questioned.

“Don’t be silly, why not? Remus will be there too, and a ton of other really cool people.”

You contemplated your options. You had no reason to believe that Remus and Lily were not genuine in their invitation, and you were excited at the prospect of new friends. “Sure,” you responded.

Lily squealed and gave you a small hug. “I’ll go tell everyone you’re coming!”

“Why would you need-“

“Bye!”

Lily scrambled off down the hallway, leaving you alone with Remus.

“She tends to get excited,” Remus explained, “she’s the friendliest people-person I know. Can get quite annoying, actually.”

You giggled at his statement, and he took the opportunity to brush his hand against yours. You took it as an accident, so you didn’t even react, but then he intertwined his fingers with your own.

You didn’t retract your hand, but instead looked to where yours met his, and then looked at him. He continued looking forward, walking alongside you and not acknowledging what he did. He wanted to see if you would pull away on your own, but you didn’t. It felt comfortable.

You got ready for your trip with your new friends alone, since all of them were in Gryffindor or Slytherin and stuck to their respective common rooms. You caught Lily and Mary outside of their common room, and you walked with them down to Hogsmeade.

Now that you were outside of the castle walls, you noticed a shift in how everyone acted with one another. They were all very touchy, making sexual innuendos at each other and allowing themselves to have fun without restriction.

You followed as they immediately went to Honeydukes. Alecto informed you that Sirius had a serious sweet tooth, and always made everyone go there as the very first stop on their trips. No one complained, though, because they all wanted to anyway.

As you all exited the shop, Dorcas made a show of sucking her lollipop, staring Evan in the eyes as she did so. You felt your cheeks go hot, almost feeling like you saw something you shouldn’t have.

The next stop was the Three Broomsticks, and James saw your confusion as you reached the entrance.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Yeah, just- didn’t you all just get a whole bunch of sweets?”

James laughed, “and?”

You smiled toward him. “Fair enough.”

“We don’t like to shy away from the pleasure of life, darling,” Dorcas said, imitating a very english accent. Everyone laughed in unison at her impression.

You all crowded around a table, and you remained silent, your hands in your lap for fear of obstructing the space Sirius had to your left and Mary had to your right.

You listened intently as everyone joked and talked about their current courses and professors, when suddenly a question was directed at you.

“So tell me, which professor do you like the least? I just know it’s Professor Bins. I mean, you’re crazy if you don’t say Bins,” Lily said.

“If I had to pick, sure,” you said.

“He’s never done anything to drive you crazy?”

“I mean, there was this one time he assigned so much work over the holiday that someone threw a desk out the window,” you started.

“Wait what? What exactly happened?” Lily asked, enthusiastic that you were finally opening up.

“It was just all textbook readings and analysis, especially about the Ministry and MACUSA and all that, and he said it had to be done by the time we came back from holiday. A few students protested, and he just got more and more angry until someone stood up, picked up a desk, and chucked it out the window. It happened so fast I don’t think anyone had the time to levitate it before it hit the ground.”

Everyone chuckled at the story, and you felt at ease now that you were becoming more and more comfortable with the group.

“And did he…”

“Faint from sheer stress? Oh absolutely,” you added, smiling as you spoke, your posture adjusting to mimic your growing comfort.

You didn’t catch it, but Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, nodding their heads upward at one another as Sirius gently placed his hand on your thigh.

Your body jolted a slight bit as you flinched, startled by the unfamiliar feeling. Sirius immediately pulled his hand away, but you turned to him, and spoke low enough that only he could hear. “It’s okay, you can leave it there.”

Sirius put his hand back, resting it low on your thigh. As time went on, and you continued talking, he began to rub his thumb on your leg. It felt unfamiliar, but soothing and intimate.

Of course you were attracted to the people at the table: they were all insanely attractive and kind to you, but you hadn’t felt this feeling before. Someone was touching you, and so intimately, and it was doing something to you.

Sirius began to slowly creep his hand upward, rubbing your inner thigh under your skirt, only a few inches away from your most sensitive area.

You shuddered and your breathing hitched in your throat, but you didn’t stop him.

You were suddenly snapped back to reality when you noticed everyone watching you. You looked around the table, slightly embarrassed and slightly confused.

“We have a proposition for you,” James said.

[ellecdc]

teehee potions partners turned friends to lovers! James and reader. She has a massive crush on him and finally built up the courage to confess! On the other hand, James is all 😀🧍🏻? because he thought they’ve been dating for the past 3 weeks after their trip to hogsmeade <3

-⭐️

sooooo cute, thanks for the prompt!!

James Potter x fem!reader who can't be friends with him anymore [1.6k words]

CW: miscommunication trope? sort of?, fluff, written for a fem!reader but no gender is defined other than one mention of 'darling girl'

It felt beyond tortuous at this point. It felt inhumane to even have to be within the same vicinity as James Potter.

You’d always found him quite distracting; the kind of attractive that demanded your attention whether you wanted to give it or not. Between that and his penchant for drawing attention to himself, it was difficult to do anything but notice him.

Thankfully for you, you’d always found your attraction to the Gryffindor to be wholly physical and visual in nature; sure, he was nice to look at, but you had no interest in talking to the loud, brash, boisterous, mischievous Gryffindor who was nothing but trouble if his infamous pranks and many detentions were anything to go by.

And then Professor Sprout paired the two of you together for your year end project.

And then you were forced to spend every class sharing a potting bench with him plus the various library meetings you had to set up in order to finish the written portion of the assignment.

And then, possibly worst of all, the two of you had taken a trip to Hogsmeade to pick up some seeds and gardening equipment which turned into an impromptu shopping trip through Tomes & Scrolls, Honeydukes, Zonkos, and ended with a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks.

And you loved it, which you hated.

You hated it because you’d come to learn over the latter part of the term that James Potter was boisterous, but in a rather charismatic way. 

You learned that James Potter was mischievous, but in a painfully clever way. 

James Potter played an awful lot of pranks on Hogwarts students and staff, but the majority of them (save the ones against a few particular Slytherin students) were lighthearted in nature. 

And though James Potter was, perhaps, loud and brash when surrounded by his friends and quidditch team mates, he was somehow overwhelmingly soft and relaxed around you. 

For you, James always came across as rather…simple in the corridors of the castle and at mealtimes; you only knew him as the loud jokester who bantered with anyone and everyone within earshot. But you learned quite quickly that he was a very high-performing student and barely had to put in any effort to pass with flying colours.

Which, unfortunately, left him a lot of time to talk with you.

You learned that he was fiercely loyal and protective of his own; he loved no one more than he loved his friends who were more like family to him at this point. He had a strong sense of justice, and you learned that many of his more…aggressive pranks on the Slytherin’s turned out to be his own version of vigilante justice for some slur or hateful action they’d been stupid enough to say or do in front of the Marauders.

You also learned that he was just lovely; he always pulled your chair out for you if he got to your table before you, he showed up to the library one evening late for your scheduled study session and before you had any time to scold him for it, he presented a plate of food that he had procured from the Great Hall for you two to share with an apology on his lips for being late, ‘it’s important to keep your blood sugars up; we need that beautiful brain of yours, angel’ he’d told you, and it took you perhaps the rest of the study session to get your cheeks to cool and heart rate to return to normal.

And that was probably the worst part - the nicknames; the endearments that fell so naturally from his lips as if they were simply carved out of the English language just for you, as if there was no other possible way he could refer to you other than as his ‘angel’, ‘sweetness’, or ‘darling girl’. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, you just couldn’t; you found yourself feeling completely insecure about your … friendship? Relationship? … with him that when you so much as even heard him talk to another student, you were filled with a heavy jealousy that left you feeling nothing but shame because you had no right to be jealous over someone you had no claim over.

So, you had decided, today was the day.

Today was the day you were going to come clean, the day you were going to admit your feelings to James so that you could rid yourself of this heavy burden; this crush.

He’ll either turn you down and you can get on with life, or….

Well…

You had not really thought that far ahead.

And it didn’t look like you would have any time to as he walked through the door and flashed you a beaming smile that saw both dimples make an appearance.

Oh gods…there was no way that someone so lovely, so beautiful, so effervescent could ever reciprocate feelings for the likes of you.

Of course not!

There was only one way this was going to go, and it was going to end in your spirit being crushed.

“Hey, angel!” He greeted with a smacking kiss to your cheek. “I’m glad to see you! What did you want to talk about?” He asked as he sat beside you on the bench and angeled his entire body towards you; like you were the only thing worth directing his attention at.

Oh, you were going to miss that.

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.” You blurted rather suddenly.

James looked as though you’d just slapped him; his head actually rearing back as he blinked at you.

“I- what?” He asked breathlessly. 

“I…I just don’t think we can be friends anymore.” You murmured quieter this time, no longer able to make eye contact with him and turning your gaze towards the woodgrain of the table you were sitting at. 

“And why not, exactly?” He asked; voice level and controlled in a way you’d not heard the likes of before. 

“Because I…I don’t want to be your friend, James.” 

“You don’t want to be my friend?” He deadpanned in return.

“I…I rather wish we were more.” You admitted. “I find that I’ve, uhm, well I…I seem to have feelings for you and…I can’t just be friends with you anymore.”

You decided to stop your rather embarrassing and nonsensical ramble and stole a glance at James in your periphery to see he was leaning on his elbow and had his hand covering his mouth as he stared at you.

His eyes were crinkled in the corners and shining with mirth and you realised then that he was laughing at you.

“Are you-”

“No!”

“You are!”

“No, angel, I’m-”

“You’re laughing at me!” You all but screeched in the library of all places and made to stand, only for James’ hands to shoot out and catch you at your wrists, exposing his beaming smile and the fact that his shoulders were absolutely shaking with laughter.

“Sh, wait, don’t go-”

“James Potter, don’t shush me!” You whisper-shouted as you tried to wrench your wrists from his grasp, only to have him laugh harder and pull you back down into your seat with little effort on his part.

“Hey, listen! Listen to me.” He begged between laughs. “I’m not laughing at you, I’m just laughing because- hey!” He paused as you managed to free one of your hands and whacked him in the very muscular arm for it. “I’m laughing because I was under the impression that we already were dating.”

You stared at him in shock as he let out a few more chuckles; holding your gaze with his warm brown ones as he rubbed circles on your wrists with his thumbs.

“What?” You finally asked dumbly.

“I was very much under the impression that our Hogsmeade trip was our first date, sweetheart.” He explained.

“But, why?”

“I told you I had a lovely time and asked if we could do it again?” 

“I thought you meant, as like…study partners!” You offered defensively. 

“Do study partners often kiss your cheek in greeting?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I just thought you were very affectionate!”

He nodded his head back-and-forth as if saying ‘fair enough’ before moving his gaze back to you and offering you a salacious smirk. 

“Then, for the purpose of being completely candid, I absolutely did not do any of the aforementioned things, nor what I’m about to do, in a platonic manner, okay?”

His eyes flit to your lips and back up as he leaned closer to you. “Okay..”

“Yeah?” He whispered, his nose mere centimetres from your own as he searched your eyes for any hesitation. 

“Yeah.” You agreed with a nod, moving your eyes to his lips just before he closed the distance between you.

His lips were warm and purposeful against yours, feeling as though they’d been longing to do exactly this from the moment the two of you shared words.

He took a long, deep breath in as if he was desperate to get more of you - to memorise how you tasted, how you smelt, and how you felt as he brought his hands up to rest on either side of your jaw - while you felt all of the tension, worry, and air leave your lungs with a whoosh of relief. 

