#meanwhile remus is patiently waiting for him to calm down so that they can make a plan on how to clear this up

[mothlau]

modern wolfstar but sirius is a scam tarot reader at small town fairs (he got the cards from a thrift store for a few pounds, watched one video on how to read them and he decided it's his best shot at making some money to survive). cue the fair where he's working ends up in a small town from wales where, lo and behold, he keeps pulling the moon and the death card for everyone. a small child that can't be older than 5? they get the death card. an old lady who wanted to know how her tomatoes will do this summer? death.

now, sirius does know that the death card means new beginnings and it's not as bad as it seems but everyone just starts calling him names and his clientele lessens by the day because everyone finds out about his cards and how he's the bringer of death (literally no one died since he got there so he finds the new nickname a bit overkill).

he's too worried about his scamming abilities though. he just can't shake the weird feeling he gets when he pulls moon out again, even after he takes the damn card out of his pack because he's sick of seeing it (he leaves the death card in because he does find it funny)

but then, on the night before the full moon, when he's just getting ready to pack his cards and cheap props and call it a day, a farmer comes to get a reading. he's still in his overalls because he came straight from the farm here to check out the card reader who the villagers keep saying is predicting deaths on the full moon to see what the fuss is about.

sirius is smitten as soon as the farmer opens his mouth, but imagine his surprise when he hears that he's been slowly making people fear him again, after he just convinced them that he's a kind guy. and imagine his bigger surprise when the cute farmer with hay stuck in his hair and mud on his overalls tells him he's a werewolf.

[valentineforlemonandcherry]

Light and Dark | Part 17

Summary: Your sweetheart boyfriend, James Potter, can’t seem to hide his feelings for a certain beautiful redhead - who’s not you. Meanwhile, there’s a strange Slytherin boy, Cyrille Lestrange, famed even among purebloods for his lineage and inheritance, whose silver eyes somehow seem to always find you. [Multi-Post Story] [James Potter x Reader] [Cyrille Lestrange x Reader] [Warning: Story Contains Explicit Smut.] [Warning: Rough Sex.] [Warning: Mention of Domestic Abuse.] I want to say explicitly that this is fantasy. Any harassing and/or non-consensual behavior is totally unacceptable in reality. And of course, in reality, loving someone should not translate into taking unpleasurable/unwanted pain from that person, or anyone else. *Finally, please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

❦ Click Here for Light and Dark Home Page (All Chapter Links) ❦

The next morning, you woke up with a dull ache in your cervix. Your legs also felt a bit weak. 

You peeked over at your clock. It was almost time for lunch. You sighed. Turning over in bed, you stretched gingerly. 

Emmeline wasn’t here. She must be in Ravenclaw Tower with her boyfriend, Jonathan, you thought.

You made yourself get up and take a shower. Then, you dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and your favorite sweater, which was now a bit lopsided thanks to Remus’ enthusiasm in helping you to stuff your pocket with jam jars. 

You made it down for an “early lunch” and sat at the Gryffindor table. Amelia and Hestia were there, and you sat with them and chatted about finals and the upcoming Yule Ball.

“So, are you going to be each other’s dates, then?” you asked them. 

They smiled at each other. 

You paused. 

“All right, love birds,” you said wryly, as you realized they’d gotten lost in each other’s smiles and completely forgotten to answer your question.

Suddenly, Amelia blinked uncertainly at something - or rather, someone - behind you.

“What?” you asked her.

“Someone’s here to see you...” Amelia said quietly.

You turned around to see none other than James Potter standing behind you.

“Er - sorry to interrupt,” he said to all three of you. Then, turning to address you alone, he asked, “Can I talk to you?”

“Oh... all right.” 

*     *      *     *      *     *      *     *      *     *

James led you away from the tables and towards an empty corner of the Great Hall. He seemed nervous - angry, almost - and lost in his own thought, as he always was. In truth, he was figuring out what to say and trying to control his own emotions. He was worried for you, and a bit angry, too, though he didn’t know why. He suddenly turned around to face you.

You barely avoided running into him. You stopped just short of running into his chest. You quickly stepped back, nervously clutching the ends of your too-long sleeves. But you kept your voice calm as you said, “James?”

You both paused. It felt so strange to hear his name coming from your lips again, as though you were speaking aloud the address of your childhood home that you’d long since moved away from. It had been such a long time... 

You tried to push through the sudden cloud of memory, tinged all over with a strange and complex sorrow. “What’s wrong?” you asked him. “Did something happen?”

“No... Well, yes.” James sighed. Then, he peered down at you through his glasses. “Listen, I’m not trying to - to overstep boundaries or anything. After what I - Well, anyways.” 

Thoughtlessly, he reached up and scuffed up the back of his hair, frustrated by how difficult it was to say what he wanted to say. 

More than a little confused, you simply waited. As it was, you had never minded being patient with him. He’d always had too much energy for one person, and sometimes, it got in his way - like now, when he was tripping over his own words. 

“Sorry,” James apologized. “I know I’m not making much sense here.”

“Any sense,” you quipped. 

“Right.” 

You gave him a small smile. 

James paused. He’d missed that smile. But he shook his head and soldiered on. “It’s just that I heard that you were with Cyrille Lestrange the other day in Hogsmeade, and I- ”

“What?” Your eyes widened. How did James hear about that? That table was full of Slytherins... Someone must have seen us at the other table. Who?

“Worm - I mean, Pete. Pete told me that he saw you with Lestrange at the Three Broomsticks.” 

“Oh, well, I just had to give him something,” you told James, playing it off. I mean, it is true. I did have to give him the Healing Balm.

But James was looking at you very skeptically, and his next words explained why: “I heard Lestrange kissed you.” 

Oh. Oh, bollocks, you thought. “That’s not...” You tried to come up with something reasonable to say “...any of your business.”

You flushed and gripped your sleeves harder. That hadn’t come out the way you meant it at all. 

“None of my business...?” James repeated heavily. “Maybe you think that way, and maybe you’re right, but... I still care about you. I may not think of you in - in that way anymore, but you’re always going to be someone I care about. I can’t help but feel protective over you. And Lestrange, he’s- ”

“He’s what?” Your head came up quickly, ready to defend Cyrille. 

“Well.” Seeing your defensiveness, James treaded more carefully, “You know. He’s one of them. One of those Slytherin purebloods who- ”

“James, you’re a pureblood, too,” you reminded him. “And so is Sirius. Anyhow, what’s so bad about Slytherin?”

“That’s not what I mean. Of course Slytherin isn’t bad in itself,” James said, frustrated again. “But you know what I’m getting at.”

“No,” you said pointedly. “I don’t.”

James was determined not to give up on you. “He’s a Lestrange... That’s a family of Dark Wizards, through and through. And unlike Sirius, Cyrille hasn’t shown himself to be any different from the rest of his family. He hangs out with that crowd of people, like Yaxley and Crabbe and Goyle.”

“So?”

“So Goyle tried to hex Lily just the other day, when we were on our shift, for no reason at all, except that he knows she’s a Muggle-born...” James gave you a skeptical look. “Do I need to say more?”

You scowled at him.

“I’m not trying to make you mad, you know,” James said, backing down. “But Lestrange is not good company. I mean, can you tell me, truly and honestly, that he’s a good guy?” 

You remained silent. You wanted to push back and tell James that you knew for a fact that Cyrille was different, that he’d never been that way, and that he would never join the Death Eaters. But the truth was that you weren’t sure. 

Cyrille didn’t seem to believe in any of the blood hierarchy ideology, nor did he seem to want to be violent towards anybody. After all, he wanted to be a Healer. At the same time, he did continue to go to those “recruit” meetings, and it seemed more likely than not that after graduation, he might join their ranks. 

You let out a long, slow breath. 

James was trying his utmost to read you. Finally, he said in a hesitant voice, “Are you... Are you actually seeing him?” 

“I...” You also hesitated, thinking. Maybe if it was just James, you would tell him, despite everything. Yes, James hurt you, but you still trusted him more than anyone. Because, to put it simply, he had a good heart. And you could understand why he might still feel protective over you. Had the situation been changed and you suddenly thought that James might be seeing some Slytherin pureblood with a reputation to equal Lestrange’s, of course you’d be concerned. 

But you knew that if you told James, it would be the same as telling the other Marauders and Lily. He was so close with his friends and his girlfriend that he didn’t seem to consider himself separate from them. 

You finally shook your head. “No, we’re just acquaintances. Classmates.” 

I can’t even say something like “we’re friends,” because that would be just as suspicious, since it’s Cyrille, you thought. 

James relaxed instantly. “Good,” he murmured. “That’s good. Well, I mean, um, actually, maybe that’s none of my business, like you said. And like I said, I’m not trying to make things difficult for you. I just...”

He cut himself off and took a deep breath. 

Then, he stepped forward and put his warm hands on your shoulders. “I just want you to be happy, as you deserve,” he told you softly. Then, he stepped away and returned to his friends. 

*     *      *     *      *     *      *     *      *     *

But you had no room in your head for either Cyrille or James as you buckled down for your final exams. I’m going to be an Auror. I’m going to get there, you told yourself. 

The last couple of weeks seemed to drag on, and yet, exams were upon you all too soon. You could not have made it through without Amelia, Hestia, and Emmeline. The four of you shared notes and snacks and took turns napping in the library.

*     *      *     *      *     *      *     *      *     *

Finally, you’d finished your last exam before winter break. Walking out of the room, you were a bit dazed. Your body was dealing with that terrible post-exam mixture of adrenaline and sleeplessness. Still clutching your quill, you accidentally bumped into someone’s back as you were trying to leave the classroom. In fact, almost everyone was running into each other to try to leave. Everyone was so entirely over exams and could not wait to celebrate or sleep. You were definitely headed for the latter.

As you bumped into the person’s back, you accidentally poked yourself in the waist with your quill. 

“Ow,” you mumbled, rubbing your waist with your hand. The person in front of you overhead you and turned around. 

It was none other than Cyrille. 

You blinked tiredly in surprise, still standing there and rubbing your waist through your sweater and school blouse as you realized who it was. 

Neither of you said anything, but Cyrille shot you a soft smile before he walked away from you. 

*     *      *     *      *     *      *     *      *     *

You went straight to sleep after exams. Emmeline had to say good-bye to her boyfriend, who was leaving immediately after exams. 

Still in your school outfit, you collapsed onto your bed and snoozed away, reveling in being finished with exams. 

But you were woken up far too soon.

“Hey. Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up.” 

You grumbled incoherently.

“I said, wake up.” 

Recognizing Emmeline’s voice, you attempted to throw your pillow at her. Eyes closed, you threw it woefully short. In fact, it barely made it past the corner of your bed. 

Emmeline rolled her eyes. She picked it up and walking over to you, brought your pillow down soundly on your head. 

A fluffy smack to your head called you back to life.

“What?” you growled, finally sitting up. “What on earth could you possibly need from me? I am sleeping.” 

“Fine,” Emmeline said, shrugging. “Then, I’ll just open it myself.”

You paused. “Open what?” you said, completely confused.

“There’s a box for you. It was at our dormitory door. I brought it in for you to be nice, but I guess you don’t appreciate it. So, I’ll just open it, have a look for myself, and throw it back out there, shall I?” Emmeline teased you.

“Since when do we get mail by door delivery?” you asked, rubbing your eyes. 

Emmeline shrugged. “Maybe the owls have gotten real sneaky.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her joke. 

“So, are you going to open it?” Emmeline asked you.

“Fine, fine,” you told her. 

As Emmeline brought over the box, you asked her, “Why are you so curious about it anyways? It’s not your parcel.”

“Because,” Emmeline said, “it looks very fancy.” 

She laid a long box on your lap. 

You looked down at it. It did look very fancy. It was a long, slender box wrapped in shimmering emerald green paper and tied together with a dark red ribbon. 

“It’s for me?” you asked, surprised. “I don’t think I purchased anything...”

“Look.” Emmeline pointed to a small note tucked into the ribbon. 

You pulled it out. It had your name on it, written in very elegant script. 

You put aside the note, placing it on your pillow. Then, you gently tugged open the ribbon and unwrapped the box. Then, you lifted the lid to find - 

“Wow...” Emmeline breathed out.

Your eyes widened. Nestled among a dozen freshly cut white roses were an intricate silver mask, a note that said, “If you accept my asking you to the ball, please wear these,” and a very familiar necklace with a hanging raven pendant. 

*     *      *     *      *     *      *     *      *     *

It was the night of the Yule Ball. You wore a long silk dress. It was a bold, yet bright crimson. It featured a halter neck, with two long strips of fashionably drawn silk down your front in a deep V neck ending just above your belly button. The back was comprised entirely of thin strips criss-crossing over each other. The complicated design made the dress very pretty, but it was quite difficult to put on properly. In fact, you got a bit stuck trying to pull it all together. Emmeline had to help you find your way through the dress. You returned the favor by helping Emmeline pin up her pretty blonde hair. 

Finally, the two of you donned your masks. Yours was completely made of silver and glass, almost like a sparkling mosaic covering the area around your eyes, nose, and a little of your forehead. At the edges, it had a subtle touch of real white swan feathers. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You looked more like your mother’s daughter than you’d ever done. You were even wearing her earrings for tonight. You weren’t sure why. They didn’t even really match your dress. It just felt... appropriate. You swallowed. Is this bad for me? Am I heading towards a direction I shouldn’t be? Slowly, your eyes rested on the velvet crimson ribbon on your neck for a minute before tracing down the long silver chain that ended in an elegant sapphire and silver raven pendant. 

“All right. Are we set?” Emmeline asked you. 

You let out a long breath. “Yes.” 

*     *      *     *      *     *      *     *      *     *

Cyrille straightened out his robes. He was just about to put his mask on, when Regulus came bursting into his room. 

The others had already gone down to the Slytherin common room, where copious amounts of hard liquor were being consumed.

“Cyrille! Cyrille!”

Cyrille turned to see Regulus shouting for him.

“Reg? What is it?” 

“It’s Dromeda! She’s - She’s hurt!” Regulus explained breathlessly. “She sent me a Patronus!”

“What? Why?” Cyrille said sharply. 

“She finally told her parents that she’s going to marry Ted, and they lost it,” Regulus said. His dark blue eyes shimmered in fear. “Please! Can you help her?”

“Where is she?” Cyrille asked him.  

“She’s at the Tonks’ family house. But they’re all Muggles. They don’t know how to heal her wounds. Ted wants to call an ambulance, but the wounds are magical. And Dromeda’s too scared to call the Healers. She says it might lead her parents to the Tonks, and she can’t risk that.” 

Cyrille grabbed his wand, his mask, and a small bottle off of the counter. He nodded at Regulus and said quickly, “Take me to her.” 

They sprinted down through a secret tunnel in the dungeons that led them outside of the school grounds. Then, Regulus gripped Cyrille’s arm, and the two of them Apparated. 

*     *      *     *      *     *      *     *      *     *

“Cyrille! Thank Merlin you’re here!” Ted groaned. “It’s Dromeda. She’s- ”

“Hurt. Yes, I heard. Where is she?” Cyrille said urgently. 

Ted gestured behind him. 

As Cyrille walked towards the living room, Ted said quickly, “I did the basic spells that I know of, but...” 

Cyrille’s eyes widened when he saw Andromeda Black, unconscious and lying on the couch. Purple streaks had been slashed across her face and chest. 

“Oh Merlin,” Regulus breathed out, upon seeing his favorite cousin in her wounded state. “Cyrille, can you heal her?” 

Cyrille didn’t respond. He didn’t know himself. He knelt besides Andromeda and softly ran his fingers over one of the violet streaks.

Even unconscious, it must have hurt, for Andromeda winced in pain and turned her face away from his hand. 

“It’s a burn,” Cyrille realized, feeling the heat on his fingers. “It’s a wound from the spell Astrid Vulnurus...” 

Cyrille pulled out his wand. Casting his wand over the streaks, he closed his eyes and focusing, he murmured, “Frigus sana... Frigus sana... Frigus sana...”

Then, Cyrille took out the small bottle and applied the remaining Healing Balm all over Andromeda’s scars. It’s really meant for bruising, but still, the cooling effect will stop the burning from going too deep into her skin... Between the spell and the balm, we’ll have prevented the worst. 

Then, Cyrille turned to Ted and said, “Ted, I need you to run and purchase nettle, bicorn horn, powdered moonstone, and fluxweed. You’ll mix these to create a Cooling Healing Potion. I’ll write down the instructions to brew it. It’s not complicated, and it shouldn’t take long.”

Ted nodded. Besides him, his family members, including his grandmother, mother, and father, all looked perplexed.

“You may also want to buy some bubotuber pus,” Cyrille suggested. “It helps to stop any scarring. And Ted - be careful. They may be looking for you. Keep your eyes open, and your head down. Wear a hooded cloak.”

“Oh, Ted,” Ted’s mother began anxiously. 

“I’ll be right back, Mum. I promise,” Ted said. “Look after Dromeda.” 

Ted left at once. 

“Do you - er, do you need anything from us, son?” Ted’s father asked Cyrille.

“Yes. Please bring me paper and a quill,” Cyrille replied. 

“Er - would paper and pen do?” Ted’s father said, scratching his head. 

“Uh... assuming it’s a writing instrument, yes,” Cyrille responded, just as confused.

Ted’s father nodded, and then he went away to grab paper and pen for Cyrille.

Ted’s grandmother piped up, “How about a damp rag? A cool, damp rag for Andromeda, hm? Would that help her?”

Cyrille paused. Then, he said softly, “Yes, I think that would be soothing. Thank you.”  

“Cyrille, is she going to be all right?” Regulus said worriedly. 

Cyrille nodded. “Yes, she’ll be all right. It may not be the most comfortable healing process, but this is all I can do for now. I don’t... I don’t know enough.” He sighed.

Regulus put his hand on Cyrille’s shoulder. “Cyrille, don’t think that. It’s such a relief that you’re here...” 

“Yes,” Ted’s mother said softly. “Thank you so much.” 

Meanwhile, Ted’s father had brought Cyrille a notepad and pen from the living room bookshelf nearby, and Ted’s grandmother had brought a soft rag and a bowl of cool water. 

Cyrille said, “Regulus, if I give you Potion instructions, will you write them down?"

“Sure.”

Cyrille began to recite the instructions for the Cooling Healing Potion as he dipped the washcloth in the water and wrung it out before gently pressing it against Andromeda’s cheek.

By the time Cyrille had finished giving Regulus instructions, Andromeda’s breathing was much calmer.

“She seems better,” Ted’s mother noted.

Cyrille nodded in relief. 

Just then, Andromeda’s eyes blinked open. “Cyrille...?” she said hoarsely. 

“Water! I’ll bring water!” Ted’s grandmother said, and immediately went off, half-hobbling and half-sprinting to the kitchen in an amazing display of athleticism. 

“Dromeda! How are you feeling?” Regulus said anxiously.

“I’m fine,” Andromeda said faintly. She coughed before immediately asking, “Where’s Ted?”

“He went to buy Potions ingredients,” Regulus answered. Then, he blurted out, “I was so nervous when I got your Patronus!” 

Andromeda tried her best to smile at them. “Thank you, Reg, for delivering my message. And thank you, Cyrille, for coming to my rescue.” 

“Andromeda.” Cyrille looked at her sternly. “You should have sent for me directly. I would have been here quicker.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Andromeda replied knowingly. “Someone could have seen my Patronus asking you for help. It could have blown your cover, and I can’t have that. I know how important you are, Cyrille.”

“I’m not important,” Cyrille disagreed.

“You are,” Andromeda pushed back. “I keep telling you. Without you pretending to appease your brothers while secretly shielding and healing everyone, Regulus wouldn’t be safe. Neither would Sirius, for that matter, though the idiot doesn’t know it. And Narcissa wouldn’t have been able to help me by secretly passing me money. Cyrille, you’re the guardian for those of us who disagree with our parents and their pureblood ideology. Without you, all of us would have been intimidated into following their footsteps and eventually, believing in what they believe in...”

“Don’t say things like that,” Cyrille said weakly. “It’s not true.”

“It is. And you saved me today, too,” Andromeda said. She reached out to grasp his arm. 

“Save your strength,” Cyrille whispered to her. “You don’t have to thank me. Besides...” His eyes dropped to the now-empty container of the Healing Balm. “It wasn’t like I did anything. You were saved today by the care of someone stronger and braver than me...” 

Ted returned at that moment. Ted’s family collectively let out a long sigh of relief. 

Regulus handed Ted the Potions instructions. 

Ted looked at it and nodded. “I should be able to do this on my own. Thank you, Cyrille.”

Cyrille nodded.

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” Ted’s mother offered Cyrille and Regulus. “We’re in your debt, and besides that - we’d be more than happy to accommodate you.”

“That’s a generous offer, but I’m afraid I have to go,” Cyrille said, quietly straightening out his robes. He felt his pocket to make sure his mask was still in there. Thankfully, it was. “There’s someone waiting for me.” 

*     *      *     *      *     *      *     *      *     *

By the time you, Emmeline, Jonathan, Amelia, and Hestia arrived at the Great Hall, the Yule Ball was already in full force. The Great Hall looked spectacular. It had been transformed into a true winter wonderland. A dozen towering Christmas trees, crammed with colorful baubles and holding glimmering candles, dotted the Great Hall. Gorgeous Christmas wreaths hung everywhere, strung along with ribbons and enchanted to feature glittering icicles. Poinsettias and baby’s breath artfully put into silver vases, which were themselves etched with stenciling that depicted celestial and mythical stories of old, were placed besides every crackling fireplace. The champagne table was crowded with golden and translucent crystal glasses filled to the brim, and the champagne bubbled up brightly in anticipation of being drunk. The floor of the Great Hall had been Charmed to look like pure ice, and the magical sky above featured the true, wintery night sky. A half moon was visible amongst the sparkling winter stars. 

The doors of the Great Hall had been left wide open, for students could go outside and ride one of the many carriages that were being pulled by thestrals. Essentially, students could go on joy rides through the snowy fields of Hogwarts, and even soar high over the castle and lake. 

Jonathan, Emmeline, Amelia, and Hestia decided to take one of these carriages. Each carriage only seated four, with two small bench-like, cushioned seats facing each other.

You waved them forward. “Go,” you told them. “Don’t let me hold you back.”

Emmeline leaned into you and said, “If you find out who your mystery lover is, you have to tell me, all right?”

You smiled at her, amused. Then, Amelia pulled her away into the carriage.

You waved them off, and then you returned to the Great Hall alone. You made your way to the champagne table and downed a glass. Your eyes swept the crowd in front of you. It really was difficult to make out individual people amidst the swirling fabrics, glittering snowflakes, and sparkling champagne glasses. 

You started to put down your glass when you heard a voice say cheerfully behind you, “Excuse me. Mind if I get some bubbly myself?”

“Oh, no, of course not. I’m sorry,” you said, stepping to the side. 

The man who had just addressed you suddenly cocked his head at you as he saw your profile - or what he could make of it through your mask, anyways. 

Feeling his gaze, you instinctively looked up at him. It took only a moment for you to recognize James Potter, standing there in his gold mask, red and black robes, and still-messy hair. It didn’t matter that he was wearing a mask and not his glasses. It really didn’t matter that he’d tried to flatten the back of his hair - it still stood right up. 

But before either of you could say anything, Sirius’ annoyed voice broke out. “Oi! What’s the hold up?”

You slipped away just then. 

You wandered a bit aimlessly through the crowd, slowly drifting in and out of the dancing couples. You had never minded the feeling of getting lost in an anonymous crowd of people. However, some time later, a light touch at your wrist alerted you that someone’s fingers were grasping onto you.

An elegant voice said softly, “Miss? If I may, I believe you’re wearing something of mine.” 

