#marauders era fanfic

[brokenmenswhore]

I love your writing!

can I request reader with either penetration trauma (something I deal with), or reader who just has an ick about it, being talked through it/helped by the marauders (especially James)? thank you!! 💜💜

formatted as a one shot. got this request while rewatching kick-ass so the “especially james” is really working for me. i did some research on this and tried my best to not disrespect your experience. i did my best to be as gentle with this fic as possible. i apologize if anything is inaccurate or if it’s improper toward this delicate topic <3

talk through | james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: discussion and mentions of penetration trauma (read with caution!!), smut (MDNI 18+), not proofread

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James's hands tangled through your hair as he kissed you, his body slowly pressing your back into the mattress. You did the same, twirling a strand of his hair in your fingers as if it was second nature.

He moaned into your mouth to signal that he liked it, one of his hands gently tracing the skin of your neck, then down your chest, your stomach, down between your thighs-

You gasped into the kiss as James began to rub gentle circles onto your clit. You slowly rolled your hips against his hand, silently begging him for more.

He pulled away and asked breathily, "whatcha want, hm?"

You kissed along his jawline and down to his neck, still grinding your hips against his fingers.

He smiled above you. "That's not an answer, baby."

You continued to pepper kisses along his skin, needy and unwilling to pause the pleasure.

"Can't give you what you want if you don't tell me," James said.

You knew he was going to make you say it. "More," you begged.

"More what?"

"Harder, Jamie, please," you said, immediately resuming your mouth against his skin.

"C'mere," he said, pulling your lips back to his as he finally pressed down against your clit, rubbing circles even faster than before.

Your back arched into his touch. He kissed you harder as well, his need growing as he felt you writhe beneath him in desperation.

"Like that?" James teased.

You nodded your head up and down furiously. You just wanted more. You and James had never gone quite this far, and you'd be damned if you let it stop here.

"Someone's needy today," he whispered.

"I want you," you moaned.

"'M right here," he smiled.

"No, Jamie, I want you."

James stopped moving his fingers. He scanned your face for any uncertainty, but found none.

"Are you sure?"

You had spoken to James about your penetration trauma before. You opened up to him about what had happened to cause it, and how you were terrified to have sex and completely break in front of him.

However, you finally felt like you were at a point where you trusted James enough to try. You just needed to feel like you weren't going through it in your head. You knew James could make you feel safe. You just had to communicate.

"I just- I need you to talk me through it."

"Okay, baby, what do you mean? Just wanna be sure I'm giving you what you need."

You smiled at his kindness. "Just let me know what you're doing as you're doing it," you said, "if you do something unexpectedly, I'm scared it'll trigger something."

James's heart shattered. "I promise to talk you through it, every step of the way," he said, "but you need to tell me if anything is too much. If there's anything you want me to stop or change, you tell me immediately. Okay?"

"Okay," you nodded.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

You didn't know. You felt ready, but you knew that it could change at any moment. You hoped James understood that. You trusted that he did, and you trusted him.

"Just go easy on me."

"Of course, baby," he said, kissing your cheek, "of course."

You kissed him, the the kiss was perhaps the most intimate, loving kiss you'd ever shared with anyone.

James reached between his legs to give himself a few strokes in preparation, and you nervously looked between your two bodies.

"Just touching' myself," he said, "not doin' anything just yet."

You nodded your head and kissed him again, this time hoping the kiss conveyed how appreciative you were that he was being so nice to you. You figured maybe you should just tell him.

"Thank you," you pulled away.

James smiled down at you. "For what?"

"I don't know," you said, "being nice, I guess."

James tilted his head like a puppy. "You don't need to thank me for being nice, baby, I wanna be nice to you. That's what you deserve."

Tears pooled in your eyes as you looked up at him. "Thank you."

"Baby," his voice broke as he leaned down to hug you, wrapping an arm behind your neck as you nudged your head into the crook of his neck. You let your tears fall freely, allowing yourself to be vulnerability in the comfort and safety of James holding you.

"I got you," he cooed, "I got you. You're okay, I'm not gonna hurt you."

You cried harder at his words. You loved him so, so fucking much. You would never be able to thank him enough for this, or thank him enough for the fact that he doesn't even think it's something to be thanked for.

James truly believed that this is the bare minimum of how kindly you should be treated. You had never been loved like this. Ever.

James didn't rush you. He didn't pressure you, didn't move you, didn't say a word. He just let you cry into his shoulder until you were ready.

"I want this," you said, which is the only reason why he released your neck and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

"We don't have to do this, baby."

"I want to," you said, "it's just gonna be a little tough at first."

"That's okay, we'll do whatever you need, okay? I just don't want you to feel like you have to do this. I don't need it. I have a hand, I'll be good."

"You've never once pressured me about sex, James," you replied, "and I want this for me. I want sex to be something other than the trauma that it currently is. It's just going to be a rough thing to get past, but I trust you."

"Okay," was all James said before he gently kissed you.

It was you who heated the kiss up as you pulled his hair an pressed him closer to you, grabbing at his back in need.

"Gonna touch myself again," he breathed, stroking himself as he kissed you hard.

After a few moments, he pulled away from your mouth. "Are you ready?"

You nodded your head up and down, scared that you would cry again if you spoke.

"I'm gonna line myself up with you, but I'm not gonna do anything just yet, okay?"

"Okay."

James lined the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

"Not goin' in," he said, "can I just move against you for a second? Help warm you up?"

"Yes."

You whined as James pushed his cock between your folds, moving his hips in a thrusting motion against your clit. You couldn't help the moans that fell from your lips, it just felt so good.

"Fuck," you moaned as he pressed himself even harder against you, using your wetness as lubricant.

"I'm goin' back where I was now," he said, lining himself up with you again.

"You ready?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you absolutely totally sure?"

"James."

"Just making' sure," he smiled, and you giggled back at him, happy that he took some of the weight from the moment.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, okay? I'm gonna move nice and slow, I promise."

You took a deep breath. "Okay."

James pressed his forehead against yours as he guided the tip of his cock into you. He moved as slow as he possibly could. Once his tip was fully in, you swallowed hard. He watched your face to gage your comfort level, and stopped for a moment. Once your face softened again, he began to move slowly, his hips barely moving from the insanely slow pace.

"Stop, stop stop stop," you pleaded.

He immediately pulled completely out of you. Tears were pooling at your eyes again, and James stroke your hair, keeping his body close to yours to let you know that he was there, and he wasn't going anywhere unless you told him to.

"I'm sorry," your voice broke.

"Sh," he continued to stroke your hair, "no need to say sorry. I got you." His voice was soft and gentle.

"I'm sorry, I just-"

He shushed you again and began to stroke your cheek, exaggerating his breathing as an example for you to follow. You did as he did, holding a breath in before elongating a breath out. You looked into each other's eyes as you breathed until you had calmed down.

"Okay, I'm okay," you let out a deep breath, "you can try again."

"Only if you want," he assured you.

"Please," you said.

James kissed your forehead before he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Alright, baby, I'm gonna move now," he said.

You shuddered as his tip pressed into you again.

"I'm goin' as slow as I can, just a little deeper, I got you, you're okay. Alright baby, the tips all the way in, do you want me to keep going?"

"Mhm," you said, working to control your breathing.

James intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand against the mattress to the side of your head.

"Okay, baby, I'm gonna move again."

He began to push in slowly again, still watching your face for any uncomfortability or pain.

"Easy, easy, you're alright," he said, "I'm not gonna hurt you, baby, you're okay. I've got you."

You focused on James's words, and before you knew it, he bottomed out inside of you.

"I'm as deep as I can go," he said.

You took a few deep breaths, adjusting to the feeling of him fully inside of you. His cock was thicker than you were ready for, but you adjusted quickly, reminding yourself that you were okay.

"You're okay, gorgeous, you're okay," he cooed.

You blinked your eyes open and looked up at him. "I'm okay."

"You're okay."

"You're not gonna hurt me," you said like a mantra.

"Never."

You pulled James's head down to yours and kissed him, appreciative to be in this moment and to be okay.

"You can move."

James eyes widened for a split second before returning to normal, as he didn't want to show anything that may take the control of the moment away from you. "Are you sure?"

You smiled to show him that it was truly okay. "I'm sure."

"I'll go slow."

You nodded your head up and down in understanding.

James pulled out only a small amount before pushing back in. You furrowed your brows, so he continued at that soft pace, only ever pulling out in small bits.

Once your features softened, he said, "gonna move a little more. You stop me if you need to," and began to pull out even more.

After a few strokes, you grabbed his shoulder and said, "hold on. Don't pull out."

James stilled inside of you and awaited further instruction.

All you needed was a moment to remind yourself you were okay and breathe.

"Okay, okay, move."

"Are you-"

"Please move."

"I'm gonna pull most of the way out, and then go back in slowly, okay? Let me know if it's too much."

James did as he said he would, pulling out most of the way before pushing back in at a steady, gentle pace.

"You okay?" he checked in after a few strokes.

"I'm okay," you told him, watching his face so that you had something other than your memories to focus on.

"I love you," he told you.

You smiled. "I love you too."

He kissed you as he pulled out to his tip and then pushed back in.

"I love you so much," he said, peppering kisses along your neck and your jawline, "you're so beautiful."

You held him close to you as he said, "can I move faster?"

"Please," you said.

James began to move faster. It was still slower, but it was steady. You could tell James was holding back, but you knew that he wouldn't want you to lie about what you were ready for just for his sake.

"Fuck," you moaned.

James stilled. "What? What, did I hurt you? Are you okay? Too much?"

"I'm okay, I'm alright, I promise," you said.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yes."

James kissed you as he moved. He fucked into you a little faster, and it took you a moment to adjust, but you swallowed the lump in your throat and were able to move past it. You thought about James, the feeling of him inside of you, the feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours, and the feeling of his mouth against yours, instead of thinking about the trauma and the memories in your head.

James desperately wanted to replace all of your bad memories with good ones, and he desperately wanted to be the one to make that happen.

You decided it might be worth it to let him try.

"Faster," you whimpered.

James kissed your neck as he moved faster, his cock hitting deep with each thrust of his hips. He began to grunt and moan into your ear, and his moans had your arousal out of control, almost overshadowing all other emotions.

Your back arched, and James gently rubbed your hip with his thumb to ground you and remind you that you were alright.

"Faster," you said again, and James searched your eyes, but you nodded your head yes.

He began to really fuck you, having wanted to for ages. He was fighting to maintain control over himself as he fucked you at a steady pace, moaning your name into your ear like a prayer.

"Holy fuck," he grunted, "you feel so fucking good, baby. I got you. You're safe."

You let out a strangled moan as your walls began to pulse around his cock. "Jamie, I-"

"You can let go whenever you need, baby, it's okay. I've got you. You're alright."

"Jamie-"

"Come for me, baby."

His words sent you over the edge. You squeezed around him like a vice as you came, your breath shuddering as your thighs shook slightly. James slowed down, waiting until your high was calmed down to pull out of you and give himself a few quick strokes.

"Can I come on you?" he rasped.

"Mhm," you said, and he immediately released himself onto your stomach.

After a few pulses of his hips as he bucked into his hand, he pressed is forehead against you again, your hair sweat-slick against your head.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" he asked through shallow breaths.

"I'm okay," you reassured.

"I love you so much," he whispered.

"I love you too," you replied, "thank you."

"No need to," he said, "I love you."

You laughed. "You just said that."

"I love you," he repeated, "now let me take care of you. Stay there."

James stood up and retrieved a small towel from the lavatory, running some hot water over it before he returned to the bed.

"Can I clean you up?" he asked.

You nodded your head and shuddered as he moved the towel slowly against you, then against your thighs, cleaning up any wetness left over. He then swiped the towel a few times across your lower stomach, cleaning his seed off of your skin.

He then flopped down next to you. You immediately turned to him, resting your head on his shoulder as you curled into a ball against his side.

He wrapped an arm around you and kissed the top of your head. "I got you, baby. You're safe."

[allofmytoxicity]

Thursday

a/n: pmbb fic one! woo! I know these aren't strictly to the timeline of the songs but I really like them. I started writing this just at the start of november and it definitely gave me some outlet because of my exams this year. Also, ignore the fact that I've basically said that 'September' came out a couple years earlier than it actually did. It came out november 1978 so didn't fit the timeline I was going for here.

marauders era!james potter x fem!ravenclaw!reader

Summary: Your parents gave you two impossible options, but someone had to take the hit.

Word Count: 2.7k

TW: Angst and disapproving parents.

You knew that he was waiting and had watched you read the note he'd left on your desk.

Watching on like a lost puppy at times it was that sad.

You'd broken up with James a few weeks ago and that's all he'd done since then. Watch and wait like a sad puppy.

The random Wednesday a couple of weeks ago was when you'd broken up. It was just after you both came back from Christmas where you both had spent it at home, just not with each other like you had the past few years.

When you walked up to the Gryffindor common room that night, you felt uneasy. You knew what you were about to do would hurt James, but you had had arguments with your parents one too many times over who you were dating and you couldn't put yourself, and more importantly James, through that forever.

The whole reason your parents had disapproved was because with your wit and studious nature which could potentially lead you to so many open pathways, was a stark contrast to James' cheek and mischief that he got away with so often as he glided through school so effortlessly.

You had argued with your parents at least every couple of days over Christmas, and now you'd given up because as you got on the train back to Hogwarts, your parents told you that unless James got his act together, you had to break up with him, otherwise, they were going to somehow homeschool you.

All of that, just because they disapproved of a guy you were dating.

So, you broke up with him, but it killed you to do it.

Your parents had given you an impossible option. Either get James to mature, which was happening, just not at the rate you needed, sacrifice your relationship in sake of everything else, or sacrifice your friends, schooling and family in sake of your boyfriend.

The five little words that you said changed James' demeanor completely and seeing James' eyes so downcast so quickly after you told him made your heart break even more. It was so bad that you rushed out of the common room and went straight to your own, not wanting anyone to see the tears glistening as they made their way down your face.

You couldn't remember how many tissue boxes you went through that night but the main thing you remembered was that you needed to look okay-ish the next day.

And that's how you looked.

Except one thing. There was no James.

Everyone found it weird. You and James were practically attached at the hip and only separated when you needed, so you both showing up to classes at different times, not sitting beside each other, not even talking to each other, caught everyone off guard.

You were giving James silent treatment, as to not let yourself fall right back into those emotions of heartbreak all over again, whereas he was watching you.

Waiting.

Wishing.

Doing anything that could possibly mean he had half his thoughts taken up by you as he got bored of all the silent treatment ever since you two broke up, wishing you would explain why and that you could get back together again.

And in a weird way, it worked.

A few weeks ago, for your seventeenth birthday, you were throwing a party in the Ravenclaw common room, and as long as nobody broke anything, the prefects didn't care and would happily come along to the party. It was invite only, but considering you'd invited every single other marauder, you would have felt incredibly bad, leaving James to his own devices as his friends went out and partied, so you invited him as well.