‘Finally’ your body seemed to be saying.

James broke apart from you before pressing his forehead against yours and brushing his thumbs against your cheeks. 

“Finally.” He agreed with your internal dialogue. “Was that clear enough for you, angel?”

“Yeah, Jamie.” You offered with a breathless chuckle. “Finally.” You repeated.

Finally.

[dittos-blog-dylanobrien]

Can you guys PLEASE stop tagging (character) X reader IF ITS NOT THAT CHARACTER 😭 I'm sick and tired of searching (character) X reader and it's every different character possible X reader like😭😭

[luveline]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble

sirius/james introducing shy!reader to remus. and shes just like quiet and in awe, but remus loves it.

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! remus x shy fem!reader

James is used to your personality after months of being your lecture neighbour, unperturbed by your quiet. "It's going to be fun," he promises, handing you a cold glass of cranberry vodka. "They're nice, okay? I won't let anyone irritate you." 

He's hosting a party and had the generosity to invite you round early. He's easing you in, so to speak. It took him two weeks of steady Hellos for you to work up the courage to say Hi back, another two weeks for small talk, a month before you felt comfortable speaking to him first. If you're that shy, a party is basically torture.

"It's not about irritating me," you say. 

"I know, I'm messing." James lists his head to the left. A second later, there's a knock at the door. "Aha. Wait here, shortcake, there's someone I want you to meet." 

"James," you say after him, wet from your glass leaking down to your sleeve, "what?" 

"I asked him to come early and say hello! He's quiet and handsome and you'll love him, just don't stare at his nose." 

What's wrong with his nose? you think, alarmed. 

James opens the door. Two new voices emerge, one scratchy and a little high, the other smoother. "I need to pee so bad," the scratchy one declares, followed by bounding footsteps up the stairs. 

"You alright?" the smoother asks.

You think there's patting, a hug, "I'm brilliant! You smell really nice, Remus, like a garden." 

"Lovely."

"In a good way! Come and meet my Y/N, you remember I told you about her nice gel pens?" 

James leads the smooth-voiced Remus into the living room. You hurriedly put down your drink and stand, wiping your wet hands in your shirt. You cringe at the darkening fabric but hide your grimace as they stop in front of you. 

"Remus, Y/N. Y/N, Remus," James introduces you both. 

Remus has a scar across his nose that seems cruelly cut. There's another beside it that starts in his upper lip, both of which end in his eyebrow. You know how self-conscious it feels to be looked at, so you manage to smile and offer your hand without too much of it. He's handsome with his scars, a nice nose with a ridge and brown eyes the colour of caramelised sugar.

"Hello," Remus says, shaking your hand. His is big enough to make yours feel small. 

"I invited her early because she's more fun than the rest of our lot," James says, throwing himself down on the sofa and kicking his legs out on the coffee table. 

Remus taps your elbow very gently as if to usher you to sit and sits down beside you, enough space to be casual but too little to stop the rampant nerves that blossom in your stomach. 

Remus asks about your life. What you're studying, where you're from, if James is being nice to you. While James is touchy in the rough older brother way, scrunching your shoulder and shaking you when you're not expecting it. Remus is touchy in a different way, you find, almost as if he doesn't know he's doing it. His shoe bumps your shoe, his hand falls down between his outer thigh and your own, his knuckles touching your jeans very lightly. He spins in his seat to talk to you. 

You don't notice other people arriving, nor the scratchy-voiced friends return. All you can do is look up at Remus with wide eyes. Your nerves meld to something warmer. 

"And what do you do?" you ask him. 

He smiles like you've wandered into a secret. "I'm trying to write a book." 

"He's being a bit much," Sirius says to James, the two now loitering in the doorway with matching beers. You and Remus chatter on, unaware of their running commentary.

"It's a very strong reaction. I knew she'd like him, but I didn't think she'd like him like that." James takes a sip of his drink. Remus asks you a quiet question. You duck your head, playing with your sleeves, and Remus, the bastard, ducks his head to follow your gaze, smiling at you all the while. 

James almost chokes, pointing his bottle toward you both as though Sirius isn't already looking. "He's eating it up. I forgot how flirty he is."

"She'll be nice to him, won't she?" Sirius asks, like it's a done deal. To be fair, Remus seems enthralled with you. 

"Definitely. She's very nice. Oh, look, that's sick, she's gonna pass out." James winces as Remus takes your arm into his hand. 

Remus wouldn't do anything cruel, but James wasn't joking when he told Remus that you were exceedingly, achingly shy. He's about to step in and rescue you, but you turn into Remus' touch and pull your leg up on the sofa to make yourself comfortable. Your voice is animated, if quieter than the average person's.

"Woah," James says, beaming.  

Remus flirts almost as a defence, like he wants to get the rejection over and done with so he can move on. You've yet to reject; you're looking up at him in moderate awe, your lips quirked into an easy smile. 

"Boo!" James calls, flicking his bottle cap at Remus, who brushes it away. "Took me three weeks to get a smile out of her," he mutters. "What a dick." 

[ohwowimlonley]

more public sex with james please 🙏🙏

No :)

-

Everyone is piled onto one large L shaped sofa in James’ living room, despite there being plenty of other seats available. James says it’s because you get the best view of the TV from where you are, but you’re convinced it’s some kind of ploy.

Sirius is sat to the left of you, James to your right and Remus to his right. There’s a pink sherpa blanket over your thighs, one that you’d offeredto the boys on either side of you, but they’d both refused, with Sirius claiming that he doesn’t need a blanket to watch a horror movie, and James saying he’d let you know if he gets too cold.

In all honesty, you’re not at all interested in the movie playing on the TV screen, despite the fact that you were allowed to pick the movie, one you knew would scare the life out of Sirius and Remus.

James’ thigh has been pressed to yours for the past fifteen minutes, and even through the expensive matierial of the blanket you can feel the heat that he’s somehow always radiating. It’s distracting, really, the way he touches you just oh so casually, like there’s no intention behind it at all. But you know better. There’s no way that he just so happens to repeatedly brush his hand slightly too high when stroking your thigh over the top of the blanket.

Quickly, but as nonchalantly as possible, you throw the blanket over his lap too, and swing your right leg over his knees. He’s suggested doing this sort of thing before; touching eachother in front of the boys, and you’ve always been eager but too apprehensive to actually try it yet.

“You sure about this?” James knows what you want. Somehow, he can always just tell. His hand is already underneath your skirt, on the brink of prodding the waistband of your panties. His lips are on your earlobe, breath fanning all the way down your neck and giving you goosebumps, “we can just go upstairs, you know the boys won’t mind,”

You don’t trust your voice. If you try to speak now, the sound that will come out will be nowhere near appropriate, so you just nod, slow and meek, and keep your eyes flitting to the boys on either side of you.

Your subtleties last not even a minute. The second James’ calloused fingers make contact with your clit, you let out a low, warbling whinge. All three marauder boys look at eachother and snicker. You don’t care about them knowing any more, you just smush your cheek against your boyfriend’s muscled pec.

“Needy, s’she?” Sirius has that toothy grin on, one that all the marauders know to be his ‘thinking dirty thoughts’ smile, “Moony can sort that out, y’know?”

You prove his point only moments later by grinding yourself against James’ fingers. He slips them over your slit, up, down, up, down, and finally allows them to circle around your empty, aching hole. A simply unholy sound leaves your mouth when he slips a finger inside, all the way in until his palm brushes your clit.

“Let them have their fun, pads,” Remus tuts, stretching his gangly arm around you and James to flick him on the shoulder, “you’re havin’ fun with Prongsie, aren’t you pet?”

“Yeah,” it’s barely even understandable, the high pitched preen you let out, but the boys always get you. James leans down, nosing alond your jawline and letting his teeth drag on the topmost part of your neck. He takes out his finger, and replaces it with two of them.

“Gonna show the boys how pretty you sound when you cum, love?” His fingers speed up, tapping against your gummy walls and grinding against your sweet spot. His other hand reaches round and tugs experimentally on the blanket still covering your modesty. He only removes it for the boys to see when you nod frantically against his chest.

“Already? Not even been five minutes, sweetness,” Sirius teases, eyes widening when he sees your pussy contract at his words.

“I think she just likes the attention,” James curls his fingers, using his knees to spread your legs further apart to show you off to his friends, “s’that it, honey? Y’want the boys to watch you get all desperate for my fingers? Want one of them to have a turn next?”

You choke back a sob as you finally cum around James’ fingers, barely even hearing the boys’ gasps of wonder as you gush creamyness around the rim of your puffy hole.

“So,” Remus clears his throat, “my turn?”

[moonstruckme]

summary: when James moves into your apartment, you need a bit of an adjustment period

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

You go downstairs the way a meerkat pokes its head out of its burrow. Cautious, watchful. When you spot James standing over a sizzling pan in the kitchen, it’s a bit of effort not to sigh, but you go anyway, hunger temporarily taking priority over solitude. It’s just going to have to be another quick meal.

“Hey.” James looks up from a recipe he’s reading on his phone, grinning at you. 

You press your lips together in a smile of response. The girl who’d occupied James’ room before him wouldn’t have bothered to acknowledge you, and frankly, you’d liked her for that. You’d had a mutually ambivalent relationship; you’d both paid your rent, ignored the other’s food in the fridge, and gone about your days as if you each had the apartment to yourself. She had to move out because the maintenance crew tattled on her for having a pet, and though James only moved in a week ago, he’s invited you to hang out with his friends every time they’ve come over. Which is often. (He’s at least considerate enough to always ask first, and you always say yes. Partially because they don’t make huge messes and partially because you don’t know how to reply to a yes/no question any other way.) 

You go to the fridge, tearing the aluminum foil off a half-empty can of beans and shaking it into a bowl. You put it in the microwave. James reaches to turn down the stove, and, like a frightened animal, you flinch away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, only retreating to the opposite counter to give you more room. 

“How’s your day going?” he asks, leaning back on his forearms. 

“Not bad,” you say. Another thing about James is that in addition to his relentless geniality, he’s ferociously attractive. It takes all of your willpower not to let your eyes dip from his face to where his short sleeves conform to his biceps when he leans that way, but your face heats regardless. “Yours?” 

“Pretty good, actually.” He smiles easily. “It’s gorgeous out, have you felt the weather?” 

You shake your head. “I haven’t been out yet.” 

James nods like he knows this already, humming noncommittally. You think you spy a bit of judgment in his look, but you can’t be sure. “So,” he says, “I have something to ask you.” 

You tense. “Okay…” 

“I know you value your privacy, and I totally respect that, but I feel like as your roommate it’s my responsibility to at least ask.” 

You feel your eyes narrowing as you nod for him to continue. 

James schools his face into seriousness, a frown on his lips that looks like it doesn’t belong. “Do you not eat?” 

You laugh, relieved and bemused. “Of course I eat.”

The smile he gives you is strained, clearly for your benefit rather than his. “You sure about that? Because this morning I just saw you have one—one—piece of toast for breakfast, and then for lunch you had…what?” 

You shy, more because of his notice than anything else. The microwave beeps and you use it as an excuse to turn around. “Some cheese and crackers.” 

When you pivot with the steaming bowl, James is looking at you incredulously.

“They’re really filling!” 

“That’s a snack, love, not a meal. Both of those are snacks. Did you have anything else?” 