You looked over your shoulder. Cyrille... His silver eyes glimmered beautifully behind his mask, which matched yours in color and design. Silver metal wrapped like ivy around his facial features, disguising his normally very recognizable features. His silver and white robes suited him so well, sitting proudly on his tall and slim statute. 

You paused. Tilting your head at the silver pin on his chest, you asked wonderingly, “Is that- ?”

“A panther? Yes.” Cyrille smiled at you. “I saw it only fitting that I wear your crest, if you were going to give me the honor of wearing mine.” 

He reached down and gently touched the raven pendant that you were wearing. 

“Seeing it on you, it’s the first time I don’t hate it...” he murmured. 

“I was very surprised when I saw it lying in the box,” you told him. 

“I was worried you’d be disgusted by my even asking you to wear it,” Cyrille admitted. “I was waiting for you to barge into the Slytherin common room and chuck it at my head.” 

You laughed. “Well, you did a good job of framing the ask,” you replied, “what with the white roses and all. My roommate was convinced I had a secret lover.” 

“Well, she wouldn’t be wrong now, would you?” Cyrille said. He reached down and ran his hand along your jawline. “Secret by necessity, but lover by choice.” 

Then, his fingers touched the edge of your mask. “It suits you.” 

“Do you like what I’ve worn with it?” you asked, gesturing down at your bright red dress. 

Instead of complimenting you, Cyrille sighed and said, “Of course you would wear this. You could not be more Gryffindor if you tried.” 

You smiled brightly, liking this better than a compliment. 

“I tried to be neutral,” Cyrille told you. “I purposefully refrained from wearing green, and look at you, not caring one whit about how obviously you’re flaunting your House to me.” 

You laughed lightly. “Why shouldn’t I?” you asked him. “I’m proud to be a Gryffindor.” 

Cyrille smiled wryly. “Clearly.” 

“Besides,” you told him, “it doesn’t have to be about house colors. In fact, I am wearing green somewhere. And besides, green simply doesn’t suit you as well as silver and white.”

“Well, that’s rather rude,” Cyrille replied. 

“I said ‘as well.’ Not that green doesn’t suit you. It’s just that... I like what you’re wearing now,” you said, placing your hands on his chest and playing with the front of his robes. “You look very handsome.” 

Cyrille lifted his eyebrow at you. You could just see it lifting over his mask. He thought you were teasing him. 

You weren’t. While Cyrille’s build wasn’t necessarily one that effortlessly filled up a shirt or sweater, in fitted robes or a formal suit, all of his sharp and cut features lended a sophisticated and elegant quality to his entire demeanor.

Cyrille offered you his hand. “Well, if you find me so handsome, may I please have this dance?”

Smiling, you took his hand, and the two of you swept off together. You’d both grown up learning very classical and formal dance, and though you hadn’t practiced in a while, Cyrille was an excellent lead, and you found it easy to find your footing again. 

Cyrille’s guiding hand held yours very lightly as he led you across the room, but his other hand was pressed to your back and because the entire back of your dress was composed of thin silk straps, you could feel his palm pressing softly against your skin.

You stiffened slightly as he slowly slid his fingers under your straps to feel more of your skin.

“On second thought, I’d like to compliment you on your dress choice,” Cyrille murmured, leaning down to speak into your ear. “I can see myself growing quite fond of this dress.”

“Excuse me, you sleaze, where is your hand going?” you teased him, laughing. 

“Yet another affectionate nickname,” Cyrille sighed, spinning you out and then back into his arms. As you spun out from him, he admired your elegant posture, and the way the silk dress spun around your waist in floating waves. He caught a glimpse of your beautiful, long legs, spinning gracefully. For just a second, Cyrille thought he caught something flash prettily on your thighs, but he didn’t quite see what it was. 

When you returned to his arms, he pressed his hand into your back a little harder, wanting you closer to him. 

Then, as the more operatic music slowed into softer, slower music, your right hand slid from his and traveled down his outstretched arm to his shoulder, matching where your left hand was already resting.

“Will you hold me?” you asked him. “I want to dance slowly with you.” 

“Yes, angel. Come closer,” he whispered, and he wrapped his arms around your waist tenderly as the both of you gently swayed to the calming music.

You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. You felt happy, happier than you had in a long time... You felt like a figurine dancing in one of those picturesque snow globes. That was what being with Cyrille felt like. His embrace didn’t immediately make you feel safe, but his aura, and the way it lured you into some fantastical version of the world, brought you into a sort-of fairytale world, where everything was soft, yet glamorous, and even though the world bore scars of violence, nothing hurt anymore. Everything could be healed if you were with Cyrille. And so, the dark fantasy inspired a purer reality - a reality guided by light and aspiration... 

After a moment, you asked him, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were always like this?” 

His arms tightened around you and he whispered, “Yes, it would.”

“Why can’t we have this?” you asked him quietly. You were almost afraid to bring this up, but you knew you needed to have your answers. “Can’t you leave your family, and come and be with me?”

Cyrille paused. He stopped swaying to the music.

You held your breath, suddenly afraid. 

Cyrille gazed down at you, and his silver eyes, framed in his mask, suddenly seemed so very tormented and weary. 

“I’d like to, but it’s not so simple,” he told you. His voice was like glass, and you knew he was deliberately hiding something. 

“I’ll help you,” you promised him. 

But Cyrille shook his head. “You gave up your memories to escape the darkness of your heritage. Don’t get drawn back in, angel. It’ll only hurt you.” 

“But I want to be with you,” you told him, suddenly confessing. “I’m never going back to that, but I can’t leave you there, either. Come away with me.” 

“Where?” Cyrille asked you.

“Anywhere,” you promised him. “Anywhere you want. And you could be a Healer, and I’ll be an Auror... We could save people together.” 

“You’re talking about the far future, aren’t you, angel? Not just right now...” Cyrille realized. In a quiet voice, he asked you, “So, do you... Do you mean that we would live together?” 

You stopped. Shit, I’ve said too much.

Cyrille’s arms were suddenly vicelike around you. He knew you were about to turn away from him, and he wasn’t going to let you slip away so easily.

“Angel...” he said softly. 

“Didn’t- Didn’t you say you had your heart set on me?” you whispered, suddenly shy. “I thought you...” 

You turned your face away, but Cyrille quickly caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I did say that,” he acknowledged. “I just didn’t know you returned those feelings.”

You hesitated. “Well, I...”  

Cyrille waited for you to finish speaking, but your voice trailed off.

Cyrille’s eyes dimmed. What is she thinking? Perhaps I spoke too quickly. I jumped to conclusions. She doesn’t reciprocate my feelings after all. At least, not in depth... 

Cyrille began to speak to you again, but at the moment, he noticed a figure, in black and green robes, facing the two of you. Dark, glimmering eyes sparkled out knowingly from under his heavy golden mask. 

Suddenly, Cyrille hissed, “Damn it. That’s Yaxley. He’s watching us. I think he suspects.”

“Come with me.” Cyrille took your hand and pulled you away, through the crowd and out of Great Hall. 

*     *      *     *      *     *      *     *      *     *

Dusk had fallen into an inky black night while the two of you were dancing together. Now, the carriages lay scattered across the field immediately in front of the castle. Hagrid had taken the thestrals away. 

“In here.” Cyrille opened one of the carriage doors and beckoned you inside. He took your hand and helped you up the step before following in after you.

He closed the door and sat down opposite you. 

“Angel,” he said. He looked at you seriously. The silver mask accentuated his silver eyes, and made his gaze piercing. “You don’t trust me, do you?” 

You blinked. “What...?”

“You’re not asking me to live my life with you because that’s actually what you want, is it? You’re asking me to test me, to figure out my loyalties... You want to know that I would come with you, that I would never follow my family’s footsteps and join the Death Eaters." Cyrille paused. Then, looking directly into your eyes, he asked you, “Tell me the truth. Is that what you really want to know about me?”

“N-” You immediately began to refute him, but in all honesty, there was more than a speck of truth in what Cyrille had astutely pointed out. You were afraid to lose yourself completely to him because you couldn’t be sure of his allegiances. And you, after having been abandoned by your family for your refusal to follow their pureblood mania, you couldn’t let yourself fall for someone who justified them and allowed such mania to take root in this world. There was no excuse for such discrimination. 

And where did Cyrille stand in all this? 

You suddenly thought back to your conversation with James, only a few weeks ago: 

“He’s a Lestrange... That’s a family of Dark Wizards, through and through. And unlike Sirius, Cyrille hasn’t shown himself to be any different from the rest of his family. He hangs out with that crowd of people, like Yaxley and Crabbe and Goyle.”

“I just... I need to be sure that you’re not going to be someone who enables an ideology of complete violence,” you told Cyrille. “And sometimes, I feel like the more involved I become with you, the more I find myself returning to my pureblood heritage. I mean, I put on my mother’s earrings tonight because I thought... I thought you would like them.”

Cyrille shook his head. “No. Then, take them off, angel. That’s not what I wish for, ever.” 

“What do you wish for?” you asked him seriously. “If I asked you to come away with me, would you even want to? Or is there some part of you... that genuinely wants to remain where you are?” 

As you spoke, you slowly reached over and pulled off his mask, wanting to see his expression, and his eyes.

Cyrille, too, gently pulled off your mask. He gazed down at you. He cupped your face in his hand, and you couldn’t help but lean into it for a moment.

But then, you drew away and sat back against your seat. If he’s not going to choose to leave, could I truly be with him? you wondered. 

Gazing at you, Cyrille was reminded of the fact that his loyalties and desires were always split - for example, the desire to protect his younger siblings and cousins from the abuse and influence of his older siblings and cousins such as Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan versus his desire to run away from home altogether and re-align himself in accordance with his true beliefs. 

And it wasn’t just about protection, it was about loyalty, too. Because Cyrille genuinely believed that there were good people among the Death Eater ranks, trying to do what was necessary to survive, feeling helpless in finding a way out. Being born in a high-class, pure-blood family, Cyrille felt obligated to stay and help them. Yes, even though they were Death Eaters, he felt a loyalty to them. 

At the same time, he felt bitter towards them. Who were they to demand his protection? Why couldn’t they forge a path out for themselves - the way you had? That was why he respected and admired you so much. You were stronger than anyone he knew. Unlike Sirius Black, you did try to stay and work it out with your family. But unlike Regulus Black and everyone else who depended on Cyrille for help and protection, when it all became too much, you ultimately left of your own accord.  

But knowing that there were a rare few like you in the world who could tempt fate into their own hands, could that mere possibility of spectacular bravery ever justify Cyrille’s leaving everyone and abandoning them to their own fates? 

The answer that Cyrille had found inside of himself was a quiet, already hopeless, and yet absolute: No. 

“Cyrille...” you said finally, “come away with me. I mean it.” 

Cyrille sighed. “I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because... not everything is black and white,” Cyrille murmured quietly. “It’s all just shades of grey, an interplay of light and dark wherever you go. The best you can do is to take a stance wherever you’re born into, wherever you find yourself.” 

Cyrille stared at his hands, lying open on his lap, as he told you, “Angel, perhaps you hate me for this, but my place is to protect and to heal. I’m no hero. I’m no martyr. I’m no leader. My skills are trained in disguise. What I can be is a two-faced snake, telling my brothers I believe their pureblood mania, and then turning my back on them to tell Yaxley, Crabbe, Goyle, Regulus, Avery, and all of the rest of them that if they dare to use curses for any reason, they’ll have to face me. I pretend like I share Bellatrix’s bloodlust in front of everyone, and then, when her back is turned, I heal all of those that she has maimed and tortured.” 

“It’s why Yaxley despises me,” Cyrille told you. “He’s tired of my antics. He’s waiting for the day he can slit my throat. I hope he makes it quick. It would be one way to die...” 

Cyrille’s eyes darkened. “I don’t want to be there anymore. It’s hard to see people get hurt over and over again, and often, my Healing is too weak to save them. I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. But if I’m not there, if Yaxley becomes our leader, if Bellatrix is allowed to hurt people and there’s no one around to heal them... Then, what happens? Can I turn away, knowing that I’m the only one who can help them? And I can help them, not because I’m any better or cleverer than anyone else, but simply by virtue of who I am. Because of what I’ve been born into. The others, they don’t dare to challenge me, because of my bloodline, because of my insane siblings... I try to use that to my advantage, but...” He let out a hollow breath. “Maybe you’re right, angel. Maybe it’s all unjustified. Maybe it’s all... worth nothing, in the end.”

Seeing Cyrille like this, you suddenly recalled what he had said to you many months ago, after you, James, Lily, and Emmeline had run into Yaxley attempting to use Dark Magic on a second-year Ravenclaw. Cyrille had disappeared with the student to get her to safety. You’d taunted him about it in Transfiguration class, and Cyrille had responded, “What, am I supposed to let the second year get hit by Dark Magic just so I get to look tough?”

This was what he meant. For him, it’s not about what other people think of him, it’s not even about what he appears to be. He doesn’t care if people think he’s a Death Eater, not if it enables him to save people who otherwise could not be saved.

You sighed out loud. That’s a truly difficult path that he’s chosen for himself, but he will definitely save people. 

You slid off of your seat. Then, taking his hands in yours, you clambered on top of him, sitting in his lap and facing him. 

Cyrille looked up at you, surprised. He had expected you to reject him and to demand that he leave you alone starting from this very moment.

Instead, you kissed his fingertips. Then, drawing your mouth down his long fingers, you pressed your soft lips against his knuckles, including his rings, even those bearing the Lestrange insignia. 

Cyrille hesitated, not quite believing what was happening. “Angel...?” he murmured.

With your mouth still pressed against his palm, you turned your head slightly to gaze into his eyes. You whispered hauntingly, “You truly have a serpent’s tongue.”

Leaning forward, you kissed him. 

Your hands slipped over his shoulders and into his cold, fine hair. You gripped his hair tightly in your fingers as you pressed yourself to him.

Cyrille was stunned. His eyes widened when he felt your lips on his.

He breathed out, realizing that you understood him and his mission, even if you could never fully accept it. 

Oh, angel, it seems that I didn’t have to be so afraid of you forgetting me. You’ve come to understand me all over again.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around you fervently, enveloping your whole torso in his long arms, and he kissed you passionately enough to take your breath away. He was letting himself kiss you for the first time as himself, not just what he imagined you wanted from your lover. 

You shut your eyes and responded to him. The two of you kissed intensely, moving your lips and bodies in sync, pressing up against each other in the semi-darkness.

The only light entering the carriage came from the open doors of the Great Hall. Golden light poured from the castle, but only a long strip of it made its way through the carriage window. 

As you and Cyrille kissed each other fiercely, taking turns giving and receiving kisses to each other, the light flashed over you one at a time. First, the long strip of light would lay on the side of your face, covering your blushing cheek and jaw as you would push Cyrille back against the seat. You pressed your lips against his ardently, wanting to taste him on your tongue. After letting you take control for a few moments, Cyrille would push back with his own kisses, claiming your lips as his, and you would be subtly pushed into the darkness. Then, Cyrille’s high cheekbone and sharp jaw would appear and catch the golden light in a manner not unlike glass.

Cyrille’s hands opened against your back and he pressed you against him. He held you so closely that you two were finally sharing the light, as it lay across your shoulder and the right side of your face, as well as across his chest and the left side of his face. You put your hand up against his cheek to touch and hold his face. For a moment, Cyrille gently sucked at your neck, but he quickly came back up, already missing your mouth. You responded just as quickly, turning your head towards your shoulder while Cyrille’s head was, to return his kisses. 

As you were sitting on his lap, Cyrille was tilting his head up slightly to kiss you. His sharp jaw glimmered in the dim light as he worked his mouth against you. The two of you traded kisses over and over again. Pressing your hand against his face, you felt his jaw move as he kissed. You thought numbly to yourself, It’s ironic that he strives to be a Healer at all costs, when he could cut someone with this jawline alone. 

The two of you kissed and kissed and kissed, becoming lost in each other’s pleasant warmth, lovely scents, and soft lips until Cyrille finally pulled you to him even tighter, causing your heads to slip over each other’s shoulders. 

Your breasts pressed up against his chest, and his chest pushed back in return as you two fought to draw breath into your lungs. The sounds of your loud panting filled the small space.

Neither of you rested, however, as you continued to shower each other’s cheeks, necks, and shoulders with kisses.

You felt his lashes brush up against your cheek as he pressed his lips all along your jaw. He gently bit at your ear, and then, when he bent down to kiss your bare shoulder, the side of his head pressed your earring against your cheek. You slid your hands in his hair, feeling the silky, thin strands slide gracefully between your fingers.

As Cyrille kissed your shoulder, you could no longer kiss his face, and you suddenly became aware of all of the sensations that was him against you. You had been so intent on kissing him, too, that you hadn’t quite realized how Cyrille’s hands were still pressing against your back. Through the thin straps, you could feel how large his hands were against you. 

Cyrille had rarely been able to hold you like this, and he savored feeling your lovely, soft skin, running his fingertips gently over your back before grasping at your skin hard enough to drag his nails over your back through your dress straps.

And this dress, with its cutout sides and strappy back, accentuated your bare back and gorgeous curves all the way down to your tight, slim waist.

Given your small size, Cyrille’s hands held you so easily, and when his hands felt up your curves, he groaned internally. He’d held your waist many times before as he fucked you, but this was different, being able to run his hands down your curves and to squeeze your waist. He discovered what James had discovered about you, too - that squeezing your waist, right where it met your hips, pushed a soft moan out of you, every time. 

“Uhn,” you breathed out, as you felt his hands press themselves against your beautiful curves. 

You shifted a little in his lap in response, and you felt Cyrille’s cock starting to rise underneath you. Cyrille felt your thighs squeeze the sides of his legs as you moved your body against his.

“Cyrille,” you whispered. Reaching down slightly to press your hands against his chest, on either side of the opening of his robes, you abruptly pushed him back against his seat. 

He blinked. For the first time, he was the one being handled, the one being pushed back and subject to your orders. He looked up at you, a bit hazily, as his mind and senses were still filled with the sensations of you. 

And for once, you saw it - a flash of pure light, of pure curiosity, present in his silver eyes. But strangely enough, the emotion that you recognized in Cyrille’s eyes was more, not less, mesmerizing than his mystery.

This isn’t just seduction anymore, you thought. We’re far past that. I want to get to know him. That, to me, is more satisfying than any twisted game of push-and-pull, no matter how exciting that type of game might feel in the moment. 

You reached up and touched his cheek warmly for a long moment. He turned his face slightly to kiss the palm of your hand, but his eyes never left yours. 

A serpent, tamed, not by submission, but by its own free will, was kissing your hand, you thought. 

“You’re so... beautiful.” Your words slipped out of your lips before you had even registered the thought.

Cyrille’s eyes widened. He didn’t make a cheeky remark or raise his eyebrow at you. He seemed genuinely stunned that you would think of him that way, in any capacity. Because you knew now, that it was all a lie - so how could you find it beautiful? You, who had rejected every form of pureblood markings - from the primed, ridiculously sleek hair to the practiced pose of looking down on people. You knew about all of it, and you had rejected it. Meanwhile, Cyrille had perfected it. So, how could you look at him and find him, in any way, attractive? 

Yet, you called him ‘beautiful.’  

He made to kiss you again, and you allowed him to, receiving it gratefully. But after only a few minutes, you pushed him back again, gently but firmly.

Cyrille looked at you, once again confused. 

“Let me pleasure you tonight,” you whispered to him. You put your hands on his shoulders and then, holding onto him, you began to slowly and sensually move your hips against him. You rode him in his lap very, very slowly - almost achingly slow - and used your hips to delve deeply into his lap. 

Cyrille appreciated just how sensual your body was. To be honest, other than that brief moment when the two of you had made love for the first time on the Astronomy Tower - specifically, that moment where you’d dropped his blazer to reveal your body, you hadn’t really had time to enjoy each other’s physiques. Everything between the two of you was always rushed and feverish: comprised solely of stolen moments, with clothes never fully off, kissing while fucking because there wasn’t time to properly do either of them, and moaning out curse words and affectionate phrases in the same breath to get all of your feelings for each other out. 

And now, though you were still fully wearing your dress, with the way you were sitting and slowly rotating your hips on his lap, your dress showed off your figure to perfection, and Cyrille appreciated that.

The backless and strapless design of the dress made it a bold choice, but it was certainly paying off very well, Cyrille thought, as he watched you shifting back and forth on top of him. He could see your abs peeking out just past the sides of the front of your dress fabric, appearing softly as your curves stretched and then deepened in time to your lovely, rhythmic movement.

Cyrille reached back and grasping your hair in his hand, he tugged your hair back slightly, just to hear you catch your breath a little and to see your tummy having to strain a bit more in this position, further showing off your gorgeous curves. 

And though they were hidden underneath your dress, Cyrille could feel your thighs moving against his, gliding back and forth on the sides of his legs. 

Cyrille could feel you beginning to sit down on him more and more heavily. You were clearly holding back from wanting to bounce up and down on him, and you were compensating by pressing yourself quite insistently against him.

Cyrille’s cock was painfully hard by now, and when he felt the outline of your pussy lips rubbing up on his cock, he groaned out loud.

In response, he subconsciously shifted his hips up slightly, so that you could suddenly feel a very clear outline of his bulge pressing up against you.

You gripped his shoulders quite a bit tighter and your abs tensed all at once. Cyrille felt your thighs shudder for a moment. 

“Angel, are you close to cumming?” Cyrille asked you. 

You shook your head. Forcing yourself not to stutter or moan, you replied in a careful voice, “No... This is about you.”

“Oh, really?” Cyrille said, and his eyes lit up at this opportunity to tease you. He reached forward and slightly pushed up the front of your dress between the two of you, just enough to slip his hand underneath the elegant silk skirt. Then, he ever so slowly pushed his hand inside of your panties. Tauntingly feeling you up, he pressed his fingers slowly against your... wet... clit.

You shivered. Then, before you could stop yourself, you mouth fell open and you began to stutter out, “A-Ah-

“Ah,” Cyrille finished for you, almost mocking you. He smirked at you. “Oh, princess... I’m starting to think that you’re always wet around me.” 

“Would you say that’s right?” he asked you innocently.

You flushed and put your head down on his shoulder, hiding your expression.

But the next minute, when Cyrille had brought up his other hand under your dress to rest it on your thigh, Cyrille paused, as the palm of his hand slid over unfamiliar material.

“Angel, what are you wearing under your dress?” he asked you. 

“Oh,” you murmured suddenly, feeling Cyrille’s hands quickly slip up and over your thighs to your waist, making out the outline of a belt-and-garter set.

“Wait!” you said. But Cyrille had already pushed away the front of your dress to find you wearing a lacy dark green garter set under your dress, complete with a belt around your middle, straps, thin lace garters on both of your thighs, and matching panties. 

Cyrille breathed out slowly.

You gave him about five seconds before you blurted out, “All right, I’m sorry. I’ve never worn this kind of stuff. I don’t know what you’re supposed to wear with it, or how you wear it. I tried to follow the instructions set on the tags, but... erm...”

Reaching down, you quickly tried to cover yourself back up with the skirt of your dress, but Cyrille impatiently pushed your hand away, to keep your dress up and let him continue to see you. 

Your beautiful, creamy thighs, spread open on either side of him, were graced in dark green garters with a elegant lacy design. It looked stunning against your smooth skin. The garters were held up by little black straps that ran up to your belt, which was a matching dark green. The belt was also made of thin, delicate lace, and it ran around your waist, hugging you perfectly and accentuating your curves deliciously. The belt had a fairly thin width, but fashionable little cut-outs of fabric came down in a very flowy, princess-y way, adding a little flounce and softness to the otherwise quite devilish piece. And then, of course, there were your matching panties, made of silk and lace with a pretty rose print. But the lace slit running down the middle left nothing to the imagination, as it laid bare your beautiful, glistening clit and pussyhole for him. When Cyrille had slipped his hand down the front of your panties before, he’d simply assumed that the cool feeling on the back of his fingers was from your soaking through your panties, but now, he realized that not only were you soaking wet, but you were also already bare for him. 