Now, you weren't exactly the type to throw parties and being an introvert at heart with a constant desire to not be in the company of others didn't really help you go to and/or throw more yourself.

But who knows? Maybe break ups look good on you.

Nah...

Maybe?

No. Definitely no, because the constant state of sadness was not a good thing to come from it.

All you wanted from the party was just to see James, and he felt the same about it for you.

He'd seen the near tears every time you'd caught a glimpse of him in the corridors while talking to a friend and the salty droplets starting to make their way down your cheeks when you'd broken up with him.

James thought that this party was strange, but a chance no less for him to talk to you, to ask you (to beg you) to tell him why you had broken up with him. And also to find out why you put yourself through planning a birthday party for yourself.

So, getting to the party, James took every chance he could to go stop you but it seemed that Sirius and Remus had other plans, holding him back and taking him elsewhere every time he had tried to go up to you.

Now, you, on the other hand weren't having a great night either, constantly being talked to by other people or taken elsewhere by some of your friends.

You were getting sick of it to be honest. You knew that James was here and you would face your feelings if you happened to bump in to him, not avoid him all night like the other marauders and your friends had planned.

What made it all worse was that someone, down to probably not being in the know, played Earth, Wind and Fire's 'September' just as you were about to go up to James, free of absolutely anyone that could get in your way to explain the whole situation to him. The worst part about the song was that it was the song that was playing in the restaurant that you two were standing outside during your first kiss.

The thought of all the memories and emotions was just too overwhelming so you had quickly turned yourself around and actually went to actively find your friends for the first time that night.

Eventually, it got to a point where you got sick of the party, your social battery near dead and even though it was a Friday in January with no school the next day, you got everyone out of the common room by 1 am, thanking them for coming, but needing your bed.

Over the next week you felt like you needed some sort of change, a sign of independence. A sign that you were fine. You didn't know what it was, whether it be impulsive haircut, new wardrobe or a rebound, but by the next Hogsmeade trip, allowing you to go somewhere else and see what your options were at least.

And options there definitely was.

There was everything from new clothes to hair dye all across the different shops, with you picking out the latter to take back and try yourself.

It was a bright pink dye that ended up turning a shade of maroon-y purple on you.

You didn't know how it had happened and it looked like mid-class daydreams would be taken up by the thought of how the fuck that happened.

You had cried after you ripped open the shower curtain, seeing the state of your hair. It looked nothing like the picture on the box and you regretted it. Massively.

You looked nothing like you did before and you didn't recognise yourself.

Break ups really don't look good on you.

The next time you saw James was in class that Monday, just before lunch and yet again, neither of you spoke to each other.

To say the least, James was shocked by your new hair. He'd always loved the colour of it before and now with the change, he barely recognised you when he walked in the door.

He knew that you never were really someone who wanted to dye their hair from conversations you'd had months prior when James watched you do your hair routine before you went out to Hogsmeade together.

James was so worried, that just before he left the classroom, he wrote on a scrap bit of paper from one of his books and dropped it on your desk while you were talking to your friends, your bag still there at your desk, so you, in theory should see it.

Which you did.

When you had bye to your friends as you all went to lunch and saw the note on your desk, you grabbed it along with your bag and walked on the classroom, feeling a pair of eyes on you.

You knew those eyes were James' as by the looks of the handwriting, it was identical to the half a dozen other notes that were paperclipped to the inside of your notebooks and random pieces of parchment all scrambling about your bag that was dangling off of your shoulder.

All the note said was; 'Let's catch up on thursday? Only if it's not too soon to talk.' in James' basic handwriting.

Taking in a deep breath, you wonder what it could be like.

Would it be good? Bad? Ugly? Tearful?

You had no idea.

The only thing you had figured out was that you probably did need to talk to him. Explain yourself. Explain your parents.

Explain that you didn't want to lose either option your parents had given you, but knew you had to pick one. And it just so happened to be him that took the fall.

You hated that you'd chosen your friends and school over James and you were still wondering how on earth James was holding it together.

So, during lunch when you passed him in the Great Hall, you slipped James a note, just over his shoulder and on to the table, but there no less. All it read was; 'Fine. Meet me in Library at 5', and when you turned back around you saw James with a big smile on his face, trying to look around to see if he could spot you, obviously doing so when he met your eyes.

When 5 o'clock on Thursday came around, you walked into the library, expecting James to be late, like he normally is for everything, except, clearly, when he wants to know something, as when you walked into the library, you saw him sat there, twiddling his thumbs and doing nothing, dressed in what was presumably a white undershirt and one his many plaid shirts on top, a pair of dark blue jeans with his brown-black leather jacket completing the look.

Walking up to him from behind, you tap James on the shoulder, startling him slightly and as he turns around you give him a grim smile and he indicates for you to sit down opposite him at the table.

Instead you shake your head, whispering in a low tone as so Madame Pince won't tell either of you off.

"I was thinking of going on a walk? I don't exactly think Madame Pince wants us in here talking while other people are trying to study." Is all you say and James nods, getting up and walking beside you out of the library and into the corridor.

After a few seconds of walking in silence down the corridor, James pipes up, looking at you as he does so. "Soooo..." He says, elongating the o's, "How are you?"

You turn to look at James shrugging. "I'm fine, you?"

He nods back, almost as if you two were sitting in the same zone of 'fine' that most recently broken up people were in.

"Why'd you ask to meet up with me?" You ask quietly scuffing your shoes slightly on the concrete floors.

"I want to know why you walked from us. I want to know why I've gotten the silent treatment because I can't stand any of this." James says, stopping and you don't notice until you realise the only footsteps your hearing are yours.

Turning around you see James standing a couple of metres behind you, hands in his leather jacket and head tilted slightly, wearing exactly what you'd presumed when you'd walked in the library.

Before doing anything, you look up at the ceiling and take a breath, closing your eyes before moving your head back to face James.

"Over Christmas, my parents gave me two options. Either stay with you and lose my friends, school and everything I have here..." You take a second, feeling tears come to your eyes, "Or break up with you and keep everything else here."

In that moment, James' face changes from one of curiosity and hurt to one of understanding. He knew your parents didn't completely approve of him, you having told them over the years (before you got together, of course) about his antics around school.

He nodded and you walked back up to where James was standing, unsure of what he was going to do next.

"Why did you come meet up then? I'm sure your parents would much rather have you go no contact with me." James asks, not looking you in the eye.

"Because I was wondering if you were in any way lonely or broken, because you've continued life like normal. I went and wrecked my hair and threw a party I didn't even want the throw." You say, trying to catch James' gaze, failing miserably, tears blurring your vision now.

"And what? You didn't think you needed to explain yourself?" James scoffed, finally looking at you.

In that moment you both see the hurt, pain and brokenness in each others eyes, tears stinging both of your eyes.

You sniffle before replying.

"I knew I needed to. I just said that I was dumping you and left, James, I knew I needed to." You whisper, and that was when the first tear fell.

James had seen you like this before, close to tears, and he knew once that first tear fell the rest would be quick to follow. So, wrapping you in a hug, he kisses the top of your head as you break, sobs wracking through your body.

"Sh, sh, sh... it's okay y/n/n, I'm here." James mumbles, pulling you even closer to him as you give a choked sob.

After standing there for a few minutes, your cries quieten and you break apart, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your navy blue jumper.

"I'm so sorry I never properly explained myself." You say quietly, wrapping your arms around you.

James nods before replying. "It's fine. You did what you needed to, and I'll do one for the team and take the hit. And for reference, I am hurting. I just know you need that shoulder to cry on. You always have and always will."

You nod back, biting your lip, unsure what to say, so much left in between you two, with James still being so kind to you after you basically ripped the floor out from under him.

"Thank you. I'll try and talk to my parents, see if I can change their minds. I really do love you James." You finally knock up the courage to say.

There's a sad smile on James' face as he replies, knowing that through thick and thing you'd love each other. "I love you too, y/n/n, but I'll try to change. I know I need to mature. If you speak to your parents, I'll change." He says, but you quickly object.

"You shouldn't need to change. I'll speak to them, and I'll try to convince them, and if they really have a bone to pick about it, then we'll hide it. I'm not letting you change yourself to fit their mold." You say, taking his hand gently.

"Alright. But I'll at least change my attitude around them then." James says and you nod, easily agreeing to that, because your parents needed to know no difference between how James acted with you or your friends and your parents.

Pulling you close to him, James kisses you on the forehead, wrapping an arm around your shoulders before you both go on your way, wrapped up in each other as you walked, all the way to the Great Hall where you spent dinner together before you parted ways to go to bed.

a/n: I think this took me like three weeks to write. I was in a slump and I am slightly grateful that this was the first one. I don't know/remember how many references to the actual song are in this, but there's loads, so I would take a listen after reading.

Read this to find out who else I write for, and requests are open!

[dovahtobi]

Four To The End Book Four Chapter Twenty-Three - Mmm, Tension is now out!

AO3

Wattpad

[crescenthistory]

hi angel!!!! absolutely adore your blog and especially the way you write for regulus 🥹🥹 makes my heart so happy, like that’s baby boy!!!! thank you so much for sharing with us!!! i have a prompt request but only if you feel so inclined!!! number d8 “where is she?" with regulus, pretty please, like maybe something happens to reader and he is the last to find out (busy w quidditch or prefer things) so when someone finally tracks him down being like your girl needs you, his composure is for once non existent and he is panicking!!!! ughhh hurt/comfort with reg is everything!!! anyway only if you feel my up to my love no pressure ever - love your blog regardless 💗💗💗

hi my love<33 this is hands down the sweetest request i have received, thank you so much for being so kind 🤍🤍 i genuinely appreciate your words so much! as for the request, i adore some hurt/comfort with reg, and this is an idea i've had for a while, so it was so fun to write

Prompt: D.8 "Where is she?"

Words: 6k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, severe injury (happens off screen, explained and treated on screen), lacerations, typical regulus anxiety (overworked), best friends to lovers, pomfrey being a badass, snape is a villain, animal abuse (technically), background marlene, rosekiller, etc.

It was common knowledge that Slytherin quidditch practice was never to be disturbed, especially this close to the final match of the season against Gryffindor.

This was Regulus’ first year as captain and he was determined for it to be written in the history books as a victorious one, to make himself deserving of the title. Playing opposite his brother and his best friends didn’t lessen the pressure much, either. 

He knew he had been pushing the team quite hard, but he also knew that if anyone could handle it, it was them. Evan and Barty funnelled all their chaotic energy into quidditch once they realised just how much it mattered for their mate, and Dorcas had just as much to gain from winning against Marlene as Regulus had against Sirius. Fenwick had had his skull bashed in by enough bludgers in his career to not be able to formulate any complaints, even if he had them. The rest of the team were relatively young players, a risk most others had chastised Regulus for taking, but one that was playing off beautifully – and with those rumours, they wanted to prove themselves, too. 

There really was little problem with this arrangement, he told himself, other than the fact that he was perhaps wearing himself a bit thin when balancing it all with his prefect duties and exams.

And, more importantly, missing you.

You had been the best friend he could have asked for during this hectic year of his, always standing by his side, just as much of a loyal team-player as those on his actual sports team. That unwavering dedication you had shown him over the years that taught him that maybe, just maybe, he was capable of being loved – and most definitely of loving, because Regulus would be damned if he didn’t admit that that was the only appropriate word for how he felt about you.

Not that he had told you that yet, though, and neither had you. It was never the right time, and you both knew, at least to some degree. For now, it was enough. You had each other, always, and it was enough. He told himself as much, at least.

Regulus was trying to zero his thoughts back on his team running through their plays off-broom on the ground, looking for any weakness in their formation, when the cardinal rule of not disturbing practice was broken.

“Black!” A voice shouted as it ran across the pitch from the school. 

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the pestering fourth year away, one of those who just seemed to always be there, nameless and bothersome. It was to little avail, though, judging by the sounds of his heavy steps hitting the still somewhat moist dirt on the field.

“Black, I have to–”

“We are in the middle of a practice!” Regulus cut the kid off, letting his nerves get the better of him as he saw most of his players stop in the midst of what had been their best run-through so far. “Unless someone has died, it can wait.”

“But–”

“Has someone died?” Regulus had his hands on his hips, half aware that he looked way too much like his older brother as he regarded the student-shaped owl in front of him with derision. 

“No, but–”

“Are someone in the midst of dying? Like within the hour?”

“N– no.”

“Then you may leave.” The student looked thoroughly confused, clearly not having been properly warned by whoever sent him as a make-shift owl that this was the only response he would be getting from Regulus. He could vaguely hear you whispering poor boy in his mind, always advocating for Regulus’ softer side, but right now he pushed it away as he turned back to his teammates. “Whatever it is will still be there when we are finished up here.”

Regulus didn’t wait for him to go before he began to pretend he was air, attention fully on his team once more.

Barty snickered as he tried to lean his chin on Evan’s shoulder, only to have the taller boy fully shove him off. Regulus shook his head, ignoring the crestfallen student beside him as he tried to increase his energy levels back to where they needed to be.

“Okay, that last round was getting closer to where we want to be. Ready to take to the sky for the last few minutes?”

When he finally stepped foot inside the quidditch locker rooms, Regulus sped through his shower routine. He was eager to get out of there and back to the dorms quick enough to have sufficient time to spend with you before going to sleep. He had half a mind to ask you to sleep in his bed tonight, but he wondered if that might be pushing it since you just did that a few nights ago. Nothing ever happened, of course, you were just the best of friends – and even if you had been something more, it was hard for anything to happen with Evan and Barty in the same room.

You just brought him a sense of peace he found himself craving more day by day. He wished to squeeze out every ounce of it he possibly could.

His hair was still wet, bag thrown about as haphazardly over his shoulder as he could allow himself to without spiralling – which is to say, he still looked perfectly polished to anyone but him. He turned to give the team lingering behind an attempt at an emphatic great work today that ended up falling a bit short from his hoarse voice. Thankfully, everyone else seemed tired enough to accept it without reservation, and Regulus could exit the changing room before all but running towards the Slytherin dorms. 

On his way there, he passed through the Great Hall, attempting to slow his stride to look a bit more composed, but quite ready to throw all of it away for the night just to curl up with you.

“Re- Regulus?!”

Sirius’ incredulous voice sounded behind him, and though Regulus loved his brother dearly, he took a deep sigh at the disturbance, knowing that, with him, it would likely not be a short one.

“That would be me.” Regulus turned around with a sarcastic half-smile, only for it to waver when he saw the expression on Sirius’ face. 

There was an evident tension in his face when he looked Regulus up and down, as if trying to figure him out while a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Sirius’ lips were pressed tight, as if holding back a severe frown and his eyes were decidedly clouded with worry.

“Reg, what are you doing here?” His voice conveyed more confusion than upset, but both were woven into his tone.

“I’m… on my way to Slytherin? We just finished practice.” 

It was as if Sirius found an answer to his confusion as his face settled into a form of defeat. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Regulus stared his brother down, heart speeding up in his chest, but he could feel it in his whole body. “What is it, Siri?”