You hold up the bowl in your hand. “I’m about to have some beans.” 

His laugh is monosyllabic. Appalled. “You’re not serious.” 

You roll your eyes at him even as your face heats. “Listen, it’s not my most nutritious day, but I’ve been in a rush, and…” You were going to say more, but decide against it. “Anyway, there’s protein in the beans, so.” 

James isn’t having it. “And what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Something.” He raises his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, spill, or I’m going to call your mum and tell her about your big day of—“ He draws quotes in the air, full lips curving he does “—beans and crackers.” 

“And toast,” you joke. James’ smile is small and short-lived. Does he really have your mum’s phone number? He can’t possibly. 

You sigh. “Okay, it’s nothing to do with you, but I…I’m a bit weird about being in the kitchen at the same time.” James’ thick eyebrows meet in the middle, and your shoulders hunch instinctively but you force yourself to finish explaining. “I just want to grab whatever is quickest and go before I make things awkward, or something. But I know it’s stupid.” You shake your head. You could burn the apartment to cinders with the heat from your face. “I don’t own the kitchen. You have every right to be here, and I’ll get used to it eventually. It’s just that you’re new to me right now.” 

James' expression clears. “Oh, you’re shy.” 

You must look even more embarrassed at that, because he hurries to say, “That’s alright, it’s good to know how you feel about things. And now I don’t have to call your mum.” He grins, and it widens when you make a tiny effort to reciprocate. “I don’t mind stepping out of the kitchen so you can cook every now and then.”

“You really don’t have to.” 

“It’s no trouble.” He waves you off. “Honestly, it’s too small for both of us to comfortably use at the same time anyway. Careful by the way, that pan’s hot.” 

You glance behind you, and you’ve backed yourself nearly into the stove. You move away, squeaking out a thanks. 

James’ smile softens. “I do hope you're right about getting used to me eventually, though.” He gives you a kind look, and you have no idea how he can maintain eye contact with that much sincerity in his big brown eyes. You envy the skill. “I’d like to get to be friends, but we’ve got time for that.” 

You’ve no clue how to respond, some deer-in-the-headlights instinct taking ahold of you, but James doesn’t seem to be expecting one. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder, taking back his place at the stove. You take that as your cue to go.

[singmyaubade]

Good Luck Babe

poly!marauders x nerd!female!reader

summary: after being a wallflower throughout your first five years at hogwarts, you always thought that you could be invisible. but when you hear the marauders talking cruelly about you and proceeding to ask for your forgiveness after, well good luck babe.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, reader wants to kill the marauders , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy

a/n: oh hey... this is kinda based on those cliche 2000's movies where the girl is ugly but not really and she has that glow up or whatever. this was written so quick and not proofread, don't kill me. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

STARTING off your sixth year at Hogwarts being an entirely new person wasn't something that you had planned or expected.

On the inside, you felt exactly the same, the same girl who was bold and could ferociously win a fight when it came to her character.

The same girl who was witty and sarcastic, surprising half of the people around you when you made a joke once in a lifetime.

But on the outside, you didn't have an awkward mis-shaped bob and you no longer wore baggy jackets that didn't do a thing for your figure.

And you didn't hide your face anymore, trying your best to be invisible.

It wasn't that you were shy or that you felt like a loser but you thought social hierarchy was bullshit and the only thing you wanted to focus on was your studies.

You may have been a brave Gryffindor on the inside but on the outside, you had to play the part of a shy mouse as corny as that sounds.

Unfortunately for you, invisibility only tends to last for so long until one moment, you are a nobody and then all eyes are upon you.

And maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't heard the Marauders discussing you the previous year, you would have stayed the same.

You had passed by the boys dormitory to give Remus his textbooks back as you always did when you let you borrow when you heard them speaking of the very person behind the door,

"I still have yet to understand why Lily and the rest of them act like she's some charity case," James huffed, "I mean, she's not some sick patient, they only feel the need to pity her because of how she looks."

You always knew that James had a foul mouth but to be speaking about someone like this, it was cruel.

Remus hissed, "That's not nice Prongs,"

"I'm not even saying it to be a dick!" James groaned, "I just mean, I pity her more for the fact that they don't even invite her to anything outside of breakfast and dinner," He explained, causing Remus to go silent.

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. "That's absolutely horrid."

James reclined on his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m just saying, if I were Y/N, I’d be mortified."

Your eyes widened as they began to water, they were speaking about you.

Remus leaned against the wall, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe she just doesn’t want to hang out with Lily and the others."

"Moony, seriously," James shot back, sitting up. "Where is Y/N right now, and where are the other girls?" His eyebrow cocked, trying to make his point as Remus silenced.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Why don’t we investigate for ourselves?" He unfolded the Marauder's Map with a flourish. "Alright, we’ve got Lily, Dorcas, Mary, and Marlene all at Hogsmeade, but Y/N is..." His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing.

James leaned closer, annoyance creeping into his tone as he grabbed the map, "She's-" He stopped, the color fading from his face.

"Fucking spit it out!" Remus said next as he snatched the map finally and saw that the map had shown that you were right outside their door.

"Shit!" You heard Remus say as he started making his way to the door.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, you quickly moved away from the door, bolting for your room.

Once you made it back to your dorm, you had sinked the floor. You put your hand on your mouth, muffling yourself as you cried silently.

You honestly hated to even say it but you did consider Lily and the rest of them your friends. You had never really thought about how they didn't invite you to places.

And if you were being truthful, they had never asked you to have breakfast or dinner with them.

You had always just assumed that you could join but they never told you to leave or swooshed you off. Another part of you hated how stupid you were, trying to intrude on their private time.

You didn't want to let it get to you what a bunch of seventeen year old boys were saying but it did sting horribly.

But in a way, it also motivated you to be who you were on the inside. You already had the top marks in your entire year and your plan to work in the Ministry after Hogwarts had already been set.

And now your chance to be something at Hogwarts was right in front of you, an opportunity that you couldn't miss.

You had to do it for yourself.

The Marauders had no idea who you truly were or even cared to know. And although Remus was kind to you, you could always see that he never made any effort to be your friend.

Not that you expected him to but it only taught you that they truly thought you were some hopeless case.

And an assignment to make the Marauders bite their tongues was one that you couldn't bare to fail.

After hearing that, you decided to avoid the Marauders for the next month, especially with summer break approaching. To your surprise, you barely saw them outside of classes, never giving them a chance to reach out—even Remus.

And then that summer, everything changed. You let your hair grow past your shoulders, embracing your natural curls instead of straightening them. You started wearing clothes that were trendy and form-fitting, a huge contrast to your old style.

You discovered a newfound love for self-care, enjoying the process far more than you expected. Each day felt like a transformation, and by the end of summer, your mother couldn’t help but notice. “Finally listening to me about your style, huh?” she teased.

You only laughed as you embraced her,

If only she knew what had caused it in the first place.

As you said goodbye to your family, anticipation mingled with dread. You knew the train ride would be the least of your worries, but the welcome dinner and the ceremony ahead felt like they might just be hell reincarnate.

As you entered Hogwarts, you admired it as much as you did when you were a first year. The castle was something you considered a second home and everything about it was magical, there was no doubting that.

A crowd of students, including yourself, moved toward the Great Hall, and you settled into your usual seat at the Gryffindor table.

You spotted the Marauders and the usual group of girls approaching, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They took their usual spots in front of you, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. James sat beside you, and Lily was directly in front of him.

You never quite understood why they arranged themselves like that, but it hardly mattered in the moment.

They were busy in conversation before James had noticed someone next to him, his eyes widening. You couldn't quite read his face but it seemed like a mix of confusion and flustered.

You stared at him back but he still had yet to mutter a word. You cleared your throat, "Uh hello," You practically whispered.

He snapped back into reality, "Oh sorry, hi," He muttered back.

Silence took over you both as James couldn't find the words of what to say to you.

On one hand, he wanted to call you beautiful, to tell you that you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. On the other, he just wanted to stare at you for a few more minutes like a creep.

Lily noticed his gaze and leaned in, smirking. "Excuse my friend; we’re still trying to figure out if he has a brain."

"I thought we solved that decades ago," Marlene chimed in, stifling a laugh.

Lily turned to you with a curious smile. "I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?"

Are you actually fucking kidding me?

You scoffed, "I'm Y/N,"

The entire group looked at you in awe, even the ones who weren't chimed in on the conversation.

"Y/N L/N?" Sirius asked, mouth gaping.

"Yep, that one," You snorted.

They all looked like they had seen a ghost, "You look different," Marlene said as Mary shoved her.

"She means in a good way!" Mary added.

"Uh thanks," You said, awkwardly.

They all continued to stare at you like you were an exhibit in a museum, their eyes scanning you up and down.

"Do you all mind not staring at me?" you asked, trying to break the tension. They all looked away, feigning innocence as they muttered apologies.

"How have you been?" Lily asked, clearly trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Fine," you replied, your tone clipped.

You caught the pained expressions on the Marauders' faces, realizing they were the reason for your dismissive attitude.

"That's great," Lily said, forcing a smile.

You felt a wave of frustration at the awkwardness surrouding you and decided it was time to escape. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you announced, heading toward the exit before they could respond.

As you walked away, you could already here the mutters and whispers emerging from the table, the fascinating topic being you.

You paced as you heard footsteps trailing behind you, but you ignored them, letting your gaze wander around the castle.

"Y/N!" someone called out, startling you.

You turned to see Sirius, James, and Remus hurrying after you. You only let out a snort before continuing your same way.

A hand suddenly reached around your forearm as you turned to see Remus. You quickly snatched your hand away, finally stopping to look at the group of boys who you despised.

Crossing your arms, you shot them a hostile look. "What?"

"We just wanna—"

"We're so—"

"Listen, we just—"

They all spoke at once, but you scoffed and turned back toward the bathroom, starting to walk away.

You were hoping that they would realize you wanted nothing to do with them but instead, it only made them want to chase you more.

They quickened their pace, and you spun around sharply. "For fuck's sake, what do you want?" you snapped.

James took a breath, his expression earnest. "I'm sorry for what I said. I've been thinking about it since you left. I was an awful twat, and you didn't deserve a thing of what I said."

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Are you serious?" You asked as your expression changed to furious, "You basically called me a loser and said that Lily and the rest of them were only hanging out with me out of pity,"

James hissed as your statement, feeling the razor in your voice.

"-And now you all want to act as if I should just forgive you since I don't look the same anymore," You got closer to James's face, "Fuck off."

You turned your heel again and this time, the boys didn't follow you.

You finally entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you struggled to read the expression on your face. You were furious at the Marauders, and the idea of forgiving them felt impossible.

Yet, there was a flicker of gratitude that you felt for the change you’d undergone. You’d gained a new confidence that felt good, but the sting of their cruel words still lingered in your mind.

And you knew that you couldn't let it get to you but knowing they thought that of you, even Remus. It still did things to you that you would never admit out loud.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized it was almost time to head to the dormitory.

The rest of the night had flown by, with first years being introduced to their new home for the next six years while everyone else relaxed in the common room. Despite curfews, fifth years and above knew they could hang out longer—the curfew was mostly for the first years anyway.

"Caput Draconis," you muttered, and the Fat Lady nodded, granting you entrance.

Stepping into the common room, your heart sank as you spotted the last group you wanted to see. They noticed you just as quickly, encouraging you to pick up your pace toward the dorm.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dorcas called out, making you wince as you turned to see her waving.