Cyrille marveled at how gorgeous it all looked on you. Besides, he hadn’t really pinned you down as an extravagant lingerie woman. Not that you wouldn’t look stunning in it, but to know that you had gone out of your way to pick this out and put it on for him made him feel proud and very grateful to have such a sexy little nymph as his woman.

He wished he had known earlier that you had this fancy get-up on so that he could have pinned your dress up to your skirt as you grinded on him, and he could have seen this gorgeous sight on his lap. 

You were still mumbling, half to yourself and half to Cyrille, “I’ve only tried to do this once before, and Emmeline died laughing, so I never ended up wearing it for Ja- for anyone.” 

“Emmeline can go straight to hell,” Cyrille retorted, but he wasn’t actually angry.

Still, you said softly, “Don’t. She’s my best friend.”

“She’s also a thief,” Cyrille told you matter-of-factly. As he spoke, he slowly slid his index fingers under the straps connecting the belt around your waist to the garters around your thighs. The garters were more like thin, lacy bands pressed tight to your thighs, and not the fancier, chunkier garters. However, the simplicity suited you so well, Cyrille thought, devouring you with his eyes. 

“She did that for me,” you replied.

Cyrille paused. “Does she...?”

“No,” you said quickly. “She doesn’t know about us, but... Well, she caught me looking at you, and she said I looked- Anyways, she did it with good intentions.”

Cyrille understood what you meant. Your friend had picked up on the fact that Cyrille had hurt you. “Well,” Cyrille said carefully in a light voice, “your other friend, whom I’m assuming Emmeline dragged along, did manage to give Yaxley a faceful of angry frog, so I am inclined to forgive Emmeline quicker than most.”

Cyrille ran his fingers down the length of the straps, sliding his fingers down between the straps and your skin. You shivered as you felt the back of his hands smoothly gliding over the insides of your thighs. 

Cyrille continued, “And the fact that you had to return my book let me see your face for the first time in weeks, so maybe I’ll send Emmeline flowers for that.” 

You frowned, confused. “Why would you send her flowers for that?”

“Because you never let me see your face otherwise,” Cyrille said, remembering.

“Oh...” You also remembered the lengths you had gone to not to run into Cyrille over the course of those two weeks. Not that your paths ever truly crossed naturally, but you were suddenly painfully aware of him anytime he was in the vicinity. For example, everyone ate at the Great Hall, but when Cyrille entered, you felt like there was a spotlight on him. Ignoring him felt like having to force yourself to look away into the darkness of the audience. It was much easier to simply leave, knowing that you were heading away from him. 

For the first time, you were glad that Cyrille was constantly surrounded by other Slytherins who saw him as their leader. It meant that you were safe from being followed, as Cyrille couldn’t just get up and come after you. There were too many people watching him and waiting to follow him, for him to act however he pleased.

“Why were you hiding so much from me, angel? Hm?” Cyrille asked you. “It killed me. I know I deserved whatever silence or coldness you decided to give me, but it still killed me.” 

“Cyrille, please,” you mumbled. “I’m not good with this kind of thing.”

“With ‘what kind of thing’?” he asked, teasing you a little by copying the way you said your words.

“Confessions and the like,” you replied, a bit shortly as you thought that he was teasing you to make you admit something you didn’t want to admit.

However, that hadn’t been what Cyrille was getting at, at all. He paused when he heard your reply. “I wasn’t aware I was asking for a confession,” Cyrille murmured, honestly taken back. “Were you going to give me a confession?”

You shook your head at him, and decided to distract him by reaching down and undoing his belt and pants. You slowly pulled out his cock. He was already quite hard.

“Oh,” you said, and then you smirked at him. “I guess you did like the lingerie set, after all. Well then, maybe you didn’t deserve it. “

“Hm?” Cyrille said, not understanding what you meant by that. “What did I do wrong, angel?” 

You ran your fingers all over him playfully as you explained, “I picked out something green for you, as a form of compromise for having a date in Gryffindor colors. But you were very, very mean about my dress, not even telling me I looked pretty, which - tip - you should do for your dates, Cyrille. And now look at you, all hard...”

The corner of your bright red lips pulled up in clear amusement as you teased him, “Mm, I should have slipped off my lingerie and thrown it out the window when you weren’t looking. You didn’t deserve this.”

“Fuck,” Cyrille groaned. “You had to wear this fancy lingerie set when we’re stuck in this tiny carriage, where I can’t even have you properly.”

“The carriage was your idea, not mine,” you pointed out. “You suggested we hide in here.”

Placing one hand on his abs to help steady yourself, you looked down and taking his cock in your other hand, you began to stroke his cock in your hand, drawing it out as your fingers formed into a little fist around his shaft. You felt his abs tense under your other hand. Feeling him tense, you paused and smiled mischievously at him. 

Cyrille sighed. “You said you would pleasure me, angel, not torture me.”

“No, no, no, no,” you replied, leaning forward slightly so that your lips were only a millimeter from his as you spoke to him. “After all that edging you put me through and your other million little games, you don’t get to complain, Lestrange.” 

Cyrille lifted his eyebrow at you when you said his last name, which you knew was “forbidden.” “Do you really want to go down that pathway, angel?” 

“Oh, should I be scared?” you asked lightly. 

“You’re a cheeky little thing,” Cyrille replied wryly. “For how sensitive you are with m- uhn...”

In the middle of his answer, you suddenly jerked your hand quickly up and down the length of his cock, causing his breath to hitch.

You smirked at him, pleased that your little tactic had worked.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” Cyrille said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

But you were fully genuine as you replied, “Yes, I do. I love seeing you...” You leaned forward the tiniest bit, so that your lips met his briefly. It was a quick kiss, before you sat back again, and finished “...vulnerable.”

“Mmm,” Cyrille said, eyes still closed as the feeling of your lips lingered on his mouth. He reached up and ran his fingers gently over his own lips before he replied to you, “Well, I don’t mind you seeing me like that, not after all we’ve been through, but...” - his eyes flashed open, first glimmering a sharp silver and then shifting to a warm and vibrant gold as the light caught his eyes again - “I will make you work for it.” 

“Let me try to change your mind,” you whispered to him.

Cyrille’s cock was now hard enough that it pointed up firmly, and shifting a bit closer to him, you sat directly on top of his cock and then, taking your time, you began to move your hips up and down, dragging your pussy over his cock. Through that slit in your panties, you could feel your pussy lips spreading open each time you pressed up against his cock. 

Cyrille slowly breathed out. 

In contrast, you inhaled a bit sharply as you felt yourself beginning to respond to the feeling of his long, hard cock pressing up against you this way. 

Your head fell forward a little as you became wetter and wetter. Ugh, you thought to yourself, Why do I get so easily wet with him? I just... I want him so bad. I love when he’s inside me. And I want him to cum in me, and all over me.

At the very thought of him cumming in you, you started to grind against him harder.   

A few curls slipped from your half-up, half down hairdo, and hid half of your face. Cyrille impatiently pushed back your front curls to look at you. Breathing out a little as you were still pressing your pussy up all over his cock, you instinctively looked up when you felt his hand in your hair. 

Your eyes met, and you paused. The golden light coming in through the carriage made his silver eyes so warm. You’d never seen his eyes so... peaceful before. So certain. So honest. 

Cyrille, noticing you gazing at him, cupped your cheek in his face. 

“What, angel?” he whispered. “You want something. I know it. Tell me what it is, so I can give it to you.”

You. That was what you wanted to say. Your heart. Your truth. Your body. All of it. 

But what would happen afterwards? you wondered to yourself. It’s not like with James, where I was afraid he didn’t feel for me the way I did for him. I’m not sure it’s love, but Cyrille does feel deeply for me. That, I’m sure of. Why else would he withstand such horrible treatment from his siblings and refuse to let them inside his mind? 

But there’s another complication with Cyrille - our clearly divergent futures. I understand him better now - admire him, even - for what he’s trying to do. But the truth is, I won’t be standing with him if he joins the Death Eaters - for whatever reason. I can’t give up my future for him. I’ve come too far down my own path, and beyond that, I know who I am, and I can’t stand for something else. 

Instead, you whispered to him, “Tell me what you’d do to me if we weren’t in this carriage... How would you have me?” 

“Well,” Cyrille said, leaning forward slightly to whisper back in your ear, “I would tie you up in red ribbons, princess. Have your stunning body stretched out before me, for me to use at my discretion, for my pleasure. I want to see your delicate wrists and your gorgeous little tummy straining at the ropes ever so slightly, giving your entire body a slight, but vibrant quiver all over... And that way, I could admire the way this lingerie graces your perfect body, princess. See, if you took the time to dress up for me, I want to make sure to properly appreciate it. I’d run my hands all over your thighs- “

“You’re already doing that,” you interrupted him snarkily. It was true. His hand had long since slipped away from your face and now both of his hands were greedily running up and down both of your thighs, gripping at your thighs whenever your pussy stuttered on his cock. 

“Well, then, I’d spank your ass to living hell instead, the way I would for interrupting me with snarky comments,” Cyrille continued, not missing a beat. 

You shivered a little as a note of true, unfiltered dominance entered his purring voice. 

“And then, princess, I would kiss your body all over before I went down on you... Mm, yes, I’d kiss your wet little pussy over and over again, and have you cum in my mouth and then on my face, and then on my fingers, too, for being such a good girl and wearing this for me...”

“That- that sounds nice,” you mumbled out. You subconsciously rolled your hips a little more fervently against him, pressing your pussy up harder against his cock, now glistening all over with your wetness.

Cyrille chuckled softly as he felt a definite increase in how wet your pussy was, sliding up and down the underside of his cock. 

"... And then, even when you begged me to stop making you cum, I’d keep going, even if you sobbed and pleaded for me to stop...”

“W-What? Why?” you said suddenly, pouting a little. You stopped moving your hips.

Cyrille grasped your hips and sat you down firmly on his cock, hard enough that the underside of his cock slipped up between your pussy lips and pressed up hard against your clit.

A shiver ran through your body, starting from your pussy up through your tummy and traveling up your spine all the way to your brain, where a little jolt of pleasure went off. 

“As a punishment for wearing such naughty lingerie around other men without my permission,” Cyrille told you. “You realized any one of the others in the castle could have glimpsed this under your dress, especially with how light the silk is. In fact, I saw your lingerie flash as you were dancing. And ‘I’ could have been anyone.”

“No, shut up,” you said indignantly, careful not to move so you wouldn’t be distracted by the delicious feeling of his cock pressing up all along your clit. “I’m not going to ask for your permission.” 

“I know,” Cyrille replied smoothly, smirking at you. He’d never meant it; he just wanted exactly this reaction from you. Because it allowed him to say, “That’s what the punishment is for.”

Cyrille expected you to retort sharply, to tell him to shut up again. Instead, he felt your thighs shudder for a moment. Your hand gripping the front of his robes, over his abs, tightened, and your pussy stuttered on his cock.

A moment later, a soft, warm gush of cum left you, spreading out of your pussy directly onto Cyrille’s cock.

“Uhn...” you breathed out. God, his cock is so long. It presses up against the entire length of my clit. I couldn’t hold it in. 

Cyrille’s eyes widened. Did she just cum all over my cock? She did. Fuck, princess... You like the idea of punishment, don’t you? You like thinking of challenging me, and having me fight you right back? Mmm, so wet, your sweet little pussy... I can almost hear you, begging for your pussy to be filled... 

Sure enough, when Cyrille looked up at you, he instantly saw, written all over your half-lidded gaze and parted, panting lips, your want for his cock inside you.

“Do as you wish, angel,” he whispered. “Take me inside you.” 

 You nodded. Lifting yourself up slightly, you reached down and positioned his swollen cock against your pussyhole.

You hesitated as you felt his length. He’s going to hit up against me so hard. You swallowed a bit nervously.

But slowly, with the both of you holding your breaths, you sank down on his cock.

“O-Oh,” you moaned lowly as you felt him enter you, and then quickly fill you.

Cyrille exhaled in a short, tight breath as he felt your tightness immediately squeezing the tip of his cock. 

“Angel, fuck,” he growled softly. “It never matters how wet you are, because you’re so fucking tight.”

Barely three-fourths of the way in, and you clenched your teeth and let out a soft whimper as he already hit up again you. Your hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder and you gripped his shoulder tightly enough that you just ended up with a fistful of his robes in your grasp.

“Fuck,” he cursed again. His hands flew to your waist to help hold you up and stabilize you. 

Your pussy throbbed hotly as it worked to take Cyrille’s cock in... 

“Go slow, princess,” Cyrille managed to tell you. He blew out a low breath. “Just... take it slow...” 

Eyes shut tightly and still gripping his robes, you nodded. 

But in trying to take more of him, you whimpered again. “Ah, Cy... You’re just... It’s too deep...” You breathed out heavily. 

“Do you want me to help, angel?” Cyrille asked you softly. 

You nodded, eyes still shut. Your other hand came to grip his other shoulder. You were trembling slightly, but all over. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” Cyrille whispered to you lovingly. Then, he slowly and softly, began to fuck his cock up into you, in gentle thrusts.

“Ah...” you breathed out. “Ah, ah, ah....” 

“Does it hurt?” Cyrille asked you, gripping your waist tightly to hold you up.

“It- It’s okay,” you told him. “I can - I can take it... Keep going.”

As he gently coaxed your pussy walls to take his cock, Cyrille felt your pussy gradually beginning to respond and open up for him deeper and deeper. Still, it continued to be extremely tight. He was quite swollen today, too, he had to admit. 

In the forest last time, he’d been rock hard with his need for you, but everything had happened so quickly that he hadn’t had time to coax his cock to be as stiff as it could be. 

Today, though things were still a bit rushed and cramped, your running your hand over him, along with the sight of your beautiful body, especially your gorgeous hips and thighs wrapped in lace and working your puffy pussy lips up and down his bare cock, had given him a bit more time to acknowledge his desire for you, and it showed.

So, it was no wonder you were struggling a bit more today. 

But you were trying very hard for him, giving him your very best, Cyrille thought, as he gradually felt you opening up for him. Such a good girl, letting me fuck open her pussy like this, little by little. Mmm, yeah, she’s so little, so tight, and yet - she can take me all the way, can’t she? I know she wants to. 

Just as he thought that, he finally managed to fuck you all the way up to his balls.

You pressed your torso against his tighter and moaned as you felt his balls gently push up against your pussyhole.

Your thighs trembled and falling back, you slid out of his hands. But that brought you right back on his long, hard cock. And suddenly, you found yourself sitting on his cock, taking him all the way in. 

“Ah!” you gasped loudly. Your thighs jolted and you pushed yourself up a little ways, off of his cock. 

In sitting down on him so suddenly, you’d felt his cock ram into your cervix, and it felt like a lightning bolt went through your tummy.

“Angel!” Cyrille called to you, worried. 

Head down, you shook your head back and forth, with your eyes still squeezed shut. 

“Angel...” Cyrille grasped your face in both of his hands, squeezing your cheeks slightly with his palms. “Angel, look at me. Please.”

You managed to open your eyes and return his gaze, blinking at him.  

“Breathe,” he reminded you, and even you had to smile softly at the reminder, for the two of you were forever telling each other to breathe.

“Can you do that for me?” he asked you.

You nodded softly.

“Good. Good girl,” Cyrille praised you. Still holding your face in his hands lovingly, he saw you return to yourself. Your eyes were still soft, the way your entire demeanor became soft when you made love with him, like a true angel... But beneath that softness, Cyrille recognized the utter clarity of personality and will in your eyes. At heart, you were a lionness who owned her own sun - too fierce to be tamed, but capable of loving over and over again, freely. 

“Are you all right?” Cyrille asked you, as his own eyes became warmer and softer in response to your beautiful spirit, and in response to you needing him in this moment. 

You nodded. “Yes...”

You sighed a little as you felt your pussy relax again, getting over the shock of suddenly being completely and roughly claimed.

“Kiss me?” you asked Cyrille hopefully, sliding your hands down from his shoulders to his chest.

Cyrille smiled. “Of course, angel. Your wish is my command.”

He leaned forward, though he was careful not to push his hips up into you at the moment, and he kissed you very, very sweetly. 

Closing your eyes again, you clung onto his kiss, following him forward a little even when he leaned back.

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to find yourself so close to Cyrille, despite his sitting back against his seat. Suddenly realizing what had happened, you began to look away before your cheeks could light up, but Cyrille was holding your face firmly in his hands.

“Don’t turn away. You’re adorable when you follow me like that,” Cyrille whispered to you. “And you’re so lovely when you blush, princess.” 

He placed another soft kiss on your flushed cheek before he let your face go. 

Then, he asked you, “Do you think you can take me now, princess?”

“Yes,” you told him. “I think so.” 

Cyrille offered you his hands. You reached down to lightly lace your hands with his. Holding hands as you rode him, his steady palms supported your much smaller ones as you put your weight against him to move your hips more freely. And at first, your fingers were only lightly intertwined, barely slipping through each other’s fingers, but you both began to grip each other’s hands much tighter as you continued to take him in your pussy deeper and deeper, giving you both soft, gentle jolts of pleasure as he also felt you become tighter and tighter. 

You held your breath as you slowly sat back on his lap again, gradually sinking down on his cock inch by inch.

“Mm.” A short puff of air left your lips when you had taken him all the way in. 

Cyrille gently pushed up your dress skirt and pinned it to your waist, holding your figure in his waist and also admiring the view of your pretty little pussy, all stretched out and sitting on his cock, wrapped quite tight around it. 

Your thighs slowly began to shift as you, little by little, began to move back and forth on his cock, letting the base of his cock push up and rub gently against your pussyhole. 

Finally adjusting a little to his size, you began to roll your hips against him again - but this time, with his cock buried inside of you.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” Cyrille breathed out, loving the way his cock felt nestled up deep inside of your warmth. “Princess...”

You looked down at him for a moment to kiss him. Then, you continued to softly move your hips against him. 

You have the creamiest thighs, Cyrille thought, as he watched you pleasuring yourself on his cock. And the prettiest little tummy, too. He could see exactly when your breath hitched by watching your tummy tense and relax. As it was, your tummy barely relaxed, and Cyrille could see very clearly, how intensely it was affecting you to have him buried inside you like this. 

Cyrille could also hear little breathy pants leave you each time your head came forward towards his shoulder, passing by his ear in little swipes. In fact, he could feel an errant curl of yours brushing past his cheek each time you shifted forward as you moved your hips back towards his knees, and then your head shifted backwards slightly as your brought your hips back towards his waist... 

Cyrille finally tore his eyes away from your beautiful thighs and hips and pussy, all beautifully displayed in your dark green lingerie set, which truly accentuated the beauty of your shape and skin, to look up at your even lovelier face. 

You were always lovely to Cyrille, but today, your red lipstick made you look very elegant, and made your blushed cheeks appear even brighter. Your long lashes framed your eyes so beautifully, making them both bright and sad at the same time. There was a light layer of gold on your eyelids, bringing out the inner sun in your sweet, luminous, and untrusting eyes. And the beautiful line of structure running down from your forehead, gliding down your nose, meeting with the slanted line coming in from your cheekbone, all the way down to your jaw, made Cyrille realize that despite your fierceness, seen most clearly in your bright eyes and untamable curls, your face was a soft, heart-shaped vision.

“Angel, you’re so lovely,” Cyrille whispered, almost as an observation rather than an assertion. 

A bit startled by the sudden compliment and the gentle bluntness with which he murmured to you, you looked up at him. Shaking your head a little, you said, “I’m just an - an in-between. Not groomed enough for a pureblood, not wild enough to be pretty in my own way... It’s all right, though. I guess I can’t escape being my mother’s daughter completely. I’ve made peace with- with it...” Your words stuttered softly as you continued to take his cock inside of you, riding him gently. 

You loved this - feeling completely full from his cock so deep inside of you, and yet, everything was soft, feathery, almost a little blurry... As you shifted on his lap, it felt like the tip of his cock was just kissing your center in gentle little touches. And that curve to his cock really did hit up perfectly against your sweet spot. You could ride him like this for hours. You felt so satisfied, and your pussy was stretched out and filled up perfectly by the man you had slowly come to respect, admire, and feel for.

And so, honest remarks spilled from your lips in beautiful, but heartbroken confessions as you told him one of your deepest insecurities: about being your “mother’s daughter.” Other girls stood in front of a mirror and judged themselves to be beautiful or not, but you could barely stand to look at yourself in the mirror at all. You had to pretend that you were a stranger to yourself. That was the only way you could check your image in the mirror. 

At the same time, you knew it was a waste. If you had been gifted with your mother’s looks in any other situation, you could have been happy about it - both to be somewhat beautiful, and to look like someone you were supposed to love, and be loved by... But that was not the narrative that had been handed to you. No, for you, no fairytale existed. In your story, your sweetheart boyfriend was going to fall in love with someone else. Your mother was not going to love you, let alone teach you how to come into your own and become a woman. And even the man you were with now, he fit you so perfectly, physically and emotionally, but he reminded you so deeply of the heritage that you had discarded that it hurt you deep inside... And it wounded you all over to know that he would follow that pathway into the future... 

You put your chin on his shoulder and hugged him as you continued to shift softly against him, feeling him so wonderfully buried inside of you, and letting him feel all of the warmth and wetness that was you... 

Cyrille felt the outline of your mother’s earring press gently into his cheek as you rested his head on his shoulder. 

“Take them off,” Cyrille whispered to you. 

“What?” you said, lifting your head.

Cyrille reached up with one hand and touched your mother’s earring. “Take them off,” he repeated. “If you don’t like your mother’s earrings, don’t wear them.”

Cyrille hesitated and then he said slowly, “You said... you thought I would like them on you. But I find you more beautiful without them.” 

He reached forward and gently removed them one by one from your ears. He held them out to you in his hand. 

You gazed at the gold earrings, shaped like panthers, and embedded with old and expensive amethyst jewels.

Reaching forward, you curled up your little hand outside his larger one, pressing his hand down until it closed over the earrings. You looked at Cyrille and asked him, in a voice full of muted emotion, “Will you keep them safe for me? Until I can wear them and be my mother’s daughter without falling into becoming her altogether.”

Cyrille hesitated. His eyes tightened, because he was suddenly painfully aware of how difficult this was for you even without your complete memories.

His heart thudded in his chest for a long, painful beat. Then, he nodded slowly. Reaching over without moving, Cyrille placed your mother’s earrings to the side, where both of your masks were sitting on the corner of the seat, intertwined in matching silver. He dropped the earrings in the center of the intertwined masks. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to him. 

Cyrille reached down and pushed your chin up. “You’re all right, angel,” he said heavily. “You’re all right with me.” 

You nodded, but Cyrille could tell that you didn’t quite believe him.

“Do you want me to make you forget?” Cyrille asked you softly. He almost didn’t want to ask you that, because this was such a personal thing. But shamefully, Cyrille realized that this was what he was best at - providing sexual favors for people who wanted to be distracted from the powerlessness of their own lives by asserting sexual dominance or assuming sexual submissiveness with him. 

You nodded softly, your chin slipping a little on the edge of his curled up finger. 

“All right,” Cyrille told you, with a little sigh. “Focus on being with me for tonight, angel. Nothing else. Will you do that for me?”

You nodded again and whispered, “Yes...” 

Cyrille hesitated. He wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do. But you lifted your soft, slightly wet eyes to him and looked at him expectantly, even gratefully.

Steeling himself, Cyrille kissed you passionately, suddenly taking away your breath with a hard kiss. 