“James sent someone to tell you,” Sirius says, speaking more to himself.

“Tell me what?” Regulus’ patience was worn thin by his pulse straining his skin.

“Uh, it’s Y/N.” Pangs shot through his body, pulling every vein taut. “She– she will be fine, don’t worry, but–”

“Where is she?”

Regulus struggled to make out where Sirius stood in front of him as the world seemed to tunnel around him and his mind was immediately elsewhere, immediately with his best girl, imagining any possible horror that might have overcome you. Had it not been for Sirius’ delivery of the news and the way he looked at Regulus, he might have felt more calm. But he had always known his big brother to be more composed than this.

“The infirmary–”

He didn’t need to hear more before he was running at full speed down the hallway.

Little to nothing registered with Regulus on the way to the infirmary, that he for the first time in his life realised was located painfully far away from the Great Hall. Illogical, given how many students go through there throughout their days. 

He felt lighter than ever as he was entirely certain he had never run this quickly in his life, simultaneously as every limb felt heavy with worry. 

She will be fine is only reassuring if he was concerned you had died – in every other scenario it is the worst thing to hear, because it confidently means you are not fine right now.

Regulus is half aware that he has run through two ghosts, into one student and past a professor – he thinks maybe Flitwick? – but he paid none of them any mind, willing to take the point deductions or even detentions, if only they don’t slow him down. He can deal with everything and anything else later. 

When he finally reached the door to the infirmary, it took everything in him to come to a halt. 

He all but crashed into the door, catching himself with one hand on the doorframe as he breathed heavy, giving himself but two seconds to collect himself, lest he be banned from the infirmary by life by Madam Pomfrey. That was not something he could afford right now.

Still heaving, he opened the door and took two steps inside – before his vision became entirely swamped by that very same woman, standing with her hands on her hips.

“Is she here?” He tried to get out before she could say anything.

“No visitors at the moment,” Madam Pomfrey said sternly.

“Please, is she here?” Regulus couldn’t even think to say your name, but the look on the matron’s face told him she knew.

“She is, and she is alright, but there will be no visitors at the moment.” Her voice was a bit softer now, but she was not relenting and she was not moving.

Regulus’ breath picked back up, and he didn’t register the tears that were forming in his eyes. A choked please was forming on his tongue when–

“Please.”

You beat him to it. Your meek voice sounded from a few curtains down behind Madam Pomfrey. Regulus didn’t hear the noise that escaped him when he heard the soft pain in your usually chipper voice, but the matron did. Still, it seemed to be on your account and not the lovestruck, fear-sickened boy in front of her, that she took a step to the side.

“Only you, and it must be brief.”

Her words were mostly caught by the air that Regulus left in his wake the moment she moved to the side, because as soon as he could he was by the curtain he had heard you speak from behind, ever so gently pulling it to the side.

“Oh, mon amour.”

The sight he was faced with both mended and broke his heart – because you were there, awake and already looking at him, but your forehead and right arms were bandaged and your face bore telltale signs of pain. He could see tear tracks down your delicate cheeks, mascara smudging just barely beneath your eyes. You looked happy to see him, he could see your chest heave a breath of relief, but that was about the only positive thing he could decipher in you at the moment.

At last, his movements were measured and careful again, but for once not for the sake of how he was perceived, but rather to not disturb the space around you, as if that could lessen your pain. He barely managed to close the curtain behind him with trembling hands, giving you a semblance of privacy, even in this infirmary that he had no idea hosted how many others.

There was enough space on the left side of the bed beside you for Regulus to take his rightful place by your side, as close as he dared. His eyes kept jumping all over your body and face, breath hitched.

Your name escaped his lips in a small breath as his eyes widely roamed your form.

He didn’t realise his hand was hovering between you before you reached up to him with your left hand and took it in yours. Your grip was weak and the tips of your fingers cold, but it was still the smooth skin he was used to feeling on his.

Upon your touch, he seemed to be brought back down to earth and the welling tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Oh, Reggie,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, I’m alright.”

“My poor love,” he whispered back, letting his free hand move up to lightly caress your cheek, brushing some damp hair away. It must have gotten wet when Pomfrey tended to whatever wound was bandaged on your upper forehead. “What happened to you, amour?”

Regulus often referred to you with terms of endearment, you knew you were each other’s person, but the absolute softness of them now broke your heart a little.

“It was…” you trailed off, wincing as you scrunched your brows in confusion and consequently pulled on your bandage. “It was an accident.” The sound that escaped you was almost a laugh, but it was too wet and strangled to truly be classified as such.

“What happened?” Regulus’ voice urged, more desperate than before. He held your hand tighter, bringing it closer to his chest, as if to protect it.

“We were helping Kettleburn – unwillingly mind you –”

“Who are we?” Regulus cuts you off, still seeming rather feverish in his desperation to know what was wrong. You squeezed his hand and smiled at him to calm him down. 

“An unfortunate bunch of us who happened to be enjoying the fresh air by the benches. Me, Lily, Marlene, Snape, Avery and some others we don’t really know too well, mostly fourth years.”

Regulus scowled at the mention of Snape and Avery, but nodded, as if encouraging you to continue.

“Kettleburn needed some help preparing bait. He believed there was a hippogriff in the Forbidden Forest that he wanted to draw out. It worked a bit too well, a bit too well.”

His brows scrunched at that. “But hippogriffs are mainly peaceful unless you disturb them?” Unease was growing in his stomach.

“Yes, that’s what I said as well,” you feel a bout of dizziness come over you, but try and speak through it. “We were down, probably a bit too close to the forest when it came out. I tried to push the bait towards it carefully, keeping my distance. It just wanted food, you know.”

“But?”

“But Snape and Avery freaked. When it took a step closer, just to eat – they let curses fly, kneejerk self defence reaction they said.”

Regulus had to be mindful to not hurt your hand as his fists clenched on reflex. He settled for holding the sheets beside him disturbingly hard instead – he had already pieced together what happened. “You were still in the line of fire,” he concluded, eyes darkening.

“Yes,” you whispered weakly. “It would have been fine, if it had only been a stupefy or something, but Snape shouted something else, some freak hex. It was like being slashed with a knife all over.”

Regulus’ breath hitched as he let his eyes travel from gauze to gauze. His fingers came up to linger near a particularly large bandage that travelled from your shoulder in under your hospital gown. “All over?” His voice was a mere whisper before he finally looked in your eyes again. He found them teary, and his heart clenched painfully.

“Yeah, I– The biggest one is across my stomach. Pomfrey has patched me up nicely, but it was, uh, it wasn’t good.”

He can’t fight the new tears that spill as he whispers my girl before carefully shuffling closer to you to give you a hug, or at least as close to one you could get right now. His cheek is pressed into yours, his hand on the back of your head, and you can hear him cry directly into your ear, drawing tears from you as well. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into you. “So sorry, amour.”

“Reggie, there was nothing you could do,” you try to look at him, but his grip on your head remains steadfast.

“No, I should have been there. I’m so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your upper cheek, and his lips are wet. “I should’ve been there.”

“Reg, there was no way anyone could have known.”

He pulls back slightly, looking you over to see if he was hurting you before settling in with his forehead against yours – making sure to avoid the wound in the top left. When his eyes look into yours, you feel a sense of calm finally wash over your body that had been riddled by the shock of being torn open. A grey safe haven.

“I’m sorry, amour.” He keeps saying it like a prayer.

You try to shake your head, but wince at the action. His hand immediately shoots up to your jaw, to still your head. Protecting you, even from yourself. “You’re not allowed to be sorry, Reg, you didn’t do anything. You can only feel sorry for me, which isn’t quite that hard. I look pathetic right now.”

Your half-hearted attempt at humour doesn’t seem to drag him from his despair as his eyes keep searching your face, flitting from the tears to the deviating makeup. His thumb, ever so carefully, drags under your eye to wipe away some of the mascara there. You lean into his touch.

“They tried to tell me, but I– I didn’t know, so I didn’t listen and–”

“You were at quidditch practice,” you cut him off. “Everyone knows you can’t be disturbed then.”

Regulus looked at you incredulously. “This is disturb-worthy, you – anything with you is always the biggest priority. I’m sorry.”

“One girl versus preparing for the match of your life? Hm, I think it’s good you weren’t distracted.” You are determined to lighten his mood, the sinch of his eyebrows and worry in his eyes were beginning to make you feel sick for him.

“But you’re my girl,” he says in a low voice, stressing the words as if to pour additional meaning. “You’re my best friend, my everything. Y/N, you are everything.”

You struggle to come up with a response to that. Any mask Regulus switches between is completely discarded in this small infirmary section with you. When he holds your face and looks at you, you know what it is.

Unable to speak over the lump in your throat, you just drag his face closer to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, as always.

Except this time, while your lips linger on his cheek, Regulus uses his hand still on your jaw to angle your face towards his. With your lips millimetres apart, he looks from them to your eyes, searching for something, and then back down. He whispers another soft everything before pressing his lips to yours.

For all the times you had thought of kissing Regulus, nothing compared. You never expected there to be salty from tears, you never imagined his scent in your nose to be swirled with the disinfectant covering everything around you – but he was right, it was everything. His lips were unbelievably soft against yours, even as he pushed himself even closer to you, as if he needed you underneath his skin, not just on top of it. The pinky underneath your jaw digs into your skin, and you can feel your pulse beat against his finger.

When Regulus pulls away, your mouths are still essentially connected, slightly parted, just breathing into each other. You open your eyes and find him looking at you with nothing short of love.

“I–”

“I love you.” You cut him off, smiling a bit as he half feigns indignance before it turns soft once more.

“I love you, belle fille.”

“I know.”

Finally, finally he gives you a genuine smile. It eases your nerves more than even his eyes could, and you feel yourself melting back into your pillow. Unfortunately, comfort makes you even more aware of the pain and soreness in your body, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, mostly to himself it seems.

“I won’t allow that.” You tug your intertwined hands closer to you, wanting to share the comfort with him. “I’m alright, Reggie.”

“You’re wounded and bandaged.”

“And I’m perfectly okay.”

He gives you an as if look, but it’s good enough for you, for now. Then his face twisted into something darker and you saw the same desperation from earlier bubbling to the surface.

“What happened to Snape? And Avery?” His hold on you is still soft and caring, but the rest of his body has grown stiff, mind racing with imagined visions of what went down and of what he would do with them in return.

“Nothing yet,” you said with a careful, measured voice. “Kettleburn wanted to ease the situation first, but since it was technically his fault for bringing us along unprompted, I’m not sure what would be done. Detention maybe?”

“Yeah, Kettleburn’s an idiot for that, but Snape was the one who used an unorthodox and probably dark hex. He has to be dealt with.”

Though you don’t condone how fast some of your friends resorted to revenge and violence, even you had to admit that the idea of Snape knowing magic like that didn’t sit right with you either. There was no situation you could imagine where a slasher spell like that would be moral in combat. 

“I’m sure they will deal with him tomorrow,” you settle on. “Tonight the main priority seemed to be making sure I don’t bleed out on the grounds.”

Regulus’ look was pained as he pressed his lips together. “How did you get in after that anyway?”

“I don’t remember too well.” You truly didn’t, and the flashes that went through your mind were not ones Regulus would be better off knowing about. “Kettleburn shushed the Hippogriff back into the forest – it thankfully didn’t get severely injured it seemed – while everyone else panicked. Lily and Marlene were the first ones by my side.”

You both smile absentmindedly at that. When you first befriended Lily through your study sessions at the library, Regulus had been unsure of how to approach your joint integration into his brother’s friend group, but the girls had turned out to be some of the best friends you could have asked for. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, almost straddling Regulus. “Almost forgot, but you’ll be happy to know that Marlene suckerpunched Snape before they brought me inside with a levitation spell. Pretty gnarly punch, too.”

Regulus’ smiled seemed to be less from gratification and more from endearment from you. “I think I’d like to see Snape get a little more than a punch for what he did to you. But that’s a great start, darling.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “It’s a start. And again, we can deal with all of that tomorrow. I don’t have the energy today.”

“No, no, you are the only priority right now, amour.” Any mirth slipped from his face as he studied you concernedly once more.

“I know you’re “alright”, but you’re not alright” he started. “Could you tell me where it hurt the most?” He looks over you again, as if he can map you out and fight your pain off, spot by spot.

“My stomach and chest got it worst,” you admit. “It’s growing more sore, but Madam said I could get more pain relief in just a little while.”

“Well, she also said I could only stay here for a short while,” he whispers conspiratorially, looking towards the curtain as if he expected it to be ripped back any minute. “Pretty sure we’re way past that.”

“Maybe she heard us crying like babies over a non-fatal injury and figured it was less of a hassle to leave us to it.” You squeeze Regulus’ thigh with a grin and he bites back a yelp.

“She would be wise to do so. Especially because there’s no bloody way I’m leaving.”

You don’t say much to that because you really, really don’t want him to either. You know you are fine, and for his sake you try and seem even more assured of it, but the white panic that soared through your veins those first few minutes is hard to shake. Even though you don’t want him to hold his absence against himself, you don’t like the thought of him leaving now that he was there.

“Has she said anything about a treatment plan? How long you’ll be here? She said you’re fine, so it shouldn’t be too long right?” Though Regulus looks at you as he asks his questions, you know he is already trying to piece together probable answers in his head.

“Most of our first conversation was her narrating what she was doing while I was moaning and not listening.” Your comment was off-handed, but Regulus seemed to wince at the image it painted in his head. “Sorry,” you mumbled bashfully, but he just gave you a smile.”

“Good thing I have the memory of an elephant, then.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice sounded just seconds before she ripped the curtain back and stepped into your little bubble. 

Regulus went straight into autopilot, rightening his posture and schooling his expression. You squeezed his hand tighter, so that he couldn’t pull away, but that had not even been any option in his mind. Pomfrey went through the station beside you at the speed of light, way too familiar and comfortable with these procedures.

“Miss L/N had 5 deep lacerations and several shallow ones,” she begins to recite and Regulus hangs onto every word. “The shallow wounds are almost entirely gone from the treatment already, but the more severe ones will need time to recover. She will have to stay in the infirmary overnight today and tomorrow for observation and continue to receive some medication. Among those are pain potions and salves for the wounds. Rebandage every 10 hours and apply new salves.”

“How will that affect her?” Regulus asked, probably pushing his luck with the matron.

“The pain potions will make her a bit slow and groggy, but she will still be awake. Though she should sleep.” At that she gives you a curt look over her shoulder. “The healing process for the wounds will likely be itchy and uncomfortable and she may develop a fever. We will pay particularly close attention to the stomach wounds in case she develops any infections there.”

“What are the symptoms of infections like that?”

You try and pat Regulus’ leg to say down, boy, but he doesn’t give you the time of day, instead focusing fully on any and all information the matron is willing to share with him. You had half a mind to joke that this was private medical information, but let it be.

Madam Pomfrey turns to Regulus at his fourth question, putting her hands on her hips as she measured him closely. It seemed like she decided on something and the next second she exited through the curtains again. You and Regulus barely had time to exchange a glance before she came back and threw a white coat at Regulus who catched it bewilderedly.