The Marauders looked down, shame etched on their faces, avoiding your gaze as if you were Medusa.

You approached them slowly, dread settling in your stomach as they eyed you like a science project.

"We were just about to play a fun little game," Dorcas said enticingly, while Marlene snorted beside her.

"I don’t know if Spin the Bottle is a great idea for the first night back," Marlene added, taking a sip of her beer.

"A little peck never hurt anyone," Lily chimed in, clapping her hands together.

Of all people, you’d never expect Lily Evans to approve such a thing. This was the same girl who nearly fainted when she heard about Marlene and Dorcas kissing the previous year.

"I don’t know if this is the game for me," you replied, eyeing the group warily.

"Of course it is!" Lily insisted, but you raised an eyebrow. "Oh my gosh! Not like that, I just mean it's a fun game for us all to play," she quickly added, looking flustered.

Part of you wanted to say no and retreat to your bed, but that was the old you, and you knew it wouldn’t help. This was a new year, and you were determined to embrace new experiences.

Besides, you’d never participated in any scandalous games for all of the years you've been at Hogwarts—it felt like a crime in itself.

So, after a moment’s hesitation, you said, "Okay, sure." The girls erupted in cheers, while the Marauders exchanged worried glances.

What if you had to kiss one of them? Would you refuse and create a scene? Would you want to strangle them for even suggesting it?

The possibilities raced through their mind, but there was no turning back as everyone began to form a circle.

As you sat in the circle, a shiver of nervousness enveloped you. You had never kissed anyone before and the whole thought made you nervous within itself.

Don't get it wrong, you've had chances but they never seemed right and you certainly weren't kissing Matthew Trunchbull underneath the bleachers of the Quidditch field.

So when you got offered a shot of firewhiskey to cool your nerves by Marlene, you took it happily as it burned down your throat.

You brushed off all the negative thoughts entering your mind,

What really is the worst thing that could happen?

[amiableness]

Little Lies

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Summary: James asks Sirius and Y/n to pretend to date after he blurts out they are to Lily.

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: smut 18+, male masturbation, oral fem receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (pls be so careful!), reader wears a bikini top, and jealousy

A/N 💌 Hope you all enjoy this; it's been my baby for a while!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I may have severely fucked up.” James sighs, his features tight with guilt as he stands before you. His chest is heaving like he has run all the way to you—it’s a likely theory.

Remus glances up from beside you; the two of you had been buried in your homework in the common room when James came racing in. He’s disappointed that James has disrupted the productive atmosphere. There’s no way that you or Remus will be continuing to work on your essays.

His admission doesn’t surprise you; James has come to you countless times seeking assistance after making a mistake. Being best friends since you were born, you’ve grown accustomed to being the one to untangle his messes.

Your parents were best friends, which meant that you and James were also raised to be. There wasn’t a memory that you could recall that James wasn’t in. It ended up working; to both of your mum’s excitement, you and James were inseparable. As the levelheaded one between you, you often found yourself trailing after James, tasked with picking up the pieces.

It was in the aftermath of pranks spiraling out of control, times when he impulsively voiced things he really shouldn’t have, or instances when he procrastinated excessively on his work, inevitably turning to you for help with his essays. Surprisingly, it’s become almost amusing to you, a reliable routine in your friendship.

You undeniably held the title of James Potter’s best friend.

Your eyes narrow skeptically, folding your arms over your chest, “Define severely.”

His demeanor turns sheepish as he nervously rubs the back of his neck, his gaze drifting away from you. He looks incredibly uncomfortable, “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“You’re not starting off strong.” You snark, an amused smile finding its way onto your lips. Remus chuckles next to you.

“Y/n.” James sighs, his expression urging you to stop your teasing.

“James.” You mimic.

He shoots you a glare, eyes narrowed in mock irritation, “Lily and I were chatting, like really chatting,” He begins, sighing obnoxiously as he settles into the chair opposite you, his expression a grimace. “She told me why she hasn’t taken me seriously when I flirt with her.”

You pause, confusion etching into your features, “And where exactly did you severely fuck up?”

"She thought we were a couple." He says, his hands gesturing wildly between the two of you, his expression a mix of incredulity and amusement. "Can you believe that? You and me?”

You can believe that, actually. You and James have been mistaken for a couple more times than you can count. Even your parents were convinced the two of you would end up together. While you had told them it wasn’t going to happen, you were convinced they were still holding out hope.

You furrow your brows as you watch him a tad uneasy, “Okay, and where did you severely fuck up in this?”

“I panicked, okay?” James looks guilty when he blurts this out. He nearly shouts it, and Remus hushes him. “She said it wasn’t fair for me to flirt with her because of you. She didn’t want your feelings to be hurt and wouldn’t listen when I said we were just friends. And I panicked.”

“Mate, get to the bloody point.” Remus huffs out, tired of James dragging out the story. Nothing bothered Remus more than when James or Sirius took an eternity to get to the point of their story.

“I told her you’re dating Sirius.” James grimaces, shifting nervously.

“What?” You hiss, your palms smacking onto the table, causing James to flinch, “Have you taken too many hits to the head? James, we are not dating!”

James protests, panicking, "But Lily doesn't know that! If you two could just pretend-"

"No, absolutely not! That is going too far." You snap, sending James a frustrated look, while Remus is chuckling to himself next to you.

"Y/n, please. This could be it! My chance with Lily!" James pleads. He’s desperate to try and salvage the plan he had put all his hopes on.

"Starting your new relationship with a lie, are we?" You snap, massaging at your temples. Most of the stress is from spending too many hours studying, but James is undoubtedly making it worse.

James shrugs, a mischievous smirk starting to form, "Well, not really. You and Sirius already flirt a lot. It’s not that far off from the truth."

James was well aware of your feelings for Sirius; he had watched how you nervously stumbled over your words the first day you met Sirius. He had never seen you like that before, eyes lit up with inflation at first glance.

While he occasionally teased you about it, he understood that what you felt for Sirius was deeper than just a crush. Though you would never admit it out loud.

Your frustration grows, "It absolutely is far off from the truth. Lily probably didn’t even believe you! There's no evidence for her to believe the idea that we are together.” You cry, disbelief evident in your voice. James's casual attitude only adds to your frustration. He doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

Remus interjects, an amused scoff escaping him, “There's evidence to believe it."

"Are you joking?" You deadpan, your voice full of incredulity. Remus sends you a teasing smirk. He considers how Sirius flirts with you more than anyone else, but he doesn’t want to deal with Sirius furious at him.

Ever since you met Sirius, you have had a crush on him. Realistically, you knew it was pointless; Sirius had a fan club of admirers. So, you counted yourself lucky that you were one of his closest friends. Being his friend was manageable, and quite honestly, kept your expectations in check.

But Sirius acting like he had feelings for you? You wouldn’t handle that well.

James interjects, "Lily believed it. She even said she wasn't surprised."

"But she thought you and I were together?" You ask, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Your tone was snippier than you intended, but you could feel the stress building. The mere thought of pretending to be with Sirius made you feel nauseous.

"She might've just been jealous, wanting to know if you had feelings for James before she finally goes for him." Remus says casually, and James' eyes light up in excitement.

James is positively giddy as he leans forward, “You think she was jealous?”

"Does Sirius even know?" You interrupt, catching James's eye. He glances at Remus, clearly hoping to hear more about Lily’s supposed jealousy.

James shakes his head, and you scoff, opening your mouth to enlighten James on why you think this is a bad idea. Before you can say anything, Remus cuts you off, “Here’s your chance to tell him.”

You glance up to see Sirius walking through the library, and you resist letting out a lovesick sigh at how effortlessly handsome he is.

Your stomach plummets at the sight of a stunning girl effortlessly chatting with him. His laughter rings out, causing unease to settle in your stomach.

If he was close enough, you probably would’ve tried to eavesdrop.

Despite not knowing her name, you know she’s a Gryffindor; you’ve seen her in the common room. James nudges you, and when you glance at him, he sends you a knowing look.

"Glad to see you guys are having study dates without Peter and me." Sirius calls, settling into the seat next to James and patting him on the shoulder in greeting.

Relief washes over you as you notice that the girl who was with him a second ago is long gone. He glances over at you, and pauses in surprise at your disgruntled expression, "You okay?"

Remus chuckles at the question, finding the harsh look you shoot James hilarious. It’s clear that he’s finding this entire situation entertaining.

“Ask James about what he told Lily.” You say, voice strained with irritation. James sends Sirius a nervous smile, and Sirius looks at him oddly.

"What'd you do?"

Sirius asks, his eyes darting back to you, taking note of your frustrated expression. Your stomach tightens with nerves, scared of Sirius’ reaction. Remus leans back in his chair, excited to see how this will all play out.

"Lily and I were talking today," James sighs, "and she wouldn't stop going on about how she thinks Y/n is in love with me and that it's not fair for me to flirt with her because I could be hurting her."

"She thinks I'm in love with you?" You shriek, oblivious to the barely visible flinch on Sirius' face at James' words. Remus catches it, his grin getting bigger.

James ignores you, “Anyways, I said that it’s not a problem because you and Y/n are dating.” James finishes cautiously, his gaze locked on Sirius, curious for his reaction. Your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes fixed intently on Sirius, awaiting his reaction as well.

"You told Lily that Y/n's my girl?" Sirius inquires casually, causing your stomach to somersault at his words. You force yourself to focus on James instead of the warmth creeping into your skin.

"I panicked, and that's what came out. So, if you guys could pretend you're madly in love, that would be great!" James claps his hands together, and you feel the urge to wack him. You're prepared to snap at him, to explain why asking this of you both isn’t right.

But then Sirius shrugs, "Sure, shouldn't be too hard, right, sweet girl?" He says, and your legs feel like jelly.

You're floundering, not having expected Sirius to agree. He’s never maintained a steady relationship, so pretending that he’s dating you is a big ask. His agreement sends your mind spiraling with different scenarios. For a brief second, you wonder if he agrees so easily because he has feelings for you. But you quickly shut down that thought.

You’re delusional. You truly are.

"Sure, that shouldn't be too bad." You agree, hoping you appear casual about this.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"I need you two to amp it up. Lily is eating breakfast with us today." James directs, causing you to glance up from your breakfast, disbelief etched into your features. He takes a bite of bacon and casually observes you as though his request is perfectly normal.

"We've switched spots, is that not enough for you?" You ask sarcastically, and Remus shakes his head, wearing an entertained smile as he continues eating breakfast. He can tell you're panicking about pretending to be with Sirius; it’s painfully obvious to everyone at the table.

You're usually seated between James and Peter, but when you attempted to slide into the seat this morning, James slammed his hand down on the seat and instructed you to sit next to your boyfriend, wearing a smug smile. Peter snorted softly but quickly replaced it with a sympathetic smile, silently apologizing for his reaction.

"I mean, we all know Sirius is into PDA, and you look terrified to even be sitting next to him." Peter points out, and you find yourself scrabbling.

Were you two supposed to be super affectionate? Would Sirius find it weird if you initiated it? Questions are flooding your mind leaving you feeling overwhelmed.

"I am not terrified. I just don’t know how to act." You insist.

"Act like you’re in love with him; it shouldn’t be too hard, right?" James quips, earning a glare from you. He responds with a playful wink.

"The boys are right. You need to sit closer to me.” Sirius declares as his arm slips around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You squeak his name in surprise, flustered at how easily he moves you. The boys chuckle at your bewildered expression, finding your embarrassment hilarious.