You started a little and shifted backwards, but Cyrille stayed with you, dropping the skirt of your dress to grasp the back of your head with one hand and wrapping his other arm tightly around your torso. Holding you close to him, he claimed your lips in his, stealing your breath away lovingly, but quite aggressively.

At the same time, he began to move his hips into you, still gentle, but in much faster and rougher thrusts than your very gentle love-making. 

You whimpered against his mouth as you felt his cock begin to push in and out of you. You also couldn’t breathe with the fierce way he was kissing you. Your hands came up to his chest and you pressed against him a little.

Cyrille held you tightly for another few seconds, tasting your breathless whimpers on his tongue. You had just begun to start feeling light-headed when Cyrille suddenly pushed you so that you fell forward, your hands hitting up against his shoulders and your head slipping over his right shoulder. Then, gripping your waist tightly in his possessive hands, he fucked his cock up into you hard and fast, making your wet little pussy suddenly take a rather rough pounding.

“Ah!” You felt your body being pushed up from how hard you were suddenly being pounded into, and your face pressed up against the seat over Cyrille’s shoulder. 

“Cy-Cyrille,” you gasped out. “Ah...” 

You felt his cock milking your pussy, thrusting in and out at a fast pace from under you. 

He held you down against him, so that you had to stay sitting low on him and take his cock.

“Uhn,” Cyrille breathed out, pressing you down quite tightly in his arms as he fucked your tight pussy hard and deep. 

“A-Ah,” you stuttered out. With the way your face was pressed against the seat behind Cyrille, and his thrusting into you pushing you forward every second, the rocking motion made what was left of your red lipstick, which had already become mostly lost in the midst of your deep, passionate kissing with Cyrille, smear slightly onto your cheek. 

“Does it feel good?” Cyrille murmured to you. “Is this what you wanted, angel? Your little pussy pounded like this?” 

“Y-Yes,” you moaned out. “Uhn... Cyrille...” 

“Good girl,” Cyrille whispered to you admiringly. “Taking me so well.”

Your soft gasps traveled along the satin-covered seats and into Cyrille’s ears. His hold on your hips tightened even more, until he was slamming you back down on his cock as he thrust up. 

“Ah... Ah, ah,” you breathed out.

Cyrille felt your soft pussy becoming quite wet for his cock. Soft, sloppy noises of his cock pushing deep into your wetness sounded out inside the carriage. 

“Oh, angel,” he breathed out, “you’re such a soft thing, aren’t you? You just bleed softness everywhere...”

Your gasps turned into long, drawn-out moans as you felt him repeatedly slam up inside of you, the veins and ridges of his swollen cock pressing up and running up and down deep inside of you. 

“C-Cyrille...” 

“Angel,” he moaned back, his head falling back, too. 

He turned his head to find you already pressed up on the seat. 

“Come here,” he whispered to you. 

You managed to push yourself sideways on the seat, and come towards him enough to press your lips softly against his.

As he pounded into you, your lips broke apart with every thrust as your lips were barely grazing each other, but they also met gently over and over again, pressing softly like a gently cresting ocean wave washing up over and over again on a dreamer’s beach somewhere. 

In fact, the entire ambience of tonight, of being hidden away in this one blue and gold carriage out of at least fifty of them all sprawled out over the quiet, snowy castle grounds, gave everything such a deep and dreamlike quality. 

And yes, you were being taken roughly, your tight pussy being spread out quite punishingly by Cyrille’s long, hard cock, but it all felt... different, somehow - all moon-glazed and secretly hushed and suffocating under glittering diamonds.  

Tonight, even though you were deep in the middle of fucking each other, it felt like both of you were, strangely, doing your utmost to hold back.

Last time, the intense, savage fucking had been a release from all of the pent-up frustration of not being able to see each other for over two weeks - almost three, by the time of the Hogsmeade trip. So, to have each other in that way, in the middle of some random forest, clothes not even close to being fully off, yet hands all over each other, mouths locked, fucking each other hard enough to make each other’s body temperatures rise to the point that snow melted at your touch - that was a much-needed, wonderful release. 

But today, having such rough sex was simply a disguise for something deeper. You both knew, though it was left unspoken, that making love - genuinely making sweet, sensual love - would leave both of you far too fragile tonight. If you let yourself become swept up in that type of fairytale sex, full of gentle emotion, neither you nor Cyrille would be able to go back to the castle and play your roles. No, you could not risk letting yourself get lost any deeper in the truth of your emotions, no matter how much you wished for it - and for him. 

It was easier, and safer, though incredibly defensive and roundabout, to get lost in your physical lust for one other. And for better or for worse, it was always so easy to slip into your desire - pure, unfiltered and nearly unhinged want - for each other. In truth, you had wanted Cyrille ever since he’d took hold of your ribbon down at the Slytherin common room. Then, that lust had blossomed into something quite powerful when he let you suck on his fingers and when he kissed you deeply with his hand on your throat...

Now, in this moment, to have come so far and still not be able to say the things that needed to be said, you both felt like you were suffocating. Even though everything was beautiful, all of it was fragile. And the fragility was soft (more like feathers than glass), but all the more overwhelming because of its gentleness.  

Thus, it was only appropriate that you make each other gasp, tug each other’s hair, and unravel into senseless lust together - pressing your mouths and bodies together over and over, having his cock constantly burying itself deep in your wet, tight pussy, taking you to such a high point of pleasure that coming down felt like physically falling and left you dizzy for a long time afterwards...

Why not? Yes, why not? you thought to yourself. Why not make love like the world was ending?

It was the best, and perhaps the only, way to ignore the fact that you wanted to make love to each other like you were going to spend all of your lives together, all tangled up soft and warm in each other’s arms, patiently and gently holding each other’s hands as you waited for each other to find a way to heal your own deep, internal scars that no one else could take responsibility for. 

Yes, you told yourself repeatedly, ignore the fact that Cyrille Lestrange was able to make you realize that you were capable of opening your heart again, right after you thought you could never, ever love again, not after having given your heart so entirely to James... Ignore the fact that Cyrille Lestrange has the strength that you want - the strength to put yourself on the line not knowing if you’re going to receive anything back, the strength to know who you are even in the midst of what is both light and dark... 

And so, it was not a far cry at all to imagine that you were on this dreamer’s beach together, pleasuring each other in some form of paradise that was part-earth, part-heaven, and part-hell all at once. 

But there was a different kind of cresting occurring deep inside of you, one that was not gentle at all, but intense, and so... so.... 

“U-Uhn- ” you half-breathed out and half-choked out.

“Angel, you cumming?” Cyrille whispered to you, watching you with half-shut eyes.

“A-Ah, y-yes, C-Cy, it feels s-so good...” you moaned, breathing heavily as you felt your ass slamming down on his thighs and his cock rutting up into your pussy. In this position, every time he fucked you, your pussy lips rubbed up against and were spread open by the base of his cock, so that it felt like you were being fingered as you were also being fucked. 

Cyrille felt your pussy clench. With a low, deep growl, he thrust up into you harder, making your moans leap up into a higher pitch, almost mewls. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” you cried out. “C-Cy!” 

“Cum, angel, I want to taste it,” Cyrille whispered harshly to you, as he pounded you to your climax.

You bit down hard on your lower lip and a high-pitched whimper left you as your pussy spasmed hard on his cock.

Cyrille groaned loudly as he felt your pussy squeeze all around his shaft in warm, throbbing waves. Fuck, angel, Cyrille moaned out in his head. God, I want to taste her. It’s been too long since I’ve had her cum in my mouth.

With that thought loud and clear in his head, Cyrille abruptly shoved you off of him. You gasped as you were thrown back, but Cyrille caught you before you could actually fall.

Cyrille turned you around and pushed you down onto the opposite seat in one quick motion.

You suddenly found yourself face down, head pushed up against the seat, and knees also up, pressing into the very edge of the seat, meaning that your body was folded and crammed into this very narrow seat. 

Cyrille quickly grasped your arms and pulled them back so that they ran down tight to your sides all the way down to your feet. 

Then, kneeling down quite low, Cyrille hungrily pushed his mouth against your pussy. 

Your mind was still whirling from being shoved face-down so abruptly on the carriage seat, and you’d barely realized that he’d yanked your arms back, rendering you immobile, when you suddenly felt his hot mouth on your wet pussy.

“Ah! No, I’m a-all wet! Cy, no, d-don’t kiss me t-there!” you stuttered out, trying to warn him that you were already soaking, thinking that he wouldn’t like that and possibly find it gross. You didn’t realize that that was exactly what he wanted. Cyrille had dreamed of having you sit on his face and cum in his mouth too many times to pass this opportunity up.

And just look at her, all gorgeous, Cyrille thought. 

Cyrille took advantage of the slit in your panties to run his tongue all the way up between your ass cheeks, just to have a look at you (but not wanting to take his mouth off of you for even a moment). 

When you felt him doing that, your eyes widened in embarrassment. You flushed crimson, suddenly grateful that your hair was covering some of your face. 

Cyrille caught a glimpse of you, your curls pressed up against the seat, but also falling over your face. He could only see your lips, which had mostly returned to their natural pink color, though there was a hazy red smudge fading onto you cheek. Cyrille watched as your lips sweetly parted as you gasped for breath. 

Cyrille wished he could see your face as you came, but he couldn’t give up the wonderful privilege to hold your arms back against your sides because the straight lines of your arms accentuated just how curvy you really were. Even the back of your neck had such a beautiful line, including that scar that you had. And then, there were your beautiful shoulders and back, straining both because Cyrille pinned your arms to your sides and because you weren’t too far from climaxing. 

The ratio between your shoulders, waist, and hips was truly beautiful. Even with just one brief glance up at you, Cyrille could instantly recognize the beautiful dips of your waists and the complementing curving out of your hips. Also, being face-down as you were, the tops of your breasts were pressing up against the seat, adding yet another line of deeply lovely curves to your incredible silhouette. Your soft nipples were pressing up against the satin seat, making them harden quickly from the soft, yet incessant rubbing. 

Mmm, angel, Cyrille thought to himself. Look at you. Just fucking look at you. 

 And even all of this beauty only added up to a part of you, because Cyrille was busying himself with enjoying what was directly in front of him - well, and around him, he thought wryly, as the back of your heels dug into his back harshly as you started to cum. He could feel your stilettos shaking against his back as you tried to fight your orgasm. 

But Cyrille was going to take you there - and take you well. Because fuck, you were completely irresistible, with your pussy and ass framed so gorgeously in your lingerie. Honestly, you look like royalty. The dark green color with the lace truly suits you in an almost regal manner, Cyrille thought. He appreciated the way the lace framed your ass in a very pretty and alluring package. The straps running from your belt to the garters stretched tight over your beautiful ass, digging deep into your plush skin. Cyrille very much wanted to spank you in this outfit. He made a mental note of it to ask you if he could someday. And the very thought of having you tied up in his bedroom or having you lying on his lap, where he could run his hands all over you at a leisurely, though no less intense, pace, and fuck you over and over again - fuck your pussy through this delicate little slit first with his long fingers, then with his wet tongue, and finally with his hard cock, uninterrupted for hours, made him moan into your wet pussy. You moaned back in response, and Cyrille’s grip on your wrists tightened. 

“C-Cy, ah,” you breathed out. “S-Stop. You have to stop now. You have t-to let me cum... Please...” 

“Cum for me just like this, princess,” Cyrille replied. You felt his lips move against you as he spoke to you, and his deep voice sent vibrations through to your core. “That’s what I want. Cum all over my face.”

“I - I can’t,” you moaned out pitifully.

“Why not? Too shy? Princess, I told you,” Cyrille growled a little, and you shivered when you felt him bite your clit lightly. “I told you I want you to come all undone on me. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Don’t you - Don’t you think it’s -? Nngh!” You couldn’t complete your sentence as your long-awaited, now-absolutely-pressing orgasm was overtaking you. You couldn’t hold back. Not anymore. You’d been needing to cum since he’d fucked you on his cock, holding you down in his lap. 

The lace garters on your pretty thighs shivered as your thighs began to tremble. Cyrille growled again, frustrated that he couldn’t stand up and fuck you doggystyle in this exact position, because your pussy was just begging to be taken hard in this beautiful position. But Cyrille was simply too tall and the carriage ceiling too low. Cyrille made another mental note in his mind, but for now, he made himself content with enjoying the thin slit in the panties running all the way up your ass, because it meant that your beautiful pink and puffy pussy lips were squeezed together into the slit in the fabric to be even pinker and puffier. 

Cyrille would have teased you about how “princess-like” it all was to present yourself before him in lace and rose print, but his mouth was rather busy tasting you very thoroughly. 

Cyrille ran his tongue up and down your pussy lips, and you felt the width of his tongue spreading against you, and your pussy spreading open in response. You felt his hot breath as he inhaled quickly - then his lips grasping at your pussy lips as he kissed you wetly, sucking a little on your sweet clit. 

“C-Cy...” you moaned out. You clenched your teeth together, pushing back against your orgasm. But it was building up so intensely inside of you, threatening to burst and surge forward.

Cyrille buried his face between your thighs. He wished he could take his hands and spread your ass open so that he could tongue fuck you even deeper, but again, he couldn’t quite make himself let go of your arms. As long as you were enjoying it, you were very, very pretty when you were restrained, mostly because you were so determined to put up a fight, and it was rather adorable to see you whimper and squirm in his unbreakable grasp.

You were on the very brink of cumming, and Cyrille delving his tongue into your wet folds, fucking your spasming pussy with his tongue, did nothing to calm you down. It only heightened your need to cum to an incredible height that made your eyes roll back and your breath stop short entirely for a few beats. 

Oh God... I’m going to - Oh!

As your hips jolted, Cyrille pulled harder on your arms.

Your hands turned into tight little fists, curling away from your body at the wrists, while the rest of your arms was pulled back and pinned straight down against your body by Cyrille’s unforgiving grip on your wrists. 

With his stringent grip on you, Cyrille had effectively anchored you down onto the seat. He made the most of this fact, for at the moment where you had finally begun to release, Cyrille saw fit to push his tongue hard into your pussyhole and shake his head back and forth, making your mind go numb and your thighs quiver uncontrollably. 

Your long, undulating moans wavered in time to Cyrille shaking his head with his mouth hotly pressed against your pussy, and his tongue tasting your wet, wet folds.

You knew what was coming. You were going to squirt all over his face. 

“N-No,” you whispered, mortified. “Cy- Cyri - Ah!”

Nails digging deep into your palms, your wrenching cry rang out piercingly loud as you came hard. 

“Ah! Ah! Ah...! I’m- I’m c-cumm - Ah!” you gasped out.

Sweet, milky cum squirted from your pussy as you came all over Cyrille’s mouth. 

Without giving you a break, he lapped you all up, tasting exactly how pretty you were. 

Uhn... His tongue is still... on my pussy, you thought hazily, as you finished cumming all over Cyrille’s waiting mouth. 

“Mmm,” he moaned out hotly, as he licked you up until you were clean. Fuck, that was a lot of cum, Cyrille thought, and still, not enough to satisfy me. She’ll have to cum again on my face sometime. Well, multiple times, before I’m even close to satisfied with her sweet pussy.

But as Cyrille finished lapping up all your cum, he slid his tongue inside of you one last time, just to taste you where you were sweetest, and when he felt, even with just his tongue, how warm and tight you were, he knew he had to have you again - right then, right there. God help him, he was going to fuck you senseless. 

“Princess,” he growled. “On your back. Lay down.”

“Cy...” You tiredly fell over onto the seat and reached for him. 

Seeing you reach for him, Cyrille instantly softened. “Come here, princess.”

Grasping you easily in his hands, he lifted you up gently and helped you turn over so that you were half-lying against the shut carriage door and half-lying across the seat vertically. 

Cyrille did his best to lean over you, putting one hand on the seat above your head. With his other hand, he reached down and tangled his finger with the velvet crimson ribbon tied at your neck. Cyrille swirled his finger around the end of the ribbon. 

Recognizing the ribbon as part of the wrapping on the box that he had sent you, Cyrille asked you quietly, “So then, are you my present?” 

You smiled. “If you’ll have me.”

“Mm, yes, I could live with that offer,” Cyrille murmured. His fingertips grazed against your throat briefly as he grasped the ribbon and undid it. It slowly fell away. Cyrille leaned down to replace it with his lips.

“Ah, Cy,” you breathed out softly. Cyrille sank down lower onto you as he became lost in kissing your neck very sweetly, taking his time with you. Your legs gradually fell open to let his waist sink down between your thighs. 

You murmured happy little moans, loving his lips against your neck. Also, while the feeling of Cyrille’s weight gently covering your body didn’t immediately make you feel safe the way you had with James, there was nonetheless a very special and distinct pleasure in having Cyrille close to you. 

As you got your breath back, your own little hands got busy and went to work, undoing the buttons on the front of Cyrille’s elegant silver and white robes. You’d gotten the top half undone (as far as you could reach) when suddenly Cyrille reached up and grasped your hands. 

You paused, a bit startled as his head came back up from your neck. “Cyrille?”

“Princess...” he said softly. He kissed your hands all over and held them in his as if they were the most precious things in the world. “You may not want to undress me.”

You looked at him with a furrowed brow. “What do you mean? I’ve seen you naked before. You’re - um- ” You blushed and looked away a little as you said honestly, “you’re gorgeous.”

Cyrille appreciated your words, but he insisted, “It’s not a pretty sight tonight.” 

You frowned. What does he mean by that? 

Slowly, you looked back up at his eyes. You saw a darkness there, buried deep down, but flickering and very much alive.

You hesitated. Then, you said in a quiet voice, “Please let me see you.” 

“Princess,” he said again, sighing.

You gently pulled your hands away from his grasp. You moved very slowly, as you didn’t want to startle him. You also were very gentle, so that if he did want to stop you, he could say so or do so with the barest movement. But you wanted him to let you in, to let you see... 

Watching him for any sign of resistance, you very, very carefully pulled open his robes. They fluttered to the ground. 

Your eyes widened. His shoulders and chest were absolutely covered in scars. You realized instantly that while the bruises had healed, there must have been cuts, too. While they had mostly healed, they had left behind scars that would take a long time to fully go away. 

You closed your eyes. “I hate them,” you said, gritting your teeth. “I hate them for what they’ve done to you- what they’re doing to you.”

Cyrille’s voice was very gentle as he replied, “Don’t hate them, angel. Have pity for them. And then, have more pity for their victims who aren’t me...” 

Cyrille sighed. “Because I’m there by choice.”

You opened your eyes again and looked up at him with a misty, sad gaze. 

“I’m all right, angel,” Cyrille told you. But his eyes didn’t quite meet yours. 

You sat up. Cyrille was kneeling between your thighs, so you bent down and holding onto his shoulders, you dipped your head down low enough to all of kiss his scars softly, one by one. 

Cyrille held his breath, responding both to the pain of the pressure on his lesser healed scars, as well as the pleasure of feeling your little mouth working warm healing magic of its own across his chest. Heat sprouted up like crimson dahlia blossoms across his chest in response to your soft kisses.

Finally, pulling yourself back up, you found your way back to his lips, and the two of you kissed lovingly, with him holding your head very gently in his hands, and you slipping your arms over his shoulders carefully, so as not to touch any of his still-tender scars.

But all of a sudden, you pulled back. A steely glint entered your eyes as you told him stoutly, “I don’t care what you say. I’m going to become an Auror and lock them up so they can’t hurt you or anyone else anymore.”

For a long moment, Cyrille seemed stunned. But then, his expression softened into an admiring smile. 

“Angel, you are something else,” he told you. His warm gaze told you that he had absolute faith in you.

Then, Cyrille asked feelingly, “Should we stop here for tonight? Or do you still want me, angel? Please be honest with me. I’m fine either way.”

“I want to make you feel good,” you replied. 

“Thank you,” Cyrille said gently. “But what about you? Do you want me?”

Your face scrunched up slightly as you asked, “What kind of question is that?”

Cyrille hesitated. Then, he said truthfully, “I just sense that tonight, we’re both feeling a bit... I don’t know... fragile, perhaps? 

As he said the word “fragile,” his cool breath blew across your face and you shivered. 

You didn’t want the night to end, not at all, but you couldn’t deny that what Cyrille was true. 

“Well, tonight, I...” You paused, trying to respond honestly without revealing how deep your vulnerabilities went. Finally, you said, “Sometimes, I get lost in my own thoughts.”

“Yes, angel, you do,” Cyrille responded knowingly. “I see it in you when it happens.” 

Your eyes flickered up to him. “You do?” you said, surprised.

“Yes. As I said, your halo pops out.” 

You smiled and shook your head at him gently. “You make it sound endearing, but I’m sure it’s not.” 

“What can I do, angel?” Cyrille asked you, and his voice was soft and pleading. He really wanted to be there for you, just as you wanted to be there for him. 

You wrapped your arms around him again. “Bring me back down to earth,” you breathed out, exhaling in a soft rush against his neck. “Make me feel every bit of you. Make me take you... and then cum in me. Fill me up with your cum. Then maybe, I'll remember I belong to the earth.” 

“No,” Cyrille corrected you, as he stroked your curls softly. “You’ll remember that you belong to me. And I to you. You’re mine, princess, mine. Engrave it on that pretty heart of yours.” 

He kissed you sweetly. 

It was too sweet. My walls are... starting to crumble, you realized. Suddenly, you were afraid. You swallowed and pulled away from his lips.

Cyrille paused. He frowned slightly when he realized that you were trembling in his arms. 

“Angel?” he asked.

You shook your head and without looking at him, you murmured, “And what - what should I do for you?”

In a slightly formal voice, you pressed, “How do you want me?”

Cyrille instantly saw through you. He recognized that this was exactly the fragility that he had picked up on from the very beginning. Now, he saw that you were starting to shatter and in response, you were trying to push him away with your words. But he wasn’t going to have that.

“Tell me your earlier confession,” Cyrille said, speaking calmly to you. “Admit to me what you were going to say earlier.” 

You immediately shook your head. “No. I’ll do anything for you, just don’t make me... say those things.” 

Starting to well up a little, you mumbled, “It feels... I don’t know. I can’t do it, Cyrille. It just makes me feel too- ”

“All right,” Cyrille said quickly. He pulled you forward into his arms so that you were still sitting on the seat, but you had been brought to the edge and was leaning forward into his tight embrace. “Don’t say anything, angel. Hush. You don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to cry.” 

He waited for you to untangle yourself from that mess of emotions that had started to overcome you.

You slowly sat back and blinked back the tears. 

After a moment, you told him, “I’m all right. Really. I don’t know why that happened. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, angel.”

You took a quiet breath. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“Now...” Cyrille said quietly, “you did say that you’d do anything for me...”

You nodded. 

He thought about it for a long moment. Then, he asked in a whisper, “Would you beg for me?”

“Beg?” you said uncertainly. The connection of that word with James immediately made you anxious. 

Cyrille nodded. “It would be a compromise between words and actions, don’t you think?” he explained, though he felt foolish doing so. 

“So, tell me. Is that something you could do for me - and enjoy?” he asked, emphasizing the need for you to also enjoy it, too. 

You thought it over, reminding yourself that this was Cyrille and not James. Slowly, you nodded your agreement. 

“Good girl,” he said softly. “All right. Tell me ‘please.’”

You hesitated. 

Cyrille watched you patiently. 

Finally, you mumbled, “Um... Please.”

Cyrille smiled as he raised an eyebrow at you and asked matter-of-factly, “You didn’t mean that one bit, did you?” 

He chuckled lightly, and suddenly, the intense emotional atmosphere broke.

You smiled, too, suddenly relieved.

You tried again, and found it much easier this time: “Please.”

“Much better,” Cyrille said, now laughing as he stroked your hair. 