“Seems like I’ve got myself an assistant for the remainder of her stay, haven’t I, Mr. Black?”

A slow smile spreads across Regulus’ face before he hurries on the coat. “Yes, Madam.”

Pomfrey talks you – and now, Regulus – through the new pain potion she is about to give you, giving brief background on the ingredients, application and effect when the door to the infirmary slams open, decidedly louder than when Regulus entered earlier. Her eyes squeeze shut, as if pained by the disrespect and incredulity of students, but finished giving you the potion.

“That is no way to enter an infirmary, Mr. Crouch,” she says through half-gritted teeth as she works. She waves at Regulus to open the curtain to your bed, revealing Barty, Evan and Dorcas, all heaving as if they have been running too. “You seem to be particularly loved, Miss L/N. Please never get injured again, it disturbs my workspace.”

Your friends’ eyes are wide as they take in your form where you lay, still rather pathetically, in your bed. 

“Merlin’s tits, what happened?” Dorcas asks.

At the same time Barty’s gaze flits between you and Regulus. “Who?” he asks, while looking at you.

“I–” you start, but that was clearly the wrong answer because he then immediately turns to Regulus instead.

“Who?”

There is no hesitation in Regulus’ voice. “Snape.”

Barty’s face morphs from shock and concern into pure determination. He stalks over to you in three wide steps, pressing a quick kiss to the safe side of your forehead, whispering a quiet take care, Treasure, before turning around and dragging Evan out of the infirmary. The other boy’s jaw was ticked shut and went more than willingly.

Even you felt a bit bad for Snape in that moment.

Madam Pomfrey, however, only breathed a sigh of relief that they left so quickly.

Dorcas comes up between you and Regulus, sitting on the very edge of your bed. Pomfrey, with Regulus’ assistance return to the work on your bedside station, though his eyes are on you almost the whole time. He has that furrow between his brows that shows up whenever he focuses intently, and you are torn between wanting to kiss it and draw it.

“We met Marls and Lily in the hallway,” Dorcas explains. “They got halfway through their story before Junior took off with us on leash behind us.”

“Sounds like him,” you laugh, trying to hide how the rumble hurts you. “But really, I’m totally fine. Or, I’m relatively good, and will soon be alright.”

“Yeah, especially when you’ve got two nurses to tend to you,” Dorcas teases, casting Regulus a knowing sideways glance.

“Pardon you, Miss Meadows; I am a Healer.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. Despite never wanting to return to this infirmary, you had grown quite fond of the Madam.

“My deepest apologies, Madam,” Dorcas offered with a gleam in her eyes. You could have sworn you saw Pomfrey smile ever so slightly.

“But yeah, Dorc, I’m well taken care of. I’ll be fine.”

“Firstly, just because you’re wounded does not mean you can get away with calling me that.” You laugh once more, happy to not be treated like a dying animal even in such a grave hour. “Secondly, I’m glad. You deserve it, and it was about damn time.”

You pretend to not understand what the last part referred to, but you knew she got you all figured out. You squeeze her leg in a sign of admiration and, perhaps, defeat.

“Thirdly,” Regulus interjects. “You need to either not make her laugh or leave.”

Pomfrey nodded emphatically. 

“Not my fault your girl just finds me absolutely hilarious, Black.” Dorcas winks at you.

“Speaking of someone’s girl,” you drawl, trying to even the playing field, which worked, if Dorcas’ light blush was anything to go off of. “Please tell Marlene I say thank you. I don’t think I got to in the whirl of everything and then everyone was thrown out.”

Dorcas’ smile softens. “I will, babe, but you don’t have to thank her. She’s still a bit worried though, so I’ll tell everyone you’re doing fine.”

“Thanks,” you whisper through a smile, accepting Dorcas’ half-hug before she slips out of the infirmary, which finally returns to its prior quietude.

“That’s enough visitors for today!” Pomfrey explains, clapping her hands together as she is done. “Only staff and patients for the rest of the night.” She shoots Regulus and his white coat a knowing glance.

“Does that mean I can sleep?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so meek, but the pain potion is starting to work, and the more your body relaxes, the more exhausted you realise you are.

Regulus makes a soft cooing sign, coming back to sit on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his and drawing comforting circles on its back. “Yes, amour. We have prepared the station for when we have to wake you in a few hours for reapplication.”

You groan a bit at the thought of being woken, and both your matron and her assistant laugh a bit at you. 

“Better that than affection, Miss L/N.”

“Yes, of course,” you relent, letting out a heavy sigh. “Thank you. For all of it.”

Pomfrey merely nods before gathering her things and exiting into the rest of the infirmary, pulling your curtain shut behind you. You expect that is the closest she usually gets to a you’re welcome and you accept it heartily.

Regulus shifts into a more comfortable position beside you, back against your headboard, ensuring you are as comfortable and pain-free as possible. He brings your intertwined fingers up to his lips to press delicate butterfly kisses to them. The softness of it all makes you almost want to cry again, but you bite it back, purely because you can’t stand seeing Regulus cry again tonight, and you knew he would.

“Congratulations on your promotion.” Your tire does not hide the coyness of your tone and he smiles fondly at you.

“Thank you. Think she figured it was easier that way – and I have always been a top student.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and your OWLs.” You turn your head more towards him, smiling. “Such a nerd.”

“I reckon you like that about me.”

“I reckon the same.”

You lean forward and he meets you halfway for a slow kiss. The casualness of it makes it feel all the more important, especially when the past few hours of your life has been anything but.

He leans his head onto yours, drawing you as close as he can with your current circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers again and you shake your head beneath his. Before you can tell him no, he continues. “Not just for what happened to you or not being there. Just, I don’t know. Being slow.”

“Didn’t we just agree you were bright?” you tease, but when you turn to see the sincerity in his eyes, you soften. “It’s okay, Regulus. We were both slow.”

Neither of you feel compelled to delve into the details of it, and it makes you feel more at ease. Even with everything, this was just how it was supposed to be.

“I’m glad I have you.” It is the best way to summarise it; it was enough. He smiles warmly at you.

“And I you.” 

You ignore the strain of some of your bandages as you lean closer to kiss him again, where he meets you enthusiastically – it was worth it.

“Go to sleep now, amour. I’ll be here to ease you awake when the time comes. I’ll always be here.”

And he was.

[mischievousmoony]

hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[wolvesandshine]

Regulus had gotten used to it.

Seniors. Friends. His classmates. Even the teachers sometimes.

He never could get out of Sirius’s shadow and the nicknames basically proved it.

Baby Black. Younger Black. Slytherin Black.

He’s heard all the variations and he hated every single fucking one of them.

But over the years, he’d learned to tolerate it.

Yet it didn’t escape his notice that of all the people his brother and family included - only James Potter had never used that nickname.

He had never really thought too hard about it until they were paired up for prefect rounds, and even over the course of a couple of months, James had only referred to him as Regulus or Reg.

Finally, Regulus couldn't take it anymore.

"Why don't you call me baby Black?"

James stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you hated that nickname?"

Regulus opens his mouth. "Yes but -" It's not stopped anyone before.

James carries on with the previous conversation, ignoring the pause - as though it's really that simple. Regulus didn't like the nickname and therefore, James didn't use it.

And maybe it really is that easy.

[heaven4lostgirls]

prompt: keep ✧ @moonkillermicrofic ✧ wc: 362

remus discards one of his older sweaters into the ‘donate’ pile that has been slowly growing throughout their cleaning escapades.

barty lets out a huff from the side, side eyeing remus before snatching the sweater out of the pile.

“bee.” remus sighs, arms crossed and barty glares back, petulant.

“i’m keeping it!” barty states, clenching his fists around the sweater as if afraid remus will tug it out of his hands.

“you’ve kept the last four sweaters i’ve tried to give away.” remus states with a raised brow.

barty only glares harder, “it’s your own fault for wanting to give away my favorite ones!” he exclaims and remus bites back a smile.

“i don’t think i’ve seen you use that sweater in the last year.” remus points out and barty bares his teeth at remus like a feral cat.

remus snorts, barty scowls.

“you can’t take it.” barty decides and remus throws his hands up in exasperation.

“there’s a hole in it!” remus exclaims pointing to the spot where the worn threads seem to give way to a gaping hole on one of the arms.

barty’s eyes widen before quickly lifting the sweater and making a mournful sound as he examines the hole.

“my sweater.” he whines dramatically and remus groans, tilting his head back.

“something to say lupin?” barty hisses, eyes drawn back to remus form and remus sighs, resigning himself to see this through.

“you can keep 3 sweaters out of all of the ones i want to donate”

“7.” barty is quick to bite out.

“1.”

“3.” barty concedes quickly, sniffling as though remus has just told him he has a terminal illness.

he makes a big show of folding the threadbare sweater and placing it back into the pile of clothes.

remus picks up an old navy blue sweater that doesn’t quite fit right anymore and turns to throw it into the donate pile.

barty squawks indignantly, leaping across the room and tugging to sweater into his chest.

“mine!” he hisses, looking ready to scratch out remus’ eyes.

remus sighs, shaking his head and walking out of the room, he’ll do the rest tomorrow when barty’s at work.

[happyhauntt]

la vie en rose — sirius black.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: it's just a regular tuesday in july until an escaped convict appears in your kitchen. oh, and he happens to be your ex.

─── pairing: sirius black x reader.

─── warnings: set in prisoner of azkaban. mentions of death (canon characters.) swearing. there will probably be a part 2 at some point.

─── word count: 1.8k.

     IT IS THE SECOND TUESDAY IN THE MONTH OF JULY, and you have a bad feeling.

     It comes with no warning, not heralded by a black mood or a grey, rainy sky, no creeping sensation lingering like a ghost at your back, causing the hair on your neck to stand on end.

     The sun is shining high in the sky. Residents of the little village huddle together at tables in the beer garden, tucked beneath huge umbrellas charmed to prevent sunburn. The summer holidays started a week ago, so there are no students milling about; only families you have known since birth, grizzled faces and smiling ones, long beards tied back in the heat, witches who have swapped out their usual pointed hats for wide-brimmed ones.

     It is hot and bright, someone has set the communal barbecue to work grilling burgers; there are drinks to be had, someone is calling for a round of firewhiskey shots, and all-in-all, it is the sort of day you dream of when you think of summer at the Three Broomsticks.

     There is no reason at all to have a bad feeling, and yet...

     It came over you like a wave the moment you woke up. Your room had already been almost unbearably warm, light spilling through the crack in the curtains, and a distant, suspicious buzzing that you suspected must be a bug that had come in through the open window in the night, but you'd had no time to dwell on it.

     The feeling had crashed into you, dark and sickly. It had stayed, even through a chilly shower and a round of French toast for breakfast, settling over you like a blanket made of stone. It was heavy, and you hated it.

     You hadn't felt this way in years.

     Aunt Ros had noted it the moment you got into work, sneaking through the back door with a face like thunder. If there is anything anyone knows about you, it is this ━ you have a concerningly happy disposition. In spite of everything you endured in your youth, or perhaps because of it, you’ve been known to flutter about the pub as if you’re living on a cloud, able to draw a smile out of even the grumpiest patron.

     Your past is a bleak stain on your life, and it is something you know you’ll never be able to scrub clean. Nor would you want to. No matter the sins of the people you once loved, or the graves where you’ve laid the remains of your heart, you cannot erase them. It would be such an injustice.

     The world is a shitty enough place, anyway, but that doesn’t mean you have to be.

     Today, though, it seems the world has got its grubby hands all over you, because it feels utterly impossible to shift this mood. Aunt Ros had frowned at you the moment you stepped into the back room. She’d tutted before you’d even had the chance to hang your bag on the hook, squinting over the thick frame of her glasses.

     “Did a gnome manage to get into your greenhouse again, or is somebody dead?”

     You’d huffed at her. “Neither.” You hadn’t had a stray gnome in your greenhouse for two years, and the perimeter spell you’d put on it would fry the little bastards if they dared to try. And as far as you’re aware, nobody is dead. Nobody new, anyway.

     Your heart had twinged a little, the way it always does when you think of your old friends.

     “Haven’t read the paper this morning, yet, then?” Aunt Ros had looked away from you, her voice taking on a peculiarly high pitch. She’d begun to fuss with a stack of unwashed glasses from the night before, drawing out her wand to cast a spell to start the washing-up.

    You’d paused. Alarm bells began to ring in your mind. “What’s happened, Aunt Ros?”

     “Better see for yourself, love.”

     You’d skirted around her and headed into the office. A copy of today’s Daily Prophet had laid open on her desk. The usual mess of paperwork had been shoved aside, and the headline had glared up at you in stark black and white.

     SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!

     The floor had suddenly felt horribly unsteady beneath your feet. Your hand darted out to grip the edge of the desk, and you’d found yourself thanking every deity you could name that you’d come into the pub through the back door today.

     You’re certain every single one of the patrons huddled in the next room wouldn’t hesitate to stare at you. Or worse, want to talk about it.

     As if you have anything left to say that hasn’t already been said a hundred times over.

     Your ex-fiance’s mugshot graces the front page. It’s a recent one, clearly, and you’d swallow back the bile that rises in your throat at the sight of him.

     “You should go home, love.” Aunt Ros had followed you into the office. “Take the day off.”

     There’d been little point in arguing. Madam Rosmerta’s stubbornness is unrivalled, she’d been the landlady of the Three Broomsticks for at least a decade now, and besides, there’s very little to say. Her gaze had been dark and filled with pity, but an edge of vitriol had crept in when she glanced at Sirius Black’s picture.

     Her feelings about your ex are clear. Exceedingly so. You’re the only one who ever believed his innocence, and everyone knows that.

     So you’d folded up the newspaper and tucked it beneath your arm, retrieved your bag from the hook and retreated through the back door without argument. Now you keep your head down as you weave through Hogsmeade’s narrow streets on the way back to your little cottage. The sun beats down against the back of your neck. You swear you can hear people whispering as you pass by.

     The sight of your garden, with its neat little rows of marigolds and pink roses and tufts of lavender waving in the warm breeze, offers more relief than you thought was possible.

     Flowers have always had that effect on you. Even during the darkest days of the war, even when the aftermath of it had seemed so impossibly bleak, sinking your hands into cool pots of soil had eased your aching soul.

     There’s just something about the life of it all. How, even in the depths of winter, you know that spring will come again. You know the buds will bloom anew. You know that, every year, dead things come back to life.

     Upon reaching the garden gate, with its ever-creaking hinge and rusting iron handle, you cannot help but pause. The front door catches your eye, but for once it isn’t the pretty blue paint you notice, or the bright hanging baskets of geraniums on either side of the door.

     The door is hanging slightly ajar. The paint is chipped around the broken lock, which was certainly not broken when you left for work an hour ago.

     Not again.

     You thought you’d experienced the last of the break-ins years ago. They used to be a regular thing, back when the war first ended. So-called friends of the Potters wielding their righteousness like a blade, even though you’d barely spoken two words to these people at school. Even though not a single one of them could name Lily’s favourite colour, or recalled the name of James’ owl.