You feel disappointed when he releases you. Even more so when he doesn't pull you flush against him. Instead, your shoulder to shoulder, the distance between you both feeling more pronounced than ever.

"I'm still waiting on the PDA." Remus says with a playful smirk; his eyes are full of mischief when you glance at him.

You elbow Remus in the side, and he playfully nudges you back, causing you to bump into Sirius' side. Sirius surprises you by wrapping his arm around you, keeping you against him while playfully calling out, "Oi, back off, mate." Being pressed against his side causes warmth to spread through you as you lean further into him.

James watches as Sirius's cheeks flush, a soft smile on his face as he gazes down at you. You appear flustered but content, being so close to him, and James can't help but grin at the two of you.

"We're not going to be all over each other." You say, attempting to distract yourself from the fact that you’re pushed up against Sirius.

"Why not?" James leans forward with a grin, clearly finding everything about this entertaining. “That is what most couples do. Plus, Sirius openly flirts with everyone. But he won’t kiss his own girlfriend? It’s not believable.”

“Merlin, we should have talked about this last night.” You mumble under your breath, and Sirius chuckles beside you. He's entirely at ease. It doesn’t seem like he has any worries about pretending to be your boyfriend. With that observation, you try not to let your worries spiral out of control.

"Listen, we can do whatever you're comfortable with. If you don't want to kiss, then we don't have to," Sirius tells you gently, "but it would be sort of odd for us not to be somewhat affectionate."

The last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable. But there's a rush of exhilaration at the thought of holding you close and calling you pet names that were once off-limits. And the thought of possibly kissing you?

Surviving that would be inconceivable for him.

"You're right," You nod. “Let's just start off slow. It will be weird if we're all over each other today when we didn’t even sit together yesterday."

"Yeah, yeah! Flirt, be a little touchy, throw some cute pet names in here, will you, Sirius?" James calls out with great enthusiasm. You send him a look that you hope he understands as shut the fuck up. He doesn’t acknowledge your discomfort. Instead, he makes a heart shape with his hands, which adds to your annoyance.

Sirius presses a quick kiss to your temple, “Fuck off, mate. I know how to flirt with my girlfriend, right baby?” You freeze, your eyes widening in disbelief, while the boys laugh at your reaction. How exactly were you supposed to survive this?

You fall into a comfortable silence, happy to enjoy your breakfast as James issues his warnings to the boys, ensuring they behave themselves. Remus, with a subtle eye roll, acknowledges James's words while Peter nods emphatically in agreement. While, Sirius simply outlines every embarrassing memory he plans to share with Lily.

“Y/n, get your man in check.’ James complains in mock irritation, throwing a grape at Sirius, who dodges it.

"Good morning." Lily greets quietly. You all turn to see her approaching, her expression a mix of embarrassment and hesitance, as if she's debating whether to turn around and go to her usual spot down the table.

James abruptly stands up, his hip thumping into the table. He stifles a wince, trying to maintain his composure as he greets Lily, who tries unsuccessfully to suppress a smile at his reaction. Remus cringes and turns back to his breakfast, unable to look at James.

"Y'ready for this?" Sirius leans in, his voice lowered to a hushed tone meant only for you, effectively pulling you away from eavesdropping on James and Lily's conversation. You glance up at him, surprised to find you’re a mere inches away from him.

You're so close that you could individually count each of his eyelashes if you wanted.

You still feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, creating an intimate connection between the both of you.

It feels like a magnetic pull draws you closer, tempting you to tilt your head forward and touch his lips with yours. The urge to kiss him is so strong that it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

You clear your throat, attempting to push the thought from your mind. "I think so. We're newly dating, so don't go overboard with it." You remind him, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

“When have I ever gone overboard with anything in my life?” The smile he gives you is teasing, and it makes your heart pound to have him this close, his eyes sparkling as he smiles at you.

You hum softly in response, “I can think of quite a few times.”

His voice carries a flirtatious tone, “Can you?”

“Good morning, Lily.” Peter's gentle voice steals your attention away from Sirius. Disappointment and longing settle in his stomach as he watches you pull away and turn to greet Lily, that sweet smile now directed at her.

Lily settles between Peter and James. For a quick second, you feel a pang of jealousy because that's your spot. But when you notice James's pink cheeks and flustered expression, you forget all about it. All you want for James is for him to be happy, and having Lily near seems to do just that.

Breakfast goes smoothly. Lily fits seamlessly into your group, and you can tell it makes James giddy. He doesn't even mind not getting to talk to Lily much. He simply enjoys seeing the girl he's so hopelessly infatuated with getting along so well with his best friends.

You and Sirius aren't acting much differently than you normally do, just sitting close to each other and chatting. However, when Lily turns to you and Sirius, a wave of nervousness washes over you.

“I was so excited to hear you guys were together!”

"Oh yeah? So you can finally go for James with a clear conscience?" Sirius grins, teasing Lily, who looks thoroughly embarrassed. You nudge Sirius in the side, and he responds by giving your hip a gentle squeeze. James sends Sirius an incredulous look, which he pointedly ignores. While Remus and Peter chuckle at the playful banter.

Lily tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and clears her throat; her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. "Uh, no, just that you two have obviously had feelings for each other for years. Everyone knew."

You're at a loss for words. Is that really what people thought? Clearly, they read you right, but you weren’t sure what to think about Sirius having feelings for you. Maybe he did, or maybe they were mistaking it for how he constantly flirted with you. But that was just how Sirius was; it didn’t necessarily mean he had romantic feelings for you.

"Haven't gotten her out of my head since the day I met her." Sirius says casually, his right elbow resting on the table as he pops a piece of bacon into his mouth. His other arm remains securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close to his side with a gentle yet firm embrace.

You look at him in shock, your eyes widening at his unexpected confession. Even the boys look slightly startled at Sirius' words, their eyes darting between you and him.

“That’s so sweet.” Lily says softly, her eyes glowing with genuine happiness as she sends you a warm smile. The sight tugs at your heartstrings but also stirs up guilt in the pit of your stomach. Lying always made you feel uneasy like a weight was pressing down on your chest.

"Sirius, I can't believe you thought that she—" Lily begins, her voice trailing off as James interjects, his interruption tinged with a hint of urgency.

"Okay, love! I think I should walk you to class, don't y' think?" James stands up from the table, extending his hand towards Lily.

Lily looks slightly confused, but she takes his hand nonetheless. As they walk away, James glances back and sends a wink in Sirius' direction. Your attention immediately shifts to Sirius, curiosity written all over your face as you’re about to ask about Lily's interrupted comment.

Sirius cuts you off before you can ask, shaking his head with a gentle smile and flushed cheeks, "Don't even bother asking; I’m not telling you what she was talking about.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’re curled up next to Peter on the common room couch, both of you chatting quietly together. For the last twenty minutes, he has been feeding you details about the Ravenclaw girl he has a crush on. He's sworn you to secrecy. Hoping for your advice on asking her out without enduring the teasing of the rest of the Marauders. Your gasp of excitement nearly gives away the secret, but you quickly compose yourself, offering a reassuring smile to Peter.

"Who is she?" You ask, excitement laced in your voice, but Peter sends you an apprehensive look.

"I'm going to keep that to myself. Your squeal almost let the boys know.." He teases, though his tone also carries a note of seriousness.

A laugh escapes you, "I promise when you’re ready to tell me I’ll be so careful about keeping it a secret."

"Oi! Are you two sharing secrets over there?" James calls out, his voice immensely curious. He’s sat with his back to the flickering flames, his palms flat against the floor as he leans back on them. Peter tenses beside you, but you maintain an easy smile. Remus and Sirius are lounging in the armchairs nearby, their attention piqued by the exchange.

"All my deepest darkest secrets." You tease, flashing James a grin. He furrows his brow and sits up, clearly riled up by your response.

“Y/n, as your best friend, I better know all these secrets.” James lips are pouted, his expression tinged with a hint of concern, as if he's genuinely worried that you and Peter are sharing secrets that he doesn’t know.

James has always been fiercely protective of your friendship. Despite being close to the boys, your bond with James was stronger. There was nothing that the two of you didn't confide in each other; he honestly did know all your secrets.

“You do.” You smile reassuringly, and James's expression breaks into a satisfied grin.

The boys continue their soft conversation by the crackling fire, the warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room, while you and Peter sit in comfortable silence. Both of you are lost in thought as you relax in the cozy atmosphere.

After stifling a good five yawns, you glance at the time and decide it's probably best to head to your room, the quiet of the common room signaling just how late it had gotten.

You inch closer to Peter, before finding the courage to lean over and envelop him in a friendly hug, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

He's momentarily taken aback, his body tenses at your touch, but soon he relaxes, reciprocating by wrapping you in his arms. It's a gesture that feels somewhat out of character for you, but after he trusted you with his secret, it seems like the most natural thing to do, a silent affirmation of support for him.

"I think I'm going to go to bed." You tell him softly, "But I promise we'll talk more tomorrow."

“I’d like that.” He smiles at you as you pull away. You grab your bag and make your way in the direction of the stairs.

“Goodnight boys!” You call out softly over your shoulder before disappearing up the stairs. Sirius watches you go, his gaze lingering on your figure, his thoughts full of you long after you've left the room.

Ever since you moved to hug Peter, his eyes have been on you, curiosity and jealousy settling in his stomach.

"Why the hell did you get a hug?" Sirius asks, his tone laced with bitterness as his gaze shifts to Peter, who appears taken aback by Sirius’ sudden question. Remus and James exchange amused glances, before they refocus their attention on Peter, waiting expectantly for an explanation to ease the tension.

“I don’t know, she just hugged me.” Peter squirms uncomfortably in his seat, his confidence quickly dwindling as he's put on the spot.

Sirius nods slowly, his lips pursing in contemplation. His carefully measured tone betrays the longing and a hint of possessiveness that he struggles to conceal, "What were you guys talking about over there?"

Remus interjects with a teasing tone, "Careful, Pads. You sound jealous." A playful glint dances in his eyes as he notices Sirius' furrowed brows and the discontent on his face.

“He’s got the boyfriend role down.” James quips, and Sirius sends them both a glare.

“I’m not jealous,” Sirius repeats quite grumpily. “I just don’t understand why Peter got a hug, and we didn’t.”

James barks out a laugh while Remus shakes his head, a chuckle escaping him in sheer disbelief.

"You're jealous because you have feelings for her." James states matter-of-factly.

Sirius begins to shake his head in denial, but Remus promptly interjects, his voice firm and unwavering, "’Haven't gotten her out of my head since the day I met her.’ What the fuck was that then?” Remus repeats Sirius’ words from the other day, perfectly mimicking his tone.

James bursts into laughter, the sound hearty and infectious, while Peter offers a small smile, observing Sirius as he struggles to respond.

“Not to mention, you’ve been staring Peter down ever since Y/n touched him.” Remus remarks while Sirius gazes blankly at him, his expression unreadable as he nervously chews on his bottom lip.

“You really have.” Peter adds with a grimace.

“You like her, mate.” Remus concludes, his words carrying a sense of finality that lingers in the air.

Sirius sighs heavily.