In that moment, you found yourself just watching Cyrille laughed. It was mesmerizing to see him so light-hearted and carefree. Your heart hurt as you wished once again that it could always be this way. 

Then, grasping your shoulders gently, Cyrille leaned forward to kiss you again. You accepted it gratefully, feeling your heart swell with gratitude for this thoughtful and patient man before you. 

The kiss began as a continuance of your conversation - gentle and understanding. But when Cyrille murmured against your lips, “Angel, now you know how sweet you taste,” you pulled back a little and asked, “Hm?”

Cyrille asked you, “You can taste yourself on me, can’t you?”

You paused. Returning to his mouth, you flicked your tongue curiously against his. 

He smiled, and then locking your mouths together deeply, he pressed his tongue against yours to fully satisfy your curiosity.

“Taste that?” he whispered. “Like citrus, and honey.” 

You nodded. 

“So sweet,” Cyrille breathed out. He put his hands against your back and drew you forward even more, so that you slid down from the seat into his lap.

Having you between his arms (with your back to the seat now behind you) and sitting in his lap, Cyrille kissed you fervently. You replied in kind, running your hands gently all over his scarred chest. 

As the kissing became quite heated between the two of you, Cyrille tucked you firmly into his shoulder to hold you closer. Then, he kissed you even harder, kissing you open-mouthed before biting gently on your lower lip. You moaned softly in response. The sounds of your mouths pressing hotly together sounded out in the tiny space of the carriage that the two of you had somehow ended up cramming yourselves in. Returning the favor in your own way, you sucked on his lower lip, too, and ran your tongue across his upper lip before sliding it into his mouth to tangle with his tongue. Cyrille groaned tenderly into your mouth, sending a hot wave of air into your open mouth. 

Cyrille whispered to you just then, “Touch yourself. Touch your breasts for me, princess.”

You complied, slipping your hands under the front strips of your dress.

The next moment, Cyrille saw your little hands working feverishly on yourself, grasping at your soft breasts under your dress. 

Cyrille sighed impatiently. You had made the same mistake again, he thought. First with the skirt, now with the dress. Princess, you need to take your clothes off for me to see you enjoying yourself. 

While Cyrille’s left arm was around you, his right hand was on your back. In an effort to tug your dress off of you, he had slowly but surely begun to tug impatiently at the complicated array of straps on your back. Unfortunately, the dress stubbornly stayed put. Cyrille had to fight back the urge to yank at your dress. 

“Angel,” Cyrille groaned, with his lips still on yours, “you’ve got to get this dress off, or I’m going to rip it into pieces.”

“Okay, just wait one second…” You tried to reach back and untie the complicated thing yourself, but you couldn’t quite see it.

Meanwhile, Cyrille kept kissing you and running his free hand all over you.

“Cyrille, I can’t,” you said, panting slightly as you felt Cyrille’s hand impatiently gripping your hip while he waited for you. “Can’t you - Can’t you just fuck me with it on?” you breathed out.

Cyrille moaned heavily at your words. Yes. Yes, I could fuck you with it on.

The dress was riding up your thighs anyways, what with the way you were sitting on his lap. He could see your cute little garters, which were high up on your pretty thighs, already. 

Cyrille reached down and pushed his fingers against your pussy again. He heard your sharp intake of breath as you felt his fingertips press against you. 

Cyrille smirked. “Still so sensitive,” he murmured. He gently shifted you so that you were leaning back against the seat to free up both of his hands so that he could finger your pussy and grope your breasts at the same time.

Cyrille touched you quite greedily, pushing his hands aggressively against you and molding the lovely softness of your body to his demanding hands. For example, your soft pussy was going to take his fingers again. Bringing his fingers up to his lips, he spit on them before reaching back down to touch you again. 

“Ah, I don’t think that’s - uhn - necessary,” you told him hastily. “I’ve already - already cum...”

“You’re going to have to cum again,” Cyrille told you matter-of-factly, as if it were a simple matter of course. “If you’re going to take my cock, which has been waiting very patiently for you this entire time, you’re going to need to be wetter than this. I cleaned you all up, princess. You’re not nearly wet enough.”

“I don’t - Oh,” you said, distracted, as Cyrille, with his other hand, pulled at the front of your dress just then. He yanked aside both of the long strips of silk covering your breasts, one at a time. 

“Mmm,” he said, when he saw your bare breasts softly bouncing as the fabric containing them was suddenly yanked away. “No bra?”

Before you could respond, Cyrille leaned forward and buried his face against your breasts, sucking and kissing them. Meanwhile, he was still pressing his long fingers against you, making the most of that little slit in your panties. 

You let out a soft, but long exhale as shook your head. “Couldn’t,” you tried to explain. “Um, deep V neck dress, you know? Have to - to go - uhn- ” you flinched slightly when Cyrille sucked your puffy nipple hard, grasping at it with his mouth. “ - bare,” you barely finished with a little gasp.

Cyrille pushed his fingers against you harder, moving his hand up and down more roughly. Since you were already a bit wet, especially inside of your pussy, it was easier to spread that wetness onto your pussy and have you take his fingers roughly more quickly, which then made you become even more wet. 

You moaned softly and wrapped your arms around his head. 

A moment later, you shuddered. “Cy-Cyrille,” you breathed out. “I- I’m really - I can take you. Just - I don’t - Please don’t make me cum again.” 

Knowing that you were protesting out of embarrassment, Cyrille ignored you and continued to finger you roughly, pumping two fingers in and out of your pussy, prepping you at least a little to take his cock again. 

“Uhn, I- I- ” you stuttered.

“You what, princess?” Cyrille whispered to you, his voice so low and gentle while his fingers thrust up into your pussy. “What? Are my fingers too much? Are you going to cum for me again?” 

“C-Cy!” You cried out suddenly, and your grip on his hair suddenly became vice-like. But you had to let him go as your thighs abruptly clamped around his hand, pushing Cyrille back from your breasts. He looked up at you, feeling your pussy pulsing on his fingers still deep inside you, and your thighs quivering all around his wrist. 

Cyrille reached up with his other hand and gripping the back of your neck, he pulled your face down to his in one hard tug and kissed you fervently.

“A-Ah...” A muffled moan escaped your lips and passed over to Cyrille’s lips as you came sweetly all over his fingers for a third time. 

With his hand, Cyrille slowly and firmly traced the back of your neck all the way down to the small of your back. Then, withdrawing his hand from your still weakly clamped-together thighs, Cyrille gripped your waist with his other hand and tried to pull you up to your feet. He didn’t want you sitting on the cramped, cold floor of this carriage for too long. 

Unfortunately, your legs were still recovering, and when he pulled you up so abruptly, you stumbled a little.

Feeling you falter, Cyrille held you against him. You tried to stop yourself from falling by putting your hands on Cyrille’s chest. However, you didn’t expect him to reach out and pull you to him, and your arms ended up slipping around him. 

Startled, you looked up as the two of you found yourselves in a very sweet, but completely unintended embrace.

“Well, hello, princess,” Cyrille quipped, smirking a little. “Aren’t you adorable tonight?”

Seeing his smirk, you complained, “You pulled me up too fa- mmpfh...” 

Cyrille had bent down and kissed you again. He made sure to part from you very slowly, leaving you breathless and wanting. 

You blinked in surprise. He smirked at you again, even more boldly than the last smirk.

Suddenly, it hit you. 

“Wait, you can’t just kiss me when I’m talking, you gargoyle,” you told him, pushing him away.

At your words, Cyrille fell onto his knees before you.

“What are you doing?” you asked him skeptically. 

“Begging for forgiveness,” he said succinctly. He grasped your waist tightly and then bent his head to lay kisses all down your chest. He sucked at your skin fervently, leaving marks on you from his mouth for the very first time.

“I - I don’t think counts as an apology,” you told him. You tried to grab onto his shoulders to push him away, but he’d just worked his way down the deep V neckline of your dress (as your dress had slipped back in place to cover your breasts again) and was now kissing your tummy right over your belly button. Cyrille sucked gently at your soft skin. 

“Oh...” you breathed out. 

Cyrille smiled when he saw your tummy rise and fall quickly under his touch. Then, Cyrille reached up to push your dress aside again to feel up your breasts. He moaned when he saw your breasts. They were perfect to him. 

“Cy- ” you began again, but he’d put his mouth on your breast and was tonguing your nipple hard.

“Uhn, fuck,” you whined, gripping at his shoulders.

“Y-You’re not begging for anything a-at all, are you?” you realized. “Least of all f-forgiveness...” 

You felt Cyrille smirk against your skin as he heard you figure him out. 

“Say sorry,” you insisted, holding back more moans.

Cyrille paused for less than half a second from tonguing your nipples to state, “Sorry,” before going right back to tasting you.

“You d-didn’t - ah, Cy - You didn’t mean it...” you protested softly. Your head tilted back as Cyrille’s soft kisses all over your tummy sent butterflies spiraling up your body and made your head feel wonderfully light.

Cyrille laughed lightly at seeing you slowly sliding into a blissful state of mind, forgetting everything else. 

Oh, fine, you gave in in your mind. I can’t think straight right now. He’s kissing and sucking at me all over. It feels so good, like little sunspots grazing all over my tummy and breasts... 

Cyrille was pushing his mouth harder and harder against you, taking more and more of your breasts in his mouth, and his grasp on your waist had become extremely hard as he pulled you towards him. 

“You taste so fucking good,” Cyrille growled. He reached up and yanked aggressively at the front of your dress, wanting to be able to kiss you all over your breasts and all down your curves. He wanted to leave a trail of kisses and bites all down your sides to celebrate how stunning your figure was.

However, your dress had had quite enough. The halter of your dress snapped, and the two straps in the front fell open, so that you were suddenly completely topless. 

As the dress fluttered down to your hips, you gasped and instinctively covered your breasts with your arms, wrapping your arms in an X over yourself and clutching onto your shoulders.

“Shit,” Cyrille cursed. 

Unfortunately, the design of the dress was such that the halter neck was connected to the back straps, which in turn had been holding together the tight waistline of the dress. In only a few seconds, the waistband slowly unraveled, and your dress slipped off of your body completely, falling down onto the floor all around you, like some disintegrated shower of bright red flower petals.

“Princess, I’m so sorry,” Cyrille said hurriedly. “Your dress- ”

You laughed a little breathlessly, as you teased him, “Great apology, Mr. Lestrange.” 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated sincerely, looking mortified. “I can’t believe I broke your dress...” 

“It’s all right,” you assured him. “I still have my... lingerie on?” 

You looked down at yourself and spread your legs a little to look down at your garters. 

Cyrille paused as your pretty pussy glistened in the low light entering the carriage, and the soft skirt-like part of your lingerie fluttered around your little waist. Then, he said, with clear want in his voice, “Yes, princess, you do.” 

“And uh...” You glanced down at your feet. Then, you bent one knee, lifting your heel up delicately behind you. “I still have my heels on.”

“So, not to worry,” you told Cyrille, giving him a bright smile. “The show can go on.” 

“Yes,” Cyrille agreed. “And I’m going to have you just like this, angel. You look so fucking beautiful. I have to have you.” 

Stepping closer to you, he asked you, “Will you let me have you?”

“Yes,” you told him. Then, you very quickly corrected yourself. “Yes, please.”

Cyrille smirked, pleased that you remembered and relieved that you weren’t too upset about your dress, although he made a mental note to try to fix it before you went back.

Then, you let out a soft shriek as Cyrille grabbed you and picked you up with incredible ease, and pushed you back down to your prior position of being half-up on the carriage door and half-lying across the satin seat. 

Cyrille immediately pressed his large palms against your beautiful thighs and pushed them apart. Then, he reached down and stroked his cock, groaning heavily as he did so. Precum was already glistening all over the tip of his cock. 

In truth, he was painfully swollen from how long he’d been hard now. And he’d been swollen to begin with. He knew he was going to cum quickly once he was inside you. He ran his hand impatiently up and down his cock a few times, trying to spread his precum to make it a little easier for you to take him.

Then, leaning over you, again with one hand by your head, Cyrille positioned himself so that the tip of his cock pressed against your pussy hole. 

“Princess,” Cyrille managed to give one last whisper. “Tell me if you need me to stop. Because I’m afraid I’m going to be a bit rough with you tonight, if that’s all right.”

You looked up at him, eyes shimmering with both excitement and trepidation at having him inside you again and at his promise of being fucked roughly. 

“O-Okay,” you said softly. 

Memories of how he had taken you in the forest replayed in your mind briefly, and you shivered, wiggling your hips slightly against his cock.

“Mm, angel, you don’t want to do that right now,” Cyrille said in a tightly controlled voice, quickly pressing his hand down against your soft tummy to stop you from moving. “If you move your hips against me... It might be more than you want from me. More than you can take.” 

You nodded and did your best to keep still. Suddenly, you found yourself remembering an old children’s game that purebloods used to play called “Glacius.” 

“Just... stay very still,” he whispered to you, closing his eyes. Then, still holding you down by your tummy, Cyrille slowly moved his hips forward, pushing his cock forward so that it slipped past your pussy lips.

You breathed in sharply and held your breath. Immediately, you felt Cyrille’s cock stretching you out. Oh God, you realized, his cock is so swollen. He’s usually not this broad. He’s usually not stretching me out this much. Oh, fuck, and he’s still so long... Fuck, this could be... You swallowed hard. 

You also realized, too late, that there was nothing to grab in here. Oh no, you heard yourself say in your head, I can’t hold onto him, either. He’s already hurt. Oh no, oh no, what am I going to do? What am I - Uhn! Fuck! Your eyes shut tightly as his cock claimed your little pussy so quickly. 

Cyrille’s cock was already throbbing as it delved deep inside of you. He was pushing your pussy walls apart so very forcefully, not because he was moving his hips at all, but just because his cock was so swollen already.

Your pussyhole felt like it was about to tear. “Oh, fuck,” you whispered in a tiny voice. Whimpering, you reached down and physically stretched out your pussyhole gently, trying to accommodate Cyrille’s cock. 

“Princess, should I - should I stop?” Cyrille asked you through gritted teeth. 

“N-No,” you told him. 

“Are you sure? You’re really fucking tight,” Cyrille replied in a heavy voice. He was forcing himself to control himself, even his breathing. “I’m barely inside of you and I feel you spasming all over...” 

What was more, Cyrille was feeling what you were feeling - that your pussyhole, too, was very tight for Cyrille’s cock today. Cyrille could feel your entrance having to stretch over the tiniest ridge or vein of his cock, forcing Cyrille to push it through, because you were already at your limit. Cyrille looked down to see you using your hands to spread open your pussyhole for him. But you were clenching your teeth in anticipation. 

“Angel, maybe we shouldn’t do this tonight,” Cyrille said, even as his cock was literally weeping with precum. 

But you shook your head. You reached up and put your hands on the back of Cyrille’s neck. You winced a little as you felt his cock pushing your pussyhole open wide as he leaned forward a little to let you hold onto his neck, but you dragged Cyrille down to you until his forehead was against yours.

“Princess? You - You all right?” Cyrille asked, his voice going hoarse with the need and want to be inside of you. 

You whispered in a breathless little voice, “Please. Just. Please.” 

In your head you completed the phrase and repeated it to yourself: Please fuck me. Please fuck me. Please, please, please. 

Cyrille understood that this was you giving your permission.

And that was the gunshot, the sharp pulling of the trigger finger, telling him to go.

His mind shut off completely, and he pushed his cock inside of you, all the fucking way. He had to use his hips quite a bit to force himself all the way inside of you, absolutely stuffing your poor pussy full of his needy cock, which was already spilling precum all over inside of you. 

Your teeth came together in a hard clench and you squirmed under him, hips moving frantically side to side under him as he plunged his cock deep inside of you, fucking you through layer by layer, deeper than he’d ever gone inside of you.

“Nnn...gh.... U-Uh-Uhhhh....” You moaned in tiny, weak moans, unable to quite comprehend how, if at all, he was fitting inside you. 

“Princess...” Cyrille moaned lowly, panting with the effort it’d taken for him to push his cock inside of you.

“Hah.... Ah... Ah...” You were breathing out only through your mouth, completely forgetting how to take a deep breath. You couldn’t. To take a deep breath required using your tummy, and you felt like your tummy was full - like he’d fucked you right through.

“Princess...” Cyrille said again, and without pulling out even a little, he thrust into you in a sharp, concentrated push, slamming his balls up into you.

Your body gave out, which was honestly no wonder. Your legs were already totally splayed out, as you were spasming all around his cock that had barely been squeezed into you. You had also already slid down the carriage door with your head tilted back, breathing shallowly and in little whimpers. The only parts of your body that were tensing with any strength were your tight abs, upon which the raven pendant lay glimmering, and your hands, which were pressed up hard against the seat and dragging against the fogged-up window, respectively.

“Princess,” Cyrille repeated yet again, but your name was slowly being transformed from one of concern to one of complete want. Cyrille was slowly but surely slipping into becoming totally lost in the sensation of being inside of you. You had the tightest pussy he’d ever been in. With every thrust, he felt your walls, in struggling to take him, wrapping tightly and throbbing hot on his cock. And down at the base of his cock, your pussy lips were gripping him so hard as he fucked you tight and hard. 

Then, when Cyrille finally began to take longer strokes, your pussy lips slid up and down the entire length of his cock in the most pleasurable way possible.

“Princess,” Cyrille groaned. ‘Oh fuck, princess, princess, princess....” 

He reached out and grasped both of your hands, covering your small hands with his and gripping them tightly. You weren’t holding hands so much as he was holding yours very possessively. In fact, with his arms stretched out over yours to hold your hands tightly in his, his entire body was arched possessively over yours, as though shielding you from the world. 

All that was visible of you was the top of your curls over his shoulder, your long legs splayed out and jerking up and down as Cyrille made you take his cock, and flashes of your pussy, still in your pretty lingerie, being brutally taken now. 

“Princess, beg for me,” Cyrille reminded you in a soft, tense voice as he took you, building up his rhythm, moving his hips faster and faster against you to slam his cock repeatedly into you. 

You couldn’t remember any words, though. B-Beg...? You thought hazily to yourself, but all you could vaguely take in was the way he was holding your arms open and by extension, holding you up against the carriage wall. Every other sensation and perception that you were capable of was fully dominated by the way his cock was plunging into your poor pussy. Somehow, you were dripping wet, though you couldn’t remember cumming. 

“Angel...” Cyrille slowed his pace a little. “Speak. I need to know you’re all right.”

You whimpered. “Y-You’re stretching me o-out s-so much. I don’t - You’re not - uhn, f-fitting...i-inside me - ”

“All right, princess,” Cyrille said, slowing down almost all the way. “Okay, we’ll take it slow until it feels good for you, all right?”

Cyrille’s cock throbbed impatiently, and you both felt it, but he ignored it. 

He gave you his cock slowly and sweetly, pulling out a little ways, too.

You slowly learned to breathe again. Then, little soft moans of pleasure began to work its way up your tummy and bubble up to your lips. You wiggled your hips in pleasure.

Cyrille smiled at you. “There you go, angel. That’s how it should feel.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked you, more than a little worried.

“I want - want you to c-cum,” you explained. 

“Angel, I appreciate that, but you can’t let me hurt you. Ever,” Cyrille said. He looked into your eyes and ordered, “Promise me.”

You paused.

“Promise,” he pressed.

“Promise,” you repeated back to him.

“Good girl,” he said softly. 

He fucked you sweet and slow for the next couple of minutes, letting you get used to his cock and easing you into it. 

“Mm, mm, mm...” Happy little moans flowed from your lips.

Cyrille leaned forward and kissing you, he caught them all. Then, after watching you for a moment, while you kept your eyes shut and focused on the lovely sensation of being fucked like this, Cyrille took a deep breath. Then, he said, bravely, “Angel, promise me something.”

“Hm?” You opened your eyes. “Promise you - uhn, w-what?”

“Promise me you’ll only think of me, and no one else, when you’re with me,” Cyrille said. He stopped moving his hips, focusing entirely on his request.

You looked at him, confused, wondering where this request was coming from all of a sudden. 

“I try not to talk about it,” Cyrille told you, “but seeing you with James... It was rough. And if he loved you whole-heartedly, maybe I could just forget about it... Because you’d be happy. So I stayed out of your way. And even if I hadn’t, I get the sense that you preferred him, anyways. Maybe you still do. But he wasn’t there for you, the way he should have been.” 

You looked away from Cyrille. It still hurt you to think about this. However, Cyrille was wrong about you still preferring James. And you, of all people, knew how much it hurt to love someone who you believed loved someone else. 

“And that night he left marks on you after...” Cyrille’s voice trailed off. Then, he said, in a gentle voice, “Angel, no matter how much control you give me over your body, I can’t control your mind, and that’s the most important part of it. Dominating your body... It’s just a substitute, and a poor one at that. I don’t care about physical domination, or whatever you want to call it, nearly as much as capturing your attention, your full attention.”

He hesitated. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, suddenly ashamed. “I don’t mean to be overbearing or make you uncomfortable.” 

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that. I’m just curious...” 

“About what? Ask me anything. I’ll tell you, angel.”

You paused. Then, you asked him, “Why are you so possessive?” Your voice was genuinely curious. You didn’t see it as a bad thing. You knew how love made possession a natural and free thing, not this toxic and all-consuming thing that many people mistook it for. To say to your loved one, “I’m yours,” was the same thing as saying, “I’m free before the eyes of the world,” because your loved one was your safe harbor. With that person by your side, you could now go and chase your dreams in the real world with just that bit more of security of knowing you could come home to someone who would kiss your wounds and give you the strength to try again the next day.

Cyrille thought about your question. Slowly tracing your body with his hands, he said softly, “Why am I so possessive? Well, because of the things I’ve lost, angel...” 

Your heart softened at his answer. His response made sense, and you were grateful for his honestly. But it also made you sad. 

“You don’t have to be so afraid,” you whispered to him. “You are the angel - the Healer, and also the afterlife.”

Cyrille reached out and touched your cheek. 

You paused when you felt his fingers softly grazing your cheek.

“And you’re the sly one,” Cyrille told you, smiling a little. “You didn’t answer my question.”

You blushed, caught. 

Cyrille leaned over you and purposefully burying his head against your neck so that you didn’t have to look at him when you answered, he asked you, “Do you love me?”

Your eyes widened. 

Cyrille’s body was tense with anticipation, and his hips moved almost of their own accord, pushing his cock back deep inside you.

“Uhn,” you moaned out suddenly. 

“Does that feel good?” Cyrille murmured, kissing your neck, too.

“Uh...” you breathed out, as he moved his hips against you, pushing his cock into you a little harder with the second thrust. 

“Y-yes, it feels g-good,” you told him.

“Mm,” Cyrille said. He ran his hands over the side of your body, from your hip to your waist to your breast, which he grasped in his hand. “It feels good?”

“Yes,” you repeated again. “You f-feel s-so good, Cy.”

“Yeah?”

“Y-Yeah...”

“And you love me?” he asked, still softly fucking you. 

“Y-yes, Cyrille, I l-love you - uhn...” Your head fell to the side as you breathed out in soft gasps. Your bare body was being held and touched and fucked by Cyrille, and your expensive dress had been ripped up and lay on the floor uselessly.

But who cares? you thought blurrily. Who cares, when his arms around you were all you needed...? 

Your mind became both clouded and clear at the same time. Not remembering your past with him and knowing that your future would diverge from his, you felt too fragile to tell him the whole truth. Cyrille, I love you most. You’re the only one for me. When I’m alone, I only think about you now. I did love James, but time has passed, and I’ve also changed. What love is for me has changed. I want you now. I’m yours. So please, love me back. If I’m really your angel, love me back. Come and live with me. Please.

But you couldn’t say all this. At the same time, you knew that you could not allow Cyrille to suffer under the illusion of thinking that you still preferred James to him. After what you had been through with James, to inflict that pain onto someone else was unacceptable to you.