     Hypocrites, all of them. Drunk on power and freedom, the freedom that your friends had sacrificed themselves to gain.

     They would break in and curse you, hating you for defending Sirius so staunchly, but how could you not? How could you ever live with yourself if you hadn’t?

     You’d known him. Known Sirius as well as your own mind. Trusted him with your life, your heart, and how could anyone claim he’d done it? How could anyone believe it?

     The aurors had been no help at all. You were an irritation to them, with your constant campaigning for more evidence, for a fair trial, for anything. You were lucky to get them even to file a report about the break-ins, let alone investigate. That’s part of why you had to move, at least in the beginning.

     Living in the shadow of the school hadn’t done you any good, either. All those memories.

     All those ghosts.

     You draw your wand and push the door open, stepping cautiously over the threshold. You’d been a lot softer back then, sweeter than honey and freshly-bruised by the world.

     That sweetness is still inside you. In every smile and chiming laugh, in the way you carry yourself, in the petals pressed against your fingers and the love you hold for the people you’ve lost. It’s still there, undeniably.

     But these days, you’ve got a little more sting, too.

     “If you’re not supposed to be here, I’m going to give you five seconds to leave through the back door!” Your warning carries through the corridors of your seemingly empty house, and as the seconds pass, the tension in your shoulders starts to ease, but then━

     A scuffling noise at the back of the house. Near the kitchen, you think. A clattering sound, as if somebody dropped something.

     You don’t hesitate for a moment longer.

     Wand held tight in your grip, you charge through to the kitchen, a jinx settled on the tip of your tongue as you round the corner, but the sight you find causes your feet to come screeching to a halt in the doorway.

     There’s a man in the middle of your kitchen.

     Now this alone wouldn’t be so alarming, if you had a brother or a boyfriend or if, perhaps, Remus had bothered to reply to any of your letters in the last decade-or-so. but none of those things are true.

     And this man, this man you recognise.

     The years have changed him. He’s more than a decade older than last you saw him, though aged immeasurably by his time in captivity, with dark hair hanging in limp, bedraggled strands just above his shoulders. Ragged prison garb sits loosely on his frame, torn at the edges and smeared with dirt in places.

     There’s a manic look in his eye. Bright and stormy and mad, which is so familiar that your heart stumbles inside your chest the way it did when you were young. He looks just like he did at seventeen and McGonagall would catch them in the kitchens after curfew.

     That boyish innocence paired with the haunted look in his eyes is like a punch to the gut.

     A dish lies in shattered pieces on your kitchen floor, and it takes longer than you’d like for your brain to kick back into gear, but when it does, all you can manage is a peculiar, choked sound.

     There is an escaped convict in your kitchen, after all. Even if he happens to be your ex.

     “Sirius? What the fuck?”

[marawrders]

it takes all my will not to blab all the spoilers to my fanfic on this site istg I just tell it all to my best friend (the James to my Sirius) and feed off of her excitement bc I'm a fic writer and she's a fic reader she said my plans are genius btw

[marlenesgirl]

“ Chapter 1: The White, Bright Bumblebee

August 30, 1971.

Surely, it was too early for visitors. The sun had yet to pool past Remus’ curtains and it was chillier than usual. Most days, Hope would wait until the birds sang and the laundry was hung to wake him. He loved that; loved opening his eyes to the light reflecting off of her long red hair and her lips tickling him with kisses.

But today was different. His mother stood at the foot of his bed and shook him firmly rather than peppering him with love.

“Remus, darling. Get up, there’s some people I’d like you to meet.” Her voice is soft, daring to lull him further into sleep. “Up, sweetheart,” she continues, “and get dressed. They’re from Hogwarts.”

This grabs his attention, the boy allowing himself to open his eyes. “Hogwarts?” Remus murmurs, sitting upward. He grunts a bit. His body was growing sore, a headache threatening to emerge as it always did the week of a full moon.

Hope hums as he finally looks at her. “Quickly now. I’ll start some tea to give you some time.” She offers him a half smile, but Remus notices the worry behind her eyes. They usually adorned a light brown, but today they were sullen and harsh. This wakes him up quickly. Hope only ever got like this when she was worried - and she was only ever worried about him.

She leaves as quickly as she arrived. Remus sits in his bed, still dazed, and listens hard. He felt uneasy now, but focused nonetheless.

He hears the voice of his mother first.

“Sorry about that, he’ll be down shortly. Tea?”

“Oh, yes. Tea sounds wonderful, but with no sugar.”

The second voice is unfamiliar. A bit shrill, aged and wise beyond her years.

“Yes, thank you.” A third voice. Man. “Five cubes for me.”

This one is harder to pick apart. It certainly belongs to someone older, but how old puzzles Remus. He can strip back many years behind the man’s words, but almost more than what’s humanly possible. Then again, Lyall had always said magic tended to defy rationality.

Remus pulls back his covers. Flinging his legs over his bed and onto the cool ground, he makes his way to his closet. His heart races and ears begin to burn. What could they possibly want with him? His mother had already sent letters ahead, detailing their typical full moon procedures, and Oxfordshire wasn’t particularly close to the Scottish Highlands. Am I in trouble already? Remus shakes his head at that thought. There is simply no way he could mess up before he’d even started. …Is there?

The eleven year old tugs a jumper over his head and runs a hand through his hair to part any knots. This would simply have to do. His anticipation overruled a nice shirt and effort. It’s not his fault they had shown up before the sun had fully risen.

Remus opens his door which is almost immediately met by the staircase. Each step creaks, so his presence doesn’t exactly go unnoticed.

“Here he comes,” Hope announces, followed by the quiet clutter of teacups sitting back onto the table. Remus prepares himself, taking a deep breath as he enters the kitchen.

The young boy is immediately drawn - no, entranced - by the two strangers. They sat at the small, circular dining table, straightening up as they, too, took him in. “This is my son, Remus,” Hope prompts. She sat opposite of them, an open seat beside her. This was the most full their dinner table had looked since Lyall’s death.

Remus focuses back on the visitors. To his right sat an old woman - just as he had guessed. She wore a strict look softened by years, with narrow glasses perched on her nose. A pointed hat sat atop her head as if she’d walked out of a storybook, leading him to conclude that she is a witch. The man beside her wasn’t as easy to break down. He had a white beard that pooled in his lap, and a less conspicuous hat of his own. His glasses were similar to the woman’s, but adorned a half moon shape instead. He had an air of importance to him, but what really grabbed Remus’ attention was the electricity seeming to radiate from him. It rattled his bones, and pulsed through his veins. Magic.

“My name,” the old woman begins, “Is Professor Minerva McGonagall.” Her words are much more gentle than Remus had previously heard; kind and unprovoking. In that moment, he knew he could place endless trust in her.

“And I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But just Dumbledore will do.” Dumbledore spoke slowly, but with kindness and intrigue. He allowed a slight pause between each word as if saying it all at once would scare Remus off. And it kind of did, either way. Hogwarts felt more real now than ever and that meant dedicating the next seven or so years of his life to being away from his mother and all things familiar.

“Have a seat,” his mother said. Remus’ train of thought is interrupted, and he is quick to oblige.

“We’ve heard a lot about you, Remus,” Professor McGonagall said. “I’m sure,” Remus murmurs, “I doubt you get many kids that turn into animals.”

Dumbledore laughs at this, his eyebrows raising at Remus’ ease in mentioning his “problem.”

“That is very true,” Dumbledore said. “Your case is unique, unlike anything we’ve seen before, which is why we’ve come to visit you, Mr. Lupin.”

Remus’ cheeks go red at that. Mr. Lupin. No one had ever spoken to him that way. Especially someone who seemed as important as the witch and wizard that sat before him. He’d only ever heard Mr. Lupin when someone addressed his father, but of course, it had been years since then.

“And, I must admit, this is a bit more than a visit. With the new year beginning at Hogwarts, there are many supplies you will need. Quills and books, and most importantly, a wand,” Professor McGonagal said. “With your mothers permission, we intend to have a good friend of ours take you to a place that can offer these things to you.”

Excitement bubbles within Remus, seeming to overpower his uncertainties. He’d lived rather mundanely up until now with random bursts of prepubescent magic here and there, but nothing grandiose. The most he’d ever seen Lyall do was Silencing Charm.

“I’m sorry,” Hope suddenly interrupts. “I am completely fine with him going wherever he needs, but I don’t understand why both of you made such a far journey just to say that. Is there something I’m missing here?” His mother speaks tightly, and it becomes clear she is suspicious of their intentions.

Professor McGonagall clears her throat awkwardly.

“Well, we’d like to assess him,” she admits. “There is not much research on werewolves, particularly on children who have been raised with the…condition.”

Remus looks to his mother. She remains unfazed, but her arms are crossed, signaling her dissatisfaction with Professor McGonagall’s answer.

“We know that you and your husband have a routine during full moons,” Dumbledore intervenes, “but we intend to find a different solution. Perhaps with the aid of stronger magic. In order to do this, we need to learn about Remus; see how he interacts with others.”

“We only intend to help him,” Professor McGonagall adds.

The room is quiet for a few seconds, but ultimately, the air grows less tense. Hope relaxes her shoulders.

”Ok,” she concludes. “Do what you must.”

Remus allows that boyish excitement to grow once more. Hope was the most stubborn of the Lupin’s, but she was logical. She knew when an argument wasn’t worth standing on. Surprisingly, Remus had always admired this and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever be half as great as Hope Lupin.

“When does he leave?” Hope asks. She allows her first full smile of the morning.

Dumbledore chuckles, a bright glint in his eyes that Remus would grow to find familiar.

“Now.”

[brokenmenswhore]

first | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders (james, remus, & sirius) x fem!reader

summary: virginity loss trope :)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language, gender swapped dorcas cus i said so 🤷🏻‍♀️

────── ☾ ──────

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, body halting as the staircase began to shift beneath you, “and completely untrue.”

“Oh come on, you never do anything interesting! For your sake, it has to be true,” Sirius teased.

You turned to him, mouth open in offense. “I’m plenty interesting.”

“But not interesting enough to lose your virginity to Meadowes in the library during fourth year?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“No! It didn’t happen!” you protested, “now please, let it go.”

“How would a rumor like that even get out if it isn’t true?” James asked genuinely.

“Probably because everyone knows Meadowes has the hots for her. Bet you he started it himself,” Remus answered, distaste evident in his voice.

“Are you three done now?” you asked, whispering the common room password and letting the boys in.

“So if it isn’t true, how did you lose it?” Sirius pressed.

You looked at him stunned, eyes wide in disbelief that he would ask you something like that out of the blue.

“Absolutely not,” you said, raising a finger toward him, “I’m not playing that game.”

“Oh come on!” Sirius raised his hands and smiled, “you’re no fun.”

“Yeah, now I’m curious,” James continued on, “if not Dorcas, who?”

You sighed, placing your books down and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, turning toward them exasperated. “Why does it matter?”

“You know seventeen of the girls I’ve slept with by heart,” Sirius replied, “I’d say it’s only fair.”

“Sirius, you told me about seventeen of the girls you’ve slept with. Willingly. Without me asking. Ever,” you said, earning a laugh from James at your disgust.

They followed you up the stairs to your dorm, empty from everyone sneaking off to a party in the Ravenclaw common room that you were supposed to be getting ready for, but alas, you were late and distracted.

You sat down in front of your vanity mirror, ready to start applying makeup, when Remus placed a hand on the desk in front of you, leaning his face in close to you, his hair falling slightly in front of his face. He was completely in your personal space.

“Come on, Y/N, tell us who got to fuck you first.”

Remus’ voice was low, and his breath fanned your face as he spoke. You locked eyes with him, a sigh leaving your chest that you weren’t aware you were holding in. You were nervous to have him this close.

“No one has. Sorry to disappoint. Now drop it, will you?”

Remus didn’t move. You continued to look up into his eyes, your voice a little shaky, and you didn’t know what to do. You moved to get up, but Remus caught your chin between his fingers, pulling your attention back to him. “Meaning what?”

“Did you not hear me? Cus you’re like 6 inches away from me, so if you didn’t, you need to get your hearing checked,” you said, annoyed at your current predicament, just wanting to make the embarrassing conversation end. Remus finally let you stand, but Sirius and James were right behind you, stopping you from leaving the room. You opted to sit on your bed.

“You guys are insufferable.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “So you’re-“ he trailed off.

“A virgin, yes, wow, how crazy of me. You know, it’s not that weird, you all just have a personal body count higher than everyone at this school combined. And everyone else’s body count includes you. Can we please just forget about this?” you begged.

“Such attitude,” James teased, “from such a good girl.”

“Oh, so I’m a goodie two-shoes now that you’ve all discovered I’ve never had sex?”

“Kinda, yeah,” James giggled.

“Fuck you guys,” you sighed, partially lighthearted and partially annoyed, “it was my choice. You think I couldn’t have screwed Dorcas Meadowes in the library if I wanted to?”

No one had a response. Sirius’ nostrils flared, and Remus sighed. They almost seemed… jealous? at the thought of you and someone else.

You four were ridiculously close, anyone could see that, and you would be lying if you said you haven’t thought about them in that way, but you were best friends, and you didn’t want to risk ruining that.

“You ever think about, like, just doing it?” Sirius asked.

“What?” you replied.

“Do you ever think about just saying fuck it and asking someone, like, I don’t know, one of us, to just take your virginity?”

Your breathing caught in your chest. You stared at Sirius, a million thoughts coming to your head but you couldn’t articulate any of them. You had no idea what to say.

“I mean, I’ve thought about losing my virginity, yeah, that’s normal,” you explained.

“To one of us?” Remus asked.

You could lie. You could act disgusted at the question and walk away now, or, you could tell the truth, and risk ruining your entire friendship. You could also tell the truth and potentially gain everything you wanted.

Your voice became small, your eyes watching your hands fidget in your lap, “maybe.”

The boys all exchanged a look between one another.

James was the only one who was able to pull himself together. “W-who?”

You titled your head up at him. “What?”

James sat down on the bed next to you. “Which one of us?”

You could physically see all the boys tense up, ready to be filled with either pride or jealousy. Sirius and Remus were staring daggers at you, anxiously awaiting your answer. James kept his eyes on you as well, trying to make you feel less intimidated and tense than Sirius and Remus were.

Your eyes darted between all of them, “I-“

You were evidently nervous, and Remus felt bad. He knelt on the ground in front of you, taking your hands in his own. It was the most intimate gesture you’d received from him yet. He kept his voice soft. “Angel, you don’t have to tell us, but we really want to know. I promise none of us will be too hurt. Please,” he almost begged.

You sighed. You weren’t worried because you only thought about one of them, you were worried because you were embarrassed to tell them the truth. You took a deep breath. It was now or never. “All of you.”

They were not prepared for that answer.

Remus and James stared at you and tried to process your words. Sirius was more of an “act on impulse” and “speak without thinking” kind of guy.