The conversation weighs heavily on him as he sinks down in the armchair, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The boys’ words replay in his mind. He was jealous, and he did like you. He already knew all of this. But he had always been cautious around you, mindful of the unspoken boundaries because of your friendship with James. A nagging worry in the back of his mind that James would be against any relationship between the two of you. James was his greatest friend, and he worried he could lose him if he attempted to go for you. The idea of James being unfazed by a romantic relationship between you and Sirius threw him off balance. It vastly differed from the scenarios he had envisioned, where James would react with fierce anger upon learning of Sirius' affection for you. The realization left Sirius feeling torn. Did that mean he could actually go for you?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

As the air is warm and balmy, birdsong emanating from the trees while the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze. The sun casts everything in a golden haze, letting you know summer is near. The boys are certain of their decision: today is the perfect day to spend at the lake.

Laughter and chatter echo across the shimmering waters as the boys swim around the lake, reaching where you’re draped over a soft towel next to Lily. You have been trading gossip back and forth for the last couple of hours. It’s refreshing since usually you’re glued to the boys’ sides. You were constantly in the company of at least one of the four.

You feel a twinge of regret in your chest, realizing you haven't made an effort to have a close friendship with the girls. And you really should have. It wasn't a deliberate choice; James had always been your go-to person. Then, when you met the boys, you naturally formed close bonds with them, too. The thought of branching out and making more friends never really crossed your mind.

Though you value your friendships with the boys, you decide you desperately need to spend more time with the girls. The possibility of James and Lily getting together has you hopeful.

“You realize Sirius can’t take his eyes off you, right?” You choose to remain silent, only giving a shrug, fully aware that Sirius is merely pretending to be in love with you. To his credit, he's played the part convincingly throughout the entire week. There have been moments when you've found yourself questioning the authenticity of his actions, wondering whether his affection is genuine or merely his acting skills.

For someone who hasn’t had much practice with relationships, he possessed an innate ability to treat you like you were the only girl in his world. Whether it was a reassuring hand on your lower back as you maneuvered through the crowded halls, a tender kiss planted on your forehead when you parted ways, or the subtle exchange of flirty smiles whenever your eyes met across the room.

Sirius' laughter drifts over from the lake, reaching your ears, and a subconscious smile graces your lips. Lily must have seen your reaction, “Merlin, you really like him, don’t you?”

It was driving you to the brink of obsession. If this was the experience of being Sirius' girl, you wanted it more than before.

Despite your efforts to contain it, a sigh slips from your lips, "Yeah, I really do."

Confessing this feels uncomfortable. You've never talked to anyone about the depth of your feelings for Sirius, and now you're doing so under the guise of a fake relationship. You had come close to telling James, but you really didn’t need to. He had an uncanny ability to read you like an open book. Guilt churns in your stomach once more as you think about lying to Lily. What will her reaction be when you reveal that you and Sirius were never actually together?

The silence lingers for a few moments before you gently break it, "What were you about to say at breakfast the other day? Before James interrupted?"

Lily's expression shifts from confusion to excitement, her eyes lighting up, “Oh, in Charms! I finally wrangled it out of Sirius that he had feelings for you. But he insisted that nothing was ever going to happen because you didn’t like him back.”

It feels like you've been plunged into a tub of cold water. Your mind goes momentarily blank, a surge of disbelief flooding your senses as you struggle to comprehend Lily's words. Your body freezes in place, grappling with what this could possibly mean. There’s no possible way you heard her correctly.

“What? When was this?” Your voice escapes breathless and startled, yet Lily appears oblivious to it.

“Just a couple of weeks ago! I’m so glad he finally told you how he felt.” Lily smiles sweetly before laying back on her towel. If she notices you’re in a state of shock, she doesn’t say anything.

You hear a whistle, and no surprise, your best friend throws himself between you and Lily, “Don’t you two look pretty!”

Lily gasps as James leans down, playfully pressing his lips against her cheek, his hair dripping water onto her. Though she protests, you both can tell she doesn't truly mind it.

As James and Lily become wrapped up in their own world, you find yourself drifting back to the conversation from a moment ago. Your mind spins, still muddled by Lily's words. Sirius had feelings for you. Why hadn't he spoken up? Did he not want anything to come of it?

Your heart nearly stops when Sirius drops down and hovers over you, his hands propping him up on either side of your head. You barely register that he's shirtless and above you just before icy water cascades from his hair onto your skin. A startled cry escapes you as the cold droplets trickle down your cheeks, tracing a chilling path along your neck and chest.

“Sirius Black!” You had intended to sound angry, but laughter slips past your lips, betraying your emotions. Sirius grins at your reaction, his eyes trailing down from your eyes to shamelessly check out the bikini top you have on.

The boys had been teasing him relentlessly after witnessing how he practically fell to his knees when you walked into the common room wearing a bikini top and tiny denim shorts. You were oblivious to his gaze, heading straight for Lily and conversing about who knows what.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from you all day.

He feigns ignorance as you whine at him, responding with a sweet smile instead, “What, sweet girl?”

"Get off!" You squeal, though your tone lacks any real irritation. Deep down, you’re secretly enjoying having him so close, enveloping you in his presence.

“Whatever you want, sweet girl.” He mutters as he rolls off of you, repositioning himself so he's sitting behind you. With a gentle tap on your shoulder, he prompts you to sit up, then guides you until your back hits his chest. Once you're settled, he loosely wraps his arms around your shoulders before placing a kiss on your head.

Remus catches your eye as he and Peter make their way to their towels. Unlike Sirius and James, they hadn't hurried over to you and Lily. Instead, they took their time, chatting lazily while the sun warmed their skin. Remus sends you a sly, suggestive glance, and you respond by narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

Sirius and Remus engage in their own conversation, their voices blending into the background as Peter gestures for you to follow him. Sirius protests lightly, his eyes following you as you pull away from him to walk down to the lake with Peter.

You're gone for no more than twenty minutes, offering Peter advice on establishing a friendship with the girl he likes, perhaps making it easier for him to ask her out in the future.

Despite Remus' attempts to draw him back into the conversation, Sirius remains preoccupied, his gaze fixed on you until you eventually return and settle onto the towel beside him, seeking the familiar comfort of his presence. Only then does Sirius relax, draping his arm around you protectively.

He despises the twinge of jealousy that creeps in every time Peter has you to himself.

“Mate, you’re fucked.” Remus chuckles, and you assume it's due to something amusing said during their conversation. Sirius simply rolls his eyes and playfully extends his middle finger in Remus' direction, a gesture of mock annoyance that elicits a smirk from both of them.

The rest of the afternoon is spent wrapped up in Sirius as you chat with your friends and bask in the sun.

You spend the remainder of the afternoon draped over Sirius, basking in the warmth of the sun as you chat with your friends. It's been a while since you've felt so at ease.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After lounging by the lake all afternoon, the thought of cleaning up for a party you had little interest in attending felt like an unnecessary chore. However, after an hour of James' persistent pleading, you eventually gave in and agreed to go. You were confused about why he insisted on your presence, especially when he'd be busy spending the evening with Lily. You couldn't help but think you could have been snug in bed with a good book instead.

“How long do you think it will take before they get together?” You turn to Remus, who is leaning against the wall next to you. He wasn't thrilled about coming tonight, either. The full moon was approaching, and he could already feel the effects beginning to take hold.

You scan the bustling room, eager to catch a glimpse of James and determine Lily's proximity. Impatience simmers within you as you wait for them to get together. Their relationship seems overdue, and you’re desperate for it to happen, bringing an end to the relationship you and Sirius are forced to maintain. Though being Sirius' girlfriend has its perks, the artificiality of the situation weighs on your conscience.

After a lazy afternoon enveloped in Sirius' arms, you had returned to your room feeling unsettled. The comfort of being held by Sirius felt genuine, yet it was all fake, and that realization deeply unsettles you. The longer this relationship goes on, the more you worry about your heart being left in pieces at the end.

“Probably any day now. Why? You aren’t having fun being Sirius’ girl?” Remus asks, casting a knowing smirk in your direction. You huff and give him a playful nudge, causing his drink to slosh around in his cup. He chuckles in response, amused by your reaction.

"It's not that, and you know it." You respond, frustration evident in your tone.

Remus turns towards you, a genuine smile on his face this time, "You guys are doing quite the job of looking infatuated with each other."

You shoot him a warning look, sensing where the conversation is headed.

But Remus persists, his gaze steady, "You should consider telling him how you feel."

You scoff. "Absolutely not."

"Why not? What have you got to lose?"

You meet his gaze, incredulous, "Our friendship, for starters."

Remus shakes his head, "Do you really think Sirius would end your friendship? I doubt you could get rid of him if you tried."

You meet Remus's gaze, your brow furrowed with uncertainty, "Okay, maybe he wouldn't end our friendship. But things would definitely get awkward, and who knows where it could lead."

Remus offers a small smile, "Or it could go well. You could end up together."

You remain silent, the weight of Remus's words sinking in as you contemplate the idea of confessing your feelings to Sirius. Your stomach churns with anxiety at the mere thought of opening up to him. The fear of rejection and the potential fallout from confessing weighs heavy on your chest.

But Lily had shared with you that Sirius had opened up about his feelings for you. Maybe there was a possibility that confessing your own feelings might not be as far-fetched as you had assumed. Maybe being with Sirius wasn't entirely out of reach.

Remus observes the slight furrow in your brow as you chew on your bottom lip, a clear indication of your spiraling thoughts. The dim light of the common room highlights the unease on your face. "Do you want a drink?" He offers, his voice gentle and reassuring.

You pause, considering his offer, grateful for the distraction, "Yes, please." You respond with a small smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

As Remus leaves to fetch you a drink, you're left alone with your thoughts, the chatter and laughter of the crowded common room serving as a backdrop to your contemplation. Your eyes wander over the sea of bodies, each occupied with their own conversations and activities, creating a lively yet chaotic atmosphere.

“Y/n, hi!” You startle as Max Townsend stands beside you, his sudden presence catching you off guard. You recall being partners in Charms a couple of weeks ago, but beyond that, your interactions had been limited.

"Hey, Max." You greet with a soft smile, noticing how his shoulders relax slightly at your acknowledgment. He settles against the wall, his posture casual yet attentive, as if genuinely interested in chatting with you.

"I know we haven’t talked much since Charms, but I’ve been meaning to catch up with you." Max says, his voice earnest as he breaks the silence between you.

You're surprised by his remark, "You have?" You ask, genuine curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah! I enjoyed spending time with you." Max admits, his voice slightly shaky as he offers you a shy smile. You notice the faint blush coloring his cheeks, a sign of nervousness.

"I enjoyed spending time with you too! I don’t think I could have passed the last exam without your help." You respond sincerely, returning his smile with warmth. His face lights up at your words, visibly relieved.

He regains some confidence and continues, "Actually, Y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade sometime?"

Your smile falters, and you feel a pang of guilt. You have the excuse of having a boyfriend, at least. It makes things a little easier for you. For a second, you debate if you should say yes, go on a date, and move past your feelings for Sirius. But then you think about Lily‘s words and how he might possibly like you back. Not only that but you’re supposed to be in a relationship right now.

You can't bring yourself to say yes; truth be told, you don't really want to, anyway.

"That’s really sweet of you to ask. But I’m dating Sirius." You reply though the words feel heavy on your tongue, wishing they were true.

Max looks taken aback, "Sirius Black?"

"Yes." You confirm, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over you; turning someone down is always an awkward and uncomfortable experience.

Max shakes his head, looking confused, "I didn’t know Sirius-"

"You didn’t know what, Townsend?" Sirius looks hard at him, slipping his arm around your waist and handing you a drink. "Here, baby, Rem said you wanted a drink."