Finally, you managed to blurt out softly, “C-Cy, I dream of - uhn - of you. Ah... Only y-you.” 

Cyrille’s heart did not know how to take this news. He actually, even in his wildest dreams, did not imagine that you would say yes. 

“Angel,” he whispered in a completely disbelieving voice.

“Y-Yes?” you moaned, then whimpered as he was starting to fuck you harder. Cyrille wanted to solidify this dreamlike moment by feeling your lovely, wet warmth and by making you feel him, too. 

“I’m - uhn - I’m... going to keep you s-safe,” Cyrille promised you. It was the most fragile, but also the best version of himself that he could to you: himself, as both a Healer and as a lover - that is, as a guardian. He wasn’t there yet, and he knew it. But someday, he would become that for you. That was what he was promising. 

You smiled a little, in total bliss. “I k-know,” you told him softly, finally believing in him. 

Cyrille reached up and turned your head to the other side, to face him.

Your lips met. And you both kissed, minds spinning in fervent rapture and ecstasy. 

But your lips suddenly parted wider than his, as you suddenly felt butterflies taking flight in your tummy, their wings brushing up against you deep inside of you. 

“You’re close, angel?” Cyrille asked you, picking up on your smallest movements.

You whimpered and shook your head, but you were. You were so close.

“You are,” Cyrille said, feeling your telltale signals of your pussy tightening instantly.

“Cy- Cy, I can’t c-cum anymore.” Exhausted, the words spilled out of your mouth, almost running into each other. “I - Uhn, it’s- ‘s too much...”

“I know you can, angel,” Cyrille told you. “I know you’ve got one more in you. Come on.”

He thrust hard.

“Ah!” you cried out.

“Cum for me, yeah? Show me how good this little body is, hm? This tight little pussy...” Cyrille murmured huskily, coaxing you to cum with him. He knew he was close, too. “I know you can cum again, angel...”

“A-Ah, ah, p-please, I can’t!” you said, half-sobbing.

“You’re so fucking close,” Cyrille called you out, because he wanted you to let loose and feel as good as possible, and he knew you really were right at the edge of cumming. “Cum for me. One more time, angel. Cum all over for me, like a good girl.”

“C-Cy, please, p-please...”

“Do it for me. You can. I feel how close you are, princess. You’re fucking throbbing all over my cock. So, don't hold back. Don't be embarrassed. Cum all over my cock.”

“But I- I’ll cream,” you said, finally admitting why you didn’t want to cum for a fourth time. Or was it fifth? Sixth? you wondered blurrily. I really can’t count when Cyrille’s taking me like this. “It’s embara - ah!”

An extremely intense and tight jolt of pleasure ran up your tummy, even up your spine. Your entire body tensed, but especially your thighs, ass, and pussy. 

Cyrille felt it, too. “Uhn, fuck, angel. That’s what I want, angel. Please cum for me. Cream all pretty for me, yeah? I want it. I want that sweet little pussy to cream all over my cock, princess. Give it to me.”

“Uhhh!” Your moan was throatier than normal as your worn-out body dragged itself to yet another height.

“C’mon,” Cyrille growled at you fiercely as he continued to thrust into you over and over again, trying to coax or force that last orgasm out of you. He was gritting his teeth with holding back, too. “Give it to me,” he demanded. “Cum for me the way you love me. Pretend you’re dreaming of me right now, angel.”

Pretend I’m dreaming of you? All of those endless nights I spent with you in my feverish imagination... where you would tell me you loved me and fill me up with your cum. You would leave me absolutely dripping with your cum... 

“A-ah- ah! Cy! F-fuck!” Your pussy gave in and clenched hard on his cock.

“Mmm princess, yes, there you go,” Cyrille groaned feelingly. 

Shit, he thought. That command definitely did something for her. She must have genuinely dreamed of me at some point. 

Driven by that beautiful knowledge, Cyrille drove his hips into you again, pushing his hard cock right up against your center. 

“Hah... Ah! Ah! Ah!” You gasped out as your body shook against his.

“Fuck,” Cyrille moaned. “Uhn, angel- ”

All at once, your back arched sharply off of the carriage door and seat. You threw back your head as a desperate gasp exploded from your lips, followed by a long, wavering moan that was almost a sob. Your legs jerked as you creamed heavily, all over Cyrille's cock, just as he had so wanted from you.

Cyrille fucked you gently as you came, wanting to see your cream spreading all over his shaft. 

“O-Oh God...” you stuttered as your eyes rolled back in your head.

She creams so pretty, my princess, Cyrille thought to himself, seeing your white, hot cum gradually cover the entire length of his cock. 

“Mm, so much cum,” Cyrille said. “So much cream. You came so hard, didn’t you, princess? You’ll have to tell me what I do to you in my dreams. Look at you, all spent in my arms. Dripping with cream. Fuck - and in that lingerie, too. You are so pretty, angel. So incredibly gorgeous...” Cyrille’s voice became throaty as he started to lose himself to wanting you again. Through the cum and cream, Cyrille pushed his cock back inside you. “All... All splayed out like that,” he breathed out. “Uhn... Angel...” 

“Y-you're gonna keep fucking me?” you murmured, amazed and exhausted. “You h-haven’t cum yet?”

Cyrille paused, with his cock still inside you, and covered in your cream. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked you, even as his cock begged him not to. “I can stop, princess. You know you already did so well for me tonight. You were such a sweet little girl for me tonight, weren’t you? Taking my cock over and over again until you creamed all over it, hm? We can stop here for tonight, angel. You can rest.”

But you shook your head and said, “Not until you cum, too. In me.” 

Cyrille hesitated. His cock pulsed heavily in your pussy.

You moaned softly. “Cy, you’re so big... especially today. I don’t think you’ve ever stretched me out this much.”

“It’s because... I need to fuck you rougher, harder, faster,” Cyrille finally confessed. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been holding back, angel.”

“You have?” you said softly, frowning a little. 

“Yes, but that’s because I want tonight, and every night, to be about you,” Cyrille told you. “To feel good for you, angel. It’s only what you deserve.”

You were exhausted, but you gave Cyrille a soft, genuine smile as you said, “I feel the same for you, you know.”

Cyrille blew out a short, hasty breath. Then, he said, “Well then, princess... I need to use your pussy. Can I do that?” Cyrille asked you. Even as he spoke, he thrust up into you hard enough to rock your body. 

Isn’t he already? you thought to yourself. Your head lolled against the window, moving up and down when he thrust up into you, and maybe it looked like you had nodded because Cyrille was suddenly pounding into you - absolutely ravaging you deep and hard. 

“Ah!” you cried out. “Ah, ah, ah, ah!” Your voice became nothing more than a string of endless cries, almost tipping into moans at the end of each short outburst, but then picking back up again into an aggressive breath and higher pitch as you felt Cyrille’s cock slamming into you yet again. 

The way he was working his hips against you, pushing his cock relentlessly into your pussy, pounding you, made your body bounce slightly on the seat, which wasn’t even that springy. But your hips got pushed into the seat when he pushed his hips forward, and when he pulled back, your hips sprung forward, too. The rocking movement made your whole body jerk back and forth, especially your legs, one of which was awkwardly pushed up against the seat, and the other of which was flailing in the air as Cyrille brought that leg up over his shoulder to open you up even more, to fuck you even deeper. The heel on that foot in the air came off, clattering to the carriage floor. But even the other heel, as it moved up and down in a frenzied way against the side of the seat, was now barely hanging on to the tip of your toes. Also, your lace garter straps went from tight to loose to tight and back to loose as your thighs continuously tensed from receiving him. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” You were still crying out. Your face was flushed red, and your forehead glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. Small flecks of mascara dotted just under your eyes from having shut your eyes so tightly. As the back of your head had been pressed up against the carriage door, your hairstyle had come completely undone, and your curls were a soft mess now, trapped between your head and the carriage door. 

Suddenly, without even realizing that you had been anywhere near cumming, you abruptly found yourself squirting your fresh, thick cum all over Cyrille’s cock and thighs. You stared down at yourself with wide, disbelieving eyes, as you saw your cum spatter all over the both of you. You gasped loudly. Why - Why am I cumming like that? I didn’t even... I didn’t even know I was c-close... 

As your cum drenched the seat underneath you, too, your ass and thighs became slick, and your body didn’t so much as bounce against the seat as it was shifted up and down roughly by Cyrille’s fucking you. It made the fucking feel even more intense, as you were being dragged a little ways up and down the seat, in your own wet cum, by how hard he was fucking you.

“A-Ah, ah, a- uhn! Uh, uh, uh, uhn....” You choked out your moans dutifully, not even really knowing what they meant anymore. I came for him. Like this, you said in disbelief. How could I cum for him when I’m being taken this way? I can’t even- I don’t even... Uhn! Oh God, I think - I think it feels good. Because Cyrille’s cock... God, he’s so good and thick today. So swollen. He was dripping precum before he was even inside me... And- And - Ohh, uhn it’s really starting to feel - to feel good... Mmm... C-Cy, yes... Fuck me.

Secretly, you had once dreamed of being punished by Cyrille, and you had woken up to find your sheets so thoroughly soaked that you had had to secretly change them before Emmeline woke up. But that was a secret, even to yourself. 

At that moment, Cyrille groaned loudly. “Princess,” he choked out through gritted teeth. “Beg.” 

It was the way he said that, the way he asked you to beg as though he were begging himself, that unlocked a little bit of that secret part within you. 

“Please, please, please, please,” you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips without a second thought, replacing the “ahs” you’d just been busily crying out for the past ten minutes since he’d started to fuck you again. Your pleas varied in desperation and sweetness, depending on how deep his cock inside of your pussy, but all of your pleas were so lovely and soft for Cyrille. 

Oh, fuck, angel sounds so sweet like that. Mmmm, Cyrille moaned in his head. God, how is she so perfect? And she’s just so tight. Fuck, let me ravage her. Let me just ruin this little pussy, make her all wet. I want her to squirt and cream and cum again and again on my cock. For me. And only for me. My angel.

“Cy...!” you cried out weakly. “Oh, p-please!” 

“Good fucking girl,” Cyrille growled. “Yes, you are.” 

“Yes.” - He thrust. - “Ah!” you cried. 

“You.” - Thrust. -“Uhn!”

“- Are.” - Thrust. - “A-Ah, f-fuck!” 

Getting close to cumming, Cyrille groaned and kissed you aggressively, locking your lips hard while still fucking your fervently. But after only a few seconds, you had to pull away from his lips.

“You have to - to let me kiss you,” Cyrille told you, panting hard. His abs were burning, and his cock hurt. He needed to cum so bad, but he needed to make love to you in these last few seconds, or he couldn’t cum. You had met him halfway for the first time tonight in actually showing him what was in his heart. You had thrown caution to the wind, and against your own need to protect your vulnerabilities, you had come out before Cyrille and confessed that you loved him. Now Cyrille needed to show you, to tell you, somehow, that he loved you as well. 

I love you.

But in your usual princess-like manner, you were not making it easy for him to express his love. In fact, in a somewhat hilarious and ironic turn of events, you were pulling away from him. 

But you had your reasons: between Cyrille’s kissing and fucking, your body was being pushed to its limits, and you were having trouble getting enough air in your lungs as he fucked you to that high point of senseless and mindless pleasure and exhaustion. 

“I- I can’t - ah, ah, ah! - C-Cy, I can’t b-breathe,” you told him, protesting. 

“Angel, you don’t need to when you’re with me,” Cyrille reminded you. His hands squeezed yours again. The back of your hand on the window was numb from the freezing cold glass, and you didn’t even notice. 

Cyrille captured his lips in yours again, muffling your pretty moans into strained murmurs that spilled out from your lips nonetheless. “Mm, Mm, Mm! Mmm...!” 

You felt like your lungs were going to explode from want of breath. Your heart was pounding so hard you were having an adrenaline rush. Finally, you pushed Cyrille away again and tried desperately to get air back into your lungs, which was quite a challenge, as Cyrille was still fucking you for all he was worth, fully using his tight, cut muscles to ruin your pussy, fucking it into its most vulnerable state, which was also the most appropriate state - or so Cyrille thought - for you to cum or be cummed in. 

Preferably both, but I can’t really cum in Angel, Cyrille thought to himself hazily between his thrusts and grunts and groans. My feelings for her distort the Spell. I can feel it. It’s not safe. And that’s even truer tonight. But I’ll fuck her as hard as I can, as much as she can take, until I do cum. Uhn, angel... You just don’t know what you do to me. I want to cum in you so bad. But I need you to be safe. So, if you can’t take my cum, take my cock. Take all of it, over and over again. Let me pound your little pussy, and use it, use it until it’s all wet and squirting all over my cock... Fuck, yes. Yes, take my cock, angel. You are such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Yes, you fucking are. And if you’ll do me the honor, you always will be. 

“U-Uhn, ah, ah, ah!” you cried out. Your moans were becoming hoarse, adding an extra dimension of raspy softness to your lovely voice. I can’t believe he’s still fucking me. 

“Please!” you suddenly burst out. “Oh, please! Cy!”  

“Fuck,” Cyrille spat out suddenly. “Oh fuck, I’m- I’m going to- ” His voice, husky and aggressive, abruptly broke off. Then, he suddenly squeezed your hands in his so tightly that it hurt. 

Cyrille started to pull out, but you suddenly found the strength to lock your legs around him, keeping him inside you.

“Wait, n-no, don’t! Stay inside me. C-Cum inside me,” you gasped out. 

Cyrille groaned. “Angel, it’s not safe. You felt it last time, didn’t you? Uhn... It’s not... We’re too-”

“Please,” you whispered fervently. “Please. Cum inside me. Please.”

Cyrille moaned. “I can’t - can’t hold it. Angel...”

“Please, I need you to cum inside me. It’s what I need. For me. Please. Please. Please.” You repeated your moans in a soft, but absolutely desperate voice. 

“Angel!” Cyrille suddenly growled your name in a rough voice that tore at his throat. Then, he thrust into you hard one last time - 

“Uhn!” 

“Ah!”

Cyrille’s final thrust drew a soft, high moan from him, and a strangled, wrenching cry from you. 

For one long, arching moment, all there was in that tiny, cramped space was the overwhelming scent of sex, the sound of both of you panting and moaning and fucking and begging, the heat of your bodies making love and all pressed up against each other and taking each other as his and hers - and then, Cyrille’s head fell forward against your shoulder. His mouth was open and he was moaning hotly against your bare shoulder, and gripping your hands tightly, squeezing them hard, he finally came hard deep inside of you. 

He lay on top of you for a moment, his hands slipping down your sides to gently hold your waist. You had your chin on your shoulder. You were staring up blearily at the ceiling of the carriage, with your arms around his shoulders and your legs still wrapped around his waist. 

Both of you were panting for a long while, feeling safe in this tiny, and now quite hot, space.

Cyrille finally murmured to you, a bit amused, “You can let me go now, angel. I think I’ve finished cumming.”

“No,” you said playfully, if not exhaustedly, as you refused to unlock your legs. “I’m keeping you here forever.” 

You felt Cyrille smile against your shoulder. “Please do.” 

“Angel,” he said, a moment later. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, exhausted. But just before he began to kiss you, you paused.

“What?” Cyrille asked. 

You slowly opened your thighs and looked down. Cyrille’s cum was just beginning to drip out of your filled pussy. 

“Oh, Cy,” you breathed out. “You came so much in me.”

“Mm, I did, angel,” Cyrille said, gazing down at his white cum slowly dripping out of you onto your gorgeous thighs, only to be caught by the garters around your thighs. 

“Thank you.”

Cyrille paused when he heard you say that. “You don’t have to say those phrases anymore, angel.” 

“Have to...?” you repeated, confused. Then, you suddenly realized that he’d once given you orders to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. “Oh, I forgot about that,” you said honestly, not fazed in the least. “It just came out.” 

Cyrille stared at you, wondering how in the world someone who matched him so perfectly could exist. 

Meanwhile, you were busy reaching down and rubbing your pussy a little, wanting to fuck the cum back inside of you. “Mmm,” you moaned. “I love your cum in me, Cyrille.” 

It’s my angel, filled with my cum. And that makes her so happy. Cyrille breathed out. 

Then, he suddenly leaned down and softly kissed you, claiming the kiss he’d gotten your permission for. The kiss was brief, and gentle, but full of love for you. This was all Cyrille wanted - to be able to hold you and stay with you after your long and torrid sessions, without fear of being the reason that someone hurt you. 

And it wasn’t just that, Cyrille thought guiltily and sorrowfully. It wasn’t just about others around him hurting you. It was about him hurting you too.

He sighed. 

That short, curt, and disappointed sound made you open your eyes. You’d been peacefully floating on a cloud of bliss when you heard his upset sound. 

You blinked up at him with wide eyes, wondering what could be wrong.

Seeing your soft eyes looking up at him in concern, Cyrille said to you, “Angel. I’m sorry.”

“What? Why?”

“I... I should have been softer tonight. I should have made love to you...”

You did your best to cock your head at him. “You did make love to me, though... Isn’t that what we just did?” 

Cyrille gave you the soft smile you were trying to elicit from him, but it slid off his face quickly. “No,” he said. As he spoke, his eyes were downcast and heavy. “I should have treated you much more gently...”

Cyrille purposefully cut himself off there, not wanting to force you back into the mindset of thinking about your family all over again, or of potentially ruining the blissful mood created by your shy, shared confessions.

Instead, Cyrille focused on apologizing for his actions. He told you sincerely, “I’m sorry. I know I’m not good at this. The way I want to be with you... It’s a mystery to me as to how to show that to you sometimes. I’m so used to pretending with my lovers. I don’t know how to actually be there for you when you need me, and to show you my... Well, I suppose my love for you, angel.” 

Those last words made your heart leap. But in this moment, you focused on responding to Cyrille, gently shaking your head at him. “You gave me exactly what I wanted,” you reassured him. “And the rest... the rest we’ll figure out together, my love.”

Cyrille froze. My love. That’s what you had just called him. It was one of his old nicknames that you’d had for him... Cyrille swallowed hard.

“What?” you asked, suddenly nervous that you’d said something wrong.

“Nothing,” Cyrille said softly but his voice was slightly hoarse. He leaned down and claimed your lips passionately. 

“Angel,” he breathed out. “Angel, I’ve missed you so very much...” 

In his mind, he added, Thank you for deciding to love me again. 

You kissed him back lovingly. Reaching up, you brushed his long silver hair back from his face. And for once, you could read - completely and with no doubt in your heart what was written in his eyes, and in his heart - his love for you. 

And then, Cyrille asked you quietly, “Angel, you keep asking me to leave with you. Tell me, would you truly run away with me?”

“Yes,” you told him softly, with no hesitation.

Cyrille blinked quickly. Then, he reached out and switched places with you, so that instead of you lying back on the carriage seat, and having him on top of you, you were now the one on top of him. This way, he could cradle you and hug you tightly without being afraid of putting too much of his weight on you. 

He squeezed you tightly in his arms as he whispered in your ear, in a voice full of feeling, “Angel, you’re my everything.” 

Your eyes flashed wide open. He couldn’t see you, but you were suddenly about to cry. I’ve never been enough for anyone I loved... James... My mother... Now, he tells me I’m his everything. 

Cyrille felt your shoulders tremble a little in his embrace. “Are you crying?” he asked you softly.

“No,” you said, but your voice indicated otherwise. 

"You don’t need to hide anything you’re feeling from me,” Cyrille whispered to you. “I want to know you, angel.” 

Your curls shook slightly as you buried your face against his chest in response.

It suddenly occurred to Cyrille that you needed to be taken care of. Furthermore, you were both totally naked. Well, you were in your garter set, but still. Without displacing you on his chest, Cyrille was able to reach down to the floor and grab your wand and his long outer cloak. He handed you your wand, saying, “Here.” 

You performed the usual Cleansing and Prevention Spells on yourself. 

“I would... do it twice,” Cyrille suggested to you. “Just to make sure.”

Afterwards, Cyrille dragged his cloak over your body to cover you up and keep you warm. Then, he wrapped his arms around you again and gave you a kiss on the top of your head. 

You curled up on his chest. “Am I hurting you?” you asked him softly, worried about pressing up against his chest too much. “Your scars, I mean.”

“No, angel, you’re not hurting me. You’re just keeping me warm,” he told you.

You peeked out from under the cloak at him.

Cyrille smiled at you, but seeing your tired, though still adorable and bright eyes, he said, “We should get you to bed.”

“No,” you protested at once, popping your head out from underneath the cloak. “I want to stay with you.” 

You shook your head so fervently that the cloak nearly slipped off of you. Cyrille just managed to catch it before it fell. He brought it up around you again. 

He gazed down at you, and you were staring up at him with your fierce, defiant eyes.

“All right,” Cyrille gave in. “All right. Let’s stay together, then.” 

And you did. The two of you stayed together just like that, in that tiny bench in the carriage. You both wandered off to sleep, fading in and out of unconsciousness. Unaccustomed to sleeping in a carriage sitting in the outdoors and a little uncomfortable on that cramped bench, every so often, one of you would halfway wake up, and then you’d press soft kisses on the other that the other would respond to, but never remember. 

*     *     *     *     *      *     *     *     *     *

Finally, a pale blue dawn broke over the horizon, and a long sweet night of breathless confessions, murmuring kisses, and unfinished dreams came to an end, as marked by the coming daylight. 

Cyrille, who had been trained to wake up at the slightest disturbance, opened his eyes tiredly. 

He looked down, and seeing you there, curled up on his chest, and holding the raven pendant loosely in your little hand, he couldn’t help but smile softly.

My dream has come true... To wake up with angel... 

But, Cyrille thought with a sigh, she must be uncomfortable like this. And I can’t have her showing up to the castle in a ripped dress in front of everyone, and with me at her side, can I? I should make sure she’s safe and comfortable before everyone else wakes up.

I know for a fact that Yaxley saw us last night, and I can’t have him confirming anything, Cyrille thought grimly. 

But Cyrille was so torn between not wanting to let you go and needing you to be safe and comfortable. 

Finally, after slipping out very slowly and carefully from under you, he managed to dress in his pants and inner button-up shirt. Then, he managed to wrap you up without waking you in his longer cloak. He stuffed your dress, the masks, and your earrings into the pocket of his cloak, too, magicking it all to fit. Then, he carefully took you up to the prefects’ bathroom, hoping that no one would be there at this hour, especially after the night of the Yule Ball. 

Cyrille had been a Slytherin prefect as a fifth-year, and as such, was still granted access to the bathrooms, even though he didn’t really have any duties anymore, between new prefects and the assignment of a seventh-year Head Boy. 

There was a long lounge bench that was as soft as a bed in the bathroom. He laid you down gently on it, still wrapped in your cloak. He slid a fluffy towel under your head as a pillow. Then, sitting on the floor next to you, he nodded off too. 

[hufflebuns]

Healing Hands

Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Summary: Helping soothe Remus after the full moon.

Warnings: mentions of depressive moods, and it’s not entirely that good :/

It was two days after the Full Moon. Remus typically kept to himself for the first couple days after the full moon. It’s not that he didn’t want to be with Y/n, he just didn’t feel worthy of being around someone so pure, so good, so gentle, that soon after his transition to and from being a self proclaimed monster. So, he kept his distance.  She understood why he felt that way, and so she never really pressured him to talk to her or be around her.

It was a little after 1 in the morning, Y/n was already asleep in bed, with the comfort of her boyfriend sleeping next to her. Or so, she thought. Remus was actually sat at the dining table of their shared flat, sitting in silence while sipping on some chamomile tea. He couldn’t sleep and he didn’t want his restlessness to wake his girlfriend. 