“Fuck off,” he said, “all of us?”

“Mhm.”

“Like at the same time?” he pushed.

“Sirius-“ Remus warned.

“No, no, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, attention back on you, “I wanna hear you say that you’ve thought about losing your virginity to all three of us. At the same time. I wanna hear you say that you’ve thought about us fucking you.” He was standing dangerously close to you now.

“I- I have,” you said, blush evident in your cheeks.

Sirius growled. “Remus, move.”

“Excuse me?” Remus snapped back.

“Move.”

Remus sighed and moved out of the way so that Sirius was standing directly in front of you. “You stop us if there’s anything you don’t like. Understood?”

You nodded your head, but that wasn’t enough.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you retried.

Sirius gave you a small smile before grabbing your face in his hands, tilting your head up and leaning down to give you a long, intimate kiss. Once you had settled in, he deepened the kiss, his carnal desires taking over. He slowly leaned you back on the bed, your legs still hanging off the mattress, as he placed one knee next to your waist, holding himself up as he continued kissing you. When your back hit the mattress, you held the back of Sirius’s head to keep him in place.

You felt one of the boys behind Sirius, pulling your pants off and leaving your lower half nearly exposed.

Sirius flopped down on the bed next to you, still kissing you as you ran your fingers through his hair.

James slowly kissed up your thigh, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders as he kissed your underwear right above your heat. You gasped, but Sirius didn’t let you break the kiss.

“Sirius, come on, give her a break,” James pleaded, “I wanna hear her.”

Sirius groaned into the kiss before breaking it, looking down to James in between your legs. “Well, go on then.”

Sirius was still feral and needy, pulling your shirt over your head and ripping off your bra, immediately going to grab and kiss at your breasts. You were embarrassed at the exposure, but everyone was moving on your body so fast that you didn’t have time to think about your body being on display.

James pushed your underwear to the side and kissed your folds, causing you to squeal. This was an unfamiliar feeling, but you were growing wetter and wetter by the minute. He pushed your folds open with his tongue, licking and flicking at your clit. You whined and threw your head back. He continued his actions, peeking up at you from between your legs, watching you come apart as he ate you out like a man starved.

“Take it easy,” you heard Remus say from behind your head, “you gotta remember she’s never done this.”

James moaned into your cunt as a response, sending a shiver up your body, causing your legs to shake slightly. He kept sucking and licking circles around your bud, and you couldn’t help but grab the hair at the back of his head, pushing him closer into you.

“Good girl,” Sirius cooed from beside you, touching every exposed part of your body that he could.

As James’ tongue quickened, your whines grew louder, but you tried to tame them and save yourself further embarrassment. Remus noticed and was not happy. He grabbed your face and forced your neck to look backward at him. “Are you holding back?”

“N-no,” you said anxiously, not sure if it was the truth.

“Ah, but I think you are,” he started, “and we don’t accept that. Let us hear you.”

“But I’m emb-“

“I don’t care if you’re embarrassed. Stop holding back. Now.”

Remus’s demanding and controlling demeanor only added at the pleasure James was giving you with his mouth. You did as he said. James continued to quicken his pace, whines and moans falling from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” Remus asked.

“Yes, Rem, I-“

“No fair!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed, “if you ask her all the questions, you get to hear her moan your name. Selfish prick.”

“Are you gonna let this be about her or what?” Remus retorted.

“I am! I should be asking you the same thing, why do you always get to be in control of everything?”

They bickered back and forth for a few minutes, but the entire time, James remained focused on you. He watched from between your legs as his tongue made you squirm and moan, and he had you nearly seeing stars.

You desperately tried to tell him you were going to come, but Remus and Sirius were too busy bickering for James to hear you. You tapped at his head to signal him, and he got the message, sucking at your bud until you finally came. Your chest rapidly rose and fell as James continued to lick you until he had tasted every last drop of cum from your hole, standing up and placing a wet kiss on your lips.

“What, did you just give up?” Sirius asked when he saw James standing.

“No, idiot, she came,” James replied, “you two dickheads were too busy arguing to notice.”

Remus’s nostrils flared. “You just let us keep arguing?”

“She tried to say something!” James defended you, and partly himself.

“Baby, you ok?” Remus checked in.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“You got a little more in you?”

“Mhm.”

“You want me?”

“Mhm.”

Remus pulled his pants and boxers down and climbed on top of you, pulling your underwear completely off of you as he placed his knees on either side of your waist.

“You sure?” he asked, wanting to confirm your consent.

“Yes,” you responded.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with it being me?”

Instead of responding with words, you tilted your head up and kissed Remus, assuring him that you wanted it to be him. You would have been okay with any of the boys, but Remus was always so in control, it made sense that he would be your first. Your relationship with him was always a little less silly, and a little more intimate, than your relationship with the other two.

“Are you ready?” he checked, lining up his already hard cock at your entrance.

“Yeah,” you replied, “just- please be nice, okay?”

Remus smiled, “of course, baby.”

You nodded at him and locked eyes as he slowly pushed into you, a long gasp leaving your lips as he filled you up. His cock was bigger than you thought it would be, and it was taking you a while to adjust to his size.

“Shit, Rem,” you breathed out, “you should have warned me that you’re that fucking big.”

Sirius growled next to you, your words driving him crazy. He couldn’t help but pull out his cock, stroking it slowly as he watched you.

Remus gave you plenty of time to adjust before you nodded at him, signaling that he could move. He started slowly, pushing in and out of you as an excruciatingly slow pace. It burned, and you almost told Remus to stop, but after a few minutes, the pain subsided, and the pleasure took over.

A particularly filthy moan left your lips, and Sirius cursed under his breath. James appeared behind your head, stroking your hair as Remus’s head dropped to your shoulder as he began to pick up the pace.

“Shit, baby,” he moaned, “you feel so fucking good.”

“You look so fucking good,” Sirius breathed.

“Thank you, Siri,” you cried out, causing Sirius to cum in his hand, the nickname making him lose all control.

“What a good girl,” Remus spoke, his thrusts quickening until he was causing your body to jolt upward with each hit from the force, “you’re doing so well.”

James placed a kiss on your forehead and you reached up to grab his hand for leverage. You squeezed his hand, the pleasure between your legs becoming almost too much.

“Relax, baby, you’re being such a good girl,” James said.

Remus’ breathing quickened. “You’re so tight, angel, if you keep squeezing my cock like that I’m not gonna last,” he warned.

“I c-can’t help it,” you told him.

“I know baby,” he replied.

“I d- don’t know how to m- make it stop,” you said.

Remus giggled, “you don’t have to make it stop. It feels good for me.”

“Oh,” you whimpered, “that’s good.”

Remus giggled again. You were so cute, even in the middle of losing your virginity. Remus leaned down and kissed you, your lips moving in harmony as he began to pound into you. Any sense of kindness and mercy he had for this being your first time went out the window when you kissed.

Your moans grew louder and louder, and you tried to cover your mouth with your hand to quiet yourself down.

“Ah ah ah,” Sirius tsked, pulling your hand away, “none of that.”

“Rem- Rem- I-“

“I know angel, let go.”

Your high crashed over you again, your hips bucking upward to meet Remus’ final few thrusts before he came inside of you, the feeling of you squeezing him becoming too much for him to hold on. Remus stayed inside of you for a moment, watching your face as you calmed down from your high, a slight shake in your legs.

“What a good girl,” James praised, kissing your forehead.

“You okay?” Remus checked in, pulling out of you and standing in front of you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “‘m okay.”

Sirius leaned down to kiss you again. “Everything you imagined?”

“Mhm.” You were too tired to formulate complete words or sentences.

“You wanna skip the party?” Sirius continued.

“Mhm.”

“You wanna cuddle and watch a movie?”

“Mhm.” You shifted so your head was resting on Sirius’ lap as he began to stroke your hair.

Sirius smiled. “And then maybe round two.”

[dovahtobi]

Four To The End Book Four Chapter Twenty – Remus Does Not Approve… As Usual is now out!

AO3

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[crescenthistory]

Still Totally Just the Fifth and Sixth Wheel, You Guys

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: The two couples, and one pair of best friends who are not dating thank you very much, finally go on their not-date to Hogsmeade.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), use of y/n, lots of bickering and banter, mentions of black brothers drama and angst, healing brother bond, hella pining, intimate moments, talk of kissing, brief mention of hooking up, featuring rosekiller and wolfstar

Note: this is part two to this fic. part three can be found here.

“Wait, but if it’s not a date now, can’t I join?” James called from where you were all about to leave him behind in the Entrance Hall.

You almost felt bad for him, but couldn’t fight the small laughter as you were the last of the six of you to turn around to look at him.

“Sorry, Prongsy, but it is still strictly for couples,” Sirius said, and upon seeing Regulus turn to him, about to argue, he added, “or those who are best friends enough to be mistaken for a couple.”

“So unless you finally win Evans over, or get much closer to Wormy…” Remus’ voice trailed off, the apology in his tone weakened by his sight smile.

You could barely make out James murmuring “totally unfair” under his breath, before he gave a tight-lipped smile and waved. “Will go work on that, then!”

“Good luck!” you and Barty called at the same time, though in completely different tones, before your little group turned back around to continue towards Hogsmeade and this dreaded not a triple date you were somehow sort of looking forward to.

As the six of you walked, the chilly autumn air wrapped itself around you, nipping at your nose and cheeks. You were trailing slightly behind the others, arms linked with Regulus, the both of you sinking into the easy silence that had always come naturally. His long, lithe frame was stiff beside you, and though he never said anything, you could sense his reluctance. His hesitation clung to him like the cold mist swirling around your ankles.

"Still time to run," you whispered with a teasing lilt, tilting your head towards the forbidden forest that loomed dark and mysterious off to the side. “We can ditch the whole thing. Just you, me, and a pack of hungry werewolves – sounds fun, right?”

Regulus glanced sideways at you, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face. "Tempting," he murmured, his voice soft and low, the kind of sound you had to lean in to catch. “But... it might be nice to spend some time with Sirius.” He sounded less sure about that part.

You squeezed his arm gently, offering a reassuring smile, and felt him lean further into you in response. You both knew that his relationship with Sirius had been strained, fractured by years of tension, secrets, and choices neither of them were ever fully ready to confront. That made the faint glimmer of hope in Regulus' eyes all the more important, both to you and him. An unspoken desire to bridge the gap both brothers had been toying with – you knew you would support him through it, no matter how long it took to fully heal.

"Well, if you’re sure," you replied, letting your playful tone linger, as if to lighten the weight between his words. “But the offer still stands. Any time, really.”

Regulus chuckled under his breath, his body easing a little as the two of you continued your slow pace. The rest of the group – Sirius, Remus, Barty, and Evan – were ahead, animated in their own conversations. Barty was half-draped over Evan, practically buzzing with energy, while Evan walked beside him with a brooding air, casting occasional amused glances at his boyfriend. They were a chaotic contrast, loud and quiet, impulsive and restrained, but there was an undeniable balance between them that was hard to miss.

Barty's eyes glinted with mischief as he stole a look back at you and Regulus. "Oi, lovebirds!" he called out, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You're falling behind. Regulus, not getting cold feet, are you?"

Regulus rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, Sirius cut in with a bark of laughter. "He was born with cold feet, look at the state of him. But let him be Junior."

Contrasting statements you heard Regulus murmur beside you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch up,” you interjected smoothly, though not altering your pace as you gave Regulus a light tug on his arm, as if to shield him.

Finally reaching Hogsmeade, you passed through its cobbled streets, bustling with students eager to escape the confines of the castle. The Three Broomsticks was already crowded when you arrived, warmth spilling out into the chilly air from its open door. You were greeted by the comforting scent of butterbeer and the hum of conversation, the perfect haven from the cold outside.

Inside, you all squeezed around one of the larger tables near the fireplace. The seating arrangements happened naturally – couples with couples, as Barty heartily proclaimed – with Barty predictably claiming a spot beside Evan, his arm thrown lazily around his back as he chattered away. Sirius plopped himself down next to Remus, already in the middle of a bickering debate over who had a better strategy in last night’s chess game.

You and Regulus, as usual, gravitated towards each other, sitting opposite Sirius and Remus and beside Evan and Barty. You moved your chair closer to Regulus', so that your thighs were practically smushed against each other and you could hook your ankle around his. A faint smile played across his lips as he settled in. The heat from the nearby fire was welcome, but the slight tension of being roped into all of this was still palpable.

"So," Sirius started, stretching the word as if he were setting up for something, eyes flicking between you and Regulus, "what’s new with you two? Anything you'd like to share?"

You shot him a pointed look but didn’t bite. Regulus seemed content to let you take the lead on this one, his focus elsewhere, probably already imagining an escape route.

“Same as always,” you said casually, though your words were lightly laced with sarcasm. "Being unfairly dragged into your romantic schemes. Couldn’t ask for more, really."

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Barty cut him off. "Speaking of romantic schemes," he drawled, "Evan and I are officially a thing now, right? Isn’t that right, darling?" He nudged Evan, who simply raised a brow in his direction.

"That’s what you’ve told me," Evan said dryly, though his eyes softened as he looked at Barty.

"Exactly," Barty continued, undeterred. "But Dorcas doesn't believe us! She thinks we're playing some prank on her. Now, how do we prove it to her?"

"Why doesn't she believe you?" Remus asked, a sly smile playing over his lips.

"Barty and Dorcas have quite the history of pranks none of us understand," you explain, looking half-exasperated half-amused at your best friend. "They try to convince the other of something untrue, only to laugh at them for weeks. Last year, Dorcas made Barty believe–"

"No one needs to hear that story, Treasure." Barty cutting you off made you and Regulus giggle, both knowing why he didn't want anyone to know, while Sirius looked highly offended of being left out.

"Well, I'd like to know," he tries his luck.

"Too bad I don't care for what you want then, hm? Anyway, how do we prove it to Dorc, because Evan here thinks it's taking it too far to shag in her bed."

"I would have to second Rosier on that," Regulus drawls, mirth still in his eyes from laughing at Barty's expense.

"Me too."

"No, no," Sirius gleams. "I think you should totally do it, I have DADA with her and reckon she could kill you in just about fifty ways."

"That would be a welcome sight," Evan says. Barty slaps his arm without turning to look at him, while waving his other hand in everyone's faces.

"Yeah, yeah, funny, funny – now let's talk strategies, you tossers."

As the babbling continues, Sirius and Barty turning out to be a perfect duo who makes each other so much worse, you lean into Regulus' side, looking up at him through your lashes. He is already looking at you, having turned his attention when he felt you shift.

You mouth a you good? at him, to which he smiles and nod. Your lips mirror his when you realise it's genuine, reaching down to grab his hand under the table and squeeze it. He squeezes back, before looking up when he senses his brother trying to get his attention.

"Where did you get these freaky friends of yours?" Sirius questions, gesturing vaguely to Barty and Evan, the latter of whom's hand was currently being gnawed on by the former. Evan's face remained impassive.

"First year." Regulus provided no further invitation, blinking owlishly at his brother.