You thank him quietly, settling into his side with ease. Glancing up at him, you notice Sirius isn't looking at you; his gaze is fixed on Max. His jaw clenches tightly, and his usual friendly smile is absent. The message to Max is clear: back off, she's mine.

Max looks uneasy, eyes darting from you to Sirius, “Uh, I didn’t know you and Y/n were together.”

“And why were you talking about that?”

“Uh,” Max looks at you briefly, his expression tinged with panic. He lets out a sigh, reminiscent of a child caught in the act and resigned to confessing. “I asked her out.”

Sirius' entire body tenses, his tone laced with mock curiosity, “Did you?”

He feels sick at the thought of you going on a date with another guy. Images flash through his mind – Max holding your hand on a walk through Hogsmeade, flirting with you over dinner, and the possibility of him kissing you goodnight before you head back through the portrait at the end of the night.

A surge of intense emotion floods him, an overwhelming desire to lash out, to throw a punch and convey the unmistakable message that you are off-limits.

But then the reality hits him: you're not off limits. You're perfectly single, and maybe you actually wanted to go out with Max. The realization sinks in, gnawing at him from the inside, intensifying the ache in his chest.

“But look, man, I didn’t know she was your girl! Honest.”

"Max, it's okay. Really." You interject gently, offering him a reassuring smile. Max nods frantically, clearly relieved, before hurrying off in the opposite direction and disappearing into the crowd of Gryffindors.

“What the hell was that?” You turn to Sirius, but he refuses to meet your gaze. Instead, he drops his arm from your waist and leans back against the wall, taking a long sip from his drink, his expression unreadable

“Playing the part of your boyfriend. You should go find James, he was looking for you.” His mutterings reach your ears, and your stomach clenches with irritation as hurt flashes over your features. He's never shut down before you, and it hurts your feelings deeply.

You don’t bother saying anything; instead, you scoff and walk away. Sirius’s eyes follow you the second you leave, watching as you walk away with a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.

Maybe he did need to express his feelings to you. There might be a chance that you felt the same way. And if you didn't, at least he would know and could attempt to move on from you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I think you need to check on Sirius.” James murmurs into your ear as you stand in the common room, waiting for Lily to join you. You're flanked by the boys, but Sirius is conspicuously absent.

You glance over at him, confused, “Why? Is he not coming down?”

“He bailed, said he isn’t feeling good.”

“He isn’t coming to Hogsmeade with us?” You all had meticulously planned your trip to Hogsmeade during the lake outing yesterday, discussing the shops you wanted to visit and the Butterbeer you couldn't wait to taste.

“Oh,” You mutter, “I’ll check on him and catch up with you guys then.”

You still harbor concern for his well-being, a lingering sense of care that remains despite the the frustration you feel about last night. You ascend the stairs, faintly catching Peter's inquiry about your destination and James' response that you won't be joining them anymore. You contemplate turning around, half-tempted to inquire with James about his statement, but decided against it, choosing not to waste your energy.

You're so deeply immersed in your thoughts as you walk through the hall that you don't even notice the sound at first.

The muffled noise filtering through the boys' dorm door catches your attention, causing you to pause in front of the door. You briefly entertain the idea that Sirius might be genuinely unwell, but skepticism lingers in your mind. The persistent groans don't quite fit the pattern of someone who's just sick.

You were on the verge of turning around, genuinely considering it, until you caught a muffled moan that distinctly sounded like your name.

You pause, questioning the authenticity of what you just heard, wondering if it was a figment of your imagination or if you truly heard your name. But then you hear it, “Fuck, Y/n. Feels so good.”

Your legs turn to jelly, the words coursing through your veins like an electric shock, leaving you feeling stunned and breathless.

Without a second thought or even a plan forming in your mind, you find yourself knocking on the door. Inside, you hear a muffled curse followed by shuffling before Sirius swings the door open nearly a minute later, clad only in pajama pants. His hair is tousled, his cheeks flushed, and he's breathing heavily. The surprise on his face is evident as he takes in your unexpected presence.

“What were you just doing?” Your words spill out more confrontationally than you intended, catching Sirius off guard. The surprise flickers across his face, evident in how his eyebrows knit together and his eyes widen slightly.

“Uh, I-” He glances back into his room, searching for a believable excuse among his belongings. Flustered, he struggles to come up with a convincing lie.

"Sirius," You press, and his eyes flicker back to you. He appears guilty, aware that you've caught on. "I just heard you." You add, your tone that is firm but not accusatory.

“Merlin, Y/n. I’m sorry I-” He stammers, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach at the mere thought of you possibly feeling disgusted with him or worse, refusing to remain his friend because of what he’s just done.

“What were you thinking about?” You ask instead, taking a deliberate step closer to him. The room feels charged with tension, and you can sense Sirius's unease. His breath hitches as your presence draws nearer, his eyes flickering with a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

He glances over your shoulder, his gaze flicking to the empty hallway outside before he answers, “You.”

“Me?” You take a tentative step closer, your voice barely a whisper compared to before, its tone huskier, laden with curiosity and perhaps a hint of intrigue. You fix him with a daring look, a glint of challenge in your eye, as if silently daring him to take action.

He remains silent, his gaze fixed on you for a fleeting moment before he takes action, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the dorm without a word.

As soon as the door shuts, he presses you against the door, his movements swift and urgent. You let out a gasp in surprise, feeling the sudden shift in atmosphere as Sirius's intensity envelops you. His eyes, usually filled with mischief, now bore into yours with a mixture of seriousness and vulnerability.

“Y/n. Why did you knock on the door?”

You don’t answer at first, your eyes locked with his for a few heartbeats before you let out a sigh, “Because I heard you say my name, and now I know you want me the same way that I’ve always wanted you.”

Sirius doesn’t hesitate, his lips meeting yours with a sense of urgency that sends a shiver down your spine. The moment his touch connects with yours, you exhale softly, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. With gentle pressure, you draw him closer, your arms wrapping around his shoulders while Sirius’ embrace envelops you, pulling you closer as if he never wants to let go.

He initiates with a tender kiss on your lips, then gently nibbles on your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp. Seizing the opportunity of your parted lips, he intensifies the kiss, pressing forcefully into your mouth. Sirius kisses you as if each moment is the first and last time, molding you into pliancy. You willingly surrender, allowing him to kiss you into a state of blissful oblivion.

As he withdraws, a soft whimper escapes your lips in protest. He casts a questioning glance your way as he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you respond with a nod of affirmation. Slowly, he peels it off of you and lets it drop at your feet. Shamelessly, he admires your breasts and how they sit so pretty in your black bra. For a moment, the thought of apologizing for the simple garment crosses your mind, but the way his gaze lingers on you halts any inclination to do so.

He leans down, pressing kisses and nipping at the exposed skin on your neck and trailing his way down to your chest. It steals your breath away, prompting you to weave your fingers through his hair as you tilt your head back, reveling in the sensation. He's murmuring praises against your skin, ranting about how beautiful you are, how sweet your moans are, and how you drive him crazy. Your heart pounds within your chest, and for an instant, you fear its thunderous rhythm might betray you, considering how near he stands.

“Take it off.” In a hushed tone, you speak, prompting Sirius's gaze to swiftly rise and lock with yours.

He encircles you with his arms, quickly undoing your bra, and you deftly push the straps down, allowing the garment to cascade down, unveiling your skin. Swiftly, you toss it into the growing pile that appears to be taking shape by the door.

Sirius gazes intently, his bottom lip captured between his teeth, and a subtle furrow forms between his eyebrows, “Fucking hell, y’have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”

Before you can utter a word, his mouth is on your breasts. Pressing the softest kisses onto your nipple before gently biting it, causing your breath to hitch. He bends down, mirroring the gesture with the other one.

His hands, possessively grip at your hips, act as anchors, momentarily keeping you in place. However, a growing restlessness takes hold, and you start to squirm, a subtle plea for more of his attention. Silently comprehending your unspoken desire, he wordlessly responds. A gentle tug on your hand is all the communication needed, and without a moment's hesitation, you obediently follow his lead.

Guiding you, he directs you to settle onto his bed, a silent request you readily heed. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you rely on your elbows to bear all your weight.

Sirius kneels in front of you, easily slipping off both of your shoes and tossing them to the side. He reaches up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your skirt before tugging it down and off of your legs. You’re left in a pair of gray panties that easily show how soaked you are for him.

He pushes on your knees until your legs are completely spread for him, and he can get a clear view of your soaked underwear. A hushed curse escapes his lips, the words slipping out quietly as his gaze lingers on you.

“You’re fucking stunning. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. To deserve you.” You bask in his words, your body thrumming with warmth and delight as his sweet sentiments wash over you.

He glances up at you, and he nearly loses it right then and there. You’re watching him through hooded eyes, your pupils dilated wide, a silent reflection of your anticipation and desire. He doubts he could ever erase the image of the way you're gazing at him, etching it into his memory with the fervent wish to witness it for the rest of his days.

He caresses his hands along your thighs, fingers gently squeezing and kneading with each pass. Occasionally, he leans down, planting tender kisses on your sensitive skin, each one a whispered promise of affection. The closer he gets to your core, the more you squirm and let out soft whimpers.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, glancing up at you from between your thighs. The pad of his thumb brushes against your clit, and you jolt in surprise.

A gasp escapes your lips as you're overtaken by the sensation, yet swiftly, you find yourself nodding frantically in response, “Please.”

Overrun with desperation, Sirius pulls at them with such fervor that they nearly tear as he tugs them off. You can't help but giggle at his fervor, amused by his frantic actions and the unmistakable look of pure desire written across his face. He wouldn't be surprised if he was drooling, staring the sight of your glistening pussy.

“I want to be inside of you.” He declares, standing up from the floor, leaning over you to firmly grasp your jaw before capturing your lips in a heady, intoxicating kiss. The moan that escapes you sounds so foreign, so unlike yourself, that it catches you by surprise, leaving you momentarily taken aback. You don't bother vying for dominance, allowing him to take control of the kiss. He withdraws from you leaving your chest heaving and breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Take your pants off.” You demand, reaching desperately for the band of his pajamas to shove them off. Sirius beats you to the task, swiftly shoving them off himself in a display of impatience.

“Sirius.” Drool pools in your mouth at the sight of him. Long, thick, and pretty. Your lips part slightly, and you look up at Sirius in surprise, caught off guard by him. For a fleeting moment, you sit there, eyes locked, contemplating whether you'll be able to take him or not. He’s bigger than anyone you have ever been with before.

Sirius doesn’t let you stare for too long before his fingers are sliding through your soaked folds and brushing over your clit. Whimpers and moans tumble past your lips as Sirius rubs firm circles over you to get you adjusted before dipping down and pressing two fingers into you. A cry escapes you at the intrusion, and your hand instinctively reaches down to grip his bicep firmly.

Sirius startles you by leaning down and pressing the softest kiss to your clit, before licking you the bundle of nerves softly. Your body tenses with pleasure, hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

“I’ve always wanted to taste you.” He confesses a surge of heat courses through your body, igniting every nerve ending as you absorb his words. He doesn’t waste another second before leaning down and gently sucking on your clit.

"Please don't stop." You plead softly, and Sirius complies, continuing with unwavering determination. He nips and sucks, licking through your folds and holding your thighs open for him. His fingers continue to slide in and out of you; the sounds you’re making are obscene.