Y/n was slightly stirring in her sleep, turning over to where Remus should’ve been laying. Her arm instinctively fell over where his body typically rested. After her arm was met with the sensation of the cold sheets, her body bolted up. She looked around the room for any sign of Remus. After not finding one, she rose out of the bed and shuffled quietly out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Once she reaches the open space of their dining room, Y/n’s eyes landed on Remus’s lanky figure, slouched over with his jaw in both of his hands. He was sitting silently, his legs bouncing up and down, anxiously. His eyes were empty, no glow or glitter in them. The sight alone broke Y/N’s heart. Her whole world was sitting right in front of her, completely shattered by an uncontrollable condition. And she felt, helpless. His head shoots up when he hears her sympathetic sigh.

“Hello, darling,” Y/n spoke softly, walking closer to her beloved boyfriend and wrapping her arms around him from behind. She leans over and pecks his cheek. In response, he places his hand on her arm, letting her know he’s content with her presence, and wants her to keep holding him, but remaining silent. “Can’t sleep?” she asks, which elicits a gentle nod from him. She frowns slightly at his silence, but nonetheless understands. It happened quite frequently, but she was still learning how to tend to him at times like these.

He always did so much for her, he was so protective and good to her. He babied her any chance he got, spoiled her rotten with the purest and most honest love and affection. When she had fallen into the occasional depressive slump, he always comforted her and did all that he could for her. It only felt right to make him feel just as cared for.

“How about I run you a warm bath? It will help soothe your body.” Y/n proposes. Remus nods and stands up, body slightly slouched, waiting for her to move first. Y/n’s small hand latches on to his large one and gently leads him to the bathroom. “Sit there on the toilet while I get it ready, okay?” She softly helps him sit down on the closed toilet.

Remus sits and watches as Y/n turns the water on, letting the tub fill up with warm, but not scalding, water. She grabs the Epsom salt from the cabinet under the sink and pours a bit into the water. Watching her do something so simple, but so kind for him brought him so much joy. He could’ve easily drawn himself a bath while she was in bed, asleep, but there was something so much more comforting about a bath made by your significant other, like the bathtub was filled with love and care, rather than water, and she knew he needed a bit more of that.

“Is it alright if I undress you now?” she turns to Remus as he let’s out a quiet, strained, “Yes.” She gives him a caring smile. “Alright, arms up.” He lifts his arms up, allowing her to pull his shirt over his head. He stands and pushes the waistband of his sweatpants and briefs down his legs and steps out of them. Meanwhile, Y/n is pulling Remus’s t shirt off her body and stepping into the tub. 

She looks up at Remus and smiles, gesturing for him to get in with her. He steps in and leans back against her, careful not to put too much of his weight onto her. He lets out a sigh of relief as the warm water meets his skin, engulfing his sore joints and muscles, instantly calming the ache.

Y/n’s delicate hands land on his shoulders, rubbing them softly, careful not to be too rough or to go too deep. His eyes close as his body relaxes and molds into hers. She’s humming quietly as she moves her hands down to rub at his biceps. “My sweet baby,” she whispers to him as she kisses his shoulders. “I’ll always take care of you.”

His lips curve up into his first smile in what felt like ages. Y/n had such a way about her, she was so sweet, so patient and so loving. He felt so safe and secure. He realized that she didn’t see the monster living within him, but only saw the man she adored. She didn’t look into his eyes and see an evil entity staring back at her, she really saw him and accepted him as he is. 

The two laid together in silence for a while, letting their worries and sorrows wash down the drain with the same water that soothed their physical and mental pains. When Y/n let out a yawn, Remus let it sink in that she was sacrificing her sleep just to make sure he was okay. He knew she would do anything just to ease the hurt he felt. She truly was his angel.

Her eyes were growing heavier, and when Remus turned to look at her, she gave him a sleepy smile. “Let’s get you back into bed, yea?” He finally spoke a full sentence. That alone lessened Y/n’s struggle to keep her eyes open. She nodded and stood up after him. He wrapped a towel around his waist and helped her wrap a towel around her body. They linked hands and walked into their bedroom together. 

It was his turn to take care of her now. He motions for her to sit on the bed, as he goes over to his chest and grabs one of his t-shirts for her to wear, her underwear and some briefs for himself. He walks back to her and helps the shirt over her body as she slides the underwear up her legs. He kisses her forehead before sliding his briefs on. He grabs her brush from her vanity and gently brushes through the damp ends of her hair.

“Let’s lay down now, my sleepy girl.” He sets her brush back into place, shuts off the light and climbs into bed. He holds his arms out so that Y/n can climb into his grasp. She lays her head on his chest and sighs happily. 

“I love you so much Remus. You are my everything.” She pecks his chest. “And you, Y/n darling. You are my everything and even more.” he leans forward and kisses her head, as she falls asleep in his arms. Her soft breaths lulling him into a peaceful sleep. 

Taglist: @evergreenghost @amourtentiaa​

I’m gonna start making a taglist! If you want to be added, let me know!! :3

[remuseatsdeodorant]

Darkside!Logan

Nobody asked for me to talk about him but here I am anyway.

Got long so it’s under a cut now.

Explination goes into how recent episodes have been altered, thus any content warnings on DWIT and SvS should likely be heeded.

~~

-Logan wasn’t always a dark side, Logic is a good and useful thing after all.

-But a side can only handle being ignored and pushed aside for the emotions for so long.

-I’m thinking sometime around the Puppet episode. Logan has become so frustrated and angry that he’s being pushed aside and the other sides seem to just be annoyed by him.

-Obviously it’s been building up for awhile, and He’s been trying to logic himself out of his anger, push the emotions down, just keep trying, surely they’ll listen eventually.

-And well they dont. and now theyre singing this stupid song? This isn’t going to help Thomas with the issue that logically, he shouldn’t even have.

-The others didn’t expect this, Logan seemed to be opening up, goofing around with the others…

-So when he started literally glitching and lashing out at them near the end of their happy song, then disappeared… They were clearly worried.

-They quickly wrap things up with Thomas, and try to go to Logans room to check on him.

-The door is there, certainly. It’d be illogical if it were to disappear. But they cant open it. They can’t hear anything inside.

-Roman starts plotting to break down the door, Patton a bit shakey, but trying his best to help him with the plan.

-Virgil’s trying to stay calm, but Roman and Pattons frantic brainstorming isn’t helping. He mumbles that they should probably just leave him alone, he’ll come out when he’s calmed himself. He’s Logic, he’s good at that.

-Patton and Roman hesitantly agree, the three returning to their rooms, or helping Thomas with basic things.

-Meanwhile Logan is pacing in his room, the quiet hums of the new robotic bits breaking the otherwise perfect silence.

-He’s trying to ignore that Deciet sits on his bed, a large, yet somewhat sympathetic grin.

-He supposes he can kind of accept there’s some emotions. The current pace of his heart seems to prove that he’s panicing.

-He pauses his pacing, a gloved? Metallic? Both? Hand over his mouth as he stares at the wall, quickly tapping a foot.

-”Logan” Calls Deciet from the bed.

-Logan expected a more sinister tone from Deciet, not one so sad. So he turns his head, glancing at Deciet, wincing a bit at the metal creaking, but otherwise looking annoyed by the unwelcome side.

-Deciet’s smile softens, a head tilting, “They finally got to you, didn’t they?” Logan rolls his eyes as Deciet continues, “I expected Roman or Virgil, you seemed much more…. Stable…”

-”I’d prefer if you didn’t point out my failure, Deciet…” Logans tone seeming much more deadpan than normal.

-They proceed to talk for some time, Deciet helping Logan to accept what’s happened, saying the “light sides” are always so dismissive of those they disagree with…

-The sides don’t see or hear anything from Logan until Selfishness vs. selflessness.

-Deciet pops up, looking like Logan, after the sides and Thomas freak out, ask if he’s alright, and Deciet plays it off, they get started on the real issue.

-What the sides don’t know is that Logan was in on it this time.

-Once Deciet is discovered, the sides are right back to worrying about Logan. Virgil assumes Deciet did something to him, Deciet claims innocence (Which is mostly true), though he doesn’t go into any detail about him even though the sides are suspecting he knows something.

-The episode proceeds as normal until Deciet calls in Logan. He’s obviously still doing his job, just a bit quieter than before.

-The others are all freaking out again while Deciet and Logan sit and wait for them to calm down. Logan not answering a single question tossed at him.

-Once they quiet down, Logan says, “Ah so now you all wish to hear from me. Anyway, You called, Deciet?”

-The same questioning occurs until Patton comes up. Patton avoiding all questions related to the issue, trying to get any bit of information on where Logan has been.

-Logan is incredibly vague.

-”I’ve been doing my job. Working to improve Thomas. I just told all of this to Deciet, is it necessary to ask for these answers again?”

-Logan willingly zaps himself to the back of the room.

-Every time someone tries to refer to Logan as the Logical one, he corrects them to Apathy. While he is still the Logical side, he’s renamed his title. Deciet is the only one to not refer to him as Logic.

-The episode continues and concludes reletively the same, though Logan just speaks up whenever needed, rather than trying to gain attention before answering questions. And the awkward atmosphere, of course.

-Once again, Logan goes into silence. He seems to appear within the mind palace occasionally, but almost like a cryptid, the sides think they saw him, but then he was just… Gone…

-Then Remus.

-Deciet had told Logan that Remus was going to bother the others, but not many details. The snake seemed rather good at keeping specifics to himself.

-Roman attempts to pull Logan up multiple times while trying to gain information, before Logan eventually pops in himself, startling the other sides.

-They’re finally able to get a proper look at him now, though Logan goes straight into buisness.

-Shrugging off the sides concern once again, He immediately asks about the intrusive thoughts once Roman asks, not pausing when the others attempt to shut him up.

-The reaction bit still occurs, just as Logans own comment on the reactions of Patton, Virgil, and Thomas. Especially considering nothing happened when the words were spoken.

-Yet.

-Logan attempts to continue the discussion of the thoughts, but everyone decides to push them aside.

-Logan takes notice of Remus begining to pop up, and takes his leave, the others trying to get him to stay.

-Song, without Logan, but a mention that he opened the door to let him out for the episode. (Through Logans pushing of the subject)

-Virgil attempts to take Logans spot through the episode, as Thomas is a bit too tired for Logic to push through.

-This of course means that Thomas loses some information, as Logan is not there to explain Remus.

-The sides struggle for awhile as they continue giving Remus attention, and trying to shut im up.

-Logan pops in momentarily a few times, reading a book to show he’s only slightly bored watching everyone struggle. He mumbles bits of advise before popping out with no answers.

-”Ignore him” “You can’t quiet him” “He’ll get bored eventually if you stop listening”

-His first pop in is for “Thomas’ friends and family is one thing, but his work? Is nothing sacred?”

-To which Remus actually apologizes, Logan pops away, then Thomas questions the line, then Remus continues on his train of thought.

-After Virgil struggles to get Patton to stop attempting repression, he manages to calm himself and tries to logic things out. Bringing up the things Logan keeps popping up and saying. That Logan must keep popping in for a reason.

-Logan doesnt pop in and stay until Virgil, Patton, and Thomas can all agree that they need Logan’s help. Which, given the emotional load of Virgil and Patton, that’s a very difficult task.

-The three almost begging Logan to stay when he next pops in.

-Logan goes on to explain things to everyone, his voice taking on a very angered/annoyed lecturing tone, and Remus being rather patient with Logan compared to the canon episode.

-One detail Deciet told Logan was that Remus likes to be violent, thus Logan was prepared for Remus to start attempting to “harm” him.

-This is the first time the two dark sides speak, they both make multiple refrences to Deciet in their back and forth, implying that they’ve been comunicating through the snake until now.

-When Remus disappears momentarily, and everyone takes notice, Logan pulls up his book, turns a page and, “Oh no, dont do thaat.” A sarcastic warning, before Remus pops up again.

-Logan coldly lectures the sides once more, finishing with a, “I hope you recognize how useful Logic can be in the future.” then vanishes.

-Remus is wrapped up, the others mention that Logan was pretty cool, but they’re still worried about him.

-He can still hear them, left to have the most subtle smile.

-While being a dark side, he still pops up in the Mindscape. The others try making conversation but Logan keeps it rather short and cold.

-Roman questions why he pops up, yet the other dark sides don’t, Virgil mumbles “You guys always made them uncomfortable, but Logan is used to us, so I guess he doesn’t mind.” Roman doesn’t catch all of that.

-Logan still joins them for the Sanders Asides, but is mostly silent for it, being very blunt with every bit of input

[miguel-manbemel]

Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 42: Beware the Paladin Part 2: The Downfall

Second part of the story I started two weeks ago. There’s not much I’d wish to add that I didn’t say already in the introduction of part 1, so I leave you with the story. I hope you enjoy it and until next time with part 3 of the story.

SYNOPSIS: Thomas’ sanity is completely compromised and Joan has difficulties to rein Thomas in, so they leave him with Kenny and Talyn to enter the Mind Palace and see if they can be of help in the chase of the Paladin, who is destroying room after room in the Mind Palace, further deteriorating Thomas’ condition.

WARNINGS: Depiction of a mental illness. Romantic prinxiety, dukeceit and logicality. Angst. Suicide mentions.

EPISODE INDEX

[there’s a sign reading “In the previous episode…” Then images from the previous episode are shown while Joan’s voice is heard narrating]

JOAN-NARRATOR: Something’s happening to Thomas and we still don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s affecting Roman, or maybe Roman is affecting Thomas, or maybe they both affect each other at the same time, I don’t know. The point is that Roman’s sickness caused by Thomas’ lack of hope has gone worse over time, to the point where not even the pills of hope Thomas unconsciously generates for him from the little moments of happiness he can get, work for too long. Remus, seeing how badly affected his brother was, gave him one pill too much, and that triggered Roman’s transformation into the Paladin, who after running away, beat up Logan and rendered him unconscious. Then he started wreaking havoc, destroying rooms all over the Mind Palace. Meanwhile, in the real world, Thomas started feeling the effects of the Paladin’s rampage, by losing his mind completely and entering a state of delusional euphoria. He thinks that he can only reach stardom by jumping to the stars… literally from a high branch on a tree next to his house. Thank goodness that Talyn, Kenny and I managed to convince him to come back down by playing along with his delusion and making him believe that the producers he hoped to find in the stars were actually in his apartment, waiting for him to sign the contract of his life. Now he’s here, playing video games while he waits for the producers to come out of the bathroom, or that’s what we told him. I locked the door and kept the key so he can't escape and injure himself or something worse. I hope this charade can buy the Sides enough time to take care of the Paladin and, I hope, bring Thomas’ sanity back before he gets out of control again.

[intro sequence]

[Thomas is still playing Kingdom Hearts while Joan, Talyn and Kenny watch him]

THOMAS: They’re taking a bit long, aren’t they? When are the producers gonna come out of the bathroom?

JOAN: Uh… please, be patient, Thomas. You know how badly can spicy food affect some people. You don’t want them to get mad at you because you hurried them, right?

THOMAS: [beat, pausing the game] Are you sure they’re in the bathroom at all? Are you sure they’re in this house at all?

JOAN: Of course! Why do you ask?

THOMAS: Because producers don’t use other people’s bathrooms! That’s not professional! Besides, Sokka has just told me that something’s wrong here.

JOAN: Sokka’s told you…?

THOMAS: Have you been lying to me, Joan?

JOAN: What?

THOMAS: [increasingly angry] You’ve been lying to me, admit it! You lied to me because you’re jealous of my achievement and you want to steal it away from me! F… [bleep] CK!

[Thomas furiously throws the controller aiming at the TV, but misses it, though the controller gets shattered in pieces. Then he stands up in a fit of anger. Joan, Talyn and Kenny also stand up]

THOMAS: [yelling] I thought you were by my side, that you would be happy for what I had accomplished! But you are just one of those who always get in my way, who won’t let me move forward in my dreams! But I won’t let you get away with this!

[starts running to the door. Kenny and Talyn grab him]

THOMAS: [yelling] You too!? Let me go! No one’s gonna prevent me to fulfill my dreams! No one! Let me go! I need to jump! I need to jump!

JOAN: [yelling] Thomas, sit down! Now! You can’t get out of the house, I have hidden the key and we won’t give it to you until you calm yourself! And you’ll never get to the producers in time if you don’t! [yelling as loud as their lungs allow them, their voice, on the verge of screech, even cracks] So SIT DOWN!!!

[Thomas looks at everyone with a face of anger. Then he sits down]

THOMAS: How could you betray me like this? I thought you were my friend.

JOAN: [clearing their throat as they clearly hurt it in the last yell] And I’m your friend, the best friend you could ever ask for. That’s why I need you to sit down here. You’re gonna thank me later, even if you don’t understand right now. [to Kenny and Talyn] Guys, do you think you’ll be able to handle him on your own?

KENNY: Yes, I think so, why?

JOAN: I’m going back to the Mind Palace. I wanna check how things are going in there.

THOMAS: What? No, I won’t let you in my Mind Palace! You’re not welcome there anymore! No!

KENNY: Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him.

JOAN: All right, then. Talyn, if something happens that would need my attention, you can enter the Mind Palace too. Get in to warn me, but only if there’s a crisis, okay? The Mind Palace is not a safe place with the Paladin on the loose.

TALYN: The Paladin? Who’s the Paladin?

JOAN: There’s no time now. I’ll explain later, when all of this is over, I hope soon.

TALYN: Okay, Joan. Be careful.

JOAN: I will. Well, if I want news about Roman, the best is to go to his room… Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can.

[Joan concentrates, then sinks down. Then they rise up in Roman’s room. Chris is there on the couch]

JOAN: Hi, Chris.

CHRIS: Hi, Joan.

JOAN: Any news about Roman?

CHRIS: No, not yet. I’m so worried about my father. Any news from the outer world?

JOAN: Yes, but they’re not good. Thomas has lost his mind. He’s gone completely crazy, and of course, this thing about the Paladin must be the cause.

CHRIS: Oh, no…

JOAN: Maybe if Logan could give him some common sense, he could come back to normal. Is he still here?

CHRIS: Yes, he’s upstairs in my father’s bed. Remus is with him. But he still hasn’t woken up.

JOAN: This is an emergency… no, this is a crisis, a literal mental crisis. We need Logan to wake up so he can guide us. There has to be a way.

CHRIS: The key is in the Paladin, somehow. Before passing out Logan said he wouldn’t wake up until the Paladin was gone. The rest of the Sides, Patton, Ian, Janus and Virgil, are looking for him. But he’s fast as heck. He goes to one room, turns it into a mess and then leaves, before they can catch him. It’s like trying to catch a thunderbolt.

JOAN: And the more rooms he destroys, the more Thomas’ sanity deteriorates… Well, I hope they can catch him. Otherwise, Thomas is doomed. You didn’t mention Remus. Why doesn’t he join the chase?

CHRIS: He’s taking care of Logan. Dad didn’t want him around. He blames him for everything. He was the one who gave Remus the extra pill that started all this mess, you know? But I don’t judge him harshly for that. He only did what he thought it would be best for Roman, like we all try to do. It’s his brother and he loves him. He saw him suffering and he just wanted his suffering to end. He didn’t have any ill will. He just made a mistake, a terrible, dangerous mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

JOAN: Mistake or not, that doesn’t matter. I do think Remus should join the chase. Among all the Sides, he’s the most prepared to deal with that Paladin, I think.

CHRIS: I agree, but I don’t know what to tell him. Remus is devastated by guilt, he’s not himself anymore. It’s like he’s losing his will to do anything at all.

JOAN: I think I’ll go check on him. I haven’t had many chances to speak to him, but maybe I can get to him.

CHRIS: If you did, I’d be very grateful. Thank you, Joan.

JOAN: I’ll go, then.

[Joan goes upstairs and enters the bedroom. There he finds Remus next to Logan, still unconscious in bed. Remus has cleaned all of Logan’s wounds the best he could and summoned brand-new glasses and necktie, so he doesn’t look as bad as before, but he’s still bruised everywhere, though the worst wounds have been covered by Remus with bandages]

REMUS: Oh, hi, Joan.

JOAN: Hello, Remus. How is Logan doing?

REMUS: See your yourself. I’m doing my best to take care of him, so he could, maybe, wake up sooner, but he still hasn’t given any sign of life. I hope he can get over this and wake up. I have many wrongdoings in my life of which I don’t feel sorry at all, but this… I wouldn’t forgive myself if Logan didn’t wake up. Or if something happened to Roman because of me. They still haven’t caught him, the Paladin I mean, right?

JOAN: No, they haven’t yet… Why don’t you go help them?

REMUS: I can’t. Virgil forbade me to do so. I think he hates me. It wouldn’t be the first time, anyway, but this time he has a valid reason and it breaks my heart.

JOAN: Still, I think you should join the chase. I understand Virgil, but this goes beyond Roman or him. Thomas’ mental health is endangered if the Paladin is not contained. He’s already lost his sanity and could hurt himself if we don’t do something.

REMUS: That too? Just what I needed. I really want to help, to fix the mistake I made, but Virgil…

JOAN: Virgil will have to understand. At this point, Thomas is more important than his feelings. If you want to fix things, chase the Paladin, catch him and put him in a safe place until the pill’s effects wear off. That’s the only way you can redeem yourself, and you would save Thomas at the same time.

REMUS: But…

JOAN: [yelling] Oh, for f… [bleep] ‘s sake, Remus! I thought you always did whatever you wanted whenever it pleased you! Are you trying to tell me that it wouldn’t please you to join the chase? Then what are you still doing here? Thomas and Roman need you! Help save them, now!

[Remus shows a face of determination]

REMUS: You’re right. They need me, I can’t let them down! But who will stay with Logan?

CHRIS: [entering the room leaning on his crotches] I will, Remus. And if it serves for something, you have my permission to save my father. My dad will understand in time, you’ll see.

JOAN: And I’ll stay with him so that he’s not alone if the Paladin shows up here. Don’t worry, Remus. Logan is in safe hands.

REMUS:  Okay. If the Paladin shows up here, summon me at once, got it?

JOAN: Got it. Now, go.

[Remus sinks down. Meanwhile, Virgil and the others are looking for the Paladin everywhere in the Mind Palace. They only find the traces of destruction he’s leaving behind]

VIRGIL: This is so wrong… This is all so wrong. I’m starting to get concerned about Thomas’ sanity at this point. This is literally his mind, and it’s getting destroyed bit by bit.

[The Paladin appears in front of them with a maniac grin]

PALADIN: As if you hadn’t done worse things than me against Thomas’ mental health, Emo Nightmare.

VIRGIL: There he is! Get him!

[The Paladin pulls out a sword with a mischievous, evil laughter. He hits the ground with the sword, with all his might and an earthquake happens that makes everyone fall down. He cackles evilly]

PALADIN: Just look at all of yourselves. You’re so pathetic. You’re a failure as Sides and don’t deserve to be called as such! Luckily for Thomas, I’m gonna fix this once and for all, by getting rid of all of you, so that no more hinders block Thomas’ way to glory! I already took care of Logan. You all are next! And I’ll start with you, Emo Nightmare!

VIRGIL: Stop calling me like that, Paladin!

PALADIN: Why? That’s who you are, or that’s what I get from Roman’s memories. That’s who you’ve always been and forever will be in Roman’s eyes. Always a hinder for Thomas’ pursue of his hopes and dreams. He’s always hated you a bit because of that, and frankly, I don’t blame him.

VIRGIL: You… You’re lying! You’re obviously lying! Roman loves me!