"Yeah, that's really the only way, isn't it? Merlin, they're a match for sure though."

You cock a teasing brow at Barty as he lets Evan's hand go from his teeth, only to hold it in a death grip. "You that bored already, Junior?"

"Yes, Treasure, thank you for noticing. It needs to be addressed." Barty's voice is overtly dramatic, as he digs into his jacket pocket.

He conjured up a deck of magical cards, all but slinging the container onto the table, just barely missing the candles, as he began to shuffle them with a flourish. "Let's make things more interesting. Care for a game?"

"Doesn't seem like we're given much of a choice," Sirius murmured at the same time as Remus said sure! and elbowed his boyfriend in the side.

Regulus groaned. “We all know you always cheat Barty, I catch you almost every time."

“That’s because you don't know how to have fun,” Barty replied, flipping a card over and eyeing it dramatically before sliding it back into the deck. “And obviously delusional, as I would do no such thing."

He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes, albeit with a smile.

A small fight ensues between Barty and Sirius as they try and decide on what game to play, before Remus makes a decision for all of you, taking the cards from Barty to stock them properly.

"It's everyone for themselves right?" he asked as he looked down at the cards.

"No, Treasure and Regulus always play together." Barty's comment is off-handed, going off of instinct.

"Always?" Sirius' smirk is teasing as his gaze flickers between the two of you.

"Yeah, she doesn't care much for most card games, so we usually just pair off," Regulus explains matter-of-factly, though his voice is a bit quieter than normal and his hand unconsciously tightens around yours. It's only now you realise you're still holding hands, unsure if you should use it to ground yourself or panic over.

"Yeah, they're inseparable yada yada." Evan rolled his eyes, as if you two were just horribly exhausting.

"Just like us," Barty teased in an overly-happy voice, kissing Evan square on the lips with an overdramatised smooching sound.

"Disgusting," Evan winced, wiping his mouth before wrapping an arm around Barty and squeezing him tight.

Sirius looked thoroughly confused at the boys' expressions of affection, but seemed to let it go.

You exchanged an amused glance with Regulus. "You wanna look at our cards?" you asked, nudging him gently while eyeing the cards Remus had placed in front of you. He seemed to take a moment to rip his eyes away from you before picking up the cards, moving even closer to you.

Soon, the table was abuzz with laughter, shuffling cards, and accusations of cheating flying in every direction. It didn’t take long for you and Regulus to settle into a comfortable rhythm, working together to strategise while everyone else tried to undermine each other. Even Evan, typically more reserved, joined in on the playful taunts, a small smirk on his face as Barty egged him on.

“Barty, you’ve been ‘shuffling’ those cards for three minutes straight,” Remus commented dryly, watching Barty’s theatrical motions as he tossed the cards between his hands. “At this point, you’ve either enchanted them or lost the ability to count.”

Evan, smirking beside him, shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Oi!” Barty exclaimed, feigning offence, before tossing an arm over Evan’s shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Don't you lot dare forget how naturally brilliant I am. I know numbers and I don't cheat.”

"Yeah, you sounded really smart just now, mate."

“Brilliantly annoying,” you quipped, grinning as you drew a card from the deck and slid it over to Regulus. “That counts for something, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Treasure,” Barty shot back, tilting his head as if he’d just received a compliment. “You always know how to flatter me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the laughter bubbling up. Regulus, sitting next to you, leaned in slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed the scene unfolding in front of him.

“They can’t help it, Junior,” Sirius chimed in with a grin that was borderline feral, leaning back in his chair as he tossed his cards onto the table. “They have to deflect. It’s either that or admit they’ve got no idea what they’re doing.”

“Excuse you, we’re doing perfectly fine,” you replied, your competitive streak flashing as you glanced at Regulus. “Reg and I are winning, aren’t we?”

Regulus gave a barely perceptible nod, lips twitching at the corners. “As usual,” he murmured under his breath, flipping over a card with precise ease. “But you don’t have to tell them that.”

Your quiet, shared moment of confidence made your stomach flip, though you kept your expression calm and collected. There was something so steady about Regulus, something that made it easy to forget about the noise around you, the teasing jabs from the others, and just sink into the comfort of his presence.

“Winning by sheer luck, more like,” Sirius teased, drumming his fingers on the table. “What’s next, Reg? Gonna let her do all the work while you sit there looking pretty?”

Before Regulus could respond, Barty leaned forward with a wicked grin. “Oh, he’s definitely good at looking pretty. Right, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes again, though your cheeks warmed at the implication. “I don’t need to answer that. Though shouldn't you focus on calling your boyfriend that, instead?”

"Yeah, I'll call mine pretty if you do the same to yours."

You stuck your tongue out at him at that, retreating back into Regulus to look at your cards.

He had stayed quiet, but you could feel the amusement radiating off him. He gave a subtle shrug, like the teasing was something he was long accustomed to. His knee bumped yours beneath the table, a silent gesture that said let them talk, it doesn't matter.

“Doesn't matter,” you added, taking another sip of your butterbeer with a smirk. “We’re still winning.”

“You two are disgustingly good together,” Barty agreed, leaning back in his chair and lazily drawing a card from the deck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the ones cheating.”

Evan snorted. “Shut it, Junior.”

“You adore me,” Barty shot back without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to Evan’s cheek, much to the other boy’s quiet amusement.

The group fell into a rhythm, exchanging playful insults and light bickering as the game progressed. You were deep in conversation with Regulus about your next move when you took another sip of your butterbeer, not realising a bit of foam had clung to your upper lip.

Regulus, ever observant, caught it immediately. You, completely unaware, kept talking, pointing at one of the cards in front of him and suggesting a play. He wasn’t paying attention to the cards anymore, though. Instead, his focus had shifted entirely to the butterbeer foam, and without thinking – without hesitation – he reached up.

His thumb brushed against your upper lip, so soft and natural that you almost didn’t register what was happening until it was done. His touch was tender, deliberate, like it was something he did every day. The action made you pause, your words catching in your throat as his thumb lingered for just a second longer, other knuckles brushing against your cheek, his skin warm against yours.

Your eyes lifted to meet his, and suddenly, everything else seemed to fade away. The loud chatter of the group, the clatter of cards, the clinking of glasses – it all dulled in the background as the two of you became the centre of a much quieter, more intimate world.

Regulus’ gaze was steady, softer than usual, like he was studying you, reading into something deeper. His hand hovered near your face, frozen in place as the moment between you stretched longer than either of you had intended.

You felt your breath hitch slightly, the warmth from his thumb still lingering on your skin, and the look in his eyes made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the game. There was something unsaid in the way he looked at you, something that hummed beneath the surface.

Neither of you spoke. The moment hung between you, fragile and delicate, like a thread waiting to be pulled.

For a second, you thought he might say something, or do something more. His thumb lingered, hovering just above your skin, and his eyes flicked to your lips, just for a heartbeat, before darting back to meet your gaze. Your pulse quickened as the silence deepened, the air between you charged with something new, something you weren’t sure either of you were ready to acknowledge.

But before anything could happen, Barty’s loud laugh from across the table shattered the bubble around you. Right. There were other people around.

You blinked, the spell broken, and Regulus pulled his hand back with a soft clearing of his throat. His expression didn’t change much – he was as composed as ever – but there was a subtle pink tinge to his cheeks that told you the moment had affected him just as much as it had you.

“Everything alright there, Reg?” Barty asked, his voice full of smug amusement as he leaned back in his chair, looking between the two of you with a knowing smirk. You felt the heat rise in your face again, but you didn’t let it show, instead giving Regulus a playful nudge under the table with your knee.

Regulus, ever calm, only narrowed his eyes at Barty in return. “Just fine,” he said coolly, though you noticed the faint curve of a smile tugging at his lips. He was used to Barty’s antics by now, and though he could’ve easily snapped back, he chose instead to let the moment pass, his arm brushing lightly against your shoulder as he shifted in his seat.

Barty, however, wasn’t done. “I don’t know, mate. You looked a bit… distracted.”

“Oh, he was,” Sirius chimed in, grinning as he kept his eyes trained on the two of you. “Completely gone. He’s mastered the art of selective hearing.”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “I’m sure it’s just his natural state from growing up with you. Completely unbothered by all of your nonsense by now.” Deflecting, deflecting.

“I don’t know,” Remus added with a thoughtful look. “He seemed pretty focused on something else entirely.”

You were saved from responding by the loud call of Madam Rosmerta that all Hogwarts students had to leave for curfew. Groans sounded around the room, and around your very own table, but no one dared argue with her – they knew it was no use. Everyone began gathering their things, the light atmosphere continuing with playful jabs and comments flying between the group as they readied to head back out into the cold.

You and Regulus were the first ones out the door, regretfully, as you had to wait for the others. As you stood, tugging your coat tighter around you, the bitter wind immediately stung your fingers. You rubbed them together, trying to chase the chill from your skin, but the cold had already settled in deep.

Without a word, Regulus took your hands gently in his own, his long fingers wrapping around yours with a kind of care that felt second nature to him. Before you could react, he brought your hands to his lips and blew warm air onto them while rubbing with his hands, breath hot against your cold skin.

You blinked in surprise, but the gesture felt so natural, so easy, that it didn’t seem out of place. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness – just Regulus being Regulus, quietly looking after you in the way only he knew how. His hands lingered over yours for a moment longer before he slipped off his gloves and slid them onto your hands with the same gentle touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice low and fond, almost like he was speaking only to you despite the many students bustling around you.

You nodded, feeling the warmth of the gloves and the lingering heat from his touch. “Much better. Thanks.”

His eyes met yours again, softer this time, and there was that unspoken connection again – only now it felt less like something that needed to be questioned, and more like something that just was.

“Won’t you get cold, though?”

“Nah, you know I run warmer than you.” There was an endearingly teasing tone in Regulus’ voice as he looked past you. “Plus, I’ve got you beside me to keep me warm, right?”

You bit back the always sitting prettily on your tongue, instead just nodding and pressing your nose into his shoulder as you stood close. For warmth, of course.

Sirius and Remus finally make their way outside, Barty and Evan not too far behind them. The first of the bunch give you and Regulus a once over when he sees you huddled together.

“Well, I’m glad to see tonight didn’t change my mind whatsoever that you two are a thing, whether you know it yourselves or not,” he says in a neutral tone, though his creeping smirk betrays him.

“I didn’t know that was still on the table,” you say dryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Of course it was!” Sirius scoffs lightheartedly. “You two, sitting there together, basically telepathically in sync. No wonder you always team up for cards – it’s frankly disturbing.”

“Oh, come off it, Siri.” Regulus wasn’t looking at Sirius when the comment slipped off his tongue, so he couldn’t catch the slight hitch at the sound of his childhood nickname. You smile softly at him, but he keeps his eyes on Regulus, seemingly trying to keep steady.

“As your big brother, I don’t think I can. It’s my duty to meddle”

“Leave the kids alone, sweetheart,” Remus says, coming up beside Sirius with a knowing smile. “You’re just jealous you’ve never been able to sit quietly for more than five minutes, let alone work together with someone without bickering the whole time.”

Sirius gasped in mock offence. “That’s because I have passion,” Sirius declared, flipping his hair back with a grin. “It’s not bickering if it’s done with flair.”

Barty finally stepped out to hear that, and, always ready to cause more chaos, chimed in. “Oh, please. You lot wouldn’t know passion if it hit you in the face. Now, we”—he pointed between himself and Evan—“are the real deal. You should’ve seen us strategising earlier. Absolute power couple material.”

“You weren’t even playing together, Barty,” you commented, but he gave you a look that said please.

“My life doesn’t revolve around you lot, we have other things to strategise about. Like Dorcas.”

That received a few “right”s from around the group, to which you lovingly rolled your eyes. Barty blabbered on about something, stalling the group from beginning to move back towards the castle, and you took the opportunity to turn back towards Regulus.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and trying to school your expression as you studied what you found there. The soft crinkle around his eyes, the quiet warmth swirling around his otherwise cool irises. You took his bare hands between your gloved ones, rubbing lightly at them to keep him warm, as promised.

For another beautiful moment, the two of you stood still, lost in your own world. The noise of the others faded into the background as Regulus’ eyes flicked to your lips, just for a split second, before meeting your gaze again. His hands move to hold each of yours independently, fingers intertwining with yours, despite that exposing his skin back to the cold air again.

You felt the flutter in your chest again, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were – that maybe, just maybe, there was more between you than friendship. Before either of you could say anything, you pulled your gaze away from his, focusing it back to your group of friends, who seemed increasingly eager to walk home.

“Alright, lovebirds, you done being all cute, or do we need to give you more time?” Barty said, looking at you with a smug look on his face.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you quickly brushed it off, shaking your head. “You never quit, do you, Barty?”

“Never,” he replied, flashing you an exaggerated wink. “You know me too well.”

Regulus shot Barty a sharp look, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe you should find a new hobby,” he suggested dryly. “One that doesn’t involve sticking your nose in other people’s business.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Barty grinned. “Besides, I’d be out of material if you two would just finally–”

“Barty,” Evan interrupted, giving him a pointed look as he slid an arm around his waist. “Let them be.”

Barty pouted dramatically, but he relented, leaning into Evan as they started walking. “Fine, fine. But I’m just saying – it’s only a matter of time.”

Sirius looked baffled at how easily Evan made Barty shut up, mumbling something about we should always bring him with to Remus.

Regulus shook his head, his arm brushing against yours as you fell in step beside each other, trailing behind the rest of the group. Your hands were still warm inside his gloves, and every now and then, your shoulders would brush as you walked, the quiet connection between you speaking louder than words ever could.

Regulus glanced down at you, his expression thoughtful. The quiet between you felt comfortable, but there was an intensity in the way he looked at you, something that made your breath catch again.

All that was running through Regulus' head was how beautiful you looked in the nighttime, surrounded by cold air that came out in white puffs when you breathed. How beautiful you had looked inside by the fire, laughing beside him, butterbeer foam on your lips – or better yet, his thumb on your lips. He realised as he walked that you were always on his mind like this, and you were always so unbelievably beautiful.

And finally, he realised that when he had looked at your lips, he wanted to kiss them.

Regulus knew that if he ever got the bollocks to do so, Barty would never let him live it down.

[mischievousmoony]

Hiiii!!! i absolutely love your writing and i wonder if you wouldn’t mind writing a james potter x fem!reader thingy. Basically where she is out with some

friends that are absolute dicks and basically they ‘dare’ her to walk home in the dark alone whilst she is drunk and she agrees became se she just wants them to like her but she realises how much of an idiot she is and so she walks to James’ house where he comforts her and stuff.

if not don’t worry

love you!!!!

changed the prompt up a little hope it's okay lovie <3 i also made it a bit long for my definition of a drabble but thats ok hopefully u think the more words the merrier luv u

𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 2.3k ⟢ warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, intoxication, social anxiety briefly mentioned, implications of how dangerous the situation was, for some reason i used this as an opportunity to practice writing imagery so sorry if it's too much

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The sharp, crisp wind nips at your skin as you walk down the shadowy, deserted London streets, the echo of your heels clicking against the pavement being the only sound that punctures the eerie silence.