You’re struck by the thojught that this doesn't compare to any other times that you’ve been eaten out. But maybe it's not just his technique that feels good; it might be the fact that its Sirius who’s between your legs.

Your thighs tremble, and a euphoric sensation begins to build up in your stomach, making it feel like you are floating on a delightful high.

“Sirius, I need you.” You gasp sharply, your fingers instinctively tugging on his hair, signaling for him to ease up. You wanted to come together for your first time, as cheesy as it may have been.

As he rises to his feet, your eyes meet, and contagious, goofy smiles spread across both of your faces. In this shared moment, a mutual understanding passes between you—acknowledging the absurdity of the situation yet reveling in the fact that there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

You watch as he wraps his hand around himself, dragging his hand up and down a few times. He whispers for you to scoot back until your head rests against the pillow, and with a gentle nod, you comply. He follows suit, settling on his haunches before you, creating a comforting, intimate space between you both.

“Y’ready?” He asks in a hushed tone, leaning in to hover over you, and at that moment, a rush of memories floods your mind, reminiscent of yesterday by the lake. You're convinced you must look rather pathetic with the speed of your nod, but Sirius only responds with a sweet smile.

With a grip on his cock, he slides the tip through your slick, both of you sucking in a breath at the sensation. He gently pushes at your entrance. Sirius steals a glance up at you, silently seeking reassurance, and you respond with a simple nod and a warm smile, letting him know that everything is perfect. Sirius catches you off guard as he leans down, tenderly pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips, a gesture filled with unexpected sweetness.

His gaze shifts, watching as he pushes his cock inside of you, letting out a string of curses as your pussy grips him tight, pulling him deeper inside.

“Fuck,” Gritting his teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply through his nose, determined to regain control and prevent himself from losing composure. He’s sitting fully inside you, and he has to take a breather because you feel better than he could have ever imagined. The last thing he wants is for this to end as soon as it begins.

His voice sounds utterly shattered, “You’re so wet, fuck.”

You entwine your fingers in his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingertips as you pull him closer, urging him to meet your lips with his own. The anticipation builds as his warm breath mingles with yours, creating an intimate connection before the gentle press of his lips against yours. Parting your lips, you deepen the kiss, and Sirius eagerly reciprocated.

“Sirius. Fuck me, please.” You exhale softly against his lips, and Sirius responds with a low, guttural groan of longing and desire.

He doesn’t waste any time before dragging his cock along the sensitive walls of your pussy, before thrusting back into you, “God, your pussy feels incredible.” The cry that escapes you resonates loudly in the room, and you're immensely grateful that everyone is out at Hogsmeade. The absence of others allows you the freedom to be as uninhibited as you are, knowing that the full dorms would never afford you the same level of privacy and volume.

“Feels so good.” You gasp, head rolling to the side, your cheek resting against the pillows. Sirius’ hands rest against the back of your thighs, holding your legs against your chest, giving a clear view of the way his cock is so seamlessly slipping inside of you.

He watches you, transfixed on the way your brows pinch together in pleasure, lips parting to let moans slip past. It's as if a dam has burst within Sirius, an unstoppable torrent of words and emotions pouring forth as he finds himself unable to contain everything he's been holding back.

“Fuck, you sound s’pretty, sweet girl,” The groan that leaves his lips is downright sinful. “Thought about this pretty pussy all day. Pretended to be sick just to get off to the thought of you.”

“Sirius.” You whine, reaching out to thread your fingers through his hair and pull him down to you. You’re soaked and aching, desperate for Sirius to fuck you faster. However, much to your disappointment, he remains insistent on maintaining a slow, teasing pace.

“Pictured, tugging that fucking bikini top down. Watching your tits bounce while I fuck you. Fuck, cumming all over them.” The whine that escapes you feels pathetic, and under different circumstances, you would've been embarrassed by it. However, given the situation you're in, embarrassment takes a backseat.

“I know, baby. I know.” He complies, adjusting his position so that his right arm supports him above you while his left hand gently traces your skin. Brushing over your nipples, trailing up and over your tits, before placing his hand loosely around the base of your throat.

“You’re fucking perfect,” He grunts, admiring how ruined you look for him. Your mascara smudged beneath your eyes from tears, and your lips swollen from his earlier kisses. He loved seeing you like this. Being the one to ruin you, to smudge your makeup and bring you to tears. “Taking my cock s’well.”

You’re incoherent, begging for Sirius to go harder, to fuck you faster. Hands pawing at his ass, desperately trying to bring him closer.

His hand squeezes your throat gently, “Tell me you want me to fuck you harder. C’mon love, wanna hear you beg for it.”

A smug grin tugs on Sirius’ lips as he watches you struggling to form words. You’re getting close if the way you’re squeezing him so tight and rolling your hips is any indicator.

But then a desperate, needy whine with the words he so badly wants to hear slips past your lips. Babbling about needing his cock and wanting him to ruin you. The second he hears your pleas, he thrusts into you harder, setting a brutal new pace that has you crying for him.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, m’love.” He speaks so sincerely that you feel a surge of emotions welling up inside, an overwhelming urge threatening to bring tears to your eyes.

Overcome with your emotions, you reach for Sirius’ hand and interlace them together before Sirius presses your clasped hands into the sheets. His headboard thumps against the wall rhythmically.

“Need you to fill me up. Please.” You plead desperately, and Sirius curses, his voice rough and strained.

“Shit, that’s my girl. Want me to fill you with my cum?” It's the praise that pushes you over the edge. Your back arches, pressing your breasts into Sirius’ chest and your legs tremble.

“Doing so good f’me.” He’s close behind you. Your tight, wet walls clenching around him is what does it for him.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna cum. Fuck.” Sirius moans, burying his head in the crook of your neck as his hips stutter and you cry out at the feeling of his warm cum filling you up. You clench his hand tightly, your nails likely leaving imprints on his skin. A sob escapes your lips, and your fingers weave through his hair, a desperate attempt to draw him closer.

You both remain entwined, lost in each other's embrace as you gradually come down from the euphoric highs. The room resonates with the sound of your intertwined breaths, each one heavy and labored. Your body feels utterly slack, every muscle loosened, and you're so relaxed that you could easily doze off at any moment.

Sirius presses a couple of tender kisses against your neck, eliciting a satisfied hum from you. When he withdraws from you, a wince escapes you as you feel the separation, and Sirius’ eyes dart up to you in concern.

“Y’okay, sweet girl?”

“I’m okay, just sore.” You grace him with a sweet smile, and Sirius leans in, gently pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gonna get a towel, one second.” He assures you, rising from the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. You listen to the faucet running and the faint sounds of the cupboard opening and closing. Lying back, you gaze up at the ceiling, absently nibbling on your thumbnail until a smile breaks across your face at the thought of what just happened.

“Here, love.” Sirius says, sitting on the edge of the bed holding a washcloth in his hand. He’s got a fresh pair of pajama pants on, you didn’t even notice him grab clothes from his trunk, too lost in your thoughts.

Sirius gently grips your ankle, encouraging you to spread your legs. His breath hitches at the sight of his cum dripping out of you and onto his sheets, desperately hoping to see this sight again. He murmurs a curse under his breath, his touch gentle as he delicately uses the warm washcloth to clean between your thighs.

“There.” He whispers softly before aiding you to sit up. As you glance over, you notice the t-shirt and pajama pants laid out beside him, meant for you. Your heart swells with warmth as he assists you in slipping it over your head. With a grateful smile, you slide into the pajama pants. Meanwhile, Sirius utters evanesco to fix the sheets up, before joining you in bed.

“C’mere.” He beckons to you, sinking into the pillows, and you nestle against him, finding solace as you rest your head on his chest.

In the silence, you both relish the comfort of each other's embrace, enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy. Lost in contemplation, your mind wanders, grappling with what just happened and what that meant for the both of you.

"That wasn't just a one-time thing, was it?" You inquire, the hopefulness evident in your tone.

"No," Sirius responds, tilting your chin so you can meet his gaze. "I want you to be mine, for real this time."

The fluttering butterflies that dance through your stomach are overwhelming as you absorb his words. A lovesick grin spreads across your lips, unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, “Then I'm all yours."

You settle back into Sirius, and his arms hold you against him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head lull you into a serene state, the sound of his steady heartbeat serving as a soothing lullaby that guides you into a peaceful sleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"I'm sorry, so you asked us to fake it not for Lily, but for Sirius and I to get together?" You gaze at James, confused, knitting your brows, while he sits opposite you at the table. Remus and Sirius are absorbed in their own conversation, and Peter is having breakfast with the girl he harbors a crush on. Despite their current status as friends, Peter seems overjoyed nonetheless.

James grins, casting you a smug look. "I mean, Lily genuinely thought you and I were a thing. At first, it really was because Lily thought we were together, but then I realized that this was the perfect way to get you and Sirius together.”

“James! So you lied to us?” You huff in disbelief.

James shrugs nonchalantly, his demeanor radiating an air of casual indifference, “You already knew I lied to Lily; what’s the difference?”

You sigh softly, "That's true, but what about you and Lily? Are you two getting together?"

James smiles, “We’ll get there eventually. This was more about you and Sirius. And before you start, yes, I’ll tell her the truth.” He sends you a pointed look, and you chuckle, already preparing to remind him to come clean to Lily.

"You're certifiably insane." You tease, exhaling a laugh.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it? You got the guy.” James watches with delight as a lovesick smile effortlessly graces your face before you steal a glance at Sirius.

"Oh, hey. Pick up your clothes next time you're napping with Sirius," He remarks casually, but the emphasis on the word napping lets you know that he's fully aware there was more happening than just sleep. "My shoe got tangled in your bra."

[sunnami]

❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm. 

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers. 

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell. 

Not again! 

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside. 

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due. 

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident,  Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors. 

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.) 

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head.  You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction. 

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams. 

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.) 

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else. 

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.   

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.  

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes. 

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.) 

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier. 

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.) 

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones. 

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback. 

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling. 

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did. 

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again. 

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing. 

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else. 

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion. 

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.) 

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate? 

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus. 

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel. 

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?” 

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace. 

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could. 

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. “I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap. 

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh. 

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it. 

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two. 

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity. 

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers. 

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate. 

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear. 

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you. 

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask. 

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?) 

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background? 

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you. 

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall. 

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .” 

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”  

Lily stays silent. 

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face? 

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company. 

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words. 

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!” 

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback. 

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.” 

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp. 

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave. 

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof. 

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall? 

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that. 

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek. 

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve. 

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes. 

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.” 

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.” 

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.” 

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.” 

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?” 

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.” 

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp. 

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’ 

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?) 

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well. 

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head. 

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun. 

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.) 

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger. 

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done. 

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest. 

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old. 

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’ 

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.) 

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about. 

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.) 

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned. 

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.) 

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold. 

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby. 

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands. 

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.) 

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth. 

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work. 

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”) 

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.) 

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done. 

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?” 

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?) 

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.” 

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.” 

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.” 

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.” 

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace. 

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.” 

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?” 

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.” 

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug. 

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red. 

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .” 

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.” 

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second. 

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave. 

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes. 

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes. 

You freeze in fear. 

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels. 

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.” 

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.” 

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?” 

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.  

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.” 

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back. 

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?” 

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?” 

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?” 

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly. 

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.” 

And so, you choose them. 

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor. 

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy’s wedding.” 

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper. 

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same. 

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more. 

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.