PALADIN: Oh, love and hate can coexist, you know? I won’t deny that you look cute as a button, that’s why he thinks he loves you, but he could never love you completely. Because every time you get into action, you place Thomas one step back from his dreams. And he can’t stand it. You’re making Roman’s life miserable in the long term, and in his mind he puts all the blame on you. Now he’s blinded by his attraction to you, but when his “love” for you wears off, and it will, don’t doubt it, he’ll hold everything you’ve done to Thomas against you, and he’ll leave you, and he’ll fight against you and everything you represent, like you used to fight when you were a Dark Side, because in the end his love for Thomas is stronger than his love for you or anyone else… I can see in your eyes that you still don’t believe me. [to Janus] Janus, you catch liars from miles away. You know very well I’m saying the truth here.

[Janus looks at the Paladin with a mixed face of anger and sadness]

VIRGIL: [smirks to Janus] He’s lying, right? [concerned when Janus doesn’t speak] Janus… Tell me he’s lying! [now yelling, scared] Tell me that Roman doesn’t feel that about me! Tell me!

[Janus looks at Virgil. A tear falls down his snake eye when he speaks]

JANUS: [trembling voice] He’s… lying…

[Virgil immediately understands that Janus is the one who’s lying now and that the Paladin is saying the truth. He shows a face of shock and despair, but he doesn’t shed a tear]

PALADIN: Oh, but don’t worry about it, emo. He won’t have time to get to that point in your relationship… [switching to a threatening cold voice] because I’m gonna make him a widower right at this moment!

[The Paladin starts approaching Virgil sword in hand while Virgil is too stunned to react. Then, Remus rises up between them]

REMUS: That’s what you think, usurper! Don’t you dare taking another step towards my brother-in-law!

[The Paladin looks at Remus with a glance of disdain]

PALADIN: Oh, look, my liberator. Did you enjoy the way I gave you my thanks, with my foot on your face and all?

REMUS: [grins, pulling out his mace] As a matter of fact, I really enjoyed it! Don’t you have any more of these in store, please? But this time don’t render me unconscious. I want to enjoy the pleasure of the pain on my face and my body! It was such a delightful way of waking up moments later!

PALADIN: If you want another dose of that, I can give it to you whenever you want!

REMUS: I’ll be glad, but I have a better idea! Why don’t we share the pain this time? I’d love to give you back some of the pleasure you’ve given to me, Paladin! And the pain that my little friend [points at his mace] can inflict is the best of the best, you’re gonna love it. [his grin suddenly disappears and is replaced by a ferocious look] There’s only room for one kinky, crazy Creativity in this Mind Palace, you know?

PALADIN: [rising his sword] Then I’ll be glad to take your place… Dooky.

[Remus and the Paladin start fighting. Right from the start, it’s clear that it’s not gonna be a fair fight. The Paladin tries all sorts of tricks against Remus, but Remus is just as a dirty fighter as the Paladin and blocks them all, using also dirty tricks of his own against the Paladin. The others watch the scene]

JANUS: Are you okay, Virge?

VIRGIL: [just looking at the fight, without looking at Janus] This looks so similar to that first fight they had in Remus’ castle. It’s clear that inside of that crazy Paladin… Roman and his fighting technique are still there, somewhere. He’s still Roman and he still needs our help. I don’t have time now to react to what has just happened, not until he’s safe.

JANUS: Okay…

[The battle goes on, until the Paladin suddenly grins malevolently. Before anyone can see through his plan, the Paladin suddenly attacks Janus with his sword and hits him heavily on the head. Janus, who didn’t see him coming, doesn’t even have time to groan and quickly falls down unconscious. Virgil watches in horrified shock, like Patton and Ian. Remus needs a couple of seconds to react over seeing Janus knocked out on the floor, while a little stream of blood falls from his crushed bowler hat]

REMUS: [suddenly screeching] JANUUUUS! YOU F… [bleep] … NG SON OF A B… [bleep] , WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?

[Remus goes into Berserk mode and starts attacking the Paladin with an increased strength. But the attacks are more chaotic and more easily avoidable. That continues for a short time until Remus makes a mistake and the Paladin overthrows him and makes him fall. Before he can stand up, the Paladin points at Remus’ throat with his sword]

PALADIN: I win this fight!

[Remus yells a war cry of pure wrath and despair]

VIRGIL: Remus!

REMUS: Do it already! You bas… [bleep] ! Do you think I’m afraid of you!? Do it if you have the guts! [screeching] DO IIIT!

PALADIN: If you insist…

[The Paladin rises his sword, ready to give Remus the coup de grace, while the others are too stunned and horrified to react. But before the Paladin can do it, something happens. He suddenly drops his sword, which vanishes after hitting the ground, and shows a face of shock, joined with a sudden feel of dizziness]

PALADIN: What is happening? No… the pill… the effect is wearing off… I need another one! No!

[The Paladin doesn’t say any more words. He just collapses on the floor. In a matter of seconds, the sash on his suit changes from crimson to bright red and all the symptoms of the illness return to his appearance, including the paleness, the red cheeks and the black eye bags, only that now his expression is worse than ever, both because of the illness and because of his guilt]

REMUS: [getting up and approaching him] Roman? Is that you?

[Roman looks at Remus. His eyes are full of tears]

ROMAN: [weak, almost whining voice] I’m sorry, Remus… I’m sorry, guys… I saw everything happen… but I couldn’t do anything… the Paladin controlled my body… Virgil, I’m sorry… I…

[Virgil approaches Roman. His face couldn’t be more serious]

VIRGIL: That doesn’t matter right now. Now we need to take you to your room, to safety.

ROMAN: Janus… How is Janus? Tell me I didn’t kill him, please…

IAN: [checking him] He’s alive. You didn’t hit him with the sharp edge of your sword. You just knocked him out. I’ll take care of him. You, guys, get Roman to his room.

ROMAN: Thank God… Thank God…

[Remus and Virgil grab Roman, then they and Patton sink down and rise up in Roman’s bedroom]

JOAN: We knew you were coming, guys.

PATTON: You knew? How?

JOAN: Logan has just opened his eyes, look.

PATTON: Logan! Are you okay?

LOGAN: Everything hurts… and I can’t move… but I think I can survive… sort of…

[Patton hugs Logan and kisses him]

LOGAN: Watch out, Pat, I have just said that everything hurts… be more gentle, please.

PATTON: I’m sorry… I was so worried about you…

LOGAN: I can see you have brought Roman here and the Paladin is gone… That’s great… however, this isn’t over yet…

REMUS: What do you mean? You said that when the effect of the pill wore off, he would return back to normal, and it happened so. What do we need to be afraid of?

LOGAN: Joan, I advise you to go back to the real world to check on Thomas.

JOAN: If the Paladin is gone, he should be back to normal, right?

LOGAN: The Paladin’s arrival was a point of no return in Thomas’ mind. He will never be the same again, and Roman is gonna be permanently on the verge of danger, and with him Thomas.

JOAN: You’re scaring me, Logan. What do you mean?

LOGAN: Have you ever heard about bipolar disorder?

JOAN: As a matter of fact, yes. I have a friend who has it… Do you mean that…?

LOGAN: Yes. Thomas has bipolar disorder.

JOAN: Just like that? Like someone getting the flu, he’s contracted bipolar disorder? It doesn’t work like that, right?

LOGAN: Of course not. That disorder has always been asleep in Thomas’ mind. Some people feel the symptoms of the disorder very early in their lives. Others are well into adulthood, even in their fifties or sixties, when they start feeling them. Some start when they go through some kind of specially stressful situation, like…

JOAN: …like this pandemic and confinement. That’s what started the chain reaction, right?

LOGAN: Those pills of hope that Thomas unconsciously generated and Roman took were only a deterrent, but eventually they turned into delusion. Now they’re gonna be useless. Roman can never take those pills again, or the Paladin would return and finish what he couldn’t finish now. I’m sorry, Roman.

ROMAN: I understand. I’m not taking those pills again, not even if I’m dying. I’d rather die than ever be the Paladin again… it was horrible.

VIRGIL: What are exactly the symptoms of… bipolar disorder?

LOGAN: Bipolar disorder, which used to be called in the past manic-depressive disorder, even though that’s name is totally phased out, is a mental disorder that affects the mood. It’s called bipolar because it makes the mind swing through both the polar opposites of mood. There are episodes of euphoria and mania, where the person thinks they can do anything in a delusional way… and there are episodes of deep depression where the person loses all the will to live. If not put under control, the person swings between these two moods until they lose their life, either because of doing something crazy during mania that proves to be fatal, or because, during some bad episode of depression, they can’t resist the sadness and despair and… take their own life as a result.

VIRGIL: Is… Is Thomas going to end like that, then? There’s no solution?

LOGAN: Don’t worry, Virgil, even if it’s your job. Even though bipolar disorder is a chronic illness which doesn’t have a proper cure, nowadays, there are effective treatments. Thomas may occasionally have these episodes of mania and depression, but if he gets psychiatric supervision, takes his medication as prescribed and follows healthy habits that contribute to keep his mood balanced, he can and will have a very normal and productive life. There are lots of people who live a normal life having the disorder. Even among famous people, you’d be surprised of how many of them have or had bipolar disorder: Catherine Zeta-Jones, Carrie Fisher, Demi Lovato, Frank Sinatra, Mariah Carey, Sting, Curt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix… just to name a few. Yes, some of them have or had complicated lives and some of them sadly didn’t end well, but many of them managed or still manage to have a perfectly normal and successful life, and Thomas can have it too. Of course, he’ll need to see a psychiatrist to start treatment as soon as possible. He’ll need hospitalization to put his emotions under control, maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks. That’s why I want you, Joan to take care of him now. Take care of him and take him to a psychiatrist. They’ll know what to do next.

[Talyn rises up]

TALYN: Here you are, Joan!

JOAN: Talyn, what are you doing here? Is something wrong with Thomas?

TALYN: I think so. Suddenly he stopped talking delusionally and instead he started crying like a baby, mumbling that nothing makes sense anymore. He’s now lying on the couch, on fetal position, like a hopeless baby.

JOAN: Is it normal for the mood swings to be so fast, Logan?

LOGAN: There are cases, although I suspect Thomas’ special condition as an owner of a Mind Palace may be an accelerator of the swings, I suppose.

JOAN: Okay, then there’s no more time to waste, Thomas needs help. Will you, guys, be okay?

VIRGIL: We’ll be okay, Joan, don’t worry. Go take care of Thomas.

JOAN: Okay. See ya, guys.

[Joan and Talyn sink down]

ROMAN: But I don’t understand… why am I the only one affected by that… bipolar disorder?

LOGAN: Well, Roman, you are Thomas’ hopes and dreams. It’s only logical that you are the most affected by the disorder. During mania, your dreams heighten to unhealthy levels, that’s when the Paladin shows up. Then during depression, your levels of hope drop down, and that’s when you get sick, like you are now.

ROMAN: And I’m feeling so bad… even worse than before… I just want this to end…

LOGAN: Be strong, Roman. When Thomas starts getting treatment, you’ll get back to normal, you’ll see.

ROMAN: I hope so, Logan. I hope so…

VIRGIL: I’ll take care of you while you’re feeling sick.

ROMAN: Thank you, Virgil. I love you.

VIRGIL: [cold voice] Don’t mention. It’s my duty as your husband, Roman.

LOGAN: And I should be going to my own bedroom, Roman needs his own bed, obviously. Could you help me, Patton? I can barely move, so I’m not of much use for Thomas, logically speaking. You know that logic is always damaged in this kind of disorders. Hope you guys can cope without my help for some time.

PATTON: Okay, I got you, don’t worry.

VIRGIL: Thanks for all your help, guys. Take care, Logan.

[Patton and Logan sink down]

REMUS: If you don’t mind, I’m gonna check on Janus. I’m too worried about him.

ROMAN: Of course, Remus. I hope he’s all right too, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I… Thanks again for your help. If it wasn’t for you distracting me, I don’t know what I could have done to the Mind Palace or… to Virgil.

REMUS: Anytime, brother.

VIRGIL: And I also apologize for being so rude to you, Remus. I know you didn’t mean to cause trouble and you only cared about Roman. It was the fear what made me speak to you like that. I’m sorry for everything I said to you. I didn’t mean it, I promise.

REMUS: It’s okay, Virgil, I can handle it. [puts his hand on Virgil’s shoulder] But I really appreciate the apology, and I apologize too for the mess I have caused.

VIRGIL: It’s okay. According to Logan, this was bound to happen sooner or later anyway.

REMUS: Bye, guys. [sinks down] Get well soon, brother.

ROMAN: Thanks, Remus…

[a sign reads “To be continued, guys, gals and non binary pals”]

[end card]

[Virgil helps Roman get into bed. Then summons Roman’s pajama in place of his prince suit. He’s still serious all the time, not saying a word]

ROMAN: Uh… Chris… Do you feel good enough to make some ramen for dinner, for all of us?

CHRIS: But I can just summon the ra…

ROMAN: [giving a dirty look to Chris] It would be better if you just went to the kitchen and took your time to make the ramen, please? [the last word he says it giving a significant look at Virgil, then at the door]

CHRIS: [understanding] Oh… of course, father. [getting out of the bedroom with his crotches] I’ll go make it right now.

[Chris closes the door behind him. Virgil looks at Roman with the same serious face]

ROMAN: Virgil I…

VIRGIL: [with a sharp tone] I don’t need you to apologize, Roman.

ROMAN: But I do, because I have hurt you.

VIRGIL: You weren’t yourself. You would have never said those things to me if you had been in your normal state. If it helps you feel better, I forgive you.

ROMAN: Thanks, Virgil. It means a lot to me… But are you okay?

VIRGIL: [same sharp tone] What do you think? It’s not exactly the best for someone’s mood to find out that your husband… that you genuinely think that I’m bad for Thomas and you hate the way I am.

ROMAN: I didn’t say that, I…

VIRGIL: But you think it. Janus confirmed that, as the Paladin, you weren’t lying. You really hate who I am and what I do. What I don’t get then is… why did you marry me, Roman? If you don’t like how I am, why did you marry me?

ROMAN: Because I love you Virgil. My love for you is real.

VIRGIL: Is it though?

ROMAN: What do you mean? Of course it’s real! You are the one I love the most in my life! You and Chris, and Thomas, of course, are in different ways the men of my life!

VIRGIL: I don’t know… Since you’ve hidden your real feelings about me in that sense… I really don’t know if I can trust you anymore.

ROMAN: That hurts me, Virgil. It really hurts me.

VIRGIL: Not as much as me saying it, you can bet. Because I still love you more than anything. Like the first time I confessed my feelings to you, I still love you more than I love myself, and I would still give my live for you if you asked me. I already did once, in case you’ve forgotten. But now… [looking at Roman with a face of huge sadness and disappointment] I don’t know if you would do the same for me and the doubt feels like having a knife stuck in my stomach…

ROMAN: Virgil, I…

VIRGIL: I’m gonna go help Chris make the ramen, if you don’t mind. We’ll bring it to you when it’s ready. See ya later, Roman.

[Virgil gets out of Roman’s room and closes the door behind him. Roman starts silently crying when he hears muffled sobbing on the other Side of the door, Virgil’s sobbing]

[sagesparrow394]

A Big Problem: Part 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides

AU: Canon-verse, but when Thomas was a child.

Relationships: None. They’re seven.

Summary: Logan was the first side to figure out they could shapeshift. And, being the curious side he is, he doesn’t hesitate in trying it out.

Things don’t go quite to plan.

Note: ‘Romulus’ in this story is the King, aka Roman and Remus before the split.

—————

Logan didn’t know whether to cheer or go to a wall and slam his head into it in frustration. How on earth had he not come to the conclusion earlier? Seven years of existing and only now he realised this huge ability that was so painfully obvious! He was supposed to be smart!

... Then again, he was still the first side to figure this out. So, he was still the smartest, as he would always be. Clearly, he wore a lab coat. And he wanted to get a tie when he was older. Only serious smart people wore ties.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand! Logan smiled at his notepad, where the revelation was written out in big bold letters, underlined three times, and highlighted.

Shapeshifting. The sides could shapeshift. They were all effectively imaginary, after all. Since they did not adhere to human logic, it would make sense they’d be able to manipulate and change their forms.

Hold on... if they were imaginary, and Romulus was creativity and ruled the imagination... did that mean... Romulus created them all? Romulus created himself?! But how could he create himself before he existed?! How would that even work?! What the-

No! No, Logan. Don’t get yourself stuck in a paradox now. There was an important matter at hand that needed his focus. You could reevaluate your existence later.

Shapeshifting, it still baffled him how he hadn’t come up with it sooner. Patton and Romulus would get so excited when Logan told them about this! Escpecially Romulus. When he found out he could shapeshift into whatever he wanted while on his quests in the imagination, he’d get so excited! Logan would be praised for his findings!

Finally, the recognition the logical side deserved!

Logan stood up, picking up his notebook, and went to leave the room. However, as he placed his hand upon the door handle, he paused.

No... No. He couldn’t go out there and tell them yet! Logan had done enough experiments to know that, well, you needed to do experiments. You must test out your hypothesis before telling others, in case you’re wrong and you end up spreading misinformation - but Logan was never wrong, he needn’t worry about that. The other issue about not experimenting however... Logan had much more experience with.

If you don’t experiment, no one will believe you because you have no evidence. Specifically Romulus. The King was fond of finding holes in Logan’s little test and tearing them down. He was strange... One minute, he’d be reading Logan and Patton fairytales from one of his many books, and the next he’d be making jokes a seven year old should not understand to gross out Patton, and yell at Logan for being a dork - not as in nerd, as in whale penis.

Romulus was an interesting character, one Logan may have to conduct an experiment on at a later date.

Logan placed his notebook back down on his desk. He flicked to a clean page, ready to record the results of his current experiment. Speaking of, what was he going to do for his experiment...?

He went over to his mirror, looking at his reflection. Hm... if there was one thing he could change about himself, what would it be...? It couldn’t be anything too drastic, he didn’t want to risk it going horribly wrong, or the change being irreversible. Just a subtle, yet noticeable change...

That was when it hit him. His height! Logan was the shortest of all the sides, and Romulus always made fun of him for it. Adding a couple inches to his height would be perfect!

He went back to his notebook, jotting down his current height: 3’7”. He then got out a measuring tape from one of the drawers in his desk, and stuck it to the wall. He stood up against it, double checking his current height. Yep. Still 3’7”.

This was it. Shapeshifting time!

He closed his eyes and concentrated hard. Bigger. Taller. That’s what he needed to be. Taller, taller than all the other sides so that none of them could make fun of him again.

He took a deep breath. Please have worked, please have worked...

He opened his eyes and a grin spread across his face. His jeans looked considerably shorter, his shirt had ridden up a bit, showing his belly button, his white lab coat was far too short at the sleeves, and when he looked at the measuring tape, he was just under a foot taller. Perfect!

At least that’s what he thought until his saw his eyeline was still rising. He was still growing. He was definitely the tallest out of all the sides now, he really didn’t need to keep going...

“Um... o-okay, body, you can stop growing now!”

It didn’t stop.

He hesitated, concerned, before feeling stupid. Telling himself to stop wouldn’t work, of course not! He just needed to do what he did to start growing. He closed his eyes, concentrating as he did before. Stop growing, stop growing, stop growing...

When he opened his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief. He had stopped...

For about two seconds, before with a jolt, he shot up another foot, and then continued to grow at a faster pace than before. He was sooner even taller than an average adult, and it showed no signs of slowing down.

Uh oh.

Logan whimpered in fear. He had no idea what to do! Why wouldn’t it stop?! Concentrating hard was enough to start it, why wasn’t it stopping it too?!

His attention was drawn away from his own panic when there were multiple popping sounds. The buttons on Logan’s lab coat had been forcibly opened as it grew far to small for him. The buttons were followed by multiple ripping sounds, the coat falling to the floor in pieces.

Logan only got a moment to mourn his favourite item of clothing, before being distracted as his head hit the ceiling, causing him to let out a sharp “Ow!”. He ducked a little at first, before he knelt down instead, only for, a few minutes later, his head to hit the ceiling yet again.

He bent forward, in more of a fetal position, growing more and more panicked as the room became far too cramped. His foot pressed against his desk, a cracking coming from it as his foot starting to crush it. Logan was as careful as he could be, trying not to break anything else in the room, but not quite being successful. His bed was the first victim, then his bookshelf.

As the ceiling began to crack, his back pressing against it, he started to wonder if this would ever stop. What would happen if he did break through the room? Would it injure Thomas, given as it would especially be the walls of his mind breaking?! He really didn’t want to find out, as curious a person as he was...

As the ceiling continued to crack above him, Logan sniffled, tears welling in his eyes. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like it at all! He wanted to go back to normal, he didn’t want to be a giant! He never should have tried shapeshifting ever! He just wanted it to STOP!

And it did.

Right at that moment, the growing stopped completely. The cracking above his back silenced. Logan took deep breaths, trying to calm down, and patiently waited for it to start reversing. However, it didn’t do that. He was just stuck.

He started to panic again.

-

Virgil had no idea what the heck was going on, but he could feel panic from one of the other sides. Like, a lot. A full on panic attack.

His first idea was, obviously, to check on Thomas. He sank out from his room, rising up into Thomas’ bedroom. The boy was led on the floor, drawing, his tongue stuck out in concentration. Romulus was sat next to him, giving him all sorts of ideas.

Thomas didn’t acknowledge Virgil as he appeared, but Romulus did. The King frowned, raising an eyebrow. “Anxiety? What are you doing here? Thomas and I are kinda in the middle of creative stuff! Nothing for him to be anxious about...”

“It’s not him...” Virgil mumbled, looking around. Everything seemed normal enough... “So, you’re doing good? Not panicking?”

Romulus shrugged. “I’m fine. Why’d you ask?”

“No reason...” And with that, Virgil sunk out.

Romulus turned back to Thomas, looking over the boy’s shoulder at what he was drawing. “Um, Thomas, why is that guy bigger than all the buildings?”

Thomas just smiled. “He likes to be tall!”

“... Okay?”

Meanwhile, Virgil rose up back in his room. He ran to the next door over and knocked. “Dee!”

There was a groaning and shuffling before, a few seconds later, the door opened, a very sleepy Deceit rubbing his eyes and looking up at Virgil. “What’ssss up...?”

“Sorry to wake you, it’s just... you doing good? You weren’t, like, having a nightmare or anything?”

“No... Why, what’ssss happened...?”

“Dunno... Sorry again, see ya!”

“Ssssee ya...”

Deceit retreated back in his room, as Virgil ran off again. He continued through until he reached it: the others’ corridor. He hesitated a little before tiptoeing in. He heard the sounds of humming from the kitchen, and assumed it was Patton. He went over and stepped in the room.

Patton had his back to Virgil, and was stirring cookie batter.

“Patton?”

He let out a yelp of surprise at the voice, dropping his spoon. He turned around. “O-oh! Anxiety... Uh, what are you doing here...?”

Virgil didn’t blame Patton for being nervous. The moral side didn’t hide the fact that he didn’t exactly like Virgil’s side of the, well, sides.

“Sorry to startle you, I, um... Just felt some panicked energy... You, like, good?”

“Oh, yeah, um, sure...”

“Cool... Sorry for bothering you...”

Virgil left the room again. This just left Logan. Logan would likely either be in his room or the library. May as well check his room first.

Virgil went to the indigo door just down the corridor, knocking on it. “Logan? You in there?”

“A-Anxiety?! U-um... J-just give me a minute!”

Yep. Logan was definitely the one the panicked energy was coming from.

“Logan, I’m coming in.”

“N-no, wait!!!”

Virgil opened the door, only for it to stop halfway open. Something was in the way. Virgil frowned, and slipped through the gap.

His eyes widened immediately as his eyes met Logan’s. Logan’s giant eyes, which were in a giant head, attached to a giant body.

Logan was a giant, basically.

Virgil was speechless. Logan’s face was burning in embarrassment. “Um... one of my experiments didn’t go quite to plan...”