A misty breath passes your lips and you hug yourself a little tighter, your hands making futile attempts at smoothing the goosebumps that dot your arms. You mentally curse yourself for listening to your "friends" when they said a jacket would ruin your outfit, wondering if this was their plan all along.

More tears fall as your mind wanders back to the friends you thought you were making and the bitter wind swiftly dries them against your cheeks, leaving your skin tacky with the salty residue.

What was supposed to be an opportunity to forge new friendships with some girls from your class took a devastating turn when they all crammed into a taxi without you, leaving you tipsy and stranded with their parting taunts ringing in your ears.

"Wait, we won't all fit," you had jabbered, the gravity of the situation not yet apparent to your drunk mind as you clumsily stumbled towards the car, your heel catching on a crack in the pavement.

One of the girls snickered as she wrenched the door of the black cab open, "That's a shame, innit?"

"I suppose you'll have to find another way home," another girl remarked, the others laughing along, barely bothering to suppress their amusement.

The carefree smile you sported faded from your face, feelings of dread and alarm creeping up your chest as you murmured, "My phone is dead, I won't be able to call a car."

"Sounds like you'll be walking home tonight," one of them sneered with a cruel edge.

"W-what?" you stammered, your chest rising and falling with a frantic rhythm as the sobering situation sinks in, "Walking back to my flat would take close to an hour."

The last girl to pile into the car— the one who originally extended the invitation to their night out with warmth and enthusiasm— looked up at you from her seat in the taxi with a mix of feigned sympathy and cruel delight. Her eyes gleamed with sly satisfaction as she leaned out of the car and took the door handle into her grasp.

"Well, then you better start," she declared, her tone punctuated by a mocking laugh and the slam of the car door.

You wish you could say that there was a sudden flip in their behavior the moment the taxi pulled up, but the abrasive way they conducted themselves around you all night should have had you running ages ago. But your naivety and desperation to make friends clouded your judgement, you supposing that it might simply take more than one night for the girls to warm up to you.

The sound of the car screeching away still rings in your ears as you brave the streets alone, trudging in the opposite direction of your flat. The hour walk to your home— more if you walked along the safest path you could think of— was too daunting on your mind. Your desperation to get off the streets steered you to your boyfriend's instead, his flat being half as far as yours.

If it weren't for the overwhelming unease you felt, you might have been too embarrassed to face James tonight. But your nervous edge was enough to send you hastily fleeing to his flat, it being well into the A.M., and you being alone— dressed in an outfit you were only comfortable wearing around a swarm of girls you thought had your back— and barely able to hold your own after medicating your social anxiety with a few too many cocktails.

When you finally arrive at the familiar stoop to James' place, you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you stagger up the stairs, leaning heavily on the iron railing for support.

Your knocking is incessant as you mutter pleas under your breath, desperately hoping James is sleeping lightly tonight. It feels like more time has passed than it actually has by the time the door creaks open.

James appears in the doorway, clearly just out of bed. His hair is tousled more than usual, stray strands sticking out unevenly over his forehead, and his clothes are wrinkled from tossing around in his sleep. He straightens out his glasses that lay crooked over the bridge of his nose as he processes your presence, his face a blend of sleepiness and alarm.

You utter his name weakly, a fragile quiver that reveals your vulnerability and distress. James' heart breaks at the sound and he wordlessly pulls you inside and envelopes his arms around you. You let him pull you in and your hands find the plush cotton of his jumper, gripping onto it like a lifeline.

James' mind races with worry, trying to piece together what could have happened to put you on his doorstep, tearful and distraught, in the middle of the night. He knows that you had gone out for some drinks at some bar downtown. He also knows that you weren't supposed to be alone and that you were supposed to take a taxi home— these being the answers to questions he asked earlier to ensure your safety.

The possibilities of what could have went wrong fill him with a profound sense of dread, and he tries not to let himself get carried away with the nightmares that swirl around in his mind.

Wrapped in his arms, you kick your heels off to the side somewhere. The shoes were killing you, and one more second in them and you might have collapsed into a heap on the floor.

James can feel you tremble against him when you settle, a result of the cold and lingering fear from being outside, inebriated and alone.

"You're freezing," he whispers, his voice hoarse from his recent slumber and edged with worry as his large hands come to rub your arms. He frowns at the iciness of your skin.

It's James' first instinct to break the embrace and tug at his collar, pulling the jumper from his own back to drape its warmth over you instead, leaving him only in his joggers that hang lazily from his hips.

The cotton is still warm with his body heat when it cocoons you and the scent of him on the fabric brings you comfort. You sniffle pathetically when you meet James' large, sorrowful eyes that brim with concern as your head pops free from the jumper's collar. He smoothes the fabric over your body quickly before his hands climb up to your face.

The pads of his thumbs sweep away stray tears as he cups your face, his fingers brushing softly along your jawline as he tilts your head to meet his troubled eyes.

"What happened?" he asks, notes of concern in his voice as his thumbs trace soothing shapes into your cheekbones.

An anguished whimper sounds in your throat and more tears begin to spill. You shake your head, unable to find your voice to explain.

"That's okay," he murmurs, pulling you back into his chest as he cradles your head in his hands, "It's okay, my love, I'm here. You're safe."

He coos tender words of comfort and reassurance in your ear, his voice steady and soothing. One hand lowers to gently rub your back until the tremors in your body gradually subside and you begin to feel a sense of security build back up.

James only pulls away when the rise and fall of your chest slows to a steady rhythm. Brown eyes meet yours and he offers a reassuring smile. He murmurs words of beckoning and leads you deeper into his flat. He doesn't take you far, just to his sofa so he can get you off your feet. You're thankful, the blisters from your heels becoming almost unbearable to stand on.

Your boyfriend sits first, gingerly pulling you down onto his lap, both craving your closeness and understanding just how much you need him right now. You curl up with your legs folded in front of you and your knees drawn close to your chest, your side pressed snugly against his torso. One of his arms wraps around your back for support, while the other rests casually over your legs, his large hand comfortably settling on the back of your thigh.

His head lulls forward until he can nuzzle into your hair, his breath warm against your ear as he softly prompts, "Think you can tell me what happened now?"

You sniffle once, letting your lungs fill with air before you stammer into a hesitant explanation. Still embarrassed over the whole ordeal, everything comes out in a small, quivering voice, starting with the awkward tension at the bar and ending with the way they laughed as they cruelly left you on the curb.

A whirlpool of emotions rages in James' chest. He doesn't understand how anyone could be unkind to his lovely girl, and he certainly doesn't understand how anyone could be so heinous to leave a person alone on the street like that.

James swallows hard, his next question living on the tip of his tongue until he has the strength to ask it. His tone is unwaveringly serious, low and intense in its level of concern, when he finally does.

"Baby, please tell me you walked straight here. No one gave you any trouble?"

"No," you shake your head, "no trouble."

James feels his whole body relax at your words, and a noise hitches in the back of his throat as he releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. The overwhelming flood of relief and emotion threatens to bring him to tears, but he manages to hold them back. His eyes close briefly as he presses closer, his nose smooshing against the side of your head as he presses kisses behind your ear.

Your eyes flutter shut too as you allow James to cradle you in his arms. You think about how you almost tripped a few times, but you know that's not exactly what James is worrying about. Although, you can imagine he'd fuss over that too, checking your knees and palms for scuffs and kissing the skin there just because you could've hurt it.

As you feel the tension drain from his body beneath you, you think about how his fears mirrored your own.

"I was scared there would be," you admit in a small voice.

"I know my darling girl. I'm so sorry," he leans back, tilting his head to the side so he can meet your gaze. You don't miss how his eyes are glassy when they lock onto yours with calming intensity, "You're safe now, I've got you." He presses his lips to your forehead, lingering there as he mumbles, "I'm sorry this happened."

"I thought I was making friends," you choke out, the words cracking with the weight of the betrayal.

James feels his heart break all over again.

"Those girls don't deserve to have you as friend."

"But I want friends. It was so easy in secondary school. I've always had you, and Lily, Sirius, Remus. Everyone."

James listens intently, his sympathetic eyes gazing upon yours once again.

"I'm all alone at uni. And I don't why nobody likes me," you finish in anguish.

James promptly moves his hand from your thigh to cup your cheek, "Listen to me. You're lovely, so lovely. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend, alright? You're going to find people who think so too."

"And you have me," he corrects. "You still have all of us. I know things are different now, and I bet you're missing having friends in your classes, yeah? But uni's only just started. You're gonna find your people."

"You think so?"

"I know so, lovely girl," he says, his thumb flicking the tip of your nose endearingly, "I was already a goner the first time I spoke to you. And if I remember correctly, you and Lily were thick as thieves after one day of knowing each other. Right?"

You hum affirmatively, remembering the first days of friendship with the people you now call family.

"See? You're good at making friends. It's 'cause you're amazing, anyone with a brain can see that. Those girls are just bloody idiots." James' features take on a sour look when he thinks about them, but with you in his arms, he can't sustain his irritation for long— especially not with you smiling prettily at his words.

"There's that smile," he mumbles fondly, and your giggle is music to his ears. You stay like that for a moment, trading smiles and tender caresses.

Eventually, James' expression shifts, his brow furrowing as he becomes stern.

"Next time you go out, I'm gonna pick you up. I don't care how late, I don't care who you're with. And I'm buying you a portable charger for that phone."

"Okay, Jamie," you agree softly, recognizing the firmness in his voice that leaves no room for argument, and finding it a bit endearing how fiercely he cares for you.

He relaxes again with a sigh. His hand, which still remains cupping your cheek, pulls you a fraction closer.

"I'm happy you're safe, love. I'm happy you came here." Each of his words is wrapped with sincerity and affection. "I love you," he says earnestly.

"I love you too," you whisper, the same depth of emotion laced in your words.

He guides you even closer, meeting you halfway with a tender kiss to your lips. It's a beautiful blend of sweetness and innocence, a soft brush of lips that envelopes you in a blanket of sweet serenity, making you forget what it was ever like to be scared.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[wolvesandshine]

“You know I had always assumed dear cousin Bella would be the first one to go to Azkaban.”

Great. One week in and he was already hearing the voices of people who have been dead for 2 years.

“Oh come on Sirius don’t tell me Azkaban broke your brain in less than a week.”

Sirius had almost forgotten how insulting Regulus could be when he put his mind to it. Sometime after his death he had forgotten - can’t speak ill of the dead and all but Azkaban really seemed intent on not letting him sulk in peace

“And you called me the soft one.” Sirius opens his eyes, annoyed, prepared to roll his eyes at thin air when he actually laid eyes on Regulus. He looked older, finally having grown into his regal features yet he also looked more cut up and bruised, hair longer and wilder than would ever be appropriate for the most noble and ancient house of Black.

Great. He was visually hallucinating too. “Serves me right that I can only properly remember how you look like in literal hell.”

Not- Regulus snorts. “Oh this is pathetic. Are you really so far gone you can’t tell I’m real?”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Fuck off. You’ve been dead for almost 2 years.”

“Aw. You do care about me.”

Sirius bristles, the familiar annoyance raising up in him. “Fine then if you’re so real prove it.”

At that Regulus laughs, loudly. “Sirius, you can literally turn into a fucking dog. Your mind might be lying to you but your animagus? It’s impossible.”

Sirius stares shocked. Regulus shouldn’t have known that. Only three people did. “How the fuck do you know that?”

Regulus stares at him, expression unreadable. “I kept tabs on you too you know.” He swallows and looks away.

Sirius blinks the sudden tears away. Regulus had always been too smart for his own good.

He didn’t need to turn into padfoot - Regulus had always been the only person who could make him feel this way.

“Well?”

Sirius blinks. “Well what?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Turn into your animagus form so that we can leave this place. I don’t know about you but this isn’t my type of vacation.”

“Leave?”

Regulus just stares at him incredulously. “You’re telling me you haven’t tried?”

Sirius feels chastised. “Well the war is over -“

Regulus cuts in. “So you fancied staying in Azkaban? When we have things to do?”

Sirius feels very unprepared for the conversation. “What things?”

Regulus ‘s smile is all teeth. “Killing Dumbledore and Voldemort for good.”

[heaven4lostgirls]

prompt: more @moonkillermicrofic wc: 541

“Barty, Yes.”

“Barty, No.”

“Yes!”

“No!”

Their argument is drawing attention, wixen alike all turning to see what commotion has been made inside Honeydukes.

Remus refuses to make eye contact with anyone other than the green haired Slytherin in front of him.

Aforementioned green haired Slytherin stands with his hands filled with assorted chocolates and sweets alike with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“We don’t need them!” Remus pleads, eyes widening in what he hopes is satisfactory enough to be called a ‘kicked puppy’ expression.

“You don’t get to decide that!” Barty replies cheerfully, grabbing more of Remus’ favourite sweets and chocolates and making his way to the till.

Remus trods after him, dragging his feet and resisting the urge to whine about how unfair the situation is.

It’s not that Remus is ashamed of the fact that he comes from significantly less money, it’s more-so the principle of the argument.

Remus isn’t used to handouts or being spoilt, and he doesn’t think he’ll get used to it anytime in the future.

“Why can’t you just get me a couple sweets like a normal person?” Remus whispers harshly, albeit with no actual anger behind his voice.

If anything he seems a bit embarrassed.

Barty levels him with a stink eye and a displeased turn of his lips.

“Don’t compare me to other people, they wish they were me.” Barty sniffs haughtily and Remus would like to believe that he’s entirely joking if not for the flicker of determination behind the silver eyes of the younger boy.

“There’s not even room in our dorms to store any of these” Remus complains as they shuffle closer to the till.

Barty turns to him, sharply enough that it has some of the candy in his arms falling out and rolling away from them.

Remus is about to bend down, horrid joints be damned, to pick up the lost candy before Barty tuts with a shake of his head.

He silently casts a charm to levitate all of the dropped candy back into his arms.

Remus looks at him, unamused as Barty only levels him with a hard look.

“I know what you’re doing” Barty states and Remus’ brows furrow in confusion.

“What?” He asks perplexed.

“Let me spoil you, your world isn’t going to implode just because I bought you some sweets of which I have every right to do” Barty says, cool and detached demeanor as always but there’s a troubled look in his eyes.

As if he’s biting back frustration to let Remus know just how much self control he’s actually exhibiting by only buying him a lifetime supply of candy.

Remus sighs, weary and slightly upset.

He shrugs as his mouth unhelpfully ticks up in a short smile, “Okay,” he relents and Barty’s tense form softens at the acquiescence.

They don’t speak until they’ve paid for the candy and have made their way out of the door, Barty’s one hand filled with a large bag charmed to feel weightless carrying their candy as his other hand is intertwined with Remus’.

“Thank you Bee, love you” Remus whispers as he tugs Barty’s hand up to press a chaste kiss onto his knuckles.

Barty only squeezes his hand tighter in his grip.